#He's boneless and melting into the bed and how did he get inside his brain is gone

[jadewritesficshere]

Steddie x female!reader thought 18+ only

Eddie blinks his eyes a couple of times to make sure he is actually seeing what he is seeing. He must be living in a nightmare.

You're laying back on one of the pool loungers. One leg dangling over the edge keeping your foot on the warm cement ground, the other spread over Steve's lap as he absently rubs his hand up and down it while he bitches to you about something from work. Your hand rubs up and down Steve's back in comfort. But that isn't the nightmare.

Your bright red bikini bottoms covering enough, but with your legs spread a bit more skin is shown then intended. Spread in such a way that makes Eddie want to just dive in. Get on his knees and worship you, rub his face over your mound as he licks and nips and sucks. Moan as the curly thatch of hair brushes against his face.

Except the curls of hair he is expecting to see peeking around your bikini are gone. Just smooth bare skin. And that isn't the only nightmare. Steve's chest is smooth like when he was in school on the swim team. Not a speck of that beautiful chest hair Eddie would curl into after getting hot and heavy. Not a single curl of the "love rug" he jokingly called it.

Eddie wants to weep. To throw himself down like a little kid and thrash his arms and legs around. Yeah, it's your body and you can do what you want, but he still is sad its gone. Eddie doesn't like change, and suddenly walking in to see both of his partners change something without any warning? Uncomfortable. It makes Eddie feel itchy.

Eddie can barely speak as he walks over and sits next to Steve. He doesn't respond to Steve's warm greeting. Doesn't respond to you asking how the day is. Just stares with big wet eyes at the sight in front of him. A pout on his lips.

A warm hand lands on his shoulder, gently squeezing. Steve's brow furrowed in concern, your wide eyes blinking at him.

"Shaved?" Eddie asks in a quiet voice, eyes darting to Steve's chest and then your clothed pussy. Steve lets out a huff of laughter, "Fuck, thought something was wrong man." Eddie glares," It is."

[vecnawrites]

Dog tail faunus Jaune goes into heat and the only one near by is Neon Katt who is more than happy to help she just under estimated how bad his heat was and what hes packing.

Jaune panted, his tail twitching as sweat dripped down his body. He fought back the urge to whine, he wasn’t a scraggly preteen dealing with his first heat, he was an adult now, with several under his belt. He would have to get back to the dorm first, before the effects really hit him; he didn’t want a repeat of the first time he had lost control, or the last time.

He had been lucky as all hell that Saphron and Terra had wanted a baby, and were going to ask him to donate anyway. So while it was awkward to mount and rut his sister-in-law in his head, it had at least worked out for them, and was nothing more than something to laugh about now.

But even more than that, he thanked the Brothers that Velvet was such a kind and understanding girl, even being sweet enough to say she was willing to help him out again if he needed it. He had been incredibly thankful, hugging the girl tightly. He did wonder why she had such a blush on her cheeks, though. It might have been embarrassment, since they were both still naked at the time.

But that was neither here nor there at this point. Velvet was on a mission with her team and Pyrrha (who had heavily insisted, cheeks as red as her hair that he come to her for help the next time his heat flared up) was away doing some sort of sponsorship thing, leaving him alone at the moment...he shook himself again. He needed to leave, to get back to the dorms, before-!

“Heeeeyyy~!” Jaune froze as the cute cat faunus from Atlas appeared before him, her eyes sultry and looking interested, roaming over his body, her own feline tail flicking back and forth. He watched her sniff the air and lick her lips, his own powerful nose picking up a sweet, almost cloyingly so, scent. His cock throbbed as he realized it was the scent of her arousal, a sweet, tempting thing that called to him, made his libido swell, his cock throbbing and straining lewdly against the fabric of his trousers.

Before he could say anything, the orangette snagged his wrist and began walking, dragging him along with her, helped out by her roller blades...it also had the added effect of flipping her skirt up every few seconds, revealing her plump, pert cheeks of her ass, and just beneath it, flashes of pink, shining under the light, which told him not only where the wonderful smell was originating from, but that this girl was very daring, going around in a skirt that short without panties.

Hey couldn’t stop the yelp from escaping his lips as he was dragged into one of the empty ‘study dorms’ (which were meant for studying, but were more often than not used for sex. He would know, one of these were where he and Velvet ended up) and shoved towards the bed as she closed and locked the door behind her. Looking up, he was met with a blur of color which knocked him to the bed with a naked orange haired girl above him, hovering with a cheeky grin on her face.

~x~x~x~x~

Neon Katt was what one would call a party and fun loving individual. She loved nothing more than having a good time, and orgasms definitely counted as having a good time! They were the perfect way to wind down after a long, stressful day...or just to have fun and relax!

But, much like a cat, she was also quite the opportunist. She knew that the blonde beneath her held the biggest dick in the fucking school, and she had interrogated, uh she meant, had a ‘girls chat’ with the bunny faunus in the year above when she saw the weak, bow legged, limping gait the bunny had, telling anyone who knew anything that she had been fucked marvelously.

As the mortified bunny spilled her guts to Neon, the party Katt found herself drooling from both sets of lips. Hell, she was surprised that Velvet had actually been able to walk at all from how vigorous she said that he had been!

A plan quickly hatched in her mind, a genius, diabolical plan to get some loving! A cunning plan to ensure she got fucked just as heartily and well as the bunny faunus had. It wasn’t like people were lining up to share her bed in Atlas, after all.

And so far, the plan had worked perfectly! She could feel that cock pushing up against her pantiless ass (she was beyond thankful that she had forgone the garment on the way here as she had been so wet she might have ruined it, and she might do so from now on, that was so naughty~) and gazed down at her prey with a sultry look on her face.

“Well now...I can feel you’re having a bit of a problem, big boy~” she cooed, rubbing back against the thick cock still trapped within it’s bindings. She licked her lips, sure that she was going to have a wonderful time riding that beast. “Fortunately, Neon’s more than willing to help you out!”

Scooting down, Neon licked her lips hungrily as she stared at the massive bulge, her fingers curling into the fabric of her pants, pulling them and his boxers down and-

WHACK!

Her vision swam, not only from the sudden strike to her face, but the thick wave of hot musk that washed over her and drove her animal instincts wild, her pussy gushing and squirting out onto the bed, panting and huffing up the delicious musk that filled her lungs and overpowered her brain, frying her synapses. She squirmed, her nose rubbing that thick length as she slumped down and forwards, until her face was covered in an almost boiling warmth, her tail flicking back and forth wildly as the mind melting smell cloaked her lungs, imprinting itself into her nose and brain.

Her small chest pushed outwards as she inhaled as deeply as she could, pale pink nipples hard and swollen, as she refused to leave the musky warmth that enamored her so. She could stay there forever...she rubbed her face deeper into that heavy sack, her toes curling.

She was so intoxicated by Jaune’s musk, she failed the warmth going missing, her being spun around and settled onto her front, face down, ass up, the blonde gripping her hips. She did, however, take notice when the thick fat shaft she had just been shamelessly rubbing her cheeks against fell between her toned ass cheeks with a loud SLAP, the fat rod rutting a bit between her cheeks before sliding down and resting against her soaking, dripping pussy lips.

She looked back drunkenly, eyes widening as she saw the large, obscenely thick cock attached to the blonde Arc, with an even thicker, bulbous, fist-sized knot at the base, twitching with every heartbeat of the young man it was attached to. She swallowed hard. “Uh, can...can we tal-”

-SLICKT!!

Neon’s eyes crossed as Jaune’s bitch breaking fuck stick of a cock spread her pussy wide open, though thankfully, she could feel that massive knot still outside of her poor core. A strained mewling noise escaped her lips as her fingers curled into the sheets, her body trembling heavily from the myriad of sensations rushing through her body.

She felt her lover begin to move back, and her core, on reflex movement, began to squeeze down, trying to keep the heavy cock inside her body, before a loud yowl escaped her throat as Jaune decided to thrust back inside her body with a slick noise, her pussy clamping down hard around the shaft in a faux orgasm.

The pace wasn’t slow. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t loving. It was rough, primal, aggressive, outright animalistic. Neon could only release the most pitiful mewls as she was thrust into, fucked into, the bed, her tongue hanging out of her mouth, drool staining the sheets beneath her.

Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap! PlaP! PlaP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP!

Wet, slick noises filled the study room air, along with male and female sex musk, as Neon was fucked hard, fast, brutally into the bed, her more carnal, feline instincts loving it, her pussy flexing and clamping down on the invader in constant, wet and messy orgasm.

Pap! Pap! Pap! Teal green eyes widened as Neon felt that fat knot prodding insistently at her pussy lips with every thrust now, feeling the cock within her twitching and throbbing in warning of what was to come. Gathering every bit of strength she could in her panic, Neon raised her head up. “W-wai-!”

POP!

“NNNNNNNNNN!!!” Neon’s pupils shrunk to pinpricks, before rolling up in her head as her entire body went stiff, her tail sticking straight out like a ramrod as Jaune’s knot found its way into her unprepared pussy, locking her and the blonde together, hip to ass, the tip of his cock pressed flush against her cervix.

“nnnnnnn♥~” she whined out as her blonde lover began to rut into her body again, his big strong hands moving from her hips and down to her butt, fingers sinking into the muscle as he delivered shorter, but far more powerful and intense thrusts, his tip smacking into her cervix over and over.

Fingers and toes curled into the sheets, nearly tearing them outright as Neon lost herself to the brutally intense fucking, her pussy clamping down and squeezing tightly as she squirted, reaching her most powerful orgasm yet.

She slumped to the bed, boneless and body quaking as Jaune continued to slam into her over and over and over again, his thick cock throbbing and twitching mightily deep within her, signifying that his own orgasm was imminent. Neon knew, she just knew, that the moment he came she would never be the same afterwards! Her eyes widened as she felt a powerful throb within her, followed by incredible warmth filling her belly. Her toes curled.

“Nyaaaaaaaa♥~!” she cried out, hearts in her eyes as she fell face first to the bed and quivering as she felt strong, thick spurts of warm cum filling her belly, shooting into her welcoming womb. She blissfully passed out, purring deeply, and an overjoyed expression on her face.

Huffing, Jaune slumped over Neon’s body, slowly rutting his hips as his balls steadily drained into her warm and velvety pussy. Carefully gathering the unconscious girl into his arms and turning onto their sides, Jaune tucked the unconscious cat Faunus against his front, he settled and let himself relax, letting the dopamine and serotonin from his continuous orgasm wash over him, his hand gently rubbing over his sleeping partner’s slowly swelling belly.

He closed his eyes, hoping that when both of them woke later, she would feel up to another round before separating. Burying his nose into her hair, he allowed himself to drift off, happy and content.

[acourtofsnakes]

Kov’nyn - Rogue, Chapter 13| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f)

Summary: The night after Din rescued you from your nightmare, you realise you have a lot to think about… and you might just reach a decision that could change your fate. 

Word count: 7k+

Warnings: None I think, in this one. Like one swear? Weapons/knives – not used in violence - Mainly just soft fluffy times! 

AN: This one is pretty gentle, nothing super big really happening. I thought I’d give you all a rest after the rollercoaster of the last chapter~

Also, time to play Spot The Easter Egg again!! Theres a quote in here from Six of Crows... can you find it?

Gif belongs to me♥︎

Rogue Masterlist | Introduction| 1: Solus| 2: Arir | 3: Tor | 4: Gaa'tayl | 5: Kyr’am | 6: Cabur | 7: Ret'urcye Mhi | 8: Haran| 9: E’tad | 10: Tome | 11: Aliit ori'shya tal'din| 12: Mar’eyce | 13: Kov’nyn| 

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @jackgrzs @sarahjkl82-blog @boomtownboy @goldielocks2004 @seninjakitey​ @what-iwish-you-knew​ @queenofthefaceless​

Mando’a Translation: Kov'nyn  - Keldabe kiss

You stirred to the feeling of a pleasantly heavy arm resting over your torso. 

You froze, body going rigid on instinct at feeling the intrusion. Further inspection revealed a leg slung over yours and you could feel the line of armour digging into your calf. 

Armour?

Oh. Of course.

The Mandalorian. 

The previous night came flooding back to you in full technicolour, sending a slow wave of heat across your skin and relaxing your body. You remembered the horror of your nightmare, and then the Mandalorian coming in, soothing you, laying with you and then…

Everything that happened after. 

It didn’t even take that much concentration to imagine his hands again, those delightful touches. The husky roughness of his voice as he praised you, coaxed you to the edge and held you as you tumbled over. 

And then… he told you his name. 

He had given you a part of himself, something that was so poignant and personal. It made him who he was, gave him his identity and separated him from “The Mandalorian.” 

Din Djarin. 

Din. 

It was a gorgeous name. Simple, to the point. 

You had to admit, it suited him in that sense. But it felt like starlight on your tongue, and it was yours. He had given it to you, entrusting you with such a precious part of himself. 

In your opinion, tt was as significant as taking off his helmet, and it had settled in a place tucked against your heart, curled there and warmed you from the inside out. 

Din was still asleep next to you – you assume -  on his side. You had since rolled onto your back in the night, which did mean you were precariously close to the edge of the bed. 

Din hadn’t moved at all, presumably used to having to be still from all the times he spent wedged into the medical bay compartment on his side, with no room to move and Grogu in his hammock above him.

You could get used it, waking up with him. 

The modulator in his helmet allowed you to hear the soft, deep rhythm of his breathing and his armour had warmed overnight where it lay against your skin. 

You couldn’t remember the last time you woke up next to someone and had such an immense feeling of safety and comfort. 

This truly was home – wherever the Mandalorian was. 

Wherever Din was. 

You weren’t sure how long you laid there for, but you did know you were staring to get uncomfortable. The thin mattress – if you could even call it that – was irritating you, making you feel a little restless in this position. 

You could feel Din’s hand against your side, but you weren’t sure if his hands were still bare or not. Sleep had taken you before him, so you weren’t awake to witness him pulling them back on. 

You didn’t dare look properly, not wanting to lay your eyes on his bare skin, to break his Creed. So, you opened your eyes to slits, carefully peering across the room and you didn’t see any sign of his gloves. 

You tried to concentrate, to see if you could feel if he had his gloves back on. The blanket and your top didn’t really provide much help in that matter, naturally. 

Maybe you could wriggle a little? See if that did anything?

Of course, you could touch his hands, and then you would know. But the two times you had felt his bare skin previously, he was awake, and you had his consent. He was asleep, and therefore couldn’t tell you if it was okay or not.  

Wriggling it is. 

You began your movement, gently squirming with your hips shuffling side to side, to see if that would provide any knowledge on the matter – not that you thought it would. Truthfully, you didn’t know what you were doing. It was possible your brain still hadn’t engaged after being thoroughly wrecked last night in all ways. 

Unfortunately, a bed that was barely wide enough for you, combined with wriggling around and trying not to wake Din… Well, there was only one way it could end. 

With you dumped on the cold, metal floor. 

And taking the blanket with you. 

And yelping in surprise. 

“Cyar'ika?”

So much for not waking Din up. 

You groaned, rubbing your elbow where you had landed on it and then tried to untangle yourself from the blanket. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” 

The helmet appeared over the side of the bed, “Don’t be, I was already awake. What are you doing on the floor?” 

You rose to your knees and sighed, resting your chin on the edge of the cot, “I was uncomfortable, and I wanted to move, but I didn’t want to open my eyes in case you didn’t have your gloves on. And I didn’t know you were awake.”

Din tilted his head at you, “And that made you fall out of the bed?”

Resting the urge to stick your tongue out at him, you shook your head, “No, I was…” Here we go, “I was trying to feel if you had them on. Without touching you.”

Din was silent. 

It sounded like he sucked in a breath to speak, only to let it out again. 

He made a thoughtful noise. “I see. So… Instead of turning your cheek against my hand which was under your head by the way, you instead decided to try and… wriggle.. to feel my hand.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, having completely not realised his arm was still beneath your neck. “Yes.”

“Through the blanket.”

“Yes.”

“And your top.”

“… Yes.”

Din made a thoughtful noise again, “I see.” 

Then he started laughing, that gorgeous, rare sound that he had made only a few times in your presence. Sure, you sometimes got a chuckle, but this laugh was like liquid honey. 

Even if it was at your expense. 

“Hey!” You crossed your arms, trying not to laugh too, “Do not laugh at me! It’s your fault! You were awake and watched me struggle!”

The laughter still echoed out of the helmet as he laid back, a hand on his chest, “For someone who has so much grace in everyday life, you are terrible when it comes to night-time and early morning.” 

You rose to your feet this time, pushing your weight onto one leg and copying his ‘hands on hips’ pose, “Oh, because you’re so smooth?” You stuck your tongue at him, “Tin can.” You turned your back on him, meaning to walk from the room. 

You heard movement, and then he was suddenly behind you, catching your hand and lacing his fingers through yours, “Hey, come back to bed.” The laughter was still in his voice, turning it a little softer – and that combined with the coaxing tug to your hand… 

How could you say no to that?

Without turning around, you tried to carry on walking to the door and at least appear strong-willed, “After you just laughed at me? You think you can use that honeyed tone and I’ll come falling into your arms?” You arched an eyebrow, looking over your shoulder

Din gave your hand another gentle tug, stopping you in your tracks “I believe you were falling into my arms last night.” His chest bumped up against your back gently, and his other hand trailed lightly on your hip, just the barest touch in case you didn’t want it. 

Maker.

Heat creeped along your cheeks, and the ghost of his touch trailed over you again, leaving you speechless. 

He had you there. 

The grin on his lips was obvious even through the helmet as he succeeded in tugging you back into his body, winding his arms around your waist. His head ducked down, and you felt the cool beskar brush your ear, “How do you feel...? After last night?” His voice was soft and tender despite his teasing. And you knew he wasn’t just referring to the moment. 

Your body instantly turned boneless, and you melted back into him, fitting against the planes of his body, “I feel… good. Really. A little shaken up still but… you really helped me. Thank you for coming to me… again.” Your heart beat a little uncomfortably in your chest, anxiety trembling in your belly as it always did on the rare occasions you spoke about your darker emotions out loud. 

Din either felt or sensed this, because he rested the chin of his helmet on your shoulder, holding you back into him with his thumb running over your hip, “I’ll always come to you. Whenever you need me, I’ll be right there. And if for some reason I don’t wake up, you can come and find me, okay? Don’t suffer alone.” 

A lump rose in your throat and you nodded, not trusting your voice to speak. 

It was still so new to you, this care and attentiveness from someone. And even more so, letting someone care about you. 

It was always just you, on your own. If you got hurt, you had to fix yourself up. If you were hungry, it was either hunt, gather or steal your food – or go hungry. 

And if you were having a day that things were overwhelming you… well, you had to deal with that on your own too. Usually, you would just push it to the back of your mind, keep going on and on and on. If you didn’t stop, you didn’t feel. 

Which is probably why everything had caught up with you a lot more these past few months. 

For the first time in your life, you were slowing down. Stopping to breathe, to take note of your surroundings and to listen to what your body wanted for comfort rather than survival.

And so, everything that had been bottled up and restrained had begun to seep out. 

Including your powers. 

Din ran his thumb over your hip again, in lazy circles, “It doesn’t make you weak, needing help.” He always seemed to know the direction of your thoughts, “It makes you strong. Being able to admit that you need help, letting yourself feel everything. And I’ll always help you with whatever you need. And however much you want to give me, that’s okay too.” He squeezed your hip lightly, “We’re a clan, remember?” He let you go gently, and you would never know that he was referring not only to your trauma, but your powers too. Trying to tell you subtly that it was okay. He wasn’t scared of you, or what you could do. And he would wait. 

But, instead, you turned to him, smiling softly with the light back in your eyes that he adored to see, “Okay… thank you.” You reach up, gently caressing the side of his helmet, “And you remember that you can share with me too… always.” You rose up on tiptoe, kissing the side of the helmet and then dropped back down to your feet. 

Din nodded slightly, his hand caressing up your side once more and then he let you go, “I’ll leave you to get dressed.” He grazed the back of his finger to your cheekbone and then left the room.

~~

~~~

A few hours later, you were back travelling, playing with Duru’s tail as she laid across her spot next to the big open window. 

Din turned around in his seat to look at you, hands resting on his thighs in that achingly familiar pose, “I have to pick something up from somewhere today… Would you mind staying here to look after the kids? I’m not shutting you away or keeping you grounded, it’s just that it’s not the kind of place I want Grogu in… and it’ll only be for about an hour or so.” 

The vagueness of his explanation piqued your curiosity and you looked over at him, “Pick something up from somewhere? My my, Din, you have such a way with words!” Playfulness filtered through your tone, but it didn’t quite hide the small hitch in your voice as you said his name. 

You would never get used to it, you didn’t think. 

The fact that you knew his name. That you could say it, whenever you pleased – as long as you weren’t around anyone else of course. 

By the way his chest stuttered, you knew he wouldn’t either. You could sense the eye-roll though, “Ahaha. I have to keep a few things to myself; you know. How else am I going to keep you around?” 

You blinked at him, feigning surprise, “Oh, you – you think I stay here for you?” Shaking your head rapidly, you held up Grogu, who had been toddling around on the floor in front of you, “Me and Duru stay here for him. You’re just an added body.” 

Grogu cooed brightly, raising his arms in the air and patting your cheeks as you lifted him. To you, it sounded like he agreed. 

 You smiled widely at him, lifting your eyes back to Din, “He agrees with me.” 

Din mock sighed loudly, turning back around with a mutter that sounded something like, “Maker, save me.” 

You chuckled, leaning back in your seat and holding out Grogu’s ball to him, “But yes, that’s fine. I don’t mind staying here whilst you go about getting things from places.” 

Truly, you didn’t mind. You needed to sharpen your vibrobrade which was looking a little worse for wear lately. And besides, you would be more than happy playing with the kid and Duru for an hour or so – you needed some privacy to have a little meltdown over last night. 

~~

~~~

A few hours later, Din had landed the Crest and had set off to ‘pick something up from somewhere.” 

