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ashersanity · 5 months

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I need more Yan Bailey content sir. And Briar... Remy... if you write for them...

Let's say PC is working in the brothel, So what type of yanderes are they? Will they even let anyone see PC in those skimpy outifts?

I wonder how contradictory it will be for Briar... (Bonus: Avery will probably go furios mode because it's dragging his reputation down?)

bailey deserves a post of their own, planning a part 2 for the shitty caretaker. Just for you @mellowwillowy. part 1 is here.

Cmon, you knew what you were doing when you requested for Remy.. Wait, no one knows that im a Remy enthusiast, do they? Fuck. Well, here I go then. - @princesstokyomoon :)

SHADY BASTARDS AS YANDERES

asher is on a roll.

content warning! dub-con/non-con, mostly non-con really, mentions of violence, murder, kidnapping, marking, anal play with a bottle?? if that’s even a thing, possessive and abusive behaviour, you know the drill already.

pc and the bastards are gender neutral as always unless explicitly stated otherwise.

Briar

“Pretty little thing you are, aren’t you? Come to my office, baby. Let’s get you all cleaned up for the show.”

yandere type : sadistic, possessive, manipulative

Somehow always has you sticking by their side whenever you’re not on stage, which they make sure to limit of quite a bit, not wanting their precious little thing wandering off without their watching eyes. It becomes increasingly clear to the other employees that you’re Briar’s favorite, whispering among each other, referring to you as the boss’s bitch, not that it’s all that far off. Oh? Bailey wants you back at the orphanage to pay your dues? Don’t worry, Briar will take care of that. They’d like to talk business with the caretaker anyway, namely about your price. Name it, they’re willing to pay anything for you.

Drastically increases the costs of your shows despite not wanting you to perform. You may be theirs completely, but Briar cannot abandon their principles over cash since money is money for the brothel owner after all. Wants everyone to know that you’re not just some cheap whore. No, you’re fucking Briar’s whore, the one they call in whenever they’re feeling bored, slender finger idly tapping against the cushioned arm of their couch, outstretched arm ready to take in you for another one of your daily sessions. Aren’t you obedient too? Wearing the preferred outfit that they like to see you in. What a doll.

Addicted to having you on their lap, comfortably seated on the brothel owner’s spread thighs, smooth hand resting on your hips while the other is holding a bottle of wine. Of course, considering how they’re a sadistic bastard, doesn’t only involves sweet nothings whispered into the shell of your ear or soothing rubs over your back. You’ll never forget that one time, how they pressed the rim of the bottle against your tight entrance, eyes going wide once you realize what they plan on doing. Smallest of smirks forming on Briar’s usually calm face, throughly enjoying the cute whines that come out of you as they thrust the neck of the glass bottle into your used hole, wine sloshing inside. A real treat that you are.

Never actually shares you. Sure, those bystanders admiring your dancing form as you perform on stage is still a thing though it doesn’t bother them the same way it does whenever a potential customer is reaching for their pockets, waving their wallet. Forbids you from going to them, instead, Briar, the one who usually never steps onto the platform, now joining on stage with you. Makes it clear to everyone that you’re theirs as their hands trail lower over your waist to your hips, lifting up the fabric of your skimpy leotard, giving the others a ‘quick’ peek of the marks they’ve left onto your skin.

There’s no need to know what happened to that one individual who got a feel of your behind on stage, shamelessly groping the soft flesh in the palm of their hand just as Briar is watching. Might’ve resulted in the other’s bodyguards accosting them right then and there, bringing them over to the basement where the real fun happens. Shove them in the hole with ease, ass sticking out for anyone to use as they please and Briar’s sick grin appearing on their lips as they call you over to them as usual. Better keep your lips sealed tight if you know the full story, missing body who has yet to be found, buried deep in the woods. Briar likes to be thorough in their punishments.

Remy

“Look at that, perfect for breeding and milking. Fuck, you’re going to be my fucking star.”

yandere type : obsessive, possessive, overprotective

Keeps you away from the other cattle in the farm, your own personal pen that Remy built just for you, there to satisfy your every single need. Obviously they couldn’t possibly let you be after that one incident, catching one of their workers’s pesky hands gliding over your precious body, seeing red. You, you poor thing, utterly ignorant as you snoozed away, deep in slumber. The farmer wasn’t having any of it, gave that fucker what they deserved, having cleaned themselves off of that distasteful encounter. No one entirely knows what ever truly happened that day and it’s better not to ask around. Remy will simply shut you up with more gifts, your dumb cow mind too foggy to remember much of it anyway.

Tattooed their name on your asscheek, forever imprinting themselves into your flesh. It was done the minute they saw you, a sort of hunger in their eyes, the need to own you, for everyone else to know it. Affectionately traces a gloved finger over their lettering of their name ‘Remy’s bull’ permanently etched on the reddened skin, giving it a playful slap. It comes in useful in certain situations, the other animals and humans knowing to keep away from you as they get a glimpse of your tattoo, not wanting to face the farmer’s wrath by the risk of touching you.

Absolutely does not want you breeding with another cattle. Yeah, they do sort of feel bad when they isolated you in their barn, left with stacks of hay, a warm blanket over your frame and plenty of other supplies to keep you entertained, but it was for the best. Knowing every creature eventually goes into heat one day and so did you, caught you uselessly humping at one of the cows, mounting them even! If it weren’t for Remy that immediately stopped it, who knows what would’ve happen?? They know.. Yes, they know that you’re suffering from being deprived like this and so they’re happy to help, letting you get a feel of what real breeding is like at night, as they return from a long day of working on the fields.

Favours you, giving you special treatment and well, the entire farm is aware of it. Muttering about how you’re the only one who actually gets Remy to smile, their usual stern face and their lips who are meant to be pressed in a straight-line now curling up at the sight of you. Everyone shooting each other weird looks as you nuzzle against the farmer’s hand, demanding for attention and they don’t push you away. Just what the hell kind of trickery is this?? Turning the owner of the underground farm into mush, Wren constantly teasing the other about it, but they just scoff and play it off. As if you don’t have them wrapped around your finger, stupid cow.

Cherishes every single drop of milk that you produce, wherever it’s made from, your genitals or chest. Either way, they’re squeezing it all out of you, making extra sure not to waste a droplet of it as it drips down in the numerous cylinders. Such a prodigy too, milking the copious amount, thick consistency on the verge of spilling out from the plastic containers. You don’t know it though, how Remy succumbs to temptation, mouth watering from your organic milk, pink tongue dipping down to get a taste of it. How fucking sweet it is, they’ve never tasted anything like it, swallowing it all in one go. Actually never puts your products on the market since all of it is sloppily consumed by Remy, greedily lapping across their upper lip.

Avery

“There you are, darling. Looking sweet as ever. Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are? My prize.”

yandere type : self-indulgent, impulsive, controlling

Is in charge of everything that you wear, make it known to the town that you’re Avery’s first and foremost, gifted clothes or lacy chokers to place around your neck, the one they like to admire with a well manicured finger. Your closet now consisting solely of the expensive items that they’ve bought for you, stuffed away in the tight confines of the narrow space. It’s better to wear the suit or dress that the businessperson got for you, for they always know when you don’t, frown appearing on their face whenever they see you walk to school with that annoying orphan. What’s their goddamn name, Rowin? Robin?? God, they don’t care, pulling up next to you with their limousine, tinted window rolling down to greet you with a serene smile, completely ignoring the other standing next to you. They’re not worth your attention, you are.

Is the one to pick you up everywhere and they mean, everywhere. School ends, approaching the school gates and luckily not encountering Whitney in the process, met with Avery waiting in their car, telling you to get in. If they can’t manage a car, let’s say, for example because they’re away from town, coming to pick you up instead in a helicopter, ignoring the awed looks that attracts from others. If their rage is low, which you better hope it is, they’re giving you the full prince/princess treatment, treating you like deity even. Whatever you want, they’re here to provide. Oh, you want this new bag that everyone else has at school? They’re already sifting through their thick wallet, handing you the green notes with a pleased smirk. Buy it, doll. It’s their treat.

Would never let you work at the brothel, not on their watch. Are you crazy? It’s not entirely a lie as one would say, that Avery does hire a few whores on certain nights, crumpled bills stashed away in their pockets. Not with you though. You’re different, special, even if they never openly say it. They’ve never been ready to admit but the idea of you going there every Friday night, sleazy hands trailing over your naked body, no their body. The thought makes Avery grind their teeth, sick at the mere suggestion of you even possibly working there. Why would you? They’ll give you everything you need, pay twice, three times, ten fucking times more than Briar could ever share with you. Out of pettiness however, they do bring you over, in front of Briar’s own watchful eyes, possessive hands placed onto your hips. Loves glancing over to catch the brothel owner’s scowling face, watching on as you grind on the businessperson’s crotch.

Traps you in their manor, turning you into their little, obedient maid that’ll follow their every word and order, the one to come to them at a snap of their fingers. A servant needs to look presentable too, don’t you think? Forcing you into some fetishy maid outfit, silky, feminine lingerie regardless of gender, barely hiding the flushed skin beneath. Skirt is so short that you have to remind yourself to pull at the hem, fabric riding up your plush thighs and exposing your bare flesh to Avery’s hungry eyes. They’ll be such a bitch about it too, crotchless panties, putting your hole on display for them to leer at whenever you bend down to pick something up or are busy dusting a corner that’s particular hard to reach. Earns you a smack to the ass, Avery whistling to themselves as they walk off with your shocked, humiliated gaze on them.

Marks you in a.. different manner than the others, more sophisticated they’d call it? It’s subtle at first, hickeys and bite marks left on your collarbone, shoulder blades, inner thighs, places that usually wouldn’t be visible to other people, not unless you’re wearing something revealing which they don’t allow in public. Escalates to your neck, wrists, maybe corner of your lips, your huffed complaints bringing a smirk to their face, claiming that you’ll be forced to wear a turtleneck from now on to hide the evidence of those traces left behind. Why hide it though? It’s there to be flaunted, meant for the town to know, darling. Won’t take it kindly if you ever do try to worm your way out of it, theirs to own, their precious doll. Makes it official once they tuck the leather collar around your neck, tightening it with a click. Look at you, so pretty. Avery’s prized blue ribbon bitch.

Masterlist

[END OF POST]

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alan-duarte · 1 year

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TIMING: Current LOCATION: Axis Investigation PARTIES: Emilio @mortemoppetere & Alan @alan-duarte SUMMARY: Emilio delivers more than Alan was expecting. Plans to evict a poor innocent tenant through persuasion are thrown away. CONTENT WARNINGS: mentions of murder and gore

The answers he’d uncovered about Alan Duarte’s business rival weren’t entirely what Emilio had been expecting. In all honesty, most of the shit he found out on cases like this one were incredibly boring. Everyone was always hiding something, but it was usually something mundane. A mistress, a lovechild, a decades-old accidental crime. Enough to make them do what you wanted them to do, but never enough to actually entertain.

Tobias was different.

The secret bank account had been interesting, though not necessarily a smoking gun. With Javi’s help, Emilio had managed to gain access to the records from that account, a list of charges that led him to a storage facility in Worm Row. Still not too terribly exciting… until he’d opened the container. Weapons, drugs, and a freezer full of shit that might have made someone with a weaker stomach than Emilio a little sick. But to him… it felt like a damn jackpot.

He wasted little time in calling Alan to Axis, feet propped on his desk and a smug expression on his face. When the other man entered the room, Emilio tossed him a sealed folder. “There’s your leverage,” he said. “Should be plenty enough to give you what you need. Photos, bank records, even some shit from his cell phone. Think you mentioned something about a bonus?”

—

“Good morning to you too,” the werewolf slipped a hand in his pocket, his nose wrinkling while he looked around the flat. No dog again (which was a true shame), but the place was still a damn mess. Smoothing out the fabric of his woolen navy suit, the realtor pulled a chair forward, removing his jacket before he took a seat. “I see your memory is quite impressive,” the dry comment came as Alan tugged onto the wax seal, breaking it off. “Let’s see what we got, and then we’ll see about that bonus.”

There didn’t seem to be copies of his marriage certificates, which was more of a relief than he’d care to admit. He didn’t want people digging into his personal history, he didn’t want people looking at him, because it was unlikely they’d like what they’d see. Rubbing at his cheek, Alan tried to conceal his relief, and directed his attention toward those bank records the other collected. It all seemed normal enough until you looked long enough at the details, the bank account numbers, the repeated patterns. Huh. That wasn’t right.

As he began inspecting the photographs, Alan took a second too much to realize what he was looking at. Fuck. What the actual fuck was that. Sure, the guy was shady but this was a whole other level of fucked up. Putting his hand to his mouth, he glanced away, his eyes staring into the void in front of him (or rather the stain on the floor) while he collected his thoughts and tried to keep his stomach’s content under control. “What the… This is from his place ?” He didn’t want to buy a crime scene, that was always complicated, especially as he planned to tear the building down. “What are we talking about here? Is he some sort of hitman? Do these even exist?” It felt a bit ridiculous but why not. Apparently werewolves existed, hitmen weren’t such a shocking thought. “What does it mean?”

—

“When I need it to be.” In all honesty, Emilio liked Alan. Most of his clients were annoying; Alan wasn’t so bad. There was the added bonus, of course, that he could be an ass to the realtor and not have to worry about Alan getting his feelings hurt because of it. Instead, the man was an ass back. It was a much preferable result than what most people went with. “I think you’ll like what you see.” At least, he was pretty sure. Alan had wanted leverage against his rival, and this would certainly give him that. What he did with it after the fact was of little concern to Emilio.

He watched Alan react to the photos. It was a little jarring, if he was being honest. Up until now, everything Alan had done — every action, every reaction — had been the picture of control. This was different. He seemed… affected by the photos. It served as a strange reminder that not everyone lived a life like Emilio’s, where gore and death were commonplace. When he’d stumbled upon the storage container, he’d barely even blinked. Other people were different.

Removing his feet from his desk, the detective leaned forward. “Not his house,” he replied. “Storage container, not far from here. If I had to guess, I’d say gang related. Seems like more of a fixer than a hitman, I think. Hitmen don’t care if somebody finds the bodies.” Of course, this was still a little out of Emilio’s wheelhouse. The kind of crime he dealt with was usually a little less… human than all this. But no matter what species the perpetrator was, the concept was the same. The only difference, he figured, was that Tobias probably wasn’t eating anyone. “It means I did my job. Take it to the police and get it arrested, take it to him and use it against him, I don’t care. Just leave my name out of it.” He paused for a moment, then added, “But he’ll probably kill you, if you go to him. So maybe don’t do that.”

—

He pressed his palm against his cheek, as if he expected the warmth to bring color back to it. Tossing the photographs back into the envelope, Alan looked at the private investigator. He generally tried to give the impression that he was in charge, but worry was hard to hide then. Whatever it was Alan would have to deal with, it was a lot more than nostalgia or family heirlooms. With a sigh meant to let him recover and regain composure, the wolf sat up in his chair and set the kraft envelope on his thighs, linking his fingers together.

“Gang related,” he repeated, like it suddenly made a lot more sense. It didn’t make fucking sense. Sure, their town wasn’t a small one, and they were close to the Canadian Border, but a fucking mob? “Dios mío, qué es esta locura,” he was not too unfamiliar with what people were capable of, but this wasn’t something he ever had to deal with. In the military, violence was a matter of homeland safety or so they said, never a matter of making money (ha, right). Legal violence, he called it now. “I wasn’t planning on mentioning my sources,” he commented, matter of factly. Alan played with his cards close to his chest, and he wasn’t chatty, not unless that would play to his advantage. “Oh, he’ll most likely try to kill me,” the correction was not made on purpose, but the realtor was so convinced of not being such an easy kill that he let his slip. “I’ll be careful,” he added, reaching into his jacket for his cheque book. “In the meantime, what was promised is now due to you,” he pulled out a new pen from his jacket, making it click with more pizzazz than needed, if only to annoy the other a little. “I figured you’d want a new one,” his lips stretched into a playful smirk while he filled out the blanks, adding 15% more to the bill, for the swift work. “That’s for you,” the pen went to the penholder, and the cheque on the desk. “I’ll add a little comment on Yelp when this all is settled.” Discretion was needed, after all.

