#Step 9: After submission

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[unriding]

KINKTOBER DAY 9 — PREDATOR ﾉ PREY. gallagher x f!reader ﾉ delivering this basket to your grandmother sounds easy enough until you find out 1) she’s not home and 2) someone else is.

note — submission for @pixelcafe-network’s challenge friday #4. i was assigned little red riding hood for our fairytale theme!

contains — established relationship; acting ﾉ role playing. predator/prey (wolf!gallagher), tw consensual non-consent (tw cnc), oral (receiving), muffling (glove), fingering, squirting, overstim, pet names, fear play & size kink if you squint ^^;

The forest seems to be much quieter than usual.

You subconsciously pick up the pace to ease your mind. It’s as if the birds have unanimously decided to go somewhere else to sing— and even the rabbits you typically feed on your way to your grandmother’s place are nowhere to be found today.

It’s completely silent aside from your own footsteps— the only noise apart from the thoughts in your head. It’s a bit odd, you think… the sun is still out, and the weather has been clear lately. Absolutely nothing’s wrong— from what you can see, at least.

Is it just something in the air today?

You’re struck with a sense of uneasiness as soon as you reach her home. Even her door looks a bit ominous. Certainly not as cheerful and inviting as you’ve grown used to, but you chalk it up to your nerves from the strange silence. A knock would probably be fine.

Your hand hovers hesitantly over the door before you swallow your paranoia and knock once, gulping when the noise practically echoes throughout her home.

A chill runs down your spine. “..Hello?”

It falls silent again, and the fear returns to your chest. “..Grandmother? I brought you a basket of goods from the village…”

The door seems to creek open on its own at this— just enough for you to nervously peer inside. It’s empty… and normal. Everything seems to be in place- as if your grandmother had simply just vanished from the Earth. It sends another wash of nerves down your spine, but you shake it off and continue towards her bedroom.

“It has….” you call out to no one in particular, taking slow, cautious steps down the hall. “..Apples. We baked you a cake too. It’s small though— we put some strawberries in it— um.. G-Grandmother?”

You stiffen as soon as you enter her bedroom, as if on instinct. Something isn’t right- your mind must be playing tricks on you. She’s.. she’s in bed? She still doesn’t say anything to you, even when the old wood creeks underneath your weight.

It’s not right— doesn’t look right. Something’s very, very off about this. Every muscle in your body locks in place when you try to speak. “Who…. who.. are you?”

Whatever is hiding behind the blankets starts to move, and you stumble a couple steps backwards, eyes widening when it finally looks back at you— or you should really say— when he finally looks back at you.

Your heart gets stuck in your throat. That is not your grandmother.

The fight or flight response takes less than a second to kink in. You’re running faster than you think you’re even capable of, racing to the door before you could manage to let out a single scream. The world is reduced to a blur when you swiftly turn the corner—

It’s right there. You hear him chasing after you, but the door is right there. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Just a little further and—

A large hand loops around your wrist, and your body suddenly jerks backwards. “O-ow—mmph!” You stumble backwards before your back roughly collides against his chest, and the other hand clasps around your mouth only a second later.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” you hear him chuckle when you try to claw against his arm, “just where do you think you’re going?”

He’s strong- and you’re sure he knows this. Doesn’t hesitate when he lets go of your wrist to snake an arm around your waist and pull you flush against him. His arms feel big around you too.

“Hmmm…” he hums, and you gasp when you feel him dip down to take a sharp inhale directly into your pulse point, “not so fast, you lil’ rabbit.”

He laughs a bit when you try to say something against his palm. Laughs hard enough for you to feel the vibrations of his chest. His body feels warm when he tightens his embrace around you— and it’s only then when you realize whatever’s pressing into your ass feels even warmer. It feels big.

“There’s no need to panic…”

You struggle anyways. Push and jerk back hard enough to stumble and fall onto your knees, and he takes the opportunity to pin both your hands behind your back and hold you still for him.

“W-wait!”

“Hm?” He suddenly stills behind you, and the hold on your wrists loosens a little. You don’t say anything else. No mention of that word that’ll get him to stop in an instant… nothing but an impatient sway of your hips.

He lets out a gentle sigh.

“Don’t make so much noise,” he flips up your dress, and you suck in a deep breath. “It’s nothing personal. Wolf’s gotta eat. And you happen to look delicious.”

“I-I’m.. not. Please don’t kill me,” you start to beg, craning your neck to plead with the man looming over you. “I don’t think— don’t think I’ll be delicious.”

He laughs at this too. Enough to let go of your hands, and your palms slam onto the wooden floor to catch yourself from falling. “Oh, you’re just too cute, aren’t you? Making deals with a wolf? What a bold, bold girl you are.”

Your eyes widen when he slips off a glove before balling it up in his fist. “Okay then. Just one taste. If you make it, then that’s good for you, isn’t it?”

It’s your only shot. Your only chance. You give in and nod, and the smile he returns sets the deal in stone. You’d be the helpless bunny under him, and he’d be the hungry wolf.

“Mm—!” the glove is roughly pushed into your mouth the next moment, and he’s pulling your hips back towards him. “Can’t have you making too much noise, sweet bunny. What if the other animals hear and want a taste of my meal? We can’t have that, can we?

“So better behave yourself.”

You clench your eyes shut. It’s the only way you can hide. You close them tight, ball your fists up and wait for him to have his way. It doesn’t help that you’re soaked— you know you are, and you know he’ll say something about—

“Soaked through your panties?”

He pulls the fabric aside to press his palm over your cunt, and a needy whine threatens to slip out. “What? Dying to get eaten out here?” Gallagher puts a little more pressure into it now— pushes his fingertips against your clit and you jolt. How sensitive. Exactly what he wants.

“N-no! I’m not..”

“Oh,” a deep laugh erupts from his chest again, “really now? Then how do you explain this mess?”

He slides a finger inside, and the noise that follows makes your face burn. That wet? Actually that wet? No way.

“A—ah!”

He never planned on letting you respond in the first place. He starts lewdly fucking the digit in and out of you, curling it deep inside you and it’s loud. It’s embarrassing. Your thighs start to tremble from the movements— body instantly recognizing the familiar touch.

Just like a domesticated pet. “Mm. You’re drenched.”

“Gonna cover me in it before we even start?” You shake your head adamantly, and he huffs. “Haven’t even gotten a taste yet, bunny.”

“So… let’s see. Let me… take a look first.”

Every muscle in your body freezes when you feel his breath fan against your cunt. He’s so close— you can feel each exhale against your clit— feels good. Feels really, really good.

“U-um…” you mumble into your arm.

“That’s just right,” he laughs, and your walls flutter around nothing. The position he’s holding you in makes your heart pound. You’ve never had it like this. Cheek pressed against the floor and your hips held up high for him. There’s nothing for you to grab onto— nothing to hold— leaves you with no other choice but to hide your face in your arms and let him have you however he wishes. “What a treat. I’m gonna devour you whole.”

D-Devour?

It happens too fast for you. Starts with one, slow, long stripe up your cunt— he uses the flat of his tongue to get a good taste of you and you shiver and whimper.

Gallagher stills, tongue still flat against your cunt. The noise that leaves his throat next is akin to a growl— rumbles against your clit and fills your core with heat— and then it’s over just like that. The grip around your hips tighten abruptly, and he’s buried deep in your cunt the next second.

“A-ah!” You cry into your own hands, eyes rolling back into your skull. It’s messy— nothing short of primal. He laps at your cunt, flicks his tongue at your clit and pulls you flush against his face. You can’t run from it— can’t squirm or budge with the way he’s holding you like captured prey. “F-fuck!” You manage to choke out a curse, and you feel him laugh against you again.

“A vulgar little bunny, aren’t you? Thought I told you not to attract others to my meal, didn’t I? Where’s the silence?” His grip around your thighs tighten, and you yelp. “I don’t like getting distracted while I eat.”

Your hands clasp harder against your mouth as soon as the words register in your ears. Eyes clenched shut, thighs going numb, and the sound of him devouring you whole is even louder than you could ever be.

It all feels too good. Way too good. Too good for your mind to even comprehend that you’re getting close.

You don’t expect your orgasm to hit you like a truck. It comes out of nowhere and you cum hard, screaming into your fingers as you gush all over his face.

But he doesn’t stop. In fact, he doesn’t react at all. Gallagher doesn’t slow down even when you twitch and tremble violently from the aftershocks.

“A-ah, I— wait…!” He gives another squeeze around your thighs, and you think you get the message.

[sundered-sadist]

I've been getting into long(er than usual)-term edging recently, today is my 1 week mark, and I really need motivation. Can you give me one or ten reasons why I should keep being denied?

First, I’d recommend asking nicely and using manners in the future. I generally prefer using more personalized reasons, but you denial sluts are pretty easy to convince.

1. It’s selfless. Your orgasms are purely self-fulfilling and detract from the pleasure of others around you. Denial is a step towards serving others.

2. It’s addicting. As much as you say you struggle with denial, as you push yourself to stay denied for longer, you’ll learn edging is all you need. One quick edge turns into an hour of edging, and you can’t get enough.

3. It’s useful. By maintaining consistent edges, you open yourself up to more depraved, embarrassing experiences. Things you swore off suddenly become interesting, and that makes you more useful for others.

4. It’s productive. Keeping yourself in that heightened, needy state is a form of self-training and regulation. All that work you put into being a desperate mess saves dominants like myself the effort of getting you to that state. You’ll be desperately sensitive, throbbing, constantly reminded of your dominant.

5. It’s challenging. As fun as it can be, edging and long-term denial is hard. Then again, why do you deserve the easy route? Your purpose is to suffer and struggle.

6. It’s rewarding. That pride you felt after making it one week denied? Just think how much better and more accomplished you’ll feel one month in, then 3 months in.

7. It’s non-stop. Denial will start to seep into your daily life. After long enough, your mind will start thinking of edging during any downtime. It’ll be harder to leave a submissive, needy headspace.

8. It’s loyalty. What better way to display your submission and dedication to a dominant than swearing off such a powerful, direct form of pleasure? Denial helps you stay true to the power exchange.

9. It’s confusing. Eventually, their pleasure is your pleasure. You won’t really understand why, but every time they cum, it’ll just feel so, so good to you. Their satisfaction will become even more important to you, one of the only important things to you. You don’t need to know why, you only need to know it feels good.

10. It’s degrading. You truly are a depraved creature. You know this, we all know it too. You don’t get normal sex, you get used.

11. It’s a privilege. You’re lucky to receive such dedicated, frequent attention from your denial. You could go on, cumming as you like and exercising free will, but that doesn’t satisfy you. You need this, and it’s a privilege to stay denied for those better than you.

Are you feeling motivated, anon?

[pinkslaystation]

[Part 2] If I meant something to you.

toxic!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Here's part 1 hee hee hee hee Here's part 3 You believe Simon's changed his ways after your sister's engagement. After his actions, you still want him, but does he want you? Word Count: 3.6k

A half naked woman running out of Simon's flat? A surprise indeed it was.

You really thought he reciprocated the same feelings as you did at one point, for once in your life feeling as if someone truly did want you for you, but that fantasy had dried out, and it was clear Simon had no intentions with you.

Your replacement proved it.

Before you began to weep in front of the Brit again, you hurried to your flat door, rummaging through your sweatshirt pockets for your key, wanting to wallow back into a state of depression in the comfort in your own home.

Simon didn't follow you, instead he just leaned against his door frame, sexily might I add, intensely watching you clumsily rip out past receipts and snotty used tissues from your pockets. He wanted to say something, ask you how your day had been, even thought it just turned 9 A.M.

Then it hit you.

You think back to your previous steps. You woke up at 8:30, you read the texts from your sister, made yourself some coffee, which you definitely think had gone off, and left your home, feigning a state of happiness.

You didn't take your keys with you. They sat on your kitchen counter, almost like they were mocking you for being so careless.

Banging your head against the door, you curse, "Fuck's sake...."

You mentally note that this is probably one of the most humiliating scenes you've found yourself in, nearly as bad enough as your 18th birthday, when your parents congratulated your younger brother instead of you accidently.

Simon exhales a puff of smoke towards your direction, you were so fixed on trying to get inside, you didn't catch him lazily eyeing you whilst lighting a cigarette into his mouth.

"You...wanna come inside?" He asks nonchalantly, looking at the sky, avoiding your gaze as if to seem cooler than you.

"Why would I do that? I don't wanna know where that bitch has been..." You scoff, referring to the girl. You want to look away from him, but his blonde chest hair glistens in the sunlight, enticing you to follow his instructions. He's not even all military mode on you but you already find yourself acting submissive around his presence again.

He grunts, thinking about what to say next, "Well for starters, Francesca's no one...and, where else are ya gonna go?" The sarcasm is sharp in his voice.

So you were replaced by a Francesca.

"And listen love, face it, you need something from me, come in so we can talk. Can't guarantee we'll do a lot of talkin' though..." His words trails off, trying to convince you. Boy, is it working...

His eyebrows are raised, and he purposely flexes his still wet pecs.

Fuck it. You think, barging into his room, purposely bumping shoulders.

You finally enter Simon's room for the first time.

Simon wasn't completely heartless.

Yes, his childhood trauma resulted in his avoidant nature, ignoring his team in order to work alone on the field, disobeying his Captain to do what he'd deemed as best, and even ghosting you ever time you tried reaching out to you. What you didn't know though, was that Simon had given you his previous phone number, one he doesn't use anymore...

Late nights in his hospital bed led him trying to stalk you through Facebook, which no one your age uses by the way (don't tell him that), and every time his searches led him to nothing.

Had he not been so foolish, he would have manned up and straight up demanded you for your number. But he didn't, instead he told you he'd find you if he needed you, which was becoming more and more infrequent.

Yet here he lies, now clad in a loose black top and sweatpants, sitting across from you on his couch in his oddly empty room, hearing you out.

"'Kay so, your sister wants you at her engagement and you need a date, and you have no other friends but me, and you want me to be your fake date." He repeats back to you.

You hum, "For someone that didn't finish secondary school, you're quite smart."

Simon chuckles at the reciprocates banter, "And...what's in it for me?"

You scrunch your nose, "What?"

"What's in it for me." He enunciates his word, as if speaking to a baby, "What do I benefit from this?"

"Are you fuckin' for real, you've basically used me for your own pleasure, and you can't even fake a relationship in front of my family for like a couple of hours?"

You stand up, ready to leave, not willing to be disrespected again.

"Love, listen," Simon pulls on your arms, and you begin to notice the fresh scars decorating his forearms.

"Our relationship...platonic of course, it's like a business. You want something, you gotta work for it."

You're stunned, did he just insinuate that you were merely a business partner to you? Can this man be anymore of an ass, than he already is, reducing your relationship to a step below a 'situation-ship'.

"What possibly could I have that you need?"

"Yeah," he gruffs out, contemplating his decision, "not money 'cos I got more of that than you..."

He sits there in mock confusion, but you had a feeling he knew what he wanted from you the moment you spat out your request at his door earlier.

Before you try cursing him out again, your attention shifts to the ping from your phone, another unfamiliar number, but not from your sister.

10:32 A.M. ####:- Hey kiddo, how's life been treating you. ####:- Finally gotta a job? ####:- Can't wait to see you, your brother's been waiting to introduce you to his new girlfriend, good addition to the family this time I think. ####:- You're getting older now, unmarried and unemployed. Chop Chop.

Great, just a monthly reminder from your father that you've already been replaced by your brother's new fling for the week.

Now you really needed that date.

"I'll fuck you." You state.

Simon stares at your new found dominance, standing up to purposely look down at you and tower over you, disliking the sense of authority shifting between you two.

"Once again, dove."

"Just. Fuck. Me. Simon. Get this shit over with." You command.

Okay, now you actually felt used. Blackmailed into having sex with Simon, just for him to get what he wants really was the all time low for you. And you've hit rock bottom multiple times.

You wake up light-headed, in Simon's empty bed. The bedside table held a small note in messy handwriting and a singular key.

Headed out to the pub, got a spare key for your room. You better be out of there by the time I get back. Jesus, you got the hint.

You wonder why and where Simon got a spare key from, realising that this situation could have been rectified from the beginning, instead he basically coerced you into sex just to fulfill his needs.

Your mother would die if she knew what your life was like.

Walking back into your room, you shoot a text to Simon, your now fake date, informing him of the fool-proof plan you'd come up with.

As you rest on your couch, thinking about the future ahead of you, and your head unconsciously drifts to that dreaded question:

What if you hurt Simon like he's hurt you?

The next few days was filled with your evenings trying to explain the dynamics of your family to Simon and teaching him more about you.

"And what, they went to the theme park and just left you there? Ain't that borderline abuse?" He questions, a small guilty feeling arising in the pit of your stomach learning about how similar both of yours fucked childhood was like.

You shrug, used to being kicked to the curb. You stop yourself before making some remark that he has no right to act upset about your parents behaviour when he's acting no better.

You tell him your middle name, hell, you tell him the correct spelling of your first name, and you stare at him, embarrassed that this hunk has pounded at your core but doesn't even know the vowels in your name.

"And last week was my birthday if they ask, and you better tell them I celebrated it by going to the cinema with my friends." You inform him, hoping some of this information gets retained into his pea sized head.

Simon cringes, unaware of your birthday, recalling the numerous amount times you'd shot him a smile that day, urging at least one person to wish you a happy birthday. He cocks his head, "What friends?" before correctly himself, "I mean, names wise."

"....you gotta make them up."

Note to self: Make new friends.

The big day comes and you and Simon had driven to the venue of your sister's engagement party. Extravagant was an understatement. Anyone that would look at this event would assume your parents were millionaires, but they're not considering only 2 out of 3 children received trust funds.

You wore a sleek black dress with a slit by your right leg, and Simon matched with a clean black suit which, by the way, you paid for.

Though you would usually drink in his appearance, his recent brooding behaviour gnawed in your mind, so no matter how many smiles he sent your direction, they couldn't dispel the unease settling in your gut.

The first hour consisted of the pair of you awkwardly standing around, drinking numerous glasses of the finest champagne, with his broad arm hovering over your shoulder.

"Where's the family?" He asks eyeing every guy that even so glances your direction.

You shrug, glancing at your unread messages to your sister.

1:00 P.M. You:- hey :) made it, wru??? You:- looks very grand btw!! 1:29 A.M. You:- hello? where's ma? 1:37 A.M. You:- champagne's tastyyy You:- hi wru 1:59 A.M. You:- bruh did you rly invite me just to ignore me???

Simon winces at your phone, reminding himself to finally get your number so at least someone would reply to your messages.

"You made it!"

You both turn around at the chirpy voice, instantly locking eyes with your sister.

"Hey, you didn't read my texts, been here for an hour now." You question, as you're being pulled into a hug.

"Oh that was you? Sorry, I haven't saved you on my phone," she laughs. You glance at Simon almost offended by that, even though you hadn't saved her number either.

"Introduce me to the big guy!" She nudges you, and Simon interrupts you before you open your mouth.

"Lieutenant Simon Riley, and uh- also boyfriend." He extends his arm, and you can't tell whether he's faking his grin or not.

She drags his forearms, yanking him away from you and ushering him along eagerly., "You need to meet my family, come come!", as they walk off together, and you find yourself standing there, left to socialise with someone else.

At 3 P.M., you navigate yourself to your family and your 'boyfriend', whom at this point, had really seemed to fit in with the community. Your father hadn't believed that you scored a buff military commander, and if he wasn't unhappily married to your mother, you'd bet 10 quid that he'd be all over Simon.

"Served in Afghanistan huh?" He chuckles boisterously.

"Yes sir." Simon actually looks like he's having fun, displaying the look of admiration for having an almost father-like figure in his life. He begins you question why you dislike your family so much, they're great!

"And you watch football lad?" He pats Simon on his back.

"Avid fan, sir."

Your father shakes Simon's hand, immediately surprised by his firm grip, "Good man. Don't let go of this one, love." He nods towards you, his smile twitching at Simon, who's basically gripping the bones through his wrist.

You force a smile hugging into your boyfriend's side, shouldn't he be saying that to your Simon, rather than you? I mean it's either your biological daughter you've sort of brought up her entire life versus a solider you've known for about an hour.

"Son, take some notes from your sister, no wonder you're single every other day." Your father reprimands your brother, who flinches from the sudden sound of disapproval and grips his girlfriend's forearm tighter. For sure the first time you're actually than him, at finding a better fake partner.

Your mother, on the other hand, was virtually glued to the other side of Simon, gripping his biceps and fawning over his muscles to your brother, who's actually looked like the only one who saw through your facade.

"Wow, you must really enjoy the gym, sweetie." She bags her eyes, disgustingly.

"Yes ma'am."

She addresses you, for what you think was the first time in over a year, and mouths sternly, "I was wrong, I approve."

The entire event was a drag to you, something you weren't used to at all, considering the majority of your childhood was mainly you being left home during such big events, but Simon managed to enjoy the evening whilst successfully lying to your entire family.

"Me and the missus have been together for 10 months now. She's very happy." He raises his glass to you, eliciting a genuine smile from you. It was times like this that you wished that you and Simon just tied the knot and just began dating. However, you couldn't ignore those underlying feelings of a simmering anger, a desire to confront him publicly for using you for so long.

"I am..." It sounds more like a question than a reply, kissing him, in mock affection.

"You need to stay over our place, Simon darling," Your mother gleams, with your father agreeing, "You can stay in the study!"

"You mean my old bedroom?"

It's midnight, and your family have finally fell asleep in the place you once called home.

You lay next to Simon on your old bed, inspecting your previous room. The walls were no longer painted your favourite colour, but now was coated in a dull grey, your desk now replaced by a vintage looking oak table, definitely all to accommodate your father's taste. Any speck of 'you' had been wiped out from the room, and Simon wonders what young you was like.

"That was very fun...I like 'em, your family." He whispers almost inaudibly, fatigue evident in his words. His arm is draped comfortably around your neck, your head resting in the nook of his armpit.

You hum. The unfamiliar attention Simon had brought up on the two of you exhausted you, though a small part of you liked it, that now your mother actually cared about what you got up with him on a daily basis.

"Simon..." You begin, "What- what are we? If anything..."

You're anticipating his rejection.

"Neighbours..." He mouths silently.

You nod at him, hoisting yourself up on your elbows, although his eyes are closed.

"Simon. It's just that. I know it's all a show...but today it didn't feel like pretend...And when you said you wanted to marry me to my mum, it's just, I don't know, didn't feel fake you know. Felt real..Simon...Simon?"

He snores in response.

Great. You're just confessing to the thin air.

If he doesn't take you out, socialising for almost 9 hours straight will. You pass out next to him, no longer under his arm. Simon lays next to you, watching the slow rise of fall of your chest, after faking a snore.

He stares at the ceiling thinking about the day.

Come morning, and you find yourself sitting at the dining table next to Simon, who'd found himself in a hearty conversation with your parents, sister and future brother in law.

Across from you is your brother, whom you're sure didn't fall for your ruse.

His expression reveals concern as he gazes at you, almost as if he's silently urging you to unravel the tangled web of lies you've woven.

With a swift motion, he picks up his phone, arching an eyebrow in your direction, just as your phone chimes with a notification.

9:12 A.M. ####:- ik you two aren't dating. ####:- better fess up before i do

He smirks at you, your expression mirrors one of close defeat.