Before he left, he’d ruffled the kid’s ears, stroked Duru’s chin and then ran the back of his finger across your cheekbone, giving you a lingering look – through the helmet, of course – and then set off. 

You’d then brought your blade up to the cockpit where the kids were, and settled into the pilot’s seat, beginning to sharpen your blade. 

The Crest was sealed tight, so you were all safe, and the landscape outside of the windows provided you with a dusty, barren view. 

As you sharpened your blade, you let your mind wander, allowing it to take the flow of whatever thoughts it decided. 

Naturally, it was going to be one of two things. 

Din, or your powers. 

Today, your mind chose the topic of powers.

You knew that you couldn’t hide them from Din forever. It had been months now since you’d met, and he still had no clue about it, about why you had such a bounty on your head. 

And he’d given you so much, not only by choosing to spare you and keep you safe, but by also given you his name.

And not only that, but every single little thing in between. From making sure you were fed, to coming to check on you after your nightmares. 

He would give you his cape if you were cold or offer up extra blankets. 

And it wasn’t that he thought you were incapable of doing those things yourself, or that you needed to be ‘cared for’. He knew that you were capable and resourceful, and he knew how strong you were. 

He knew that you were stronger than you believed yourself to be, so it wasn’t that at all.

 You knew it was because… he liked having someone else there. 

Sure, it disrupted his routines and he still wasn’t used to it, which you could tell because you felt exactly the same. You still hadn’t become accustomed to waking up in someone else’s presence or going to sleep and trusting another person to stay awake – and not kill you. 

And perhaps the biggest change for him was that now, with you there as well as the kid, there were even less chances for him to remove his helmet and armour and let his skin breathe. 

He had mentioned as much to you before in passing, that he had to be more careful with Grogu around, and even though he hadn’t said it, your presence meant those times were even rarer. 

He didn’t even have the privacy of his own room to do so – he had given that up for you. 

Another thing to add to the list. 

He deserves to know. 

You knew the voice was right. He did deserve to know. 

And not because you felt you owed him for what he’d given up for you – that wasn’t it at all. 

This journey you were on, the way your lives were tightly woven together… who were you to watch him put a bigger target on his head – and not even tell him why?

A sigh heaved its way out of your chest. 

You wanted to tell him so badly, you felt it in your chest. 

But you didn’t know how. 

How would you bring it up? 

“Hey, Din? I have something to tell you… The reason I have the highest bounty ever on my head is because… well... I’m Force Sensitive. I’m not a Jedi or anything but I have the ability to use the Force. Oh, what’s the Force, you ask? Well, it’s the energy that flows in and around every living thing.” 

That just sounded cringey and ridiculous, and you doubted he would even know what the Force was. He didn’t even know that’s what the kid had. 

Hell, you had never even acknowledged to yourself out loud that it was the Force. 

It just… seemed ridiculous to you. 

The Force belonged to the Jedi. If you had the power, you trained to be a warrior and a guardian of peace and life. 

You didn’t go on the run and kill people. 

You didn’t deserve to be associated with that kind of honour. Even if you never trained to be an actual Jedi… you didn’t deserve it. 

But you couldn’t go on like this, hiding it. 

Every time a silence fell, it was sitting there, waiting to burst out and just finally tell him, tell someone. And you knew that once you started, you wouldn’t stop. 

The whole story would come out. 

Your parents, the market, the first time you killed to save your own life and every time after that. He would learn about how good it felt, the sick power that washed over you and then the horrendous shame and guilt that had you vomiting for hours after. 

The story of how you ended up on top of that cliff and then in the water would come out. 

All of it, every single thing that had tied you to this life would be revealed. 

It would all be laid bare to him, leaving you as open and exposed as if he had removed his own armour. 

And that’s what terrified you. 

He would know every single thing, and it would be his decision how to take it. 

And you would respect it, whatever it was. 

If he wanted you gone, far away from himself and his kid, then you would go. Willingly. 

Sure, it would kill you, but you would understand why. 

But if he looked over it all, the darkness, the running, your power… If he looked at it, acknowledged the bad but saw how it had created the good, the fun, the way you’d gone from tripping over a bow to being able to shoot with your eyes closed and the light that had grown in you… If he saw every single thing, and still wanted to be with you…

Well, you didn’t quite know how to take that. 

You might well cry. 

And… if you were honest, you’d built yourself up to telling him. You decided yesterday that you were going to tell him this afternoon. 

But then you had that nightmare. 

Of course, you knew that he would never harm you, never hold a knife to your throat and drive it into your heart. That wasn’t what you were worried about. 

It was your reaction. 

The way the power had exploded and destroyed him. 

What if you got too worked up when you told him, and you couldn’t control it?

You’d restrained it for so long, for twenty years and it was started to come out. 

And you hadn’t admitted it to yourself but… it was becoming agony. 

The aches and pains that you had tried to write off as from hunting or the thin bed… 

You knew it wasn’t. 

It was the strain of holding back your power. 

You needed to let it go, to finally open yourself up and accept it, whatever it may be. 

You just didn’t know how. 

A soft coo brought you out of your rapidly spiralling thoughts. 

You lifted your attention from your knife, and found Grogu holding his metal ball, sitting in your usual co-pilot’s chair. He waved it in his hand, gurgling and you just knew, somehow, that he was asking to play catch. 

A broad smile lit your face, and you sheathed your knife, stowing it to the side, “Of course, little guy, I’ll play catch with you.” You turned your attention to him fully and held out your hand, “Whenever you’re ready, Gu.” The affectionate nickname had developed a few days ago, and the kid loved it. 

He lifted his hand, his little forehead furrowing in concentration, and then the ball lifted, floating in the air slowly toward you where it dropped into your palm. 

A feeling of warm pride filled your chest, and you laughed a little, clapping your hands, “Well done!! You’re getting better at that!” 

Din had told you that sometimes he struggled to use his powers and if he used them for a particularly long time, or for something intense, it would completely wipe him out. 

He told you he’d been gently coaxing him to use them, to be more confident with them and praise him for every small achievement - at the recommendation of a friend. 

You lifted the ball up, “Ready to catch it?” You threw it across the cockpit, gently, so he would have time to stop it. 

Which he didn’t. 

It fell straight into his lap… but that may have been because he didn’t even bother to lift his hand. He just looked at you. 

You tilted your head slightly, remembering Din’s words, “That’s okay, you can try again!” You held your hand out ready. 

A few moments later, it plopped back into your palm. You praised him, then threw it back, but yet again he let it land in in his lap without trying. 

Four turns later, and he started to huff every time you threw the ball, his ears twitching like he was annoyed. 

You sighed a little, “Gu, c’mon buddy… Try at least? For me? You send it to me perfectly, why won’t you catch it?” You raised your eyebrows a little, voice still encouraging but a little firm – again, as Din had relayed back to you as the best way. 

The kid just grumbled, his ears raising and falling again, and he pointed at your hand. 

Lifting the ball, you nodded, “I know you want the ball, but you have to try and catch it with yo-“

His rapidly shaking head stopped you. He pointed more emphatically at your hand, his glossy eyes wide and then you realised exactly what his problem was. 

He wanted you to throw the ball, sure… but not physically. 

He wanted you to use your power. 

Shaking your own head, you feigned innocence, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Grogu simply wiggled his little feet and waited. 

And so did you. 

You stared him down, rolling the ball in your hands, “You know, I really do not know what you’re referring to. You’re mistaken. Now, catch the ball, you little womp rat.” You let your affection for him show in your tone, so he would know you weren’t being mean. You tossed the ball toward him. 

His palm lifted and it stopped mid-air, before whizzing back at you with speed, straight toward your head. 

Your own hand whipped up and you caught it just before it could bonk you on the nose, “Hey! Don’t throw things at me!” 

His ears flapped in annoyance and he make some kind of noise, waving his hands. 

And then he opened his mouth to cry. 

With a groan of defeat, you rubbed your forehead, “Fine! Fine. You’re right. I have the same powers as you.” 

His mouth immediately closed and broke into a wide grin. 

Cheeky little thing. 

You held yourself very still, gazing down at this tiny creature, who had apparently guessed your one big secret. Tilting your head the other way, you narrowed your eyes a little, “How did you guess?” 

Grogu mimicked your head tilt but revealed nothing. He just watched you, smiling happily and patting his hands together to wait for the ball. 

All of your life a secret, and a tiny green baby with an affinity for frogs and space macarons had managed to work you out. 

You couldn’t help the laugh, shaking your head at the whole situation, “You are a clever little baby aren’t you, huh?” You watched him for a little while, and then lifted up your hand flat, letting the ball rest in your open palm. 

You took a deep breath, focusing on the ball. 

Easy. Just concentrate. 

You closed your eyes, slowing your breathing, allowing it to relax in time with the beating of your heart. Ignoring the beeping of the Crest, the worry of using it, you focused simply on the ball, and the air around it. Imaging it rising from your palm, gliding across the air and landing in Grogu’s little hand. 

As simple as that. 

You swallowed, and then opened a tiny gate in that cage, a small gasp releasing from your lungs as the power thrummed through your blood, letting you feel the space ahead of you, the empty air becoming a malleable thing, and you tried not to flinch as the weight of the ball vanished from your palm. 

A breath in, a breath out. Focus. 

Like an invisible hand, you began to guide the ball across the open air, as if it caressed the ball like a boat and carried it across the ocean. 

You were nearly there; you could feel it. The ball was nearing Grogu’s palm, and you were dimly aware of his delighted noises, pride in his own glee like you had for him. 

Nearly there. 

You were doing it. You were controlling that wave, keeping it restrained and focused where you needed it. It was easy and it felt… it felt good. Natural, like breathing.  

This was what you’d missed for the last twenty years, being able to spread it wide or bring it in narrow. 

You didn’t need to be scared, if you could focus it in minimal amounts like this. 

It was okay, you were okay and –

“Sweetheart? Grogu?”

The suddenness of din’s voice broke your concentration and the ball fell to the floor with a soft thunk. 

Your eyes snapped open as your heart leapt into your both and you looked toward the entrance to the cockpit, hoping he was below, hoping he hadn’t seen. 

It was empty. 

The sound had come right from below, as he looked for you. 

You swallowed, keeping your voice even, “Up here.” You turned your gaze to Grogu, knowing you looked as pleading as you sounded, “Please don’t tell him…” You whispered the words, but you knew he understood, the ball zipping to his hand as if he had been playing with it the whole time. 

Gratitude for the small creature flooded your heart and you smiled at him, a little shakily as Din’s shiny head popped up the ladder. 

“Hey, sorry I was a little longer than expected…” He reached the top of the ladder, rising to stand at his full height. He saw you in his seat, one of his hands coming to rest on his hip, “Oh, I see it didn’t take you long to replace me.” He motioned to you in his chair, the husky tone of his voice teasing. 

You leant back in the chair, swaying it from side to side slightly with a grin, “Nope. Not at all. We don’t need you. You can go back out if you want. Shut the door on your way out.” You tilted your head back against the chair, one leg lounged over the arm like it was a throne. 

He called you princess still, so why not play on it?

Did you not deserve a fancy dress and a crown?

Of course, you had no idea what this sight was doing to him, playing on a fantasy he’d had for a while now about this cockpit and that particular pilots chair. 

He laughed, shaking his head and he rested against the side of the cockpit, arms crossed and pulling the fabric of his clothes tight – much to your own delight. “Right, I’ll just grab my things and leave, then. It’s been good knowing you, princess.” 

This. 

This was what you loved. The fact that you could have moments like last night, intense and passionate – or snarling and angry – and still retain the playful teasing that had always hovered between you. 

You shook your head, grinning softly, “Nah, I’m kidding. I need you around to fly the ship… I have actually no idea how to.” You looked over your shoulder at the control panel, the mass of buttons and switches and lights. 

Put you in front of a forest to track an animal or spot a hunter or present you with a variety of leaves and plants and you could identify them all. Give you a few meagre supplies and you’ll have a selection of weapons crafted in minutes. 

But flying a ship?

No, thank you. 

Din chuckled, and you knew he was grinning beneath the helmet, “I’ll teach you one day.” He straightened up suddenly and held out his hand, “Come with me.” 

With a tilt of your head, you unwound yourself from the chair and slid your hand into his, the worn leather soft against your palm and fingers, “Where are going?” 

Din tugged you gently toward the ladder, “I got you something...” His voice was a little quieter as he waited for you to descend the ladder. 

You peered up at him, pausing to lower yourself down, “When you were off getting things from places?” You tried not to smile, your lips twitching. 

Din huffed softly, and there was an implied verbal eyeroll there, “Get down the damn steps before I push you down them myself.” 

Your laugh floated up as you descended, “And I would grab your foot on the way down and take you with me.” 

A few moments later, you were making your way through the ship again. 

Din stopped at the weapons cabinet, then turned to face you, “Close your eyes.” 

You raised an eyebrow at him, eyes flicking to the weapons cabinet and then him, but you did as you were told, closing your eyes. 

“Hold out your hands.” 

Lips twitching again, you held out your hands obediently. 

There was the sound of the cabinet opening and then rustling from within. 

A pause. 

Then you felt smooth, cool metal resting on your palms, across them both but you could tell it was wider. 

You tilted our head curiously, brows furrowing a little as your fingers curled around the mysterious object. 

Din’s voice sounded again, sounding… almost hesitant, “Open...” 

Light filtered back in as you opened your eyes, looking down at the object in your hands. 

Your breathing stopped in awe as you beheld the most gorgeous bow you had ever seen. 

The metal was a sleek matte black, dimly reflecting the light of the ship back at you. 

Inlaid into the metal was a gorgeous swirling design which spread across the arch of the bow. In the centre, where your arrowhead would rest against, a full moon created the focal point of the engraving. 

Just like your tattoo.

Din silently extended his hands, and he was holding a matching quiver and arrows. Everything matched the bow, and the same gold design was etched down the body of the arrows. They ended in wickedly sharp, curved heads and just be the feel and weight of them, you knew they were deadly accurate and fast. 

Quite simply, it was the most stunning weaponry you’d ever laid your eyes upon. 

It was the perfect size for your body, and when you held it up to test the flexibility, it was exactly as you were used to, just like the bow you had lovingly cherished before you lost it on Sorgan. 

This had been made purposely for you. 

Din had taken your measurement – of course he knew them, - and somehow got every single tiny detail perfect. The string wasn’t too taught or hard to maneuverer. It responded to your touch, exactly as you wanted to. 

You lifted your eyes to Din, your expression one of awe and… just simple adoration. 

It took you a few tries to speak, finding your throat has closed up a slightly with tears. You cleared it, though your voice remained husky, “Din… This…” You shook your head, no words being strong enough to relay to him how much you loved it, how perfect it was. 

Din was fiddling with his vambrace as he watched you, “Do you like it? I hope I got your measurements right… I had it commissioned a few weeks ago and it was only just finished. I… The design is a play on your tattoo.” He audibly swallowed, “If anything isn’t right, we can take it back and get it changed. Or if you don’t like it, you can have something completely new m-”

“Din, shush.” Gazing across the bow, you caressed the design with your fingertips, “It��s… beyond perfect. Truly. I couldn’t have designed it any better myself.” You lifted your eyes back to him, a swelling feeling in your chest, “This must have cost a fortune…” 

He shook his head a little, his shoulders relaxing and his hands stilling when he saw how much you truly adored it, “Cara told me that you were discussing your favourite weapons one day… You’d told her that as familiar as you were with knives, you missed your bow.” 

Oh, you did. You knew it wasn’t always the most suitable weapon – considering the number of different blasters and rifles that your pursuers used – but sometimes it had allowed you to escape before the fight had even begun. Perched high in a tree, an arrow whistling you the air in deadly silence and then it was over. 

And now you had one. 

An absolutely stunning one at that. 

A soft laugh of delight slipped from your chest and then you were grinning broadly, “Oooh, I can’t wait to use this. You think I’m lethal with a knife, you should see me with one of these.” You nocked one of the arrows, testing the resistance now it was loaded, and you sighted along it, “We have to go play, soon, I beg you.”

Din chuckled adoringly, fully relaxing at your excitement, “Of course...” He watched you quietly for a moment, leaning back against the cabinet. “In Mandalorian culture… giving weapons can sometimes symbolise – well, not all the time but within some households and clans – it can.. uh-“ He lifted a hand like he was going to scratch the back of his neck, another awkward habit that seemed so out of place. 

You looked over at him, carefully setting the arrow back in the quiver, “What can it mean?” You kept your voice light and casual, as if you didn’t notice his fumbling. 

Din cleared his throat, “It can sometimes mean a marriage proposal.” 

The quiver fell to the floor in a rattle of metal that broke through the air. 

He was playing you, right?

You stooped to the quiver, carefully scooping the arrows back in, “I – uh.. You mean-“

Din was watching you intently, “It doesn’t always mean it, but some couples present each other with a new weapon to signify their bond. And that they want to spend the rest of their days together. 

Blood pulsed through your ears, making your belly feel funny and your bones feel light. “I… I mean, I know a lot has happened between us, and-“

Din suddenly burst out laughing, lifting a hand to his chest like he could try to contain it, but it just kept coming. 

Rising back to your feet, you raised your eyebrows at him, confusion etched on your face at the sudden turn of his behaviour. 

The laughter poured from his lips like sunshine, stirring your chest out of its confusion and filling it with adoration. “Oh, you should have seen your face.” He tilted his helmet to you, trying to quell his laughter. 

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest, “When we go and use these, remind me to put you in front of a tree.” 

Din tried to speak straight through his chuckles, “And why’s that?”

Walking toward him, you poked him in the chest, “So I can use you as target practice, you shiny asshole.” You tried not to laugh, to keep a straight face. The truth was, if you could have bottled his laughter and gotten drunk on it forever, you would have. It was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard, as rare and lovely as a shooting star. And you just knew that this man didn’t often laugh like this, so easily. 

His hand snaked around your wrist, gently pressing your palm flat to his chest as he contained his amusement, “I wanted to play with you… It is true, but I didn’t get them for that.” He tilted his head just slightly, “You’re a warrior, and… a goddess. So… you deserve the weapons to match.” 

So simple. Such easy words for him to speak, but the meaning and casual pride and care in his voice completely floored you. 

You still weren’t used to such compliments and showering’s of affection – you didn’t think you ever would be. 

The fact that he had complimented you more in your life than anyone else (save for your parents) had your eyes turning glass again, your throat closing a little as that realisation truly set in. 

This man believed in you, saw you, more than anyone. 

You gazed up at him, through the visor of his helmet and not for the first time, you had the truly selfish thought, that you wished he could take it off. 

So you could show him just how much he meant to you, show him how his words held you above water when you were drowning. 

You weren’t good with them, no better than he was really, but you just wished you could show him. He deserved it, to feel those same feelings in return, to be praised and adored for the brilliant man he was. 

Din tilted his head further, his thumb running over your knuckles, “What’s going through that magnificent brain of yours, cyar'ika? Tell me…” The soft, low tenor of his voice never failed to skitter over your bones like fire. 

You bit your lip, the words tumbling out before you could stop them, “I wish I could kiss you.”

Not even two seconds later, it crashed through your brain just how that sounded, how ungrateful and selfish it came across. Your eyes closed in disgust at yourself and you flushed in shame, “Maker, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry for how that sounded, please believe me, I didn’t-”  

Suddenly, Din moved. He leant down and rested the forehead of his helmet on yours. 

The metal was cool, the weight of it gently pressing against your skin, shutting you up with the unfamiliar gesture. 

Din lifted his other hand to your waist, resting his hand there lightly – respectfully. “Kov'nyn.”

You blinked a few times, “Kov… huh?” You guessed it was Mando’a, but you had no idea what it meant. 

His thumb lightly rubbed over your hip bone, sending tiny shockwaves through you, “Kov'nyn.” He used his other hand to gesture at the position you were in, “This is called a keldabe kiss. It can be used in battle, as a headbutt or something but it can also be a show of affection. Mandalorian’s don’t show each other their faces until marriage… so instead we do this. A keldabe kiss.”

You were quiet as you absorbed that, the soft sweetness of the gesture, your head tilted up to Din, and something in you told you he was gazing into your eyes. 

It was incredibly intimate too, despite the later of armour separating you. 

He couldn’t quite offer you the kiss you meant, but he could give you this. And… this was as good as showing each other the affection you intended. 

You didn’t know how long you stood there, his hand lightly on your waist, yours still on his chest but then you started to laugh at something. 

He tilted his head slightly against your forehead, “What now?” His voice was light though, curious as to what had tickled you this time. 

You grinned cheekily, tapping your fingertips over his chest. “Again with the marriage talk. Are you sure you don’t need to tell me something?”

