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noyasmashing · 6 months ago

Note

Daichi getting dommed by his girlfriend?! Since he's in the police maybe his girlfriend is a detective or some form of government official that works with the police all the tine!!!

★ BAD BOY. daichi!

౨ৎ :: masterlist. reblogs are appreciated.

• warning: daichi + fem!dom reader, male penetration/fingering, mommy kink, cum eating, daichi has the “asian flush”

Daichi really wasn’t the one to drink. Actually, he shouldn’t be drinking. He lacked the enzyme that broke down alcohol once consumed. He wasn't suited for it, plain and simple. However, there were exceptions to his rule.

More often than not, he found himself holding a drink at parties, and tonight was no different. After months of tireless investigation, the combined efforts of the police officers and detectives had finally paid off, solving a particularly complex case. As a well-deserved reward, the team decided to treat themselves to a celebratory night out. They reserved a cozy private room at a highly-regarded restaurant, famous for its exceptional craft cocktails.

Their boss, in a thoughtful gesture, had arranged for everyone's drinks to be pre-ordered and paid for, ensuring that the team could relax and enjoy each other's company without worrying about the bill.

Daichi's concern about his metabolic issue flared up as he was handed a cold drink. However he disregarded it. After all, it was only natural that he felt compelled to partake, he didn’t want to seem stuck up, or rude. He started out with small sips, attempting to feign enjoyment.

No one had even noticed, he had gone almost the entirety of the party without even finishing half. Fortunately, everyones attention was diverted by a heartfelt speech from their respected superior officer, acknowledging the team's hard work and dedication.

As the party continued, Daichi's attention was divided between the celebratory speech and your persistent touch. Initially, the gentle rubbing of his thigh was a reflexive response to his coworkers' congratulations. But as the atmosphere mellowed, your hand remained, sending sparks of sensation through his body. The fleeting touches near his upper thigh were maddening, making him feel like he was losing control.

You couldn't help but notice his gaze lingering on you throughout the night, his eyes drawn to the subtle details of your attire - the short skirt, the blouse that teased just enough to hint at what lay beneath. It was clear you were deliberately drawing attention to yourself, and Daichi couldn't help but be captivated by your presence.

“Shall we take care of your issue in the bathroom?” you whispered in Daichi's ear, your voice dripping with teasing intent.

As he tried to maintain a stoic expression, you couldn't help but giggle at his failed attempt to hide his emotions. His temples flexed in frustration as he remained silent, his grip on your hand tightening under the table.

“You know we can’t do that.” He reasoned, tuning to meet your gaze, just for a moment.

You purred out, “Suit yourself,” in response, your eyes never leaving his face. Before smoothly turning to another detective and launching into a conversation about a different case you were working on together.

Daichi turned to look at his own friends, but struggled to process any of their words, his mind consumed by a maelstrom of inappropriate thoughts. In a desperate attempt to shake off the tormenting sensations and clear his mind, Daichi turned his attention to his drink, downing the remaining contents of his glass with a swift motion. The sudden rush of liquid warmth doing little to calm his racing thoughts.

As he struggled to clear the unpleasant aftertaste of his previous drink, Daichi's eyes fluttered open to find the group surrounding him, refilling their glasses.

Before he could process the situation, the room erupted into a chorus of cheers and toasts, and someone was pressing another glass into his hand. With a sense of obligation, Daichi reluctantly accepted the offering, not wanting to be rude or spoil the celebratory atmosphere. As he added the new drink to his already-lively mix, Daichi couldn't help but lament the fact that he had now consumed two cocktails.

As the surprise toast came to a close, the room began to empty out, with many people saying their goodbyes and departing the restaurant. Daichi noticed your growing impatience, and he felt his own unease mounting. He tried to sound nonchalant as he suggested, "Uh, m-maybe we should get going?" His words were laced with a subtle sense of desperation.

Your hand had been resting on his knee for a moment, but then it drifted away, your gaze flicking to your watch as if checking the time.

You nodded curtly, responding with a, "About time," and turning your attention back to him. "Do you have the keys?" you asked, your tone tinged with a hint of concern as you took in his flushed appearance. Without argument, Daichi handed over the keys, preparing to bid farewell to his coworkers and make a hasty exit.

As you both rose from your seats, Daichi's hand instinctively reached out and grasped the back of your jacket, his fingers digging in slightly as he struggled to steady himself. The sudden movement left him feeling lightheaded, and his face flushed with embarrassment as he realized his mistake. You, however, merely raised an eyebrow and tried to stifle a chuckle, indulging in a discreet caress of his backside as you did so.

You were well aware that Daichi was one of those people who didn't handle his liquor well, and the signs were all too clear. "It was nice seeing you, Chief," you said with a charming smile, shaking his hand firmly as you bid him farewell. Daichi nodded mutely, his eyes fixed on yours with a mixture of fear and distraction as your wandering hand continued its gentle exploration of his body. He was too intimidated to say anything, too preoccupied with the sensation of your touch to speak up.

Once you two were out of the restaurant the cool night air hit Daichi like a train. His breathing came in short, ragged gasps, and he stumbled slightly as he walked to the car. “Why did I park so far away.” He groaned, facepalming when he remembered his decision from earlier that day.

“What’s up with you?” you asked, your voice low and concerned as you raised an eyebrow in inquiry. The crunch of gravel beneath your feet was the only sound breaking the silence as Daichi hesitated.

“Wh-what do you mean?” Daichi stammered, finally turning to face you with a flush rising up his cheeks.

You shot him a concerned glance. "Did you drink too much or something, Sawa? You're breathing heavier than normal," you remarked, wrapping your arm around his waist to steady him as you walked towards the car in the dimly lit parking lot.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "I felt rude not drinking, and then...of course, there was you..." He trailed off, his words hanging in the air as you approached the car, the silence between you thickening like fog.

But before he could break free and make his way to the passenger seat, you pinned him against the sleek, freshly washed car you had purchased together. The new sedan's gleaming surface reflected the dim parking lot lights, creating a sense of intimacy as you leaned in, your breath warm against his ear.

"What about me?" you whispered, your voice husky with desire. "Don't tell me you were turned on in front of your coworkers." you cooed, your knee gliding up to nestle against his groin, the movement deliberate and sensual.

His breath hitched, and he found himself grasping onto your jacket with an anxious intensity. "So-so what if I was?" he questioned, his voice trembling as he felt his heart pounding in his ears, his body burning with a sudden, intense heat.

His eyes widened as you made the bold move of pulling open the second-row door, revealing the dark interior of the car. "I can't wait till we get home," you whispered, your voice low and seductive, "and I don't think you can either." With that, you guided him into the back seat, the motion smooth and deliberate.

The effects of the alcohol were plain to see on him once you sat down beside him. You could almost hear his racing heart, his face a deep crimson, and the most captivating sight of all was his ragged breathing, as if he'd run a mile.

It was the most intoxicatingly vulnerable you had ever seen him, and by God, it was incredibly attractive. Once you closed the door behind you both, your lips crashed together in a sloppy, frenzied kiss. One that was full of fervor and desperation on his part.

Without hesitation, you started to undo the buttons of his shirt. "I think you're going to need a little discipline for overindulging, don't you?" you whispered into his ear, taking a gentle moment to nip at the lobe.

He let out a soft moan, his head nodding in agreement as you spoke. His apologies tumbled out in a slurred, endearing manner. Daichi was typically contrite and apologetic for his mistakes, so it was unusual for him to receive punishment like this, it made him excited.

"Actually," you said, pulling back to gaze at him with a playful smile. His eyes, still glassy from the drink, met yours, and he stared at you with a dazed expression. "You know what? You're adorable when you're tipsy. Kinda like when I finish fucking your brains out.”

He felt his body flare with heat at your words. The only thing his mushy brain could get out was a “please!” His whole body starting to tremble with anticipation as the desire burned within him. Your words conjured vivid images in his mind, leaving him breathless and unsure of himself. He felt like he was drowning in a sea of emotions, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts: plead, sob, or surrender. Your gentle teasing was torturous, leaving him helpless and at your mercy.

"Please? What do you want, sawamura?" you asked, your tone softening as you reached out to gently push him down onto his forearms.

He looked up at you with half-lidded eyes and wet lips. "F-fuck... fuck me.” he forced out, his breath catching in his throat as your hands ran gently along his chest, tracing the curve of his nipples.

“I don’t have my strap with me, darling.” You sighed, your hands tracing a gentle path along his torso. His abs contracted and relaxed, shifting beneath your touch. As you spoke, he let out a disappointed sob, his head tilting back in surrender.

“Don’t be greedy, my fingers will do just fine.” And with that, he was suddenly being flipped on all fours, his perky ass presented to you, the fabric of his clothes now inches from your face.

“Y-yes.. yes ma’am, sorry ma’am.” He relented, arching his back in attempts to appease you. You released a contented hum, then unfastened his belt and slowly slid down the zipper of his dress pants.

As soon as his undergarments were removed, his throbbing cock sprang free, glistening with precum that dripped down onto his dress shirt, a rather unfortunate turn of events.

Not to mention his hole, which clenched in eager anticipation of whatever you had in store. Your initial move was to spit on it, which was fortunate, as you would have needed lubricant anyway. He let out a soft "Ahh" of pleasure, sinking deeper into position as he did so.

You leaned forward, your body pressed against his, as you guided two fingers into his mouth from behind. "Open," you commanded, and he complied.

He struggled to resist the urge to suck on your fingers as you roughly explored his tongue, making him gag. A muffled string of moans escaped his lips, accompanied by a gasp as you withdrew your fingers.

"I'm supposed to be punishing you," you scoffed, "but you're responding like this is some kind of reward." you added, scoldingly. You then proceeded to line your now-wet fingers with his tight hole.

"Relax," you instructed as your fingers slid into him. Ordinarily, you would have taken your time to ease him into it, inserting just one finger to begin with. But the circumstances didn't allow for that level of finesse. Instead, you established a rough and demanding pace, one that had him groaning and whimpering into his palm.

"Slow down!" he pleaded, his words slurred with a mixture of protest and pleasure. Despite his plea, his hips continued to move in tandem with your pace, practically fucking himself on your fingers.

You couldn't help but laugh at the drunken scene unfolding before you, one hand rising to make a harsh, stinging contact with his exposed ass. His skin was hot to the touch, and his entire body seemed to vibrate with excitement.

His light pants were now a canvas of moans, his cries of pleasure and pain mingling in a chorus of ecstasy. The stifling air in the car grew thick and heavy, the windows fogging up.

"I wonder how the team would react to seeing you like this," you sneered, your voice dripping with disdain. "Knowing that I fucked you in the back of your car, and you took it like a good slut."

You dug your fingers deeper, searching for his most sensitive spot, and he winced in response. "Stoppp," he drunkenly begged, his voice muffled by his hand. You couldn't help but snort in derision at his demand.

"If you want me to stop, then why are you dripping allll over the seat?" You taunted, your gaze flicking down to the damp fabric. "Somebody's going to have to clean this up, you know."

He paused, his mind processing your words as a wave of tension washed over him. Though you couldn't see his physical response, you sensed it with certainty - his cock was twitching at your rather harsh degradation.

"I'm gonna cum, mommy." he whimpered alas, his voice trembling and nasal, in a tone that was foreign to you. He rarely addressed you with such endearments, so you knew that the alcohol must have loosened his inhibitions. "I'm gonna cum b-because your being so mean to me." he stammered, his words punctuated by sniffles.

"Hmmm," you murmured, slowing your movements deliberately. You couldn't help but appreciate the way his ass looked, supple and inviting as it yielded to your fingers. You didn't want this moment to end too soon. "Perhaps I should make you wait until we get home," You suggested, your voice low and sadistic with a hint of amusement.

He let out a despairing "Hmph" and a muffled string of "no"s as he struggled to force your fingers deeper inside him. To his frustration, you took a firm hold of his hips, preventing him from generating any friction through his own movements.

"You tell me, sawa, how bad do you want to come?" you asked in a calm, measured tone, tracing small circles on his hips and barely pumping him with your fingers.

As you gazed at him, you could see his Adam's apple bob up and down, his ear that angled towards you flushed a deep red, while his face remained mostly hidden behind his arm. The tremble in his voice was palpable as he hesitantly spoke up. "I... I want to so badly. I need to. My head feels all fuzzy, I can't take it! Please. P-please. Please, Mommy. Let me have this."

It was an understatement to say you were surprised. You had rarely witnessed Daichi so beset by neediness. Maybe his “Asian flush”, a hallmark of his vulnerability, only added to his desperation. You were certain you wouldn't be treated to this sight again anytime soon, so you intended to savor every moment of it.

"Lay on your back f’me. I wanna see your face." You urged in a gentle tone. He almost let out a sob when you detached from him, but your words steadied him. He shakily flipped onto his back, propping himself up on his forearms to gaze up at you. The agonizing seconds it took to reposition yourself felt like an eternity to him. As you finally resumed the motion, he let out a guttural moan, as if begging you to accelerate the pace. Unbeknownst to him, you added a third finger to the mix. Your gaze was transfixed on his face, drinking in the sight of his features twisted in a mix of pleasure and strain.

His labored breathing morphed into soft moans, his nose wrinkling as a single bead of sweat slid down his forehead, tracing the messy contours of his hair. The sight was almost mesmerizing, and you couldn't help but notice that your gaze was heightening his arousal. "You're so pretty, sawa, go ahead and come for me," you coaxed, abandoning any notion of this being a punishment.

But how could you be cruel to your lover when his throbbing cock quivered against his abs, as if begging for release? It was a pitiful yet endearing sight, one that tugged at your heartstrings. Just as your other hand reached out to claim his cock, he burst forth with a ragged cry, his semen coating his torso and the open expanse of his shirt.

A soft, whispered "Thank you, mommy" escaped his trembling lips, as his eyelids remained tightly closed, his gaze shut off from the world.

It took him a moment to collect himself, his breathing still ragged as you withdrew your hand from his under side. He anticipated a trip to the baby wipes, so his tiny whimper of surprise was all the more adorable when your warm tongue made contact with his skin instead. His eyes flew open, taking in the sight of you lapping up his semen.

His initial reaction was a gasp, which turned into a stunned silence as you pulled him in for a kiss mere seconds later, the taste of his own come mingling with yours on his tongue.

He eagerly swallowed everything you gave him, determined to prove he could handle it, just like he handled three of your fingers.

You pulled back, leaving a trail of saliva connecting the two of you, your mischievous glint hinting at the tease that was to come. "I should make you lick the seat clean," you said, your tone playful and unrepentant. Though he winced at the humiliation of the task, he couldn't deny the desire to submit to your whims.

