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The Garden Gate

Pairing: Medieval!Loki x Reader Word Count: 6,514

Warnings: smut, mentions of infidelity, language, bodily fluids, jealousy, Loki in a poofy shirt

A/N: Well, I haven't done this in a while. I had to go look for an old post to see how I used to do these openings. LUL Anywho, y'all can thank @darkficsyouneveraskedfor for this one. She sent me a picture and then I asked her for three characters and three scenarios and this one is the one that spoke to me the most. I did put my own spin on it but that's just me. Anywho, I'm not sure how many of my old readers will read this but I hope y'all like it. Anything y'all have to say about it is also greatly appreciated. xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other sites or blogs!!

REBLOGS are always welcome!

Your family’s fall from grace had been nothing short of spectacular.

It had started first with the crumbling of respect from the men and heads of other houses. The gentry had taken offense to the shame of your father and eldest brother’s retreat at the battle for Carmine Valley, so named for the blush of trees that peppered the expanse of lush green and the strange but beautiful red waters of the central lake.

Had Lord Odinson’s own knights not been flanking from the western ridges, the valley would have fallen into the hands of the northern enemy forces. A great loss seeing as the valley was the largest producer of grain and vegetables in the kingdom.

The fallout had been catastrophic. Both your father and brother had been sent to the wild woods to the southernmost parts of the kingdom to work off their shame and languish in the dangerous labor camps where men were said to be torn into shreds by beasts as large as a carriage.

Even though you loved them very much, you couldn’t help the anger within your veins at their betrayal to not only the kingdom, but to your very family. The abandonment that their retreat meant. They knew what doing so would do to you, your mother, and younger brother.

If it were not for the King’s good nature, you’d have no doubt found yourself working in some brothel alongside your mother leaving your younger brother, at the tender age of seven, exposed to the worst parts of society.

The seediest brothels were not above selling children, you knew. No matter that the King had signed a death warrant for anyone known to sell or buy said company. It was the worst of sins and it breaks your heart to know that one man’s generosity saved all three of you from that life when he could have very well condemned it.

Knowing this–knowing how bad it could have been–doesn’t change the fact that your life now is still torture. Torture of a different kind, but torture all the same.

The King’s kindness came in the form of service. While your family was stripped of all titles and wealth, you’d also lost your beloved.

That is the true source of agony in your chest as you struggle with the bucket of waste water you’re holding, trying desperately not to slosh it around too hard. The last thing you want to do is to go to bed smelling of someone else’s bodily fluids.

The thick wool of your simple navy dress and the apron you keep tied over it are both great for absorbing disgusting materials. Already in need of a wash, the white ruffle along the neckline is frayed and yellowing despite the gown being only a few months old.

Edging along the courtyard wall, you try not to rush. The exhaustion in your body begs for sleep. Even months later the labor of working in the castle as a servant to former peers has not grown easier.

Wincing as the rough rope of the bucket burns the center of your palms, you almost sigh but instead freeze at the sight before you.

You’d know his silhouette anywhere.

The light is low here, a small lamp just beyond the open garden gate illuminates them from behind and hides their expressions but you don’t need to see to understand.

Her lips are parted, head pressed back against the door, hand braced against the warm brown and ornately carved wood. Her legs are parted a little too wide, a subtle motion of his left arm and the bunch of fabric around his forearm tell you enough of what you’ve stumbled upon.

You’re embarrassed and try to fade back into the darkness of the small courtyard behind you.

His shoulder length hair, black as a raven’s feather, is disheveled. You notice her hand gripping it tightly as his arm pumps.

A wispy, sultry moan slips through her parted lips and you stumble, gasping your own bit of surprise as you try not to spill the bucket’s contents.

A small splash, luckily away from you but the shuffle of feet and the rustle of fabric tells you that you’ve been noticed.

You look up, Lord Loki stands facing you, hands fisted as she hides behind him quickly adjusting her skirts.

“Oh, it’s you,” Lord Loki says, disdain in his voice.

Everyone here hates you. You already know this. Your father’s sins are your own. Nothing can change that.

“Finally where you belong,” the girl says and you recognize the voice with a small shock of pain in your chest. “You smell like piss.”

Lord Loki chuckles and you shrink just a little. More embarrassed by your own situation than catching them in the act. In fact, you’re disgusted by both of them, not only because of their audacity to do this at all, but because the woman whose fingers Lord Loki were just in is also your once beloved’s fiance.

Your former confidant. Lady Amora Antress. You’d once considered her your closest friend. Now here she stands, betrothed to one brother while fucking the other. The venom she spits at you is also unappreciated and painful to hear.

How long had she hated you before your downfall? How long had she waited before pursuing Thor?

“Aren’t you going to reply to her ladyship, servant?” Lord Loki asks, gleeful mirth in his voice as he takes a step towards you.

You bow your head even more, holding the bucket in your hands as still as you can while your hands struggle with the burn of the rope.

Amora scoff, “Pathetic. Leave her be, Loki. She’s where she deserves to be. She’s not worth the breath in our lungs.”

You don’t mean to cry. The utter betrayal of your once friend hurts more even than the loss of your once future husband.

“Are you crying?” Amora laughs, moving around Lord Loki, her shoes clicking against the brick of the courtyard. She stops in front of you, arms crossed over her ample bosom, still exposed more than it should be from what she and Lord Loki were just about to do. “You’re pathetic. The least you could do is be invisible while you serve.”

You say nothing, fist tightening around the rope. Pain shifts into rage at the cruelty in her words.

The wind blows and you can smell the scent of their near copulation. Luckily, it’s driven away by the vines of jasmine that creep along the tops of the brick wall.

She doesn’t deserve Thor. But you know that he never deserved you either. The rate at which he moved on…

Almost as if she’s sensing your thoughts, she takes a step closer and drops her voice to a whisper. You know Lord Loki will still be able to hear.

“Poor little flower, so careless and trusting.” She smiles. “You know it was so easy to seduce Thor. Even before your disgrace of a father betrayed his kingdom, Thor came to my bed often. Such a chaste little thing you were. You had no idea that every night after he whispered sweet promises in your ear of a happy future, he was burying his cock deep in my cunt, whispering how glorious I felt around him. Promising that even after you married, he would slip away and fuck me because no cunt could be as good as mine.”

Whore. Your heart shattered. Finally your eyes met hers.

She took a slight step back at whatever she saw in them. The hatred coursing through you set your teeth on edge. You wanted so much to rip her hair from its roots. If you could gouge her eyes out with your fingers without the consequence of a beheading, you would.

Perhaps she could see that promise of death in your eyes.

She scoffed, a reaction to whatever fear she felt in that moment.

“Now, now, ladies.” Lord Loki chastised, “Let’s keep things civil.”

“Civility? From a servant?” Amora looked at him then back at you, her hateful smirk twisting her pretty face into an ugly mask.

No…this is her true face. Her long blonde hair, pale skin, and green eyes might make her superficially beautiful, but you can see the true ugliness in her now.

“Trash knows no civility.” She spits.

Done with this encounter you make to move around her to finish your duties. You need rest. Body and now soul exhausted, the sanctuary of your quarters beckons like a beacon.

She steps in your way, smiling cruelly as she does.

You make to move around her again. She blocks you once more.

Body shaking with rage, you don’t bother stopping this time as she steps in front of you. Instead you let yourself fall against her, your bucket sloshing loudly as you angle the wide opening towards her.

The smell of piss and shit slices through the scent of sex and jasmine.

Amora screams, stepping back quickly until she bumps into Lord Loki who quickly pushes her away from himself, a wrinkle of disgust on his handsome face.

The green damask pattern of her silk gown grows slowly darker as the piss soaks into the fabric. A dark brown stain sets in towards the bottom.

“You probably should have moved out of my way, my lady.” The casual tone of your voice, the respect you can now fake like a professional grifter sounds so real that your taunt sounds like an apology.

“You bitch!” Amora growls.

Lord Loki catches her by the arm before she can move towards you.

“Perhaps, Lady Antress, you may want to go and change? If what you say is true and my brother will seek you out, I doubt very much he’d desire your company if you smell like shit and piss. No matter how delicious your cunt may be.” Lord Loki’s smirk gives away his delight at Amora’s distress.

Almost as soon as he’s grabbed her, he drops his hand and angles himself away from her slowly to avoid being soiled as well.

“Forgive me, my lady,” you curtsy, a perfect bow. “It was an accident.”

Amora glares at you then looks at Lord Loki who has taken to pressing the fingers of his right hand against his nose to shield from the smell, affixing her with a look of amused disgust.

Amora huffs, “Fuck you.” Then turns and stomps past you across the courtyard and disappears into the castle.

“That was nicely done,” Lord Loki says once you’re alone.

You give him a quick curtsy and move towards the gate to toss the remaining waste where it belongs in the river just past the far end of the large hedged garden.

Ignoring the sound of his following footsteps against the gravel and footstones, you wander through the fragrant rows of flowers.

“If anyone had been watching, no one would have doubted your sincerity with that apology.” He declares, hastening his footsteps to catch up with you, settling in to your right as he matches your pace. “I’m impressed. You never gave me the impression that you even knew how to lie let alone be deceptive.”

Grinding your teeth, you attempt to ignore him. You don’t engage.

He reaches out to grab your arm but you stop and twist away from him, disgust on your face as you stare at his left hand pointedly.

For a moment he looks confused and then laughs once in realization and takes his hand back.

“You won’t tell my brother, will you? About my…meeting with Lady Antress?” Lord Loki doesn’t sound like he actually cares.

You know that he and Thor never truly got along once they were of age. As children they had been inseparable. You’d followed them around and they’d welcomed you into their company as a playmate despite your gender.

Not until you also were of age did you realize that your parents and their parents had seen your friendship as an indicator of good fortune for a future marriage.

As the elder brother, Thor had been chosen. Your heart, having been devoted to Thor even as a girl, had been so full. Eagerly you’d thrown yourself into the arrangement of your marriage. Only now did you begin to realize that perhaps your heart had been the only one truly invested in the promises that Thor had made.

Agony cuts you again, tearing your heart apart a little more as the feeling of stupidity makes your eyes prick with tears again.

“Did you truly not know that Thor and Amora were fucking?” Lord Loki asks, voice devoid of anything but genuine curiosity.

A tear slips down along your cheek as you turn and resume your walk. Lord Loki follows.

“You wound me.” He says, voice low. “Were we not also friends before?”

Scoffing, you readjust the bucket and wince at the pain of the rope as you feel your skin break. You drop it, Lord Loki stepping back quickly but nothing splashes out this time. Most of the contents were currently soaking through Amara’s gown.

You lift your hand up, staring at the peel of skin and the slick of the pink muscle beneath as red begins to pool along the edges of the tear.

Just another wound. It’ll seal and heal and scar, joining the others on your once smooth hands.

The bite of pain gives you a reason to let your tears fall. You don’t hold them back as you sob quietly, uncaring of the audience to your humiliation.

“He’s an asshole,” Lord Loki states, stepping up in front of you. “Always has been. Arrogant, proud, and foolhardy. Thinks with his cock more than his brain.”

Again, you scoff. The irony of Lord Loki, whom you just caught fingering your former best friend in the garden, telling you that Thor thinks first with his cock does not escape you.

Lord Loki clears his throat, embarrassed?

“If I’d been your betrothed,” Lord Loki continues. “I’d have worshiped the ground you walk on.”

“You’re a liar, and just as susceptible to Amara’s games as he apparently is. Does it make you feel happy to sleep with your brother’s fiance? Does it give you pleasure to betray him?” You spit at him, angry at yourself, at Thor, at Amara, at your father and brother.

You’re just so angry. You’re always angry now. Even when you’re sad, you’re angry.

“Are you really worried about my betrayal against him when Amara just exposed him for the hypocrite he is?” Lord Loki demands, a little affronted by your ire.

Biting down hard on your lip, you squeeze around the wound on your hand.

“You’re all hypocrites. All of you deserve each other.” You realize and reach down to take the bucket again but are stopped by Lord Loki’s hand as it takes hold of the bucket for you.

He doesn’t wait for you to say anything and instead moves towards the gate at the end of the garden.

Quickly, you hurry after him, eager to take the bucket from him before anyone might look out onto the grounds and see him interfering with your duties. The punishment you’d receive would be painful.

“My Lord, please,” you finally beg, unable to really catch up with his long legged stride. “I’ll be punished if they find out.”

Lord Loki says nothing but strides out through the gate into the wooded expanse behind the garden.

Expertly, probably from the many hunts he’s gone on around the castle, he winds through the trees towards the rushing river whose roar you begin to hear.

“My Lord,” you hurry after him, nearly catching up but then he turns and disappears behind a tree only to emerge before another one. “Please,” you beg.

Taking a quick glance behind you towards the castle and its countless illuminated windows, you don’t see anyone watching but panic has begun to take hold.

He shifts and turns, stomping over the wild grass, the occasional crack of twig or fallen branch as he steps onto it, eaten by the rush of the water now louder.

You’re almost running now to keep up with him and still you lose sight of him when he turns around a particularly large tree. You stop beside it, scanning the area for him desperately.

The dungeons are so damp this time of year. You don’t want to get locked up if you can help it. Illness is something you don’t have much experience with and with your body weak and unhealthy now compared to the grace and flush of perfection you’d been with money and a constantly full belly, you might succumb to any serious illness.

You don’t want to die, despite the hardships you face.

With no sign of him, you move towards the section of river you always go to empty your buckets.

Minutes later you break through the treeline and spot Lord Loki crouched by the water, damp bucket set beside him now empty and rinsed.

Breathing heavily, you try to catch your breath and press your hand against your thundering heart, forgetting for a moment about the wound there and hiss.

Lord Loki rises, turning to look at you with a furrowed brow as he shakes the water from his hands and dries them on his dark emerald jerkin. He pulls down the puffed sleeves of his black shirt, fastening them around his wrists again but only finishes one before he’s holding his hand out for you.

“Come,” he orders. Not a request.

You don’t move, holding your wounded hand still as you watch him, pale skin nearly glowing in the light of the moon.

“Come here,” he orders again and this time you move towards him only a step. He steps towards you once, his hand held up again with more emphasis. “Shall I say please? Am I wrong? Were we not also friends?”

He smirks, amused by your hesitation for some reason.

Asshole. How dare he throw the past in your face. It’s coercion to remind you of your bond as children.

Unwilling to let him get the satisfaction of seeing you be defiant, you close the distance between you.

He takes your hand, holding it up close so that he can see it clearly. The moon is bright enough that he can and he pulls you towards the river’s edge. Squatting down again, he pulls you down with him.

You kneel, inching towards the edge as he pulls your hand into the water.

A hiss escapes your lips as the water coats the wound, tugging at the bit of skin still holding on until it tears free.

He holds it under the water for a minute then brings it back up to examine, pulling your arm so that you shift to face him and he does the same, kneeling before you.

“It’ll scar,” he realizes, but notes the other small scars that now cover your palm underneath the base of each finger.

You watch him as he traces each scar with his thumb, the golden emerald ring on his finger cool to the touch after being submerged in the cold river water for a bit. It feels nice against the heated skin of your palms. The friction of the rope burning them both.

“I remember when your hands were soft,” he notes.

Self conscious, you make to yank your hand from his grip but he tightens it and meets your eyes in silent order not to try that again.

Holding your gaze, he brings your palm up towards his mouth. Heart hammering against your chest, you try again to yank it from him but his lips close around the wound.

A strange tumble of knots in your stomach work their way up into your chest and constrict your heart.

More strange than that, a shift between your legs has your face and neck burning. Ears so hot that the breeze of the late spring air feels cold in comparison.

“Stop that,” you tell him, voice weak from shock at both his actions and your body’s reaction to it.

He does. Pulling your hand away from his mouth to look the wound over.

“The bleeding stopped,” he states, then reaches for your apron.

The tearing of fabric sends our heart seizing but more arousal pools between your legs. Embarrassed, you look away from him as he wraps your hand tightly. He must have dealt with many small injuries on his hunts because he ties the wrap around your palm securely and nothing save for cutting the fabric away will undo it.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He asks, voice low and deep. Almost dark in the way it slithers across your skin in a sultry embrace.

“No.” You answer honestly. “And it’s probably only because I caught you and you didn’t get to stick it in Amara.”

He releases your hand as you pull against his grip but he reaches forward to place his hand on your cheek. His left hand.

You almost pull away but remember him drying his hands on his vest. He’d deliberately washed both hands. Why?

“I meant what I said,” he whispers. “I would have worshiped the ground you walk on. I still can, if you’ll let me.”

“I’m a servant,” you spit, turning to look at him with anger and betrayal. “Anything you do to me will be forced merely by the fact that I cannot deny you anything you might want.”

Lord Loki frowns.

“You think so badly of me?” He wonders, hurt in his green eyes.

Your mind flashes back to your childhood. You, Thor, and Lord Loki running to the stables of his estate. You fall. Both Thor and Lord Loki stop but it’s Lord Loki that rushes back to you, helping you up and dusting you off as you cry loudly.

Thor rushes away, laughing in his eagerness to mount his horse.

More memories of your childhood assault you with images of Lord Loki and his kindness. Frequent acts of compassion and what you might have once considered friendly love. Thor’s are fewer and mostly contained to the days after your betrothal had been agreed upon.

“You will never be a servant to me,” Lord Loki assures you.

“It is what I am,” you counter. “You cannot simply ignore it.”

Lord Loki sighs, “You’ve always been so stubborn.”

He lets his hand glide down along the side of your neck, over your shoulder, down along your arm, and then he settles it along the side of your waist, the shape stiff thanks to the corset underneath.

It’s almost unbearable that he’s here, in your shame of servitude. His touch is confusing. You almost ask him why it feels so strange but instead focus on what’s most important.

“Is it true?” you ask, voice wary and quiet.

“Is what true?” There are so many things you could mean, you realize.

Part of you almost doesn’t want to know. So you hesitate.

Something softens in Lord Loki’s eyes as if he suddenly knows what you’re going to ask.

“Were…did Thor and Amara…?” You shake your head, trying not to let the pain show.

“Yes,” he answers, voice firm. He wants you to know that it’s true. No hesitation in his answer. “A few times even with you nearby. You almost caught them a handful of times. Were you only a few moments earlier or later.”

Head falling, you can’t help the tears that spring forth. So much of your past had been a lie. The strength of your house. The friendships you held dear. Your betrothed hadn’t truly loved you. If he had, he would not have betrayed you.

“My brother paints a pretty picture. Despite what he wants others to think he is changeable. He is impatient. Clearly that was his undoing with you. He is rash and prideful. He doesn’t think about what he does before he does it and because he would be insulted by it, would it not be sweet revenge to dangle what he wanted most in the open for all to see?” His words are slow and sure.

The last bit of his speech is careful and calculated. You can hear the manipulation in his words even though he tries not to let you. You’ve known him too long. Lord Loki also changed when you were betrothed to Thor. A shift of his usual kindness had taken place and the sneering Lord had been born. Intent on his own machinations to pry forth the dreary truths of his life.

He’d never been cold and harsh but he became so after your engagement. Thor had called him a snake and even then you could see it. The skill with which Lord Loki had developed his manipulating tactics and the precision with which he enabled them are known to you.

So you know what he’s saying even if he won’t say it clearly.

He takes hold of your chin and slowly lifts your head until he can see your eyes. There’s a strange eagerness in his own greens as he tries to read you. There’s a question there, an uncertain probing as his hand at your waist grows tighter, wrapping around to rest on your back, arching your body towards him.

That strange feeling between your legs surges. It’s Amara’s sneering face that breaks down your defenses. It’s the pride in her words as she’d bragged about being with Thor while you were still betrothed to him that shatters your will.

You do want to get revenge. You want Thor to know that you don’t care anymore. That he means as little to you now as you did to him then.

And what better way to show him that than with the one person he’d hate it happening with the most?

He might overlook some random stablehand. He might ignore some merchant’s son, even if he were above your station.

With Lord Loki…the bite would be as harsh as the sting of Amara’s venom was to you.

“Loki…” you whisper and he surges forward.

His lips are over yours, moving and massaging as you at first merely take his kiss.

He hates it. He pulls back and tilts his head the other way, kissing you more enthusiastically, trying to draw some type of reaction from you.

It’s taking you longer to submit than you thought it would take.

He pulls back one final time and tilts his head back again before this time pressing his lips against your own slowly. He doesn’t move then but instead waits, puckering against yours as he tugs you towards him instead of shoving himself onto you.

Strong lithe arms wrap around your waist and pull you up onto your knees and against his chest. He holds you so close, so tight. It isn’t rough or demanding but needy. As if he can’t get you close enough to his own body and he can only draw you closer and closer in the hopes that it’ll fill something in him that needs filling.

You place your hands on his shoulder as you tilt your head back with his kiss.

Finally, you find the strength in your body and pucker your own lips and return this gentle kiss.

Shock flashes in his eyes as he opens them to look at you. You watch the confusion bloom in them but then shut your own and give in.

Loki’s lips part and envelop yours. It shocks you the way it sends those knots back into your stomach. In response you do the same, enveloping his lips with your own.

Loki’s hands splay out against your back and he groans as he opens his mouth and the tip of his tongue slides against the crease of your lip in question.

In answer, you open for him and welcome his searching tongue with your own. The taste of him, the scent of him, it overwhelms and you gasp as you lose yourself in the moment.

You feel his hands drift around to your front, his right sliding up along your bodice until he can cup your breast, a groan slipping through his lips as he breaks your kiss and traces wet open kisses along your jaw, neck, and shoulder.

“Loki…” you gasp without ever having given your mouth permission to speak.

He bites your neck when you say his name. You moan and he licks the spot to soothe it.

“Loki…” You whisper again.

He’s driven mad by it and before your mind can understand what is happening, he’s laying over you, hands moving wildly underneath your back, running along your sides, fumbling around until he finds where your dress is fastened and he pulls at the ties.

“Should I stop?” He asks, breathless and looking as if he would like nothing more than to keep going.

“No.”

“Mm,” he moans and kisses you again, tongue claiming your mouth as his own.

You can feel him tearing away your apron and then your dress. Too eager to pull it off you completely, he merely shoves it down so that he lays spread out along your waist.

He looks down at you, the corset you wear hiding very little of your breasts. He kisses them each in turn, the soft fleshy bits that pool up above your undergarment.

You shudder at the touch of his lips.

“Has anyone kissed you here before?” He wonders. You’re not sure if he wants  an answer or not but you shake your head anyway.

As he nuzzles the soft flesh, his hands work on the corset, pulling at strings blindly until it gives way and he pulls it off of you exposing you completely.

The cool air of the night perks your nipples more than his touch already has and he takes both breasts in his hands, pushing them together as he stares to the point of embarrassment.

Before you can cover yourself, he takes one into his mouth, suckling softly to draw soft moans from your open mouth.

He sees it, your gaping mouth, and seals it with his own, his tongue nearly in a frenzy as he devours your whimpers.

Cool air hits your suddenly exposed legs. You gasp sharply as he thrusts suddenly and the hard press of his cock rubs against you, shielded only by the fabric of his pants.

“Shall I stop?” He asks again, hands running down along your torso where he takes each breast in hand, massaging them slowly before rolling each of your nipples in slow deliberate circles.

“Don’t stop.”

It’s almost torture when he removes his hands from your overheated body. But you enjoy the sight as he removes his jerkin, followed shortly by his shirt. His body is sculpted but tight, not bulky. Lithe limbs hard and eager as he reaches down beneath your skirts in search of what he desires.

He hisses when his fingers touch you, soaking wet, and you reach down to hold his wrist not to stop but simply to hold on.

The thought crosses your mind that he’s already had someone else like this tonight and it almost makes you pull away. You’re so close to stopping but he sees the thought in your eyes and leans over you, removing his hand he leans over you, pressing his chest against yours and silencing your thoughts with a slow kiss.

It burns through you, the meaning clear.

“Shall I only touch you from now on, darling?” he whispers, kissing your chin then suckling along your throat.

He’ll leave marks…

“Tell me and I will only touch you.” He promises.

“Don’t make me promises you can’t keep, Loki.” You chastise him, mood nearly breaking again at the memory of the endless promises Thor had made you.

“I will never break a promise to you. Tell me to refrain and I will. I meant what I said,” he kisses his way up to your ear, licking the shell of it before hot breath sends your skin prickling. “I will worship the ground you walk on if you will only let me.”

He thrusts again. You shut your eyes, gasping at the cock straining for freedom.

“H-How do I know I can trust you?” You ask, unintentionally letting him see how desperate you are to do so.

He kisses you again, genuine and hungry for it.

“Give me a week and I shall truly prove it. Trust me until then and you shall see the depths of my willingness and devotion.”

He thrusts again and maybe you’re a fool for allowing yourself to consider this when he’s got you right where he wants you, but you nod.

“Only touch me,” you order him.

