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jeonjcngkook · 2 years

Note

Can you do a drabble wherein the oc and jk make a bet where they try not to kiss each other!? Just imagine 🥺🥺🥺🥺

say less 🥺

to be loved by you | jjk

⤑ pairing: jungkook x reader

⤑ genre(s)&au(s): sfw nc17+, fluff, romance, established relationship, domestic happiness, slice of life

⤑ word count: 2k+

⤑ warnings: suggestive, making out

⤑ summary: you come across the 'try not to kiss' challenge on tiktok and you want to test your boyfie to see just how much he can resist.

⤑ note1: i love them sghdgfjshgfdh. thank you for this ask! im so thankful i have been able to write this <333 i hope it reaches your expectations my love!

⤑ note2: unedited and not betaed lmao but my beloved love @caelesjjk did read over it, thank you angel — this is for u!

masterlist

Early Saturday afternoons. Your favourite time of the week.

The time of week where you can let yourself be free of any commitments, the working week fully behind you. A day made up of zero plans.

Today couldn't be more idilic as the heavens sky opens wide, casting pillowy grey clouds over the city skyline and gentle pitter patters of rain drops against the glazing of your window. It eases your mind, furthering you into your state of bliss.

Your phone rests in your hand as you lazily lounge on the sofa, legs draped over your boyfriends lap as he continue to skim through tiktok, watching funny reddit threads and hairtoks while Jungkook rests his forearms across your legs, console controller in hand as he concentrates on the TV in front of you both, mindlessly walking through the map of the newest game he’s purchased.

He’s a natural beauty. With his hair parted down the middle and yet most of it is swept to the left, covering his eyebrow piercing that glitters when the sun decides to crack through the clouds and through the spaces in the blinds hung on the window. His eyes narrow as he becomes more absorbed into the fantasy world in front of him. A slope to his little button-like nose which ends just above the curve of his cupid's bow — heart shaped and pretty. You watch as your boyfriend’s tongue peeks out absentmindedly every so often, licking at the pretty little silver ring that rests beautifully on his lower lip. And his lips, oh goodness, his lips. Pink. Full. So so pretty.

What’s when the idea hits you.

Retracting your legs from Jungkook’s lap, you remove yourself from the comfort of your sofa and feign fixing something on the coffee beside you. Secretly, you place your phone horizontally down onto its side beside your favourite vase, making sure that the lens of your camera is facing Jungkook for what you’re away to do.

You turn back towards Jungkook and he moves his arms again, expecting you to place yourself back in your previous position sprawled across him but instead you take this opportunity to squirm into his lap, thighs on either side of his tiny waist as you nuzzle yourself into his neck, catching the fabric of his hoodie as you dip down. Inhaling, you catch the scent of jasmine and lily from the washing detergent you both use. You crack a smile as you nuzzle further into the smell, closing your eyes to bask and clawing your nails like a kitten finding comfort in your boyfriend.

Jungkook lets out a low laugh at your new position but entertains it nonetheless, completely oblivious as to what’s to come. He adjusts himself in the centre of the sofa with you still in his lap and resumes his game as he wraps his arm around your body; picking up the controller once more and continuing on with his game.

Five minutes pass and you decide that now is the time. You lift your head out of the crook of Jungkook’s neck and sit straight, now blocking his view of the TV. The buttons on the controller come to a full stop as your eyes follow the silence, watching him press on the pause button before placing the control down next to his knee on the couch.

“What’s gotten into you, darling?” Jungkook softly asks, his hands skimming past your cotton shirt and placing them directly onto your waist. You feel heat follow his touch as his thumbs rub back and forth on your skin. It’s gentle and loving.. just like Jungkook.

“Let’s play a game,” you say, a smile making its way to your face.

Jungkook’s eyes trail down your face and stare as your smile gets wider, a little cheekier too as you fully settle your body in his lap, the cushions of the sofa below your knees makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. Jungkook’s hands find your hair and you let him tangle his fingers through the strands delicately playing with the ends of them before tucking it behind your shoulder, exposing the skin of your neck. “And what game requires you to sit in my lap like this?” He asks with a raise of his eyebrow.

Your own hand is steadily pressed against his abdomen as you begin to trace your right index finger down his toned stomach, the ridges of muscle below tightening under your touch as your mouth waters at the sight.

Moving forward, you tilt your head to the side slowly and gently, watching as Jungkook replicates the movement in the opposite direction. You make sure to tease him a little more as your left hand raises your boyfriends chin to the side briefly, allowing you to press your lips to his neck, peppering open mouthed kisses along his throat and up towards his jaw, before finding a little spot to delicately suck rose petals into his skin.

The grip on your waist kneads at your flesh as the pleasure creates the hair on his arms to stand. You hear a little moan slip past his lips and you know that you have him exactly where you need him to be. Pulling away from his neck, you watch as a little love bite blossoms on his skin and you grin devilishly at your mark.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you entwine your own fingers together behind his neck and lean back towards his lips. Your eyes lock with his own dark irises, your mouth only a hair's breadth away from each other. “The game where you try and not kiss me.” You whisper, your lips brushing over his own as you sound the words out.

Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to grin. It’s known to you just how competitive he can be — but he’s never competed for intimacy with you before.

He straightens his posture below you and pulls you closer to him. His palm reaches for your cheek, palm under your jaw and fingertips resting on your neck, pulling your head towards him, lips in front of lips, you can almost taste the mint on his tongue. His thumb strokes your cheek and your eyes flutter shut at the contact. “But you can’t resist me, darling,” he whispers, voice airy and light, teasing too and you can't help but whimper.

You take a deep breath, willing yourself to snap out of your daydream and look back into his eyes. Your tongue slips past the seam of your lips and you teasingly glide it along your lower lip before pulling the skin in between your teeth, biting down on it.

Jungkook giggles. It’s velvety and comforting. He moves his head an inch closer, your noses now grazing each other as he rubs up and down causing a giggle of your own to fill the space around you both.

At his words, you allow yourself to grind into his lap teasing him and you feel his hand around your waist tighten and watch as his breath stutters on the exhale and you can’t help but feel the rush of pride as you watch him weaken for you.

You don’t feign much better though. A warmth blossoms in your tummy and courses through your veins at your own movement and your automatic response is to kiss his pretty pink pouty lips. But with much vigour, you steer away from your thoughts and continue to stare deeply into his eyes. It’s been what? Three Minutes now? You think.

With a wandering eye, you side eye your phone which is still hidden behind the vase on the side table, smirk and stare back at him. “How’s your game going?” You ask, watching Jungkook’s own eyes flicker down to yours with the movement of your words, the sound light and airy with troubled confidence as you try to keep the proximity between you both exactly where you are.

“It’s…it’s going well. I’ve finally m-made it into the elite ranking,” he stutters his words at the movement of your hips in his lap.

Jungkook’s eyes darken immediately and his pupils blow out as the temptation begins to swallow at him. He swallows hard, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips and your instant reaction is to cradle his cheek in your palm. His head nuzzles into the warmth of your hand and you can’t help but trace your thumb over the wet skin of his lips, back and forth.

“I’m finding it incredibly difficult,” he starts, “having you this close to me, in this position, and not being allowed to kiss you.” His breathing is heavy and his hands are busy running up and down your sides, kneading, pulling, anything.

Your eyes flutter shut at the actions of his hands and your head falls forward, closer towards his awaiting mouth and he thinks he has you as his own lashes kisses the apples of his cheeks in preparation for your kiss. But your free hand juts out at the last minute against his chest to steady yourself.

“You know koo, you could just kiss me,” you whisper, your lips brushing across his own as you talk. “However I am so happy you ranked up,” you purr, rolling your hips harder on top of him, you feel your boyfriend’s movements match yours from below.

Jungkook’s resolve starts to break as his gaze settles on your lips, desiring a kiss that you’re toying from him. His hands slide down your ass and he quicks it a hard squeeze, his forehead now completely against yours. He rubs his own nose against yours once more and a growl deep from his chest erupts as he maintains the last ounce of resistance in his body.

But Jungkook loves, adores, when you’re needy and whiny for him. It plays into his masculinity that his girl is there begging for him to make her feel good and that is just what you do.

Both of your hands slide to the back of his neck and lace within each other, resting your warm palms at the back of his head. “Koo, please, just kiss m-,” you mewl and pull at the long strands of his hair at the nape of his neck.

The desire that has been palpable between the both of you finally cracks and Jungkook’s lips surge forward and finally collides with your own, cutting off the end of your sentence.

The kiss starts off slow and gentle, pecks upon pecks on your lips but quickly everything devolves from there, moving into something deeper, with more passion, heat, filthy and wet. Jungkook pulls your lower lip into his mouth, nipping hard and exploring your mouth with his tongue as he pushes past your lips and tangles his wet muscle with yours.

It’s dizzying and all consuming as you get so lost in it that you forget that next to you there is a phone recording this for your tiktok account and yet you can’t find it in yourself to care. You press back into it with your eagerness, the warmth that was once in your stomach now a fully blossomed fire as you begin to fight for faux dominance against him, and Jungkook fights back just as much with a smile into the kiss and a rock of his hips pulling a whine out from you.

All too soon, he pulls away from you leaving you both with heaving chests, gasping for air as you both stare at each other's kiss bitten, swollen lips — wanting nothing more than to have him again and again and again. He smirks at you frivolously and his hand comes up to hold your own cheek in his palm.

“Don’t know what you’re smirking for, you just lost,” you grin at him.

Jungkook is quick to pull you back towards him with a laugh. “Worth it,” he mouthes as he kisses you intensely one more time.

⤑ note3: don't be a silent reader & leave some feedback in my asks, reblog with a nice comment or even a lil reply saying if you enjoyed — big or small, they go a long way! supporting writers is always important <33

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qveerthe0ry · 2 months

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Hello lovely!

I saw your reblog of @for-a-longlongtime‘s poll about queer Pedro boy fic and I was wondering if you have any fics that you particularly enjoy that you could recommend?

Hello friend!!

Sorry I took so long to answer this, but I wanted to have the time to be as thorough as possible because this is an AWESOME question! Thank you for asking me!!

I also want to preface this by saying I haven't had a TON of time to read as many fics as I want to, so if anyone wants to reblog this with more queer Pedro boy fics I would love that!

For now, here are the ones I've read and loved:

Into the Beat of the Night by @perotovar has the sweetest Frankie I've ever read and a badass non-binary OC named River. Their dynamic is so fun but so deeply caring and I CANNOT get enough of them. Their banter is always adorable, and there's a really good balance between fluff, smut, and light angst so far and I'm sooooo looking forward to the next chapter.

baby, i'm-a want you by @perotovar AGAIN they just won't quit with the incredible queer Pedro boy fics. Gay pornstar Javi P and Joel, shy Joel with a crush, all the PPCU boys do porn together, what more could you want???

Maverick by @for-a-longlongtime and its sequels. Of COURSE I can't make this post without gushing over this Tim Rockford x Marcus Pike x Frankie Morales series. Oh my god. It's so hot it will melt you, but also so sweet, and I look forward to updates like it's Christmas eve.

Sharing the Same Roots by @multifandomhoodies over on AO3. I'm not sure if they've cross-posted it here on Tumblr, but this was one of the first Pedro boy fics I ever read and I think about it a million times a day I think. t4t DinCobb set in WEST VIRGINIA!?! Mind was instantly blown, as I lived there for the first 21 years of my life. It paints such a serene, beautiful picture of a slow, happy, queer Appalachian existence that it makes me tear up. Super hot, super well-written, and Grogu is a fellow WVU Mountaineer which makes me chuckle. I wonder how many couches he's burned.

