MASTERLIST LINKED IN PINNED POST. roo●multiracial●33●fic daddy●shrek simp●roo boo bear●salami mommy●semen demon●hateful bitch●incredibly weird and sick●bitch of a robot●goblin queen don't ask for updates. completed and in progress noted in series masterlists. still writing unless noted as hiatus. AT THIS TIME I CANNOT ACCEPT REQUESTS. NO TAG LISTS. MY FICS ARE NONCON. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS BEFORE YOU GO FURTHER. 18+ if you can't guess 🙄 also theimaginesyouneveraskedfor. (Find my other, lighter fics there). This is a place for all my dark!fics. Mostly MCU. Some Tolkien. my AO3 username is theimaginesyouneveraskedfor. Check out my masterlist at @darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor on tumblr
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The nature of women's rape fantasies: an analysis of prevalence, frequency, and contents
I would love to see Europe or anywhere really. But I'm thinking Nick doesn't have the same expectations as reader hehee. And he's so close to having full control that one threat to that will set him off.
Warnings: this fic contains suggestions of blackmail and coercion, as well as adultery. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
18+ only, explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
You voted, I wrote it. This is June 11th’s fic!
Jake Jensen + "Don't look away."
I welcome and appreciate all feedback. This means replies, reblogs, and asks. I do prefer if you can reblog and share my work along with your thoughts. <3
“What about Overcooked? I can play that…” You suggest as you adjust your headphones.
You can hear shuffling on the other end. You roll your chair closer to the desk and grab your controller. There’s a long breath on the other side.
“I’m a bit cooked out.” Jake says at last.
“Wanna visit my island? I rebuilt the tea shop.” You offer.
He clucks.
“Okay…maybe I can try one of your gun games. I’m warning you, I’m not very good.”
Jake hums. He’s uncharacteristically quiet today. And when he does speak, he sounds upset.
“Hey, uh, is everything okay?” You ask.
More shifting and scratching on his mic. You push the buttons mindlessly on your controller. Is he mad at you?
“Sorry I couldn’t make the weekend. My other friends wanted to go to the cafe bookshop.” You say.
“It’s not… that.” He forces out tightly. “Can we talk?”
“Sure. I’m listening.”
“No, I mean… can I call?”
You squirm. What’s going on?
“Are you sure you’re okay?” You ask.
“Yeah, I just… I want to show you something.”
“Erm, right. Okay. Let me just get my phone.” You say.
He ends the session as the headphones click. You remove the headset and put it aside. You grab your phone and it chimes. You nearly drop it. A video call? Okay…
You answer and prop your phone against the bottom of your monitor. You sit back so your face is fully in frame. Jake’s glasses reflect the glare of his computer screen. You’ve seen his pic in his gaming icon but he looks different. His hair isn’t all spike, his goatee is surrounded by stubble, and his shoulders are exposed as he wears only a muscle shirt that hangs low to show the top of his hair chest.
“Um… how are you?” You ask awkwardly.
“Is that a new lip gloss?” He asks.
You rub your lips together at the bubblegum glisten. “How… yes?”
“Sorry, sorry. I’m… easily distracted.” His voice eases as he grins. “Especially by cute girls.”
You swallow, confused. “Jake, what’s up?”
He sighs and stares at you. He adjusts his glasses and his jaw squares. He pushes his shoulders wide. His eyes flick between the camera and his screen.
“What did you want to show me?” You ask, nerves quavering in your voice.
“Right, right…” He claps his hands. “Let me just share my screen.”
You tap your fingers together as you lean in and wait. He disappears and a new image appears on the screen. You gasp and cover your mouth with both hands. It takes a moment for your brain to process what you’re seeing. It’s… you?
Not really. Because you’ve never taken any pictures like that. You would never. You shudder and cover your face entirely.
“Jake!” You shrill.
“Don’t look away.” His voice drops.
A chill scatters over you and you part your fingers, looking through them at the edited image. It looks so real. The pose is so lewd that your face burns.