9:13 A.M. You:- ik you mad that she cheats on you every friday. You:- better check her private 2nd insta account before i do

Your brother looks up, hesitant to curse you out in front of everyone.

You 1, your brother 0.

Breakfast was served at this time you actually got the same amount of food as your siblings did, although Simon beat all 3 of you for it. Even though your sister was celebrating her engagement, the entire conversation was stuck on you and Simon.

Credits to your parents, because you were actually learning things about Simon, and you wonder if he thinks you're self-obsessed given that you've forced every fact about you down his throat and you haven't even given a minute for him.

"...and my Captain John Price, great guy. She loves him actually." He nudges you, breaking you from your trance.

"Huh."

Everyone on the table turn to you as Simon rubs your knee softly.

"OH. Um, yeah. Mr Price, John, um, great guy, handsome and so hot. Love him. The best really."

As you stumbled over your words, trying to cover up the slip, Simon gave you a reassuring squeeze on your knee. His eyes conveyed a silent message, telling you that it was okay and that they didn't catch you in a lie.

Your brother, however, shot you a knowing look, his expression a mix of amusement and annoyance. It was clear that he had caught onto your the slip up.

"Alright, enough about work," your mother interjected, steering the conversation away from Simon's military life. "Let's talk about something more fun. Like the wedding!"

The topic shifted to your sister's upcoming wedding, and you found yourself for once engaged in a lively discussion with your family about venues, dresses, and guest lists. Simon chimes in, his comments light-hearted and filled with humor.

As the breakfast progressed, you couldn't shake off the feeling of guilt gnawing at you. Your brother's text had reminded you that you were deceiving your family, and although it had started as a harmless ruse, it was beginning to feel like a weight on your shoulders.

After the meal, you and Simon got ready to depart, and as Simon and the rest of your family went to his car, you stood back at the front door, watching how perfect Simon fit in with them.

"It's obvious you don't like him."

You turn to the voice: your brother.

Your groan, "You again? Can't you just leave me alone, God's sake..."

"Aren't you a 'lil worried about how easily he lies though?" he taunts, "how'd you get him here? Money? Or you hold him over a secret? Maybe...sex?"

"What's your problem? Can't you just be happy I'm with someone?" You step back from him.

"Of course I am, if he doesn't like who, who else will, no? I'm just looking out for you bro. It's not gonna last, take it from someone who's in and out of relationships like your guy's in and out of other women."

You squint your eyes at him, confused.

"Grace, Josie, Francesca..." he trails off walking slowly towards the rest of the group. Francesca? That name rings a bell...

"Word of advice, don't leave your phone out in the open, I mean the amount of nudes on there, you'd think his gallery was a porn site! And without a password? Didn't know you were into whores, sis." He cackles.

And here you thought the trip had altered the dynamic.

The ride home was 2 hours too long and too silent. You contemplated your next move. Do you beat around the bush or straight up ask him if he's still seeing other people behind your back? You know he doesn't owe you anything, he is your FAKE boyfriend, right? But, why did it feel so real?

"So..." he starts.

You rest your head on the window, "So..."

His hand moves to your thigh, squeezing gently before moving towards your core slowly.

"That was fun." He states.

You hum.

"Real cool family, huh."

You hum once again, unsure what to say.

"We should do that again..."

You look at him confused.

"Are you serious? I think they still think that they have 2 kids, they focused on you the entire time-"

"Well, it's not like you put in much effort to talk, love."

That shuts you up.

He sighs at your silence, "Listen, I've been thinking."

You glance at him, hoping he'd kick you out of his car and let you walk the rest of the way home, too ashamed to be in his vicinity.

"Your parents were hinting us to take the next move you know..."

"Neighbours to friends?" You question.

He laughs, "Your family's great, your sister's and her lad, real cute couple you know, I felt at home...so I was thinking...we should try it you know, going out I guess."

You scrunch your face at him, was he really convinced into asking you out because your parents asked him? And here you were, months of trying to hint to wanting more, and the moment your demanding parents butt in, he's just going to do what they say? And the fact that he couldn't even say the word relationship.

Who the fuck does he think he is?

You cross your arms in annoyance. You were tired of being pushed around like a doormat.

Your brother's words ring through your head, as Simon drives.

It's not gonna last, take it from someone who's in and out of relationships like your guy's in and out of other women.

All the signs point towards rejecting his proposal. He doesn't want you, he just wants the safest route. You being in a relationship with him isn't going to stop him fucking other women.

Why would you waste your time with a guy to whom you meant nothing to?

So you decide to give it to him directly.

"Yes. I'll be your girlfriend."

Thank you all so much for the interactions on part 1! Means a lot :D THERE WILL BE A PART 3 LMAOOO i did not intend for this fic to be long but here we are. lemme know you're interested to be tagged in my future posts! tags -> @lilliumrorum, @kxtz3, @poohkie90, @rainlovesyou12, @restrictionsapply, @lunamoonbby, @nigthmar3moon, @thychuvaluswife, @itsnourm, @bubusi11, @owkittie

[fanaticsnail]

Mistress snail I had a dream and I fear I can’t let it go

In theory, a devil fruit could do anything, right? The dream was that maybe Katakuri (or King) accidentally got affected by a devil fruit that could shrink things- and I think you know where I’m going with this

Like obviously at first he’s annoyed and confused- he’s gone from over 15+ ft to let’s say 8/9 but then it dawn on him that he can finally feel his darling in the most intimate way without stressing about killing them. I imagine he’d RUN home and just would not be able to leave them alone until the effects wore off

OKAY BUT THIS IS AN AWESOME CONCEPT!! I have been thinking about someone with either the ability to shrink others or grow themselves. Could you imagine if you had a devil fruit that could enlarge yourself to a gargantuan size, and Big Mom clocks it immediately.

Size

Masterlist Here

Word count: mini-fic

"Finally! A worthy partner for my children! Time to set a trap, bring them home, and have them produce all of the heirs for each of them. An army. Finally, an army." And you are forced to run while you're being tracked by Big Mom and her legion of hunters.

But what if Katakuri is sent after you to bring you in, and you're running from him as fast as you can? He can see the future, he knows where you're going and what you're doing. He knows you can take him in a fight, and he'll likely be rendered defeated in any circumstances...

...So he runs to you to help you get away.

He wants you to have a free life. He doesn't want this life for you, the life of rearing offspring of monsters with him or others as your mate and spouse. He would rather help you escape than bring you home to meet his mother.

And when he does catch up, all you're met with is calming sweetness. Laying down arms, kneeling beneath you, lowering his head and exposing his neck to you, for you to do as you will. You're taken aback and test his submission by placing a blade to the back of his neck. He's not worried, he's seen the future, he knows it's just a test of his humility.

"Let me help you run from beyond where my sister's sight can reach," he'd say with all honesty and submission, "You deserve a life worth living away from Cake Island. Let me help you."

And you accept, and he does.

But what if he gets injured protecting you? Are you going to stay and care for the man who you owe your freedom to, or are you going to take this opportunity to run?

Of course not. You'll stay and help your saviour in leather armor. You'll patch him up, soothe his skin, cleanse him of all ailments. And when your eyes meet with his ruby orbs, your breath hitches as his shroud is partially exposing his teeth.

A monster, large teeth in a mouth split up his cheeks. A monster with the heart of an angel, the skills of a knight, and those beastly eyes that will haunt your dreams with the expression of gratitude and, almost, love? Love in those ruby orbs, reflecting your own expression of love within.

You finally make it to the mirrors' edge. Brulee can't see you here, and Big Mom is livid about it. Katakuri will take any punishment from his mother, so long as you're happy and free to live a life that belongs to you. As he presents his arm out to you, gesturing for you to flee on a ship to the east, you shake your head at him.

Lowering your gaze and bowing your head, you placed your hand over your heart and grew yourself to a humble twenty feet tall, far taller than Katakuri. Looking up at you, his lips part in surprise and cheeks dusted with the glow of a pink flush. Stepping sheepishly closer, you take his extended hand and lace your fingers with his own.

"Thank you, Lord Charlotte," would exit your lips, looming over him with your great height, "I will not forget your kindness."

"Nor I will forget you. -I-I mean, the kindness of your own," he would stumble, truly at a loss for words by feeling dwarfed by you.

Leaning down, you'd press a sweet kiss to the top of his head. A kiss that is sweeter than any dessert he'd ever consumed. A kiss that would haunt him on his journey back to Cake Island alone. A kiss that he so wished to reciprocate before you fled from his grasp and hid yourself beyond Brulee's reach.

But you were gone. You were finally free to live a life that was truly yours. A life free from his mother, and belonging to you completely. He was thankful for that, and should you truly desire to see him again, he would welcome it fully.

The only place he would ever see you is when you visit him in his dreams, replaying that final moment in his mind's eye each night he slumbered.

Just my thoughts on the matter.

[daddyslilchickenfingers2]

Slutmas Day 9

Subspace (Chris)

Request: None

Warnings: Sub Chris, kinda short, major mommy kink, use of a vibrator, cockwarming

“Your good boy right mommy? Always wanna be your good boy.”

3rd person pov

Lately Chris has been feeling very submissive in just about every aspect of his life, wanting to be a good boy and please everyone. Matt and Nick have noticed and keep making fun of him calling him a “little bitch” or “a baby” and it’s really starting to hurt his feelings. He doesn’t like them making fun of him over something he doesn’t understand and can’t control.

The boys hometown best friend and roommate Y/n finds it kinda cute, she’s constantly telling him he’s doing a good job and making him blush. She’s making him feel some type of way that he can’t describe but it turns him on. Chris would usually just jerk off when he’s horny, but for some reason he can’t bring himself to do it lately. He feels like he somehow needs permission from someone.

Y/n noticed her praising had an effect on Chris one day when she told him how good of a job he was doing cleaning his room. He was making his bed when she came in, “Ooo Chris you’re doing such a good job, it looks so good sweetheart” is what she told him. For some reason that sentence was enough to make him hard, he whimpered when she said it before coming over to give her a hug. Y/n could feel his hard-on against her thigh and he whimpered again as her thigh rubbed against his cock.

Chris had become increasingly clingy, always wanting to be near his brothers or Y/n. Almost like a shadow, following their every move. Once again, his two brothers found it irritating as they had no personal space. They’re constantly running into and stepping on him since he’s always in the way. Y/n found it cute that he’d follow her around, always helping her, wanting to please the younger girl. One day he slipped up as he was feeling extra submissive, thankfully Matt and Nick were not home because he’d be so embarrassed if they heard. His two brothers went to stay the night at a friends house but Chris didn’t want to go since he was now only super clingy towards Y/n.

“That’s a good boy, thank you for helping me” is the sentence that made him slip up, after he put something back onto a higher shelf for her. The words that slipped out of his mouth instantly made him feel embarrassed, “Your good boy right mommy? Always wanna be your good boy” is what had slipped out. He was about to apologize when Y/n said “Mhm you’re mommy’s good boy Chris” for some reason she was oddly turned on.

Y/n’s pov

I was loving how submissive Chris had been towards me this past month, he was being so cute and loved my praising. I swear I could’ve cum on the spot when he said “Your good boy right mommy? Always wanna be your good boy” after I had called him a good boy for helping me. His cheeks flushed a deep red shade and he was about to apologize when I put my hand on his chest and looked up at him “Mhm you’re mommy’s good boy Chris” I told him. A loud whine had fallen from his mouth when I said that as his mind went to a dirty place. He was already extremely horny from not jerking off so the next sentence just kind of tumbled out without him meaning to say it out loud.

Chris had grabbed my hand, looking at me with the most innocent face “C-Can I please jerk off mommy? I’ve been good, I haven’t touched myself in three weeks! N-Need to c-cum, please” he stated anxiously. His face was then covered in a deeper blush that spread to the tip of his ears and down his neck. “How about you let mommy make you feel good? I think my good boy deserves an award, don’t you?” I asked making his eyes go wide while I pushed his hair back a little. “Yes! Yes please, mommy! I wanna feel good!” he said excitedly.

We went down to my room and I went to go grab some lingerie to change into when Chris grabbed my wrist, stopping me. “No, please you already look so pretty, wanna see you” he quietly mumbled out, I cupped his face in both hands “Yeah, you think so? So sweet baby, now can you strip for me and go sit on the bed like a good boy?” I asked, placing a kiss on his lips. He quickly complied sitting against the headboard, his cock already dripping precum onto his stomach.

I teasingly undressed in front of Chris making him whine, only leaving my panties on before going to my dresser. I opened one of the drawers to grab a small vibrator to use on Chris, “Have you ever used a vibrator before handsome?” I asked sweetly. He shook his head no, blush creeping up onto his cheek again as I sat down to the left of him. “Have you ever wanted to use one?” I questioned, loving the way his eye went wide and his mouth slightly parted. “Yes, wanna use one please” he admitted.

I pushed some of his hair back before placing a soft kiss to his neck, making him whine when I trailed my hand down his chest. I took him by surprise when I grabbed his hard cock and dug my thumb into the slit. “M-Mommy?” “Yes angel?” “Can I g-get a kiss?” I smiled at how cute he was before moving my other hand up to his face. I smiled as I pulled him in for a slow kiss, lightly biting his lip when I pulled away, “Are you gonna listen to me and be a good boy?” I asked him.

I removed my hand from his cock making him let out a loud whine, “Please! I promise I’ll be your good boy!” he said pathetically. I took the vibrator and brought it down to the base of his cock, “Put your hands behind your back and don’t cum, okay?” I told him, “Okay mommy” he complied. I turned on the vibrator to a medium-high setting causing Chris to let out a loud gasp, I started slowly moving it up and down the underside of his cock, tracing a very prominent vein. “Can you spit on your cock for me baby?” I asked, to which Chris did almost immediately.

“Good job sweetheart” I smiled at him as I wrapped my hand around his cock, jerking him off with the vibrator. Chris bucked his hips up a few times as he moaned and whimpered in pleasure. “Feels so good, thank you mommy” he whined out, “You’re welcome, are you close to cumming yet baby?” I asked as I sped up my movements. “Y-Yeah” he said back quietly, “If I suck you off, will you be a good boy and cum for me?” I teased, already knowing the answer. “Yes mommy, wanna cum for you” he moaned as I moved to be in between his legs.

I moved my hand away and turned off the vibrator, immediately going down to suck his cock. I started off by teasing the head a bit by giving it kitten licks before deep throating him. It only took a couple of minutes for Chris to loudly moan as he came in my mouth. I swallowed and looked at him, he was panting and had a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead, making his hair stick to it. “Do you think you can get hard again so mommy can ride you?” I asked softly. Chris said “If you makeout with me I can” in a small voice.

I moved to straddle his lap, immediately pulling him in for a rough kiss. I started slightly grinding on him, slowly feeling his cock get hard again as I did so. “Ready mommy, wanna be inside you” he whined, I got off his lap just long enough to take my panties off and quickly returned to his lap. I started slowly grinding a bit, my wetness spreading across his cock. “M-Mommy, I made you that wet right? Cause I’m your good boy?” Chris inquired, “Yes baby, it was all you. You’re my good boy” I smiled at him.

“Ride me please?” he asked quietly, “Okay, are you ready?” I questioned as I lined up his tip with my entrance. Chris nodded and we both let out pornographic moans as I sank down in his cock. “You’re so big baby” I said, loving the way he stretched me out, I immediately started bouncing on his cock, making Chris whine. “Can I touch your boobs please mommy?” he asked politely after a couple of minutes. Since Chris had been good so far, I agreed and he started to fondle my breasts. He ducked his head down to suck on one of my nipple while he played with the other one, helping me get to my high faster.

“Mommy? I need to cum! Can I please cum?” Chris pleaded, letting out a loud whine at my response. “Not yet, I’m so close baby, just a little longer” I moaned back as I started bouncing faster. Chris was a whiny, whimpering mess as it was getting harder him to hold it. “Cum with my baby” I moaned as I started cumming around his cock, Chris not far behind. After a few more bounces, he was cumming inside of me with a loud moan. “Oh thank you mommy! Felt so good! I love you Y/n” his breath hitched at his last sentence, not meaning to say it out loud.

“I love you to Chris” I softly smiled back, exhausted from riding him. I was about to pull off when Chris stopped me, “Wait! Can you please cockwarm me while we take a nap?” he asked shyly, “Of course I can, you wanna lay down?” I replied. Chris just nodded, moving us onto our sides and laying down, burying his head in my neck. “Goodnight handsome” I said while playing with his hair, “Goodnight Y/n/n” he mumbled back. We both slowly drifted off to sleep, hoping Nick and Matt wouldn’t come check on us when they get home later.

All work is subject to copyright

©Daddyslilchickenfingers2 2023

Do not steal, use, or reupload my work

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[5-puthyyy]

The Apprentice (Agatha x Rio x Reader) - Chapter 10

AO3 LINK

Word Count: 7.6k

Summary:

Life has been about survival for you ever since your coven banished you for the simplest thing: desire. Since then, you've travelled from Inn to Inn, making ends meet, until you sense a powerful Magick presence coming from two mysterious women. They take you in as their apprentice and you end up learning far more than what you came for...

CHAPTER WARNINGS! -- (18+ ONLY) SEXUAL CONTENT + EDGING? + ROPE (VINE) PLAY + SLIGHT DEGRADATION? VERY MINIMAL

Ch.1 ~ Ch.2 ~ Ch.3 ~ Ch.4 ~ Ch.5 ~ Ch.6 ~ Ch.7 ~ Ch.8 ~ Ch.9 ~ Ch.10

It took you a few days to realise it, but when you finally did it hit you right in the chest. You are restless without Rio. Agatha has been there for you, holding you, coaxing you through your desires, teaching you lesson after lesson, but something is missing. And after the third night of terrible sleep, you realise you miss Rio.

“When will she be back?” you ask Agatha for the fifth time in the last two days, pouting when she sighs dismissively, “Agatha,” you whine out her name, drawing the syllables out, “When?”

The blue-eyed witch turns to you with a frown, revealing the heavy bags under her eyes that match your own. “Her job is complicated, sweetheart. We can never be sure how long she is needed for. You must be patient, and understand–”

You groan audibly and shut your eyes tight, interrupting Agatha. “Maybe I would understand if you would just tell me what it is she–”

“Did you just interrupt me?” Agatha scolds, her eyes squinting in warning. But you’ve received plenty warning from her about this, far too many for her to simply let it go.

“I’m sorry,” you start, attempting to plead your case, but Agatha cuts you off with a snarl and a typically gentle hand to your throat. It’s rough, the touch shocking you as she shoves you against the bedroom door. You’ve been spending the nights in their bedroom with Agatha, and think perhaps Rio’s lingering scent has made you miss her even more. You can even smell her on Agatha when you bury your face in her neck before going to bed.

“Sorry?” Agatha mocks, scoffing as she pushes her body flush against yours, her fingers tightening their hold on the sides of your neck. You whimper in submission, trying to tilt your head back but she keeps you still, her intense gaze still locked to your sorry eyes.

Before you can even open your mouth to apologise again, Agatha’s lips are roughly pressed to yours. Her invading tongue pushes through right away, establishing her dominance as you whimper into her touch, melting as she slides her tongue against yours, claiming you over and over again. But before you can start roaming your hands over her body, she abruptly pulls back leaving you hazed and confused.

“What?” you mumble, blinking your eyes open with a frown.

Agatha’s expression is one of controlled anger with the tiniest hint of satisfaction as she glances over your blushed cheeks, pouty lips, beaked buds through your thin gown.

“Why did you stop?” you moan in complaint, reaching out to grab at her but Agatha takes a step away from you in defiance; your frown deepens as you pout, begging for her to touch you.

The wicked witch smirks as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Naughty girls deserve to be punished,” Agatha says simply, walking away before you can protest. You’re left with your mouth hung open, equally shocked and turned on. Is this your punishment? Because you would much rather be spanked than have your desires ignored.

“Wait, please–”

Agatha cackles as she continues walking to the little washroom attached to the bedroom. “Begging will not work, sweetheart. You need to learn your lesson. Now, go tend to the garden, and wash yourself up afterwards. We’ll be headed to the Inn this evening.”

The Inn. Your Inn. With Catherine, the innkeeper’s daughter who very clearly provoked a certain type of reaction from Agatha and Rio the last time you were seen with her.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” you ask timidly, turning your head away from Agatha’s intense glare as she spins back. You take that as your answer and nod, leaving the room and shutting the door behind you with a soft thud.

Well, fuck.

Perhaps it wasn’t your best decision, but since Agatha refuses to touch you the best you could think of was making that task as hard as possible for her. Perhaps she’ll break, or it’ll only anger her further. You’ve come to learn that an angry Agatha is either the best or worse outcome; it’s the worst when the anger turns into yelling, tears, and a deeply painful feeling in your chest, but it’s the best when it turns into smirks, rough hands and angry kisses all over your skin.

Picking out the best dress possible was easy enough since you only have a few anyway. The cut of the top half is enticing enough without the undergarments you opted for, the special kind that pushes your breasts up as high as possible. Your corset is dark, black, intricately laced and worn over your dress as a statement; that statement is clear enough to Agatha it seems, her eyes darkening the moment you step out of your bedroom to show her just how ready you are to go.

“Is it time already?” you ask innocently, your tone teasing and playful. The smile you flash at her is knowing as she cannot keep her eyes away from your chest. She’ll look up at you trying to hold your gaze but those poor blues inevitably bounce back down. Part of you thinks (hopes) Agatha will decide right here and now to skip out on the Inn and devour you right here in the hallway, but instead she gathers her composure and straightens her back.

“If you think I will give in to these childish games, you do not know me well enough.”

You lift a brow as she brushes past you, faltering in her step when she’s close enough to get a whiff of your scent. Her head snaps to you, suddenly gripping you by the neck to pull you closer. A gasp is ripped from your throat as her nose presses against your skin.

“Is this…”

Rio’s perfume. It’s a special mix she makes just for herself, a brand, a unique blend that is distinctly her. Agatha growls at the realisation that you must have snuck back into the room while she was napping earlier and taken Rio’s perfume from the nightstand.

“Oh, I’m sorry…Was that not permitted?”

Her jaw tightens at the faux innocence in your tone. Before she can stop herself, she leans in and sinks her teeth into your skin, giving you no warm up whatsoever. You gasp, hands immediately skying up to grip at her free hair. Every time she has her hair down like this, you cannot help but obsess over it. It’s so soft, so pretty, so wild and free and so Agatha.

“Whose attention are you trying to get tonight?” Agatha growls against your neck, sucking, biting, her hot tongue swiping over the wound.

“Yours,” you gasp, arching your body closer to her, “Always yours.”

Though she may not believe you completely, she still pulls back satisfied with your answer, and the bright smirk on her face as her eyes lock onto the mark she has left lets you know she’s satisfied with how she’s branded you. Your stomach drops, twisting uncomfortably with the thought of Catherine seeing the mark and understanding the insinuation.

Agatha senses your discomfort and it only fuels her excitement for tonight. The two of you are out the door before you can protest further.