He smirks. He reaches down between your legs again and with one finger slowly strokes from the bottom of your cunt to the top, the lurid sounds of your wetness poignant despite the rushing river beside you.

“I’ll go slow,” he promises.

One finger. He uses only one finger and the pressure is intense. Sensations you’ve never felt before awaken every nerve ending in your body. His thumb presses against your clit and you nearly sit up with the shock of pleasure that rushes through you.

He adds a second finger, moving slowly as he pumps them in and out.

“Shall I stop, darling?”

“Never stop,” you gasp, still gripping his wrist.

Another smirk on that handsome face, his green eyes dazzling you as he shifts back to his knees.

He licks his lips as he pulls a tie free at the front of his trousers and slowly pushes them lower and lower until he can kick free of them completely.

The length of him is breathtaking. He reaches down and strokes his cock, slowly running his thumb along the shiny pink head before he scoots closer, your skirt blocking him from view.

He rubs himself against you, slicking himself with your own arousal.

There he waits, watching you as you brace your hands on the soft grass beneath you but open your legs wider.

Your eyes meet and both of you know that there will be no coming back from this choice. Nothing either of you do will ever erase this line you’ve nearly crossed completely.

He pushes in slowly, leaning over you as he gets deeper and deeper until he’s buried completely. Chest to chest. Face to face. He grunts deep, face twitching as he settles within you.

It’s so much pressure it’s painful. The feeling of him is so foreign. You’re not sure whether it feels good or not.

“Fuck,” he whispers and tenses then shudders. You feel a wave of heat within you, followed by the sensation of slow moving drippage. “You feel…”

He seems lost for words. Do you feel terrible?

He pulls his hips back just a bit and pushes back in.

You whimper, pushing against his chest to look down where your bodies connect.

“Loki,” you fret.

“I’ll go slow,” he promises. “Be calm my sweet. I will ease you into this.”

Each thrust into you, his pelvis pushes against your clit and each time you moan, wishing he’d do that more. The feeling of him is filling, strange, but not unpleasant. Just different.

As your body relaxes a bit more, Loki’s thrusts grow faster. You smile unintentionally as he presses against your clit more often.

“You like that?” he wonders, stopping as he pushes all the way in and then rolls his hips against you.

Your responding moan gives him confirmation and he settles himself over you fully.

As he thrusts he presses harder against you, lingering for a moment before doing it again and again. The slap of his skin against yours grows louder and he finds a rhythm that has you both breathless and moaning.

“Loki,” you plead, feeling the build up of tension within your body.

“Come for me, darlin,” he kisses you, subduing your voice as he pumps into you.

You’re unsure for certain what he means but your body seems to listen. You wrap your legs around him, holding him as close as you can as he continues to thrust into you. The sweat of his body glistens in the moonlight. The soft silk of his hair tickles your skin as he arches up slightly so that he can take your breast into his mouth again as he keeps pumping into you.

You feel it…so close.

“Loki,” you whimper, wanting to reach the end of this tightrope.

He growls once and brings his hand down between your connected bodies. His thumb presses against your clit firmly. He presses and presses, rolling it in small circles with such precise pressure.

Your body explodes into endless fuzzy light. You arch into him, trembling as his thumb continues to draw pleasure from you in spasms as he keeps moving his cock in and out.

“Fucking hell,” he grunts and thrusts one final time his whole body tight in its release as that same sensation of heat fills you again.

Both of you seem to have stars in your eyes as he collapses on top of you, kissing you slowly with his eyes wide open to watch the expression of pure bliss on your face.

“I think-” Loki says, pulling back as he slowly helps to pull your dress up a bit to cover your exposed breasts. He kisses each one before he does so. “-it goes without saying that I would appreciate it if I was the only one allowed to touch you.”

You’re floating, swathed in golden light, unable to process anything he’s saying because of the pure escape from and yet complete connection to your body Loki’s cock just gave you.

You hear him chuckle. He pinches your cheek, drawing your attention back to him.

“Agreed?”

“What?” You gasp breathlessly.

“No one may touch but me. And I will touch no one but you.” He declares. “Is that understood?”

The authority in his voice draws your legs wide as that throbbing from before is renewed.

Loki’s face twitches at the movement.

“Show me again,” you plead.

“Tell me no one else will touch you,” he orders.

“No one else will touch me,” you agree.

“If you betray me,” you begin.

Loki’s eyes soften. He leans down to press a kiss to your lips.

“I promised you that I would worship the ground you walk on.”

He kisses you again, slowly, feeling every inch of your mouth against his.

“One week, my darling. I’ll prove to you my devotion.” He promises.

The sincerity in his voice has your legs spreading again and he hisses as you shift. Inside you, you feel him harden.

“Show me…” you beg.

“You’re going to be insatiable.” He realizes.

And revenge against Thor aside, you realize that being with Loki might be the smartest thing you’ve ever done.

“Do you have any idea how long I have waited to make you mine?” Loki wonders, stroking your cheek.

“How long?” You wonder, reaching up to take hold of his hand.

“I’ll show you.”

There will be NO tags.

[peggyao3]

Peggysuave's Masterlist

All of my fics are x AFAB!reader (reads like an ambiguous OC for my Feyd fics), include explicit sexual content, most are fairly dark and explore complex and morally grey relationships, some include dub-con/non-con themes ‼️

Finished ✅, Ongoing ✏️, Ao3 only 🔺

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen | Henry Creel | Ominis Gaunt | Roman Godfrey | Ghostface | Frank Morrison

-> RELIC 🌌

✧Dreams are messages from the deep ✧ A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours. [Lucid Dreaming, Vulnerable Feyd, Female Rage] Series Masterlist ✏️

-> PREYD 🩸

Feyd calls his pet to his chambers for a monthly feast. [Dub-con, blood/period kink, knife "play", 2.2k] ✅

-> NIGHT CRAWLER 🍼

Feyd-Rautha welcomes a nocturnal visitor in his chambers, who is plagued by the symptoms of her artificially induced condition. [Dub-con, lactation kink, breast feeding, 9.7k] Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 ✅

-> HERE COMES THE SUN 🌞

Feyd-Rautha is the center of attention for an entire planet, but it counts for nothing because his favorite concubine isn't paying attention during the fight. How dare she ruin his birthday? [Jealousy, Mutual Pining, Marriage Proposal, 6.8k] ✅ Part 1, Part 2

-> HOLY SEED 🙏

Feyd so badly wants to plant his seed deep inside his wife's belly. [Breeding Kink without Breeding, Switch Feyd & FMC, 2.5k] ✅

-> THE ART OF EMPATHY 🪴

After the fall of House Harkonnen, an innocent poison flower is planted in their evil heart to teach them the art of empathy. [Bene Gesserit FMC, Soft!Feyd, Redemption, 6.3k] ✅🔺

-> KALEIDOSCOPE ⚔️

In a fight for freedom or death against the na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, his woman figures out how she feels about him. A poor devil wrapped in the skin of a beast. [Gore, Blood for Lube, Mutilation, Public Sex, 2.7k] ✅🔺

-> KINKTOBER 2024 🤤

Feyd-Rautha edition. Based on this prompt list. ✅

-> CARDINAL SIN ✝️

You follow a trail of corpses to the rainbow room and find a bloodied angel. [Blood & Corpses, Fucking in the Rainbow Room, 4.2k] ✅🔺

-> YOU & ME 💑

“There's a second facility…” Dr. Brenner wheezed. “And what's inside of this facility?” “A woman… One woman.” “What is she capable of?” “…Anything.” Henry’s eyes blazed up with fresh hope. Greedy, frantic wicked hope. “I need to have her.” [Stockholm Syndrome, Quantum Physics, 37k] ✅🔺

-> HURTS LIKE A DISEASE 💔

An apathetic sociopath meets an insecure overthinker with anxiety. After an embarrassing incident at the cafeteria of Hawkins Lab, a man named Peter Ballard takes morbid fascination in your displayed insecurities and anxiety, because like him, you don't seem to fit in with the other humans and society. From now on, he wants to study and observe you. Unfortunately, you agree. [Mental Illness, problematic relationship, 55k] ✅🔺

-> LOCKED UP, CAN'T GET YOU OFF MY MIND ⛓️

When Dr. Brenner came to the conclusion that 001’s powers were uncontrollable, he decided to dispose of the useless subject who was proof of his failure as a scientist. Isolated in a cell on the minus third floor of Hawkins Lab, 001 is locked up to rot and be forgotten. You are hired to be his prison guard, his nurse, his orderly, responsible for 001’s health and well-being. The full-time job goes well for many years, until eventually your morals start crumbling away… [Power Imbalance, Forbidden Romance, Switch!Henry, 41k] ✅🔺

-> RUNNING IN THE NIGHT 🌃

You are a master of lucid dreaming, able to create all kinds of wondrous things and go on the most fantastic adventures in your sleep. One night, you receive a mysterious call in your dream. From then on, you find your mind being invaded by an uncanny, clingy, pushy intruder night after night, who tries to convince you that he is not just a product of your imagination, but a real person with telepathic powers. [Lucid Dreaming, Toxic Lovers, Jealousy, 50k] ✅🔺

-> OH, ASHES... 🌪️

On a stormy day, the ashes had whispered to you for the first time. Like shadowy fingertips, their call for help had ghosted over your heart and mind. Now, three years later, you finally fully accepted the quest that had been given to you – To liberate the ashes’ home dimension from the plague that had infested it, by summoning the surprisingly human parasite back to its own birth realm and taking him under your wing. [Burnt!Henry, Modern Setting, Master/Servant, 44k] ✅🔺

-> PEGGY'S PETER PÖRN COLLECTION 📚

A collection of smutty oneshots. Every chapter is a complete story. Porn with plot, porn with no plot, plot with porn, but there is always porn! <3 There will be dark themes, kinky shit, AUs and madness. So, beware! Warnings for each chapter. [BDSM, Stockholm Syndrome, Sex Toys, Angel!AU... 104k] ✅🔺

-> MILKY EYES 👁️

The unseeing gaze of the mysterious boy named Ominis seems permanently glued on you, and as weeks turn into months, you feel like he begins following you around the castle. Between unease and anger, you feel something else, so you confront him in a deserted hallway after dark. OR: Who the hell is Mark Markson? And what does his cabbage have to do with it? And most importantly, why are you and Ominis clapping cheeks all across Hogwarts? [Strangers to Lovers, Ambiguous Encounters, Dominis, 81k] ✅🔺

-> SAW YOU DANCING FROM ACROSS THE ROOM 💃

You are at a party, minding your own business, when suddenly you're being rudely scolded from behind. It turns out, the host of the party himself is scolding you and you have no idea why. Insulted and confused, you try to avoid him for the rest of the nigth. It doesn't go well. [Extremely dub-con, Dead Dove, Choking, Spanking, 6k] ✅🔺

Please beware, the fics below this point are REAL old and shitty in comparison 😔

-> LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO 🔪

Danny Johnson is your best friend. But little do you know he wanted to be so much more than that from the day he first met you. Eventually you say something that gives him the final straw - He will make you love him back, one way or another. [Dub/Non-Con, Best Friends Trope, Jealousy, 11k] ✅🔺

-> BUNNY ON THE RUN 🐇

You're just an average girl who likes reading smutty fanfictions about dangerous psychos and serial killers and all of sudden you find yourself face to face with a serial killer in real life. Luckily, fanfictions have perfectly prepared you for situations likesuch. [Dub-Con, Knife Play, Anal Sex, Outdoor Sex, 4k] ✅🔺

-> TAKE A DIRTY PICTURE FOR ME 📸

An accidental boob slip gets you into a heated up situation. [Dub-Con, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Light Bondage, 9.5k] ✅🔺

-> MIRROR MIRROR ON THE WALL 👊

Frank and you are college freshmen and roommates but not only do your personalities clash, you end up getting into heated disputes on a daily basis. One day you come home late and catch him red-handed masturbating. Unfortunately, Karma is a bitch and Frank gets his revenge on you just a little later. [Room Mates, Accidental Voyeurism, Hate Sex, 11.5k] ✅🔺

-> A FRENZIED ENCOUNTER 🏔️

You spawn in a place that you've never been to and encounter a man that you have never seen before. But he is not who you think he is. When he finally gets a hold of you things get more heated up than you ever imagined they could. [Dub-Con, Knife Play, Blowjobs, Playing Chase, 6.3k] ✅🔺

[estesicoro]

The Wounded Mason / El Albañil Herido

Close your eyes. Lie down on a cloud. Any shape is good if the scaffolding engenders scaffolds and the sun is an ambulance sky that oppresses the pupils.

Today your body was the harvest, and even a freshly plastered wall suddenly became an urgent sheet for the life that fades. See? The air flies toward Sunday without foundations or memory of your house, and the indifferent city welcomes your tiredness like one more rotten fruit of its memory.

Sleep, sleep while you fall towards the ground of this sky that is the earth when it feeds on the flower that lights up. In the distance, in a place in the South that is born every night when you return, the edges of the vine leaves already wither with love. And a woman crumbles slowly, like clay, at the center of a house.

Francisco Gómez-Porro (b. 1958)

***

Cierra los ojos. Recuéstate en una nube. Cualquier forma es buena si los andamios engendran cadalsos y el sol es un cielo de ambulancia que oprime las pupilas.

Hoy tu cuerpo fue la siega, y hasta una pared recién enlucida se convirtió de pronto en una sábana urgente para la vida que se apaga. ¿Ves? El aire vuela hacia el Domingo sin cimientos ni memoria de tu casa, y la ciudad indiferente acoge tu cansancio como un fruto podrido más de su memoria.

Duerme, duerme mientras caes hacia el suelo de este cielo que es la tierra cuando se alimenta de la flor que enciende. A lo lejos, en un lugar del Sur que nace cada noche cuando vuelves, ya se marchitan de amor los bordes de la pámpana. Y una mujer se desmorona lentamente, como arcilla, en el centro de una casa.

Francisco Gómez-Porro (n. 1958)

[some-cookie-crumbz]

I think we all want you to share all the NSFW Galra Keith headcanons now >:D

Lol! Good to know y’all are just as nasty as me! Most ofthese are going with Keith still being half Galra but presenting much more ashuman, but they really aren’t any different than they’d be if he was fullGalra. The only thing that would really change if he was full Galra would besome specifics about his height/ their size difference, so do with thatinformation as you will.

And, as I mentioned before, since I like to be consistent,these are all things you’ll probably notice in any potential fics I write whereKeith is half/ full Galra. I haven’t decided if I’ll include smut in Time, Space and Everything Between yetbut I might still write smut based in that world so a lot of this will probablybe stuff you’ll see if/ when I do! ;3c

LAST WARNING THATTHIS GETS REAL KINKY SO PLEASE PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK!!

So, first things first, Pidge accepts that she is a Furryonce she realizes that she’s in love with and physically/ sexually attracted to Keith. She isn’tsurprised about the whole xenophilia aspect of it because, well, Pidge alwaysknew that she’d be interested in alien life forms once she found them. Butbeing attracted to a giant purple cat man? She wasn’t expecting that so much,but she just kinda rolls with it.

Also, she does admit she kinda likes the way his sharp teethgraze with just enough pressure to threaten breaking the skin but knowing thathe wouldn’t. And she loves it when he bites a little rougher into the meat ofher thighs when he goes down on her, because he uses enough force to bruise andfuck does she like that sight later on.

Now, what about size kink? In my Kidge NSFW Headcanons? More likely than you think!

Because Keith is only half Galra, he doesn’t grow to be astall or bulky as a lot of other male Galra, but he’s still really tall and abit bulkier. This is a little less true in AUs where he’s full Galra but he’s still kind of a runt in those AUs in my head so he’s not too much taller than her. Like, even after puberty and the last of their respective growthspurts, Keith is still a full head taller than Pidge, so she only comes up toabout his shoulders. She will happily admit that she likes how much bigger andtaller he is than her; especially considering that she can still dom theever loving shit out of his smitten Galra tail.

When Keith and Pidge have been together for a decent amountof time and the topic of them getting physically intimate gets brought up,Krolia and Kolivan swoop in to give them each a little lesson on Galra Sex Ed.Krolia talks with Keith while Kolivan takes Pidge.

Krolia spends her time mostly explaining to Keith that,while humans and Galra are sexually compatible – I mean, Keith is a fucking thing?Huge piece of evidence – humans are a little bit more delicate than Galra are.She doesn’t exactly go into detail, but she does admit there were a few…Incidents between she and Keith’s Dad when they were figuring it out forthemselves. She reassures him, though, that as long as he’s mindful they’ll befine. Additionally, she admits there’s something that makes the intimacy betterknowing there is that difference in durability because it shows a special levelof trust and security with each other.

This helps reassure Keith because he had a fear that he might seriously hurt Pidge.

Meanwhile, for Pidge and Kolivan… Things go a little bitdifferent. Kolivan decides to discuss with Pidge that Galra go into heat/ rutcycles. He explains that they are not only extremely vulnerable in theircycles, but that they tend to run more on instinct than rational thought,though rational thought will still appear and can be used for importantdecisions for certain situations (i.e. if there’s a threat by Zarkon’s forces).Ruts can last for as short as 48 hours or as long as a full week, depending onthe Galran, and occur once every four Earth months so he forewarns her to beprepared for that.

Needless to say, the talk with Kolivan leaves Pidge a bitconcerned about what could happen. Not for the reasons you might suspect, but we’ll get to that in a hot second.

They have sex a couple of times before Keith ever has a rutwith Pidge around, and my normal head canons apply here. The two bigdifferences, which tie directly into one another, are Keith’s ears. A sure-fireway to get Keith to melt into her hands is to lightly trace the base of one ofhis fluffy cat-like ears with her nails. This will always result in him lettingout a rumbling purr-like noise and turning into putty in her hands.

Another much smaller difference is that Keith has a bit ofextra fur in some places. There’s a small patch that covers almost all of hischest – he even has a lighter patch in the center that Pidge swears looks like alittle star – and he has a tail. The extra fluff as well as the fur on his tailare extremely silky soft, much like the fluff on his ears, and Pidge loves tosnuggle up against his chest and run her fingers through it or play with andpet his tail. Keith absolutely fuckingloves it. Keith may also make use of his tail a little when they have sexbut hey that’s just what you do when you’re a kinky alien boy with a kinkyhuman girlfriend right?

Also, Galra dick? Somewhat similar to human cocks – though she’swilling to wager they’re a bit thicker and longer than human ones - but thereare a few little grooves along it that start just below the head and go downabout 1/3 of the length of his cock, as well as a knot at the base. Pidge givesthe sensation of them grooves an A+++, best thing ever, holy shit she loves thefeel. She also learns that while the head of Keith’s cock is a little less sensitivethan she expected, the grooves are actually the more sensitive parts. She exploitsthe Hell out of this at any chance she can get.

So, back to that whole rut thing…

So, Keith is around when it’s coming up and lets Pidge know so she can decide how she wants to proceed, because he says that he’ll respect whatever decision she makes. Pidge becomes a little bit concerned because, the way Kolivanpresented the information to her, Keith was basically going to become abrainless sex monster. And she isn’t exactly sure how she feels about thatidea. Like, she likes it sometimes when Keith gets a little aggressive in bed,but the idea that he won’t be himself? She’s not really into the idea of Keithnot being himself. Because, ultimately, that’s what she likes about their sexlife; that it’s the two of them being genuine and authentic in who they are ina very intimate situation. She decides, though, that she wants to experience this with him because she knows this is a big thing for him and she’s decided that she loves him and wants to make things between them work.

She’s pleasantly surprised when, instead of becoming abrainless sex fiend, Keith being rut-horny just makes him more publicallyaffectionate and needy.

Like, she’s in the kitchen making herself an almost-bagel,standing at the counter while talking to Hunk, when all of a sudden Keith’sarms are around her waist and he’s pressing himself flush up against her anddipping his head to nuzzle ay her neck. Pidge drops the knife she was about tostick in the jar of pseudo-peanut butter and tenses immediately, her brainwhirling towards about three hundred different ways this could go, but then shefeels him slacken his grip a bit and lift his head at her tensing up. He tiltshis head to look at her better and, while his bright golden eyes are a littlehazy, she can still see very clearly that he’s still Keith and he looks worriedabout upsetting her.

And she feels absolutely relieved to see that Kolivan wasreally just preparing her for the worst case scenario. She relaxes into hisgrip and reaches up to gently combs her fingers through his hair, until her fingersglide up to reach his ear and she lightly rubs behind it. He releases arumbling purr so loud Hunk hears it and mumbles a soft “Aww,” under his breath,as none of the others have heard him get like that before.

“You hungry, Keith?” *Pidge makes sure to keep her voicequiet and gentle as she asks, continuing her ministrations.*

“Mm-mm… Just want you.” *Keith, eyes sliding shut indelirium and pressing closer. He tips his head a bit again and gently nuzzlesthe top of her head.*

“Can you go back to our room and wait for me while I make mybreakfast?”

*Quiet whine.* “Do I have to?”

“I promise I’ll only be a minute.”

*Keith let’s out another small whine but releases her,pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head, and then heads back to theirroom.*

*Pidge calmly picks the knife back up and finishes preparingher food. She pauses briefly to grab a little bag of what is essentially drycereal and two juice pouches as well.* “Hunk, can you let the other’s know I’mgonna be busy for at least the next 48 hours?”

“Um… What?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll probably be able to sneak away to comeget more food later, but just let the others know not to expect me around for awhile. Sometimes a girl just has to take care of her horny alien boyfriend.”*She flashes him a wink and then heads off herself.*

*Hunk is left there a blushing and sputtering mess, thoughhe does end up delivering her message to the rest of the team later. Hestutters and stammers the whole way through.*

Pidge heads back to their room to get to business. And, as shewas already aware, Keith being rut-horny makes him more affectionate and needy,but it also makes him much more subservient than usual. He only acts as sheinstructs him to when things start getting really heated, which is a bit of a surprise but not necessarily an unpleasantone. Pidge takes control for the first couple of rounds, just so that she can geta feel for how he reacts to things when he’s like this, but then she starts letting himtake charge and do things a bit more as he wants and that is certainly a funexperience too.

Keith gets a little bit rougher, but not to an extent thatshe’s afraid he’s going to hurt her, and is also super affectionate while hedoes. Like, he’s over her, rocking into her firm and fast with one arm aroundher waist to bring her closer to him with a sharp snap of both their hips, but hehas his head dipped into the crook of her neck, mumbling praises and littlekisses against her skin. Like, is she a bit sore after the rounds he helms?Yes, but it is the best kind of sore imaginable.

Also, in regards to the knot and knotting as a whole, Galraonly knot their partners when they’ve agreed to be committed mates. So while hedoes enjoy and get worked out by the sex they have while he’s in rut, he doesn’tactually knot Pidge because he doesn’t want to assume anything about theirrelationship.

The first rut lasts for just shy of three days. Thankfullyenough, Zarkon and the Galra aren’t particularly active during that period oftime so they don’t have to deal with any interruptions, which they agree is a benefit since this is the first time they’ve dealt with this together.

After the first time being with him in a rut, Pidge investsin some more things for them to make use of. She may purchase a collar andleash for Keith, too, and buys a pair of cat ears for herself more as a joke.Keith would be offended if he didn’t think she looked cute in them.

Also, remember that double-sided strap-on I mentioned may ormay not be a thing? Pidge may invest in some alternate strap-ons that are a bitmore similar to Keith’s cock just to see how he likes feeling what he does toher mwahahahaha.

Also, there are a few instances where Keith goes into rutand they get interrupted midway by Zarkon’s forces. Because duty calls, they’reforced to pilot and form Voltron, but Keith goes completely nuts. He is takingdown ships and darting here and there like a lunatic; additionally, he willconstantly intervene if Pidge starts getting swarmed by ships because he is NOT letting anyone mess with his girl.

Additionally, post-sex while he’s in ruts, he wants constantcuddles and affection, which Pidge is happy to grant him. She’ll snuggle upwith him and mumble in his ear about how good he made her feel and how luckyshe is to have him and he just… Gets flustered and hides his face into hercollarbone or chest, but he’ll also wrap his tail around her waist or her legsto let her know that he likes it.

Small Side Notes ThatAren’t Necessarily NSFW but Belong Here

Keith doesn’t knot Pidge until after they’re married and shespecifically tells him she wants him to. Pidge is absolutely blown away by howgood that feels and Keith wants to almost kick himself for not asking Pidge tolet him knot her sooner for both their sakes.

This is a bonus side note I had to include, but Keith willsnuggle up and purr quite for the Kidgelings when they’re babies and start tofuss. Pidge thinks it’s the sweetest thing and has hundreds of pictures savedof Keith with each one of their kids at some point when they were babies.