—

Huh. So, in spite of his clear unease about what he’d seen in those photos, Alan still wasn’t convinced that this less-than-harmless business rival would be able to successfully kill him. There was something undeniably interesting about that, though Emilio was careful not to let the intrigue show on his face. The realtor remained something of a mystery, and Emilio would be lying if he said he wasn’t itching to solve it. Just… maybe not right now. And definitely not in a way Alan would be aware of. If this particular case had taught him anything, it was that you never knew what someone might be hiding. The last thing he wanted was to give Alan a reason to try to kill him. He’d never get repeat business that way.

“Like I said, as long as my name stays out of it, I don’t care what you do. I have enough trouble without inviting whatever this is into it.” He didn’t have time to worry about gangs or mobs when he was busy trying to take out clans and hoards. The latter was something he at least knew how to deal with. Something trying to take a bite out of you was a lot more familiar than something taking a shot at you instead, when you lived a life like Emilio’s. Raising a brow as Alan produced a new pen from his pocket, Emilio let loose a half-amused huff of air. “Uglier than the last one,” he commented. “I don’t know how you’re making them worse.” But he was glad to be getting his paycheck without any kind of a fuss. The news certainly wasn’t what Alan had been expecting; sometimes, people tried to use that as an excuse not to pay. “Great. What would I do without a Yalp comment?” He picked up the check, taking a quick glance to make sure the amount was right (or, more than what they’d agreed upon; Alan wasn’t lying about that bonus) before slipping it into his pocket. “Pleasure doing business with you. Feel free to keep Axis in mind for all your detective needs.” His voice was dry, a parody of an advertisement. He thought Alan might find it funny, at least.

—

"I hear you loud and clear," considering who Alan was now dealing with, it seemed out of the question to have anything to connect poor Tobias' fate to him in any way, including the detective. The way things had been going, he was confident he could trust the other's ability to keep his mouth shut.

"I picked it specifically for you," he didn't. He had a box sitting in his trunk and he always made sure to carry one with him, but he wanted to indulge the other with another joke. Call it a branch from the olive tree. He liked the other's discretion and knowing how efficient he was made it all the more interesting to Alan, who would make sure to keep him in mind should the need arise again.

"Likewise." The cheesy catchphrase made him pause, and he pressed his lips together, tongue in cheek as if to give him the silent, judgemental treatment for that, before letting his lips relax into a small yet amused grin. "Alright, I better leave before you reveal all your comedic talent to me," with a scoff, he snatched the envelope from his lap and grabbed the jacket from the chair, heading toward the front door. "If there's a next time, let your dog out for me, huh? This is criminal, Cortez."

—

“Great.” He was confident Alan would adhere to the agreement. If nothing else, the realtor had proven that he could be discreet when he needed to be. And in this case? He probably realized he needed to be. If Tobias was connected to some gang that would seek vengeance when Alan acted on the information Emilio had provided him with, it’d be a lot easier to track Alan down through Axis. Keeping Emilio’s name out of the mix would cover both their asses. Alan had to be smart enough to realize that.

Though not smart enough to pick out decent pens. Real shame, that. Emilio snorted, rolling his eyes as he plucked the pen from the cup and made a show of inspecting it. “It’s terrible,” he declared, dropping it back into the cup.

To anyone who knew him well enough to recognize it, the amusement was clear in his eyes as Alan stood. “I’ll save some material for next time,” he promised, still dry. All in all, the case went better than he could have hoped for, even if the answers weren’t what either of them had been expecting. At least no one had punched him this time. Huffing an amused laugh at Alan’s parting words, the detective nodded. “I can do that,” he agreed, “so long as you stop pushing these ugly pens on me.” Yeah. Definitely not his worst client.

#wickedswriting #emilio threads #mortemoppetere #under blue moon threads

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prettybea · 11 months

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Welcome Home OC

Detective Phoebe E. Hart

Detective Phoebe is the new neighbor in Welcome Home. She is part of the police department as a detective and whenever there's a hard case they turn their attention to Detective Phoebe

She is a werewolf and fearing that she might hurt someone but someone told her to use her werewolf abilities in good use hence why she became a detective in the first place

She was bitten by a werewolf when she was 16 years old by helping an old lady to get away from those wolves

Detective Phoebe is serious, brave, cynical, and mysterious to the rest of the neighbors in Welcome Home

Detective Phoebe is the stand in of mature content and handles all ages in the show. She shows some information about reality as a lesson for the children to remind them that not everything is black and white

About Detective Phoebe in the show

At the Welcome Home show, after Wally and his friends were done in every episodes the viewer will receive a Bonus episode that was titled as 'Murder Mystery'

In the show Murder Mystery follows Detective Phoebe guiding the viewer on how to be a professional detective but not just a detective but also a doctor, psychology, and more. In the show Detective Phoebe and the viewer would discover some of the culprit's murderous ways and the detective will give the viewer the information about everything on the case and a lot of information ranging to the history of guns, medicines, religion, and etc. It still has the children show but it was perfect for all ages

In some of the Welcome Home shows before the Bonus episode of Murder Mystery Detective Phoebe makes her appearance as a detective but most of the time she is helping Howdy around the shop whenever she has free time

In the show Murder Mystery there is always a moral in every episodes that were sad, truthful, and deep message that audience can relate

Whenever Detective Phoebe is about to transform into her werewolf form every full moon her clothes don't tear apart that's because a friend of her in the police department give a tons of clothes were the fabric is very stretchable so whatever form Detective Phoebe takes it never ripped

At the end of the pilot episode of Murder Mystery Detective Phoebe confesses to the viewers that she is a werewolf but she told them to keep there mouth shut and said that she's going to tell her neighbors about the truth when the time is right

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Detective Phoebe's relationship with Wally Darling

Her relationship with Wally Darling is very platonic, they met when Wally heard the news that a new neighbor is moving in

Detective Phoebe has a suspicious that Wally is a hiding something and Wall is suspicious about Detective Phoebe that she is hiding something

They barely talk to each other at each of the episodes of the show and due to Detective Phoebe's work as a detective they barely learn anything from each other

Detective Phoebe's relationship with Julie Joyful

Julie met the detective when she also heard that there's a new neighbor that has moved in

She was excited to meet the new neighbor already picturing who this new neighbor look like but she did not expect about what Detective Phoebe look like

Julie clearly doesn't trust the detective but everything changes when the pilot episode of the Murder Mystery shows that in the pilot Julie's stickers have been stolen, Howdy called the detective right away as he knows that this must be the detective's job but at first the detective decline as she was packed with so many cases that she needed to solve but Howdy insisted her so in the end she agrees. The stolen sticker case was easy for the detective as she uses her werewolf advance smell to locate and the main culprit was non-other than Sally Starlet. It was at this moment that Julie gained the detective's trust

Julie knows that Detective Phoebe is hiding something big, she tried to ask her some questions but the detective is good at lying and so in the end Julie believes at her lies and never knows the truth

Julie usually tell Detective Phoebe about werewolves since the detective is sometimes fascinated in the supernatural there are times that Julie would make bad jokes about werewolf but little did Julie know is that Detective Phoebe is offended and hurt at the same time upon hearing those jokes

Julie would invite the detective to play her games like hopscotch or play jump rope but the detective always declines because of the new cases that needed to be solved

Detective Phoebe's relationship with Sally Starlet

Sally met the detective when the detective herself knock at her door and ask if she could borrow a needle and a thread because she's making her own pillow case

Sally and Detective Phoebe's relationship is the definition of 'best friends' as they could relate to theater. Detective Phoebe herself has a degree of theater before going to criminology and this makes Sally gasp

Everytime that there's a roleplay Detective Phoebe would join if she was in a day off or has no cases to solve

If Sally is the director of the roleplay, Detective Phoebe is the props design and it's no wonder why audience were so amazed of how the props were designed all thanks to the detective

Sally and Detective Phoebe would talk about other theater but also musicals since musical is the one that introduce to the detective to theater and she was so glad that Sally knows her favorite musicals

Sally has always question in her about why the detective would get so distracted, shaking so violently, or even feeling unwell whenever the full moon is getting near and every night she would hear howling at the forest that is very scary to her. She wanted to ask the detective what's wrong but...she decided to kept it all inside

Detective Phoebe's relationship with Frank Frankly

Frank met the detective when Julie found out that her stickers were stolen. Howdy did call the detective to help them out and that is when he met face to face with Detective Phoebe

He already knows Detective Phoebe because Howdy kept telling him at the shop that she is moving here in Welcome Home

Frank and Detective Phoebe's relationship is neutral. Detective Phoebe usually visits him and asking about butterfly since he is the insect expert. He really can tell that she is always concerned with Howdy since Howdy is a caterpillar

He and the detective were also keeping an eye out of Howdy since they wanted to see him transformed into a newly grown butterfly

On episode 7 of Murder Mystery, Detective Phoebe received a case that someone got murdered and just looking at it and smell at it she knew that the victim was killed by a bee so she look no further to Frank himself who helped her solves the case and fought the bee who is the culprit. The detective almost got herself sting by the bee's stinger but thanks to Frank's warning she fought it with ease

Detective Phoebe ships Frank x Eddie which annoys Frank

Frank knew that just looking at the detective he knew that she is hiding something especially those scars that he found at her arm when she accidentally rolled her sleeve too much. Frank thought that the detective is being abused by someone and wanted to report it but sadly there's no evidence. Julie told him that she ask the detective some questions and she answered them with full honesty but Frank knew that their were all lies

Detective Phoebe's relationship with Barnaby B. Beagle

Barnaby met Detective Phoebe when she visits Howdy's shop

Before her arrival, Barnaby saw a picture of Howdy and Detective Phoebe when they were children. Howdy was embarrassed but he did told him about Detective Phoebe which makes Barnaby interest about the detective

Barnaby and Detective Phoebe were partners in crime. At some of the episodes of Murder Mystery whenever Detective Phoebe and the viewer were stuck or outnumbered by the culprit mostly mobsters and gang Barnaby would appear out of nowhere and join the fight. Detective Phoebe would tell the viewers that this was plan all along

Barnaby usually meets the detective at Howdy's shop who is helping him restock some of the products. In there, Barnaby would crack up a joke that makes Detective Phoebe laugh so hard that the things she is carrying would fall down

Barnaby ships Detective Phoebe x Howdy since they've been friends since childhood

Barnaby started to have suspicious when he and Wally talks about Detective Phoebe and there he has his own questions about the detective already

His suspicious that everytime he visits Detective Phoebe's house he would find her calendars that some of the numbers were circled and it would said: FULL MOON, DON'T FORGET. It was the same thing in Howdy's calendar as well especially since Howdy started writing those words after Detective Phoebe move into this neighborhood

He tried to ask the detective about it but due to her job as a detective she usually ignores him. He just hopes that in the full moon he hopes that it wasn't bad

Detective Phoebe's relationship with Eddie Dear

Eddie and Detective Phoebe first met when she move into the neighborhood when he realize that he received a letter from the police department that belongs to Detective Phoebe and low and behold he found her just moving some of her boxes in her new home

Detective Phoebe ships Frank x Eddie which makes Eddie flustered

Eddie and Detective Phoebe always meet each other outside whenever the detective is going to the police department

There's nothing much more on the two but they are good companions

There's a part of Eddie that he really need to ask the detective some questions especially she is hiding something big. Everyday he would get this box that belongs to Detective Phoebe, the detective told him that this are just clothes that her friend sew together but still Eddie is still curious

Detective Phoebe's relationship with Poppy Partridge

Poppy first met the detective at the 2 episode of Murder Mystery where she plays as the witness when she saw a dead body at the bakery factory. There she meets Detective Phoebe

Howdy talk about her sometimes but she can tell of how excited he is when she heard that she is moving to this neighborhood

Poppy and Detective Phoebe are like a mother and daughter type relationship. Poppy is always concerned with Detective Phoebe as she receives some cases that were in darker tone but the detective told her that it's part of her job as a detective

Detective Phoebe usually visits Poppy for the new pastry she is baking and since Detective Phoebe has advance smelling she can smell Poppy's pastry and the detective can't help but feel hungry

Detective Phoebe usually go to Poppy's bakery shop to give some of her pastry to Howdy's shop to sell it

There is one time that Poppy has so many questions about the detective especially that whenever they heard Julie making bad jokes about werewolves she notice that the detective is somewhat offended and hurt by those words and that raises some questions

Poppy find it strange that the detective is acting strange and off whenever the full moon is appearing. The detective was found tense, serious, and so not her, there is one time at daytime the day that the full moon would appeared Detective Phoebe visits her to talk but then the detective collapse and scream in pain. This panics Poppy as she calls Howdy since they are best friends since childhood, Howdy arrive shortly after and told Poppy that he needs to take the detective home saying that she is not feeling well. This worries Poppy as she started to think that the detective might have some serious illness

Detective Phoebe's relationship with Howdy Pillar

As you all know Howdy and Phoebe have become friends since childhood they are 'BFFs' as the children would say. Whenever there's a problem Phoebe will help him to fix it

Howdy knows that she's a werewolf, he found her locked in a cage with her clothes ripped to shred and half naked, he was 18 years old when he found about this

He is the one that told her to use her werewolf abilities in good use and seeing Phoebe turn into a fully fledge detective he couldn't help but smile

Howdy would always visits her house to check up on her especially if the full moon is approaching. He would usually found her on the couch feeling unwell due to the full moon approaching

At first, Phoebe lock herself up at the basement during the full moon but when Howdy finds out about it he told her that she could transformed at the forest since her werewolf form would need a nature but she doesn't have to worry for he will guide her to the forest and once the full moon is over he will guide her back out of the forest

Howdy didn't tell his friends and neighbors that Phoebe is a werewolf but he did told her that she needs to tell them about the truth since he could tell that they are getting curious and suspicious about her

Howdy usually call the detective Phoebe instead of calling her 'Detective' Phoebe especially in the police department

When Phoebe move to the Welcome Home neighbor she was excited to meet Howdy again after for 29 years apart but she was surprised that Howdy hasn't grow any wings yet. Howdy did told her that he is a late bloomer

Phoebe met Howdy's sibling and boy they are so many of them that they look like Howdy

In some of the episodes of Murder Mystery Howdy would work as some sort of consultant or partner to Phoebe whenever they have a case especially if the full moon is approaching he needs to keep an eye on her condition

Detective Phoebe's relationship with Home

The detective met Home and she find it very eerie to find a living house that can speak in onomatopoeias (Creak, Squeak, Bang.)

Detective Phoebe has a strange feeling whenever she pass Home it was as if it wants something from her but she cannot really tell

Detective Phoebe E. Hart's house

This Detective Phoebe's house and I know it looks like Sci Twi's house from MLP EG but I was so lazy to draw so here is her house and it was right next to Howdy's house.

#welcome home #Welcome Home Wally Darling #Welcome Home Frank Frankly #Welcome Home Barnaby B. Beagle #Welcome Home Eddie Dear #Welcome Home Poppy Partridge #Welcome Home Howdy Pillar #Welcome Home Home #Welcome Home OC Detective Phoebe E. Hart #oc character #Welcome Home Julie Joyful

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juletheghoul · 3 years

Note

Hey sweetie, hope you're doing well. Better than me I hope, in this Texas heat!!!😥🤤 When your muse permits, may I please have some more Dave York? I am a shameless slut for that suburban murder Dilf!!!

