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moonbaby26 · 3 years ago

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Title: A Party and a Spy

Pairing: Loki x Goddess!Reader

Summary: Story set nearer the Viking Age. You were a Greek sea goddess who crossed paths with the god of mischief. Continuation of previous chapter. Loki is forced to return to Asgard to unwillingly participate in the festivities honoring Odin and Thor’s victories in Alfheim. He ends up drunk and in a piss poor mood that he then wants you to help relieve. Your secret meetings also finally attract an unwanted visitor. Super brief cameos here by Sif, the warriors three, and Thor, as well as Heimdall again.

Warnings: Semi smut possibly, but no real sex this chapter. Sorry to tease, will be some next chapter. Here is just mentions of arousal, grinding through clothing. Mention of masturbation. Also some animal abuse, but a magical animal who will be fine I guess. The princes are just jerks like that.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @rosaline-black , @lawfeys , @loveableasshole , @insanitybyanothername , @just-wordsandthoughts , @cringingmemeries

My Masterlist

——————————

You still felt warm, your head just poking out from under the blanket as you stretched a little. Your hand ran out across the mattress after a moment though, contacting nothing to your surprise as you then opened your eyes.

As you quickly sat up, the look on your face must have said far too much as you heard a chuckle from nearby.

“No, goddess, I haven’t left just yet. My, you are expressive though.”

As you turned your head towards the voice, you saw Loki now sitting in one of the two chairs at the small table opposite your side of the bed.

He was still dressed only in a pair of pants you also quickly noted, yourself still so unused to seeing this much of him as your eyes lingered on the lean muscle and pale skin.

“What?” He asked, not missing that stare either, though the sly look in his eyes told you he knew damned well what you were now distracted with. He just wanted you to say it.

“Asgardians really do wear too many clothes, if you are any proper example anyway.” You replied simply though. Why hide so much all the time?

He raised an eyebrow, but was smirking as he taunted a little further. “Oh I can assure you, there is no one in Asgard like me. And you’d prefer this not be reserved just for you then?”

You tried not to look caught off guard. Even if he were only teasing, the implication that he’d still be keeping this type of intimacy for you alone was something that made your stomach flutter slightly.

“Come here.” He said next though, snapping you back to attention, though you still hesitated. Was that a command or a request?

He only rolled his eyes after a moment though. “Oh, don’t waste time trying to be proud now. I do have to leave shortly, it will already be late morning in Asgard by now.” He extended a hand to you. “So come, sit with me.”

You eventually acquiesced, standing from the bed then, though intending just to walk to the other chair. Yet the very moment you were close enough, he only grabbed you by the arm, pulling you down to sit on his lap instead.

He was surprisingly fast and strong when he wished to be, his arms already around your waist as well before you could think to try and stand again.

“There. That wasn’t so hard was it?” He spoke lowly against your ear as you shifted.

But to your surprise he didn’t touch you any further, even though one arm did stay around your waist to keep you steady as his other hand just went back to the table.

“I have a job for you.” He added, then moving his hand oddly as a piece of parchment paper and a writing quill appeared abruptly from thin air. “At least I think it may work. I’m sure the majority of these animals are illiterate. I’m hoping at least the clan chief has some shaman or someone of the sort that understands these runes. It’s the only written language I’ve ever seen in this land.”

But even as he started to write on the paper, your mind was still only fixating on what you’d just seen as you asked abruptly. “How did you do that?”

He seemed focused on whatever symbols he was now putting on the page, but he still answered. “How do I do what? They’re just runes.”

“No, how did you conjure the pen and paper?” Controlling the elements, moving objects by will, or casting illusions was one thing. But forming a very unnatural, man made object from essentially nothing was different than the typical kind of magic you were used to.

Loki paused a moment then, like trying to digest what you’d just said before he glanced back up to look you in the eyes.

“The woman can move the seas themselves and is astonished by a piece of paper?” He mocked incredulously.

Your eyebrows lowered. “Listen, I know good and well I’m no sorceress. That’s why I’m asking. How do you create something like that from nothing?”

He shook his head. “Gods, they really just give magic to anyone these days.”

A joke clearly, as everything you had you had been born with, though learning to control it had taken time. And to be honest, was still an ongoing learning process. But you still wanted an answer as you looked at him pointedly.

He sighed under your gaze. “I really don’t have the time for this. But I know you won’t let it go.” He had continued writing though even as he kept talking. “I didn’t make them, goddess. I brought them with me. You are at least correct in that nearly all instances of magic, nothing can be made without taking of something else. I’m sure when you make those little whirlpools of yours for instance, you’re drawing the latent energy from the water. The currents, the temperature differences, what have you. To truly make something from nothing...well, that would be chaos magic. Which, may or may not even exist depending which of the ancient mages’ tomes you most believe in.”

You could tell he did take pride in his studies and the principles behind them clearly. If he wasn’t already concerned about returning to Asgard, you could probably get a whole lecture on this subject right now. But you couldn’t help but point out again, as you just responded. “Yet you still haven’t really answered my question. If you brought them with you, where were they before?” You glanced down at his pants as if to reaffirm your doubt that anything other than himself had been hidden there as they were relatively tight.

Yet he still smirked at your continued insistence. “On the scale of the things I’m capable of, my dear, that’s just a parlor trick. And if you really care so much, I can teach you at some other time.”

At that, he paused writing again though, placing the quill down momentarily as he then moved his hand again for a long dagger to abruptly be held in his palm. “You see? There are far better uses to this trick.” He flipped the knife just as quickly though, letting the blade’s point stab into the table as the dagger then stood on end.

And as it did so he made sure to look to see your reaction, also asking you, “Do you really just depend on your servants to follow you around at all hours with any weapons you may need?”

Yet you just looked from the dagger, then back to him. Surprised surely, but not actually frightened. “And do you have so many enemies as to always need that at the ready?”

“One never really knows do they?” He answered smoothly, just grasping the dagger’s handle again before it disappeared once more.

It didn’t seem like a threat really. But you felt he still wanted you to know a bit more of what he was capable of. You quieted afterward as he went back to writing for a few more moments.

When he was done, you could tell he glanced over the letter briefly, as if proofreading before he rolled the paper tightly and folded it.

He spoke rather business like then, an odd thing honestly as you still sat so intimately on his lap. “If it wasn’t already obvious, I’d like you to carry this to the village leader while I return to Asgard. I don’t have the time to deal with the mortals right now, and besides, they’re your pets.”

“Excuse me? Have you forgotten whose idea this whole ‘protector’ role was to begin with?”

“Oh, I was willing to let the lot of them be wiped out if you’d chosen not to save them. I’d only need to spare whichever the nicest home was from burning as the marauders moved through, and we still would have ended up with a place to meet regardless.”

The sad thing was, you were actually sure he really meant that too. But he just continued.

“Yet you pitied them, and now here we are. And as the beasts held up their end of the bargain, I agree it’s fair at least to give them some recognition for their work. A pat on the head and a ‘good dog’ essentially, that’s what this letter says. So you see, I’m not wholly ungrateful.”

“A thank you letter?” You asked dryly. Relatively sure it likely didn’t read completely as such.

“Well, essentially. But with a reminder on the rules as well.”

“Rules?”

“Our privacy must be respected. I’ll put a green flame at the end of the trail nearer the village when we’re present. During the night, this place is also solely ours. If during the day there’s no flame, then they can come up and clean and maintenance this tiny wood hutch like good help should.”

“Your staff at your palace must just adore you.” You mused sarcastically. “The mortals are not our slaves, Loki.”

“It’s really an odd thing how you fancy them.” He retorted, though with an air of someone just humoring another person they already thought irreparably deluded. “But I suppose you have nothing else fulfilling to pass the time when I’m in Asgard. Some people like to paint, others like to craft things...you, you have your pets.”

Arrogant god you thought. As if suddenly you had no other purpose outside of him? Surely he saw that insulted look in your eyes as well, because you could see the entertained mirth in his own before he pulled you closer to kiss you suddenly.

And this one was rough again, briefly reminding you of that night in the cave as you felt his hands move down to your hips. His tongue was already in your mouth before you could even consider pulling away.

From last night when he’d only held you, to now seeming so hungry again, the sides of him could change so quickly you were learning.

His hands didn’t move beneath your dress though, even though you thought his fingers may be grabbing you hard enough to bruise as he twisted you to be fully facing him. Straddling him actually with each of your legs now on either side of him as he rested against the back of the chair.

He kept kissing you, and it wasn’t long before you felt that distinct hardness against you even through his pants. As always though, you wore nothing beneath your dress, a matter of practicality really for as often as you were in the water. Who would want any undergarments constantly rubbing and chaffing where you were most sensitive? You liked sheer and loose material in the dresses you wore, so that it moved easily as you swam and dried quickly when you were on land.

But he knew all this by now of course, as he just ground his hips then, that rough seam of his pants then moving between your legs as he drug it back and forth.

He was intentionally trying to work you up. You sensed the trap, but still found your own hands moving across his bare chest soon enough.

Your newfound lack of willpower was really astounding. Finally though, you pulled your head back to break the kiss and warn him. “If you’re just doing this with no intention to actually follow through...”

“If you wanted it so badly, you could have taken it last night.” He retorted though. “I’ve already stayed too long.”

“Why can’t I want both?” You answered, meaning it as well. It wasn’t just sex, nor was it just being in his company. Neither by itself was enough anymore. Each had its own place.

He looked frustrated himself though as you felt him thrust against you reflexively, that bulge in his pants wasted even as it scraped against where you were now becoming wet. “I’m telling you, Odin is back at the palace now. I have to be calculated in the times I come and go. There is some damned ceremony today, likely starting any moment by now for their victories in Alfheim. If I’m not there, they’re going to come looking for me.”

As much as you knew he liked to bend the truth. It wouldn’t make sense for him to deny himself this right now unless it was actually for good reason.

“Well you’re the one who pulled me into your lap and kissed me.” You relented, though your own body now fully flustered and urging you to return to him even as you stood up and stepped away.

“Well you shouldn’t have slept so late.” He grumbled back. Pulling at his pants in some discomfort as he stood as well.

But you watched as his armor manifested then, horned helmet and all as his magic washed across him. What you guessed would now be his attire for the ceremony he’d spoken of. You assumed that clothing and armor had been in whatever void the pen, paper, and dagger had been.

At least with his illusions he could also conceal his arousal if it hadn’t faded on its own by the time he reached the palace though, you thought with some amusement.

Yet, even as he walked for the door, he taunted to you as if sensing your enjoyment of his current predicament. “You’re welcome to get back in the bed you know. Think of me while you self soothe, goddess.”

So crude. But you just fired back before he could close the door. “And is that what you do at night in Asgard? Think of yourself as well to finish things off?” You were trying to mock his evident self importance of course.

Yet he didn’t even miss a beat at the intended insult. “Why be myself when I can just be you? Then I never have to forget how you feel.”

And just to prove that he could, you stared in disbelief as a perfect likeness of yourself then smiled back at you lewdly, thin dress and all before shutting the door unceremoniously.

Gods. That was just unnatural. And you had to sit down at that, arousal now paused at least as your body’s resulting confusion was almost palpable.

———————————

Asgard, not long after

Loki was back to his normal appearance, hurriedly stepping into the small grouping of warriors he’d recognized at once in the rest of the crowd at the palace ceremonial hall.

Sif’s head turned in immediate surprise and annoyance as those golden horns entered her peripheral vision. The irritation was evident even as she tried to keep her voice low with so many others still around them. “And just where have you been!? Thor was looking for you everywhere!”

“I was in the library, did he think to look in the library!?” Loki spat back immediately, knowing that even if his brother had checked there, Thor knew the layout of it so poorly, he could always have claimed to have been in another section.

“Yet why are you breathing so hard, chap? Were you actually running?” Fandral asked as well, also looking Loki over.

“And why pray tell would I have been running?” Loki shot a glare to him next. Could they not mind their own damned business for once?

“Because you were late?” Volstagg offered in that simplistic, yet matter of fact way that was always beyond annoying even on the best day.

“Well I’m here now.” Loki huffed, though not missing the way Hogun was also staring at him critically. “And do you have something to add?” Loki grumbled at him.

But only Sif answered. “Well if you hadn’t been lost in the library,” Her tone made clear how little she believed that excuse, “You’d know that Thor chose you to give the congratulatory speech before-”

“The what?” Loki stared at her, that odd mix of horror and disgust then abruptly clear on his face.

——————————

“So what more can I say of Asgard’s favorite son?” Loki’s public speaking voice boomed richly through the great hall, the throng of happy faces sickening as he smiled right back at them. What fresh Hel was this really?

“Alfheim counts her graces I am sure to have such noble saviors defend her-” By the gods he didn’t even know what Odin and Thor had done there the entire time. He assumed there’d been skull bashing and the normal heroics. But if they’d been working out peace treaties instead the last few weeks, who knew. He’d been looking for hidden portals to Midgard still on the days they’d held the main debriefings.

“And with peace secured in the realms once more, please join me in giving thanks to the noble Allfather and the mighty Thor!” Loki wasn’t normally one for alcohol. Not in comparison to most Asgardians anyway. He thought it dulled the mind too much. But by all the mages in all the realms...he so badly needed it now, as he took a large swig of the strongest Asgard had, before throwing the glass down to shatter it as was custom. “And let the feasts commence!”

The crowd erupted in cheers. And on any other day, that would have been something he obviously would have wanted. But Loki knew that not one voice was for him as he suddenly felt a large hand and arm go around his shoulders, shaking him roughly before his brother’s voice joined the yells, yet right in his ear.

“HUZZAH!” Thor cried, one arm still around Loki as his other lifted Mjolnir triumphantly.

—————————

And it was so many hours later before Loki had finally escaped. Time and time again as he’d tried to excuse himself from the endless barrage of drinks and food, it was as if his brother had somehow sensed it.

Then there would be Thor again, telling him any one of those same stories over and over as he’d somehow corralled Loki back into the feast room. If he’d had to hear one more time how with one hand forced behind his back, and Mjolnir still in mid air, that Thor had kicked one of the enemies’ bombs right back into their own garrison, taking out an entire enemy troop as more of their stored artillery then exploded...Loki may have finally vomited.

As it was now, he wasn’t exactly walking a straight line either though. Just carrying his own helmet in one hand, his head already throbbing as he made his way slowly through the corridors. His other arm reaching out occasionally, grazing the walls for balance.

He couldn��t remember the last time he’d drank so much. Well, more like been forced to drink so much, just to try and maintain his sanity in what was essentially just another gathering of his brother’s sycophants.

Honestly did Thor even see it? Did he really think all those hanger-ons were truly his friends? Perhaps there was some argument for Sif and the warriors three. As thick headed as they all were, they were about cut from the same cloth. And that was not a compliment.

But all the others? It’d be almost pitiable really if it weren’t so damned annoying. Yet maybe it was the alcohol there as well, making Loki linger on so many of these feelings again.

By the time he reached the entrance to his quarters, he was frowning as he pushed the heavy doors open. He still made sure that they shut fully behind him though as he waved his hand to lock them doubly with a spell.

It was not without precedent that in some true late night madness, either Thor, or Thor, Fandral, and Volstagg may still force entry to try and get him to accompany them on some additional drunken adventure while they were still riding so high on their accomplishments.

“Idiots,” Loki grumbled to no one though. Still stuck in that sour mood as he moved across the dark room, losing clothes as he did so before finally ending up in his elaborate bed. The silken sheets were then the only thing against his skin as he laid there in silence, though the room still feeling like it was moving slightly in his lingering vertigo.

But he just wanted to sleep. That and to will this headache and the thoughts that worsened it away.

But instead he only laid there. His drunken thoughts churning louder and louder as the minutes passed, alone in this extravagant, luxurious, and also very empty bed.

Scattered across the palace now, he could only imagine all the couplings likely occurring. Not necessarily in the full sense of the word. But he knew how these types of festivities normally ended.

Thor was likely in an archway somewhere with Sif, pawing at each other with all the finesse of a pair of schoolchildren. Fandral and Hogun would still be at a table, Fandral now showing off his sword to a couple maidens simultaneously with only thinly veiled euphemisms of how it compared to the hidden equivalent. And Volstagg would have his actual wife and children there, somehow still not bored of them yet as they all laughed together.

And that’s what it really was, laughable.

Loki rolled onto his side, glaring towards the balcony and the stars dotting the black sky beyond it. No, he didn’t need any of that farce of companionship. Not just for the sake of it anyway like all the others. He took what he wanted, when he wanted surely. Pleasure was one thing after all, but it didn’t control him.

You didn’t control him actually. Because no one controlled the god of mischief.

But the longer he lay there in silence, the more he could then imagine your fingers soon running through his hair, or the warmth of your lap to lay his aching head in. He’d had bad days before, many times retreating to this very room alone. But he didn’t have to be alone tonight. He didn’t have to be alone at all anymore did he?

“Goddamnit.” He finally hissed. It was foolhardy, dangerous even after just returning from Midgard already once today. But he wasn’t going to sleep tonight otherwise. Not until he had what he really wanted.

——————————

Loki certainly wasn’t going to be walking all the way to the bifrost gate. Not at this hour, and not in this condition. So he’d taken a form that at least no one would have second guessed if they’d just happened to look up as he’d passed quickly overhead.

One of Father’s ravens, or the rats with wings as he preferred to call them. And as he’d landed near Heimdall, then regaining his normal form, the older god just looked down at him, unimpressed.

“She’s returned to the ocean. She already sleeps.” Heimdall spoke unprompted.

Yet Loki’s eyebrows rose mockingly, even if his words took a little more effort right now. “Oh? Making a habit of watching her…even without me then? That’s a bit perverse.”

But the gatekeeper’s expression hardly changed at the insult, still so difficult to goad. “I saw you coming, and your questions to her whereabouts are becoming predictable.”

It was true. Loki had already come here several nights, yes. Mostly to check whether the mortals had finished that structure or not. And it’d finally been a pleasant reward just the other night when Heimdall had confirmed it already done and you there waiting.

“I don’t care where she is.” Loki retorted though. “I’m going to Midgard. Open the gate.”

“You are inebriated.” Heimdall warned.

“And you have a severely itritating penchant for stating the obvious…open the gate.” He commanded more forcefully.

“Anywhere in Midgard particular?” Heimdall answered.

Loki paused though, hearing that slightest change in the guardian’s normal stoic tone with those last words. “Are you…attempting to make a joke?”

“I did not wish to assume or state the obvious again as you said. And you also say you do not care where she is. So do you not care where you should land tonight then?”

He was! He was mocking him. Loki growled, pointing his finger for emphasis. “Now listen here…it has been a god awful, long day. Quit trying to dissuade me. Send me to the village, gatekeeper!”

“Any village?”

Gods. “My village, her village, whatever you want to call it. But do it or I’ll use the damned sword myself!”

With one last cheerless look down at Loki, Heimdall turned the sword then, opening the gate even as he warned a final time. “Do not fall from the bifrost, Prince. The universe is vast and does not suffer the careless well. Do remember as well that all things done have consequences in the end.”

But Loki had no time to search for deeper meaning in the words, just ruffling more as he walked towards the light. “Is that a threat?”

“Only a truth and a caution.” Heimdall again answered, just before the other disappeared back across the bridge.

———————————

And as the light left him again, Loki was once more in that dark forest. Yet, the ground far lighter colored than normal as to a little of his surprise, his boots now found fresh snow. Winter had finally arrived to this part of Midgard apparently.

He cursed, realizing it would have been far smarter to have told Heimdall to deposit him directly onto the beach this time as he’d now had to navigate back down the hillside and to the trail that led between the cliff face.

It had started snowing again as well as he walked, the large flakes sticking in his black hair by the time he reached the ocean’s edge. He should have told you just to stay at the cabin this morning. But he didn’t expect to be standing here again so soon either.

Loki didn’t care about the water at this point though, the waves rushing up around his feet and over the top of his boots as he trudged forward to call out. “Hear me, sea beasts! Hear me and bring your mistress to me!”

And it didn’t take long of course before he saw two feminine looking torsos rise just where the waves were breaking in the distance. Not quite human, but expressive enough that he could see the skepticism in their body language.

“She’s asleep!” One called back over the waves.

“Then go and wake her!” He only hissed back as if scolding an insubordinate child. Why did everyone feel the need to test him tonight?

But the two nymphs just looked at one another. The other then speaking. “What is so important? Are you claiming injury again?”

He scoffed at the jab, voice easily sliding into its darker range then, even in his continued drunken state. He did not have time for this. “Do not forget your place, water sprite.”

And as he made a move as if to step further into the water, he was pleased to see them both shrink back at that. When they disappeared not long after, he knew all he now had to do was wait.

—————————

You didn’t fully know what to expect. Why was he back so soon? Not that you should complain, but he’d made such a point about having to return to Asgard this morning, and he’d never come back so quickly before. Even though it was now dead of night.

The nymphs also said he’d been acting strangely, even a bit ruder than normal. They insisted you bring your spear, and so you had as you broke the surface only to find him sitting at the water’s edge. Though not even far enough onto the beach to stay dry as the water now ran around him and then pulled back with each successive wave. His pants and cloak were clearly soaked, snow also dotting all over him to your surprise.

“Loki?” You asked, concerned but cautious. Normally the rare sight of snow would have distracted you in its own right had you not been so focused on him. The north was still unique to you for all its differences.

“The cold doesn’t bother me either.” He said abruptly, seeing that worry in your eyes. But he didn’t stand out of the water. “You really should reprimand your servants…”

“It’s not quite that kind of a relationship.” You replied, though not defensively as you still tried to realize what was wrong with him. “Are you alright?”

“No.” He said simply.

If it was just another trick, it was a good one. But you felt you had no real choice but to behave as if he was sincere. You only laid your spear down in the water as you then moved to sit down beside him.

He looked over at you as you did, and you could see how tired he looked even in the darkness. So close to him then, that was finally when you smelled the scent of alcohol, impressively strong even over the salt smell of the ocean.

He was drunk.

“Loki…” You said again, unsure at all what would have driven him to this kind of excess. “Do you want me to help you to the cabin?”

He leaned closer though, as if to either kiss you or lay his head against yours. He did nuzzle your face slightly though as he whispered in your ear. “I want him to get closer first.” Before you could react though, he’d then grabbed your chin to keep you from looking away from him. “He can’t hear us over the noise of the sea…but don’t look away.”

And he did kiss you then, that heady taste of the alcohol almost as distracting as the nonsensical words. His hand was moving up your thigh as well as his other moved around to your back. It all seemed like only the beginnings of foreplay before just as suddenly, he then pushed you down beneath him. His hand that had been on your thigh pulled back simultaneously to throw a dagger violently out into the darkness.

You heard a distinct sound of a hit, a creature screech, and then chaotic flapping in the sand and snow somewhere near the cliff’s base.

Loki was now laying on top of you, your back still pressed into the wet sand as the water rushed back up around you both. He glanced back down at you then, ignoring the confusion in your eyes as he kissed you roughly several times more before finally pulling back again. “We’ll have to get back to that tomorrow…” He all but purred, mood shifting suddenly to satisfaction as he stood once more and offered you his hand.

