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wutheringcaterpillar · 1 year ago

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Corruption

Summary: It's your first night working at a night club, and Thomas couldn't help but think of all the things he wants to do to you when you approach his table.

Warnings: Age Gap (Reader is 18), loss of virginity, choking, rough sex, hair pulling, p in v, semi exhibition, reader is described to be somewhat petite, unprotected sex, name calling

It was your first night working at a prestigious club like this one. It had made you nervous to think of all the high profiled people that would be attending, and possible gangs. Your parents had urged you not to take that job, but you needed to see the world for what it was and now here you were. You gave yourself one last glance in the mirror, you hadn’t over done it but yet you felt hot with your black heels and black dress. Coming out of the restroom you put on a flirtatious face and approached the bar to grab a tray of drinks. Approaching the table, you couldn’t help but notice how each man was dressed to the tens in what looked like expensive fabric, with their hair nicely combed. However you weren’t going to let that intimidate you.

“Did someone here order drinks?” You stood confidently and the man sitting in front of you turned his head at a normal pace. “Yes, thank you darling. Alway a-“ He stopped in his tracks when he looked up at you. His crystal blue eyes locked with your innocent ones yet he saw something enticing in them. His eyes grazed down your body, taking in your voluptuous figure as the tight dress you were wearing hugged tightly around your curves. With his right hand hidden under the table, he tugged at his trousers.

It had been awhile since Tommy had been with someone much younger than him, from what he could see your soft facial features and the way your makeup wasn’t overly abundant he’d guess early twenties.

“Now tell me, what’s a beautiful young girl like yourself doing here all alone dressed like that. No boyfriend or family member here watching over you? You know there are some men who wouldn’t be able to control themselves seeing a slim pretty girl like you here, all dolled up.” He winked at you as he took a small drink of his bourbon.

You couldn’t help but notice how soft and plump his lips looked as they were placed on the brim of the glass and the way his veins poked their way through his skin. He looked at you with his determined blue eyes and spoke with a sort of rasp in his voice. “What’s your name love?”

“Y/N.” You couldn’t stop yourself from blushing at the endearing nickname.

“Y/N, what a pretty name. Why don’t you have a seat Y/N. My name’s Thomas. Thomas Shelby.” The handsome, yet intimidating man stood up and slid a chair out for you. He lit a cigarette between his lips and reached for a wine bottle sat on the table, he poured you a glass. You found yourself being driven in just at the mere fact he assumed off your looks what you like and he was right.

He carried on conversation, asking about your life where you’re from, never taking his eyes off of you. You had informed him it was your first night working here, and your family had ties to the owners here who happened to not be here tonight.

Tommy didn’t really care who owned this club because he knew he could buy them out and if your parents had found out he could keep them at bay, but he wasn’t going to mention that. He was very charming, and you were worried in your responses that he could see through you that you weren’t experienced with anything but either he did notice and ignored it or he didn’t.

There was a shift underneath the table you heard and then a few moments later he rested his hand upon your thigh, firmly gripping your delicate skin, sending shivers up your spine.

You hadn’t been with anyone before but you were good at acting the part of you have. Every woman, every girl talked about Thomas Shelby. He was the most dangerous man in Birmingham, and that turned you on.

Taking another nervous sip of your wine but trying to keep your composure, you guided your hand on top of his underneath the table and slid up between your thighs. Tommy could feel the heat that radiated off of you. He needed you, he needed to be in-between those sweet folds, and in that small circular opening that was leaking for him.

“Do you wanna get out of here.” Your breath hitched in your throat. Looking behind you, you noticed a door in the distance. You couldn’t wait any longer as your lady parts began to get impatient.

“I have a better idea.” He looked at you with curiosity as his eyebrows furrowed together.

Standing up in unison, your hand gripped his black tie and guided him, past hundreds of people into the closet you spotted. People eyed you both in shock, some in disgust, and some in jealousy, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t think about anything but him buried deep within you.

The closet door slammed open, and your body was hitting the wall in seconds as Tommy was gripping your sides, roughly tugging your panties down. Your hands found their way to his tie loosening it as his hands slid up your sensitive thighs to your innocent sweetness that was already soaking through the thin fabric of your panties. Your lips never broke apart as his tongue explored every inch of your mouth, hands exploring every inch of each other.