Hello lovely!

Okay - so I've written more for the soft!Dave fic I gave a preview for in this post and here and this picks up where that left off.

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader (soft!dave)

Smut under the cut (18+ NO MINORS semi-public touching, p in v sex, oral-female receiving) (word count 2.6k)

All in all it had gone better than he thought. He enjoyed your company - he found you attractive and you liked him. That was all he needed. The fact that you made him laugh had been a bonus. You were his new mission and it wouldn’t have mattered what you were like in all honesty but this was good. This he could work with.

He hadn’t meant to kiss you like that, he planned to take it a little slower, just a little peck to show you he was interested. He definitely didn’t expect you to open up for him like that, and he definitely didn’t expect to enjoy it so much. Another bonus.

He didn’t want to scare you away by reaching out too quickly, figuring a couple of days should be time enough. He wanted to make sure this worked out. He expected the same game of cat and mouse men and women have been playing with each other forever. He had waited to message you - which meant he would probably hear from you in a few hours.

-Hi - It’s Dave from the other night, wondering if you wanted to grab dinner on Friday?

He was doing some reconnaissance for an upcoming job and he wanted to read through his reports; he wasn’t expecting you to respond so quickly. Frankly, it was refreshing.

-Hey! Yes I’d love to, really happy to hear from you =)

He smiled despite himself, he didn’t expect you to be so open and honest.

-I’m glad to hear, I had a great time

He could see you typing your response before he put his phone down so he waited.

-Me too, thought maybe I’d scared you away - usually don’t make out on the first date

-Me either - glad we did though, you definitely did not scare me away. Just at work right now. Maybe we could talk more later?

-Sure! Hope you have a great day =)

-You too!

----

He kept up the communication with you when he got home, answering your messages as he cooked himself a small dinner. He asked you all the questions people usually ask when getting to know someone, he flirted the best he could. He was doing everything in his power to make sure you were interested, without being vulgar. He briefly considered whether this was manipulation, presenting himself in a way he knew you’d respond to in order to secure a relationship. In a sense everyone did this, the difference was they liked the people they were chasing.

He didn't not like you, he just didn’t really like anyone. It all came from his training and subsequently, his job. He learned long ago to not hold onto anyone too close, it hurt more when you lost them.

This was good though, he was content.

----

You couldn’t lie to yourself about how excited you were when Friday came around. He was consistent which was really important to you, he kept up with the messages and asked you actual questions and he seemed interested. It had been so long since you’d dated someone, since you felt excited about someone and seeing his messages gave you butterflies.

You had to stop yourself from running to the door when he knocked; you did your absolute best to reign in your heartbeat as you opened the door.

“Hi - hope I’m not too early.” He smiled - giving you a not so subtle onceover which made you momentarily self-conscious of your outfit choice; he must have taken notice of your expression.

“You look beautiful, are you ready to go?”

“Thank you - you look really handsome - Yes I’m ready.” You smiled as you grabbed your purse and locked your door.

You didn’t think this date could have gone better than the first but it did. He was charming, he was sweet and most importantly he made you laugh. His sense of humour was a lot like yours, dry and witty although you knew you could be a bit goofier than him. You didn’t want to get your hopes up too high but you really liked his company and although it was still early, you could see this getting more serious.

When he walked you to your front door you didn’t play coy.

“I hope you don’t think less of me, but I really want you to kiss me.” You moved closer - peering up at him through your lashes, hoping that you looked sexy.

“I hope you don’t think less of me, but I’ve been wanting to kiss you all night.” He was smirking at you and you felt yourself flush. His hand almost engulfed your face as he pulled you in closer.

The kiss was searing; his tongue licked the seam of your mouth - asking for permission which you gladly gave. He deepened it further, pressing you up against your front door- his hands moving from your face to your waist. He slanted his mouth to get deeper, to make you ache. Your hands found themselves in his hair, holding him closely while you pressed your body as close to him as you could. It went on longer than it had any right to.

When he pulled away you were both panting.

“I had a really great time, goodnight.” He kissed you softer then and waited for you to make your way inside. Any longer and you would have pulled him into the house with you by his belt. You were happy he made the decision for you.

----

You had a few more dates and they were going better than you had imagined. He had come over for dinner one night, which ended in a very heavy makeout session on your couch before he went home. He was being really respectful which you appreciated, you really liked him and in the back of your mind you were nervous that he’d lose interest as soon as you gave it up. It was frustrating, because you were reaching your limit.

----

You walked through the parking lot with him hand in hand, on your way into the theatre. He had let you pick the movie - horror of course - and you were excited to cuddle up with him. You had a plan tonight and it sent a hot spike of arousal through your belly.

He didn’t let you pay for anything usually but you insisted he at least let you pay for the snacks, it didn’t seem like he would let you but you gave him a pout and he relented. Smiling good naturedly and grumbling about not making that pout a habit.

You lifted the seat divider as soon as you picked out your seats, making your intentions of getting close quite clear. He seemed to have the same idea; bringing his arm around you and firmly tucking you into his side.

He smells so good you thought to yourself as you leaned into the crook of his neck, barely paying attention to the trailers. His palm rubbed at your arm through the soft material of your sundress as the movie started, the both of you getting lost in it briefly. When it got too gruesome or scary you tucked your face into his neck, bringing your hands up to block out the screen.

You felt him chuckle then, his low velvety voice whispering in your ear.

“We can leave if you don’t want to watch this.” He said it without judgement, caring only for your comfort even though this could have been an excuse for him to have you close. It hardened your resolve.

“No, I want to stay, but I think I'd like it better if you distracted me.” You gave him a mischievous smile, hoping he’d take the hint. Thankfully - he did.

He tipped your chin up and kissed you softly at first, but deeper as time went on. This was going to work, you could feel his desire for you in it. You were afraid he’d be scandalized at what you wanted him to do but you couldn’t wait anymore. You tentatively reached for the arm around your shoulder and brought down to grab your breast. He pulled away suddenly and it made you nervous - maybe he wasn’t into this.

“Here?” He wasn’t scandalized, he was wearing a smirk - seemingly enjoying the thought of it, feeling you up in the movie theatre like a teenager.

“Do you want to? It’s okay if you don’t.” he could see your self-doubt written across your face.

“Only if you promise to be quiet for me.” He whispered it into your ear and you almost let out a moan. He kissed you again and this time you felt his hand dip into the breezy neckline of your dress, surprising you even further by reaching into your bra. He held you close, moving his kisses to your jaw, your pulse point - rolling your nipple between his fingers by the time he reached your ear.

You were breathing a little heavy as he pulled at it slightly, anyone could have looked over and seen the two of you but it didn’t matter - not when it felt so good.

“Is this what you wanted? Does it feel good, baby?” He spoke in a low voice as he bit your ear and you could feel the arousal leaking out of you. He pinched at the other through the fabric as he kissed you again and it was too much, you grabbed at his thigh, breathing out a god yes as he continued his ministrations.

“I wish I could lick them right now, bite them a little bit, would you let me?” He was pulling at the collar of your dress slightly, enough for him to see into your dress a little.

“Right now? What if someone sees?” You were asking even though the thought of his mouth on your tits in the middle of a movie theatre almost made you cum in itself.

“I would be really careful, just a little lick.” He kissed your neck as he spoke and you realized then that you would have let him do whatever he wanted.

“Okay - fast though.” You laughed conspiratorially - you felt reckless and wild, and excited to have him touch you this way. He pulled you close to him, turning in his seat slightly and quickly pulled your dress down along with the cup of your bra. Seeing your breast out while there were -admittedly- very few people in the movie theatre caused your heart to race. He kept his word though, quickly lowering his head to lick your nipple, sucking it into his mouth. The swirl of his tongue around it had you biting your lip to keep your mouth shut. He couldn’t just have one though, pulling down the other cup to lavish the other one with the same attention and then quickly adjusting it so you were decent again.

You didn’t think you could make it through this movie with how your body was responding to him. Your panties were sticking to your body, your slick running freely and his words only served to amp up the arousal.

“Look what you did to me.” He brought your hand to the sizeable bulge in his jeans. You gasped slightly at the size, and suddenly you didn’t want to be in the theatre any more.

“Take me home David, now.” Your tone was iron and he didn’t argue; hastily pulling you up out of your seat in his haste to obey. The grip he had on your waist as he walked through the theatre and through the parking lot made you laugh with nervous excitement. You saw that he had an intensity about him that had you clenching painfully around nothing.

When you arrived at your place you practically ran inside; you had barely managed to close your door when he picked you up. Your arms and legs wrapped around him tightly as he held onto your ass. He walked you towards your room, pausing briefly to push you up against the wall in the hallway, halfway up the stairs, your bedroom door. Finally dropping you onto your bed.

He fell onto you and ground his hips against the soft fabric at your core. He was so thick, the pressure of him grinding into you was just right and you pulled at his shirt - wanting to feel his skin against you and when he took over you sat up to pull your dress off. He had your bra off faster than you thought possible.

“So pretty.” He dove in, sucking and biting at your nipples - drawing out whimpers and moans as you held his head close to your chest. You could see his saliva glistening on the soft skin of your tits when he alternated from one to the other and you couldn’t hold off any more.

“Please fuck me.” You pulled his face up from your chest to breathe the words into his mouth, the coil in your belly was already wound tight and he hadn’t even gone near your pussy yet.

“I didn’t bring a condom.” He looked a bit sheepish now, hoping against hope you’d have one.

“I’m on the pill, and I’m clean - but we can do other things if you aren’t comfortable.” You stroked his face softly, trying to convey that you wanted him either way. He hastily got up and took the rest of his clothes off while you shimmied out of your underwear. His cock bobbed out when he finally shed his layers, the tip of it weeping slightly - making your mouth water. He was bigger than your last sexual partner and though intimidated slightly, you were excited.

He crawled towards you as you watched him, settling his face between your thighs.

“You liked it when I licked your nipples baby? Look how wet and glossy you are.” He licked a strip from your fluttering entrance to your clit; he parted you with his tongue and focused on your clit, letting his saliva drip down to make you wetter. The steady glide of his tongue drove you into a frenzy. You barely registered your hands grabbing his hair, using him to grind yourself against his tongue. You were not going to last, you could feel yourself careening over the edge. The wave of it quickly racing up to crash over you. When he slowly slid two thick fingers into your cunt and curled them just so, the wave crested. Your body seizing up with the force of your climax.

“You taste so good baby.” He kissed your mound, the dip in your hip; he slowly made his way up the soft skin of your belly, pausing to give each nipple a quick lick before he settled between your legs. You felt the heavy weight of him sliding through your folds, the blunt tip of him nudging at your clit making you wince with overstimulation before he gradually fed himself into you.

He wrapped your legs high on his waist and rocked into you at a steady pace, you could see from his ragged breathing he was trying not to jack hammer into your wet heat, he was trying to make himself last.

The stretch of him was delicious, you felt full and his cock was hitting something that made you fall silent; made your eyes clench shut against his neck. You could tell he was getting close when he crushed you underneath him, resting almost all of his weight on top of you while he snapped his hips forward harder and harder. The sound of your joining a wet slap as he moaned in your ear - whispering about how good your pussy felt, how tight and wet it was, how he was going to cum- but not before he felt you cum first. He reached between you to rub little circles onto your clit, begging you to cum around him.

You obeyed, and he didn’t hold out much longer.

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

Tagging a few people I think might enjoy:

@foli-vora @ezrasbirdie @quica-quica-quica @beskarboobs @wheresarizona @absurdthirst

#suburban murder daddy #dave york ask #dave york x reader fic #dave york x you #dave york x f!reader #dave york x wife reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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amydancepants-peralta · 4 years

Note

hiiii!!! i’m coming to our queen of smut to make a request: i was watching yippee kayak last night and i had this vision of jake going home and ~~~~~”warming” amy up after the polar plunge... i don’t think anyone has written this version of a post 3.10 fic and i just think you would be the best one so if you feel inspired by this i would love to read it!! 💕💕

ok so I really loved this idea and it took me forever but here goes! rated NSFW for all of you playing at home, and can be found here if it’s easier ♥️

everything comes back to you

Jake’s eyes squeeze shut as he follows Amy’s descent into his couch below, ignoring the scratchy crumbs of yesterday’s breakfast and sliding his fingers into her hair, deepening the kiss he’d initiated only seconds earlier. Returning his heated embrace with an equal amount of fervour, Amy's nimble fingers ripple along the buttons of his flannel with the practised ease of someone who’d buttoned it only 15 hours earlier; impatiently shoving the fabric out of the way as it parts, and Jake lets out a sigh of satisfaction when it hits the floor with a soft thud.

It has been close to two hours since he and Charles had finished their debrief (and taken down Flamethrower Gina - or FlameGrrl, if her new twitter handle was anything to go by); and after finding a quiet Amy waiting for him at their desks, the couple had made a beeline for Jake’s apartment, the unspoken need for some Thank God You’re Alive sex crackling between them on the drive home.

Amy’s two jackets hadn’t lasted more than three steps inside Jake’s apartment, his own leather discarded a mere second later; and in their newly horizontal position things were moving along pretty well - save for the minor detail that whenever he closes his eyes, Jake cannot seem to get the image of a confessed murderer pointing his gun directly at him out of his mind.

None of this evening was playing out the way he’d imagined, kissing Amy goodbye earlier this morning from the comfort of her sofa when she left for an early start. His first Christmas with a Serious Girlfriend in forever, Jake had put a lot of time and effort into selecting just the right gifts; and his plan for a sneaky early unwrapping of a couple of presents (followed, hopefully, by the unwrapping of Amy) had been waylaid by a most inconvenient - but incredibly dangerous - hostage situation in the middle of a department store.

It was the stuff that only the best kind of Christmas movies are made of (even if he didn’t get to say the Cool Catchphrase), but now that he was home - now that they were home - Jake was beginning to realise just how close he’d come to losing it all.

Initiating another kiss, Jake closes his eyes even tighter - tight enough to watch the tiny stars as they float by - and even though the plan to just keep kissing Ames until the bad thoughts go away had seemed solid; he eventually has to come up for air, tucking his head into the juncture of her neck and sighing as the scent of his girlfriend numbs the sharp teeth of unwanted memories.

Amy’s voice is soft when she speaks, but he’d hear her in a hurricane, and the sound carries over tangled limbs before landing at their un-socked feet. “I didn’t feel it.”

It’s an odd statement - and definitely not something that one expects to hear during a pre-sex makeout - and it prompts Jake to glance downwards at their still very covered bottom halves, returning to respond with an eloquent - “Huh?”

Her head tips back ever so slightly, just enough for Jake’s eyes to lock onto hers, and the seriousness of her look cuts him to the quick. “My phone. I didn’t feel it … the vibrations from your texts. You know, through the jacket.” Her fingernails scrape the edge of his hairline, and she shakes her head in frustration. “So puffy. I couldn’t feel anything, including the cold, which I guess is the point, but … I didn’t feel it.”

Jake nods, feeling his lips purse up. There was definitely a point, between texts numbers four and seven, when he’d begun to question if Amy was ever going to answer. But he’d kept texting, based purely on the way she looked at him that very morning, ruffling his hair when he’d woken up and bidding him goodbye with the kind of kiss that made his heart thump long after she’d gone. He had hoped there would be a reason why, and the sincerity in her eyes now said it all.

A coolness remains in the wake of her hands as they shift away, voice growing more determined as she continues. “But, Jake … I need you to understand something.” She digs her elbows into the couch for leverage, waiting as Jake scoots backwards to accommodate and shuffling up to a seated position; their makeout session taking a temporary pause. “As soon as I realised, I came running.”