[cherryblossomtease]

Chapter 15

18+ only

warnings and summary - Masterlist

Because sometimes all you need is a simple reminder of who started this mess in the first damn place 💜

Warnings : as always 18+ only please- dom Zemo, sub Bucky, sub reader, punishment, m/m, m/m/f, light bondage

Authors Notes: Really didn't think I would be posting this weekend but it's a holiday in the states so why not! Still working on the rest by you know, neglecting everything that matters to create this fictional world. Anyhow, I can honestly say this is by far the most graphic story I've written so I'm a little nervous but it's already done, can't change it now, and I honestly don't want to! That said I hope you enjoy reading as much as I did writing!

~

Nothing lasts forever, especially when it’s this good. And this fabricated reality is about as good as it gets. Still, you know this boat will dock soon and goodbyes will be said. There’s really no way around it, try as you might to come up with a plan to talk Bucky into staying. Even now as you fight to stay asleep, your brain is working hard to create a solution while you refuse to give into your worries so early in the day.

You turn onto your stomach ignoring the dark thoughts, choosing instead to enjoy the feel of a strong arm across your back and a leg, hairy and heavy over both of yours.

Settling again with a content sigh, sleep starts to pull you back under. Thank the stars. You really aren’t in the mood— even if your dreams apparently are.

And what had you been dreaming about anyway?

A little house on a wide cliff overlooking water, and something else? The harder you try to remember the more you feel yourself slipping back into that dream space.

There was a small animal. What was it? A rabbit? Its fluffy body too close to the edge of the cliff. But in the dream you’d stayed standing in the doorway of the little house too indifferent to go and save it….

You feel bodies moving lazily, a stream of breath along your back that tickles; arms and legs and the men they belong to not fully awake and starting to stir like you, even as you quickly slip back into sleep until you’re standing in the doorway of that house again with the warm winds on your face and a view of the French sea below. The drop is dangerous. Deadly even.

Why haven’t you started talking Bucky into staying yet? Because you don’t like thinking about it too much. That's why. You start walking towards the edge of the cliff and you’re fully aware of your worlds crossing over —real thoughts present in your dream.

It’s probably bad luck to resent good deeds, after all that’s what he’s leaving you for. He wants to go off and live the life of the hero he never got to be. That and to keep Zemo’s location safe; but that’s besides the point. Hmm… Look at me, selfish even in my dreams. You smile when you shouldn’t.

Staring over the edge of the cliff it’s suddenly clear how unstable the ground is here and you gasp as it crumbles beneath your feet without warning.

Your eyes open with a start.

Well, that was a bit on the nose. Your subconscious does like to lay it on a thick sometimes, especially when you continue to ignore the things bothering you for too long and you've been setting these feelings aside since the text came through.

But just as quickly as you’re left to shake the shadow of the eerie dream, your frown fades replaced by a slow smile.

There is a very familiar poking at your ass that can sometimes be annoying-- this morning it’s welcome. You reach back and feel for the body that the greeting belongs too, comforted by the warmth and solid muscle of Bucky’s thigh under his tight boxers.

Mmmmm, the source of my distress and my desire, you think and grin into the pillows with a soft moan when his hand, hot and strong takes hold of your hip, massaging as he presses his erection into you.

You’ll talk to him about your dreams later.

Feeling a draft where there should be warmth, you open an eye to find breaks of sunlight in the space between Helmut’s arm and torso. When you turn your head you’re met with the sight of his bare chest, broad and covered in the softest dark hair. His necklace hangs off center, and you, as always, are helpless to it.

Your hand leaves Bucky’s thigh and your fingers slide over the delicate links in the chain and down into the soft chest hair as you turn your head to find he and Bucky locked in one hell of a kiss for so early in the day. It must have been their movement or the sound of their lips that woke you and pulled you from the doom of your fatal fall.

Dreams are so strange…

Your heart flutters when Helmut lays his hand over yours pressing it tight to his chest. “Good morning love birds.” You snicker and watch Bucky pull away from Zemo looking a little embarrassed. He does pause to kiss your cheek however before getting out of bed with a long stretch.

“So where the hell are we anyway?” He asks going to the balcony door, looking out at the passing waves. “Feels like nowhere.”

Zemo is looking down at you, stroking your profile, kissing your nose. “We should be well within the middle of it actually.” He answers, eyes still fixed on you.

“Perfect” You say softly letting him pull you so close that he blocks out the light as your lips meet.

“Breakfast is ready sir,” Oeznik calls from outside the bedroom door.

Zemo grumbles at the interruption but you’re starving. “What? I’m not going anywhere” You huff turning away, trying to escape. “You just said so yourself. I've got no place to go.”

“All by design” He smiles and lets you get up, giving your ass a smack as you go. Bucky is watching from the doorway and laughs at your yelp-hop-rub combination.

Swearing under your breath you go over to the closet, grab your silk robe and pull it on over your shorts and tank top, yawning as you drag your feet over to Bucky. You pat his stomach, kissing him quickly. “Hungry?”

“Famished.”

“Lets go up.” You say tugging at him as Zemo gets up and puts on his own robe across the room. It’s not the thick one you liked from before the raft, but silk like yours— Tom Ford if memory serves— god his influence is strong. How the hell do you remember this stuff?

You watch him scratch at the back of his messy nest of hair like he always does in the mornings, somehow looking both sexy and adorable, alternating between the two with the ease of flicking a light switch. You can only smile at the enigma that is Helmut Zemo and pull Bucky away from the doors.

The three of you leave the room shuffling along, making your way down the hall to the den. Zemo trails you and Bucky accepting a small espresso from Oeznik as he watches the way you and your Sergeant interact. Neither you nor Bucky are necessarily morning people and though it’s nearly ten, you’re both somewhat irritable now that you’re actually moving around and slightly hungover from yesterdays sangrias as you make your way up to the top deck where breakfast will be served.

The sun is so bright you huff about not being able to find your sunglasses and Bucky accuses you of being a diva. The only appropriate reaction is to give him a shove.

Zemo snorts a laugh at your near sibling like banter which you’d established after so many months together, but once you find your glasses on the bar counter and get a fresh cup of coffee and a bloody Mary chaser in your body you’re feeling like a new woman ready to conquer the day… a day spent doing nothing really.

It’s all so casually decadent that it’s nearly sinful. Whats the one? The sin that doesn’t sound as good as lust but feels better after all that fornicating you’ve been doing— Sloth? Yes, you think reaching for what’s left of your blood Mary from the lounge chair, the ultimate of all the sins. Thou shalt not be a lazy ass sloth all day on your yacht.

Cheers.

You read on the deck for a while, play a few rounds of shuffle board with Bucky by the pool and attempt to best Zemo at chess in the den.

Lunch is wonderful, and you think you will need to meet this mystery chef at some point before the trip is over followed by a nap on the bedroom balcony.

When you wake up in the very late afternoon you venture down the hall with your book and unexpectedly find the men in your life moaning on the floor of the den in a tangle of beautifully tanned arms and legs. So you very quietly slip past, feeling a flush rise up your neck to your cheeks highlighting your wide but tight lipped smile.

You stay above decks giving them privacy feeling only the slightest twinge of jealousy. Not because you think you’ve been excluded but because you could use another session like last night.

A shiver runs deep in your belly thinking of the way Helmut brought you to climax, but you’re still more than happy to give them time alone. After all, you’ve had the Baron to yourself for far longer than Bucky.

You sink down onto the upper deck sofa, the image of them entwined, the sounds of their heavy breathing and Bucky’s near innocent moans enough to make you consider touching yourself but you wait, letting the urge build, one of them if not both will take care of you later.

So when Bucky comes up and finds you with a funny look on his face you’re completely confused. “Whats wrong?” You ask putting your book down.

He’s poured a drink and sits down beside you on the couch.

“I don’t know if I can do it.” He says shaking his head tossing back the bourbon.

“Do what?” You have an idea but you thought for sure he’d be eager to try, at least it looked like they were well on their way to his first time.

“Letting him control me, I’ve never had someone tell me no. Not like this.”

“Oh” You smile. It’s the no sex. The lack of it is a cruel form of control but the end results are glorious, if he could just be patient enough. “He won’t let you come?” You ask a little more patronizing than you’d intended.

“No!” Bucky whines taking his cue from you and you stifle your laughter. He’s so cute, even in the throws of his sexual agony. “And it’s making me crazy. I mean I’m already crazy but this is different.” He looks around and leans closer to you. “If you were to so much as look at my cock right now, I’d be done.” He says under his breath.

You let go and laugh rolling your eyes. Dramatics seem to come as naturally as submission to him. “That’s against the rules.” You warn eyeing him sidelong and attempting to go back to your book.

“I can’t take it. Fuck the rules.” He says again pulling the paperback from your hand.

You wave your finger in his face. “James. You’re not allowed.” You say playfully.

“Please.” He begs running his finger down your cheek, brushing your neck and gliding along your clavicle where he knows you’re sensitive.

“I can’t!” You lean away a little surprised by his attempt.

“He won’t know!”

You shake your head “I know but…” You try not to smile.

“I can’t take it.” He insists leaning in to kiss you. “I promise; it won’t take long.”

You give in and laugh sensing his desperation as you kiss. He does feel tense. The muscles of his arm and shoulder are wound tight as a chord. You smile against his lips letting him ease you down onto the couch, your book dropping to the floor as he moans, sliding his hand down your thigh, pushing your knee up and his own hips forward letting you feel what you’re fairly certain is the most rock solid hard on you’ve ever had pressed to your body. You whisper his name as his lips find their way to your neck and his hand slides between you to free himself from those amazing shorts.

“Shame, I had every intention of making your patience worth the effort. But you do love to prolong your torment, don’t you soldat.”

You gasp and Bucky hangs his head as Zemo comes sauntering over. Your laughter is a mix of nerves and feeling like you’ve been caught sneaking around with a boy like a damn teenager. It’s been years since you’ve felt a rush like this. Leave it to the Baron to stir that old excitement again.

“Don’t move” Zemo orders, pointing a finger in your face. You freeze, legs open where Bucky was, your arms tight at your sides. “Sit” He growls at Bucky who obeys begrudgingly as he slides back onto the couch.

Very quickly Zemo shoves your legs closed and grabs you by the arm pulling you up to standing. You lean away as he shakes his head keeping you close, his hold so tight you wince “I thought you knew better by now” He scolds you sounding disappointed.

“I told him not too?” You try looking as innocent as possible. You truly had no intentions of fucking him, but maybe a quick hand job?

There is a flicker of excitement in Zemo’s eyes. It's been so long since you’ve given him a reason to really go for it and you hold in your smile because you’re meant to be sad and hang your head. “I’m sorry Baron.”

He ignores your attempts to apologize and pulls you over so that you’re standing in front of Bucky. He looks you both over for a moment thinking and then smiles. You don’t know if you love or hate to see him looking so pleased. Nothing “good” ever comes of that smile.

“Look James.” He says, waiting until Bucky raises his head. “I want you to see what listening to your eager cock and not my rules get gets you— and her.” He tells Bucky before giving you his undivided attention.

Zemo turns your back to Bucky and you feel his hand between your shoulder blades pushing just a little. You bend at the waist, not all the way, just enough to make sure Bucky knows where his attention should be.

This flouncy little designer sun dress you’ve changed into after your nap only helps direct his gaze as Zemo drags the fabric up slowly so that the reveal of your ass is yet another way to torment him all on its own and you give yourself over to the Baron and wonder how bad this will be.

“Pull them down.” He tells you, his hand smoothing over your simple lace panties. His voice is not so angry as it was when he found the two of you, but every bit as firm, and you glance up at him as you hook your thumbs into the waist band. He nods and you quickly obey, pulling your underwear over the curve of your hips and ass and swear you hear Bucky groan when you bend to pull them from your ankles letting him see the diamond shape of your pussy from behind for just a second, your smile hidden from view.

When you stand again, Zemo offers his forearm. You rest your stomach against him, your hand gripping his shirt, the other you will have to try very hard not to cover your backside with because you know that the breeze will be the last nice thing that you feel.

He tosses your dress back up holding you, adjusting the way he stands just a little so that you are safe but immobile.

“Count them off; to five.” He says leaning just a bit closer. The tone in his voice is confident. Zemo knows that you’re well aware of what this means.

“Yes Baron.” You say exhaling, trying to prepare, but five? Fuck. He does not intend on holding back. If he was being playful he would give you ten or more, but five? He knows you won’t be able to take more that that.

You dig your fingers into his forearm and hold your breath.

The first strike makes you cry out.

The way Zemo can raise his hand and bring it down on your ass is unrivaled. He doesn’t mess around. There is no teasing, no playing, no cute little taps to warm you up. Just instant punishment.

“One.”

Your voice shakes and the rousing heat of adrenaline spreads through your arms and legs.

Again he lifts his hand and brings it down quickly with a stinging force that sends shock waves through your body. Your cry is weaker this time, trailing longer.

“Two.”

You pull his shirt tighter into your fist, your cheeks are on fire already when you feel the air stir as his hand rises again. You wonder if Bucky is watching, you wonder if he see’s how your thighs flex and your flesh shakes when the Baron strikes you.

You close your eyes and draw in your bottom lip trying not to moan, but you arch your back and your hips begin to circle ever so slightly with the anticipation of the next smack. You’re practically whimpering as you offer up your backside for more.

Zemo can feel the light vibration of pleasure sounding in your chest and his laughter is a low, very amused rumble as he raises his hand just a little higher this time.

The next smack lands and you toss your head back with a gasp. You would have gone to your knees if he wasn’t strong enough to hold you up. “Three” You whisper but you don’t move. The air brushes your pussy, wet in spite of your reddening skin.

“Don’t look away.” Zemo says.

There is the answer to your previous question. Bucky likes it, but it’s not always easy for him to watch.

“James!” Zemo snaps and waits. Bucky must be looking again because you feel the Baron move.

The fourth strike comes and you steady yourself knowing you can take it, wanting it, loving it as much as your feel your legs shaking. “Four”

You’re breathing hard, as you anticipate the final blow, desperate for it to be over but sorry for it to end. You rest against him for just a second feeling both safe in his hold and powerless to his dominance.

When the last of your punishment lands you hang your head, rounding your spine unable to offer yourself anymore. You can not pretend and this is why he’s given you so few.

Letting your hips drop as your body shudders and a single tear falls, you whisper, “Five” And only Helmut hears you say it.

Very gently he pulls your dress down, the soft cotton is cool over your burning skin and he turns you around to face him.

He brushes the tear from your cheek, holding you in such a way that you can go limp in his arms. “It wasn’t that bad, you’re just out of practice.” He says smiling at you knowing it wasn’t kind either.

You’d love for him to know just once. Maybe let Bucky give him a slap across the ass to make it fair. But when you look at him the thought is all wrong if not hilarious and you just shrug a little and hang your head again, resting on his chest.

“No breaking rules.” He scolds affectionately, “Even if you’re only trying to help. Understood?”

“Yes Baron.” Your voice is very small.

He gives a nod, kisses your forehead and looks over his shoulder at James. “So, is this what you wanted?”

“No.”

“No… no I don’t think it is.” He agrees. “But I understand. She’s damn near impossible to resist still you must learn to control yourself. Apparently I’ve not made that clear. Perhaps a more direct approach.”

You both look at him wide eyed. What’s more direct than this you think not even close to recovered from your spanking.

“Both of you, go down to our bedroom.” He says as though nothing has ever been more obvious “Take off your clothes. Wait for me on the bed.”

You look at Bucky. He looks at you.

“You fucked up,” You mouth to him.

Bucky just gets up and pushes past you both.

*

“I suppose you could say I’ve had to get creative with my plans for you. I know that pain is something you can’t respond to in ways that she can.” Zemo says, smiling as he glances down at Bucky and then over his shoulder at you on your knees behind him. “Have you finished?”

You look up from what you’re doing, hoping it’s right. “Yes, I think so?”

He comes around to look at the rope binding Bucky’s wrists. It’s just for show to heighten the experience. Of course Bucky could break free if he wanted to— his strength is no match for a few rough fibers— but this is a training of the mind as well as the body. “You see, pleasure can be just as awful.” Zemo says, his voice making you shiver as he checks your work, tugging and tightening the rope a little more.

Leaning in close, he strokes Bucky’s jaw, his finger reaching to trace the spine of his ear and you smile when the hairs on Bucky’s right arm raise and Zemo loses the air of control for a second simply becoming the man who cares for the other deeply. “The irony of tying you to a chair to satisfy you is not lost on me, based on what I know of your past. But if you can endure it, I promise it will be nothing like the pain you’ve known. I could never hurt you in that way. Still, if at any time this is too much, if it triggers memories that change it from what it’s meant to be, please— James— say the word, your word and it stops.”

Bucky nods. “I will” He says softly.

“Nothing now?” Zemo asks genuinely wanting to know. Bucky shakes his head. “No, nothing.”

Zemo gives a confident nod and kisses the back of Bucky’s head patting his cheek a little harder than he needs too. “I only want to make you feel good— eventually.” He teases and Bucky rolls his eyes with a small laugh.

Pleased, Zemo pushes up and goes to sit in the soft chair across the room, notably more comfortable than the one Bucky has been placed in. Although the more obvious differences being, Zemo is not bound, Zemo is not naked, and Zemo has not been so gently stroked and toyed with that he’s been left with a perfectly vulnerable erection like Bucky has.

You’d had a hard time focusing on the ropes as the Baron made it happen. The way he’d taken Bucky in hand, winding down the length of his sex was in a word, mesmerizing. And when Bucky made that sound, that soft, pleading sound and Zemo stopped — his brow raised with such smug confidence— you wondered who would break first, you or Bucky. He’d quickly brought his hand up with one last tease, his fingers swirling around the curving head of Bucky’s member only to let go as though he’d lost interest.

Bucky’s groan was deep. He was beyond frustrated, but instead of breaking out of his restrains and fucking one of the two of you, he sat there just waiting to be punished for breaking rules in the first place.

He watches as you come and kneel before him, naked yourself as you’ve been told to be. He actually looks slightly scared but mostly curious. His erection is as always flawlessly pretty, arching up and back, smooth while perfectly veined and so inciting.

You only know what it is you’re meant to do to him because you’ve had it done to you before. You figure it’s very similar, only the mechanics are different because his is a man. If Zemo doesn’t approve, he’ll tell you.

The Baron in charge picks up his drink, the ice rattling as he takes a sip and lets the scene settle in his sights for a moment. He likes to see the two of you together, his two helpless things— his to play with and his to love.

“Begin.”

Bucky inhales, but you smile at him to show that it won’t hurt— it’ll just drive him mad.

First you take the little bottle of body oil from the floor and put some in your hands rubbing them together.

He raises his brow watching you and starts to relax thinking he might understand now. You take him in hand and start to stroke, you are after all very good at this. Over and over again, up and down his long, thick shaft, curving your hand over the head of his cock until he moans and rolls his eyes shut. When he opens them he does seem a bit confused by this sudden attention and he flashes a smile because it feels so good. If this is all that’s been planned, he could get used to this sort of punishment.

The room is quiet, there’s nothing but the soft hum of the ship, his breathing and the wonderfully obscene sound of the oil you’re using against his skin as you work faster…

It’s not long before you feel him stiffen and his breath grows quicker, his thighs flex, his hips raise an inch and he starts to moan softly, a staccato sound of pleasure that makes even your heart beat faster. He’s been waiting and suffering through so much you can feel the joy of release seeping into every inch of his body.

“You feel it happening?” Zemo asks softly. “The start, the pressure mounting? You see, she is very good. And she will get you there James, every time— right to the edge”

You yank your hand away and he jerks forward mouth open cock twitching with the start of an orgasm he will not have.

“To the edge” Zemo chuckles. “A cruel punishment for a greedy man who must learn to wait.”

Bucky quickly lifts his head, the realization flashing in his eyes as his chest rises and falls. He looks down at you.

You smile and reach for him again.

*

“Please” He begs breathless.

“Not yet” Zemo says leaning forward a bit in his seat, the drink in his hand all but forgotten. You notice the ice has long since melted as you wait for permission, watching over your shoulder.

He gives you a nod and you turn back to Bucky.

Wrapping your hand around him again, you feel him so solid he’s like stone. His thighs are flexed, his hips raise up in the chair as you begin to jerk your hand up and down and the light reflecting off the oil makes you both shine like gold.

He moans and you watch the muscles of his abs flex as he feels the orgasm coming on, helpless to it and your skilled hand.

“I’m going to come.” He groans sounding sorry for and drops his hips.

“No, you won’t. I did not say that you can” Zemo says like the villain behind you.

“I can’t it hold back” Bucky pants, his voice is thin he sounds like he very well might lose control and you feel him pulse in your palm. You twist your hand around sliding it down to the base thinking it might help hold him off if your focus is less near the collection of nerve endings.

Zemo stands and comes to you, tapping your shoulder. You let him go with a quick up and down and Bucky’s disappointment is the saddest thing you’ve ever heard.

When Zemo looks down at the wonderfully pitiful sight, Bucky shuts his eyes. “Yellow.” He whispers. “Please, yellow.”

“All right.” Zemo says kindly and gives his head a rub. “Rest”

“Thank you.” Bucky manages.

You stand not caring what Zemo says and kiss Bucky’s cheek.

“You okay?” You ask, your hand on his shoulder, lifting his chin to look at his face.

“Please… don’t, don’t touch me for a minute?” He asks and you give an embarrassed laugh understanding his request. You’re not exactly innocent in his torment.

“Of course I’m sorry I…” Your sentence is cut off.

Zemo has you by the back of your arms and pulls you tight against him. “You, not her.”

Bucky sighs dropping his head.

“I’m still confused. Is, this what you wanted?” He asks feigning ignorance though with you naked its clear what Zemo means.

Bucky won’t look.

“Answer me.”

“No, I mean— yes Baron.” He concedes.

You feel Zemo’s laugh along your neck. “You wouldn’t have been fast enough to finish before I found you. Well, maybe you, but not her. Tell me, how quickly can you make her come?”

“What?”

“How quickly?”

You shut your eyes as soon as you realize where this is going.

“I don’t know. I mean she always got there.” Bucky says sounding slightly self conscious.

Zemo smiles. “Two minutes. I can finish her off in just two.”

“Ha!” Bucky doesn’t believe him, who would.

Oh Bucky…

“Tell him it’s true.” Zemo leans towards you.

You nod glancing at them both. “He does this… thing.” You tell Bucky. “He works my spot and my clit at the same time and I come. Fast.” You say simply and totally helpless to it.

“It’s not always the most fun, rarely my first choice; but great when we’re in a hurry.” He shrugs and takes a knee before you even realize that he has. “Open your legs.” He says looking up at you.

Your eyes go wide, surprised to see him down and waiting with Bucky watching. Still, you part your thighs and wisely lay your hands on his shoulders knowing you won’t be able to stay upright without the support.

“This? Right James? This warm, tight, safe place? This is what you wanted?” Zemo asks, teasing Bucky with the way he slides his fingers between your velvet soft folds. You feel him turn his hand and his finger circles your entrance. He sighs and takes hold of your hip to keep you in place.

Two fingers slip inside and you hiss against the stretch, biting your lip as your head lolls to the side. You try to hold in the loudest of your noise but it’s hopeless.

The Baron starts to do his thing and you wonder if you might be able to deny him the pleasure of making you come in front of Bucky again, but just like always you end up gripping his shoulders to keep from falling as he does a perfect come hither with his two fingers as his thumb rubs with the perfect amount of pressure on your throbbing clitoris. He can’t resist and licks your peak for good measure until you hold your breath as he sucks sloppily and until you come on his hand and just as quickly as always. Your wild moaning is nearly feral but you could not care less. It makes you smile to hear him laugh softly so pleased with himself and you and your eyes shut as you pant, catching your breath.

Lowering your head, your eyes only half open, you both look over at Bucky who is glaring at the Baron.

“James.”

“Yes.”

“Stop breaking the rules.”

“Yes Baron.” He says giving in completely.

Zemo smiles and slowly pulls his fingers free from you, raising his hand just enough to show them so wet and sticky and glistening. He kisses your belly and looks up at you. “Go lie down.” He says rubbing your stomach, smoothing his hand over your soft tuft of hair. You’re still floating as you do, happy to go and rest and leave them to it.

“Would you like to come now?” You hear Zemo ask Bucky as he gets up and goes around the chair.

“Please.” Bucky whispers watching you sink down onto the bed on your side.

“I can finish you off just as quickly as I did her.”

“Yes. Please.” He begs through clenched teeth rising up again as if presenting himself to be relieved, the steady rush of blood to his lower half turning his cock a darker shade of desperate as it rises up like a tower ready to fall. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.” He pants “I’m sorry I tried to fuck her. I’m sorry for breaking your rules. And I will do anything, please just… fuck. Please!”

Helmut leans down hushing him, pressing his face close to Bucky’s, grabbing him around the chest as his left hand comes reaching over his stomach promising an end to the day’s long torment.