Utterly baffled, you still took it, letting him help you up before he let go of you to walk off towards the distressed sounds you still heard near the cliff. You only hung back long enough to grab your spear before hurrying to follow him.

You didn’t know what kind of beast to expect from all the noise, and only found yourself more surprised as a pitiable looking black bird finally came into view. It flapped even harder upon seeing Loki, but with one wing clearly mangled and blood spattering the snow and sand around it.

“Oh, you over dramatic twat.” Loki fussed, snatching the hapless creature up with little fanfare as his other hand reclaimed his now bloody dagger, disappearing it again with his magic. “And which one are you?” He asked, holding it roughly near his face as it now continually tried to bite him in defiance.

You didn’t know what he was looking for, and you were about to say something about how harshly he was holding the poor animal before Loki smirked in recognition.

“Well…Muninn, you little vermin. You saw me leave the palace didn’t you? Did you really think I was your other half? Couldn’t leave well enough alone could you?”

What? So this was one of Odin’s ravens? But, Loki had just stabbed it! Was this not treason? Treason that you were now a party to? You had so many questions as your inner panic began to grow.

But Loki only kept smiling, talking with condescension to the injured bird. “Yet, for you to be here so quickly, then you’ve found my door for me. There’s a rift between Asgard and Midgard somewhere nearby…and for that you get to keep your other wing tonight, you little spy.”

—————————

As you passed back up the trail to the cabin together, you saw Loki had indeed kept his word about signaling to the mortals when you were here. A green flame floated, ethereal in midair at the edge of the tree-line.

It had a haunting look to it, but you said nothing, still so focused on Loki’s rough handling of the injured raven. And by the time you’d entered the woods, you could no longer contain yourself.

“Please don’t hold him by the chest like that. It makes it too hard for them to breathe. You’re going to suffocate him!”

At your outburst, Loki seemed to have a genuine moment of surprise, looking over at you before his normal superior expression returned. “Just because you can become a bird….doesn’t mean you should give a damn about this one. Don’t waste your time on kindness. Despite your bleeding heart, his loyalty lies only with the Allfather. He’ll snitch you out regardless.”

“But, he has lost a lot of blood. We can’t let him die, Loki…” You still kept on, worried the alcohol had truly made him lose all sense of judgement.

Again he just gave you the oddest look before outright laughing though. He shook the bird a little, making it squawk again, before continuing. “This rat and his brother are imbued with Odin’s magic. They cannot perish so easily as long as Odin still lives.”

Yet, that was still not comforting to you in the slightest. In what possible way could torturing a favored pet of the Allfather end positively for the two of you?

But Loki didn’t miss the way you still stared with disapproval, just rolling his eyes as you finally made it to the cabin. “Do you know how long we’ve dealt with these little pests? When Thor got his first slingshot as a boy, what do you think he practiced it on? When I learned my first spells, what did I test them on? There is nothing new to this…”

“That’s awful.” You grumbled, though watching as Loki did this odd movement with his shoulders, his magic shifting over him so that he was suddenly dry again.

As he walked inside, you had to shake the snow off yourself the old fashioned way. Your dress and hair still damp from that and the ocean combined as you followed him inside, leaning your spear against the wall before closing the door. “So you could do that the whole time,” You commented as to his drying trick, though not really surprised by anything else right now.

He smirked a little, knowing what you were thinking. With a wave of his hand a couple of the candles also lit. “Oh, I didn’t do it that night in the cave. You were supposed to take pity and ask me to take off some of my wet clothes…of course they ended up off anyway didn’t they?”

You crossed your arms, just frowning as he unceremoniously opened the chest on the floor next, tossing the injured Muninn into it before slamming it back closed.

“I’ll deal with you in the morning,” Loki threatened in response to the resulting angry squawk, giving the chest a light kick before the noise inside silenced.

When he turned to look at you again, he only offered a dark smile. Though still looking tired as he started to remove his clothes.

You tried to keep your disapproving look strong even as you realized he was using no magic at all, removing his vestments piece by piece as if to taunt you into further watching.

But looking away would have just goaded him too wouldn’t it? Letting him know the sight of his body still did things to you. You couldn’t win either way as all of his clothes finally laid piled on the floor, no neatness this time as he went lay nude in the bed.

You stood there a further moment, really not knowing what to do. He didn’t deserve to be rewarded right now in your mind. But were you just supposed to walk right back out the door? You didn’t have the willpower for that either, not anymore.

He watched you lazily too, waiting. His voice was quieter now though as he did speak again. “If I’d wanted to sleep alone…I would have just stayed in Asgard.”

Your shoulders lowered a little at the softer words, but you didn’t know how much you really believed him. You finally did approach the bed however, removing your wet dress, and not missing the way his eyes moved across your body before you climbed in under the blanket beside him.

But you could also tell he was in no condition for love making, even as you felt his hand encircle one of your wrists, himself then pulling your hand up so your fingers fell into his hair.

He gave you an imploring look, making his intention clear even if unexpected. It was so strange, but you complied, starting to rub your fingers through his hair and along his scalp gently.

The way he clearly relaxed into the touch reminded you so much of a placated animal truly. And he even closed his eyes as you just continued stroking, letting the black hair work repeatedly between your fingers.

To drunkenly cross the vast breadth of space just for this minor affection, also risking exposure by his Father’s informants, was it telling you that he really was so reckless after all? Or…was this becoming a real need for him?

Were you becoming a need in his life?

You felt him line up his body with yours, flesh to flesh as he got further comfortable.

“Thank you.” You heard him say at last. Surprising you enough that you could find nothing to say in return.

You just kept on with your soft touches though, comforting the troublesome prince all the way until he finally fell asleep in your arms.

——————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

#loki #loki fanfic #loki smut #loki fluff #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki x oc #loki odison x reader #loki odinson #loki layfeyson x reader #loki lafeyson #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki odinson x you #loki odinson x y/n #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson x y/n

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starconsumer444 · 4 years ago

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Just found you and already smitten with your dark content. Could you maybe write either Kuroo/Suna/Tendou/Bokuto (whichever u choose) brother or stepbrother catching sister/stepsister trying to masturbate but not knowing how so they edge her relentlessly until she agrees to let him have sex with her because he's tricked her thats the only way she can really cum the first-time? Finishing with a nice cream pie?

Older Brother!Suna (18+)

A/N:Thank you thank youuu~ I’m sorry I didn’t go with the “relentless” edging, I just did it one time because it was getting long and I have a sick and twisted sadomasochistic habit of writing from the late hours of the night until the early hours of the morning and getting dead tired half way through. I’m not sure if that was all that great in comparison to my other works, but I really hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

(CW/TW: Incest, Virginity [Suna makes it hurt too, but there is an orgasm <3], Coercion, Dubcon, Edging??? Or just flat-out orgasm denial...,Age gap??? [Reader is 18, Suna is 25] Fingering, Creampie, Absolutely Clueless reader..., Masturbation, Suna is an asshole in this one, Deception, Manipulation and PLEASE TELL ME IF I MISSED SOMETHING!!!!)

Unfortunately for you, university wasn't all that it was talked up to be in terms of sex and anything else really. You went into your first year thinking you were gonna lose your virginity, make new friends, go to frat parties, and just have all-around wild experiences. Suna, when he was in school, would always come back with cool stories to tell you, and had a new girlfriend every break he got. To have cool experiences like your big brother was the only reason you wanted to go, but unfortunately for you, it was none of that. Maybe it’s because you’re not an athlete like him, but it was studies, a newfound coffee addiction, and a roommate that never seemed to go anywhere. All that on top of your dead social life, absolutely miserable..

When Suna came to pick you up from the airport so you two could spend the holidays with your parents (a tradition no matter how old either of you get), you told him all about it. Sure, you didn’t grow up particularly close with him being seven years older and all, but he was still your older brother and no topic seemed to be off limits with him, so it was nice. He wasn’t the most doting older sibling and definitely not the most talkative either, but he was good for listening. Really, listening was his strong suit.

You told him about your lackluster social life and your mountains of schoolwork, but, even knowing he wouldn’t mind, you didn’t tell him about the sex stuff. Why would you? He’s your older brother. He shouldn’t know things like that about you.

Needless to say, you go home for winter break a sexually frustrated virgin. Maybe, if you had tried a little harder with the people at school it wouldn’t have come to this?

The house had been dead silent when you decided to, for the first time, attempt to masturbate. You were sure no one was home, not your mom, not your dad, and not your older brother, Suna. Still, you could’ve at least checked before you completely stripped your lower half.

It wasn’t going well, you had two fingers inside yourself and you didn’t feel anything. You felt like a doctor doing a self-probe at best. It just felt... wrong? But this is how the girls in porn do it, right? There’s no way you’re getting this wrong. You’re doing exactly what you see; moving your fingers in and out, even curling them a bit… What could you possibly be doing wrong?

Suna watches you silently from your slightly cracked door.

Pitiful, he thinks.

He was just coming by to ask if you wanted anything from the store because he was headed out. He didn’t expect to see his little sister struggling with her fingers in her cunt. He can postpone that walk to the corner-store to bond with his little sister.

He doesn’t even bother knocking to spare you the humiliation, just pushes the door open and lets himself right in.

You notice him immediately and let out a loud scream, closing your legs and trying to hide yourself by turning away from him. You want to disintegrate. Your body is burning up with embarrassment.

What does he want? Why now?

You feel his weight make your childhood bed dip and you can feel the warmth radiating off his body. One of his calloused hands caresses your thigh and you don’t move away from it the way you know you’re supposed to. You’re frozen.

What is he doing?

“Suna, get out!” You turn to look at him and grab his wrist to stop him in his tracks. Can’t he take a hint? “What are you-”

“You’re not doing it right.” He pipes up. In the back of his mind he knows this is wrong. He shouldn’t be doing this with his baby sister.

“Huh?” You’re clearly lost.

“I’ve done this before, let me help you.”

It takes nothing for him to separate your legs and settle himself in between them.

“You’re still a virgin?” His fingers slide gently up and down the wetness between your folds and it draws a sharp whimper and a harsh nod from you.

Suna is twenty-five and has enough sense about himself to know this is wrong. He’s not going to try to rationalize it. He’s just taking a golden opportunity even if that opportunity is his little sister. He has a knack for corrupting innocent girls like you; it’s fun for him even if it’s sick and perverted.

The dirty feeling you get having your brother touching and eyeing your most intimate parts is intense. You want him to keep going, but you know you should tell him to stop.

“Suna, this isn't okay.”

He shushes you but nods his head.

“I’m just helping you.” He says matter-of-factly. “It’s not like you can make yourself cum. Let your big brother help you, okay?” He insists and pushes two fingers inside your hole.

You scoot back out of shock and let out a surprised yelp, “O-okay,”

If he hears the nerves in your voice, he doesn’t do anything to acknowledge it. All he does is scoot closer and offer a gentle smile, the same brotherly one he gave you when he left for college and you cried wanting him to stay. That smile.

It feels so different when he fingers you. He’s not being as rough as you were and he’s definitely more practiced; you’re sure there’s tons of girls he’s done this too. It feels good, especially with him rubbing pleasant circles into your clit. You shouldn’t like this as much as you do.

“Feel better?”

“Mhm,”

He starts to speed up, and you clap your hand over your mouth to stop the moans from being too loud in case you two weren’t the only ones home. His fingers are like magic and you don’t know how to react.

With the stimulation to your clit and his fingers inside you, above cloud nine is where you are. You’ve never felt like this, and there’s a tinge of guilt about it being with your brother but this is too good.

As cute as you look with your heaving chest and your eye’s starting to unfocus, he knows he’s not done with you. When he feels you start to spasm around his fingers he pulls them out, because this may be his only chance to use you, his little sister.

He brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean like the perv he knows he is. It leaves you staring with your mouth hanging open, clearly searching for the words.

“What?” He asks, feigned puzzledness all over his expression. “You taste good.” He chuckles inwardly, you cringe internally. That’s not what you were going to ask, though.

“No…” You can’t look at him, so you look down and play with the sheets on your bed.

“Come on, what is it?”

“I think I was going to cum… and you-”

“That’s dumb, you can’t cum from being fingered.” There’s a seriousness in his tone, you take it as fact; he knows he’s lying.

“But the girls in porn-”

“It’s porn, it’s not realistic.”

You’ve heard that before. You guess it’s true, especially if Suna says it. It must be.

Thank god for shitty sex ed, he muses internally because without it, this wouldn’t be possible.

“Do you wanna cum?” He asks curiously.

All you offer in response is a meek nod. You’re not actually certain on going through with your brother making you cum, but if it’s anything like the way he made you feel just now… maybe, it’s not so bad.

He tells you to lay down, and you do so without hesitation. With your legs splayed open over his thighs, it feels grosser knowing your brother has an even clearer view of you. You wish you had the self control to just say no and end this.

He pulls his sweats and underwear down; if your heartbeat wasn’t going crazy before it definitely is now. His dick is thick and long. He’s rock hard, his tip is pinker than the rest of it, and there’s clear stuff leaking out. It looks like it’s going to hurt, even looks like it’s hurting him right now.

“Suna, wait is this-” You don’t know how to finish. “I’m a virgin.”

“I know, you told me already.” He’s not really paying attention to you. He spits on his hand and rubs it all up and down his length. It’ll hardly help more than the fingering, but it’s a kindness he’s willing to give his little sister. “Just… relax. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He says as he leans over you, guiding his length to your entrance.

Immediately you clench and shut him out.

“I-I’m sorry I just-”

“It’s fine, just relax like I said.”

You do, and he starts to push in. It burns. Stings? Something like a mix of those two.

Even if there was lube for you to use, Suna wouldn’t have offered. He likes the way his baby sisters' face contorts in pain and confusion. You look cute losing your virginity to your big brother.

“AH-” It’s a sharp, pained exclamation coming from you as your hand pushes at his chest. Your legs are thrown over his shoulders now and he’s impaling you slowly inch by agonizing inch. You can feel him stretch you, but you don’t want him to stop, you’ve waited so long for this.

One of his hands rests on your lower stomach and you beg him to do anything to make you feel better when he’s all the way in. He rubs at your clit and leans over to kiss you like you’re his girlfriend.

Without warning he starts to move. It’s nothing but shallow and slow thrusts that have you feeling every inch of him. If it’ll make you cum, you can handle it. All you want is to cum. Combined with his fingers working on your clit, you’re sure you will, right?

Your moans are soft, even if it doesn’t feel that great. The girls in porn moan all the time, it’s the right thing to do.

When he feels like he’s been kind enough, he starts to move faster. You start to get used to it and your legs start to shake from the combined stimulation and strain from being bent at such an angle.

It’s like magic. Your orgasm washes over you,your eyes roll into the back of your head, your body shakes and your back arches off your soiled sheets.

Shock is plastered on Sunas typically inexpressive face. He didn’t expect you to actually...

His little sister is so sensitive. Most girls wouldn’t climax like that their first time. There’s an unspoken sense of pride in this for him. Still, he’s not stopping until he cums too.

You’re whining and squirming up under him, pushing at his hips and moving his hand away from your clit like him continuing is killing you after you’ve worked through your first orgasm. He assures you that’s how it’s supposed to feel and you’re supposed to wait until he cums too.

Once more, you’re laying there in discomfort and he’s getting off to it. Suna knows he’s wrong for it but he just can’t bring himself to care. Not when he’s so close. He especially doesn’t care when he sees your horrified expression as you feel him paint your walls with his warm cum. He’ll make sure you don’t get pregnant later, but for right now he wants to savor this moment.

#suna smut #suna rintaro scenarios #suna x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #suna drabble #suna imagines #suna scenarios #this is me trying my hand at consistency!!!#tw: dubcon

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maswritingblog · 4 years ago

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Unexpected - an Oberyn Martell oneshot

Summary: After spending one night with Prince Oberyn Martell, Cecilia returned to her father’s castle with every intention of pretending she hadn’t had the best night of her life. That is until she discovers she is with child, just in time for Oberyn Martell to pay her family a visit.

Warnings: None, really. Just a feeling a worthlessness, pregnancy if you are triggered by that.

{A/N: I got the idea for this from a dream I had, figured I should write it out. It is VERY long, I apologize. This could also potentially become a series if people want it to.}

It had been a bad idea, of course it had. On the list of bad decisions she’d made in her life, this one may have just beat them all. But she had been mistreated her entire life, made to feel like she was nothing and would always be nothing…and he had treated her like she was something so precious. Gods, she had felt so much better in his presence for one night than she had felt with her family her entire life.

But it had only been one night, and she had returned to being nothing the next morning, her little secret tucked away in her mind to think about only when she was in her chambers late at night.

Secrets found a way of coming to light, though, and hers decided it would make itself known in such a cruel fashion.

She had thought she could put it behind her, go back to living a meaningless life as if it had only been a fantasy, but then she realized she had missed two of her cycles. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do with a child, or how she would even manage; her family would surely use this as more reason to torment her. Worst of all, they probably wouldn’t even attempt to marry her off to save her honor because she just wasn’t worth it.

Her already insignificant name would mean even less once it got out.

So, she hid it away, just like that night, and for another missed cycle it seemed like a decent plan, but she knew there would come a time when she would not be able to hide it anymore. She needed to do something, needed to help herself the way no one else would help her.

She planned to run away to a place where no one knew her. At least if she was on her own, she could lie and say her husband had perished and left her to raise the child alone; on her own she could attempt to save her reputation.

The morning of the day she planned to leave, he arrived.

Her father had announced as they were breaking their fast that they would be hosting the Prince of Dorne and some of his people as they passed through on their way back home. She had nearly choked on her food when she heard.

She had never thought about seeing him again, never imagined that was a possibility. The racing of her heart was not enough for her to give up on her plan of escape, however, she would never assume a prince would want anything to do with a child he had sired one night in a city that had not been either of their own.

There was to be a feast in honor of the prince’s arrival, she would simply slip out while her family was distracted.

~~~~~~~

That evening, the festivities had begun. She had already packed a small bag of only the things she thought she could not live without and stashed it somewhere close to the servants’ entrance; she would wait until the right moment and slip out through the many passageways she had played in as a child. She knew the castle like the back of her hand, it would be easy.

She had not expected how seeing him again would make her feel. As she stood with her family waiting to greet the prince and those traveling with him, her heart was pounding in her chest. When she spotted him, walking forward with a beautiful woman on his arm, she felt her knees might buckle.

Oberyn was still as handsome as he had been that night, more beautiful than anything that deserved to be within the walls of a home she had grown to hate so much. Her father was first to greet him, but she could hardly hear the words he was saying with the rushing in her ears. It wasn’t until her father began to present her sisters that she focused.

As he introduced the oldest, Rosalia, and the middle child, Emilia, he boasted about each of their talents in whichever hobbies they had taken up as Oberyn simply nodded in acknowledgment from where he stood.

“And, finally, my youngest, Cecilia.”

Her father didn’t brag on any of her accomplishments, though she had just as many as her sisters, and it didn’t surprise her in the least.

The prince’s deep, brown eyes, eyes she could remember above her so clearly, were on hers, and if he remembered her, he did not indicate it in any way. His expression flickered briefly at her father’s lack of words following her name, and the lips she knew too well parted.

“I’m sure this one has talents of her own, as well.” He said simply, that accent washing over her.

She hoped he wouldn’t notice her blush, but naturally he did.

“We have prepared your rooms, as well as a feast for this evening.” Her father ignored the comment.

Oberyn nodded. “Ellaria and I should like to settle in after a long journey, but a feast sounds wonderful.”

Servants were ushered forward to lead them away, and Cecilia tried not to think too much about how his eyes lingered on hers as he moved passed her, Ellaria’s eyes also studying her curiously.

She wondered if she knew about that night.

~~~~~~~

The festivities were in full swing, and Cecilia found herself nervous. She watched people dancing from her seat at the end of the table, far away from her father and their royal guests, and waited for her moment.

She hoped nobody would notice, that she could escape before she had to look Oberyn in the eyes again. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to do it if he approached her.

The time came once her sisters were asked to dance by two men from a neighboring family that had come for the feast. With the two older women away from the table, it was acceptable for her to stand as well. She moved slowly, skirting around people in the room until she reached the doors.

The final glance she took wasn’t hesitance to leave this place, she had left it a long time ago, but to make sure there were no eyes on her. As usual, she was forgotten by everyone.

At least that’s what she believed.

The hallway was dark, the torches not having been lit yet since everyone was in the great hall. She didn’t need light to find her way, though.

There was a large portrait hanging on the wall that looked like an ordinary painting of one of her three times great-grandfather, but behind it was a passageway that had been used long ago for allowing servants to navigate the castle easier. It hadn’t been used for that purpose in many years, but she had found herself in it several times.

Before she could so much as slide the portrait aside, a voice stopped her.

“I thought you might save me a dance.”

She stiffened, heart suddenly racing in her chest at his voice. It had haunted her dreams in the best way for many moons. She faced him, knowing this would either delay her escape or stop it all together.

“Your Highness.” She addressed him, dropping into a curtsy quickly.

Even in the hallway only lit by moonlight, he was beautiful.

He stepped forward, a playful smirk on his lips. “I thought I told you to call me Oberyn?” he mused. “Your Highness is so formal, especially for someone who has known me so closely.”

Gods, he must know what his voice did to her, there was no way he didn’t.

Cecilia took a steadying breath. “I did not think you would remember someone like me. I thought it best to pretend formalities were still necessary.”

He was still moving towards her slowly, eyes raking her frame in a way that almost made her shiver.

When he reached her, his hand lifted to brush her hair off her shoulder, the tips of his fingers ghosting against the skin of her neck and setting her on fire. “How could I forget someone like you?”

He said ‘someone’ differently than she did. She did not put much value in it, while he seemed to make the one word seem like everything.

“Will you join me for a dance?” He asked, those haunting eyes flickering over her face before locking on hers.

Her father would certainly love to see his least favorite child dancing with a prince instead of her older sisters, he would be most displeased with her. If only he knew how she had done much more than dance when she had met him, that she carried the proof of that inside her.

As much as she longed to show her family up by dancing with him, she knew she couldn’t if she wanted to leave. Fortunately, she had spent her entire life saying just the right words to placate those around her, to keep them happy enough to leave her be.

“I would love to,” she told him with a small smile. “I just need a moment alone, away from all the noise.”

Unfortunately, he had more to say. “Your father has spent the entire night trying to push your sisters on a prince, and yet he has not said a word of his youngest.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes, instead offering him a small smile. She was sure it didn’t meet her eyes. “My father would never wish to push me on anyone, least of all a prince.”

Oberyn frowned, brows furrowing at her words. He looked confused, even a bit concerned, and he glanced back towards the great hall for a moment before his eyes were on her again. “And why is that?”

Cecilia shrugged one shoulder, trying to fight back the sudden nausea; whether it had anything to do with her condition or with the thought that she had just exposed her father’s hatred towards her to Oberyn wasn’t clear.

“Ask him yourself and I am sure he would have plenty to say about it.” She replied quietly, feeling small even under his warm gaze.

He seemed to notice her change in mood, the frown on his face deepening with worry, and he opened his mouth to speak. “Cecilia—"

She needed to leave, she didn’t have much time and her window was closing. She interrupted him, even though it would be improper in any other setting. “I would very much like to dance with you, Your Highness. Would you wait for me in the great hall?”