“Why– Jake, please, stop. I don’t want to– Why would you do that?” You squeal.
“Amazing what you can do these days, huh?”
“Stop,” you beg.
“Convincing…”
“Please. It’s not really me.”
“Uh huh. It’s not, but who would know the difference.”
“What do you mean?” You squeak.
“Do you think you can be a law clerk and a porn star?” He asks.
The breath rushes out of you and you drag your hands down to your throat. You bat your eyes at the screen and gulp. “Please, I don’t want to see it anymore.”
“I can even make it a video. Wanna see?”
“Jake–”
He taps a key and the picture disappears. He’s in frame again. Smirking.
“That’s why. That face. You saying my name like that.” He pauses and likes his lips. “I’m done playing games.”
“Jake, why?”
He scoffs. “Because you’re just like every other one. Teasing me. Stringing me along. I’m not doing it anymore.”
You pout. “No, we’re friends. I never–”
“Shhh,” he puts a finger up. “Sweetheart, we’re not bargaining. This isn’t a dialogue.” He leans forward as he crosses his arms on his desk. “I’m going to give you your first assignment and you’re going to deliver. You have until midnight.”
You shake and hug yourself, rubbing your arms as your eyes prick with hot tears.
“I thought you wanted to be my friend–”
“I want to be more. Isn’t that better?” He slithers. You stare. “So, your first assignment is to give me a picture just like the one I showed you. And it has to be real.” He tilts his head. “And trust me, I’ll know if it’s not.”
“I… I can’t do that.”
“You can. Or you know what I can do?” He bites his lip and snickers. “Send your boss a copy of your extensive resume. Head to toe.”
He is too much, and him telling her to stay close to him lol
Also I would like to see a man talk to reader in Venice and make Nick jealous LOL
Oh Nick would be mad at a shopkeeper talking to his girl when she's looking at the shelves and he's like not on my watch! He's so attached already and her saying he should translate is only convincing him she needs him.
Warning: power imbalance, dark content, obsession, and all around sexiness.
Summary: Powerful director Nick takes interest in a new project; you. (director!Nick Fowler, plus!reader)
I always see this gif and wanna write something so here we go.
Hi! Please please please reblog and leave some feedback if you read! I love you 💕
Nick waves you ahead of him. Your stomach flips as you climb the stairs up to the open jet door. An attendant waits inside, though she doesn’t wear a uniform like the airlines you see on TV. Just a sleek black dress and heels, her hair pulled back into a tidy chignon.
“To the right, sweetheart,” Nick calls from behind you.
You nod and follow his direction. The attendant leads you into the body of the plane. There aren’t rows like a commercial flight; there’s a cushy looking leather sofa with seat belts tucked into the corners, two seats with reclining backs and foot rests, and a whole dining set with cushioned benches.
“Sit wherever you like.” The attendant says. “I’m Cassidy and I’ll be your in-flight attendant.” She smiles. “You and Mr. Fowler.”
You introduce yourself with a squeak.
She looks past you. “Sir, is there anything I can get you?”
“Once we’re in air, she’ll want a drink. Something bubbly.” He says sternly.
“Yes, Mr. Fowler. And you’re usual?” She offers.
“I’ll have the same as her.” He shoulders by her, his eyes on you. “Sweetheart, what are you feeling? You can lay down, have a nap. Or maybe a window seat? You can watch take off.”
You rock back and forth and play with the brim of your crochet hat. “I… sure. That’s cool. I bet taking off is scary.”
He grins. “I’ll be here.” He winks and stares at you.
You clear your throat and look around. You move cautiously to the chair by the window and sit. You clutch your belt bag around your waist and lean forward to peek out the window. Your neck is alight with self-awareness.
You glance over as Nick lowers himself into the seat beside you. He’s watching you. Still.
“Sorry, I’m nervous. I drove to LA, you know? I probably said that already.” You smile sheepishly.
“Any turbulence, just hold onto me,” he assures you. “I don’t mind.”