#sub haikyuu #dom reader #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #dom!reader #sub character #sub!character #haikyu x you #haikyu smut #daichi sawamura #daichi x you #daichi x y/n #daichi sawamura x reader #daichi x reader #sawamura daichi #haikyuu daichi #daichi smut #hq daichi

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zhongrin · 8 months ago

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bound matriarch

✼ characters ┈ zhongli

✼ tags ┈ yandere, fem!pronouns ('wife', 'matriarch', 'goddess' used), zhongli as morax/rex lapis, set right after archon war

✼ a/n ┈ i have to be out all day today so i'm not sure if i'll be at home when this goes out but let me just say FINALLY I CAN RELEASE THIS. THIS HAS BEEN ON MY DRAFTS FOR SO LONG (i'd also like to silently thank jessamine bc their comments on my posts were the main catalyst for me to finish this little blurb sobsob)

ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ) ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)

oh, what a dream it is to be the spouse of the strongest archon in teyvat, whom he wed right after archon war ended. some might see the celebratory wedding as something uncouth; an utter disrespect to the lives lost at war and the bereaved families, but the lord of geo disagrees. what could be a better reassurance to ensure the people of liyue would start believing in and striving for a brighter future, than the joyous union of the new geo archon who defended them throughout the arduously long war and the prosperity goddess who has the power to bless the land and its people?

you're draped in gold and red as you sign the oath in blood; sealing your matrimony amidst the cheers of the mortals and immortals alike. the ruby reds on your lips are plush and soft against their god's own, the gossamer thread of embroidered gold of your clothing matching your now-husband's attire. even the bright blue sky seemed to celebrate such a joyous occasion, casting its warm rays upon the now-peaceful land of liyue to offer you its blessing.

they do not know that one certain party was most ardently unwilling to take the vow under one of the most sacred contracts of all.

they need not know that the marriage was a desperate attempt to shackle you to him and erase your individual worth as a goddess; to ensure you are remembered as rex lapis' beloved wife, the matriarch of liyue. they need not know, for just as no one questioned why the god of freedom was not invited into the banquet, no one questioned why a sheer veil covered the lower part of your unsmiling face, or the fact that countless shackles cor petrae accessories heavily rested against your neck and limbs.

what they do know is that this is your prison home ー he is your captor home and you will never belong anywhere else.

and perhaps given a few eons, you shall learn it too. worry not, your husband is a patient god. but you best remember that a god's patience, too, has its limits.

✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ) ┈

@abyssmal-skies ! @hamdehlesmis ! @sunnshineflxwer ! @queen-belial ! @silentmoths

@dustofthedailylife ! @marina-and-the-memes ! @mixed-kester ! @lordbugs ! @anonymousficreader

@irethepotato ! @sassy-cat-in-town ! @syrenkitsune ! @smokipoki ! @cakeboxie

@crystalflygeo ! @ciexuvia ! @illaasya ! @celestewritestoomuch ! @pams-comfortzone

@spidermanluvr444 ! @ourstrawberryclouds ! @ryuryuryuyurboat ! @hrts4hanniehae ! @fiannee

@frosts-intuition ! @florapocalypses ! @genshin-impacts-me ! @scarasmood ! @hellcatinnc

@beloved-brynn ! @malachitemischief101 ! @average-yandere-enjoyer

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli #yandere #rin writes

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nayziiz · 6 months ago

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Forever | CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader (she her)

Author's note: Very short, but very soft.

Masterlist

The sun began to set, casting a warm golden tint over the sprawling vineyard that stretched out like a lush, green ocean. The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of blooming roses and lavender, mingling with the rich aroma of oak barrels from the nearby winery. Fairy lights twinkled overhead, strung between the towering olive trees, creating a canopy of stars that shimmered against the dusky sky.

Guests mingled and laughed, their voices a pleasant hum that blended with the gentle strumming of a guitar from the live band positioned near the rustic, wooden dance floor. The band, dressed in casual, bohemian attire, played a melodic tune that invited everyone to sway and move to its rhythm, including the bridal pair, Pierre and Kika. Elegant tables draped in crisp white linens were scattered around, each adorned with delicate floral centrepieces and flickering candles. A long, beautifully decorated table stood at the heart of the venue, laden with an array of gourmet dishes and fine wines, reflecting the celebratory spirit of the occasion.

Charles stood at the edge of the dance floor, a glass of champagne in hand, his eyes fixed on the centre of the activity. There, illuminated by the soft, warm glow of the lights, was his partner, dancing with carefree abandon. The music seemed to flow through her, her movements fluid and graceful, her laughter a bright, contagious melody that added to the joy of the evening. She wore a flowing, navy dress with a slight glitter to it that caught the light with every twirl, the fabric rippling like water. Her hair, adorned with a wreath of wildflowers, cascaded down her back in loose waves. There was a radiance about her, a pure, unfiltered joy that made her stand out to him among the other guests. Her smile, wide and genuine, was the kind that made anyone who saw it smile too, spreading happiness like ripples in a pond.

Charles watched her, his heart swelling with love and pride. She moved effortlessly from dance partner to dance partner, drawing everyone into her orbit, making them feel like they were the only person in the world at that moment. Her energy was infectious, her spirit indomitable. It was moments like these that reminded him why he had fallen in love with her – her ability to find joy in the simplest of things and to share that joy with everyone around her, even at their friends’ wedding.

He took a sip of his champagne, savouring the crisp, bubbly liquid as he continued to observe her. She caught his eye and her face lit up even more, if that was possible. She beckoned him with a playful wave, her eyes sparkling with mischief and love. Charles couldn’t help but grin back, feeling the warmth of her gaze wash over him. He set down his glass and made his way towards her, weaving through the clusters of guests. As he reached her, she took his hand and pulled him into the dance, her laughter ringing out like music to his ears. He spun her around, the world narrowing to just the two of them amidst the joyful chaos of the wedding celebration.

They moved together, in perfect harmony, their steps synchronised like a practised dance. Charles held her close, feeling the beat of her heart against his chest, matching his own. The world faded away, and for a moment, it was just the two of them under the canopy of stars and fairy lights.

“How long is forever?” he wondered aloud, his voice a soft murmur against the backdrop of laughter and music.

“Huh?” she asked, tilting her head slightly, her brows knitting together in confusion. She had been so lost in the moment, twirling in his arms, that his sudden question caught her off guard.

“How long do you think forever is?” he repeated, his gaze drifting towards a newlywed couple dancing nearby. “They promised to love each other forever, so how long is forever?”

His eyes, filled with curiosity and a hint of vulnerability, returned to hers. She chuckled softly, shaking her head as she studied his face.

“Are you having some existential crisis, baby?” she teased. There was a playful glint in her eyes, but she could see that his question was genuine, not just a passing thought.

“I'm just curious,” he said, a slight shrug accompanying his words. He looked down, his thumb gently tracing circles on the back of her hand.

“I think forever is everything and more,” she began, her voice thoughtful and tender. “It's not just a timeframe, but all the small moments in between. The laughter, the tears, the joy, the sadness, the anger, the patience, the kindness, the forgiveness. It's how even when you're both long gone, your story will still be told and sung, swept away in the wind, etched in the Milky Way, so no one could ever forget it.”

He listened intently, her words resonating deep within him.

“Mmh,” he murmured, letting the weight of her words settle in his heart.

“What? Is that too philosophical for you?” she asked, a hint of concern in her voice. He shook his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“I think that's exactly what forever is for us,” he replied, his voice filled with a quiet certainty. “You know I'd love you forever and a day.”

“And I'd love you forever and a day, too, baby,” she whispered, her eyes shining with love. She leaned in, their foreheads touching, and in that intimate space, the promise of forever felt as real and as tangible as the stars twinkling above them.

As the song came to an end, she rested her head on his shoulder, her breath warm against his neck. Charles kissed the top of her head, closing his eyes, letting the moment etch itself into his memory. It was a beautiful evening, a perfect celebration of love, and as he held her in his arms, he knew that this was just the beginning of their lifelong dance together.

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forgotten-realm5 · 8 months ago

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That's all I needed to hear

(image from sorryseraphim)

Gortash x Dark Urge/f!Reader

Warnings & summary: MDNI, 18+, pre-tadpole, After a successful crown heist you realise you have feelings for Gortash, but not wanting to be just like every other conquest you make him work for it. (i suck at summaries), dominant!durge, magical restraint, masturbation (f), sorcerer durge, unprotected sex, p in v, biting, blood, choking, name calling.

Words: around 2K

Notes: This is my first attempt at writing smut ahhhh! i just wanted to try and contribute to this amazing community of BG3 fans, your artwork and writings have given me life. Gortash has taken up residence in my mind and won't leave so enjoy my brainrot ! Even if just one person enjoys this I will die happy.

The crown heist was a success. A feeling of pride and power courses through your body as you consider your partnership with Lord Enver Gortash and the full extent of what can be achieved when you work together as equals. Equals… a term that has never been used to describe you. As a child of Bhaal, you were constantly reminded by your father of your mortality compared to his omnipotence. Your mind ponders at the Chosen of Bane’s use of the word to describe your newly affirmed partnership, as he sits across you with a triumphant smirk on his face. You realise that he may be the first person to actually see you and your true worth, not just a mere slave to your father’s wishes. Never in your life have you felt a connection like the one between Gortash and yourself, the way you seem to complement each other and how he does not shy away from the darkest parts of your soul but instead welcomes it. You realise you are falling for him and feel frightened for the first time in your life, unsure of what to do, unsure whether he feels it too.

You come back to reality and realise Gortash is watching you expectantly waiting for a response to his question. When you don’t answer his face morphs into one of concern. You push your internal thoughts of love and lust to the back of your mind and focus on the object of your desire.

“Are you feeling alright my dear?”

“Just tired, what were you saying? you answer as your cheeks start to flush at being caught out.

“I was just raising a glass to us and the fine job we did in acquiring the Crown of Karsus. We are now one step closer to seeing our plan complete” Gortash explains while pouring a glass of wine and sliding it towards your side of the table.

You take the goblet of wine and raise it “To us and the future of our partnership”.

Gortash chuckles his eyes darkening slightly as he responds “Yes the future of our partnership indeed”.

You noticed his eyes roam over your body and then settle of your lips. You were concerned with your own feelings tonight but didn’t stop to examine his. Now that you think about it he may be trying to seduce you, as it was his idea to have a private celebratory dinner in his room.

Gortash sets down his goblet and walks around the table to come to a stop in front of you. He reaches down and offers his hand to pull you to your feet. You let your eyes roam his body. He is wearing his usual dark attire, but without his formal jacket you can see the lines of his strong chest and muscular arms. Your eyes settle the longest on the front of his shirt where it is has been opened to reveal chest hair you always longed to brush your hands through. Your eyes then focus on his mouth and his full lips, and you imagine taking them between your teeth. You bite your own lips with longing and reach forward to take his offered hand while you stand from your chair. You finally raise your eyes to his, and notice him watching you intensely. You can read him well after all these years, but tonight you see a slight apprehension to him that is unusual.

“Come stand by the window with me” Gortash guides you to the main window in the room, overlooking all of Baldur’s Gate and the lands beyond. It was a clear night, the moon shining bright illuminating the streets and people below. Gortash takes your hand in his and gestures with his other to the city below.

“Very soon all of this will be ours to rule together” He pauses and locks eyes with you.

“You look very beautiful in the moonlight”.

Gortash waits for you to respond with lust filling his own eyes. You know he is used to getting what he wants, taking on a dominate persona in all things. You knew this encounter was a long time coming as he had been nothing but a flirt since the first time you met. Looking at him in the candlelight, you decide you don’t want to be just another easy conquest, you want to be the one to make him beg.

Stepping closer to him you soften your voice to a sultry tone.

“And you’re looking just as delicious” while your hand reaches up to caress his exposed chest through his shirt. It’s just as you always imagined, soft and warm. Gortash chuckles and then smirks at you and slowly, seductively he grabs the hand on his chest and brings it up to his mouth to kiss at the pulse point on your wrist, all the while not taking his eyes off you.

Your eyes shine with approval and he takes that as encouragement to lean forward and capture your lips. The kiss is an explosion of past longing coming to a head. You feel his stubble against your skin as you grab his face to deepen the kiss, his hands move to grip your hips. His mouth tastes of red wine and you inhale his lingering scent of incense and soap. Just as you are both about to pull apart to breathe again, you grab his bottom lip between your teeth and bite hard enough it breaks the skin causing Gortash to moan with approval. You lick the blood off his lips and move away from his embrace.

Gortash looks at you, his face flush with arousal.

“Gods you’re perfect, I can’t wait to hear how you moan my name”.

“All in good time, but first I want to hear you beg for me ” you smirk at the surprise on Gortash’s face, he narrows his eyes but answers with a hint of amusement.

"I don’t beg."

“We’ll see about that”. You motion for him to follow you back to the dining room and forcefully push him into a chair. He is watching you with enjoyment, his eyes following your every move. You stand in front of him close enough that your knees are touching and look down at the noticeable bludge in his pants, you smirk to yourself thinking this will be easier than you thought.

“Looks like someone enjoys a bit of pain” you tease him.

“Only if you’re the one delivering it” Gortash counters.

“Is that so?” you draw out. “You don’t have to hide it, I know you’re a kinky fuck”.

Before he has time to respond you grab his throat and crash your mouth to his. He moans loudly and you can feel yourself becoming increasingly wet listening to his responses. Gortash tries to grab at you to pull you on to his lap but you pull away, and take a step backwards, enjoying teasing him. You quickly cast hold person so he can’t move his body. Gortash chuckles at your use of a restraint and has an amused and hungry look on his face while you start to take off your clothes in front of him. Now standing in front of him completely nude his eyes roam the curves of your body, his face in awe of your physique.

“Come here so I can touch you." You note a slight hint of neediness in his voice that only spurs you on.

“That doesn’t sound like begging to me."

You note his slight annoyed expression and laugh. You then start to move your hands slowly down your body taking time to cup your breasts and play with your pointed nipples. His eyes are glued on your hands.

“Let’s see how long the Chosen of Bane can hold out for” you tease.

His mouth drops open slightly as your hand travels to your pelvic region. You lock eyes with Gortash while you slip one finger into your folds and let out a small moan. You bring the finger back out, now glistening with your arousal which causes a small noise that sounds like a whimper to come out of Gortash's mouth. You smile at him, eyes challenging him to break. He tries to shift in his seat against the restrains of the spell, his arousal threatening to burst through his pants.

“You cruel torturous woman, when I get my hands on you” he mutters, with a violent look in his eye. There is however also a slight note of defeat in his voice which makes you realise he is almost at breaking point.

You continue and pump two fingers in and out of yourself, moaning louder than needed to further torture him. You then bring your fingers up to your mouth and lick them clean slowly, exaggerating your tongue movements to demonstrate what he is missing out on. Gortash is captivated by your show, pupils blown wide with hunger. You then walk up to him and a plop yourself on his lap straddling his waist with your nipples at his eye level. You continuing to touch yourself in his lap, every so often brushing up against his achingly hard, still clothed member. Gortash moans loudly at the display looking about ready to explode.

“Alright! alright! you win” you grin at the victory and at the bitter tone in his voice. You stop your show to listen to the rest of his sentence.

Gortash pauses looking away from you

“Well, I’m waiting” you respond sharply.

“Please” you hear in a quiet voice.

“What was that, couldn’t quite hear you” you reply in amusement.

“Please!” Gortash almost shouts with an irritated look in his eyes. His voice then returns to his usual level.

“Please just let me touch you, let me fuck you, you cruel wicked thing” you hear the arousal in his voice, breathy and needy.

“That’s all I needed to hear” you respond as you break your concentration on the spell.

In an instant his arms are around you, picking you up and almost running towards the bed. He throws you on the bed and gets on top of you.

“You little harlot” you hear his light-hearted tone.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy my show, I know you did." You smirk and grab between his legs to emphasises his arousal still tightly pushing against his breaches.