Though he had more to say, and still appeared concern about her words, he seemed to understand she wished to be alone. And maybe he sensed something else, because his hand slipped into hers and he brought her knuckles up to brush his lips against them.

“I will wait all night if I have to.” He told her softly, accent lilting and warm eyes caressing the features of her face once more before he backed away. His eyes stayed on hers a moment longer, and then he turned and disappeared back into the party.

She moved quickly, slipping through the opening behind the portrait and letting it fall back into place behind her, a tear slipping down her face as she realized she would never see his beautiful face again.

~~~~~~~

Many moons later, Cecilia was settled into a village a long journey by sea from her own home. She found herself happier around the people in the village than she had ever been at home, and they treated her better than she probably deserved.

The story she had spun, of a husband who had passed and left her with nothing more than the child growing in her womb, was believed by everyone she had told it to. The elderly man and woman she lived next to took good care of her, doting on her the way she had always dreamed her family would. The only thing she hated was the looks her swollen stomach received from those around her, the pity for a woman alone with child. She was close to having the baby, it would only be two more moons if her calculations were correct.

One day, she was returning from the river with a wooden basket of linens when her neighbor approached. The elderly woman gripped her arm firmly, leaning in close to whisper to her.

“There’s a man in your home.” She told her, causing Cecilia’s heart to drop. “I offered him tea at our home while he waited, but he insisted. He seems awfully important.”

Her first thought was that it was her father. While he would not care she was gone, he might care about the way her disappearance had no doubt tarnished his reputation. If he had come to collect her, she was not sure what she would do. Or what he would do when he saw she was with child.

She thanked the woman and waited until she disappeared into her home before she looked down at her stomach. Her dress was a little loose, but not loose enough to hide the roundness there. She held the basket in front of her and hoped it would be enough to conceal it.

But when she entered the house, she was surprised to find it was not her father who had come for her.

Her shock at seeing a prince of all people sitting on the old furniture that he been gifted to her by her neighbors was almost enough to make her drop the basket, but the idea of him knowing was enough for her to tighten her grip.

“Your H-Highness?” she choked out. “What are you doing here?”

Oberyn motioned for the guard that stood on the other side of the room to leave them. Once the man had stepped outside, Oberyn’s eyes were on her. “I waited for our dance, but you never came back.”

She felt only a slight hint of shame. “Is that why you are here? To dance?”

He stood from the dusty lounge and stepped towards her. “I am here because I heard some rumors that concerned me.”

Cecilia gripped the basket tighter.

“The servants at your father’s castle have a hard time keeping their mouths from running. Ellaria heard something quite interesting about you.”

He was stepping closer, and she moved backwards for every step until her back hit the wall and she felt trapped. He knew, how could he know? How could anyone back home have known?

“Your handmaid mentioned that you had not had your cycles in several months. That you had returned from your trip to a neighboring country with something more than what you were supposed to.”

Gods. Why had she not thought of that? She should have pricked her finger and smeared blood on her sheets to hide it. How had she been so stupid? And now what? Would he be angry at her? Would he want to hide her away so nobody would know of his indiscretions?

Her throat was tight, she could not even bring herself to respond, not even to try and deny it.

“If that is true, then you have taken something very important to me, and hidden it away.”

Important?

He was in front of her now, and he reached forward to grasp the basket, pulling it from her arms despite her reluctance to release it. As he placed it on the floor, his eyes were trained on her stomach, where his suspicions had been confirmed. His face didn’t appear to be angry, but perhaps he was just good at hiding his emotions.

“Did you know that night? Is that why you left?” he finally asked, eyes meeting hers once more.

She blinked her burning eyes, a couple of tears dropping down her cheeks as she swallowed. “Yes.”

He studied her for a long while, his face remaining the same as it had been when he had begun speaking. Finally, his hands raised towards her face, causing her to flinch hard. He froze.

“I would not harm you.” He assured her, eyes softening before he brushed the tears off her face gently and cupped her face in his hands. “Why did you run?”

His gentleness was startling and unexpected. “My-My father, he would have been angry. He would have hid me away in some far tower, at least if I hid myself away I could be free.”

Oberyn’s thumb brushed the apple of her cheek before his hands dropped from her face. “I am sorry you had to leave your home because of me. Why did you not tell me that night that you were with child?”

She swallowed, and found her face felt cold and lonely without his hands there. “You are a prince and I am…nobody important. I did not want to ruin your reputation. And I did not think you would care.” She said honestly.

There was a small grin on his face. “You do not know much about me, do you?” he wondered in amusement, turning to wander back to the lounge, although he did not sit. “In Dorne, bastards are cherished as much as those who are born within wedlock. In fact, I have eight bastard daughters of my own, and I love them each very dearly.”

Cecilia tried not to show her shock too much, for fear he might mistake it for something else. Eight daughters? And he genuinely loved them and cared for them? Raised them and acknowledged them as his own? Maybe she had been really wrong about her idea of him.

“I would like for you to come back to Dorne with me.” Oberyn continued.

She finally found her voice. “Y-You want me to go to Dorne?”

He nodded. “I will care for you and the child. A new baby would be very welcome, my youngest is already on her fifth name day.”

“Y-You want me to go to Dorne?” she repeated, still in shock.

Oberyn offered her a gentle smile, returning to stand in front of her and taking her hands in his. His eyes were warm and welcoming. “I would never force you to join me, but believe me when I say that I would very much like to know you. And to know our child.”

It wasn’t what she was expecting when she had found him in her home. She expected anger, expected him to disown the child immediately and never wish to see her again. She did not expect him to clearly love the child so much already, to want them in his life.

She stopped thinking about it and nodded. “O-Okay. I’ll go to Dorne with you.”

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell imagine #pedro pascal imagine #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x oc #oberyn martell smut #pedro pascal smut #mywriting #pedro pascal

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inarizakibabe · 3 years ago

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Changes

As the first prince of his country Suna had just about everything his heart could want. Riches, fine silks and linens, and more food than he could eat. One would expect with a life as luxurious as his he would be happy. Unfortunately his father could see the sadness deep in his son's eyes. Maybe he needed new hobby or more servants to boss around? Then again looking at things carefully the king noticed his son avoided the servants as much as he could. Just what could cheer up his son and bring back the joy in his eyes? Oh! Maybe that could work.

"You called for me father?"

"Yes Rintaro. I've noticed your sour mood these past few months and I think I know what could make it better." the king smiled down at his son. "I remember entering a funk as you young kids say and your grandfather threw a ball in my honor and I ended up meeting your mother."

Suna fought hard to hide the disgust creeping onto his face. Surely his father didn't really think he wanted to meet someone.

"So that's why three days from now we will have a ball and invite all eligible maidens to attend. Maybe I'll be able to see you smile again,"

"Um father with all due respect I don't really see how a ball will improve my funk as you called it. Maybe if I took a ride around the forest I'll feel better?" Suna hoped his father would get the message but knowing how stubborn he was he'll most likely be engaged three days from now. "I'll even bring my attendants to make sure I'm alright."

"Nonsense going for a ride isn't what you need. Trust me on this Rintaro. A ball is exactly what you need. You're dismissed. You have a ball to prepare for." The king said before turning back to the papers on his desk.

Suna sighed and left his father's office. Maybe if he ran away nobody would miss him. Or the entire kingdom would be put on lock down until he was found. He couldn't put his people through that so there was only one thing to do.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next day Suna found himself taking a walk in the garden. If all goes to plan he wouldn't have to propose and maybe he could get the freedom he was craving. Sure castle life was fun but when you have people constantly telling you how to live and doing every thing fro you it can get tiring. Before he turned eighteen he didn't have as many responsibilities as he does now. Life was simple he would take lessons during the day and after a certain time he was free to do what he wanted until dinner time.

Now he's stuck behind a desk everyday taking on the tasks of the kingdom he father didn't want to do. If he got to leave the castle anymore it was for business and once all was settled he'd come right back home and behind the four walls of his personal office again. His home had become a prison and his office his cell.

"You know if you continue to frown at the ground it's less likely to open up and take you away from here."

Suna looked up and found one of his attendants speaking with him. He had two personal attendants who miraculously happened to be twins. They met each other at the age of six and have been together ever since. The one speaking to him now was the blonde one Atsumu which meant his brother Osamu, with gray hair, was most likely harrassing the kitchen staff.

"That sounds like a dream come true right now. Don't you feel suffocated here? You've lived here your whole and trained to work for me. Was it something you always wanted or was this chosen for you?" Suna asked.

"Sounds like someone is scared of their responsibilities. Alright Rintaro tell me what's wrong." Atsumu offered Suna an encouraging smile until he noticed the deadpan look on Suna's face. "You don't have to look at me like that you know."

"No offense but, actually take as much offense as you can from this but last I checked advice giving wasn't something you were capable of. Where's Osamu?"

"Looking up one of the maid's skirts. Now what do you mean I'm not a good advice giver? I happen to give great advice to people in need." Atsumu huffed.

"Right right remind me again why ten percent of the palace guards quit after you left 'inspiring' words with them." Suna mused.

"Be glad you're a prince." Atsumu muttered dejectedly.

"Threatening the crowned prince? That's grounds for dungeon time. Let me know if you want gray or white sheets." Suna laughed as he continued in the direction he was headed before.

"I'll take green. Look the fact of the matter is you're clearly not happy about something and as one of your attendants it's my job to fix that. I can get your horse saddled if you want and tell your father you had an entire platter filled with cheese." Usually Suna would grimace at the mention of cheese but a ride through the kingdom sounded more like what he needed.

"Thanks but no thanks, after the last time my father would kill me if he found out I ran off again. If you did want to cheer me up you could figure out a way to get him to cancel this ball he's throwing in my honor."

"You know as well as I do just how stubborn your old man is. You'd have better luck raising the dead than changing his mind. Look on the bright side. There'll be cake." Atsumu smiled at Suna who in turn frowned at him.

"For saying that you get purple sheets."

"Wait! Let's talk this out!"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The following day Suna found himself in his room being fitted for a new suit. In the twenty minutes he's been standing there he's been pricked by pins three times.

"Last warning tailor. The next time you hurt the prince you'll be charged for treason." Today Osamu was keeping Suna company

''Forgive me your highness. You're more built than I'm use to dealing with. Rest assured this suit will be the most beautiful suit you'll ever wear." the tailor put another pin in the fabric he was working with and prayed he hadn't pricked Suna again. "If I may ask, what occasion is this ball in honor of? The last celebration we had was your eighteenth birthday and I believe your birthday isn't until next year so what's the joyous occasion?"

"You'll find out the day after the ball until then please focus on leaving skin on my body." Suna sighed.

"Of course your highness my apologies again."

"Tsumu talked to me yesterday. What's going on with you?"

"He talks too much. He simply saw me walking in the garden nothing else."

"Oh yeah? I heard that princess you met in Shektor is coming tomorrow. Should I make arrangements that she's your first dance of the evening?" Osamu smirked at Suna who scowled at him. "Oh dear your highness what an expression. Be careful Princess Tsumaki doesn't see it she might think one of the wind goblins is tickling your nose again. In fact I'll write a letter to her right now to bring her special medicine to cure you!"

"Osamu you bastard! Ow! Alright fine enough I'll answer both your questions just stop tormenting me! I should have both of you locked up for treason." Suna growled trying to keep the parts if his sanity he still had.

The tailor and Osamu smirked at each other as Suna began to speak again. "I just felt trapped behind these walls recently. Is everything I'm doing really important? I sit down and sigh papers all day either about farm rations or mining and I just don't see the need to do any of that. The people know what they need to survive and they know how to do what they need to survive so why should I waste time looking over it for them? They're not children who need to be supervised they'd be well off without me. The again if I don't do that then what is my purpose here? What am I suppose to do with my life? Am I just the face the people use when they need something? No wait that's my father's job so I'm just here. I make agreements and trade deals with other countries and attend diplomat meetings my father can't make it to. If I didn't do any of that then I'd be a regular boy in the kingdom maybe doing stable work. Sounds better than being the one everyone blames for everything if things go wrong. My father apparently doesn;t know me very well and thought I was lonely so he's throwing a ball for me to find a wife. What's not to love about that?"

Osamu sighed and pulled one of Suna's cheeks. "First don't talk about yourself like that. Like it or not this is how you were born and there's literally nothing you can do about that. It doesn't matter what kind of job you do even if all you did was tell someone to move a chair you still did something and it benefited somebody in the long run. You can't see yourself for the things you do but me and everyone else around you can. You just need to look at things from a different point of view."

Suna looked away from both of them and sighed while taking in Osamu's words. Maybe all he did need was to view things from a different perspective. Yeah maybe that could work. "Ow!"

"You didn't have to stick him again Mori." Osamu sweatdropped.

"Nope that time definitely was an accident. Please try not to move your highness." Mori smiled innocently.

Or maybe his tailor would take him out first. Whichever came first he guessed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The day of the ball finally arrived and carriage after carriage arrived at the castle holding nobles and royals from near and far. Suna was in his room again watching from the window as carriages entered the palace grounds. Maybe if he's lucky he could make a run for it during the party and jump the fence to get away from everybody to maybe save himself for a little while. Or maybe one of guards sees him and tries to follow him and ruins his plans.

"Just sit through the ball and I'm sure your father will let you leave for an hour tomorrow."

"Yeah right after his engagement announcement. Listen Rin if you don't want to do it then I don't see why you should."

"Don't listen to Tsumu. We'll help you if you need a breather every now and again but we can't cover fro you the entire night."

"Or eat these two slices of cheesecake right now and be excused for the rest of the night." Atsumu suggested wiggling his eyebrows.

It was a pretty solid plan but a night of pain wasn't worth missing the ball. His father might only postpone it and he'd be confined to his room until everything passes.

"Well gentlemen it's my last night a single man. If I'm lucky Tsumaki won't be my future bride. The small bout of freedom I had was nice but it's time for me to be a big boy and do what I have to. Once I'm king the first thing I'm doing is making sure Asami doesn't go through this." Suna sighed.

"I doubt she'd have a problem with it. Which girl doesn't want to be entertained by a handsome man? Bonus points cause he's rich." Atsumu shrugged.

Suna's eyebrow raised in confusion, "Are you calling the princess a money whore?"

Atsumu chuckled softly and smiled at Suna. "You and I both know that's not what I meant. You're really the only person who has a problem with palace life. Asami is actually looking forward to her happily ever after which is something you need to start doing. You can hate it but if it's something that has to be done then you have to suck it up and get it over with."

"You can say that because it's not your life. I need to teach Asami about how dirty boys are. Osamu you'll be the example for what you and Mori did yesterday. Who could've imagined my attendant and the tailor conspiring against me. The mutiny." Suna shook his head in mock disappointment.

"Be disappointed all you want. I did what I had to do. Now you have to get ready for tonight. If you need us you know where we'll be." Osamu left with Atsumu right behind him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*

Night fell quickly and two hours into the party Suna finally met all the young women his father had invited. Many were kind and some more beautiful than necessary but all quickly looked away when Princess Tsumaki approached him. The night continued on as his father hoped with Suna being forced to mingle with everyone present. Eventually his social meter began to run out and he retreated to a hidden balcony for air.

A sound close by caught his attention and Suna found a young woman who seemed to be in the same situation as him. If he remembered he remembered her name was (y/n) third princess of a neighboring country. Suna tried to sneak away before you could see him but alas luck wasn't on his side.

"Your highness good night."

Suna counted to three then slowly faced you with a friendly smile, "Good night my lady. I hope you're enjoying the party."

"It's lovely and so is your country. Please give your father my thanks for inviting my family."

"I can assure you he'll give his thanks for attending. If I'm not being too forward may I ask why you're out here instead of enjoying the food?" Hopefully pressuring you like this will give Suna the quiet time he was hoping for.

"Forgive my rudeness but the amount of people inside made the room a little stuffy. I came out here for a little air." you smiled at him.

"Fair enough. I hope the air is to your liking."

"With all due respect your highness it's been a long night and it's exhausting speaking like this so if you don't mind we can call each other old acquaintances and speak like old friends would. It would be an honor if you would call me (y/n)."

Suna blinked at your request and fought the grin trying to rise on his face. "If that's so then feel free to call me Rintaro. Blame my father for taking things the wrong way and forcing us all to go through this."

"We can't really fight what our parents want us to do. Comes with the title really. You seemed upset earlier should I assume that you don't really want to get married?"

Suna sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't mind getting married I just don't think I should get married because my father thought I was in a funk as he called it. Sounds cliche but I actually believe in meeting someone and falling in love."

You blinked at the prince and giggled. "You're very cute Rintaro. I like to believe everyone wants to fall in love that way. Nobody wants to have their partner chosen for them. What good is being married if you're gonna be miserable everyday."

"If it means I don't have to sit through marriage consultations and weird balls like this one then I may just prefer the other way."

"Careful what you say. I think we both know your father is capable of that. I saw princess Tsumaki looking for her Rinnepoo earlier. Maybe I should let his majesty know you've chosen someone." You looked up to find Suna pouting at you. "Careful your highness they may send you back to etiquette classes for making such a face."

"Good evening Prince Rintaro. It's a pleasure to make your aquaintance tonight. I do hope that-"

"Ok! That's enough! Don't you dare repeat that."

Suna smirked and hid his mouth behind his hand. "Pardon me princess. I just found your greeting to me this evening amusing. I mean no harm it's just you were so cute. How many times did you practiced that?"

"Whatever. Let's see what you would do if the roles were reversed."

"Sorry princess but this isn't about me." Suna giggled.

"So you can smile and laugh. I almost thought you were emotionally constipated. Is that the funk your father thought you were in?"

Suna sighed being reminded of the situation he was in. "It's more than that but nobody would understand."

You smiled at him encouragingly. "The whole you're royalty so you have absolutely no reason to not be happy thing?"

"Exactly that. It's gonna sound stupid but I guess I miss the freedom I had before I turned eighteen. Well more I don't see the need for me to do the things I'm doing."

"Ah you feel monarchy should be abolished. Look at it this way crackers taste good on their own but with cheese the taste is elevated. Cheese and crackers is superior to just plain old crackers by themselves or just cheese by itself. Yes your kingdom could probably prosper on it's own but there are situations the people shouldn't handle on their own. Budget distribution, land distribution, diplomatic matters and many other things. We exist to keep harmony in the kingdom. Imagine leaving children to raise themselves. Many would unfortunately die before reaching a certain age. Think of your kingdom as your very own children. They're self sufficient yes but without you to guide them in the things they don't understand they'll be hurt. You can still do the things you love but your children come first. If you don't take care of them then someone may just take them away. "

Suna sighed. "I can understand that but I just don't understand why it has to be me."

"I don't understand why it can't be you. Anyone could've been chosen for the job but you were chosen. I don't know you well enough to speak on certain things but I have heard rumors that you basically run half of your kingdom on your own. The fact that nothing has fallen apart shows that you're more than competent to do your job. You need to have more confidence in yourself. I've only known you for a short time but I can already tell you're a wonderful person. Don't sell yourself short." You smiled at Suna who looked at you unsure.

Suna shrugged, "If you say so (y/n). Are you hungry?"

"I'm alright for now. But I do think we need to get back before someone misses us."

"What's the rush? You know the reason for this party."

"Is that you asking for my company your highness?"

"I didn't hear a no princess." Suna smirked when you giggled.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A few months later Suna found himself sitting in his office again. He was hard at work but this time with a slight smile on his face. A knock on the door took him away from the work he was doing and Atsumu stepped into his office.

Atsumu placed a sandwich and a cup of tea on the table in front of Suna "You seem to be in a better mood these days. What's your secret?"

"Sorry but secrets are secret for a reason."

"Keep your secrets then. Simply means I can't tell you the one I just heard." Atsumu smirked.

"I heard the dungeons don't have heat." Suna shrugged.

"Really? Just make sure my sheets are red."

Suna laughed and shook his head, "You little turd nugget. What's going on?"

"Alright fine but only because you asked so rudely. I heard your favorite princess is coming by later today. Maybe if you finish all your work you can be at the doors to greet her."

"Lucky for me this was the last page I had to look over. Prepare two horses and I'll make sure your sheets are maroon."

"And you call me the turd nugget." Atsumu rolled his eyes. "His majesty said you can do whatever you want for the rest of the day once you stop keeping him in suspense."

"Sounds good. Thanks for lunch."

Things were definitely starting to look up and with one simple question later tonight Suna's life was about to change again. This time for the better.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #suna rintaro #Suna Rintarou #Suna #suna x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintarou x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyu x reader

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mlm-writer · 4 years ago

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GOT Loads (Jackson Wang / GOT7 x Male!Reader)

Pairing: Jackson Wang/GOT7 x Cis!Male!Reader Rating: Explicit Words: 2016 Summary: Your boyfriend Jackson is a good lad and shares you with his fellow members.... it’s a GOT7 gangbang. Note: Forgive me father fore I have sinned. Also this is 100% based on the headcanons I found on Tumblr, because I don’t actually know these guys, aside from that they make good music. This was a request and I aim to please. Tags: Gangbang, breeding, multiple creampies, multiple orgasms, facefucking, praise, cum eating, edging, degradation, rough sex, voyeurism, fingering, oral, god this is filthy, no beta we die like men

EDIT: There is now also a sequel

Three fingers grazed your insides, stretching your ass open for all the cock it would have to take later. You were on the bed, supported by pillows with a sight that some people would kill for. Wherever you looked, hard cocks were stroked right before your eyes, making your mouth water and your ass feel very empty. You let out a whine when your boyfriend removed his slick fingers, making your ass gape.

