#...so that's why Black Hat keeps doing this!

[onboardsorasora]

Castle of the Black Flames - Pt 2

Part 1 | AO3

Daniel sat on his bed, straight backed and uncomfortable. He looked around the space, it looked pretty much the same as it did before he left. The window to his left showed the wide yawning of the forest that surrounded the mansion. He remembered wondering what was out there, beyond the wards, beyond the veil. 

There wasn’t much life before the mansion. His parents were of the realm and he was enrolled when he showed the aptitude for strong magic. Staying in the realm had been a non-option, the temptation to come back would have been too great. 

Daniel stared at his palm, igniting the flame of his power for the first time in five years. It had taken a while to get used to it. The lack. The powerlessness. 

He could still do small magic in the human realm, inconsequential party tricks at the end of the day. It was just easier to pretend it didn’t exist than to keep wanting more when there would be none.

He clenched his fist and extinguished the flow, it didn’t make sense to revel in the feeling. It would be gone again soon enough.

“So I see you’re back.” Max’s voice was deeper than he remembered, but still pleasantly raspy.

“Not so much a return but more as a summoning.” Daniel stood, turning to look at him standing confidently in the doorway. 

Max scoffed and entered the room. He settled on leaning against the old desk Daniel hated using. Daniel couldn’t help but take in the differences since the last time they’d been in close proximity like this. 

Max looked good, he always had– even when he was a lanky teenager who hadn’t quite grown into his face yet. Daniel wasn’t one to talk about growing into features, he used to be teased about how big his nose was. It still was big, but he thought the rest of him matched up now. 

Max was all angles and muscles in his uniform. His broad shoulders accentuated how strong he seemed. Daniel knew he was, he’d been strong then– in both magic and physical prowess– there was no doubt he was stronger now.

“Look, I won’t keep you long.” Daniel figured he’d just get this out of the way, he didn’t belong here. Not anymore. “I’m not staying.” He didn’t need whatever drama that was coming, he was fine in his life outside.

“So eager to go back to your ‘normal’ life? What is it that you do anyways?”  

Daniel clenched his fist against Max’s belittling tone. “I’m a tattoo artist.��

Max scoffed again, a sneer staining his lips. “You left me— everything to go paint tattoos on people.” Daniel could tell what he thought of that. He shrugged.

“I enjoy it. What? You thought I joined the army or something? Sorry to break it to you mate. I only have one process of indoctrination in me per lifetime.” Daniel smiled and widened his arms as if to remind Max about what this place truly was. This mansion, at its core, was the training ground for the Prince’s Army. Max’s army. 

One didn’t just leave, especially after they’ve sworn The Oath.

Even now, Daniel could feel the tendrils of his magic attempting to reach out to Max. He was out of practice in keeping it at bay. He felt exposed.

At least Max seemed to be ignoring it all. 

“If you love your life out there so much, then why are you back?” Daniel did the respectable thing in pretending he couldn’t hear the petulance in Max’s tone. He didn’t like feeling rejected, and Daniel left him– rejected this life with him. 

It was Daniel’s turn to scoff, he folded his arms to his chest. “I’ve been gone a long time but I still remember how it goes Max. You felt it, when Toto brought me here. You know I didn’t cross over of my own free will.”

Max looked away as if caught. Daniel knew that Max knew the moment he came here. Could feel the fight in the forest, the heat of Daniel’s battle magic the moment it came back to him. 

“So that's it?” Max’s tone was accusing. But Daniel didn’t quite know what he was accusing him of.

“Boys.” Toto’s voice cut through any response Daniel had. They both looked to see him standing in the doorway. “Hate to break up this reunion, but I need to speak with Daniel.”

Max looked like he wanted to argue for a second before he scowled and left the room quickly. 

“You are out of practice.” Toto said and Daniel rolled his eyes.

“No shit.”

“You should see Franz about your training–”

“I’m not staying, Toto.” Daniel interrupted. He had a life to get back to. He was done with everyone’s high handedness.

Toto watched him for a second and Daniel fought the urge to squirm under his heavy gaze.

“You think this has nothing to do with you.” Toto seemed to come to a realization and Daniel didn’t like the implications. It didn’t involve him. And he was tired of the insinuation that it did.

Toto watched him for a moment longer before smiling bemusedly at him. “You’ll meet with Franz in an hour.” He turned to leave before stopping in the doorway. “Everything is as you left it.” He waved to the room at large before leaving. 

No doubt the room was magicked away when he left, the mansion knew its occupants. Daniel had lived here so long that his magic was seeped into the space.

“Fuck.” Daniel whispered then dragged his hand down his face. He kicked at the desk in frustration and the middle drawer slid forward as if broken from the track. It used to annoy the hell out of him.

Inside were a few dusty items, bits and bobs of Daniel’s old life. Old notes, worn gloves from a training uniform, and a box. Daniel grabbed the box, narrowed brown eyes taking in the simple wood. He didn’t remember it, couldn’t recall ever seeing it before.

He tried to open it, but it didn’t budge. Tried multiple times to figure out the mechanism, to no avail. He then attempted to wedge his fingernail into the tight seam but it shocked him instead. He dropped it in his shock, popping the injured finger into his mouth to soothe. Right, he should have assumed it was magical in nature.

The box fell to the floor just as someone knocked on the door, Daniel looked up to see a familiar face. A smile broke out on his lips as he walked over to them, box forgotten.

The wooden box laid splayed open on the floor, contents winking into the daylight of the room. After a moment, it snapped shut of its own volition– a flash of light sealing it once more.

[soombee]

ix. off script

sorry for the writing chapters, i can NOT be creative with only pictures. more under cut, 834 wc

it's your first real day off since arriving in s.korea, and even then, you decided to wake up early

the soombee gc went awfully quiet ever since you got there, your timezones horribly mismatched. no one’s there to bug you with outfit opinions or complain about the weather being too hot or too cold. you're left with your own thoughts and a mirror you don’t feel like facing

so you decide to go out

the store isn’t even famous, a small streetwear shop owned by a famiky, tucked into a quieter part of the city. you only remembered it because someone had mentioned it once in an interview, riki, that is

you weren’t following him, obviously, that would be insane

you just like his style... that's all...

the bell over the door jingles when you walk in, and the scent hits first: wood, incense, faint laundry detergent

you trail your fingers over the hem of a hoodie that looks suspiciously like the one he wore last week. you flip through the rack slowly, pretending not to imagine how it’d look on you. or him..

“don't buy that one,” a voice says behind you, low and flat

you freeze

you turn, and there he is, unmistakable. of course he’s here, of course he’d catch you red handed trying to dress like him

your voice is half air, "why not?”

he shrugs, "olive? really? you look better in black”

you blink, and then squint, "you're giving me fashion advice now?”

he walks past you without answering, taking the recommended hoodie off the rack, putting it against your body

you hate how right he is

“also, I knew you copied me,” he mutters, not looking at you

you clutch the hoodie defensively. “i did not copy you,” turning back to the racks, "tell them to give me another stylist if you're that bothered." you side eye him

“uh huh,” he says, finally meeting your eyes

there's a silence. the kind that says too much, the kind that lingers

then he looks away again, turning toward the register, "ms kim said you’re off today"

“obviously. you too?”

he nods. “yeah, i'm just here to pick up a custom order"

you hesitate, "this your holy grail?”

“i mean, ever since trainee days. i like the peace here"

riki shifts his weight like he’s about to leave, then pauses,

“you coming to next week’s tech run early?” he asks

you nod slowly while thinking, “if i remember"

he hums

and then, like he didn’t just confirm he kind of waited around to talk to you, he heads to the door

the bell jingles again,

you look down at the hoodie in your hands, the black one

you hold it up to your chest and sigh

yeah, okay. maybe you are copying him

but he noticed...

and it's definitely doing something to your heart

30 mins later , @ the grocery store

you didn’t even know he was behind you until he spoke,

“nice choice,” he said, voice low, almost amused, eyes flicking toward the oat milk in your hands

"thank you, i actually just chose what i saw on other peoples carts since it's my first time shopping here—" you finally look up, then down..

it was riki. holding the same one.

you blink

“oh. hi.”

he smiles, barely

you don’t know what else to say, so you don’t say anything

................silence

he nods at your basket

“you cook?”

you glance at the sad selection inside: oat milk, instant noodles, overpriced granola, flavoured yogurt

“barely"

he chuckles

“same"

you both move at the same time to keep walking

you end up side by side

not planned

not awkward

not normal either

“didn't know you came here,” he said after a pause

“I don’t,” you answered too fast, "i just got here, if u didn't hear”

"hmmm," raised an eyebrow. “good taste then"

you swallowed. was that a compliment? was he being nice? did he know?

the line moved forward. you took a step ahead, and so did he. still behind you. close enough that you could hear him humming under his breath. and when the cashier waved you over, he pulled his hat further down like he was trying not to be seen

you paid in a rush, you had a color analysis appointment in 5 minutes. it's 10 minutes away.

so you didn't wait for your change

didn't say goodbye either.

you’re halfway down the block when you realize

you didn’t even ask if he shops there often

didn’t ask why he smiled like that

didn’t ask why it felt like he was about to say more

your phone buzzes, it’s the color analyst confirming the appointment

you reply with a thumbs up and an apology

but your mind’s still back in the aisle

with matching cartons and a “nice choice”

like it meant more than oat milk

ugh whatever

u're just overthinking it

just like what haylie said, youre a delusional bitch

yeah

it must be

it should be

tags @enhypenlovre @letwiiparkjay @iheartshopping @haechology @verialuv @yuuuraaa @renlikecookies @lvfleur @offnexnam @xo-tilwod

prev , masterlist , next

[mothlau]

face painter!charles and single dad!max wip as a reward for watching the boring ass spa gp (1419 words)

When Charles put all of his time, blood, sweat and tears into finishing his architecture degree, he never imagined that his life would consist of staying outside, with colourful splatters of paint and rainbow smudges on the back of his hand. Or that all the art knowledge stored in his brain would be used on painting flowers and rainbows and Minecraft creepers on children's faces.

Life is unpredictable like that.

No matter how much he had tried to get his elbows out, the industry was cruel. All the internships in the world could not have been enough for him to find a job. And he had tried; Years being underpaid and overworked, having his projects stolen by the senior architects, being given no credit for his work, no recognition besides lukewarm Keep up the good work and then maybe you’ll get a permanent spot here.

So he simply… changed career paths.

Replaced charcoal with face paint, canvases for children’s faces and all the thoughts of monetary stability for earning just enough to keep himself afloat. But the kids were lovely, if a bit underwhelmed when he sometimes only had minutes to make them into princesses and Spider Men.

It wasn’t what he had imagined, but Charles had grown to love it. Had grown to accept that he loves it so much he wouldn’t change it for the world.

----

Weekends at the fair tend to be his favourite, no matter how exhausted he is by the time Sunday evenings roll around. Painting hundreds of children and getting to see their reaction is worth having the fatigue buried deep into his bones, bags dark under his eyes.

“Papa, I want to be a skeleton! Can I be a skeleton, please?”

Those are the words that keep him going, batteries recharged as soon as the girl’s delighted shrieks reach his tent. Charles pushes the glasses higher up his nose, smiling to himself as he continues cleaning the dirty brushes. He hopes her parents will not intervene and try to steer her towards having a unicorn drawn on her face instead of her wish to become a skeleton.

“I don’t see any images of skeletons, but you can always ask the nice man if he can paint one, Julie,” comes the father’s answer. Softer than his daughter’s demand, Germanic accent and slight lisp making the words sound rounder than they should.