He smelt of whiskey and lavender, and you could feel the heat burning within you. Pinning you up against the wall you felt his rock hard member through his pants brush up in-between your ivory thighs, sending a soft moan to escape from your now parted lips. When your eyes locked, his once light blue eyes were dark and dilated like an animal had taken over him. You tugged at his belt, unfastening the leather at a vigorous, fast pace while his fingers dug into your small hips.

You hadn't noticed the lock on the door was broken and never closed all the way, Tommy wasn't going to mention it, but you couldn’t think about that right now.

He spit on his rather large dick and lined it up with your dripping hole. “Also, I’m a virgin.” You bit your finger playfully while smiling and batting your eyelashes at him in an innocent manner. Tommy smiled and looked down watching his dick twitch. He was going to absolutely obliterate you and he was more than gracious to be popping that inexperienced cherry of yours.

“Darling, I’m going to destroy you inside and out.” Before you could respond he went in full throttle, his full length taking the breath out of you, forcing a loud, high-pitched moan to escape your lips. It sounded like music to his ears, and he gave you a moment to adjust. You looked at him with wide eyes, eyebrows raised at the unexpected, overwhelming feeling of being so full and stretched out by such a handsome man. He would’ve covered your mouth if it weren’t for his own need and want for people to hear you losing your innocence to him.

Pulling slowly out, he slammed into you again. It was slow and agonizing, while you felt some pain you couldn’t want anything more than for him to go faster. Your eyes rolled back, when he sped up his thrust, you could feel your slick flooding down onto his thick, long dick. “God, you are so fucking tight, my fucking god.”

He buried his face in-between your soft boobs as if they were pillows. His tongue lapped around your hardened nipples, and bit them slightly causing you to yelp at the sudden painful yet satisfying feeling. You found your inner walls clenching around him. His tongue danced around your nipples one last time and then his plush, soft lips trailed up your chest to your neck as he pumped in and out of you at a vigorous rate.

The pain mixed with pleasure made you fall into him, your head burying in his shoulder as his lips sucked, dark red bruises into your neck. His hands found their way to your ass cheeks and he carried you away from the wall and fucked you in the middle of the closet. “Tommy I- Oh fuck! You- you’re so-“ Your words were falling out of you in muffles that was hard to makeup, but Tommy heard your fucked out voice perfectly.

“So what love? Huh?” He used one hand and wrapped it around your small throat, forcing you to look at him as he fucked into you deeper than you ever thought imaginable. “Go on tell me.”

“So fucking big, feel so fucking good.” He couldn’t stop the sadistic smile that formed on his face as he watched you crumble in his arms, and how it was his dick that was going to be the first one to coat your insides with his seed. It brought him satisfaction.

Not letting your neck go, he walked backward and sat down on a chest resting in the corner of the closet. “Ride me.” You didn’t have to be told twice. Your body began to bounce up and down on him, the sight of your small tits ricocheting at a fast pace making Tommy salivate.

Tommy let go of your neck, and twisted at your nipples. “Such a good fucking whore for me aren’t you? Did i make you a whore for me, eh?” You crashed your lips into his pulling at his short hair. You were close and so was he. Your back arched when his plump head rubbed against that one, sensitive spot over and over again. He held the back of your neck in place, snarling his nose, grunting as he felt like he was going to burst at the seams. “Go on, cum on me so I can fill that petite tummy of yours.” That was all it took for your jaw to drop open, letting lustful and desperate moans escape from you.

You didn’t even know you could sound like that or what a climax had felt like until now. Your whole body clenched and your toes curled when a feeling of ecstasy ran through your body like it was in your blood stream.

“Oh fuck baby.” The sight of you looking so fucked out with your flushed skin, Tommy couldn’t hold it any longer. You felt his warm fluid ooze into you, as his dick continued to twitch. The moans that escaped Tommy were low but filled with desire, and satisfaction. You couldn’t stop yourself from collapsing against him trying to catch your breath. His hand lay gently on your back as he did the same. “Holy fuck, so that’s what it feels like?” Tommy chuckled to himself, as his other hand combed through your hair.