The sound of lively music and laughter can be heard from far out. It seems the Inn is busy tonight, or the people are louder. Whatever the reason is, you still hear it as you see it in the distance, Agatha’s hold tightening around your linked arms as you approach. It’s a innocent enough touch, but one that you two share the secret of. It’s exciting, you think, the sinking feeling in your stomach turning into something else close to desire. To sit by her, have her hand trailing up and down your thigh under the table for no one to see but for you to feel…

Just the thought has you clearing that ball forming in your throat, catching Agatha’s knowing smirk shot your way. She wraps her arm around yours tighter, pressing her side to yours as you reach the door.

“Best behaviour,” Agatha warns teasingly, nipping at your ear discreetly before pushing the door open, letting everyone see the bright blush on your cheeks. The loud roar of joint singing hits you as the door opens; along with the sounds of boots hitting the ground, fists slamming against tables, and the men playing their fiddles in the back, it’s almost overwhelming. But it’s been some time since you’ve last been here, been around people in general other than Agatha and Rio, so you allow yourself a moment of adjustment. Agatha stays firm beside you, grounding, supportive, guiding.

You’re too distracted, watching over both the familiar and new faces in the crowd. The same group of gossiping grey women are sat in their corner, their typical scowls taken over by cheerful smiles as they join the crowd in their joyous singing. The main singing man is the same as he always is, immediately grinning widely when his eyes catch yours. He sings and sings and sings, stomping on the table as he does so, tipping his hat to you in the middle of his dance.

“There is a tavern in the town, in the town, and there my true love sits him down, sits him down, and drinks his wine as merry as can be, and never, never thinks of me!”

You begin to clap along with them, a soft smile on your lips as you reminisce. Despite you needing to hide yourself and look over your shoulder all the time, it was still a unique, warm feeling to be part of this community. You were still yourself, only showing them the parts that were safe enough to reveal.

“Fare thee well, for I must leave thee, do not let this parting grieve thee, and remember that the best of friends, must part, must part.”

Agatha’s hand is back, her touch warm and firm against your lower back. She passes you a pint, a half-smirk on her lips as she observes your freeing expression. Her reappearance is a reminder of what you left for. A soft warmth takes over your insides, making it incredibly hard not to lay a gentle kiss over her lips at this exact moment. She’s well aware of your struggle, finding it just as difficult; you can tell by the way her eyes go hooded, zoning into your pink, plump lips.

“Adieu, adieu kind friends, adieu, adieu, adieu, I can no longer stay with you, stay with you, I will hang my harp on the weeping willow tree, and may the world go well with thee.”

Those eyes look even brighter with the candlelight here, those blues tinted a soft orange as they glitter and glow at you. You can’t help but reach to hold her hand in yours, squeezing once, twice, pulling away when it crosses over to inappropriate.

The two of you make your way to a table near the back, badly lit so dark enough for no one to really want to be seated there. Agatha sits across from you, both your dresses long and puffed enough to prevent anyone from seeing her sneaky antics. She slowly lifts her leg, the one closer to the wall and hidden behind her other, and slides her foot under your dress. 

You only realise what she’s doing when you feel her warm foot brush against your ankle; the sip of alcohol you were drinking catches in your throat. “Agatha,” you gasp quietly, terrified of what others may say if they catch you.

The wicked witch grins at you slyly, hiding her smile behind her own pint. “What?” she says, feigning innocence with a dramatic hand to her chest. But you cannot be fooled, not when her foot trails even higher, wrapping around your calf.

“We cannot. Not here, not where Cath–” you cut your own sentence short, cheeks tinting at the mix-up. Agatha’s touch is immediately gone, the humoured expression now taken over by a quiet discomfort. Before she spirals, you try to interrupt her thoughts, “Agatha, I simply meant that she may recognise you and make certain…assumptions. Your anger was very palpable that night. Surely you understand why I am feeling a little…”

“What?” Agatha scowls, “Protective? Why must you care what she feels? Let her assume, because her assumptions are the truth, are they not?”

A frown takes over your face as you take in her words. You’re unsure why she’s this angry about it. Surely keeping your secret is important, no? Especially considering Agatha’s past, discarded and thrown aside for being different. She should understand where you’re coming from…but below the anger, you see a hint of something else, something vulnerable that looks dangerously close to insecurity.

“If what she assumes is that I lo–”

“Y/N?”

Both your heads snap to the sound of your name, landing on Catherine, stood with wide, green eyes, a beautifully intricate beige and pink dress flowing to her ankles, and her blonde curls tight just below her shoulders. Agatha surprisingly contains herself, offering Catherine a thin, forced smile; you figured she’d jump up over the table with a growl.

“Y/N, oh, God, how are you? Where have you been?” Catherine rushes over to the table, her heels clacking against the floorboards. Instinctively, you stand up and let her hug you, wrapping your arms around her when she falls forward a little, tripping over the edge of your chair.

“Catherine,” you mumble with a soft laugh, “It’s good to see you,” pulling away from the hug doesn’t seem to work as you attempt to put a little distance. Catherine simply pulls you back closer, so close her nose is just an inch or so away from pressing to yours.

“I have missed you,” she says in a whisper, eyes hooded as she stares into your own, “Dearly,” she adds, her voice turning dark, deep, a clear attempt at a rasp.

The clearing of a throat pulls her attention away. While your head turns to Agatha expecting the sound to have come from her, Catherine’s turns the other way. When your eyes meet Agatha’s blues, there’s a humoured glimmer in them. She lifts a brow, pointedly looking over your shoulder and you have a feeling you’re about to be in deep trouble.

Slowly, you look over to the other side, gasping softly when your eyes land on Rio, stood with a deep glare over her face, a clenched jaw so dangerously sharp, eyes that could kill with a blink. Her black dress is scandalous to be wearing in public, tight around her curves which you can only see because she’s kept her oversized green cloak open at the front.

“Rio,” you whisper, immediately pulling away from Catherine to jump forward. Once the shock dissipates, all that is left is pure want, your heart yearning to be as close to her now that she’s back.

She has no time to react as you fall into her, arms wrapping around her neck; hers dangle for a moment awkwardly before sinking around your curves, pulling you in possessively tight. You can hear her breath hitching as her face presses into your neck, sniffing deeply; her hands grip your waist tight as she recognises her own scent on you, softly growling into your neck.

She’s so impossibly cold but you don’t care. Her touch is what you’ve been needing for so long, her scent, her presence, so comforting and protective. The way she holds you tight against her as if you belong to her, like she’s missed you and ached for something as simple as a hug, needing you just as badly as you need her. You forget yourself for that moment, falling into her safe arms and melting as she buries her face in your neck and refuses to leave it.

But suddenly, Catherine is laughing awkwardly, forcing the two of you to let go for a moment. It breaks you out of your Rio-bubble for a moment, panic filling your stomach at the closeness Catherine just saw. It seems to have broken Rio out of her Y/N-bubble too, her anger back as she stiffens against you, effectively pulling away until you’re no longer touching.

“New friends?” Catherine asks with a confused half-smile.

It definitely isn’t your best move, but you can’t think of anything but run and decide to pull Catherine away from the two angry witches. “Why don’t I buy you drink? Catch me up on how the Inn has been!”

Minutes later, you realise it was possibly the worst decision you could have made in that moment. Catherine started, and would not stop. But that wasn’t even the biggest problem; that was Rio across the Inn with the deepest of glares to begin with, but that since then has shifted into something you cannot decipher. It’s blank, dark, but she’s refusing to look at anything but you. Agatha’s hand is glued to Rio’s, running a thumb back and forth to soothe her, but it doesn’t do much to calm the bouncing of her knee as she watches Catherine continue to flirt with you.

Perhaps you should go back? The way you’re laughing back dangerously looks like flirting too, especially when she gets closer and closer to you, her hand touching your own, brushing over your bicep, tucking your stray hair behind your ear. And you do nothing to stop it. Part of you starts to enjoy it, though you will never admit that to the two witches across the Inn. You enjoy Catherine’s friendship, and there is no harm in her flirting; it feels good to be wanted. But within minutes you find yourself wanting nothing but Rio, Agatha, your little cabin away from the chaos that comes with this Inn.

It’s more than chaos, but fear. Of not fitting in, of revealing too much of your past, of the lack of acceptance. Agatha and Rio have given you that and more, all you could have ever wanted. Finally coming to a decision, you clear your throat, interrupting Catherine’s story.

“I should head back to my…friends.” 

Catherine frowns, turning to glance over her shoulder to them. “They look awfully familiar…”

“Oh, you must have been drinking too much to remember. I met them here, they sit in that corner all the time!” you laugh nervously, hoping the lie works.

Catherine remains suspicious but drops it when she realises she has bigger problems, one being you disappearing on her again. “Have you been staying elsewhere? Or working? Somewhere far away? I really do miss you, Y/N…There’s so much I think about, so much I would like to say to you but I feel…I feel it may be inappropriate and almost futile to do so if you will not be around.”

“Y/N,” Rio’s raspy voice is easily recognisable to you, suddenly appearing by your side, “We must go,” she says with finality, her tone making it crystal clear that it’s an order, not a suggestion.

“Sorry, I don’t believe we have been properly introduced,” Catherine shoots Rio a bright, beautiful smile, as if she is trying to crack the hard interior being thrown her way, “My name is Cath–”

“And we will not be introduced. Y/N.”

Shooting up out of your seat, you give a confused and offended Catherine an apologetic smile, promising to see her soon. You try to follow Rio out, opting out of a hug, but Catherine practically forces you into one, whispering a soft ‘be careful’, clearly interpreting Rio’s abrupt nature as a danger. You can’t help but laugh.

By the time you step out of the Inn, Rio’s already a walk ahead so you practically run to her. “Rio! Rio, wait, is Agatha not–”

“She’s staying for another drink or so,” Rio answers bluntly, not turning back to look at you as she marches in anger.

A frown forms on your lips and you stop, crossing your arms over your chest in annoyance. “Why are you being this way?” you complain, yelling out as she’s still ahead of you. 

That seems to catch Rio’s attention; she slows before coming to a stop. “Why?” Rio repeats, the anger shaking her voice as she turns to face you, “I have been gone, and it has been excruciating being away from Agatha, and you,” she says, emphasising you, “And I am finally able to come back. Just to track the two of you, and find you draping yourself over some other woman. In front of Agatha, nonetheless.”

You gulp as she steps closer to you, finally coming to a stop right in front of you. She’s not much taller than you, but it feels like she’s towering of you in this moment as she glares deeply, trying to mask her hurt with anger.

“Not only have you been disrespectful to me, but to Agatha, too. And on the very day you were being punished for whining like a child? My, you really are stupid, aren’t you?”

Her harsh words feel like a slap across the face. Rio’s been angry, distant, but cruel is not a word you’d use to describe her. Before you can even open your mouth to apologise, you’re transported back to the cabin in a cloud of green smoke. Stumbling as you try and gather yourself, your arm ends up gripping her bicep. Rio can’t help but pull you closer at that, lifting you into her arms and pressing you up against her bedroom door. Before she kisses you, she pauses a moment, breathing in your gasps and soft breaths, eyes so beautifully brown, wide and intense.

“I wish I did not have to punish you this moment,” Rio mumbles, sighing as she memorises every crease in your forehead, the curve of your nose, the plump shape of your lips, “I have missed you dearly, my sweet…” Rio’s voice turns soft for a moment before she growls, “If only you missed me so.”

Her lips crash against yours, claiming, possessive, and rough; she sucks at your bottom lip roughly before nipping at it in soft punishment, groaning as you whimper against her. She allows you only a few seconds of roaming hands, nails scratching along her back through her cloak, but before you can go any further your hands are pulled back, a rough material wrapping around them in seconds.

“What is that?” you mumble as Rio pulls away from your lips for a moment, satisfied as she observes your flushed cheeks and dazed eyes.

“No touching,” Rio commands simply, tugging at the contraption holding your hands together, “It’s about time you’re introduced to my vines,” she chuckles playfully, trailing softer kisses down your neck as you sigh and turn your head to the side. Rio’s pleased with your obedience, immediately marking your new skin with her teeth, tongue, lips that suck and kiss tenderly.

“I did,” you gasp out, arching your body towards her when you tug against your restraints aimlessly.

“Did what?” Rio whispers against your neck, licking up to the spot just behind your ear. She sucks harshly, coaxing a choked moan out of you, smirking against your skin as she does so.

You struggle to keep hold of your composure, the ache between your legs growing by the second, but you manage to push you, “Miss you. I did miss you, Rio.”

She falters in her kisses, her grip on your waist loosening for a moment of weakness. “And here I was,” she chuckles, “thinking you liked Agatha more than me,” she jokes, but you can hear the vulnerability and insecurity she’s attempting to mask. 

With a frown, you brush your nose against her cheek, trying to get her attention. It takes a few frustrated attempts but she finally pulls back to look into your eyes with a sigh, and a tight jaw. “Why would you think that?”

Rio mumbles incoherently, choosing to ignore your question and silence you with a rough kiss. Her tongue slides against your bottom lip before slithering through, brushing over your teeth, tongue, the roof of your mouth as if claiming her territory. You let her do so, finding this to be a comfort to her; if she’ll ignore your words, you’ll let her take you as she pleases until there is not a single flash of uncertainty left in those beautiful brown eyes.

All you can do is submit to her touch. She yanks at the restraints, tugging you forward to follow her to the bed. But instead of sitting you down on it, she pushes at your shoulders until your knees hit the ground. Looking up at her with parted lips, you take in just how ethereal she is. Her brown locks look untamed, frizzy and almost as wild as those eyes. She almost looks feral, but still controlled as her eyes follow the movement of your neck as you gulp.

“You missed me?” Rio asks softly, her hand reaching to gently hold your jaw.

Sighing and leaning into her touch, you blink softly. “I did.”

Rio shoots you a small, satisfied smile before it turns dark, her jaw clenching and hand sliding down to your neck. “Then show me.”

You’re well aware that your hands are tied, but the look of desire Rio shoots down has you tugging, desperate to pull at her thighs until your face is pressed exactly where she wants it. With a chuckle and flick of her fingers, her clothing falls off her body, pooling at her ankles. Seeing her now, entirely naked, all smooth, tanned skin…God, you don’t know how you haven’t collapsed yet. Forgetting to take a breath causes you to get a little lightheaded but Rio’s hand is right there to keep you upright.

She leans down, her concerned but humoured eyes meeting yours. “Should I take that as a good sign?” Rio teases, her thumb brushing over your cheek.

Without uttering a word back, you slide your face against her hand until her thumb’s pressed against your lips. Rio’s eyes turn a shade darker, hooded as you flick a tongue out, teasing her for a moment before wrapping your lips around the tip of her tongue. And then you suck, hard, cheeks hollowed, and Rio can’t control the gasp that escapes, can’t control the way her teeth clench together, the wetness gathering between her legs and coating her inner thighs.

With a growl that almost sounds close to a whine, she rises back up to her feet, hands gripping onto your locks tightly. The two of your move together, you moving your head forward while she pushes you closer until your tongue is sliding through her slick folds. You moan in unison at the first touch, Rio almost quivering with desperate want.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so good at that,” Rio’s praises shoot right down to your core; your thighs press together, desperate for the tiniest spark of friction. Tugging at your restraints doesn’t work again as you feel the urge to grip at her thighs and pull her closer. Rio does the work instead, using your mouth for her pleasure.

Her nails scratch along your scalp as she rolls her lips languidly, trying to savour the moment, all the while maintaining eye contact with you. The way she looks down with her lips parted practically panting like she’s in heat drives you to insanity. Eager to please, you swirl your tongue around her entrance, teasing it before sliding in with ease.

“Yes, just like that,” Rio hisses at the feeling, staggering for a moment before grinding down harder, wanting more of you inside her. It takes another minute of your tongue expertly twisting and swirling inside her before a disgruntled whimper escapes her, and within seconds she’s twisted around, pushing your head against the edge of the bed to let it down.

“Please,” you pant out the moment your tongue slips out of her, licking your lips for more of her sweet taste, “I want to make you–”

Rio cuts you off by pushing her lips against you again, letting you drown in her with desperate, muffled moans. She lets out the same as she grinds her clit over your tongue hard, fast, her rhythm faltering.

“Yes, fuck, Y/N,” she moans your name, throwing her head back as she practically mounts your face smothering you between her thighs, “So good for me,” she pants, “So pretty,” she gasps, her head bouncing back to look you in the eyes as she reaches her climax. It’s that, seeing that desperate, eager-to-please look, the clear submission, hands tied but tongue obedient to her. That’s what pushes her over the edge.

She whines as she comes, hips twitching, so close your nose is buried in her. Wanting to see just how far you can push her, you suddenly wrap your lips around her clit, sucking while flicking your tongue. It forces a high-pitched scream from her throat, desperate, croaky, so incredibly sexy you feel your own heat throbbing in response. God, you could come just from this, you’re sure of it, whimpering and whining around her clit as you pulse, empty and desperate to be filled.

Once Rio pulls herself back, you lick at your lips again, panting up at her with lust-filled feral eyes. She groans at the intense gaze you give her, clearly taken by you; she can barely contain herself, forgetting you’re meant to be punished for your behaviour as she drops down to lick herself off your face. Her tongue slides over your skin, your chin, neck, wherever she finds herself before slipping past your lips.

You moan into the kiss, letting her set a languid pace as your tongues dance together softly. “Please,” you beg, whispering against her lips as she pulls back for a moment, but she ignores you, kissing you again and again until you’re whining, trying to grind up into nothing, “Rio, please.”

She chuckles wickedly, biting on your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, but the pain is gone just as fast as her tongue swipes against it. You’re confused for a moment on how she’s done that, but you’re too distracted to ask, your desire ever-present in a messy, heated pulse between your legs.

“Are you forgetting this is a punishment?” her hand slides up your chest, pinching your nipples through your dress, “This is quite the outfit,” she mumbles hungrily, watching your breasts push up as you heave, “Were you trying to impress that whore?”

“No!” you immediately protest, shaking your head vigorously, “I swear it, I was only attempting to frust–” you cut your own words off, realising you’ve fallen into a trap. Rio grins in satisfaction, tipping your head up with a finger to your chin.

“Frustrate…Agatha?”

There’s a silence as you refuse to answer, terrified of the repercussions. But you’re already in them, already experiencing them. It seems Rio is being creative with her punishment tonight, choosing to ignore your desires completely knowing it would drive you to the very brink of losing your composure.

Rio rises to her feet, your face directly in front of her glistening heat again. But this time she swirls her fingers, controlling the vines. More of them manifest, this time gripping your ankles too, and separating your wrists; you’re pulled up the bed until you’re spread across for her. With another snap of her fingers, your clothes suddenly disappear, but she leaves the tight black corset over your stomach just for her satisfaction.

“You’re so beautiful…” Rio says with wonder, running her slender, cold fingers over your legs, thighs, purposely ignoring the obvious mess between them, “Something as beautiful as this deserves to be worshipped…too bad you won’t be touched tonight.”

A pout springs and tears immediately fill up in your eyes. Surely she must be teasing? Just a threat to make sure you behave? “I’ll be good, I promise, please,” you plead, your voice quivering in fear.

Rio falters for a moment before her hard gaze steadies again. Her touch is cold, dangerously so, but you crave it so, pulsing with need; within seconds she’s left you, walking into small washroom attached to their bedroom. Rio ignores your pleas, your desperate cries for her to come back. As much as it pains her, you must be punished for your bratty behaviour.

By the time she comes back, you’ve quieted down to soft whimpers, the pout still painted on your swollen lips. You perk up when you see her, trying to lift your neck to see what she’s hiding behind her back.

“It seems you have forgotten who you belong to,” Rio rasps, “And that as much as you are ours…we are also yours.”

Her words hit hard, harder than you expected them to. There’s nothing to do but watch her in adoration, wanting to voice your own feelings too but finding your throat too dry to speak those words. Rio hums as she observes but then reveals what she’s holding behind her back. You immediately tense up as your eyes lock onto the leather cock, made of a dark green material this time. It’s slightly thicker but shorter than the one she had used last time, but it makes you hungry for it nonetheless, desperate for the stretch.

But Rio shocks you this time as the vines let go of your ankles just for her to start sliding the harness up your legs. “Wait, what are you–”

“I told you, Y/N. You will not be touched tonight,” she says with finality, leaving no room for argument. Even as you open your mouth to protest, she stops you, climbing on top you and crawling like a cat until two of her fingers slip past your lips. Moaning at the filthy act, you swirl your tongue between her fingers, sucking gently, obediently, eyes locked to hers trying to entice her. But she doesn’t give in. Instead, she simply smirks at your pathetic desperation and rolls her hips over the fake cock between your legs.

Rio sighs softly at the first touch, letting it pass through her folds to slick it up. It doesn’t take much; not after your eager tongue and the long wait while she’s been gone. You gasp around her fingers, and she stutters, eyes locked to yours while lifting her hips up, using her other hand to adjust the cock. Rio sinks down, gasping at the filling sensation. It stretches her deliciously, and clearly it’s been a while for her given the slow, sensual pace.

“Fuck,” she curses softly, leaning forward to press her forehead against yours, fingers still buried in your mouth. You suck on them when you wake up from your haze, bringing her urgency back to life. She gasps again as she bounces down hard, so hard the lewd sound of your bodies meeting echoes in the room.

Rio pushes her fingers further in, forcing a gag out of you; the sound only excites her as she begins a slow but hard pace, sitting up until she’s nearly empty then slamming back down again with a loud groan. Though you’re turned on beyond belief, all you want to do at this moment is hold her, grip her waist, mouth at her breasts. You want to feel her, to guide her through her pleasure.

“Please,” you beg, muffled with her fingers still in your mouth. Rio continues to ignore you, too caught up in seeking her own pleasure. The wet sound of her pussy clamping around your cock is dizzying, paired with her enticing moans and you’re a goner, “Fuck, please, Rio,” you beg, but your pleas only urge her on more. 

She bounces down harder, grinding her hips against yours to seek friction over her clit, but she sees it’s not enough she risks taking her fingers out and giving you the ability to speak once again. Those same fingers, wet from your mouth, slide down to her clit right away as she sits up.

“You’re breathtaking,” you gasp, finally able to look down between her legs where you two meet. She’s practically shining, absolutely soaked; her slick coats both your thighs, sticking to the leather cock as it pistons through her over and over again, “Fuck, Rio, please, I want–”

Rio breaks your words with a loud moan, using her other hand to grope at her chest. “I already told you, sweetheart. You’re not getting touched tonight.”

You groan in frustration, hands turning into fists as you fail to contain your needs. “I don’t care, Rio, I just want to touch you!”

The witch falters on top of you, not expecting you to be that desperate for touching her. “You–” she stutters, moaning softly as a roll of her hips has the cock pressing up all her sensitive spots, “You want to touch me?” Rio asks again, her tone curious, surprised, eyes wide and analytical as she stares down at you.

The way she’s looking at you is almost hypnotic. “Please, let me, just let me hold you,” you whimper, tugging against the restraints again.

Rio leans down, her lips hovering over yours and pulling back when you reach up too close to kiss her. “Really?” she whispers, brushing her nose against yours as she wraps herself around you, “You want to touch me, baby?”

A whimper escapes you. “Yes. Please, I need to touch you.”

Rio sucks in a harsh breath, gripping your jaw for a moment, just looking at you before pouncing down like a cat. Her lips attach to yours in a tender but controlling kiss, moaning into your mouth as you brush your tongue against hers. She begins slamming her hips down against you again, whining into the kiss. 