Catalyst by @ezrasbirdie Last but CERTAINLY not least, a fic that I re-read before bed time an embarrassing amount of times because it is SO!!! GOOD!!!! Frankie and Joel are my favorite Pedro boys, and the exploration of their relationship with each other and reader is so incredible. The way the emotions are written so naturally and so raw blows my mind every time I read. And AGAIN shy, flustered Joel??? My beloved. But also absolute menace Joel flustering Frankie??? STOP IT!!!

This list is shorter than I want it to be, so if anyone has suggestions totally use this ask as a way to rec or self-promo your queer Pedro boy fics <333

#pedro pascal characters #ppcu fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie morales #dincobb #din djarin #cobb vanth #joel miller #javier pena #marcus pike #tim rockford

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softguarnere · 6 months

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ok dove, my love, the writer I aspire to be bc your fics are actually 🤌 I was wondering if you could mayhaps appease my craving for a Joe Toye x sick reader fic? I'm quite literally dying of bronchitis and a double ear infection and I have done nothing but reread your work bc it's literally like drugs for me oml

anyway I hope you're doing okay and autumn treats you wonderfully!! <333

In Sickness and In Health

Joe Toye x reader

A/N: Hey Sky! You are too sweet, oh my goodness 🙈 Thank you so so much! I'm so sorry that you're sick, and I hope you're feeling better now 💕 Get well soon beloved, and I hope you enjoy this! (This is written for the fictional depictions from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!) Also, just a reminder that my requests are closed; I wrote this as part of catching up on requests that were already in my asks Warnings: unspecified sickness

This isn’t how it was supposed to happen, you can’t help but think for the millionth time today. But no, every time you think about your original plans for the weekend, the temperature of the room feels even hotter, the pinpricks of sweat on your brow and neck even more prominent, and the pain in your stomach even worse.

“Joe,” you sigh when the man in question takes a seat on the bed, making the mattress at your feet dip under his weight.

He holds up a hand, stopping your sentence in its tracks. “Don’t you dare apologize again.”

His voice is gentle, but you can’t help leaning back onto your pillow and sighing. Because you are sorry. Really, really sorry, for just about everything you can think of. The fact that you travelled all this way for your husband’s reunion with his old army buddies, only to get sick the night before; that he’s taking care of you when he should be catching up with old friends and reminiscing over memories; that he won’t listen to you when you insist that he can leave you here.

“You should go see your friends.” They’re probably all down at the hotel bar by now. Even though the reunion won’t officially start until tomorrow, some of them are probably pregaming.

“I can’t. Not when I’m taking care of you. I made a vow, remember? In sickness and in health.”

I really do have the perfect husband, you can’t help but think to yourself. How many other men would shrug it off, or sneak away once you were asleep? Strange, how the roles have been reversed here, with you insisting that he go, that you can fend for yourself.

You sigh again. “I just – I feel bad. We came all this way to see your friends, and all you’ve gotten to see so far is the inside of this hotel room.”

But Joe only shrugs. “Well, the reunion doesn’t even start until tomorrow. Maybe you’ll feel better by then. We’ll just see what happens. Besides,” he rushes on before you can continue. “A lot of the guys live in Pennsylvania anyways. If we want to see each other, we can just make the drive some other time.”

“But Joe,” you stress. “This is the Easy reunion. This was important to you.”

“You’re important to me,” he deadpans, but his eyes are soft. “I won’t be able to enjoy any of it if I’m worrying about you the whole time.”

Oh. You had been so caught up in worrying about him enjoying himself that you hadn’t even considered that. Maybe the combination of the sickness and the medicine has clouded your judgement. Or maybe just your love for him has.

“You should rest,” Joe suggests. “Do you want me to get you anything?”

You want for him to hold you, to make you feel better. But unfortunately, there are some things in the world that not even a man as strong as Joe Toye can fight off, and sickness is one of them.

The two of you have been together for quite some time now, though, and he knows you well enough to read your mind. Without even asking, he kicks off his shoes, adjusts his prosthetic leg, and curls up beside you on the bed, wrapping you in his arms.

“Let me know if you get too hot,” he whispers. When you nod, he repeats his sentiment from earlier. “Don’t worry, okay, (Y/N)? We’ll see what happens in the morning.”

The morning feels like such a distant time. Right now, the only time that means anything is that which you spend in his arms.

#joe toye #joe toye x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers fanfic #my writing #tumblr friends #sky 🌌

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mukamibabe · 2 years

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How do you think Karlheinz would react to seeing his new wife dressed very exquisitely for a party?She looked so ravishing that Karl caught many of the vampire nobles eyeing her lustfully.He was throwing a party to welcome her as the queen of demon world,but his new wife despises him as he forced her to marry him resulting in her never allowing Karl to even lay a finger on her.

ooooh this is very fun! thanks again for all the asks! keep them coming if you'd like!! <333

tw for forced marriage? and also karlheinz kind of being a jerk but is that really a surprise? in general, it’s a bit dark. normal for dialovers standards though, i would think? honestly it’s got a lot of yandere!karl vibes, so be careful if that’s triggering for any of you.

well, first, i want to point out that i think the fact that his new wife doesn't want him only makes him want her more.

it’s actually almost.. amusing to him, that his new wife doesn’t appreciate the position she’s in. does she not know how many others would kill for her spot? is she not aware of how many stares he gets from envious women, wishing they could be standing by his side?

no matter the reason for their marriage, she needs to accept it now, is what karlheinz would think. there’s no use fighting it, as this is her fate.

now, in public, karlheinz is a completely different man. this is especially so in front of fellow demons, the ones he is the ruler of. it’s an incredibly fake personality, very charming and professional.

his plans for the night was to present the public his beautiful new wife, and while i don’t think marriages between.. higher-ups and royal/aristocratic vampires are usually out of love, he wants the public to be convinced his wife is his.

while karlheinz can be possessive, he also sometimes isn’t. for now, so long as his new wife has a use to him, he’s going to remain possessive over her until she’s fulfilled her use. hence, karl kind of just letting cordelia do what she pleases after she gave karl what he wanted: children. heirs.

so, what is this new wife’s use? i’ll leave that to be up in the air for anyone to interpret. if it’s truly out of love, i.. find that really interesting. near impossible. but anyways-

her reluctancy to actually form a relationship with him only makes karl more attracted to her. he enjoys the cat and mouse game.

what he likes even more though is knowing he’s going to corrupt her at some point in time. no one can resist forever, can they?

at this ball, karlheinz keeps her very close to his side. he sees all those looks, the suggestive glances towards his wife, looking at her as if she were a piece of fresh meat. maybe she is, maybe she isn’t, but she’s definitely not for anyone else but him.

i can even see karl taunting her a bit, pulling her off to the side so there’s not like.. everyone crowding the two of them yknow? he’s got that stupid smirk on his face, growing even more so once he starts looking at his’ beloved queen’.

“you claim to hate this so much, but you still remain here. and to show up in such an ensemble, as well.. you really have contradicted yourself, my dear.”

he’s just so arrogant 😩😤

like, karl knows she really didn’t have a choice. and even if she did, choosing anything other than what he has asked for only means bad things for her.

in karl’s words, she better behave herself during the party because if not, she really will regret it. be a good little wife for him, and all will be okay ❤️

#karlheinz #karlheinz sakamaki #karl's wife #why is that a tag i;ve used before ?? lol #Diabolik Lovers #dark diabolik lovers #?????? as if the franchise wasnt dark but alright #yandere diabolik lovers #again. as if it wasnt yandere enough lol #diabolik lovers x reader #karlheinz x reader #karlheinz sakamaki x reader #my post #let me know if i need to add and trigger warnings or anything. this applies to everything i post btw #fantasticchaosdaze

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chasingpj · 1 year

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congrats on 1k omggggmgmg!!!!! i love ur prompts sm they're so fun :D can i request dialogue prompt 3 with connor?? "pls tell me we're not stuck out here with ur piece of shit car" LMAO make connor the one saying it, i want him to be a edgy meanie but obvs like.... a shy one. tsundere connor for the win y'all need to open your eyes 🧎🧎

again congrats on 1k!!!!!! <333

thank you so much! <333

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝

“Please tell me that we’re not stuck out here in your piece of shit car.”

pairing: connor stoll x reader

warnings: curse word

category: blurb, slice of life

“Please tell me that we’re not stuck out here in your piece of shit car.”

Connor forced himself to conceal the laughter rising in his throat. The expression on your face was priceless, the daggers you sent with your eyes, the way you slowly turned your attention towards him like those possessed girls in the movies was priceless.

You were not in the mood for joking around. This road trip has probably been the worst idea you’ve had since you said yes to Connor asking you to be his girlfriend.

Maybe that was a dramatic thought, but right now, you couldn’t find it in yourself to think positively.

Your engine rolled and popped like a firecracker before completely shutting down on the side of the road. At least you got close enough to the camp grounds you were staying at for the night before your beloved car died on you.

“Connor?”

“Yes?” “Shut up.”

The boy presses his lips together, face turning towards the window to hide his evident amusement. Your soft sigh fills the car and you sit back in your seat, wondering what’s wrong with her this time.

“I thought Beckendorf said your car would be fine,” Connor chimes in, disobeying your previous command.

“He said that he was 80% sure she would get us to where we needed to go.”

Connor stares at the “LAKESIDE CAMPGROUNDS” sign on the side of the road and he hums, “Well, we definitely got where we needed to go…”

Now it was your turn to press your lips together. Through the cloud of dread that rolled in, you found some humor in it all. Beckendorf was right. You got to the campgrounds but you didn’t think he literally meant your ride home was not guaranteed.

The moment Connor burst into laughter, you couldn’t help but join. Your laughs were muffled by your hand, half unwilling to even let him see you were even smiling but his chuckles were so contagious, you couldn’t find it in yourself to suppress yourself. After a good minute of happy tears and choked out words, a shaky sigh leaves your lips and you turn to Connor.

The carefreeness of his attitude helped a lot and you appreciated it. Reminded why you loved him so much, he flashes you a smile. “Might as well set up camp and deal with this tomorrow, yeah?” He suggests and you don’t waste a second to agree.

Better to leave it for tomorrow and enjoy your night now. It wasn’t like your car was going anywhere anyways.

#connor stoll x reader #xeni's 1k celebration #xeni's ask box #connor stoll #percy jackson and the olympians fic #percy jackson x reader

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funkypoacher · 1 year

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12. “I could make you feel better.”

and/or

15. “I know I should care about the reason why you’re naked in my bed, but I will just enjoy it for a moment.”

(Whichever ship moves you most <3)

I went with the first one, but I'll also be doing the second. Both these prompts were amazing, so thank you <333

warnings: knife play, children screwing around with sharp objects, John Seed needs. to. cut. something, Gray is missing her husband u.u and they both dumb

Forty-five nicks carved like claw marks, or a prisoner's time-served tally, and she felt she was both: a caged thing screwing up the walls with scratching, every mark a day, and by the end there'd be 2,555 notches in the bunker wall, enough that—well, enough that it'd just be decor at that point, eh? Part of the scenery? Cuz you carve something that much, and suddenly it's not simply damage, it's a new thing. Like a tree limb whittles to a wolf figurine, or a body becomes a corpse, the bunker would wear 2,555 markings in a way that the place had become something else.

A tomb. Probably it'd be a tomb.

Gray left her cot for John's room. Redundant notion, that: the whole fucking place was his. The moaning, mourning wind groaning through the bunker tunnels; the monotony, prayers, and mindlessness: all his. Anyways, John was there in his room—she hadn't expected it—and, hunched over his desk, back to her, hearing footsteps scraping the floor had him snapping around, demanding a snarled "what?" but Gray's brow simply piqued as his voice barked in the echo.