He grips the soldiers gorgeous, endlessly taunted dick; your natural lubricant replacing the oil to help glide his fingers along.

When Zemo starts to work Bucky you can see through the look on his face that this is all he’s wanted to do for so long and you are reminded that this is as much the Baron’s discipline as it is yours— as it is Bucky’s.

Bucky makes a deep sound that gets your attention. His body flexes and you think he looks like a bomb ready to blow. A sexy, finely muscled, lightly tanned bomb with a look of pained excitement as his legs open and his jaw flexes.

“Are you mine James?” Zemo asks, his lips brushing his ear,

“Yes” He says pitifully raising his hips, thrusting once into the Baron’s hand just as Zemo lets go. A deep frown fixes between Bucky’s brows as he waits until Zemo grabs again and starts to perfectly stroke him.

Bucky’s mouth opens, his eyes fix on the incredibly hypnotic rhythm of Zemo’s hand.

“You’ve always been mine haven’t you?”

“Yes!” Bucky nearly shouts, his brows turned down with the exquisite anguish of the nearing release.

“Say it again,” Zemo demands, his right arm tight around Bucky, his eyes shut relishing in the control and the love, you listen to the wet rhythm as it gets faster.

“Yes.”

“Say it!”

“I’ve always been yours” Bucky moans loudly and glances over at you unable to keep your hand away from your pussy selfishly wanting to come again.

“Once more.” Helmut says opening his eyes. The muscle of his arm is flexed beautifully as he pounds.

Bucky moans so similarly to you that Helmut just smiles. He knows, he understands the hold he has over you both.

“I’m yours” Bucky manages and the Baron focuses his movement as if pulling the orgasm from Bucky’s body willing it to come forward. He jerks his hand up and away…but this time he’s finished the job.

He holds Bucky as the man cries out, his hips rising high this time, his cock pulsing with a tight up and down as he finally —god, finally— gives a high pitched groan with that first explosive release of come that shoots past his stomach and onto his own chest followed by equally satisfying spasms that send milky droplets flying free into the air and across his stomach onto Zemo’s arms; Bucky’s groaning and gasping near tears with the absolute exhaustion and relief of his well deserved climax, his moans and gasps of surprise so raw and unaffected.

By the time he lowers back down to the chair unable to do much more than sit there, limp and panting with his eyes closed, Helmut is holding him, caring nothing for the mess. He seems to love the sight of the pearlescent results of Bucky’s incredible orgasm as much as you do.

Smiling as he strokes Bucky’s hair, kissing his temple, he says with a tone only Helmut Zemo could manage at a moment like this, “You see. When you listen to me, I make it worth every second, every moment of torment. Yes?”

Bucky nods but it’s weak.

Zemo chuckles softly, kisses him again and reaches down easily undoing the ropes.

“Look at you both.” He says trying to sound angry, as if it’s not all his fault. “You can’t come to dinner like this. I’ll run a bath.”

He leaves Bucky and comes to the bed bending over you, his hand so sticky from the combination is heavy on your belly as he kisses your lips. “Hows your ass?” He asks.

“Still on fire.” You say and he winks as he rises.

“Good."

*

“You’re pretty quiet over there.” Bucky says splashing you from across the large tub. You’ve both been in for a while now after Zemo took a quick shower and left you alone letting you know he’d be up waiting at the dinner table.

Roused from your daydream but still not sure you want to talk about why you’re so quiet, you glance over and shrug.

“Whats wrong? You’re not mad about what happened are you?” Bucky asks sliding a little closer. The tub is surprisingly big in an already large bathroom and yet again you wonder how you’ll return to real life when this all ends.

“What happened?” You ask him.

“Getting you in trouble? He really put a shine on your backside.” Bucky says, a smile breaking through any attempt at being serious.

You sit up surprised to hear that’s what he thinks it could be. “Ha! No. Not at all. That was amazing… god” You tip your head back, the image of Bucky, naked and tired to a chair with Zemo holding him and whispering in his ear will be seared into your mind for life. “I didn’t know you could come that much.” You say, slowly looking back down at him,trying not to giggle.

“Neither did I.” He says practically blushing before he grins. “Same goes for you.” He tosses right back.

You laugh and roll your eyes. “Okay well we both know he’s capable of turning us into sex crazed idiots apparently.” You say with a cheeky grin and Bucky laughs shaking his head with a sigh.

“What is it? Some Sokovian spell or something, magic from the old world?” Bucky says with a thick accent wiggling his wet soapy fingers in the air.

Laughing you scrunch your nose. “Nah, that’s all him. Just wait until you’ve been around him long enough to get to the good stuff.”

“The good stuff!” He looks shocked “Well what the hell is all this!”

“This is amazing, but it not… well it’s not him. Theres so much more than sex. Watching tv. Eating dinner in bed. Naps— once he read to me.” You say with a sigh and the room goes silent as you both slip into a day dream laced with Helmuts beautiful voice surrounding you as he reads the classics on a warm summer night…

“You think he sits around daydreaming about us like this?” Bucky asks with a frown. “I worry sometimes.”

“Really?” You ask looking into his big blue eyes. Hundred years old and still so sweet. “Of course he does. Bucky, he wouldn’t have done any of this if he didn’t spend as much time thinking of us as we do him. Don’t be so naive”

He nods looking out the window and you know he’s just out of practice. He probably had a swarm of girls around him back when his life was normal. Maybe even a secret guy. But how long ago had that been. And since he’d been released from the words, his only real time spent with anyone has been with the two of you. For a moment you wonder if that’s fair. He should go out on dates or something, but then again you did try to get him on some apps. He hated them all. Women swiped right like it was their job of course, but he thought it was strange and wanted to meet them the old fashioned way but when he did he could only focus on what he didn’t like and just compared them to you— and Zemo.

“Hey.” You get his attention again. “I mean it, I’m really not upset about anything that happened earlier. Thanks for being such a rule breaker.” You say with a wink.

“No problem” He laughs as if that was his intention. Bucky’s expression softens as he sits back, the water rocking under the bubbles.

Bubbles. Talk about a diva, is anyone is on this big ass boat it’s him. Two adults having a bath drawn from them; why not throw in the bubbles. You roll your eyes ignoring the way your chest gets tight with the feel of being so adored and loving every second of his over the top ways and focus on Bucky who looks stunning in the bath— your heart sinking just a little.

“So what is it?” He asks unaware of your many distractions.

You look back to the window staring up at the sky for a while. “I’m just… sad.” You say giving in to the truth “I mean, I’m thrilled being here. But I’ve had this idea that I could talk you into staying with us. I keep imagining this life with you and Helmut and I know it can’t happen for so many reasons but I’m stubborn and spoiled. I truly hate not getting my way. So I keep thinking, maybe.”

He goes quiet now understanding, and then you feel his hand on your knee under the water. “I know. I’ve thought about it too. Maybe a little too much. Definitely enough that I’ve almost convinced myself it could work, but no. It just wouldn’t.”

You press your lips hesitant to say in case you might offend him but decide to just go for it. “And you’re sure it’s not just that you miss it? Saving the world and everything? I mean, I can see how it would be appealing— from controlled killer to stoic hero.” You tease gently, wiggling your brows up and down until he laughs a little, probably more annoyed than you’d like, and whatever facade you’d put on crumbles. The look of heartbreak turns your brows down, twisting your face with the agony of losing him. He looks surprised to see you so broken about it and finds your hand through the water.

“Hey hey hey.” He pulls but you’re not in the mood to be comforted. Bucky hates when you don’t let him coddle you, but he knows better than to fight it so he simply answers your question. “Yes.Well. No I mean, it’s nice. But honestly, if you really want to know, I could get used to being domesticated.” He shrugs letting go of your hand as he looks towards the shower where Zemo was and you swallow the tears that have been overpowered by your intrigue.

Managing a laugh at his expense you poke his arm on the rim of the tub. “Really? By me or Helmut?” You ask and swear you see him blush.

“You’ve already proven you can turn me into a homebody, and happy to be there, so —Maybe both?” He shrugs and there is such a tone of possibility in his statement that you’re instantly transported into a world in which the three of you are living happily. Maybe in this Mediterranean paradise, you’ve just come home from the market with ingredients for a dinner that Bucky has asked you to pick up and you help him cook while music blasts in your small but bright kitchen and you dance around until the house smells delicious and you set the table, flirting and toying with one another until everything looks beautiful before rushing to sit just as your Baron comes through the door…

Even here and now sitting in the tub with you, Bucky looks like the sweetest house husband glowing a soft gold in the light of the sun. What you wouldn’t give to be his forever. His his and hers, you think and your chin quivers with the threat of happy miserable tears.

Bucky isn’t oblivious to your hurting but he’s trying to keep strong, he can’t give in to you, not this time. “We’ll never know if I stick around.” He says and your little vision fades “I think I’ve got one visit, maybe two in me before someone notices an avenger hanging around their town and his cover is blown. You don’t want that. I don’t want that. I’d never forgive myself."

“I know.” You say and only realize that your head is down when his hand, which is covered in white bubbles reaches to lift your chin.

“Hey, come one. None of that. We’ve only got a little bit of time. I just want to make the most of it. Give me enough good memories to finally forget about whats left of the bad.”

You smile and nod, blowing the bubbles away before they go up your nose. “Fine.” You sigh and look back out the window hugging your knees. “Buck, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He says only cringing a little when you call him Buck.

“Do you think you might ever love him?”

Bucky freezes. He looks— odd. Uncomfortable. Exposed? You realize very quickly that he already does, even if he’s not aware of it and decide not to push him

“It’s okay. I was just curious.” You say and try to calm him with your smile “We come from very different worlds. Letting myself love a man like Helmut Zemo took little to no effort for me, for you— I know why it might come as a shock. But I think you’ll find, when you do admit it to yourself and to him, he might just surprise you with how quickly he says it back.”

[lovehotelreservation]

House Whortemps

Summary: Tonight, you would be treated by House Fortemps for a lavish meal. If only you, the Count, and his sons were aware of how quickly the evening would devolve into a sinful, debaucherous ordeal.

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Reader/Haurchefant, Reader/Artoirel, Reader/Emmanellain, Reader/Edmont

It was time for dinner in Ishgard as the city-state was bathed in moonlight.

Within House Fortemps there was a feast spread on the dinner table, culinary delicacies and fanciful wonders alike.

Count Edmont would be joined by his three sons, with all four in their best dress.

After all, at this dinner, they would be joined by you, the Warrior of Light, their dearest guest.

You had much to share, having returned from a month-long excursion in lands beyond.

Your tales and excursions through Ala Mhigo and Doma--Count Edmont was most especially fond.

And surely, his sons were intrigued to hear about what you had gotten up to.

But with that alluring dress of yours hugging every curve, the three wondered how they could get a better view.

It certainly did not help that during dinner you were being quite the tease.

Artoirel, Haurchefant, Emmanellain--you had all three wrapped around your finger with ease.

From your extensive history together, it did not take much for you to capture Haurchefant’s gaze.

Especially when you were looking right into his eyes as your tongue licked your lips clean of creamy glaze.

Never to lose out on having your attention to himself, Emmanellain did what he could to have your attention turn towards his direction.

Particularly arching his hips forward while the bottom of your heel traveled ever so lightly over his hardened erection.

Reserved and chaste as he was, Artoirel was certainly no fool.

Seeing his younger brothers behave so perversely during dinner was making him lose his cool.

With harsh glares and even harsher curses under his breath, Artoirel tried to discreetly get his siblings to cease.

Only to refrain when his wine glass accidentally tipped over, a river of burgundy soon spilling onto his lap and seat.

Ever the hero, you quickly rose up to save the day.

With napkin in hand, you sought to pat the liquid away.

However.

Your goodwill and concern was betrayed by the mischievous look on your face.

Slowly and surely, your hand dragged the napkin over his crotch at a deliberate pace.

Artoirel was at a loss for words, his face quickly becoming hot.

All while his brothers looked on enviously, any efforts to catch your attention once more all for naught.

Beneath your touch, the eldest son of House Fortemps felt his cock becoming stiff and erect.

But what soon transpired afterwards was something even you didn’t expect.

“Surely, you will always be a welcomed guest to this family--but I’d rather not see such your naughty wickedness continue to befuddle my kin.”

Having dismissed all servants a moment before, Count Edmont had spoken up, his eyes twinkling, well aware of your sin.

Artoirel, Haurchefant, Emmanellain were wide-eyed and slack jawed, all words at a loss.

The three watched as their father beckoned you over, your dress soon stripped off and thrown away by him in a toss.

With not a thread of clothing on your body, you sat upon Edmont’s lap, your bold brazen actions now subdued.

The Count’s hands proceeded to part your thighs, your body fully exposed and presented as a sight so utterly lewd.

Before the eyes of his sons, Edmont cupped your breasts, his fingers twisting and toying your nipples with a touch well experienced.

His other hand descended between your legs, his palm pressing onto and caressing your core, soon drawing forth moans from your lips that became louder in cadence.

But for as skillfully sinful that his fingers were, Edmont meant for this to be a means to reprimand.

While laying you across his lap and spanking your ass would have been ideal, he chose a different method: more and more he would bring you closer to orgasm, making certain to not allow you to release, if only to drive you mad.

With the Warrior of Light crumbling so easily by the lascivious touch of Edmont, his sons continued to watch on, all overwhelmed by desire.

For all the respect and love he had for his father, Haurchefant was becoming all the more determined and eager to surpass him, the need to join his body with yours while pouring his seed inside your core roaring deep within his chest like fire.

A shocking revelation to witness but one to bear nonetheless, Emmanellain made notes within his mind to follow after Edmont’s masterful techniques, wishing to make you buck helplessly against his hand in an earnest attempt to make you his.

Guilt under the eyes of Halone, the weight of responsibility as the eldest of House Fortemps--Artoirel wasn’t sure how to make sense of this vicious yearning tearing through him, only that he needed to ravish you, his lips meeting yours for a kiss.

It was not much longer until Edmont felt that he had punished you enough, mindless pleasured noises and pleas for mercy escaping weakly from your mouth.

And so he finally offered what you begged, driving his long fingers into your sopping core in a swift rhythm, grinding his palm onto your clit until you were climaxing all over his hand with a breathless cry and shout.

Satisfied and content, Edmont gave you a moment to catch your breath, cradling you in his arms as he helped you up, soon guiding you over to where his sons remained.

Like a lamb led to a den of lions, you would be subjected to the lustful yearning of Artoirel, Haurchefant, and Emmanellain.

Before he passed you along to be used by his sons as they wished, Edmont took a moment to indulge himself with a kiss on your lips that was tender and sweet.

And as the middlest son quickly hoisted you over to where he and his brothers now stood, their father sat down to watch his sons truly feast.

Emmanellain and Artoirel were drawn to your breasts, the mouths of the two latching onto your nipples for them to suckle upon.

Meanwhile it was Haurchefant who took to between your thighs to lap up and savor your taste, his tongue gliding and lapping against your core in strokes most quick and long.

It did not matter which brother indulged and fancied to what.

For each would fuck you thoroughly and make you their slut.

After all, by the touch of Count Edmont alone, the mighty Warrior of Light was already reduced to a shamelessly wanton mess.

But caught in the center of three competing brothers as they vied for your affection, it would be long before you could have a moment to truly rest.

Having finally yielded to depravity he thought himself impervious against, it was Artoirel who had you on all fours as he vigorously drove his cock into you from behind.

If the eldest son was to have this way first then sure--Haurchefant and Emmanellain could wait, all while rubbing their dicks against your face, a claim on your body something both vehemently pined.

As the youngest, Emmanellain was used to being spoiled and having his way.

And while he would do what he could to please you, how could he resist from simply lying back and watching you ride his cock while you bounced away?

Haurchefant would be the one next at last.

He already had in mind to not only flood your core with his seed as he fucked you upon the marble floor, but to do the very same with your ass.

Seeing their brother get to claim both of your holes only served to ensnare Artoirel and Emmanellain with envy.

If Haurchefant was given this chance, then both should be given the same opportunity!

Fair was fair of course, with all three soon having their turn.

They would fuck you over and over until their cocks were the only things you would desperately yearn.

You were right in the middle between Haurchefant and Artoirel, both barrelling their dicks into your core and ass, all while Emmanellain saw to it that your tongue and face was coated with cum.

And onwards Edmont watched, his eyes glinting with amusement until simply observing wasn’t enough, with him soon returning to join in on the fun.

In retrospect, this dinner was simply meant to welcome you back home as their guest.

But surely, as they would encourage the following days after, they hoped that you would see House Fortemps as a permanent home for you to return to and rest.

To all of Eorzea, you were its Warrior of Light.

But to these men of House Fortemps, you were their most cherished treasure and they loved you with all their might.

[yukiwrites]

Nightmares and Comfort

Thanks for the support, nonnies! I hope you like it~

Summary: Thirst had always been a great protector of his teammates at Rhodes Island Operatives. Due to feeling responsible for the death of his one and only friend, Thirst could never allow anyone to feel hurt again... What he never considered, was how HE would feel with all of that, and the Doctor was the only one who could help...

Watch out for sin, ye who enters!

Commission info HERE and HERE!

__________________________

The deafening sound of rain.

Pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter patter…

The rain, endlessly falling.

Holding onto a body that grew increasingly colder with every passing second, his own breathing seemed to be made of ice.

His mouth was speaking, but there was no way for his mind to know what it was. Amidst his own sobs and shaking body, his eyes and brain were all focused on the man whose life ebbed away in his arms.

Yet, surprisingly, the man whose visage was all but blurred by rain and tears, seemed calmer than ever.

As if the hold death had on him was something he welcomed. As if he had joined that mission with this specific goal in mind.

Was it true? Did he anticipate his own death? Was that why there was no way to remember how he looked at that time?

Yet, no matter how foggy his memory of that day was, the words spoken to him at that time, the words whose weight dictated how he would live his life thereafter… they were clear as day.

It was as if all sound stopped just so his voice could be heard.

“Go without me.”

Time fell still.

Starting from the pallid lips who had uttered the second and last command he would ever hear, black crystals started spreading throughout the man’s face and neck.

Watching this with horror, Thirst let go of his old time friend and companion as if he had been touched by something vile.

“No… No!” Finally did he hear his own voice as it gnawed in his throat. “This.. it- it wasn’t like this…!” He whimpered, scurrying away from the body that bulged out and convulsed as it was beset by the Infection.

Thirst’s body shook violently as he tried to tear his gaze away from the horrid scene of his friend’s body being consumed by Oripathy. He held his head with both hands, covering his ears so they wouldn’t pick up the sound of flesh melting and disintegrating.

“It wasn’t like this…” he repeated over and over, rocking his body back and forth as Arctic’s eyes looked straight into his soul, despite his body turning into an incomprehensible pile of flesh and dark crystals. “It wasn’t…” he sniffled, his usually emotionless eyes overflowing with tears.

The longer Arctic’s eyes stared into him, the louder Thirst could hear his own breathing and heart beating. The sound of rain threatened to consume it all as the world around him distorted itself, with Arctic’s gaze as its center.

“No… NO!” He yelled atop of his lungs, desperately trying to tear himself away from the agony.

With a startle, Thirst opened his eyes.

“Hah… hahh…” he huffed, looking around like a terrified kitten.

The darkness of the room did nothing to soothe his racing mind. If he blinked, he would be able to see Arctic’s gaze with the corner of his eyes, no matter where he looked.

Trembling, Thirst stumbled out of the bed. He walked simply by instinct, trying to figure out where the exit was. Huffing, his mind spiraled that dreaded memory as his body shook with guilt and fear.

Finally finding the door, he barely managed to turn the knob with his trembling hands, shoving himself out into a poorly lit corridor.

At the end of it, there was something that could soothe him. There was someone that could soothe his crumbling mind.

Moved by that belief, Thirst stumbled forward, his vision darkening with each step he took. If he were to pass out in that state of mind… no, he couldn’t bear to think of it.

The heavy steps towards the laboratory caught someone’s attention.

The Doctor lifted his gaze from the broken coffee machine he was just cursing at towards the door Thirst was bound to come out of. The moment the silver-haired, black-horned man opened the double door wearing the most terrified expression one could ever see someone wear, the Doctor sighed wearily.

“... That dream again?” he said simply as Thirst approached, usually tall and imposing, but now curved and pitiful.

“Doctor, Doctor… it wasn’t like that…” Thirst murmured as he fell on his knees in front of the Doctor, placing his head on his lap. Even when on his knees, he was about the same height as the Doctor who was sitting up, yet he seemed so fragile one couldn’t help but notice the irony.

“I know.” The Doctor placed a placating hand over Thirst’s horns, sending a wave of much-needed calm into the taller man’s body. Still, it wasn’t enough.

Thirst’s hands gripped the Doctor’s legs as his entire body shook with fear and anguish. “It wasn’t… he didn’t look… but the Infection…”

“Poor Puppy,” the Doctor used the degrading nickname Thirst usually disliked, but openly welcomed whenever he was desperate for help. “Look at me,” the Doctor pulled down his hood and mask, revealing the face no one but the man in front of him had ever seen in Rhodes Island: a surprisingly young-looking, black-haired and red eyed man with animal traits much like its other residents, despite what many would infer.

Thirst’s eyes, usually devoid of emotion — or at least filled with repressed emotion — looked up to the Doctor’s like they were his lifeline. He opened his mouth instinctively, revealing his sharp fangs as the Doctor did the same, sticking out his tongue into Thirst’s teeth.

“Mhhm…” the Doctor winced at the sharp pain of the teeth piercing into his tongue, but pulled Thirst’s head back so he could control the depth of the desperate kiss. Thirst sucked into the Doctor’s tongue and blood, feeling relief at the warm liquid going down his throat.

The Doctor was immune to Oriopathy, and that translated into his blood, as well.

If Thirst drank from it, he wouldn’t feel as threatened by the Infection as he usually did.

The shaking of his body visibly lessened the longer the kiss went, until it completely stopped at the same time as the bleeding.

“D-Doctor…” Thirst huffed, nudging his face into the Doctor’s after their lips parted.

Smirking, the Doctor slightly pulled the back of Thirst’s hair, making him look up in his eyes. “Was that still not enough?”

His lips still moist, Thirst looked away with a tinge of embarrassment. Apparently, his sanity had returned during the kiss, but he still wanted it to continue for a while longer.

Even if the Doctor’s touch was rough. Even if there was always a sense of inferiority whenever they were together.

The warmth wasn’t a lie. The precious blood that no one else had seen the color of, it was only at Thirst’s disposal.

The eyes that many only saw through a cold mask, looked down at him like he was his, or at least like something to be protected.

Unconsciously, as Thirst thought of these, his lips protruded into a pout.

Which the Doctor promptly took a bite out of.

“....!” Thirst pulled away with surprise, smacking his mouth with one hand.

“Oh? It seems my Puppy’s growing up.” The Doctor snorted at Thirst’s reaction, and even more so once he scowled at the nickname.

“... Don’t call me that.” He squeaked out,which sounded terribly unconvincing in more ways than one. For one, he was still sitting on the floor in front of the Doctor’s chair, and for another, he made no effort to get up nor pull away the Doctor’s hand that was pulling his nape closer and closer.

“No?” The Doctor licked Thirst’s bottom lip as the taller man tried and failed to look away and resist the warm touch.

“...” Thirst’s reply was only silence, though even if he had voiced something, it would’ve been muffled by the Doctor’s lips on his.

The kiss this time, although not as desperate as the first, felt equally voracious as the Doctor explored every inch of Thirst’s mouth with his tongue. He licked his lips, then tongue, then gums with unexplainable hunger, which stole a moan out of the taller man.

Enticed by the sweet voice, the Doctor slowly pushed Thirst down on the floor, holding both of his hands above his head.

Of course, the act was more out of asserting his dominance rather than actual strength — after all, the Doctor was but a researcher while Thirst was a strong Operator. But their roles outside of these four walls meant nothing between the both of them… and Thirst would have it no other way.

However… As the kiss grew intense and their bodies grew hotter, Thirst moved uncomfortably under the Doctor.

“Mhm…” he tried to protest, but the Doctor’s tongue in his was relentless. It gave him no room for breathing, much less speaking.

Growling, the Doctor looked down at the Operator with hunger in his red eyes, like a predator set on his much larger prey. “What is it?” he placed his forehead on Thirst’s as his free hand roamed down to his pants.

Wincing at the lewd touch, Thirst closed one eye as he looked away, biting his lips. “The floor…”

Consumed in his hunger, the Doctor thrusted his tongue into Thirst’s once again. “How can a Puppy be this cute…” he murmured amidst kisses, reaching to grab Thirst’s manhood under his pants.

“Mh-ahh…” Thirst let out a disgraceful moan, immediately biting his lips to hide it. “D-Doctor…” he nudged the man on top of him like a powerless kitten, surely not th first nor the last time he would do it.