This time when you tug, you pull hard and the restraints fall with your wrists. Not wasting a second, you reach down and grip her waist finding her skin warm to the touch now. Rio leans into the touch, pressing her body down to yours as tight as possible.

“You feel so good, so warm,” you pant against her lips, nipping at her lower lip playfully as your hands slides to her backside. You indulge for a moment, squeezing to see her reaction; she groans, grinding her hips hard enough for the pressure to build up on your own clit, “Fuck, yes.”

Rio swallows your gasp, unable to keep her lips off yours. With your grip hard and secure, you help move her up and down, lifting your own hips up to meet her halfway. Your eagerness drives Rio crazy, warming her stomach with desire and adoration for you; she leans down whining against your lips, brushing over them every few seconds as you thrust into her.

“Wanna see you come,” you mumble incoherently, eyes wide with feral desire. All you have is one goal and that is to make her unravel before your eyes.

Rio groans possessively at that, sliding her tongue through your lips in a quick goodbye before she sits up again. She literally rips the corset still covering you, throwing it to the side. Her nails dig into your stomach as she holds for balance, keeping her hooded brown eyes locked to you. She’s close, you can tell by the faltering grinds, the moans bordering on whines, how her legs suddely weaken, allowing you to move her instead.

With quick movements, you let go of her backside and slide a hand between her legs. Your thumb presses at her clit, rubbing hard circles as she gasps, twitching on top of you. “Come for me,” you beg, “Please.”

“Say it,” Rio demands between gasps, hanging on by a thread.

You immediately know what she’s requesting and grip her hip tightly. “I’m yours, Rio.”

With your clear, certain words, Rio’s neck snaps back, body arching as she slams down onto your cock. You keep thrusting up, grinding into her and rubbing your thumb over her clit, watching with parted lips at the work of art on top of you. Her skin flushes as she reaches her high, red blooming over her chest, neck, those rosy cheeks.

You can’t help but lean up, ignoring the pain in your abdomen muscles at the stretch; you need your lips attached to her in some way. Your mouth finds her neck, sinking your teeth possessively; Rio’s hand curves around to the back of your neck to hold you tight against her, gasping, panting, barely able to utter a word, but her eagerness for you to stay is all the praise you need.

“Y/N, baby,” Rio moans, voice hoarse, hips twitching as your thumb decides to slow down and let her ride her way back down. Only when she tugs on your hair do you slide your thumb away, holding onto her ass instead to help her gently grind until she’s had enough.

Rio hums in satisfaction as she climbs off your lap, rolling until she’s lying by your side. She pulls you into her arms and you eagerly bury your face in her neck, letting her earthy scent melt over you. You refused to squirm despite the painful pulse of neglect between your thighs; you’re determined to take your punishment as is. Perhaps you’ll be rewarded tomorrow morning for it, or–

“You’ve been so good, sweetheart,” Rio murmurs against your nest of hair, leaving a gentle lingering kiss on your forehead, “Do you think you deserve a reward?” Rio asks, playfully nipping at your ear.

You can’t help but softly whimper at the teasing touch, already feeling her hand creeping up around your waist. “I deserve what you feel like giving.”

Perfect answer. You can tell from Rio’s wolf-like grin as she slithers down, leaving soft yet possessive kisses along your skin. She slows once she reaches your stomach, taking her time to mark you, claim you, making sure you have a reminder of who you belong to. The leather cock is long gone by now, thrown onto the floor as Rio undoes the harness with ease.

“Please,” you sigh, squirming up against her stomach, ensuring she can feel just how soaked you are for her. The warm slick pulls a groan from the depths of her throat. Rio scratches your sides on her way down until she reaches your thighs, tugging them over her shoulder. She takes no moment to observe, to tease, to lick the wetness around your inner thighs. No, Rio dives right in like a hungry wolf, unable to contain herself from slipping her tongue directly through to your inner walls.

You feel yourself immediately clamping down around her hot, expert tongue as she curls it, swirls, finding every spot to make you weak in her arms. You’ve been so worked up you’re already so close – which is likely why she’s avoided your throbbing clit. Letting her savour the moment, you arch your back and dig your fingers into her scalp, pushing her further into your wet core.

“God, I’m–Fuck, this is–” you stumble and stutter around, unable to form a coherent sentence, already seeing spots in your vision. The pleasure is searing, bordering painful from the edging, from her neglection, from the pressure of her pounding on top of you, “Rio, fuck, don’t stop, please.”

Rio hums against you in answer, the vibrations rushing straight through to your clit. It has you gasping, thighs tightening around her head. You’re worried for a moment on how she could possibly breathe down there but Rio simply growls hungrily, sliding her tongue out to lick through your slit, refusing to let a drop go to waste. 

Before you can protest, feeling so empty, Rio’s fingers replace her tongue, curling in deliciously hitting that spot that makes you see stars. She allows your thrown back head, allows you to groan and moan and thrust your hips up against her face, her fingers. Seeing you so free, taken with pleasure is an astonishing sight for her. 

“I wanna–Fuck, please, please make me come,” you moan out pathetically, your cheeks flushing in humiliation at how desperate you sound. But Rio lets out a sound, one that borders on painful and you glance down to look at her expression. She looks completely taken, her eyes blown wide, nothing but adoration and a deep desire in them. She looks just as desperate as you do when she flicks her tongue over your clit, sucking it into her mouth.

It’s that moment when she looks at you with darkened, powerful eyes that flash black, a colour you’ve never seen before in them. The fear mixed with the excitement of her power has you moaning like a whore, loud and high as you reach your climax. Rio’s right there to hold you through it, fucking her fingers through the wet tightness of your walls. 

She doesn’t stop, not until there are tears slipping down your cheeks as you push against her head. She marks her way back up again, leaving bright colours over your skin until she reaches your parted, panting lips. Rio doesn’t kiss you, just looks at you, looks through you. Her hand feels hot against your cheek, but it’s fleeting, as if you’re fragile and precious to her. 

The sound of footsteps catches your attention, forcing Rio to snap out of her hypnosis; she turns back to see Agatha standing by the door, leaning on the ledge with a smirk.

“Satisfied?”

Rio huffs in soft laughter, leaning back on the pillow with an arm stretched behind her head. “Very.”

Agatha hums, nodding as she steps forward. “Good,” the witch states, taking her time as she pulls the strings at the back of her dress, “It’s my turn. Let’s see if you’ve learnt your lesson, little dove.”

masterlist + guidelines

[yaut-jaknowit]

Challenge Day

Pairing: We'ar-ow (Female Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 4039

Summary: After a night of rest, We'ar-ow drags you around her quarters. From a bath to rid yourself of that male's smell to getting food in your stomach, she ensures you taken care of. Rough in treatment, you are confused on what to feel. It doesn't matter. We'ar-ow takes you to the last place you want to be.

Author Note: Little warning, tiny bit of graphic content. Just bone breaking. I'm so glad everyone is loving on her. I'm planning of writing more for her and have a small plan drawn up already.

Ao3

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18

A yawn broke your neutral expression. It was hard. To keep a façade up and hold back your anger for the situation. This was humiliating! This… why did everything have to change? Why so sudden? If you release your anger, said one wrong thing to We’ar-ow, you would think yourself dead. Said Yautja had rudely awaken you. It felt like you gained no sleep after waking up.

Coarse fingers wrapped around your wrist and pulled you from the room. At this point, you realized… We’ar-ow was speaking. Her deep, throaty voice was hard to understand in the first place. When your brain has barely had time to comprehend all that has happened just this morning, there was no room to understand what the Monarch was saying.

With a free hand, you rubbed at the crust in your eyes. Huh, must have cried in your sleep or something. Now, you were finally able to fully see where she was dragging you. Across the strange living room and towards a door you just realize existed. The metal door slides to the side to reveal a massive room.

No time was given to you. She had you by the arm and forced you into the bathroom attached to the bedroom. Almost similar to your ex-mate’s bathroom, the only true difference was color and size. The tub could easily hold four female Yautjas without discomfort. This is when you realized the tub was full and steaming water.

Worst than before, you were giving absolutely not time to reaction as the clothes you wore were shredded. Your mind didn’t have time to even produce a yelp as We’ar-ow shoved you into the in ground tub. Your arms batted the water in a frenzied panic at first. You surged through the surface to gasp for air.

Almost instantly, you whipped your head to glare daggers at her before the logical side of your mind stepped up. Shit. You became submissive, ready for her to punish you. But nothing, no words or hits came. You peeked your head up to find an amused expression painting her face. It took a lot not to scoff. Instead, you simmered down into the water to hide everything below your neck. You didn’t want her to see more than you could control.

This earned a chuff. We’ar-ow shook her head. “Oomans,” was muttered underneath her breath. She kept guard though, eyes not leaving your form. The gaze caused your skin to crawl. You stayed slightly crouched down, eyes focused on the water, while not moving.

A crackly scoffed broke the silence. “Wash.” Your brows crunched the skin between them. What? How? You turned your head this and that way. Just water. Nothing to wash yourself with. What did she expect to use?

“Did the buffoon teach you nothing? I will take great pleasure besting him today. Maybe I will take his head as well, hang it in your new room, pet.” We’ar-ow took the necessary steps forward till her toes hung over the edge of the in ground tub. Her knees bent to a crouch. The salmon pink Yautja used a hand to scoop water and poured it over your head.

Almost… intimate. An action your ex-mate could do in the privacy of the community showers when time allowed it. “The water will cleanse your skin, wash away that Paya-awful male’s scent from you. Wash,” she commanded once more. Now, you understood truly what she expected from you.

You mirrored her actions from before and let water run down my head. Then, your eyes flicked up to hers. Was that good enough? “More.” Nope. You sighed before gaining a great idea. You dunked yourself fully under the surface then waited a few seconds. Once you felt it was enough, you broke the surface again, albeit this time calmer, and glanced up. She nodded.

Good. As you about to move to slip out of the tub, you realized something. There wasn’t anything to cover up with. She had already embarrassed you enough by ripping off your clothing then throwing you in here! Anger simmered in your boiling blood. All of this far too overwhelming to deal with and no given time to comprehend the situation.

All of this was just humiliating to say in the least. You swallowed what leftover pride you could hold onto and peered up at her. “I need a-a towel,” you requested, eyes flickering around her form and looking everything besides her.

The Yautja was still crouched down, nowhere near your level, but close by. Without any pretense, a pink hand grasped at your bicep and hauled you out of the water. You yelped and struggled against her hold, legs and arms flailing wildly. We’ar-ow pinned your back swiftly to her chest, loose hand coming to firm encase your neck.

Untamed attempts to break free from her were thwarted the moment her hand held your life. One squeeze could end it all. She felt the way your throated bobbed with a heavy swallow. She was back to her full height now. The Yautja slightly bent forward to further press herself into your backside. “Good pet.” She took full pleasure in your reaction. Fuck.

From the tops of your vision, you see her pink, split tongue skirt over her lower jaw. “Better,” is all she says before she removes herself from your backside. That’s when you realized you’ve been holding your breath the entire time. It rushed out of you in one big breath.

A hand fixated itself on your bicep before tugging you along. All you could do was listen… like a good pet. She brought you over to a spot in the bathroom before releasing her hold then pushing a button on the wall. Warm gushes of air dried the water from your skin, pleasantly warm. All drops of water officially removed from your previously damp skin.

Surprises morphs over your face. Your ex-mate didn’t have this but being the Monarch of the ship gave you special privileges, you guessed. The shock was allowed to simmer. We’ar-ow held onto your bicep once more and practically dragged you over to her bedroom of sorts. Clothes were pulled onto your body without another word. She shoved you out.

Out the room you had been in, into a massive living room, and towards a kitchen. Scents of food, good food wafted up into your nose. Not only were you starving, you were dying for water. Your throat ached, scratchy and dry. It left you with a headache that pushed at the back of your eyes.

The Monarch was none-the-gentler as she pushed into the bar stool too big for you. You catch yourself on the counter’s edge with not a second to waste. “Consume,” the voice you’re coming to learn barked. Then, she was off, marching towards a room towards the opposite of the front door. The same room we just came from.

On the verge of glaring at her, you grunted lowly and plopped your behind down on the stool. That’s when you realized why she had said ‘consume’ earlier, and where that delicious smell was coming from.

Before you sat a plate of steaming food, food that you didn’t begin to understand what it was made from. Instantly, your stomach growled painfully. A heady reminder. You glanced over to the door We’ar-ow left through. It was closed. You couldn’t hear anything from this far away. But she was gone, out of sight.

You were finally able to take your first full breath without any anxiety to squeeze the air out of your lungs. Yet, in the back of your mind, you knew your guard couldn’t be put down. Not now, not ever. Then, you focused on the food. Nothing smelled off about it, nothing gave you any bad vibes about it. And, We’ar-ow hasn’t given you a reason not to trust her. But, this is the Monarch we are talking about. Someone you don’t know. You scowled but your stomach snarled with a hungry roar. Pain cramped through your abdomen. You’ve never been this hungry before. Your ex-mate never let you go without a meal once a day.

By God’s grace, you were starting to become dizzy from dehydration. You smacked your lips together. A clear glass of see-through liquid was just sitting there. Once more nothing seemingly wrong with it. How could you know though? You weren’t like these guys. You had no great senses that allowed you to smell things miles away or hearing that alerted you in the same fashion. A sigh sounded from your lips.

Fuck it. You grabbed the glass and gulped down the entire thing within seconds. A bunch of air sucked in as well which caused you to burp… quiet loudly as well whoops. Your head whipped over to the door mentioned before. No movement or sounds. Good.

Back to the plate. With a finger, you nudged the things that looked like meat. It was warm. Cooked. Your eyebrows jumped with surprise. What. Something in your chest warmed with a familiar heat. You were swift at stomping it out before it had a chance to grow. Fine. That was… nice of her to do that. You picked up the slab of cooked meat and tore a chunk from it. It was still quite warm in your hands, almost unbearable. You held up the smaller chunk to your nose and sniffed it.

To be honest, it smelled glorious. So well, flavored and thoroughly cooked. You couldn’t helped the tiniest of smiles to grace your clean face. Finally, you placed it into your mouth and chewed. From the lack of food for a day, you hummed with delight. Delicious.

Before long, you had the entire plate cleared of food. You couldn’t know when your next meal would be. You didn’t know how the Monarch will… take care of you. Everything had been flipped on its head and you didn’t know what’s going to happen. You slumped in your chair, doing everything in your body not to just sob again. Defeated.

Warm fingers pinched your chin harshly and pulled your body up, almost lifting you off of the chair. Your hands went to wrap around a pink wrist, eyes darting up to find We’ar-ow. A gasp tore at your throat. Fear flooded your body, eyes clenched shut, ready for her to just snap your neck… but that never happens.

“Head up, spine straight. Don’t coward like prey. You are my pet. My pet won’t be prey,” she ordered and kept your head up, level, like the way she told you before. You cracked open an eye. We’ar-ow is still looking at you with her orange piercing gaze. She leaned in closer than she’s ever before, spilt tongue tasting the air. The Monarch dipped her head in approval. “Better, but I will get rid of that male’s smell later. I have an important meeting to attend. Do you know what it is?”

Curses flew around your mind. Why did she have to talk with you or ask you questions that made you have to answer? You lowered your gaze then shook your head softly. She pinched your chin harder. “When I address you, answer, my pet.”

A pregnant pause filled the air before you took in a deep breath. “No,” your voice quiet in the kitchen, eyes anywhere besides her body. We’ar-ow lumbered closer, a mandible lifting.

“That male who dishonored you, my new pet. He’ll face me in a challenge. He will lose. He will. You are mine. And I will keep you.” You couldn’t help but shiver at her tone. It was like she was a hundred percent certain your ex-mate will not win against her. In all honesty, a large part of your mind said she was correct. Her confidence bled over to you, contagious like a cold.

You wanted nothing more to blurt out the same question as before: ‘why?’ But you believed she would answer the same way. Instead, you held your tongue.

“You’re coming with me. First though-“ We’ar-ow stepped back to put space between the two of you, hand slipping from your chin. “You need to look like my pet. Come.” We’ar-ow turned her body in the direction of the original room she left through. Yet, you froze, stuck in place, not daring to follow her.

She notices this but doesn’t stop. Only a hand came to wave you along. “Don’t make me tell you twice.” Despite the voice being low and grumbly, it wasn’t harsh, just a general commanding her battalion. A tone you listened to, fearing what would happen if you didn’t. Your head bowed as you hopped off of the chair. But the plate… It would be rude and disrespectful to leave it behind.

“Leave it.” Okay, that answers that. You jumped at her sudden voice then scrambled after her. All the while, you kept a heady space behind her.

The door opened up to her presence. It was on the verge of closing until you got closer. You stopped at the entrance to stare into the room.

Holy. Shit. You couldn’t believe how big it was in here. Gracious, highly decorated, skulls, furs, and bones. A hunter, through and through.

Some of the skulls, five to be exact, were… human. You shuttered. Your ex-mate was kind enough to hide away the ones he collected when you reacted, well, horribly. It was a reasonable way to act when you see your own kind’s skull mounted on someone you loved’s wall. You shuttered, body tensing, ready to bolt in pure panic.

We’ar-ow turned around to face you, a bored look on her face. “You done?” It was like she was expecting you to react this way. Something inside of you curled into a ball at the knowledge. “Follow.” We’ar-ow motions you to follow deeper into this… this hell hole, this nightmare filled room. A place that bones of your species decorated the walls. You rapidly shook your head side to side, feet taking a step back to bolt.

The Monarch wasn’t letting you go. A hand wrapped around your throat and lifted you enough to be on your toes. Your bare feet scrapped for hope to stand on something. But she keeps you like this and brings you close. “My pet does not run! My pet stands to face the fear and danger. I will have to train you, unlike that measly male. He did nothing, didn’t he?”

Through the blood rushing violently in your ears, you desperately nodded your head. Any way to convince her to drop you. All you could think about is her snapping your neck. She’s the Monarch. She didn’t have to give a reason on why. Plus, you were her pet.

“Words.”

“Yes! Yes, he-he did nothing.” An alien smirk graced her face again. Her hold on you released. You landed unsteadily on your feet and snapped your head up at the Monarch. She stared down at you, looking over her upper mandibles.

Before a chance to think was given, We’ar-ow turned around and gracefully crossed the room over to the open concept bathroom. Almost similar to your ex-mate’s room, the only true difference was color and size. The tub could easily hold four female Yautjas without discomfort. Her hand swiped at something from the sink and she marched back towards you.

The Yautja towered, truly you meant that, over you but she doesn’t kneel down to get a better view. Instead, We’ar-ow sat down on her haunches. It helped a ton. Yet, she was still a good head taller than you. Without missing a beat, whatever in her hands was transferred to your head. Warm metal skirted around your head, beads falling down to tap against your cheeks. It tickled at first but you stayed still as the female fussed.

After a solid minute, she dipped her head and stood abruptly. “It will have to do,” she stated and continued to peer down at you over her mandibles. For a moment, your mind supplied she was wanting something from you. Words.

“T-thank you,” you offered your appreciation. Honestly, you did value the fact on your second day here, the Monarch has gifted something to you. A deeper part of yourself felt horribly guilty. From your limited knowledge of their culture, females don’t gift things. That’s the job of the male, to woo over any mates for the season.

That appreciation was thrown back in your face. We’ar-ow scoffed then huffed. You flinched, hands and shoulders drawn. A hand engulfed your neck once more. This time, much gentler. Her thumb and claw stroked up the side of your throat… right over an artery. One move, meant or not, could end your life swiftly.

Her mandibles clicked in thought, but nothing the translator picked up. Then, the warmth was gone and her massive form glided around you. She headed towards the door with purpose. Like a lost puppy, you scrambled after her.

This would be a good step forward. Maybe it be in the right direction or not, you don’t know. We’ar-ow didn’t look back once as she guided you through the door of her room, down the elevator, or through the halls. Every step this hunk of muscle took was prideful but not in an egotistical way. Here you were, a meek human doing everything in your power to keep up without looking like a fool. At least your ex-mate slowed partially down for you. She did not care.

With the pace she led, the pair had made it to the designation in her mind quickly. You realized where this was. The sparring room. Many males were already on the mats, proving their worth in a fight. That’s when you smelled the heavy scent of pheromones. Overwhelming and shoved straight into your face. Your mind couldn’t decide if the feeling it caused was good or bad.

When the Monarch entered the room, all those who were in her presence stopped. Males who were fighting tooth and nail ripped away from each other to bow respectfully. Green blood making the mats slick for them. You trotted up to We’ar-ow to stand a couple of feet behind her.

Before you had a chance to get a step closer, a blur of orange raced across your vision. Pink entered the very next second. Your brain stuttered to comprehend all you just witnessed. To your right, the Monarch held a near bone breaking grip on an orange male’s wrist. Now, it caught up to you. The male was going to grab you.

Despite seeing the tension in We’ar-ow’s body, her face was neutral as she stared down at the meek, young male. No words were needed as she calmly snapped his forearm. You slapped a hand over your mouth before any noises could escape. Even though in the past, you’ve seen the brutality that made up the Yautjas at their core. To see it happen less than a foot away from you… to hear how his bones just splintered by this female. Your stomach felt queasy at the sight.

Like it never happened, We’ar-ow faced the majority of the crowd, eyes scanning carefully through the crowd. All eyes on the Monarch. Even other females watched her with rapture, as if waiting for We’ar-ow to do something.

That’s when you felt a burning gaze so familiar. Your shoulder scrunched up to hide away, as if that was possible. You didn’t even dare to look in that general direction. Your heart pounded like a hammer. Creeping, crawling feelings snaked up your spine to settled in the middle of your chest. Echoes of his words rang back like a broken record.

“Dwainet,” the Monarch’s voice rung out like a church bell. The room seemed to still at the call of him. No one dared to speak, let alone whisper their rumors. You slowly picked up your head now, to find his eyes looking at We’ar-ow. Fear. Fear in those eyes you used to peer into.

You don’t know why but the tiniest of a proudful grins raced over your face. To see the alien that broke your heart then smashed on it right in front of you almost wet himself made you almost grin. This must not be usual for the Monarch to call out a male. Or the look on her face was deadly. You couldn’t see what she looked like from behind her. You didn’t dare peek either.

We’ar-ow raised a hand. With a single finger, she called the Yautja to step up. From your spot, it looked like it took all of Dwainet’s will to take a step forward. Let alone the rest to stop a respectful distance from her. His eyes were no longer on her anymore, but they hadn’t settled on you either. The fright in his system the only thing driving him.

The Monarch began to circle around the small male, looking him over. Each step was strategical, purposefully placed. Dwainet stood there, stiller than a statue as the female looked him over. Despite this being mating season, the look in his eye told you he knew that’s not what this was about.

When she was behind him, Dwainet sent a deadly glare down at your pathetic form. Your chest tightened. Shit. Your whole body froze as he silently glowered. Nothing in your body would listen. All of your muscles tensed, ready to spring but not moving.

Nothing left We’ar-ow’s vision. She noticed the way you tensed once behind Dwainet. If it wasn’t for your gaze stuck on him, she would’ve believed it was due to her about to best the male. Instead, We’ar-ow snatched a handful of tresses and yanked him back. All of his attention returned to her. She watched as his face morphed from the intense pain of his tresses being roughly handled.