“You’re ready, baby?” Jackson cooed as he rubbed the head of his cock over your open and exposed hole. You nodded, muttering pleads to be filled with your boyfriend’s cock while his co-members stroked theirs in front of you, waiting their turn. You did not know how he got them all to do this, but you didn’t care. Being stuffed full of cum had always been a fantasy of yours and tonight it was going to happen.

Jackson eased you into it, cock slick and pumping as fast as it could with the resistance it met. Even after being stretched to three fingers, you still had a tight grip on Jackson’s dick, the girth sending you to a plane of pleasure. “That’s my good boy,” Jackson mused as he thrusted steadily into you, “remember you can cum whenever you want, but we will not stop until we all have cum into this pretty ass.” Jackson squeezed your bottom, his thrusts becoming more forceful, after he added more lube and found the glide to be easier.

He worked you up to a fast pace, the sound of skin slapping joining the pants and slight moans of the men around you. You cried a little from the mixture of pain and pleasure, whining as he fucked you just right. “Please slow down, I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered, but he did not slow down. You came on the pillows, before he even finished. Jackson pistoned his hips into yours through your orgasm, bringing you more tears and more pleasure. He finished inside you, as promised.

“Youngjae, come on, before it starts to drip out of him.” You had your eyes still closed as you felt your boyfriend pull out. You clenched around nothing to keep him cum in, but relaxed when you felt another man’s cock press against the ring of muscle. He was slick with lube and slipped right in, fucking you almost as hard as Jackson had not even a minute ago. You were overstimulated, moaning pathetically while feeling like you were being used and you loved that idea.

“You’re gonna be a good cumdump for us, aren’t you?” You heard Youngjae speak into your ear. You hummed, not really able to form words. He lifted your head by pulling your hair. Jackson was right in front of you, cock semi-hard and smirking at you. “You’re such a good slut, agreeing on being used by your boyfriend’s friends while he watches. I’m impressed.”

Youngjae had slowed down enough for you to become painfully aware of what you must look like and what you agreed to. You had Jackson’s, your boyfriend’s, seed inside you, being fucked deeper inside by one of his friends, your friends. They all could hear you moan at whichever cock entered you, see you being turned on by being used and filled. Your cock jerked against the pillows, nothing coming out, but wanting to cum again.

Youngjae filled you before you even realised he was close, your mind too occupied by the situation you were in. You only realised the switch when he pulled out and you desperately clenched your ass to keep all the cum inside. Whoever was next removed the pillows, easily slipped inside you and held your upper body up by your hair. His cock was a little smaller than the ones you had before, but fucked you a lot faster as well. “You don’t get to hide your face or your cock anymore,” BamBam hissed in your ear. You whined, feeling exposed. Your cock was still hard, twitching as it tried to cum again, without any stimulus. Not touching yourself had been a rule. If you wanted your cock to be touched, you needed to ask someone else to do it.

Your sweaty body was on display, cock bouncing with each rough trust. “He’s drooling for cock in his mouth,” BamBam teasingly proclaimed as the hand in your hair found your chin, holding you there for leverage.

“I can help with that.” You placed your hands on the bed when you were pulled down by your hair, Jaebum’s cock pressing against your lips. You opened your mouth, letting him in. The two men bounced your between them, one roughly fucking your ass, while you other forced his length further and further down your throat. You choked, but Jaebum didn’t seem to care, spreading the saliva over your face with his cock, before attempting to thrust deeper.

“Look at yourself, both holes filled with dick. I think this is the best use of you, don’t you agree?” You tried to nod in response to BamBam, but Jaebum held your head in place, fucking your mouth in a similar way BamBam was fucking your ass.

“Remember the rule is to cum in his ass,” your boyfriend oh-so helpfully reminded the man facefucking you. Jaebum reassured him that he would hold back until he could shoot his load into your ass. Your mouth watered at the promise, your face covered in your own saliva. BamBam granted you the third load of that night and was almost immediately shoved aside by Jaebum, who was incredibly close from throatfucking you and reached orgasm with just a few thrusts into your ass, filling it with both semen and your own saliva. Jaebum was the first to be unrestrainedly vocal about his orgasm.

“Wish it could’ve been your throat, but maybe we make that the rule next time,” he chuckled as he slowly slipped out of you. You tilted your hips, clenching your ass to keep the seed inside until the next cock was circling your hole. You were too focused on keeping everything inside, that you forgot to unclench when you felt the pressure of another dick.

A loud slap echoed through the room, leaving a sting on your ass. “Come on, let me in, pretty boy,” Jinyoung whispered in your ear. You took a deep breath, relaxing your muscles on the exhale. Jinyoung was gentle, very aware of the beating your hole had endured all night. His fingers dug into your ass, leaving bruises as he slowly dragged his length in and out of your heat. The sensual roll of his hips drove you crazy, but he kept you on your toes with the occasional spank.

“That’s right, pretty, relax,” he whispered, his breath growing heavier as your ass got redder. You were always a fan of rougher sex, but somehow the slow pace brought you close to your second orgasm. You whined, tears falling from your eyes as your hard dick humped air. You were almost there, when Jinyoung came before you did and pulled out to the head. You begged for release, while he lazily milked his cock inside you. “You still got two more to go,” he cooed, before giving you one last hard slap on your cheeks, “so I would hold it in if I were you.”

You begged to be touched, ass clenching automatically when Jinyoung pulled out. Your requests remained unanswered as you were flipped onto your sore and stinging ass, a slick cock entering you. Your eyes went wide at the sudden intrusion, locking with those of Yugyeom. “Aww are you a little sore?” He teased, setting a medium pace that felt like being hammered already, but you knew he was building up to it and you weren’t sure if you could handle it.

You shook your head in reply. “No, very,” you groaned, your ass painful, but your insides feeling full and pleasured. He chuckled and took a hold of your cock. You cried out. It felt good; so, so good and you begged him to stroke you. He just held your hard dick in his grasp, hips rolling against yours and going faster. “Please, please, I just wanna cum,” you cried out, vision getting distorted from pleasure, your body jerking.

“You will… eventually.” He smirked in your face, thrusting roughly into you, but not going too fast. The force of this thrusts moved his hand a little over your cock, but it wasn’t enough. You let your head fall, looking at your boyfriend, upside down with pleading eyes.

“Aww he’s been such a good boy. Let him. It feels good when he comes and you’re inside him,” Jackson mused as he swatted Yugyeom’s hand away and took a hold of your cock. You moaned at the relief, thanking him through gritted teeth and loud moans. Jackson leaned down, giving your ear a lick. “Come on, baby, cum for me,” he spoke into your ear, voice a little raspy and oh so sexy. You screamed as you followed his command, staining your own chest and his hand.

You could hear Yugyeom moan, but you weren’t focused on him, but the fingers Jackson pushed into your mouth. He fed you your own cum, praising you as your sore cock pushed out a little more. When you finally had swallowed all of your own cum, you realised it was no longer Yugyeom fucking you. When your eyes left your boyfriend’s handsome face, you locked eyes with Mark. He looked red in the face and was sweating a little. “You’ve done well, just one more,” he whispered for only you to hear. You were grateful for his slow pace, but by judging his face it was for himself as well. “I know you’re sore, but you can take it, right?” You nodded, relaxing in his embrace as he slow-fucked into you. His cock felt like it was on fire inside you, but it was no longer the stretch that caused the burning sensation. In fact, you were pretty certain that your ass was so open, Jackson and his massive cock would meet no resistance.

“Please cum in me, Mark,” you whispered back, needing his load as much as you needed it to be over. You loved this, but you came twice and your ass was sore. Mark was gentle, praising you for how well you were holding up and how good you had been all night. Your head was swimming, you mouth opening on instinct when you felt another cock against it. You opened your eyes, moaning when you saw Jackson. He fucked your mouth, shallowly, the head of his cock pushing against your cheek. You tried to suck on it as much as you could, but it was hard to focus with the slow drag of Mark’s cock against your insides.

Jackson pulled out, rubbing his cock right over your face. “The… rule…” You muttered, hoping he would get it. The wolfish grin on his face told you he did. He told Mark to speed it up, but as soon as he did, he came inside you. He stayed like that for a little, coming down from finally having an orgasm after edging himself all night. Jackson pushed the head of his cock in after Mark pulled out, giving you one last load for that night.

While Jackson was taking some pictures of your ass for you to enjoy later, Mark put your head in his lap, stroking your hair. “Well done,” you sighed as you smiled at him, whimpering when Youngjae and Jinyeong spread your ass apart, so Jackson could record their cum dripping out of you. You pushed, putting your last strength into putting on a show for the camera. You could hear the liquid leave your ass, the pressure inside dissipating.

The boys helped getting you and the bed all cleaned up. Being bathed and dressed went by in a blur and your eyes finally closed when you were back in bed, clean and resting in the arms of the man you loved.

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foilfreak · 3 years ago

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Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 2

Warning: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(Link to ao3 version in comments below)

Chapter 2:

The journey to Mother Miranda’s personal laboratory was much shorter and more enjoyable than the original walk to the meeting site, in Salvatore’s humble opinion.

Mother Miranda was mostly quiet, distant, and preoccupied throughout the duration of the walk, even more so than normal. That being said however, while this sort of behavior would usually spell disaster for whichever one of the 4 lords was forced to be in her presence during these sorts of moods, in this situation, Mother Miranda did not appear tense or agitated or hostile like she usually would be. Just lost in thought. As though she were only quiet because she was too busy thinking about something else to speak. She didn’t even seem to mind his various attempts at starting conversation, which surprised, but endlessly delighted, the mutant man.

‘Mother must be in a very good mood today. She hasn’t hit me or told me to shut up the whole time we’ve been together. Maybe she’s made another breakthrough with the cadou? I’d certainly be very happy if I were in her shoes’ Salvatore excitedly thought to himself as the woman in question stepped forward to unlock and open the large steel door of her personal laboratory, allowing Salvatore to step into the facility before closing and locking it again behind her.

“Moreau, do you recall the set of mutation experiments I began at the beginning of last year?” The raven mother asked, turning around and beginning to quickly make her way down the long, dark corridor.

“Y-you mean… the o-ones with the new c-cadou strain th-that I… that I d-developed… f-for you?” Salvatore stutters, breath labored and body struggling to keep up with the taller woman’s vastly larger steps.

“Correct” Mother Miranda says, turning a corner. “As impressed as I was with the final results of this particular strain, I’m afraid it still isn’t good enough. None of the subjects I implanted with cadou last year turned out to be favorable candidates.”

Salvatore stops in his tracks, a look of horror and agony on his face as news that he’d failed mother once again practically tears him apart from the inside out. “O-oh Mother… I-im so s-s-sorry to h-hear that… b-but don’t w-worry… I’ll-I’ll try h-harder next t-time… I w-won’t fail y-you again Mother, so p-please… please j-just give me a-another chance to get it r-right… i b-beg of y-you…”

Mother Miranda stops and turns toward the mutated lord, staring at him in silence as he drops to his knees and grovels at her feet, begging desperately for his failures to be forgiven.

“Off your knees, Moreau, this behavior is unbecoming of a Lord such as yourself. Besides, I never said that you were the one to blame for the lack of successful results, nor am I necessarily displeased by the fact that these experiments yielded failed vessels.”

Salvatore allows his gaze to rise to his mother’s face, where, true to her words, the parts of Miranda’s face that Salvatore could make out from behind her mask did not appear marred with the familiar expressions of anger and disappointment that the 4 lords were usually met with after another round of failed vessels.

“Y-you’re… you’re not upset with m-me?” The deformed man asks, his voice laced with shock and disbelief.

“No, my child, I’m not upset with you. While these experiments may have ended in failure, they did provide me with useful information that may prove to be pertinent to our mission in the near future. In fact, as I said earlier, the reason why I’ve brought you here is because I want to give you a gift, as a reward for all your incredible work. Did you expect me to be upset with you simply because this round proved unsuccessful as well? Do you really think so poorly of your loving mother, who works tirelessly to ensure her children are happy and rewarded for all their faith and trust in me?” Mother Miranda sniveled pitifully, turning her gaze away in mock dejection as Salvatore, horrified that he’d insulted and hurt her somehow, scrambles to his feet, gently taking both of Miranda’s hands into his own and holding the supple skin to his bloated and deformed face, desperately hoping this would comfort her.

“No no no no, o-of course n-not, Mother… I-I’d never expect s-something like th-that from y-you… and-and I k-know better… b-better than a-anyone… just h-how h-hard you w-work… not j-just on y-your experiments… but f-for all o-of us… too… you l-l-love us… you… love ME… I-I’ll always love y-you, Mother… always” Salvatore blurts, stumbling over his words as he tries desperately to comfort Mother Miranda, an effort he’s seemingly rewarded for, when Miranda takes one of her hands away and brings it back to the top of Salvatore’s head, once again gently brushing her hand against it.

Salvatore’s knees nearly give out from under him as the heavenly sensation washes throughout his body like a raging typhoon, leaving him feeling tired and weak yet hungry and wanting for more, though whatever that “more” was, Salvatore was quick to beat it back down deep within himself, knowing this was neither the time nor the place for him to be entertaining such… primal desires about someone like Mother Miranda, no matter how little he intends to act on them.

“Thank you, Moreau. You always know exactly what to say to make Mother feel better. You’re such a good boy” Mother Miranda says, making sure to put extra emphasis onto the last two words as she reaches forward and pulls Salvatore closer to her.

“G-g-g-gggg… good… boy… me?” Salvatore chokes, tears beginning to fill his eyes as Mother Miranda’s arms come to wrap around him, pushing the deformed man’s face to lean against the soft, feathery material of her bosom.

“Yes, Moreau. You’ve always been very special to me. From the day I met you, you’ve been such a good, well-behaved boy that I never have to worry about” Miranda begins, her face blank and expressionless as she passionlessly strokes Salvatore’s face. “No matter how simple the task, those 3 are always making mistakes of some kind and forcing me to come and clean up their messes after them, especially that snake Heisenberg. But you? No, never you, Moreau, not my special, perfect little boy who always tries his best to make Mother happy. Do you enjoy making Mother happy, Moreau?”

“Y-y-yES! Of-of c-course I do” Salvatore moans, his voice slightly muffled by Miranda’s chest as he violently nods his head in affirmation, tears freely falling from his eyes as his head swims deliriously from the endless wave of kind words and gentle touches.

“Good! I always knew you did. And for that, I'm going to reward you with something very special. Something to… keep you busy... while I’m away for a little while” The raven mother coos again.

Salvatore stops for a moment when the meaning of Miranda’s words finally registers in his brain. “While… w-while you’re… away? You’re l-leaving us?” Salvatore asks, his voice growing increasingly distressed with each word.

“Only for a short time, hopefully,” Mother Miranda answers, “but yes, at the end of this month, I will be leaving the village in order to attend to some very important business I have. I’m not sure how my journey will fare, however I'm optimistic that it will be the key necessary to finally getting my Ev- uh… pardon me; the key to finally achieving our goal of creating a perfect vessel. Doesn’t that sound nice, Moreau?”

“It-it does” the deformed man says quietly, still put off by the mention of Mother leaving, but not wanting to put a damper on his mother’s incredibly rare good mood. “But… where is i-it… th-that you’ll be g-going… an-and for h-how long?”

“Just down the mountain to pay someone a visit, however I have no idea when I'll be back. That will depend on how successful my mission goes, I suppose.”

Silence falls over the two as Salvatore, still upset by the news that Mother Miranda would be leaving, continues to take in the comfort and warmth of his Mother’s arms for just a moment longer, selfishly wishing that Mother held him more often. Eventually however, Mother Miranda does pull back from the superficial embrace, gesturing for Salvatore to follow her once more, which the deformed man begins to do without question.

“Of the 4 of you, you’re the last one to come and pick your gift,” Miranda says, unaware of the visible slump that Salvatore’s shoulders take on upon hearing this. “However, despite there only being one option left, it would appear as though your siblings have decided to spare you their usual games of trickery this time around. If anything, I think you might be the one to have ended up with the best deal after everything is said and done.”

Salvatore looks up at Mother Miranda with an expression of mild confusion, wondering what on earth she could mean by that. His musings are quickly interrupted however, when the two enter a large room filled with various pods.

“Of the 22 test subjects we started with last year, only 13 were genetically compatible with the cadou parasite, and even then, only 4 ended up surviving the full mutation phase. Despite their impressively stable conditions, they still aren’t suitable vessels for my purposes, however I felt as though it would be such a waste to just do away with them. So, with that in mind, I’ve decided that my gift to you all, before I must leave you for a time, is to give one test subject to each of you.”

“G-give? You’re… y-you’re giving us t-test subjects?” Salvatore repeats dumbly, not certain he understood where this was going.

“Correct” Mother Miranda affirms. “This is easily the most successful batch of mutations we’ve seen to date, and given the amount of time and effort I poured into making sure these last 4 survived until now, I’d at least like to see some use gotten out of them before they die or suddenly lose control of their mutations and go rogue.”

“Like… l-like what?” The hooded man asks nervously.

Miranda merely shrugs her shoulders, uncaring. “Anything you like. Housekeeper. Playmate. Labrat. Partner in Crime. Whatever it is you desire of your gift, you may have without question. And in the event they refuse you… well, you’ll at least have a fun little toy to chase after for a little while.”

“I... see...” Salvatore says quietly, growing less and less excited about this whole “gift” thing, now that he knows that his gift is just another person.

Another person to scream and wail at how unbelievably hideous and disgusting of a monster he looks, no doubt.

Without another word, Miranda heads over to the large control table located in the middle of the room, pressing a few buttons before 4 of the many identical pods begin moving toward them. Steam pours out the tops and bottoms of the metal pods as the large capsules slowly finish lowering themselves from their hung pedestals, displaying them directly in front of Miranda and Salvatore. The man in question stands anxiously in front of the still sealed door, nervously fidgeting with his fingers as he waits for Mother to show him his gift, a myriad of thoughts and fears and worries flying throughout the mutant man’s mind.

“The first 3 have already been chosen by your siblings, but the one on the far right is all yours” Miranda says, pushing another button that causes the singular pod in question to click open, its door slowly beginning to rise upward toward the ceiling.

Salvatore nods in understanding as he tries to avoid watching the door of the pod open, instead hyper focusing on what Miranda is saying as the tension in the room becomes so thick it feels as if it could be cut with a dull knife.

After what felt like an eternity and a half of waiting, the pod door finally finished opening, and in that exact moment, as the disfigured man’s gaze finally fell upon the sight of his gift for the first time, his eyes went wide in shock, his mouth dropped open in disbelief, and his hands fell limply to his side in complete and utter bewilderment at the sight that stood before him.

“That… th-that’s… for me?” Salvatore manages to croak out, his throat suddenly dry as a desert and the air from his lungs having left him the second before.

Raising his hand up toward the creature wired into the pod, the hooded man finds himself unable to look away, feeling almost mesmerized as his mind struggles to figure out whether all this is really happening, or if he’d finally succumbed to the insanity of his condition and dreamt all this up as a sick and twisted way of coping with his soul crushing loneliness. Either one was just as likely at this point.

“I’m sure you’ll still be quite pitiful on the day I have to leave, but at least this way you’ll have something to keep yourself occupied with until I return, yes?” Mother Miranda says smugly, clearly pleased by his reaction. “So, what do you think, Moreau? Do you like the gift I’ve gotten for you?”

It wasn't until after several moments of silence that Salvatore finally responded. After stuttering and slurring unintelligibly over several sentences worth of responses, 2 words, and 2 words alone, finally managed to tumble from the mutant man’s lips, his eyes shining as he finally reached forward enough to slowly and carefully intertwine his fingers with the small and delicate hand of the beautiful young woman that slept peacefully inside the pod.

“She’s perfect!”

45 notes · View notes

theoldgaylion · 3 years ago

Note

For the doriax prompts 👀 "seeking each others hands while sleeping" or "dancing together".

Whichever sounds more fun :))

Read it on ao3

"That was kind of Mr. Gilmore to invite us, don't you think?" Fearne asked in her usual hushed tone as she finished braiding Opal's long silky hair, who was sitting on a velvety dormeuse adorned with golden details and attentively following her movements.

"Especially after the troubles we caused him." Orym gloomily mused as he leant against the wall next to where the faun and the girl stood, one hand reflexively resting on his hip as if ready to act on whatever upcoming threat, despite not carrying any kind of weapons on his person.

Sitting, too, but in a little, uncomfortable armchair, though as luxurious as the dormeuse, in the farthest corner of the room, was Dorian. As he was trying to not have a panic attack and thus ruin everybody's feisty mood, he barely registered his friends chatting in the background. He was overwhelmed, the rooms and the main hall outside brimmed with people, from enriched nobles to foreign merchants to powerful wizards, and that feeling of inadequacy struck him as fiercely as ever. Although the possibilities were close to none, he was also afraid to come across his relatives, whether distant or not. He didn't want to meet them, he didn't want his friends to meet them, not when he left that life behind his back.

His mind was spiraling as he stared at a blank spot outside the wide window on the opposite wall, nervously twisting his fingers.

"Free food and alcohol are always appreciated." Dariax commented somewhere near his right, he could see him in his peripheral vision as he stubbornly tried to keep his unruly tuft behind his ear with poor results, standing in front of a wall length mirror, his tongue sticking out between his lips and his brow furrowed in concentration.

"We really owe him a gift, though." the halfling sighed and Fearne giggled amusedly as she wrapped a beautiful, bright pink ribbon around the end of Opal's braid.

"Maybe next time we're on an adventure, we can bring something back for him." she suggested, her face lighting up as a soft smile curled up her lips.

"That's a good idea. But!" and the girl stood up from the dormeuse before declaring, hands on her hips and chest puffing out, "But now we must party and enjoy free alcohol and food, as our winged boy here suggested.".

"Yes!" the dwarf exclaimed and winked at her through the mirror, before returning to his previous task.

"Hey, do you need a hand with that?" Opal asked him as she walked over to his side. "I have some wax that'd do the work." she wiggled her eyebrows as she fished out a vial out of her high-heeled opalescent boots.

Dariax gasped as he eyed the vial, then nodded. "You're a lifesaver." he thanked her before Opal uncorked the vial and let him get some wax to do his hair properly.

The genasi jumped a little in his seat when Fearne craned her neck to look him in the eyes, then heaved out a relieved breath. He didn't even hear her approach, so lost in his thoughts as he was.

"Sorry, I didn't want to scare you, Dorian, but I was wondering…" she tapped her lower lip with a finger as she studied him. "Would you like a ponytail, perhaps? You'd look great in it." she smiled down at him as she unwrapped another ribbon from her own hair.

Dorian blinked in confusion, caught by surprise, before his gaze bounced back and forth between Fearne and the ribbon she was now holding.

"W-why not?" the genasi accepted in a weak tone as he shrugged his shoulders.

Fearne just chuckled at that, then waited for him to scoot forward with the armchair before positioning herself behind him. First, she began brushing and carding his hair with her fingers, letting some loose strands down to frame his sharp features. Afterwards, she carefully gathered lock by lock in her hands before lifting them up at the top of Dorian's head.