"Really?" she wondered.

Unimpressed by his 'tude, Gray traipsed lackadaisical to where the man stood breathing haggard, hair fallen forward into bloodshot eyes.

"What. Can I do. For you."

That's how John said it. Even. Patient. Strangled.

Gray smirked. "Seems like you're 'bout ready to pop, boss."

Turning back around, John leaned over his desk once more, gripping the edges, his chin lifted. Expression softened by wrangled, forced repose, there was something to be said about John Seed's highs and lows: like his sermons, they were damned predictable.

"If you came to get under my skin," he hissed, "this may not be the best time. You see, I've been thinking."

But then John began monologuing. And his voice, beloved to himself, became a balm.

His highs and his lows. Predictable.

"There are dozens of souls in this bunker," John said, peeling away from the desk and pacing. "All have been cleansed. All have confessed. They have all been absolved of their transgressions, and as of this moment there has never been a more worthy flock to enter the Gates of Eden." Turning on his pert heel, he faced her. "As of this moment," he repeated pointedly.

"We have years before that time comes," John continued, energetic agitation shifting his weight leg-to-leg. "Years where we might become sullied—where our souls might take on the burden of new sin, and what then? How can we expect God to accept us if we have not been properly purged? How will things be any better in the new world if we let the transgressors and the malfeasors and the rot stain the purity we have tried to achieve?"

"Do what you did before," Gray suggested, shrugging in the face of his heightening frenzy. "The baptisms. That stuff."

John huffed a soft laugh. Shaking his head, hands on his hips, he looked away, smiling sickly to himself. "Ah, but Joseph has said there is to be no more confessions. No more cleansing. Those who are here are clean. They are righteous." Laughing again, John looked at the ceiling. His twisted joy unfurled to hopeless sadness. "But seven years—seven years without… I mean, it's Joseph—he knows God's plan—God's plan is the will of the Father—but seven years, I…"

All mania, all feeling, fell away from his words. He stared up, waiting for the light.

"It's what I do. I cut out the sin." John's brow bent as he tried to understand. He repeated again, utterly at a loss, "seven years."

"Then hang what Joseph said."

John's head snapped towards her. His voice was as hard as a sinner's punishment stone.

"What?"

He walked over, then. There was a shift in his demeanor. He prowled. Coming near, John circled her, voice daring, and hopeful: daring her to blaspheme again; hopeful that he'd have to deal with it.

"Are you suggesting I disregard the will of the Father?"

"I'm suggesting this is your bunker and Joseph left it to you," Gray clarified.

Crossing her arms, she puffed up her chest, posturing to remind John that she was a formidable few inches taller than him.

It wasn't lost on John. He looked her up and down, and nodded for her to continue.

"If Joseph trusted you with this place, then he trusted you with running it how you need to, didn't he? That's why you've got the barrels of Bliss. Plus the chains in case people get big ideas." Gray squared her jaw, smiling inward. "But those things aren't just about control. In fact, they're actually the same thing as the confessions, really. They do the same thing."

"And that is?"

Gray smiled wide with her teeth. "Help them reach God, duh."

2,555 scratches on the wall. They wouldn't mark only the days spent in the bunker but her tortures. Weeks and months of being crowded by soft civilians so far from the soldiers she knew. The families here were interested in prayer, yet words didn't mean shit without strength to back them up. But Gray saw, here, suddenly, an opportunity to partner with John: to align their interests. He wanted their people righteous. She wanted them tough. And both could come from one, cleansing act: culling the herd.

2,555 markings needn't tally the days in which she languished. They could document the opportunities she took to prove herself. To him. He wasn't here—Jacob wasn't—but she… She was still his girl, and she could still…

Finally, John looked away. Their eyes, burning with equal fire, parted. Her words and the words of the Father had warred in John's mind long enough.

"Joseph wouldn't approve."

Gray bit her lip. She could see he was still wound tight enough to snap. All he needed was a good pluck. And Gray certainly had her needs.

Closing the distance between them, looking down into John's soft-featured face, her lips ghosted his as he watched with rapt engrossment. "I could make you feel better," she whispered.

His breath came in a wanting, hot little puff. And then he shoved her away.

"Whore," spat John, stumbling backwards, wiping at his mouth.

Gray laughed loudly.

"John-boy," she tutted, head shaking. Producing her pocket knife from her cargo pants, she flicked the blade up, looking from glinting steel to starving man. "I could make you feel better."

"What the fuck?" John glared at the knife assuming threat. Standing his ground as she walked over, his head twitched involuntarily, adrenaline no doubt newly searing through him, setting him up for a fight. That's how things were between them, after all—they didn't play nice.

Near enough to feel his breath once more, Gray let her own blood thrum through her. Heartbeat in her throat, legs and arms edged by burning, they needed give—her body needed all that it had fed on these last years: the pain, the dirt, the blood and the pure life of being part of Jacob's army. It was hard to let go of those things which had become like breathing or blinking: instinctual; automatic.

She needed this. She needed to feel anything.

"If there's one soul in this bunker that requires… house-cleaning, it's gotta be mine, right?"

Caging John's gaze in hers, Gray, leaning in, said, "so let's start there."

He wanted to. Good God how he did. His whole body lurched as he fought the urge to take the knife, maybe strangle her, possibly both, but either way it'd be something. John's eyes were as dead as they always were, yet behind the roiling calm she could make out desperation that came from everywhere.

His lips were pale. Parted. His tongue flexed between his teeth.

Gray took John's hand and pressed the knife hilt into it.

His grip flexed around the handle.

"Good boy," Gray said.

Taking a step back, she offered her palm. "Just a little bit."

John's eyes slit as the fury of his want abated in the face of reality. "That isn't how this works," he informed, voice gone sing-song.

"No, but I don't think either of us is ready for a full confession, right?" Gray cupped her offered hand to herself. "I mean, you've still got evening prayers to lead, and all that shit."

"'All that shit'?"

John smirked, tapping the blade's flat against his palm absently. He tossed his hips into a little, comfortable walk-about; it was amazing how just a smidge of authority giddied his mood. He had the knife; he wasn't thinking about Joseph, and he definitely wasn't worried about Jacob, now. Nope, he had something sharp and something to carve, and it put a spring in his step, and a song in his heart.

"You know, we've already discovered pride to be your greatest sin." John pointed the knife at her playfully. "But perhaps sloth is a close second."

Gray met his predatory stare with her own. "Aw, that'll be fun. We'll be samesies."

John snorted despite himself. Then he held out his hand.

Gray gave him her right one.

"Just a little, John-boy," Gray warned. "Just the tip."

As the blade cut shallow, letting a two-inch line of skin part and offer up its blooming red, John gasped. Holding her wrist, staring, his distraction gave Gray the opportunity to snatch back the knife, should the man insist on pushing his play-time.

The pain was… soft. Itchy. It was the first time she'd seen her own fresh blood in a month and a half. It was something like coming home, and hard to say who was more transfixed: John, who thought his violent inclinations were a blameless gift from God and it made him a good man, or Gray, who, clenching her fist, forcing more blood to flow, thought of Jacob, her husband.

Taking her hand from John's grip, Gray was as happy as him. "Next time you can go deeper," she smiled across his ear, giggling.

"Next time," John cautioned against hers, "you confess."

#gray szbojko #john seed #my writing #i am going 2 have so much fun with these sadists

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bloodyflirtation · 9 months

Text

tagged by beloved mutual @probablyahazard to do 15 questions, 15 mutuals - thank you!! <333

Were you named after anyone? kind of yes on three counts? my birth name was chosen by my mum because it was the name of one of her school teacher's daughters and she really liked it. my irl preferred name is shared with a book character although i didn't choose it because of them. and my online name is the name my best friend has called me exclusively for years and is fairly obviously after spn castiel

When was the last time cried? yesterday lmao i am very quick to cry for any emotion - i literally have 'cry baby' tattooed on me

Do you have kids? not yet but i do plan on it

Do you use sarcasm a lot? aha yes, but less than when i was younger - i feel like i've got a better grasp of when it's appropriate now

What’s the first thing you notice about people? probably the way they're dressed? and by proxy if they have a particular vibe to the way they dress that might suggest i would or wouldn't get along with them? obvs that is super reductive but i'm literally just talking first impressions here. also if i'm attracted to them lmao.

What’s your eye colour? blue

Any special talents? uhhh i sing pretty well?? i also have a habit of memorising random facts - the kind of things that people are like 'why do you know that' to which the answer is invariably 'i honestly don't know'

Scary movies or happy endings? if i had to choose one i'd say happy endings? i absolutely hated scary movies through my childhood and could only cope with very mild horror as a teen, but i'm kind of entering my horror phase now, so idk

Where were you born? the UK

What are your hobbies? reading, gaming, writing, aerial hoop (although i recently moved so need to find a new place to do it), walking/hiking, and i would say mech keyboards but i only have one that i fuck around with modding because money so idk if that counts

Do you have any pets? i technically have two cats but because of life events they now live with my best friend - we're co-parenting them

What sports do you play/have played? does aerial hoop count? i played squash for my uni (extremely badly) for like one term until i had a big falling out with everyone on the team. i did gymnastics for a bit as a kid - something i'd really like to try again actually.

How tall are you? 155cm so v short, although 90% of the time i'm wearing platform boots so people think i'm taller

Favourite subject in school? when i was little i used to say everything lmao, but later probably english? i did end up doing a degree in it after all. at sixth form though, probably philosophy

Dream job? what i'm currently training to do

15 mutuals - honestly i'm wildly anxious about being a bother to anyone on this silly little website so i'm not going to tag anyone but if any mutuals fancy it, consider yourself tagged <3

#my wild anxiety about being a bother is also why i never talk to anyone on here but i fucking love interacting with the ppl in my phone #so thank you for tagging me hazard you're lovely <333 #cas speaks

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dumdaradumdaradum · 2 years

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Link

@dumdaradumdaradum , let me be honest, this was really good bro. The detailing and pacing was absolutely brilliant. With a Drift from a chaotic vibe to romantic one I was smiling through and through. Then gradually you changed the pace to make it lil more intense with touch of fun and I had my smile here too , I could literally picture everything here while reading when ram was teasing his beloved. And then you gave it the emotional peak , i really got carried away with it . Although the beginning was all cute with the touch of suspense here , the intense progression changed my expression completely. I still wonder how beautifully you gave it a closure with again those lovely cute emotions. Like a properly paced emw. It was captivating, it was beautiful<333. And not to mention the horror part too was written with the a mysterious charm . It was a treat to read something different after quite a while.

I didn't know you express so beautifully with your words. :) ( Well , I don't know, but i think I could someday suggest you with some real incidents too :D seeing your passion and skill with horror ;) ) and keep up the good work girl .

Didi first of all i just woke up, my brain is still slowly trying to function and this is just making me sob. I didn't know i would get such a long and hearty review 😭😭 thank you so much esp because you normally don't read fics. I'm just happy that this made you happy in the slightest sense 🥺

I'll wait for stories from you ;)) i love hearing such stories.

Random funfact : the last storythat i detailed actually happened to my family when my father wasn't married and it happened again last year to our neighbours lol.