He gives you a look of hunger and hurries to remove his shirt only just realising he is still fully clothed. His body is how you imagined it, muscular yet soft with dark hair coating his body in just the right places. You can feel your desire burning inside you as you eye the patch of hair that trails down his stomach. You reach forward to undo his pants and push his undergarments off eager to see all of him. His member bounces free of its confines already slick. Your eyes widen at the thickness of it, already anticipating the burn. Gortash notices your line of vision and chuckles with pride as he grabs your chin and pulls you in for another heated kiss. He hungrily kisses every part of your body that he was denied while kneading your breasts with his hands. He moves from your mouth to your neck where he bites and sucks at you, you let out a whimper knowing it will leave a bruise. He then grazes his teeth over your nipple, licking, sucking and then finally biting causing you to cry out at the feeling. You feel his self-satisfied smirk against your skin as he continues his path downwards. His tongue enters your folds without warning causing you to grab a hand full of his hair and cry out his name. You can feel yourself about to come undone quicker than you expected .

“Fuck Enver, I need you inside me now."

“That’s all I needed to hear”, his smartass response mocking your words from before.

You let it slide for now as your need is too great, but you make a mental note to make him pay for it next time.

He lines up with your entrance and buries himself inside you in one smooth motion. You both moan loudly at the feeling of connection. You feel a sharp tinge of pain mixed with intense pleasure as you get used to his width. He starts to pump in and out of you at a quickened pace knowing it won’t take long for either of you to cum. You grab on to his body and rake your nails down his back hard enough to draw blood. Gortash hisses in pain and pleasure and bites at your neck in response. Gortash comes first moaning your name loudly, causing you to follow closely, both your bodies withering in ecstasy as you ride out the climax. Breathing heavily Gortash rolls off you and you both lie together in silence for a few seconds recovering. You move to get up off the bed but he stops you with his arm.

“Just where do you think you’re going?”

“Back to my room?” as though it was obvious.

He pauses, looking unsure of himself.

“I want you to stay, tonight and every night after that. You’re mine now”, his serious expression softens slightly.

“If you want to be?”

As you look into his eyes you are surprised see a vulnerability that you have never seen before. You realised that this night means as much to him as it does to you, and with that thought you agree to stay, content to lie in his arms dreaming of your future together.

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lathalea · 6 months ago

Text

Entangled 4/10

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x Dwarf OFC (The Hobbit) Rating: G (subject to change) Warnings: ANGST Summary: Arranged marriages are common among the dwarven nobility. After reclaiming the Lonely Mountain, the Kingdom Under the Mountain needs to be rebuilt. Thorin agrees to marry a lady from the Blue Mountains, securing a mutually beneficial alliance with the Broadbeam Dwarves. Lady Mista is said to be a practical and hard-working dwarf-woman, willing to give him an heir who would secure the line of succession. A decent queen material, his advisors say. If only Thorin could let go of his past… You can find this fic on AO3 (search for lathalea).

A/N: First of all, sorry it took me so long to update this story but your comments and messages kept me going! TRSB and Real Life™️ hit me hard, but I haven't forgotten about this story. In fact, I have a treat for you: an XXL-sized chapter as a thank you for your patience 💙 Special thanks to @legolasbadass and @absentmindeduniverse for your help. You are amazing and you made this chapter so much better than it originally was! 🤩🙏💙 -*-*-*- KHUZDUL: ‘Urdêk - ereborean variant of Lonely Mountain (referring to the Halls within the mountain) Nadad - brother Nan’ith - little/young sister Zabdûna - the Queen Zabdûna undu ‘Urd - Queen Under the Mountain Khagal'abbad - Ered Luin, the Blue Mountains Azsâlul'abad - the Lonely Mountain (both the mountain and the dwarven kingdom known among Elves and Men as Erebor) Tumunzahar - an ancient dwarven city in the Blue Mountains rebuilt by the Broadbeams in this story. The Elves call it “Nogrod”. Gabilgathol - an ancient dwarven city in the Blue Mountains rebuilt by the Firebeards in this story. The Elves call it “Belegost”. Thorinuldûm - Thorin’s Halls, the settlement of the refugees from the Lonely Mountain in the Blue Mountains Iglishmêk - the sign language widely used by all the dwarves -*-*-*-

✨ Chapter list: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4... ✨ Entangled Masterlist

Thorin opened his eyes with a gasp. That cursed dream again. Those eyes…

Several deep breaths helped to banish the haunting afterimages from his mind for good. Deep inside the Mountain — much deeper than the Royal Chambers — the mine bell struck eleven times. One hour before noon. It was later than he expected.

Thorin’s head was pounding, and the bitter aftertaste of rowanberry brandy in his mouth made him yearn for a mug of water. Slowly, he rose, noticing that he was not in his bed but in his armchair, still wearing some of yesterday's clothes. His finely embroidered undershirt and similarly adorned trousers — now crumpled. Parts of his wedding attire. His wedding.

He truly needed a drink.

The only thing he found in his chamber was an empty brandy bottle that lay forgotten on the floor. For a moment, Thorin wanted to ring for a servant, irritated at the fact that he slept so long — and his usual breakfast tray was nowhere to be seen. Had they overslept in the kitchens as well? What could have been so important that… Of course. His wedding.

He grunted. There was not going to be any breakfast tray and no servants. Not until he rang for them, at least. No one would disturb him in the morning after his wedding night. Frowning, Thorin managed to recall that a celebratory dinner was scheduled later that day — not only for the people of ‘Urdêk, but also for the whole royal family and the family of the bride. His wife.

Thorin ran a hand down his face. He was a married Dwarf now. A husband. Years and years ago, in another lifetime, that thought would have made him enormously proud — and happy. And yet, on this very morning, the only thing he felt was that bitter taste in his mouth — and shame; his foolish dreams of youth long forgotten. The weight of a new braid in his hair, the marriage braid, was not a symbol of perfect, eternal love he had foolishly envisioned as a youth. This braid only denoted the contract between the two dwarven houses: the Longbeards and the Broadbeams.

A memory from the previous day appeared in his mind: pale, small, pale fingers nervously sliding through his hair, braiding a pattern that was unfamiliar to him. The personal pattern of the lady who now occupied the adjacent bedchamber — Lady Mista. The woman he had barely met and knew nothing of. His wife.

He should have felt something about this image, anything — sadness or perhaps the satisfaction of yet another duty he fulfilled as the King; hope or disenchantment. There was nothing — only a gaping hole deep inside him where his feelings should be. He stared with disappointment at the empty brandy bottle in his hand, and placed it on the table beside him with a clank.

Perhaps everything was as it should be. His was an arranged marriage, after all. The Kingdom Under the Mountain needed an heir to the throne. The future and prosperity of the realm depended on it. It was Thorin’s duty to fulfil, and time was of the essence. As the ancient scriptures stated, only the firstborn son of the firstborn son — of the current king — had the right to the throne of this realm. The Book of Law emphasised that it had to be the direct descendant of Durin — as the line remained unbroken since the beginning of time. If the direct line was to be lost, the next in line was the second son and his progeny. Thorin closed his eyes and Frerin’s kindred face appeared before him — and quickly disappeared. That future perished more than one hundred and forty years ago beneath the East Gate of Khazad-dûm before it even had a chance to come to fruition. As for the other possibilities… they were just as painfully non-existent.

“Is there truly no legal way to name Fili or Kili as my heir apparent, Master Maldur?” Thorin crumpled a piece of parchment in his hand.

“I am afraid not, Sire.” The elderly scholar adjusted the emerald pince-nez on his nose. “They are both the sons of a daughter of Durin.”“Besides, since Fili is married to Lady Fridvi of the Firebeards. According to the treaty between our houses, their firstborn child will rule in the Blue Mountains,” added Balin with an apologetic smile.

“Aye. Even if it’s a daughter,” Thorin said and added, as if to himself, “I have always thought the Firebeards to be more sensible when it came to the laws of succession.”“Yes, well, Your Majesty…” Master Maldur cleared his throat in ill-disguised disapproval, shuffling some parchments in front of him. “The Longbeard laws, however, clearly state that if no male heir is procured by the current king before his 200th birthday, the next Dwarf in line — albeit one who is not a direct descendant of Durin — would be the grandson of your Grandfather’s brother, Grór, the firstborn son of his firstborn son, Nain, your…”

“I do know the lineage of my cousin, Dain Ironfoot, quite well, thank you,” Thorin remarked curtly. Genealogy, lineages, and recounting endless familial connections always made him irritable.

“And hypothetically speaking, if your revered cousin was not there to claim the crown of the Kingdom Under the Mountain, may Mahal give him long life,” Maldur spoke in his hoarse voice that made Thorin think of crumbling stones, “the next in line would be, of course, Lord Balin, the firstborn son of Fundin, the firstborn son of Farin, who, in turn, was the firstborn…”

“Thank you, Master Maldur.” Thorin nodded to him, having heard enough, and then turned to the firstborn son of Fundin. “Balin, how would you feel about becoming the next king?”

“I would rather not. Unless you and Dain plan to drink your way to the Halls of Awaiting together anytime soon?” Balin chuckled, shaking his head. “I have other plans, laddie, and besides, I’m not getting any younger.”

“And yet your wit is as sharp as it was one hundred years ago,” Thorin offered him a half-smile.

“Your Majesty, may I take this opportunity to point out how crucial it is that a direct descendant of Durin sits on the throne of Azsâlul'abad?” The frown on Master Maldur’s forehead deepened. “Additionally, the unfortunate discord between Your Majesty’s Grandfather and his brother, Grór, is vividly remembered by your subjects. Sadly, because of this, Lord Dain is quite an unpopular personage here. Not a favourable position to be in for a prospective ruler. If such an event were to happen, of course.”

“Of course.” Thorin sighed. “Any more ideas, Balin? Lord Bori?”

Balin slowly shook his head.

“May I remind you, Your Majesty, that we have received several offers of alliance through marriage?” said the white-haired chancellor, who — until that very moment — remained silent. Lord Bori always picked the perfect moment to strike.“Very well.” Thorin stood up, signalling that the meeting was adjourned. “It seems that we have run out of heirs. Balin, would you be so kind as to discuss the matter with my sister? I entrust you both with choosing a suitable royal consort for the King Under the Mountain.”

A thud brought him out of his reverie. It came from the adjacent bedchamber. Thorin heard two distinct voices, although he could not quite make out the words. It must have been Lady Mista discussing something with her maid, he suspected. He clearly recognized the soft lilt of his spouse’s voice, so characteristic among the Broadbeams. Perhaps she was readying herself for the day, as he should as well. Thorin was about to ring for his servant when a resonant voice reached his ears despite the thick door between their rooms.

“Why doesn't it surprise me, Mista?!” The voice was definitely feminine. “You had one job…” “Let me explain…” That was Lady Mista speaking. Thorin was able to recognize only one or two words.

“There is nothing to explain!” The first voice returned. “It was your wedding night, for Mahal’s sake! Couldn’t you have made an effort? Just look at yourself! For once in your life…”

“Mother, you don’t understand, I…” Lady Mista’s words trailed off. She sounded tense.

The pounding in Thorin’s head intensified. He glared at the door.

“Have you forgotten how hard your father and your uncle worked to achieve this?! Is that how you repay your family, Mista? By ruining everything? On the very first night?”

Without thinking, Thorin placed his hand on the door handle and pressed. He had heard enough.

“What is the meaning of this?!” he demanded.

In the silence that filled the room, just after he stepped into Lady Mista’s bedchamber, he saw Lady Mista sitting in her bed. Her face was as pale as the bed linen, her eyes wide, and her quilt pulled up to her chin. She looked at him as if she wanted to disappear underneath it. With her hair tousled and her slightly skewed spectacles, she looked more like a defenceless young maid than an adult Dwarf-woman.

Next to her bed stood a corpulent red-haired matron in a fashionable green-and-gold gown, her hair immaculately dressed, her neck and wrists adorned with elegant jewellery, her fisted hands resting against her hips.

“Your Majesty.” The matron executed a customary curtsy, offering him a sweet but artificial smile. “What an honour to see you in my daughter’s bedchamber. I believe…” “Lady Milva.” He gave her a curt nod of recognition and graced her with a cold stare. “You will have to forgive me, madam, but I do not intend to reciprocate. I, for one, cannot understand why you would choose this particular time to visit Her Majesty the Queen.”

“Ah, but Your Majesty would surely understand that I wanted to see to my daughter’s comfort on the very first day of her rule.” Her smile widened.

“Do you wish to imply that I am incapable of such a feat, madam?” Thorin hissed.

“Oh no, Your Majesty, not at all!” The matron attempted a giggle. “On the contrary, I believe it is my daughter who failed to see to your comfort.”

Thorin’s head seemed to be pounding even more than before.

“Mother, please…” He heard Lady Mista’s strained voice behind him.

“Enough, Mista, you should be apologising to His Majesty for disappointing him!” Lady Milva turned to her daughter and Thorin decided that he had heard enough.

“My lady, you are disturbing me and my spouse in our private chambers. Only because you are my wedded wife’s mother, My Lady, I am going to ask you kindly.” Thorin hissed. “Leave now.”

Silence filled the chamber for several heartbeats. Lady Milva’s gaze moved between her daughter and Thorin before she spoke again.

“Very well, Your Majesty,” she replied stiffly, abandoning her insincere manner. “Mista, I will return later, to prepare you for dinner.”

“Is that what you wish, My Lady?” Thorin turned to Mista.

“I… Thank you, Mother,” Lady Mista’s words were a mere whisper as she clutched the quilt, “but I think I will manage on my own this time.”

Her mother stood there for a moment longer, her brow furrowed, and then she replied, “If that is what you wish.”

She made another curtsy to Thorin, and then, in a swift flurry of her opulent gown, she stormed out of the bedchamber.

“Forgive me, My Lord, have we woken you up?” The bedclothes rustled, making Thorin gaze at Lady Mista — the woman he wed yesterday. As she left the bed, he caught a glimpse of her bare feet, so much smaller than his, and so dainty. Her sleeping gown flowed elegantly down her body, hugging her figure and revealing patches of smooth skin that only a husband was allowed to see. Quickly, he looked away. He did not feel like one.

“I was already awake,” he offered, glancing around the chamber. “Have you broken your fast yet, My Lady?”

“No, My Lord,” she replied. “I’m afraid I lost track of time. I was reading.”

Thorin followed her gaze to the thick tome that lay open on the bed. It looked like something from the Royal Library of Erebor, but he did not recognize the cover.

“I’ll ring for breakfast for you then. You must be famished,” he offered.

“Thank you, that’s very kind of you,” Lady Mista replied, her words barely audible, like the chirping of a frightened little bird. “Would you… would you like to join me?”

Thorin shook his head decidedly.

“I am expected elsewhere. The meeting of the Guildmasters is going to be held quite soon,” he was amazed at how easily this half-truth slipped out of his mouth. That meeting was on his general agenda, but no one expected him to join it, not so soon after his wedding.

“Oh, I see,” Lady Mista’s voice wavered, but she continued after a pause. “In that case, allow me, My Lord, to thank you for your… intervention. My Mother can be tempestuous at times, but she means well.”

“Forgive me, My Lady, but her behaviour was out of place,” he said, attempting to ignore the insistent pounding in his head. “You are not only her daughter but — first and foremost — the Queen. No one is allowed to treat you so, no matter the circumstances. No one. Not even her.”