“Only once, okay? I’ll do it quickly…” The Doctor huffed as he kissed Thirst’s neck, rubbing their erections through their pants. “Just lift one leg…”

“Ah… But…” Despite being much stronger, Thirst couldn’t help but do what the Doctor told him to. Time and again he had told the Doctor that doing it on the floor would give him hip pain, but he couldn’t help but give in whenever the Doctor tried to devour him like that… it was unavoidable.

He was almost lifting his leg like the Doctor him to, but since he was yet to take off his pants, there was no way to.

“Just once, Just once…” now it seemed like the Doctor was the delirious one as he bit and kissed Thirst’s pale white skin, drunk in his taste, warmth and submission.

“Hahh… Doctor…” Thirst gripped at the Doctor’s hair, pulling him for a kiss to settle that burning sensation in his body. “Quickly… quickly…”

Smirking under their kiss, the Doctor pulled a few hairs out of Thirst’s face. “Are you sure? … Here?”

“Yes… Yes… anywhere.” Thirst finally conceded, his body too hot to wait for them to reach the next door bedroom.

“Good boy…” The Doctor whispered as he shoved his tongue into Thirst’s mouth, making the taller man roll his eyes in pleasure. Hurriedly did the Doctor pull down Thirst’s pants, but he was in no hurry to pull out his own erection.

Instead, he took Thirst’s massive dick into his hands and caressed it slowly, pulling its skin up and down to stimulate him into begging even more…

“Ah- ack… Doctor…” Thirst’s response as immediate. Despite his size, he was as fidgety as a little kitten, the boy… “Mhhmm…” He squirmed as the Doctor intensified his kisses and caresses.

He lifted one leg without being asked to as his breathing got more and more ragged with the heat in his chest threatening to explode. The Doctor placed his index right over Thirst’s glans, as if preventing him from coming.

“Mhhmm…” That made Thirst’s entire body tingle. “Doctor- Please…”

“Hmm? I haven’t said anything…” The Doctor chuckled heartily, barely managing to stay his need to ravage the man under him without waiting for him to beg. Instead, he twisted his hand slightly, making Thirst’s body squirm under him.

“I’m- I, ah… it’s… almost…”

“I never said you couldn’t…” The Doctor teased, licking Thirst’s exhausted tongue.

For a moment, Thirst stopped breathing. “I… can…?” he huffed, squeezing his eyes as the orgasm shook his body from inside out, his seed spurting out right into the Doctor’s cupped hand.

“You were waiting for my permission, Puppy? Without me saying anything?” The Doctor kissed Thirst’s temple as he used his very own cum to coat his ass for a smoother entrance.

“Mhhm, I-” Thirst barely had time to enjoy the post orgasmic fog as the Doctor relentlessly stuck three fingers into him, all dripping wet with his own fluids. “Doct-”

“Shh, now it’s my turn, Puppy.” He sealed Thirst’s lips with a kiss, hurriedly pulling out his erection to prod at his ass. “Be a good boy and let me in, hmm?”

“Hmm… Ah…” Thirst opened his mouth to allow for a deeper kiss, wrapping both arms around the Doctor’s neck as if to give him permission.

Huffing, the Doctor murmured a curse as he pushed himself in. “Shit, it’s still so tight… loosen up for me, Thirst, ack…” he bemoaned as Thirst spasmed around him, still feeling the effect of the orgasm.

Thirst let out a long moan as the Doctor pushed his full length in, digging his face into the Doctor’s shoulder. “D-Doctor… ahn…”

“Ah, hah… it’s good inside you, Thirst. Fuck,” the Doctor cursed, pushing himself as far as he could inside him. He pulled out only to push further back in, enjoying how the taller man squeaked adorably under his might.

Thirst wasn’t a very verbal man, so he couldn’t utter things like ‘it feels so good! Please, more!’ like one would expect to hear during those times, but the Doctor was much more pleased by the taller man’s repressed silence and muffled moans instead.

He could feel Thirst’s body spasm with pleasure whenever he thrusted. He could hear the strangled moans coming out of Thirst’s throat whenever he pounded him with a bit more strength… And that was hotter than any word Thirst could ever say.

“Maybe… Maybe it won’t be only once, shit…” The Doctor panted as he accelerated his movements, digging deeper and deeper into Thirst as his body loosed around him. At first, he did actually plan to do it just once on the floor and move to the bed, but somehow… Thirst felt much hotter and tigther today.

It was impossible to do it just once.

If Thirst had been just a little bit more coherent, he might’ve protested.

However, at that moment, he couldn’t think of anything anymore. The Doctor was relentless in his pounding, and that made Thirst only focus on him. There was only him in the entire world.

His body started to close itself around the Doctor’s dick, wanting to keep it inside forever, but also needing it to pull in and out like that for a while longer, for just a little bit longer…

“Ahn… Doctor- I…” Thirst announced, his eyes watering with pleasure as the Doctor never stopped his movements.

“Al… ready? Thirst…” the Doctor panted, “I… ack… fuck, it’s so good…” He tried to make fun of him, but the pleasure was such that he could only focus on his lower body. The heat in his body was unbearable.

They huffed in unison as their words got mingled with moans and the sound of their lovemaking. Lost in kisses and hunger, the Doctor felt Thirst coming first before he, too, shot his seeds inside of him, though his movements barely slowed down.

“Doctor…!” Thirst pleaded, feeling how the Doctor wasn’t intent on stopping after the first time. “I can’t- ack…” he moaned, his back end sensitive after being mercilessly worked on by the Doctor’s eager shaft.

He was about to come again mere five minutes after just coming.

“Shh shh, Puppy, ah…” the Doctor slicked back his sweaty forehead before pulling Thirst’s chin for a kiss. “Just once, just once more…” he bemoaned, his erection up and ready to rail Thirst for the remainder of the night if necessary.

“Mhhhmm…” Thirst rolled his eyes in pleasure as the orgasm shook his body again, making him relax all of his tense muscles. “Doctor…” he moaned as the thrusts intensified yet again, not feeling or not caring about how the Doctor’s seeds spewed out of his ass down his back.

“So hot, Thirst…” the Doctor licked Thirst’s lips, completely entranced by the man under him.

Whenever Thirst looked submissive like that, there was no way for the Doctor to be able to let him go after doing it only once… Mayhaps, until dawn, or maybe until someone finally discovered them in this laboratory.

But until then, the Doctor wasn’t about to let Thirst go, oh no he wasn’t.

However, that would come with consequences, even if they would only come in the next day.

They finally moved back to Thirst’s bed after doing it so much they thought they dreamed the walk back to the room. Snuggling into the Doctor’s chest, Thirst felt warm and fulfilled, a complete 180º from how he had woken up earlier that night.

Yet, what awaited him when he would eventually wake up was the hip pain he had tried to warn the Doctor of, and that made him scowl from the moment he opened his eyes.

Since he was an Operator, and also because of who he was inherently, Thirst liked to wake up early to train. He had to be in tip top shape if he wanted to keep on being the best protector of Rhodes Island, and that translated into training, training and more training.

But whenever he let the Doctor have his way with him, Thirst was useless for the largest part of the day. For one, because his back end would be throbbing, an ever-reminder of their delicious time the previous night. For another, he would feel a pinching pain on his lower back if they had done it on the floor, which, unfortunately, they had.

So he woke up with a scowl and went to get ready (he wanted to be mad at the Doctor for coming inside of him too, as that was more work for him in the shower… But Thirst secretly liked the feel of the Doctor's seeds running down his legs when he got up, so he was unable to pretend to be mad about that), making sure to stomp around so the Doctor could wake up and see him angry.

“Thirst…?” The Doctor’s hoarse voice called as he patted the empty space beside him in bed. With a groan, he peeked out of the pillow to find the bathroom light on and the sound of the shower going off. 

“...” There was no reply as the tall man wanted to make his point obvious, but the Doctor was still loading his personality after having just woken up, so he missed it entirely.

In fact, he missed the entirety of Thirst’s attempt to show how mad he was as the Doctor fell right back asleep, which only made Thirst angrier.

So, later in the day, when it was time for the team to assemble to get to work, Thirst never looked in the Doctor’s way, which looked adorable to the Doctor but actually scary to the other team mates.

As Thirst was a tall, horned man, he looked rather imposing when he scowled. Usually, he wasn’t much for showing his emotions, but this time he had to prove a point (also his lower back hurt like hell) so he had to express his anger by pouting and scowling.

Seeing as the meeting was going nowhere with the team mates intimidated and Thirst even more silent than usual, the Doctor called for a break and summoned Thirst to speak privately in the laboratory.

Thirst followed, but looked the other way the whole time, which made the Doctor snort and think of a cute puppy that followed its master even though it was upset for whatever reason.

“Hey, you shouldn’t let you being mad at me to compromise the entire team.” The Doctor cut right to the chase, not even allowing Thirst to look aloof in a far corner of the room. He purposely avoided the spot the Doctor was heading towards — the chair beside which their lovemaking occurred just last night.

“...” Thirst still said nothing, turning his head away just so his eyes wouldn’t meet the Doctor’s under his hood.

“Hey, don’t be like that? You said I could…”

“That’s because-” Thirst took the bait and looked up to the Doctor, but immediately shut his mouth and turned away with a pink tint in his cheeks. 

“C’mon, Puppy…” The Doctor waddled towards Thirst, who turned his head to the opposite side.

“Don’t call me like that.”

“Okay. Thirst. Look at me? You’re hurting me…” The Doctor made sure the pout could be heard in his voice, which once again baited Thirst into glancing his way. Fortunately for the Doctor, he was still wearing his mask so Thirst didn’t see the smirk growing under it. “There… next time, I promise I won’t ask again, okay?” He reached for Thirst’s cheek, tapping it carefully.

“... You said that last time.”

“I did? I’m sure I said I would TRY…”

“You didn’t try!”

“Oh, Thirst,” the Doctor pulled down his mask. “Do you know how HARD is it to control myself when you’re like that? Extremely.”

“It’s not- It’s not my fault.” Thirst stuttered as the Doctor pulled his face down closer and closer.

“Nope, it’s allll my fault. That’s why I’m apologizing,” he said, his breath brushing against Thirst’s. “And telling you I will not do it again. Not ‘try’ not to, but I won’t do it. Okay?” he smooched Thirst’s dry lips, quickly pulling his mask back up.

Left with the aftertaste of a kiss, Thirst pouted a bit more, but his heart was lighter after receiving the promise. “Okay,” he nodded gleefully, which made the Doctor smirk under his mask again.

Little did Thirst know that when it was about him and his adorableness, there was no promise that could hold back the desire in the Doctor… So they were bound to have that same conversation a few more times in the near future.

[mxvladdy]

True Form-Asmodeus

I had a hella fun time writing my boy! 

Next up: Satan 

Asmodeus

-He is an odd thing really. The best way to describe him is more of a feeling. He is like an itch you can’t scratch, or that little buzzing thought in the back of your mind. That one where every time you try to focus on it it disappears.

- Whenever one tries to look directly at him it is as though he vanishes. The best way to look at him is through your peripheral vision. It is a total contrast to his usually boisterous human form. But then again, being cast out of heaven was a punishment after all.

- He can never be the center of attention in this form. But that won't stop him from using it to his advantage.

- See, lust is a fickle thing. It changes from person to person. Desire to desire. Staying in one form or another is a detriment to his sin. It is far easier to burrow deep into someone's subconscious by being a tantalizing mystery then some tangible beast like his brother's forms. He doesn’t need his prey to fear him, he needs them to want him.

- Being a momentary glimmer in someone’s eye is the fastest way to become an infatuation, to have them lust for him. He has captured so many souls just by being an enigma, or unsolvable riddle. It drives mortals to madness, the simple act of just trying to find him has brought down kings, brought down civilizations. It is a rush like no other.

- He lures people in first with his voice. It is no more than a layered whisper to most. It forces you to strain to hear it, to search out the being behind such an angelic noise. It shifts and changes depending on the person hearing it, becoming more desirable to that person’s preference. Sometimes people hear the soft beckoning of a lover, or the voice of a family member long since buried. Others hear what they want to come in the future, like the infantile babble of a child or the yipping of their dream pet. He never knows what he looks or sounds like till he has ensnared someone.

- But, for your sake, he tempers it (just barely). There are rules to be followed, as much as he hates it. But he can’t have everyone’s favorite human falling into madness now can he? When he comes to you like this you know to look straight ahead. He will move where he wants to. It’s strange at first, proper manners can’t really apply anymore. It’s a learning curve but in the end, you both adapt.

- From what you can make out from the corner of your eyes is a human-like form. Which means to say he’s bipedal. His shape is tall and wispy and flickers out of reality from time to time. His skin is glossy and reflective like glass, picking up the environment around him instead of having a defined shape. Every time he moves his shape ripples as though trying to shape itself into something tantalizing.

- When he gets closer you sense him more than see him. He feels like happiness. A hug from a friend or the feel of a hot shower after a long day. You find it rather therapeutic. It flusters him. No one has ever described him as such before.

- He is beyond curious to know what desires he reflects in you.

Mini fic

You could have sworn he was in his room, his text said he was. Last night he had bombarded you with messages all last night, raving about a new shipment of bath salts that had arrived for him. He had a few he wanted you to try. It was a sweet gesture, even if he not so subtly hinted at how dry your skin was becoming.

"Asmo?" You knock twice before entering. His open-door policy for you made it so you could barge in whenever you wished. Slipping in you make a beeline for your usual spot. Leaving a trail of discarded winter clothes on the floor you curl up on the chaise lounge overlooking the garden. He was one of luckier brothers to have a great view of the outer gardens. The white and lavender roses growing up the hedge wall wave at you in the light breeze outside.

Movement catches your attention out of the corner of your eye. You flick your head to see what it was before you could stop yourself. "Asmo!" You jerk your gaze back to the window. That brief glance was enough though. You could feel the burning need to look back at him brewing. An odd desperation started gnawing in your stomach. The need scrambles your thoughts. The demanding call to find him was overwhelming. You needed to see him more than you needed breath in your lungs or the blood in your veins. You would trade it all just a moment in his glory.

The feeling is gone as suddenly as it arrives. “Thank you.” You sigh rubbing at the pain in your chest.

"Sorry~" Asmodeus spoke. His voice a faint whisper in the back of your head. It was crisp and clean, the accent reminiscent of the people you grew up with, past friends and family welcoming you back. "I just thought I'd slip into something more comfortable. Didn’t know you would be here so quick. Though I should have, I am a treat to be around." You laugh, feeling wispy air tickle the nape of your neck and something that could have been a tongue brushing along the shell of your ear. His breath smelled of honeyed mead and apples.

You exhale his scent and hum in delight at the warm memories. Hmmm. Yes, you were dying to go home for fall break. You could practically taste your gran’s special rhubarb crumble. The homemade whip cream she topped it with light and fluffy on your tongue. He would love the little sprinkle of brown sugar and cinnamon she always put on top. Perhaps he could accompany you for the holiday?

Shifting in the lounge, you allow his natural abilities to wash over you. The sensations he was pulling from you now were controllable, more like reliving a happy moment then suffering though a faded memory. He wasn’t bringing up your family on purpose, you knew that. He had no control over what desires he amplified, and there was only so much he could temper his powers.  

“You are incorrigible.” You chuckle, hands reaching blindly behind yourself. To an onlooker, your flailing hands and tense posture would be comical. But for you, you knew his little game. He dodges out of range of your hands. Still looking out in the gardens you wait for him to come to you. You grin as he finally shifts close enough for your fingers to brush along a part of his form.

He felt like smooth silk and was warm to the touch. Some parts of him wrap around your hand, giving it a tight squeeze before retracting. "Aren't I?" His chuckle sounded like droplets of rain on a tin roof. You relax, leaning back to where you guess his body is. He braces you, the heat of him engulfing your back before lapping over your shoulders and down your sides. You feel his smooth head nudge against the top of yours, the closest thing to a kiss you could get from him right now.

"What's the occasion?" You ask as he lifts himself onto the chair to spoon your back.

“Felt-tight. My other forms just were doing it for me today. Even though all my forms are fabulous, sometimes the original is just better.” He strokes your hair, ruffling it with one too many fingers to be considered human. “Oh~ are you using that conditioner I suggest?”

You nod shifting so he can inspect you further. You bask in the comfort of his light embrace for a moment. “Can I turn around please?” You ask in the pleasant silence. “I won’t try to peek. Scouts honor.”

He huffs, nuzzling into your neck. “Tempting the Tempter? Brazing little thing aren’t you.”

You nudge his limbs away and turn around slowly, eyes tightly shut. “Learned from the best.” You agree, gluing yourself to his front “Now, a proper hug please, if you are so inclined.”  

“Who could say no to that?”

[spoiler1001]

This is how it ended. A bloody battle. No Trent. No war. Just Caleb, surrounded by the faces of his loved ones.

Caleb almost laughed bitterly. Yes, he was surrounded by loved ones on both sides of this. If this were astrid or Eodwulf it would be kinder.

As is, the city that deserted their own reckoning rose from the blood of the Tomb Takers. Every slash that drew their blood dropped onto the floor. The icy stone was slick and everyone's boots gained a new reddish mark painting the bottom of their shoes. Caleb's hair slipped out of his tie. It passed his shoulders now. Ikithon would have a shit fit if he saw it. Fuck Ikithon.

The Tomb Takers fell suspiciously easily. They seemed almost willing to do so. Of course they were. They trusted this city. These philosophers. They really were the Assembly of their time. They used and sucked the free will out of their pupils all the same. Only Lucien stood out of all of them left. 

There was a silence that filled the room. The Tomtakers laid towards the center of the room. The Mighty Nein stood around the border of it. Caleb was separated from the others with rocks blocking the view and the others being blocked in by falling rocks. Lucien kept his eyes on Caleb. Caleb raised his hand to summon a spell, for it to sizzle at his fingertips and turn to smoke. Lucien smiled, cocking his head to the side. His tail swished like a cat sizing up his prey. That's all he was to Lucien. Someone that was beneath him, but still a person that he wanted to deal with personally. Caleb blinked weakly at Lucien.

"You are mine!" Lucien drew his rapier. 

"I've always been."  Caleb whispered.

Lucien slashed at Caleb, his expression unreadable. He was cold, numbed. The neutral expression. Caleb wondered if that's what he looked like when he killed his parents.

"You clever asshole. You undermined me at every opportunity. You showed off and condescended towards me. I actually liked you." Lucien chuckled. His footsteps were uneven and he was covered in blood and bruises. Blood dripped from the corner off his mouth. It was the mirror image of when Molly confronted Lorenzo. Lucien swiped at Caleb but slid, missing him. Caleb pitied Lucien, he realized. 

Caleb was staring at an opportunity to meet the raven queen. So was Lucien, really. But Caleb was still himself. This wasn't Lucien anymore. Molly was gone, and he took humility with him.

Lucien hissed and grabbed the back of Caleb's head. They were centimeters apart from each other. Caleb looked Lucien in the eye. 

"You could have been something with us." Lucien hissed.

"I'm happy being myself." Caleb just smiled. 

Lucien hissed, dropping his rapier. He pulled out a dagger, the coloring that brought to mind the carnival glass. The tip was jagged and some places were dulled. There was a hook placed around the handle and Lucien gripped it. Lucien went pale but still was looking at him with a neutral face. Caleb kept the eye contact through the pain of a blade going between his ribs. 

"May you find your peace." Caleb just rasped out, coughing. He went limp, never closing his eyes. Before nothing overtook him, he saw Lucien's mask slip, with tears building in his eyes. Lucien pulled away, falling backwards as Caleb crumbled.

The city became louder and louder. All of the members of the Mighty Nein could hear it, not Just Beau. The snow was melting and the group as a whole could now see the whole room. Caduceus saw it first. Then Fjord. Jester yelled. Veth froze. The city was forming to the side of their gaze. The group was focused on the still form of Caleb Widogast. His blue eyes were open, but he looked at nothing. Veth rushed over. Blood soaked into her coat and she grabbed his head.

"He's still warm." She whispered. Hot tears fell down her cheeks despite the cold. "We can fix this!" Veth looked at the clerics. "You can fix him!" Jester nodded but she was in shock. 

"T-the Traveler can help what about-" Jester knelt down and looked at Caleb. 

"Don't worry about it. Focus on Caleb." Artagon himself seemed to form besides Jester. He looked over his shoulder and flashes of white lights blinked behind them. Caduceus looked at what was happening. 

The woman from the Traveler-con and a male of elven descent with a fungus on the side of his face  were slashing at the malleable blood stone it seemed to be breaking at the slightest touch.

Artagon had Jester's bag and handed her a diamond.

Jester took a deep breath, steadying herself. She whispered softly and the diamond shattered. The shattered pieces turned golden hot and sunk into Caleb. 

Nothing happened. There was no breath. No blinking. He was still gone. Veth screamed.

"He just needs some more convincing." The elven man whispered. Artagon nodded.

"And what do you suggest?" Artagon asked.

"Give him a reason to come back. Give him…" The elven man trailed off, listening. "Give him redemption. There are many sins he seems to regret and now...it looks like you may get two friends out of this." 

"Isn't the Raven Queen against-" Fjord spoke up.

"Fate is Malleable. You will have to figure it out." The man smiled and went back to slashing the stone. The divine magic seemed to be more efficient as the Somnoven were sliced away. Jester pulled out another diamond. She did the same spell but whispered something into his ear.  Nothing. 

"We all need to do this. Tell him something that would convince him to come back." Jester sighed.

Veth whispered something into Caleb's temple. Caduceus hesitated. Then he took some of the moss on his armor and smeared it over his chest in the shape of a heart. Fjord took a second and grabbed Caleb's hand. The room got hotter and hotter until the ice started to crack. The city finally shattered in one last scream. Beau jerked and grabbed her hand. The red eyes were fading but it was hot, searing against the scar from the acid. It was over. The eye was gone. Beau knelt down and hugged Caleb. Yasha ripped off a piece of her cloth and tied his hair back.

A moment passed. Then two. Caleb was breathing, and his eyes flickered closed. 

"One more person has to say something, but he does have a tether in this realm." The elven man nodded before fading into the shadows. The avatar of the Moonweaver stepped up to the group. "You will not be alone in this." She whispered, before fading into a blinding light. 

Jester finally looked over to Lucien. His eyes were still open, head tilted to look Caleb in the eyes. He was pale, bruises locked into his skin and tears streaked out from the corner of his eyes. His chest was still but even given everything, it was obvious that Lucien was dead.

"Caduceus, i want to go home. The hotel where my mother works will be sufficient for this but I want out of here." Jester looked up at Caduceus, who nodded and grabbed as many as he could to teleport to his lighthouse. Jester grabbed the rest and teleported to the hotel. 

-----------

Marion Lavorre was welcoming, despite less than happy circumstances. She let Caleb have the best room. Caleb slept for a long time. A week passes as Artagon and Jester, with a diamond slowly disintegrating. The two of them built Molly back piece by piece. They had to carve out the Molly part of the soul.it was jagged, fragile so they regrettably had to use Lucien's to stabilize it. The eyes of nine were gone, showing that Molly had tried to cover the eyes with blue ink, but it never worked. It was there now. 

Molly opened his eyes. He was shaking and there was one word that he shouted when he woke up. 

"Run!" Molly shouted at the tip of his tongue. 

Jester sat back and was quiet. The weight in her chest was heavy as Molly looked around. Molly finally looked over to Jester and took a deep breath. 

"You're alive!" Molly smiled. Jester just nodded. 

"A lot happened after you died. But Molly, something happened." Jester sighed. 

"Who's hurt?" Molly nodded and grabbed her hand. Jester just grabbed him and pulled him towards the room. Yasha was there keeping watch. 

Jester pulled away. "I'll tell Essek." 

She left in a hurry. 

Yasha looked at Molly. She was frozen. Her jaw was open and she just stared. Molly looked at her. "I'm back Yasha." 

"Molly?" She asked. Molly just nodded. 

Yasha pulled Molly into a bone crushing hug. She was crying. Molly was crying. He looked over to the bed and oh. 

Caleb laid in the bed, under sheets made of warm materials. 

Memories forced its way into his mind. Molly gasped as the memory of his familiar blade slicing into Caleb's chest. Molly collapsed in Yasha's arms. Tears filled his eyes as the realization of this moment. There was no context in his mind. There was just the image of this moment and Caleb wishing him peace. 

Molly wrapped his tail around his own leg. 

"It's ok. It's going to be ok." Yasha promised. Molly slipped away and stumbled his way to Caleb's bedside. He was so pale…

Molly cupped Caleb's cheek. He was warm, there was a pulse and he was breathing. He just wasn't lively. Molly let tears fall.

"I shouldn't be the thing that extinguishes you. You're so bright, so powerful. There should be time for everything later." Molly whispered and placed a kiss on Caleb's forehead. 

Caleb took a deep breath and opened his eyes. "Is this peace?" 