It’s a sorry without saying it, an apology for taking so long to respond to his barrage of texts, and the automatic response of it’s fine, babe bubbles up Jake’s throat. There’s still a part of him, the same part that once came to work with multiple injuries and pretended everything was fine, that wanted to brush this whole evening away and act like everything was normal. It was the Peralta way to compartmentalise and move on, but with his girlfriend of seven months (and partner for so much longer) sitting in front of him, suddenly Jake didn’t want to simply shrug it all away.

His mouth feels dry, and he knows his voice has gone soft, but he answers before he can’t. “I was really scared, Ames. For a moment there, I - ” there are too many options for the end of the sentence, and all the fears jumble out from that corner of his mind he’d been pushing them into all evening. His stomach twists, and he tries again. “I really thought ..”

Moving closer still, Amy’s knees knock against Jake’s as she wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him in for the kind of comforting hug he’d unknowingly craved. She whispers I was scared too, the reality of what could have been washing over them for a moment, and Jake realises that this moment right here on the couch was what he’d be needing all evening.

It isn’t until their makeout has begun again - albeit of a slightly softer, reassuring variety - that Amy nestles closer to Jake, sliding her hands underneath his shirt; and it’s the almost freezing temperature of her palms that pull him out of his kissing Amy stupor.

“Whoa! Ames, your hands really are on a whole other level of cold.”

(Truth be told, the first time he’d noticed, they were still on the sidewalk outside Goodwin’s; kissing way more than he thought they would with their colleagues and superior officers all within viewing distance. But he’d been a little distracted at the time, too caught up in the temporary high that came with the realisation that not only had he just lived through his very own Die Hard hostage experience - he, too, had a beautiful woman outside who was so glad he was okay, and honestly, those two things packed together really did make for a stellar - if short lived - moment of bliss.)

Pulling away, Amy inspects her palms as though checking for icicles before looking back at Jake. “I’m telling you babe, I really might have hypothermia.”

“Wait … you actually did the polar bear swim?”

“Ugh.” Resting back on her heels, Amy rolls her eyes in exasperation. “Not exactly, no. I tried! But … I just couldn’t go through with it. Holt and Rosa went in while I stayed on the beach like a chicken.” Shrugging her shoulders, she continues. “It wasn’t until I read all your messages and realised what was happening that …”

The cogs slowly begin to turn in Jake’s brain. “You had to …?”

“I ran into the ocean to get them.”

He blinks. “You. Amy Santiago; perpetual blanket stealer, and the only person who could land on the sun and still find it a little chilly, ran into the freezing Atlantic?”

She nods, her eyes wide and somber, and Jake’s heart squeezes in his chest. “I can’t believe you did that.”

Her hands move to either side of his face, the contrast in temperatures suddenly feeling like nothing at all; freshly armed with the knowledge that the woman in front of him had run into the very thing she hated, just for him. “I told you, Jake. As soon as I knew.” She leans in to press her lips against his, and Jake runs his hands along her wrists, giving Amy a contented smile when she pulls away. “Bonus points to you for knowing it’s the Atlantic, by the way.”

There are a thousand different responses running through Jake’s mind, all of them showing varying degrees of being the right answer for right now, but in the end the only thing that he manages to sputter out is a simple - “You’re amazing.”

(Short, yet most definitely true.)

“You were in danger, babe. Nothing else matters when it comes to that.”

A scarily familiar lump forms in Jake’s throat; the same one that had choked his voice up right before he’d confessed his feelings to his college girlfriend Camille - aka, the girl who broke up with him only a day later - and his stomach begins to twist incessantly.

Amy had dropped everything to find him - he, Jake Peralta, a man who’s clean washing pile sits dangerously close to his dirty washing pile (i.e. both on the floor), who’s teeth hold more cavities than a third grader hopped up on pixie sticks, who’s punching well above his weight every single time he gets to hold her in his arms. This intelligent, beautiful, courageous woman considered his safety to be more important than anything else, and the words I love you I love you I love you were growing dangerously close to his spilling out of his mouth.

It wasn’t a new thing, to know that he loved her. He practically vibrated it out of every pore of his body. (Had a dream once, that he’d painted it on a billboard over the expressway.) But it was one thing to know it - to know only a few days in that the two of them together was greater than anything he’d ever been a part of - and another thing altogether to actually say it out loud. He’s been here before, and knows all too well how much it hurts when it goes unreciprocated (the danger, he knows, of wearing your heart on your sleeve: but there, it shall remain). Rejection and heartache are not a new experience for Jake by a long shot - but just the thought of it coming from Amy was too frightening to contemplate.

The urge to escape the seriousness, the voice inside his head screaming deflect! deflect! overpowers the rest of Jake (it’s strength in it’s familiarity), and he leans in to capture Amy’s lips in a kiss far more passionate than any they’d shared this evening. Sighing against her mouth as she melts into his embrace, he uses the space between them as they part to mumble, “I think it’s about time I warmed you up then, hmm?”

“Thought you’d never offer,” Amy grins, that sly upturning of her lips that always seems to have a direct line to his penis; and Jake runs his hands along her back, holding her close to his chest as he lifts them both from the couch and deposits them onto his poorly made bed.

She slips off his undershirt before another moment is wasted, getting to work on the fly of his jeans immediately while Jake leans in for another heated kiss, picking up on her sudden need for more action. His hips flex against Amy’s familiar touch as her hand slides underneath, nudging the zipper of his jeans open with her palm and nursing his growing erection, his responding groan mixing amongst their tangling tongues.

Wrapping one arm around her back, Jake feels the cool bare skin beneath Amy’s shirt, splaying his fingers out as he pulls her closer. The blades of her shoulder graze against his fingertips as her hand tightens her grip around his cock, covering his length in the steady strokes that she knows turn him on, and truly - how she manages to make him feel this good every. single. time. has to be some kind of magic.

His brow furrows slightly as his hands wander to the edge of her waist, noticing what feels like an unusual texture there - but, also aware that he may not be in the most ‘sound mind and body’ state as long as Amy keeps pumping her wrist like that, Jake persists with his path of kisses along his girlfriend’s clavicle. It isn’t until his fingers return to her front, gripping the bottom of her shirt and sliding it upwards that he feels it again, and this time he pulls away from the love bite he had been nibbling into her neck. “Wait. Ames, is that …?”

Shifting his weight onto one side Jake lifts Amy’s shirt a little higher, letting out a halted laugh as a darker lycra fabric begins to appear. “Are you wearing a bathing suit?”

“Oh God!” Amy’s hands brush past Jake’s bare chest, flying up to cover her face as she lets out a groan, his cock already mourning her departure. “I kept thinking on the drive over that I needed to get changed before we got too distracted. But then you kissed me in the hallway, and it all just …” shaking her head, she separates her fingers and peeks out at Jake through the gaps. “I’m still in Polar Plunge mode. Ugh, this is probably the least sexiest - ” her protest dies in it’s tracks, courtesy of the gentle pressing of Jake’s fingers against her lips.

“Babe, no. You’re sexy all the time, it’s actually insane. You’d look sexy in a hessian sack, trust me.” He replaces his fingers with his lips as her hands fall away, pressing just that little bit harder before pulling away to catch her line of sight. “It just caught me by surprise, is all.”

She grins. “Like your girlfriend had turned into a seal?”

“A sexy seal,” he nods. “Hottest in all of New York.”

Her chest rumbles underneath him as she laughs - a loud, carefree laugh, easily one of his most favourite sounds - and Jake joins in, pressing one knee into the mattress as he rises slightly to slide Amy’s shirt away. She looks up at him with the brightest of eyes as their giggles begin to fade and Jake digs his teeth into his lower lip, the urge to tell her just how much he loves her almost too strong to ignore.

(He considers it for a moment, telling her in this apartment that was always an okay place to sleep but now with Amy feels like a home … but he’s watched enough romantic movies in his time to know that pre or post sex first-time declarations rarely held value - and if there’s anybody that deserves better than that, it’s Amy Santiago.)

Instead, Jake takes his time peeling away her swimwear, pausing to kiss each of Amy’s breasts as the fabric rolls to her midriff, shuffling down the mattress as her hips lift to allow both her pants and the suit to slide away and join his on the floor. Her legs slide against the sheets with a subtle impatience, a quiet sigh falling from her lips as she feels Jake’s hands skim along the outside of her thighs, and he takes his time forging a trail of kisses before reaching her centre.

He begins with a special kind of kiss, sucking gently on her clit with every press of his lips, following it up with a rogue lick every second or third go as Amy’s fingers dig into his hair. They tug as he dips lower, circling her entrance with the tip of his tongue, yanking in reprimand when he presses in then pulls away, all far too quickly for her liking.

Amy’s skin feels perfect; so comfortably bare against his own as Jake makes his way back up her body, keeping one hand wrapped around her thigh as he leans in for another kiss, waiting until her lips are well and truly occupied before sliding one - then, two - fingers inside where she’s wanting him the most. She writhes beneath him as he slowly works her up, stoking the flame just enough to push her closer to combustion, feeling the moisture build as her arousal grows with every kiss.

Letting out a shuddered breath, Amy raises her hips to meet Jake’s touch, her yearning obvious - pushing his fingers away and using her free hand to wrap her fingers around his erection, enticing him closer as she twists her wrist with practised ease. Ever willing to follow her lead, Jake shifts until the head of his cock is pressing against her centre, holding onto Amy’s gaze and entering slowly with one smooth stroke.

She sighs in satisfaction as he pushes further in, blinking slowly as their pelvises push up against each other, and for a moment Jake pauses, too caught up in the moment to do anything other than stare. Amy truly was everything he could have ever dreamed of - and by some amazing twist of fate, she’d chosen him over any other.

He thinks of the heart-shaped necklace he bought for her, the same one that sits underneath the glittering tree in her living room, and how he knew it belonged on her from the moment he saw it in the store window. How he’d debated on when to give it to her, knowing the connotation that came from an item of that shape, and how right it had felt to tuck it in with the other presents this morning before he’d left for work.

Because it was true - she could have his heart, in whatever form it came, and wear it around her neck for all the world to see (even if it does sound slightly Game of Thrones-ish). Jake Peralta was totally, completely, and unequivocally in love with Amy Santiago. And even if, right now, he is totally, completely and unequivocally terrified of saying it out loud, he needed her to know just how much a life without her seemed impossible.

He pulls out halfway, dipping his hip slightly as he thrusts back in, holding himself still as her walls pulse around him. Somewhere along the way, tonight had become less about having sex because it’s been A Day and he has a sexy girlfriend, and more about making love with the woman he’s beyond afraid to lose - and it felt kind of perfect. “You should know …” Jake swallows nervously, his mouth suddenly dry. “I need you to know, Ames. When he pointed the gun at me, there was only one thought running through my mind … and it was that I might not ever see you again.”

Smiling softly, Amy reaches out to rest a palm against Jake’s cheek, stroking the edge of his cheekbone with her thumb as her body shifts beneath him. Meeting him halfway for a kiss, her hair splays out on the pillow below as she rests back down, looking up at Jake with a thousand unspoken words lingering between them. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Jake. I can’t imagine ..” Shaking her head, she pulls him back down for another kiss, tightening her legs around his waist and lifting her pelvis to meet Jake’s thrusts as they begin to move together.

It’s safe to say that he and Amy have had a lot of sex since becoming Jake and Amy, and each time has been incredible - but there was something about tonight, and the way their bodies just slotted into each other like they’d finally found that perfect match, that made all of the nerves in Jake’s body push into Oh My God mode. Between the kisses, the wandering hands, and the mingling sighs and moans; it doesn’t take long before his thrusts have sped up, temporarily lost in anything other than focusing on how amazing it feels to be inside Amy while her fingernails dig into his butt.

She whispers his name, a warm breath against his shoulder as his face tucks into her neck, her legs beginning to shake as her orgasm climbs ever closer. But Jake wants to show Amy, even if he can’t quite say it yet, just how in love he is - how far he would go for her, how every part of who he is now comes back to being loved by her - and when her hands slide up to the edge of his shoulders in a definite sign that she was moving closer to climax, he slows his thrusts down, desperate to savour the moment.

He watches as Amy’s brow crinkles in protest, pushing her hips hard against his as her impending orgasm begins to slip away - but he knows that a little edging has never been unwelcome, and so he slows down a little more. Still, her fingernails sting against his skin as she lets a huff, instigating a steady rhythm for them as Jake hovers above, and he leans down to take the edge off by scraping his teeth along the edge of her neck just the way she likes.

He slips out of her a moment later, grinning at the groan of protest that falls unbidden from Amy’s mouth and leans in to plant a kiss against her lips before whispering ‘gotta keep you nice and warm, babe.’ Her neck cranes towards his as he pulls away, chasing more, and it’s a request Jake’s never going to deny so he returns to kiss her deeper, letting their tongues slide against each other for a little while as his hands wander further down.

Jake grips his own erection with a steady fist, rotating once or twice - just enough to keep him teetering on the edge - before sliding down the mattress, dotting kisses against Amy’s torso as he makes his intended path clear.

Her thighs feel smooth against Jake’s palms as he traces the curves of her legs, gently nudging one leg higher until it’s resting against his shoulder. Completely unable to resist, he sinks his teeth into her inner thigh, suckling just enough to know there’ll be a mark there tomorrow, soothing the ache with gentle kisses as Amy moans softly above him. The press of her hand against the back of his head silently encourages Jake to move closer to where she wants him, and after digging his fingers into her hips he is only too happy to oblige.

He takes a slow lick, pushing his tongue against her folds and sighing at the taste of them, the mixture of Amy and a little bit of his own pre-cum. (The switch from condoms to an implanted birth control was recent, and - dare he say - glorious.) He pushes forward for another sample, bending slightly so that the bridge of his nose presses against her clit, darting his tongue in and out of her centre as she writhes underneath his touch.

The feeling of her fingers digging into his hair, and the tightening of her upper thighs against his neck, was the stuff that any great sexual fantasy could ever be constructed of - made all the better by that sweet moment of realisation that this was his life now. He could do this to Amy now, and not be rudely interrupted by an alarm clock pulling him out of a dream. He could feel her this way, know her body better than she knew it herself, and Jake didn’t need to escape a hostage situation on Christmas Eve to know that he truly is the luckiest man alive.

Using his thumb to circle her clit, Jake increases the intensity of his movements as Amy thrashes underneath his touch, pushing her lower body off the mattress as it all become too much. She calls out a mixture of Jake and babe to his apartment ceiling, too overcome with the way her body was riding the wave of pleasure to care about volume, and Jake stays in position, taking all she has to offer as slowly her grip around his body loosens.

Panting in the comedown, it takes a moment or two before Amy can move properly, bending her elbows to raise herself up slightly and watch as Jake continues his gentle assault on her body. “Holy fuck, Jake - that was ..” her voice fades away, raising a hand and then dropping it just as quickly, flopping back down with a satisfied sigh. He grins, taking one final lick before casting a tender bite just to the right of her mound, leaving the evidence of her arousal against her skin as he nuzzles into the curve of her hip.

Grabbing an abandoned pillow, Jake rises and places it perpendicular to Amy’s pelvis; hovering over her still slightly shaking body and gently encouraging her to roll over, positioning the pillow until it lifts her hips in just the right way. He covers her back with his own body as his cock slides back into home, the change in angles eliciting a moan from both of their mouths, and Jake’s teeth sink gently into Amy’s shoulder blade as he begins to pump his hips in perfectly fluid strokes.

Amy’s left hand flails out to the mattress, perfectly manicured fingernails gripping onto Jake’s sheets as the two of them begin to move in sync - both of them immediately getting lost in the moment, in this position that was so much better than doggy style - because this way they could feel each other completely, could feel the nerves quivering underneath their skin as they raced closer towards the finish line.