"You and Opal have the most beautiful hair, so soft." she admitted, her voice cheerful as she proceeded to secure the ponytail with the ribbon, and Dorian skeptically glanced at her, or tried to at that weird angle. Not that he didn't trust her friend's opinion, but it really never occurred to him before.

Fearne's milky white organza gown rustled softly as she clopped right in front of Dorian. "One last detail." she explained when Dorian frowned at her, not understanding why the faun was vigorously rubbing her palms, a sly grin playing on her lips as sparks of fire flickered at the friction.

Dorian was getting anxious, but that feeling was short lived, leaving room for wonder as soon as realization clicked in. Fearne's hands moved to the sides of his face, then curled the loose strands with her heated fingers and Dorian noticed that it wasn't hot at all. Magic was truly something.

Once she was finished, the faun clapped her hands, satisfied with her work. "You look amazing, my friend." she assured him, her smile softening.

"Wow." a raspy whisper caught Dorian's attention before he could reply to that and he darted his eyes in the direction of it, to his right. Dariax was watching him mouth agape and cheeks flushed, and Dorian wasn't even sure the dwarf was aware he was doing that in all honesty.

Dorian turned incredibly frustrated under that scrutiny and fidgeted in his seat as a suffocating heat spread across chest and down his belly.

"Go look for yourself." Fearne prompted him to stand up with a gentle pat on his shoulder.

Dorian slowly rose up on shaky legs and moved to stand before the wall length mirror. Okay, maybe he should've trusted his friends more, because he looked fine as fuck. He never considered himself a vain person, but, as he stared at his own reflection now, he must've admitted that that outfit highlighted his best body traits, starting with the dark blue high-waisted lace pants he was wearing, not much see-through per se but open to the sides in two slits and with incorporated shorts that ran down to his mid thighs. On his upper body, the loose peach gold chiffon top that wrapped at his middle in a silver waistband with some rhinestones and left his chest exposed, the massive flowy sleeves clung at his sides and made him look so dreamy. At his feet, his beloved winged boots.

Opal helped him with his makeup earlier but he had the chance to evaluate her work just then. She used a silver eyeliner on his eyelids, the ends as sharp as her knives, while she dusted some moonshine highlighter on his cheekbones, the tip of his nose, his pecs and under his eyebrows, following their natural curve.

After a long time spent admiring himself, he felt very observed and turned his head towards Fearne, who was still looking at him, her hands clasped together against her cheek as she smiled merrily like a mother proud of her son.

"Thank you, Fearne. It looks amazing." he told her in an earnest tone.

The faun chuckled delightedly in response, before stifling a snort as her eyes glanced away from him and Dorian quirked one eyebrow at that. Then, he heard frantic fumbling and a loud snap. He spun around and found the dwarf still there, yet turned a little to his side as if he was trying to hide something, his mouth was pressed in a thin line now while tips of his ears were as red as his face as he busied himself with the laces of his vest. Dorian didn't know what to do with that notion.

Once they were all ready, the group finally exited the room, walked down the hallway and crossed the threshold of the dance hall, just to immediately get lost among the swirling of robes and skirts and cloaks, the colorful reflections of the flames that shimmered down from big crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the chattering of voices that mixed with the soft music playing in the air, the tables full of delicacies.

That combination of visuals, sounds and smells rendered the five speechless.

"Okay, this may be a little too for us." Dariax murmured to the group after a pregnant pause, his lips pursed to the side hidden behind his hand. And the genasi couldn't agree more.

"We've been lucky that Mr. Gilmore warned us and let us go on a shopping trip before coming here." Orym pointed out as his keen eyes studied the surroundings, feeling even smaller than he was already.

"Yeah, but, I feel underdressed all the same." Opal whined in a pout, crossing her arms on her chest. "And I'm wearing a fuckin dress." she added as she ran her hands down on her big puffy tulle skirt.

“Where's the wine?" the faun asked out of the blue as she looked around, her ears eagerly perking up, and the group laughed.

"Hey, look, there's Fy'ra!" Opal exclaimed as she pointed with her index finger at her, who was already in the company of Shaun Gilmore himself and a man who presumably was his husband by the way he was circling his waist with one arm.

Orym scolded her about her manners, or lack of, but his words hardly affected her since she was trotting to Fy'ra, Fearne following suit.

He sighed hopelessly, before joining them together with Dorian and Dariax.

They all greeted and complimented each other for their attires, everyone but Orym immediately falling for Gilmore's charme once again and his husband laughed whole-heartedly at their behavior, saying that he fully understood them.

As much as he really wanted to blend in and forget about his previous worries, Dorian felt anxious and uncomfortable, also regretting his choice of outfit for the night since it would've certainly drawn attention to himself, but now it was too late, he would've dealt with it.

His current mood must've been as clear as the empty glass Gilmore was holding in his hand because he noticed Dariax sliding closer to him at some point while the rest of his friends were chatting amicably, and tilting his head up to look at him.

"You okay there, bud?" he asked him in a lower tone, his warm hues regarding him with concern.

Dorian wanted to lie, although it would've been useless. The dwarf could be... slow on the uptake sometimes, that was true, but he always understood when his friends were troubled and that was one of the things he liked the most about him, he was kind and thoughtful and cared dearly for the people he held close to his heart.

So, the genasi shook his head and bit the inner part of his cheek.

Dariax’s mouth twisted in a sad grimace upon his non-committal reply. "Alrighty, let's go grab some food, yeah?" he proposed, nudging him playfully on the thigh while showing a toothy smile.

Dorian quickly warned Orym before walking away with the dwarf to find something to eat among the many, almost too many set tables.

Dorian's uneasiness gradually dissipated thanks to the dwarf's presence. Since that moment he stayed with him the whole time, trying to draw a smile out of him and the genasi really appreciated his efforts.

The two were now standing at a table with any type of meat Dorian could imagine, Dariax was trying his hard to catch a chicken leg with a fork but it kept rolling and rolling and squishing away as oily and dripping with sauce as it was, so he gave up in the end and grabbed it by the bone. Dorian wanted to be grossed out by that, but honestly after what they've been through in the last months that was the least disgusting thing the dwarf had done involving food, or anything else really.

The genasi had to admit that Dariax really stood out in those clothes. As if he was just seeing him for the first time that night, he ranked him up and down with his gaze, taking advantage of his current distraction. The dwarf had chose a white blouse with puffed sleeves and flounce collar, his broad shoulders emphasized by.. now that he took a better look at it, Dorian noticed that it wasn't a vest, more like a corset garment that made him waist look slimmer, the velvety burgundy texture complementing his auburn hair while the golden embroideries on the hems made him look princely, somehow. On his lower half, he wore black tight trousers with a detachable wrap pleated skirt on its left side, at his feet a simple pair of dark brown leather boots.

Dariax was so… dashing.

"Want some?" the dwarf's voice brought him back to the present and Dorian felt himself blush guiltily upon being caught staring so openly. Or maybe Dariax didn't notice him at all, too focused on eating his well-earned chicken leg. The genasi really hoped it was the latter.

"Uhm, no. Actually, I'm not that hungry." he admitted in a sigh and saw Dariax's joyful mood shift a bit. Even though the dwarf was helping him a lot, anxiety was still swirling in his stomach, clutching at it, making him feel nauseous.

"But if you don't eat, you can't drink." Dariax reasoned, his half smirk slotting back on his face, and those words earned him an amused snort from Dorian. As if that ever stopped the dwarf, or anyone in their group, from getting smashed, yet Dorian knew what he was trying to do and was grateful for his patience and consistency.

"I know, but I don't think I can drink either, sorry." the genasi admitted, another sigh falling from his lips, and Dariax gazed up at him, slowly lowering the chicken leg.

Clearing his throat, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then his free hand reached out for Dorian's and that gesture made his heart skip a bit, or a few.

"I don't know what you're going through, but I think we should enjoy ourselves tonight, we deserve some funny time, don't we?" the dwarf squeezed his hand oh-so-gently as his eyes bored into his as he spoke. "You should enjoy yourself, relax, unwind, relieve some stress." another squeeze of hand and Dorian's heart quivered in his chest. "Nothing's gonna happen, and in any case, I'm here for you. You got a healer in heels next to you." he winked at him as he tapped one boot's heel against the other.

Dorian's whole face was flushed deep purple by the end of his speech and, albeit his frantic heartbeat echoing in his head, he nodded and smiled down at him. The dwarf's hand was so warm around his and his mind quickly drifted back to all those time they slept together on his bed roll, so close yet so far, as Dorian wanted to touch him and hold him and-

Dorian shook his head vehemently and swallowed around a lump in his throat.

At that distance, Dorian noticed that there was eyeshadow on Dariax's eyelids, smudged, of the color of charcoal, in strict contrast to the amber of his hues, making them shine even brighter under the lights of the chandeliers. In the inner part of the eye, a glint of gold that recalled his corset, while a bronze highlighter gleamed on his cheeks. Opal must've done his makeup, too.

The genasi found himself staring at Dariax a lot that night, clearly unable to stop himself as if magnetically drawn to him.

"And honestly, you're really missing out because this stuff is delicious. I don't know when another banquet like this will happen to us in the near future." Dariax added a few moments later, emphasizing his words by swinging the chicken leg he was still holding.

Dorian heaved out a breathy chuckle, rolling his eyes at the ceiling, more for the sake of tearing his gaze away from him than being actually annoyed by what he just told him. "Alright, you got me. No more convincing." he gave up in the end as he picked a clean plate and a fork, before wandering around the table with his look.

"That's my man!" Dariax grinned victoriously, then joined him in the food hunt.

As simple as it was, that praise made Dorian’s chest fill with warmth and affection.

"Thank you, buddy. You're amazing." the genasi said after a while, his voice soft now, and shot a glance at his side to catch Dariax's cheeks turning as red as his corset as he murmured something under his breath that Dorian couldn't quite catch. In that moment, he realized it was the second time that he inadvertently made the dwarf blush and he stopped in his movements as that thought crossed his mind. What did that mean?

Anyway, the two kept circling around the table while chatting and, since Dorian's stomach finally loosened up, he was able to eat something, too. When the genasi lifted his head in a heartfelt fit of laughter after that Dariax told one of his dumb jokes about the turkey wearing socks, his attention was caught by Opal who stood some feet away at another table, watching them with a cocky grin and an arched eyebrow.

His laughter quickly ended up in an awkward coughing as he blushed from his neck to the tips of his ears and the fact that Dariax hurriedly came to his help didn't help his situation. At all.

Two glasses of wine later that embarrassing accident, glasses that Dorian gulped down like a drowning man in the desert, eventually they split up because Dariax decided it was the right time to go and grab some stronger alcohol that wasn't just wine; in the meantime, Dorian found interest in the instruments the band was playing. Despite his eagerness, the dwarf didn't leave him until Dorian assured him he was feeling better so he could go without worrying about him.

When Dorian noticed that it was taking the dwarf a little too long to get their drinks, he searched for him with his eyes, just to find him standing between two individuals, who possibly were courting him if he didn't mistaken the way they both leaned close to him, offering him drinks as they smiled flirty down at him.

He felt a strange pang of.. jealousy awfully twisting his guts as his jaw tensed at that sight.

"Are you going to ask him or not?" Opal's face suddenly appeared in front of his eyes.

Blanking out for a solid second, Dorian almost choked on his own tongue. "W-what?!" he cried in a shrill voice and immediately slapped a hand on his mouth.

The girl sighed deeply as she slowly shook her head in disappointment.

"To dance." Fearne replied from his other side on Opal's behalf and Dorian felt suddenly very cornered. "I bet he's dying to. Waiting for you to make a move. Can't you tell?" she tipped her head in a quizzical way as she eyed him.

The genasi's gaze frantically darted back and forth between the two. "I-I don't think that-" he then started babbling out, anxiety coming back at full force, but Opal cut him short with a huffy tsch.

"Please, you two have been circling around this for months, honestly. Now it's your chance to go get it." the girl pointed out as she nudged him with her hip and Dorian's heart started hammering erratically against his ribcage. What were they talking about just now?!

"Get what?!" he croaked out in a squeal and the faun's laugh only made him more miserable than he already felt.

Opal loudly gasped at that question as if she couldn't believe what she just heard. "Dorian, how oblivious can you be?!" she looked like she was that close to rip her own hair off her head for desperation or to choke him with her bare hands in an act of mercy and the genasi thought that he really didn't want to find out.

Thankfully, Fearne intervened once again. As she grabbed Opal's hand to soothe her outburst of anger, she smiled her benevolent smile at Dorian. "Dariax's been over the heels for you for like.. well, pretty much since we met I think?" she confessed in a pensive frown, then had to stifle an amused giggle when Dorian's mouth slacked open.

His head was spinning dizzily as his heart jumped up in his throat, his hands were shaking as he brought one of them to scratch at his neck in a foolish attempt to calm his nerves. He was pretty much freaking out at that point, he'd never actually noticed anything that-

Wait.

Oh gods.

"I'm a fucking idiot!" he yelled as he smacked both his hands on his forehead, and the two girls tried to not make fun of him, just to fail miserably.

"Now that you're caught up, do yourself a favor and <i>go</i>." and with Opal's words ringing in his ears, he was being pushed by Fearne and the girl herself toward the dwarf, still at the same table.

And suddenly, he was in the middle of the dance hall, his knees wobbling as his heart was trying so desperately to break free from his chest. He wanted to hide. He felt.. irremediably stupid. How could he be so blind?!

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. In retrospect, above all the things that had happened between them in the past months, Dorian realized that the dwarf had been looking at him the whole night with such a look in his eyes, something deeper concealed behind his usual fondness that he reserved for his friends.

He was getting itchy. If he wanted to act, he needed to do it now.

Mustering every ounce of courage he had in his body, the genasi walked the last steps that separated him from Dariax at last.

He cleared his throat way too loudly to be spontaneous, interrupting whatever was happening between the dwarf and those two strangers. He didn't even spare them a single glance as he stared at Dariax, who was visibly surprised by his antics.

Dorian straightened up, before bowing a little with his upper body, his left arm folded behind, as he outstretched his other, unsteady hand towards him.

"Dariax, m-may I have this dance?" the genasi asked in a solemn voice that cracked a little at the end, feeling heat rising up on his cheeks the longer he hoped for an answer. He gulped as a bead of sweat glided down his temple, his heart beating so fast right now that Dorian felt like it could stop at any moment.

And Dariax was looking at him like he held the entire world in his hands and the genasi felt himself burn from the inside out under that intensity, his hazel hues gone wide and round in complete shock, his thick eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

There was a moment of terrible, utter silence. Then, the dwarf let go of his drink, which fell and spilled on the floor, and that noise made a few heads turn in their direction while the two individuals jumped back from him. But Dorian couldn't care less as Dariax's trembling hand clutched tight around his as a happy, dazzling smile bloomed on his lips.

"Of course." he replied in a whisper, hesitant yet fast, like he'd been waiting for that question all night but couldn't believe he just got asked.

Fingers intertwined, they sauntered over the center of the dance hall to stand in front of each other like the rest of the people didn't exist.

Dorian's yearning turned out to be pretty much useless since Dariax shared his feelings and he could plainly see it now, written all over the dwarf's face as he hadn't stopped beaming up at him since he accepted his invite.

The genasi had never danced with someone that much shorter than him, or had much experience with balls in general, but they would've managed nonetheless.

They were holding hands, both their arms stretched outward in the liminal space between them as they looked into each other's eyes, full of emotions. Dorian thought he was going to faint here and there from how tense he felt, he was anxious for a totally different reason now.

Then, their feet started moving on their own and the music grew louder and louder, their bodies following the rhythm as they met halfway, their hands locking in the right positions as much as their heights would allow.

"I didn't know you could dance." Dorian said, genuinely delighted by that discovery, as they turned and spinned, completely lost in the music, in each other.

Dariax chuckled, his cheeks flushing again upon that compliment and the genasi had to stop himself from acting on the thoughts that image elicited in his mind. "Me neither." the dwarf admitted as he shrugged his shoulders.

Dorian snorted amusedly, before tightening his grasp on Dariax.

They kept waltzing, staring at each other, smiling brightly, moving freely. They kept waltzing, fingertips brushing on clothes, hands grasping, wanting for more. They kept waltzing, their looks promising.

And Dorian never felt so happy in his life.

#critfic #doriax #lionwrites #critical role #exandria unlimited #dorian storm #dariax zaveon #exu dorian #exu dariax #my writing #THIS TOOK AGES WTF #hope it’s worth the wait

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blinder-secrets · 4 years ago

Text

Between Palms

fem!reader x michael gray

warnings: power imbalance, role play, mild nsfw (its a slow burn but hang in there trust me)

wordcount: 4,125

It seemed silly really, a birthday meal at Arrow House, but here you were. Invite accepted and fulfilled, even though you were just there as a plus one. An almost family member. Michael had you living in his house, accompanying him to every event, and yet your finger was still empty of the ring you both knew would come eventually. He’s waiting for the right moment, you suppose. It doesn’t really matter. Everyone knows he’s yours, and you’re his. Even Polly is starting to treat you like a daughter.

‘Is it his actual birthday today?’ you ask Michael, as he takes your coat in the entry way.

‘Don’t know.’ He passes it to Mary, who you’ve only just been introduced to. 'Tomorrow I think.’

You hum. This was the family version then, they’d spend his birthday alone, just the two of them. ‘It’s quite sweet, isn’t it?’ you muse. You’d never have marked either Tommy or Lizzie as the sentimental sort.

Michael snorts. ‘Sweet, yeah.’ From his smirk, you know he doesn’t even remotely agree.

‘The meal is being served,’ Mary tells you, careful in her interruption. ‘If you’ll follow me?’

‘Oh, course, sorry.’ You nod and gesture for her to continue; you’d almost forgotten that the both of you were late. ‘Come on,’ you say to Michael, offering your hand.

He takes it readily, his palm warm and soft against yours. From the look of him, his sharp suits, his set hair and his square jaw, you’d always assumed he would shy away from touches like that. That he’d keep his hands in his pockets and his character professional, impenetrable. But, he never does with you. Whenever you give your hand, he takes it, locks his fingers around it. He’d let you pull him half way across the world, you think. If you tried.

In the main dining room, you’re met by the rest of the family. They’re seated already, talking and drinking around the platters of food, the plates already filled with some expensive cut of meat. The conversation stills as you enter, a few of them beginning to stand to greet you.

‘No, no don’t,’ you say quickly, waving them down again. ‘We’ve got time for that later.’

‘Tommy,’ Michael says, acknowledging him with a nod. ‘Happy Birthday.’

‘Yes,’ you add, ‘we left your gift with Mary.’ You’re sure he doesn’t care what it is, you don’t even know that he’ll ever open it. It’d had felt wrong to go to a birthday party without taking something.

Tommy almost matches your waiting smile. It’s as much of a response as you’ll get. ‘Please,’ he says, gesturing to the two empty chairs, ‘sit down. Get a drink.’

You take your seat which is, of course, next to Michael. Your Michael. He’s holding the chair out for you, ready to tuck it in as you sit. Always the gentleman like it’s second nature. Like he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it. You smile up at him in thanks, but he just touches your shoulder briefly before sitting himself. ‘Looks great,’ he comments, eyes down as he scans the lay of food and alcohol before him. His accent’s stronger when he’s with them, like he picks it up at the door. At home it almost disappears, melts into something softer, some remnant of his upbringing. You haven’t decided yet which it is that you prefer. It’s what he says that charms you.

‘It’s nice of you to have us, Tommy,’ you say, leaning around Michael to smile at him.

He’s sitting at the head of the table, as uninterested in the food as you’d expected him to be. His eyebrows raise in response to your comment, and he half-shakes his head, as if to say, oh it’s no problem, no trouble. From the way Lizzie’s smiling beside him, you know that it was all her really. Her idea, her planning. She wanted him and the family to have something nice for once and so here you were.

‘And Lizzie, of course,’ you add. ‘Thank-you.’

‘Our pleasure,’ she replies gently, lifting her glass. ‘Please, eat. Before it gets cold.’

You nod and bring your focus back to Michael, who’s lit a cigarette and is now resting between drags. It sits between his fingers on the table, smoke pulling up and over his plate, swirling his meal in grey. How he doesn’t mind, you have no idea. He may as well peel it open and eat the tobacco instead.

‘Michael,’ you scold quietly, knocking your elbow against his. ‘Put it out.’

He clears his throat and sits straighter, lifting the cigarette for a final taste. ‘Was in my head,’ he comments on the exhale, before taking another sharp, final drag. ‘Think we should do something like this.’

You watch him lean forward and stub the cigarette out, into the ashtray in the middle. ‘Do what?’

‘Have a dinner,’ he says, sitting back again. ‘For you, for your birthday.’

Snorting, you shake your head and turn to pick up your cutlery. The house you have together is nowhere near big enough to accommodate for the Shelby side, let alone your family too. Not that you would invite them anyway. They’d see Arthur and go running, hear Johnny Dogg’s jokes and flush red with shame.

‘Yeah? And who would arrange that?’ you ask. You take a bite and throw him a closed-lip smile between chews. ‘I’m not doing it.’

He shrugs. ‘Well, I will.’

The beef is cooked perfectly, you cut another piece off as you reply. ‘You’re good with numbers, Michael, not parties.’

‘Alright.’ He picks up his fork limply, too focused on the side of your face to even consider eating something himself. ‘Mum will,’ he says to you, then, turning to her, ‘you’ll help, won’t you?’

Polly scoffs from opposite. You hadn’t realised she’d been paying attention, but of course she had. She never misses anything of interest. ‘Not bloody likely,’ she chides. ‘You’ll have to do something for yourself one day, Michael.’ She’s smiling, teasing with her lips soft and curling, but it still sours him.

‘Fine,’ he says, slouching. ‘No party, then. Christ.’

You almost roll your eyes, but it isn’t often that he suggests something like this. Something flashy. Normally, any gesture of affection he has for you is quiet, private. Tucked away just for the two of you. A big party like the one Lizzie’s thrown for Tommy is entirely new; you hadn’t meant to shoot him down so quickly. Sighing, you soften your voice and say, ‘We can have a party, baby.’ He hums. You put your hand to his face, thumb angled for his chin, but he tilts his head away in the last second.

Before you can complain, Polly catches your attention again. ‘Here, love,’ she says, ‘have some more potatoes.’ She holds the dish up for you, over the centre of the table and the glasses between.

‘Sure, thanks.’

You take the offering and when you pull the dish toward you, the bottom catches on your wine glass. It tips quickly, spilling red over the table, over you. You half expect it to shatter against the edge of your plate.

Cursing loudly, you abandon the dish into Michael’s waiting hands. ‘Sorry, fuck, sorry.’ You stand quickly and the commotion hushes every conversation that had been rolling within the room.

‘You’re meant to drink it, love,’ Arthur laughs, from whichever end he’s sat at — you’re too busy patting your napkin frantically onto the tablecloth to check.

‘God, sorry, sorry Lizzie.’ It’s stained, it’s definitely stained and ruined.

‘It’s on your dress,’ Michael comments, like you hadn’t noticed.

‘Never mind the dress,’ you snap back. ‘The sheet’s ruined.’

Tommy clears his throat. ‘Its just the tablecloth, [y/n], sit down.’

‘It’ll do more damage to your dress, love,’ Lizzie adds, sympathetically. ‘It’s alright.’