Din laughed too, that heart-stopping, gorgeous laugh, filling the space with starlight and joy, “No. At least not yet, sweetheart.” 

~~~

~~

~

You gazed down at the comms unit. 

The code on the back of Rena’s card had been typed in and staring at you for the last twenty minutes. You were sitting cross-legged in your room, door firmly shut after your wash in the ‘fresher. 

Din was in there now; you could hear the echo of the water splashing down. 

You were only going to change clothes and go back to the cockpit, but when you’d taken them off, Rena’s card had fallen out and… here you were. 

Just call him. 

Your thumb hesitated over the call button, nerves whispering through your blood. 

Was this a good idea? To ask for help? 

There was still the matter of how he knew about you, and how he found you in the first place. 

Maybe this isn’t a good idea. 

Din would be furious, he doesn’t trust him. He thinks he’s a legend come to life.

True, Din would be so pissed.

But… this wasn’t Din’s decision to make. 

It was yours. 

Ever since your parents died, you had been running. From hunters, from the law but mostly... from yourself. 

You were being stalked and hunted for your powers. 

The very thing that you once adored and made you unique, and special, you now viewed as… a burden?

No... that wasn’t it. It was never a burden. 

Yes, it sometimes caused you more trouble than it was worth, and you did fear it but… you longed for it. 

With every fibre in your being, you wished you could utilise it. To once again make it a part of you and feel the purity of it. The energy that flowed in and around every single living thing, responding and allowing you to manipulate it. 

The little experiments you had started to conduct, testing to see if you could control even a small amount… they were making you crave it even more. Even though it terrified you and your nightmare had flashed back in your mind, you had managed to control it this afternoon with Grogu. 

Even if it was just a tiny ounce, it had listened to you – like you were one again. 

Rena had told you that there was nothing to fear from him. His sister had been gifted with the same abilities. 

Din would understand when you explained it to him… but you wanted to at least know more about how to control it. That way, you could tell him and… show him. Show him what you’d been hiding this whole time. 

Maybe it was time. 

Maybe it was time to stop being scared of it, of who you were. 

Maybe it was time to embrace it and become who you were meant to be. 

And so, you pressed the call button. 

Previous| Next

[hvitserkmarcosource]

The Arrangement

Chapter Eleven: Thin Ice

Warnings: None. (Warnings will be updated with each chapter so make sure you read them!)

Chapter Eleven Summary: An unexpected tale of fate.

Word count: 2,396

It's been a while!!! I've missed you guys ❤ I hope you all like this chapter!

Read Chapter 10 Here ⬇️

Chapter 12 coming soon!!

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A noise. A noise so faint you almost ignored it. Almost. It pricked into your ear and worried into your brain, until you got out of bed. Hvitserk had finally fallen asleep, and you debated on whether or not to wake him. He looked so peaceful… you decided against it. 

The windows of your chamber were frosted over, except for one pane, and when you went to look out you were met with nothing but heavy snowfall. It was coming down so hard you could barely make out the other buildings. All of the torches were extinguished. All of the people were safe in their homes…

No one could have made a noise outside.

No one would be crazy enough to subject themselves to weather like this. 

Another knock makes you flinch. This time it is louder, almost as if someone is tapping on the window from the outside. You know that is not possible. 

And so, you open the window. Cold air and snow blow in making you gasp and cover yourself “Oh that was foolish, what is wrong with me?” You struggle to get the window closed again. Fighting with the wind like it’s some great battle. 

Out of breath and freezing, you lock the window and turn to go back to bed. Satisfied that no one is at the window and the noise must have come from somewhere else inside of the castle. Maybe Ivar is walking around, pacing the halls, waiting for someone else to try and usurp him so he can hang them. 

You step in a puddle of melted snow on your way back to bed and you have to stop yourself from screaming when the cold water touches your bare feet. 

Shaking your foot off, you sigh, you can’t just leave a puddle in the middle of the floor. What if Hvitserk wakes before you and slips. You’d never forgive yourself. Grabbing a fur from the foot of the bed you begin using it to soak up the water. 

Agin the noise startles you, seeming much louder than a second ago. You turn, but again no one is at the window.

 How is he sleeping through all of this?

You gasp and fall backwards when you pick up the fur. Out of the water formed a bird. A beautiful white raven… just like in your dream. 

She caws, except it doesn’t sound like a bird, it sounds like the knocking. She caws over and over, walking closer to you. Leaving watery claw prints behind. The knocking gets louder and louder, her cawing turns into a scream

You realize it’s you screaming…

And Hvitserk is holding you tight, rocking you back and forth, chanting that you are ok and that you need to wake up.

Out of it and confused, you pull away from him. You’re shaking and drenched in sweat, your throat is hoarse from screaming but you scream again when the door to your chambers slams open. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” 

It’s Ivar and that is a shock in and of itself. Since when does Ivar care if you are ok?

“Did you have it too? The dream.” He asks

Hvitserk groans “Ivar leave us be, I can handle this-“ 

“No!” He yells “I had a dream and I need to know if she had the same one. I need to know if it was a dream or a vision” 

“Ivar you are not a god!”

“Stop it!” You yell, and move away from both of them. You look at Ivar and question “A vision?” 

“I dreamt that you were running in a storm and fell through ice, I was trying to save you.” 

The snow storm, the knocking, stepping in the water… it all makes sense. “My dream was not exactly like yours, but I understand it now.” 

Hvitserk moves closer to you and takes your hand “Tell me what happened” 

“It all felt so real, you were sleeping. I heard a knocking sound coming from the window. It was storming and water came inside when I opened the window, the water turned into a white raven and her cawing sounded like the knocking too. Until it turned into my own screams.” 

“I was trying to break the ice with my crutch, that was the knocking. And when you opened the window that is when you fell through… Guards! Bring me The Seer, now.”

Hvitserk stands and places a hand on Ivar’s shoulder “Ivar he doesn’t leave his hut, he will not come to you” 

Ivar smiles “He will or I will kill him” he looks at you then and you notice his eyes are even more blue than you remembered “She is forbidden from going outside, I will not take any chances-” 

“You can’t do that!” You scream, cutting off his sentence  “I will not be locked up in here” 

“You will stay if I say so, Gods help me I will bar these very doors and windows shut if I see you outside even once.” 

................................................

For fear of falling through the ice twice in one night, you conceded. Even if it means being locked up in this hell castle until spring. Your only hope would be for Ivar to leave on a raid or something, but then that meant Hvitserk could possibly go with him and you would be alone. All alone in a big castle… Truth be told you feared that more than every Viking in Kattegat. 

“You are over thinking my love” Hvitserk whispers as he kisses your cheek “This is going to be alright, winter will be gone in a couple months, then we will be married in your meadow.” 

Closing your eyes you take a deep breath and try to be positive. Only a couple months, you could do that. After the dream you had you should want to stay inside anyway. And if this was all a vision of things to come- well you don’t know, you don’t know what you’re going to do. But staying inside is a good start. 

“The seer will not come!” Ivar yells, slamming his horn of ale on the table and startling everyone. “How can he refuse me? I am king!”

Hvitserk smirks “I told you brother, I told you he would not leave his hut.” 

“Why can’t we just go to him?” You ask. “We don’t have to cross a lake to get to his hut, Do we?” 

“I have forbidden you from going outside" 

You sigh,  not wanting to argue. You're so tired of arguing with men and not solving anything. So for the rest of the night you stay as silent as a mouse. Ignoring everyone, including Hvitserk. You know he just wants to protect you, keep you safe, but it's infuriating that he is agreeing with Ivar. Since when does he agree with Ivar? Never. They are always at each other's throats.  

Your silence however doesn't go entirely unnoticed, Freydis sees it, can tell what is going on. She steps down from her throne and takes a seat next to you. At first you are weary, she's Ivar’s wife after all, she could just be following orders, trying to trick you.  Spy for him.

"I like having another woman here," she says with a smile "it makes me feel not so alone."

You nod "We hardly see each other though, you are always busy with Ivar."

She laughs "He's a handful, but not as dangerous as everyone thinks…but don't tell him I told you that."

You smile "I won't, promise."

She looks towards Ivar and you do the same, noticing Hvitserk has joined him and they are talking civilly. It almost looks like they care about each other, like they could get along and be great friends if ivar wasn't so- so Ivar. 

Freydis hums and looks back at you "You do not know much about being a viking, do you?"

"Is it that obvious?" You say with a laugh 

"The seer is a very important man, he can tell us our future. If he chooses. He can tell us what we are destined to do and if we will stray from that path. He is all-knowing. That is why Ivar wants you to see him."

You nod "I understand, but if he will not come then how am I supposed to see him? Ivar will not let me leave."

The queen leans in and whispers, so soft that you can tell she's said things in secret before. Perhaps you are not the only one Freydis has tried to help. 

"There is a back gate just outside of the courtyard, it is not guarded. Ivar leaves it hidden incase he needs to make a quick escape. I will get the key and unlock it for you after Ivar falls asleep tonight-"

You stop her "How am I to know when he falls asleep?"

She smiles "look at them, it won't be long before both men are out like a flame." She continues "The Seer's hut is small and dark in color, animal bones hang from the door.  You can not miss it."

Taking a deep breath you say "Ivar will kill me if he finds out."

Freydis stands "Then be quick and quiet, princess. If he awakes I will keep him occupied for as long as I can."

................................................

It was easy enough to escape, what with Ivar and Hvitserk being drunk out of their minds. One minute they were laughing and saying how much they loved each other and the next they were rolling around on the floor fighting. In that moment you decided that you'll never understand men. Especially viking men.

After Freydis unlocked the gate, The trek through the snow wasn't as bad as you would have thought, and the Seer's hut was relatively close. If you weren't so paranoid you might have actually enjoyed the walk. 

As you entered the hut a wave of nausea washed over you, a sort of sinking feeling set deep in your heart. And suddenly you knew you were not going to receive good news. 

"I've been waiting for you" A raspy voice says out of the darkness "come closer child, come and sit down."

As you step further into the hut you find him, a tall dark figure dressed in a torn black cloak. His features are hidden from you but from the sound of his voice, you are glad. 

He reaches out for you and reluctantly you give him your hand and allow him to pull you closer. "Say what you've come here to say. Waste not my time."

"I want to know my future… not- not all of it just, Ivar."

He chuckles, a sound so sinister it rattled the bones in your body. "Ivar the boneless,"  he speaks his name with pause "Not a God, as he would like to think." 

You nod "I know he is not, I want to know if he will be the cause of my death-"

The Seer stops you. Holding up his hand "I can not tell you of such things. Nor would you want to know."

You scoff and begin to leave "I knew I should not have come here, you're just a fraud. Just another man who wants to make people believe that he is more than ordinary… you're no better than Ivar-"

"I am nothing like Ivar Lothbrook," he growls "I have seen a great many things. War. Death. Murder. Darkness. I have seen it all. I have seen your future child and I shudder at the sight." 

He stands and blocks your way to the door, stopping you from leaving. "Please let me go," You plead "I no longer require your sight." 

He grabs your hand roughly and brings it to his mouth, licking your palm. He growls once more and begins to ramble  "Your lives are intertwined and mangled. Hate. Love. Everything hangs in the balance. I see a fate worse than death. You speak of being ordinary but you are no such thing. You are greater than you think and Ivar will fall because of this greatness… He is just a man. He will fall. You will make sure of that."

Violently he let's you go, he's panting and disoriented, so you take the chance and run past him. Out of his hut and back towards the castle. 

Once the gate is closed behind you, you fall to your knees. Out of breath and shaking. 

You would be Ivars downfall? And what did he mean when he said you are not ordinary? You have no powers, no control over your own life. You can't do magic or spells, you are no seer. 

So what did he mean?

Footsteps bring you back to reality and only then do you realize you are completely out in the open. Luckily it is still snowing… maybe no one has seen you. 

Slowly, you begin your walk back inside. The castle isn't too far away from the gate so you're praying no one will stop you. Or recognize you. 

Your heart is racing you can hear it in your ears, like the menacing beat of a drum. You know you're walking back into a situation that could possibly be dangerous. Ivar could be waiting for you, this could have all been a trap. 

You should have never trusted Freydis…

As you open the castle door your arm is grabbed and you are drug into a small corridor, a hand is clasped around your mouth preventing you from screaming, but you still try. If this is how you die you want to see Hvitserk one more time. You want to apologize. 

"Next time you leave I suggest being less obvious princess." A man whispers, his voice familiar.

You look up at him and realize it is Ubbe, the brother who helped you before. He let's you go and smiles "Hvitserk has been looking for you, he's afraid you've left him."

"He hasn't told Ivar-"

He stops you, "my brother may be young but he is not dumb. He's only trusted me with this, we've been looking everywhere for you. Where have you been?"

You take a deep breath "I went to the Seer, he's told me many things… not all good."

Ubbe groans "Come, we'll find my brother and then you can tell us what, exactly, the wise one has said."

Tag List: *Open*

@alexhogh7137

@blueyed-one

@ivarthebloodyking

@curlyhairedhoseok

@lol-haha-joke

@joebob15274

@kaitieskidmore1

@lucktwistedlady

@solinarimoon

[goindownshipping]

Inappropriate use of Stark tech? 😏

Smile for the Camera

Pairing: Tony Stark/Peter Parker (Starker, Starkercest)

Rating: Explicit (E) Rating due to brother/brother smut

Notes: Thank you @the-mad-starker for the suggestion for my first fill! This fills the “Inappropriate use of Stark tech” for @starkercestevent 😊

Warnings: NSFW, brother/brother smut, Tony and Peter are both of age and consenting.

Word count: 2k

Summary:

Tony quickly busied himself with repositioning the robots, as if that would solve Peter’s confusion. DUM-E was stationed at the right corner of the foot of the bed while U was on the left side of the bed. When he was done, Tony turned around and gestured to the new setup. After a moment, all the pieces clicked into place in Peter’s brain. Tony knew he’d figured it out when Peter’s entire face flushed pink all the way up to the tips of his ears.

Or, Tony enlists the help of DUM-E and U to film him and Peter in bed. 

“Petey! I have a surprise for you!” Tony called as he entered their apartment. 

“Just a sec, Tones!”

Tony could hear Peter’s voice coming from their bedroom, clearly preoccupied with something. He dropped his backpack at the front door and headed for the kitchen, his eyes immediately drawn to the plate of snacks on the counter. He had a mouthful of cheese and crackers when Peter finally came down the hall from their room, his hair clearly damp from a recent shower.

“You couldn’t have waited for me, gorgeous?” Tony smirked.

“If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll need a second shower this evening,” Peter winked.

Tony snorted and made grabby hands for his boyfriend who just rolled his eyes and let himself be pulled in for a hug. 

“How was your day, babe?” Tony asked against the soft skin of Peter’s neck.

“It was busy, but good. I finally made some progress on that formula with MJ. It would be nice to get that done before the weekend. Oh, mom and dad are coming this weekend, they wanted me to tell you.”

“Nooo,” Tony whined. “I had a surprise planned for this weekend.”

Peter craned his head back to take a look at Tony’s face. He pressed a quick kiss to his lips where they were pursed in a pout. “You’re cute when you pout, which is quite often.”

Tony didn’t budge, he just kept his lips pursed, inviting Peter to continue kissing him. Peter just laughed, knowing exactly what his brother was playing at. But Peter would never turn down an opportunity to shower Tony in kisses, and this was no exception. He leaned back in to press featherlight kisses all over Tony’s face, peppering his lips everywhere before finally capturing his lips again. 

“You’re trying to distract me,” Tony mumbled.

“Is it working?” Peter pulled back with a knowing grin on his face.

“You know it, honey. Come help me get a couple things out of the car - I guess you’re getting your surprise early.”

Peter beamed, always eager for one of Tony’s surprises. Tony just shook his head with a smile, unable to contain his fondness for his brother and love, which was only part of the reason he was dreading a visit from their parents. But he still had time before their sudden arrival.

In the driveway, Tony opened the hatch of his SUV to reveal two familiar robots. Peter looked at Tony with confusion.

“Why’d you bring DUM-E and U home from the lab, Tones? I thought you needed them for your senior design exhibit?”

“One of the many perks of them being my robots. I can use them for whatever I want,” Tony said with a glint in his eye. “Now help me roll these inside.”

With that, Peter followed Tony back into their apartment. He took an immediate right turn once he was inside, assuming they’d be leaving the robots in their shared office and lab space. To his surprise, Tony made his way to their bedroom with his robot in tow.

“Tony? Do you want both of these back there?”

“Yep, bring U on down to join Butterfingers, here!”

Peter wheeled the robot down the hall and parked it next to DUM-E in their bedroom. He stared at Tony, awaiting an explanation for the robots that were apparently taking up residence in their room. Tony stayed silent, just watching Peter with a mischievously crooked smile.

“Am I missing something?” Peter asked.

“You know what I originally designed these guys for, right?”

“To record and keep track of your inventions at home.”

“Yep,” Tony said with an emphatically popped “p”.

“I’m still not sure why they’re here,” Peter gestured to their spacious bedroom.

Tony quickly busied himself with repositioning the robots, as if that would solve Peter’s confusion. DUM-E was stationed at the right corner of the foot of the bed while U was on the left side of the bed. When he was done, Tony turned around and gestured to the new setup.

After a moment, all the pieces clicked into place in Peter’s brain. Tony knew he’d figured it out when Peter’s entire face flushed pink all the way up to the tips of his ears.

“You still interested in that, Pete?” Tony asked quietly, stepping close to his flustered lover.

“I uh - yeah… I am,” Peter stammered.

Tony crowded into his space, walking Peter backward until he was pressed against the wall. Tony braced his forearms against the wall, his mouth coming to rest against Peter’s ear, hot breath coming out in pants against him.

“Yeah?” Tony husked. “You still wanna watch yourself get fucked by your big brother, Petey? Wanna see what I see every night baby?”

Peter could only nod, his brain couldn’t form any sounds besides the needy whimpers he was letting out without realizing it. Tony pressed a wet kiss to Peter’s neck and trailed his lips up to Peter’s ear.

“God Pete, you are so fucking hot. Can’t wait to watch us, baby,” he whispered.

“Tony,” Peter moaned.

Tony took a slight step back, creating just enough distance to lay his eyes on Peter.

“Good surprise?”

“The best.” Peter took a deep breath, trying to regain a bit of composure. He finally managed to open his eyes, he wasn’t sure when they’d closed and felt himself melt at the sight of Tony’s smile.

“Love you so much, Tones.”

“I love you too, Petey. Now, what’s for dinner?”

Peter just laughed and shook his head as he moved toward the kitchen, knowing Tony’s appetite was not something to be messed with. 

A few days later found Peter and Tony frantically cleaning their apartment on a gloomy Friday night. Howard and Maria would be arriving the following morning and their home was certainly not up to the family standard of cleanliness. Not to mention, it was incredibly obvious that “Peter’s bedroom” hadn’t been touched since the last time their family visited a few months prior. 

Peter and Tony had come to accept their mutual attraction in the 9th and 11th grades, respectively, but there were very few people in their lives that knew the real extent of their relationship. Two people to be exact, and that did not include their parents. When Peter decided to attend the same university as Tony, their parents were thrilled. They allowed Peter to live with Tony in an off-campus apartment even as a freshman when Peter practically begged them to let him live with his older brother. 

He claimed it had everything to do with social anxiety and his nervousness around living with so many new people in the dorms. They obviously didn’t know the real reason the boys wanted to live together. Now, halfway through their sophomore and senior years, Peter and Tony lived an incredibly domestic life together. They learned even more about each other and fell more in love while experiencing so much life together. They wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.

However, Howard and Maria visiting always threw a wrench in things. Tony was busy decluttering the living room and organizing the kitchen while Peter stashed his belongings back in the extra bedroom. He hated it, but he knew there was no way they could spin it if their parents found all of his stuff in Tony’s room.

“You almost done, Tones? I just finished my last bit,” Peter called. As he stepped back into their bedroom he laid eyes on DUM-E and U and realized they’d need to be moved as well. “Actually, Tony can you come help me move these robots to the office?”

Peter heard Tony’s footsteps coming down the hall and he grabbed U to pass off to Tony.

“Nope, we’re using those tonight, Pete.”

 Peter choked on his breath. “Tonight?”

“Mhm, tonight, honey. You done with everything else?” Tony asked quietly.

“Y-yeah, I think I got everything,” Peter nodded, his eyes flitting between the robots and Tony.

Tony stepped into Peter’s space and wrapped him into a tight embrace. “Relax, honey. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I know nights like this can be hard,” Tony trailed off. He knew how much they both hated the prospect of hiding themselves from their parents and he needed to be strong for Peter.

Peter shook his head, “No, I want to, babe.”

“You sure?” Tony pulled back to hold Peter’s gaze, making sure his younger brother wasn’t lying to him.

“I’m sure, Tony. I’ll tell you if that changes, promise.”

Tony pressed a kiss to Peter’s forehead. “I love you. Now you get comfy on the bed and I’ll get these going,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” Peter murmured dreamily before taking a step away.