“Yes, my darling. That’s what it feels like to get fucked.” You two stayed seated for a few more seconds before you got up and began to get dressed. “Does my hair look okay?”

“Darling, I’m quite certain the whole place heard and knows what we did. This door is broken.” You couldn’t stop yourself from blushing in embarrassment but at the same time it sent a thrill through your now corrupted body. Straightening your dress down and putting your heels on, you were about to walk but then you remember you had never told him your age.

“By the way I just turned eighteen yesterday.” You winked at him and slid your thumb in your mouth, sucking part of his seed that dripped out of you when you pulled your underwear back on, while looking at him with seductive eyes.

Thomas had never felt a greater high than he did right now. He was blown away at how a tiny thing like you could take all of him, and something about the age gap sparked a flame within him.

“Until next time. Mr. Shelby.” You grazed your tongue over his cheek before biting the flushed skin playfully and exiting the closet.

Tommy stayed stood there trying to catch his breath and get himself together. As far as he was concerned there were going to be many, many more next times.

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinders #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders imagine #ranaewrites

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rebelliousstories · 3 days ago

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Love Me Cancerously

Relationship: Remy LeBeau/Gambit x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Dark Themes, Mentions of Killing, Death, and Poison

Word Count: 1,449

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Part One: Love Me Dead

Summary: According to FBI statistics, the chances of two serial killers meeting is just about, in all intents and purposes, impossible. No reason that has been brought up.

Ever since that fateful night in New Orleans, Remy LeBeau was a bit embarrassed to admit that he was absolutely star struck by the woman he had met. That was not an easy thing to do either. He had been around, met hundreds of men and women. And yet, none managed to capture his attention like her.

Every night he was prowling the streets for his next victim, he was thinking about her. Every body he dropped, all he could think of was where she wanted to go for their dinner date the next evening. Gambit snagged a ring off of the body of some woman that was a proud anti-mutant activist, watching as it glittered in the light. She would like this. It matched her style.

“Remy!” Her cheerful tone broke him from his thoughts. Pushing off of the wall that he had been resting on, the man caught her with sturdy arms that picked her up and spun her around. Gambit was rewarded with her smile and laughter before he set her down.

“My, my, my, chere. You look even more beautiful each and every day. Da Gambit don’ know how he got so lucky,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her awaiting lips. Cherry flavoring transferred to his lips as they parted, that he happily licked off of his lips.

“You’re partial, Remy. Now, where are we going tonight? You promised good food and dancing.” The couple took off down the road towards Bourbon Street. It was a cheesy place to go, but they still had some of the best nightlife anywhere in the world.

“You jus’ gon’ have t’ wait ‘n see, petite.” His finger booped her nose before slinging that arm around her waist as they walked.

The small talk they made along the way was passing the time, but making it very difficult for Remy to focus on getting them to their destination. All he wanted to do was to take her to the nearest alleyway and kiss her senseless. But he did promise a fun night. His appetite could wait for a little while.

Although, when they finally got to the lounge, his mood drastically shifted. A man that he had his eyes on was with a lady near the entrance. This lady, girl really, looked too young to be there in that part of town at that time of night. She held her face and spine straight, but there was an inklings of fear hidden underneath her mask. Just when he wanted to enjoy his night out with his lady, of course, something had to come along and ruin it.

Gambit kept his eyes sharp the entire time they were inside. When he got their drinks, his hand rested on her lower back, but his gaze followed the man he had already deemed his next target. If she noticed, she did not call attention to it. Frankly, Remy did not whether or not this made him upset. Did she just not care enough to notice his distant nature? Or is she just being kind and hoping he pulls himself out of the funk he had found himself in?

Either way, Remy still found himself taking his moment of solitude to slip away. He would be back in time so that she did not think he had ditched her. But he needed to get this man off of the streets while he could. So while his date was in the bathroom, Gambit made his way to the exit door nearby to step back out into the shadows he played so well with. However, what he saw out there was not what he had expected.

His lady was pressed against a wall with that anti-mutant piece of-

Did that body just fall?