Thorin took a deep breath in order to rein in his temper. He was abrupt, his words far from courteous, but his patience was wearing thin. The last thing he was willing to endure was a lady on the verge of tears, bullied by her own kin. A half-forgotten memory surfaced in his mind: those sobs, that lavish but abhorred wedding dress, and his sister’s words: “You can’t help it, nadad. This is women’s lot in life.”

This time, unlike that other time, Thorin could help it — and so he did. That was the least he was able to do for this terrified woman. His wife.

He did not find the strength to look into her face once more and see those glossed-over eyes and those trembling lips. Instead, he excused himself under the pretence of procuring breakfast and left her bedchamber.

He found his reward in the form of a full jug of water in the adjacent parlour. Quenching his thirst, he rang for a servant. Katla, Lady Mista’s new maid, arrived soon after. She was one of the maids who worked for their family when they lived in the Blue Mountains. Now, however, Dis decided that Katla was exactly the person Lady Mista would need. The girl was unusually agitated, and as soon as Thorin asked about Lady Milva’s presence in the Queen’s bedchamber, her countenance wavered.

“Forgive me, m’lord,” she curtseyed, her gaze lowered reverently. “I had no means to stop Her Ladyship, I asked her not to disturb Your Majesties, but she said that she was the Queen’s mother and the Queen would dismiss me right away if Her Ladyship was not allowed to enter, and I thought…”

“Thank you, Katla, I understand,” he said. “You are not going to be dismissed. However, Her Majesty does not need such disturbances. Should someone attempt to storm into Her Majesty’s private chambers without her consent again, do not hesitate to call the guards.”

“Of course, m’lord,” Katla nodded stiffly. “And… Thank you. For not dismissing me.”

“My Mother, the Dowager Queen, always spoke highly of you. Now, I need you to take care of the new Queen in a similar manner. This is her new home, and we need to make her feel like it. Can I rely on you?”

“Always, m’lord.” A hopeful smile appeared on her face. “Does the Queen need anything now, m’lord?”

“She is requesting a hearty breakfast,” he ordered.

“I’ll be right back with her tray! Shall I bring one for you as well, m’lord?”

“No, thank you. I have matters to attend to.”

With these words, Thorin directed his steps to the Royal Baths. Hot water and steam were exactly what he needed at that very moment. A sizable pile of documents waited for him on his desk, but he needed to clear his head first.

***

“Here you are, nadad! I’ve been looking all over for you!” Dis’ voice made him raise his gaze from a parchment.

“Where else should I be?” Thorin tilted his head, observing his sister as she approached his desk. There was only a handful of braids in her modest hairdo — her wavy strands as dark as his own — and she wore a simple day dress. Yet, Dis looked more elegant than many other ladies in their finest gowns. She inherited her noble bearing and facial features from their paternal grandmother, after all.

“Where should you be? Let me see…” she tapped her mouth with her index finger and then asked innocently. “Perhaps with your wife?”

Thorin cursed inwardly. Dis inherited their grandmother’s wit, too.

“If only those trade licences could somehow sign themselves…” he grunted.

“And while you are drowning in parchments, your newly-wed wife is halfway through the second volume of The Golden Age of Azsâlul'abad,” she grunted back.

“The second volume?” Thorin’s eyebrow rose as he recalled the size of that monstrous twelve-volume work. He never managed to make it past the first one.

“Yes. Apparently, Mista finished the first one during lunch. Which she ate alone.” Dis folded her arms on her chest. It had never been a good sign when Grandmother Birgit folded her arms like that.

“I ate my lunch alone as well.” He pointed at a plate with a forgotten piece of dark bread left, half-covered by a couple of documents.

“On the first day of your marriage,” Dis retorted.

“These licences are vital for…”

“Thorin…” His sister rolled her eyes.

“Dis…” He sighed. “You know what I mean.”

“Some things need time,” he heard himself say.

“I know, Thorin,” Dis stepped to him, placing her hand on his forearm. “Of all the people in the world… I know.”

“At least you knew Vili before your wedding,” Thorin put his quill aside.

“Vaguely. While you managed to spend a whole evening with Mista in Tumunzahar.”

“Which apparently happened a long time ago — and of which I remember nothing.” He admitted with a frown and then drummed his fingers on the desk. “Nan’ith, I may have made an utter fool of myself yesterday.”

Dis sat heavily on a chair beside him, “Let me hear it.”

“Lady Mista was convinced that I remembered meeting her at a feast. Apparently, we danced and talked, and she expected me to…” He sighed. “I don’t know. The problem is that instead of playing along with it, I told her that I did not remember it at all.”

“Nadad, I have always admired your disarming honesty, but…” Dis paused and then grinned. “Well, it looks like you have figured it out yourself. You are an utter fool.”

When she elbowed him, as if they were smooth-cheeked youths again, Thorin simply had to elbow her back.

“Thank you, dearest sister. I know I could count on you.” He let out a lukewarm chuckle.

“How did she take it? Is that why you are hiding in here?” Thorin shook his head, “Lady Mista did not seem offended. I’d say she was perhaps… surprised? Disappointed?”

“I would be too if my future husband first sent me a letter in which he spoke fondly of our meeting years ago and then admitted to not remembering it at all,” Dis waved her hand in despair.

“A letter?” Thorin’s frown deepened.

“The letter. Don’t tell me you haven’t read it.” A frown appeared on her face as well. “Balin and I spent half a day composing it before it was sent along with the marriage contract.”

“For which I am very thankful. I have no head for this sort of letters, as you know.” “That was precisely why you were supposed to read it before it was sealed, Thorin.” She rolled her eyes.

“I knew I could trust you with its contents. Dis, we were rebuilding the Forges at that time! I barely had time to eat or sleep; that letter was hardly on top of my agenda.”

His sister let out a long sigh.

“It is not me you should explain yourself to. What happened, happened. Tell me, do you truly not remember anything from that meeting?”

“This was one of many feasts I was obligated to appear at. Amicable relations with our allies, and all that,” he offered.

“We were there together, you know.”

“Were we?” Thorin searched his memory. To no avail. All those feasts seemed like a blur in his mind.

“Balin was there, too. And Dwalin, I think.” Dis added. “And Mother. She wore that emerald green gown.”

He tried once more. Still nothing.

“There was lots of food, lots of political scheming… Oh, and there were quite a few mothers flaunting their offspring at me and you. Mostly at you, the Crown Prince,” she snickered.

“You have just described most of the feasts I have attended in the past.” He ran a hand over his face. “Every time I felt like game during hunting season. Did I really spend the whole evening with Lady Mista?”

“Quite a bit of it.” Dis nodded. “You were seated next to a matron who insisted on making you dance with each of her daughters — I think she had two or three of them — and then you did what you usually used to do. You disappeared. When you returned, Mista was with you already, and then you danced. That matron, together with her cronies, was of course appalled, because you never even looked at anyone else. And Mista was not even formally out, she was maybe a few years over half battle-age at that time!”

“It seems that I scandalised the matrons of Tumunzahar and nearly robbed a cradle. What an achievement. And I cannot even remember it.” Thorin smiled wryly, although an image or two flickered before his eyes. A handkerchief with his monogram in a lithe hand. Grey-brown hair adorned with pearls.

“At least no one bothered you afterwards,” she put her hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eyes. “Now, I hope you find a way to make amends with your wife, nadad.”

Thorin gave her a nod, “You and me both. I simply do not have the slightest idea how to talk to her. I feel as if she is afraid of me.”

“We both know that you are not the greatest charmer when it comes to the matters of the heart,” she offered him a smirk. “And neither am I. I can only tell you what Mother told me once. Marriage is like the endless forging of a sword. If you want to make a great blade, you have to keep the fire going, and work the metal every single day. Draw it, shape it, and then keep on tempering it so that it never breaks.”

“She knew her way around the forge,” Thorin admitted fondly. He liked to think that he inherited his bladesmithing skills from their Mother.

“She knew how to deal with Father, too. I took her words to heart, and it worked for me — for us. Vili and me…” Dis cleared her throat. “We had nothing in common — or so I thought at first.”

A sad smile softened her features, and Thorin covered her hand with his.

“He was even younger than me,” she continued, “so rowdy and boisterous, and talked only of mountain goat races and throwing knives. Remember how terrified I was when I had to braid his hair?”

“You? Terrified? You were as decorous as Grandma Birgit would,” he said.

“That was because I knew Grandma Birgit would have been appalled if I fainted halfway through the ceremony. You cannot believe how mortified I was before the wedding night!” His sister chuckled.

“You asked me for two pints of the strongest malt beer we had,” Thorin offered lightly. It was good to see her smile.

“I only wanted to take the edge off things!” Dis grinned. “How was I supposed to know you spiked it with Dwalin’s horrible brandy?”

“You weren't. And you and Vili were supposed to drink them together. How should I know he would down them both at once?” He shrugged as if he had not seen it coming.

“I think I was the first bride in the history of Arda who spent her wedding night listening to her new husband’s loud snores.”

“You should talk with Bombur’s Ronja,” he quipped.

“Nadad! I shall not discuss their wedding night with her!” Dis feigned outrage only to burst out in laughter.

“Be glad that you did not hear his snores during the Quest. Every. Single. Night. He even made us think a storm was coming! And once, in the Misties…” It was so easy to fall back on the anecdotes from the past, and Thorin was awarded with another bout of laughter. Since Dis arrived back to the Mountain — their home — for the first time in years, it was easy to make her smile. There was a new spark in her eyes too, one that Thorin saw in countless eyes these days. A glint of hope for their reclaimed homeland they were rebuilding — and for their future. Was the same glint present in Lady Mista’s eyes last night? He could not say.

“Thank you”, Dis startled him, pecking him on his cheek.

“For what?” He met her eyes.

“For many things… like not terrifying your bride too much.”

Thorin swallowed, “What do you mean?”

“You know how you can be sometimes.” Dis patted his hand.

“Are you going to tell me once more that I scare others away with my ‘brooding’, or whatever you call it?” He rose from his chair and looked down at her.

“Not at all! Brooding is not as loud as snoring.” Tilting her head up, she winked at him. “Do you know you sometimes come off as quite intimidating?”

“I have never heard of such a notion,” Thorin let his lip curl up. “Especially from you.”

“What about that agreement you managed to hammer out last week with those stubborn donkeys, the Guildmasters?” Thorin knew better than to offer a reply.

“I heard your voice all the way to the warehouses! And when the Masters left the council chamber, they were meek as lambs, even the fiery Master Karg!”

“I simply reminded them that the world did not revolve around their coin pouches. Loudly.”

“I am glad you made use of it this morning.”

“You heard about what happened,” Of course. His sister had a knack for knowing things that did not happen in her presence.

“A word or two.” “Lady Mista’s mother needed to be put in her place,” Thorin quickly recounted his confrontation with Lady Milva.

When he finished, Dis pressed her lips in a thin line.

“What a viper,” she huffed. “Now I know why Mista looked so shaken today. But we are in luck. The whole Broadbeam delegation is leaving in a week or so. We will manage.”

“We have managed worse.” He finished the thought, their private saying, one that they used since the vile Smaug ravaged their kingdom. Last time they spoke it happened just before the Quest to reclaim their homeland. Now, both the current circumstances and stakes felt vastly different, and Thorin could not help but wonder — would he manage?

“I must say you did wonders with the Queen’s bedchamber in such a short time.” Thorin admitted in a hasty attempt to change the subject. “It looks quite… comfortable. Especially with that tapestry from Grandmother’s chambers. And to think it survived Smaug almost untouched…”

“Oh, so you did spend some time with Mista after all?” Dis raised an eyebrow, her eyes twinkling. “Were there two pints of malt beer involved or not? Don’t you make that face at me, nadad! This was your wedding night and everyone will jest about it, whether you like it or not!”

Sadly, she was right.

***

Dis’ prophetic words proved true in the evening at the celebratory dinner. It was held in the largest cavern under the Mountain, the Great Hall. It was as tall as several levels of the Dwarven kingdom, making it easy for people to freely join and leave the festivities, catch a glimpse of the royal family or listen to the music while feasting in their local quarters. Thorin remembered that this natural formation in the depths of the Mountain was where all the largest festivities happened when his Grandfather, King Thrór, ruled. He himself did not expect to celebrate his royal wedding in these legendary chambers as well. After all, marriage had not been a part of his plans for the future.

Upon entering the Great Hall, it was difficult not to notice all the lavish adornments he remembered from the day before, countless tables filled anew with various dishes, lanterns and candles that cast their golden glow on the walls, brightening everyone’s faces — and the fact that all the eyes were now set on Thorin and his new royal consort. They were both clad in matching attires made especially for this occasion; every detail, pattern, and jewel on those black, silver, and gold garments was supposed to symbolise the imperishable beauty and opulence of the Kingdom Under the Mountain. Judging by the reactions of his subjects, the newly-wed royal couple made a favourable impression on them.

Casting a sidelong glance at Lady Mista, Thorin expected to see the joyful or perhaps even triumphant smile of a new queen. Instead, he noticed the strained lines of her face, the paleness of her cheeks, and her bespectacled gaze set somewhere above the heads of the guests. Only the crown over her temples softened the solemn impression somewhat and lent her a regal air. Lady Mista’s palm rested stiffly on his forearm as Thorin led her through the chamber towards the royal table. He could feel how stiff her muscles were, as if she was a wooden doll controlled by an invisible puppeteer.

Thorin made an effort not to look at Lady Mista’s kin, who had already gathered at their side of the royal table. After what he experienced with the members of this family so far, it was not at all difficult to infer what face — or rather, faces — that puppeteer bore.

That poor, terrified girl. His wife. The new Queen Under the Mountain.

“Our people are curious about you, My Lady,” he whispered just as they walked onto the stone dais where the royal table was placed.

“Oh?” Quickly, she turned towards him, her eyes wide. “About me?”

“They do not know you yet, and many of them are wondering what they can expect of you, their new Zabdûna,” he murmured, leaning slightly closer to her.

“Of… of course I will do my best to care for them,” she lowered her gaze and a blush darkened her cheeks. Then she added, “There is no Kingdom without its people.”

The last time Thorin heard those words, he was barely a youth, and his days were filled with endless studies and training. One of his Grandfather’s sayings — words of Dagur Sture, an ancient philosopher from Khazad-dûm — spoken in the trembling voice of a Broadbeam lady from the distant Khagal'abbad, the Blue Mountains.

“Indeed,” he said, shaking off the surprise as they both turned towards the guests, an endless sea of faces before them . “Pray, show it to them, My Lady.”

“But how?” Lady Mista blinked, adjusting her spectacles on her nose. “I do not know what to do…”

“Simply greeting them will be enough,” Thorin attempted to say these words with an encouraging smile. “Acknowledge your new subjects.”

Lady Mista nodded slightly and swallowed, lifting her gaze upon the crowd. He felt her right hand tighten on his forearm, but then her left hand rose into the air, and she waved to the gathered crowd. An avalanche of cheers went through the cavern; some of the guests responded to her greeting in turn, their faces brightening.

Thorin chose this moment to greet the gathered Dwarves in the same fashion, enhancing their jubilation even further. All it took was a wave. A simple trick his Grandfather taught him a lifetime ago, but one that never failed.

When he glanced at Lady Mista’s face again, there was a new glint in her eyes and a timid smile on her lips as she took in the enthusiastic response to her gesture.