At last, Charles turns to face the duo. He’s not a man to fold easily, but the sight before him may reconfigure his entire being: the little girl – dressed in the cutest black dress, one that would put every witch out there to shame – is perched on top of her father’s shoulders, tiny hands gripping the man’s blond hair and steering him towards Charles’ tent like a slightly-bigger-and-less-hidden-under-a-chef’s-hat Remy. It’s the cutest sight he’d seen in a while, and Charles sees tons of adorable toddlers. It’s not just the little girl that makes him do a double take.

The father… Charles is only a man, if a little repressed from years of hiding his sexuality to have a chance of success in a cutthroat industry. Even with his minimal experience in the field, Charles knows he wants this man. Immediately, preferably yesterday. As if a switch has gone off in the back of his mind, throwing all previous inhibitions out the window, Charles stares at the man shamelessly. He’s absolutely gorgeous, broad and soft around his stomach and pale enough for Charles to know he must blush beautifully. A marble sculpture carved by the Gods themselves come to life, walking into Charles’ face painting tent. Charles wants to climb him like a tree, bite into his arms and thighs and other unholy places he should not be thinking of during work.

God, he must have somehow gotten a heatstroke, otherwise Charles cannot explain why his face is heating up the closer the two are getting, nor why his mind is reeling with such thoughts about a man he’s never met before.

“Go on, Juliette,” the man says once they reach the high chair next to Charles’ station. “What do you want to be painted as?”

“A skeleton!” For how small Juliette seems to be, her voice sure carries a lot of decibels. Charles should be used to it, how loud kids can get when they’re excited about something, but the sheer volume of it never ceases to amaze him. From the look on the father’s face, he too is taken by surprise, eyes closed shut as he tries to regain his ability to hear.

“Like a sugar skull?”

On her father’s shoulders, Juliette shakes her head so strongly that her human mode of transportation moves with it. Finally, the man reaches up to place her on the chair, procuring a headband – is that meant to be a goth unicorn? – from who knows where and using it to push her blonde hair out of her tiny, round face.

“I want to be a scary skull! With blood coming out from my mouth and eyes! And– And wounds on my face! So that the other kids will scream when they see me!”

Charles gets many strange requests from his lovely children customers, after all kids have vivid imaginations and no one can really tell what’s going on in those small heads of theirs, but being asked to paint a scary skull that will make the other kids scream is a new thing for him. He just knows that this may be his first truly unique experience.

He doesn’t need anything else to be swayed into it, design already forming in his mind. “Sounds like a plan, cherie!” Charles turns to face the father, who is already watching them with a soft look in his eyes. “Is it fine with you if I film it?” He points towards his glasses, making it less obvious for the vibrating child in his chair. “I have a Tiktok page where I post them, but you can say no, of course!”

The man considers it, brows pulled into an adorable frown Charles wants to smooth off. Totally normal thoughts to have about a parent, of course. “No creeps on it, I hope,” he settles on saying.

“Oh, no! It’s mostly other face painters. Like a community, you know? I can film it, you can check the page while I make her into the scariest skeleton, and if you’re not fine with it by the end I’ll delete it. Sounds good?”

It’s what he always tells the parents before they start, knowing that if his hypothetical child were to be filmed and posted online, he’d throw hands before the first view came in. Alas, the parents appreciate the clear ask for consent, and the man next to him seems to do it just as much as the rest.

He looks at his daughter, then he questions her, “Juliette, do you want to be filmed?” The little girl poses, brings her hands under her chin and winks at Charles. She is so cute, Charles is about to combust. “I guess that’s a yes, then. Go on.”

Turning the recording on is quick work, movement ingrained in his brain by now. He hopes the camera is focused, but he will only know for sure when he’s editing the footage. Juliette looks to be in her element, legs swinging back and forth as she watches Charles pick up the black paint, along with a thin brush.

“Alright, cherie, keep your eyes closed for me please.”

The girl does as told, leaning into Charles’ touch when he lays his hand on her chin to guide her into proper position. “What’s your name, sir?” She asks, voice full of childlike innocence. “We are Julie and papa!”

“Nice to meet you, Julie and papa!” Charles laughs. “My name is Charles.” He pronounces it the right way, but he doubts she will be able to say it, not with the accent she must have picked up from her father.

“It’s uh… It’s Max,” the man – Max – adds lamely. He is actually going to be the end of Charles, if he keeps up being such a cringe-fail Adonis. It’s those types of men that are Charles’ weakness and he really doesn’t wish to fall like that for a possibly married man. He’s better than that. He’s had plenty of hot dads around him and not once had he been rendered uselessly gay, but there’s something about this hot man.

“Nice to meet you, Max,” Charles winks at him.

[orengejoshi]

a lil hyper specific preg AU of the 3rd episode bc I thought it would be fun to draw idk!

[edit; plot twist from a convo with a friend: Flug suddenly has super strength bc of his paternal/maternal(?) instinct to protect his baby. which is kinda canon bc he did develop crazy power in the 6th episode when he felt like 505 was threatened.]

[goldensakuma]

okay hold up but they actually slay (literally)

[indooroutdoorboyfriend]

after serious deliberation i ultimately think that misha would be corrupted by khorne. fits him the best, and adds some juicy ~implications~ with august being corrupted by slaanesh.

[luviisabella]

Stubborn!Bakugou who completely denies the idea of possibly liking you when Kirishima asks.

“Like hell. Who would like some idiot like that?”

“Whatever you say man.” And Kirishima can’t help but smile knowing the truth.

Stubborn!Bakugou who secretly watches as your desk fills up with chocolates and love letters on Valentines Day. A silent scoff in disgust at the guys who fawned over you.

Stubborn!Bakugou who laughs at you for coming back to the dorms soaking wet because you offered your umbrella to someone else and now you’re drenched and cold.

“No one told you to be nice.”

After he walked away he leaned against the wall asking himself, “Why the hell did I say that??”

Stubborn!Bakugou who gags when you show him your Halloween costume, you decided to dress up as a witch. A cute pink little witch hat, your dress that was pink and black, tight at the top and loose at the bottom and it wasn’t too short either, black tights and cute little black flats. You even had a candy apple to offer.

“Tsk.” He got up from the couch. “Halloween is for babies.” And he walked away turning the corner.

What you didn’t see was him clenching his heart to keep it from jumping out of his chest. “So fucking cute.” He thought to himself in attempt to keep himself together.

—

“Kats-?” You look up at him as you open your room door.

He stood there for a moment, frozen in place.. what was he doing here?? Why the hell did he-

and you just kissed him.

You knew exactly why he was being fussy.

He didn’t push you away either, his hands wrapping around your waist to pull you even closer and that was confirmation you were right. Kirishima had told you about it because he expected Bakugou to never say anything, probably letting the feelings build and spill over.

“I like you too dummy.”

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Incubus

NSFW Art the Clown x F!Reader

Prompt: Reader is out with one of her friends when she runs into an interesting looking clown. Later that night, he seems to visit her in a dream. (Kinda going off the idea that Art is a supernatural being who can appear in people's dreams at will).

CW: Art being a freak, use of sex toys, oral f!receiving, multiple orgasms, choking, creampie