The feeling of Amy climaxing around his tongue only minutes before had made Jake’s cock harder than ever, and the sensation of her warm body surrounding him now was pushing him closer to losing it completely. He mouths I love you in-between kisses and licks against her sweaty skin, reaching out to link their fingers together as he pushes harder, sliding his left hand between the pillow and thrumming a delicate pattern against Amy’s sensitive clit.

“You feel so good Ames, oh god I’m going to come soon … you’re so amazing.” His forehead presses between the middle of her shoulder blades, leaving the I want this forever part of his sentence unspoken as he lets out a stuttered moan.

Her legs stretch wider apart, searching for that perfect angle as she moans a stretched out yesss, and Jake really increases his pace when she pauses, pushing her abdomen into the pillow and meeting every thrust with a series of gasping breaths.

His name falls out of Amy’s mouth in a series of broken syllables as she climaxes, her entire body writhing and coaxing Jake’s own completion out of him as he buries his head into Amy’s neck and lets go completely, spilling inside her with an intensity he hasn’t felt in the longest time.

Wrapping his arms around Amy’s middle as their heavy breaths begin to slow down, Jake pulls out, twisting to curl his body around Amy’s and nuzzle into her side. Her still slightly shaking hand reaches back, caressing the base of his neck and humming in contentment, stretching her legs out against Jake’s as she moves. “Well, Peralta .. I’d say you definitely warmed me up.”

He grins against her skin, peppering kisses along her upper arm as he speaks. “You think it was worth running into the freezing water for?”

Amy’s hand falls away as she shuffles in his arms, twisting carefully within his embrace until they’re facing each other, pushing a stray lock of hair away from his forehead as she nods. “You’re worth doing anything for, Jake.” Her palm, now entirely warm, caresses his cheek as she pulls him in for a kiss, leaving another against the tip of his nose as they part. “You’re everything. I hope you know that.”

Jake nods, a noice dying in his throat as he chooses to respond with another kiss before he can ruin the moment. One day, some day soon, he would find a way to tell Amy how he felt about her - but for now, he needed to be here with the woman he loves, and feel her soft body in his arms as the exhaustion of the day finally begins to catch up with them.

It’s completely domestic and entirely perfect how they ready themselves for bed; Amy sliding on a pair of Jake’s boxers as she returns from the bathroom, slipping underneath the covers and gravitating towards his warmth without hesitation. There are whispered goodnights and gentle kisses, arms and legs intertwining as though they were always supposed to be, and a smile that refuses to leave Jake’s face as he begins to drift off to sleep.

Let the movies have their action-packed explosions and damsels in distress - his reality kicked it’s butt, any day of the week. There’s an incredibly intelligent, stupidly beautiful woman laying beside him - one that cares for him, worries about his safety, and occupies a little more of his heart with every passing day. And truly, that’s greater than anything that any blockbuster could possibly bring to the table.

(Although, if he ever needed to, he would totally jump off the roof of a building. But only to save the day, and clearly only for Amy.)

(Okay, maybe a little for him as well … but mainly, the Amy thing.)

#some peraltiago smut to celebrate their engagement airing anniversary because thatsa thing right?#anyways I hope you like this!#my writing #peraltiago smut #living vicariously through them? its more likely than you think #smut and fluff #b99 fic #b99 fanfic

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babysizedfics · 4 years

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Little Accidents, Big Developments

Bonus chapter: Yellow

[This is an age regression story]

Chapter Summary: Janus detects a lie.

Chapter word count: 1,800

Other chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / bonus

Read on AO3 or below the cut!

Content warnings: light angst, very mild blood via a bitten lip, and brief, hypothetical mentions of disembowelment and decapitation (Remus, amirite?)

oOo

Janus sipped at his chamomile tea, only faintly registering the bright yellow haze that overcame the left side of his vision. Another lie.

His vision would flare several times a day at least, always informing him of an untruth spoken by one of the sides. He was, of course, accustomed to this alert, having lived with this power for the entirety of his existence.

As the hot herbal drink soothed his aching throat (it was murder on the lungs to reprimand Remus so much), he indulged in his curiosity and closed his eyes. With a practised concentration, he mentally reached out for the false words that had sounded his silent alarm.

It was Patton’s voice. The version of Patton’s voice that Janus had deemed “daddy dialect” in the recent weeks. ‘Nothing will change, sweetheart.’

Janus scoffed.

The lies he was so accustomed to hearing spanned the breadth of significance, from inconsequential white lies (‘I don’t know who finished your Crofter’s jam, Logan.’) to really outrageous fabrications.

Within the past two months, he had heard quite the abundance of silly fibs. Even in the space of a fortnight, some truly ridiculous ones had stuck in his mind:

‘I don’t need dinner!’

‘I-I’m older now. I can do this on my own.’

‘It was a purely tactical approach.’

‘Three, two, one, blow! … You did it!’

It seemed almost every lie spoken by the self-proclaimed “Light Sides” nowadays was riddled with either petulance or condescension. (That is, Janus thought with a roll of his mismatched eyes, at least notably more than was usual for them.) The reason behind it was not lost on him. He may not have been the designated logical side, but it would take an absolute dunce to miss the cues on what exactly was happening in the others’ household; Logan and Patton had evidently taken on caregiving roles for Virgil and, unexpectedly - though perhaps it should not have been, given his childishness - Roman.

Janus had had his suspicions of such after walking in on the household spending time together a month previously. Given how fiercely protective Logan had been of the others and the way Patton had hidden the two younger sides behind himself, it would be hard to ignore the shift in their dynamic. Though the confirmation of it through listening in to the others’ unwitting lies had come as quite an unpleasant shock to Janus, nonetheless.

Every day he sensed silly fibs. The one earlier about baby giggles being a legal requirement under baby law had been… not endearing, per se (that yellow pulse again), but perhaps interesting. Though none of the nonsense he had been alerted to in the past few weeks came close to the idiocy of ‘Nothing will change, sweetheart.’

How self-assured. How naïve. How reminiscent of Janus’ own foolish thoughts all those years ago.

He sighed, lowering his mug to the table and running his cold fingertips idly over the burning hot ceramic. It was not that Janus was jealous (he ignored the faint swell of yellow in the corner of his vision) but rather that he felt an uncomfortable bubble of remorse in his chest, growing and stretching and forcing its way against his ribs.

As he had done countless times before, he wondered what things would have been like had he behaved differently when the youngest side was still part of his household. Had he been more understanding of Virgil’s behaviours. More accepting.

Well, as Patton’s lie had brought up such aching memories, Janus decided a tad more bittersweet self-indulgence would be fitting for the night.

He rose from his seat, tucked the chair back under the table, and slinked through the house fluidly. He thanked his serpentine side for allowing him to practically float up the stairs and through the hallway without making a sound. If either of the other two residents heard him and decided to leave their rooms for a chat, Janus would not be held responsible for whatever unsavoury greeting he may bestow upon them.

A vile feeling clawed at his throat as he neared the perpetually closed door of Virgil’s old bedroom.

With a sharp, short sigh that might have been at least partly a hiss, Janus pushed the heavy door open. The neglected hinges creaked.

Beams of cold light from the hall flooded through the gap of the opening doorway, making visible a thin segment of the abandoned room.

It was unmarred by dirt, slime, blood, or any other disgusting substance, thankfully. Janus had to give credit to Remus. As non-existent as that side’s impulse control was, he had managed to spare this single room from his various antics and pranks at Janus’ sincere request.

The room was entirely unchanged from how it had been left years ago. Small, dotted stains on the walls showed where blu-tac used to hold up punk band posters. Splotches of black on the carpet by the old dresser showed where liquid eyeliner was spilt too many times. Black cotton bedsheets (which now appeared grey with their faint layer of dust) were pulled taut over the mattress where they had only ever used to be in constant, rumpled disarray at a certain someone’s stubborn refusal to make the bed.

Janus gripped the doorframe tightly, clenching his jaw against his growing feeling of unease.

Being a “Dark Side” came with an appreciation of all things, well, dark. True crime stories were common conversation material at dinner, movie nights featured more than anyone’s fair share of fake blood (not always on screen, mind you; Remus had to have some fun once in a while, after all), and family bonding time consisted of debates on the darkest secrets of society and an abundance of teasing of each others’ insecurities and fears - all in good fun, of course. (Though, when Virgil had finally left for good that fateful day with tears streaming down his cheeks, Janus had been forced to reconsider what “good fun” really meant to them.)

As it was, Janus was accustomed to seeing and hearing things meant to turn stomachs, race hearts, and scramble minds. He shrugged at the majority of them and scoffed at the rest. But gazing upon this empty room - the physical embodiment of his failure as a parental figure - was the closest he thought he could truly be to feeling horrified.

Janus’ insides twisted and pulled so much every time his eyes wandered over the sealed doorway, that he had seriously considered asking that Remus follow through on his threats to disembowel him and relieve him of his agony.

Bile had not yet risen in his throat, so Janus considered today to be a good one to bring himself to peek at the old bedside table - or rather what lay upon it.

Once cluttered with makeup products, tangled headphones, and herbal anxiety remedies, the surface now lay mostly bare. Save for a single soft toy slumped across it limply.

The blue stuffed rabbit was a ghastly thing. It was missing an eye, one of its limbs was stretched far longer than the others (probably as a result of its owner’s nervous tugging which was otherwise directed onto his hoodie sleeves), and one of its ears was half-chewed to tatters (another nervous habit of its owner, no doubt). Despite its ratty appearance, the thing was harmless. Such an unassuming object, so innocent.

And yet it brought tears to Janus’ eyes.

He had never even learned the name of the damned thing and wasn’t it utterly ridiculous that Janus, the unofficial leader of the “Dark Sides”, was blubbering over a made-up name for an inanimate object?

It had not mattered to him before. It had made no difference to him what Virgil had named it or how much he had cared about it. Janus had metaphorically and mercilessly turned the thing into a weapon that day. With his careless tongue, he had twisted its existence from an item of comfort and attachment into a source of ridicule and hurt. It was no wonder Virgil had left it behind. It had been tainted.

Janus winced at a sudden sting in his lower lip. He had bitten into it again. One would have thought having fangs would convince someone to be more careful of such a habit.

Delicately dabbing at a drop of cool blood at the corner of his mouth, Janus sighed shakily. That was quite enough emotional torment for one evening.

He released the old bedroom door and let it fall shut. It had barely thudded against the doorframe when that grating, obnoxious sound trilled from the bane of Janus’ existence.

‘What’s up, Jannothy?’

‘Remus,’ Janus greeted with an exaggerated eye roll. It was only partly to rid his eyes of their wetness. ‘What a pleasant surprise.’ Yellow tinted his left eye.

The distinctive scent of burnt paper met his nose. With a jolt of dread, Janus turned to see Remus half-caked in soot. He just about managed to contain a scream. It would have only invited one of Remus’ much-loved screeching competitions.

‘I see you’ve been in the library,’ Janus sighed. ‘Tell me, just how many of my books were charred beyond repair this time?’

Remus blew his cheeks out in a massive exhale, looking up to the ceiling in thought. As the warm breath wafted over his face, Janus was careful to breathe through his mouth.

‘Oh, only about half of them,’ Remus sang then cackled joyously for a short while. ‘But you’ll be glad to hear I sculpted the ashes into the shape of a nine-foot-long decapitated aardvark!’

Janus shut his eyes, shaking his head lightly. He hadn’t the energy to pander to Remus’ whims of fancy. ‘Good night, Remus.’

He silently slipped past the other side in the direction of his room.

‘But it’s only seven!’

‘I’m half cat.’ Yellow again.

‘Jan - wait,’ Remus called behind him, and the incongruous hesitance in his voice gave Janus pause.

He twisted his body back, surprised by the incredibly rare sincerity in the furrow of Remus’ brow.

‘All right. You have my undivided attention,’ Janus drawled, making a point to hold up his hand and inspect his nails thoroughly. He smirked at the yellow tint of his vision.

‘You seem bummed out,’ Remus whined, ‘and the role for resident bum is filled out by me already.’

Janus rolled his eyes again. At this rate, he would get vertigo.

‘So, are you, y’know… okay?’ Remus asked quietly. (Really, what an oxymoron that was.)

Something hard and hot clogged Janus’ throat and he swallowed thickly around it. He dropped his hand and swiftly looked up to meet Remus’ eyes.

‘Yes,’ Janus said in an entirely even tone, ‘I am perfectly fine. Now, if you will excuse me.’

He spun away and marched down the narrow hallway, keeping his gait steady. It was quite a feat, considering the fact he was half-blinded by a bright yellow glare.

oOo

Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated! ♡

AO3 link

TAGLIST (you can send an ask or message to be added for future fics!)

@tearful-babi

#little/big series #little/big series fics #little accidents big developments

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jkpfr · 1 month

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She wakes up and can immediately tell something is wrong.

She wakes up underwater, unable to open her eyes, unable to reach for anything she can touch. It seems she gained consciousness just in time to decide to hold her breath. The pressure is too much… An awful metaphor.

Confusion couldn’t even begin to describe what she feels. She’s drowning. She’s about to die underwater with no idea how she got here.

She tries to move her arms and legs in every direction.

(Please don’t kill me.)

(How can I escape this?)

(It’s too early.)

(It’s too late.)

When she feels the embrace of death…

She takes a deep breath…

Because someone has fished her out of the water and saved her life.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

She disconnected from reality for a few minutes, though she doesn’t remember making the choice to. Her face is in the shade, but the majority of her body is lying in the sun, the dryness of her clothes compared to her hair proof of its brutality.

“- You’re dripping water all over her!”

Emily Drake, Ultimate Fashionista. She was the first victim of the killing game.

“- Get your fucking priorities in order…”

Benjamin Pan, Ultimate Fortune Teller. On a technicality, they were deemed the second victim.

Evidence has it that Mina shouldn’t be hearing their voices, and that the long wet hair hanging against her shoulder shouldn’t belong to one of them. Ever the curious girl, the Ultimate Detective opens her eyes, and it’s as she thought; looking over her with worried faces are Emily and Benjamin… although there is one more person – being her friend Ciel.

She frowns.

“- Why?”

For being so wet all over, her throat feels awfully dry.

“- Mina! Mina’s awake!”

If the fashionista gasps excitedly, Ciel remains silent, save for the loud swallowing of his own spit. For some reason, she chuckles.

“- Waking up next to Emily and Ben… I get the leitmotif… But what are you doing here?”

Oscar chased her and killed her. It was terrifying and violent… but at least it’s over… and it was her own fault. She wasn’t careful. Her intellect didn’t live up to its reputation. Although it’s commonplace for Ultimates to be replaced following their death regardless, the act itself of her being killed must have meant she was fired on the spot.

For now, still, let’s say the “Ultimate Detective” watches her friend’s face be deformed with a pained grimace and his eyes well up with tears.

“- Mina… I’m so sorry…”

Maybe this is some sort of hallucination. Though she likes the grandiose of it, she doesn’t believe in a concept like “Hell”, “life after death”. She’s never heard of anything like it, but maybe the answer is that she’s hallucinating whatever her brain can come up in its last moments.

Emily and Benjamin are people she knows to have died victims, just like her, and now her brain imagines painful goodbyes to the one person to have truly been her friend.

He sniffles. He gets closer to her – the fortune teller helps by moving out of his way.

“- Mina, I was… too… I was too late…”

Should she play along…? This is a hallucination, right? Were Ciel to have been the first to find her body, or some such story, she wouldn’t be able to gain that knowledge after death.

Right now, though, she still feels like herself, and nothing will ever stop Mina Keys from investigating.

“- What… Like… You’re the one who found my body or something?”

She tries to sit up but she fails. She feels light headed and her voice is hoarse. It makes sense that her body would feel so strained – she was strangled, after all.