You pause, huffing slightly, then sit clumsily back into your chair. It’s always you, it seems, to stand out like this. To be un-calculated, accidental. Every Shelby is so precise, and so careful, and so in control of everything at once, somehow. Michael’s a Gray but he’s got it too, the grace. Lizzie isn’t even blood related and she holds herself the same. What is it about you? What do you lack?

‘Don’t worry,’ Michael says quietly, interrupting the thought by pouring words into your ear. ‘Don’t get yourself worked up.’

You don’t answer him, you just pout and dab at the stain on your lap. The wine’s sunk in deep already. It looks purple, not red, against the fabric.

‘Mary could help,’ he offers, after sighing at your silence. ‘She’ll be in the kitchen.’

You nod and stand, clutching the soggy napkin in your palm. ‘If you’ll excuse me,’ you say to the table. Your voice only catches the attention of Polly and Finn, but no-one else challenges you when you turn to leave. It’s just another of your quirks, they must think, just something you do. They either don’t care, or didn’t see.

You hurry from the room with your ears turning hot. Michael will tell you later that you were being silly, worrying over nothing, but right now it feels mortifying. Leaving the room to see a maid about a stain. In the middle of a dinner party, no less.

When you reach the kitchen, Mary startles. Her eyes widen at the sight of you, like your presence alone means she’s done something wrong, like she’s forgotten something and you’re here to chase her up on it.

‘Don’t worry,’ you tell her, gesturing to your dress. ‘I just wanted to see if you had something for this.’

Her expression softens. The gentle folds in her face fall slack and for a moment she reminds you of your grandmother, though she never had the gall to be a gangster’s housekeeper. ‘Is it wine, miss?’

You sigh. ‘Tragically, yes.’

‘There isn’t much we can do for that.’ She hums. ‘But I’ll try, please sit.’

She gestures to the table, and the chairs which are wooden, and bare, and much plainer than the dining set upstairs. It’s welcoming in a way elegance will never be. You sigh into the seat and watch her pull bottles from various cupboards, busying herself quickly. Her dress folds as she does, creasing at her waist, comfortable enough to not restrict her movements. If only yours was like that. The dress you’re wearing is too expensive, and too tight, to be any good for anyone. Now, it isn’t even pretty.

‘Mary,’ you start, stilling her as soon as the idea strikes, lighting itself as a match would. ‘Do you have any spare uniforms?’

Her brow arches slowly, like she’s unsure of your intention and even more unsure of asking for it. ‘Miss?’

‘That I can wear,’ you explain. The thought is rolling, piling up and catching speed in your head. It makes sense really, a worker’s fit for the working woman, an apron for the spills. If the Shelbys can’t find the humour in it, you certainly will.

‘Only the ones the maids wear,’ she says.

You smile. If Michael could see you now, he’d accuse you of plotting something. He’d be right. ‘Perfect,’ you tell her, ‘that’s perfect, Mary.’

If your exit was quiet, unnoticed, then your return may as well have been an explosion. A great tremor to the room and all its inhabitants. You’re barely through the doorway before Arthur’s laugh is bursting from his chest, barking over Johnny’s head toward you. From the noise of it, the rest turn in your direction. Conversation is tossed out the window and onto the lawn. Lizzie laughs, more out of shock than anything else, Polly mutters a ‘Christ’, and you’re sure you catch Finn swallowing his beer like it’s running out. How Tommy reacts, you don’t know, you don’t look.

‘Fucking hell, woman, almost lost me drink over that,’ Johnny says, speaking before anyone else has chance to.

You reach the table and give a half-confident bow, with your gaze sitting easily on Michael. ‘Would you like a refill, mister?’ you ask falsely, twisting your voice high enough that it hardly sounds like you at all.

His eyebrows lift, eyes widening, and then they drop again, quickly, like nothing’s happened. His face hardens slightly. Then, he turns away, facing forward, and he goes very still, and very quiet, and you don’t quite know what he’s thinking. You thought he’d laugh, or at least make some snarky comment about not mingling with the help. Instead, his eyes sit on the whiskey in his hands like you aren’t even there.

‘What the hell you got that on for?’ Arthur asks, amusement in the crinkles by his eye. ‘Eh?’

You force a smile at him. ‘Thought I’d give you something to dream about, Arthur.’

There’s few snorts in response and then Tommy puts them to rest. ‘Alright, alright, sit down,’ he says, lighter than you’d expected, ‘unless you’d like to help serve pudding.’

‘If it gets me on the payslip, I’ll consider it,’ you reply, pulling your chair out to sit.

Michael doesn’t acknowledge you still. The plates are cleared, your wine glass is upright again, refilled, and then dessert is brought out. Everything in order as Lizzie’s itinerary no doubt demanded. By the time everyone’s eating again, your outfit is entirely forgotten about. There’s no comment on the plain black dress, no jokes on the white apron that pulls it tight to your waist, no awareness of it at all. You almost regret not wearing the matching hair-band, maybe if you did Michael would have had something more interesting to say.

When the other guests are suitably distracted, he finally leans into you, whispering harshly by your ear. ‘What’re you wearing?’ he asks. You don’t have to see his face to know he’s frowning.

Your eyebrows pinch, gaze on the spoonful of tart that you’re chasing around the plate. It’s very obvious that you’re wearing what the maids wear. It’s a joke, Michael, ever heard of that? ‘My dress is ruined,’ you answer. ‘I’ve left it with Mary to work on the stain.’

‘And you couldn’t find anything else to wear?’

‘No,’ you say firmly. ‘I couldn’t.’

His jaw flexes. He downs the last of his whiskey like it’s laudanum and you’re the ache. He wants to say something, you can see it, but he holds himself back. He shakes his head like he’s knocking it down, forcing it into his throat with the liquor.

After that, the pair of you eat in silence, and when Tommy invites the party to move into one of the more comfortable rooms, you stand in silence too. You let the rest of them go ahead of you. When Polly passes on her way out, she says, ‘That’s something I’d have done when I was your age,’ and even though she’s being friendly, you wish she hadn’t. The last thing you needed now, was to be told that you were acting like your boyfriend’s mother.

You follow the crowd out of the dining room with Michael behind you. Before you can get much further, he catches your wrist, tugging you back and sideways into one of the shorter hallways. It’s dimly lit, a hardly used corridor between rooms that you’d never been to, never even noticed. He sets you against the wall, careful despite the firmness of his grip, and then his hand lifts from your arm to sit flat on the wallpaper by your head.

‘Are you trying to embarrass me?’ he says sourly, words forced over sharp teeth.

You frown. ‘No? Why would I?’

‘This.’ His chin dips and lifts again, gesturing to the uniform. He isn’t sneering but it’s implied.

‘I had to wear something, Michael.’ You had no idea it would offend him so much. You hadn’t even considered that it’d upset him, embarrass him. It was a stupid joke and a way out of a wine-stained dress.

He breathes heavily through his nose. He’s close, very close. The heat coming off him is warming you too, making the skin beneath your collar sticky with sweat. He lets his gaze sink down your body, then drags it up again, slowly.

‘What’s the problem?’ you ask.

He doesn’t answer. His eyes find yours and harden, the angles of his jaw setting like he’s forcing it to. Oh. Oh, you think, oh, that’s what this is. It doesn’t offend him, he isn’t insulted. He’s embarrassed because you’ve found something out about him, you’ve brought something to the surface that he hadn’t even known himself, and you’d done it in front of his family, without warning.

You smile. It stretches slowly across your cheeks as the realisation solidifies. ‘Does this turn you on, Michael?’ you tease. ‘It that what it is?’

His eyes squint slightly but he says nothing. That’s a mistake — his silence just encourages you, dares you to push it further. You’re right. Now you know you are. You see it in the sharpness behind his expression, in the weighted breaths against your skin. In the way he steels himself before you.

‘Who would have thought?’ you purr, tilting your hips forward.

You catch the material of your dress at the waist, pinching it, so that your movement pulls the hem up your legs. His chin drops. The dress is bunched enough to reveal your thighs, just high enough to show the top seam of your stockings. With his free hand, he pushes carelessly under the apron and lifts, scrunching it by your hip to give him a better view. The air puffs out of his nose like he’s breathing manually, like if he doesn’t force it he’ll stop all together.

‘Have I embarrassed you, Mr. Gray?’ you drip, honey pouring from your mouth, sinking into him like an opiate. It’s new, but it’s easy. It comes naturally. Perhaps it’s always been like this; without you realising, without you caring. A power imbalance that you both liked.

You’re looking at his lashes when his eyes dart back to you. ‘Stop it,’ he warns. The apron falls down again, his hand pulls away from the wall. ‘Don’t.’

‘Why?’ You’re enjoying it too much to pay any attention to his order. ‘Would you prefer I call you Sir?’

He swallows. You bite down on your lip as you wait for a response, half-convinced that he’s about to storm away and leave you there. Then, slowly, slowly like he’s fighting and losing, letting it flood the cracks, letting it pull him under, he leans into you. His palm cups your cheek. His head drops to put his mouth just below your chin, angled and ready by your neck.

‘Say it again,’ he coaxes, voice rough over your throat.

Your breath shakes, quiet, fragile from your mouth. ‘Say what, sir?’

He exhales sharply but it catches, and for a moment it sounds like he’s growled. Your Michael, growling, with his breath hot and heavy against you. If you took drugs, this would be yours, this would be your fix. You run your hand up his side, under the jacket and over the waistcoat.

‘Do you like it, sir?’ you ask.

‘Fuck.’ The words drags out of him, scrapes through his teeth like he hasn’t realised. ‘Bring it home,’ he says, pulling his face up to look at you. He looks serious, so serious, and so desperate that it should be ridiculous.

‘What?’

‘The dress,’ he answers tightly, ‘the outfit. Bring it home with you.’

You’ve won. Somehow, you’ve won. You’d put on a uniform you had no right to wear, and now Michael was begging for you to bring it home. Desperate to have you like this, again, just for him. And you would, of course you would, you’d be an idiot to deny him something like that. To deny something so mutually beneficial. You’d get your dress back from Mary, and thank her kindly, and then take the maid’s clothes home without saying anything else. But, that was no fun now, that didn’t see to the ache that had started to build between your legs. That didn’t feed the hunger. You had Michael alone, in a darkened corridor, needy and tightroping between disciplines, teetering on the edge of his restraint. That’s too rare, too good to lose. You won’t let it end yet.

Instead, you pout your bottom lip and say, ‘Don’t you want me now? Did I do something wrong, sir?’

He groans, eyes rolling to the ceiling.

You’re impatient so, tiring of the gap, you pull him forward so that your hips are together. He’s hard, you realise, taut against his trousers. You’ve barely touched him and already he wants you, his body craves the way yours does. ‘Kiss me,’ you say messily, quickly, forgetting all about the persona you’d adopted. ‘Kiss me, Mikey.’

‘Hm?’ he hums, putting his other hand to your face, holding you still as he settles his attention on you again. He pushes back until your spine is straightened along the wall. ‘What was that?’

The slip in character hadn’t gone unnoticed. It’d broken the tension enough to give him the upper hand, to finally let him make his play.

‘You don’t talk to me like that,’ he says. ‘Do you?’ The words pour out of him thickly, whiskey and languid control melting across your cheeks, over your lips.

‘Sorry, sir,’ you reply.

Now, it was your own breath that came stiffly, unwilling to move of its own accord. Your chest rises against his because you tell it to. The pressure from his crotch grows, firm and wanting against the dip in your hip.

His tongue runs between his lips once. He’s following your expression carefully, noting each shift, each hesitation. He can see you’re cracking, you’re sure of that. The look he has is the look of a man who’s already won. One that has want he wants, but enjoys the sport of taking it. He puts his nose to the hair by your ear and breathes in deeply, sending goosebumps along your skin. ‘Ask properly,’ he says, his voice low, rumbling.

You swallow quickly. You’re flushing hot. There’s fire in you, flames curling and rising, pulling upwards from your thighs, your stomach, swallowing your heart before it can stutter a beat. ‘Please,’ you start, ‘please kiss me, sir.’

‘Better.’

His eyelids flutter once, as he looks to your lips, and then he’s kissing you. Hard. Harder than he has for a while.

Your hands go to his wrists, hanging onto him as he holds you, as he kisses you into the wall, into the house, through the brickwork and into Elysium. You moan against him and he pushes his tongue into your mouth, wanting more. Needing more.

‘Not a sound,’ he pants as he pulls away. His grip on your face disappears and then his hands are on your thighs, roughly, desperately. His palms settle behind your knees and tug them up, lifting your legs off the ground and putting them around his waist instead. He takes your weight like it’s nothing; uses his hips and his own body against you to keep you upright, between him and the wall. ‘Not a fucking sound, right?’

You nod, frantic, already reaching for him again, already pushing your mouth to his for the taste. For the whiskey. For the heat and the need, and the tongue between your teeth, for his cock, hard and ready against the softest part of you.

He pushes the dress up abruptly, piling it and the apron over your stomach. ‘I want to hear you say it,’ he breathes, forcing it between kisses. ‘Say you’ll keep quiet.’ His touch is searing, alight with something so untapped, it’s raw. Primal.

‘I’ll be quiet, sir,’ you answer pliantly. Willingly. He could ask anything of you now and you’d give it to him, you’d bleed it into his palm like molten silver. ‘Please fuck me,’ you beg. ‘Please, sir.’

He growls again and this time it’s on purpose. His face buries into your neck, into the base of your throat. He kisses the skin hungrily, wet and biting, lustful. He takes you and you let him, you invite him to, because you always have wanted it, the imbalance. The game was fake but the power is real, the submission is honest. Cultivated. It was him over you, always, and you liked that. You wanted that more than anything and now you had it, scorching between your fingers. Burning you into the wallpaper.

You moan; his hand goes to your mouth firmly, flat palm against your lips. An order without words. Quiet, he says, stay quiet. All you have to do is oblige.

#michael x reader #michael gray x reader #Michael Gray imagine #michael gray #peaky blinders fanfic #RIGHTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT I WAS A BIT CHEEKY WITH THIS ONE #me writing cock one single time: im a smut writer now #let me know what you htink!!!!

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writtenjewels · 3 years ago

Text

Escort part 3

Part One, Part Two

He couldn't believe he just did that. If the feel of John's lips wasn't so fresh on his own, Kaidan would wonder if he had just imagined it. But no, he definitely kissed John and then panicked and jumped into the nearest taxi. He felt ridiculous but asking the driver to turn around seemed almost worse so he sat in the car and waited to get home.

This evening was just supposed to be hanging out with John like they did the first time the man acted as his escort. They flirted a bit but Kaidan found he was comfortable doing that with John. There was something friendly and teasing about it. And he just liked talking to John. The man was interesting-- confident, charming, funny, easy-going. Attractive qualities in Kaidan's mind.

I don't get paid to be attracted to you. Kaidan didn't usually go into these sorts of things so impulsively, but he had then. He sighed, paying the driver as he got out of the car. Hopefully John would just forget about the whole thing. When he opened his door Kaidan found he had a message waiting for him.

Kaidan, you left in a hurry. Wanted to make sure you got home all right. J

He looked at the time stamp and saw that John sent it while Kaidan was in the taxi. He didn't know where the man lived but didn't think he could've possibly gotten there that quickly. John must have used a public terminal to send the message. Kaidan stared at the words a long time trying to think of how to respond.

I'm home now. Sorry to worry you.

That was simple enough. He needed to do something to calm down, though. He started with undressing: removing his shoes, pulling off his jersey, and setting the kettle to make some herbal tea. He heard a chime letting him know he had a new message.

It's all right. You aren't the first one to panic.

Great. Not really the impression he wanted to leave this on. But Kaidan couldn't really explain what happened to himself, let alone John. Maybe he did panic, but not for the reasons John was implying. Kaidan's sexual preference never really depended on gender; he was more attracted to personality. If he had to pin down a reason, it was because it hit him just how often John was probably kissed. And there was proof right there in the message: “You aren't the first one to panic”. Meaning John was kissed before by guys who ran for those other reasons.

I didn't pay you.

There, that felt safe. The tea was ready so Kaidan poured a cup and took a sip. The warm liquid felt soothing. He got through the whole cup before John sent a new message.

Feed me and we'll call it even.

Kaidan laughed at the words. Yes, he could do that, and he sent a message saying as much. He poured another cup of tea feeling like maybe this evening wouldn't become a complete disaster, after all. John sent him another message. Was he just sitting somewhere with a public terminal? Or maybe between the messages he made it home, after all. Kaidan opened the message and his heart stopped.

Coming over.

Shit, John was coming now? That wasn't what Kaidan meant! He almost sent a message telling John not to come but stopped. It was just a meal; they did as much already. Kaidan took a breath and hunted down something to put on as he had no intention of welcoming John in his underwear. He felt decently put together by the time he heard the knock at his door.

“Nice outfit,” John commented when Kaidan answered the door. It was really hard to tell if the man was teasing or being sincere. Kaidan stepped aside to allow him entrance.

“I hope you like stir fry, because I haven't been to the store in a while.”

“It's fine.” John settled on the couch. “Mind if I turn on some music?” Kaidan waved his permission and John started messing around with the audio system. He eventually settled on something he liked. Kaidan listened as he threw together some things for their stir fry.

“That's a nice song,” he mused.

“It's called 'Vigil',” John told him. “It's one of my favorites.” Kaidan let the music drift over him as he cooked. He felt even more ridiculous now for running off. Being around John was so easy. It was the reason the man came to mind when Kaidan ended up with the extra ticket. A few more songs played and the two silently listened. But to Kaidan it didn't feel like an uncomfortable silence.

He divided the food onto two plates and poured some water glasses. He set them up at the table across from each other. A new song started playing.

“What's this one called?” he wondered.

“Ah.” John froze halfway into his seat. “I'm not sure.” He sank down and became very intent on eating. Kaidan listened thoughtfully. There was something about this song he couldn't quite put his finger on. He tried to make note of the tune so he could look it up later. “You're a good cook,” John spoke up.

“Don't get home-cooked meals often?”

“I'd say never. I never knew my parents so no 'home' growing up, and I've lived off military rations ever since I joined the Alliance. Except for when I'm on shore leave and then I just go out.”

“You're an orphan?” John had said it so casually that Kaidan felt expressing any sympathy wasn't necessary. “Where did you grow up?” he asked instead.

“The streets, mostly. Didn't always have a roof over my head. It's still a little weird sometimes when I'm off-duty and I can just go to the same place to sleep.” Kaidan took a bite to save himself from trying to find anything to say to that. “Sorry,” John apologized, “I don't usually get so personal with people.”

“Why not?” Kaidan wondered. “They get pretty personal with you, don't they?”

“True,” John agreed. “Just makes the job easier.” Kaidan mulled this over while they continued the meal. He gathered the dishes when they were done and set them in the washer to clean.

“So,” he ventured. “Have you ever dated someone? I mean, without being paid?”

“Sure. I wouldn't really call my first sexual experience a 'date'; just messing around with another street kid. Had a girlfriend when I first enlisted. Then I was with this guy for a while. Neither of them were very serious. I'm liking this one so far, though.”

“This... what?” Kaidan blinked at him.

“The date,” John clarified. Kaidan gaped at him. Was John teasing him? “Kaidan, you asked me out and kissed me. It's been a few years but I'm pretty sure that's a date.”

“It wasn't... intentional.” But shit, John was right. John shifted a little closer while still giving Kaidan some room.

“I won't do anything you don't want, Kaidan. But I would like to kiss you goodnight.”

“All right,” he agreed, though he didn't want the evening to be over already. John leaned into him and pressed their lips together. His mouth was just firm enough for Kaidan to feel the shape but soft enough for him to move his own lips in response. This time the contact lasted as their lips moved against each other in a gentle exploration.

It kept going, breaking only long enough for them to take quick breaths. Kaidan tried not to think about the other people who kissed John like this before. This night was his. He was a little surprised John was still keeping a distance between them. Kaidan rested his hands on John's arms, moving them down to the man's wrists and pulling his hands forward to touch Kaidan's body.

“Kaidan,” John breathed. “I'm prepared for you if you want me.”

“You're 'prepared'?” Kaidan echoed.

“To be fucked. Sometimes my clients--”

“John,” Kaidan interrupted, “I really don't want to hear about your clients right now.” John gave him a soft peck on the mouth as apology and they fell into the embrace again. “You were hoping I would want to fuck you tonight?” Kaidan asked after a few more minutes of kissing.

“I thought about fucking you, too,” John admitted. “Whichever way you like it.”

“Which way do you like it?” Kaidan countered. He moved his lips to brush the stubble along John's jaw. The other man tilted his head up slightly and Kaidan moved his mouth lower. John let out a soft groan and shuddered slightly.

“Kaidan.” This time he said the name in a groan. “I want you to fuck me, please.” Kaidan paused the kisses, pressing his face against the crook of John's neck. There was no denying a part of him wanted to.

“Just kiss me, John.” He felt the man's fingers gently grip his chin and lift his face up to do just that. John was such a good kisser. Of course he is. Kaidan felt a slight shift as he bumped up against a cabinet. They hadn't even made it out of the kitchen yet.

“Couch?” John suggested. Kaidan let out a hot breath.

“Do all your goodnight kisses take this long?”

“I thought you said you didn't want to hear about my clients,” John hummed. His eyes met Kaidan's, the shade of those blue orbs looking slightly darker. Kaidan swallowed and closed his eyes so he could think properly.

“Yeah. I... I'm just nervous, and I was teasing you to lighten the mood.” He felt John's fingers touch his chin and tilt his head for yet another kiss. He could get addicted to that.

“To be honest, Kaidan, I'm keeping this going because I don't want the night to end.”

“Me neither,” he gulped.

“So couch?” He made some sort of noise that John must have taken as agreement. Still holding Kaidan, John maneuvered them over to the couch. Kaidan sank down onto the cushions and John immediately slid down in his lap, fingers pushing through his hair as their lips connected again. Shit.

“Slower,” Kaidan gasped. John slid back off again without protest and they resumed from there. “I'm not ready for that yet.”

“Lucky I like kissing you,” John commented. Kaidan laughed shakily. John grinned and tilted his head back in a silent plea. Kaidan still didn't want to think too much about John with other people, especially fucking other people. He pressed his lips against John's throat and worked the flesh so the marks he left behind stood out just a little more.

#kaidan x shepard #kaidan alenko #mshenko #mshepard #au

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chaoticpuff17 · 4 years ago

Text

Suga We’re Going Down

Part 4

Masterlist

Y/N stared at the lawyers. Everything they said went straight over her head though it didn’t seem to bother Yoongi. They were his layers after all. They’d probably already gone over the contract with him in detail, something Y/N did not have the advantage of doing. She just didn’t have the time or the money to hire her own lawyers to look over it.

It felt odd going over a contract for what would essentially be a relationship. It felt clinical, but in a way that was good. She wanted that professional distance. This wasn’t romantic. They weren’t dating. She wanted, needed, that line firmly drawn in the sand. This was not a forever situation.

Thankfully, the lawyers were patient with her, answering all of her hesitant questions, making notes if she wanted something changed. Yoongi seemed to find it cute. Every time the lawyers looked at him to confirm a change, he would nod, the barest hint of a smile pulling at his lips. He was surprisingly gracious about it all. He agreed to every slight change to the contract she wanted to make.

“Now, Mr. Min will be providing a car and driver for your transportation.”

“That really isn’t necessary…”

“It’s non-negotiable.” Yoongi interrupted leveling the lawyers with a hard glare. He wanted her to be safe, and a driver would help with that. It would also provide him with access to her 24/7.

“Of course, Mr. Min.” The lawyer nodded. “There is also the wardrobe budget that Mr. Min will be providing.”

She was about to protest that as well, but Yoongi beat her to it. “Also non-negotiable.”

The lawyer nodded humming in understanding. “And the amount of times per week is alright with the both of you? Three times a week with other meetings interspersed as requested and can be accomodated by Miss Kang given her schedule?”

They both nodded.