a/n: to quote Cassie from Euphoria "AND YOU CAN ALL JUDGE ME IF YOU WANT BUT I DO NOT CARE! I HAVE NEVER EVER BEEN HAPPIER" really going back to my sexy-clown-fucker roots with this one gang

~~~

Halloween Night.

You and your friends had been planning to go out like you had since you were teenagers. Getting dressed up in your sluttiest best Halloween costumes, going to your favorite spot in town to eat, then hitting up some parties.

Your group took up a large table at the same old diner you always met at. Friends pregaming with flasks and shot bottles they snuck in. Some more blitzed than others. As you got older, the desire for partying was beginning to leave your body. Wanting to be completely black out drunk in public becoming more embarrassing than exhilarating.

So when your best friend decided she wanted to mess with one of your fellow patrons, a lump formed in your stomach.

A tall man dressed in a half white and half black clown costume sat at one of the tables alone. Giant shoes adorned his feet, the tip of his long nose had a black dot on it, and a bald cap with a tiny hat rested upon his head. He had been staring at your group since he arrived. Most of your friends too out of it to notice.

Your friend walked over, leaning over the table he sat at. Pushing her cleavage directly in his face as she spoke to him. “Nice costume,” she batted her lashes at him. His expressionless face stared at her. A semi aggravated frown on his face. Everyone at your table began giggling as you watched in horror. She took a seat directly in his lap, wrapping one of her arms around him. She tugged at the hat on his head, smacking it down with a pop. “Awe, look how cute. But dontcha think it would look better one me,” she grabbed the hat off his head. Pulling the string and placing it down on her own.

Embarrassment ate away at your insides. All your friends stared and snickered at the situation. The man seemingly unfazed. She flicked at his nose with her finger. You could not take it any longer.

“Oh my God,” you grabbed her by the arm and yanked her away from him, “I am so sorry. If I had known she was going to do that I would’ve stopped her sooner.” You ripped the tiny hat off her head. “Here’s that. Once again I’m so sorry—“

“Why do you keep apologizing to this freak?!”

You shot a look at her, brows pushed together in frustration. Pulling her outside of the restaurant. She fought for you to let go of her. Stumbling in her drunken state.

“What the fuck is wrong with you! Why are you acting like this?” You were hurt by your friend’s actions.

“Why do you even give a shit, Y/N? That’s just some random skeezeball in a restaurant. I could fuck him and we’d never have to see him again.”

“Because you’re embarrassing me!” You shouted, folding your arms over your chest. Taking a deep breath and blinking away the feeling you were harboring.

She stood in front of you with a look of disgust on her face. Her hand planted firmly on her hip. A laugh erupting from her. Wrapping her hand around your wrist and pulling you back inside. Presenting you in front of the table of all your friends. “Go ahead if that’s really how you feel, Y/N,” she cocked her head to the side.

“I— I, uh—“

“Y/N said she’s embarrassed by us. Guess we huwt hew widdle feewings!” Your friend pushed out her bottom lip and mocked you. The entire table laughed at you. All your so called friends calling you names like “Debby Downer” or “Sour Puss” or “Buzz Kill.”

You stood frozen in shock. Unable to believe all your friends you had known so long were treating you this way. All of them a little drunk, but not drunk enough for them to not know what they were doing.

“Come on, everybody. Since we’re so embarrassing to be around. You can stay here,” your friend patted you on the head as she and everyone else threw some cash on the table to cover their bills. You were in disbelief. Feeling abandoned and hurt. Ashamed.

You looked over at the Clown Man who you were defending previously. His gaze fixated on you, expression completely emotionless. Sharp eyes cutting into you. Walking over to him one last time as you began to leave, “I really am sorry she did that. I hope your night goes better than mine.” You gave him a closed mouth smile as you walked out of the restaurant. Lifeless eyes watching you exit.

You held yourself as you walked home. Cold breeze hitting your revealed skin, sending chill bumps down your body. You tugged at the short skirt you wore when you saw a group of guys staring at you. Suddenly uncomfortable in your costume. You arrived home and began getting ready for the night ahead. You did love passing out candy. Something you really had not got to do in a long time. You loved seeing all the kids dressed up, excited for their sugar filled treats.

Time passed and the knocks on your door were scarce. Disappointed in the lack of trick-or-treaters. Feeling like you had lost all love for this holiday. One that was your favorite. Deciding to pass on dinner and just bake some cookies instead.

You sat on your couch mindlessly watching TV. The lack of trick-or-treaters had you drifting in and out of sleep. Finally dozing off…

You were in a dark room. Only lit by candlelight. A musky smell filled the air. You looked down to see yourself completely nude. Wrists and ankles tied to the frame of the large bed you laid on. Confusion ran through you.

Footsteps filled the room. Straining your neck to look down the dark hallway through the open door. Complete silence coming from the darkness other than the loud clap of shoes. The Clown from the restaurant earlier walked into the dim light. Facial expression flat, eyes piercing down at you. Heat dripped down your body knowing he was seeing you completely nude and on display. Approaching the edge of the bed, his head falling to the side as he stared at your bare pussy. A wicked grin crept upon his face.

His hand dug deep down into the bag he carried. The sound of all different textures of things tussled against each other as he went shoulder deep looking for something. An excited look washed over his face as his hand gripped around what he had been looking for. Pulling a deep red, microphone shaped vibrator from the bag. Your entire body flushed.

He crawled on the edge of the bed between your spread legs. Clicking the vibrator to the setting he thought you would enjoy most before teasing around your pussy with it. You moaned at the sudden sensation. Your thighs began trembling as he edged closer and closer to your throbbing nub. When the toy finally found its place on your sweet spot you called out to him, your hips arching at the feeling. Making circular motions with the vibrator, pulling every noise from you he could. Watching as your chest heaved with each shaky breath.

The waves of your first orgasm washed over you like a tsunami. Every inch of you quaking as pure ecstasy pumped through your veins. The Clown smiled at you from the position he was in. A prominent tent pitched through his satin suit. You bit your lip watching him palm himself through the fabric. Mouth beginning to water as the spot of his suit grew darker with his pre-cum. You rolled your hips at him, encouraging him to fuck you.

Dark eyes shot up to look into yours. Hand never leaving his erect member. Your eyes pleaded with him, a small quiet “please” falling from your quivering lips.

His hand clawed at the fabric around his cock, ripping open a hole big enough for him to pull himself out. Eyes unable to look away from how his gloved hand wrapped around his member. Tugging at his erection, his head falling back ever slightly as he savored the feeling of his hand. Almost like he was putting on a show for you.

His body weighed down the bed as he positioned himself to be directly in front of your aching core. Head of his cock prodding at your entry. Tremors of anticipation quaked through you. His lips were barely parted as he looked down at your face. Hooded eyes enjoying the view of you. He rubbed the tip against your folds, collecting all the remnants of you on himself. Ready to delve in.

… A loud knock at the door pulled you awake. You had been dozed off for a few hours now. It was almost too late at night for kids to be out. You sat up, grabbing the bowl of candy off the table in front of you. A second more aggressive knock. “On my way!” You called out as you walked to the front door.

Opening the door to a familiar costumed man. The Clown your friend had been rude to earlier. Little old to be trick-or-treating, but you did not care. “Oh— Hey! It’s you,” flashes of the dream you had been having about him ran through your mind. Heat rising to your cheeks. You swallowed heavy. A toothy grin painted his face as he waved excitedly at you. Holding up a black garbage bag asking for candy from your bowl. You smiled grabbing a large handful of candy and putting it in the bag for him. His eyebrows rose as his mouth morphed into a perfect ‘O’ shape. His hand went up to his lips blowing a silent kiss at you. You caught it with your hand and placed it on your cheek with a giggle.

“There plenty more where that came from. You’re probably my last trick-or-treater for the night. I’ve got all this candy left,” you shook the bowl tossing the candy around in it. The Clown stood before you not saying anything. Eyes staring at you with a wicked grin on his face.

The loud sound of your fire alarm going off made you jump right out of your skin. You looked over your shoulder then back at the man in front of you. His eyebrows furrowed with concern. “Oh— Oh, Crap! I forgot about the cookies I put in the oven!” You rushed back into your house leaving the door wide open. Running into your kitchen and grabbing the oven mitts you had left on the counter, pulling the charred cookies out and throwing the pan into the sink, running cold water over it. Smoke engulfed your kitchen. You opened the window over the sink, fanning the thick fumes out of the window with your oven mitt. Coughing as you accidentally inhaled some of the tar.

You leaned over the counter, hearing the squeak of shoes approaching you identical to what you had heard in your dream. You looked up to see the Clown examining your house. Waving his hand in front of his face as he scrunched up his nose at the smell. You sighed, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even get to introduce myself to you yet. I’m Y/N.” He waved at you acknowledging the introduction.

“Don’t say much do you?”

He shook his head aggressively.

“Hmm. Then how am I going to learn your name?”

He gleamed excitedly. Coming over and grabbing you by the wrist. Pulling you to your fridge where you had countless letters, newspaper clippings, and coupons pinned. He pointed to a picture about the local go-cart racing tournament that happened a few weeks back.

“Cart?”

He made an ‘X’ with his hands, shaking his head in disagreement. He reemphasized the ‘X’ before holding up one finger.

“Okay, minus one letter.”

He nodded with a bright smile.

“Car?”

He folded his arms over his chest, a look of disappointment on his face. His head falling to the side with a look that said “really?”

“Okay. Okay. Art?”

He jumped up and down clapping his hands with joy. Nodding his head rapidly. Clearly thrilled that you were so good at guessing.

“Art! I like that name,” you smiled suddenly realizing that his grip around your wrist stayed. Blushing at how close your bodies were to each other. Remembering your fantasy you were having about it pulling heat to your face.

“Well, since you’re already in here might as well make yourself comfortable. If you wanna sit in the living room I can bring you a glass of water or something,” you smiled. His wide eyes stared at you, smile never leaving his face. He slowly gave you a thumbs up before spinning on his heel and going into your living room.

“Can I tell you something crazy?” You smiled as you sat the glass down in front of him. He nodded. “I— you were just in my dream.” His mouth morphed into an ‘O’ shape, eyebrows raised in intrigue. “I dozed off after I got ditched at the diner. And we were— uh— well, you were. I was—“ Embarrassment washed over you. Realizing you were about to admit to having a sex dream about a complete stranger.

He made an okay gesture with one hand, sticking his opposite pointer finger into the o. You blushed at his insinuation. You nodded coyly. His face fell into a look telling you he thought your thoughts were naughty. Chastising you with his finger. You smiled. He rested his chin on one of his hands propped against his leg, waving for you to continue with the other.

“OH! No, you don’t want to hear the details or anything. It was…” you hid your face from him slightly. Unsure of what to say about the dream. Too awkward to fully admit it.

Art crawled off the couch, resting his chin on your bare knees like a begging puppy. A large frown decorating his face as he fluttered his eyes at you. Wide eyes stared down at him in your lap. Your nerves were set on fire. The source being where his chin touched your bare skin. You swallowed back hard.

He pressed his lips into the skin of your exposed thigh. Biting the soft flesh, leaving grease paint anywhere his lips touched. You felt your body quiver as his teeth dug into you. Bites turned into long licks. Saliva painted your exposed skin. “Art~” you moaned loving the feeling of him on your skin. A wicked grin crept on his face.

Partially gloved hands pried your legs open. Sadistic eyes stared at your clothed core. Noting how you had already soaked through your panties. Licking his way up your skin before planting a sloppy kiss on your core. You slid down the couch exposing yourself better to him. His long tongue lapped over your soaked entry, sucking on the fabric. Your hands gripped his head, eyes rolling back as he worked on you.

He suddenly stood up. You fluttered your eyes up at him. He walked over to his previous seat on the couch. Digging through the black trash bag he carried with him. Making a surprised face when his hand found what it was looking for.

Everything was so familiar...

Pulling something out and hiding it behind his back. Gesturing for you to join him. Patting his lap as you got closer to him. Hesitantly you straddled him. He leaned back into the couch, hooded eyes scanning your entire body. A mischievous grin painted his dirty teeth. He grabbed at your panties, ripping them clean off. Holding them up to his nose and taking a deep inhale, eyes rolling back into his head. Over exaggerating his exhale and putting your ripped garment down into his trash bag. The cool air against your now exposed core sent chills across your entire body.