“They like you already, My Lady,” he whispered, nodding to her in approval and seeing her features finally soften when her lips curled up slightly. A welcome change, he thought. People needed to see their rulers glad, especially on such an occasion. Appearances mattered more than one’s true feelings; he had learned that bitter lesson well.

After the customary welcoming speech — Thorin somehow managed to keep it short — he led Lady Mista to their chairs at the centre of the table, and then the feast began. Soon, he found himself in a lively conversation with Glóin, Dwalin and Lord Taran, Lady Mista’s uncle, discussing the strategy applied in the siege of an Orc stronghold that happened during the Great War. Various pieces of golden tableware turned into numerous units of dwarven troops, a nearby platter with fruit acted as a mountain range, the octagonal brass salt cellar became the stronghold, and leftover pheasant bones served as Orcs.

“What a battle it was! We hadn’t slept for three days in a row!” Glóin announced as the culinary re-enactment of the battle came to an end. “When we were done with the Orc scum, Thorin looked every bit as tired as he looks now after one night with his bride!”

Thorin grunted.

“Aye, he does, but can ye imagine his state after three nights of storming her stronghold?” Dwalin roared with laughter.

Thorin glowered at his friend, who, in response, laughed even harder.

“With such a meek lass like our Mista, he doesn’t have much storming to do!” Lord Taran bellowed, the tattoos on his cheeks stretching in a wide grin.

Thorin clenched his fist.

Dis threw him a meaningful glance from across the table. We will manage. Mahal, give him strength. Casting a fleeting look at Lady Mista, Thorin saw that she was deeply immersed in a conversation with Balin, who at that very moment patted her on her hand.

“May Your Majesty strike a gold vein quickly so we have a new reason to celebrate soon, a naming ceremony!” Lord Tair, the new Queen’s father, raised his goblet, meeting Thorin’s gaze. “May Mahal bless this union with many children!”

Other cups shot into the air, and the toast echoed across the hall, countless eyes set on the royal couple. Thorin gritted his teeth. This was not a purely well-meant wish, not in Tair’s mouth. The Broadbeam lord, who negotiated the marriage contract himself, alluded to its crucial clause: children from this union meant prosperity for both of their houses. On the other hand, no offspring by Thorin’s 200th birthday meant the dissolution of the marriage, the end of the vastly profitable trade agreements for the Broadbeams, and the end of the direct line of Durin for the Longbeards — and Thorin. The stakes were high for both houses.

Decidedly, Thorin grasped his own goblet and returned the gesture. A quick glance to his left told him that Lady Mista followed his lead, her fingers stiffly holding her goblet’s stem. He felt her eyes on him, but he found himself unable to reciprocate her gaze.

Another toast came after the first. This time, it was Dis wishing the newly-wed couple a long and happy marriage. A couple of toasts full of platitudes followed, and when everyone in the Great Hall drank their fill, conversations returned. Thorin’s sister was talking with Lady Mista now; he thought he heard them speak of a library when a sonorous voice reached his ears.

“Such a match happens once in a lifetime, Lord Balin, wouldn’t you say?” Lady Mista’s mother gave the older Dwarf a charming smile.

“As you say, Lady Milva. And it is a prosperous one, too,” Balin nodded with a twinkle in his eye.

“I am truly overjoyed that I had this idea! I told my husband: ‘Remember that winter feast we had in Tumunzahar, love? The one when Prince Thorin — for His Majesty was merely a prince then — danced only with my dear Mista?’ He only had eyes for her that night! So many mothers had fits of jealousy, because he did not even spare a glance for any of their daughters!” Lady Milva chuckled.

“That must have been quite an event,” Balin admitted.

Thorin gritted his teeth, acutely feeling the weight of his crown on his head — and the eyes of his subjects on him. Instead of addressing a few curt words to Lady Mista’s mother, he took a large gulp of wine.

“So it was, Lord Balin, so it was! If you only had been there to see it!” She dabbed an invisible tear from her eye. “They danced, and danced, and afterwards my sweet daughter would sigh, and dream away, and ask if Prince Thorin would attend the next feast! So when the Lonely Mountain was finally reclaimed, I told my husband: ‘My love, if you are not going to send that marriage proposal to King Thorin, I am going to take her to Azsâlul'abad myself!’. And do you know what he said?”

Thorin’s old mentor declared, “I have not the slightest idea, My Lady.”

Neither had Thorin. He refilled his goblet. Beside him, Dis asked Lady Mista a question he did not quite hear, but she received no answer. Lady Milva’s daughter, the new Zabdûna undu ‘Urd, sat unmoving, staring at her empty plate, her lips pressed into a thin line, while her relentless mother kept on talking.

“Well, my dear Tair said ‘No need to do that, my dearest, for I have already sent the proposal!’. I swear, we act and think as one, is it not so, my lord husband?” Lady Milva turned to her spouse and loudly pecked his cheek.

“You speak the truth, my dove,” her husband replied, running his hand down his thick silver beard braid with clear contentment. “It was a great honour that His Majesty agreed to our offer this time!”

“Oh, hush, my gem, no need to bring that up, it happened such a long time ago,” Lady Milva waved her hand. “It is of no consequence now.”

“May I ask what you mean, My Lady?” Óin put his fork aside and brought his hearing trumpet to his ear. “Is there another layer to this charming love story?”

“Indeed, there is! I can tell you in confidence,” Lady Milva clapped her hands, leaning towards Óin, although Thorin noticed that she did not bother to lower her voice, “that we sent a marriage proposal to Thorinuldûm a few years later, but we were informed that King Thorin was not interested. I must admit that we made a grave error that day! You see, dear Lord Óin, we offered the hand of our daughter Adla in marriage instead of Mista! Therefore, it was not at all surprising that His Majesty was not interested. She was simply not the right daughter! The whole Blue Mountains wondered why he would not marry our Adla — for you must know that she is considered one of the greatest beauties of our clan — nor any other lady for one hundred years!”

“A true mystery indeed,” Óin agreed with a chuckle.

Thorin glared into his goblet. It was not a mystery to him. He clearly remembered the day the first proposal arrived. This missive from Tumunzahar came together with another letter from Gabilgathol, the city of the Firebeard Dwarves. The city he vowed never to return to. The memories he buried on the bottom of his mind, never to revisit. The eyes he would never look into again.

“...so when we sent our second offer,” Lady Milva placed her goblet on the table with a loud thud, “the answer came swiftly. And now — just look at these two, My Lord, and tell me this was not a match carved in stone.”

“May Mahal grant them happiness!” Óin said, lifting his goblet.

Lady Milva did the same, stood up and added loudly, “Let us drink for their long-awaited reunion! Will our royal lovebirds sweeten the toast with a kiss?”

“A kiss! A kiss!” Several voices from among the guests were heard at first, and then more and more of them joined in the chant. “King and Queen! King and Queen!”

What a viper, Thorin cursed inwardly. So that was her revenge. He should have seen it coming. At that moment, he could no longer pretend that he had not heard Lady Milva’s words. Neither had Lady Mista. Their gazes met; her spectacles slid slightly down her nose, uncovering a pair of brown eyes — wide open and terrified.

Thorin leaned towards her, whispering into her ear in order to be heard despite the continuous chanting.

“Forgive me, Lady Mista. This is not how I…” He paused, searching for the right words that did not seem to come. “I am afraid that we may need to make a little spectacle of ourselves, if you do not mind.”

“Kiss! Kiss!” The chanting grew louder, just like Lady Milva’s vicious smile, as people started clapping their hands, stamping their feet, and banging their goblets against the tables.

“I understand. I apologise for my mother.” She signed discreetly in Iglishmêk. Her fingers trembled when she added, “Let us turn it to our advantage and give our people the fairy tale they expect.”

Our people.

“Very well,” Thorin signed back, offering her his hand, palm up, and trying to empty his mind of all the importunate thoughts. With everyone in the Great Hall staring at them expectantly, they had to do it. There was no other way. Lady Mista took his hand, and it seemed to him that in that very moment, a spark of understanding passed between them. This was something they had to do together, something they were expected to do as the King and Queen Under the Mountain. A duty. Nothing more.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” The guests continued to chant.

Thorin stood up, waiting for Lady Mista to gather her skirts and do the same. A moment later, they stood, arm in arm, before the gathered crowd, their hands joined. The continuous chanting echoed against the ceiling of the Great Hall when he turned to face her. Their gazes met; in the candlelight, her eyes looked like molten amber. The new Queen nodded almost imperceptibly, her fine hand gave his a little squeeze, and he could not stall any longer. Thorin lowered his face towards her and his nose bumped against hers, so he tilted his head further, mindful of her spectacles, and let his lips gently brush against hers.

Her breath hitched, and he carefully moved to press his lips against hers, and she must have stood up on her tiptoes because he met the softness of her lips much sooner than expected, and she smelled, or perhaps tasted, like an apple orchard, sweet and innocent, and—

An enthusiastic storm of cheers washed over the Mountain, drowning all the importunate thoughts of his for a long while.

To be continued...

✨ Chapter list: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4... ✨ Entangled Masterlist

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wing-ed-thing · 9 months ago

Text

Stay the Night (Smoker x Reader)

Synopsis: Smoker is surprisingly, bafflingly competent at taking care of you while you're drunk.

Word Count: 2.4k

Tags/Warnings: Alcohol, Intoxication, Alcohol Sickness, Vomiting, Fluff, No Reader Pronouns Explicitly Mentioned (Reader Wears Heels, Makeup, and a Wig), Language, Mildly Suggestive, Two Longtime Friends and Peers who are Clearly in Love with Each Other

Notes: I felt like Smoker was the kind of guy to reluctantly hold your hair back while you're throwing up.

Unlike the rest of his present company, Smoker usually avoided overindulging in elaborately planned social events, especially those with an open bar. It was best to stay out of the way.

The Marines rarely allocated funds to such frivolous occasions, and so most officers and honored guests took it upon themselves to find the bottom of the generously offered bottomless champagne. While the hangovers were never worth it, that didn’t stop even the highest leadership from stumbling out of the ballroom doors with hair tousled and neckties hanging across their shoulders.

Smoker preferred to sit at a table out of the way: a sanctuary among the chaos, away from the main path of foot traffic, with a clear view of the door. That’s where he nursed his single glass of whisky. If he were feeling especially celebratory, he would have two.

You, on the other hand… were already standing on top of a table. Your stilettos were positioned on either side of the floral centerpiece in the middle, and the tiny point of your heels barely allowed you to balance as the bottle in your hands exploded in a loud, crisp pop.

Smoker watched how the sea of Marines that gathered around you in disheveled formalwear cheered, and your hypnotized face admired the bubbles pouring from the bottle's neck.

A group of newly trained officers jumped up and down together in time with the music on the opposite side of the circular table in celebration, knocking some tall glasses over onto the white cloth below. Smoker nearly leaped out of his chair as your knees began to buckle. But even despite your tiny shoes and even tinier dress, you managed to catch yourself. Your laughter resounded loudly among the voices around you.

Smoker heaved a deep sigh, sitting back down, swirling his drink with a flick of his wrist.

He didn’t even need to see that stunt to predict what would come later that night.

The streets were utterly empty. Aside from the glow of the street lamps, the only light that shone was from the venue as the staff hurried their clean up. Smoker strolled out of the double doors, tie loosened around his neck and suit jacket draped neatly over his arm.

He barely had to make it outside before he saw you. Hell, he’d be able to spot that glittery ass anywhere, even without your blinding choice of attire.

You were bent over on your weak knees as you hurled your guts out into a bush. Smoker let out a low, resigned grumble, swiping a hand over his fatigued face as he approached you. You barely registered the large shadow that overtook you, let alone the hands that gingerly and neatly gathered your hair away from your face.

You sputtered, coughing as a few tears streamed from your eyes. The insides of your cheeks were wet and bitter, and your throat burned. You spat onto the ground to get more foul-tasting mucus out of your mouth.

You were a Marine, dammit, and a few too many took you out quicker than any pirate ever did.

“Koby?” you whined. Tears continued to stream from your eyes at the pressure in your sinuses. You spat again. God, something was in your nose.

“Sorry to disappoint, Lieutenant Commander,” Smoker gruffed from where he squatted next to you.

“Don’t call me that,” you whimpered, not wanting to be reminded of your rank during such a state of weakness. Your stomach convulsed, causing your sickness to start again. Smoker’s gaze drifted to the still street like another weekday night. “I’m never gonna drink again.”

“Mh-hmm” was about the only noise you got out of Smoker. He sat patiently and wordless, not one to croon words of assurance at you as you paid for your night of over-indulgence. But for his silence, he continued to pull your hair back, meticulously smoothing the bundle back as best as he could so as not to knot or tug at your stands.

In a moment of relief, you finally turned over to sit on the curb. Despite the extra alcohol emptied from your stomach, you were far from sober. Smoker knelt on one knee in front of you. You could hardly get his face to focus, let alone register the warm jacket he hung across your shoulders.

He took the pocket square from the left breast pocket and unfurled it with a snap of his wrist. Smoker swiped the fabric over your mouth, clearing away saliva and slime. The backs of your fingers knocked against his wrist belatedly as you shook your head.

“‘M gonna fuck up your hankie, Smokey,” you sighed, even though he had already wiped your mouth. He shoved the square roughly into his pocket, paying no mind to you as he heaved you onto your feet. “‘M alright. I can make it home.”

“Like hell, you can.” You stumbled as you tried to step forward, but Smoker caught you around the waist. “These, too. You know the whole street’s cobblestone, right?.” His movements felt incredibly fast to you as he bent down again to slide your shoes off, and with two large fingers hooked around the pinch of your stilettos, Smoker moved to throw you over his shoulder.

“Whoa, whoa, wait…” Your hand flew over your mouth, and the other splayed across Smoker’s right shoulder. He held you at length, studying your face and movements carefully.

“What’s goin’ on?”

You shook your head in small but rapid swivels.

“Can’t do that.” You heaved a deep breath, slowly removing your hand from your mouth.

Smoker grumbled a hum of acknowledgment, pulling his jacket closed over your chest before shepherding you down the street toward your apartment.

You barely remembered the walk, although you were sure your drunken meandering was more than a test of Smoker’s patience. Even so, he hardly said a word, only breaking his silence to ask you where your keys were when you reached your doorstep.

They were in your clutch, which Smoker was holding with your shoes, of course.

As soon as the door opened, you nearly collapsed into your apartment. With Smoker's help, you fell neatly onto the couch by the entrance. He slipped off his boots— no matter how formal the event, Smoker was wearing his combat boots— and disappeared somewhere into your apartment.

You didn’t even care. Your head was so heavy that all you wanted to do was sleep as you slowly sank into your couch cushions.

“Sit back up.” You heard Smoker call sternly from the other room. You didn’t think you could obey him if you wanted to.

In a second, you were being repositioned. The light from the lamp in the corner of the room was sobering and borderline upsetting, but it allowed you to see the small trashcan Smoker brought for you on the floor to your right and the bottle of make-up remover on the coffee table in front of you. Smoker sat beside you, tilting your chin to delicately rub your make-up away with a prepped, textured cotton pad.

It caught you off guard, to say the least. Even in your drunken haze, Smoker still didn’t seem like the type to have patience for tender acts of service. Hell, you didn’t even know he knew what make-up remover looked like.

But despite your judgments, Smoker sat on the couch next to you, one elbow resting against the back cushion as he held your chin while his other hand swiped away your perfect contour.