“I challenge you, Dwainet. When I win, your pet will be mine,” We’ar-ow laid out her plans in front of the male. You watched as his eyes widened, the way his spine tensed.

Harsh whispers rolled over the large group in the sparring room. The translator that sat behind your ear did nothing, unable to pick up a single word. All you could do was glance around the room to read people’s faces the best you could. If only you could hide away when many eyes were on you. You were the center of attention now, no longer ignored as a meek pet.

Dwainet made a noise similar to choking on air. “You can have it!” he gave in so easily. Your stiff posture immediately deflated like a balloon. ‘It.’ He called you an it. The fractured pieces that still held on officially fell away to the darkness.

In a fit of unchanneled rage, you marched over to the restrained male and used a hand to yank on his only lower mandible. We’ar-ow allowed him to be moved by you, still holding onto him firmly. She couldn’t help the sliver of a smirk gracing her mandibles at the sight.

“You will fight her. You will lose. You will be left to wallow in your failure, alone!” you spat, voice gaining volume with each word till your voice echoed in the sparring room. Blood rushing through your ears and heart pounding are all you hear for a few long moments.

All you’ve done came rushing back. Before having a chance to fret over the situation, We’ar-ow hauled the male away from you to the nearest mat. The two males that occupied it were swift in their retreat and stood at the sidelines now.

Some Yautjas held smirks on their face as they watched. Others couldn’t look away from you. The rest just watched in rapture at the sight before. Something they’ve never seen before. The Monarch fighting for claim on a pet. While said pet, yourself, just stood at the edge of the mat. Yautjas crowded you from behind, not too close though. Their bodies creating a wall of muscles and bone, not letting you take a single step away. Shit. You were trapped to watch the brutality of a female that wants you. The Monarch wants you.

But your heart was far too guarded now.

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18

[sigrielweek]

Sigriel Week 2024, 7-13 October 2024 - prompts and themes

Sigriel Week is a week of fan creation celebrating the characters Sigrid and Tauriel from the Hobbit movies, timed to coincide with the date of the Battle of the Five Armies on 10 October 2941 of the Third Age of Middle-Earth.

Any and all fanworks and any and all interpretations of the relationship between Sigrid and Tauriel are very welcome - for more information see the FAQ!

Here are some prompts and themes to inspire you - each day has a theme and some suggested sub-themes. Feel free to interpret them however you like!

Monday 7 October - beginnings

did they meet for the first time when Tauriel and Legolas chased the Orcs into their home - or before?

the attack on Lake-town

how do they meet in an AU?

Tuesday 8 October - getting to know you

do they hit it off straight away or does it take a bit longer?

on the lakeshore

first steps towards friendship - or more?

Wednesday 9 October - we're in this together, we have separate paths

journey to Dale/Gundabad

in an AU, is there an age difference/background difference?

how do they reconcile the differences between them?

Thursday 10 October - crisis and aftermath

Battle of the Five Armies

loss and grief

supporting each other

Friday 11 October - someone really special

realisations of feelings

getting together

a special place in each other's lives

Saturday 12 October - getting away from it all

what does a day with no responsibilities look like?

what do they do for fun?

what part do their families and friends play in their lives?

Sunday 13 October - afterwards

does Tauriel stay in Dale?

happily ever after - or not?

does Sigrid inherit the crown instead of Bain?

what does Tauriel do after Sigrid dies?

Please reblog, signal boost, and get ready to create! Whether you see the relationship between Sigrid and Tauriel as romantic, platonic, queerplatonic or something else, your creations are welcome - and so are late submissions. Just mention this blog @sigrielweek in your posts and tag #sigrielweek2024 so we can see them and reblog!

FAQ and rules | AO3 collection

[mpregtales]

Javier

9 months pregnant, 25 years old, from Miami, expecting his first child, a baby boy

Javier is the definition of masculinity, with a strong jawline, broad shoulders, and the chiseled physique of a gym devotee. Yet beneath his confident, rugged exterior lies an undeniable truth about him—Javier has always been intensely submissive in bed. A true power bottom, his plump, rounded cheeks seem as if they were made for this role, drawing in dominant men who can’t resist the allure of his body.

For as long as he can remember, Javier has harbored an inexplicable yet primal desire to be bred. He never questioned it, simply embracing it as part of who he is. The feeling of being filled by another man became more than just a kink—it felt like destiny, an instinct rooted deep within him. His hookups were frequent and uninhibited, a reflection of his insatiable desire to surrender to men who knew how to take control. But one day, everything shifted when Javier made a conscious choice. He wanted to be bred for real. He wanted to feel life grow within him, to watch his body expand and change with pregnancy. And he found the perfect man to make it happen.

Now, nine months later, Javier is living his dream. His belly is enormous, round, and firm, stretching proudly as it cradles his baby boy. His bubble butt, already thick and bouncy, has grown even larger, pregnancy adding new fullness and softness that makes it impossible to ignore. With every step, it jiggles tantalizingly, catching the eyes of those around him. Javier loves his new body—he adores the way his belly makes him feel powerful and vulnerable all at once, and he delights in the way his pregnancy-enhanced curves attract attention. For Javier, every kick and movement from his son reminds him that this is exactly where he’s meant to be.

But it doesn’t stop there. Javier has realized that this—bringing life into the world—is his calling. As long as he’s fertile, he wants to keep carrying children, not just for himself, but for others who long for a family. He envisions a career as a surrogate, helping others experience the joy of parenthood while indulging his own body’s desires to grow and be seeded again and again. Of course, there’s one challenge: the births. Pushing baby after baby out of his body, through the same passage that brought them into being, is as exhausting as it is awe-inspiring. But even that has its allure. For Javier, the act of bringing life into the world feels raw, intimate, and strangely satisfying—a reflection of the connection he shares with his body and its purpose.

His lifestyle choices raise eyebrows, but Javier doesn’t care. He knows that he’s found his path, one that blends his deepest desires with the fulfillment of giving life. As he rubs his massive belly and prepares for the birth of his son, he’s already thinking about the future—about the men who will help him conceive again, the babies he’ll carry, and the life he’ll continue to build, one pregnancy at a time. For Javier, there’s nothing more natural, or more satisfying, than this.

From the Paternity Studios Collection

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 17)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16

“People of Panem, we fight, we-” Katniss freezes, staring at her own reflection. Makeup done, hair styled to perfection, holding up a stick for the camera. This isn’t real. This isn’t war.

“Does she know the line?” Plutarch asks, into the microphone, for all to hear.

“I know it.” Katniss shakes her head to clear it.

“She’s just warming up.” Effie explains. Even she has joined the effort, leaving behind her drab quarters for Katniss.

“Alright, let’s go again. Whenever you’re ready.” Plutarch instructs.

Y/N sways, soothing her tired infant to a sleepy submission on the opposite side of the glass. Daisy May is not fond of sleep, especially with the world bustling around her.

Katniss gets back down on one knee. This is take three.

“Maybe if you show her.” Cashmere whispers to Y/N.

“Might not be a bad idea.” Plutarch watches the mockingjay, with a hand to his head.

“Yeah?” Y/N is willing to try.

“Here,” Cashmere puts her arms out, “gimme the baby.”

Y/N looks down at her daughter, kissing her tiny nose and handing her off.

She fusses for a moment, in Cashmere’s hold.

“Shh,” the blonde coos, allowing the baby to take a fistful of hair. “It’s ok, my Daisy.”

The little girl sighs, closing her grumpy eyes, never letting go of Cashmere’s waves.

“Ok, Katniss, Y/N’s coming in to do a demonstration. Just follow her lead and we’ll go from there.”

“Yeah, ok.” Katniss’ eyes scan the reflective surface, searching for her.

A second later, her mentor pops through the connecting side door. She is not made up, or wearing some crazy outfit, her stylist squeezed her into; she is just Y/N. Somehow that is enough.

“I’m a method actor, obviously.” Loved her fake husband so much that their staged marriage became a real one.

Not that Haymitch is any better. Content to kiss the ground where she walks, if he couldn’t be with her.

The joke lands only with Plutarch and Cashmere. Katniss thinks she understands, but doesn’t find it all that funny.

“First thing’s first, I’m gonna move around a little, get the blood flowing, get that shortness of breath.”

Katniss moves with her, trotting in place like a show horse.

“Good, now we’ll go down on one knee.” Y/N demonstrates and Katniss follows. “Slowly and with some effort, I’m gonna rise to my feet.”

“Because you’ve just been in battle.”

“Exactly,” Y/N smiles, before her features harden.

She is a thousand miles away, just stormed the outskirts of the Capitol. The ease with which she shifts from one to the other terrifies Katniss.

“People of Panem, we fight, we dare, we end our hunger for justice!”

Even with the wind and the stupid stick in Y/N’s hand, raised in the air, Katniss almost believes it. This is the type of person that fuels a rebellion.

She was the people’s victor. She won her own way, same as Haymitch. So Snow manacled them together and scarred them with his brand.

The more Katniss learns about Y/N the more her heart aches, for the indifference she held toward her for so long. To know her is to love her and it’s a shame that not many people ever did.

“Yes! That was perfect.” Plutarch exclaims, “Katniss, now you try it. Just like that.”

“O-ok,” Katniss stammers.

Y/N moves aside, switching places so that Katniss is on the pedestal.

Katniss repeats the words verbatim, copying Y/N’s performance as best she can. She only agreed to be the face of the revolution after seeing what happened to district twelve. After seeing the reaction to Peeta’s interview with Caesar, she knows this is the only way to protect him.

There’s a slow clap from the corner, growing closer until he steps into view. The top of his blonde hair covered by a dark knit hat. “And that is how a revolution dies.”

Katniss glares at Haymitch, his hand resting at Y/N’s waist, as if no time has passed between them.

“Is this how you greet an old friend?” Haymitch cocks his head to the side.

“Maybe I don’t recognize you sober.” Katniss bites out.

“I guess it looks as bad as it feels.”

Y/N turns to him, whispering something Katniss can’t make out.

He offers her a smile and a chaste kiss.

Katniss sees herself and Peeta. The way they might have been, ten years down the line. Peeta would love her like that…and she’d love him the only way she could.

It would bubble up and swell in her chest, until she burst. Just like Haymitch, pouring from an empty cup.

————————————————————————

Katniss sinks down in her chair, as the propo plays for the team. Wishing she could melt into it, disappear. No one’s going to buy this.

Y/N rubs at her back, “it’s not as bad as you think.”

“You’re right,” Haymitch cuts in, “it’s worse.” He’s always been a tough love kind of guy. Even with an infant strapped to his chest, he isn’t brimming with compassion.

Y/N rolls her eyes, “not helping.”

“Indulge me for a moment.” Haymitch holds both hands up in surrender. “Lets everybody think of one incident where Katniss Everdeen genuinely moved you.” He moves to the digital display, in front of the meeting table. “One moment where she made you feel something real.”

“Ooo,” Effie waves a hand. “When she volunteered for her sister at the reaping.”

“Excellent example.” Haymitch uses his forearm to clear data from the screen. He’s observed enough of Y/N and her tablet over the years, this technology is no different. “Hope that wasn’t important.” He steals a glance over his shoulder, before scribbling in, ‘volunteer 4 sis,’ with the stylus.

“And when she volunteered for Y/N.”

“When she sang that song for little Rue.”

Haymitch adds it to the list. “You know Effie, I like you better without all that makeup.”

“Well, I like you better sober.” The woman says in return, causing Haymitch to glare at her.

“When she chose Rue for an ally as well.” Beetee chimes in.

“Now, what do all of these things have in common?”

“Nobody told her what to do.” Gale understands better than anyone.

“Unscripted,” Beetee agrees, “yes. So maybe we should just leave her alone.”

“And wash her face.” Boggs narrows his eyes, “she’s still a girl, you made her look thirty-five.”

Katniss smiles at this.

“The opportunities for spontaneity are obviously lacking, here below ground.” Plutarch points out. “So what you’re suggesting is that we toss her into combat?”

“I can’t sanction putting an untrained civilian into combat for effect. This isn’t the Capitol,” Coin argues.

“Oh, that’s exactly what I’m suggesting. Put her in the field.” Haymitch knows this is the only way.

“No, we won’t be able to protect her.” The president looks to Y/N now. Surely she is not onboard with this.

“It has to come from her, that’s what people respond to. You want a symbol for the revolution, she cannot be coached into it. Trust me, I know.” Haymitch presses on.

“He’s right,” Y/N sighs. “It’s not ideal but…it’s our only option.”

“Maybe there’s someplace less dangerous.”

“District eight, they sustained heavy bombings last week. No military targets left.”

“We can’t guarantee her safety.”

“You’ll never be able to guarantee my safety,” Katniss adds. “I wanna go.”

“And if you’re killed?” Alma’s words hang heavy between them.

“Make sure you get it on camera.”

————————————————————————

“You realize this is dangerous, let alone highly irresponsible.” Haymitch remarks, watching his wife load her gun. The bullets are color coded; black for regular, yellow are incendiary, and red for explosive. Though they’ve been asked not to fire the red ones down here.

“Yeah.” Y/N cocks the gun, squeezing the trigger and letting the bullet fly. She’s gotten better with practice, now hitting her target at dead center. “You don’t approve?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then what are you saying, Haymitch?”

“As your former mentor, I’m not inclined to advise you waltzing into a war zone.” You search for water. High ground, stay away from the cornucopia.

Y/N nods, “and as my husband?”

“I’m even less inclined.” Though his feelings for her have shifted over the years, the need to protect her is fierce and unwavering.

“I can’t lose Katniss.” Not like we lost Peeta.

“Yeah,” Haymitch huffs, “I get that.”

She sets down her weapon, on the steel table in the training room. “I’m a good shot.”

“You are.”

“I’ve been working on my stamina, I’m almost back to where I was before Daisy.”

Haymitch won’t deny it. “You’ve got good aim, you’re fast, resourceful and a little bit scrappy. You can survive in harsh conditions.” You’re my victor. “But there’s a hole in your uterus the size of a dinner plate.”

“Was,” Y/N corrects him. “The doctors cleared me for this.”

“I watched you almost bleed to death; twice. So you’ll have to forgive me for being reluctant to let you risk your life. I understand that this is important to you-”

She turns, cupping his cheek, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. “I wouldn’t want you to go either. I love you too much.”

Haymitch affords her a soft grin, “that always gets in the way, doesn’t it?”

Y/N lifts a shoulder, “somehow I just keep getting sucked in deeper.”

“You keep getting sucked in?” He chuckles. “I was perfectly content on my own for over a decade, before you put your hooks in me.”

At this she laughs, harder than she should. “Don’t make it sound so romantic now.”

Still his arms are around her. Y/N’s at the nape of his neck, toying with the hair that has started growing in with gray peppered throughout and makes him feel every bit his age.

Their lips meet, by her accord or his own; he can’t say for certain. Y/N bids him closer. Deeper, harder, more. I’m yours. Nothing more, nothing less…just hers.

“Stay off him!” Cashmere scolds from the entryway, effectively breaking them apart. “It’s like you’re trying to singlehandedly repopulate this hellhole.”

“Our contribution to this great nation,” Haymitch salutes her.

————————————————————————

“We’ve gotta be quick about this. Get in and get out.” Boggs orders, as they file out of the hovercraft. Nobody wants the mockingjay on the ground for long.

Introductions are brief. Commander Paylor, of district eight, shows them to the makeshift hospital.

Bodies of fallen civilians line the entrance, covered only by tarps. “There’s a mass grave, about two miles west. But I can’t spare the manpower to move them.”

This place is a breeding ground for infection. All the wounded in one place, nothing sterile in sight.

“Don’t film me in there. I can’t help them,” Katniss says to Cressida, as they move farther into the masses.

“Just let them see you,” the woman insists. She left the Capitol for this, she knows what she’s doing.

“Come on,” Y/N gives her shoulder a squeeze.

Katniss opens her mouth to speak but Y/N disappears into the crowd, helping nurse the wounded.

There is someone in the corner; no one tends her, she is alone and clearly suffering. A bucket of water, with a single sponge inside, sits beside her, bandages to the left.

“I’m surprised they let you out just to show face. Thought you were more important than that.” The woman from district eight says.

“I’m not here to show face. I’m here to support Katniss and what I believe in.” Y/N takes a seat, beginning to clean her wounds.

“You sure this is the side you fall on?” She chokes out. “There’s no fancy parties or big houses here.”

Y/N lifts a shoulder. “I never liked the parties and the house wasn’t very homey. The only good thing about it was my family inside.”

“People used to look up to you.”

“That was a long time ago,” Y/N murmurs.

“They will again.” The woman is sure of it, “and when they do, make sure you’re ready. Make sure you stay on the right side of things.”

“I was just trying to survive, couldn’t see beyond that.”

“He’ll kill you for this.” President Snow. “For standing with us.”

Y/N nods, with a tired smile. “Yeah.”

“Then why are you here?”

“This is what I believe in…a new Panem. Where we are equals and have a say in our own lives. It’s worth the risk. It’s gonna take all of us, every person in every district, we all have to fight for it.”

The woman presses her lips together, allowing Y/N to dress her wounds. She says nothing else, looking up at the victor, from time to time. I see you.

It feels good to be seen, by a stranger who owes her nothing. Someone to see her without the tainted film of rose colored glasses.

————————————————————————

“How have things been since your release?” Dr. Aurelius inquires.

“Alright, I guess.” Haymitch is not here of his own free will. “Never gonna be good, given the prohibition you have going on around here. But I’d rather be with my family than locked up a mile away.”

“Tell me about your family.”

“My son’s name is Everest, he’s ten. My daughter, Arista is six and Daisy is four weeks old. Then obviously Y/N and her family. Katniss.” Peeta.

“Were they planned? The children.”

“Yes and no.” Haymitch scrubs a hand over his face.

“Can you explain what that means?”

“I don’t want…” Haymitch pauses, “our children are not burdens, Y/N and I have always said that. Those kids are everything and I don’t want that getting twisted. Ever.”

“Of course.”

“Snow gave us deadlines and we met them. With Everest and Arista, we had a year. In that year Y/N needed to be pregnant.”

“But not Daisy?”

“They screwed around with Y/N’s birth control. We’re fertile people, it doesn’t take much.” Haymitch admits.

“And your marriage, would you call it a happy one?”

“Yes, by my account. But I’m sure she’s told you all about me.” This is a joke, for the most part.

“I can’t say much, as it would be a breach of confidentiality. Still you should know, she speaks highly of you. She loves you very much.”

Haymitch drops his gaze.

“Where did you go just now?”

“Nowhere.” Haymitch brushes it off, “I was just thinking.”

“Thinking about Y/N?”

“Isn’t it fucked up how someone like that could love someone me?”

“In what way?” Dr. Aurelius asks.

“I mean you’ve met her.” Haymitch huffs, “had a few sessions.”

“Sure.”

“She’s special.”

The doctor lets him speak.

“She’s a good person. She’s smart and she’s funny and she deserves the world.” Haymitch shifts in the chair, “she got me instead. Not exactly a fair trade.”

“I don’t think she feels that way.” The doctor informs him.

“Hmm,” Haymitch mulls it over.

“From the sound of it, you have always been very protective. Now you tend the children, so she can aide the rebellion. That must be hard for you.”

Haymitch scoffs, “I want to chase her down and bring her back.”

“Then why haven’t you.”

“If you love something, you set it free or some bullshit like that.”

“You love her deeply.”

“Coin offered to ‘dissolve’ our marriage. Did Y/N tell you that?” Haymitch changes the subject.

Aurelius sighs, “she didn’t mention it.”

“Tell me, oh great one, what does that mean?”

“Her mind is made up about you, Haymitch. Whether it’s right or wrong, no matter who deserves what, the heart wants what it wants. You are what she wants.”

“I want her too,” Haymitch snaps.

“You’ve mentioned that you struggle with the fact that Y/N didn’t get to choose you as a partner. Yet each time she does, you cannot accept that she is choosing you. As though you feel unworthy, unlovable.”

“Is that your official diagnosis?” Haymitch wonders, making no effort to confirm or deny.

The doctor flips quickly between entries in his notebook. “There is no distinction in any area of your relationship, a true lack of boundaries. All of your triumphs and failures, all of your sadness and your joy, is either sourced from her or the lives you’ve created together.” Dr. Aurelius tosses both hands up. “The greatest tragedies ever written are love stories, after all.”

Part 18

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69 @helpimhyperfixating @jackierose902109 @jellybear455 @dreammgc @dadbodfanatic-x @ftdtcmlovr @inky-sun @ms-brek-ker @undercover55655 @mischiefmanaged21 @avoxrising @koiphisch @drwho-ess @daisydaisybilly

[merrybloomwrites]

You Can Start a Family (Extra: Dom/Sub Dynamic)

Summary: After much discussion, you ask Sarah, Mitch, and Harry to dominate you in bed, a decision you know you won't regret.

Word Count: 3.6K

CW: dom/sub dynamics, blindfolds, slight bondage, use of safeword (very minor and it's fixed right away), daddy kink, edging, overstimulation, oral sex (f receiving), p-in-v sex, aftercare (so much, so sweet)

AN: This is another one of those ideas that came to mind and won't leave me until I write it. There's a scene in chapter 9 of the main story that has Mitch & Sarah being pretty dominant, so I wanted to do another little something similar but now with Harry, and with proper communication from all four of them before they do a legit scene together.

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“Okay, let’s go over everything one more time,” Mitch says, causing you to nearly roll your eyes. 

But you refrain, knowing how important it is that you’re all on the same page. Trust and communication is key. 

Because for the first time, you’re going to fully properly submit to your two boyfriends and your girlfriend in the bedroom. While giving over control to them is not entirely new, this is the first time it’s been planned out this way. 

Though you’d slipped into murky territory, letting them have control of your body and your pleasure before, this was going to be more intense. 

And you craved it. 

The four of you sit around the kitchen table, to have one last check in before finally having your first scene with them. 

“You’re sure you want all three of us to dom you?” Mitch asks next. “Because Harry is more than willing to sub with you if it’d make you more comfortable.”

“I know, and I’d like to do that another time. But today I want to sub for all three of you.”

Harry, as well as Sarah, were comfortable being both dominant and submissive, and you know that you guys will explore all possible dynamics in the future. But for today, you selfishly want to be the only sub. You want all their attention on you. 

A part of you feels almost guilty about how self centered you’re being, but the larger part knows the others don’t think that way. Truly, they love showering you with attention and affection. And they love making you squirm. 

Which is exactly the plan for today. 

Since it’s the first time you’re officially giving up full control, the other three discussed every step of it with you to make sure you were comfortable with everything. 

“Tell me the safe word,” Mitch says. 

“Kiwi,” you reply immediately. 

“And that goes for everyone,” Harry adds. “Not just Y/N. If anyone is feeling uncomfortable or needs to stop for any reason we can all use that word and everything stops. Same for using the colors.”

You nod along and Mitch says, “Y/N, tell us what the colors mean.”

“Green means everything is good, keep going. Yellow means slow down or pause for a moment. And red means stop everything immediately.”

“Good girl,” Mitch states, causing you to blush and sending a spark of heat through your body. 

“Oh, a praise kink,” Sarah says. “Should’ve guessed that one.” You blush deeper, but she runs a gentle hand through your hair, letting you know she’s only teasing you. 

“I’m going to go through the plan one more time, and you’re going to tell me your color for each thing. First you’re going to strip for us and Harry will tie you to the bedposts. Color?”