There was a sudden hum coming from behind Art. He pretending to look around as if he could not find the source of the sound. You blushed at the realization of the noise. Revealing the same deep red want from your dream. You gasped.

"That's the same one from my-"

He cut you off by pressing the toy against your throbbing clit. You moaned loudly, throwing your head back. You rolled your hips against the vibrating silicone. Fire igniting deep inside you. Lost in the feeling.

Art watched how you played with yourself on the toy. His cock begging for the same attention the vibrator was getting. He smacked the side of your thigh to get your attention. Pulling you from your horny, dumb state. Your eyes meeting his gaze. His brows furrowed together as he pointed down to his erect cock. You continued your motions as you reached around to unzip his clown suit. Sliding the satin off his shoulders. His pale, slender body revealing itself to you. Propping yourself up so he could shimmy the material around his ankles. Noticing how he wore no underwear under the suit. You smiled as you stared at his cock.

Your first orgasm was rapidly approaching with the pace of the toy pressed into you. Art's gloved hands guided you down onto his member. Throwing his head back as you sunk down. The way your walls sucked him right in. Almost like your body was begging to be fucked. He blinked hard, his jaw agape. Hands encouraging you to bounce up and down. From the first few hops your orgasm took over you. Moaning his name and shaking. Walls gripping his member inside you. Art licked his teeth, mocking your orgasm face.

You expected him to move the wand so that he could fuck you to his own high. However, he pressed it firmer into your aching nub. Your hips rutted forward. Shocked expression taking over your face as you panted above him. Sweat decorating your skin.

"I-I can't do an-another one," you pleaded with the Clown. Your senses in overdrive as your pussy still spasmed around him occasionally. He pouted, mocking your pleas. Nodding his head to tell you, you would be having another one. Shaking entirely as he began a relentless pace inside you. Snapping his hips flush against your ass with each aggressive thrust. You cried out with each crack of skin. Overwhelmed with how good he felt inside you.

Fingers dinging into his bare shoulders. Gripping him tight enough to break the skin. His own fingers held your hips with a bruising force as he continued bouncing you on him. Feeling yourself approach another orgasm. Air hitching in your throat feeling your skin burn with pleasure.

Art reached one of his hands up and wrapped it around your throat. Squeezing tighter than anyone had ever before. Having you seeing stars, feeling like you could faint at any moment. Truly taking your breath away from you.

HONK!

A silver horn was shoved in your face as he released your throat. Bringing you back to the situation. Also causing you to grip his member again. He mimed a laugh when your body jumped at the sudden noise.

His head fell back against the head of the couch as he savored the feeling of you wrapped around him. Knowing his end was approaching. Sloppily thrusting up into you, circling your clit with the want. Willing you to cum at the same time. You watched as his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. Wishing you could lean forward and bite at his flesh. Decorate his skin with your markings. But you were far too close to your second high to change positions now.

Screaming out to him as you came far harder than the first time. You felt Art shoot up into you, spilling his hot seed into you. Continuing to thrust up into you as he rode out both your highs. Watching how he leaked out of you and pooled around his base. Smiling for a moment before his face fell flat. He helped you off his lap, sitting you beside him. Standing and attempting to reach his zipper on the back.

You stood and helped him. Making sure to pull the zipper away from his skin to prevent any accidents. Art turned and tipped his hat to you. You blushed as you stood in front of the man who just rocked your world.

You watched as he grabbed his black bag and threw it over his shoulder. Heading towards the door. Turning to blow a kiss at you one last time.

Catching it and placing it on your lips. Blowing one right back at him. He pretending to rub the blush off his cheeks.

And just as quick as he had entered he exited your home. You waved goodbye. Choosing not to question the stranger you had let into your home for a quick fuck.

Watching as he disappeared into the night.

~

[END]

// Thank you for reading! This is my first time writing for Art. You really gotta get creative when you can't use dialogue lol. I hope you enjoyed this story! I plan on writing more for him, so if you have any requests please send them my way! Or if you want to be tagged in anything let me know! //

{tags}

@hoe-for-daddywise | @cup1d-ends-here | @xenoanamorph | @getmeoutofhell |

[redeemingvillains]

cold comfort - mattheo riddle

summary: mattheo has one rule: any girl can share his bed (and there's been plenty) but none can stay the night. when the unexpected happens, and you're begging to be the first, you find out why he had the rule in the first place.

word count: 4k

soundtrack: between the sheets - imogen heap

a/n: wait this is kind of a saga! it just kept flowing and flowing, but i'm obsessed with it! hope you enjoy!! ♡♡

When Mattheo heard that a first year in Charms cast a spell that backfired so badly it rendered Hogwarts unable to regulate the temperature in the castle, he'd nearly spit out his firewhiskey. The mental image of Flitwick, McGonagall and all of his other professors frantically trying to fix it to no avail gave him sick pleasure as he thought about all the times they'd looked down on him because of his last name. Fuck 'em he thought. Serves them right.

He'd enjoyed his twisted happiness for several days until an unexpected early spring snowstorm rolled off the mountains, leaving the castle a veritable chamber of cold. For two days now it had nearly been cold enough for him to see the white puff of his breath inside. As others scrambled for a place in front of the fireplaces, his mood darkened, making him even more sullen than usual as talk of canceling classes and sending everyone home began to circulate; home wasn't really a place he was looking to go back to.

So now he was sat in the Great Hall in a large sweatshirt with his hood drawn up around his face, the standard dress code long since forgotten, one hand wound tightly around his second cup of black tea in an effort to warm himself while the other rubbed his tired face as he listened to the incessant chatter of his friends.

He was quietly zoned out until he caught a glimpse of you walking through the large entryway. Everyone in the castle looked in disarray: mismatched sweaters, hats and gloves in haphazard layers to stay warm, but not you, you looked like a perfect snowbunny. You were wearing tight black leggings, fur-lined boots, a thick sweater and a headband to keep your ears warm that complimented your hair. Anyone looking closely enough would see the imperceptible tug of his lips into what could almost be called a smile as you made your way to the Slytherin table and slid onto the bench next to him.

It wasn't lost on him that his best friend was beautiful. He was well and painfully aware of the fact and had been for as long as he'd known you. But, despite the thoughts that ran rampant through his mind at the sight of you, he was determined to keep you at an arm's length. Simply put, you were too good for him, too pure. You had a smile that radiated a warmth that he could feel even now, you were caring and compassionate, smart and sweet, quick with a hug and a kind word. You were everything that he wasn't. He told himself, constantly, on repeat, that it was better to have you in his life at all than to fuck it up trying for anything more.

He subtly traced your face through the corner of his eye: your long lashes, the curve of your smile, and your warm, rosy cheeks, and just like no one but you could see his smile, no one but him noticed the tiredness in your eyes. He nudged his shoulder into yours.

"Alright?" he mumbled.

You glanced up at him, his groggy morning voice and the way his curls stuck out from his hood making you feel like you'd swallowed a pixie. You felt yourself flush, your exhaustion wearing down the mask you normally kept up around him, determined to never let him know how you really felt.

"Just tired s'all" you smiled kindly, nudging him back, coaxing what could almost be another smile out of him as you met each other's eyes. "I can't sleep for shit. No matter what I do, I can't get warm, even under a pile of blankets, in my fuzziest pajamas and a jumper" you shivered.

"Skin to skin is really the only solution" Pansy chimed in with a smirk as she sank further into Draco's arms and you rolled your eyes at the two of them. She had snuck out of your room the last few nights, leaving you not only cold, but alone too.

"Couldn't agree more" Theo said, smirking, before lifting an eyebrow at you "ready, able and at your service, babe" he said, opening his arms to you as you swatted him away, laughing at his attempt to flirt with you. He smiled widely and laughed back before glancing over your shoulder at Mattheo whose eyes were narrowed in his direction.

"What, mate, it's not like you're any help, what with your strict 'no sleepover policy'" Theo chirped at him, referring to the fact that regardless of how many girls came in and out of Mattheo's bed, (which was a sizable number) not one had ever stayed the night, always kicked out in the end, despite the fact that they hoped to be the one to break his streak.

You turned to see Mattheo shooting daggers at Theo.

"S'my bed" he muttered, "more than happy to have someone in it for awhile, but a lad's got to get his rest, yeah?" he laughed and the guys laughed back.

You faked a bitter smile, returning your attention to your breakfast in front of you. You weren't naive but that didn't mean you had to sit here and listen to this, you nibbled a piece of dry toast, the mental image of Mattheo with other girls making you nauseous.

Mattheo's smile fell from his face as he watched your reaction, and wished for the thousandth time that he could tell you that he made that rule because of you. Because if he couldn't have you, then he wasn't going to waste time getting closer than necessary with anyone else; the nights he spent alone his bed his punishment for who he was, the fact that he'd never be good enough for you.

You stood abruptly and shot him a small smile as you moved to leave. He said your name quietly and reached for your hand, but you were gone before you realized it.

That night you crawled into cold sheets that felt almost damp with a chill. Despite the pile of blankets and your thick pajamas, you couldn't get warm or comfortable, tossing and turning as small shivers ran through your body and Pansy's words echoed in your head. You were desperate for warmth at this point, desperate for a good night's sleep, but there was only one bed you wanted to crawl into, and it was with the only person who refused to share it.

Surely he would break his rule for you, for his best friend? you thought; things were different between you two. But were you willing to try, to embarrass yourself if he said no? You rolled around for another hour before climbing out of bed.

Mattheo was in a fitful sleep, which was not unusual for him; his nights were frequented by nightmares, leaving him constantly groggy and grumpy, but when he heard your voice, he was sure he was dreaming, a good dream, a great dream at that.

"Mattheo" you were whispering.

He turned to see you standing at the other side of his bed and was incredibly confused, until you moved to get in... and then he panicked. He panicked because he had thoughtfully planned every way to avoid this exact situation from the moment he met you, knowing that at this proximity he wouldn't be able to control himself. And he was right. You were close, too close. He could smell your shampoo, like warm vanilla, and his hands moved on autopilot towards you, his fingers twitching to bring you closer to him before he stopped himself, inches short.

"Whatareyoudoing?!" he whisper-mumbled in frustration, the words coming out angrier than he'd intended at the range of emotions he was feeling.

You froze, your heart shattering. He was angry. He didn't want you here, he didn't want anyone here. He was going to kick you out and you'd be mortified, your friendship would never be the same, you'd taken things too far. You felt a scratch in your throat as tears threatened to spring forward.

Even in the thick darkness, Mattheo could see that he'd upset you, able to read your expressions better than his own. He could see the wobble of your bottom lip as your wide eyes looked at him and he hated himself and the situation all the more for it.

"Please Matty, m'just so cold, I can't sleep" you whispered, using the nickname that was strictly forbidden for anyone but you that made him melt.

He rubbed a hand over his face and sighed deeply, trying in his sleepy state to figure out a solution as he felt his strength waning; the figment of his every daydream was literally begging to be in his bed and he was certain he couldn't trust himself, certain that this only ended one way.

You took in his rigid form and his frustration and began to backpedal, moving to leave.

"M'sorry, it's okay, I'll go, maybe Theo—"

And you didn't even get a chance to finish your thought before you felt his large, warm hands wrap around your middle and tug you across the bed and into his chest, quickly but gently.

"C'mere" he mumbled as he settled you against him, chest to chest, your head tucked under his.

Your arms wound around him naturally, your legs intertwining, the two of you fitting together effortlessly, perfectly, like puzzle pieces. You let out a small giggle as you nuzzled into him, making yourself comfortable.

He could feel your warm breath as you let out a contented sigh, the innocent sound somehow sinful to his ears as he willed his mind to stop wandering in every direction it wanted to as he felt every dip and curve of your body against his own despite the layers of clothing between you. He kept his hands at your back, unmoving, for a moment unsure if he was even doing this right, unable to remember the last time he'd cuddled with anyone.