“Um, that’s nice.” You nod and look out the window again.
“Simon’s a good pilot. Don’t worry too much.” He says.
“I’m not worried. Just… excited, I guess.”
You sit back and wait. Nick rests his arm on the rest between you. His fingers flutter.
“You sure you’re okay?” He asks.
You can hear movement in the plane as they close the doors. Voices call back and forth as they check the windows. You fidget.
“Really, it’s just… Just the other day I was running trays across a lot and now I’m… going to Venice.”
“Hollywood moves fast,” he clucks. “But not when you need it too.”
“Right, er…” You giggle, more nervous than amused.
“Hello, Mr. Fowler,” the attendant greets, adding your name as well, “we’re almost ready for take off. We need belts on.”
He flicks her away with his fingers and searches for his seat belt. You do the same. He clasps his and sighs. You take a bit longer, mindful of his observation.
“Here,” he reaches over to help you adjust the belt and the buckle finally slips in. His fingers graze your stomach, knuckles pressing into you right before he pulls away. “Nice and safe.” He brushes across the back of your hand.
“Thanks,” you eke out and turn back, lean over to the window.
You peer through as the plane clangs and juts and the engines begin to hum. The wheels start to roll and you blindly latch onto the armrest, only to grab onto Nick’s arm instead. You show your teeth and laugh at yourself, apologising before you pull away.
You stare through the window as the runway blurs under the plane and feel the tilt beneath you. The motion disorients you as you watch the world sink beneath you. You stare down at the grids of the city, the green, the tarmac, the water.
You feel a tickle on your arm, up and down from elbow to shoulder. You gasp and smile as the clouds surround you and you sit back. You look at Nick as he strokes your arm. You clamp your lips tight.
“Wow,” you say.
His fingers linger for a moment then he drops his hand away. His brow ticks. He sits back and nods. “Pretty amazing, huh?”
“Yes!” You answer. “I think so, at least. I bet for you it’s not.”
“I still enjoy it.” He says. “Even more with someone to share it with.”
“And thank you. I never… could’ve dreamed.”
The plane levels out. He takes off his seatbelt and you copy him. You wriggle in the chair and pull your purse around. You dig inside.
“What’re you up to?” He wonders.
“Oh… you don’t mind if I read?”
He shrugs and looks away. He raises his hand and Cassidy appears. She has two glasses in hand with pink wine and berries inside. She sets them on the low table in front of the chair.
“Mr. Fowler.” She dips her head.
“Thank you,” you say. Nick leans his chin in his hand. He stays like that for a minute before he drops his arm and sits up. He reaches for the glasses. “Here. Have a taste.”
He offers you a glass. You leave your book in your purse and push it to the other side of your lap. You accept the wine and look at the bubbles running up the crystal. You sniff it. It smells sweet.
You take a sip. Your cheeks pinch. You can taste the berries but the wine is still stringent enough to make you choke. You giggle and mop your lips with the back of your hand.
“Sorry,” you murmur.
“You don’t like it?” He keeps his away from his mouth.
“No, I do. I’m just not used to it. I don’t drink, you know?” You say. “Not very much.”
“You really are new to LA,” he chuckles and clinks his glass on yours.
“Yeah… I’m a total noob.”
“A noob?” He muses.
“Um, yeah…” you look at the wine as your cheeks burn. “Oh!” Your eyes flick up. “You’ll have to be my translator. I tried some duolingo but I can’t roll my r’s. I just kinda sound like I’m drowning.”
His brows arch and his cheeks dimple. He takes a deep sip of wine then pulls the glass away. He licks his lips.
“No problem at all. You’ll wanna keep close to me anyway.” He once more pets your arm. “You know, Venice is a tourist trap and lotta people know that. Easy to lift a wallet off a distracted traveller… or worse.”
“Oh?” Your eyes round.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I got security. Yours now, too.” He sits back and shifts around. “You mind?” He taps the armrest between you. You shake your head and he flips it up. He settles in, closer to you. “Make sure you don’t go anywhere without me or one of my guys, alright?” He leans his head back and looks at you. “You’re precious cargo.”