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caruliaa · 2 years

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okayokayokayokay i think it will be wisest if i go ahead and say beddybye about now!!!!!!! to be honest i dont even remember if ive done all my hw for tomorrow LMAO and yet i am choosing sleep instead of checking on that JSBSJSJ so that tells u smthinf ab how sleepy i am sooo im sorey if this is short but!!!!!!! i wanted to thank you again soooo much for suggesting the bday movie idea i literally!!!! love love lovedddd watching with you and vcing with you sooo muchhhh like its already such a great movie that i pove and i got to watch it again w you who i love sm so:’>>>> that was rlly v excellent<333!!!!! and omg youre such an excellent friend to know in general dear and make me feel soooo warm and safe and make my days happier and brighter and!!! i rlly hope sm to do the same for u u deserve it sm and!!!!!! like u dont j deserve it for being such a good friend but u truly deserve sm as you are just such a good person yourself peaches like. you rlly rlly are so good and amazing and i feel so lucky to know you and!!! i want u to know i care ab you sm and im always here for u !!! i love you smmm so much (hugs youuuuuu a lot if u want!! 💕💕💕💕🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻💕💕💕💕💕🫶🏻💕🫶🏻💕💕💕🫶🏻🫶🏻)

yayea i get the sleep over hw vibe sm esp since i. was asleep for some of my media studies class today GDHDFHDF (by accident !! and it was fine in the end but ya that. happened. FGDFGDF) DFHDFHDF and dont ever worry abt asks bieng short love i promise its never and issue !!!! like. this ask isnt that short id say but even if it was then it wldnt matter bc id understand yk? :3 and omg omg your soso sweet belvoeddd u rly are ;; i rly am v glad that like !! watching anasatasia together and calling rly was such a lovely fun thing for u bc well thats why i suggested it bc i thought it wld b a lovely bday thing for you so im rly glad it was !!! and also bc it rly was osso lovely for me too like to get to talk together and hear your voice and spend time with you and watch smth with you rly rly was soso wonderful just like it always is to call you and just spend time with you in general like !! you rly rly do jsut bring me soso much joy and love and warmth happiness every single day whenver we talk or message my beloved and im soso glad and grateful for it and for you i hope you know !!! ;; and ough i hope you know im rly sos glad that ican be the same to you and be a good friend to you becuase i rly rly do jsut want to so so much becuase you rly do jsut deserve it so so much becuase you rly are just such a ownderful amazing incredible person my dearest and soso dear to me and i just rly do love you soso much andi hope you always know that you mean the whole world to me you really really do so so much ;; !!! *hugs you backkkkkkkkk lots and lots if you wish !!!!!!!!!!!!!* 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗🌷💗

#the flowers there by accident but im keeping it. a little gift :]#I LOVE OYU SOSO MUCH MXX I RLY RLY DOO ;; !!!!!!!!!#flappy rambles #asks #lucy !#fave

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darlingpwease · 2 years

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My beloved

You better treat those burns well and not get yourself hurt like that again! /gen (or I will fight the sun)

I never thought of it as a literal archive for fics, but damn you're right. Once u put something on there, its there forever even if u post Anonymously or delete your account :00

For the fics... This is the first one i got into then Here is the actual story that kicked things off~ i really like how they write the Seeds tbh lol

If i have to find a new site to get some fics on an interesting fandom, then im not opposed to it! Just looking for anything new really.

good day, misu <3333

ah!!! okay, darling, I'll try <333 my sunscreen cream, apparently, does not cope too well with this furious sun, but I need this light — although it feels like I just came out of a molehill into a radioactive wasteland </3 I hope that you are more reasonable and do not climb once again on this piece of solar hatred for humanity, my my.

'fight the sun' <333 adorrrrable <33333

I love this fact, although it can sometimes be harmful — works from there almost never disappear, even if the work is removed from public view. "If something appears on ao3, then it stays on ao3" — an archive in an almost literal sense.

Thank you for sharing! I'll definitely take a look <33

Ah, it's even disappointing that I can't suggest anything at the moment, even if I go through my notes — I haven't been reading much lately, although I probably should. I believe that you will soon find something very interesting, sweet pastry <333

(don't forget to drink water!)

#❖.my jewelry

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darling-bibliophile · 2 years

Note

(This is Hy, btw) what was that about clingy duo soul bond hero/villain au? 👀 Please tell!!!!!! I'm going insane

AHH <333 beloved

okay so lukhygdtjku this is going to be a long one.

I have a thing where I'm not particularly fond of soulmate AUs bc my favorite part of love whether it's /p or /r is people choosing eachother instead of it being ordained in the stars or some shit.

Instead, I came up with these things called soul bonds, they'd usually be done at a wedding or something or in a really serious relationship or with a trusted family member. The crux of them is that you share the pain of the person you choose to bond to. Theres a mental link so that all discomfort, anxiety, and physical pain is split between the two people, both people agreeing to carry the others burdens. They can be /r or /p, they aren't inhearently one or the other.

So, clingy duo are small kids in a crappy foster situation and they are best friends/foster brothers and want to be able to help each other more when then end up getting hurt so they look up on the internet how to do a soul bond and they do one. The system seperates them and soul bonds can fade/go dormant if the two are seperated by distance or if one side shuts it down.

NOW THE HERO/VILLAIN PART COMES INTO PLAY

Tubbo grew up manifested powers and was adopted by Superhero Phil. He's a hero alongside his family having put his past behind him.

Tommy is a villain under Dreams thumb. Dream can do mind shit and blocks Tommys (already weak) soul bond when he first finds the powered child and goes "omg someone to manipulate!"

Its years later, both are settled into their roles, havent seen each other in years. And then one day they're fighting each other and they're in such close proximity and both are in so much pain that it reactivates but neither notices until later.

Eret uncoveres Tubbo's soul bond when Phil is freaked the fuck out by why Tubbo just starts feeling like he's being beaten up by a ghost. Tubbo remembers the boy he once saw as a brother and becomes determined to save him. Whoever or wherever he is.

For angst, Dream eventually discovers hurting Tommy hurts Tubbo's hero persona. Neat.

I have written a few scenes but idk if I'd ever get around to making a full fic about it but it is genuinely one of my favorite AUs to rotate around in my head so thank you for letting me share it!!!! <3333

Scene below cut!

Eret jerked back in surprise. “Tubbo, you have a soul bond.”

“Huh?” Tubbo said.

Ranboo looked utterly perplexed.

Phil looked surprised, “I knew you and Ranboo got married for tax reasons, I didn’t think it was that serious.”

“We didn’t though!” Tubbo exclaimed, looking to Ranboo who nodded in agreement.

Eret reached back out, placing their hand on Tubbo’s forehead again, “Hmm, it’s definitely a soul bond. Have you ever done one?”

Tubbo looks bewildered “No! Not that I can think of- because, well- oh, wait. I have. Oh god.”

“You don’t seem certain.”

“No, no, I am, it just took me a second, it’s Tommy.”

“Who’s Tommy?” Phil asked

“Your old foster brother?” Ranboo offered

“Yeah, yeah him. We promised to look out for each other and, well one night one of the older kids roughed me up kinda bad and he got bruises all the time. We just decided we wanted to help each other, you know? So we found out how to do one online and just did it.”

“I can close it off and let it go dormant again Tubbo.” Eret suggests gently.

Tubbo’s face went ashen, “So, what I was feeling, Tommy was feeling that? He was getting hurt?”

Everyone in the room looked uneasy.

“It’s the only thing we can assume, I suppose.”

“And if I close it, he’ll hurt worse. Because I’m only feeling half of his pain.”

“I know it’s hard to make a choice like this, but you don’t have to martyr yourself Tubbo. You already put yourself on the line to help people. I can’t even imagine what would happen if an incident occured while you were in a fight. The link goes two ways, any pain from injuries you recieve on duty would be sent through to- uh”

“Tommy. His name is Tommy.”

“Right. I promise we’ll try to find Tommy through the proper channels and make sure he’s okay. But I don’t want you to feel obligated either way.”

“Do- do I have to choose right now?” Tubbo says weakly, tucking his knees under his chin. Ranboo slips his hand in Tubbo’s and squeezes lightly.

Phil’s the one who speaks next, clearing his throat, “Are you sure Tubbo?”

Tubbo nods and thanks Eret before walking his way back to his room to change out of his pajamas. Phil looks at Ranboo slightly pleadingly and Ranboo goes to follow after him.

<333

#dsmp au #dsmp #dream smp #tommyinnit #tubbo #awwww this was so fun!#thank you for the ask beloved

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rosyfingereddawnn · 3 years

Text

heart of gold (chapter four)

pairing: robert plant x florence bennett (oc)

warnings: allen being a weirdo as usual, fluff, angst and friendship :’)

words: 4.3k

summary: trapped in a loveless marriage to a powerful man, florence bennett lives every day in despair. after a chance encounter with a golden-haired actor, florence finds that her life will never be the same again.

author’s note: folks!! this took a lot longer to write for a number of different reasons but hey!! it’s here now :) not much to say in this one cause i don’t wanna spoil, but if anyone has any theories, feedback or suggestions please let me know! hope you enjoy <333

chapters: 1 | 2 | 3

masterlist

playlist

------

“Dear angel, I hope you are faring well. This note, unlike the rest, is rather short. I felt I should be quick, and frank, too. If you happen to find yourself at the Bennett manor for the upcoming ball, I will be present as well. Perhaps, if fate allows it, we may meet, finally. I will be wearing a silver gown, with chiffon detailing. Look for me, and I will do the same. Forever yours, stranger.”

Stunned silence fills the elegant dressing room as Robert reads the short letter over once more, his fingers tracing the letters as though the action would reveal a devastating brand of trickery. For all intents and purposes, however, the letter seemed to be perfectly earnest; a fact that Bonzo, sitting next to him with a cigarette dangling from his lips, enjoyed reminding him of.

“Robert, she wants to meet with you. You want to meet with her. We must go to the ball. I’ll even help you pick out a suit,” he drawls, lazily throwing his head back against the plush cushioned chair as he gazes over at Robert. “I am convinced this is the longest you’ve gone without talking, to be quite honest.”

The blond sat unmoving, eyes never straying from the slip of paper clenched in his hands. He hasn’t spoken a word since reading it, and his eyes roam over each line as though he was unable to fully take in the words that flow across the page. Slowly, the man's eyes raise from the letter, meeting Bonzo’s as shock swims in the cerulean pools.

“Bonzo.”

“Ah, he speaks!”

“She wants to…”

“Meet you? Yes, she does,” Bonzo finishes the man’s sentence with a hearty chuckle, and his arm raises to pat Robert on the arm. The chestnut-haired man continues, shaking his head at the blond’s nervous antics. “We need to find you a suit; an expensive one, at that. The Bennett’s are just short of nobility after all. We might have to cut your hair, too.”

“What? Why would we do that?” The blond’s hands fly towards the tips of his golden ringlets almost unconsciously, and he cards long fingers through them. Uncertainty is painted upon his handsome face, and Bonzo smirks, a chuckle leaving his mouth.

“Just because you’re an actor, Robert, does not mean you need to look like one. Long hair signifies that you’re loose. Easy, if you will. Even if it does have a kernel of truth to it…”

“And you’re definitely sought after, are you not, Bonzo? Quite suave, if memory serves.”

Bonzo huffs out a laugh, and gazes over at Robert, as he blows a gauzy cloud of smoke into the air. A smirk graces his features as his lips twitch in an attempt to hide it, and he shoves Robert’s arm amicably. “All in due time, my friend. All in due time.”

“I’m sure.”

“Regardless of how I am faring in that particular department, we were talking about you, were we not?” Bonzo replies, locking eyes with Robert, earnest now, as he searches the man’s face. Seemingly not finding what he was looking for, his dark brows furrow. “Why are you so nervous in the first place? Women almost flock to you, yet you’re quivering at the possibility of meeting this one.”