"Thank you" you whispered, your voice already sounding relaxed and sleepy to him as your fingers traced patterns on his back, a lavish feeling that released every ounce of tension he had been holding.

You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as his arms hugged you to him firmly and you felt a sensation like melted honey spreading through every inch of you, as he rubbed your back, warming you from your heart to the tips of your toes for the first time in days as you fell into a hazy sleep.

The first thought Mattheo had was that he felt heavy, his limbs felt weighted and his mind felt calm. Rested he realized after a moment. His brain was slowly turning back on, piecing together the dream he'd had, it was a dream, right? You, in his bed, in his arms, pressed against him, nuzzling into him, contented and happy. It felt so real, real enough that he could still smell you, the intoxicating scent of your shampoo, could still feel you in his arms, could still ghost his fingers down your back. You hummed in response and his eyes fluttered open only to realize it was definitely not a dream.

You were here, with him, in his bed, had been all night, your body still wound perfectly in his, neither of you having let go of one another or moved an inch; if anything, it was like you melded together even further. Fuck this is nice he thought as he looked down at you curled into his chest. This was everything, everything he'd hoped it would be. He wanted to stay like this for as long as physically possible, the looming fear of it having to come to an end already upon him.

Suddenly, a pillow came flying onto the bed, askewing the thick curtains that draped around his four-poster.

"Oi wake up, will you, Riddle? Shit, it's almost noon and we've got practice in an hour" came a shout as a cacophony of voices followed behind it into the room.

You stirred in Mattheo's arms just as a hand reached through his curtains to pull them aside.

"Oh. My. Fucking. Days" Blaise drawled, annunciating every word as the others gathered around him.

"I knew it, I fucking knew it"

"Let's gooooooo!!"

"Mattttyyyy!!!" each of them shouted as the jumped up and down in excitement at the sight of you in his bed.

"Fuck off" he said, grasping the pillow they'd thrown at him and hucking it back at them, causing them to disperse as they fell apart with laughter and more cheers.

He felt you shift next to him and looked back to see that you had pulled the covers over your head, just the tips of your fingers and the top of your head visible. He yanked his curtain closed before leaning back towards you and gently grasping the blanket near your hands to pull it back.

While not the wakeup you had hoped for nor expected, Mattheo pulling back the blankets with a soft sleep-ridden smile on his face and his rumpled curls to see you was a mental image that you were sure you would think about every day for the rest of your life. You were swimming in a sea of him, engulfed in his smell, like pine and amber, and you were delightfully warm; he was going to have to pry you out of here.

"Hi" he said quietly in his morning voice.

"Hi" you whispered back.

You looked perfect. He may have thought about waking up to you, with significantly less clothing on and significantly fewer onlookers, but he'd never considered how beautiful you would look, your eyes not all the way open yet, your hair spread like a blanket of its own and fuck if he didn't want to kiss you. His eyes drifted lazily to your lips and back again and he swore he saw a flash of something in your expression in response, curiosity, or perhaps confusion.

"I should—" he started, shaking his head clear.

"—Yeah, of course! Sorry, I didn't realize the time—"

"No problem, take your time—" he said as he rolled out of bed to more cheers and shouts as he shepherded his friends out the door to give you some privacy.

You pulled the sheets back over your heard, burying yourself further into his blankets, reveling in the warmth his body had left before squealing with excitement at the way your day had started.

You were afraid that things would be awkward, but surprisingly they weren't, you were in your easy, unbothered rhythm together. Besides the giggles and teasing from your friends, nothing had changed... including the temperature. As the day went on the warmth you had woken up in faded and you felt progressively more cold settling into your bones, already dreading the cold night ahead of you.

Spending the night with Mattheo was a nice reprieve, but not something you intended to make a habit of, certain you didn't want to live through more teasing nor get your hopes up trying to read into how intimate it had felt.

You were leaving dinner, arms wound around yourself at the chill in the air when you heard a voice calling for you. You turned to see Mattheo jogging after you.

"Hey!" he called.

"Hey" you smiled back, glancing up at him as he fell into step with you.

He smiled readily back at you; he'd seemed peppier today, letting the ceaseless taunting roll of his back with a shrug of his shoulders, the unwillingness to turn everything into an argument or fistfight very uncharacteristic of him.

"Yeah, so—" he started to say, as he looked around for a moment and carded his hand through his hair. He took in how cold you looked and all he could think was how badly he wanted to fix it. "—About last night or whatever...I know it's still fucking frigid, if you wanted to come by or sleep with, er, stay with — in my — yeah, you could do it again if you wanted?"

You couldn't hide the smile the spread widely across your face, nor the way your eyes sparkled mischievously as you stopped walking to face him.

"Mattheo Riddle, are you asking me to sleep with you?" you said flirtatiously, leaning towards him.

He stopped breathing. Your proximity and the words coming out of your mouth snatched every last breath and every last thought he'd had.

"Don't fuck around with me" he said through smirked lips, his voice low and measured, holding a hint of playfulness, but also a warning.

You laughed softly back but didn't back down.

"I'll see you tonight" you said as you continued your path back to the common room, leaving him gazing after you.

Your new outfit that night wasn't lost on him. You were wearing a form-fitting pair of soft pants and a matching top that hung slightly off your shoulder, revealing the lace of a bralette. You crawled into bed beside him, smiling contentedly and curling into his arms like you were married, like this was the most normal, easy, simple thing in the world, and yet it still took him a minute to really comprehend the situation, to relax.

He barely had a minute to catch his breath before Blaise shouted across the room, "Goodnight Theo!"

"Night, Blaise!" Theo shouted back.

"Night, Enz!" Blaise said again.

"G'night!" Enzo replied.

Mattheo rubbed a hand over his face at the antic.

"I swear they don't do this every—" he started.

"—Night, Draco!" Blaise shouted.

"And Pans!" Theo chimed in.

"Full fuckin' house in here" Enzo said.

"Goodnight!" she giggled back.

"Goodnight Mattheo..." Blaise said slowly, drawling out his name.

Mattheo didn't reply.

"GOODNIGHT YN" they each shouted.

You laughed, "Goodnight!" you said back and they cheered as Mattheo turned and buried his head into your shoulder in embarrassment, letting his body weight fall on you in exasperation.

You laughed at his reaction, instinctively bringing a hand to tangle in his curls and hold him to you before you could stop yourself. It was decidedly more intimate than anything that had happened between you before, but it had just felt right, something about pulling him into you, comforting him. You paused after a moment, catching yourself... running your hands through his hair should not make you feel this way; suddenly, you were very very warm.

As if he could sense your reaction, he lifted his head just slightly to meet your eyes, his face inches from yours.

He had to feel your heart hammering in your chest at this proximity, right? As he searched your face, it felt like a veil had come down between the two of you after a night spent together on top of years spent dancing around one another like you didn't know exactly what this could be. On cue, the room around you fell deeply silent as the others settled into sleep.

Your hand slowly dropped to trace his cheek.

"YN" he said in a low voice, cautious, guarded, his tone roughly translating to "Don't".

"What?" you whispered.

"I can't" he said.

"Can't what, Matty?"

The nickname made his heart beat double-time, an impossible feat based on the way it was already drumming loudly in his ears.

"You know what" he said sternly.

"Why?" you asked, innocently, the tips of your fingers moving to trace his jaw, nearing his lips before his hand grasped yours firmly, stopping you, making you jump slightly.

His body was rigid and taught, his expression was serious, maybe even threatening to anyone but you, but all you could see was the look in his eyes that were burning with something else, something much more passionate than anger.

His words were strained, like it was a physical effort to form them.

"I. Can't. Alright? Just let it go" he said as his eyes continued to beg otherwise.

Your next words were so soft, he almost didn't hear them, might have missed them if his entire being wasn't fine tuned to hear the exact phrase.

"Kiss me" you said, somewhere between a plea and a demand.

He caught your eye and his breath caught in his throat at the way you were looking at him: your eyes wide, soft and focused on him, your chest visibly rising and falling underneath him, your body pressing against him as you wiggled your hand out of his grasp to trace his cheek. Surely he couldn't have heard you right?

"I'm not—I can't— that's not a good idea. I can't just kiss you" he said, stumbling over his words uncharacteristically.

"Why?" you asked quietly, sadly.

"No—not—fuck—" he started and stopped, trying not to upset you again.

He paused, trying to collect himself.

"Why do you think no other girl has slept in this bed?" he said seriously.

You pulled your hand back at the mention of other girls at a moment like this, but he responded by reaching to cup your cheek, to force you to look at him.

You were shaking your head.

"Because if I couldn't have you, then I didn't want anyone else. You're fucking it for me, always have been, but girls like you don't end up with guys like me and it's best I don't waste your fucking time and ruin our friendship in the process, alright?" he said resolutely, with finality.

"Matty—" you started

"—Please stop calling me that, please" he said, slamming his eyes closed, "I'm trying to maintain a semblance of self control here."

"Stop holding back!" you whisper-yelled, which caught his attention, causing his eyes to flutter open. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. I want you. I've always wanted you, ask any of our thickheaded friends, they've all known for a long time."

He blinked slowly like each individual word had to register in his head. You could see him swallow, could see the sentence process in his brain as the pad of his thumb traced your cheek and you leaned into him, pressing further against him.

"Kiss me, Matty" you said.

And the last thread of his self control snapped. He leaned in, hovering close enough that you could feel the faintest touch of his lips as they ghosted against yours, teasing you.

"If I kiss you, that's it then, you're mine" he said, like it was a threat, an ultimatum, and not the best thing that's ever happened to you.

A smile spread across your lips and you nodded against his.

"All yours" you whispered back and he caught the last of your words with his mouth, his lips taking yours as both of his hands came to grasp your face firmly but gently, pulling you into him.

You could barely suppress the hum of pleasure that left you at the sensation, the relief of the feeling of his lips pillowed against yours, the tenderness and softness so opposite of everything that he was, the duality of it all had your body tingling. One of your hands grasped at his sweatshirt while the other wound around his neck, attempting to pull him impossibly closer to you as he moaned into your mouth. His tongue tangled with yours and you swore there wasn't anything in the world but this moment, this feeling with him as you tasted the lingering flavor of cigarettes and peppermint that you would come to associate with him.

It was all grabbing, desperate hands and crashed lips at first, trying in moments to catch up on years of wanting, until it was tantalizingly slow, languid, purely achingly perfect and intimate. You were certain you would kiss him like this every single day, given the chance.

It could have been minutes or hours that you were lost in each other before he pulled back, and the whine that left your lips at the loss of contact nearly had him throwing you over his shoulder and marching you to the first broom closet he could find.

"I've spent just about every day for the last 5 years thinking about this, and I cannot believe I'm about to fuckin' say this, but I'm not gonna rush it. At the very least, I'm not gonna hook up with you in a room full of people" he said, before tilting his head, "Well, at least not the first time... after that, no promises."

You laughed quietly and swatted at his shoulder.

"C'mere" he said, pulling you into him.

You curled into his arms, head nuzzling into his neck, your head resting on his chest as he held you tightly, brushing soft kisses to your temple as you fell asleep.

E P I L O G U E

You had been so caught up in the events of the evening, you hadn't really stopped to consider what happens next, namely, how would you tell your friends? Just make an announcement at breakfast? Put on enough PDA that they drew their own conclusion? Take off the scarf you were wearing that was covering the innumerable hickies on your neck? Your mind was in a heady fog about it all as the group of you wandered towards the Great Hall.

You were glued to Mattheo's side, but that wasn't really unusual; his fingers brushed against your own as he shot you a look out of the corner of his eye, a mischievous smile on his face.

"YN!" a voice shouted behind you.

You turned to see Cedric Diggory jogging towards you and you slowed your pace, as did everyone around you. Boys had to be either brave, stupid or naive to approach you when you were with your guy friends, and you weren't sure which category to put Cedric in as his eyes met their unwelcome stares but addressed you anyway.

"Sorry— yeah, I was just wondering if maybe you'd like to—" he started.

Oh no you thought.