What felt like hours later, Peter was laid out in bed, completely boneless and out of control of the sounds coming from him. Tony had taken his sweet time taking him apart bit by bit, making sure they really put on a show for the cameras. Peter tried not to pay attention to the robots and cameras hovering next to the bed, but it turned him on even more to look straight into the camera, knowing he and Tony would be watching this back. 

“Oh god, Pete, so good baby,” Tony moaned. His thrusts were slow and deep in an effort to drag out their pleasure just a bit longer. He was propped up on his elbows above Peter, his eyes trained on his boyfriend’s blissed out face.

Peter’s stomach was covered in evidence of two (maybe three, he’d lost count) orgasms and he could feel himself getting closer to the edge of another. He groaned at the hot coil building in his stomach, his cock getting harder with every punch to his prostate.

“Tony, babe, so close.”

“Yeah, baby, you gonna come for me again? Gonna come on my cock?”

The words went straight to Peter’s dick, and he could feel his orgasm building, the pleasure just on the precipice of exploding. He just needed-

“Come for me Peter, come for your big brother,” Tony groaned in Peter’s ear.

“Oh fuck! Tony!” Icy hot pleasure ran through his veins, his climax overtaking any and all awareness he had left. His cocked jumped and dribbled out the last bit of come he had left, but the waves of pleasure were tinged with pain as his orgasm ran him dry.

Tony groaned at the way Peter’s hole clenched even tighter around him. “Fuck baby, that’s so good. Fuck, I’m gonna come, Pete!”

Tony pulled out of Peter’s hole, desperate to see his own come mix with the mess Peter had already made on his stomach. His orgasm ripped through him after hours of holding off and focusing on Peter’s pleasure.

“Mmm yes, Tony. Want it all over me,” Peter slurred, noticing Tony’s plan.

“Oh god, yes baby, all over you.”

With that, Peter felt Tony’s warmth explode across his abdomen, some spurting up his chest and even streaking up to his chin. He stuck out his tongue, trying to get a taste of it, but pouted when he couldn’t quite reach it.

“Damn, Pete, you’re a vision,” Tony mumbled as he ran his fingers through the come on Peter’s chin and brought it up to Peter’s open lips. It was obscene the way Peter sucked on Tony’s fingers, his eyes fixed on him, knowing exactly what he looked like.

“Good boy,” Tony murmured, before pulling away to grab a warm cloth to clean them up. 

Peter whined at the loss, but quickly quieted down when Tony returned. Peter leaned into the touch, relishing the gentleness between them. Tony pressed kisses over every inch of Peter he could reach as he ran the cloth across his chest and stomach, then down between his thighs to make sure he wouldn’t be uncomfortable sleeping.

“Get comfy my love. I’m just gonna move these guys back to the office,” Tony whispered.

“Mkay,” Peter replied, already half asleep.

Tony just chuckled fondly as he managed to grab both robots and their cameras. Once they were situated in the office, he pulled up his network.

“J, download files to my private server.”

“Right away, sir.”

As Tony made his way back to their room, he stuck his head in the spare bedroom and frowned at all of Peter’s belongings. They looked so out of place by themselves; Tony much preferred to see them intermingled with his own. He shook his head knowing there was nothing to be done, it would gratefully just be a few days this time, then they’d be back to normal.

He climbed in bed and Peter immediately clung to him like a koala. Tony smiled down at the boy and wrapped him in a tight hug, content to just hold his boy as he slept.

“Thank you, Tones,” Peter whispered.

“Nu-uh, thank you, honey. That was amazing.”

Peter tilted his chin up to look at Tony. “I love you lots, babe.”

“I love you back, Petey. Now get some sleep, my love.”

Peter nodded and drifted off to sleep. Tony wasn’t far behind him, for once not worrying about the following day, just thinking about the man in his arms. And the obscene footage currently downloading down the hall. But that was a thought for another day.

[alexhogh7137]

The Battle Between Love and Fire-

Ivar the Boneless × Reader

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Days That Followed

Chapter Twenty-One

Word Count 3.2k

Warnings: slight angst from memories, fluff

When Ivar got the strength to walk to you, he practically ran. Your eyes filled with happy tears as did his. You have missed him more than you have realized. He is your husband and you are his wife and you love each other more than anything. Husband and wives argue, they say things that they do not mean, so of course, you forgive Ivar for what he said. Once he has you in his arms, he audibly cries. You feel his body shake and his heart race in his chest. He holds you tighter than he has ever done before, but still aware that you are hurting. He is lost for words, he does not believe that he is holding you in his arms like he is in this very moment. A few hours ago, you were so close to death, now here you are in his arms and standing. Some people do not believe in the gods. They do not believe in their miracles, but you are a great example of a miracle. 

Ivar "Are you..are you really okay?"

"I'm okay, Ivar. Just very tired and sore."

Ivar "My love, you were on your deathbed."

"I know. I felt it. But I felt a presence inside of me that gave me the will to fight."

Ivar "Our daughter?"

"Yes, our daughter. I could feel her in the darkness. She was my light back home."

Ivar took no time at all to press his lips to yours. You melt into his kiss like butter on warm bread. Your hands found his torso and grabbed onto him softly. Hvitserk looked at Ubbe who was smiling purely out of joy to see you pull through. Hvitserk joins Ubbe and Torvi. 

Ubbe "She is an incredible woman, is she not?!"

Hvitserk "Yes she is. I'm still fairly shaken by the whole thing."

Ubbe "No need to shake anymore, my brother! Happy day, yes?!"

Hvitserk "Oh yes."

Ivar and you have your own little moment while your people cheered, seeing you awake and stable. When he pulled back, he rested his head upon yours. You start to stumble but he catches you. 

Ivar "I am truly sorry about-"

"I know. It is okay, I forgive you. That is in the past."

Ivar "I know it is, but it is one of my strongest regrets. The night you went missing, all I could think about is what I said. If I didn't get to you in time, those would have been the last words that you would have heard me say to you. How could I have lived with myself?"

"Can you live knowing that I forgive you?"

Ivar tears up, "Yes. I can also live now because I have my wife back."

"And I have my husband back." He leans down and kisses you again.

Ivar "Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?"

"Um water. Something light for food, I cannot do a full feast tonight." You force a chuckle and lean into Ivar for support.

Ivar "Oh I know that." He yelled for his chefs to get you a meal and some water. He helped you walk over to Ubbe and everyone else at the table. 

Ubbe "You had us all worried sick." He said, pulling you into a bear hug.

"Well I was worried that you all weren't going to find me so, serves you right!" You all have a little laugh, but in all seriousness, you were not joking. You did have that fear of dying in that dungeon, cold and alone. But nonetheless, the gods brought you back home to Kattegat with your family and your dragon's. Where you belong.

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

When you were done nibbling on the food that was given to you, you were completely exhausted. Your body is recovering slowly, but your brain is trying to speed up the process. Telling yourself that you are fine, and can do anything. But that is far from the truth. Your arms are practically sticks from the starvation that your father put you under for five days. You lost all the weight that you needed to support your daughter. All that you have left is good hair and your smile. 

Ivar notices your sudden change in mood, and tends to your side immediately. Once he is close enough, you lean into his side and sigh.

Ivar "What is is, my love." He kisses your cheek.

"Very tired. But I am happy."

Ivar "I know, it is late now. Would you like to go to bed?"

"Yes please. I haven't slept by your side in what feels like forever." Ivar melts at your response.

Ivar "Come on then, let's get a good night's rest. Tomorrow is a new day." You and Ivar say your good night's and head to bed. Hvitserk kisses your cheek and wishes you a good night's sleep, as you did the same. 

Ivar gently undresses the light clothing that you have on, revealing every part of you that has new scars. There are scars on your tummy, your breasts, and your chest. The ones on your arms are visible from far away, but these are only scars that he would see. He traces over them gently with his fingertips.

"Don't…" 

Ivar "This shouldn't have happened, Y/n."

"It did, Ivar. Nothing can change the past. Do I wish that I didn't have to endure what he did to me, yes of course. Did I wish that I was home with you, yes I did. But I am home now, and that is all that matters."

Ivar "You are still perfect, my sweetheart."

"Just more imperfections."

Ivar cups your left side of your face into his hand, "No. That is not true. They are not imperfections, only battle scars that you survived through. Do not think that you are nothing less than perfect." 

You melt into his touch, "You are so sweet to me."

Ivar "Only because you only deserve kindness and love. And I love you more than life itself." 

"Oh Ivar. I love you more than life itself too. You and this baby girl in my belly." He looks down at the only bump on your tummy, and smiles. 

Ivar "She is just as strong as her mother."

"Mmm. She is my strength."

Ivar "And you are mine." You look up at him and look into his eyes. So blue, with stars surrounding them. You close the gap between you and your husband by kissing his lips, hard but soft. He gasps into you, but taking in all of you. You have missed his kisses, his touch, his warmth, his body, his kindness, his love, his voice, his everything. You needed his voice to get you through those dark days, but indeed you had Hvitserk's. And that is all you could have asked for. You love him as much as he loves you. And you don't think that you will ever not love Hvitserk. He is the father of your child, and has always been there for you since day one. He is your biggest protector and you know that he will always be there for you when you need him. And you will do the same for him. 

Ivar "I have missed you.." he says out of breath.

"I have missed you. I would continue but-"

Ivar "I know, sweetheart. Do not fret. I am not going anywhere, and neither are you. King Harald is dead, he cannot harm you anymore." He lays down next to you after he too undresses. He pulls the fur blankets over you both and you cling to his side like you used too. Once you are in his arms, the feeling comes back to you and hits you like a train. The sense of safety, love, and tenderness. That feeling was gone for what feels like years, but only for almost a week. 

Ivar "I know..I got you. I'm never letting you go."

"Please don't. I don't think I could take it-"

Ivar "shh..I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you. You and our daughter are home and safe. Your dragon's are home and safe. Hvitserk and Ubbe are safe. Nothing to fear."

"I love you."

Ivar "And I love you." He kisses your forehead and you both drift off into a deep slumber.

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

By morning, your body aches a bit more. Your back feels like it has been whipped and your knees feel broken even though neither of that is real. It is from laying on the stone floors and kneeling on your knees for King Harald's pleasure. You uncover yourself, expecting to see bruises all over your body, but there is nothing. You are confused. Why did everything disappear, and how could it? Ivar feels your disappearance and jolts up in bed.

"I am sorry. I am just in a lot of pain.."

Ivar "Oh sweetie, what can I do-"

"Where is...where are my marks?"

"The Healer came in yesterday while you were unconscious. He healed your cuts and bruising."

"But I can still feel it all.."

Ivar "The maidens said that you would. It is all normal, sweetheart."

"O-okay." You attempt to move but it is too painful. Ivar notices and stops you from moving. "I don't understand. How did I walk yesterday?"

Ivar chuckles, "It was your adrenaline. And her. But she must be tired today." He makes you laugh and it is music to his ears.

"Today is going to be harder, isn't it?"

Ivar nods, "But I will be by your side to help you get through it." 

"Okay."

Ivar "Let me get out of bed first and get my crutch, and then I will help you out of bed. Okay?"

"Ivar...you shouldn't have to help me, you struggle enough. I'm sorry." Ivar grabs your face and kisses you harshly.

Ivar "Do not ever apologize to me, okay? You didn't do this to yourself, he did. That bastard raped you, tortured you and showed you no mercy. You need help and you are getting my help."

"Yes my king." He smirks and then kisses you once more before getting out of bed. You sense that he is in as much pain as you, just not the same. You are mentally, internally and physically in pain. Ivar's legs are in pain, therefore, his whole body aches. You hate to ask him for help, but right now you do not have a choice. 

When he gets you out of bed, you feel every inch of where he hit you, but times that feeling by one hundred. You wince out in pain, almost falling and taking Ivar with you, but he catches you. Thankfully, he is huge and strong. 

Ivar "I got you."

"This is...not ideal."

Ivar chuckles. Even in pain, you try to make light of the situation. "No it is not, but it is getting handled. In a few days, you should be feeling better."

"I hope so. That would be nice."

Ivar "Hey, look at me," he raises your face by your chin, "you are strong, Y/n. Stronger than the strongest and fiercest shield-maiden in all of Scandinavia. You will get through this and come out an even stronger woman."

"Thank you, my love."

Ivar "You are welcome. I love you, let's get you some clothes on and some food. Oh and you need to take your medicine."

"Medicine?" Ivar informs you of everything that went on yesterday. "Oh wonderful!"

Ivar chuckles, "C'mere." He puts a dress on you, after kissing every inch of skin on your body, making you feel not so worthless. He then walks you over to the door and opens it for you. 

…

When everyone sees you and Ivar, they perk up. Especially Hvitserk and Ubbe. Ivar walks with you slowly but proudly. He is proud to be married to such a woman as yourself. Torvi gets up from her seat next to Ubbe and rushes over to you.

Torvi "I have missed you, Y/n. How are you feeling?"

"Like how I expected to feel afterwards. How have you been?"

Torvi "Worried, but happy now that you are home."

"Mm yes. How have the kids been?" 

Torvi "Oh y'know, kids are crazy. But they are good."

"That is good to hear-"

Ivar "She needs to sit down."

Torvi "Ah yes, I forgot." You force a smile and lean harder into Ivar as he supports your light weight. Hvitserk takes Ivar's place when he starts to struggle himself. 

Hvitserk "I got her, Ivar."

Ivar "Thank you." He tries to recollect himself as if his legs are not killing him. Hvitserk lifts you in his arms.

"Can I see my babies?"

Hvitserk "Say no more, but after you have to promise me that you will eat and take your medicine."

"I promise." He takes you to see your dragon's. When he puts you down, he does not let go of your hips because you still need his support. You reach up to pet your dragon's. They are so excited that they almost knock you over, but Hvitserk catches you.

Hvitserk "Maybe they are too strong for you right now, kitten."

"Mm yes, maybe. But I just needed to see them."

Hvitserk "I understand. They are about to get fed, and you know better than anyone how they get when food is involved."

"Yes-"

Hvitserk "I don't want you getting more hurt than you already are. Let's go get you some food." You agree and he takes you back inside. Ivar is shocked that you are in so soon. 

Ivar looks at you, asking you with his facial expressions what happened. 

"They are too hyper right now. I will see them later, after I have some strength back." Ivar agrees as you sit down beside him. Your people circle around you, telling you how happy they are that you are back in Kattegat and are doing okay. You thank them and start to hide behind Ivar's broad body when they get too close. You don't like all of this attention, especially not at the moment. You just want to be with Ivar or Hvitserk and have some peace and quiet. 

Ivar "Okay, my good people. That is enough for right now, give your queen her space, yes?!" They agreed and began to scatter. 

"Thank you.."

Ivar "I know when enough is enough..they are just happy, princess."

"I know. But I just want you or Hvitserk right now. Not the crowd."

Ivar kisses your forehead, "I know, sweetheart. You and Hvitserk can have some time and then when I am done speaking to Ubbe about Wessex matters, I will come get you, okay?"

"Okay, Wessex matters?"

Ivar "Your father is not getting away with allowing your torture. He will pay for what he has done to you."

"...thank you, my king."

Ivar kisses you, "Now go, relax. I'll be out here if you need me." You agree and find Hvitserk in his chambers.

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

When he sees you, he alerts out of bed and rushes over to you.

Hvitserk "Walking on your own?"

You chuckle, "I could manage."

Hvitserk "What do you need?"

"I just want to relax. Our people were crowding Ivar and I...asking me everything that happened."

Hvitserk "Oh I am sorry, they shouldn't have done that."

"It is okay. I know that they are just curious."

Hvitserk "Well let's relax then. I won't hesitate for a cuddle session." You giggle as he helps you to the bed. Hvitserk's bed feels like you are laying on fluffy clouds, and your body relaxes on top of it. Hvitserk pulls you gently on top of his chest and relaxes himself.

Hvitserk "I thought that I would never be able to hold you again.."

"You really thought that you were going to lose me?"

Hvitserk "I feared that I wouldn't get to you in time. Not that you weren't strong."

"But you did, so why pry on the thought of losing me when you have me right now."

Hvitserk "You are right."

"No one stays alive forever, Hvitserk. One day you will lose me, one day we will lose each other, one day I will lose Ivar...but that is not right now. All we can do is live in the present and hope for a bright future." 

Hvitserk "Why do you have to be so damn right all the time!?" You both get a good laugh at that, a laugh that was needed for the both of you. 

"I am sorry, maybe I should be wrong for once, huh?"

Hvitserk "Mm-no, you are perfect the way you are. Never change, kitten."

"Okay, I won't. Tell me a story, a happy one." You lay your head down on his chest and he holds onto your hand as he begins to tell you a story from his childhood with his four brothers. As he tells you, you relax and your mind stops racing and only focuses on his words. His voice is low and husk, but perfect to you. When he lets go of your hand, he draws pictures into the air, trying to get you to picture what he is telling you. But he doesn't do it for long before he grabs your hand again and rubs small circles around your thumb. You smile at the feeling, and just feel immense peace and bliss wash over you.

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

Ubbe and Ivar are in the battle room: where all of the weapons are, as well as the map of all of the world. Ivar will never allow what your father has done to you, not only recently but for your entire life. So his plan: attack and capture him, bring him to Kattegat, hold him where the dead guards threw you the day you came to Kattegat, and make him die in there alone and beaten. His fate will be what yours almost was. 

Ubbe "Her dragon's will be of good use."

Ivar "Only if she wants to use them. If not, we have allies that can help us win this fight."

Ubbe "Who?! She killed Harald...he was our ally."

Ivar "...he is not our only ally."

Ubbe begins to think, hard and strong. When he thinks of who Ivar is thinking of, he smirks. "Rollo?"

Ivar chuckles, "Rollo." 

They begin to send letters to France to their Uncle Rollo and ask for his assistance in taking down Wessex, England. If he refuses, then they have no choice but to use their only men and your dragons.

Ubbe "They have been sent, now we must wait."

Ivar "Yes. I think Hvitserk will like this plan. He misses Rollo, does he not?"

Ubbe "I am not sure, we do not talk of him very often."

Ivar "Mm well, I am going to be with Y/n, you go be with Torvi." Ubbe agrees and they go their separate ways. When Ivar comes into the door of Hvitserk's chambers, he finds you in a deep sleep and Hvitserk awake.

Hvitserk whispers "She is asleep.."

Ivar smiles, "Alright. If she does not wake up, tell her I love her and goodnight. She can sleep with you tonight. I don't want to wake her." He whispered.

Hvitserk "Okay...thank you." Ivar nods and slowly closes the door. How could he be mad to see his brother as happy as he was last night? He walks into his chambers and falls asleep on your side of the bed with a smile on his face, knowing that you are sleeping peacefully and that you will soon get justice for everything that you have endured. Justice will come.

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

Hey babies! I have been seeing a lot of comments recently, on regards of Hvitserk and Ivar and how they would not share her. I am more than aware that IN THE SHOW they do not or would not share, however, this is MY story and MY imagination, so I am making them share her and love her. Hvitserk and Ivar have a good relationship in this story because that is how I wanted it to be written. I will not stop writing about Hvitserk and her's relationship and I will not stop the sharing because that is not how I would like my story to go. On the other note, I enjoy getting comments and hearing y'alls thoughts on each chapter and look forward to them. I hope this little note clears up that I know that in the show, things would be different, but in my story, this is how I am writing it because it makes ME happy. Thank you, love you all××

@hvitserkmarcosource @a-mess-of-fandoms @youbloodymadgenius @ivarsgoddess @jzr201 @heavenly1927 @saldelys @motherofkattegat @conaionaru @readsalot73 @ivarzeitgeist @herestherealproblem

[constantconfusion111]

Even wrapped around me, you aren't close enough

I wrote this piece following a request I got on AO3, I hope you’ll enjoy it.

Lenght: 4.3K words Pairing: Tharn x Type Summary: Tharn and Type use the famous box of condoms.

AO3 link

I’ve learned how to use the “keep reading” option, every day is a learning day.

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

“So, I would like to order for takeaway a set 3 with the assortments of sashimi. And a set 15 with grilled salmon and seasoned rice.”

The waiter rang his total and gave him an approximation of his waiting time before pointing him to a space with some free chairs where he could wait more comfortably.

Tharn wasn’t planning to come all the way here for tonight’s meal -actually, he’d hoped that he’d be using his birthday present right now- but if it could help in switching Type’s mood around, why not. Maybe the fastest way to a man’s heart truly was his stomach? He could only hope tonight some raw fish would do the trick. Tharn grimaced at the memory of his order. Spicy food, he could understand the appeal: exacerbated flavours could be interesting even if he wasn’t able to handle it. Raw fish on the other hand was a completely different matter. Type must have been some wild cat in a previous life.

Tharn couldn’t help but smile as he remembered his boyfriend’s moodinest as he’d discovered P’San’s present. He should definitely not encourage that, knowing Type’s predisposition at blowing up at pretty much anything that rubs him the wrong way -which, in itself, was the opposite of a challenge-. But didn’t it feel nice to see Type react because of him, be jealous because of him. It made Tharn feel wanted.

Tharn’s pondering came to an halt as a waiter arrived with some brown takeaway bags.

“Here’s your order. Thank you very much, please come back again.”

The way back home was fairly uneventful, it was late enough that the evening rush had come to an end, but not so late he was driving alone on the road. If Tharn was lucky, Type might have calmed down while he was out and would be more relaxed. 

“What took you so long? Did you ask the guy that bought you the present to also buy you food?”

Or not.

“I went to that Japanese place to get you some sashimi.”

Type came closer to inspect the bag, pulling the food out. A lovely smell of clean waffed from his still damp hair.

“That’s a lot of effort for a dinner,” he grumbled, starting to set the table quickly.

“I wanted us to have a birthday dinner together, since we couldn’t yesterday.”