“Green.” That was a no brainer for you. This was all about being open and vulnerable, so baring your body to them is exactly what you want to do. 

“And then we’ll put on the blindfold.”

“Green.” You’d never been blindfolded before, but you’d heard that it can make the sensations more intense so you want to try it.

“Then Harry, Sarah, and I will all tease you, rile you up, edge you until we’ve all come and you’re about to burst. Only then will we let you come. And you’ll come as much as we want you to. What’s your color for all of that?”

“Green,” you reply without hesitation. Mitch and Sarah had done something similar after one of the Wembley shows at the start of your relationship. You remember it being so frustratingly good and overwhelming, and you couldn’t wait to experience that same torturous pleasure again. 

“Ok, good. And are you still okay with possibly slipping into subspace?” Mitch asks.

“Yes, I am,” you state clearly. Harry had told you of the times he’d slipped, and you were curious about what it really feels like. You know it might not happen, but you hope it will. You want to experience that peaceful floatiness Harry described for yourself.

“Alright then, looks like we’re all set. We’ll start when we’ve finished our tea,” Mitch says, causing you to shift in your seat. This is it, the talking is done, and it’s nearly time to begin. 

While the other three calmly drink their tea, you shift in your seat, the nervous energy inside you needing to be expelled somehow. 

Noticing this, Mitch says, “Sit still until we’re ready.”

You immediately stop fidgeting, and he says, “good girl,” causing you to blush once again. You duck your head, not wanting them to see your reaction to those two words, but of course they notice. 

“Don’t hide from us, love,” Harry says. 

“We want to see your reactions,” Sarah says. “And body language is important so get used to us watching your every move during scenes. It will help us know if anything is bothering you.”

You look up and make eye contact with each of them, silently saying you’re okay with that. You don’t want them getting the wrong message and stopping this before it even gets to start.

Harry stands and takes all the mugs to the sink and methodically rinses them before loading them in the dishwasher. You know he’s going slow on purpose, but you don’t react, simply waiting patiently.

Finally he’s finished, and Mitch turns to you, instructing you to head to the bedroom, take your clothes off, lay down on the bed, and wait there for them. 

With three sets of eyes watching, you get up and walk from the kitchen to the shared bedroom. You begin to remove your clothes, folding them nicely on top of the dresser. As you get down to your bra and panties, you can’t help but think about how shy you were at the start of this relationship, how you were scared to so much as take off your shirt in front of the others. And now you’re laying in the bed, completely naked as they walk in, all still fully clothed. 

You love the contrast of it. How open and vulnerable you are, the attention they’re giving you, the trust you place in them. This has barely started and you already know you’re going to enjoy it so much. 

And then Harry walks over, a soft rope in his hands. The two of you had chosen it together the other day, making sure you’d be comfortable with it. He starts with your wrists pulling your arms gently straight above your head. He ties the rope to one wrist, loops it through the wooden slats of the headboard, then finishes by attaching it to your other wrist. 

Though it’s your first time using ropes, the position is not unfamiliar. Your partners do enjoy holding your wrists above your head, and you know you like the feeling. 

And then Harry moves to your legs. This is new, and you feel exposed as he ties your ankles to the bottom corners of the bed. But before you can become self conscious, Sarah leans in and says, “You look so beautiful like this.” Warmth spreads through you again, not because of embarrassment or lust this time, but because of the love you feel from your partners, as the boys now add in their compliments too. 

You watch Harry step away and grab the silk blindfold, checking your color one more time before he loops it around your eyes, effectively taking away your sight. 

It’s an odd feeling, knowing the others are there but not seeing them. You can hear movement, and you assume they’re removing their clothes but can’t be sure. 

At one point there are no hands on you, and you admit to yourself it makes you feel a bit uneasy. Not being able to see them is fine, so long as you can feel them. 

And then suddenly it goes from no hands to six hands. Which feels like too many. Your mind is messing with you. Instead of the nice, intense feeling you’d read about, this feels like ants crawling across your skin. 

Noticing you tense, Mitch asks for your color. After taking a moment to collect your thoughts, you reply, “Yellow, but I think it’s just the blindfold. Can we take it off?”

Before you even finish asking, Harry has started to remove it, and you blink at the low light in the room. You look at your three partners, giving each of them a soft smile. 

“Do you want to stop?” Sarah asks. 

Shaking your head, you reply, “No, definitely not. I just need to see you guys.” 

“Okay. Ready to start again?” Mitch asks. 

“Yes, I’m ready,” you reply. 

They once again trace their fingers along your bare skin. The press kisses along your body, taking turns to capture your mouth in passionate kisses. Your hands flex against their bindings, wanting to touch the others but getting more turned on each time you’re reminded that you’re at their mercy. 

Their teasing touches continue, and you feel them everywhere except where you want it most. You try to tilt your hips up in an effort to wordlessly show them what you want, but the ropes make it nearly impossible. 

Not totally impossible though, and Harry realizes what you’re doing. 

“Stay still, baby,” he says as his hands grip your waist and hold you against the bed. He adjusts so that he’s seated on the bed next to you, one hand splayed on your lower stomach to keep you in place. As always, the show of strength paired with the sight of his large hand spanning your entire midsection sends another wave of lust through your body. 

Sarah moves between your legs, and finally runs her tongue along your core, the direct stimulation shocking after they avoided it for so long. You cry out in pleasure and Mitch murmurs, “Just like that, nice and loud. Let us hear how good our girl is making you feel.”

Back when you were planning this scene, you had brought up gags, but the others quickly turned that idea down. They like listening to your sounds of pleasure far too much. 

Which is why you don’t hold back as Sarah begins eating you out. Her tongue and fingers are like magic, and in no time the pleasure builds and you’re at the cusp of your orgasm. Knowing the signs, Sarah pulls away, stopping just before you can come. 

Your moans of pleasure turn into whines of disappointment, and the others just smile down at you. When you’ve caught your breath and your body has calmed down they start again. 

The three of them take turns going down on you, and you quickly lose count of how many times they stop just before you come. 

It’s maddening, and frustrating, and yet, feels so good. They keep praising you, saying how well you’re doing, how pretty you look all flushed and flustered beneath them. 

“Time for the next step,” Mitch says. He must see something on your face because he asks, “You good baby?”

“I’m good,” you say. 

“How do you feel?” Harry asks. 

It takes you a moment to think of an answer, your mind is a bit fuzzy, so you tell him that. 

“Yea? A little floaty? Does it feel good or bad?” Having been in subspace himself before, he knows it can be scary sometimes. If you are slipping, he wants to make sure it’s a good experience. 

“Good. I like it. It’s like,” you do your best to put it into words. “It’s like there’s nothing but the three of you. Like our own little world.”

“Just how it should be,” Harry says. “We’re gonna keep going. If you’re green, Mitch will give you the next instructions.”

“I’m green,” you reply, knowing that they’ll want verbal answers especially as things get more intense. 

Mitch leans down and presses a kiss to your lips, a sweet gentle gesture that has you melting beneath him. “Now, Sarah has been so nice to you, eating you out so you feel good. I think it’s only fair that you return the favor.”

You nod, very much wanting to do that. 

“Can I sit on your face, love?” Sarah asks and you say, “Yes, please, yes.”

An object is placed in your hand, and you recognize the clicker. Mitch has you demonstrate how to use it to color if you can’t speak, and then Sarah moves to straddle your face. She hovers, still teasing you, and it pains you that you can’t grab her hips to pull her down. 

Slowly she lowers herself, and you begin to pleasure her. You have to get creative, since you can’t use your hands at all, but she seems to be enjoying it. Soon you hear her cry out as she comes, her hands tangling in your hair, which should be painful, but for some reason turns how on even more. 

After catching her breath, Sarah gingerly climbs off of you and lays beside you instead. She uses her hand to wipe the wetness off of your face, and the contrast of that sweet gesture after the rough way she had held your hair has your mind spinning once again.

After cleaning off her hand, she uses it to gently draw shapes on your skin and Mitch says, “My turn, baby girl. You ready for me?”

“Yes, please,” you reply, feeling so empty now. You sign in relief as he slides inside, loving the feeling and the connection this intimacy brings. He starts slow before gradually picking up the pace, thrusting in harder and deeper. He used to be so soft and slow with you, like you were made of glass and he didn’t want to break you. And he often still is. But every now and then he’s rough, and you absolutely love it. 

Harry leans down and nibbles at your ear before saying, “Tell daddy how good he’s making you feel.”

Your eyes roll back in your head at his dirty words, but you follow instructions and pant out, “Feels so good, daddy, I’m so close.”

You regret being honest because moments later Mitch pulls out, leaving you empty once again. 

“No, don’t go, please,” you beg, now growing desperate for release.

“Need you to take a breath for me,” he says, his voice low. “That’s it, baby. Now Harry’s gonna fuck you, real nice and hard.” You whimper, knowing you won’t be able to hold back your orgasm any longer. And because Mitch can read you like a book, he knows this. Knows you’re about to reach your limit, which is why he then says, “And you can come whenever you want. But remember, once you start, we’re not letting you stop.”

You let out another whimper at this, needy this time instead of frustrated. 

Harry lines up with your entrance and checks your color before sliding in fully. He immediately sets a brutal pace, and in no time at all, you’re finally letting go.

You let out a loud cry of pleasure, as intense waves roll through your whole body, all the way from your core to the tips of your fingers. Harry continues to thrust, until he’s coming inside of you, and it feels like you’re having a never ending orgasm. 

He pulls out but is quickly replaced with Sarah’s fingers. She doesn’t let up, fucking you with her skilled fingers until you’re coming again. She removes her hand but she’s not done with you, and she begins rubbing her core against yours as she leans down for a dirty kiss. You lay there, unable to move, just simply taking the pleasure she’s giving you. 

“Come with me, love,” she says, and as though your body is made to obey, you do just that. 

She lays on one side of you, Harry on the other, and Mitch kneels between your legs. He slides his hand up your thigh until he’s pushing three fingers inside of you. He leans down, curling his fingers just right as he sucks you clit into his mouth, tearing yet another orgasm from you.

Your body feels tired and heavy, your mind pleasantly fuzzy. Sensing you’re reaching your true limit, Mitch hovers over you. “Hey baby, you still with us?” he asks quietly. 

It takes you a moment to process the question, but you finally answer, “‘M here.”

“Think you can do one more?” he questions.

You’re not sure you can, but you absolutely want to. Because Mitch hasn’t come yet, and you have a feeling this last orgasm would be courtesy of him inside you, and you crave that more than anything. So you slowly nod your head yes.

“Words, baby girl,” he reminds you.

“Yes, daddy, I can do one more,” you reply, not even realizing you let the name slip. You’d never used that title before today, and now it just feels so right. 

“Alright, daddy’s gonna make you feel so good. Nice and gentle this time,” he says as he slowly slides his length inside of you. As promised, instead of the rough pace from earlier, he’s now rocking in and out of you so tenderly, gradually building up both of your orgasms. 

You get lost in the feeling, letting your mind slip more into the floatiness that has been threatening to take over for the last few minutes. Harry’s hand finds your clit, rubbing just right, bringing you to your final orgasm of the night. You clench around Mitch, sending him over the edge as well. 

For the first time all night, you really pull against the restraints, and knowing what you’re trying to do, Mitch tells Harry to untie the ropes quickly. As soon as your legs are free, you wrap them around Mitch, wordlessly telling him to stay inside you, needing to feel him after such an intense scene. 

“I’m here, baby. I’m not going anywhere,” he says, pressing kisses on your neck and face. Once Harry releases your arms, he and Sarah both massage out any soreness and carefully stretch them to work out any lingering kinks in your joints and muscles. 

You lay there, surrounded by the three of them, completely at peace. You know they’re all talking to you, murmuring praises and telling you how well you did, but you’re too fuzzy to fully understand. 

It isn’t until you start to fall asleep that they decide it’s time to clean up and do the rest of your aftercare. Mitch carefully pulls out, kissing away your whines of displeasure at being separated from him. 

He picks you up and heads towards the bathroom, and you hear Sarah say she and Harry will meet you in there after changing the sheets. Mitch places you down on the toilet, a silent instruction for you to pee, and he turns to start filling the tub.

It’s comically large, essentially an indoor hot tub, but perfect for when all four of you want to bathe together. You finish up your business and move to stand, but your legs are wobbly. Luckily Harry is there, and he scoops you up to carry you over to the tub. 

Mitch and Sarah get in first, and Harry passes you over to them before he too climbs in. The water is nice, perfectly warm and soothing. The scent diffuser in the corner is filling the room with the relaxing fragrance of lavender. Mitch methodically washes your hair, while Harry and Sarah work together to clean your body, paying special attention to your wrists and ankles to make sure the rope didn’t hurt you at all. 

The fuzziness in your head dissipates, replaced by the normal peaceful feeling you get when with your three favorite people. After Mitch finishes rinsing your hair you open your eyes, and the others can see the clarity there. 

“Back with us, hm?” Sarah asks.

“I am,” you reply bashfully.

“How was it?” Harry asks.

“So good. All of it, just. I really liked it.”

“That’s good,” Mitch says. “We’ll talk about it more in depth tomorrow so you can tell us what you really enjoyed and what you might want to change if we do this again. But for now let’s dry off and get into bed, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, wanting nothing more than to be in your cozy bed surrounded by the others.

Even though the bath revived you and you’re fully capable of drying yourself off and getting dressed, Sarah does it for you. She gently towels you off before helping you step into a pair of boxers. She slides a large t-shirt over your head and then brushes out the knots in your hair. 

When she finishes the task she goes to move back into the bedroom, but you stop her, pulling her in for a hug. You see the boys watching and signal for them to join in.

Once the four of you are standing there in a group hug you say, “Thank you for today. I really enjoyed it, and you all made me feel so loved and cared for.”

You all hold each other close for a minute before making your way into bed. You and Sarah are in the middle, Mitch behind you and Harry on Sarah’s other side. All of you are touching in some way, loving that contact right now. 

It had been a day of firsts, and as always, this new experience has brought you even closer to Mitch, Sarah, and Harry. 

With warm arms surrounding you, you drift off to sleep, but not before telling the others once again how much you love them.

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AN: Thank you for reading! I currently have 2 more extras planned but requests are open if there's anything you want to see!

[mcufan72]

Sugar and Cinnamon

Loki x female reader (AU) / 18+

Chapter 9

Chapter 8

Warnings: contains angst, fluff, smut, unprotected sex, alcohol and cigarette consumption, soft!dom/sub vibes, some drama, morally grey stuff. Maybe a bit of a filler chapter but necessary for the plot! I hope you enjoy.

While driving in his green Jaguar through the crowded streets of Downtown Manhattan, Loki tried to stay calm. The sunny weather didn't fit his mood. He couldn't stop thinking about last night and what had happened. He could still feel your kisses on his lips, your touches on his body, and he also couldn't forget the way you looked at him and how you made him feel. With your beguiling charm and your incredible art of seduction, you even made him submit to you. To show his submissive side was something he had never done that easily before. But when he finally decided to open up to you further and to give you not only his body but his heart too, you ran away, left him alone, leaving this letter for him. A letter full of heartache and pain, desperation and fear.

After you had this breakdown and cried in his arms, he hoped you'd open up to him as well and that you'd possibly tell him what made you feel so sad and hurt. He was wrong, maybe it was too soon and you two were not close enough to each other yet for such deep conversations. But he wanted you, he wanted you in his arms, in his heart and his life. And for that, he'd do anything so the most important thing was now to find you, no matter what. How was he supposed to not search for you when you were maybe in danger? Why didn't you ask him to help you? He would've given the money to you without hesitation, without demanding anything from you for this favour.

One day you will have forgotten me…

This sentence of yours echoed in his head. He could never forget you. Against all odds, you had grown to his heart, and he loved and craved you even more now. The blackmailing thing made him feel sick and drove him crazy. Who was doing this to you, his precious girl? He was so afraid that you could've left New York already before he got the chance to talk to you. He had so many questions.

Short time later, Loki arrived at the building where REA had its office and he left the car park with fast, long steps. He couldn't get fast enough to Rhea, not even knowing if she was already in the office because it was quite early in the morning. Loki pressed the doorbell and shortly after, the door opened and he entered the welcoming office. Light jazz and soul music and the smell of freshly brewed coffee conjured an incomparable and comfortable atmosphere. Everything in here was classy-modern and elegant but it didn't calm his nerves down. Inwardly he was scared and deeply worried but he wouldn't show it to anyone, especially not to Rhea, your boss. He was sure, according to your letter, she didn't know anything about the trouble you were in and he would never expose you to anyone.

“Good morning, Sir. How can I be of help?” Rhea greeted him kindly and offered her hand for a handshake, visibly impressed by the raven-haired, attractive man in black jeans, a white t-shirt and a black leather jacket in front of her. Who could blame her? When he took his sunglasses off and looked at her with bright blue eyes she blushed but kept her professional attitude up.

“Good morning… Rhea, I guess?” Loki responded and took her offered hand in his.

“Yes, I'm Rhea. Mr.Larsson, right?” She asked him, her smile getting brighter when she recognised that he was much more handsome than in the photo she got from him some time ago.

“Yes, I'm Luke Larsson. I'm sorry for showing up that early in the morning and without an appointment but it's urgent and I need you to help me quickly and efficiently,” he explained.

“No worries, Sir. Please take a seat on the couch and let me know what I can do for you. Fancy a coffee?”

“No, thanks Rhea, I'm fine. I want to get straight to the point. It's about Miss Black.”

“I hope nothing happened between you two. If you're not happy anymore with her as your escort we will try to solve your problem,” Rhea took a seat next to Loki, facing him and raising her eyebrows. She was sure there hadn't been a problem between you two at all. She knew how much you liked him.

“No, I can assure you nothing happened. I appreciate Miss Black as my escort and I definitely don't want to book another of your surely lovely escort ladies. It's just that I need an appointment with her today. I know it's extremely spontaneous but… it's urgent, you know.” Loki still tried to stay calm and cool. He was sure Rhea would make it possible to fulfill his urgent request for your company.

“Let me have a look at Miss Black's schedule,” Rhea said, already knowing the answer. She stood up from the sofa and walked over to her desk, sat down on the chair and opened her laptop. Loki waited eagerly for her answer, nervously and subconsciously playing at his fingers. A habit he nearly had forgotten but he hadn't been that nervous for a very long time. You had brought out his soft side again. He had almost forgotten that he had a softer side. He had been alone for too long before he met you.

“I'm sorry, Mr.Larsson but Miss Black isn't available for the next two weeks,” Rhea told him. She just hoped Loki would take it easy and would be open for an appointment with one of her other escorts.

“What do you mean by that?” Loki's heart began to race. He must've gotten Rhea wrong.

“I mean what I said, Miss Black isn't available in the foreseeable future.”

“That's impossible. I need to see her!”

“Sir, I think you didn't get me right. It is impossible. Miss Black is unavailable.” Rhea stayed kindly but strictly.

“But I need to see her! If it's impossible, make it possible! I have an important event to attend and I need Miss Black to accompany me,” he answered with great emphasis. That he had to attend an event was a lie but of course, he couldn't tell Rhea the real reason why he needed to meet you promptly.

“Mr.Larsson, please… I can arrange an appointment with another excellent escort lady from my agency and I promise you you won't be disappointed. I'm certain we'll find the perfect lady for you,” Rhea assured him.

“I'm sure about that, Rhea but that's not the point. I just want to date Miss Black! Only her! Why isn't she available for the next two weeks? Did she get ill? Is she fully booked? Is she going to meet other… gentlemen and why didn't she tell me?” He knew he began to sound desperate. “Please, Rhea, tell me!” He was actually desperate, a fact that made him feel uneasy. He had never been this desperate because of a woman.

“Mr.Larsson, you must know that I won't tell you anything about the bookings, the whereabouts, or any other private things of my escort ladies. Please just accept that she's not bookable for the next two weeks.,” Rhea told him strictly.

“And I tell you to accept that I need to see her. Only her. Today. No matter what! I… because I… I have a soft spot for her, I really like her,” Loki stated and his last words were not much more than a whisper. He should better hold back all those feelings.

“Obviously,” Rhea muttered under her breath and suppressed a grin.

“I beg your pardon?” He asked, frowning and trying to keep up the facade.

“Obviously, and I get that, Mr.Larsson. Miss Black is a wonderful and lovely woman,” Rhea confirmed.

“She is, indeed.” Loki took a deep breath before he continued. “So there's no chance to meet her?”

“No, Mr.Larsson. I'm genuinely sorry.”

“Could you please do me a favour then,” Loki said hesitantly, still hoping for Rhea's help even if it wasn't the kind of help he was looking for.

“Mr.Larsson, I'm asking you, please don't push it too far!”

“I'm not asking for any information. I'll pay Miss Black for the next two weeks,” Loki said, leaving no doubt that he was being serious.

“Mr.Larsson I'm not sure if you…” Loki jumped off the sofa and walked over to Rhea's desk.

“Listen, I don't want further information. I got it that she's not available… at least not for me. Regardless of whether she has appointments with other men or not, I pay for the next two weeks including the nights,” Loki interrupted her harshly.

“Mr.Larsson, please… it'll cost you a fortune and I'm not sure if Miss Black wants you to do this!” Rhea tried to intervene.

“I don't care about how much it costs me. I just care about her. Money doesn't matter, she matters. I ask you to cancel all of her appointments and to add my money to her bank account,” Loki stated demandingly. He couldn't know that you hadn't any appointment at all. He was used to always getting it his way so he was sure Rhea wouldn't discuss his plan with him further.

“Mr.Larsson, Miss Black isn't available and she's also not exclusively yours.” Rhea slowly got angry. At least it was none of her business but she wasn't sure if Loki was stalking you. She just wanted to guarantee your safety.

“Of course, she is! I pay for the time she would spend with me if she were bookable. I want her to meet me and me only. I won't discuss it with you any further!” Loki commanded. Just the tone of his voice was enough to command respect. His possessiveness and obsession with you got the better of him. Why didn't Rhea understand him? He just wanted to protect you and avoid you being forced to meet other men for money. How many men would you have to meet to earn that amount of money you needed for that damn blackmail? He could easily give the money to you but for some reason, you hadn't asked him for help and refused to take his money without working for it. He wanted to give it to you unconditionally and so he had no other choice than to do it this way. You would never have to meet other men again or worse, sleep with them. Men who didn't know how to treat you right, with decency and all the respect you deserved. The sheer thought of them touching you or worse, touching you intimately, drove him crazy and made him fume with anger. And besides this, you were his and his only. But he better stay calm. He wanted Rhea to cooperate with him and so he returned to a nicer tone.

“Rhea, please do me that favour. If you can't do it for me then do it for her. Please! She doesn't have to do anything about it. I won't ask for anything in return. I just want her to be safe.” Desperation overcame him again and he wished he could still hold you in his arms like he did last night. Damn, why didn't you stay and ask him for help? Why did you run away from him?

“That's pretty selfless, Mr.Larsson.”

“Call it what you want, I just care about her wellbeing. She doesn't belong… here,” and he let his gaze wander around the office and emphasized it with a sweeping motion of his arms. “She deserves a life of safety and happiness.”