“I’m sorry,” She interrupted softly. “It’d like it to be in there that my home is off limits for meetings. I’m willing to meet him wherever he would like, but I’d like to keep my home, well, mine. If that would be alright.” The last bit was added on as a rushed after thought her eyes wide as she looked from Yoongi to the lawyers.

The lawyers looked to Yoongi who nodded. “I’m fine with that.”

“Excellent.” The man smiled making a note on the contract. “There is something else we need to discuss.” Both Y/N and Yoongi turned to look at him attentively. “We need to establish the boundaries of your more… intimate relations.” The man informed them looking vaguely uncomfortable.

Yoongi perked up, but Y/N shrunk back in her seat feeling suddenly very small. She knew they had to discuss it, but that didn’t make it any less awkward for her.

She looked to Yoongi waiting for him to speak, waiting to see what was expected for her.

Just as her eyes were fixed on him, his were fixed on her, assessing, calculating. Of course Yoongi planned to have her in every way, but he needed to know how far he could push her and how quickly. If he went too far too fast, he could lose her entirely. She was a cautious creature. One wrong move on his part and she would bolt.

He had to suppress a grin watching how serious her eyes were, the way her hands trembled slightly. The poor thing. She looked out of her depth. She was, of course, but she would never know just how far out of her depth she was. Yoongi had everything drafted up perfectly. None of her requests interfered with his plans. They were reasonable requests from a reasonable girl. Allowances for school. Keeping her home a safe space. He could let her have her space for now, until she was more comfortable with him. Besides, he planned on spending most of their time together in his own home.

“Nothing weird?” She requested fidgeting uncomfortably and refusing to make eye contact.

“Weird?” He asked quirking a brow curiously.

“Like…” Her tone was unsure and her eyes wide. A blush made its way up her neck and stained her cheeks red as well. “Oh God…I… I honestly don’t know…”

Realization come over Yoongi leaving him stunned for a moment, before a deep sense of satisfaction took its place. She was a virgin. His sweet little muse was untouched just for him as if she couldn’t get any more perfect. No wonder she was so uncomfortable, the poor thing.

She wouldn’t have to be for long though. No one else would ever touch her. He would make sure of that. She was his sweet muse, untouched by the world, and he was going to keep her by his side no matter what. He knew the transition would be a little uncomfortable, but he was willing to help her through that if it meant having her by his side.

“We won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.” He assured her finding her panic cute.

“But you would be open to a sexual relationship?” One of the lawyers asked, pen held at the ready to make the necessary changed.

“Yes.” She had to hold back her cringe as the word left her. She hoped Halmeoni could forgive her for this. She hoped she could forgive herself.

“Then you would be fine with confirming birth control? Mr. Min is willing to pay for whichever method of contraceptive you choose to use.”

“That’s fine as well.” She murmured too embarrassed to meet anyone’s eye. She felt all of two inches tall. How could everyone else treat this like it was normal? It was all so foreign to her, but hey were completely un-phased.

“Excellent. Could you sign here?” He asked sliding the contract over to her, along with a pen. “That should be it on our end. We’ve already discussed the rules of this arrangement and the payment has already been decided. We should be ready to proceed unless you want to add anything else?”

“No.” She couldn’t help the way her fingers trembled a she reached for the pen, but she signed her name and placed her stamp never the less.

Yoongi signed and stamped after her before turning to face her with a gummy grin.

“I guess it’s official now.”

“I guess so.” Her own smile was much less enthusiastic. It was actually quite weak. She just couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d signed her soul to the devil.

“Let me take you to dinner.” He offered standing from his seat.

She shook her head standing as well. “I can’t. I have other things to do today. Besides, it’s too early for dinner.” She shot him a shaky smile hoping to smooth over her refusal though the deadpan expression on his face wasn’t giving her much hope that she’d succeeded.

“Come on.” He placed a hand on her back and began ushering her out of the room despite her stuttered protests.

“Yoongi.”

“It’s one meal. A celebration of our new contract.” He loved the way her face scrunched up in concern as she thought it over. “We’ll do it eventually. Why not start now?” He shrugged gently placing her coat over her shoulders eyeing it with distaste. “This isn’t the coat I gave you.”

“No. It’s my coat.”

“The one I gave you is warmer.” He didn’t like how thin the coat she had looked, especially not when he had provided her with one of his own, one of his favorites.

“And it’ll be returned to you next time.” She shot back sighing in defeat as he ushered her into the elevator.

“You should keep it. I don’t like how thin that coat of yours looks.”

She huffed under her breath but didn’t argue further. She didn’t want to ruin this before it even started. She needed this money. She’d already spent the money from the first few meetings in her head. A new coat for Eun Jae before the weather got too cold. The first installment on her father’s debt. They needed to fix the stove at the restaurant as well. Not to mention her tuition.

“I’ve already arranged a car for you.” He placed a hand on her back and led her out of the elevator. “It’ll be at your disposal day and night.”

“I really don’t need…” “You do.” He argued glaring down at her gently. “It’s for your protection as well as convenience. Fans can be a little rabid, and I’d prefer to know that you were safe.”

“Only for meetings.” She relented as he led her towards the side entrance of Jin Hit.

“You’ll use it as much as you need to. It’s safer than the bus or the train.”

“You can’t make me take the car.” She shot back eyeing him with concern. A car just seemed like too much for a sugar baby. She hadn’t even done anything yet.

He paused turning to level her with another gentle glare. She knew they could be worse. Nina has showed her enough Agust D videos for her to know just how fierce he could look. He was going easy on her.

“Take the car. Even if you don’t want to use it, I’ll just have Jackson ready to pick you up anyway.” He shrugged. “He’ll just shadow you until you take it.”

She didn’t like the sound of that either. “I’m fine taking the bus.”

“But I’m not.” He looked at her eyes dark and unyielding as they both tried to decide which of them would be the first to yield. “For your safety and my peace of mind.” He grumbled leading her out of the building to the waiting car.

It was a dark SUV with the windows specially tinted for celebrity privacy with a driver waiting outside for them.

“This is Young Jae my driver.” He introduced.

“Ma’am.” The man nodded about to open the door for them, but Yoongi beat him to it. Like a gentlemen he opened the door for her and helped her inside following in right after her.

“Where are we going?” She asked as the car pulled away from Jin Hit.

“Out for an early dinner. I know you probably have studying to do.”

“I do.” She nodded fiddling with the strap of her bag.

“You never told me what you were studying.” That was true enough. He had never asked her, and she had never told him, but he knew anyway.

She looked at him in surprise. She had never thought that he would actually be interested in what she did outside of their arrangement. It wasn’t really in the nature of their relationship for him to care about what she did.

“Elementary Education. I want to be a teacher.”

“It suits you.” He hummed. “What do you do when you’re not studying?”

“I play the cello.” She admitted only a little hesitantly. Music was her passion after all. It was something that they shared, she supposed.

He smiled leaning back against his seat. “Classical?”

He pretended to be surprised. She didn’t know that he had watched her play before. She didn’t know that he knew a lot of things about her. If she knew how much he knew she would probably go running for the hills, not that she could. Not legally at least. He had had his lawyers slip a few surprises into the contract, hidden within the fine print. She was locked into the contract for at least a year. If she broke contract for any reason, she’d be responsible for paying out the contract, and the price was set at far more than she could afford, as well as a few other surprises.

He had his tricks to keep her close. She was a sweet little songbird, but she was skittish, wary of him. She was too sweet for the arrangement she had gotten herself into, but Yoongi was determined to keep her safe. She would always be safe with him.

“Yeah.” She agreed. She did love classical music, but it was fun from time to time to play more modern adaptations. Those were usually easier on the piano though. It was easier to find piano sheet music than cello for pop or rock songs, and she just didn’t have the time to go about transcribing sheet music for the cello, so she stuck to the classics for the most part.

“Never any Agust D?” He asked teasingly.

“Never on the cello.” She agreed.

“Any other instruments?”

“Piano.” She admitted with a smile.

Yoongi loved that smile. It was bright, unguarded. She was talking about something she loved, something he loved. It was as though her entire face lit up, and she seemed to shine from within.

“You’re quite the musician.”

“Not like you.” She pointed out sighing as she leaned back against the seats as well. She was exhausted from the day, and dinner sounded less and less appealing as the minutes passed. She just wanted to go home. She wanted to forget that the day had ever happened, and pretend if only for a moment, that she was still just Y/N and not Agust D’s sugar baby.

“A musician is a musician.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter if you play at home or in the arenas.”

They slipped into silence after that.

Dinner was short. She had studying to do, and the urge to see her baby. The day had left her rankled and seeing Eun Jae would help settle her again. So dinner was a light sweet meal where they got to know each other a little more before Yoongi sent her off in a car of her own. It was another dark SUV just like the one they had taken to get to the little restaurant.

“This is Jackson.” He nodded to the man waiting outside the car for her. “He’ll be your driver from now on.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” The tall young man greeted with a respectful bow and a charming smile.

“Please, call me Y/N.” She introduced herself with a small smile of her own.

He nodded shooting her a grin, both of them unaware of the dark look Yoongi was giving them. She was never so at ease with him, but she would be soon with any luck.

“Take good care of her, Wang.” He ordered seeing his own car pulling up ready to take him to the next thing on his schedule for the day. “Take care, Y/N. I’ll be seeing you soon.” He gave her nod though it wasn’t what he wanted to do. He wanted to kiss her. God did he want to kiss her, but she wasn’t ready for that yet. Soon though. Soon.

She got home safe and sound though it was a surprise for Halmeoni to see her there.

The elderly woman looked at her with a sharp eye as she entered the restaurant. “What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to see Eun Jae. It’s been a rough day.” She answered with a weak smile.

Her grandmother nodded in understanding motioning her head towards the stairs that led up to their home. “He’s upstairs. I’ll make tea.”

She nodded gratefully before practically sprinting up the stairs. She saw Eun Jae sprawled across the floor coloring, and it was like she could breathe again. Everything would be okay. It had to be okay. And even if it wasn’t, she would make it okay, for him.

part 5

#bts #bts fic #yandere bts #bts yoongi #bts suga #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yandere #yandere yoongi #yandere suga #rapper yoongi #agust d #bts fanfic #suga we're going down #suga x reader #dark romance

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peaceoutofthepieces · 4 years ago

Text

Tracing Time

Again a tiny mention of the hate crime in the first few paragraphs here, just as Sander is thinking of the last clip.

Thursday, 12:03

Song: Agnes Obel - Island of Doom

“Oh my god, Gilles, can you please just stop for five minutes?”

Sander’s not sure where the outburst comes from; he regrets it instantly. He feels better today, after the shit-show that was last night. He’s stopped thinking about punches and bruises and pain and lies and Robbe curled up on the ground. Or at least, he’s stopped thinking about it enough that he can breathe easier again. He had never even really noticed the weight, until he’d spoken to Jens the other night. Until then, it had been about Robbe. Robbe being okay, Robbe feeling safe and not missing out, Robbe not hating himself for loving Sander. Robbe moving on. Recovering, healing. Forgetting.

They’ll never forget it entirely, he knows that. But he sees it in Robbe, and he can see it in himself now, those times when it leaves them for a moment. When the universe shrinks back down, and centers them in its orbit, and blocks out the rest of the world. They can forget, for more and more moments.

Once they admit that they haven’t, it becomes easier to try. Ignoring it hasn’t given it less power; it only makes the memory scarier when it pops up unexpectedly.

He’s allowed to curse it. To hate faces he doesn’t even remember. It’s all that anger, that spark of spite, that lights a fire in him and allows him to grow bigger than it. He should have known, with how long Agathe has been ingraining the thought process in him. Giving voice to it, letting his words be carried away on the air, shifts the concrete away to prod at the core, which is only as heavy as damp, rotting leaves. If he speaks at the right moment, the wind will be strong enough to sweep them out.

Maybe the right moment should have happened before last night. Maybe it should have come a year ago. But he’d woken up this morning with such an unexpected sense of light and relief, and he thinks that should count for something, no matter the time.

Then he’d gone to class, and the usual restless-and-bored feeling kicked in, and then he’d settled himself down at one of the picnic benches outside. Now, he’s still there, with the addition of his friends, and the good mood he’d woken up in is dissipating quickly the longer he tries to work on this assignment.

And the longer Gilles keeps distracting him from it.

They’re looking at Sander now from right next to him like he’d just slapped them across the face, and the regret deepens, twists itself into something gnarled and jagged that hooks and tugs at his ribs. Thomas and Emilie have gone silent and, effectively, so has Gilles. They open their mouth only once and quickly snap it shut again.

“I’m sorry,” Sander says quickly. “I honestly didn’t mean it. It’s just—“ he gestures to his laptop “—this fucking assignment.”

Gilles wipes the surprise away and forces a smile, giving a tiny nod. “Yeah, I know. I get it. I can keep it down. Actually, I think I’m gonna go get something to eat, anyway.”

They begin to rise from the bench as they speak, and Sander quickly latches onto their arm and gives a pleading tug. “No. Gilles, I’m sorry. Please, don’t be upset.”

“I’m not,” Gilles waves him off. At Sander’s unconvinced look, they insist, “I’m not.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Sander tries. “Don’t leave.”

Gilles just shakes their head. “I’ll come back. Compromise, yeah? You asked for five minutes.”

Sander slowly lets his hand fall, feeling lost. He can’t just keep apologising, but he doesn’t know what to actually say to make it better. He’s hopeless in such situations. He glances at Thomas and Emilie for help, but they both seem disappointed, too.

“Sander.” Gilles sets a hand on the back of his neck as they finally stand and gives a gentle squeeze. “I get it. It’s fine. I’ll...try to actually help you, or just be quiet whenever I get back, okay? Whichever you want.” They duck down and press a firm kiss to his cheek, and he barely has time to lean towards them before they hoist up their bag and walk off.

Sander wants to call out, but he still can’t find the words, and Gilles won’t be dragged back if they want to go. Instead his mouth opens and closes as helplessly as a fish’s, and Thomas slowly packs up his things and stands instead.

“I’m gonna go…” He juts his thumb over his shoulder, hovering by the table hesitantly. “I’m sure it’s fine, but, you know. But it’ll be fine, Sander.”

Sander’s shoulders slump, but he nods, and Thomas smiles at him before running to catch up to Gilles. Sander pushes his laptop back far enough that he can plant his elbows on the table and drop his head into his hands with a sigh.

“Hey,” Emilie breaks through his thoughts, voice soft. “Gilles is a big boy. They’ll get over it quickly. They really know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

“It was still shitty,” Sander sighs.

Emilie gives him a sympathetic smile and slides across the seat to sit directly across from him, where Thomas had been a moment ago. “What’s going on?”

Sander huffs. “You mean why am I being a dick?”

She ignores him. “The assignment can’t be that bad. Maybe give yourself a break from it, get something to eat as well. Come back to it with a clearer head.”

“It’s not that easy,” Sander says, frustrated. “Just because you can pass all this stuff without even trying, doesn’t mean it’s the same for all of us.”

“Okay, wow, you really do have a stick up your ass today.”

Sander shrinks back, effectively admonished. He, again, didn’t mean to be so harsh. He probably should just stop speaking altogether. Which means he probably should stop writing this essay, too, at least for a moment, until he gets his head under control again. Chances are it will be more strongly worded than he intends if he continues at this rate. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

Emilie stares him down for a moment, then sighs. She reaches out and carefully pushes his laptop aside, and Sander doesn’t even attempt to muster the energy for a protest. Emilie lays her hands over his and doesn’t hold them, but massages the pressure points between each thumb and forefinger as she speaks.

“You know, it would take me a full month to do the kind of art you can pull off in like, a day. And I’m no smarter than Tom. It’s not just easy for me, Sander. I work my ass off to be here as much as anyone else.”

Sander curls in on himself a little more, nodding. He could mumble another apology, but he doesn’t quite see the point. He knows it’s not what she’s looking for. “I know,” he says instead. “I didn’t mean to discredit you.”

“I know.” She gives his hands a squeeze and sighs, leaning in closer to catch his eye. “And I would never discredit you, either, because I know none of us would be here if we didn’t deserve it. It’s not supposed to be easy. But we can do it. That’s the whole point.”

Is that true? It’s something Sander would like to believe, certainly, but at times like this...he doubts his abilities and his choices. What if he’s just not meant for study? In that case, what is he supposed to do?

“And you know it’s okay,” Emilie continues softly, “to ask for help when you feel like you can’t do it.”

Of course she sees right through him. He smiles weakly and works one of his hands free to draw his laptop backs towards him, angling it towards Emilie. “Will you help me?”

She huffs now, but smiles. “If only you��d had to ask one of us that last week. But when it comes to practicals you’re a pro. Otherwise we would’ve realised you’d gotten mixed up.”

“Are you saying,” Sander asks slowly, “that I messed up because I’m too good?”

She grins at him. “Exactly.”

“Cute. Just say you want help with your piece too and be done with it.”

“I want help with my piece, too.”

“At your service,” Sander smirks.

He feels only mildly anxious as she quickly skims through what he has already done, and relieved when her first response is a question that unexpectedly prompts him onwards. He’s typing away again within moments, ignoring the girl’s smug smile as he flicks between tabs and documents and his own thoughts.

When he’s completed another, rather lengthy paragraph, Gilles and Thomas return.

Sander is surprised enough to stop immediately; he hadn’t actually expected the two to come back. But Gilles perches next to him again with only the slightest hesitance and passes him a small, white paper bag with two croques tucked inside.

Sander instantly wraps an arm around their waist and leans into them in a hug, mumbling another apology. It’s all it takes to have Gilles beaming and pressing a kiss to his temple.

“You’re both so easy,” Thomas muses. “Remember this, Em. Just give Sander food and Gilles affection and they’re fine.”

“Or the other way around,” Gilles offers, to which Sander immediately nods.

“Both,” he agrees. “Both is good.”

They’re all halfway through their food when Sander remembers the other thing he wanted to talk to them about, and a smile is stretching his lips before he actually speaks. “So, what did you guys think of Luca? She’s pretty fun, right?”

Gilles and Emilie choke on the same bite, with Gilles falling into a dramatic coughing fit and Emilie just politely clearing her throat with the back of her hand pressed to her lips. Thomas’s sandwich is held halfway up to his mouth as he freezes and examines the scene, the top rim of his glasses cutting his eyes in half as he widens them at Sander. Sander simply laughs, shaking his head at the two culprits and remarking on all their old comments about him being the one lacking subtlety.

As if.

~^~

previous/next

#wtfock #sander driesen #sander season #tracing time #gilles visser #emilie de vries #thomas aarden #one clip left now

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littleoddwriter · 3 years ago

Note

Hello over there! Hope you're alright! Can I request another Zsaszmask story with their son Andrew? This time, Andrew kills someone in self-defence and he does not know what to do. Luckily for him, his parents are here for helping him. I am sure you will write something wonderful. Thanks in advance and have a nice day! (BTW, if you want to request me something, don't hesitate!)

Alive and Safe | Roman Sionis x Victor Zsasz | ZsaszMask

Hi there! As alright as can be, hope you are as well, thanks! <3 Now, this was a super interesting request, thank you so much for it! I really hope you enjoy what I've done with it. :) Have a wonderful day/night! (And thank you!) <3

summary; See above.

notes; Gun Violence; Blood; (Background) Murder; Self-Defence; Crying; Shock; Anxiety/Panic; Hurt/Comfort; Showering; Taking Care of Someone; Parental Feelings, Worries, etc.; Domestic. [Also, Andrew is 19 here. It'll be mentioned in the Fic, too, but I'm saying it here for imagination purposes.]

There was so much blood on him. Some of it was his, but most of it was from the guy, who was now lying lifeless on the floor. Andrew had shot him. He didn’t mean to kill him! He just wanted to incapacitate him so that he could get away and call the police. That was all he had wanted to do. But now he stood in the dark alleyway, above this corpse and he didn’t know what to do.

Should he still call the police? Would they arrest him, then? Would he end up going to prison for trying to save his own life?

With trembling hands, he pulled out his mobile phone from his pants pocket and speed dialled his dads’ number. They would know what to do.

“Andrew? Where the fuck are you? You were supposed to be home already!” one of his dads, Roman, yelled upon picking up.

Andy opened his mouth to tell him what was going on, but he didn’t know how to start. His throat was so tight; he couldn’t get a word out. Instead, he just breathed heavily into the phone as tears gathered in his eyes.

“Andy?”

“Dad-,” he choked out eventually, a sob tearing from his throat immediately after.

“Andy, what’s wrong? Baby, c’mon, tell me what’s going on,” his dad urged him, his voice softer and with a more concerned inflection now. “Victor, get the driver ready!” Andy heard him say distantly. “We’re coming to you, ‘kay? Just tell me where you are,” he spoke to him directly again.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Andrew tried to collect his thoughts and then whispered the alley’s name he was currently standing in. “Please come quick, dad. Please,” he snivelled.

Back at home, Roman rushed Victor downstairs and into his Rolls Royce. Quickly, he gave the driver the address and told him to hit the fucking gas, but park a street away from the actual alley Andy was in, lest they might alert someone to their presence.

“He sounded so fucking afraid, Vic. What do you think happened? Fuck! That’s why I don’t like letting him go out on his own!” Roman hissed, punching the seat beside him.

“I don’t know, but we’ll find out. We have to stay focused, though, Roman. Andy needs us,” Victor replied, looking back at him from the front passenger seat.

“I know that, ugh! How can you be so fucking calm?”

Zsasz just shrugged and Roman huffed, crossing his arms. Why couldn’t Victor show that he was out of his mind with concern, too? Why did he always have to be the emotional one? It was annoying and unfair.

Soon enough, they arrived at a street away from the alleyway their son was in, and they quickly armed themselves – both with guns and knives, concealed by their clothing. Silently, they walked up the alley; Victor in front of Roman, making sure it was safe. Then, they turned the corner and came to a sudden halt.

There Andrew stood, soiled in blood with wide, wet eyes, shaking and frozen to the spot, illuminated by the soft yellow light of the only streetlamp in the alley.

When their gaze tore from him and further down to the floor, they saw the corpse of a man. He looked homeless to Roman, and it wouldn’t surprise him at all if he was.

“Dads-,” Andy sobbed, sounding so small and terrified.

Roman’s heart sank. He hasn’t heard his son sound like that since he’d been a younger child, plagued by nightmares. But fuck, he still was a child, wasn’t he? After all, he was only nineteen-years old.

“Oh, baby. It’s okay,” Roman said and quickly walked over to his boy, cupping his cheeks in his gloved hands, “Are you hurt?”

“A little,” Andy admitted brokenly and Roman clenched his jaw.

What kind of fucking prick thought it to be a good idea to hurt his son?

Victor crouched down beside them and looked the body over. “You shot him?” he asked, looking up at his son, who choked out a soft ‘yes’ in answer.

“I didn’t mean to kill him! I swear, I didn’t! It just sort of happened, I don’t know how. He came onto me and threatened me with the gun and I defended myself. I only wanted to hurt him! But suddenly the gun went off and he was dead. Just like that!” Andy explained frantically, his breaths coming out in short bursts, as he was starting to hyperventilate.

“Ssshhh, sh, sh, sh. It’s alright. We’ve got you. No one is mad at you, ‘kay?” Roman tried to shush his son, gently stroking his thumbs over his puffy, wet cheeks.

“B-but when the police find out- They’ll put me away!”

“Oh, sweetie, don’t worry about that. You won’t go to jail. I’ve got the police on my payroll. Not only that, but I’ll call my men and they’ll clean up here. No one’s going to find him or know he’s been killed.”