Ciel lets out a choked-up sounding gulp. Looking at him from the ground – actually, the sand – her keen eye notices large white marks surrounding his neck.

“- Why…?”

The question escapes her before she can think about it. She finds her hand reaching up for him.

(Why?)

Is this rather a nightmare? Traumatised by what happened to her, she projects it onto someone she wouldn’t want to see being hurt.

“- Mina… When I saw Oscar carry you…

- Oscar?!”

The Ultimate Fashionista (though she’ll likely be replaced soon herself) can’t help but intervene, and if Mina takes note of it – as she takes note of everything – her wide eyes can’t stare away from the youthful face above her.

“- …I tried to chase him… Well, right then, I didn’t know for sure that he was carrying you…

- You fool…!”

She finds herself having darted upright, grabbing at his t-shirt.

Even sitting, even with someone her age, she feels so stupidly small, as always.

“- Chasing after Oscar? Did you have a death wish?”

Tears escape from his eyes, and for some reason, Mina’s cheeks are wet.

“- I couldn’t abandon you…”

She lets out a gross sniffle.

This isn’t a hallucination… neither a nightmare… This is actually Hell.

“- What’s it worth now…?”

Her voice is shaky. She understands exactly what happened… she doesn’t need to know more.

Same guy, same modus operandi. Ciel was a witness, in the wrong place, at the wrong time. When Oscar Belmonte perpetrated his premeditated crime against the Ultimate Detective, an innocent bystander got caught in the crossfire…

…No, that’s not exactly right. She knows the truth… That her shifty attitude led her only real ally to put himself in harm’s way. Now look at the both of them.

Though she continues to sniffle loudly, her understanding of the situation allows her to become less tense. She lets go of the fabric she was holding and looks around her.

On her right, the Ultimate Fashionista bites her nails. Is this massacre going to continue? Without the Ultimate Detective to solve the case, is everyone else but the “bodyguard” going to join them here? On her left, the Ultimate Fortune-Teller stares at the sea, holding their knees against their torso.

Ciel won’t stop crying. He didn’t want to die. Everything she did, she did it for people like him, who can’t defend themselves. For people who are small, caught up in something bigger than them.

Her fringe has long dried but her braids still feel damp. She reaches for her ties and undoes them.

“- Anything you tell me to do, I’ll do.

- Hm?”

Benjamin answered her question before she could ask it. It shouldn’t have caught her off-guard like it did – she needs to get her shit in order. She knows the extent of his talent.

“- I won’t believe in it, but if I can make it up to you by doing anything that’ll put your mind at ease, I will.

- What are you talking about?”

Emily again. Ciel tries to cover his own sobs.

“- I need a new guard dog, and Benjamin owes me one, is what it’s about.”

By using their powerful talents, they’ll try everything to understand this place and get Ciel and Emily out of it.

“- So?” Mina gets to ask.

He looks at the detective, then the “clown”, then the fashionista. He stays silent for abnormally long.

(He seems depressed.)

“- That’s all… I guess Oscar gets caught.”

Benjamin’s attitude told her so. They weren’t expecting anyone else to land here…

She chuckles sadly. If the others survived Oscar, then they all outsmarted her, and what used to be her talent has become nothing more than a strange hobby.

#english #murder fabrication bonus content

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murderfabrication · 11 months

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As always, I know you can't see when I'm writing before I post - but I am writing for Murder Fabrication! And I mean canon!

Of course, the biggest Murder Fabrication fans know that they can also sometimes find bonus content on my writing blog @jkpfr, mostly in English, sometimes in French. The *main* bonus stories are listed on the characters' respective pages.

#murder fabrication #random

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smokeybrand · 3 years

Text

Endless Love

With another season of Love, Death + Robots in the books, i wanted to revisit the entire series one more time. I spent the last two days, running through the entirety of the franchise, all eighteen from the first season and all eight from the second, twice, because i absolutely love this series. From the bottom to the top, these are my absolute favorite entries into the franchise so far.

10. Ice

Ice was a real surprise for me. It’s the only entry in season two that is classically animated so it already got bonus points from me but, as an entire short, it was amazing! The second we got outside of that apartment and into the wider world, i wanted to live there. So much content could be embellished from that all-too-short time spent in that world. More than that, i loved he relation ship between Sedgewick and Fletcher. I’m not saying an entire show abut those two is necessary but i wouldn’t scoff at them being supporting characters in a more anthology or ensemble show about that world.

9. All Through the House

This one is just cute. It’s a genuine short and i i don’t think there is a ton of legs in exploring that world but i had a fantastic time with what we got. The animation was gorgeous and the premise was outstanding. Of course, I'm curious about the “Naughty” but we don’t necessarily need confirmation about that I think that little glimpse into the world was more than enough.

8. Three Robots

Three Robots is in the same boat as All Through the House. i loved the time spent in this world but i don’t think we need to to revisit it in any capacity. What we got was the perfect amount of time there. It was beautifully animated, ingenuously written, and executed perfectly. This was a surprise for me to be honest because, in my order, it came right after Sonnie’s Edge and The Witness so shifting thematic gears like that was a little jarring. Jarring and welcome.

7. Helping Hand

Helping Hand is everything i wanted Gravity to be. This one won me over with the sheer panic of it’s narrative. The storytelling was incredibly intimate but that tension was f*cking palpable! It was able to really instill the utter despair and unbridled dead Alexadria felt as she began to spiral off into the infinite nothingness. I was absolutely enthralled with the humanity and sacrifice she made in an effort to straight up survive. Like, how many of us could do what Alex did in that situation? How many of us would have the absolute balls to make that call? Absolutely brilliant storytelling.

6. Pop Squad

Pop Squad makes this list on the sheer potential of that world. Aside from the fact that the entire narrative revolves around straight up murdering children, something that rarely ever flies in the greater entertainment world, and i f*cking love it! Outside of the fact that this entry is easily one of the most beautiful submitted for season two, i absolutely fell in love with the scope of that world. There is a ton of stories that can be told there, so many characters we can follow. Hell, i wouldn’t mind a limited series just following Briggs up to his fateful demise. I’d watch the hell out of that!

5. The Witness

The Witness makes this list based strictly on the strength of it’s aesthetic. For me, the art design in this short was the strongest of the first season and i say that knowing it’s only the fifth entry on this list. As a narrative, it’s a closed looped so there is a ton of lacking substance but the way it’s executed is too f*cking dazzling to ignore. This thing smacks of that Spiderverse animation style but does it in a way that sends you into a surreal trip of colors, glitches, and nudity. I as completely in awe of what i witnessed in that entry.

4. Snow in the Desert

Snow’s adventure was my absolute number one of season two. It’s f*cking incredible. The animation, the character work, the plots, the world building; All of it is an absolute marvel of execution. It presented a complete universe in a matter of minutes and i found myself not wanting to leave. Indeed, of the eight new entries, Snow’s wold is one that i absolute need more of. I need to see his life before Hirald, before his balls got a bounty. I want to explore his very human life with his wife and why she did what she did. I want to see what that world looked like two hundred years before we got our fleeting glimpse, and what Earth looks like in present day. Snow in the Desert was so goddamn great, i was upset it was so short. That’s only happened to me with one other entry on this list and at the very top.

3. Beyond the Aquila Rift

Now, i just gushed, full tilt, about how much i loved Snow in the Desert so why is Aquila ahead of it on this list? Why are there three more ahead of it on this list? Because the remaining three left me with a complete feeling in their narrative while leaving the door open for deeper exploration in to their worlds. Plus, i mean, Aquila’s presentation was f*cking chef’s kiss. Watching that short felt like watching The Fifth Element. Between the space setting and the killer music, it definitely gave me Luc Besson vibes and we all know how much i enjoy Besson’s movie movie making. Aquila is rife for anthology storytelling, just the world Greta could fabricate in her mercy killing duties as a giant spider nest is prime for infinite narratives. Think Tales from the Crypt but sexy and full of Alien Spider Mistress.

2. Sonnie’s Edge

Sonnies Edge was my first glimpse of what would become the utter brilliance of Love, Death + Robots. I Was absolutely enthralled by the character designs and the overall world because, if you don’t know this about my, cyberpunk dystopias are kind of my thing and the world of Sonnie’s Edge it my neon drenched wet dreams perfectly. Watching this felt like watching those old, excessively violent, gratuitously sexy, Eighties anime entries i grew up on. I missed all of the blood and f*cking and gore and violence. Sonnie brought that all back for me, leaving me satisfied but with a nagging hunger for more.

1. Good Hunting

Of all the shorts submitted between these two season, Good Hunting is my absolute favorite. I absolute love every second of this entry. The animation is fluid and top tier, giving justice t the gorgeous art direction and character design. The mix of computer and classic animation mixed perfectly, never outshining one over the other. I’m not he biggest fan of Steampunk but this is the rare entry that really grabbed my attention with how intricate, how absolutely stunning, all of the the iron work is in that world. As i gush about every aspect chosen to present this magnificent world to us, the crux of my adoration lies with the relationship between Liang and Yan. That sh*t was a real pleasure to see and, even after the tragedy, their love for each other really resonated through to the end. I want more of this world than any other we’ve seen so far and i hate that all we got was this one short.

Look, this is just the top ten of my list and, in all honesty, this thing stays in flux. With the exception of the front three, any of these shorts can make my list on any day of the week. I really like Automates Customer Service, Zima Blue, The Tall Grass, Suits, and Shape-Shifters. I’m sucker for classic animation so Blindspot has a shot, even if it’s the weakest of the first season, and The Secret War is just a feast for the eyes. The is a lot of good to great in this show and i can’t wait for the third season. Love, Death + Robots is a bastion for pure creativity, something that mainstream Hollywood lacks. That, i think, is why i adore this series so much. I miss when cats took risks and created unique masterpieces. You see that with smaller studios like Neon and A24 but that spirit has long since vacated the major studios. Thank the stars for Netflix because without them, we’d never have wonderful little nuggets of pure inspiration like this show.

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namjoonchronicles · 5 years

Text

robes | nj

↳ genre fluff, domestic au, namjoon husband au, marriage au ain’t no smut inside i think? is that scene considered smut hmm no idea

↳ words 4k

↳ summary the ordeals that females face everyday isn’t something new to talk about, but it’s an issue that needs constant reminder. everything is fine and dandy until namjoon heard first-hand, how it actually sounds like. and the event that followed suit is a bonus intended soothe the heaviness of the first half, you’re welcome. prepare to be a ball of mush

↳ warning slight suggestive content, catcalling, feminism, public indecency, sexual harassment (so you know what it looks like), disturbing descriptions regarding masturbation; public transport, corn dogs is a food, mentions of pornography, heart goes boom-boom material--what even is these warnings, but it’s all true so, you’ve been warned don’t come whining at me kim gyeongmin is also namjoon’s baby sister’s actual name, i know bc i asked him.

↳ namjoonchronicles’ honorary tag list @kai-tashi @joon94net @yoongiseesaws @yourlocalalien @mentallycryinghanriver @majestikblue @septemberalien

↳ special thanks to @fangirlaholicxx for she’s having an exam week and still deliver, a dependable wife indeed; she liked this, that’s why i’m posting it... also I’m in need of my readers’ blood

↳ song maisie peters ‘feels like this’

How does Namjoon react to you being catcalled? Not great. Not great at all, really.

He is sitting anxiously in his own office, after sending you off alone to get some things Gyeongmin needed for her big day. Because he was so stricken with the need to protect you constantly, he had to give you a call and hear your voice to make sure you’re alright.

“Hello…” chic voice, business-only tone. “Hi, it’s me, are you anywhere nearby the office?” he asked, finding random excuses to get you home earlier than you plan. The closest building he could think of, being his own office. “I’m just walking out the store, why? Is there something you want me to get you?” you asked, genuinely concerned that he might be needing something and because you’re not far away from the store yet, you turned around to head back where you came out of.

“No, I just…” and then he heard it. A raunchy voice, whistling and moaning out loud.

“Hot stuff, where you going looking nice like that!” “You look like my future baby mama…” They howled. They clink bottles. They stuck their tongue out. And attempt to get near. “Who you callin’? You have to get off the phone, and get off of me, pretty princess!” “I hope it’s not your boyfriend… I’ll be so sad.”

Namjoon held on his phone, tight. His lips felt dry, he clenches his jaw and balled his fist. He was only hearing this, and it felt disgusting. You, on the other hand, were experiencing it, as the phone call progresses.

“That looks heavy, can you carry it? Do you want my help, lady?” the grouchy voice is mocking. Namjoon straightens up in his seat.

“Just what? I can’t hear you, these dumbasses are speaking so loud,” you covered one ear and spoke louder through the phone. “She just calls us dumbasses!” a roar of laughter followed suit and Namjoon let out a sentence in harsh rasps, “Just get to my office as fast as you can.”

You stared at your phone while the catcallers showed a derogatory moves, by moving their hips and rubbing their manhood over their jeans. You shake your head and continued your pace. It sucks. Walking along as a young woman, sucks. And it’s sad. Sad because, it had become the norm. It’s upsetting to say, “They’re like that, because I’m a woman.” It’s unsettling, terrorising and degrading. To feel like you’re at fault, because you’re a women and was treated like that.

But you had a fair share of it. You know, the moment you stepped into the office, Namjoon will want to talk about it. He didn’t have to sputter a word, because his face says it all. His aura, his body-language, everything is so clear. Namjoon, when it comes to you, bares it all. You set the bags down, next to your purse, then placed the take-outs on the wooden coffee table Namjoon has in his studio. Ridding your cardigan, you sat with a huff and Namjoon replaced a book in his shelf. Today, he decided to reread his favorite page in ‘Boys Don’t Cry’ by Malorie Blackman. He glanced over his shoulder at you and saw how you were biting on corn dogs on a stick, playing with your phone on his couch.

Impatient, he dashes, “It doesn’t bother you?” “What?” you mumbled, chewing mindlessly. Lying, feigning, fabricating the fact that it did. You were doing what every other girl did. Well, what every other powerless and unnerving girls who go through this every day, would do. Ignoring it. Moving on.

“They said some pretty obnoxious things, babe,” he turns to face you, standing up.

“It’s normal, why are you so worked up by it… it’s what they do when they see women walking alone,” you swallowed in a hurry and smacked your tongue, only to gnaw another bite. The way you replied shows how you neglect the weight of the conversation. He was afraid for your safety. Your well-being. Your condition when he’s not around.

“Corn dogs?” You took one for him and held it out. “How are you so… relaxed?” Namjoon joined you on the couch and took half of the corn dog into his mouth. He is angry, and hungry. It’s a bad combination.

“Listen,” you mashed your lips together before continuing, “It’s what I dealt with, every single day when I was single. I stayed in apartments alone, walked home from work alone, I get catcalled. It happens to me, it happens to everybody. And you know I stayed single longer than you. Before you, I was not in a relationship. I had to commute by train. I could be in my own car and still get catcalled. The things you hear, aren’t even half of the things I’ve heard before…”

“You’re telling me, it’s actually a lot worse?!” he exclaims. The sauce get smeared on the corner of his lips and you thumbed them away before licking them off your own thumb, grinning and resuming your horrifying ordeal with catcalling assholes. Namjoon looks like he’s in an on-going horror movie, except it’s real life.

“One time, I was commuting the train and didn’t sit because I wanted to stare out the windows, this random dude came from behind and starts nuzzling his ding-dongs on my bum… and another time, I did find a seat but this old pensioner starts tapping his manhood, smirking at me with his knees spread wide… I just look away, that’s why I carry backpacks all the time. So they can’t touch my bum.”

Namjoon stopped chewing, and placed his half-eaten corn dog down. He was visibly upset. “Let me finish that for you…” you took his corndog without hearing his reply.