"—Cedric, really, that's so kind—" you interrupted, trying to prevent a scene from breaking out as you felt Mattheo tense beside you.

"—You didn't even hear what I was going to say?" he said with a laugh, somewhere between offended, annoyed and amused.

"Well, think that makes the message pretty clear then, mate" Mattheo said, the anger palpable in his tone.

"Excuse me?" Cedric replied. "I was talking to—"

Oh no you thought again.

And you weren't quick enough to intervene before Mattheo had Cedric pinned against the stone wall of the hallway, his forearm at Cedric's chest, nearly lifting him off the ground as his feet dangled for purchase.

"I don't fucking care who you were talking to. From now on, you don't talk to her at all, alright?"

"What are you, her bodyguard?" Cedric sputtered as he gasped for breath.

"No" ... a pause... "I'm her boyfriend" Mattheo growled.

You tried and failed to hide the huge smile on your face behind your manicured fingers as your friends shouted behind you.

Well, that's one way to do it you thought. ♡

[plethorawrites]

How I think the Batboys + Clark would respond to you asking them to "dress up" in some capacity for them in the bedroom like you always do for them.

"I'm always the one in lingerie, why don't you dress up for me for a change?"

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Bruce: Will go for the most petty response possible, by keeping his tie on the next time you're intimate. Which, he meant mostly as a sarcastic joke, but found himself enjoying. You also seemed to be incredibly fond of it, tugging it in between your teeth or biting at it around his neck. When it was covered in your spit from all the biting, it eventually slipped off his neck and got wrapped around your wrists, tightened to keep you in place. And when you resisted it after a bit (lovingly, of course) he untied it, pushing it back into your mouth to muffle your sounds. Who knew a tie was so versatile?

---

Dick: Has no problem with complying when you ask him to dress up. None. You make a fair point and it's only fair he puts in some effort and he's secure enough in his masculinity to do anything you ask. This is the same man who went as discowing for a while, after all. A garter? You're foaming at your mouth. You want him to wear some sort of dress or actual lingerie? He'll have to buy it since yours definitely wouldn't fit, but he'll absolutely get something flattering. A bit of roleplay, to fit, if it was something themed? It's a given. How could he not fully commit?

---

Jason: Would roll his eyes, not because he's annoyed but because he thinks he'd look ridiculous and he cares more about worshipping you than letting you take care of him. That said, If you wanted something different, he'd do something different. The next time he comes home from patrol, instead of taking his stuff off and changing, he stays in it, making you take it off. The leather of his gloves twirling your hair as you unbuckled things, the feeling of your hands tugging his jacket off, is enticing for both of you. And by the time he's nearly fully undressed, you're both desperate. The helmet is the last to go. And it only does after he whispers a few things he knew you'd like in your ear.

---

Tim: Has no idea what that even means, honestly. It could be a joke, maybe. But better safe than sorry if not. Since he didn't quite know, he went with the safest option that could still qualify and wore a see through button up under his jacket, with his slacks for an event, letting you see it later that night. You seemed happy, if not a little frustrated for him having it on all night without knowing. Probably because if you'd seen him in a sheer black top, showing off his chest and stomach, you'd pull him into the bathroom and take it off right there.

---

(Aged up) Damian: Isn't entirely unused to flamboyancy in one way or another. He wore plenty of nice robes and wraps for the League of Assassins, not to mention suits for his father's events. But that was a normal thing, he supposed. So, if you wanted something different, he'd have to think outside of the box. He's always liked art, ever since he was young and even considered making love to be an art in itself, in a way. So, the next time you're in his room, tugging off his clothes, you're surprised when he's covered in henna, little swirls, dots, even flowers. It had taken hours, but was absolutely worth it for the look on your face.

---

Clark: Was befuddled, like he often was when you said that. He had no idea how to dress up for you, or even why you'd want him to. But when you guys spend a weekend at the farm and he catches your eyes lingering when he's working in the yard, he figures it out. When you're home, several days after the visit ended, you find him in overalls and nothing else, except for a cowboy hat, he usually wore to keep the sun out of his eyes. And it was fun, he'll admit, seeing you get excited. The hat looked much better on you, though.

[cheer-nympho]

Steve had been conned into chaperoning the kids to a ren faire.

Admittedly with very little resistance, but he was keeping that to himself. Once there and with their bags packed away into some apparently theme appropriate tents he had shrugged on some medieval casual clothes and…immediately lost track of all of them,

But a figure he did spot was a long haired Jester entertaining a small entourage with juggling,

Steve finds himself laughing slightly condescendingly at the jingling man. Why do people find juggling so impressive?

He picked it up straight away with some hackey sacks while bored between practices. He’s just good with his hands.

When he looks back up to get another glance in however, the jester isn’t perched on top of his little rock anymore and the crowd has merged with the other dweebs.

Steve stares at the empty space for a moment before a jingle right by his ear spooks him into turning around.

“Art thou not impressed by my amazing skills, your lordship?” The jester asks, swaying on his feet and causing the bells all over him to ping, grin wide and mocking.

And up close Steve notices one very important, very dangerous thing.

This court jester is really fucking hot.

He looks like an idiot, a nerd, a dweeb. Its hard not to in a pointy hat. But he also wore it too well, looked too perfect like that.

Steve notices the…is that..? Yes, the corset wrapping tightly around the mans waist, red and black diamonds decorating the sides and leading to small puffy shorts. His legs are covered in tight black leggings which should look ridiculous. It should.

An obnoxious cough and head tilt-jingle make Steve aware that he has been staring at the mans waist for way longer than was ‘bro code permitted’

He looks up with a wince, expecting a look of disgust ranging from mild embarrassment to punch-your-lights-out.

He was, instead, greeted by a smug and knowing smile. The red and black triangles painted over the mans eyes warped where the grin reached them. “Or maybe thou art impressed, but skills are not what draw thine eyes.”

Shit. Fuck. The stupid hot nerd is using stupid nerd speak on him. And Steves stupid nerd, apparently ‘very accurate’ pants are getting tighter. He needs to say something. Anything.

“You’ve got…bells.” Okay, maybe not anything. He used to be better at this shit.

He is rewarded with a wild, joyous laugh as the jester throws his head from side to side. “I do! Isn’t it amazing?The staff insisted on it so they could hear me coming.”

“It certainly makes an impression-“

“Eddie, names Eddie. And what does my lordship go by?”

“Steve is fine.”

“That he is…” The comment was punctuated by a less than subtle glance, almost a leer. “However, Fine Steve seems unimpressed with my merrymaking. As the official court jester, I cannot let that stand.” He stamps his foot, causing another cacophony of jingles.” “Therefore…”

“…Pick a card any card!” A pack of standard cards was presented to him with a flourish, but all he could do was roll his eyes.

“Come on, really? This shit is basic. All I have to do it watch your hands. You’ll swipe my card out and put it back in later, or mark it somehow.”

“Ooo his highness has it all figured out doesn’t he. Well then, princess, you have nothing to lose by picking a card, do you?” And that was…true. Plus he could maybe try to fix his previous fumble and try to claw a number out of this disaster.

So with another bitchy roll of his eyes, Steve plucks a card from the deck and hides it behind his palm. Two of Hearts.

Then out of nowhere… “You know, Stevie, if you think I’m pretty you can just tell me. I know the kingdom would approve not of a noble like yourself marrying a commoner like me, but they need know little of how we…” He begins to reshuffle the cards, motioning for Steve to place his chosen one back in before making some very obvious, very crude movements with his fingers. “…get to know each other in the meantime.”

He was going to die. In the middle of a nerd fest.

“Well, my lord…” Eddie continues, circling him while dragging a finger across his arms and shoulder blades before coming to a stop in front of him. A very bold hand takes Steves jaw and forces his head up, pretending to inspect something on his costume for any bystanders.

“If you would like some more…close up demonstrations…” He leans in tightly, still holding Steve’s jaw in a tight grip. “You can pay me a visit in staff cabin 23 tonight.” He strokes a piece of hair gently behind Steve’s ear before pulling out a card, as if from said ear.

Steve was glad that Eddie took the initiative to carefully pull his hand up and place the card into his palm, because currently Steve was too preoccupied with staring like a fish out of water into Eddies eyes. Everything about him was just so captivating, so alive.

Maybe that’s why he did little more than step forward aimlessly, with small grabby hands when Eddie pulled away. Before Steve could even process it, the bells and jingles had mingled back into the crowd. But that was…that was okay. Cause he could go to the…cabin?

But how was he supposed to- Oh. He looks down. On the card was a loosely clipped room key with a ‘23’ crudely engraved into the edge as if by a pocket knife.

The card itself, to his horror, was the Two of Hearts.

Shit.

He forgot to watch the fucking hands.

[5sospenguinqueen]

Take A Break | Toto Wolff x Wife! Reader

Summary: Toto has been pushing himself too hard trying to get the upgrades sorted. As his concerned wife, you plan a surprise visit.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff. Bad writing

Requested: Yes by Anon (Hope I did this justice)

2024 season. There's a little blurb halfway through as well.

F1 Masterlist

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mercedesamgf1 just posted

liked by ynwolff_official, lewishamilton and others

mercedesamgf1 boss man hard at work 

1,198 comments

ynwolff_official you better be looking after him

→ mercedesamgf1 yes, ma’am. we’re doing our best 

→ ynwolff_official tell him if he doesn’t stop working late, he’ll be in trouble when he comes home 

→ mercedesamgf1 stop making the admin team threaten me, schatz. they keep coming into my office shaking and you’ll get me into trouble with hr - toto 

user1 tell him to make an insta 

georgerussell63 he looks like a sith lord

→ ynwolff_official i think you mean, very handsome

→ georgerussell63 i’m not going to say that about my boss

→ alex_albon why not? you were telling me the other day that you think he looks much better in the white shirt than the black zip up 

user2 anyone else think he looks tired lately?

→ user2 he’s been working extra hard to get the upgrades ready, i’m guessing 

→ user3 plus wifey and jack haven’t been able to make a race in a while so he’s probably missing them after that triple header

user4 george won’t be getting those upgrades once yn tells toto that he wouldn’t admit he was handsome

→ mickschumacher i’ve already told 

→ georgerussell63 betrayal

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Strolling through the Hungaroring paddock, you kept a tight hold of your son’s hand. Bustling bodies brushed past, paying the the pair of you no heed, which worked well with your surprise.

Over the past few weeks, Toto had been working tirelessly to ensure the upgrades were ready and working in time for the Hungarian Grand Prix, albeit to the detriment of his own health. He’d been sleeping less, running himself ragged to ensure Mercedes didn’t remain fourth in the constructors. After winning at Red Bull Ring and Silverstone, he knew the potential was there. All he had to do was unlock it. But that had meant shorter calls with his wife and son, fewer responses to messages and a growing distance that he hated feeling during the season. And so, arranging a surprise visit during race weekend had been the most obvious solution.

Mercedes hat sat atop his dark hair, Jack babbled about everything he could see as the tall form of George Russell guided you towards the garage. 

“Hello, stranger.” Lewis’ voice met your ears when he caught sight of you. “Toto didn’t tell me you were coming. What’s up, little man?” 

George vanished into the back of the garage, searching for the Team Principal. Leaning over to the Brit, you pressed a kiss to the cheek of the 7x WDC. Lewis gave your shoulders a squeeze before pulling Jack up into his arms, whisking him over to where the W15 was being polished. 

“George, this better be important. I was in the middle of an analysis report-.” A disgruntled Austrian accent filled the garage, bringing a smile to your face. You could picture the deep frown twisting his handsome’s features without even turning to see it.

“Liebe?” 

The silver arrows watched the tension seep out of their Team Principal’s face as he took in the appearance of his wife. Striding across the garage floor, he pulled you in for a tight hug, and pressed a chaste kiss to the side of your head. Aware of the eyes on you both, he had to refrain from pressing his lips to yours. Denying you both the deep kiss you truly desired.

“Surprise,” you whispered, slipping your arm around his waist. Your hand automatically rubbing soothing circles against his hip. 

“I’m so happy you’re here,” he murmured into your hair, inhaling the familiar scent of home. 

“You sounded like you needed us.”

“I always need you.”

“Well, then, let’s go rescue your son from Lewis.”

Holed up in Toto’s office, the Wolff family basked in their first moment of family time since over a month. Toto had ordered everyone to leave them alone until qualifying was due to start or somebody was dying. Thankfully, the team listened and so he spent the past hour listening to his son tell him about school and watching Lewis win a race on telly.