When she admitted he was going to have to translate everything for her, you know his brain was instantly thinking of all the things he can get away with. 😱
Warning: power imbalance, dark content, obsession, and all around sexiness.
Summary: Powerful director Nick takes interest in a new project; you. (director!Nick Fowler, plus!reader)
I always see this gif and wanna write something so here we go.
Hi! Please please please reblog and leave some feedback if you read! I love you 💕
Nick waves you ahead of him. Your stomach flips as you climb the stairs up to the open jet door. An attendant waits inside, though she doesn’t wear a uniform like the airlines you see on TV. Just a sleek black dress and heels, her hair pulled back into a tidy chignon.
“To the right, sweetheart,” Nick calls from behind you.
You nod and follow his direction. The attendant leads you into the body of the plane. There aren’t rows like a commercial flight; there’s a cushy looking leather sofa with seat belts tucked into the corners, two seats with reclining backs and foot rests, and a whole dining set with cushioned benches.
“Sit wherever you like.” The attendant says. “I’m Cassidy and I’ll be your in-flight attendant.” She smiles. “You and Mr. Fowler.”
You introduce yourself with a squeak.
She looks past you. “Sir, is there anything I can get you?”
“Once we’re in air, she’ll want a drink. Something bubbly.” He says sternly.
“Yes, Mr. Fowler. And you’re usual?” She offers.
“I’ll have the same as her.” He shoulders by her, his eyes on you. “Sweetheart, what are you feeling? You can lay down, have a nap. Or maybe a window seat? You can watch take off.”
You rock back and forth and play with the brim of your crochet hat. “I… sure. That’s cool. I bet taking off is scary.”
He grins. “I’ll be here.” He winks and stares at you.
You clear your throat and look around. You move cautiously to the chair by the window and sit. You clutch your belt bag around your waist and lean forward to peek out the window. Your neck is alight with self-awareness.
You glance over as Nick lowers himself into the seat beside you. He’s watching you. Still.
“Sorry, I’m nervous. I drove to LA, you know? I probably said that already.” You smile sheepishly.
“Any turbulence, just hold onto me,” he assures you. “I don’t mind.”
“Um, that’s nice.” You nod and look out the window again.
“Simon’s a good pilot. Don’t worry too much.” He says.
“I’m not worried. Just… excited, I guess.”
You sit back and wait. Nick rests his arm on the rest between you. His fingers flutter.
“You sure you’re okay?” He asks.
You can hear movement in the plane as they close the doors. Voices call back and forth as they check the windows. You fidget.
“Really, it’s just… Just the other day I was running trays across a lot and now I’m… going to Venice.”
“Hollywood moves fast,” he clucks. “But not when you need it too.”
“Right, er…” You giggle, more nervous than amused.
“Hello, Mr. Fowler,” the attendant greets, adding your name as well, “we’re almost ready for take off. We need belts on.”
He flicks her away with his fingers and searches for his seat belt. You do the same. He clasps his and sighs. You take a bit longer, mindful of his observation.
“Here,” he reaches over to help you adjust the belt and the buckle finally slips in. His fingers graze your stomach, knuckles pressing into you right before he pulls away. “Nice and safe.” He brushes across the back of your hand.
“Thanks,” you eke out and turn back, lean over to the window.
You peer through as the plane clangs and juts and the engines begin to hum. The wheels start to roll and you blindly latch onto the armrest, only to grab onto Nick’s arm instead. You show your teeth and laugh at yourself, apologising before you pull away.
You stare through the window as the runway blurs under the plane and feel the tilt beneath you. The motion disorients you as you watch the world sink beneath you. You stare down at the grids of the city, the green, the tarmac, the water.
You feel a tickle on your arm, up and down from elbow to shoulder. You gasp and smile as the clouds surround you and you sit back. You look at Nick as he strokes your arm. You clamp your lips tight.