It shouldn’t have been like that. It doesn’t matter what you wore, what girls wore, they should be able to roam the streets freely, without feeling like they’re being watched all the time. The world should have been safe for them as well. But here we are…

“If you ask me why it is so, man are used to jerking off on images of women, they’re looking for more thrill by jerking off on a real person, in a more public setting. It’s in the nature of man. A symbol of power, domination, jilted bravery. Playboys, Maxims, Victoria Secrets, they’re all tools to that. And for people who couldn’t find satisfaction out of it, they engorge into a more fronting situation, and then that leads to rape. All kinds of rapes, date rapes, club rapes, rapes. When things aren’t readily for them. And if that doesn’t fulfill their fantasy, they kill. Like Ted Bundy. Obsession turns to murder. And it all began with a somewhat ‘harmless’ pornography. That’s why I’m against it. Objectifying women. We are more than our curves, more than our boobs and womanhood.”

More. Namjoon listened to you attentively. He doesn’t intrude, doesn’t speak over your voice, he welcomes all your opinions. It’s why he married you after all. You and him are equals. Although he wasn’t the one having to fight daily over catcallers, he has a number of women in his life who went through this and wants to protect them. Feminism was not about freeing the nipples, it’s about being respected as a human being. What good does freeing the nipples bring to feminism? We are more ridiculed than ever because we’re feeding into their desires. To see us bare without a thread of clothing, freely, without doing anything, like the girls in Playboy magazine! It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense at all.

Namjoon is reminded about the article you wrote in your blog a few years back, “All that feminism should be is to celebrate women’s freedom to creativity, to earn and to be a part of the mechanism that brings forth a better city, country, world. That’s what image of feminism is. It’s not about having equal physical strength, wearing a cloth that resembles a man, because we do not need to be reminded about the very creature that denounces us. We wanted to be us, not them.” He felt empowered by it. Because he too is a public figure, he can’t say certain things out loud, but if he’s looking for a feminism icon, he’s looking at one, and lucky enough to marry her. That itself is enough to make him blush.

What irks him the most is that he couldn’t be with you 24/7; but he forgot that there are others in the world who couldn’t be there for their loved ones too. Protectiveness is the ability to provide a safe environment for everyone. It is not just about shielding a person from physical harm. Because harm exist in many forms: verbal, mental, spiritual. He decided that the first thing about being a feminist is to have courage. Courage. Courage is not slaying a dragon with a sword the size of a child. It’s the ability to do what you can, with what you have, where you are at the time. That is one of the many thing he finds attractive on you. The ability to speak out, to remain so calm at the time of panic, the dire need to change the world, armed with your resilience.

“God, I love you,” staring at you, in tunneling gaze. He shrinks himself, sitting sideways to watch you eat your third corn dog, his hands sandwiched between his knees, “And I’m going to get you another can of pepper spray.”

Your eyes travel up, behind his head, on the wall where both of his robes are hung, never really realizing that they’ve come home from travelling.

“Are you free this Saturday?” he whips out his phone and began scrolling down his contacts, and stopping at Jungkook’s number. “Why?” you smacked your lips together, running your tongue along the length, focusing on your food instead of your husband. “We’re taking boxing classes...”

But I already know how to box, Namjoon… He learned that fact, the hard way. Good thing is that, you went easy.

All he had to do was touch your thigh. And you’re a whirlwind of a mess within. The traffic looks awfully busy from the view of your balcony this morning but once you embarked on your journey, it wasn’t as bad. Namjoon, as per usual, begins fiddling on the car radio to plug his aux-in with some good music of your taste. And that means, a whip of good ol’ Hozier.

“Work song?” he asked as you shut the back door and you spat, “Yeah...” Fixing your glasses, you tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, pressing your lips together, smoothing your one piece pinching pink dress that enunciates your figure to a whole new level. To Namjoon’s dismay. But he lets it pass because it’s a special day. And it’s in a private setting, no catcallers there. Even if they were, he’s ready to knock them unconscious, if he needs to.

As soon as the chorus hits, your phone rings. Namjoon pressed them on his ear, knowing that you can’t answer the call, he breathed in a sing-song voice, “Hello~”

The car reverses and cornered right, before motioning straight to leave the parking lot.

“We are just leaving...” Namjoon spoke through the phone, flinching at you once in awhile. Hands on the steering wheel, clawing on a perfect 10-2 position on the clock, he could sense that you were anxious and trying to keep the situation as chill as possible.

He covers the phone with his hand and leaned over to the driver side, murmuring softly, “They’re asking if you took the pins.”

“Yup, it’s in the bag on the backseat,” you blurted in one breathe. Passing a smile to hide your nervousness. It’s a very big day. On the contrary of yesterday’s topic, where you stood brave and resounding, today, you’re gentle and exquisitely charming. As the event fits.

The call ended with, “We’re on the way...” and you suddenly reminded that you were wearing shoes instead of heel so you kept your eyes forward and ask your handy husband to check if you brought your heels under the seat with his long arms. He reaches under your seat easily, and takes them out. He confirmed that it most definitely there.

“Gosh, it’s a long way to the halls though...” you whined against the steering wheel, hitting your forehead on them at the red light. You know the place quite well and you know that there’s no parking close enough to the hall, you try to prepare yourself mentally. There’s nothing more you hate than to walk in heels. Namjoon was all smiles since morning. He was humming a melody and was tranquil ever since he woke up. It didn’t take a lot to wake him today and his excitement is highly contagious. Which was news, considering that it was pretty strenuous late night workout he had with you. No hickeys this morning, unlike usual. He was always pretty gentle. Floating touches, airy kisses, like he’s handling a glass sculpture. Making love is art. It’s hard to register the image of this suited handsome man and his expensive Rolex, staring forlornly out the window of the moving car,, the same way he was last night; all hot, sweaty and heavy. But here we are… The contrast was baffling and pleasing.

“Check the dashboard and see if there’s tissue mini packs,” patting on his knee repeatedly, urgently. He reaches for it while mumbling, “Why do you need tissue packs.”

“Oh you’ll see.”

When you arrived with Namjoon, you kicked away the shoes and traded for heels, balancing yourself by putting your hand on his pecs. Getting a good grab at those defined muscles and perky clothed nipples. He holds your wrist and handbag, his stance barely staggering at your weight. His eyes drops to the view of your hand on his chest and he bit the insides his cheek. His lips protruding like a baby chick's.

“You’re enjoying this,” Namjoon grins. He’s not necessarily hating the attention. It was his wife and as dirty minded he was, his wife was double that number. The universe ain’t lying that it created two pieces of the same soul when Namjoon met you. “I most certainly am,” you switch to the other feet and, “what good is your husband thick pecs if its not for grabbing?” You tilt your head to one side and claw his tiddies through his cloth. He winced away, giggling. “I’m suing you.”

You walked away from him and, “Okay, do me a full view and tell me is everything in place...” He crossed one arm on his chest and rest his elbow on them, to purse his lips, “The ass is definitely there.” You marched at him and grabbed your handbag with a playful slap on his stomach. “I fucking hate heels,” you growled, and he shot, “Did I ever tell you, you look fucking hot when you curse? But today, extra hot. I think it’s the dress...” “No honey,” you shake your head with an angelic smile, locking hands with him, “I look hot because it’s me.” He was stunned, like a light bulb lights up in his head and he goes, almost trance-like, “You’re right. You’re so smart I love you...”

Once you got there, Namjoon is holding onto your bag, standing against the handrail, next to his dad and Gyeongmin’s boyfriend, watching you take over. Gyeongmin looks dazzling in her long dress, teal green, and her hair in a regal bun— absolutely exquisite. She had to continuously bow down because you were too short and you needed to pin her graduation robes in the right place. “Are you getting a calf workout, Gyeongmin?” Namjoon joked.

And Gyeongmin pressed her lips together so that her smile doesn’t get bigger than it is. Couples that tease each other, stay together. You bit your smile and threw him the car keys that you couldn’t give him before because you began to fix her robes the moment you found her.. He caught them with one hand with a smug smile.

“Alright, the colored band goes underneath the hook, and if it rode up as you walk, all you have to do is tug it down hard,” you instructed her. You’re the busiest person there. Her mother helps carry her things, her phone and watching you groom her daughter to perfection. There’s several graduands around but only Gyeongmin earns your attention. She was 75% per cent ready.

“It’s going to be heavy, and it’s going to be warm but later in the halls it will be very cold,” you reminded her and in a glance, you caught her shimmering eyes, impending tears about to fall. You noticed them but you look away.

“Why...” you sang. And Gyeongmin sniffed. “I’ve nev—“ “A-a-ah, no crying allowed,” you gently scolded her and changed the subject, “Did you eat anything today? Did you pee? It’s very important, it’s very difficult to pee with robes on.” “I had bread...” she sniffed and seemingly recover from the tiny breakdown. Namjoon caught your flapping hand, “There’s mint in the bag, can you take that out?”

When he came, he was already chewing one mint. “Those are not for you...” you slapped his thick bum and made Gyeongmin giggle. Of course, laugh, smile—it’s your happy day. Unwrapping one mint for her, you popped them in her mouth but your loving husband, unwraps one for you and pops them in your mouth while you pin Gyeongmin’s robe in place

“The mortar board please?” you asked and you know that she was too tall for you to put them neatly so you dragged Namjoon by the sleeves again to have him placed the mortar board on her. He does so very carefully, as if she’s made of glass. Her boyfriend smiled proudly at her. Her doe eyes looking up from the view of Namjoon’s nostril and a smile is stuck on her face. They weren’t very close growing up. Namjoon chose a demanding job at 15, producing and writing lyrics, and the only memory they shared was when they’re teenagers. Young adulthood was also not very promising. The relationship grew even more estranged because they’ve become completely different from each other. While Namjoon travels the world, Gyeongmin is a full-time student, studying in the US. You decided that on Gyeongmin’s graduation day, everyone should play a role. You helped Namjoon reconnect with his family, especially Gyeongmin.

No longer is he the boy who picks on his sister, no longer is he the one to take away all the umbrella in the house because he was fighting with her.

“Namjoon hyung is very lucky,” her boyfriend sighed, reclining next to you, “Hot sister, hot wife... hot mom.”

“You’ll fit in the family right away, but Namjoon is very scary, especially to male subordinate,” you wiggled your brows at him, fetching the bags. Gyeongmin wanted to take photos before the scroll receiving ceremony because she’s all prepared now. You suggested it. Namjoon’s all smart with his black suits, and brown vest, Prada cufflinks.

“Hello handsome,” you tiptoed and fixed his tie, smoothing down the vest. He tucks your hair behind your ears, “You wore the earrings I bought you.”

“Ms. Kim Gyeongmin’s family?” the photographer called. You unknowingly pushed yourself aside, next to the pillar, holding your bag, standing behind the camera until Gyeongmin calls out your name but you were too occupied with the crowd going behind you to listen. When you turned your head in her direction, she was waving her hand for you to stand beside her but your husband was not in view.

“What are you doing... you have to be in the family photo, you dumb-dumb,” he was actually next to you now, sliding his grasp down your arm and stopping at your wrist, he practically led the way. “But I-I’m not,” you stammered needlessly.

“Like it or not, you’re a Kim now,” your father in law beamed at you. You let out a breathe you didn’t know you were holding in. The photographer aims for the shoot but he stopped momentarily. He pushed a step for you to stand on. And Namjoon covers his mouth, snickering, earning disapproval from the rest of the family. You pouted and looked down your feet.

“Why are you so mean…” “Don’t tease her like that!” “Namjoon, be nice.”

“Can I have everyone looking at the camera please?” The photographer commands and that’s when Namjoon whispered to your ear while his eyes was glued to the camera, “Thank you for marrying me...” his forefinger hook themselves around your pinky, “Mrs. Kim.”

Sweet. A moment there. Where everyone else disappears.

“Cheesy...” you rolled your eyes. “Fun sized” he teased you.

“3...! 2...! 1...!” The camera flashes.

As guests are allowed inside the hall, you waddled to the entrance. On your way, you noticed something strange. All eyes were following Namjoon, you had to swivel to the side shyly, or so you thought, until you realise that he wasn’t there. You spun around in dire panic. Suddenly a pair of large hand settled themselves on the curve of your bum, startling you until you see the face of those brazen hands. The equally brazen smile decorated his face.

“You notice they’re staring at you?” He gushes with a wide grin, standing tall and proud next to you. A hand resting above your hip line, as it should, he controls his pace to match yours. He glances at you, warm and affectionately.

“And Gyeongmin?” You asked. “Taking pictures with her friends,” he passed. “She should. She really should. There won’t be time to meet up again,” you tattered, reminded of your own graduation in the past.

Namjoon was deeply in debt to you. He never enrolled college and because of that, had never worn a graduation robe like you did. He wouldn’t know how to put the robes on for others so he was grateful that you were there. You’ve worn them before and knew what was iffy about wearing them. Gyeongmin isn’t missing out on anything. Despite having a brother who never went to university.

Namjoon holds the phone up for a selfie with you looking at him. He gives his legendary ‘v-sign’ pose, looking absolutely dashing in his suit. Smelling expensive too.

There’s a poke on your hip and it made you turn around, but before you could make sense of who it was, Gyeongmin wraps you in her arms, resting her chin on your shoulder.

“Thank you so-so-so much for being here... for fixing my robe, for making sure everything goes well, for marrying my idiot brother,” she hums, closing her eyes and gave you a tiny squeeze. Namjoon looked very offended, squinting his eyes at her. His mother came to rub your back as well, patting Namjoon’s arm right after.

“You lucky punk,” his father delivered a hearty slap on the back on his shoulder. “Dad, my shoulder will get dislocated...” Namjoon whimpers. “Okay, it’s Gyeongmin’s day, let’s not overshadow her, yes?” You warned Namjoon with the eyes.

“Why am I getting bullied today?” Namjoon whined. “Because you look too handsome and is making people staring at us...” you pushed your sides at him. “I didn’t know being handsome was a crime... Seokjin hyung lived just fine...” Namjoon had to be taken away because he doesn’t stop talking. With another selfie with the family, it signifies how the day of celebration comes to an end.

All that’s left to do is to wait for Gyeongmin to take the scroll. She received a distinction award and delivered a speech because she held the Chancellor's Award for Best Student of The Year. In the speech, she thanked her family members, her professors, and friends for being a fuel that drives her forward. And towards the end, she mentioned her famous older brother, Kim Namjoon as a role model and a figure to stand behind—his morality, determination and poise.

“Despite the difficult path that you created on your own, you remain strong and agile,” Gyeongmin adds, “Relentlessly, and in the peak of your youth, you’ve disregarded your teenage years, for the greater good, your ideas and thrived... you are not just my inspiration, but to everyone else who knew what you fought for.”

Namjoon’s eyes glimmer in pride. He held your hand tightly although his face on the screen doesn’t show how nervous he was. He filled the gaps of your fingers with his own, squeezing them tight before the camera pans away and he brought your knuckle to his lips.

“You want tissue?” You teased him, pressing your forehead on his shoulder. “I will need no such thing,” he sniffed, “But maybe just one.”

Pause. “You helped her write that, didn’t you?” “I most certainly did not,” you chuckled. “You so did,” he shot, “Who in their right mind writes ‘but to everyone who knew what you fought for’ if it wasn’t you?” “I suggested,” you reclined, protesting, “But I didn’t think she was gonna put it in!” You shrug your shoulder, giggling with a smile all the way to your ear.

Namjoon was seated on your left, and he stretched his arm all the way for his hand to cap on your right knee and slid up your thigh. “Don’t put it there,” you gritted your teeth, and removed his hand at once.

“Why not.” “Just don’t.” “What happens if I do?” “Namjoon, I swear...”