Now, Remy was confused far more than he was angry about seeing her in a passionate lip lock with the man. As he looked towards the fallen sack of bones, his feet carried him closer to the scene. She squeaked when footsteps tore her from her stupor.

“Remy,” came a breathy plea. What she was pleading for, no one quite knew exactly. “Please, it’s not what it looks like. I promise.”

But he said nothing. Once he was over the body, he saw the protruding veins of his former target extending from his lips. Bloodshot eyes and a sickly pallor overcame him in his still, eternal rest.

“Chere, you are somethin’ else.” Gambit stood once more, and locked upon the woman who was terrified as to what was going to happen now. “Oh, how I have longed for someone like you all my life.”

It was her turn to be confused. A cute tilt to her head enhanced the doe eyed gaze on her face. Her lips, no longer coated in that cherry lipgloss that he loved, were being worked between her teeth anxiously. She was so dumbfounded by his reaction to her actions, that she only could muster a quiet, “huh?”

“Mon petite, you have just made me a very happy man.” His hands rested on her hips once Remy had stepped over the body. When he tried to kiss her though, she gently pushed him away as she turned her head.

“I have to clean my lips before you can kiss me.”

“Well, dat is definitely somethin’ da Gambit can help with,” he said with a smirk.

“No, no. Not because of that. The tropane alkaloids I produce will kill you if I kiss you. Please, just… trust me.” Her explanation caused Remy to pause long enough that she could at least wipe her lips with a napkin from her pocket. The couple stood there once more, this time, in silence. But she was still looking towards the entrance of the alleyway, almost like she was wanting to escape the situation.

“Will you tell me somethin’, chere,” her eyes peered into his from beneath her lashes, “why’d ya kill him?”

There was a full couple of minutes before she decided to speak. And when she did, it was a nearly unintelligible whisper.

“I was afraid to go to school when I was young because of people like him. Never knew which normal person was going to be okay with me, or who was going to make my life a living hell. Besides, that girl he had was just fifteen. She’s on her way back home in a cop car right now.”

“I really wanna kiss ya right now, mon amour.” His smile was so broad, she feared it was going to break him in half.

“You and I are far more alike than we think,” and his hand pulled a card from his pocket. Sending it up into the sky, the magenta charged playing card exploded into a beautiful display of lights and paper. Her startled squeal escaped into the air as Gambit held her close. Turning back, the mutant saw his lover’s eyes sparkle in the dim light.

“You’re like me.” Her words were full of admiration.

“Yeah. Ya know, I was gonna wait t’ give ya this. But Imma just give it to ya now.”

Remy fumbled just a bit as he tried to retrieve his present from his pocket. A small drawstring bag now rested in his hands. He opened it and fished out the small gold-banded ring that was kept safe from the bag.

“Oh, Gambit! That is so gorgeous.” She gushed as she held out her hand in acceptance of this ring. Neither did she ask him, nor did she even think about where he had gotten it. It did not matter. It was now hers.

“A beautiful jewel, for my most precious bijou.” Without getting anywhere near her lips, Remy’s hands cupped her face and pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead.

“Now, would ya like to finish our night here, or continue on t’ somethin’ else t’ do together?” The man teased, trailing a finger just over the surface of her lips without getting any poison on himself. She looked down at the dead body below, looked up at her fellow mutant boyfriend, and smirked just like him.

“I’m gonna go clean my lips and then we’ll see how much fun we can get into tonight, Gambit.”

The way that she said his name, while trailing her hand down his body to his belt, and back up his chest, before leaving to go back inside; it drove Remy LeBeau absolutely insane. Following after her, he realized just how involved he was with her now. She was going to be his partner in crime. His ride or die. They would go out together, and no one was going to take her from him.

#rebelliousstories #writing #remy lebeau imagine #remy lebeau #remy lebeau x reader #gambit x reader #gambit #gambit imagine #deadpool and wolverine #xmen imagine #x men 97 #x men comics #x men movies #x men imagine #x men

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nyxnightshade7656 · 2 months ago

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Hooked(Pt2)

I'll be honest. I have no idea where this is all really going. But it's fun to write. Hope you guys enjoy, any ideas/constructive criticism, by all means. Help. Also, prerequisite "I don't speak Cajun or French" and I'm sorry if Google Translate makes you mad, but it's kinda all I got. Writing in accents is hard, despite speaking with a deep southern drawl my whole life XD And if ya wanna be tagged, I guess let me know? I think I'm doing it right.