Type stared him down without a word, grabbing glasses and water from the fridge. The man didn’t seem inclined in starting a conversation, but Tharn had faced worst treatment from him in the past.

“So, how was practice today?”

“Alright. No is still harassing everyone so they’ll choose him as captain,” despite his words, Type didn’t seem to mind his best friend’s enthusiasm. Nor did he appear bothered by the idea of not being captain himself.

“Isn’t that in 2 years?” wondered Tharn, trying to recall what exactly Techno had told him about that before.

“Yeah.”

“Talk about early campaign…”

Mouth full of raw fish, Type could only grunt his agreement.

The food from that restaurant was quite good if a bit pricey, an acceptable option for a birthday dinner. Maybe next time, once Type wasn’t in a huff, they could go and eat some Western barbeque.

Tharn rinsed down his grilled salmon with the Coke Type had given him. The decoy present. That had been a distraction from the real present. The present he still needed to use.

“Unfortunately,” he started, staring at the young man finishing the last slice of sashimi. “The restaurant didn’t have any cake. A birthday dinner without cake is a bit sad. Maybe I should find something else to eat?”

Type didn’t react to the large smile sent in his direction. He got up from his chair and went straight to the fridge, grabbing a plate inside. Tharn recognised his mother’s cake in an instant. Type put the sweet in front of him, planting a spoon deep into the fluff of the cake.

“Enjoy, birthday boy.” And on these words, Type walked back to their bed.

“Type! This cake is for you!” came the whiny response. With a sigh, Tharn put the cake back in the fridge, spoon included, and followed his boyfriend. 

The latter flopped onto their bed on his belly and started playing around with his phone, ignoring the noise of his approaching boyfriend. Tharn climbed up above him, nuzzling the back of Type’s neck.

“Come on, don’t be angry with me. I’ve missed you.”

Type tch-ed at him, refusing to turn around.

“Go play with your amazing present and shut up.”

Tharn narrowed his eyes. He could definitely do that. The man got up from the bed and grabbed the neglected present box, rummaging through the various options. He remembered seeing some fun ones when he’d opened it earlier and if he could just-

“What do you think you’re doing?” Type’s attention finally seemed to have shifted back to him as the footballer stared him down from the bed with squinted eyes.

“What you told me to do, I’m going to enjoy my present,” came the answer as he found the condoms he was looking for. 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it Tharn!”

“This,” said Tharn, waving the condoms around to catch Type’s eye. “Is the second best gift I’ve got.”

Type visibly briselled at the statement, muscles tensing, and if he could hiss in anger he definitely would have. His boyfriend didn’t let that stop him as we came back to the bed, where Type stood up on his full length, dwarfing Tharn.

“You know what Tharn, you can go-”

“The best present I’ve ever got,” continued Tharn, loud enough to interrupt what promised to be a rant of legends. “Was my welcome home present after weeks away from you.”

The simple memory of Type in his too large shirt was enough to make his dick twitch in interest. The vision hadn’t left him alone since that day and regularly came back to haunt him at times when spotting an erection was most inconvenient. 

Type has been appropriately shocked into silence as a blush seemed to battle its way onto his cheeks.

“Sh-shut up Tharn,” but the order lacked venom to be truly threatening. 

Tharn hugged him at the hips, burying his nose against his boyfriend’s hard stomach. Type’s hand came to rest against his shoulders, and if he wasn’t quite hugging back, he definitely wasn’t pushing away.

“Type come on. I don’t want to fight, I just want to spend an evening with you alone.”

“You’re so annoying…” a hand found its way to Tharn soft hair, playing with the shorter strands, pushing his face just a little bit more firmly against his body.

“I want to use my gift.”

“Whatever,” he sighed.

Refusing to loosen the grip around Type’s hips, Tharn looked up at the man through his eyelashes.

“Is that a yes?”

Type scowled and broke their eye contact.

“Whatever I don’t care, do what you want.” 

Tharn didn’t need more to grab Type by the back of his knees and pull. Type fell down with a yelp, bouncing on the bed twice before being jumped on by Tharn.

“You idiot, you’ll break the bed!”

“Worth it,” laughed Tharn, gripping Type’s face to pull him into a bruising kiss.

Type caught Tharn’s tongue between his teeth, keeping him from doing anything more as punishment for his little trick. Deaf to the man’s pleading moans, he let go of the tongue in favour of biting down Tharn’s lower lip this time, teeth and tongue teasing in turn. 

Sensing he wouldn’t get his way just yet, Tharn pulled himself free to redirect his attention to Type’s throat. With a precision born from practice, Tharn sucked on that patch of skin that had the ability of making Type go boneless under him. The latter sucked in a sharp breath as the other man’s lips found their way to his sensitive skin. 

It was pitiful, but he couldn’t help but run his fingers in the dark locks to encourage Tharn further. Type could feel the tension melt from his muscled, his frown easing in an instant as Tharn’s wet tongue caressed just above his pulse point.

Tharn gripped Type’s hips a little tighter as he heard and felt against his mouth his own name being called in a throaty moan.

This man was going to be the end of him.

His blood felt like it was suddenly on fire, his brain frenetic and each second he wasn’t touching Type was just a waste of time.

Sitting up on Type’s thighs, Tharn urged him to follow suit by pulling him by his flanks, removing his white shirt in one quick move. Type naked arms encircled Tharn’s hips in a nice imitation of Tharn’s previous grip on him. Type’s lips found their way to the collar bones exposed by the black tank top, evading and hiding from Tharn’s kisses.

The musician let Type have his fun, running his large hands on the muscled back, feeling the heat against his palms. 

Not only were Type’s hair coarser than his from all his time spent under the sun, his skin was also naturally darker and beautifully tanned. The contrast between their skin tone hooked into something hot and deep inside Tharn’s belly.

As Type’s kiss marred his skin, the musician could only pant heavily, rubbing his fingers more deeply against hard muscles.

“You’re so perfect, Type.”

A bite against his pectoral was his reward for his trouble. Tharn grabbed him by the hair and pushed back until Type’s face was offered to him.

“Brat.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a woman,” came the huffy answer.

“I’m talking to you like you’re my lover.”

Type tried to fight back some more as Tharn lowered his face for a kiss. Without letting go of the dark hair, Tharn grabbed him firmly by the cheeks to stop his movements.

“Let me kiss you.”

“You’ll lose your tongue if you try,” but the warning only made Tharn smile some more.

“Worth it.”

Tharn did not, in fact, lose his tongue, but actually managed to get access to his coveted prize. Both men’s tongues met in a mess of hard breaths and wet caress. Rolling against one another, their tongues teased mercilessly, lips pressed firmly together. There’s nowhere else in the world Tharn would rather be than here, breathing in the same air as Type as their tongues danced against each other. 

Tharn let him go, almost regretfully, but not before kissing his cheek and his temple. Grabbing the two little packs from the bed, he gave one to his boyfriend.

“This one is for you.”

“Watermelon?” asked Type, licking is shiny lips. “Is this how you ask for a blowjob?”

Tharn had a hard time gulping down at that visual: Type, helplessly splayed out on his back, taking his hard cock down his throat, hardly breathing while trying not to choke on it.

“No, as much as I’d love that,” Type kneeling on the floor, licking and sucking at his cock, his big doe eyes watering. “This is for me to suck on. I love watermelon.”

“Tharn! What the fuck!”

Tharn pushed him back on the bed, starting the descent on his body. The musician let his hands wander, enjoying the feel of taught muscles and soft skin. He always marvelled at the evidence of Type’s athletic background, with how much Techno complained about Type ditching practice. His muscles were discreet but powerful, formed through time of swimming in the sea and running up and down a football field. Type’s body made him want to go to medical school just so he could know the name of the muscle he was licking. 

The man was squirming under him, trying to bring some friction to the dick trapped in his shorts, chest heaving as Tharn bit down on his nipple.

Feeling his boyfriend’s dick pressing up against his own stomach, Tharn hooked his fingers under the elastic of the underwear and brought both clothes down in one movement. Type’s member was already half hard and just begging to be touched.

“So beautiful,” he whispered against the other’s hip, grabbing the shiny green package still in Type’s loose grip. 

He opened the package, but before rolling the condom out, Tharn gave the head a couple of appreciative licks to bring it to full hardness. Type jolted under him, killing the moan that had started in his throat at the contact.

It was almost regretfully that Tharn put the condom on the now hard dick, enjoying the bitter taste of his boyfriend on his tongue, but curiosity gave him the last push.

It surely smelt of watermelon, but the smell of latex was mixed in as well. With the tip of the tongue, Tharn traced the underside of Type’s dick. The smell was definitely more faithful than the taste, it was a strange feeling to have his mouth full of cock and taste such a fruity flavour.

Tharn took him deep in his throat, trying to push his nose in Type’s lower belly and get back to the smell of man. Under him, Type was gripping at the sheets until his hold became shaky. Tharn had no business being so good at sucking cock. He was torn between watching Tharn take him so deep, comfortably settled between his thighs, and throwing his head back on the bed, struggling to handle the waves of pleasure making his legs tremble. 

As Tharn kept on sucking down Type’s dick, enjoying the hardness against his tongue, he pressed the pad of his thumb on the soft patch of skin under the man’s balls. Type buckled up, a shout stripped out of him by pleasure and surprise as he felt himself getting out of breath. His only salvation was the grounding weight of Tharn’s grip on his hips, holding him firmly against the mattress. 

“Tharn…”

“Shhh baby, I got you.”

Tharn blindly patted the blanket in search of the lube he’d thrown there when he grabbed the condoms, finding it at the edge of the mattress, probably pushed all the way over there by all their movement.

“It doesn’t taste half bad you know,” started Tharn, coating his fingers in a layer of lube. “But I do miss tasting you, Type.”

Type was still trying to catch his breath, taking longer than usual to understand what his boyfriend ment.

“I really love tasting your cum,” continued Tharn, scraping his teeth against Type’s hip, gently sucking a bruise there.

“Shut up,” came the huffy reply. But Tharn wouldn’t listen, he simply kept on muttering against Type’s lower stomach. 

“Mouthing at your head, licking your slit.”

“Tharn shut up.”

“You always make the most delicious sounds. So lovely, very desperate.”

“Damn it Tharn-”

All the while, the man ignored the exposed dick and delicious hole, both ready for the taking and desperate for attention. He rubbed his forehead against Type’s inner thigh.

“I love when you cry my name, it makes me want to fuck your brain out until it’s the only think you’ll ever remember.” 

“Fuck Tharn, just take the stupid condom off then!”

Tharn raised his head, meeting Type’s eyes, so shiny and pitifully failing at hiding his desperation.

“Mmh, no. You’ll keep it, it’ll be easy to clean for once.

“Tharn you’re so-”

Tharn wouldn’t know what he was exactly, as he pushed a first finger into Type’s entrance, successfully cutting the man’s swearing. 

Type instinctively went to close his legs to make sure the feeling wouldn’t slip away, however Tharn pushed back against his knee with his free hand.

Type could barely remember what it felt like to think of that sensation as strange, when being entered by his boyfriend’s agile fingers made him feel anything else but taken care of. Tharn’s mouth was back on his hardness, still probing deeply into him with purpose. The bastard knew exactly where he should be putting pressure, he was simply enjoying delaying it.

Type’s hips started to rock into the feeling, almost as an afterthought, half fucking up into Tharn’s mouth, half impaling himself on his finger. Before he could find his own prostate, Tharn inserted a second finger, making him moan once again in relief. Type let go of their bed sheets, gripping softly at Tharn’s hair, less guiding him than grounding himself.

At the feeling of fingers in his locks, Tharn couldn’t help but moan on Type’s dick, unable to help his excitement at feeling Type slowly coming undone. He picked up the pace of his wrist, entering and stretching the man under him with more vigour. He crooked his fingers against the soft inner walls and once more had to keep Type’s hips down as he jerked up.

“Tharn please I want you.”

“I know you do baby, I want to be in you so bad.”

Type whimpered as Tharn kept on abusing his prostate, feeling his back arch up. It was so good and yet not nearly enough. He wanted Tharn to pound into him, fuck up until he’ll beg him to let him cum already.

“You’re so fucking pretty Type. I think about you all the time. You know people started to say my music sounds better now? That’s because you’re the only thing I can think about when I’m behind my drums.”

Type felt his eye water as a third finger pushed in suddenly, 

“Tharn…”

“I even dream of us at night you know. I haven’t been safe from you since you crossed the door of our dorm. You should take responsibility, Type.”

“Tharn! I need you to fuck me.”

“Do you?”

Groaning in frustration, Type propped himself up on his elbows, and grabbed the second condom, abandoned on the bed the moment Tharn had started playing with his body. He grabbed the pack and tore it with a violence that made Tharn raise his eyebrows.

“Baby is impatient to-”

Before he could finish his observation, Type grabbed him firmly by his back hair and forced him up.

“Now Tharn,” he threatened before crushing their mouths together.

Tharn laughed in the kiss, feverishly pushing against Type’s tongue with his own, trapping a handful of dark hair between his own fingers. He let himself get lost in the feeling of that warm tongue against his, caressing each other relentlessly. With one more peck on these tempting lips, Tharn pulled away to remove his clothes, helped by Type’s frantic hands.

Once naked, Type encircled his dick with a hand, slowly running his hand up and down Tharn’s hardness, pushing his thumb against the head, spreading the pre-cum on the rest of his length. Tharn let him, breathing hard at seeing these pretty hands pleasing him, enjoying almost more Type’s famished look.

He grabbed the already torn package and pulled out the ribbed condom.

“Put it on,” he ordered, handing it to Type.

The latter compiled, rolling it down the hard length excruciatingly slowly, finishing his task by caressing’s Tharn balls.

With tense hands, Tharn grabbed the other’s hips and pushed him over.

“On your knees, and stay like this.”

Making sure his boyfriend would comply, he grabbed him by the shoulder and seethed his dick deep in Type in a swift movement. 

Type mouth fell open, but no sound came out as the onslaught of pleasure left him voiceless. Tharn didn’t leave him time to adjust, starting to fuck into him at a punishing pace.

Tharn licked his lips, savouring the feeling of finally being buried deep into Type, that brat his heart loved above everyone else with all his attitude and rough edges. He snapped his pelvis forward, slapping Type’s ass with his hips. Being balls deep in Type was an unparalleled experience. He wished he’d be allowed to simply lock them in their condo forever and fuck Type day and night.

Type’s elbow started to give in from the strength of the thrusts, bringing him down until he bit down into the comforter to muffle his moans. Noticing, Tharn spanked his ass, the sound of the slap resonating in the whole apartment, covering Type own whimper at the contact.

“I said to stay up Type,” he reminded, pulling at Type’s hair, forcing him to straighten up. “So be good and stay up.”

He didn’t let go of Type’s hair, grabbing his hip firmly with his other hand as he kept pushing his cock in and out restlessly. 

“Tharn… Tharn,” his lover’s name what all Type could articulate as waves of pleasure kept trying to push him over the edge. 

Tharn’s dick was abusing his prostate, pushing violently against it over and over. Remembering to breathe was all he could do as the musician kept filling him up full of dick, over and over again. He couldn’t even bring himself to touch his own neglected length. He could already feel his orgasm building up deep in his guts.

“Tharn… Tharn I’m gonna cum…”

At the warning, Tharn quickly wrapped his long fingers around him, preventing Type from finishing before his boyfriend was fully satisfied. Type voiced a broken moan, almost a sob, bringing his own hand around the musician's bigger one.

“Tharn please-”

“Not yet, I want you to ride me baby.”

Despite the statement, Tharn didn’t let go of him just yet, fucking a bit longer like that, still holding firmly onto Type’s hair. 

He eventually let Type crash onto the bed, regretfully pulling out to reposition himself on his back.

Type pulled himself up with desperation, barely waiting for Tharn to have made himself comfortable before climbing over him. 

“Yes baby, you’re so perfect, come fuck yourself on my dick.”

Type let another whine escape from deep within his chest, aligning Tharn’s dick with his hole and letting himself sit down on it. He moaned deeply at the new angle, hands pressed firmly over Tharn’s chest to stabilise himself. Kneading Tharn’s pectorals, Type rose up and down on his dick, rolling his hips to find the right angle. 

Tharn raised his arms above his head and used them as a head rest, enjoying the view. He wasn't exactly sure what he had done to deserve such a view, but he had every intention of keeping him forever.

His boyfriend was so beautiful, brows frowned in concentration from angling himself, forehead shining from a thin layer of sweat, mouth ajar as he gulped down quick breaths of air. Tharn felt overwhelmed by how much he loved that man, not for the first time marveling at the fact this man was in fact his boyfriend. His to hold, his to love, his to fuck.

The last thought made him snap his pelvis up, jolsting Type some more as he pushed firmly against Tharn chest.

Pushing on his legs, Type fucked himself on Tharn, hips rolling in a rhythm that was more sensuous than fast. He moaned deep and loud with each impalation, bringing his hands down to push against Tharn’s abs. The latter felt his mouth water at seeing Type use him for his own pleasure, eyes closed and lost in the moment. But as much as he loved seeing this blissful sight, the thought of not being on Type’s mind felt intolerable. 

Tharn brought himself up and hugged his boyfriend at the waist, bringing their chest flush together. The act brought Type back, glassy black eyes finding his own in an instant. Without breaking eye contact, the musician kissed his chin, then his lips in a simple peck. 

“Look at me Type,” he whispered, so close their lips kept brushing as he spoke. “I want you to look at me, and I want you to see me when you cum.”

Type whimpered against Tharn’s mouth, not daring to disobey even if the pleasure was too much. Tharn’s eyes were making his insides clench in ways he didn’t know where possible.

“Don’t you dare look away Type.”

Still holding him tight against his chest, Tharn helped Type’s movement, letting his own grunts die against Type’s lips. Breathing against each other's mouth, Type felt the pressure of his orgasm build up deep within, just out of his grasp, his moans silent. 

And suddenly, just the slightest shift of movement brought his prostate down hard on Tharn, destroying the dam, making him cum untouched. The waves of pleasure crashed into him almost violently as he didn’t dare look away from his lover. Helpless and left to enjoy the pleasure completely exposed. He clenched down hard on Tharn who raised a hand to hold Type’s face in place.  

Tharn clenched his jaw hard, unable to handle the sight of Type lost in a haze of bliss but still obediently listening to his order. The clenching around his member felt like too much, and a few more strokes inside Type’s clenching hole were all it took to bring Tharn to completion.

Grunting at his orgasm against Type, he felt his whole body relaxing slowly while he kept on cumming into the condom. 

At last, he let go of Type’s face, burying his own in the footballer’s chest, breathing deeply.

“I just need a minute,” he explained, slurring his words.

Type didn’t answer, but decided instead to pet his hair, letting himself relax in turn in the still unyielding grip around his waist. 

Only as he felt himself finally soften inside Type did Tharn allow them to fall on their sides, still hugging. Slowly, he pulled out and disentangled himself enough to get rid of both their condoms, throwing them somewhere on the floor next to the bed. As soon as that was done, Type clenched at his shoulder and brought him back against his chest.

“One more minute,” was his only explanation, but Tharn was more than happy to comply.

Kissing his lover over his heart, Tharn breathed deeply the musky and sweaty after sex smell.

He wouldn’t exchange Type’s gift for anything.

[eeveedel]

the knot will be staying inside of him (PWP)

so earlier today an update account tweeted this and because I’m me I had to write 2k of double entendre filth about it. 

this fic is kind of canon, kind of ABO, and mostly knotting. contains some under-negotiated kink, slut shaming, and generally unrealistic (but fun) sexual activities. Enjoy xx 

FOR 18+ AUDIENCES 

--

As with everything in Louis’s life that ended up going awry, the night started normally.

 When Louis got home, Harry greeted him quickly at the door, all smiles and kisses and already prepared with a plate of dinner and a glass of wine in the kitchen. Louis accepted all of it with a smile and not an ounce of suspicion, letting himself be doted on after a long day of promo.

 After he had finished eating and his wine glass was drained, Harry had come around behind him, rubbing at his shoulders and kissing his neck.

 “I listened to your interviews today,” he said, “You didn’t tell me you had a knot in your back still.”

 “Oh, yeah,” Louis said passively, the hard, knotted pressure in his back suddenly feeling more present than it had a moment ago.

 “Poor boy,” Harry sighed, kissing the back of his head, “Come on, I’ll take care of that for you.”

 Louis shrugged and nodded, the knot in his back persisting to bother him. So he stood up, following Harry up the stairs.

 Harry coaxed him into bed and got Louis to take his clothes off, and then he laid a hot towel on his back and then gently worked at the knot with lots of coconut oil and lotion on his strong, capable fingers. Louis whimpered a bit at the pain and then groaned in appreciation as Harry’s hands seemed to make the pain in his back smaller and smaller, until it was nothing, just his lover’s hands kneading his soft, lotioned-up skin.

 Then, Harry’s hands skated down and fingers slipped into Louis’s hole, and he just moaned, begging for the touch of Harry’s soft and slicked up fingers. In no time, Louis was wet and stretched and Harry was pushing inside him.

 He took Harry’s cock eagerly, grinding back, groaning, biting at the comforter and tearing at the sheets and trying to get some leverage as he fucked back on Harry. The other man grabbed at Louis’s hips and waist, his hands dragging gently over Louis’s oiled-up curves, his back arching much more easily now that it wasn’t in pain. Harry purred for Louis to keep working, keep fucking himself back, while slick ran down Louis’s thighs and his mouth was leaving a spit stain on their comforter.

 Eventually Louis shouted and came, wetness falling everywhere, and Harry grabbed him around the waist, twisting and flipping him until Louis was face to face with the other man. Harry followed close behind him, his knot locking inside Louis. Louis shouted appreciatively and groaned, grinding a bit as Harry’s knot stretched him. Harry met his mouth with a kiss, his voice soft and soothing as he pet Louis’s sides, the smaller man melting boneless into the bed.