Molly looked at him and held his breath. 

"Molly…?" Caleb's eyebrows bunched up. 

Molly just nodded. "I'm here." 

The bedroom door opened and Jester walked in with a drow elf. The elf rushed to Caleb's side and Molly backed away. Caleb reached for him but Molly was out of reach. The rest of the group, barr Fjord, jumped into the room. They all stormed the bed to see Caleb slowly wake up. 

Molly walked out of the room. Fjord was standing in the hallway. The weapons Molly could vaguely feel connected to and the dagger that Molly had full memories of were hanging off of Fjord's belt. Molly could understand that. He went back to the room Jester woke him up in. The bed was made and Molly laid down to try to rest.

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

Molly was deep in sleep when a knock on his door was heard. He was groggy but was awakened by it enough to open the door. Caleb was face to face with Molly, inches apart.

"You left." Caleb said simply. There was no anger or hurt. This was just a fact. Molly couldn't look Caleb in the eye. "I wanted you there."

"I didn't want to crowd you." Molly whispered. 

"Bullshit." Caleb sighed. "I don't blame you for this. I barely blame Lucien. I blame myself for allowing you to die." 

Molly flinched. "You didn't stab me." 

"But I lead the mission." Caleb sighed. Molly was able to get a look at Caleb and Molly noted that Caleb looked good. Better than he remembered. He had pants on, but no shirt, covered by a blanket that Caleb was holding like a cape. Molly took a step back and Caleb stepped through. "I missed you so much." Caleb's voice cracked. "Can I sleep here, so when I wake up, I'll immediately know you're still here." 

Molly just nodded. "I'll stay until you tell me otherwise." 

Caleb finally relaxed and laid on the bed, under the covers and his own makeshift cape, and Molly, with trembling hands, laid in the bed, only to be grabbed and held by Caleb. 

"I love you Mollymauk. I wish I could have told you before." Caleb whispered into Molly's chest. 

Molly wept. "One day I will earn that and will say it back to you." 

[sylverstorms]

Forbidden Fruit

Pairing: Priya x MC (Rose) x Kamilah

Warnings: Heavily! NSFW aka pure sin. Minors, avert your eyes. The rest, prepare to be tainted.

Words: ~1800

A/N: Another request fic, I hope it’s everything you wanted. Enjoy!

Prompt by:

Loud bass. Strobe lights. The comfort of alcohol.

Questionable choices.

Those were the only things Rose was aware of as she raised the forth shot of the night to her lips and downed it in one go. A trail of fire slipped down her throat, its burn more tolerable by the minute. The empty glass was pushed towards the bartender with a vague gesture for a refill. The handsome man regarded her cautiously for a moment, the ‘you sure this is a good idea?’ type of look, before complying.

Of course, Rose was sure.

She was certain going to Priya’s club to drink, dance, let loose and forget how shitty her life had gotten within the last months was most definitely not a good idea. Adrian had warned her to stay away from ‘that place’, Kamilah had pretty much forbid it. Which was exactly what made Rose go, in the end, against all common sense.  

Defiance was as sweet and toxic as the tequila slipping down her system.

Perhaps Kamilah would know –she probably would and Rose was counting on it— the following days and be irritated over it. The secretary dared even hope upset, but that was a long shot for the stone-faced ancient. She was fine with getting even just a mild rise out of her. Anything, other than the cold-shoulder treatment the queen had been giving her, as of late.

‘This won’t work for us. It’s too dangerous. It was a mistake.’ Kamilah had said. Only she’d said it a tad too late, after the human had gone and developed feelings for her she was stupid enough to think were returned.

“Ah. I thought I smelled something delicious.” A familiar voice came from behind, light and throaty.

Rose made to turn around to meet its owner, but a cold, unyielding body blocked her movement. Priya, as always, had zero regard for personal space. Rose hated that she never quite hated it. The designer’s expensive, chocolaty perfume and subtle hair conditioner were impossible to ignore, even over the many scents of the club. Impossible to dislike. The human caught herself breathing in a little deeper.

“And what are you doing here, little bird, so far from the safety of the nest?” Full, dark lips leaned tantalizingly close to her ear.

“Well, it is a club…” Rose gestured, greatly appreciative of the liquid courage in her veins. She couldn’t push Priya off if she tried, so she didn’t even attempt it. Merely turned back to her drink, trying –failing— to ignore the fingers playing with the very tips of her wavy hair. Come on, Rose, you’re drunk enough to focus on the shot…    

“That it is.” Priya slipped from her back to her side, casually leaning against the counter, never too far.

Rose shouldn’t feel the loss of contact so acutely. She willed her eyes to stay glued on her drink, but they didn’t obey, turning of their own volition to the designer, in awe of how good her silver dress looked against her caramel skin. She glowed like an angel. Or, more accurately, like a demon in the guise of one.

Priya raised her long fingers in a deliberately slow motion, knowing, too well, she held every bit of Rose’s attention. She took a sprinkle of salt between them, then turned to lick at her other wrist, never breaking eye-contact with Rose. The secretary had to hold her breath, while an ache settled low in her stomach. She pressed her thighs a little tighter together. Priya dropped the salt onto her wrist and held a lime between her teeth with a sexy little wink.

Her arched eyebrow was a challenge; ‘do you think you can play?’

Rose shouldn’t. She knew she shouldn’t. Indulgence with Priya was fatal, but she made temptation so difficult to resist. The secretary did not shy away from the hunger in her eyes. She leaned in, licking the salt off the designer’s smooth skin, lingering just a tad over non-beating veins. Then she downed her shot… and went for the lime.

Priya smirked as the secretary sucked on it, both loving its sourness and loathing the fact it was between them. The vampire fixed the problem for her, taking the lime off her mouth to replace it with her lips. 

Oh. Rose’s brain halted. 

She didn’t think it was possible for a kiss to feel so slippery and so good, but the way Priya moved, the way her tongue coaxed hers only to leave her wanting more, proved otherwise. Cold hands once again framed her waist, crushing their bodies together, sharp nails digging in.

Rose hissed from the sting, but Priya only chuckled, following her for another prolonged liplock. By the time she pulled back, the secretary could barely stand. She was pretty sure there would be crescent marks on her skin the next morning, but they were not as insistent an ache as the one between her legs.

The vampire seemed to notice, her gaze an abyss as she stared at Rose, ready to devour her. Her fingers closed around her wrist in a vice grip, pulling, too fast, towards the back room.

“Stop right there.” A growl came from behind them, halting their steps.

Rose whipped around to see Kamilah, far more agitated than she’d ever imagined. There were ominous shadows around her eyes, a petrifying coldness to her aura. She was furious, like a wildfire about to burn everything to the ground. Holy…

Priya, however, only laughed. Her chin dropped to Rose’s shoulder, an arm around her waist. “And why would I, stick-in-the-mud? Have you forgotten this is my kingdom?”

“It’s my human you’re laying hands on.” Kamilah took another step forward, a clear warning. Rose gulped. That was terrifying…ly Hot, her horny brain added. “Drop them before you lose them.”

“Yours?” Priya smirked challengingly. “I don’t see your mark on her.” she guided her hair out of the way to make her point. “I don’t smell your scent.” she said it against Rose’s neck, just to anger Kamilah further. “But she’s a big girl. If she doesn’t want to have fun with me, she can walk away before it begins.”

“Come, Rose. Let’s go.” Kamilah said.

But the secretary… wasn’t so sure. “You can’t just toss me and pull me back on a whim.” she stated. “If you’re going to let go, then let go.”

Priya smirked victoriously and began leading her to the next chamber with deceptive gentleness. Backward steps, so she could gloat at Kamilah’s look all the way. 

The vampires feeding on their every desire in the Red Room looked up with hungry eyes when the pair passed them by, but the look their clan leader gave them was an order in itself –‘this one is for me alone’.

The final room was a decadent space filled with dark tiles and black sheets, a wardrobe Rose wasn’t sure she wanted to open out of fear of what it contained and a four-poster, queen-sized bed whose purpose was clear. There were no windows. No means of escape.

“Welcome to my sanctum, doll.” Priya spoke by her ear, from behind. A cold finger traced across her shoulders, to the zipper of her dress. The human shivered. “Now come, let me see you.” The fabric pooled, crimson as blood, at Rose’s feet. The designer’s lips latched onto her neck as though they couldn’t wait to drink from it. “Let me taste you.”

Rose could only moan at the feel.

Half a second later, the room was spinning; she was pushed onto the bed and harshly pinned there. The vampire, out of her own dress and clad only in black, lacy lingerie, pushed up between her legs, biting underneath her jaw with blunt teeth. Rose bit her lip not to cry out, but she was certain she’d already stained through her white underwear and her control over her body’s primal cravings was fading fast.

Priya pulled back to regard her with glowing red eyes. Rose wanted to commit the wild beauty to memory, though wasn’t given time to. The designer moved fast, ducked, pushed twin needles into her skin. 

Rose really did cry out, then.

The sensation was different with every vampire, but no less addictive for both parties involved. Priya hurt, at first. A lot. Enough to drive the human to tears. Then all the cutting chill and pain shifted into boundless pleasure, mind-numbing, toe-curling, deep and so very dark. Rose wanted to push her fangs deeper into her veins, as far in as they would reach. She was already on the edge of her orgasm…

When Priya’s head was extracted from her neck. 

Rose was shocked to see Kamilah there, fangs bared and hissing, followed by the younger vampire’s animalistic growl. And yet, somehow, even the sight of Priya with her fangs stained red and trails of blood down her chin only served to ignite Rose further.

It occurred to her they were one step away from pouncing on each other, so she did the only thing she could.

She pushed herself up and between them.

Priya’s eyes flitted from her body, to her wound, to Kamilah. The elder queen leaned down to lick the blood as though she couldn’t help herself. Rose groaned. Then the designer was pressed to her front once more, tipping her chin up to kiss down her throat, a slender finger hooking into her panties and pulling them to the side.

Rose had no time to wonder what was happening. Everything was touch and slippery chill and heat and she couldn’t tell who was caressing her where. Kamilah’s nails moved up her thighs. Her fangs barely prickled at a lower spot on her neck. Priya was toying with her center, lips and tongue at her breast.

“I –ah!— I can’t—!” she panted –cried?— one hand finding purchase on Kamilah’s hair, the other on Priya’s shoulder. She was burning with the need to crumble into pieces in their arms. To come all over Priya’s fingers while Kamilah was biting her, but she wasn’t even certain if she could take that—  

Both vampires moved, then. Two sets of fangs sank into opposite sides of her jugular and Rose lost her mind, her body, the bed beneath her knees. She screamed against the tidal wave of pleasure, coating and clenching around Priya’s fingers. It was too much, otherworldly, enough to shatter her mind. 

Her orgasm felt never-ending… until the world started to grow dark.

Kamilah was the first to pull away, then pushed at Priya to stop. The designer leaned back with a satisfied hum, licking her full lips. Her sexy smile and red eyes were hypnotizing in the blur settling over Rose’s mind, the exhaustion crawling across her limbs…

Her eyes began to droop. Her body to fall. Kamilah’s hand curled around her head and gently guided her to the plush pillows. Rose fought down the urge to surrender to sleep, yet it was overpowering.

The echo of Priya’s soft, insistent mouth and Kamila’s caring, firm touch followed her to the land of dreams.  

[valhallasubstitute]

Yours, And Only Yours Pt.2

-- Sihtric x Virgin!Reader

After travelling with Uthred for many months the fact that you’re still a virgin is revealed in a drunken confession, from that moment on Sihtric can’t help but thinking of making you his.

A/N: hellooo and welcome back for part 2. I hope you enjoy, I’ve got a few more ideas for our boy Sihtric as well as a certain Irishman. So if you like my writing then you shouldn’t have to wait too long 😊

part three

WARNINGS: SMUT 18+, oral female receiving, unprotected sex -  it’s the ninth century they have an excuse you don’t.

wc: 2180

It was dark and it was late, dragons breath dancing from your lips as you leant against the stables. You had never intended to be a virgin for this long but no man had ever wanted you badly enough for you to even consider opening your thighs. You admired the simplicity of being a whore and respected their work but you were not willing give yourself so easily.

So your legs remained closed.

Despite the chill the call of your name on Sihtric’s tongue warmed you from the inside out. His shoulders were heaving and for a brief moment you wondered if there had been a fight, but there was no blood,  no new bruises, only his eyes on yours. 

It was pure instinct that had you take a step back as he stepped forward. You felt as if he was hunting you and the minute your back hit the post he invaded your personal space.

Almost.

He stopped inches from you, your bodies so close together that you could feel the heat radiating off him in waves, you could smell the ale on his breath and his gaze just kept burning into you, straight to your center.

‘Why did you refuse him?’ His voice was tight. If you hadn’t known him any better you would have thought he was angry but there was desperation there.  

‘I-‘ the words caught in your throat, the look you had grown accustomed to was in his eyes again. Desperation and something else. ‘I did not desire him.’

‘Then who is it that you desire?’ It was the way he said the word, how it dripped from his tongue. Desire. Lust. Wanting. The unknown look in his eye. All the same. ‘You deny every man who wishes to touch you, you risk all of our lives by pulling a blade to stop such an advance. Why?’ His voice was steadily rising and with it the beat of your heart. ‘Who is it that you desire Y/N?’

How could you deny it any longer, deny him?

‘You.’

There was a calm before the storm, pupils blown and the final breath taken before the tension broke. His lips were on yours and his hands bunched your hair. The tug was sharp but a delicious ache spread across your scalp. This kiss was not gentle but his lips were soft and plush against your own. You felt as if you were burning up and your clothes began to feel entirely unnecessary. Your hands grasped at Sihtric’s neck as his thigh pushed open your legs. The friction caused a moan to fall from your lips.

You would be willing forfeit your seat in Valhalla if this what you rose to each morning and fell to each night. His lips devouring yours like a starved man. His hands, one of them holding so tightly to the beam behind you that you feared it might crumble. You could feel his strength of his thighs as they ground against you. Harsh and unyielding, the idea of Valhalla paled in comparison.

Sihtric let himself touch you as he had so many time in his dreams. Releasing his grip on your hair he didn’t hesitate to trail his fingers down your neck all the way down to your breasts. He palmed at them, feeling you stiffen beneath his fingers. The noise you made was sinful, even to his heathen ears.

The reality of how he had you, pinned against the stable, withering underneath his touch for all to see had him snapping his hips to your full ones. You were allowing him to touch you like no other man, in a place where every other man could see. Where every other man could see…

The loss of his warmth sent your mind reeling but the desire in his eyes kept you still. ‘Not here. I won’t take you here. Not for your first.’ He was nodding to himself as he said it, convincing himself. You would have let him do anything, take you anywhere he wanted, in any way he wanted. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t tease before you found yourself in his bed.

‘Who said you could take me?’ His smile was bright in the darkness. The sincere happiness in his smile disarmed you, blinded you to the dark mischief that  lingered there, so much so that you hardly noticed him lifting your dress, nor expect the hand that cupped your heat.

‘You will not deny me Y/N.’

He slipped one finger through your folds as he retracted. Not enough to enter you fully but enough that it coated him, and it felt like you had been struck by lighting as he brought it to his lips.

The walk to his bed was filled with lingering touches, at least one of his hands on you the entire way there. Sihtric enjoyed the way peoples eyes followed the two of you, what he intended to do with you clear to every person in the room. Oh, the things he intended to do.

Your body was pressed against his as soon as the door was closed but he didn’t miss the nervousness in your demeanor. It took all his will not to rip your clothes from you, months of torment pushing him to the limit of self-control.

‘Take off your dress.’ The fabric fell to the ground and he would swear for years to come that the Gods could hear his heartbeat as you walked towards him.

You stood just shy of him. Sihtric began roughly pulling at his belts but you placed your hands on his larger ones and resumed the task yourself. He was smiling at you softly with heavy lidded eyes and you couldn’t help but mirror the look. As a warrior the task was well rehearsed but you took your time, each item of clothing removed exposed a new piece of him to explore. Hard ridges and scars littered the pale skin and as you placed his tunic down his hand came to rest on your waist.

It was warm and rough and the very first to touch you there. He would be the first to touch you everywhere and as he laid you down onto the furs you had never been so grateful for the fact that Sihtric Kjartanson couldn’t hold his tongue.

He kissed you again slowly. The weight of his body was foreign but welcomed, safe and exhilarating at the same time. You smiled as he kissed you, his beard tickling you as he worked his way down. He chuckled breathlessly as you squirmed beneath him, deliberately moving his head side to side in the valley of your breasts.

‘Don’t take your eyes from me.’

Sihtric attached his mouth to one nipple while his fingers brushed against the other. The touch was light, his eyes shining as your face grew red. He worked them both, alternating , favouring neither but devouring both.

All too soon his lips were moving south and your legs tightened on instinct. His kisses eased you, your head falling back onto the furs before a light nip to the soft of your thigh had your eyes snapping back to his. His tongue soothed the sting, kissing it gently before he came face to face with your heat. The look you shared was intense, you could hardly see the colour for black in his eyes.

The feeling of his tongue on you was euphoric but came second to the sound he made as he tasted you. It was a deep moan that vibrated straight through you. While the sensation was new it wasn’t long before you relaxed into it, your hips slowly beginning to grind against his face. A silent plea. The familiar coil in your stomach had begun to tighten yet Sihtric never slowed.

His mouth was hot against your clit and his fingers were cold as they slipped into you. One at first but he soon added another. His fingers worked on you without hesitation, simultaneously making your walls stretch and clench.

When the coil in your stomach finally snapped it felt like a white hot heat had spread all over your body. Sihtric’s name fell from your lips again and again. It had never felt this good before.

Your eyes were screwed shut but you could feel the bed dip as Sihtric returned to your side. You could hear him removing his breeches, his breath fanning your neck the only indication of his proximity. It cooled you and set you on fire all at once.

‘You taste sweeter than any ale.’

Your heart skipped a beat at he nipped at your pulse point. He positioned himself back between your thighs and you could feel his manhood against your stomach. You wanted to taste him but Sihtric placed a hand on your wrist as you reached for him. He didn’t try to hide the want in his eyes, nor the tenderness.

‘Another time, my love.’ His love, his love. The words  spun in your head as he entered you. It was a brief distraction from the pain. You could see Sihtric stiffen, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you had changed your mind. Your hands gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into the hard flesh. A nod was all he needed. Each inch you took from him became easier, breathless moans mixing from parted lips.

Once the initial pain had subsided you kicked yourself for waiting this long. The feel of him stretching you was immense and when he bottomed out you had never felt so full.

The roll of his hips had your name falling from Sihtric’s lips. You could see that he was holding back, his brow was creased in concentration and his jaw twitching repeatedly. The longer you watched him the clearer it became how much he wanted to do right by you. The longer you watched him the clearer it became how much you wanted him to claim you.

When your hips snapped to meet his the pleasure doubled, the friction sending shocks to your overworked bundle of nerves. You didn’t trust yourself to speak, instead you would use your body. Your hands started to wander over the hard muscle of his back, letting your nails dig in where they pleased as he hit that one spot inside you. Each time he would hiss. Each time his thrusts becoming a fraction harder, faster. Curses mixed with the chanting of his name.

It was obvious his resolve was waning, his grip on your hips tightened. Tight enough to bruise. You took his head in your hands, trembling fingers smoothing the wayward hair from his face. He looked down questioningly. You kissed him once harshly, biting and sucking on his pretty bottom lip. Using your heels on the back of his thighs you pulled him in deeper. His body tensed as you broke the kiss.

‘Take me properly. I will not ask twice.’

The growl that erupted from the back of his throat was almost enough to have you cumming there and then. He shifted his position, becoming impossibly deep within you. The force he pounded you with moved your entire body, the linen of the bed meeting the floor as it shifted under you.

The weight of him pinned you to what remained of the bed, sounds of pleasure echoing off the walls. His breath was ragged and you don’t recognise the noises you’re making. His pace was relentless and you could feel another orgasm building. You knew Sihtric could feel you getting close and you clenched around him for good measure.

‘Y/N.’ His tone was dangerous, the tiniest falter in his rhythm giving away his pleasure. You do it again. The small smirk that was beginning to from was wiped from your face as the rough pad of his thumb rubbed harshly at your clit. His touch had you arching from the bed, your chest flush with his.

Your orgasm slammed into you. Sihtric’s name was ripped from you against your own accord and you swear the world melted away as you milked his cock. The feeling of you so tight around him sent Sihtric over the edge and his thrusts slowed as his own high spilled inside of you.

He collapses beside you, sweaty and panting. You couldn’t help the breathless laugh that escaped you, virgin no more.

Sihtric pulled you to his side, enjoying the way you tucked your body into his. Your hands run across his chest, idly toying with his pendant. The silence that followed was not uncomfortable but you broke it anyway.

‘You called me your love. Does this make me your woman?’ Sihtric hummed in response, his head tilting to get a better look at you.

‘Do you object?’ There was no worry on his face, the way you looked at him was enough to settle any reservations he might have had.

‘No. I am yours, and only yours.’ You did not miss the twitch of his cock or the ghost of a smile, nor the mischief in his eyes.

‘It’s a shame, Finan was looking forward to having his way with you.’

[theinfiknight]

This is a lil piece of poetry I wrote because Hollow Knight made me feel so many things, so feel free to read it if you like

A land apart did he arrive Empty of life and yet alive Mind and soul he gave to keep A king is made, rejoice and weep

Thought and self given to all Stand above to answer his call Eternity, a promise made to last The king looks forward, forgotten is past

Light left behind, a cast off shell Changing, growing, kingdom doth swell Stag to beast, mushroom to moth The king rules supreme, light is forgot

Light is forgot Light is forgot Awry strays the minds of the glow hungry moths Grievously will they pay For their sins that day To forget creator til they can remember naught

One great shell of eclipsed might One fierce, one mysterious, one kindly knight One malodorous brave that stains the air The king is great, his famed five, fair

All among all acknowledge his reign Pale king, White Queen, land lives again Great doors left open to all who seek The king shines radiant, for mighty and meek

Higher beings, these words are for you alone Welcome to the kingdom that gods call home Enter this land of creator and god The king permits it, obey our laws

Welcome to Hallownest, of legend and story! Welcome to the Eternal Kingdom! Share in its glory!

Make your fortune at crystal peak! Where unearthly stone seems to sing Else in the city find that which you seek Prosperity and fortune, promises the king

Wander along down the Pilgrim's Way Take in the beauty of greenkin tamed Behold the queen's gardens, wild and fey The king shines, supremity claimed

Explore the crossroads that wind afar Where trade and life does pulse and ebb Witness it thrive, a kingdom grown large The king at the center, of the living web

Rejoice to witness his light in person In thrall lies mortal bug stood before him Misery cannot exist, nor Kingdom worsen While in his radiance. All adore him! . . . . Memory lost shall remember again Light shines through in hearts of woe Eternity crumbles, ruin begun The king is fractured by forgotten foe

Unity offered, self removed Power and might in exchange for will Join something bigger, it behooves The king is shadowed, light shines still

Oh pale one, great one! oh glorious! They beg, they cry out, they despairingly call Scorching, radiant, bright but odious The king is helpless, light takes all

No cost too great, no act too low Of root and soul, in void will they grow Empty, mindless, to cage that which shines The king will act, against power divine

No will to break, no mind to think To gaze into blackest void, and not blink No voice to cry, no soul to die All light casts shadow, and shadowed they lie

A container to hold void enslaved Vessels of purity, the umbra's shade Birthed, shaped, and left to rot The king needs them not, they are forgot

Massive birthplace of void unmade Deep and dark does the abyss go Buried within do his children fade The king closes it off, they need not know

Chosen vessel, pure and empty Son and hero made, hope renewed Tarnished forever, by love aplenty The king mistakes, purity is skewed

Despair no more! Behold in awe! Palest God's most silent son! Empty, its core, without flaw! Our Hollow Saviour, the war is won!

Peace and heart, for a time return As silent Prince does grow and learn To think, to be, to feel and to fight Light and dark in a single shell, a Hollow Knight

Greater still is surety required Firmer still must the lock hold Three chosen to ascend ever higher The king is eternal, but time grows old

A lock for diversity, of the archive's halls A scholar, the teacher, wise and prepared Mask entrusted away, the endless calls The king requires the it, the dream Monomon shares

A lock for king, for dream, for monarch Loyalty and life, given for the throne Watcher on high, spire so dark The king demands it, Lurien sleeps alone

A lock for union between high and low A deal is made, a dalliance to keep The 'beast' is tamed and seeds are sown The king's work is finished, Herrah sleeps

Beloved of beast, daughter of Wyrm Raised by root, fierce and strong Hive trained to strike true and firm The king gives life, child of silk and song

Strength misjudged, bonds created A broken vessel to chain light unbound Eternity imprisoned, no end awaited The king imposes, sacrifice enshrouds

Willingly does it rise to meet it Freely does it sacrifice its soul For only by dark is light defeated But how so is it hollow, with no hole?