“Who taught you this?” you giggled. Smoker, make sure to get the creases around your nose.

“Doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “Where do you want your lashes?”

“What?—”

Smoker had already pulled your left eyelash off, the entire strip.

“I’ll put ‘em back in the book I saw.” Before you could protest, Smoker had already pulled off your right lash. He stood quickly, stuffing the solution-soaked pad into your hand as he pivoted to carry your lashes to the other room. “Work on the rest of the glue.”

He turned back to you slightly, leaning over you just a bit to grasp your wrist and manipulate your hand to move in a circular motion on your face before you slapped him away. Smoker disappeared once again into your apartment.

You finally noticed the plastic cup of water on your coffee table and mustered up the energy to take it. The outside was wet with condensation. It was cold. You couldn’t remember the last time you drank water.

“What do you wanna do with your unit?” Smoker appeared from around the corner again; some linens balled in a wad under his arm. He held a pillow in his opposite grip as if he were holding a stray dog by the scruff.

His white collared shirt had been pulled from the waistband of his dress pants sometime during the night. The black tie that was already draped over his shoulders drooped to one side, making one side longer than the other. The first three buttons of his shirt sat on his chest untethered. A dampened towel rested over his shoulder.

You blinked at him between sips of water. Your stomach was handling rehydration so far, but you were about to push it.

“You’re not touching my hair, Smokey.”

“Though I’d offer.” He set the pillow down to take the towel off his shoulder. Smoker wadded it in a ball before throwing it your way. You somehow still had the dexterity to catch it out of the air. A generous amount of adhesive remover had already been applied to it.

Smoker pulled the coffee table out of the way, and as you stared at the towel he threw to you, Smoker began arranging blankets and pillows around you. You supposed he was trying to get you to sleep somewhere you could sit up. He draped a fuzzy throw blanket on your lap and moved two large decorative pillows to your right and left.

As your eyes moved from the remover-soaked towel to Smoker and back, you couldn’t help but laugh. The sensation moved through you before tearing out of your chest. Unrestrained by the liquor, it probably came out louder and more shrill than it would have usually, but if Smoker had any comments, he kept them to himself.

He knelt before you, both his wrists resting on his bent knee. He shook his head as if regretting the question he was about to ask in advance.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

You swayed forward, racked with trembles, as you continued to laugh. The back of your heels knocked against the bottom of the couch. Smoker didn’t move, even as your face inched gradually towards his. Your cheek settled into your palm, allowing you to sit folded over to meet his eye. He waited as your laughter gradually subsided.

“What are you doing here, Smoker?”

He stared directly into your irises, and you didn’t know if his expressionlessness or the intensity of his gaze made your smug smile waver. Intending to tease him, Smoker didn’t humor you with an expression. Nothing you had done that night—nor anything you would do—could sober you up faster than the sharp and sudden twinge in your chest that came with simply meeting Smoker’s dark brown eyes.

What the hell?

“Your girlfriend’ll be pissed.” You sharply recoiled, kicking your legs over Smoker’s bent knee to swiftly stand. You made a beeline deeper into the apartment.

Smoker only wavered a moment, his eyebrows creasing for a second in confusion before he stood and followed you.

“What girlfriend?” he shouted. He nearly ran into you as you closed a small cabinet by the bathroom. The side of your lip drooped downward in an acute pout. Smoker, never one to enjoy feeling left out of the loop, hovered over you expectantly. You entered the bathroom without a second thought. Smoker found himself in the doorway.

“Weren’t you with that…” You snapped your fingers as you tried to recall her name. You didn’t have to wait.

“Six months ago… and we only went on a few dates,” Smoker defended, although he wasn’t quite sure why he felt the need to defend himself to you in the first place. The two of you had known each other for longer than he recalled knowing anyone else, and more prominently, the two of you were peers. Why should it matter if he took some petty officer out for a few drinks a few months back? His eyes narrowed at the back of your head. “Why?”

You shrugged. You seemed far less worried about the whole thing; your face practically pressed against the mirror to remove the remaining patches of product Smoker missed. He did a more than adequate job. He hardly missed anything regarding your makeup, but the pointed glance you stole in the mirror escaped him.

“Now I know I’m pretty wasted—” You met his gaze through the mirror. You cocked your head, and your hands gripped the side of the sink in pure bafflement. “But you said ‘lash book’—?”

“Got it. Got it.” Smoker crossed his arms as he tore his attention away. Steam filled the air. He hardly noticed the shower running, and he most definitely didn’t realize that you were standing in front of him, presenting your back, until you started speaking again.

“So, you’re just kind of a—" You glanced over your shoulder at him, and for as off as your judgment was, you knew you probably shouldn’t finish your sentence—even if his reaction would have been hilarious. You turned back around. “Get my dress for me?”

You could have noticed Smoker’s single beat of hesitation if you were any less intoxicated. But for yet another instance that night, Smoker went quiet as he slowly tugged down the back zipper of your dress. The invisible zipper was thin and difficult to grip, but it slid down your spine like butter regardless, revealing the soft skin underneath.

“I have a pair of your shorts in the bottom left drawer of my dresser. The couch is yours.” You pivoted again on your heel, one hand holding your dress up on your chest and the other pushing Smoker back through the doorway. “Now get out.”

You shut the door. Smoker sighed and resigned himself to rifle through your dresser, wondering why he had clothes at your place at all.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: Based off my personal headcanon that Smoker has a surprisingly extensive dating history and an equally surprising library of knowledge about girly stuff because he's an extremely involved boyfriend. I'd say most of his previous relationships had amicable break ups. Reader was also going to say "so you're kind of a whore" but decided against it.

#smoker x reader #op x reader #one piece x reader #one piece reader insert #smoker #vice admiral smoker #captain smoker #one piece marines #reader insert #x reader #x you #reader insert fanfic #smoker fanfic #smoker fanfiction #x gn!reader #x black reader #x black fem reader #x asian reader

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avidfics · 11 months ago

Note

pretty pretty pretty pls part 2 to moving on if you’re feeling up to it!

Appreciate the request anon :)

Trying to Move On

summary: soccer player abby doesn’t like seeing you with someone else (Moving on Part 2)

warnings: slightly toxic and clueless abby; jealousy, slight groping, fluff, angst, teeny tiny mention of fingering but mostly fluff

a/n: appreciate all the love part 1 received! thanks!

abby knew how to handle a team, she was an awesome soccer player, but she was shit at winning her girl back. It had just been over a week since you sprung on her that you were going on a date and were sick of her not reciprocating your feelings. What the hell did that even mean? Sure she had a certain reputation around campus but everyone knew that you were her main girl.

After every game it was your body she’d enveloped in a crushing celebratory embrace, it was your name she’d accidentally whisper while she’d be thrusting her fingers into a random girl (which resulted in countless unfriendly slaps across the face), and it was your bed she’d sneak in whenever she was completely spent, snuggling her front to your plush backside. Arms circling your warm waist while her heavy hands always found a way to push themselves to nestle between your thighs.

Her legs pressed together just reminiscing how your thighs always instinctively would wedge her hand in deeper, a slight high-pitched moan escaping your lips.

abby let out a sigh. It was her favorite sleep position and kept her hand nice and toasty throughout the night.

The image of someone else taking her destinated spot in your bed hit her with the force of a freight truck. What if you no longer unlocked your door late at night because your lame date was the one sneaking their hand between your thighs, pulling honey-coated pleas from your lips?

Her hands balled into fists just thinking about the image. You two were inseparable, truthfully she didn’t know where she ended and you started, and she wouldn’t wish it any other way. If only she wasn’t so clueless when it came to talking about her feelings and desires.

The beep of a door locking breaks her out of the maddening thought of you with someone else and is replaced with a radiant smile as you round the side of her house to meet her in the backyard, a place she typically practices drills during her free time.

You had tried distancing yourself from abby over the past week but today she asked for you to come over and spend time together like you used to do. The request wasn’t easy to agree to, especially since you were trying to get over abby. But you could never say no to her, which was a fact abby was well aware of and continued to use to her advantage.

You immediately regret your decision as you walk onto the vibrant green grass and see abby causally kicking a soccer ball in full leisure attire that would look ordinary on anyone else but was panty melting on her. Loose navy shorts hugged her ass and cut off high on her thighs, leaving out her toned, muscular legs in full view. As she did complicated foot work her muscles flexed in a way that created sinful thoughts sprouting in your mind. Your only luck was the fact that she wore a full shirt, even though her burly arms were on full display, a thin layer of sweat highlighted every little groove and dent along her delicious body.

But more than anything, what had your heart pounding was the way her face morphed into a blinding smile immediately when she noticed you walking onto the field.

Which made it almost gut-wrenching when your date from last week finally came into view. abby’s smile went lopsided and her stride fumbled a bit as she glared at the girl standing a bit too close to your side.

Your date seemed oblivious to abby’s irked glare as she stepped forward, hand-stretched for a handshake. “I’ve heard so much about you and am a huge fan-” her pleasantries hang in the air as abby pushes past the outstretched hand and bends low to wrap her arms beneath your bum and lifts you into the air. “Abigail anderson let me down now!” you screech even as a smile threatens to break out from her firm lips.

Not that abby is deterred as she smiles from below you. “Let me have my fun, its been forever, doll.” The past week of radio silence is all forgotten as the familiarity between you two returns with smooth ease.

An awkward cough from your date pops the bubble. You start to struggle away a bit more but abby just gives a stubborn look in retaliation. It takes pinching her ear for her to reluctantly set you down. A pout quickly forms on her lips but she finally drags her attention to your date. “Thought Uber drivers were supposed to remain in the car.”

The insult takes both you and your date by surprise but luckily, she recovers fast. An easy grin slides on her face. “If I was only the Uber driver, her mouth gave me a pretty intimate tip last night.”

Embarrassment heated your checks yet you refused to duck down in shame since you were single. But the look on abby’s face makes you immediately glance away. Burning accusations and a hundred demanding questions were silently thrown your way. But to the girl, abby just chuckles. Her face seemed carefree but below veins along her arm became visible as she gripped her hands together in a vise. “Good to know my teachings are paying off after so many nights together.” She gives the girl a dismissive once-over. “Her choice of partner could be better. But now that my team has a few home games lined up, I’ll be here to fill any needs. You shouldn't expect as many calls after today.”

With that she drags you away to the porch even as you apologize profusely to your date. As soon as you enter her place you snatch your hand away. “Fuck you, abby.”

Any lingering anger had already melted away from her shoulders. That smile reserved only for you came back as she leaned so close that you became squashed against her chest and the metal door knob. She squeezes against you so closely that you can tell her sports bra is unpadded as pebbled nipples drag against your boobs. “Sure, doll. Does right here work?” The soft puffs of her breath tickle your lips. There seems to be a direct link from the bounding beats of your heart to the maddening pulse in your clit. So distracted you almost don’t hear her. “Because I can attach my strap-on in under a minute.” The click of her locking the door behind your waist jerks your thoughts away from the sinful curiosity of what she’d look like with a strap-on tied around her hips.

And judging by her mocking smile she already guessed what you were imagining. “I’m glad you find humor is my humiliation. This is all just one big joke to you, right? Finally, I found someone who is actually interested in me, and your first instinct is to sabotage it.” Desperately you dash the horny thoughts away to be able to look her in the eyes. Demanding an answer.

Her brow scrunches. “oh please, there’s been plenty of girls interested in you. It takes forever to get rid of them.” Her callused hand reaches out to snag you closer by your belt buckle. “But if you want to go on awkward dates which will ultimately result in nothing, be my guest sweetheart. Sure, it sucks that we’re together and you want to date around, but whatever.” The pout returns even as her strong grip remains on your belt buckle. That last sentence takes your entire focus, leaving you to be dragged by the brooding girl into the living room. Completely malleable as she sits on her sofa, reclined horizontally, and settles you so your butt nestles against her thighs so you're propped up. She’s fully content now as she hums a little song, tracing patterns along your soft legs.

As good as being handled by abby feels, what she’s claiming has just shifted the world on its axis. “abs… we’re not together.”

She rolls her eyes. Both her heavy hands grips your waist - pressing her rough fingertips into your cushioned skin. With anyone else you’d feel self-conscious but with her you just felt cherished. “I think I’d know if we were going out or not.”

“Just because you’re jealous doesn’t mean you can make things up.”

The prettiest clueless expression morphs across her face. “So even though I stole a copy of your keys, we hang out every single day, I listed you as my wife on my insta bio, and I'm always dry humping you whenever I sleep over your place, that doesn’t mean we’re together?” Another wave of embarrassment makes you bend over and cower your face in her neck. “I swear you’re so dumb sometimes. Abs, you can’t just assume. You have to ask.”

“Do I have to get on one knee?” you laughed at her clueless joke. “Babe, what will it take for you to date me?” The soft question is followed by her heavy paws climbing higher and higher along your inner thighs. A whiny moan slips out your mouth when her thumbs get dangerously close to your outer lips.

Still, you playfully acted as if to ponder the question over. “Hmm, I’ll add you to my roster.”

That smile, you absolutely adored, returns. As if pleased with your answer, twin kisses are pressed to your inner wrists. “As long as I’m placed at number one I’m certain I can get rid of the others.”

#abby anderson fic #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson #abby x reader #abby anderson fluff

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the-fiction-witch · 1 year ago

Text

Good News

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Flirty

Requested: can you also do one where yns father sold her off to Jack

I hummed to myself as I worked in my little patch of the garden, digging and planting little flowers. I saw my father approach and almost immediately I had a bad feeling about this.

"Good News!" He gleamed,

"Ohh?" I glared,

"I have very good news for you dear."

"Oh? am I being shipped back to England?"

"Better."

"You're killing me?"

"Don't talk like that dear, it's good news."

"I stand by what I said."

"I have found you a husband."

"This is terrible news." I sighed returning to my flowers,

"Ohh for-" he sighed picking me up from the dirt and forcing me back to the house "You are to have a bath, wash and brush your hair, and put on your prettiest dress to meet your new husband."

"And what if I refuse him?" I asked as he threw me back into my room,

"You will not refuse him, it's already been agreed your dowry paid." he said "Clean. Now," he demanded shutting my door,

"What happened to me having a choice!" I yelled,

"You turn away ten suitors, you give me no choice you're marrying him."

"UUuuuughhhhhh!" I yelled in frustration, I had a quick back and fixed my hair to the minimum my father would allow putting on my dull blue dress, nowhere near my best dress but I highly doubt this is anywhere near the best man.

I went out and met with my father outside as he wore his good suit, I held my fan in my hand trying to both fan myself and hide myself from this whole situation.

"Straight." He demanded forcing my back straight, "And smile."

I rolled my eyes and forced a smile for him,

"That's a good girl" he smiled kissing my head "Where is he?" he muttered,

Luckily at that moment, the carriage came into view, I noticed immediately it was our carriage meaning Father sent it to pick him up rather than him coming to get me, well that's a red flag.

Once the carriage stopped my mind ran through with who on earth my father could ever convince to marry me. And then he stepped out.

My eyes went wide, as I saw The Dr Jack Dawkins step out.

He hadn't even dressed up, in his usual attire hell he even still had blood on his sleeves!

He was the new surgeon in town, we hadn't met yet I had just heard of him in passing and such,

I glared at my father and he just smiled back.

"Miss Y/l/n" He smiled at me,

"No." I snapped turning to go inside but my father stopped me and forced me back to my place,

"Do excuse her Dr Dawkins, overcome with emotion."