 It was only after about fifteen minutes that Louis started to get a bit uncomfortable, the knot inside him thick and hot and stretching him out more than he wanted to be. He squirmed and then sighed appreciatively when he felt the tell tale signs of Harry’s knot deflating.

 But immediately, his body was jolted when Harry started to fuck into him again, his knot swelling to match the pace.

 “Harry, what the fuck,” Louis whined, “Get your prick out of me.”  

 “Nuh uh.”

 “The fuck do you mean ‘nuh uh,’” Louis grumbled.

 “You said on national radio a knot was going to stay inside you,” Harry said, “So a knot’s going to stay inside you.”

 Louis just blinked at him, and Harry stared back, before bringing his face closer to Louis’s.

 “All night,” Harry said, and then gave Louis’s nose a deceptively innocent peck, “All night my knot’s going to stay in you.”

 Louis’s mouth twisted and his face flushed, just staring up at his overly smug mate who was still fucking into him.

 “And how do you plan to do that.”

 “Oh baby,” Harry drawled, “I can easily stay hard and popped just looking at you. Worry about yourself.”

 He thrusted particularly hard, making Louis gasp roughly, his body bouncing and his head dangerously brushing the headboard.

 “Don’t concuss me,” Louis hissed, and Harry chuckled.

 “Sorry, lovey, sorry,” he hummed, even though he was barely letting up on his pace. After awhile he paused, catching his breath, his full knot back to its previous size and locked inside Louis.

 Louis felt hot all over, the presence of the foreign thing in his body making him hyperaware of just about every feeling touching his skin. Harry’s knot burned; the large thing had been in him so many damn times but never like this, never continuously.

 “You’re bluffing,” Louis insisted, “You’re not gonna knot me all night.”

 “I sure will,” Harry pushed back.

 “What if you get thirsty?” Louis said, “What if you have to go piss?”

 “I won’t,” Harry said blandly.

 “What if I get thirsty?” Louis said, “What about me?”

 Harry’s lips quirked a bit.

 “You’re whining an awful lot, baby,” he said, “Don’t like my knot?”

 He thrusted again, which was unnecessary since his knot was already fully inflated inside Louis, and Louis groaned.

 “I like it in small doses,” he said, and Harry’s eyes flashed dark.

 “That’s a lie and you know it,” Harry said, “I’m fully aware of how much you beg for it every damn day, and now I’m giving you your fill’s worth and you want to back out.”

 Louis narrowed his eyes.

 “Not backing out,” he said, hating himself for how well Harry knew him. It was like he could just open up Louis’s brain and repeatedly press the “stubborn prick who won’t back down from a challenge” button over and over and Louis would fall for it every time.

 “Then take -- ” Harry started, and then thrusted hard, his slowly deflating knot firmly up again, “ -- my fucking knot, Louis.”

 Louis blinked, his vision going a bit spotty, and he gritted his teeth up at Harry, who was back to looking far too proud of himself.

 “Fine,” he hissed, “Not that big anyways, should be a breeze.”

 He was rewarded with Harry pounding his already hard knot into him, and Louis huffed, squeezing his eyes closed as he did.

 It turned out, it was not a breeze.

 Every ten minutes or so, Harry’s knot started to go down, and every ten minutes, Harry fucked into Louis again, making the thing spring up again. Harry’s dick was only half-hard most of the time, but if he was inside Louis and moving, his knot wasn’t going to go down, and Louis knew that. He also knew that this exercise was started to seriously burn, the dull pain coming from his entrance zig zagging up his entire body and seeming to take host in his brain, which was yelling at him to get this dumb, dumb boy and his dumb, dumb knot out of him. But every time Louis squirmed or shifted, Harry pinned him down and fucked into him. He would move Louis a bit, sometimes, more onto his side rather than his back, and would shift him again when Harry started to soften again, only to firm up moments later.

 Harry, for his part, seemed to be handling this dumb experiment like a champ. He was turning pink in his chest and cheeks, but he didn’t seem to be in any pain. When Louis pointed out his dick was going to be raw later, he barked out a laugh and fucked into him again.

 After several cycles of this, Louis was exhausted and sweating, his back slick and his whole face burning. He felt so sore and stretched, his entire body filled, and he was panting, short of breath.

 “Harry,” he whined, and Harry shook his head.

 “It’s been over an hour,” he said, “That’s not all night.”

 “God, fuck you,” Louis hissed, only for Harry to grip his face hard in one hard.

 “Be good and don’t curse at me and all night will be three hours, how about that?” he asked, and Louis groaned at the pain already present inside him.

 “Fucking wanker,” he wheezed out, and Harry just chuckled and kissed him again.

 “It’ll fly right by,” he assured him.

 It did not.

 Another half an hour ticked by of Louis being fucked and knotted and turned around, and he was wet on his back and his armpits and his forehead, the pain in his ass nearly going numb. Harry’s breath was starting to get shallower, more huffing and puffing as he fucked into him and stayed put. He was clearly tired too, but Louis felt out of his body, his brain trying to scramble away from the situation he had gotten himself into.

 Lazily, Harry pulled on Louis’s hair, and he tipped his head back for Harry to kiss his neck.

 “Little longer,” Harry said, “How’s it feel?”

 “Ugh,” Louis got out, and Harry kissed his neck.

 “That’s what you get for being a slut on the radio.”

 Louis rolled his eyes and then closed them, the pain and the heat making him sleepy, but he couldn’t rest, not with this thing in him still.

 As the minutes ticked by he opened his mouth, panting weakly, and Harry kissed his face, his thrusting becoming gentler. He weakly fiddled with Louis’s nipples and his long-soft cock, and Louis’s eyes pricked at the feeling, little blips of pleasure in this very confusing, painful journey.

 Eventually, Harry rolled him onto his front and moved Louis’s hips up, pulling his ass out as he fucked him.

 “Come on, take it,” Harry hissed, “One more time.”

 Louis whimpered, but he took it, even arching his back and pushing into it as Harry wriggled his knot around inside him. His body had accepted it by now, probably convinced Harry’s knot and member were going to be permanent guests in Louis’s hole.

 And then, miraculously, Harry’s knot deflated, a bit and then completed, and the man’s cock came out.

 Louis whined and collapsed, his body hitting the mattress weakly. Harry groaned too and rolled over, one hand falling on Louis’s ass and the other cupping his own dick.

 “Ah, shit,” Harry hissed, “I feel fuckin’ chapped.”

 “Got what you deserved, prat,” Louis huffed. He shifted his hips, but it wasn’t taking away the fact his hole felt gaping open and burning, still.

 “Worth every second,” Harry sighed, and then skated his hand down to prod at Louis’s hole.

 “If you touch me there I will rip off his fingers and eat them,” Louis said, a yawn breaking his words half way through.

 Like the true bastard he was, Harry just laughed, and then grabbed Louis around the waist and tugged him close.

 “Love you,” Harry yawned, and Louis rolled his eyes.

 “Yeah, love you too.”

 It was only when Harry was asleep that Louis was able to pull himself out from under his arm and go to the bathroom to wash his face. While he was there, the door securely closed and locked behind him, he turned around and looked over his shoulder as he pulled his cheeks apart to see the damage.

 He bit his lip as he took it in. His hole was red and wide, a dark, open circle, looking like it was still begging for something to go inside.

 Louis couldn’t help but smirk a little as he let go of his cheeks and turned back around to wipe his damp face off.

 Yeah, that shit hurt like hell, but…

 He wondered what he would have to do for Harry to stay inside him for four hours next time.

[funkzpiel]

Muggle!Cop AU | Pt 4

Trigger Warning(s): Non-Con/Rape, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Shrinking Cock/Balls, Size Theft

[ Read it on AO3 ]

After his public claiming, much of the night was a blur that Graves was ashamed to admit he didn’t quite recall. He only had bits and fragments of it to reflect on; feelings rather than concrete moments. He could remember being boneless in Grindelwald’s lap long after the fucking had stopped, the man’s dick still buried in his slack hole with no intention of leaving it would seem. He remembered compliments that made him blush, but not why. He remembered fingers idly toying with him, his dick gone soft from the fucking and unable to rise again despite the gentle teasing or how pleasant it felt. He remembered floating, and only that it felt nice not to feel at all, for once.

He didn’t remember much about coming home or what happened there after. All he knew was that when he woke, it was to the feeling of his body being jerked in tough little pulls, something winding around his naked flesh, burying him in an intricate web of red.

“I have to go to work, pet,” the words greeted him, but it took a moment for their meaning to sink in. He moaned and lulled until he caught sight of deft fingers coaxing red rope around his limbs, guiding him into place.

“Nnn—”

“Ssh, you were being so good,” Grindelwald said, stopping his tying to pet Graves’ swollen bottom lip, teasing at his teeth. “I almost considered not punishing you for your little stunt on our outing.”

His brows furrowed. But you did punish me…

The thought must have slipped from his lips in a slur, because Grindelwald chuckled, voice smooth with amusement, and said, “Oh darling, that was hardly a fitting punishment. I’ll need some time to think of what will truly nip your disobedient streak in the bud. Until then, I expect you to be a good boy and wait patiently for your punishment. Understood?”

Something thick was shoved into his ass before he could so much as utter a word yes or no, filling him so fully that his mouth spilled open on a surprised little breath, trying to survive the sparks of sensation as it just brushed his prostate.

The width of it caught on his rim and he growled brokenly, “It won’t fit,” but then it did, the widest bit of it popping in like it belonged there, sucked in all at once down to the little neck that curled back out to a cute blossoming gem nestled right against his anus. His heart fluttered. His brain struggled to react, nerves crossed on get it out and can I grind on it. Grindelwald stroked his rim and praised him as he tied the final rope, dividing his cheeks and keeping the plug firmly in place – as if it were going anywhere without a hand to drag it forcefully from his greedy insides.

With a snap of his fingers, Grindelwald left him and in response the plug in his ass began to vibrate, loosening him slowly.

“Nnn, nn, no! Wait!”

Only the silence answered. The plug buzzed and as he struggled against the ropes it shifted until finally it sat heavily upon his prostate, buzzing and buzzing and buzzing in little constant pulses. Graves hung his head and whined, his flanks and shoulders quivering as between his legs his cock attempted to grow only – it didn’t. He couldn’t get a good look to tell if it had been tied up in rope or bound down or what, but no matter how the plug pressed, he couldn’t get hard. It was mercy and a curse. His hips bucked sometimes, wriggling within the ropes, and it chafed; but even so, his cock stayed soft beneath all those lines of red. Limp and weeping, each buzz oozing another little plume of – God help him – cum from his soft dick. And it seemed to have no intention of stopping.

“Fuck!” He snarled when the thin strand of his sanity began to fray. On the bed he jerked and tugged and writhed angrily against the ropes until they left angry bruises on his skin and left him numb in strange places. He fought until the sheets were tossed all around him and his chest was heaving, having fallen onto his side. Then he finally grew slack, mouth open against the sheets as he panted, and simply melted into the bed.

On and on, the plug buzzed, coaxing another slow little spurt of sperm from him. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to calm down and think. As he did, feeling began to return to his limbs and fingers and toes.

And perhaps that was the worst cruelty of all: Grindelwald had taken a startling amount of care to tie him up just so. Graves found as the hours passed that if he struggled against the red lines that divided him like a map – tying his thighs to his calves, splitting his lap lewdly, keeping his wrists pinned behind him and his arms a straight line that framed his spine – that he’d quickly go numb. Struggling brought blood loss and pins and needles far too quickly. It wasn’t until he had exhausted himself in utter frustration – pecs cut out in a lewd exaggeration from his flesh and ribs heaving, framed in taut rope – that he found the true genius to this particular punishment.

If he was good and slack and obedient, it didn’t hurt. Grindelwald had tied each and every knot and placed every rope and line so delicately that, if left exactly as it had been tied, it did not pinch Graves’ blood flow or nerves. He found he could sit there for hours easily, if only he were good.

But of course, that would mean giving in, so he was anything but good; even if it hurt no one but himself. As soon as he caught his breath and could feel all his limbs, his struggles began anew. He spent most of his time alone like that, wearing himself out in bursts that grew shorter and shorter – the ropes constant and unforgiving.

Grindelwald returned hours later and found his little cop in a puddle of his own cold pearly spend, the sheets an utter mess. He clucked his tongue when Percival turned slowly to look at him, eyes barely open, his flank and back still shivering from expended effort. All of his muscles had long gone slack. The man looked barely conscious, made ever more evident by the fact that when Grindelwald drew near and cupped his cheek, the cop didn’t immediately recognize he should pull away.

“I see you did a lot of the work for me,” Grindelwald crooned. “How lovely.”

Graves opened his mouth to curse him, to snarl something furious, only the words spilled from him in an exhausted slur; unrecognizable, more befitting a tired kitten. Grindelwald cooed and pat his cheek before twirling his fingers idly, magically shifting Graves back into the position he had originally left him in. The man swayed in place, thighs shivering harder, but managed to stay upright with a glare.

“Still feisty I see. Good,” he purred, easing Graves down despite his wriggling so that his knees and collarbone bore the brunt of his weight, his ass in the air, gem winking. He thumbed and traced it, tugged it in and out lightly as he admired the swollenness of the man’s over sensitized rim and the way that even now lube oozed from it.

Graves squeezed his eyes shut as fury began to soothe into something icy and inevitable: resignation. This was happening. Just like how he had been kidnapped. Just like when Grindelwald had made his ass grow. Just like when he had taken him right in front of his old boss. Whatever Grindelwald had in mind now, it was happening. And there was nothing he could do about it.

A whine left his throat at the thought, and behind him Grindelwald chuckled, mistaking it for something else.

“So needy. Don’t worry, pet. I thought long and hard on how best to discipline you. But first I had to riddle out why you’ve been… misbehaving,” he said, as though it were some great mystery rather than as simple as Graves wanted to be free. The muggle barely bit down on a whimper as Grindelwald found his tied-up balls and began to trace them, just shy of too much after so much stimulation. “You see, an associate of mine admitted that his farm dog was utterly unruly until he had the poor thing neutered. A shame, but those big balls were driving the little mutt insane with all these mixed messages about who was in control.”

Grindelwald drawled casually as though speaking about the weather, but the words made every muscle in Graves’ body lock. His balls. Christ, was the man going to take his balls?

“Now I don’t want to remove these handsome boys,” Grindelwald purred as he fondled Graves’ sack, rolling them in his hands, sending the very faintest hint of magic into his palm all the while. “But I do think we can make things… more manageable.”

Relief bloomed in Graves’ belly, catching that while Grindelwald had plans, at least he wasn’t about to be castrated.

“I think we merely need to make it more obvious as to what your place is,” Grindelwald cooed. He hadn’t ceased rolling Graves’ balls and an uncomfortable pressure was beginning to build. Even though Graves could feel that the man’s fingers were not particularly tight, his balls felt more and more as though they were beginning to be crushed ever so slightly. Beneath the warning tingles of pain, pleasure began to bloom – singing in crescendo with the vibrating of the plug – Graves became keenly aware of how many times he had already been forced to climax. He felt raw, scrapped clean and empty in a way he hadn’t thought possible. And the more his balls tightened, and the plug buzzed away, the more his body shivered, bracing for a climax it had nothing left to give.

“Yes… a visual reminder will work perfectly. Hmm… good thing you’re already dry.”

Graves’ confused grunt broke into a weak moan when the familiar sensation of lubricant blooming within him grew, oozing around the plug and easing the way for Grindelwald to remove it. He buried his face into the bedding to hide the flush that burned his cheeks when he realized his hole was gaping, loose and open for Grindelwald’s upcoming abuse.

“So eager to be put in your place, too. Look how open your body is for me; so greedy.”

It took a moment to realize Grindelwald had entered him. The buzzing had left him numb to something as simple as the touch of flesh on flesh, and the plug’s girth had left him senseless. Were it not for the gentle coaxing of Grindelwald’s magic as he traced Graves’ slack hole, convincing it to tighten once more, he might not have felt him at all.

He felt Grindelwald cover him with his weight. Felt the column of strong arms bar either side of his shoulders as a firm belly rested on his back, lips and facial hair tickling the nape of his neck as Grindelwald whispered, “You are mine and mine alone, and if you need more proof to accept that, then I’ll happily oblige.”

He began to move, and yet it was in a way so purposeful that Graves could not simply think it was just to get Grindelwald himself off. Every thrust was made with intention, slow and drawn out and calculated. Every jostle left him this shy of keening even as ever nerve ending screamed that he had already felt too much, come too much. His intention was to make him come again, no telling how many times, and Graves felt tears prickle hotly against his lashes even as his prick twitched, soft but interested. Fuck, was he broken? Had the man finally broken him?

That feeling from his balls was spreading. Crawling up and into his dick with every thrust – a transition so slow Graves almost didn’t notice it until it was so cloying it could no longer be ignored; as though it had always been there, its onset had been so gradual.

“Can you feel it?” Grindelwald asked, hovering close to his ear as he continued his onslaught, pace steadily increasing as subtly as the feeling in Graves’ groin. “Every thrust makes you perfect. Every pulse, every tightening feeling here,” he drawled, one hand moving back to cup his limp dick, “Makes you mine.”

God, he was doing something, but press shoulders first into the mattress as he was, he could hardly look back to see what. There was only the feeling of his magically healed hole spreading once more around the girth of the madman’s cock. The feeling of him making room for himself inside Graves’ body. The ever-crushing tightness of what felt like a hand squeezing his genitals firmly.

That squeezing turning steadily into stroking, only… somewhere in his short-circuiting brain, Graves realized it wasn’t exactly moving much even though he felt that touch from root to head. His heart stuttered and he jerked, ropes cutting into him as he tried to get away. Grindelwald pressed down with his weight, pinning him, kissing his victory into the skin of Graves’ shoulders as he purred, “So glad I found you, pet. You’re just too much fun. And isn’t this better than dying on the job? I’m going to take such good care of you. Going to make you so perfect. Now… Don’t. Move.”

He pulled away, not that it mattered. Between the ropes and the madman’s magic, it wasn’t as though Graves had a chance. He pressed his face into the bed to hide that realization. Just as much to hide his tears as to hide the blush of want creeping up his neck and into his face the more Grindelwald plowed into him, sending shivers and wracking cramps of pleasure through his body. Hands found his ass cheeks and spread them wide to reveal his taut hole speared on Grindelwald’s dick. Those fingers squeezed, dimpling the new flesh the man had given him, and the maniac moaned lewdly in appreciation.

“So beautiful,” he said. “You’re going to be so good for me, right pet? You’ll show them all that this is where you Muggles truly belong. This is what you were made for.”

He wanted to throw up. The realization that this wasn’t just a game, but that this was a test to a greater machination, left him reeling – a revelation buried beneath the pounding of a dick against that place inside him that made it so very hard to concentrate. And worse yet, every thrust made it feel as though that dick inside him was growing. Thickening, lengthening, carving out a deeper and wider space inside him with every pulse.

“Just about done, I think, pet,” Grindelwald said, petting the column of his throat with one hand as he reached down to fondle him with the other. “So, let’s seal the deal and move on, shall we? I think you’ll be much better behaved from now on.”

Before Graves could even digest the meaning of those words Grindelwald pressed him even harder into the mattress, hips slamming into the ample swell of his ass in powerful, bruising thrusts that tore every breath from him, blinding him of reason, mouth pressed open against the sheets, struck dumb with passion. Relentless and driven, until a blossom of pleasure began to warm and grow in his gut to the point of overflowing, tipping over the brink and dragging him down into the abyss of orgasm with it. He might have screamed. His throat certainly hurt as though he had, but he couldn’t hear. Everything was just a roar of blood in his ears, the thunder it made as it coursed through his body. Drowning out the sound of Grindelwald’s crooning, leaving him with only the sight of those smiling lips moving soundlessly. He felt too detached from himself to recognized he was being moved into a kinder position. That those hands were petting him, releasing him from the ropes in a gesture of one hand until it was as though, in just a second, they had never been there at all. As though he had allowed it to happen, wanted it to happen. If not for all he had seen so far – so many horridly impossible things – he’d almost wonder if he had gone mad. If he had only imagined the ropes as an excuse to avoid guilt.

Not that it mattered anymore. There was no escaping.

“Good, so good,” Grindelwald cooed, petting him, his voice finding him from afar. One moment they were on the bed and the next arms were folding him up into a strong embrace. Carrying him – one room blurring into another – and then he was being lowered into a tub, settled back into the straddle of strong legs and a firm chest. Fingers exploring him as though he were something new and not the same old toy he had become. Thumbing across nipples he had never remembered being so sensitive – too much, right now, so soon after everything. He whined and Grindelwald shushed him, grabbing his hand in the water to thread their fingers together lovingly.

“Don’t worry, pet, it’s over now,” he said, drawing both their hands down between Graves’ legs. “You don’t have to put up that fierce front anymore, love, I’ve handled it.”

Fingers curled his own around the length of his own cock and he sucked in a short, painful breath. A ‘length’ was a bit generous to label what he felt. Lips pressed against this throat and that hand squeezed his own in warning to keep it where it was as it withdrew to trace Graves’ jaw and lead his wide-eyed gaze down.

“See what I do for you, pet?” Grindelwald said as though he had bought the imprisoned detective something special rather than alter him in every sense of the word. He tried not to look, he did, but morbid curiosity brought his gaze to the inevitable – to the sight of his large hand around such a small cock. His cock. He could fit both cock and balls into his hand without much effort at all, if any. He could only watch, air coming shorter and shorter to him, as Grindelwald reached between his legs to idly toy with the head of his tiny prick – not even the span of the width of his palm – as though it were some cute toy. “Now you can rest. Now you can simply enjoy it, as I know you want to. No more fighting,” he said, pressing a kiss to Graves’ neck. “Although… this has been fun. Perhaps a warning instead?”