Where emptiness once lay, dreams persist Ideas and love and a life to give Kindness in its brow, restraint in its fist Never meant to die, but also never to live

Unknowing, the deed is done Unwilling, the king buries his son Unfeeling, it goes away to burn Never again may it return

Never again will light release. Never again will Hallownest know peace . The seal is set, the lock is done Our knight is chained, the war is won Light fades away, Kingdom secure All hail the king, eternity is here!

Eternity is here! Forget that fear! Forget that scorching glow! Bask now in pale glory of The kingdom that eternal grows! . . . .

Fading, fading Mind and soul awake Hurting, hurting Love and heart to take Empty, so empty Hollow, he is not Foolish, so foolish Hallownest begins to rot

Shame. Sorrow. Love, Light... and another Do not think. Do not feel. Do not... Father?

Light burns harsh, angry and proud Vengeance shines through Hollow shroud Forgotten she will not be, first and brightest The king needs understand, it is no foe he might best

Orange, virulent, infection spreads Mindless, soulless, unity takes Fear the living, strong and mad, fear the mindless dead The king regrets, low and sad, strongest of wills can break

Brother turns on brother, burning, burning Madness, a frenzy, churning, churning Carnage, rage, bodies flying, flying Massacred and broken, dying, dying

Gone is the promise, left has the dream Only echoes and shadows, acid and steam Kingdom of glory, left now for dead The king is silent, low bends his head

Greenkin lost, Unn hides away Bloated fungi disfigured like clay Bound in the garden, the white lady withdraws The king has failed. Lost is the war . It's over, it's here, the doom that I feared It's done, they've won, all I hold dear Is gone, by spawn, of blight divine I've failed, oh jailed, Hollow son of mine.

Fate will not deny its course I cannot see the way, and fear the worst An end has reached its time to die Shame drowns in sorrow. Goodbye. . . . Gone is the king, cry in lament! Abandoning the very ones that he swore To protect, tearing open a mighty rent In his own heart, shut like the great doors

Dear king, how, why have you left us?! We wander and we search for you still Into darkness we stumble, for it yet does Hurt in our hearts where once was your will

They still call out your name with despair and regret For none could tame their savage souls, yet you the challenge met What you gave to bug and beast was unfathomable, and yet Foolish it was to make them, their first light, forget

The fading town reduces and dies Kingdom and city now, in ruin lies No dream, no mind, only light and pain The king is gone. What now remains?

Palace vanished, knights five, disbanded Monarch but a memory, stagways abandoned Limbo sleeps forever, mourn the paradise lost The king's love severed, this is eternity's cost

One by one the last souls burn In search of glory that will not return Enter the darkness and succumb to light The king is long gone, for he lost the fight

He lost the fight! He lost the fight! Give your self up to blinding light! Take all your dreams and hold them close The light calls out, and your willingness shows

Give in to light! Give in to light! Forget that foolish king! Forget his insolent attempt to close what never should have been!

Power, knowledge, and all that your heart desires Come to me, become greater, burn in the cosmic fire! . . .

Fools gather at kingdoms edge Drown their fear in violence and blood Ancient sorrows do they dredge The king shadows in shell molt flood

Buried in green, a hunter wastes away Closed, angry, mantis warriors stand proud Deeper, hungry, the beast's devout, decay Bereft, lost , kingdom withers in the ground

Ancient nailmasters mourn in solitude Remnants of greatness from a better age Nailsage's legacy, once strong and shrewd Now faint as marks on a torn off page

Mossmen remain in puddles of leaf Awaiting a return ever unreturning Wishing like all else, drowning in grief For a lost god that vanished after the burning

The light seeks out even those who hide Tempting the brave, proud and the mighty Even the unbending mantis lords' pride Do not blind themselves to it lightly

Even among the proud, traitors emerge Valuing strength above mind and skill Petras and warriors, lost to the scourge Caring not for the battle, only for the kill

The queen's gardens are lost to those Invaders who, expelled from their lands Enraged, swarm that thorned repose Executing the will of their light's command

Seeking palest root, bound and blind Solitude in exile, like her beloved But of the mighty, the mysterious, and kind The fierce of the five still guards what they covet

The mysterious, the heartbroken withers alone Distant from her love, far from her home Brave Ogrim slowly loses his mind, His faith and the the very life of the Kind

Outsiders, few, still sparingly appear A strange fool who thinks himself mighty A masked bug lured by memory unclear And a haughty warrior approaching doom lightly

Very few now remain in the fading town The old bug who stands by and advises The mapmaker who ever heads further down But on a distant hill, a figure rises!

A diminutive echo of deep silence That approaches unceasingly, toward The great door that does Kingdom fence, Holding aloft the ghost of a sword

That strikes at the great portal, with nail Cracked and grown old with wear With strength unseeming for one so frail Shattering the door as if it were never there

Small and weak seems the knight As it enters the land plagued bright Can an entire kingdom's fate Rest on the silhouette in the gate That enters so boldly and unafraid Unfeeling as void in which it was made Drawn once more by phantom's call Returning to the land of light's fall

No mighty strength does it seem To wield as it walks as if in dream Down the dusty, ashen road That leads to lonely, fading abode . . . . A land apart did it arrive Empty of life and yet alive Blood and corruption now does seep A kingdom is dead, sorrow and weep

Higher beings, heed well this writing Focus soul to heal crack and seam Through twisted spell or vulgar fighting You will achieve that which others can only dream

Every footstep hangs heavy with fate Into the kingdom that burns in light The speck that will confound even the great The unceasing march of the Hollow Knight

That’s all, hope you liked it. Do reblog if you did

[elvirayilmaz]

⌠ HAFSUNAR SANCAKTUTAN, 20, GENDERFLUID, SHE/THEM ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, ELVIRA YILMAZ! according to their records, they’re a SECOND year, specializing in LINGUISTICS, CULTURE, & ASSIMILATION + COVERT OPERATIONS; and they DID go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of ( laughter with a false note lurking beneath, half-smiles and swallowed secrets, dark undereye circles ). when it’s the cancer’s birthday on 06/28/1997, they always request DONDURMA from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. ⌿ minnie, twenty five, she/her, est  ⍀ @gallagherintro​

𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

TRIGGER WARNINGS: depression; manipulation; unwilling murder; grief

THE YOUNGEST AND ONLY DAUGHTER OF THE YILMAZ FAMILY, elvira was raised only to be beautiful, to build the network her parents cultivated. every interaction was meticulously planned, every connection contrived and evaluated... for all intents and purposes, elvira was raised to be a bargaining chip for social and political power in turkey.

while her brothers followed the rule and reign of her father, elvira was coddled by her mother. she was told they were beautiful and superior to the rest. that they were meant for greater things, that they could become the most important person in turkey — the world, if elvira wanted. and they believed it. she drank it up, and became the most poised and calculating young woman among her peers.

she had few true friends, but she didn't need friends; she had a posse, each of them hand-selected by her parents to further the yilmaz influence. elvira led the pack, bright and bold and unbelievably snobby.

WHEN EMIR RAN AWAY, elvira was heartbroken. with so few friends of their own, elvira's family was their entire reason for being. after all, they were raised to do anything and everything for the yilmaz name and their family. they fell into deep depression, and where nurturing parents might see sorrow, elvira’s parents saw opportunity.

they whispered to her of the ways elvira could make emir proud, so much so that he might return home. become a spy, they urged her, become the spy emir could have been. in this, elvira could honor him. in this, elvira could keep her oldest brother in her life.

pulling every string they had, her parents enrolled her in a prestigious spy prep school where elvira threw herself into her studies. she would graduate late due to starting late, but she managed to graduate on time — something she's rather proud of, after all she'd missed.

they were happy enough when they received her acceptance into gallagher, but they were elated when emir returned home. the sun re-entered their veins, it filled the craters that had only grown in his absence. at last, their family was whole — and so were they.

SHE DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS POISON. she thought it was medicine, meant to help her older brother and grow his strength. then he died, and elvira was horrified. she took the remaining bits of "medicine" she had in her bedroom and had it studied at gallagher. when she learned it was poison, elvira spins off her axis. the universe crumbled, splintered into pieces in which there were no sun, moon, stars, even sky — she was utterly, irreparably shattered.

elvira took a gap year from gallagher, realizing her parents had deliberately entrapped her so they could blackmail her the same way they blackmailed emir (something she also hadn't known about until then). she spent the time traveling, claiming she wanted to relax after working so hard while emir was gone. emir was the only person she talked to during this time, and even then, elvira acted as if all was well. through it all, elvira was firm on her decision: she wouldn’t tell emir. not until she was ready.

she returned to gallagher with a greatly shaken faith in her sense of purpose and confidence, but to the naked eye, they are the same person they were a year ago. on the surface, they are still the same personable, confident person who left gallagher for a gap year. they hide their grief in secret and deals with it the only way they know how: ACTION. retribution, to be precise. she will dissolve her family’s reputation, she will pull the strings that hold the yilmaz name in high regard, and watch as her parents tumble far below, where they cannot hurt or even see their children again. only when she and emir are free will elvira ever confess to emir all that their parents have done… and what sins she, too, has committed.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

their first year at gallagher, elvira was very social, bright, bubbly, always at the center of a crowd. a practiced conversationalist, they could be counted on to discuss controversial subjects with tact and make people laugh with their wit. they had always been a hard worker, but there was a palpable sense of freedom to the way they moved through life at gallagher during their first year.

once elvira returned from their gap year, more or less seemed to be the same. only those who are closest to elvira notice the differences. the way elvira isn’t the last to leave the party, the way every word seems to be intentional and calculated and measured. they don’t swing their head back when they laugh. they don’t let a single secret slip; they can no longer afford to. she remains pleasant and charming and lovely, but the moment she can, she withdraws.

her closest friends know something is up, but it seems almost like she’s going through a phase. around emir, though, elvira puts up all pretenses. she tries hardest to make him believe there is nothing wrong, but it’s clear to those who knew her during her first year at gallagher that something has changed — perhaps irreparably so.

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 & 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄.

[be-dazzled]

So are you doing smut prompts. If so, please do no. 6 for Gruvia. Love your works btw, you are an amazing writer.

Writer’s Corner: Hello anon! Thank you very much for sending this request. I think this has been requested ages ago and the anon isn’t probably around anymore. But got to fulfill your request! It was my first time writing detailed smut and I really think I should stick to my fluff. lol. Enjoy!

Also, I sound so thirsty, don’t I? I swear I am not. hahahaha

Prompt: No. 6 “No touching, no kissing, nothing. I will do with you as I please.” 

Rating: 18+ 

Series: Gruvia Smut 1/2; 2/2 

---

“Since when did I…” He tentatively brushed his lips against Juvia’s, playing on that fire that their much aggressive and possessive kiss created earlier. “ever followed the rules?”

Juvia gasped when Gray cupped her bottoms, feeling his heat against the skin that spilled over the lace panties. But she was rather more surprised with the challenging look he sported when earlier, he was acting quite disinterested. Her contemplation was quickly interrupted by the sliding of his hands under her thighs. She nearly screamed murder when Gray suddenly stood from the chair, lifting her up with him. Juvia threw both her arms around his neck to keep from falling off. The contact forced a moan out of her lips with breasts pressed against Gray’s bare chest. Feeling hot skin to hot skin. She became suddenly aware of the bulge in his pants grinding against the center of her lace panties. Juvia chewed on her bottom lip, her body reacting to the sensual friction with Gray’s every stride. Replaced only by the softness of the mattress against her bare back when Gray dropped her on the bed with a low thud. The old wood and spring sang as Gray moved them to the center of his bed. Hearing clothes rustling, Juvia forced her eyes open to find Gray undo his zipper.

The frown on his face relaxed. Then, his midnight eyes darkened by the searing passion. Juvia’s eyes widened at that realization that Gray lusted over her. It made her heart flutter. She’s never seen that look on him. Never. Juvia pushed herself to meet his gaze but she easily crumbled like a piece of cookie under his intense gaze. Juvia lost that battle. She covered her face with her arms, hiding from his intense gaze. Gray wasn’t having any of it. He grabbed her wrists, pinned them above her head and watch her intently, running his tongue over his bottom lip. The heat reached Juvia’ head, making her feel dizzy. But not enough for her to miss that knowing grin plastered across Gray’s hardened features. Juvia felt a myriad of emotions, heart exploding the moment the ice-make mage leaned down on her and whispered, “You’re mine, tonight.” His voice, a low rubble in her ears. “I will do with you as I please.”

Juvia felt his warm breath against her already flushed skin, just below her ear, the sensitive spot Juvia didn’t even know was one of her weaknesses. She pulled her hands free from his grasp but every time she tried, Gray tightened his hold onto them.

The weird part was it seemed that Juvia liked it.

“Gray-sama...” Her voice came out breathy and a little needy.

Gray traced a sinful trail from the crook of her neck down to the valley of her breasts, leaving little flames in its wake. He removed one hand to roam her body and let the other grip on Juvia’s wrists, keeping her hands hostage above her head. His free hand found her breast, earning a soft moan from the woman. Her reaction encouraged Gray to push his luck. Without warning, Gray dragged one of her breasts into his wet, hot mouth.

“Gray-sama!” she yelped. The unknown intensity forcing her to squirm beneath the man.

He ran his tongue over the hardened nipple, around and across. Juvia screamed. It didn’t stop Gray from his ministrations and did the same thing to her other breast. He looked up at her, at her shut eyes, enjoying the pleasure that flickered on her face. Gray finally let go of her hands; an act which she didn’t seem to notice. He took as much of her as possible into his mouth while his other hand now found the other lonely mound. She jerked her head, the back of it hitting Gray’s mattress. Body convulsing at the new but welcomed sensation. Gray stopped, however, before Juvia could even succumb to that pure hot intensity calling to her. He released her breast with a loud pop and began leaving feather kisses on her belly down to her pelvis and stopped at the band of her panties. Gray let out an exasperated sigh.

“Looks like we haven’t taken care of this yet.”

Gray rose to his knees, sliding his hands from her shoulders, her arms, the curves of her naked body. His eyes followed every inch of what he touched, committing everything to memory. It wasn’t the first time Gray has seen Juvia naked but he never dared to touch. He just didn’t know what he would do if allowed himself to even just be near her. But now, he was free to touch, he was free to claim her, he was free to ravish her.

Gray pushed Juvia’s thighs upwards, parted her knees so he could place himself between her legs. He threw the woman a glance, watching her breathe slowly and heavily through her mouth. He was about to break whatever self-control Juvia still had and Gray knew exactly how.

Gray hooked his arms under her thighs, swinging both her legs over his shoulder.

“Gray-sama?” Juvia’s tone was half-asking, half-moaning. She propped herself on her elbows, to see what Gray was up to; only to collapse right back on the mattress at the jolt of sensation that electrified her entire body. Gray was kissing the inside of her thigh, closer and closer until his lips found her core covered in thin, wet lace.

Juvia’s eyes shut close as she breathed his name; only to let the tension steam out of her body. And she gasped a little too loud when she felt the tip of his nose touch that sensitive spot, forcing her eyes open.

“Gray-sa-ahn.” She yelped as Gray closed his mouth over the lace crotch. Words failed Juvia when Gray started running his tongue over the thin garment still covering her core. Getting it wet, or wetter. She could only make sounds she never heard herself before, encouraging the ice-make mage to continue his ministration, taking it a little further. He sucked. He sucked on the sensitive wet skin with a loud sound that lit Juvia’s body on fire. She squirmed, a little movement could help ease out the tension brewing just below her belly. But Gray wasn’t having it. He was the boss. Gray clutched her hip, keeping Juvia exactly where he wanted her.

“Gray-sama… Juvia is… Juvia…”

Juvia screamed without sound. The sheer ecstasy of his lips and tongue on the bare flesh between her legs had Juvia arching her back, peeling her slightly off his mattress. The same intensity that reaped on her body shoved her back down, leaving Juvia to grab a fistful of the sea of blue around her, clutching and pulling the sheet and comforter in her need to… she needed to… Juvia didn’t even know what. She called Gray’s name, restlessly moving her head from side to side, a cloud of steam escaping from her blue waves. She begged him, pleaded with him, the whole time Gray Fullbuster ravished Juvia, strictly for both their pleasures. And Juvia could feel herself about to surrender to the pure white passion Gray was building inside her.

“G-gray-s-ama, Juvia… Juvia is-yaaahn!”

She blurted out, feeling heady, brain turning fuzzy from the hot pleasure. She couldn’t even think, spewing incoherent words and sounds. Until she stopped altogether, body succumbing to that strange feeling clenching below her belly. She opened her mouth but no words came out of it. Her eyes widened in confusion as her body acted and reacted, having a mind of its own. Legs instinctively shut, cutting Gray’s airway. But for Juvia, he’d suffer through anything. He stayed with her until the last wave of her first orgasm relaxed her back unto his mattress. She gasped for air, forcing oxygen into her lungs, eyes half-lidded. Gray took that opportunity to rise to his knees, kneeling between her legs. Slowly, Gray pushed the lace down her legs and on the side. Then, Gray paused to appreciate his masterpiece. Juvia was breath-taking, spread on his bed in her full glory.

“Your damn beautiful, Juvia.”

He watched her lids fly open. A sheet of sweat covered her flushed face, blue waves spread all around her. She was still catching her breath when her eyes grew wide in recognition. The pleasurable sensation slowly faded; replaced by myriad of emotions, rising above them was utter humiliation. Juvia covered her face with her hands, hiding from Gray’s lust-filled gaze.

“Don’t hide from me.”

“J-j-juvia is e-embarrassed, Gray-sama.” She confessed as Juvia slowly come back to her senses. Gray might have given her the first orgasm of her life but Gray hadn’t had the opportunity yet. Juvia glanced at him, worried about the thickening silence that washed over his bedroom.

“Are you nervous?”

Juvia only bobbed her head in response, shielding her face with her hands. Even when Juvia appear so bold in front of him, when it came down to it, when the moment finally arrived, Juvia didn’t understand why she was so nervous all of a sudden. Juvia thought she was ready for what was about to happen. But now that she was lying on his bed, a moment away from sharing a passionate night with her beloved, Juvia grew worried. It was something Gray expected. Understanding her hesitation, Gray slowly, pulled her hands away from her face so he could look Juvia into her eyes.

“I am too.”

Juvia had this expression in her face, like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. That confused expression help Gray keep the burgeoning need at bay. He expelled a breath and his body relaxed.

“But this is something I want to do,” Gray dipped his head and placed a tamed kiss on her forehead. Then, he held her gaze with coaxing tenderness, “with you.”

He waited for her response. Gray wasn’t planning to force himself on Juvia if she wasn’t ready for it. But he held on the hope that she was ready to be this intimate with him.

“Juvia wants to do it with Gray-sama, too.”

If the situation wasn’t so dire and so urgent, Gray would have shouted for happiness. But it was. He was about to finally become one with Juvia. Gray pulled his erection out of his boxers, pushing the tight band down his legs and off to the floor. Slowly, he stroked his shaft, noting how Juvia seemed to be enjoying the view. Gray leaned down on her, guiding his rigid length to Juvia’s warm entrance.

“It’ll hurt a little.”

Juvia swallowed a moan as the bulbous head probed at her wet entrance.

“J-juvia will endure it. F-for Gray-sama.”

It took all of Gray’s strength to fight the urge to just slam into her, to shove his aching erection into Juvia’s passage. He had to do it slowly. As far as he was aware, this was Juvia’s first time. He wanted her to feel good and not scar her forever. So, if being gentle was the way with her, then gentle Gray would be.

But it was just impossible, with the way Juvia’s warmth clasped around his shaft. Inch by inch, he could feel Juvia stretch to receive him. Her walls sheathing him, clutching on him. She was so damn tight and that alone made Gray aware that he might finish first long before she could. Gray bit down on his own lip to fight the foreboding eruption until he was fully inside Juvia. Gray stay stilled on top of Juvia, studying the grimace on his woman’s face. He brushed away the tear that wet the corner of her eye. Then, he warned her of his next action, “I’m going to move now, Juvia.” He told her, to which Juvia nodded her understanding. Gray entwined his fingers with hers, pinning her hands above her head.

“You remember the rules, right?” He didn’t even let the water-mage answer. “No touching, no kissing, nothing.” Dropping an octave, Gray whispered his last warning. “I will do with you as I please.”

Then, slowly he moved on top of her, sliding in and out of Juvia’s tight body. When the expression in Juvia’s flushed face changed, Gray picked up his pace. Finding the perfect rhythm as his bed creaked under their combined weight. Her muffled cries only fueling the desire to drive the woman to her peak.

Juvia didn’t even understand how her body knew how to respond to Gray’s blatant move but she met all his thrusts, unashamedly rocking her hips against Gray’s. That seemed to earn groans, curses and strained mentions of her name from her lover. But Juvia was at the losing end, feeling that familiar, powerful culmination about to claim her once again. She tried to free her hands from his, finding the need to prolong the act. But Gray was adamant.

Juvia called out to him between cries – begging and pleading. But those only made Gray’s thrusts more forceful and merciless, feeding the primal hunger that turned Juvia’s lover into an insatiable beast.

Then, she screamed his name, the culmination finally came for her with a force that was more powerful and violent than the first. Soon, he followed after her. His need for her finally exploding into a cosmic end, tearing him a new. Even then, Gray didn’t stop moving, pumping into Juvia with short, sudden thrusts until nothing was left in him.

Gray collapsed on top of Juvia in boneless exhaustion. Both gasped for air as they lay on his bed, a tangled mess of sweat and skin. The fire between them retreating, flickering into a fading euphoria. But Juvia loved every moment of it. More so that it was Gray who she was with, exploring this new territory together.

RAMTBB Part 2.5

Gray woke up from his deep slumber, rested yet tired. He knew exactly why. He had a vivid recollection of the events of last night, painting a foolish smile on his face. His body was yearning for that same warmth he reveled in last night, the warmth that clung to him twice, thrice, four times. He didn’t even know he had the stamina to last for that long.

Gray extended his arm, eyes still shut close but lips pulled in a wide grin, seeking the bluenette that went to sleep with him last night. But she wasn’t there. There was no warm skin; only the coldness left by her absence. The ice-make mage sat right up, eyes frantically searching his room for Juvia, fearful that last night may turn out as just a dream. He sighed in relief, finding Juvia standing next to his dresser, fixing her hat over her head. The smile he had in his sleep morphed into a frown. Juvia was all dressed, up and ready for the day. Way to spoil his plan. Juvia first met his gaze through the mirror. Then, she spun around to greet Gray with a warm smile.

“Good morning, Gray-sama.” Juvia walked over to the bed and sat at the edge next to Gray.

“I thought we’re past that.”

“Past what?” Juvia distractedly asked, running her tongue over her bottom lip as her gaze drifted down his bare chest, which Gray gladly noted.

“Sama? I distinctly remember you dropping that…” Gray moved closer to Juvia, the white sheet he was covered in dropped to his hip. He noticed the way Juvia bit her lower lip, her hot gaze following the drop of his sheet. The flame in her eyes encouraged him to steal a kiss, “when you screamed my name.” and then another soft brush on the lips, just teasing.

A low moan escaped Juvia’s lips.

“Over… and over,” Gray continued trailing kisses down her neck, “and over… and over again.” Gray’s hands slid down her shoulders and then her arms, pulling Juvia to join him in bed. But Juvia stopped him, placing a hand on the solid plane of his chest.

“Gray-sama, before that…” She left his side to pick something out of her paper bag. Quickly, she returned beside Gray and presented to him something which looked like paper. “Gray-sama needs to fill up Juvia’s report card.”

Gray wasn’t sure if he heard her right. “I’m sorry, what?” So, he asked just in case,

“Juvia’s report card.”

Gray blinked at her. His morning erection falling limp in disbelief.

“Juvia’s dance teacher wants to know if she did things right.”

“Are you out of your mind?” He nearly screamed at her, eyes furrowing into his usual scowl. “I’m not gonna rate how you are in bed!”

“The report is for the dancing. Juvia already told you about this, Gray-sama.”

Gray looked at the insistent water-mage with bewildered eyes. He wasn’t sure if he should be more surprised at the fact that Juvia was actually asking him to grade her dance, which she hadn’t even finished because, well... they ended up doing something else, or how Juvia wasn’t even bothered by it.

“I’m going to go to sleep, Juvia.” He returned to his slumber, covering himself with his white sheet over his head. He lost his morning erection so what even was the point waking up that early?

“Gray-sama.” Juvia whined, kneeling on his bed to shake the sleeping man. “Juvia needs the report card.”

“Go away!”

“But Gray-sama–”

“–I’m going back to sleep, Juvia. Leave me alone.”