“Are you sure?”

Roman couldn’t help but let out a short laugh, hearing Victor, who finally got up from that filthy floor, do the same. “Yes, I’m certain. Otherwise your papa and I would have been in prison a long time ago, ‘kay?”

Andrew nodded and Roman leaned in to press a short kiss to his son’s sweaty brow. Then, he let go of him to get on his phone and wake up some of his goons, so they could do their job.

While he was busy on the phone, Roman saw Victor hugging Andrew, rubbing his arms and back soothingly and kissing his hair. It made him smile. Zsasz was surprisingly good at being a father. Roman envied him for how easy it seemed to be for him.

When he got off the phone, he told the other two that they’d have to wait here for his men to arrive, before they could return home without a second thought. Andrew certainly didn’t like it and neither did Roman, but it was necessary, lest someone might have found the body and actually called the fucking cops, then. That just wouldn’t do.

Finally, a good twenty minutes later, his goons have arrived and he instructed them quickly. Then, he ushered Andy and Zsasz back to his car, so that they could leave for good. Thank fuck, it had all gone smoothly thus far.

“Victor will take a look at your wounds at home and then you’ll wash up,” Roman stated, holding his son’s hand in his own. He would have put his arm around him, but the blood on him, although dried by then, didn’t allow it for him.

“Yeah, alright. Thank you, dad. For everything,” Andy whispered. He’s finally stopped crying, then, but he was still trembling severely; although that wasn’t necessarily surprising.

As they eventually came through the door, Zsasz immediately walked Andy into the bathroom to take a look at his wounds. Roman followed them, observing the whole thing from a safe distance in the doorway. Apparently, Andrew has gotten away with some bruises on his torso, a cut on his left arm and a split open lip that Roman only registered now in the bright bathroom lights.

“Take a shower, Andy. I’ll come and nurse your wounds afterwards, alright? If you need anything, just tell us,” Zsasz finished his inspection and Andrew nodded, thanking him quietly.

Then, Roman and Victor left Andy alone, until he was either done with washing up, or needed them all of a sudden - whichever happened first.

Frankly, Sionis felt sick to his stomach. This was his son, his baby – wounded and in shock, because he had to involuntarily take someone’s life to save his own. It was wrong on so many levels and it left Roman heartbroken and seething with rage.

“Maybe we should have shown him this side of our business before, already,” Victor mused, putting his hands on Roman’s shoulder and massaging them as he did so often.

Roman scoffed, “Why? So he wouldn’t have been so shaken up, now?”

“I don’t know, yes. I just don’t wanna see him like this again, y’know? God knows how long this will stick with him.”

“I know what you mean… We’ll just have to support him throughout and then he’ll be better, soon,” Roman responded, deep in thought, “That’s what other parents would do, right?”

“Yeah, I think so. I guess we’ll also just have to listen to what he says he needs. I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

“Fuck, I hope so. Vic, I-,” Roman heaved a deep, shuddering sigh, “I was so scared we’d lose him. That some rival gang has gotten their hands on him or some fucking shit like that.”

“I know. I thought the same thing. But he’s okay. Shaken up and a little hurt, but he’s alive, at least.”

Zsasz stopped kneading Roman’s shoulders and instead wrapped his arms around him, nuzzling the back of his head. Roman relaxed into the embrace, closing his eyes for a moment, faintly hearing the water from the shower.

Later, after Andy has showered and gotten his wounds taken care of by Victor, he went to bed. Roman and Victor tucked him in, just like when he was still a boy and kissed his cheeks and forehead one after the other.

“Goodnight, baby,” Roman murmured, brushing his son’s hair back.

“Goodnight, dads. I love you,” Andy replied softly, looking up at the two of them with a small, quivering smile on his face.

“We love you, too. Now sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning, I promise,” Zsasz responded, then and walked over to the door with Roman in front of him.

Then, they switched the lights off and closed the bedroom door, walking into their own room afterwards and sitting down on the bed. As soon as they sat down, they leaned against each other and heaved sighs of relief.

Andrew was alive and safe. That was all that mattered.

#tw gun violence #tw murder #roman sionis #roman sionis fanfiction #roman sionis imagine #victor zsasz #victor zsasz fanfiction #zsaszmask #zsaszmask au #zsaszmask fanfic #mlm ship #mlm fiction #mlm fanfic #kid fic

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seasonsofeverlark · 4 years ago

Text

Heated

Author: @hutchhitched

Prompt: Bonfire [submitted by @endlessnightlock]

Rating: E

Summary: Peeta Mellark left home at 18 for college at his girlfriend’s request. He hadn’t seen her since, but one night, a decade later he joined his high school friends for a bonfire on the beach and found her again in a very heated way.

__________

Peeta checked the time and pressed harder on the gas pedal. He was running behind, and he hated being late. Unused to having a chance to take time during the fall for anything personal, he felt a little out of sorts as he wound along the ocean highway on his way to meet his friends for a seasonal bonfire. He hadn’t been to the event for ages, not since he’d left for college and spent the bulk of his time back east. He’d missed Oregon autumns and nights on the beach with crisp air and changing leaves. It was good to be back, even if he was going to be late.

Darkness fell as he steered the car, passing slower traffic when he could and wondering exactly who was coming. Finnick, his best friend from high school, invited him several weeks ago, and Peeta had put him off until his calendar opened up for a few days during his business trip to the west coast. As wind blew in through the car windows and ruffled his hair, he admitted accepting the invitation was the appropriate action. He needed this break from the regular stress of his job.

By the time he exited the highway and pulled onto the dirt road that led to the beach, it was dark, and the stars twinkled above him. He smiled at the forms sitting around the fire, friendly figures from his past who called out for him to join them.

“Peeta!” Finnick shouted, his cheeks rosy from merriment and drinking. “We were just about to go skinny dipping.”

“Before I even had a chance to say hello?” Peeta observed drily. “That’s…just great, man. Seriously, great.”

“You can stay,” he offered. “Katniss is planning to.”

Her name washed over him, friendly and comforting. Katniss Everdeen. His first love, high school sweetheart, best friend for years until he made the difficult decision to leave and pursue his education from halfway across the nation. It had broken his heart to leave her, but she’d insisted, refusing to allow him to give up anything for her. And now, here she was, in the flesh, and flashing a tremulous smile his way.

“Hi,” Peeta managed to say. “Good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too, Peeta.”

Her melodic voice soothed him, working its way into his joints and spreading out in warm waves that swelled through his bones. His body relaxed, inch by inch, until his limbs loosened and grew peaceful. All his usual twitching and extraneous energy stilled as he sank down next to her. He was too lost in her to even notice as the others slipped into the darkness. The sound of their laughter swept in from the waves, but he didn’t bother to pay any attention.

“How have you been?” he asked, eager to hear her speak again. “It’s been so long.”

“Okay. Still here. Put my sister through college. She’s in med school in California now.”

Peeta nodded, memories of Prim Everdeen’s infectious grin danced in front of his eyes. “Good for her.”

“She’s doing great. My mom’s okay. Better mentally. Always takes her medicine,” she added, referring to her mother’s mental health issues that had forced Katniss to grow up much too fast and parent her younger sibling. Peeta’d tried to help out as much as possible to ease her load, but he’d had his own problems to worry about. He still wasn’t sure if he would stop by to visit his own mother before he left town.

“What about you?” he asked, curious about her reticence to talk about herself. “What’s happening for Katniss Everdeen?”

She shrugged and twisted her braid around her index finger before pulling the tie free and nervously unbraiding her hair. Once it was free, she plaited it again, all the while biting her bottom lip.

“I mean…”

“I always loved your hair down,” he said softly. “I know you like it tucked back, but when it’s loose around your face, you’re gorgeous.”

She flushed, pleased but bashful, and shook out her hair. “Thanks.”

“You’re always gorgeous.”

He held her gaze, shining molten silver as the fire reflected in them. She stared back at him, uncertain, and he scooted closer to her. There weren’t words enough to explain how much he’d missed her, how the dull ache of wanting and not having her had left him empty inside so that his victories felt hollow and his losses hurt even more. He’d only been with her for a few minutes, and he already felt like he was reborn.

“Things haven’t been so great for me,” she admitted, barely audible over the crackle of the fire and the rush of the surf. “I… I think I got lost after you left.”

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

She smiled sadly and stared out over the ocean. “I know I told you to leave, and I don’t regret that at all. I thought I was prepared to stand on my own, and I did. I’m proud of that. I took care of myself in addition to helping my mom and supporting Prim in her success.” She curled her hands into fists for a split second, but then forced them to relax. With a rueful smile, she turned to him and admitted, “You weren’t here to remind me to take care of myself first, and I forgot. I figured I’d worry about me later, but now… It’s been a decade, and my life’s at a standstill.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? You should have.”

“Why? What could you do about it? We drifted apart. You had your own life. You deserved that. You still do,” she argued. “I wasn’t going to take that away from you. I wouldn’t ever.”

“What if that’s what I wanted? What if you’re what I want now—who I want now?” Agitated, he thrust his fingers through his hair, shoving his curls off his forehead in exasperation.

“You don’t even know me anymore. I doubt you would.”

Peeta opened his mouth to protest, but their friends returned at that moment, giggling and sopping and partially clothed. Finnick and his fiancée were lip locked, and other couples were paired together as they grabbed bare skin and donned their discarded clothing. It took only a few minutes before they descended into complete debauchery and peeled off for more private surroundings. Peeta could hear vehicles starting and driving away, leaving him alone with Katniss again.

“So much for reunions,” he muttered, slightly irritated and simultaneously thrilled with his remaining company.

“Well, maybe it’s time to go,” she mumbled and made to get up, but Peeta grabbed her arm. Squeezing it gently, he looked at her, pleading silently, until she settled back onto the beach blanket where they sat.

“You know,” he mused, “I hated that you told me to leave. I didn’t see it as you doing what was best for me so much as you giving yourself a chance to have a life without me. I thought maybe I’d been too overbearing, too serious, too concerned about settling down when you deserved a chance to make your own choices. I missed you, and I couldn’t admit it because my heart was broken, so I cut you out, concentrated on school, got my MBA, started working, received a promotion or two. I did all those things, but none of it really mattered to me. Not without someone to share it with, and there was no one I wanted to do that with but you.”

“I could have fought for you. I could have, but I was scared. I loved you so much, and I knew what that kind of love had done to my mom when my father died,” she admitted hoarsely. “It was almost a relief when you gave up on me.”

“I never gave up on you. Never.”

“Almost a relief,” she repeated, “but not really. I always felt like part of me was halfway across the country with you.”

Her admission washed over him, flowing like warm honey and sweetening the world around him. She felt the same way. She must, and that meant he had a chance. He finally had another shot to be with the woman he’d loved since he’d first seen her the day they started Kindergarten.

“Come with me, then,” he whispered. “Or let me come back to you. Whichever way works, just let us be together.”

It was too fast, too ridiculous to expect their reunion in one night, but that didn’t stop him from wanting her. I couldn’t keep him from imagining the future he’d not allowed himself to believe he could have. He could see it all so clearly—them together, marriage, children, building a life he wanted so badly he ached for it.

She raised her face to his, wistful and cautious. Carefully, he tilted her chin and brushed his lips against hers. A delicious whimper fell from her, and Peeta almost crushed her to him. The feel of her in his arms was nearly too much to bear after the years apart. She was oxygen to air-starved lungs, and he craved her. He swept into her, eagerly chasing her taste, practically swallowing her whole. A warning tickled at the back of his brain—don’t come on too strong. Take it slow. Let her make the move. Don’t beg her to agree.

Pulling away reluctantly, he leaned his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry. That was a lot. I’m back on my best behavior.”

“That’s too bad,” she answered hoarsely, licking her lips. “That’s really, really too bad.”

“What is?” he whispered, afraid to burst their bubble. It was safe there, warm and affectionate and full of possibility. He willed her to feel the same.

“I was hoping maybe you’d want to be a little naughty.”

Katniss stood, then, and held out her hand. Head spinning, he rose and watched as she took a step back and shrugged off her button down. His mouth fell open as her olive toned skin lit up golden in the firelight. She licked her lips and slid a strap over her shoulder, exposing the curve of her breast.

It was too soon. This couldn’t be happening. He attempted pinching himself to wake up, but what he saw was real. His first love stood before him, baring herself to his eager gaze, and he swore he’d gone to Heaven.

“Katniss.”

Her name came out as a prayer, but her body was the gospel. Acres of gilded skin emerged as her clothes fell, and he observed the ritual reverently. When she stood before him, exposed and waiting, he joined her. Disrobing, he breathed in the ocean spray as cool breezes caressed his feverish skin.

Peeta stared, unable to tear his eyes away from the glow of firelight on her smooth body. Pert nipples graced perfect breasts, and her waist curved into swayed hips and lithe legs adorned with a strip of dark curly hair that practically invited him to dive in. Stepping forward, he pulled her into his arms and jumped.

The combustion was spontaneous. No, even that was too slow for the flagrance between them. He was on fire, burning brighter than the sun with his skin melded to hers. Collapsing onto the beach blanket, she wrapped her legs around his waist and rutted against him.

“You have… no idea… the effect you have,” he whispered between breaths as he worshipped her body with heated open-mouthed kisses. “Sweetheart.”

She arched her back and opened for him. He dipped his head slowly, giving her time to protest if she wanted. When she did nothing more than moan his name, he nudged his nose against her slit and licked a stripe along her skin. Grinning at her reaction, he shook his head and prodded deeper. Her flavor burst on his tongue, simultaneously tangy and sweet, and he savored and devoured at the same time.

“Peeta,” she cried, desperate but eager. “Feels so good…”

Her approval convinced him to raise his expectations and give her what she really wanted. Tilting her hips, he spread her open and dove back in. She bucked against him, her hips growing wilder while her cries became wanton. Groaning her name, his voice was muffled against her slick skin. Latching onto her clit, he sucked, while she twisted under his mouth and cried his name to the night. Milking her with his tongue, he worked her through a climax, grunting as writhed under him.

She went limp, shivering, although her skin scorched his, heat radiating from her in the wake of her orgasm. He shifted on the blanket, moving her from the moisture captured in the blanket beneath her and draped her over him. Her breath puffed on his chest as her limbs tangled with his, clumsy and pliable as he traced her spine with the pads of his fingers. She mouthed against his chest, painting him with sloppy kisses, and nuzzling his chest.

“You want more?” he asked hoarsely. “You need to come again?” She nodded and snuggled into him, so he maneuvered her limbs so she straddled him and guided her onto his cock. “That’s it,” he groaned. “Feels so good.”

She moved, and he slanted his head back as she began to ride him. Stars flickered overhead, twinkling cheekily at the bonfire. The fire crackled, flames leaping to the heavens, dancing happily in the breeze and cheering their coupling, years in the making.

He burned from the inside out, embers filling his belly, until he was coming, spilling deep into her, pouring the very essence of contentment from him to her and connecting them in a way that he knew would change him forever.

Peeta watched her—beautiful, graceful, powerful. He surveyed her as she tightened, her face peaceful, her hair wild. He steadied her when she threw back her head and shouted, spasms wracking her body. When she was done, she slumped against him, sated and drowsy, her skin dewy and fused to his.

“I’m never going to be able to let you go after this,” she murmured into the sweaty crook of his neck and shoulder.

“Don’t. Don’t do it.” She shriveled, and he realized how that must have sounded. “No, sweetheart. I mean, don’t let me go. I don’t plan to let you get away after finally finding you again.”

“It’s not practical.”

“Love’s never practical. Fuck practical. Come with me, or let me come here. I’ll make it happen,” he insisted.

She didn’t speak for several moments, and he realized what he’d implied—that he loved her, that he’d move for her, that he’d upend his life if it meant he could spend the rest of his life with her. After what felt like an eternity, she finally spoke.

“I’ve kind of been ready for a new adventure.”

A smile split his face, and he rolled them over so his body blanketed hers. He accepted her offer with a deep kiss as the bonfire lit their future.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2020 #hutchhitched #submission #prompt

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riversofmars · 3 years ago

Text

Just another little chance encounter in this series :)

Big, Vast, Complicated and Ridiculous

Chapter 8: Space

“So when you say you're both time travellers… you could pretty much see yourself whenever in whichever order right?“ Yaz asked, contemplating what she had learned about her best friend’s marriage.

“Within reason.“ The Doctor nodded. “We have to keep the causality intact. Hence, we really should get going to Stormcage and put things right.“ She mused stepping up to the TARDIS controls.

“Can we do something fun first?“ Yaz asked and the Doctor looked around to her, slightly confused by the request.

“Like what?“

“See your wife at another time.“ Yaz explained, realising the Doctor wasn’t catching on

“Lets go somewhere… unproblematic. The first time I bumped into her was rather something… and just now, all we did was watch from a distance, I want to get a chance to get to know her a bit better if that’s okay. Perhaps we can find a point in your timeline were we won’t cause any problems.“

“Yaz…“ The Doctor sighed. She appreciated her interest and the sentiment but she shook her head.

“No really. You seem so… determined to focus on her death like the one defining aspect of your relationship and I guess, since it was the beginning, yes, it’s a pretty big deal and it’s bound to hang over you… but you have all of space and time to chose from, both of you do, there must be so much time left, popping in and out of each other’s timelines… find me a River Song that is happy and fun and not at all dead.“ Yaz crossed her arms in front of her chest, challenging her.

“Yaz…“ The Doctor shook her head. She wasn’t sure if she was emotionally able to cope with another fleeting encounter that would only drive home how much she missed her.

“Come on, you know you want to!“ Yaz insisted and the TARDIS jumped into action before the Doctor could do anything. So she gave a little defeated sigh. What was one more trip. Yaz was right, she had been focusing too much on what she didn’t have than what she could, if she just chose to. The TARDIS landed and the Doctor made her way to the door.

“Right then, let’s see what fresh hell you have for us this time…“ She pulled the door open and they found themselves stepping into a space ship. Suddenly there was laser fire! They only barely managed to duck.

“Intruders!“ An angry voice called.

“You said unproblematic, didn’t you?“ The Doctor groaned spotting a group of well armoured aliens heading towards them.

“Run?“ Yaz asked, ducking more laser blasts.

“Run!“ The Doctor confirmed and they bolted down the corridor, leaving the TARDIS behind. They dove into an alcove, a good hiding spot and the soldiers sprinted past.

“What are they?“ Yaz asked quietly watching the short, ball-headed aliens carry on.

“We ended up on a Sontaran battleship.“ The Doctor explained and stuck her head out to see what was going on. “Not very friendly people at all.“ She spotted two Sontarans that had stayed behind to examine the TARDIS. “We can’t let them have the TARDIS…“ She mumbled turning back to Yaz. “I mean, they’re really not clever enough to work it but…“

“We need to get out of here somewhere.“ Yaz agreed.

“So what’s the plan?“ A voiced sounded behind them in their hide out. Clearly, they weren’t the only ones that had made use of it. Both of them whirled around in shock.

“River?!“ The Doctor exclaimed in disbelief and her wife quickly shushed her by pressing a finger to her lips.

“Shush, you don’t want them to find us, do you?“ She hummed, checking over her shoulder that they hadn’t been spotted.

“What are you doing here?“ Yaz barely knew what to say, her heart still racing from the shock.

“Oh, you know, the usual…“ River gave a shrug and grinned.

“Which means?“ The Doctor asked when she let go of her.

“Well, the Sontarans took possession of a very large crystal that’s said to have the power to topple empires… it doesn’t really, it’s superstition because people have been fighting over it for so long. It is just a very large, very valuable jewel and utterly wasted on Sontarans.“ River answered with a smirk and the Doctor groaned in annoyance:

“River!“

“Don’t give me that look, Sweetie.“ River did her best to look offended when she really wasn’t. They did this dance a lot. “Now, how about a kiss for your old wife instead?“ She smirked and pressed a kiss to her wife’s lips.

“River…“ The Doctor’s protest was very weak and she kissed her back until Yaz cleared her throat quite loudly.

“Ah, yes, sorry.“ River let go of her wife and turned to Yaz with a smile: “Hello again Yaz, how have you been?“

“Yeah, uhh, not too bad…“ Yaz replied slowly, not sure how to respond. Their last meeting had been a lot less civil.

“The last time you saw her, you put a gun to her head.“ The Doctor threw in, feeling the need to explain and River raised her eyebrows.

“Not to my recollection, that was quite a long time ago but if you say so.“ She shrugged. Time travel was funny like that.

“You’re not going to say sorry, are you.“ The Doctor sighed, realising she wouldn’t be able to make good on her promise to Yaz.

“When have I ever apologised for anything.“ River chuckled, finding the whole notion rather ridiculous.

“It’s fine.“ Yaz said, still surprised at how pleasant and mild mannered River was acting towards her. “So, Professor Song…“ She started but River interrupted her sounding affronted.

“My, my. Professor Song? It is early days for you. River. Please.“ The professor insisted.

“River then.“ Yaz nodded, deciding to just go with it. “Can I ask you something?“ She glanced to the Doctor briefly who frowned, wondering what she was playing at.

“Ask away but do it quickly, those soldiers will be back.“ River replied pleasantly while checking that they were still safe enough.

“Are you happy?“ Yaz asked.

“What sort of a question is that?“ River frowned but she wasn’t annoyed or affronted, just surprised.

“Yaz…“ The Doctor tried to interject but Yaz wasn’t letting her.

“No, please, what I mean to say… from what I’ve gathered your life is so complicated. Your relationship I mean.“ She looked in between the two women. “It must be difficult, for both of you. But does that… take away from your happiness, does that… make you love each other any less? Do you wish things were different?“ She looked to River for an answer.

“Yaz…“ The Doctor said again but River was ignoring her as well.

“Oh, Yaz, darling, you are new to this, aren’t you.“ She chuckled. “All of time and space. Out of order, upside down, back to front, it doesn’t matter. We’re not normal people, neither one of us. Only makes sense our story is as vast, complicated and ridiculous as we are, isn’t that right, Sweetie.“ River looked to her wife who didn’t respond, she just listened. “Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy the quiet life as well, for a time maybe, but not forever. Who knows what the future holds, that’s part of the fun.“ She looked to the Doctor who didn’t seem quickly like herself.

Yaz, however, appeared satisfied with the answer so River decided to return to what she thought were more important matters: “Now, as much as I’m enjoying philosophising… Those Sontarans are about to break open your TARDIS and we can’t let that happen. I will create a diversion, you run back and take off.“

“River…“ The Doctor didn’t know what to do or say. Her words were only just sinking it, she didn’t want to say goodbye again so soon.

“I’ll see you soon, Sweetie. Actually, might have you give me a ride.“ She tapped a message into her vortex manipulator. “Till next time, my love. See ya, Yaz.“ She didn’t give either of them a chance to respond, she just jumped out of their hiding place. “Hello boys. Are you on a hen night?“ She called down the corridor, drawing the attention of the Sontarans attempting to get inside the TARDIS.

“She’s mad, utterly mad.“ Yaz shook her head to herself as she watched River sprinting down the corridor, heading away from the TARDIS and the Sontarans chasing after her with gun fire.

“Let’s go.“ The Doctor grabbed Yaz by the arm and they bolted from their hiding place, back towards the TARDIS.

“Will she be okay?“ Yaz asked and the Doctor nodded:

“Yup, I will be picking her up any moment now. Past me, anyway.“ They reached the TARDIS door and pushed it open. “Let’s go.“

#doctor who #river song #thirteen #thirteenth doctor #river x thirteen #space wives #yowzah #Yasmin Khan #fluff #fun #river x the doctor #general #fanfiction

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