“Wow,” you say.
His fingers linger for a moment then he drops his hand away. His brow ticks. He sits back and nods. “Pretty amazing, huh?”
“Yes!” You answer. “I think so, at least. I bet for you it’s not.”
“I still enjoy it.” He says. “Even more with someone to share it with.”
“And thank you. I never… could’ve dreamed.”
The plane levels out. He takes off his seatbelt and you copy him. You wriggle in the chair and pull your purse around. You dig inside.
“What’re you up to?” He wonders.
“Oh… you don’t mind if I read?”
He shrugs and looks away. He raises his hand and Cassidy appears. She has two glasses in hand with pink wine and berries inside. She sets them on the low table in front of the chair.
“Mr. Fowler.” She dips her head.
“Thank you,” you say. Nick leans his chin in his hand. He stays like that for a minute before he drops his arm and sits up. He reaches for the glasses. “Here. Have a taste.”
He offers you a glass. You leave your book in your purse and push it to the other side of your lap. You accept the wine and look at the bubbles running up the crystal. You sniff it. It smells sweet.
You take a sip. Your cheeks pinch. You can taste the berries but the wine is still stringent enough to make you choke. You giggle and mop your lips with the back of your hand.
“Sorry,” you murmur.
“You don’t like it?” He keeps his away from his mouth.
“No, I do. I’m just not used to it. I don’t drink, you know?” You say. “Not very much.”
“You really are new to LA,” he chuckles and clinks his glass on yours.
“Yeah… I’m a total noob.”
“A noob?” He muses.
“Um, yeah…” you look at the wine as your cheeks burn. “Oh!” Your eyes flick up. “You’ll have to be my translator. I tried some duolingo but I can’t roll my r’s. I just kinda sound like I’m drowning.”
His brows arch and his cheeks dimple. He takes a deep sip of wine then pulls the glass away. He licks his lips.
“No problem at all. You’ll wanna keep close to me anyway.” He once more pets your arm. “You know, Venice is a tourist trap and lotta people know that. Easy to lift a wallet off a distracted traveller… or worse.”
“Oh?” Your eyes round.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I got security. Yours now, too.” He sits back and shifts around. “You mind?” He taps the armrest between you. You shake your head and he flips it up. He settles in, closer to you. “Make sure you don’t go anywhere without me or one of my guys, alright?” He leans his head back and looks at you. “You’re precious cargo.”
Warnings: this fic contains suggestions of blackmail and coercion, as well as adultery. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
18+ only, explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
You voted, I wrote it. This is June 11th’s fic!
Jake Jensen + "Don't look away."
I welcome and appreciate all feedback. This means replies, reblogs, and asks. I do prefer if you can reblog and share my work along with your thoughts. <3
“What about Overcooked? I can play that…” You suggest as you adjust your headphones.
You can hear shuffling on the other end. You roll your chair closer to the desk and grab your controller. There’s a long breath on the other side.
“I’m a bit cooked out.” Jake says at last.
“Wanna visit my island? I rebuilt the tea shop.” You offer.
He clucks.
“Okay…maybe I can try one of your gun games. I’m warning you, I’m not very good.”
Jake hums. He’s uncharacteristically quiet today. And when he does speak, he sounds upset.
“Hey, uh, is everything okay?” You ask.
More shifting and scratching on his mic. You push the buttons mindlessly on your controller. Is he mad at you?
“Sorry I couldn’t make the weekend. My other friends wanted to go to the cafe bookshop.” You say.
“It’s not… that.” He forces out tightly. “Can we talk?”
“Sure. I’m listening.”
“No, I mean… can I call?”
You squirm. What’s going on?
“Are you sure you’re okay?” You ask.
“Yeah, I just… I want to show you something.”
“Erm, right. Okay. Let me just get my phone.” You say.