“Exactly what everyone else here thinks,” Rhea muttered under her breath.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, Mr.Larsson. I'll do what you're wishing for. But I doubt Miss Black will be fond of it.” Rhea knew it was often fishy when it came to men wanting to pay lots of money for escorts or call girls and pretend not to want anything in return. She didn't think Loki was one of them but you never knew. She also sensed that he wouldn't give up that easily and that he was very serious when it came to you. There surely was more between you two than just the ‘escort-meets-client’ thing. She could see it in his gaze.

“Fond of what? Getting the money she needs without doing anything for it? I just don't want any other guy to lust for her or touch her. She deserves better. She deserves to be treated like a queen. I might not be the right man for her but if there's something I can do for her it's that. I just want to make it easier for her.”

“It seems, our lovely Miss Black has found her Prince on the white horse, the Knight in shining armour. It's a very noble gesture, Mr.Larsson, chivalrous even.”

“I'm anything but chivalrous, Rhea, believe me. I just want her to be okay,” Loki responded humbly. “So, could you please arrange an appointment with Miss Black in two weeks, as soon as she's bookable again?” Loki was well aware that he wouldn't get any further here with Rhea.

“Of course, Mr.Larsson. No issue.” Rhea told him the next free option to meet you. At least he now had the confirmation that you were still here, somewhere in New York.

“I'm sorry that I couldn't be of more help but…I'm just doing my job, Mr.Larsson.”

“It's okay, Rhea. I know and you're doing your job very well and conscientiously. I appreciate how you protect your escort ladies. Nonetheless, thank you for your time. Have a nice day, Rhea.” Loki could barely hide his disappointment. He had hoped for a different ending to this conversation. How could he have been that naive?

“Goodbye, Mr.Larsson and thank you for your understanding and cooperation. Let me know whenever I can do something for you or when you need an escort lady in the next two weeks,” Rhea said kindly. Loki nodded once, put his sunglasses on and left the office.

Back in his car, he angrily hit the steering wheel with his flat hands. “Damn it!” And tears welled up in his eyes. “Girl, where are you?” His question echoed against the windshield and stayed unanswered. Were you in actual danger? Were you scared? Were you crying? Did you miss him or had you already forgotten him? Did you care about him and how he felt after you vanished? Did you care at all? And by the way, he still wanted his scarf back. The thought made him huff and smile. And when you give it back to him he should tie you up with said scarf to his bed and fuck you properly and relentlessly until you'd promise him to never run away again. But before that, he would kiss the heck out of you and tell you how much you had scared him, how much he had missed you and how much he loves and adores you. He needed to search for you, immediately but he didn't even know where to begin. He would drive home and make a plan as to which places he should go to look for you. If you were still in New York he would find you.

**************************

You could barely keep your eyes open. The hour-long writing and staring at the screen of your laptop had exhausted you. Your back was achingly tensed up from sitting for hours at the table, writing your thesis. You tried to stay focused and to avoid too long breaks from studying. You were already behind schedule. The deadline would end soon and an extension of it would be impossible. Well, the day of payback and doom came closer and closer too but you pushed the thoughts of it away. You knew you couldn't do this forever, you had to face reality soon but for now, you didn't want to think about it. You'll find a solution to your problem. Soon, very soon but not now, not today.

You sighed heavily, ran your fingers through your tousled hair and buried your face in your hands. As soon as you closed your eyes, you saw him, Luke, or whatever his name was. Since you left him and his penthouse nearly a week ago you couldn't stop thinking about him. You permanently thought about his kindness, his warmth, his beauty, his tenderly demanding kisses, his skin on yours and how good he felt when he was inside of you. You missed him terribly. You didn't want to yet you did. Would he have slept with you if you hadn't asked him to do it? Possibly not. Luke was everything you ever wanted and you wished you would've met him under different circumstances.

Why couldn't you randomly have bumped into him on the streets of Manhattan? A meet-cute ending up in a café, followed by properly dating each other, would've been nice. Luke was attentive, mindful, kind, caring, affectionate, tender and incredibly erotic. The sex with him was so good and satisfying. He not only cared about his satisfaction, he cared about yours as well. Him, finger-fucking you in the limousine was the most erotic experience you've ever had so far, and not to talk about him allowing you to dominate him, later in his bedroom…and everything else afterwards. He truly saw you, he truly cared about you. He noticed and remembered everything you did, said or liked. The flowers he gave to you, the evening gown, the foot massage.

And he did all of this without even knowing you well. Luke had done everything Ralph had never done in five years. But Luke's affection, the blackmailing and your fucked up life scared you and it made you run away from him. He deserved better and not someone disgusting like you. The worst thing was you would never see Luke Larsson again. You had broken your rules, you had kissed him, a client and that was probably the most scary thing. Because breaking your rules has broken your heart… and his most likely, too. Something you didn't intend to happen, you never wanted to hurt him.

You were still denying it but you were into him. No, you were on the way to fall deeply in love with him. But you mustn't, you must forget him. He was your client and you had already gone too far with him. You were sure he would never forgive you and you hoped he had already forgotten you. You weren't any special or mattered, not at all, and certainly not to him. As much as it hurt, it was better this way.

You sighed again and tried to wipe away all those memories and visions of him. Running your fingers through your hair again, you stood up from your chair and stretched your stiff limbs. And Luke was still in your mind…and his scarf in the drawer of your dresser. You still had it. You shouldn't. You should've given it back to him already. You also shouldn't have lied to him. You didn't know how but he knew you were lying when you told him you hadn't found it on the floor of the hotel suite.

You just wanted to keep it, this little piece of silken fabric, a piece that belonged to him, a piece that gave you comfort and spread the scent of safety. His scent which you loved so much. You went straight to your dresser and took the scarf out of the drawer. You buried your nose into the silken fabric and inhaled deeply. It still smelled of him. You should better stop daydreaming and continue writing your thesis. You also should take a shower later, a cold one perhaps. You put the scarf back into the drawer, closed it and headed for the kitchen to prepare another mug of coffee. You turned some light jazz music on and continued working.

It was already 3 am when you went to bed after taking a hot shower. Cold water didn't help at all to wash him out of your system. You took Luke's scarf out of the drawer again, laid down on the bed and pulled your duvet up under your chin. You took a whiff and even though you were tired you felt arousal rise in you. You missed him and you missed his touch. Your fingers found your clit and you pleasured yourself gently but straight to a mind-numbing orgasm to get some stress relief, thinking of him.

On the other side of the Hudson, Loki laid on his bed and jerked himself fast and hard to a badly needed orgasm. He needed some relief from the pain he felt inside of him since you were gone and untraceable. His search for you in the last few days had been unsuccessful so far but you were always on his mind and tomorrow he'd continue to look for you. There were still some places he could search for you. You both didn't know that you pleasured yourselves at the same time, that you thought of each other and cried each other's names at the same time when your climaxes washed over you in the middle of the night. You were so close to each other yet so far away.

When you came down from your high you covered your eyes to keep the daylight out of your system as long as possible because the sun would rise soon. But instead of using your sleeping mask, you used Luke's scarf, covered your eyes with it and tied the two ends comfortably at the back of your head. You dropped your head in the cuddly pillow and a sigh escaped your mouth, tears brimming in your eyes.

“I miss you, Luke… and I love you,” you whispered tiredly. In the warmth of your duvet, engulfed by the quietly playing jazz music from your sound system and by the scent of his cologne, sleep finally took you.

Loki was about to fall asleep when he thought he had heard your tired voice, telling him that you missed and loved him. He knew he was just imagining it hence he hoped that you would at least come to him in his dreams.

The next morning, you were already sitting in front of your laptop again, your phone blinked and vibrated next to you on the table. You were knee-deep in writing your thesis and you weren't in the mood to answer any calls, not to talk about that you didn't have any time for it. You saw Rhea's name popping up on the display and you decided to answer the call.

“Hey, Rhea. What's up?”

“Hey, y/n. Sorry for disturbing you but… we have an issue,” Rhea explained.

“An issue? What happened?” You were curious about what she had to tell you and at the same time, you felt some anxiety arising in your gut. Did she want to sack you? That would be a catastrophe. Did Luke tell her what had happened between you two, that he was mad at you especially because of the letter you had written for him? Was it about him at all?

“It's about Mr.Larsson, dear.” Rhea sounded serious. The tight feeling in your stomach got worse.

“Mr.Larsson?”

“Yes, dear. I already waited for too long to tell you about it. Please come to the office if you can. It's urgent but I don't want to tell you about it on the phone,” she said, her tone slightly concerned.

“Okay, give me thirty minutes,” you answered, uncertain about how this meeting would end for you.

“Fine, I'll be here, waiting for you,” and you both ended the call.

“He did what? I don't understand. Who does he think he is? How DARE he? Guess I should be flattered,” you stated angrily thirty minutes later when you sat at Rhea's desk. But if you were being honest you also appreciated his concerns.

“Yeah, he doesn't want you to meet other men anymore. I suppose he cares about you, a lot.” Rhea had told you everything about her conversation with Loki and also apologized that she had waited for so long to tell you about it and that she hadn't sent you the money yet. She had been uncertain what to do with all the money Loki had already sent to her bank account to send it further to yours. She didn't want to do anything wrong and wanted to talk with you about it so she left the money untouched.

“Dear, we both know you don't belong here. You should take his offer. I'm sure he just wants to help,” Rhea tried to convince you.

“No! I won't take his money. It feels like he would buy me,” and you jumped off of the chair in front of Rhea's desk. “I know that I'm kind of a whore but… it's my decision, you know. I decide to meet a man or not. I decide which guy's money I take and how much. Does he really think if he offers the biggest amount of money he can own me and tell me what to do?” You were furious and walked up and down in the office. “I won't accept that!”

“I don't think he wants to buy or own you. I'm sure if you would tell him why and for what you need so much money he would give it to you without hesitation. That guy has feelings for you, you've grown on him and it seems…”

“Nonsense! And he knows, Rhea. I told him. No details, but he knows,” you interrupted her.

“Even better!” Rhea cheered. “And he still wants to help you! I know something is going on between you two and that something has happened. I don't want to know any details but this man is desperate and you should talk to him. He urgently wanted to meet you for a reason and I'm pretty sure you know what reason it is. Sorry, y/n but I really don't get why you are refusing his help.”

“Because I'm sure… no… I know one fine day he wants something in return. Everything in life has its price, Rhea. Life gives you nothing!” A single angry tear escaped your eye.

“I'm not sure about that, dear. Luke Larsson might be your way out of this business, out of your misery. We both know you don't belong here, desperation brought you here, to my agency, to my office. I'd be very sorry to lose you as my escort lady and I'd love to stay your friend but you should take this chance,” Rhea tried to convince you.

“No! I don't need a savior and I don't need love or care. I need money, lots of money… you have no idea,” you answered strictly.

“Then take his money, for heaven's sake! If you need the feeling of having worked for it try to imagine you'd meet him every day including the nights without actually meeting him. It's not that difficult. Your pride and stubbornness won't help you out of your bad situation, y/n.”

“Enough! End of discussion, Rhea. I can't and I won't take his money without working for it. I just can't do it. I never want to be owned by a man again, certainly not. I don't want to depend on a man’s mercy ever again. And the day will come when he demands a kind of payback, a kind of reparation. I refuse his offer, and you Rhea give him his money back. I don't want it. And also I want you to cancel my appointment with him, I don't want to meet him ever again. I leave now, I've a lot of work to do,” your tone dripping with anger and desperation. “Bye Rhea, see you next week when I'll have finished my exams,” you murmured sadly.

“Of course, dear. I'll send him his money back if this is what you want. I hope everything turns out well for you. Bye, dearest,” Rhea said and you hurriedly left the office without a further word. Rhea felt bad for you. She understood your motifs but she wished you would've accepted Luke's try to help you because it seemed this man genuinely cared about you. Of course, she accepted your wish and sent the money back with the note ‘acceptance denied’.

You wanted to laugh and to cry all at once. Why couldn't he just forget you like you had asked him for in your letter? And on the other hand, you felt wanted and cared for if it was true what Rhea had told you. Was he really desperate to find and meet you? Not that it would change anything. You had cut the wire and there was no comeback now.

You were still too upset to continue working on your thesis and so you walked aimlessly on the crowded sidewalks of the Manhattan streets. About an hour later you stood in front of the New York Public Library and immediately you thought about the conversation you had with Gabby about the Avengers and the Invasion of New York. Shortly after your last night with Luke, you couldn't resist finding out more about the incident and him.

To your astonishment, there was nothing much to find on the Internet and it seemed photos and articles from twelve years ago had been removed from the websites. Normally you wouldn't care about it but somehow you wanted to know who Luke was and what he had to do with the Avengers, the Invasion, and the avoided total destruction of New York City. You should be able to get access to old newspapers from that time and you also may find photos of him. And maybe you would find out his real name. It wouldn't change the fact that you'd never see him again but you wanted to know whom you had kissed and slept with, to whom you had given your heart.

You sat at a desk in the library, scrolling through several articles in the newspapers from twelve years ago. It took some time until you found the articles about the incident. There were short ones, side-long ones but no photo so far with all the Avengers in it. Mostly there were photos of a certain Tony Stark because his building was somehow involved in this so you scrolled further on the screen. And then, you had found it, a photo that involved all of them. In the photo, you also saw the three men you had dated: Steve Rogers, the fantastic dancer. Scott Lang, the guy who made you laugh the whole evening. Bruce Banner, with whom you had one of the best conversations and who invited you to a delicious dessert.

You scrolled further through the article and then you found it. The photo you were looking for. A photo of a handsome raven-haired man, incredibly attractive and with piercing blue eyes. The man you had dated, had sex with, and finally had kissed. You found his name written under the picture. Your friend was right. His name wasn't Luke Larsson. His name was Loki Laufeyson.

*************************

Loki was weary and worn. Day after day he has searched for you without any success, without any hint of where you could be. He had searched for you everywhere, he visited every place he had been with you, he looked for you in every cafe, bar, bistro, restaurant, gallery, museum, and park, he went several times to Vivian's Velvet, he even visited every bookstore or grocery store. Nothing. It seemed you had vanished from the face of the earth. Maybe it would've been easier if he would know your real name but without that, it was nearly impossible to find you.

Also, you refused to accept his money. He was disappointed and it kind of hurt him when he saw the money had been credited to his bank account again with the note ‘acceptance denied’. You neither wanted his money nor wanted to be found. But he wouldn't give up on you. Not yet and most likely never. Nonetheless today he would go to Vivian's Velvet for one last time. His very last try to find you.

Cast down, he took a seat at the bar and ordered a whisky. Today he just wanted to get drunk and he drank his whisky in one big gulp. “Another, please,” he asked the barkeeper, who placed a further whisky in front of Loki. This one he also gulped down in one swift sip. “Another!” He growled darkly and the barkeeper refilled Loki's tumbler. Why didn't the alcohol help to wash this dull ache and the sadness away? It had always worked in the past when he took a bath and had a glass of wine and never thought about his lost love interests again. Why didn't it work this time? He emptied his whisky quickly and ordered another one.

“Hello, handsome. Shouldn't you slow down a bit?” An attractive, tall, red-haired woman addressed Loki and took a seat on the bar stool next to him, temptingly crossing her long, black nylon-dressed legs. Her short black leather dress showed more of her bodily features than it covered.

“Mind your own business, my Lady. My drinks are none of your concerns,” Loki stated, annoyed without looking at her and took a sip of his next whisky. He didn't want to be rude but he wasn't in the mood for a conversation or flirting.

“Does it hurt that much? What is it you're trying to numb so desperately? Want me to distract you, pretty one? Want to play with me?” she offered him, her voice soft like velvet and her fingers trailed gently over his forearm up to his bicep. Loki immediately grabbed her hand and stopped her from touching him.

“Don't! I appreciate your tempting offer and you're a really pretty woman but I'm not interested, thank you,” Loki informed her, looking sternly at her. She withdrew her hand from his grip and smiled at him.

“I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't mean to be pushy. I just thought I could help you to forget some of your… grief.”

“That's very kind of you but nothing and nobody can help me to forget, I guess.” Loki swirled the whisky in his glass, staring absent-mindedly at the golden-brown liquid.

“That bad?” She asked cautiously.

“Yeah, it's that bad,” Loki swallowed the entire contents of his tumbler. With the emptied glass he gestured to the barkeeper to refill it and turned his head towards the woman next to him.

“Can I get you something? What would you like to drink? Champagne, a cocktail or something else?”

“Champagne would be nice,” she answered sweetly. “Is she nice?” She wanted to know.

“Who? What do you mean?” Loki asked, irritated and playing with the whisky tumbler in his hands.

“The woman you try to forget,” she responded smilingly.

“How do you know I'm trying to forget a woman,” Loki responded, looking quizzically at her.

“Because men try to drown their pain and lovesickness in lots of alcohol and mostly they're having casual sex with a Callgirl too. That's why many of them are coming here to Vivian's,” she explained knowingly.

“I'm not one of them. I came here a few times to look for her and we had our first date here. She's gorgeous. Over time we became closer to each other and then she vanished. And now I'm looking for her but without success,” Loki told her and emptied his whisky glass.

“So she's one of us?” She wanted to know.

“Kind of. She is… was my escort lady.”

“An escort? Maybe I know her… what's her name?” She asked him.

“Yeah! Yeah, maybe you do!” Hope arose in Loki again. “Her name is Sugar,” and Loki was sure she'd know promptly who he meant. But her answer crushed his hope.

“Sugar, you say?” She contemplated for a moment before she answered him. “No, I'm sorry, I've never met an escort here named Sugar.”

Loki nodded sadly and gave her a description of your appearance when he suddenly remembered a little something.

“Do you possibly know an escort lady named Candy?” He asked her excitedly. It was the last glimmer of hope.

“Candy? Yes, of course, I remember her. She's lovely but I haven't seen her for weeks now. Maybe she quit, I don't know. We were never close, you know.” Loki's hope died instantly and he took a deep breath, shaking his head in disbelief. He slowly believed the universe didn't want him to see you ever again.

“What a lucky girl she is. I wish such a great guy like you would love me like that and look for me like you are looking for her. But I'm sorry, handsome, I think I can't help you. You need to continue searching for her, I guess.” She genuinely pitied him. He was truly sad and desperate and obviously in love.

“And yet she ran away,” Loki murmured. “No worries, it's alright. I won't stop searching for her but I don't want to keep my hopes up too high, you know. But I appreciate you're trying to help me,” Loki continued but could barely hide his disappointment.

“No issue. I'm sure you'll find her. Love always finds a way. Heads up, handsome,” she said, trying to rebuild his confidence.

“I just hope you're right,” was the only thing Loki could answer.

“Thank you for the champagne, I'll leave now. And hey, don't give up on her. I'm sure she is waiting for you. You're a very decent man… coming here frustrated and love-sick and refusing a good fuck… if this isn't fidelity and love then I don't know what is. Good luck, pretty boy” she said kindly, smiled at him, hopped off the bar stool, and went away. She was looking for a man to spend a night in bed with and maybe she would fall in love with one of her clients too but she knew Loki wouldn't be the one. This place in his mind, in his heart, and in his bed was already taken.

It was in the early morning hours when Loki decided to finally go home when he saw a black limousine in the car park right in front of Vivian's Velvet. He was instantly sober. Walker casually leaned against the vehicle, a coffee from a takeaway in his hand. He had had a long night after his two-week vacation but now his shift was over and he would drive home soon. Loki and Walker never crossed their paths in the last few days or nights but it seemed it was meant to be that Loki was meeting him now. Not Vivian's was his last hope, Walker was and Loki was well aware that only Walker could help him to find you. It wouldn't be easy to break his secrecy. But he wanted to give it a try. If this wouldn't work, nothing would.

“Good morning, Walker. Hope you're fine. Do you remember me?” Loki greeted him.

“Good morning, Mr.Larsson. Of course, I remember you, Sir. I hope you're doing well, too,” Walker replied, unsure what Loki might want from him.

“Haven't seen you for a while,” Loki continued. Walker took a sip of his coffee and stared emotionlessly at Loki over the rim of his mug. Walker was cautious with every suitor of the escort ladies he was responsible for.

“I don't want to beat around the bush. I need your help, Walker and it's urgent,” Loki told him, with sadness in his voice. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his chinos and waited for Walker's reaction.

“What kind of help, Sir?” Walker grumbled, raising his eyebrows. He didn't trust a suitor, least of all the pretty ones.

“Sugar. I need to find her and it's urgent. I have looked everywhere for her, days and nights for the nearly last two weeks and I can't find her. Please, Walker, I need you to help me,” Loki asked him desperately.

“What makes you think I could help you, Mr.Larsson?” Walker questioned him dismissively.

“You know where she lives, you always drive her home after her dates. Walker, please bring me to her, I really need to talk to her. I need to see her,” Loki responded firmly, gesticulating with his hands to emphasize his request. Walker's answer was a deep, wholehearted laughter.

“And why should I do that, Sir? Do you really think I'd drive suitors to the escorts’ homes? I'm sorry, Mr.Larsson but this is really ridiculous.”

Loki rolled his eyes annoyed and bit lightly into his lower lip, placing his hands on his hips.

“I genuinely appreciate your discretion Walker and I'm glad that you take your job that seriously but you quite don't understand the urgency of this matter…I. Need. To. See. Sugar. Please!”

“No! I won't bring you to her home. I'll protect the ladies and nothing will change that. Not even a filthy rich guy like you!” Walker grumbled darkly. He would protect the escorts at all costs, especially you because he had a soft spot for you.

Loki walked towards him until their noses were almost touching. They gave each other a death stare and if looks could kill both would die instantly.

“Bring me to her,” Loki demanded insistently.

“No!”

“You'll bring me to her, Walker! Don't make me force you!” Loki's anger was growing fast but it was the anger of a man who was desperate to find his beloved girl.

“No!” Walker didn't give in. He couldn't know that he would lose any kind of fight against Loki but he would defend your privacy until his very end.

“Damn Walker, she's in danger, she needs help, urgently! So get up your ass and bring me to her!” Loki was upset but of course, he didn't want to hurt Walker physically, it wouldn't help anyone. But something in Walker cracked. He frowned and Loki took one step backwards.

“In danger? Why should I believe you?” Walker asked curiously. He was genuinely concerned now.

“Because it's the truth and you need to trust me.”

“I never trust a suitor. Sugar always spoke highly of you but it's my golden rule to never trust the men who book an escort lady.” Walker explained vehemently.

“She spoke to you about me?” Loki wasn't sure if this was a good or a bad sign.

“She just answered my concerned questions, nothing more but she was always fond of you. So, tell me, why should I believe or trust you? Maybe you're just telling fuckin’ lies to get to her.”

“In the last night we spent together we came very close to each other, not only physically but emotionally too. She stayed for a reason the whole night, you should remember that night and you got well paid for it that you waited until the next morning for her.” Walker remembered that night very well because it was something that didn't happen very often.

“She left without a word when I was still sleeping and the only thing she left for me was a letter, in which she told me mostly everything about her,” Loki continued.”She's in danger, Walker. Someone is blackmailing her. She needs my help. Please, Walker, we're on the same side, we both love her, each his own way, and we both want to protect her. Walker, I'm begging you, bring me to her!” Why the hell was this man so stubborn?

“Do you have any witness of what you're telling me?” Walker was still wary towards Loki but his concerns for you grew. What if he told the truth?