She sighed and made her way back to her window, which was a little more difficult to find in the dark. Then she just stared up at it for a long moment. She had not thought this through, clearly. From the ground to the window was a five-foot gap. There was nothing to really put her fingers or toes into for grip, curse the perfect maintenance on the building. And she hadn’t thought to just drop a rope, of which there was a disturbing amount to be found, or something similar to be able to climb up. And with her phone dead, she couldn’t exactly ‘phone a friend’ for assistance. She rubbed her hands over her face in annoyance at herself.

Just as she was about to give up and turn back to the forest, it wouldn’t have been the first time sleeping in a tree, a voice called down from above, “Now, Petite, what’chu doin’ out here, huh? Gon’ an’ gotcha self locked out? Good thin’ Ol’ Gambit was out patrollin’. Lemme help ya up.” She looked up, eyes wide, to see Gambit looking out the window above her own. He had a smile on his face and looked like the cat that had gotten the canary. Which was to say, entirely too pleased with himself.

Normally she would deny help, just because she hated to bother other people with her problems, but this time she was willing to make an exception. She just nodded. Gambit smiled again, “Hang tight, be down in a jiff.” Then he was gone from the window and she was left with her thoughts. Thankfully, he didn’t leave her outside for long. Soon enough, he was walking up to her.

“So, how’d ya en’ up ou’ere, huh? We all thought you was hol’up in yer room.” He said with a grin as he motioned back the direction he had come from. No doubt, the front doors. She sighed as she turned to follow him, but not before she glanced up towards her window one last time. Gambit caught her glance easily and followed her gaze. It didn’t take much for him to put two and two together, “Ah, jumped out t’window, hm? Cleaver. T’oh a good teif knows to leave a proper ‘scape route. Or return route in dis case. Why not call’er text ta be let back in?”

She grabbed her phone out of her back pocket, showed him the dark screen, then drew her finger across her throat in the universal sign for ‘dead’. He shook his head, “I see. Well, guess you lucked out wit me bein’ a night owl, huh Petite?” She nodded, just once, and gave him a grateful look. Because he had saved her, even if it was just from a minor inconvenience of having to find a tree to sleep in for the night.

His emotions tasted like cinnamon, vanilla and bourbon on her tongue. Warm, soothing, and with a slight spice. Comfort, care, curiosity, and something light and airy that she couldn’t put a name to. She couldn’t read minds like Xavier or Jean, though she had heard even if she could it would be pointless since Gambit seemed to be able to counteract telepaths. She hadn’t gotten the details on the how, just overheard that he could. But whatever it was that enabled him to escape a telepath’s abilities didn’t seem to help him escape her Empathic abilities, because his emotions were like an open book to her.

They made it to the front doors; that Gambit had left propped open which allowed a warm inviting light spilling onto the stone steps from inside. Not many people realized it, but it wasn’t just living creatures that could have emotions. Wood and stone held residual emotion, particularly strong ones. She could feel the emotions that had seeped into the wood and stone of the mansion over the years of it being occupied. It was yet one more reason why she would hide away or try to escape as much as possible. Her first day in the mansion had nearly driven her to insanity before Xavier had managed to place a temporary shield around her mind to help dull the intensity. Now she was able to create her own mental shields that were almost as strong. Still not enough to be normal, but better.

“Here ya’re Petite, even left th’ light on for ya.” Gambit teased. The playful teasing tone of his voice perfectly matched the happy-joy-warm-citrusy taste of his emotions. They were so strong that she could feel her own lips pulling into a smile against her will. And of course, he picked up on her smile instantly, “Aww, dat fer me? Should smile more, looks good on ya.” He stepped to the side and, as if he were a prince from a fairy tale, bowed with his arms motioning towards the door, “After you, Chaton.”