"Yes ange-" I began but my father slapped my hand silencing me,

"Shall we retire to the parlour for the celebratory drink?" he asked,

"That sounds lovely" He smiled,

My father then forced me to walk with them.

I sat in my chair pouting as they discussed me as if I wasn't here.

laughing and drinking between themselves,

"I'll leave you two to... get acquainted." My father smirked before he left the room leaving us alone,

"So? We're going to get married."

"It appears we are."

"I take it... you're not thrilled about this?" Dr. Dawkins asked,

"Should I be?"

"I thought every little girl dreamt of her wedding?"

"Not me."

"Alright,"

"What are your intentions?"

"... to marry you, oldy enough."

"Why?"

"Why not? you're cheaper than a maid"

"How dare you!"

"Look, you're a maid, I don't have to pay, live in my house, and I can fuck. This is a win-win for me"

"I will make your life a living hell."

"So would every other woman."

"So you're just fine with marrying an unwilling woman?"

"I'm unwilling, your unwilling, most we can do is make the best of it."

"And what am I meant to get out of this?"

"You'll be married so your father will stop bothering you, you get out of this house, bragging rights of having a well-renowned surgeon and doctor as your husband and given I work so much I'll barely be home so you can just... do whatever you want."

"Fine." I sighed I wasn't happy about this but he had a point, my father would stop bugging me and as a doctor, he wouldn't really be around that much. "So you're a doctor?"

"Surgeon yes."

"Let me guess military?"

"Ex-Navy"

"That'll be why father likes you," I sighed, "So you'll be working at the hospital?"

"Six to ten most days." He nods "Eleven to five is all for you."

"Fine, you get days off?"

"If I'm not busy yes."

"time with friends?"

"Friday night down the cat and bagpipes"

"I'll allow it so long as you don't come home drunk enough to be hung over Saturday morning"

"...Alright." He nods

"Do you expect children from me?"

"Four."

"One."

"Three?"

"One."

"Two?"

"I'll allow two."

"Good, one needs to be a boy."

"I'll see what I can do." I sighed, "One boy one girl?"

"I can find that agreeable." He nods, "social events?"

"Avoid at all costs."

"Well we agree on something." He smirked "You dance?"

"No."

"Thank god neither do I." he smiled "You cook? clean? laundry?"

"I'll cook and do laundry, you do dishes and handy work."

"Ohh no handy work is gonna be your forte."

"I meant fixing things."

"Ohh. Fine Anything you insist on in our home?"

"Give me a garden and I'll stay quiet."

"I can agree to that." He nodded getting up and coming over stroking my face, "Once we are married shall we start working on our baby?"

"I can agree to that Dr Dawkins."

"Just jack buttercup" he cooed giving my lips a soft sweet kiss, "Pleasure to meet you."

"Pleasure to meet you too" I smiled

#tbs imagine #tbs imagines #thomas sangster imagine #thomasbrodiesangster #thomas brodie sangster imagine #tbs smut #thomas brodie sangster smut #thomas brodie sangster #thomas sangster #tbs #thearttfuldodger #theartfuldogger #the artful dodger #jackdawkins #jack #jack dawkins

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crystallizedtwilight · 6 months ago

Note

You once made an art with shuggy I think wedding???? And you wrote “the mobile game does something right” WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? What mobile game??? What happened?

There are official One Piece mobile games, such as Treasure Cruise and Grand Collection, that depict the characters in fun situations! This tumblr has a nice archive here.

Happy childhood moments, Shuggy hanging out in their adult years, and even an image of them in formal wear together (...which also just happen to be traditional wedding attire, while they hold a bottle of celebratory champagne in front of red and blue bouquets under a flowered arch)

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devildomwriter · 9 months ago

Note

Hello! How are you doing? Are you taking requests, right?

I'd like to know... how do you think weddings at devildom are like? If there is a wedding ceremony, of course. I can't stop thinking about it, and I'd like to know your opinion :)

Devildom Wedding Headcanons

Rings

• Rings are also part of Devildom relationships. Most are extravagant and include the demon’s sigils in the jewels or the band. Necklaces or other clothing with the demon’s sibilant are commonly gifted to show they are engaged and who to.

• Not all demons care to wear rings or jewelry, as most love fights and chaos and don’t want it to be lost. They may opt for dowry, or something they desire instead as a form of engagement.

Decorations

• Like most of the Devildom decorations involve, bones, beating hearts, and other gothic/horror related items. The colors of the venue are usually dark unless they prefer something else.

• Almost all the flowers of the Devildom are horrific or partially sentient so great care is spent choosing which ones to use, if any at all.

Attire

• The tradition of white dresses was started by an English monarch so that’s not something too common in the Devildom, though based on card art, it may have been adopted by them since they regularly interact and learn about human culture.

• I believe darker colors are most common for wedding dresses but specific colors like red or gold are common for nobility, or their house colors.

Wedding Vows

• Demons would take their true forms as their partners are accepting them as they are.

• There are no religious vows. They probably ask for blessings from Denizens of Darkness or from the ruling monarch.

• In the past, marriage wasn’t really a thing. They likely just announced they were together like in olden days or had some kind of personal mating ceremony.

Food

• I imagine the food is mostly rare varieties meat, the rarer the more impressive/rich they are.

• Some food is likely human as this is still a thing in the Devildom. Even under Diavolo’s rules, demons still desire and consume humans though it’s not often talked about.

• They may even drink a celebratory chalice of blood (Who knows who it belongs to)

Honeymoons

• Demons are wild, some weddings may devolve into orgies, especially among friends if family isn’t invited.

• Some nobles and monarchs may have ceremonial robes they use, a specific place they go to, steps of execution etc.

• Either way, being demons, honeymoons are intense and the majority is spent in bed, or wherever they choose to have sex.

Traditions

• Some demons choose to carve/burn/magically place their seals on each other as a sign they belong to each other.

• There are probably some form of sacrifices varying on their preferences. Some probably get away with human sacrifices if they had a pact.

#obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me request #obey me ask

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sparrowrye · 9 months ago

Text

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 24.5

Synopsis: enjoy

Part 24.5: fool's play

WARNING! Not safe for work or school! Also, this is an April Fool’s post so be wary

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I should've known by the intensity of his stare, by the green edges of my vision, by the way my hair stood up, and by the dark aura coming from the corner of the room that Alastor wasn't happy.

I wasn't doing anything wrong or bad, necessarily, but everyone knew how impatient and attention-seeking he could be. I, especially, knew how he hated when I danced with other people. It was a cold, celebratory night for a new year so I was allowed to enjoy myself in the haven with my friends.

My partner, whom I didn't know their name, was moving as fast as Alastor liked too and found myself able to keep up with him a lot easier. The music was loud and people were stomping their feet, clapping their hands, signing their hearts out, and dancing to it just as well.

The song ended on a loud beat and my partner left us at a slight dip. The shattering of a glass didn't reach everyone's ears, but it reached mine. I turned my head to see Alastor wiping his hand on a rag while Husker cleaned up broken glass shards on the bar counter. Alastor's eyes flashed over to mine, as sharp as a cat's and as quick as a snake's.

My dance partner brought me up to stand and I thanked him for a good dance. We separated into the crowd and I noticed him pulling another girl onto the dance floor. I nervously made my way over to my soulmate, tail waving behind me and claws clicking together nervously.

The dress I was wearing was a bright red with a black corset of sorts hugging my center. It had a beautifully stitched red rose on the left side. The front of the dress barely passed my knees while the back went a little further down. Arleen had made this dress specifically for this occasion so I could dance my heart out without worrying about stepping on the fabric. The sleeves were also short and ruffled on the top of my shoulders. The rest of it exposed onto a portion of my chest - nothing too revealing for my own preference and for poor Alastor's sake.

I was lucky enough to convince Alastor to wear something other than his usual attire. He discarded his jacket for the night and went with a bright red button up underneath a black vest. He had traded in his bowtie for a long, black and gray tie. His pants were all black, no red on the bottom, and but he still wore his signature black and red boots.

Speaking of whom, the look he was giving me was...a look.

He had his signature smile but it looked like a cross between a smile and a snarl. His eyes were sharp and had the faint outline of his radio dials in his pupils. His eyebrows were also a strange cross, not quite far up like usual but not quite a glare. He looked like he was trying to hide his annoyance behind a genuine smile. It didn't make sense, but the look he was giving me sure did.

"May I have a word, love?" he asked, taking my hand and kissing the back of it.

"Of course." I wrapped my black claws around his leading arm and walked out onto the brightly lit porch outside. The rainclouds prevented me from seeing the bright stars but that wasn't where my attention was at the moment. I was too busy trying to keep my nervous hand from holding onto his arm too harshly.

He was quiet and still for a minute. Then he gently took my hand and pulled it across his chest so I was standing in front of him. He pressed a fleeting kiss to my neck, then planted several more on the way down to my shoulder where the fabric met my skin. He went back up to my ear and pressed his nose to the spot right behind my ear. It was sending goosebumps up my arm.

"Have you found another man to take my place?" he asked in my ear, radio filter practically surrounding me.

"What?" I tried to turn my head but his hand snapped up to my jaw to hold my head straight. I grabbed his wrist and flapped my ear against his nose. "Let go--"

"Have you grown tired of me, my dear?"

"Your jealousy is really bad, Alastor," I retorted, a smile edging on my lips. He wasn't actually upset. He was just feeling a little ignored, a little forgotten. He was an attention-whore afterall.

He let out a deep hum, one that I could almost feel in my chest. "I like when you say my name. It should be the only name that comes out of those lips." His touch on my back was light as he moved it to my hips than securely around the front, holding my flush against him. I could feel his warmth radiating off him.

"Alastorrr," I purred, earning a wider grin and another chuckle. "If you wanted my attention you just needed to ask."

"Hmm, I'm not asking," he said in my ear, lips grazing across my skin, "I'm telling you. I will have your attention now."

I let go of his wrist and moved my palm to his cheek, feeling his eyelashes brush on my cheek as he closed them. I moved my hand further up to thread my fingers through his pink hair. I gently massaged the area around his ears, drawing out heavy sighs and hums from him.

Then I tightly squeezed the bottom of his ear and he reared back, a pained noise escaping him. I didn't know what it sounded like but it wasn't quite human. I jerked his claw off my chin and spun to face him. His other hand had come up to hold his injured ear. "Why--"

"I'm not one to boss around, Alastor." I rolled his name off my tongue again, my lips quirking into a smirk. His shocked expression returned to the one he had before, but with more intent.

"Is that so, my dear?" He took one long step to be up close and personal again. My head was tilted back to meet his eyes, defiance and smugness written all over me.

"I thought you knew me better than that, love." The new nickname had an effect, his smile nearly turning genuine before he recomposed himself. He lifted his red claws to touch my shoulders but I had beaten him to it, glancing down at his waist to hook two claws on his belt loops, and jerking hard to make him stumble closer.

His claws found my shoulders and the tips were dangerously close to puncturing the fabric and my skin. "Careful, darling, you don't know what game you're playing."

"But I'm willing to find out." I kept him pulled firmly against me and rested my cheek on his chest, making him canter his head just to keep eye contact with me. His claws felt like they were shaking.

"Last warning, my dear," he moved an arm to wrap around the back of my shoulders, attempting to trap me against him instead of the other way around, "If you say yes, I will not be held responsible for what happens tonight."

I moved my foot claws so they were up against his ankles, my tail coming around to wrap around one of his knees. I lifted my head, licking my dry lips once, and let go of his belt loops to run my hands up his sides. "Yes, Alastor."

The one side of his smile flatlined. His shadows engulfed us both, sprinted up to the house, and manifested us in his room. The door was slightly open but his tentacles were quick to slam it shut, his hand coming up to my chest and shoving me away. My ankles hit the footboard of the bed, causing me to fall backwards on the thick covers. I lifted myself up on my elbows in time to see him hook a claw on his tie and pull it off his neck.

I licked my lips again.

He snapped his fingers to remove the black vest and began unbuttoning his long sleeve, taking long strides to the side of the bed. He had gotten half way down as I moved further up the bed. His antlers had lengthened a little more, darkness surrounding us and making it impossible to see anything other than him and the red sheets.

He put one knee on the bed and a claw near mine. I pushed myself up to a hand, all my teeth sharpening to a point to match his smile, and leaned forward to catch the aggressive kiss. Instead, his other red claw came to my chest and shoved me back down on the mattress. I let out a breathy snarl as he shifted to straddle me, hand never leaving my chest.

As retaliation, I brought my tail up to wrap firmly around his deer tail. It made him visibly shudder and a tentacle came out to pin it down. My hand around his wrist was peeled off and also pinned. I smiled wide, running my long tongue across my newly sharpened teeth. His beady red eyes watched intently until my other hand found his thigh.

He grabbed that one too and came forward to plan a kiss on my slightly exposed chest. I didn't let him have access to my neck so when he attempted to grab my chin, I grabbed his ear. Another tentacle came out to pull my wrist tight into the mattress.

"You don't get to challenge me," he growled in my ear, now able to pull my chin to the side and run his tongue along my skin. It sent a satisfying chill down my spine. "You gave the word, now you must suffer the consequences."

"I'm not so sure suffer is the right term, Alastor," his name came smoothly off my tongue.

"Suffer and love go hand in hand, don't you think?" Before I could answer him, he bit down hard on the top of my shoulder. My knees came up since my hands were pinned, quickly earning yet another set of tentacles to hold them down. He moved his one leg to rest his knee snuggly in between my legs.

"That's...cheating," my voice wavered at the end.

"There were no rules set in place," he said in between licking up my blood, "Perhaps you should have thought about that before agreeing."

I went into his mind and held on tight to it, making him go very stiff. A moment later his own magic grabbed mine and practically engulfed me.

"I told you, my dear, you don't know what game you are playing." He filled my mind, forcing me to think of nothing other than him. I could feel the burn of his touch and see the green of his magic. It was just him.

He finally let go of my mind and I found myself completely bare underneath him. I snapped his name like a curse and attempted to my pull my limbs free to cover myself. His claw came up to brush the back of his fingers across my skin like he always did.

"You are mine, my deer. There is nothing to hide from me."

It was then that I noticed he was also bare, leg still firmly in between my own. He moved to my neck again, our skin touching and sending sparks into my brain. I felt lightheaded as his mind wrapped perfectly around mine, not yet intruding again. I hadn't noticed the other things his magic had been doing further below.

"Are you ready?" His radio filter was off, voice genuine as he asked the question. I nodded my head but that wasn't enough for him. "Tell me yes, dear."

"Yes, Alastor."

I felt something in him snap. The dominating, aggressive aura returned as quickly as it had gone. One of his claws came up to mine, dispersing the tentacle in exchange for his hand. He firmly gripped my hand and planted a kiss on my chest.

The pain came first.

My head fell back against the pillow, Alastor leaving soft, feathery kisses along my chest and stomach. He would stop, pull away just a hair, then keep pressing in. One hand gripped the sheets and the other gripped his hand tightly. His breaths in between kisses were hot and heavy.

After what felt like forever, I had adjusted a little. He licked up the tears that had fallen on the sides of my face, softly asking if he could move. His voice was much deeper and filled with need. With permission, he began to move and my back arched off the bed, voice whining his name.