He ends the session as the headphones click. You remove the headset and put it aside. You grab your phone and it chimes. You nearly drop it. A video call? Okay…
You answer and prop your phone against the bottom of your monitor. You sit back so your face is fully in frame. Jake’s glasses reflect the glare of his computer screen. You’ve seen his pic in his gaming icon but he looks different. His hair isn’t all spike, his goatee is surrounded by stubble, and his shoulders are exposed as he wears only a muscle shirt that hangs low to show the top of his hair chest.
“Um… how are you?” You ask awkwardly.
“Is that a new lip gloss?” He asks.
You rub your lips together at the bubblegum glisten. “How… yes?”
“Sorry, sorry. I’m… easily distracted.” His voice eases as he grins. “Especially by cute girls.”
You swallow, confused. “Jake, what’s up?”
He sighs and stares at you. He adjusts his glasses and his jaw squares. He pushes his shoulders wide. His eyes flick between the camera and his screen.
“What did you want to show me?” You ask, nerves quavering in your voice.
“Right, right…” He claps his hands. “Let me just share my screen.”
You tap your fingers together as you lean in and wait. He disappears and a new image appears on the screen. You gasp and cover your mouth with both hands. It takes a moment for your brain to process what you’re seeing. It’s… you?
Not really. Because you’ve never taken any pictures like that. You would never. You shudder and cover your face entirely.
“Jake!” You shrill.
“Don’t look away.” His voice drops.
A chill scatters over you and you part your fingers, looking through them at the edited image. It looks so real. The pose is so lewd that your face burns.
“Why– Jake, please, stop. I don’t want to– Why would you do that?” You squeal.
“Amazing what you can do these days, huh?”
“Stop,” you beg.
“Convincing…”
“Please. It’s not really me.”
“Uh huh. It’s not, but who would know the difference.”
“What do you mean?” You squeak.
“Do you think you can be a law clerk and a porn star?” He asks.
The breath rushes out of you and you drag your hands down to your throat. You bat your eyes at the screen and gulp. “Please, I don’t want to see it anymore.”
“I can even make it a video. Wanna see?”
“Jake–”
He taps a key and the picture disappears. He’s in frame again. Smirking.
“That’s why. That face. You saying my name like that.” He pauses and likes his lips. “I’m done playing games.”
“Jake, why?”
He scoffs. “Because you’re just like every other one. Teasing me. Stringing me along. I’m not doing it anymore.”
You pout. “No, we’re friends. I never–”
“Shhh,” he puts a finger up. “Sweetheart, we’re not bargaining. This isn’t a dialogue.” He leans forward as he crosses his arms on his desk. “I’m going to give you your first assignment and you’re going to deliver. You have until midnight.”
You shake and hug yourself, rubbing your arms as your eyes prick with hot tears.
“I thought you wanted to be my friend–”
“I want to be more. Isn’t that better?” He slithers. You stare. “So, your first assignment is to give me a picture just like the one I showed you. And it has to be real.” He tilts his head. “And trust me, I’ll know if it’s not.”
“I… I can’t do that.”
“You can. Or you know what I can do?” He bites his lip and snickers. “Send your boss a copy of your extensive resume. Head to toe.”
Warnings: this fic contains suggestions of dubcon and noncon, as well as adultery. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
18+ only, explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
You voted, I wrote it. This is June 10th’s fic!
Steve Rogers + “I feel so complete when I’m inside you.” (Medieval AU)
I welcome and appreciate all feedback. This means replies, reblogs, and asks. I do prefer if you can reblog and share my work along with your thoughts. <3
Please check my pinned post for more information on my blog, stories, and asks!
Do one kind thing for yourself today and take care.💖
You brush the crumbs off your fingertips and bend your neck. Your veil shifts and you resist the urge to scratch through it. Sister Madeline recites the evening prayer as the others pick at their bread and sip the bitter ale. There’s a tension beneath the silence of the grazing order.
You heard it as you sat and sorted beans from the garden. They all did. The familiar horns and canter of horses. The visitors dismounting at the monastery that shares the same plot with the convent. You hear the monks have lamb and red wine.