She shook her head, unable to stop the smile that seemed almost permanently etched on her face, and stepped inside the mansion. Once inside, she closed her eyes and took a breath. It was something she had to do anytime she walked into a place not one hundred percent her own. She allowed the emotions to flow through her, hateangerfearlovejoypeaceexcitementconcernprotectiveness; but she did not hold on to them. She processed the feelings, acknowledged them, and then released them back into the room. It was the only way she could maintain her sanity.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a hand on her shoulder, “Ya alrigh’? Ya always quiet, but rarely ever see ya be still as death.” Concern, worry, anxiety; it all tasted like the bitter pith of citrus. She hated it instantly. She shook her head and forced a smile. She had taught herself ASL years ago, about two years after her Siren Song had reared its ugly head and all but forced her to be Mute. But she had learned that nearly no one knew ASL unless they had a loved one that was Mute or Deaf. Which, in turn, relegated her to notebooks or her phone’s talk-to-speech function. Her phone was dead, and she was clearly without a notebook, so that left her with the world’s worst rendition of charades as her only option of communication. So for now, she just went with a simple, unmistakable, hand sign. She held her pinky, ring, and middle fingers up; while her thumb and pointer made a circle. The universal sign for ‘Ok’, followed by pointing to herself.

Gambit chuckled, “One’a dees days, gonna hear that voice a’yers. But alrigh’, you’re good. I hear ya, loud and clear Petite. I’ll walk ya t’yer room.” Before she could physically protest, he placed his hand on her lower back and started to guide her. His emotions made it clear that he didn’t think she couldn’t take care of herself, which she would have taken immediate offense to, but he still felt protective. Curious, and was that affection? She bit her lip, suddenly shy and unsure of herself. She wasn’t sure what to make of those emotions.

“Here ya’re Petite. How’s ‘bout you head on in and get some shuteye, yeah?” He waited until she had opened her door and stepped over the threshold before he leaned into her space, crowding her against the doorway, yet leaving her a clear escape if she so chose, “And Petite? I happen ta be fond of chats. Da kitten ya made Stormy was cute. Still waitin’ fer my lil’ surprise.” He pressed the words against the shell of her ear, making her heartrate kick into triple time. And when he pressed a fleeting; barely there to the point of making her think she might have imaged it, kiss against her jaw, just under her ear, she almost felt like the world as a whole had come to a screeching halt.

He leaned back and gave her a playful wink and casual wave, “Fais de beaux rêves, Petite. Sweet dreams.” And like that, he was gone. And she was left to try and figure out if she had imagined everything that had happened, or if it had been real.

#gambit #remy lebeau #gambit x reader #x men #remy lebeau x reader #ravenstorm2011 #ugglywiggler #xmen #habitabel

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belles1011 · 2 months ago

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Today’s Updates From Off Track (idk why I keep doing this cos no one asked but here we are)

- They talked about the chaos of Talladega and the big crash

- Alex would have gone to watch Pato race if he’d done the F1 rookie race this year and seemed genuinely sad that he wouldn’t 😭

- James likes matcha lattes now and Alex says he’s not an idiot

- Alex’s screen name today was “arson is annoying” and here’s why: his power obvs went out last week, he had a bachelor party in Montreal this weekend (he was the youngest by a lot) - got woken up in the middle of the night and there was a huge fire a few doors down with casualties. Alex went back to bed, and then got woken up cos the fire was in the rafters and sat in the foyer and ate sandwiches, then the power went out. Then they finally got back in, went back to bed but still no power - turns out it was a slum lord Canadian real estate guy, and it was arson with a lot of accelerants (some kind of gang war) - still no power and no HVAC but it’s a WILD story

- Alex got called a dumb bitch and giggled

- Alex has filed a claim with Airbnb because of course he did

- Alex didn’t used to get hangovers, he would just go to the gym the next day then to bed early the next night “and everything was fine” but now he’s in his 30s not so much

- They used hangover patches and they seemed to actually work but they genuinely questioned if they were adderall cos they worked so well (b vitamins in a patch format which you can actually buy - about 33 minutes if you want the details and a promo code haha)

- Tim has a new couch

- They talked a lot about scotch, whisky and bourbon but they lost me a bit there (James was hungover after the wedding but didn’t have any patches on him)

- James reminded Alex it was his wedding anniversary soon which thankfully he knew (they’re going to an island apparently ooooo)