Fussing over the amount of coffee cups in the waste bin, you turned to lecture your husband on his inability to get enough rest but paused, mouth open. Curled up on the deep couch pushed against the wall, Jack was snuggled into his father’s lap. His iPad had fallen to the side, and soft snores escaped from his mouth. Glasses askew, Toto’s chin rested on his son’s head, eyes closed tight. Father and son, exhausted from the excitement of their day.

Taking a quick picture on your phone, you smiled at the sight of your family. Reaching into Jack’s backpack, you pulled out his blanket, draping it over your favourite boys.

“Ich liebe dich,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads.

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mercedesamgf1 just posted

liked by georgerussell63, mickschumacher and others

mercedesamgf1 our favourite family 🐺

1,554 comments 

georgerussell63 admin, you used the same quote for a photo of toto with me, lew and mick the other week?

→ mercedesamgf1 we were paid to do that 

→ alex_albon great now he’s crying 

→ landonorris ha! at least our admin love us more than zak

→ mclaren don’t tell on us! 

mercedesamgf1 inside scoop; toto asked us to print out the photo of yn and jack to put in his office 

mickschumacher does this mean i can take the little wolff karting?

→ ynwolff_official only if you promise to come for dinner

→ georgerussell63 and me? 

→ user5 poor toto can’t escape his drivers even during his time off because his wife adopted them all 

lewishamilton nice to see you and jack in the paddock again, yn

→ ynwolff_official and you, lew. hopefully we can attend a few more now that the summer holidays are here 

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ynwolff_official just posted

liked by valterribottas, mercedesamgf1 and others

ynwolff_official my favourite part of summer break is the view 

1,003 comments 

mercedesamgf1 tell boss man to bring that smile back with him 

→ ynwolff_official don’t worry. i’ll be sending him back to work extra happy 

→ lewishamilton yn, love, this sounds less than family friendly 

→ ynwolff_official oops 

user6 oh she’s FEEDING us 

user7 has george joined you for a sleepover yet

→ ynwolff_official of course. he’s like the son i didn’t ask for 

→ georgerussell63 but you love anyway?

→ user8 silence speaks volumes 

user9 yn wolff thirst trapping her husband was not on my 2024 bingo 

→ user10 silly season is extra silly this year so yn obvi thought she would participate 

→ user11 and we love her for it

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Requests for F1 smau's are open. You can see who I write for on my masterlist :)

[fanged-fanfics]

Hello I was thinking what if shadowmilk lover can make themself tiny and like hang out in shadowmilk hair ALOT, when he about to get in a fight knowing it will take a while he just pull his lover out of his hair and give them to black sapphire where he know they be safe and he put shadowmilk's lover in his packet and keep a close eye on candy apple making sure she won't try anything to them.

☆ Mayhem In All Sizes — Shadow Milk Cookie x GN Reader HCs ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

ᯓᡣ𐭩 When you first transformed into a smaller version of yourself, Shadow Milk had scooped you up and immediately began gushing about how cute it was. You were the size of his palm, and could perfectly cradle into his pocket

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Anytime you felt like it, he'd carry you on his shoulder, in a little bag, or even have you hide under his hat! That was when you had the idea to burrow into his hair and peek out when something interesting was happening

ᯓᡣ𐭩 There's been plenty of times where Shadow Milk would have to deal with some idiot, so he'd gently let Black Sapphire take hold of watching you for the time being while he went to make crumbs out of them

"Here, hold them if you please~!" Shadow Milk had sang, placing your miniature form into Black Sapphire's palms. "Of course, Shadow Milk Cookie! Consider it done" Black Sapphire said, saluting while balancing you on his shoulder. "Good, good! I'll be just a moment, my snooky-bear!" Shadow Milk called out to you, before turning to the stranger Cookie who had dared to insult him. "Nooww! Where were we?" Shadow Milk asked, voice dropping to menacing as Black Sapphire handed you a mini jelly snack

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Candy Apple loves to try to makeshift little outfits for you so you'll have something to do when in tiny form. Why not try modeling? Might as well, yeah? This one's even got a matching gloves set!

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Black Sapphire always bickered with Candy Apple over your head about it. This is a teammate, not some doll! Shadow Milk wanted you safe, not dolled up in something made out of tissues!

ᯓᡣ𐭩 While the two minions bickered, Shadow Milk was finally starting to come back. He dusted his hands off, cleaning crumbs off of his outfit. Once he saw you, his grin came back in full force, and you were scooped into his arms

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "There we go! No more of those idiots, dear! Just us again" The snickering jester said, nuzzling into the top of your head. You laughed a little, letting him carry you to his shoulder and scooting back into place. Black Sapphire and Candy Apple immediately straightened up at his arrival

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You got your way back into his hair, climbing up until you reached the top of his head. When you resurfaced, you poked out of the edge of his hat to look around. The deceitful cookie giggled at the sight, while Black Sapphire and Candy Apple were fighting over what to eat for dinner

[ghostfacesvalentine]

HALLOWEEN DAY 16: Dress up - Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader

Warning: Smut, kissing, marking, fingering, degrading (nothing too bad) I don’t think it’s too graphic.

Type: Blurb

Request: N/A

Word count: N/A

Prompt: You were trying on Halloween costumes when Billy walks in on you.

Notes: Literally don’t bully me.

Definitely frustrated with your wardrobe, you were trying anything and everything to make something work. Of course nothing felt right, you feared you had to buy something last minute for Stu’s yearly Halloween party.

You know you should’ve planned ahead, you kept telling yourself that for the past few months and now here you were in a skintight black bodysuit with an old pair of cat ears that you just didn’t like.

It had been two hours since you told Billy you were ready, not that you were lying, but it just didn’t feel right to you.

You’ve been friends with the boys since you were in middle school. When Stu brought up the party at the mall, Billy offered to drive you, it wasn’t out of the ordinary, it didn’t take long for him to be friends with your brother, then you.

Shuffling through your wardrobe, you kept ratteling your brain to make the best of what you had. You could only be so creative. You opted to keep your best friends away from making any choices for you. How hard could it be? However, the more you pulled from the hangers, the more complicated it seemed to become.

Your eyes scanned through the remainder of the clothes still on hangers when a sparkly number caught your eye.

It was pink, coated in iridescent glitter. It made a mess in your closet, sure, perhaps that’s why it was tucked so tightly away close to the wall. You yanked it from the hanger, causing the plastic to pop off the pole and into the rest of the pile of clothes.

Walking it over to your full length mirror, you pressed it against your figure. After a few seconds you opted to try it on. Before you did, you were sure you had some accessories to go with it. Along the shelf in your closet, you pulled some boxes that were hidden away, knowing you stuffed a few miscellaneous items in there. You couldn’t remember exactly what was in there, but it had to be something to go along with a costume of some sort.

As the boxes fell onto the floor, you pried them open, quickly digging through them. There was a few headbands, some satchels, a tiny hat. “What a bunch of junk” you murmured to yourself. Your hands kept digging through when something shiny caught your eye.

It was a crappy tiara, tiny and cheap, but it would do.

You tossed it onto your bed, with a sigh you pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it to the side. You then struggled out of your jeans, stepping over each leg to free yourself from them.

Standing in your room, clad in your underwear, you unhooked your bra, knowing there wasn’t one to go well with the dress when you felt a pair of eyes watching you.

Turning around, you pressed your loose bra against your breasts when your breath hitched to see Billy at the door frame. “I thought you said you were ready-“ he whispered as he stayed leaned against the frame.

“Change of plans” you argued.

“We’re going to miss the movie.” He added, yet stayed in the same position.

“You don’t have to take me.” You snarked, half joking. It didn’t phase him though, he was used to your bratty attitude.

“I know. Doesn’t make us any less late.” Still in the same spot.

There was a silence between you two, only interrupted by the music playing through your radio.

You're talking a lot, but you're not saying anything

“What are you choosing?” He wandered out loud, you didn’t know if you were more annoyed or embarrassed that he seemed to have no reaction.

“I don’t know, I was going to try this on.” You confessed.

“Then try it on.”

The music again taking place instead of your bickering. Suddenly there was a knot in your throat, he was slowly chipping away at your wall.

“Are you just going to watch me?” Your face contorted as you tried to keep the facade.

“Yeah.” He said in a matter of fact manner. There was a faint appearance of enjoyment in his face, if you squint you could see it. You knew your cheeks reddened at his abrasive mannerism, there was a silent mutual agreement that if anyone was uncomfortable, something would be said.

Secretly, Billy was expecting you to yell at him or shoo him out of the room.

“I mean, I think you would’ve closed the door if you didn’t want anyone to see you, but you didn’t.” Billy argued, letting a smirk form on his lips. He got you there, but you didn’t think he would check in on you like this.

There was nothing for you to say, other than to let your bra fall to the ground along with the rest of the piles.

The air only seemed to thicken. You hated that he was getting his way, but you hated even more that you were sinfully proud that your bare chest finally caused a reaction, even if it was so subtle. You saw the shift in his posture, but his face remained the same.

Reluctantly, you pulled the pink dress into your body, shimmying into the bodice, for a moment forgetting Billy was watching your breasts shift around with your movements. You pulled your spaghetti straps to sit upon your shoulders properly.

“Spin.”

He really had some nerve and again, you hated that something in you listened to him. You twirled around once, the skirt of your dress along with your movement.

You flattened out the wrinkles of your dress after it set from the abrupt spin.

“Put the crown on.”

“What?” Your breath halted, you looked over at Billy in confusion.

“The crown” he gestured to the piece of plastic on the bed.

“Really?” You pressed your lips together throwing daggers at him through your eyes.

“Really.” He confirmed.

You hesitantly reached for the tiara, holding it in your hands for a few moments before putting it on your head, the teeth of the tiaras band hooking into your locks.

When you felt it secure onto your head, you waited for a moment before looking back to Billy, who stared at you in awe.

“I’ve always wanted to kiss a princess.” Billy hissed through his teeth, taking the pressure away from the frame and making his way towards you. Your body turned to face him, staying put until he reached you, nearly breathing on your head.

Taking a step back, he took a step forward to follow you. What the hell is he doing?

His eyes were eating you alive, tracing all the outlines of your face, then your neck, down to your collarbones. You could feel his mouth watering, you could see his pupils getting larger.

Billy’s hand rose to touch your bare arm, his other trickling into your waist. You felt goosebumps form as his hands met your body for the first time. Your face looked up to him as he towered over you.

You’d never admit out loud that you were completely his, if he said strip you’d strip, if he’d ask you to bend over, you would, if he told you to pose for a photo, you would.

But he didn’t ask for any of those things.

Instead he dipped his head low, lips open and ready to consume you. His hot breath grazed your chapping lips, he stood there for a moment before he wrapped his arms around you abruptly.

His hands gripped you in an animalistic manner, his lips clashed against yours, you felt his tooth bump against yours as he bit down to your bottom lip. You were just limp in his arms, opening your mouth to let his tongue swipe across your bottom lip and against your own tongue.

Billy’s hands gripped your figure as he backed you up against the bed, the back of your knees hitting the corner. His hands reached down to lift you by the back of your knees, your dress hitched up by his grip. His hands traveled up your thighs as he gently placed you to fall against the mattress. Your hands wrapped around his neck, trying to intensify the kiss as you felt more and more of his hands explore the bare side of your body.

You felt his fingers hook onto the waistband of your underwear making way to shimmy it down your legs. You moved however you could to help him undress you, your arms still attached to him like he was going to disappear any second.

“Pretty little princess.” He murmured against the corner of your lips. Billy opened his mouth to press wet kisses against your cheek, his tongue and lips clashing against your jaw, then down to your neck. He sucked and nipped at the sensitive regions of your neck, slow at first, but eager not too long after.

All you felt was the sting of his bite, feeling the welts form as he kept sucking and nipping, not giving you time to catch your breath.

“Let me hear what makes you feel good.” He pleaded, smiling at the breathy moans he worked out of you.