Graves stilled. His heart throbbed with every racing beat.

Grindelwald was hardening beneath him and fuck – had the man always been that large? That thick? His guts tightened in fear, but somewhere inside his soul – some hungry, depraved part of him Grindelwald had no doubt carved out and placed inside – wanted to know what that thick cock might feel like.

“Continue to disobey me,” Grindelwald crooned, “And I will continue to… make adjustments. After all, I can only assume that’s what you want if you keep up these willful acts of disobedience. I am a generous man, pet. I’ll give you as much attention as you need until you’re perfect.”

Graves stilled, trying to ignore the idle pleasure Grindelwald’s toying brought and coiled in his gut. Oblivious to the man’s growing smile and the hungry look that followed.

[jcmorgenstern]

Morgencest number 24 , ( if you wanted to do all the numbers I wouldn't mind)

24. Dom/Sub. Okay I’mma be real with you anon I did say I wasn’t accepting morgencest prompts but god I really love d/s for them and have been wanting to write this oneshot anyway SO here we go. you, uh, get what you pay for, i guess.

warning for like……Morgencest, in lethal combination with my brain. Set maybe a couple weeks after 3x18, completely and blithely ignoring the plot, any and all consent issues of the bond, and pretending Clary ate some really weird shellfish that didn’t agree with her and woke up a jonathan stan (and really thirsty, apparently).

Jonathan lowered the teacup carefully onto the side table next to Clary’s chair, taking great pains not to spill any. The teapcup rattled against its saucer as he placed it on a coaster, setting down the sugar bowl and a silver spoon beside it. “I made the Earl Grey,” he said, when she did not immediately turn to look. “I wasn’t sure how much sugar you like, so I put in two. But there’s more tea or sugar if you don’t like it–”

“Thank you, Jonathan.” Clary cut him off, looking up from the fireplace. He had to push down on a reflexive smile as her gaze fell on him, raking down his body. He’d agonized over what to wear for what felt like hours, and had finally settled on a slim pair of black slacks and a sweater that showed off his waist, as Clary liked. She patted her knee, gracing him with a smile. “Come on. Sit down.”

Jonathan hesitated, just for a second. The heat of the fire on the back of his neck, as well as the high, haughty spires of Lilith’s favorite chair sitting next to hers brought a memory to the surface, of sitting on Lilith’s lap as a child. She loved to hold him like that, like a real mother, to comb his hair and kiss his forehead like he was a baby.

He forced out the breath that had stuck in his chest, crossing over the brocade rug to lower himself carefully onto her lap. Clary grinned, scooping an arm under his knees and swinging his legs up over the chair’s arm. They’d gone and bought the largest armchair they could find, a huge, soft red-leather thing studded with bronze hardware that could easily fit both of them sitting side by side, for this very purpose. Jonathan leaned back against the other arm, tipping his head back so that it pillowed on the chair’s cushion, and let Clary push his legs further apart, teasing at his inner thigh. “How was your day?”

Clary smiled, pressing an insistent kiss to his lips. He chased it, tasting the aftertaste of chocolate on her tongue. He’d brought her back a choclatine from Paris after she’d portaled him there, and she’d devoured it with all the enthusiasm of last time. “Productive. I think I may have found a way to suppress the barometric drop when the apartment moves. It’s an old, simple spell, but any two-bit warlock should be able to do it. It should keep the Clave off our trail, at any rate.” She reached for her tea. “Also, I did a lot of online shopping and played a couple hours of runescape. The wifi here is incredible.”

“With 128 down? It better be.” Jonathan gamely accepted a sip of her tea as she raised it to his lips, then gave a mock frown. “But I can’t believe you went shopping without me.”

Clary laughed. “I promise you’ll like what I bought. But it’s a surprise.” She pushed at the hem of his sweater, pulling it up over his stomach and trailing a fingertip over his bared skin. Jonathan flinched—it was so unbearably good, the tickle of her touch just like the gentle lick of fire. “One of them is even for you.”

Jonathan looked up, too fast, unable to suppress the reflexive high of for me? “That’s just teasing,” he said, pulling his mouth down into a pout. “You know I’m horrible at having patience.”

“That’s what makes teasing fun,” she replied, snaking a hand up his shirt to pinch one of his sensitive nipples. He gasped, arching up his back and wriggling helplessly in her lap. He loved it when she did this, reach through the bond and give him exactly what he needed. He’d noticed the reactivity of his body had changed as the bond grew stronger—for starters, satisfying Clary had the unexpected perk of unlocking consecutive orgasms–but it was more than that. His body came alive for her, sensitive in ways and places it hadn’t been before. His stomach, his chest, his inner thighs, the backs of his knees, the sides of his neck lit up at her touch. Before, a touch to his back brought to mind his father’s belt buckle bruising his bones for disobedience. Now, he had hazy mornings of Clary’s hands roaming over his back and tracing over his vertebrae to fight back with.

“Just a little hint,” he begged, holding onto her hand. He wasn’t ashamed to beg for Clary, not anymore. She loved to give him what he wanted, to feed it to him with her fingers and let him lick them clean. He cracked the bones of whatever morsels she gave him, sucking at the marrow, gnawing them clean. He was good like that.

“No hints,” Clary said, and kissed him again. “But I will show you what I almost bought you, but didn’t.”

Putting down her tea, she pulled out her phone and tapped at the screen, then held it out so he could see. On the screen was an elegant woman wearing a long, coral-colored dress. The material was light, arid, diaphanous, like something the seelies would spin. Silk petals, pink and blue and white lined the open shoulders and translucent sleeves, scattered over the expanding skirt from the pulled-in waist. She looked beautiful, her fine bones and far-off expression giving the impression of alabaster.

Clary giggled. “Because you’re my princess in a tower. Get it?”

Jonathan looked up, into her eyes. They were a golden brown, like mead or whiskey, and twice as intoxicating. “I love it.”

She bumped his nose, fondly. “Yeah, well, be glad I didn’t actually get it. For starters, it’s nearly two thousand USD.”

“You don’t have to actually buy it.” He was full of energy, all of a sudden, buoyed by the concept. He sat up, or at least attempted to–he’d relaxed to the point of bonelessness, the constant tension bled out of his body. “I can wear it for you.”

“You…actually want to?” Clary sounded a little surprised, but not incredulous. She touched his cheek, smoothed his mussed hair. “You don’t have to, sweetheart. Unless you want to.”

Jonathan wanted. He wanted to feel her eyes on him, knowing she’d picked it out especially for him. He wanted her voice in his ear, saying that’s my little princess. He wanted to be anything, everything she desired. “Of course,” he said, swinging his legs off the armchair and sitting upright. She let him take her phone as he stood, turning his back to her as he studied the dress, taking in every detail. Then, breathing in deeply, he closed his eyes and drew on the wellspring of dark inside him, letting the picture in his mind’s eye paint itself over his skin.

Clary sucked in a breath and he knew it had worked. Something intensely scratchy was tickling his chest, and he opened his eyes to rub at it. The bunched tulle neckline fell a few inches under his collarbones, showing off the curve of his shoulders. The bodice was tight enough that it was taut over his chest, clinging down to his waist, the bunched cuffs a bit tight around his wrists. Jonathan turned, tentative, and the skirts whispered and swayed around him.

Clary was looking at him with rapt attention, her eyes sweeping up and down and all over him and he basked in the attention. She stood and approached, careful not to step on the hem of his dress, touching his waist. “You look beautiful,” she said, and there was a measure of reverence in her voice that made Jonathan’s blood heat. She pulled him in for a kiss, his skirts swishing around her legs. Jonathan melted into her, sighing as her hand brushed the buttons running up his back. Her hair brushed his face, cool and soft, and Jonathan shuddered at the intimacy of it. “How would you like to thank me for your rescue, princess?” she asked, pacing behind him to breathe the words right against the shell of his ear. “On your knees, or on the bed?”

“Yes,” Jonathan gasped, then felt himself flush. “Er, on the bed,” he corrected himself, and Clary gave him a pinched little smile that suggested she was trying very hard not to laugh. She slid a hand over his shoulder, her rings dragging on his skin, and he shuddered again, unable to keep a sound from escaping his throat when her hand slid up his neck and gripped the base of his skull—not hard, but firm.

“Good,” she replied, shortly, and Jonathan’s breath caught in his chest. If he hadn’t just said he wanted it on the bed he would have dropped to his knees for her then and there, however she wanted him. “Now be a good boy while I restrain you.”

Before Jonathan could point out that there was unfortunately no rope in the apartment, Clary snagged her phone charging cable off the table and held it up, looking triumphant. Jonathan extended his wrists eagerly, hissing as she bound them up tight, lacing the ends up together and pulling hard. The cable dug into his skin and he loved it, the harsh ache whenever he moved his arms or his fingers, the black cord obvious against the pale fabric of the dress.

“Should I try to bridal-carry you to the room?” Clary asked. She grinned, pulling at his waist. “I bet I could carry you.”

Jonathan was quite sure she could. He was also quite sure he was flushing at the thought. “As long as you promise not to drop me.”

She pushed up on her toes to kiss him. “No promises.”

Before he could protest she’d dug through his skirt to his knees, scooping him up with a profound oof. There was a bit of staggering and a bit more swearing, but at last she hoisted him aloft, a bundle of skirts. Jonathan put his arms around the back of her neck, holding himself aloft. After a lot of staggering, swearing, and laughing, Clary deposited him onto the bed. Jonathan met her enthusiasm with his own, scrambling up the mattress to let her clamber on after him. It hurt with his wrists tied but he didn’t mind the pain–if anything, it was making him more eager.

“You came for me,” he blurted out, unable to stop himself, as if it were nearing midnight and his stagecoach was about to turn back to a pumpkin. Clary had watched all the fairytale films with him, curling up with him in the armchair and holding him close. He’d cried more than once, moved by the simple magic of the stories themselves. But more than that, he’d gotten back a piece of their childhood that had never existed—a magic unto its own.

“I came for you,” Clary replied, and cradled his cheek in her hand. It was warm, calloused and rough from months of intensive training, and he leaned into the touch. He’d caught himself on his elbows and Clary had crawled over his legs, propping herself up over his chest, rustling his skirt with every movement. He could feel her breath on his chest, her hair trailing over his sides. She was right there, flesh and bone and real, and Jonathan hardly dared to believe it. And more than that, she was smiling, looking like she’d gotten something she really wanted. Looking at him. Among all the other myriad things she’d chosen in life, from clothes to toothpaste to the placement of her runes to the knife she’d stuck in their father’s throat, even for a brief period she had chosen him.

“Roll over for me, princess,” Clary whispered, and Jonathan obeyed, settling back against the pillows and turning onto his side. She pulled away and nudged his conjoined hands and he stretched so that they were propped up over his head, putting a pleasureable strain in his shoulders. He lowered himself onto his stomach, flushing with heat as Clary pulled at his skirts, exposing his legs to the cold air. Her weight shifted on the mattress as she reached into the bedside table for her harness—her first present to him. It clanked and jingled against the wood as she pulled it out and fastened it around her hips—he could just make out her movements over his shoulder, and he could feel his anticipation mounting. If he hadn’t known it would get him a reprimand, he would have rubbed his hips and chest against the bedspread. As it was he was impatient, yearning to scratch the itch, to do anything.

Clary gave his thigh a smack, as if reading his mind. “Patience,” she said, firm without being hard. Jonathan stilled instantly. Boundaries were always difficult, always invisible and shifting, but Clary was very good at giving them and he was learning with great eagerness to color inside the lines. He waited until she was ready, hardly able to contain his sounds of excitement as she grabbed his ass. “You prepared for me, didn’t you?” she asked, sounding impressed as she removed her rings to probe him easily with a finger. She rewarded him with a little kiss to his back, between his shoulder blades. “Good boy. Do you need anything else, or do you want to take me as you are right now?”

“Now,” Jonathan gasped out, into the pillow. He’d tightened up since he’d prepared after getting home to the apartment and made Clary her tea, but he’d slicked himself with plenty of lube. Besides, he loved nothing more than a little roughness.

Another smack, sharp enough to make him cry out. Clary had a mean slap when she wanted to. “Now, please.”

“Now, please,” Jonathan repeated, unable to keep a little of what she called ‘sulking’ out of his voice. The back of his thigh stung, as did the reprimand—he hated more than anything to do things wrong, dare he make her angry—but a softer touch to his shoulder told him all was forgiven.

“Then get on your back for me,” Clary instructed, her voice dripping in dark honey. Jonathan obeyed, wriggling around so that he was on his back. His wrists were starting to ache and he dress had twisted around his legs—how did anyone move in these things? She managed to find his knees and push them apart, but the mess of skirts was getting in the way, falling in Jonathan’s face. He batted them away, impatient, as Clary drew one of her kindjals and sliced through them like taffeta.

Jonathan exhaled, shakily. “I thought you were going to cut me with that,” he said, giving her one of the looks he knew she liked—the little smile through his lashes. Playful, she called it.

“And I assume by that you mean you wouldn’t be opposed to it?” Clary sheathed the blade and Jonathan watched, hungrily, as her shaft moved with her. She gave him a teasing smile, pushing the ruined folds of the dress away from his legs. He liked that smile. “Maybe just a little cut. If you behave.”

She spread his legs wide, making his breath hitch. Being open, vulnerable—he liked it as much as he liked the edge of fear it brought. Clary always seemed to know what she wanted with incredible precision, but he had no such luxury. Want and hurt felt like they were separated by a knife’s edge, so easy to mistake one for the other. Jonathan was very good at making mistakes.

“Remember the word if anything gets too much,” Clary said, softly. “Repeat it back to me.”

Jonathan swallowed, meeting her eyes. They were calm, steady, everything he didn’t feel. “Lemondrop,” he said. Bittersweetness filled his mouth, the memory of the first candy he’d ever had. His father had taken him to the shadow market for business, and he’d stolen one of the enticing yellow things when his father wasn’t looking. He still remembered the overwhelming awe and wonder he’d felt as the flavor had exploded in his mouth, so intense he’d nearly spit it back out. He’d nursed the candy in his mouth until it was gone, and thought wistfully of it for months, when he was back in the cabin eating tasteless cereal and dried meats so hard they made his teeth hurt if he didn’t soak them in water first.

“Good,” Clary replied, then rummaged for a moment in her pocket, pulling out her favorite tube of lipstick. “Hold still,” she said, then opened it up and gently smeared it over his lips. It was soft and silky and she traced his mouth carefully, molding the lines as she would one of her paintings. Once she was done he reached up to touch it, but she slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch it, it’ll smear,” she said, then leaned in and kissed him, slow and messy, and he could feel her lips moving over his, smearing the lipstick over both their faces.

When she pulled back, arranging his legs around his waist, he could imagine the mess they’d made of his own face, and smiled. It felt territorial, marking him as her own, as claimed. Taken. No one could dare profane artwork she made on him but her, not even himself. Jonathan sighed in satisfaction as she lifted his hips off the bed, pulling them towards her ownjust enough so that he could rest on her knees, spread wide for balance. Her jeans were rough against his bare skin but he loved it, the feeling of her clothes against his skin, craving the smoothness of the leather of her jacket.

Without fanfare, Clary leaned forward and pushed into him. Jonathan made a wordless sound, less a cry than an exclamation, pressing his head back in bliss as his pulse thundered in his skull. Yes, yes, yes—every inch of her was perfect, pulling him apart. The ache stung more sharply than he anticipated, but he’d asked for this, to feel deliciously abused as she pushed inside. With his bound hands he grabbed at the wrought iron headboard, pulling on the bars hard as Clary worked her way into him. What had seemed like a copious portion of lube now seemed like hardly enough, but still he bucked his hips, weakly, trying to push himself deeper, though he had to be careful. Too much pain and she’d feel it too. They had to ride that knife’s edge separating his pain from hers.

She smiled at his desperation and put two fingers to his bottom lip. “Good boy.”

He closed his lips around her fingertips and sucked, pushing the tip of his tongue against her nails and the ridged pads of her fingers. She bottomed out with a jerk and Jonathan moaned, grateful. To his great shame his eyes were watering with the incredible strain and pressure. “Clary,” he tried to say, but it came out garbled and muffled.

Clary rocked her hips and Jonathan felt himself whine as pain turned to pleasure. Every time he felt it was too much, like magic, the ache turned into another kind of ache, an ache and hunger for more. She leaned into him, bracing her arms over his shoulders, her hair falling down around her face, and Jonathan whimpered again at the shift. Then she moved, and Jonathan felt that pure, perfect drag inside him and moaned, all the world falling to pieces around him. Clary’s hand latched around his throat just as he liked, cutting off most of his breath. She’d lectured him on how it was dangerous, that this wasn’t the safe way to choke him, but he’d begged and wheedled until she’d given in and let him have the perfect build of oxygen burn.

She fucked him until he felt so raw it ached and burned and Jonathan begged silently for release, challenging herself as much as torturing him. “Clary,” he managed to gasp out, a plea and an exhortation and an exclamation all at once, and she slowed the brutal pace. She’d thrown off her jacket and was glistening with sweat, letting him marvel at the taut definition of her muscles, the hard determination in her eyes and the set of her mouth. The same determination she’d worn when she’d cut off the Seelie’s head and wrestled him out of his chains, grabbing his hand through the restraint jacket and saying, in a tone that allowed no other option, “Run.”

Clary pulled her hand away from his throat and Jonathan fought to hold his breath, obstinate. Spots were playing over his vision and he could feel himself arching off the bed as if possessed; Clary swiped her hair out of her face and twisted her hips up—

Jonathan gasped as the floodgates burst, sucking in a dizzying wave of oxygen. Clary gasped, too, his ecstacy spilling over into her, overwhelming in the resonance between them. Jonathan arched and groaned against the sheets, pulling at the bedframe hard enough that it gave a tortured creak. His burst of pleasure lapsed into waves of hers; she pulled out and unhooked the harness, crashing down beside him to lay in the aftershocks. Jonathan curled up against her, feeling the press of her body on his back and her arm around his waist, the unsteady rhythm of their panting falling into unison.

Jonathan felt himself lulled into sleep, dipping down into the undercurrent of slumber. Clary stroked his hair, absently, reaching down to untie his hands and massage feeling back into his wrists. He sighed, utterly content, and let his bare skin ripple over the ruined dress.

“Already?” Clary teased, her voice thick and heavy with fatigue. She kissed the back of his neck, tucking a stray bit of her hair out of his face. Her body was warm, strong, like a heavy blanket. “And here I was just about to go for round two.”

Jonathan chuckled, re-arranging himself on the pillow. Everything felt soft and warm—the pillowcase, Clary’s shirt, her skin against his own. “For that, I’m afraid you’re going to have to rack up another life debt. Lucky for you, I happen to like being your damsel in distress.”

“Only if you always dress like one.” Clary’s hand teased his hip, down over his thigh. He could hear the smile in her voice. “I’m talking a staple wardrobe of crop tops and miniskirts, and lots of lip gloss. I can take you to Urban Outfitters tomorrow. Insta baddie looks only.”

“Only if you promise to get that strap-on that looks like it’s chrome-plated,” Jonathan mumbled back. His eyelids felt weighed down as if in quicksand, or if they sealed with glue. If Clary kept petting him like that, he wasn’t going to last another minute. “My knight in shining armour, and all that.”

Clary gave an abrupt laugh, her stomach moving against his back. She pressed her face into the pillow, still laughing, then tucked her hand back around his waist, pulling in close for a hug. “Now I know I said no hints about your present that I just ordered, but…I think you’re going to like your surprise.”

JESUS GOD it’s done. I hope you enjoyed!!! Anyway if you want to see Jonathan’s dress here it be!

[anavoliselenu]

Hiched chapter 12

Selena’s thighs open wider as she brings her heels up toward her butt. My view is fucking perfect. I can watch every shuddering breath that racks her chest, every heartbeat that makes her pulse riot in her throat, and every tiny quiver as I tease her pussy with light touches.

“You’re beautiful like this,” I say. “So responsive and wet.”

She moans again, circling her hips to meet my touch. “Justin . . . it’s been so long . . .”

When I think she can’t take any more of my teasing, I slide off the couch so I’m kneeling on the floor. Then I tug her hips until her ass rests on the edge of the sofa and her knees are spread wide enough to accommodate my shoulders.

“I’m going to make you come with my mouth. If you don’t want that, you better tell me now.”

We’re so close that I know she can feel my hot breath between her legs. She nods, her breasts heaving with anticipation.

Then I seal my lips around her swollen clit and suck—hard.

Her hips jerk up, her body trembling at my onslaught of erotic kisses. I have to hold her in place, clamping both hands around her thighs to keep her spread for me.

“Come on, baby, let go,” I whisper against her slick flesh, and then continue devouring her.

She’s breathing hard and whimpering softly, her moans so fucking sexy. Her taste, her scent, her cries of pleasure are all so intoxicating. It unleashes something inside me.

I can do this all night . . . but soon her entire body goes as rigid as an arrow and her hands push into my hair.

I lick her, over and over, smiling when she cries out.

“Oh God, yes!”

In a frenzy I lick her, my rhythm too fast, but I couldn’t slow myself down right now if I wanted to. She’s so close, and I want to be the one to take her there.

Selena shouts my name as tremors ripple through her whole body. Just as she starts to come, I push one finger inside her, unable to resist the feel of her tight body gripping and squeezing around me.