Juvia puffed a breath of exasperation. She obviously wasn’t going to get what she wanted, the report card. She glared at the sheet-covered ice-make mage. Something she never knew she could do. But after giving herself to him, Gray wouldn’t even do that small favor for Juvia. What a guy!

tags: @jetblackrevival @breatheeagainnnn

[seijohsfairy]

𝙾𝙵𝙵 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝚃𝙾𝙽𝙶𝚄𝙴 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙾 𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙴

You want to be by his side as much as time will allow you. The end all, be all of your soul.  spencer @/kamoniwa​ and i were screaming about this in dms & we gave each other the green light to write it so hfhdis thank you and also a big thank you to carrie @/ourladyofseijoh​ aka queen of sacrilege for beta reading and all your help in general ♡ i hope you enjoy!!

meian shugo wordc. 4k+

tw priest!meian, sacrilege, (semi) public, coercion/manipulation, god complex, degradation, religious guilt/ trauma and a lot of catholic imagery in general, he’s called Father

📷

There’s no place to escape prying eyes in the House of God. You’ve always felt this way when you were younger too, clinging to the cold of the thick pillars that carry the monstrous building, old and dark and unavoidable.

Even when there was no such sin to taint your hands and mouth, you could look up and feel the weight of eyes on you through the deep purple and azure of the stained glass, making your throat tight and fight small. Now, they are incessant, eternal, and with each passing moment standing in this place of good and light the walls seem to crumble a little more around you.

But most of all, you’re overwhelmed by the flicks of a gaze you can feel on your back, flitting ever so gently along the edges of your frame. They are soft, no longer suffocating like sand that fills your lungs. No— the prickly gaze you feel on the swell of your cheeks and down your shoulder is more than that. You light a candle and slot it along with dozen others, taking a deep breath. Unsteady, it trembles through your frame with the weight of this place on your shoulders. The dimness of the high ceiling, the chill of the wind that whips inside and brings goosebumps to your legs, none of it is enough to keep you away.

Not anymore, not since you… well. Faith takes shape in many ways, you remind yourself of those words, willing the nerves to die down as the groups of people take their seats and the pastor up front welcomes with kind words. Most of them are elders, some of which you recognize from when you were still a little girl and who you think will keep coming until death knocks. Strange you knew them before the looks started piercing through your soft skin and the image of unsettling loneliness was taken away. You linger in the back of the large room now, next to one of the pillars, carefully studying the plane of light that falls so perfectly on the pulpit. Golden crucifix catching a gleam, and keeping your eyes straight ahead.

Looming as the building is, sometimes you wonder how you’d fare if you simply stopped coming. If the eyes would follow you long after you’ve run around the corner and hid away under the plush of your blankets. You hope they don’t, but a sharp pressure to your chest tells you they would. And if not, the fear of being left all by yourself is what brought you back in the first place, you have no doubt it could drag you back by your ankles once again. The woman behind the organ starts a simple melody as the people rise to sing. Swirling voices that fill the room and seem to tip the peace off it’s axes, and then a simple breath.

Even though he remains a few steps away, the mere presence is enough to have your hairs standing up and your breathing feel laboured, a needed reminder that this�� this is why you return. And that meeting him like this is the closest you’ll get to a religious experience again, that from the moment you met eyes with him and felt his gaze on your tear-strung lashes there was something worth saving. The slow melody of the song is interrupted by a deep voice, and you hold the urge to turn around to him right away.

“Back again already.” There’s something in his tone, always. Under layers of composure and confidence it sits, like a bite of fresh fruit, tempting you to take more, taste more, have all of him— He lets out a breath of amusement when you don’t move, burning his pupils into the side of your face. “It’s a bit soon, don’t you think?” It isn’t really a question, so you don’t answer. You only lace your hands together and look away from the pastor to stare at the floor. “Something to repent for that couldn’t wait until Sunday?”

“I wanted to see you,” you whisper, blinking aimlessly at the tips of your shoes. More than that, it hurt being away from him, ice growing on your veins the longer you waited, but you don’t think it’s fair to tell him that. A soft hum is all his response for a few seconds, before he leans over your shoulder to tower over you so easily. You can see his chest from the corner of your eye, the curve of his shoulder and a bit of exposed skin of his neck. And your tongue burns with a need, an unfair whisper of what could be. What secrets lie upon that skin that you’ll never be able to see.

But with his mouth close enough to your ear to raise the small bumps on your arms, he speaks, voice amused. “Little liar.” Those two words are enough to have your tongue rotting in your mouth, glueing it to the base and fighting through the defenses you want to put up. Because despite the hard tone, there’s a certain loveliness to the term. A sickly endearment for broken things. “I think you’re just looking for trouble so you can repent. So are you a servant of God or not, sweet thing? Because I’m starting to have my doubts.” With another step towards you you sway on your feet, hands clamping down on your shirt.

“I—” you try, stilling just as quickly. You don’t know a lot of things, you’re young and though you’d choose to be a bit smarter, a bit brighter; all you’re really sure of is that you start and end with him. And that from the moment you saw him, so holy and otherworldly, you were called to worship at his feet. You must be a servant of God, if this is all you’re reduced to around him. “I am, of course I am. I’m devoted, I swear.” Another chuckle as he presses up against your back now, voices and music fading into the void.

“Your honesty is endearing,” he whispers, bringing up his hand to the front of your throat and tilting your head back just a bit. The rise and fall of his chest seems more melodic than it should. You long to fall to that sound, let it take over your body and mind all at once. But for now his voice will suffice— and if anything, more than that would probably suffocate you. “But you’re just a sinner here. You shouldn’t be standing here like this. You should be on your knees, praying for forgiveness.”

“I will, Father Meian,” you shake as he squeezes a bit tighter, pulling your body against him more. Your breathing hitching, lips dropping open at the squeeze and the swirling in your brain. So lightheaded, like only he can make you feel. “I’ll repent in front of you a million times if that’s what you deem necessary. Please.” His hard-lined, strong body pressed against you, overwhelming every of your senses. He smells like something dark, a spice that interrupts your thoughts. And it’s unfair, so unfair, because he always tells you you smell sweet, but you’re sure there’s no lovelier scent in the world than him.

He hums as he places a soft kiss on your neck, before straightening out when the pastor up front ends his round of greetings and moves back to the pulpit. And you can feel the eyes that seem to look on from above, but now they seem to beg for you, beg to see your skin split open and be bled out from sin, and you know that only Meian could make that a reality. For as much as you are unknowing about, you do know this one thing. You’d pray at his feet for the rest of your days if you could, crawl on your knees and scrape the skin until your bones turn to ash.

If that’s what it means to worship, you think you could. For him. “What ungodly thing did you manage this time? Think you can tell me?” His large hands trail down the curve of your spine to up at your hips, settling there with soft circles and a deep breath. He pulls you back into his large, strong body, as you pretend that you can’t feel the need gush to your center and warm you up top to bottom. “What’s the matter, my little whore? Can’t tell a Father something so bad, is that it? You think I can’t help you when you tell me about how you opened your legs for me every night for the past month, stuffing your fingers inside yourself while you’re thinking of me?”

You gasp, whimpering when he starts pushing his hips to your backside and bunches up your long skirt to slip his hand underneath it. You stumble to the side a few steps to lean into the cold stone and turn your face toward it, quickly grabbing the front of your clothing to push it back down as much as the fabric allows. Meian chuckles behind you when his two fingers slide over the sticky, wet patch of your panties. “Confess. Or else I stop right now. And you’ll stay a filthy, sopping wet, unmarried slut with no place in the House of God.”

You whimper when those fingers slide under the crotch of them to rub between the slick folds of your pussy, letting you drop back your head against his chest where it rises and falls so gently, taking the most private part of you and making it his again. His breaths cascade down your neck when he leans down to kiss along your throat, and you’re so grateful that you’re hidden behind the pillar enough not to make a scene, because it’s impossible to stay silent when the two thick digits dip into you and slide up to curl your walls.

Making you drip down his hand when he pulls them back, then stuffing them right back in place and stretching you open with easy motions that have your eyes closing and legs shaky. “Confess,” he breathes.

“Yes, I-” you whimper, cold of the stone under your palm the only thing to keep you from floating up, scratching your nails into it, “I touched myself while wishing it was you. W-wanted your—” You’re cut off by your own strained moan that you try to keep in, as he scissors his fingers in you and presses the tip of a third inside too, legs shifting open to make more room. You bite through a cry when he grabs your neck and pushes you forward, now clinging to the stone with shaky fingers and your cheek pressed up against it.

“Want my what?” he taunts, curling his fingers again into the spot that has you seeing stars as he motions in and out of your pussy with ease, humming when you arch your back more and push back against him. “Tell me, pretty girl.”

“Your hands and your mouth— hnm,” even with everything spoken under your breath and the organ still echoing through the grand hall, you feel like the words pound between your ears. “And your cock, F-father, oh-” he pulls his index finger out to rest it against your clit instead, rubbing these as he fucks his fingers into you again and again with a ruthless determination, “ah, please Father Meian.”

When the pressure builds up so much that it’s impossible to focus on anything else, heat filling your belly and legs about to buckle, he lifts the back of your skirt up to expose the way his hand works between your thighs and dripping down his fingers with wet squelches.

You bite down on your own hand when the realization comes that you shouldn’t be getting touched this way in public -no matter how Holy Meian is- but stopping now is impossible. He grunts when your walls clench around him, the touches to your puffy clit becoming unbearable. “Always come running back to me so pretty.” And even in such simple words, you know aren’t imagining the care laced in those words.

“Always.” You reach behind you for his wrist when you get too close, throat catching and thighs shaking, digging your nails into the skin. “Oh- m, I- mhng, so close, please—” You can’t help the moan it drags from you, when he grabs your shoulders and pulls your much smaller body back against him, muscular arm pressed like a safeguard over your chest.

You let your eyes drop closed and lift your one leg for better access, before you’re shaking on his hand. “Cumming-” you cry, swallowing a moan when he grabs your throat and squeezes, the music suddenly falling away. You cum apart around his fingers, eyes clenched shut and shaking as he helps you through it, letting your body collapse into him where he holds you up.

“Quiet, pretty thing,” he mumbles though, “be quiet.” Your lashes are heavy with tears when you look around, stumbling back to your feet when his touch drops and he smears your wetness on the inside of your thigh, still keeping you close to his body as he turns you to face the congregation. Everyone is luckily still looking forward. You tremble when he slips his fingers from under your skirt to slide into his mouth. He leans around your other side to hover his lips over your ear. “See all those devoted people? That’s who I should be helping, instead of some stupid girl who keeps spreading her legs like a filthy, common whore.”

Finally, he lets go of you entirely, and you fist your hands in your white skirt when you finally turn to face him for the first time. Warm, angular eyes that seem to look through you, with pretty lips and a jaw to die for, the strong, intense features of the person haunting your dreams night after night. His one eyebrow raises. “Give me one good reason I should hear your prayers at all.”

“I- I,” you start, looking from him to your feet and then back as you hesitate. There’s so little you can say to him, it’s always been that way. You feel at a loss when you’re around him, but strangely, you feel an even greater loss not returning to him. Like the ocean forever chasing the beach.

“I meant it, I wanted to see you. Wanted to hear you and— want your h-help to get rid of this lust. I know it’s a bad thing but,” you swallow, ignoring the tiny twitch of his lips pulling upward, “but I can’t help myself, Father. Please help me.” He takes a moment to look around, before suddenly holding out his hand toward you. Like an offering.

You can only watch how he takes your hand into his giant palm, fingers wrapping around it to pull you away from the main hall to the side of the building. “Lets talk about this in private.” You’re pulled behind his big steps, frowning at the wet feeling of your panties between your legs. You really are some disgusting sinner, you think, as you’re walked through a smaller door into the sacristy. Not entirely separated, but enough to feel like you won’t be found out within a second if you look at him too long.

And you find yourself making that mistake often lately. “I think I know the cure to your problem,” he breathes, turning around to face you, and you drop your head all the way back to look at him as he speaks. “Here,” he drops your hand to his crotch, letting you feel his hard-on under his robes.

“Oh- I mean,” you feel the heat rise to your face now, looking away. You’d been touched and touched him plenty these last few months, the weight of his cock in your mouth still feeling as divine in memory. But when you try to sink onto your knees like you would normally, he keeps you upright, shaking his head. You blink. “N- How else can I—”

“You need something more than simple prayer.” You tremble a little when his hand comes to cup your cheek, urging you a little closer to his warm body as you feel his cock twitch in his boxers, pushing your legs together at the thought of feeling him there. You know it’s bad, but somewhere along the way lust must’ve taken hold of you too tight, because you feel like you can’t breathe. “Because you’re an unholy slut, a filthy little thing,” he whispers, now pushing the sleeves of your top over your shoulders with the murmuring of the pastor in the background. “You can’t be saved any other way, dumb girl. Take out my cock.”

You look into his pretty eyes as you take a breath, before doing as he says and lifting the black layers of robe. You push his underwear down, his huge cock slapping up against his stomach. The little breath you let out before spitting into your palm and wrapping your hand around him is soft, glancing over your shoulder towards the door. “Father, anyone could-”

“No one’s going to come in here,” he hisses, watching you pump your small hands along his shaft a few times, “if you’re quiet. What do you think they’d say if they found you here, stroking a Priest’s cock like a greedy little slut. This is your fault, stupid girl.” The low rumble of his voice is almost hypnotizing, keeping you right in place as he fucks his cock into your fists. You lean down, licking and sucking at the head of his cock with each thrust you get to feel him push between your lips into your warm mouth. But he stops you and motions you over to the table. “On here.”

Though your heart races in your chest, you do as he says. Laying down, kicking off your skirt and panties and spreading your legs for him with your eyes cast to the floor. He’s quick to grab your hips and haul you higher up onto it, pushing your knee up to your chest. His cock drools eagerly as he stands between your thighs, and you hold onto his hand as he pushes up against you. “Take a deep breath, pretty girl,” he whispers, slowly pushing the spongy head against your fluttering hole. “Let me help you. This is how you atone for your sins.”

Then he pushes into you, the thick head of his cock spreading you open and you instantly close your eyes at the stinging stretch, tearing up. “Aw, ah,” you squeak. You’re not a virgin, but it sure feels like it as your pussy is filled with him, pushing in more and more until you can barely feel anything but the way your stomach bulges to fit him. “Father, ah- M-Meian, it’s so,” your voice is muffled when you bring up your free hand to keep quiet, “big, s’big!”

“That’s it, good girl.” He holds still only a little when your poor walls are entirely filled by him, back arching to relieve some of the almost painful pressure in your belly. “My beautiful girl, there you go.” He pulls back, then pushing back inside with a snap of his hips, and you’re mewling to get away from him. It’s too good, too full and the stretch leaves you so empty each time he pulls back. But his large hands tighten on your hips as he forces himself back into your wet, gummy walls without mercy, speeding up the pace with each thrust. “Feel good?”

In the other room, the pastor’s clear voice echoes through the room.

And Jesus answered them, “Have faith in God.”

“Yes, yes,” you chant, letting him lift you up a little to drive his cock even deeper, pounding into your sensitive pussy so perfectly it has you seeing stars. You open your eyes enough to glance at his furrowed brows, enjoying your reactions more than he should. It’s clear when he shifts his hips up to push right into that spot, holding your legs as you try to snap them closed instinctively.

Have faith in God. Truly, I say to you, whoever says to this mountain, ‘Be taken up and thrown into the sea,’ and does not doubt in his heart, but believes that what he says will come to pass, it will be done for him.

Instead of going easy on you this only seems to motivate him more, fucking into you even faster. His hips smacking against your puffy clit again and again. “You feel so, hng- good! Oh my— mhm! Too good, t-too good, please give me more! Oh God!”

Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.

Meian doesn’t slow, but instantly lifts your other leg to your chest too, making the table scrape along the stone floor with each thrust into you. And if you’d be able to see through your heavy tears, you’d see the way his lips flatten and a strange determination comes over his eyes. He rests his entire body to hold your thighs up and snaps his hips into you, wet paps of his skin and balls pounding against you. And with that the only thing you can think of chanting is ‘Oh God, oh God, please,’ over and over again as he fucks the thoughts out of you entirely.

And whenever you stand praying, forgive, if you have anything against anyone, so that your Father also who is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses.

He suddenly pulls out and turns you over, letting you hips bump the edge of the table as you whine and moan, pushing back into your gushing hole as your eyes roll back. “Are you calling me God, baby?” he mumbles, holding your hips down and bottoming out with hard, impatient thrusts. “Calling me your God and coming undone on my cock like this, you want to be my personal whore, is that it?” You’re nodding before you can even realize what his words really mean, feeling his hand slip back between your legs to push over your clit with unfairly slow motions that don’t match his thrusts at all. “Pray to me.”

You do. “Help me, God my Savior, -ahh, for the glory of Your name.” He pounds you open until the pressure becomes so tight you’re clamping down on him, so close to another orgasm. “Deliver me and forgive me for my s-sins,” you cry, voice high pitched and shaky, “for Your name’s sake.”

The heat of his skin on yours seems to collect in your belly, aching to drop you into a second high. “Lord, I pray that You remove my guilt and wipe away my sins, hng- so that I can draw closer to You.” He moans when you clench around him, pounding your tiny pussy open and watching the way your glistening, slick pussy stretches around his fat cock a bit longer. “With You there is forgiveness so that I can, with reverence, serve You. I praise You for forgiving me for my sins even though I do not deserve it!”

You’re practically choking out the last part when he starts rubbing your oversensitive clit faster, with touches that leave your legs weak. “T-Thank You for -oh, God, thank You for loving me unconditionally, ah, ahng, A-Amen!”

“A little louder, baby, I can’t hear you,” he grabs hold of your face to turn it to the side as your mouth drops open and your tear stricken cheek is pressed to the table. It’s such a good sight to watch you completely destroyed on his cock, panting and shaking like a bitch in heat. You reach back to grab at his thighs for some support. Another flick of his finger makes you squeak.

“A—hng-ah Amen!”

“Where do you think God is now? Is he watching you get fucked right now? Do you think he despises you for being such a dirty slut? Tell me,” he growls. You clench around him so hard it’s almost impossible to pull out, sweat rolling down the valley of your breasts. “Or is he between your legs right now, making you cum like the pitiful bitch you are?” Each word is accentuated with the tilt of his hips. “Where. Is. Your. God?”

“You, you! It’s you!” you cry, before finally cumming with a moan of his name and your fingers digging hard into his skin. You squirm under him as he fucks you through it, before you can feel a few more sloppy thrusts. Hot, white ropes of cum fill you up as you try to catch your breath. “God Forgive me,” you whisper when he pulls out, a mix of both your cum dripping down when you push up.

He stares at your wasted body for a bit longer, before tucking himself back into his underwear. He helps you up from the table onto very shaky legs, leaning into the furniture. “You will be, you worked hard.”

You flush when he eyes you down with a smile, taking back your skirt when he hands it to you. And then he leans down to press a small kiss on your lips, before letting the grin pull wider. “See you on Sunday.”

[streetlites]

I had managed to get some sort of directions to a ruby dealer that supposedly wasn’t affiliated with the Kings from a scratcher in The Arts District in San Myshuno. I remember Mom recanting stories from her youth, where she would have to get information from people personally; she’d laugh about how easy it was. What she never mentioned was having to pry a scratcher off of you left you with the feeling that you needed a hot bath and, possibly, a tetanus shot.

I stared down at the map on my omnitool screen, trying to make sense of the location I was given. “The small apartment building across from the old gas station in Civagua? What the hell kind of directions is that?!” I complained loudly. The map I had access to, of course, didn’t have that information on it. When was the gas station there? I saw nothing but empty lots and dilapidated buildings in street view and none of them looked to have ever been a gas station.

Bolivar chuckled dryly beside me, “As good as you’re going to get for the area, I’m afraid. Don’t worry, I know the area he was talking about.”

I crossed my arms and stared out of the window, the rain pouring down cast a gloomy glow on the occasional streetlamp as we drove further away from the city center into an area that could only generously be described as ‘neglected’. Large abandoned factories with broken windows stood stark against the city skyline that towered in the distance. Crumbling apartment buildings stood next to shacks with tarp roofs that seemed to be haphazardly built from whatever was sturdy enough to create a wall. Blocks upon blocks of depression with not a soul to be seen.

“Welcome to Sin Agua,” my partner intoned with sarcastic cheerfulness. “Much history here. If you look this way,” he said, gesturing to an empty lot, pavement cracked with grass, “this is where the gas station used to be. Blew up a long time ago. Your mother and father were part of that, so I hear.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I said, wrinkling my nose. I couldn’t remember hearing this story. “Was it a front for something?”

“Ah, it probably was, but it caught fire from the lot across the street from it. See the prayer candles? That used to be a King’s base. The LA-13 raided it. Killed everyone and set it on fire. Burned a lot of shit down.”

I stared at the other lot, essentially a crater. “You seem to know a lot about this place,” I led.

“Of course. All Kings learn of it, part of the initiation.”

“You were in the Kings?” I asked, surprised. “Does it bother you to work for the Brotherhood, then? Knowing my mother was in the LA-13?”

“No. In fact, I appreciate The Brotherhood. When I did this sort of thing for The Kings, it was for scraps. Now, I’m a security consultant with a salary, bonuses, health, dental and a retirement plan. Taxes and all,” he laughs.

“A security consultant,” I repeat, a wry smile spreading on my face.

“Yes, we’re consulting right now, you and I,” he says with mock seriousness. “We’re going to test the security of that building right there,” he points to cement building with bars and boards over the windows. “Then, if we find anything useful, we’re going to test the personal security of our target for our client.”

“I see. And what did this have to do with our passports?”

“We’re consulting in Selvadorada right now. Us, here? Just a couple of ghosts,” he winks.

He parks in front of the building, tires up on the sidewalk to get it out of the non-existent traffic. “You’re not worried about anyone messing with your car?” I ask as we walk up the uneven concrete planks.

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “No one is that stupid here. “After you,” he gestures, holding the door open.

The foyer of the apartment building is not any more inviting than its outside appearance. Dirty, cracked tiles shined dully from a lightbulb hanging from an extension cord overhead, a faint smell of bleach in the air. Bolivar bobbed his head, miming which apartment to choose until, shrugging his shoulders, he knocks on the one to his left. The noise from the apartment falls silent, he knocks harder. “Friend, either answer the door of your own will or I’ll let myself in.”

Locks rattle and a tired woman’s face peeps at us from the sliver of entry she’s given. Her eyes dart from Gabriel to myself, nervously, until she settles on Gabriel; wordlessly demanding an answer to our intrusion.

“The LA-13 boy, where was he?” Bolivar asks. The woman points to the apartment next to hers and shuts the door, locks rattling back in place. “You spooked her, you look like you’re about to shoot somebody,” he grins at me, my hand on the pistol in my holster relaxing slightly. “We may have to, if he’s stupid,” he warns. “Get ready,” he pulls his own pistol out, holding it at the ready and kicks the door open.

The door frame groans and splinters as the door cracks against the cement wall inside. The bleach is strong in here, causing my eyes to water uncomfortably. When we see it’s clear, I reholster my pistol, swiping at my eyes. “Goddamn.”

“Someone’s cleaned the place up,” Bolivar says, his lips set in a grim line.

“Is that what we’re calling this?” I quip, taking in the poor state of the apartment. “Clean?” There wasn’t enough bleach in the entire world to make this place shine.

“Beats rotten blood, at least. This was the place our client said his nephew was seen alive. Looks like him and his buddy were probably killed here. They did a good job on the floor but it’s probably all over the couches.”

“I wouldn’t sit here even if someone told me they steam-cleaned that trash,” I sniff. A pile of papers on the floor beside the bed catches my eye.

“Where are you going? This looks like a bust.”

“Papers,” I say, absent-mindedly, flipping through the loose papers. “I need a name, something to track.” I grunt in frustration as I start to realise all the bills have had the business names and addresses ripped out. Whoever had gone through this made sure that they’d disappear.

“Well, if you can’t find anything, don’t worry about it. Can’t be too many LA-13 crazy enough to move into Myshuno. We’ll find them sooner or later.”

I don’t want to hear his pity. If I couldn’t do this much, who under my mother would see me as a viable successor? I throw open the chest, I shake out the few clothes on the floor until a small memo book falls out. I carefully turn the pages, studying the contents. There still wasn’t a name attached, but it was a running ledger.

“Find anything useful?”

“A ledger, looks like he was due to make a payment of 30 thousand to the LA-13.” I stand and sigh, that was my last hope. “I don’t know how we’re going to find this guy. I still don’t have a name to go on.” I see the smile on Bolivar’s face and I don’t know what he’s so happy about. “What’s with you?” I ask, my temper rising.

“Because you did find something. If he owes the LA-13, one of them will want us to find him just as much as our client. Let’s get back to the car, I’ll hit up some of my contacts.”