Robert sighs, shifting uncomfortably under Bonzo’s penetrating gaze. He was as nervous as he is, because this woman… it’s as if she had known him all his life. She was charming, and intelligent, talking of wonderful novels and intricate poems. To Robert, whenever he read a letter she had written, he could almost hear her twinkling laughter, and see her smile that sparkled in his mind. Her soul was utterly beautiful, and it seemed to have entwined with his. Robert can only hope, however, that she feels the same.

“I… I do not know what she looks like, or how she is in person. That’s all,” Unable to let those thoughts linger in the tense air of the dressing room, Robert comes up with the best excuse he could muster under the circumstances. “I do think it is a cause for concern, is it not?”

“Well, Plant,” Stilling the shaking of one hand with the other, Robert returns Bonzo’s stare, until the moustachioed man smirks once more. He had obviously seen through the ruse, and it was only a matter of time before Robert became the laughing stock of the entire theatre. The two are locked still in a staring match, without a single movement from either. Oddly enough, though, Bonzo looks away first. The smirk still dangling from his lips proves that the conversation will be continued eventually. “I wish you luck, then. Truly, I do hope it goes well tonight.”

“Thank you, Bonzo. I appreciate your support. Truly I do.”

“I’m sure. Now,” Bonzo stands with a huff, stretching an arm out towards Robert. The blond takes it and raises from the comfortable chaise, and the two friends saunter out of the room, laughter following them. “How about we get ready for the ball? You must look put-together, and oftentimes, you’re not exactly the picture of elegance…” Bonzo’s voice trickles out past the crack left in the door, and Robert’s squawk of offense rings across the empty room.

-----

Florence steps in front of the floor-length mirror that decorates her room, and she feels beautiful, for what may very well be the first time in years. In the beginning, Allen had showered her with compliments, and made her feel truly loved. His words soured, eventually, and she bore the brunt of his treatment ever since. Finally, though, she was doing something for herself. To make herself happy. If you ask anyone that truly knows her, they would point out that Florence was altruistic, almost to the point of self-effacement. She had lived much of her adult life playing an impossible role. Tonight, she meets her beloved actor.

Appearing suddenly behind her in the mirror, almost like a mirage, Emma takes in the way her friend is fiddling with the dress they had picked out together. It was a beautiful silver that gleamed in the dusky moonlight, with accents of soft chiffon that could only add to the ethereal quality. Dressed in her own gown, a canary yellow that made her eyes gleam like gemstones, Emma dares a smile of her own.

“Florence, you look lovely. Are you excited?”

“Oh!” Florence turns, dress swaying with the motion, as she finally notices Emma standing behind her. A fair blush rises on her freckled cheeks, and a carefree giggle leaves her cherry-red lips. “You look wonderful, Emma! James will not be able to tear his eyes away, I reckon. As for your question, I’m… incredibly nervous. I will be honest with you.”

“Nervous? Florence, this could be an incredible night. It will work out.” says Emma, purposefully not touching on the first half of Florence’s sentence. She didn’t want to think about James at the moment, or she would get distracted.

“I can’t help my nerves, because… what if this is all for nothing? What if he isn’t nearly as kind as he seems, and I am trapped once more? Emma, I do not know if I could bear it.”

“Ever the pessimist,” Emma sighs, a smile growing on her tanned cheeks. She grasps the other woman’s arm, thumb rubbing circles into covered skin, bringing Florence much-needed comfort. As soon as she lets the arm fall, Florence begins to pace around the room. Emma sighs and moves closer in an attempt to still the woman’s frayed nerves. “Luckily for us, I am quite the optimist. Florence, he cares for you, and that is plain to see. You proposed that he wouldn't be quite what you imagined, but what if he’s more? In addition, if he is treating you unkindly at any point, you have the right to leave.”

“I… suppose you are right, Emma.”

“As always,” Emma scoffs jokingly, as she saunters closer. Her hand brushes a tendril of hair, which had fallen in Florence’s face in the midst of her panic, back into the sleek bun of golden brown. “Now, as much as I hate to subject you to this, Allen is waiting in the main hall. He needs you for the grand entrance, after all.”

“Oh, goody.”

“Ah, some sarcasm to start off the night.”

The women chuckle softly as they make last-minute adjustments in the clear surface of the mirror. Satisfied, they lock eyes, and arm in arm, they walk out the door and down the winding staircase to the main floor. Allen is leaning against a carved column, and, detecting the disruption, he scoffs and pushes to stand straight.

“Finally. I thought you would never be finished. Come, Florence,” Allen, seemingly for the first time, notices his wife’s companion, and the sneer that was almost permanently etched onto his face appears yet again. “Always a pleasure, Ms. Weston.”

“Likewise, Mr, Bennett.”

A tense silence permeates the room, until Allen clears his throat rather impolitely, and whisks Florence away with a final smrk drowning derision, and they’re gone. In the stillness of the room, Emma whispers, “Good luck, Florence.”

The woman reckons that she’ll need it.

-------

As Florence steps into the ballroom, her mouth falls open, a gasp tumbling past her lips. Flowers of every shape and tint decorate the gold-gilded walls, and lanterns pour faint yellow light across the room. The magnificent chandelier, crystals twinkling like stars, casts faint shadows across the faces of the guests, who promenade across the dance floor, mingling and laughing. Sets of double doors lead out onto a beautiful, moonlit balcony, the glow of bright starlight filtering in through the windows.

Stopping at the entrance, arm in arm with Allen and Emma at her side, she marvels as she takes in the sights. The ballroom, of course, was always as elegant and luxurious without the celebrations taking place, yet it seemed that Allen had wanted to go the extra mile. For what he lacked in kindness, Florence thinks, he makes up for in his apparent prowess regarding interior design. A quiet laugh flutters involuntarily past her lips, and Allen looks down at her, confusion drawing his dark eyebrows together.

“Florence, dear, what is it now?”

Caught, she shakes her head, a pliant smile gracing her features. Apparently satisfied, Allen looks back to the crowd that had gathered to celebrate him, propelling her forward with a hand that sits dangerously low on her lower back. Disgust souring her expression for a split second, she recovers, and plasters on that ever-present smile that feels like a lie.

“Welcome all. I am truly grateful that we could all gather, to celebrate…” Allen’s words seem to simply evaporate before they could reach Florence’s ear, as the woman’s gaze roams around the ballroom, searching for a head of perfect golden curls. Unable to spot the man she’s been writing to for the better part of a month, she sighs quietly, holding onto the sliver of hope that he had really come. Wrenched out of her thoughts by the hand at her back slipping perilously lower, she registers how Allen coaxes her to move, and she steps forward, staring at the scowl full of irritation on his lips. Locking eyes with Emma, who had moved further into the crowd, she is greeted by a comforting smile, and Florence nods her head in gratitude.

Allen, his hold firm, almost bruising on her arm, leads her around the room. She greets guests, many immersed in the same secret lifestyle as Allen, and Florence knows that she will forget their names completely come morning. Their smiles always seem to be too wide, and their eyes hold an intense look that Florence has spent years trying to decipher. She’s used to her role by now, pasting on a beaming grin that almost hurts the longer she holds it, and curtsying at every man they greet. Oftentimes they are ‘dear’ friends of Allen’s, no doubt just as sycophantic as her husband.

An hour or so passes, though it feels like an eternity to Florence, as Allen pulls her off to an unoccupied corner of the room. His hand slithers to land at her shoulder in what was possibly meant to be a loving gesture, though it sends chills down her back. Tilting her head up with a thick finger, Allen leans closer to her, his hot breath fanning across her face.

“I must go speak to a very important friend of mine. Roam around the ball, if you wish, but Florence, dear?”

“Y-yes, dear?”

“One wrong move, and this night could be ruined. Do try and be careful. I do hope you haven’t forgotten our previous conversation.”

With the thinly veiled threat hanging heavy in the air, he is gone, navy waistcoat fluttering behind him. Florence, shoulders falling from their tensed position around her ears, gazes out at the sea of faces, amusement and glee etched onto their features as they twirl around the room. The atmosphere is suffocating, and the woman glances back at the festivities, shaking her head solemnly as she slips out of the ornate French doors. Safe under the soft, starry cover of moonlight, Florence allows herself a deep, almost world-weary sigh, as her eyes sweep across the immaculately-tended gardens that decorate the back of the manor.

She’d lost Emma around the time Allen had paraded her around like a prize, and, come to think of it, she hadn’t seen James for quite some time, as well. He and John had busied themselves with serving beverages and appetizers on shining silver trays, but it seemed as though James had slipped away. She hopes Emma and James are together, finally working out the feelings they so clearly have for each other.

The clipped sound of footsteps against the cobbled floor of the balcony brings Florence out of her thoughts, and with another heavy sigh, she addresses the intruder, face still turned upwards to gaze at the glowing crescent moon.

“I’m terribly sorry, but I’m afraid that I am simply not in the mood to—” The sentence trails off, words dying in her throat as she finally turns around. Familiar golden curls sway in the light evening breeze, and cerulean eyes send ice water pooling in her veins. The slight smirk that sits elegantly on thin lips seems to waver slightly, as though the man was nervous, though he seems to recover quickly. He takes a step closer, and Florence can smell the soft, irresistible scent of sandalwood.

“I’m… It’s… It’s you.”

“Astute observation, love. You did tell me to look for a certain silver gown, did you not?” The smirk that her actor is sporting only serves to set every nerve on fire, and Florence sputters, all semblance of confidence leaving her, already lacking as it was. Her indignant expression only serves to make the man chuckle and shake his head fondly, silken ringlets swaying with the movement. His hair is much, much longer than what was thought to be socially appropriate, yet the man does not seem to care. He looks comfortable, rather easy-going, and his relaxed smile sends her stomach aflutter.

“It seems you take instruction well. That is certainly good to know.” Florence recovers enough to reply, her smile growing as she takes in the amused look on the tanned, handsome face of the man in front of her. Somehow, he was even more attractive, almost magnetic, to her the closer she looked.

“One of my many talents, I assure you,” Robert chuckles, eyes gleaming like jewels in the dim evening light. The stars were reflected in those deep blue depths, and if Florence stepped any closer, she swore that she would drown. “That is a lovely gown you’re wearing. The colour, especially, is remarkable. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from you, inside.”

“You… noticed me?”

“You act as if that is difficult to do. If I’m honest, I was waiting for the right moment to steal you away. When you stepped out, I knew it was my only chance.”

“I-I must say,” Florence starts, chancing a look up at him through her eyelashes. She, hesitance clear on her face, steps closer to him, finally, and the beaming grin that lights up his face is the reward. “I’m glad you took that chance, then.”

The music that filtered, muffled as it was, through the doors seemed to swell and grow louder. Robert’s hand raises, ghosting his knuckles across her cheek as though he were afraid of breaking her, and he smiles, charming as ever.

“May I have this dance, love?”

Florence can only nod, as her hands slip into his, the friction caused by the warm, calloused feel of his palm somehow exhilarating to the young woman. He pulls her closer, placing his free hand on her hip. He was tall, much taller than Florence, and he gazes down at her as they sway together. Being here, in the arms of this stranger that she swears she had known her entire life, she feels content.

Hopeful.

Robert, subtle control in the way he leads Florence through the dance, is graceful in his movements, and perfectly respectful. His hand never strays from its place on her hip, and with a light squeeze to the hand in his, he spins her around, perfect synchronicity in their movements.

Florence’s eyes lock on something behind the man, then, and her lips turn up in a subtle smile. From her place on the balcony, Florence could see the staircase in the grand hall, just out of view of the ballroom. Through the window, hidden behind a carefully-carved pillar, she spots Emma and James, locked in a dance of their own. Emma’s hand, resting on James’ shoulder, rises to trail across the man’s cheek. Traces of the bruising that had marred the man’s face still remain, and Emma’s face contorts in a look of sadness at the sight. James shakes his head, lips moving with no sound to follow, and Emma gazes earnestly back at him. Slowly lowering her head onto James’ shoulder, they continue to rock back and forth. A beautiful private moment, for sure.