Loki pulled your letter out of the inner pocket of his jacket, unfolded it and showed it to Walker. He didn't give it to him because its contents were too private and just meant for him and it was the only thing he had from you besides the thong he had stolen from you when he pleasured you on the backseat of the limousine which stood right in front of him now. He carried your letter always with him like a treasure. He just wanted Walker to see it and prove to him that he wasn't lying.

“She wrote it in this letter. I told you the truth. Please help me, Walker.” Loki begged him quietly, tears brimming in his eyes. Walker frowned and rounded the limousine.

“Get into the car, Mr.Larsson. I'll take you to her!” That was what Loki wanted to hear.

“Thank you, Walker. I owe you.” A big smile appeared on Loki's face. He put your letter back into his pocket again and he quickly jumped into the car.

The sun was shining brightly this morning. Not only in the sky but also in Loki's heart. He put his sunglasses on and not much later, Walker parked the limousine in front of the building you were living in.

🌹🥂🌃🌹🥃🌃🌹❤️‍🩹🌃🌹🥃🌃🌹🥂🌃

@lokisprettygirl @faesimps @gruftiela @anukulee @fandxmslxt69 @foxherder @depressedpolishgirl @buttercupcookies-blog @chantsdemarins @fictive-sl0th @justjoanne242 @km-ffluv @stupidthoughtsinwriting @lovingchoices14 @wheredafandomat @lokixryss @huntress-artemiss @smolvenger

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Power: a Bloodline x Rhea Ripley fanfic.

Chapter 9: Joe..

As the night wore on, Demi felt the fog from her previous comedown lift slowly. The food had helped, the comfort of those around her had settled her mind, and the aching in her body had started to fade. She was finally beginning to feel like herself again.

After Joshua kissed her goodnight, his touch lingering with a sense of protectiveness, Demi watched him retreat to his room, leaving her be in front of her bedroom door. He had been nothing short of perfect, offering her care and affection, emotionally and physically, in a way that made her feel both cherished and safe. But even though Joshua had given her the comfort she needed, Demi knew the night wasn’t over. There was still the unspoken tension between her and Joe, and she could feel it building up in the air like an electric current.

When Demi opened the door, she was caught off guard. Joe was sitting on the edge of her bed, his posture strong and commanding. His presence was unmistakable, even in the dim light of the room. The way he sat—legs apart, shoulders broad—seemed like he was waiting for something, and Demi’s heart skipped a beat as she stood frozen in the doorway.

Demi smiled softly, about to speak, but Joe interrupted her before she could say a word. His tone was sharp, yet calm. “Stay,” he commanded, his eyes not leaving hers. There was a weight to his voice, something powerful that made her feet rooted to the spot.

Demi stood there, unsure if she should approach him or stay exactly where she was. The air between them felt heavy, tense with an unspoken understanding. She nodded slowly, stepping further into the room, not breaking eye contact with him.

Joe’s gaze hardened, but there was an edge of approval in his eyes. He stood up from the bed, his movements deliberate, controlled. “Your words,” he said, his voice deep and steady. “You say ‘Yes Sir’ or ‘No Sir.’ Understand?”

His presence filled the room, a mix of dominance and raw intent. Demi felt a rush of adrenaline flood her system as she processed his words. The way he spoke, the authority he carried—she knew this wasn’t just about tonight. This was a reaffirmation of the dynamic they had, one that, despite everything that had happened, was still very much in play. The trust, the tension, the power—it was all there, woven tightly into their interactions.

Demi felt a shiver run down her spine as she nodded again, her voice small but clear. “Yes Sir.”

Joe’s lips curled into a slight smile, though his eyes remained intense. He stepped closer, his presence so commanding it was hard to breathe. Every step he took made the air between them thick with anticipation. She stood still, her heart pounding in her chest, knowing that she had just agreed to whatever would come next.

Joe’s gaze didn’t leave hers, as if waiting for some signal. Demi wasn’t sure if she was ready for what came next, but she couldn’t pull away. There was something about him, something powerful, that made it impossible to resist.

“Good girl,” Joe murmured, his voice low and almost too soft to hear. But it was enough. The way he said it—like he was pleased, yet still in control—made something inside her stir. She wasn’t sure what would happen next, but in that moment, Demi understood that this was part of their complicated dance. The tension between them was far from over, but for now, she would stand there, obedient, waiting to see where Joe would lead them next.

“Crawl to me..”

“Yes sir..”

Joe watched Demi crawl towards him. He had always known that she was a submissive at heart, but he had never pushed her boundaries like this before. He was excited to see how far she would go for him. Joe remained silent, his eyes never leaving Demi. Inside his mind, a storm was brewing. He was fully aware of the power he wielded in this moment-of the control he had over her. It wasn't just physical, it was psychological. Joe knew exactly what she needed, what she craved, even if she didn't always admit it to herself. The desire to be dominated, to surrender control-it was there, unmistakable. He could see it in the way she looked at him, the subtle shifts, the way her breath hitched when he spoke.

"Take off your shirt," Joe commanded, his voice low and commanding.

Demi's heart raced as she obeyed, pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it aside. She was now completely topless, her nipples becoming hard with arousal. He also felt something more complex. This wasn't just about having her under his thumb. There was a connection between them, deeper than either of them were willing to admit. Demi had grown on him in ways he hadn't expected. She was strong, independent, sharp-traits that both frustrated and fascinated him. But at the same time, she was willing to submit, to follow his lead, to trust him. It was a dangerous balance, one that could tip either way. He wasn't sure what it was, but something about her was different. She was different… and that scared the fucking shit out of him.

Joe reached out and cupped Demi's face with one hand, his thumb feeling her lips. "Remember your place, Demi," he said, his voice deep and commanding. "You are here to serve me, to please me.”

Joe's cock ached in his shorts, the temptation to touch her overwhelming, but he held back just for a moment. This was about control, about knowing when to pull and when to push. He wasn't going to make it easy for her, not tonight. He wanted her to feel the weight of every word, every action, every instruction. But deep down, he also wanted her to feel that she belonged with him. That in the chaos of everything around them, this connection-this power dynamic-was theirs and theirs alone. No matter what happened, no matter how much they fought against it, Joe knew that in these moments, they were exactly where they needed to be.

Demi nodded, her eyes wide. "Yes, Sir," she said, her voice trembling with desire and fear.

Joe instructed her to open her mouth, and Demi obeyed. He slid his thumb inside her mouth, and Demi began to suck on it slowly, her tongue swirling around it. Joe watched her intently, his other hand gripping the bedsheets.

Why does he make me feel like this? she wondered, biting the inside of her cheek but careful not to bite his thumb. It wasn't just the power dynamic, though that certainly added to the allure. It was the way he made her feel alive when she couldn't quite understand herself.

"Good girl," Joe said, his voice husky with desire. "You're learning."

Demi sucked harder, her body trembling with need. She wanted more, she wanted Joe to take her, to make her his in his truest form. She could feel her pussy getting wetter with every passing second.

Her body wants more..

This thought made something inside him stir— possessiveness, a hunger for more. He knew this wasn't just about tonight. It was about a much deeper connection, one that he couldn't easily let go of. For the first time, he felt the weight of what they were building, even if he couldn't quite name it yet. And as much as he'd try to deny it, he wanted to see just how far Demi was willing to go to keep this power dynamic between them alive.

Am I ready for this? Can I be what he wants? What he needs? The questions buzzed in her mind, but deep down, she already knew the answer. Joe didn't just want her compliance; he wanted her trust, her devotion, her willingness to let go of every wall she'd ever built. And that terrified and enticed her.

Joe pulled his thumb out of her mouth, his eyes dark with desire as he looked at her. "Good girl," he said again, his voice rough with need. "You please me, Demi. Now, let's see how far you're willing to go to serve me."

As she looked into his eyes, steady and unyielding, she felt something shift inside her—a sense of surrender, not just to him but to herself. She didn't need to have all the answers right now. All she needed was to take the next step, to say the words, to let him guide her through whatever this was. She felt a thrill of excitement run through her as Joe stood up, his body towering over hers. She knew what he wanted, what he needed from her, and… she was more than willing to give it to him.

Joe reached down and unbuttoned his shorts, letting them fall to the floor as he stood before her in nothing but his boxers. His cock was already hard, straining against the fabric as he looked at her.

"Take off my boxers," he commanded, and Demi obeyed, "Yes, Sir," she said, feeling a quiet resolve settle in her chest. This is where I'm supposed to be. Her hands trembling slightly with need as she reached up and pulled them down.

Joe's cock sprang free, long and hard and already glistening with pre-cum. Demi couldn't help but stare at it, her mouth watering as she thought about what she was about to do.

“Suck my cock," he said, his voice low and commanding.

“Yes Sir.”

As she stood there, rooted to the floor by his command, his gaze bore into her like a predator sizing up his prey. His calm demeanor made it worse. There were no raised voices, no overt threats-just the sharp edge in his tone and the weight of his presence. It was enough to make her question everything she thought she knew about herself.

She obeyed, her lips wrapping around the head of his cock as she sucked him in. She could feel his hands in her hair, guiding her as she took him deeper and deeper into her mouth.

Her mind raced with doubt. What if I mess up? What if I disappoint him? The thought was unbearable. Joe didn't need to yell to make her feel small-his silence was louder than any scream.

"You're hesitating," he said, his voice like a low rumble of thunder before a storm. She pulled her mouth from his cock to look at him. The accusation, even though it wasn't yelled, cut through her like a blade. Her breath hitched, and her heart pounded like a drum in her chest. “Don’t hesitate.. just let your body go, understand?” He asked.

“Yes sir.”

Joe groaned as she took him in his mouth again with his advice, his hips thrusting forward as he fucked her mouth. Demi could feel her own arousal growing, her body finally letting go and trembling with need as she served him in this way.

And that fear-of failing him, of losing herself to him completely-was exactly what kept pushing her to let go, unable to do anything but to serve him and wait for his next command.

"Babygirl..” Joe groaned, his hands tightening in her hair. "You're so good at this, so fucking good."

Demi could now feel her own orgasm building, her body trembling with need as she sucked on his cock. She could feel him getting closer, could feel his hips thrusting faster and harder as he neared his own release. Despite the pain in her throat, the newly formed tears in her eyes that she hadn’t notice… the pleasure was overwhelming.

"I'm going to come, Demi," Joe groaned, his hands tightening in her hair. "Are you ready for it?"

Demi nodded, her lips still wrapped around his cock as she waited for him to come. Joe groaned, his hips thrusting forward one last time as he came, his hot cum filling her mouth.

Demi swallowed it down despite the slight saltiness, her body trembling as she served him in this beautiful and twisted way.

"Good girl," Joe praised, running his fingers through her hair. "Now, I want you to take off your panties. They're soaked, and I want to see you spread open on the bed."

Demi complied without hesitation, removing her soaked panties and climbing onto the bed. She spread her legs open, starting to rub herself as she felt herself getting closer and closer to orgasm. The moment Demi chose to surrender to Joe, it wasn't marked by a single act or decision-it was a gradual, quiet relinquishing of the walls she had built around herself. It wasn't something she fully understood at first, but with each passing day here in the most beautiful place on Earth, she found herself leaning deeper into the pull he had over her. The surrender wasn't forced; it was offered. A choice wrapped in trust, no matter how precarious that trust sometimes felt.

"Stop," Joe commanded, and Demi had no choice but to remove her hand. "You won't cum until I say you can."

As she laid before him now, in the stillness of the room, her heart pounding in her chest, her pussy aching, the weight of her decision settled over her like a warm, heavy blanket. He locked his eyes on her, not demanding, but expectant. There was no room for hesitation anymore, and that understanding didn't scare her-it grounded her.

This is what l've chosen, she thought, letting the fear slip away, replaced by something else. It wasn't exactly peace, but it was a certainty she had known before.

When he stepped closer to look at the way she rubbed herself, her instinct wasn't to pull away but to lean in, her body softening, her breathing steadying despite the edging. His presence, so commanding and overwhelming to others, became her anchor. She tilted her head slightly, her gaze not breaking, not with defiance, but with the ultimate submission.

“What are you Demi?” Joe asked, voice heavy and sultry.

"Yours, sir," she whispered, followed by a whimper, the words falling from her lips without hesitation. They were simple, but they carried the weight of everything she felt. She wasn't giving up her identity-she was choosing to offer it to him, trusting him to hold it gently.

Demi was dripping wet and her clit was throbbing as she rubbed it more. She couldn’t take it anymore.

The act of surrender wasn't just about physical submission-it was emotional. Spiritual. A giving of herself in a way she had never imagined possible. And as he cupped her chin, tilting her face to meet his gaze fully, she realized she didn't feel weak or small. She felt powerful in her vulnerability, knowing she had willingly handed over control.

In that moment, she understood: surrender didn't mean losing herself. It meant trusting him enough to guide her, to protect her, and to bring out the parts of her she hadn't even known were there.

Joe finally said, “Cum for me, Demi.” As soon as he said those words, Demi let go and had the most intense orgasm of her life.

Her knees felt weak, but not from exhaustion-from the relief of finally letting go. She didn't need to fight against him or prove anything. She could simply be. Her trust in him, though still fragile in some places, felt like a shield protecting her from the chaos of her own thoughts.

When he guided her to kneel before him, she didn't resist. Her movements were fluid, her body responding as though this was where she was meant to be. She looked up at him, her lips slightly parted, her eyes searching his for any flicker of doubt. But there was none. Only pride.

Only power.

And as she laid there, Joe watched as Demi’s body shook and her pussy juices flowed out of her. Her heart steady and her mind calm, she felt a strange kind of freedom in her choice. Because it was a choice. One she had made not out of fear, but out of love, trust, and the unshakable bond they were building together.

—

As Joe carefully tucked the blanket around Demi, her face softened by the peace of deep sleep, he allowed himself a moment to take her in. The glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm light over her features, highlighting the faint curve of her lips and the gentle rise and fall of her chest. Joe’s expression softened, his usual stoicism giving way to something rare and unspoken.

Bending down, he brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering for a moment before he pressed a soft kiss to her temple.

“Goodnight, babygirl,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with a tenderness that surprised even him.

Straightening, Joe pulled his shorts back on, his bare feet silent against the floor as he moved toward the door. His hand was on the handle when a quiet knock interrupted the stillness. Frowning, Joe opened the door slightly, his brows knitting together as he found Joshua standing there.

Joshua’s face was pale, his exhaustion evident in the dark circles beneath his eyes. Yet, despite his weariness, his gaze was steady, determined.

“What do you want?” Joe asked, his tone flat, though there was a flicker of annoyance in his eyes.

Joshua hesitated, glancing past Joe to the bed where Demi lay, her body curled under the covers. He swallowed, then met Joe’s gaze.

“Let me lay with her,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “I can’t sleep.”

Joe’s eyes narrowed, his body shifting slightly to block the doorway. “Why?”

Joshua sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to find the right words. “I don’t know. I just…” He looked at Joe, his voice breaking slightly. “I just need to be near her.”

Joe stared at him, his expression unreadable, though his posture was tense. “Jonathan told you Rhea texted me,” Joe said abruptly, his tone more of an accusation than a question.

Joshua’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening. “Yeah, he told me,” he admitted. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

Joe’s gaze bore into Joshua, scrutinizing him with a cold intensity. “You sure about that?”

Joshua’s voice was steady as he replied, “I’m sure. This has nothing to do with Rhea. This is about Demi. I just need her tonight, Joe.”

For a long moment, Joe didn’t move. The tension between them was thick, the silence heavy with unspoken thoughts. Finally, Joe exhaled sharply, stepping aside to let Joshua in.

“Fine,” Joe said, his tone clipped. “But don’t wake her.”

Joshua nodded, stepping into the room with measured caution. He stopped at the edge of the bed, his eyes softening as they landed on Demi’s sleeping form.

Joe lingered in the doorway, watching as Joshua knelt beside the bed, his hand hovering near Demi’s but not quite touching. After a moment, Joe shook his head and closed the door, leaving Joshua alone with her.

Joshua sat on the edge of the bed, his heart pounding as he watched her sleep. She looked so peaceful, her face relaxed, her breathing steady. Slowly, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

“Demi,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if speaking her name might wake her.

She stirred slightly, her lips parting in a faint murmur before settling back into sleep. Joshua hesitated, then carefully lay down beside her, mindful not to jostle the bed too much.

As he adjusted, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer until her back was against his chest. The warmth of her body against his was grounding, soothing the restless energy that had kept him awake.

Joshua pressed his lips to her hair, inhaling the faint scent of her shampoo. “Goodnight, baby,” he whispered, his voice tinged with an affection that he rarely allowed himself to show.

As the minutes passed, his breathing began to match hers, the rhythm of her steady exhales lulling him into a state of calm. For the first time in hours, Joshua felt his mind quiet, the exhaustion finally catching up to him. With Demi in his arms, he closed his eyes and let sleep take over, the weight of the night slipping away.

[lokiusbang]

Sign ups for the Lokius Reverse Bang are open

We’re looking for artists, writers, beta readers and pinch hitters to join this event to celebrate 1 year since Loki season 2 finale aired.

This will be an artist-led event. Artists will create 1 or more pieces of art. Writers will claim art and collaborate with the artist to write a fic based on the art.

Sign up form.

Rules

sfw and nsfw allowed

artists and writers of all levels welcome

dual sign ups as artist and writer are allowed (but you can’t write fic for your own art)

no ai art or fic allowed

Lokius must be the pairing for your art and fic

canon compliant, canon divergent and AUs allowed

no ship or character bashing allowed

canon-level violence and major character death allowed

art or fic around non-consent, underage and dead dove may not be suitable for this event; please speak to a mod to discuss.

Artists

You must complete at least 1 piece of finished art for the Reverse Lokius Bang. You can submit up to 2 submissions to be claimed. Each submission can contain 1 or multiple art pieces. Your art must be able to be shared digitally and must be created specifically for the event.

Types of art allowed:

digital art

trad art

comics

gif sets

vids/edits.

Other artforms not listed above may be suitable for the event. Please contact mods to discuss.

Dates:

16 June—artist sign ups close

30 June–7 July—art submissions

20–21 July—claims period

28 July—teams confirmed

25 August—check in

22 September—check in

20 October—check in

9–20 November—posting period.

Art must be either a rough sketch or a storyboard by submission.

If you want to collaborate with another artist as part of the reverse bang, please contact mods to discuss.

Writers

You must write a complete story of at least 5,000 words that’s inspired by the art. There is no maximum word count but all fics must be published within the posting window.

All fics must be beta read and must be posted onto the Ao3 collection.

Dates:

30 June—writer sign ups close

14 July—claims preview 

20–21 July—claims period

28 July—teams confirmed

25 August—check in

22 September—check in

20 October—check in

9–20 November—posting period

If you want to collaborate with another writer to write your reverse bang fic, please contact mods to discuss.

Beta Readers and Pinch Hitters

Beta readers will help writers polish their fic. Each writer will have different requirements and may ask you for different things. These may include spelling and grammar, story flow, vibe check, sensitivity check, or cheer reading. Writers and Beta Readers can pair up before or after artist/writer teams have been created.

Pinch hitters will step in if an artist or writer has to drop off. They may have to pick up things last minute. This may happen at any point after the teams have been created.

Dates:

11 August—Beta reader and pinch hitter sign ups close

All dates may be subject to change.

See Lokius Reverse Bang FAQs and Rules.

Discord

The Automat server is hosting this event and will have special event channels for the bang. You can join this server with or without being part of this event, and you don’t need to join this server to be part of the event.

Questions

Send us an ask or email lokiusreversebang@gmail.com to speak to a mod.

And finally, please reblog to help reach more people interested in Lokius. Thank you.

[rosemarymonths]

Introducing Rosemary Month 2023, all throughout October!

You can submit art, fanfics, music, cosplays, meta analysis, shitposts, etc, for the prompts!! I’ll be keeping track of the tags: #rosemary and #rosemary month2023 for submissions!! Or you can simply just @ this acc so I don’t skip over yours by accident!

Prompts:

Day 1: From The Start

Imagine rosemary at their very beginning of their dynamic or at the first step of their romantic relationship!

Day 2: Turtle Consorts

Rose and Kanaya hanging around Rose’s consorts would’ve been pretty cute!

Day 3: Meteorstuck

Imagine any Meteorstuck shenanigans Rose and Kanaya got into together!

Day 4: Hurt/Comfort

Obligatory sadstuck day, but with added comfort for safety measure!

Day 5: First Kiss

Either imagine Pre-Retcon Rose and Kanaya’s first kiss, or the unseen post-retcon kiss! Or maybe you want to explore a different way they could’ve had their first kiss?

Day 6: Quadrants

Time for some rosemary quadrant smearing!

Day 7: Birthdays

How neat would it be to see Rose and Kanaya celebrating each other’s birthdays?

Day 8: Cats

Imagine Rose and Kanaya playing with a bunch of cats!

Day 9: Rain

Rose and Kanaya going through rainy weather, or just explore anything you want to do with rain.

Day 10: Rays

After the rain, Kanaya and Rose finally get some sunshine.

Day 11: Game Over

Explore the absolute heartbreak that is Rose and Kanaya’s deaths, either during the catastrophe or the aftermath within the dreambubbles.

Day 12: AUs

Any AU you want!! Been thinking about a MLP AU lately? A Little Prince AU?

Day 13: Family

Explore either Rose and Kanaya with their own little family, or just them with the other Strilondes/Maryams! Or both!!

Day 14: Alpha Timeline

Imagine either Alpha Rose x Beforus Kanaya, or post-retcon rosemary! Whichever one you like best!

Day 15: Tropes

Explore your favorite rosemary tropes!! Or a trope you’d love to see with rosemary!

Day 16: Scars

Rose and Kanaya bonding over their shared scars, either literal or metaphorical.

Day 17: Flowers

Either Kanaya simply infodumping about her botanic skills to Rose, or just pretty flower art, you decide whatever!

Day 18: Stars

Perhaps Rose and Kanaya stargazing, or aesthetic pieces! Go crazy!

Day 19: Date Night

Imagine Rose and Kanaya finally going on a somewhat decent date this time around.

Day 20: Robots

Assigned meat rosemary day, or just do whatever you wish with robots and rosemary!

Day 21: Double Date

Imagine rosemary going on a double date with another ship you like!

Day 22: Dreambubbles

Either Rose and Kanaya having dreambubble fun times, or perhaps more Game Over angst?

Day 23: Domestic

Explore Rose and Kanaya’s sweet domestic life, as they deserve!

Day 24: Strider Third Wheeler

It wouldn’t be Rosemary without Dave trying to tag along like he’s their five year old son, right?

Day 25: Proposal

Who do you think proposed? Rose or Kanaya?

Day 26: Wedding Anniversary

Rose and Kanaya celebrating their marriage!!

Day 27: Snow

Imagine Rose and Kanaya undergoing snowy weather!

Day 28: Fnaf Day

Exactly what it says. Happy Fnaf Movie month

Day 29: Beach Episode

Imagine Rose and Kanaya just having some beach summer fun times

Day 30: Clothes/Style Swap

A good ol’ fashioned clothing/style swap between Rose and Kanaya!

Day 31: Halloween

Happy Halloween!! Are Rose and Kanaya trick or treating? Passing out candy? Going to a party?Scaring little kids to death maybe?? Do whatever halloween fun you want with these two!