Chapter Six

Selena

Ho. Ly. Shit.

Abruptly boneless, I collapse back onto the cushions, hot and sweaty and out of breath. Justin’s mouth just blew my mind all over our living room sofa. I’m still trembling with the intensity of my release.

Justin sits back on his heels, smirking like the cat who ate the canary. Well, eating and pussies were involved, but not quite in that way . . . He makes a show of licking his bottom lip and then wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

“Wow, Snowflake. Did that feel as good as you taste? It sure as hell sounded like it.”

My brain is too scrambled to come up with a snappy retort. Or any coherent words whatsoever, really. I just nod slowly at him, admiring him anew, like he’s not just Justin anymore but some strange, exotic species I’ve never encountered before. And shit, maybe I haven’t. Just the man’s tongue sent me into a spiraling orgasm so strong I saw stars.

His grin broadens. Damn, he looks so good, I don’t even care that I’m stroking his already overinflated ego. His handsome face is flushed, his dark eyes dilated and heavy-lidded, his hair mussed from where my fingers tangled in it. And if I look down, I can see an obvious bulge straining against the zipper of his slacks—complete with a wet spot at the tip.

Kneeling up, he slides his trim, toned waist between my thighs until our chests are pressed together. His damp lips brush the shell of my ear as he murmurs, “If you want it, there’s more where that came from.”

His clothed erection rubs into my bare, oversensitized clit and I gasp aloud. Unbelievably, a tendril of new heat curls through me.

I just had the orgasm to end all orgasms, but part of me does want more. I want to touch Justin. I want to feel our bodies moving together. I want that huge cock inside me, fucking me until I can’t walk straight. I want to see him come undone—it’s only fair, isn’t it? He got to watch me while I melted into a babbling, shaking puddle.

Almost of its own accord, my mouth opens to reply. The potential for enormous pleasure rests on the tip of my tongue. Tonight can go so much further, and all I have to do is reach out for him . . .

But then what will happen? What will “more” mean in the morning?

This is far from the first time that sleeping with Justin has crossed my mind. How can it be, with a sex god strutting around me all day every day? But now that the moment has actually arrived, staring me in the face, I find myself shrinking away from it. If I say yes, there’s no going back from this decision. That awareness paralyzes me with uncertainty. What if I lose my head, my heart, my company? All over a man . . . who’s a known player.

Now that I’ve started overthinking, I can’t stop. As far as I can tell, there are only two possible outcomes. Either tonight is just casual fun, where we’re nothing more than fuck buddies, or . . . sex will change everything between us. I don’t know how I feel about either option. I’m not ready for love, but I don’t like the idea of non-committed screwing either.

And then there’s the matter of how we came to be here in the first place. We’re in an arranged marriage, for Christ’s sake. Maybe our emotions have developed along the way, but that doesn’t change the fact that our relationship was originally rooted in business. This isn’t real. It almost feels like we’re using each other—even though it’s for the greater good, we’re still sacrificing our chances of finding real love with our real soul mates in the future while we each play the role we’re supposed to.

Things have already gotten way out of hand. Fuck . . . tonight was a mistake. I never should have let Justin tempt me. I should have told him to knock it off, and gone to bed.

I’ve paused for too long. Sensing my hesitation, Justin pulls back to look into my eyes. “You okay?”

I resist the impulse to drop my gaze. “Yeah. I just . . . I’m not sure.”

Justin is silent for a moment. Almost, anyway; he’s close enough for me to hear him sigh through his nose. As if he’s debating something with himself.

Finally, he says, “Then let’s stop.”

“But you never got a chance to . . .” I can still feel that huge, rock-hard bulge against my inner thigh.

“Hey, I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.” He winks at me.

Oh, believe me, I know. My cheeks heat up, remembering what happened the last time I left him unsatisfied. But there’s a strained note in his voice, and I can’t help feeling guilty.

“I’m sorry,” I say reflexively. This isn’t fair. He made an effort to put together this cute date night, he gave me one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had, and now I won’t return the favor. I’m just going to leave him with blue balls. God, I feel like a royal bitch.

His reply comes quick and sharp. “Hey. Never apologize. I don’t want anything to happen just because you feel obligated.” Before I can blink, his serious tone melts away and he gives me his cockiest smirk. “Justin Tate doesn’t need pity fucks. When we finally do this . . .” His lips graze my neck, one last kiss, and I shiver. “I want it to be because you’re begging for it. For me.”

Then he pulls away to stand up and help me to my feet. I sway a little, still slightly unsteady. Jesus, that orgasm floored me. Maybe I should change my mind again . . .

No, I can’t. I’m not ready for more. Definitely not yet, possibly not ever.

We get ready for bed, both of us quiet. As I brush my teeth, I tell myself firmly that I made the right decision. As fun as tonight was, it will be better for us to keep our laser focus on business.

And unlike our first night at our new penthouse, I’ll plug my ears and not go snooping around if Justin’s out of bed for too long. This time I’ll know exactly what he’s doing.

Am I a bad wife? I shouldn’t care so much—it’s not like I ever wanted to be his wife in the first place. But like it or not, we’re married. And Justin is my friend. Whatever our legal relationship is, I owe him what friends owe each other.

How does Justin feel about what happened tonight? He backed off so quickly. I know he’d never pressure me into sex or make me feel obligated, but I expected a little more good-natured grumpiness. He did sound frustrated, but something about it felt different from the other times I’ve shot him down before. Almost like he was . . . ashamed? Did he think he’d hurt or scared me? Or was it just because we’d been drinking? The idea that both Justin and I might feel guilty about this doesn’t make me feel better.

I sigh. Tonight’s pleasant atmosphere has turned so sour so quickly. I have no idea what to feel here. I wish . . .

I wish Mom were still alive.

She’d be able to give me advice. She would know how a marriage is supposed to work. How to be a good wife. Dad can tell me his side of their story, but there are some things a woman can only ask another woman about. And Camryn’s just as inexperienced with marriage as I am.

Justin and I get under the covers, facing opposite directions. The few feet separating us feels like a mile. I curl up on my side of the bed, lying still and silent, and wait for sleep to take me out of this awkward situation.

• • •

The next day at work, I’ve engaged full ice-queen mode. I have to keep my defenses firmly in place, but somber thoughts from last night keep playing through my mind. As sexy as Justin is, as incredible as he made me feel, I can’t let anything distract me. All business, no nonsense.

If I start sleeping with Justin, who knows how my feelings might change? Office romances are risky for a reason . . . someone always gets hurt, and then the workplace atmosphere is ruined. No fucking thank you. Saving Tate & Cane takes top priority. My life has enough stress without adding in all the emotional entanglements that come with sex.

I’m not overthinking this, I tell myself yet again as I rinse out my coffee mug in the break room’s sink. It’s the right decision.

Someone taps me on the shoulder. “You have a minute?” Justin’s voice asks.

Crap . . . just who I wanted to deal with right now, the center of all my turmoil. But I keep my tone cool and professional as I turn around. “Yes? What is it?”

“Remember how I played a few rounds of golf with Red Dog’s CMO last week?” When I nod at him, Justin says, “He offered to refer us a new client.”

Something about Justin’s tone makes me frown. “Then why don’t you seem happy?”

“Well, he put me in touch with their campaign project leader and I talked to him—”

“You accepted his referral without asking me?” I blurt, interrupting him. By now he ought to know how much I hate being out of the loop.

“Relax. I was just putting out a feeler, nothing that would imply we’d take the gig. Anyway, they’re definitely a big fish. Willing to pay very well . . . but they would want us to partner with their in-house marketing staff.”

“Oh, Christ.” That would take away our creative autonomy and clog everything up with bureaucracy and constant check-ins. “Why even contract with an outside firm if you’re just going to hamstring them?”

“Maybe this new client is a control freak.”

I pointedly ignore Justin’s teasing wink. “In my opinion, you should find a nice way to tell them to go fuck themselves.”

“I don’t know about that,” he says with a shrug. “We stand to make a lot of money.”

“We also stand to waste a lot of time and effort wrestling with their bullshit restrictions. These guys clearly don’t trust the judgment they’re paying for—and that’s a big red flag. We have other prospective clients who’ll yield better returns on our investment.”

“We don’t know for sure that the referral is bad news. And if we can play nice with their peanut gallery for this project, maybe they’ll let us have more freedom in the future.”

“You wanted my opinion and now you have it. Do whatever you feel like.” Normally I would keep arguing my point, but I just want Justin out of my hair so I can go hide in my office and get my mind off last night’s awkwardness.

“Duly noted.” Justin’s lips quirk into a mischievous half smile. “I know I’ve said this before, Snowflake, but you’re cute when you’re a hard-ass.”

“Then I guess I’m always cute. Glad we can agree on something,” I retort frostily. I regret the words as soon as they’re out of my mouth. Shit, I meant to cut him off at the knees, but I got sucked into his stupid flirtation game instead. Why does that always happen?

Before I can anticipate it, Justin darts in for a peck on my lips. My mouth drops open and I stare at him, blinking wide-eyed. Over his shoulder, I can see Dad passing by. He pauses to give us a fond smile, as if to say, Ah, young love . . . how sweet.

Fuck no. Justin does not get to manipulate the situation like this. He can’t derail our conversations whenever he gets bored. He can’t dismiss my concerns like I’m just some silly girl playing Business Barbie. And kissing me in front of Dad makes me uncomfortable. It’s too much PDA for the office. It’s too much PDA for my family. And it’s too much PDA for my current state of mind—confused, conflicted, defensive, maybe even a little scared, if I’m being totally honest.

Drawing myself up, I give Justin my best disapproving scowl.

My annoyance deepens when Justin’s only reaction is a quizzical blink. Like he has no idea what I mean. Like I’m acting crazy and he’s being the reasonable one.

“I’m trying to have an important discussion with you, and you’re not taking me seriously. Besides, I don’t like PDA.”

He raises his hands slightly in a gesture of mock surrender. “Jeez, Snowflake, I was just playing around. What’s the problem? I didn’t think you’d still be wound so tight . . .” He lets the end of that thought—after last night—go unspoken. Which is good, because if he ever talked about our sex life at work, I might just have to kill him.

I scoff. “Right, as if one little O would turn me into your swooning cheerleader. It takes a lot more than that to make me fall—” I stop myself before I say in love.

He cocks his head, then shrugs. “A man can dream. But I’m offended that you called it just a little O.” His voice drops, all low and silky. “The way you were screaming and clawing my back . . . I could tell that wasn’t little. They probably felt the aftershocks in China.”

I’m stunned. I open and close my mouth, but nothing comes out.

“Call me unprofessional if you want. I’m willing to dial things back during the workday. But nighttime is for fun, and you can’t deny that you had a whole hell of a lot.”

I finally find my voice. “I hate to cut you off there, Mr. Tate,” I huff, “but some of us don’t have time to play grab-ass all day.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, I turn on my heel and storm away. This drama is just too much to deal with, especially on top of my responsibilities and deadlines.

I shut myself away in the safe, peaceful cloister of my office, intent on getting some serious work done and forgetting all about Justin. But almost an hour later, I haven’t accomplished anything. I’ve just been staring blankly at my computer screen, not registering any of the words or numbers or figures, utterly lost in thought.

Justin is a confusing, sexy jerk-face. However, as much as I hate to give him any points, he’s right about one thing—I can’t deny that last night was amazing. And the longer I think about it, the less sense it makes to even try denying it, and the more I wonder . . .

Why am I fighting this?

The only man I’ve ever slept with was Brad, and those encounters were always boring at best and horrible at worst. Poking at my insides with his little stick while I tried to climax and failed miserably. Maybe my bad experiences have made me more skittish than it’s reasonable to be.

If last night was anything to go by, Justin is clearly determined to get me off. And he knows exactly what he’s doing in the bedroom. If he’s that good with his mouth, I can only imagine . . . Just the memory makes me feel a little too warm. Justin can easily make up for all my years of no sex and bad sex, frustration and inexperience.

And we’re stuck with each other for the foreseeable future. At the very least, we’ll have to keep up this marriage charade long enough to get the company back on stable footing and turn it profitable again, which will be no small feat. It can take months. Long, grueling hours, incredible pressure, exhaustion, and stress. Why not take advantage of the fact that we’re in this situation together? Why shouldn’t I have a treat to look forward to at the end of the workday?

Sex has been on the horizon from the beginning. We’ve already experimented with making out, and that went pretty great. I won’t even have to swallow my pride—not too much, anyway—since Justin’s bet about seducing me in four days has long since expired.

So, what exactly am I waiting for? What’s the point of a “trial period” that never graduates into the real thing? And when have I ever gotten anywhere in life by hanging back? Sure, I’m hardly a daredevil like Justin, but there’s a difference between reasonable caution and paranoia. If I always play everything so safe, nothing will ever change. I’ll just be stuck in neutral forever. I need to take the plunge. Toss off my big-girl panties and just say screw it for once.

I give myself a decisive nod to cement my resolve. So . . . that’s that. I’m going to start fucking my husband. There, I said it. I’m going to enjoy some marital sex. I’m a mature, responsible woman—I can totally handle this. And I can always call the whole thing off if I try it and I don’t like where it’s going.

Someday, I still want my soul mate and my happily-ever-after romance. But that true love story isn’t going to happen anytime soon. Right here, right now, what I have is Justin. And that’s nothing to sneeze at. He’s one of the hottest men I’ve ever met, and more importantly, he’s good to me. Our friendship is solid; I trust him to show me a fun time and never hurt me.

What’s the worst that can happen? With that thought in mind, I set out for Justin’s office, my heart beating fast and hard.

He’s left his door wide open. When I peek in to see him sitting at his desk, he glances at me over the top of his computer screen.

“You need something?” he asks.

I come inside, closing the door behind me. This is definitely going to be the strangest proposal I’ve ever made at work. Taking a deep breath, I face Justin with as much cool confidence as I can muster.

“So,” I say casually, “I’ve been thinking. Maybe that orgasm wasn’t so bad after all . . .”

Chapter Seven

Justin

Barely an hour after she tore me a new asshole and stormed off, Selena is standing in front of my desk. And underneath her nervousness is a mischievous glint in her eye.

“No?” I tease her, pretending to be surprised. “I thought you said it was just a little O earlier.”

She shakes her head. There’s a tiny crease between her brows, and I know that whatever she’s about to propose, she’s given it a lot of thought.

I rise to my feet and come around the desk so we’re standing facing each other. I can’t help pushing her buttons a little more. “Excellent, because there’s plenty more where that came from.” I love when she blushes. She looks beautiful when she’s fully relaxed and carefree. This is my favorite version of her.

“That’s good, because I’ve been thinking. Maybe this whole husband arrangement might come in handy,” Selena says.

“Indeed it can. I have a big dick and I know how to use it. We’ve proven that even you, Snowflake, like orgasms. We have six hours between when we get off work and bedtime . . . that’s more than enough time to make you scream my name.”

“God, you’re crude.” Her cheeks flush even pinker.

Bingo.

“How would you prefer I behave, Selena? Like your little lapdog from accounting, polite and well-mannered and hanging on your every word? You’ll have to neuter me first.”

She raises her chin. She didn’t think I noticed that shriveled prick sniffing around, but I did.

“Sorry, Snowflake, but I’m a man. A speak-my-mind, fight-for-what-I-believe, bleed-for-my-country, red-meat-eating man. I don’t bow down to anyone. You want to fuck around and blow off some steam? Fine. It’ll be fun. But I’m not handing my balls over to you.”

She rolls her eyes. “Just don’t talk and we’ll be fine.”

I chuckle. It’s so fun to see her flustered.

“No, seriously, don’t speak.”

Nodding, I make a show of tightening my lips and zipping them shut.

Even I’m smart enough to know when to stay quiet. And when sex with Selena is on the line, I’m more than willing to play along. All this teasing banter is melting my little snowflake, slowly but surely . . . just according to plan.

• • •

“What is all of this? I’m pretty much a sure bet. You understand that, right?” Selena’s tone is amused, maybe even a little chastising. But there’s a huge smile on her face.

I asked her on an official date tonight. I’ve filled our penthouse with pale pink peonies from floor to ceiling—every counter and table topped with a crystal vase or a small water bowl of fragrant blossoms. I’ve even drawn her a bath with petals floating on the warm water.

“We’re not really dating. You didn’t have to do this,” she says, her tone teasing. “It’s just business. And sex. That’s it.”

I won’t admit it, but I’m a little hurt. If I did all this for any other woman, she’d be impressed and dazzled. But winning over Selena is a challenge unlike any other.

“Go get ready. We have a seven-thirty reservation.” I give her ass a playful swat.

“Yes, sir,” she murmurs, sauntering past me.

Damn . . . I’m sure she only meant that sarcastically, but I like hearing those words more than I ever imagined.

Selena heads into the master bath, and I hear her soft groan when she sinks into the water.

Knowing she’s undressed on just the other side of that door is sweet torture. But she’s told me she’s ready for sex, and that means I need to do the right thing—tell her about the heir clause in the contract.

While she bathes, primps, and dresses, I wait in the living room, trying to get my thoughts in order. Tonight might be the most important conversation I’ve ever had. The future of Tate & Cane depends on how carefully I can break this news to her.

But then she steps out from the bedroom and I forget how to breathe, let alone form coherent sentences.

“Wow. You look . . .”

“Is this okay?” She spins, treating me to the 360-degree view.

The knee-length dress is modestly cut in the front, not showing too much leg, or really any cleavage. But the back plunges all the way down to just above her ass. And the deep wine color contrasts with her milky skin beautifully.

Sweet Jesus.

“You look edible,” I stammer out.

A sly grin spreads across her berry-stained lips. “Edible?”

So much for being smooth and playing it cool. “They’ll be plenty of time for that later,” I say, recovering only slightly from the sight of her. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, but you still haven’t told me where we’re going.”

My cell phone chimes and I check the notification. “The car’s here. Come on. I’ll tell you on the way.”

I take her hand and guide her to the door, where she picks up a little silver purse and a tube of lipstick.

When we reach the street in front of the penthouse, Selena pauses on the sidewalk. “You got a limo?”

I open the door to the sleek black town car and nod. “It’s a special occasion.” Selena slips inside and I lean down to meet her eyes. “Plus I’ll be able to feel you up without crashing the car.” I grin.

Selena chuckles, warm and deep, and the sound goes straight to my head. I love putting a smile on her face. Honestly though, not driving means I can focus one hundred percent on Selena.

Tonight will be more than just the first time we have sex. Tonight is the first time I’m going to be intimate with my wife. My wife. Shit, I’m still not used to that—both the idea of having a wife and the idea that it’s Selena. But I take this shit seriously. Tonight means much more than just some random hookup. I really like Selena. I want us to work. Plus, I haven’t fucked anyone in months. My body is more than ready for this.

She slips inside the car and I climb in behind her. Since I’ve already given the driver tonight’s agenda, he whisks us away without a word.

After dinner at a nice seafood restaurant where we enjoyed lobster and wine and shared the lemon cheesecake for dessert, Selena and I visit one of the city’s best jazz clubs, seated at a tiny round table for two with a perfect view of the stage.

She reaches over and squeezes my hand while the band warms up. “Thank you. I can’t believe you planned all this.”

I shrug. “It’s nothing.”

She frowns. “It’s not nothing. Believe me when I say that no man has ever planned a date this extravagant.”

Never? That simultaneously relieves me and pisses me off a little. I’m glad that she’s impressed, but it’s a damn tragedy that she’s never been romanced properly. Of course Selena deserves all this—and more.

“Well, you’re stuck with me now, babe.”

She chews on her lower lip, and for the briefest flash of a moment, I read the hesitation on her features. I might not have been who she’d choose as a husband, but that didn’t change the outcome. Whatever happens next, wherever we go in life, I will always be her first husband. Part of me hopes I’ll be her one-and-only husband, as crazy as that sounds.

During dinner, the conversation flowed well. True, we did talk mostly about work, but it was the type of gossipy small talk that kept us both laughing. And now, we’re each on our third glass of wine, and the soft jazz music floating through the air has created an undeniably romantic atmosphere.

Selena has a subtle smile painted across her lips as she looks out over the stage. But despite the perfect evening, I can’t escape the thoughts that have lingered in the back of my head all evening. The guilt stewing inside me has reached a boiling point. As much as I want to just enjoy our date, I can’t put it off any longer. I need to tell Selena about the baby-making that’s supposed to happen. Like, now.

“Selena, I . . .”

She reaches over and touches my hand. “Dance with me?” Her eyes are filled with a hopeful longing that I never thought I’d see her direct at me. I find myself nodding and rising to my feet.

Then we’re swaying on the dance floor—her fingertips on the back of my neck, her sweet honeysuckle scent surrounding me, my hands molded to the curve of her hips like they were made to fit there. And I . . . just can’t. Not right now. This moment is too perfect to ruin.

It seems like she’s finally starting to warm to me, to the idea of us. I promise myself that I’ll tell her as soon as we get home. For now, I push the words I need to say down my throat, and I just hold her.

• • •

The instant the penthouse door closes behind us, Selena’s lips are on my throat and her hand is on my cock.

Hello there, instant hard-on.

“Whoa. Slow down, baby. We have all night.” I grip her wrist, drawing her hand away from my cock. Plus, we still need to talk. We have to.

“Fuck going slow. I’ve gone slow my entire life. I overthink every decision to death. I haven’t had sex in . . .” She pauses and looks down. “Years.”

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