The other sisters share looks across the table. You squirm and stare at your plate. You aren’t hungry. Not since you heard his voice carrying from the yard.
Supper finishes and you clear the table with the other sisters. No longer bound to silence, they whisper. You hear the name that keeps you on edge.
You scrape off the crumbs and put the leftover crusts in a basket for the paupers. You wipe clean the wooden plates and stack them as Sister Eleanor giggles at Sister Dawn. Sister Brenna hushes them and chides them to take extra prayers at Compline.
You drift through the remaining prayers and evening chores. You know the walls and floors of the convent well enough to walk them with your eyes closed. Your hands are forged to each task without effort.
You retire to the hard bed of an oak plank. The night keeps you awake outside as the usual creak of branches and snaps of twigs by nocturnal creatures has you imagining more treacherous trespassers. Then the low jingle comes and you are entirely alert.
When the Duke arrives to visit in one of his pilgrimages with the monks, he never fails to send the signal. And you never fail to heed it. The one time you did…
You listen to the sisters around you. Life in the convent doesn’t allow for much rest so when it is had, it’s done deeply. You rise and pull on your robes and veil. You keep your head down as you raise your skirts above the slumbering bodies and cross the room.
The corridors are so dark you can take only small steps. You reach the kitchen door and let yourself out into the moonlight. You don’t look back, only ahead. You go to the mule’s house behind the monastery and whistle in imitation of a sparrow. You wait for the return.
Nothing. Perhaps you imagined it. Or perhaps you are too quick. You shudder and push through the door. Your body readies for what is demanded of it.
The scent of straw and donkey fur meets your nose. You lean into the door to close it. You listen to the sleepy huff of the beast in his pen at the other end of the stall. You turn and search the slivers of moonlight for movement.
Your nerves tangle and your heart clutches. Something off. Something is out of place. You turn and suddenly you’re shoved back. You stumble into a stool as hands clasp onto your sides and keep you from tumbling over.
Lord Rogers chuckles and nuzzles your veil.
“Sacred sister, you’ve missed me,” He growls as he squeezes through your habit. “You’ve no idea how I’ve longed for our reunion.”
Your flick your lashes and gulp. If only he knew the same dread as you do. If only he feared so much for the mark upon his soul and yet, he has no such vow to keep. He is a noble, he is a man who can buy forgiveness. You will repent forever in this world and the next.
“My lord.” You whisper.
“Lamb, please, I long to hear my name upon thy sweet lips.” His mouth grazes yours and his breath clouds hotly.
“Steven…” you murmur as his hands run down to your skirts.
He presses his lips to yours and growls. He yanks at your habit as you cling to him to keep from falling. He turns you and traps you against the planked wall. His beard tickles your skin as he sighs into you.
“I need you, lamb.” He snarls. “I’ve needed you so badly. It is all I think of.” His hands crawl under your skirts and he kneads your thighs. “I feel so complete when I’m inside you.”
I'll just randomly mention here, that there's a legend in our medieval history, that a princess who was about to take vows in the convent (because it was popular for a king to send one of the daughters, if he had more than one, to serve God) was abducted and forced to marry a rivaling prince/nobleman 👀
I recently was reading about some medieval history and yeah they mention that noble daughters would go into a convent. Good queen Maud of England was in a convent during her childhood, I believe her aunt was the abbess and had wanted Maud to take the orders but instead she obviously went on to be queen lol. Anyway, I've obv been reading too much
Long haired Bucky reminds me of Handle with Care Bucky and how he just turned a 180 on reader and shoved her down a basement in their mission. At least he could've brought Alpine to keep us company
You writing Jon Snow would be everything!! I love dark!Jon fics, there’s so much you can mine from too for even keeping things canon!! Targaryen Prince Jon, Werewolf Jon, Wildling Jon…I could go on but I won’t lol. What about a Jon that’s a bastard prince in one of your Medieval Aus??
Oh that's so interesting. Tired of being the one passed over again and again. He could taint the wife meant for golden child Robb