“What is it, love?”

“It was nothing. You’re quite good at this, aren’t you?”

“This is but a perk of being an actor, I’m afraid,” says Robert, twirling her around once more. Moonbeams dance around them as the light fall wind whistles in harmony with the music. “You know, I must say that I was quite surprised, that a single performance of mine endeared you enough to send me a note. Was it truly that enjoyable?”

“You are a wonderful actor, but that smart mouth of yours might get you into trouble.” Florence replies, a giggle marking the end of her sentence. Her eyes light up in bliss as blue meets muddy hazel, and they are alone, everyone inside fading into the background; simply an array of colours in a painting.

“My smart mouth? You are not exactly innocent in that respect. Speaking of… your letters. They were incredibly poetic. I enjoyed each one, I will admit.”

“A childhood dream of mine, if you can believe it, was to be a poet, or perhaps an author.”

“I would read every volume.”

The blush that blooms on Florence’s freckled cheeks makes Robert smile, and the laugh that tumbles from his lips makes Florence wish she could simply stop time, and live in that moment forever.

“You know what they say, love.” The confusion clear on the woman’s face brings a satisfied smile to Robert’s face, which Florence frowns at. She had never enjoyed not knowing, and the man had taken full advantage of that.

“And what, pray tell, do they say?”

“The shortest poem is a name. May I have yours?”

“I-I don’t simply give my name out to strangers. Perhaps if I knew your name, however…” The smirk that plays across Florence’s rosy lips makes Robert laugh, and unconsciously, he pulls the woman even closer. The music continues, ebbing and flowing, and the couple continue their dance, both physically and verbally.

“Hm, you are very cunning.”

“One of my many talents, I assure you.”

“And witty, too. It’s quite refreshing,” Robert squeezes the woman’s hip lightly, playfully, and she smiles up at him innocently. As beautiful as she was, which, in Robert’s opinion, could not be overstated, the actor detected a hint of sadness that hung around the woman like a shroud. He could see the way her smile never lasted for as long as he’d like, and how her eyes seemed to dim, a faraway look replacing the gleeful expression he had put there. Despite this, she seemed to have an inner strength that often remained under lock and key. She had shown a glimpse tonight, and he longed for another. Shaking his head to rid himself of the thoughts clouding his mind, Robert continues, smiling easily. “My name, love, is Robert. Robert Plant.”

“Robert…” Florence repeats, almost testing the name out on her tongue. “It suits you.”

“Now that we are no longer strangers, may I put a name to that beautiful face?”

“O-okay, I suppose it’s only fair. My name is Florence… Bennett.” The moment of hesitation was long enough that confusion paints Robert’s features, until recognition, and not long after, shock, wipes it away.

“Bennett, as in…”

“Yes.”

The couple had stilled, now, though Robert’s hand still warmed the skin of her hip through the gown. Florence, gaze firmly on the ground, refuses to look at Robert, whose mouth opens and closes, stunned.

“Robert, I-I’m sure this has changed everything, and… maybe it is better if we leave this here. I—”

“Florence, it’s—”

“I should go.” As soon as the words leave Florence’s mouth, she disentangles herself from Robert, and moves to re-enter the ballroom. Almost to the door, she feels a warm hand settle on her wrist. It’s soft; the hold. She could easily slip out of it, if she had wanted to. But she hadn’t.

“What—Where are you going?” Florence is still facing away from him, but she didn’t pull away, and Robert counts this as a good sign. He takes a step closer, the hold on Florence’s hand never wavering, and she winces when she hears the tap of his pointed shoes drawing closer.

“This is not fair to you… I hurt everything I touch, it seems, and… I don’t want you to be caught in the crossfire, Robert. Please understand.”

“I don’t care.”

“Robert, I’m serious.”

“And you believe I’m not?”

“I will break your heart. Don’t do this to yourself… I’m not worth it. Please.”

Robert scoffs, then, and Florence doesn't have to look at him to see the determined line of his lips. She doesn't have to look at him to see how he is shaking his head almost bitterly. His thumb traces over the fine bones of her wrist like a feather, and as much as she wished with all her heart that it hadn’t, it brought her comfort.

“Break my heart, then. It would be worth the pain, being close to you. You, Florence, are worth everything. Anyone that says otherwise is delusional.”

At this, Florence turns around abruptly, and the storm swirling in her dark eyes is clear to see. A droplet of salty water trickles down her red cheeks, flushed with conviction, and she struts closer to Robert.

“You don’t know what Allen Bennett is like, and you do not deserve to. I will beg, if I must. Please, don’t do this.”

“Love, you will not sway me on this. I feel a genuine, special connection to you, and this month of writing to you has been… truly perfect. I am not giving up on you… on us, because I could get hurt.”

Florence knows that if he insists once more, she could not stop him. She wants Robert, and everything that comes with him; of course she does. She would be irrational not to. But she knows how Allen is. How possessive he is, even as he revels in the arms of another. Robert is an amalgamation of everything that is good in the world, it seems to her then, with a heart of gold to drive the point further. She could not forgive herself if anything changed that.

“Robert…”

The man in question slips into her space, a long finger lifting her chin to face him. A traitorous tear trickles down her cheeks, and Robert wipes it away with a thumb, looking into Florence’s eyes all the while. Enraptured with each other, they press closer, and Florence can feel Robert’s breath fan over her face. His hand caresses her cheek lightly, and her eyes flit down to his lips. Their noses touch, and then, as if divine intervention, the door opens. John steps onto the balcony, smirking into his hand as he watches the couple spring apart.

“Terribly sorry to interrupt. Florence, your… husband is looking for you.”

“T-thank you, John. I will be right in.”

John nods, and disappears back into the ballroom, with a private smile directed at the woman. Looking back at Robert, Florence takes in the hint of a flush on his own face, and knows that she must look the same. Tentatively taking his hand in hers, she interlocks their fingers in a loose hold, in case they are forced apart once again. That is as close as she’s willing to get in such a public area, now that she knows Allen is on the prowl, but Robert smiles at her all the same.

“When can I see you again, Florence?”

“Allen is… I believe he is out often, this coming week. I will write to you.”

Robert nods, and squeezes the hand resting in his, a smile playing about his lips. He pulls away, then, and moves to the door, when a hand curls around his once more.

“Robert?”

“Yes, love?”

“Be careful.”

With that, she slips around him, opening the door and stepping through. The scent of her perfume, something light and floral, dances around him as she passes.

------

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 @earthfire-75 @thatiloveyouso @jonesyjonesyjonesy @jimmypages @kyunisixx @sophiazeppelinchick @reincarnated70sbaby @grxtsch @rebel-without-a-zeppelin @thebeatlesuniverse @dreamersdrowse (let me know if you want to be added!)

#heart of gold #robert plant #led zeppelin #robert plant fanfic #robert plant fanfiction #robert plant x oc #led zeppelin fanfic #classic rock fanfic

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much-ado-about-whumping · 4 years

Text

Déomas Forges Ahead

Gonna keep titling these installments like American Girl books. Next time, Déomas Saves the Day!

Okay, but actually: Déomas and Rhys try to move forward. They encounter some roadblocks.

Thanks very much to @newbornwhumperfly and @green-eyed-whumpster for talking me through pieces of this when I was stuck. <333

CWs: past non-con, aftermath of non-con, not-very-detailed non-con flashback, poorly-negotiated consensual kink, non-con survivor struggling with consensual sex, a little bit of internalized victim-blaming

Here’s where to find my Déomas Master Post and my other works.

Tagging: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @boxboysandotherwhump , @newbornwhumperfly , @potatopothole , @whatwasmyprevioususername, @moose-teeth , @green-eyed-whumpster (I think that was it? Please let me know if I've forgotten anyone, or if you want to be added to or removed from the tag list!

Normally, Déomas can bear to let Rhys touch him. Normally he likes to lie in bed with his beloved, both of them in various stages of undress, and he likes to let his fingers and his mouth explore Rhys' body, likes to let Rhys' fingers and his mouth explore his own. Normally he feels safe with Rhys atop him, inside him - wanted, held, loved.

He liked sex, is the worst part of it. Before the dungeon, before the prince, he liked sex, and he liked it adventurous - pushy and forceful and playfully mean, sometimes, with his wrists pinned in Rhys' grip or his ass red from Rhys' hand, with Rhys pushing into him with enough force to hurt just a little, just enough to get his adrenaline pumping and his senses heightened and that taste of risk on his tongue.

He misses it, being able to let Rhys chase him around the room and bend him over an armchair, or throw him down on the bed, or shove him up against a wall, rutting into him roughly and making him feel so tightly held, so desperately wanted. It took practice at first, but in time Rhys was able to trust him that though he might struggle in his grip, Déomas liked feeling a little overpowered - that if he needed to stop, really, he would say so, using the words reserved for that purpose. And after - after, Rhys who is always so attentive at the best of times would hold him like he was the most precious thing in the world, would gather him close and make him feel safe and cherished and desperately wanted in a different way, and he would come back to himself in the sweetest place, curled in his beloved's arms.

But they robbed him of that in that dungeon, on that workbench, in the prince's bed. Now the suggestion of manacles sends him spiralling into a panic, makes him feel like he can't breathe. It used to focus him, sometimes, to be blindfolded - now it sends him right back to one of the worst nights, and he cannot bear it, he cannot stand to be unable to see. He used to like a little pressure at his throat - not enough to choke him, just enough for the threat - and now it feels impossible that he'll ever enjoy that again.

And so Rhys is gentle with him in bed, now, and slow, and he is grateful for it, but he misses when things were sharper, fiercer, brighter - he misses the tangy-sweet burst of pain and pleasure hitting him at once. And the farther he gets from his time kneeling at the prince's feet, or bent over the prince's escritoire, or bound and spread in the prince's bed, the more he resents the things his time there ruined for him - the more he feels that perhaps all he really needs is to take them back.

It's a lazy afternoon, on Rhys' first real day off in ages, and Déomas is on his back with his beloved atop him. Rhys has opened him up gently, filled him lovingly, and now he's rocking into Déomas with a firm, steady rhythm that almost, almost scratches the itch. And here in Rhys' room, in Rhys' bed, in Rhys' arms, it doesn't feel like anything can hurt him anymore, not really.

So when the impulse seizes him, it seems harmless to obey. He cants his hips up, wraps his legs around Rhys' waist, and tells Rhys what he needs.

"Harder," he pleads, letting his fingers tangle in Rhys' hair.

Rhys slows, pulling away a little to look at Déomas' face. At the question in his eyes, Déomas gives a needy whine.

"Harder, Rhys - please."

"Déma."

Rhys' voice comes soft with concern, attentive and serious.

"Déma, are you sure?"

Déomas resists the urge to bury his face in Rhys' shoulder. He's never been shy about asking for what he wants in bed before, but Rhys is looking at him like he's fragile, and it makes him feel somehow that he must be wrong. He fights through the abashed impulse, trying to translate his embarrassment to coyness, hoping the flush he feels rising in his cheeks will look inviting.

"I'm sure, Rhys. Please, baby - give me what I need."

And it works, and Rhys does, and for a time Déomas is soaring. Rhys is pounding into him and Déomas feels grounded, wanted, claimed. Rhys is talking to him now, old familiar teasing words, playful coming from him - "You're so beautiful like this, so pretty for me, you can take it, you can take it- "

And he can, and he does, and he's nodding desperately up at Rhys, because yes, yes, yes this is what he needs, and then Rhys growls, "Gods, you're so tight," and the bed drops out from under Déomas.