“I’ve always wanted this little princess sitting on my lap. But I think this is better.” He groaned out, pushing two fingers against your folds. Your heart raced when you heard his breath hitch as your slick coated his fingers, he was already involuntarily moving his hips against you, pants still on, constricting him. He must’ve been aching.

You gathered up all your strength to reach down to his belt, trying to work at unhooking it.

“Don’t be a fucking brat.” He hissed, abruptly using his free hand to pull yours back causing you to lay flat on your back. You looked up at Billy through your lashes, his cheeks were flushed, hair was tousled and his chest was moving faster than normal.

Before you could whine, he sunk two fingers into your wet mouth, pulling them down against the corner of your mouth, forcing you to moan louder. He took this opportunity to sink his other two fingers into your slick hole, pumping in and out slowly before forming a hook with his fingers.

The feeling was pure bliss, your tongue spewed out, trying to describe your pleasure through a moan, it just sounded like a wet mess. Your eyes crossed as he wiggled his fingers roughly inside of you, he did this more for him than you.

“Bi-“ you choked out, causing the fingers in your mouth to grip your cheek tighter. Your legs were held open by his waist, only your knees were able to touch each other.

“Fuck. Good fucking princess. You’re such a mess.” He groaned, smeared lipstick stained your cheeks due to his grip, mascara stains were already forming due to the sinful tears of delight he was brewing in you.

“Fucking good little whore too, y’know that?” He asked without wanting a real response, you cried out when he kept his moment fast, still hooking into your cunt, your hips bucked at the overstimulation, forcing your eyes shut as you descended into bliss.

“My slutty princess looks so good when I play with her. Haven’t even sticked my dick in her, I wonder how many times I can make her squirt before I even take off my pants.”

Your eyelids fluttered open, half there, half not. Squirt? Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a moment before it turned into pleasure, feeling your core tighten as he kept his speed only adding a third finger.

Eyelids closing again, you felt yourself wetter than before, choking out moans at the feeling of defeat in your core. When your eyelids barely opened again, you only saw Billy’s mischievous and delighted grin. “Come on princess, I’m just getting ready.”

[leyavo]

| Symbiosis | 4

Summary: Bug and Roach find themselves in the Captain’s office after a physical altercation. (Harassment)

PART 4 of 🐞 previous parts > [Bug masterlist]

Men, they loved to talk shit. Especially in the military, saying the most misogynistic shit and brushing it off as a joke. Half the time when it was directed at you, you’d ignore it. The other half? Ask them if they’d ever been loved by their mother, because they’re obviously lacking in something.

You didn’t get a chance to react to the latest shit this guy was spewing though. A blurred figure appeared out of nowhere, shoving the guy against the nearest surface, a truck.

Thick with dirt, the guys face pressed into the mud, but no matter how hard he thrashed against the other’s hold he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Roach! What the fuck,” you gasped. He doesn’t acknowledge your presence, too focused on the guy in front of him.

One simple word, “apologise,” Roach snarled, his eyes softened as he glanced back to you. He’s not in his usual tactical gear, a navy pair of jeans and a black hoody draped over his shoulders, Roach printed across his upper back. The grey mask looks off without his goggles and helmet, you have to do a double take. The guy obviously didn’t recognise him, otherwise he wouldn’t have been so brave.

He’s not one for words, rarely speaks to you or the task force, but when he does it matters.

“What’s going on ‘ere.”

You tense at the firm, deep voice at your back. Lieutenant Riley living up to his call-sign, ghost. The only way he’ll announce his arrival is if he wants to be heard. You don’t get a choice.

There’s something off-putting about him, you’re still trying to figure him out. Lieutenant Riley you understand, Ghost and whatever personality he has as a civy you have no idea.

Ghost pries Roach off the guy, but he doesn’t let him scurry away. No, the lieutenant grabs him by the scruff of his shirt and gives him the once over.

“Sergeant Haines,” Ghost reads the patch out loud, brown eyes flitting to Haines and then you. He lets go of his shirt, patting the creased fabric from his grasp. More of a slap in warning. “137, huh? Captain Reynar will be waiting for you. Now go.”

You’re still staring at Roach, wondering what exactly he heard or how much. He won’t glance your way though, no he’s watching Haines retreat. Face hidden, no tells to inform you of what he’s feeling other than anger.

“Come on you two,” Ghost barks, nudging his head to the main building. You don’t protest, just fall in line with him and Roach.

The pounding in your head increases with each step you take. You just want to run off to your room and stay there till you forget the whole thing. Hopefully Roach will keep his mouth shut.

You catch up with Roach, tugging his arm. “I can look after myself, don’t need you…” you muttered under your breath, head dipping as Ghost glanced over his shoulder at you.

“Save it for the Captain.”

Fuck, the captain. You don’t want this to drag out, don’t want to repeat the words Haines said to you about them. If Roach hadn’t got involved, you’d have easily got on with your work and tried to dodge Haines around base. Now you’ll be forced to say something you’re not comfortable saying to them.

You follow them through the building, down the narrow corridors. Bodies parting like the Red Sea as soon as they spot Ghost walking in their direction. He knocks on the Captain’s door, making you both stand outside whilst he gives John a heads up of what’s going on.

⋆⋅ꕥ⋅⋆

“Why is it, that you two are in my office two days in a row?” The captain says, leaning back in his chair and scratching his moustache. It’s rare to see him without a hat, short clipped hair brushed back.

In your defence yesterday was unlucky, a faulty flash bang going off in the armoury and the two of you were at the scene. Your eyes still stung and head throbbed from the aftermath.

“Sexual harassment, Captain.” Roach said, quick and to the point as if he’d been asked the time.

“Oh, now you talk.”

“Bug,” ghost interjected, he’s leaning on the edge of the desk like a scary gargoyle leering over a church. His arms folded over his chest, gaze fixed on Roach who’s glaring back at him.

The Captain stares at you though, of course you’re the newest recruit. Must be your fault. And it’s very out of character for Roach to lash out.

You’d never seen Roach lose it so quickly. His frame still trembling with rage as he sat in the chair, back straight and fists balled up on his knees. Even during an op he hadn’t displayed this much rage. Maybe before you joined the 141, but you’d never witnessed it till now.

“He didn’t touch me, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Well Roach didn’t give him a chance to, twisted the guys arm before he could and slammed him against the side of the nearest truck.

Not that it would have gone that far, you’re good at ignoring and walking away from those pricks. Capable of standing up for yourself too, without Roach’s help.

Price sighs, glancing between you and Roach. “So what happened then?”

You really didn’t want to do this, either way you don’t win. If it’s not you telling them, it’ll be Roach.

“He said I only got on the task force so you could all pass me around,” you mumbled, embarrassed to say it out loud to your captain and lieutenant. You’d heard a lot worse about yourself and others, advised by other women to ignore it and silence them by climbing the ranks. Warned to never date someone in the same line of work.

And you’d climbed the ranks, joined the task force. Your hard work still getting overlooked by the simple fact of being a woman. There’s no way you got it alone, must have done favours for men in high places (which you did not). It made you sick.

Just saying it out loud made you feel like an object, dirty and used. A tiny part in the deepest pit of your mind hoping they don’t laugh it off and tell you to toughen up, hand on your thigh.

Silence. You rose from your chair, if you’re moving they won’t try it. Brush it off before they can.

“It isn’t the first time and it won’t be the last. Roach just needs to grow thicker skin, Captain.” The same thing you were told when you complained to your superiors when it happened the first, second and third time. You didn’t bother trying to report them after. Knowing the only person in your corner was you.

“I’ll talk to his C.O,” the captain said, clicking away at his keyboard. No doubt, compiling a useless report. You don’t know why he’d waste his time.

If anything Haines would get a slap on the wrist and a warning, but you. You’d be labeled too sensitive and emotional, not fit for the military. What are you going to do if you’re getting interrogated? That question always thrown at you.

You scoffed, “What so they can have a laugh? Pass the joke around like you all pass…”

“Bug!” Roach snapped, you’d never heard him yell. His chair tipping over as he stood up. The clang of metal making you back up a couple steps.

As calm as ever, Ghost placed a hand on Roach’s shoulder and steadied him.

If anything it should be you raging, not him, but you’re tired of letting the opinions of others control you so much. What’s your anger going to do? Other than tear yourself apart. No you’ll just push it down and deal with it when you get back home.

“Why don’t you go cool off, Roach.”

Ghost is on his feet, “I got it,” he says over his shoulder as he goes after Roach. He closes the door behind him, the sound bothering you more than it should. Just the thought of being alone with the Captain setting you on edge.

The Captain points to the sofa, he’s rounding the desk and coming for you, but you return to the uncomfortable metal chair you were seated in before.

He doesn’t question it though, just sits on the sofa as you turn the chair to face him.

You cross your arms over your chest and slouch in your seat. “I’m not emotional,” you mumbled, staring down at your scuffed boots.

“I didn’t say you were.” He’s quick to reply, brow raised at your words.

“I know how this goes.”

“How does it go, Bug?” He shifts on the edge of the sofa, leather creaking with his movements. His hands clasped together in his lap. Head tilting in attempt to meet your gaze, but you’re looking at his fingers twitching.

“You tell me I’m being sensitive, that I shouldn’t report it. There’s no need to ruin a good man’s career and reputation. What else do you want me to do?” Your heart hammering in your chest, hoping the Captain doesn’t ask something of you. Hoping he won’t give you some boring task like cleaning the rec room and saying how you’ll be able to think whilst you do it.

“I want you to help me fill out a report.” And right on time, the ancient printer spits out a piece of paper. He plucks it off the filing cabinet beside him and offers it to you.

You scan the black text, the paper still warm between your grasp. “I don’t…”

“Task force 141 and I, do not take any type of harassment lightly. We’d never treat you like that, ever Bug. You hear me?”

You nod, unable to find the words.

“I’m angry, but not at you Bug.”

[Next Part]

[trishmishtree]

First sewing project of 2025 completed!

It's a Vicwardian shirtdress that kind of straddles the lines between historybounding and historical costuming and cosplay.

See, I have made 3-4 blouses/shirtwaists in this style now, and the most irritating thing about them is that they gradually get more and more untucked throughout the day until I'm left with a muffin top spilling over my skirts. So I figured, why not make one that's the bodice of a dress? That way, I can anchor the blouse part down to the waistband so it can't ride up and come untucked, and I can control how much it's allowed to blouse and keep it that way 24/7 since it's stitched down.

^See? Now I won't have to constantly adjust and re-adjust the gathering and pleating into the waistband or tug my shirttails down because I can feel the back of the blouse ballooning out again.

(Almost forgot to mention: yes, the skirt has giant Victorian-style pockets in the side seams. The dress was 99% hand sewn, mostly because I was working on it while out of town without access to my machine, but also because when I got home and tried to attach a facing to the pockets, my machine decided 3 layers of this shirting-weight cotton twill fabric was too much to handle and broke down. So thanks for that, pockets. Now I have to find a repair shop or replacement machine.)

And bonus: the skirt can be worn as is, or it can function as a petticoat under a separate skirt I can wear over the dress. If I make a floor-length walking skirt to wear over this shirtdress, and maybe a waistcoat and/or an Eton jacket, then I'll have a convincing enough 1890s-1900s ensemble for historical costuming purposes.

Oh, and in case you can't tell, the bodice design with the diagonal pintucks in the yoke is inspired by the outfit that Elphaba wears in her "The Wizard and I" sequence from the new movie. She wears this gauzy, crinkle chiffon-looking blouse under a black jumper dress, and the visible parts of the blouse look like they're bias cut, with some kind of pintucked or micro-pleated texture.

I basically spent the last month and change drooling over the costuming and wanting Elphaba's entire wardrobe. I don't think I'll be accurately recreating any of her actual costumes, but I like to think that my new shirtdress *could* potentially be something she'd wear.

Oh, and here's a detail of the lower sleeves on my dress. Elphaba's usually wearing all black, so the movie costumers played a lot with the texture of the fabrics on her clothing. They were inspired by mushrooms and other earthy textures, so her dresses have a more organic look than what I have going on here. I didn't have enough fabric to play around with, so I figured I'd just give honeycomb smocking a try, and I'm shocked at how well these sleeves preserve body heat in the winter.

Now all I need to do is make her hat and maybe sew a cloth facemask from green fabric and my 2025 office-appropriate Halloween costume will be good to go.

EDIT: link to the pattern I made for this dress here

And here's the dress worn under the corresponding skirt and waistcoat, and Eton jacket.