My eyes blinked open. I looked around the dark room, my hand was resting on Alastor's clothed chest. My tail moved around my body as I felt my own clothing still on me. Nothing felt sore or hurt. Had it been a dream? Was it a vision?

He rolled his head to the side and pressed his face into my hair.

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Author's Note:

Happy April Fool's <3

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Taglist:

@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine @thesimpybitch @papas-ghoulette

#demi demon #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #soulmate au #soulmates #reqs open

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cyikemen · 3 months ago

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Can you manage to trick the trickster?🤭

🥂Party Event Mitsuhide's B-Day Fest 2024 is here!🎉

Grab celebratory stories, sultry Special Themes, gorgeous attire and more!🎁💎

Don't leave Mitsuhide alone on his special day~ join him now! 🥺🤍

#cybird #ikemen series #otome game #ikemen sengoku #ikesen #happy birthday #Mitsuhide Akechi #ikesenbday

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oneforthemunny · 2 years ago

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shot through the heart |bouncer!eddie munson x bartender!reader|

prompt: eddie and you make a bet playing darts one night at the hideout. loser gives the other head.

contains: sexual themes 18+ MINORS DNI. oral male rec, a little fem rec at the end. overall filth.

Eddie sat at the bar, still in black but not in his usual work attire. Joey had agreed to let Corroded Coffin play tonight, a Thursday night slot, but the crowd was bigger than the usual Tuesday. Drunk teenagers with their fakes screaming and dancing over pitchers of beer, to drunk middle aged couples dancing on the sticky dance floor- Eddie wasn't quite sure why they were two stepping to his metal music, but he was fine with it. At least they were engaged and having fun, no pity claps or eye rolls like the Tuesday crowd gave him.

And the best part? There behind the wooden half circle bar, slinging beers, peanuts, collecting tips and taking orders, stood you. In your hair pulled back to he could see your pretty face. He could see you blush when he pointed at you, singing a vulgar, suggestive lyric into the mic. He'd be lying if he said his song writing skills hadn't gotten better since being with you, you were the main inspiration for the crowd favorite original song 'Super Soaker'.

Joey had given them the stage until midnight, when all the shows ended and the bar started to settle until last call. Eddie finished twenty minutes after, an encore from the middle aged woman who kept shoveling tips in jar and screaming out more requests. How could Eddie deny her?

He packed his things in the van, joining his band mates at the bar, where you had pulled up high chairs to the end, just for them. "VIP section, right this way, rockstar." You purred, a dazzling smile that had Eddie weak at his knees, when you pointed to the end.

You brought them rounds of beers and celebratory shots, talent was always on the house. "You guys did so good!" You cheered, setting down the shots of Jameson in front of them.

"Thanks, baby," Eddie grinned. "Couldn't have done it without my main muse." He winked, the guys snickering around him.

You rolled your eyes despite the blush that heated your cheeks. "Well, let me know if I can get you anything, ok? I'll make sure my service is up to your superstar standards." You quipped, brow raising teasingly,

Eddie's eyes trailed on the sway of your hips, dick jumping at the thought. He felt electrified, buzzing and jittery with post show adrenaline. The last time he'd played, he'd told you to go on your break, fucking you outside on the back wall, leaving you to go back to work on shaky legs, panties filled with his release for the rest of your shift.

The boys recounted their night, desperate girls crowding them, eyes wide and sugary sweet compliments that had Jeff nervous laughing, flustered and melting at the attention.

Not Eddie, he was too busy watching you, thinking about all the ways he'd have you when you got off. "For song inspiration, of course, baby." He'd always say, like he had to convince you anyways. You'd do anything he wanted.

The bar died down before last call around two, everyone drunk and tired, fumbling out to hook up or pass out. Eddie looked over, Gareth and Jeff had moved into the corner booth with two girls, desperately trying to woo them. Eddie scoffed, shaking his head, pressing the bottle to his lips.

You wiped down the bar, smiling and thanking a leaving customer with your perfect, polite tone. No wonder the Hideout thought you were their golden girl, you were. You were Eddie's too, the closest he'd get to a garden of Eden he was sure.

"Can I get you anything else, rockstar?" You grinned, elbows pressing against the bar, leaning across the sticky wood towards him. His eyes trailed down to your low cut Hideout shirt, a t-shirt you'd cut to make sexier- better for tips.

Eddie snorted, shaking his head. "Hey, Ellen," He called to the manager behind the bar, picking up receipts. "Can I borrow this one for a sec?"

Ellen shrugged, looking at Valerie, the other bartender. Valerie smiled at you, waving her hand. "I got it," She reassured, motioning to the two stragglers at the bar, hunched over their booze and dazing off.

You thanked her, pushing through the low side door of the bar. "Just call for me if you need anything, Val." You said, looking at Eddie expectantly. "How can I be of service?" You asked playfully, low, batting your eyes up at him.

Eddie's cock lurched, tight and uncomfortable against his ripped jeans. He smirked, tongue rolling over the inside of his cheek.

Eddie nodded over to the dart board. "You played before?" He asked, but he knew the answer.

Of course you'd played before, you and him rotated from the pool tables to the dart boards on slow nights when it was just the two of you.

You rolled your eyes, scoffing. "No, never," You said sarcastically, bumping your hip to his. "Will you show me?" You flirted.

Eddie grit his teeth, salacious grin looking down at you. "C'mon," He slipped his hand in the back pocket of your jeans, smirking at your squeal. "Let's play a few rounds."

The two of you took turns throwing the arrows towards the worn and battered bullseye. You extended your arm, lining it up down the top fin, just like Eddie taught you. His chest swelled with pride when he watched you, nose scrunched in concentration, one eye shut before sending it sailing, flying towards the center.

Eddie clapped, smiling at you. "Good throw," He said, picking up his own darts. He was red, you were green; always.

"Wanna make this more interesting?" Eddie asked, looking around carefully, his voice dropping as he lined up his own shot.

You smirked, leaning against the table with already stacked chairs. "Yeah?"

"Let's make a little wager, how's that sound?" Eddie asked smugly, sending his own dart sailing and sticking against the black outer ring of the bullseye. "You up for a little challenge?"

You scoffed, air blowing out your nose with a shake of your head. "What're you thinking? Gonna bet all my tips or something?" You teased.

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Like I would ever." He muttered, sending another dart sailing, then eyes locking with you. "Just a little bet to make things interesting, hm?"

You lifted a brow, waiting for his proposition. Eddie took a step closer to you, crowding you. "Three rounds. Loser gives the other head." His eyes were dark, shining in a way that had a cold tingle spilling up your spine, thighs clenching.

Your lips twisted, biting back a grin, but you knew he saw it anyways. "Hm, I guess I could afford to bet that much." You matched his playful banter. You picked up your green darts, the tips brown and rusted. "You first?"

Eddie shook his head, bowing dramatically in front of the worn and faded black duct tape 'x' on the ground. "Never. Ladies first."

You stepped on the mark, right foot forward, shifting your weight from your back leg to your front as you lined up your shot, sending it flying, landing on the cushiony material of the target on the second ring, the black slice under the 'twelve'.

You grinned smugly, spinning and stepping out of the way to record your score on the napkin while Eddie lined up his own. Round after round went by, you won the first one with ease- Eddie blamed the shots you'd given him. Eddie won the second by just a few points, grinning smugly.

Ellen and Valerie had gathered by you two, leaning over the rail and watching you intently play. The bar had cleared out before last call, just the sound of the buzzing equipment and the soft playing of the jukebox.

"Oh!" Valerie and Ellen cheered when you landed on the outer ring of the bullseye, dangerously close to the center.

"Wow, not looking good Munson." Ellen joked with a grin. "Hope you didn't wager anything too big."

Eddie's eyes flashed to your knowingly, your skin blistering under his gaze. "Nah, nothing too bad." He smirked, lining up his own shot, heavy boots on the mark.

You drooled as his shirt rode up, showing his inked tummy, hips, the outline of his boxers. He'd discarded his leather jacket, torn and covered in badges, earlier into the game. He knew you liked watching his muscles flex, veins protruding in his forearms under the sketched skin

His tongue poked out in concentration, looking down the slope of his nose before the dart went sailing, landing on the board with a solid 'thud!' and sinking into the worn foam. Eddie turned, smug smile on his face that he was trying to hide, twisting his lips to the side, but you saw how his eyes lit up. Your eyes flickering from his back to the board, red marked dart right in the middle; bullseye.

"Motherfucker..." You muttered, hands on your hips as Valerie and Ellen howled in laughter, clapping and cheering.

"Oh! That was too good!" Valerie cackled. "Time to pay up, girl. Hope it wasn't all your tips from tonight." She winked at Eddie.

You pouted playfully, exaggeratedly to Eddie. "I don't know how but you cheated." You pointed a finger at him.

Eddie laughed. "How?" He shook his head, curly tendrils bouncing with the movement. "Don't be a sore-loser, baby. You lost." He grabbed your waist, making you whine and squirm against his fingers, desperate to hide your smile and keep up your pouty facade.

"Don't you know you're supposed to let the pretty girls beat you, Munson?" Ellen shook her head playfully.

Eddie scoffed. "Where's the fun in that?" He grinned, smacking a kiss to the side of your head. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I won't count my winnings here. We can settle up back at home." He winked at you, leaving you throbbing and dizzy with what's to come.

Eddie stayed to walk the three of you out, opening the door to his van, smacking your ass playfully when you passed him to climb in. Eddie ducked in, kissing you hard, sloppy and needy. You could taste the whiskey on his breath still.

Eddie started the van, hand on your headrest when he pulled out, snaking his hand down to squeeze your cheeks together. "You ready to pay up when we get home?" Eddie smirked.

You blushed, turning your head to hide how flustered he made you, but he didn't miss the way your thighs squeezed shut at his words. "I still think you cheated." You jested, eyes rolling over to him.

Eddie scoffed, hand on your thigh, running his hand up the soft denim of your jeans, pinky trailing dangerously close to your core, leaving you shivering. "Psh, I won fair and square, sweetheart." He looked at you knowingly.

Twenty minutes later you were on your knees at Eddie's trailer, scratchy, green carpet rubbing uncomfortably against your knees. Eddie stripped you the second you walked in, clothes scattered and thrown in all directions, until you were naked, bare in front of him.

He sat on the couch, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, thick thighs spread with his cock angry and flushed against his belly, tip leaking and smearing onto his happy trail.

"Pay up, baby." Eddie grinned, taking a rather long exhale, embers crackling and falling from his cigarette, his eyes never leaving yours, stroking himself lazily.

He reached out for your hand, spitting a fat glob onto your palm, before leaning back, nodding towards his throbbing cock. You pumped him slow at first, squeezing his shaft with just the right amount of pressure, spreading his spit all over his cock. Thumb spreading and rubbing small circles over his head, gathering the leaking release to spread down his cock with every flick of your wrist.

Eddie watched you through heavy, half lidded eyes, flicking his ash into the tray, free hand reaching to wrap around your ponytail, falling and messy from your shift. You looked at him when you shimmied forward, eyes locking with him while you licked a strip on the underside of his cock, swirling your little tongue around his head.

Eddie swallowed hard, trapped moan in his throat, clenching his thighs and hips to keep from bucking at the sensation, especially when you cupped his sac, squeezing it just right, his cock throbbing and lurching when you swallowed him.

Your eyes stayed on him, trained to his face- just like he taught you. How he liked it. Eddie wanted to kiss you, cover you in sweet kisses and praises, and he would've if you weren't making him feel so good. He would later, when he worked you open with his tongue until you cried, pathetic and whiny at his mercy.

"Fuck, baby, yes, just like that," Eddie rasped, bumming the cigarette into the tray. His free hand cupped your hollowed cheek, eyes lust blown and meeting yours. "Good girl. Such a good girl f'me, aren't you?"

You moaned at his praise, vibrations sending electricity through his cock straight to his tummy where the pleasure had been building. Eddie sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth, jaw gritting to keep from thrusting into the back of your throat.

"Go a little further. Yeah, sit up just a little higher, and- oh!" Eddie groaned, loud and head falling back. The kind of moans that you only heard in the X-rated films he'd rent and the two of you would watch together. Exaggerated, deep, and encouraging, leaving you blushing and determined. You wanted to hear that again, and again, and again for the rest of your life; make him feel good for the rest of your life.

You could feel your slick spreading between your thighs, achy and desperate for relief, to be touched. You clenched, shifting the heel of your foot as best as you could towards your throbbing center, rubbing and rocking on it for some relief.

Normally, Eddie would reprimand you for such a thing, but he was too wrapped up in the way your mouth felt around him. Your free hand squeezing and flicking your wrist up his shaft, tongue swirling and giving kitten licks to his head, other hand squeezing his balls.

You rocked lightly, eye lids fluttering when your heel brushed against your clit, Eddie's hand wrapping around your ponytail while you bobbed up and down, drool dribbling down the corners of your mouth and leaving strings attached to his cock.

You could feel his abs clench, finger tightening around your hair, scalp tingling and burning with the pull. You felt his balls tighten, pulling up, cock twitching in your mouth. You looked back up at him, eyes round, awaiting his instructions.

Eddie's eyes were fluttered close, head tilted back, hips raising while his broken, breathy moans filled the room. Your jaw ached but you continued to suck him, squeezing his shaft harder and suckling against the head until hot spurts fell onto your tongue, gathering and filling with every shuddering breath he took.

Eddie's chest heaved, looking down at you through glazed eyes, shadowed by his thick, dark lashes. "Fuck, baby, s'good. Was s'good." He rasped, hands tightening out of your hair, feather light touch traveling down to your jaw, tilting your chin up to him.

"You didn't swallow did you?" You shook your head obediently, and Eddie beamed. "Good girl. Open up, show me."

You opened slowly, filling his thick, creamy release slide back your throat, lifting your tongue to stop it. Eddie grinned, mouth full of him, slobbering and dribbling down your chin. He nodded. "Swallow. Good girl. Very good." He purred, watching your gulp him down before his lips were on yours.

You shifted up into his kiss, hands on his hair thigh, pressed do closely to him as you could, dizzy with his praises and the way his mouth was exploring yours. He could tase himself, salty and bitter on your tongue. It made his limp cock lurch, hot pleasure still pulsating in his lower belly.

Eddie pulled you up gently by the back of your neck, his lips still on yours, hands on your waist, walking you in a clumsy sort of waltz back to his room. You fell on the bed with a small sigh, Eddie's hands strong and gripping your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed.

He kept his eyes on yours, pushing his hair behind his ear before kneeling down onto the mattress, your knees by his ears over his shoulders, body raised off the bed steadied by his hands that gripped your hips and held you in place.

Eddie was salivating, licking his lips as he looked at your puffy lips, glistening and already coating the inside of your thighs with your arousal. Eddie placed a kiss to your mound, right above your clit. You shimmied your hips closer, whining and mewling for more, uncomfortable with the angle he had you in, but you wouldn't dare complain. Not when he was about to use his tongue on you.

"I think it's only fair that I show good sportsmanship, don't you?" Eddie teased wickedly, his breath tickling your sopping folds, sending shivers down your spine.

"Your turn, baby." He grinned salaciously, eyes narrowed and dark on you before his tongue was working you open, sucking and licking you until you were screaming, crying, and begging for more.

#bouncer!eddie munson #bouncer!eddie #bouncer!Eddie munson x bartender!reader #oneforthemunny #munnytalks #funsonmunson #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson au #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic

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