For a moment, he doesn't have a body. He is a network of nerves all screaming in overdrive, and he is very far away from anything at all, and he is somewhere trapped behind his eyes, and he is dizzy and he is frozen and he is strapped down to that fucking workbench, and the guard between his legs is tearing him open, saying, "With all the cocks you took today, it's amazing you're still so tight." And he is screaming, and he is-

"Déma? Déma, come back to me."

He's lying in Rhys' bed. He is lying in Rhys' bed, and Rhys is kneeling beside him, watching him, worry plain across his face. Déomas releases a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He tastes salt. His cheeks are wet.

"Déma, I'm sorry."

Rhys' cheeks are wet, too.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, Déma, I would never hurt you, you're safe here, you're safe with me- "

Déomas feels frozen, numb. But he doesn't want Rhys to be hurt - that doesn't seem right - so he moves toward him, tugging Rhys closer so that Déomas can curl into his chest.

There are more tears on his cheeks, now, and his shoulders are starting to shake, and he just wants to make this better, just wants to make Rhys feel good again - it's dangerous to leave a man wanting like that, he's learned his lesson, really - and he reaches for Rhys' cock-

"Déomas, no," Rhys says gently.

"I can- I can do it, please, let me try, I can finish you, please- "

He's crying, he realizes, and it isn't the pretty kind, artful little tears that make the man taking him feel strong - it's big, ugly sobs, artless and inelegant and raw, and that's dangerous, too, because Rhys isn't the type to want to see him break-

"I'm sorry," he sobs, "I can be good for you, please, I can be good, I can be good- "

Rhys isn't touching him at all now. He's doing something else, making some movement with his hips, with his cock, and Déomas can be good, he cants his thighs open invitingly, and Rhys- Rhys is shifting to the side. Rhys is draping a sheet over Déomas' legs, a little privacy, a little space. Rhys is tucking his cock away.

"Please please please please please- "

He's barely conscious of what he's saying - he cannot breathe, he cannot think, he can't, he can't, he can't-

"Déomas, please. Please, love, listen to me. Listen to me."

Rhys' voice comes gentle and firm, and then he lays one hand on Déomas' cheek, gentle and tender and grounding, somehow.

"Déomas. You don't have to do that with me, baby. I'm not them. I don't want to fuck you when you're scared, or when it hurts, okay?"

Déomas shakes his head urgently. He needs more touch, he needs to be taken back, he needs to not be sent away-

"It's nothing, Rhys, it's fine, I'm fine- "

Rhys pauses for a moment, takes a deep breath. His voice is shaky when it comes.

"Déomas, is it okay if I hold you?"

Déomas nods, and then Rhys' arms are around him, Rhys' hands are cradling his head against Rhys' shoulder, Rhys' scent is filling him up, Rhys' voice is shushing gently in his ear.

"You don't owe me anything, Déma," Rhys says softly. "You don't. You don't. I'm not angry. It's okay."

He needs this. He needs this with such urgency it scares him, and he seizes Rhys like he's drowning and Rhys is driftwood, like he's been buried alive and Rhys is a gasp of fresh air.

"Don't leave me," he whimpers before he realizes what he's saying.

"Don't leave me, please don't leave me, please, I need you, I need you, I need you here, please, don't stop touching me I need you Rhys I need- I need you to remind me where I am- "

"No, Déma," Rhys says softly, ugently, "no, beloved, I'm here, I'm not leaving. I won't leave you. I'm right here."

Rhys finds a way to gather him even closer, somehow, makes space to take him nearer to his chest. So Déomas nestles in and lets Rhys stroke his hair, and rub his back, and rock him gently back and forth, whispering soothing nothings all the while.

Déomas can hear his heartbeat now, dun-da-dun-da-dun against his ear. He hears his lover's breathing hitch sometimes, so he knows that he is not alone in this, in grieving how the ease was robbed from them. He feels the arms around him, warm and strong, and he feels the bed beneath him, soft and real. His breath has slowed to match the rhythmic strokes of Rhys' hand between his shoulderblades. He's safe. He's safe. He's safe. He's safe. He's safe.

"Thank you," he says quietly, his voice muffled where his face it tucked against Rhys' chest. For a moment he thinks Rhys might be asleep.

But then his answer comes, his voice rough from crying, but still impossibly gentle.

"It's okay, Déma. We'll get through this together, you and me."

Déomas nods, nuzzling against Rhys' shoulder, and then he lets himself close his eyes.

#past non-con cw #non-con flashback cw #flashback cw #under-negotiated kink cw #non-con survivor struggling with consensual sex #internalized victim blaming (a little)#déomas #déomas & rhys #déomas overbridge #rhys darrow #bel's writing #bel's OCs #there are parts of this i LOVE and parts that make me cringe but I hope you like it <3 #edited from desktop to add a cut

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wingsporkhalo · 4 years

Text

He’s Mine: A BakuDeku Fic Spork- Chapter 4

WOW I can’t believe this story only ran for 4 chapters! Or no, wait, I can absolutely believe that.

For those of you who are new, I read a terrible BakuDeku fanfiction and made funny commentary on it with the help of some good buddies!! Thanks again @kittykatz009, @the-wizard-l, @satsuneade, and Phos!!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Support me on Patreon! I am poor!! https://www.patreon.com/WingSongHalo And check out my YouTube channel, where you can see video sporks!! https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCgTMFf7W6SyWoZdpqY9ZdPw/

Last time, Shoto made terrible jokes and lied to Izuku’s mother, Izuku and Shoto went on a date, and our helpless damsel protagonist got attacked by a villain!! Also, I provided several of my own takes on the pairing! When we left off, Izuku had received a note from Katsuki that had a love confession on it! In today’s installment, we see the fight between Lord Explosion Murder and Ice Ice Flamey from the beginning! Also, they stalk Izuku and hang around him creepily all night at his house!

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Me: Izuku would stare at that letter for ages and find a hidden message in it. Izuku, reading the note: "Hey, damn nerd... Even though I didn't get to tell you yesterday, I was trying to say that I'm in Love with you. I want to go out with you. Let me know what you think. PS- Tell anyone else and you're dead." [long pause] "...............oh my god... the first letter of each line... HE'S IN TROUBLE!! I HAVE TO SAVE HIM"

Wiz: 🦢 Me: First off, I think it's kind of telling that within the universe of this story, I'm kind of rooting for Bakugou over Todoroki. I mean, at least Bakugou beat a girl unconscious to save him. Todoroki just kidnapped him while he was dressed like a girl and then took him to a park for no reason and left him there. I like how this chapter is formatted like the shittiest poem I've ever seen. and yes THE DOOR SWAN OPEN Phos: I need to record myself reading bad fanfic like ee Cummings poetry Me: absolutely YOU COULDN'T SEE IZUKU ANYWHERE IN THE WHAT???? WHY WOULD HE--I--WHAT??? THE FUCK???? Jaz: did that say catheter?? Me: IT SAYS CATHETER Wiz: hvgjhgjhRTDYFYGIU Me: IM DYING OH MY GODDDDDD Jaz: that doesnt sound very sanitary Me: MAYBE LOOK IN SOME BETTER HIDING PLACES, TODOROKI

intill: It's all inside

Okay but where is Izuku sitting?? Jaz: he’s levitating Me: "About What?" "Right, about Western Heroes' Acting Theater. They're putting on a show and I want to know if I can make it" "............" And then it’s like "Gee, I have no idea if i should go out with this dangerous person who has always asserted his unquestionable dominance over me with violence if necessary!!" "[internally] oh my god, is Izuku... is the guy I like... dumb??" Jaz: afudshgoudshuigdsh

Me: Of course he doesn't know. Izuku isn't allowed to have a thought in his head in this story Suddenly, Bakugou just fucking Apparates there Jaz: What’s the dose? Me: I dunno, but if it's a Bakugou dose, I'm assuming it'll be -hard to handle -a little too spicy for comfort -really bad for my health Jaz: mhmmm spicy Me:

He must of herd

Surely you mean a Herd of Must? Majestic animals also who is Bakagou and when did he get here? At least we know one thing about him: He's an idiot (...because baka.) WAIT, maybe Bakagou was the author's idea of a pun?? Because he is now Todoroki's rival in love?? ...nah, that's giving the author way too much credit... Jaz: im just picturing Bakugou's head on a horse's body running through a pasture Me: LKAJF;LKSDJLK

Or--hot take, but hear me out--mayyyybe Izuku belongs to no one but himself?? DID YA EVER THINK OF THAT, AUTHOR??? Who is Intill allmight and why is only the first word of his name capitalized Where the fuck did he come from, anyway? Doesn't this take place after the school festival? If so, how is All Might in muscle form? Or did he just appear here in his Smol Might form?? Then he just... fucks the hell off with both of them in tow, I guess IZUKU, HON, GUESS WHAT: YOU DON'T HAVE TO CHOOSE EITHER OF THEM! THEY'RE BOTH BLAND PIECES OF DRYWALL Wiz: RIGHT Me: also I like how they both just stalk Izuku until he makes up his mind. Except NO I DON'T, THAT'S SUPER FUCKING WEIRD AND DISTURBING Wiz: IT REALLY IS Jaz: this is so painful

Wiz: this poor kid Me: Stay over to night? Does that mean they're going to leave at nightfall? sounds a'ight Jaz: the coach Me: "Eh yeah" WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. THIS IS SO STUPID I'M 😂 "Oh remember Izuku" "Yes mom I remember Izuku because that is me" "Oh, okay, just checking. I forget sometimes"

that poor coach

Izuku might as well be a stupid princess doll for all the agency he has in this fic

So the three of them just... sat there in uncomfortable silence while they slowly smushed Izuku between them? And then Izuku just gets up when he's done watching TV? DIDN'T ANYONE WANT TO TALK? THIS IS SO UNSETTLING INKO, COME BACK! WE NEED AN ADULT Wiz: PLEASE COME BACK Jaz: hfdsihgdsiugh

Me: "Don't ask me what vegetables. Just... nameless vegetables. Honestly I'm not convinced they were even vegetables, but that's what the large blue letters on them said, so I thought I'd take their word for it." Wiz: That last line is so creepy for some reason Jaz: it IS creepy Me: "Your going it wrong" They should have said that to Inko when she was leaving. "Your going and leaving us alone with your son? It wrong."

"I never knew that you were good with at cuting!"

I mean, yeah, he could definitely use a refresher course on cute-ing. He has forgotten how to cute.

So like, Shoto's just sitting in there staring brainlessly at the TV while Bakugou impresses his supposed love interest by being a culinary genius? Weak, Shoto. Step up your game.

I haven't spend this much with kacchan

Good lord, I wasn't aware you were spending anything!! How much did those "vegetables" cost??

I went through

WENT THROUGH WHAT?? IS IZUKU SO TWO-DIMENSIONAL NOW THAT HE CAN PASS THROUGH WALLS??

"You were cute when you were a kid weren't you"

Bitch!!! HE'S STILL CUTE AS FUCK!!! Wiz: It's paper mario :O kjwbejhbewfj Me: PFFFFFF Jaz: let this fic die plz

Me: His checks went red??? GOOD LORD, THOSE "VEGETABLES" HAVE BANKRUPTED HIS FAMILY Wiz: oH NOOOOO Me: I can only assume the dinning room is where his mother goes to cause a din by screaming MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE Wiz: That’s it Me:

After dinner because author-chan is lazy

You only admit it after all this? You despicable coward. Wiz: gvhbjkhgjkuhilk mood Me: Should we be letting this expressionless cardboard cutout just silently look through all of Izuku's childhood photographs? Definitely not. Is anyone going to stop him? Definitely not!! Jaz: Izuku telling him to back off? GOOD Me: Why is this author writing both of them as these silent onlookers, hovering over Izuku's shoulder like the inevitability of death?? Also, jesus, why on EARTH would Bakugou just be like "welp I'm gonna shower with him derpdedoo!!" Okay Izuku doesn't feel safe in his own home now. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, AUTHOR. Wiz: THAT’S SO CREEPY JHB Me: so... you're writing one of his love interests as a silent but loyal protector who diligently waits for him and follows him everywhere like a dog? Author, are you... was your first crush a dog or something??? I'm???