All he had to do was touch your thigh. And you’re a whirlwind of a mess within.

“You want to go home, straight?” He quirked an eyebrow at you. One look at you, and he squawks, “Let’s go home, I know you want to go home... I got you.”

“Shut up, oh my god,” you bewildered.

You pushed him till he stumbles to the side, waddling out the hallway outside the hall with your sleazy husband.

“What the fuck is wrong with you...” you contorted your face in feigned disgust. You kick your heels away, muttering, “I can’t deal with heels anymore. That’s the limit.”

Namjoon picks those heels up as you walk away barefooted as if you didn’t leave anything behind.

“Good thing is that we don’t need heels for what we’re about to do…” “And what is that…” “You know what it is.”

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anchanted-one · 4 years

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3 fixits or changes I may not know to canon you made either cause you were peeved at canon or it fit your narrative better

Ahhhhh you already know my top five: no healing for Vaylin, insufficient revenge against scorpio, everything Iokath, Nathema arc, and Lana = 9.

For overall Star Wars.. Like a lot of other people, I like to pretend that the Luke/Leia kiss didn't happen.

I would have loved to go the other way and write a long story where they weren't, in fact, related, but then I'd be upending (among other things) the entire sequel Trilogy. And no, I don't want to talk about the sequel Trilogy either, even though there's only a few changes I'd make that don't affect the overall story much.

Hmmm. Anyway, I'll have a go!

1. The Exile. For the novel swtor: Revan, writer Drew Karpshyn didn't even bother to properly research her or her accomplishments (if he had, he'd have known that planet eating was something that Nihilus did before he invented the Sith Emperor, but I digress). As a result, she was reduced to a side character, with no personality, and certainly without the backstory we know her to have from Kotor 2. In fact, there is a point in the story where Revan proves that he is several times stronger than the Exile by beating a Sith she (with Scourge's help) couldn't. So, my big change? ... It was some other random Jedi that day when Scourge became the Emperor's Wrath. It's such a small thing, but it makes me feel better. Exile was far more compelling than Revan. What happened to her, though? Died from her wounds on Malachor V. That kind of end--quiet, unsung, but having saved the very fabric of the Galaxy--that suits her)

2. Jaesa's gift during the Shadow of Revan. It makes no sense whatsoever for PC and Co to worry about who may or may not be Revanites when Jaesa can tell with a single glance™. Which is why the Wrath can not be part of the initial storyline of SoR. In my story, she joins shortly after the team arrives on Rishi. She and Nox were pursuing the Rogue Sith who was responsible for Arkous' murder.

3. Basically, the likes of Malgus and Revan and Arcann and Vaylin cannot be touched by non-Force classes. For comparison, look at the Vader comic where he faces off against a whole army of Rebels and tears them apart, for comparison. This is the divide that exists between the strongest Force-wielders and ummm. "Regulars". Now add to this that anyone who can kill the Sith Emperor in single combat is a god-tier warrior. The JK is quite clumsy and weak in story content KOTFE onwards. These are the main reasons why I write Arro as deadly as he is. Also, he does not blind side or sucker punch his opponents.

Bonus: I feel that all good Sith (who aren't largely cybernetic like Vader) should be able to Force Lightning. For this reason, Kai'rene can use it--and does, to power up the odd console or something. For real combat situations she prefers pure bladework. No Force Pushes, Crushes, or Chokes from her either, at least not during combat.

#Answers #anchanted-one #Anchanted-one speaks

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werewolvesversus · 6 years

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WEREWOLVES VERSUS: FASHION - available June 27th – pre-order now & get bonus content on release day!

As with every other pay-what-you-want issue of WEREWOLVES VERSUS, the artists and writers listed below will receive a percentage of every sale. If you like what you see, please consider supporting us with a paid purchase. Thank you!

Everyone can look great in a tailored suit or a stunning ball gown, even when you’re eight feet tall and covered in fur, but the true value of fashion isn’t how it makes you look, it’s how it makes you feel. It can crush you with unrealistic expectations, give you the strength to carry on when things are desperate, or empower you to bite the startled head clean off the shoulders of your enemy.

Our sixth issue is a double-sized look at the claw-throat world of lycanthropic haute couture – a realm where the fabrics are dark to hide the blood, enchanted stretch materials can make you a legend, and fur is most definitely still murder (especially when it’s your own).

This issue will be published as a pay-what-you-want (including $0) download at noon Pacific on Wednesday, June 27th. This is a pre-order with a minimum price of $1. In return for your early support, readers who pre-order will receive an email on June 27th containing an exclusive collection of hi-res bonus images (extra material, sketches, and alternate versions of art from the issue). Visit https://gumroad.com/l/wv06 to pre-order!

Featuring over 30 pieces of hi-resolution original art and over 32,000 words of werewolf fiction and poetry from these contributors:

Amber Aria

Anthony 'Bitzawolf' P.

Armando Leiva

Ash Cinder

Danelle Malan

Doruk Golcu

Emil Josephine

Furiarossa and Mimma

Gweakles

Jaz Gómez

John Dillard

Juan C. Moreno

Juliette GMM López

Kelly Vulfolaic

Lesley Keogh

Lorenzo Lobos

Ludocrow

Martyna Kulak

Mary Elise Elam

Matt Doyle

nothere

Quebecoiswolf

S.L. Mewse

Sara Helmy

Tandye Rowe

The Druid

Triple-Shot

Van-Weasel

Viergacht

Wm T Wohlman

Zannah

...plus lethally stylish cover art by Ben Geldenhuys.

#werewolves #fashion #zine #pre-order

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stalkerkyoko · 6 years

Text

Recap sooo next wee OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I’ve been busy with work so months end quick

db: Kai goku trains with bubbles and greg

Mha: Picking hero names all expect kaachan “Murder king explison”- NO

says the one name after 12am

I Skipped shittden and read pte manga again

Boruato: Creepy stalker stalks our i’d say shrinking violet same trope as Early Hinata ,Sumire

Dbs: MAN fuck space DON jr https://www.newsweek.com/donald-trump-jr-mueller-fabricate-charges-1195605- Space poachers

OH wait I can read Bizzaro “totaly fake news means real news

Mob pyscho: “Laugh damn lauuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh- Mob at 100 is raggggggggggge’

Aot s3: Well the scouts finaly get respect and in short time they toppeled a gov and put rightful ruler in.

JOJO- DIB

evil david bowie in crow

BLACK CLOVER : “Asta if you don’t fucking marry Noelle I’ll be livid

HXH: Ikalgo is smart for coward

flcl- bb haruko

Pte:?????? reurun

Lupin: In Japan this ep is speical"Non-Stop Rendezvous" is an episode of the Blue Jacket series. It aired on November 23, 2015 as the twenty-third episode of the Italian broadcast. In Japan, it will be released as exclusive bonus content on Vol. 8 of the Blue Jacket DVD and Blu-Ray releases.

Hahah got ours for free

Samurai jack

Mad jack aka yep same one that comes back for jack in s5

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marvelousbirthdays · 6 years

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March 3 - Bucky Barnes/Darcy Lewis or Victor Creed/Darcy Lewis, something fluffy/smutty maybe with prompt "What a nice little sound, I think I'll bite there again." for sionnachoiche3

Written by @meilan-firaga

Darcy hadn’t exactly planned for impromptu, middle-of-the-woods ravishment when she’d picked out her underwear that morning. And by “picked out,” of course, she actually meant “summoned from the depths of the drawer where panties that should have been tossed years ago lived.” Actually, she wasn’t even sure she’d brought the kind of panties one would pick out with her when she’d packed for Jane’s little “research excursion”--also known as Operation Get Over Thor By the Power of SCIENCE!

Seriously, the town they were in was so remote that you had a better chance of running into a rampaging moose than an eligible bachelor. The good panties didn’t deserve to be brought so far only to suffer that kind of neglect. Which was a damn shame because back home she had quite the killer collection for a perpetual intern with pop tarts for a salary.

“I feel as though I might not have your complete attention, soulmate.”

Right. That guy. The woods and the ravishing.

There had been a bit of an incident.

Bad guys came for Jane and the Research. Darcy made a smartass remark. One bad guy pretty much instantly turned on the other bad guys with brutal efficiency, snarked out some words that just so happened to be the ones printed across her entire underboob, and promptly stole Darcy away to the romantic undergrowth of the conveniently nearby forest. They’d been thoroughly making out (which she was absolutely not going to be ashamed about because “Go, Universe!” her soulmate was a fox) and had just started to make with the neck kissing and wandering of hands beneath clothing when the Underwear Conundrum began to gnaw at the back of her mind.

“I had thought that your sharp tongue and forceful delivery during the fight might mean my soulmate wasn’t some empty-headed wilting flower, but I’m starting to think I got my hopes up.” His voice had been deep and rumbling from the get-go, but it suddenly held the beginnings of an angry growl. She didn’t know whether to quake with fear or an awkwardly timed giggle. “I’ll ask again: Where are your thoughts, Darcy?”

“First off, you didn’t actually ask that,” she snorted, reaching up to run one hand over his short crop of hair before pushing her glasses back up on her nose. “Take a chill pill, my dude.” She shifted beneath him until she managed to dislodge the pinecone that was becoming intimately acquainted with the lower portion of her spine. “I’m not ignoring you or anything. Well, not on purpose, anyway. My anxiety brain is just picking a bad time to say hello.”

Her soulmate sat back on his heels and quirked his head to one side in a way that was surprisingly reminiscent of a cocker spaniel. His dark eyebrows furrowed and he absently ran his hand from her knee to her hip, squeezing gently when he reached the top of her thigh. The tips of his--nails? Claws? Whatever.--caught just slightly on the fabric of her leggings. “Are you anxious because I arrived with men who probably would have killed you?” he asked with a frown. His hand made the trip back to her knee and up to her hip once more, and Darcy started to suspect that the action might become a nervous habit. “Because I thought I took care of that problem.”

Darcy raised an eyebrow and let out another snort. Rapid murder of would-be kidnappers had definitely solved the immediate problem when they met, but she really hoped he wasn’t going to try that tactic for every issue they encountered. “No, we’re cool on that,” she assured him, tugging on his shirt until he leaned down enough for her to drape her wrists over his shoulders. He was watching her intently--a predator focused on his prey even outside of a fight--and another thought popped into her head and out of her mouth before she could stop it. “You know my name, but I never got yours.”

Surprise briefly lit his hazel eyes before he folded down over her like a cat settling into a particularly warm patch of sunlight. “It’s Victor,” he rumbled against her lips. “Victor Creed.”

“Victor,” Darcy breathed, testing the sound just before he fused his mouth to hers once more. The name was familiar in a way that said she’d probably read it in all those S.H.I.E.L.D. files that had hit the web, but she had better things to focus on. Like the way he’d already learned that tugging her bottom lip between his teeth would make her hips rock against his own. Or how she’d already figured out that dragging her nails across his shoulder blades even over his shirt would pull a hungry growl from his throat.

“Does that resolve the anxiety?” he inquired in a throaty rasp as he started to nibble his way from her jaw to her shoulder.

In spite of her efforts to focus on the effect his teeth, tongue, and stubble were having on her lady parts, an image of threadbare cotton with useless elastic rudely shoved itself to the forefront of her mind. There might have been holes. Possibly a faded My Little Pony print.

“No,” she whined, “this bitch doesn’t go away that easily.” With a frustrated groan she dropped her arms from around him, pushed her glasses into her hair, and scrubbed both hands over her eyes. She felt him push away from her, possibly sitting back on his heels again. “Look, this has nothing to do with you and who you are and the things you’ve done because, I mean, look at you! You’re gorgeous and growly and made of muscles, which is pretty much exactly the type of soulmate I always wanted to have and yeah it might be weird that I’m ready to jump on that pony right out of the gate when we met under weird ass circumstances but I’ve never been the type to think I was going to make my soulmate wait because Hello! Sex is awesome and again with the you being a pretty batch of sexy beast in a Darcy-approved package and I’ve always had this thing for bad boys and that’s definitely a bonus but here’s the thing: I’m pretty sure I’m wearing panties I’ve had since high school that definitely don’t match the two sports bras I’ve got on to tame the girls--one’s pink and the other’s about the same color as a yellow highlighter--and I don’t think I’ve shaved in a month and my brain keeps insisting that the second you get me naked you’re going to run away screaming.” Darcy finished on a deep, ragged breath with her hands pressed to her eyes. If she didn’t look at him she wouldn’t actively see him reject her.

“Is that all?” Victor asked mildly, shifting again to lie more fully against her. Darcy flung her hands away in surprise as his hips settled between her thighs and definitive evidence that her little freak out hadn’t diminished his interest in the slightest pressed against her. He was propped up with his elbows resting on either side of her head, muscular arms holding the majority of his weight so the rest of his body could lie flush against her own. He brushed one hand over her hair and settled her glasses back on her nose before he continued, a soft smile on his face that she suspected might not be a familiar expression.

“First of all, I don’t care about what you wear or if anything matches.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “And I’m told I’m a bit old fashioned when it comes to body hair, so as long as you’re comfortable with it I’m not going to care about shaving either.” His lips brushed her cheek. “I will always remember the day you were born and your words appeared on my skin because it was the day I realized that I might not be meant to spend my life alone.” The other cheek now.. “I promised myself that the life I’ve been living would end the day I met you, and I intend to keep that promise. I’m yours until you’re through with me.”

The kiss Victor placed on her lips next was gentle--almost chaste, even--and didn’t last more than a few heartbeats before he raised his head. “Now,” he insisted, winking at her before he continued. “The way I see it we’ve got two options. We can go back to town and wait for all this until you’ve had time to pamper yourself to your heart’s content. I’ll even buy you whatever undergarments you want. Or…” He trailed off and flashed her a grin that pretty much convinced her that he was going to be trouble. “Or I can promise not to look while I rip the panties you’re so worried about off and toss them in the bushes. Then we can get back to business.” To cap off the whole wonderful speech he bit his bottom lip and gave her a once over that could have melted those panties off her completely.

“How do I know you’ll keep your promise?” Darcy asked, internally doing a victory dance at the sultry tone she could hear in her own voice.

Victor huffed a laugh and gave her a quick, teasing kiss. “I always keep my promises.” He rocked his hips against hers again, providing the most delicious type of friction.

“Option 2, then, but don’t ruin my leggings. I like these.”

“Excellent,” he purred. He delivered another kiss--this one anything but chaste--then made his way across her jaw until he reached the shell of her ear. “Hold down your top,” he rumbled, pausing to gently nip her earlobe before sitting back on his haunches once more. He pulled off her boots and socks before peeling the leggings down, his eyes never once leaving hers.

This was not the first time that a man had gotten it into his head to rip off Darcy’s panties--or a woman, actually; there was that interesting night with a lady firefighter that she was never going to forget--so she’d prepared herself for the pain of having cloth pulled tight over particularly sensitive places. Instead, both of Victor’s hands slid up her thighs (knee to hips, totally some type of tic), worked their way beneath the bottom hem of her panties, and shredded the fabric. His nails sliced cleanly through what remained of the cotton and elastic in seconds. He tugged them off her and tossed them over his shoulder without a glance, then set about letting his lips follow that knee-to-hip path but along the inside of her thigh. There was no anxiety left in Darcy’s mind when his teeth sank into her skin just short of the spot where her leg met her torso and she let out a sound that couldn’t be called anything but a mewl of want.

“What a nice little sound,” Victor growled, his breath ghosting over the spot where she really wanted him to put that sinful mouth. “I think I’ll bite there again.”

And he did.

And by the time they’d picked themselves off the forest floor to head back into town--hand in hand--Darcy didn’t even care if he saw the scrap of cotton she swiped out of the bushes so they wouldn’t litter.

#tasertooth #fuckyeahdarcylewis

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