(except with “man”) I mean his other choice was to fucking leave, but everyone forgets about that I guess

Jaz: god, i hope they were wearing gloves Me: Author, when you don't put A/N before your stupid pointless interruptions, HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO SEPARATE IT FROM ALL YOUR CHARACTERS' STUPID POINTLESS THOUGHTS Jaz: his waste Me: "You still cute Izuku!" the Southern Accent returns, this time with Shoto Okay Bakugou's growling when someone's getting close to his beloved now. It's official. Bakugou has become an actual dog Jaz: a smol doggie Me: WHAT SO IZUKU JUST GOES TO BED WITH TWO SUPERPOWERED STALKERS STILL IN HIS HOME?? I???

WHY ARE THEY INVADING HIS SPAAAACE OH MY GODDDD IZUKU HAS GIVEN ZERO INDICATION THAT THEM EVEN BEING IN THE HOUSE IS OKAY HHHHHH

Also yeah apparently someone pooped the bed Wiz: fdghjkhgjkl

Me: THE END??? And then it was never updated because nobody wanted any of that shit for poor Izuku Wiz: THE END WOW Jaz: the end jesus thank god Me: look... I don't usually say this, because it might seem hypocritical coming from someone who hoards fanart and writes character analyses and... does what I'm doing right now, but…

please get a life Jaz: maybe they are also sporking and want an update Me: I mean, fair? Wiz: What a journey Me: ANYWAY YEAH THAT WAS "HE'S MINE!" THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR JOINING ME, Y'ALL

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Hope you all enjoyed that!! Please let me know if you’ve found any terrible fanfictions you’d like me to spork! Right now I’m working on a Sailor Moon one that was submitted to the blog earlier, so I definitely take your suggestions! Thanks for reading <333

#my hero academia #mha #bad fanfiction #badfic #fanfiction spork #hes mine #bakudeku #tododeku

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summerstarsandsea · 7 years

Text

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @sinningsquire !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! For you, some Benarmie Fluff. <333

Set in our Big Brothers AU but can be read independently. Warning: copious amounts of sappy fluff and feelings.

- - - -

Wash Away Those Troubles

When Hux has had a bad day, there are signs, and Ben has learned to read them as well as he's learned countless dance moves. Their relationship is often like a dance and sometimes one of them has to take the lead. On the bad days, that someone is Ben.

The signs: tension in Hux's neck and shoulders. The white-knuckled clench of his fist around the handle of his work bag. The hard line of his mouth and weary eyes which make him look older. If he knew Ben thought that he'd surely find it a bad thing, but, while Ben hates seeing him stressed, the thought of being around to see streaks of silver through beloved ginger hair fills him with a hopeful warmth.

That particular day is a bad one, starting early and running late and it’s only Wednesday. Hux returns home strung tight, cranky, quiet. He kicks off his shoes and doesn’t even bother to make sure they’re in their proper spot; that’s the first tell that something is wrong.

When Ben asks how his day is he gives a muttered half-answer rather than elaborate on one of his projects or share a story about his coworkers. That’s number two.

Before he has a chance to get any further, Ben speaks softly.

"Babe?"

Hux turns from hanging his jacket up, looking so weary that it makes Ben's heart hurt. But he knows Hux will be okay. He knows that because he’s going to make it so.

Ben appraises Hux, then makes his decision. He steps forward, slow and fluid, and adjusts the discarded shoes to where they belong. Then he takes Hux’s bag and sets it on Hux’s desk, right where he knows he likes to keep it. He returns to Hux and with a hand on the small of his back guides him to the bathroom. Hux goes without protest and, if he needed another sign, that would be three.

In the bathroom Ben carefully strips Hux down. He starts at his feet and works up, removing each item and touching the revealed skin with firm, reassuring strokes as he goes. As he slips Hux’s shirt over his head he gives him a quick peck on the forehead and for a moment swears Hux’s mouth curves up a little.

Ben removes his own clothes quickly and much less methodically. Hux still says nothing but does sweep an appreciative glance over him; Ben takes that as a good sign.

One hand on Hux's back again, Ben reaches over with the other and turns on the water. He waits for it to get pleasantly warm, then guides Hux in, letting him be first to stand beneath the spray. Ben doesn't need the shower; he had his when he got home earlier. This is for Hux's benefit.

Ben lathers up a loofah and pulls Hux forward a little so the water drums at his back. Hux’s eyes are lidded and he’s still silent but Ben can tell he’s starting to relax a little. Gently, lovingly, he begins washing in slow circles, starting at Hux’s neck and shoulders and moving down his chest.

Hux sighs at the feeling and gives Ben a look that’s not quite a smile, but still so incredibly grateful. When Ben moves back up to circle gently across one shoulder, Hux turns his head and plants a feather-light kiss on his wrist. Ben smiles.

He moves over each arm and then down to Hux’s belly and groin and thighs, letting the foam run down Hux’s long legs. Next he reaches around him to get his back and his ass, which he squeezes gently just for the breathy almost-laugh Hux responds with. When he’s done he hangs the loofah on a little hook and gently eases Hux back so that the water hits his shoulders and cascades down, rinsing it all away. His hands follow the water’s path, smoothing over neck and shoulders and arms and down sides and hips, ensuring the last of the soap is washed away and at the same time comforting Hux with his touch.

Then, Ben kneels on the hard floor. One at a time he runs his hands over Hux's legs, up and down over the muscle.

"Hold onto my shoulders," he instructs gently, and Hux does. He lifts one of Hux's feet, both cleaning it and rubbing out the soreness from the busy day. He presses a kiss to the top of it then sets it down and gives the other foot the same treatment.

Hux watches him, stroking his thumbs over his shoulders in silent thanks. Seeing Ben on his knees gives him...mixed feelings. A little thrill, yes, at the suggestive nature of the position, at being pampered, at the sweetly alluring way Ben looks up at him. But also a desire to pull him to his feet and to eye level and kiss him senseless, or to switch the positions and let Ben know he, too, is worth pampering and worshiping.

Ben stands, sliding his hands up Hux's sides as he does, sending a shiver through him. Ben pauses and then his arms reach around Hux. He holds his waist with one and with the other reaches behind him to turn the water a little hotter. Hux realizes with a half-smile that Ben thinks he’s cold. He takes advantage of Ben's proximity to lay his cheek on Ben's shoulder and kiss his neck. The pleased little hum Ben makes warms him more than the water ever could.

To Hux's delight, Ben's hands start moving. They slide firmly up and down his back, finding and working out tension. Hux leans more heavily on Ben and continues bestowing lazy kisses wherever he can without having to move from the cradle of his shoulder.

After a moment, Ben turns him so that he can better access his neck and shoulders, where he massages firmly with practiced hands. The day’s stress surrenders under his ministrations and Hux relaxes, shoulders slumping, head dropping to his chest, eyes falling shut as he lets out a long sigh.

Seeing Hux so unguarded stirs something in Ben. He thinks of the time a couple years into their relationship when Hux had a bad outbreak of chickenpox and was reluctant to even let Ben see him unwell, let alone give him medicine or cook him soup.

Now he trusts himself entirely to Ben’s care, and not in a case of illness or injury, but simply because it was a long day and he’s tired and Ben is here.

This is a side of Hux that only Ben gets to see; it makes him feel both lucky and overwhelmed with protectiveness, a fierce desire to keep that precious, soft part of Hux safe. Hux the military man, the engineer, the son, the brother, needs no protecting. Hux the man, his funny and thoughtful husband who loves lie-ins and sweets and hates spicy food and wearing scarves, is another story. That Hux is Ben’s and Ben’s alone and the responsibility is terrifying but the reward is endless.

Ben wishes he could do this forever, watch Hux so relaxed, but he knows they'll start to get all wrinkly soon and that as much as Hux loves a good, warm shower, he also hates wasting water. With one final sweep down his shoulders and a quick kiss to the nape of his neck, Ben removes one hand and reaches for the shampoo - his own, not Hux's. The other hand he keeps on Hux's back, reassuring him of his presence. When he has to pull that hand away to pour a dollop of shampoo into it, he steps close so Hux can feel him there.

Ben lathers up the shampoo and works his fingers into Hux's hair, darkened by the water but still bright and lovely in Ben's eyes. He massages his scalp gently, scratching a little with his blunt nails, and then combs his fingers out through the strands, over and over. Hux hums contentedly, tilting his head back, endearingly cat-like.

"Keep your eyes closed," Ben mumbles, then dips Hux’s head under the water to rinse out the shampoo. When he's done he smooths the hair back from Hux's face. Finally he turns Hux to him and tilts his chin up to gently clean his face. This he likes best, he thinks as he strokes thumbs over freckled cheeks. He's unable to resist planting a kiss on each one. Hux's eyes are still closed but there's a smile playing on his soft lips as though he knows what Ben is thinking. Maybe he does.

Ben finishes his work and gives Hux a slow, lingering kiss, just because he can. It's the sort of kiss that could lead to more and more, but not tonight.

He shuts off the water and guides Hux out to stand on the mat. It's barely a few seconds and Hux is already shivering in the cool air before Ben wraps their biggest, fluffiest towel around him and dries him off.

Once that towel is wrapped snugly around Hux, Ben takes a second one, plops it onto his head and ruffles it, drying and mussing his hair simultaneously. Hux makes a little huff of feigned annoyance but doesn't actually try to move away. When Ben lifts the towel again, his hair is sticking up every which way and he's wearing a little frown that Ben can easily picture on a younger, more innocent Hux when he didn't get his way. Ben leans in, smirking roguishly, and kisses at the pout until it starts to slip away.

"What?" Ben asks. "Don't approve of my methods?"

He doesn't expect Hux to answer and is pleasantly surprised when he does.

"I find them highly unconventional, yes."

Ben laughs and with that the last of the tension eases out of Hux. He looks up and smiles, really smiles, and it makes Ben feel as accomplished as if he’s just won a dance competition. Maybe more.

Ben, still stark naked himself, guides the towel-bundled Hux to their bedroom, to the dresser, and presents Hux with clothes to change into. Hux takes them and then his eyes sweep over Ben’s body. He reaches into the drawer and grabs a pair of shorts which he tosses into Ben’s face.

“As much as I appreciate the view, it is actually cold in here, it’s not just me.”

They dress and then Ben starts to turn back the covers when Hux stops him with a gentle hand to his arm.

“I thought you’d want to go to bed?” Ben says. “Don’t tell me you’re going to do more work.”

“Actually.” Hux loops his arm with Ben’s and tugs a little. “I was hoping we could finally watch a movie together.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” Another tug.

The smile that lights up Ben’s face is like a shot of warm whiskey or the sun through the clouds. He barely has time to appreciate it, though, before he’s scooped up over one shoulder and carried to the living room.

Ben handles everything: gathering snacks, picking the movie, arranging them on the couch. As Hux settles in against his chest and pulls a blanket up around them, he decides that a day like today isn’t so bad at all if it ends with him here in Ben’s arms.

#kylux #benarmie #fluff #my writing #fanfic

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