- James has Petit Le Mans this weekend (hasn’t driven since March tho, hasn’t done this track since 2008) and is also doing NBC comms when he isn’t in the car

- Alex has his ECR test tomorrow

#indycar #alexander rossi #james hinchcliffe #off track with hinch and rossi

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coleskingdom · 9 months ago

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La petite mort

Adam Page x f reader

Warnings Smut Minors DNI

A request for @midwestmade29

Pure fiction

It was the end of the night, Adam and I were outside in the hotel courtyard around the fire pit. “Why are you all the way over there? Come sit next to me.” Nodding to the seat beside him. I picked up the bottle, i was drinking from, and sat beside him. This wasn’t the first night that it ended up being just the two of us together, but it was comfortable, he pulled out his phone putting on the playlist you both loved.

Staring at the fire, “Darlin, why haven’t we ever?” He asked “Ever what?” I asked sipping from the bottle. “ Your gonna make me say it?” He said. “ Yes because with you right now, it could be anything from food, to bourbon, to sex, your mood is all over the place these days“ I said a little too casually . “ Well it is one of those things” he chuckled, “ You like to think you’re more complicated than you are.” he said.

“ Adam , you’ve spent the last six months afraid to take what’s yours, the belt, your spot in the main event, me.”I said putting my bottle down and straddling his lap. “ So what’s it going to be? Are you going to start taking what you want or am I going to get off your lap and go to my room alone?” My hands running through his hair, resting on the back of his neck. Adam rests his hands on my hips pulling me down on to his lap his hard length pressing into my core. A wave of desire runs through me, my breath caught in anticipation of his next move.

He kisses me softly, testing to see if I’m going to let him have control, I relent as his he angles my head and deepens the kiss. One hand firmly on my hip keeping me on his lap, the other in my hair bringing me closer to him. He tastes like bourbon, and smells like soap and wood campfire. He’s intoxicating to the senses. “ Adam” I whisper as he moves from my mouth to my jaw his mustache tickling my cheek, “mmmhmm” pulling my body tighter against him as he kissed down my neck, teeth grazing, then smoothing with his tongue. I moaned so he stayed right there, until my hips moved involuntarily, and he groaned, he kissed his way back to my mouth. The raw roughness of this kiss, the possessiveness of the way he held me to him, the fact that I was on the brink from just kissing him.

“ Adam, we’ve got to get into one of our rooms” i whispered, “I know but this feels so good, it’s just us, no one is out here.” Returning to that spot on my neck that we both seemed to like , my nipples stiffened as his body moved with his kisses my hips starting to move. My hands running up and down his muscular back, “Adam please” my plea making him laugh, “Please what?” He said “ You know you’re gonna make me say it ?" i pleaded “ Darlin with you and the mood your in right now, you could just want me to make you come by dry humping out here like two teenagers, you could let me take you back to my room and I could take what you already said was mine, or you can take me back to your room and take what you want.” My body responded to his words as a shiver went down my spine, “ Adam your room.” I said biting my lip,” Good, come on before we end up at the first option.” Tapping my thigh and I reluctantly got off of his lap missing his warmth instantly.

He pulled me into his side walking step in step as we made our way back inside, in the elevator he stood behind me, pressing my back into his chest reminding me how much he wanted this as well, leaving no time for doubt to creep in. His room was across the hall from the elevator and once we were inside his lips were back on mine. “ His hands at the hem of my shirt, I silently prayed that I had on a matching set of underwear, as my hands were shoving the jacket off his shoulders. He sucked in a breath as he saw the delicate lace bra, I reached for the hem of his gray tshirt he helped me get it off, my hands ran up his chest. Equally undressed he kissed me again, walking me back to the edge of the bed where he laid me down gently. His hands skimmed the waist band of my pants as he skid them down my hips and legs removing my shoes everything in la discarded pile. I rested on my on my elbows watching him taking off his jeans and his belt buckle, his eyes never leaving mine. His black boxers stayed on but I could see. The out line of his hard cock.

He joined me on the bed, kissing me as he draped his body over mine, his hands reaching behind to unclasp my bra, “ Thank god for an easy one�� he laughed as he removed the straps down my arms , “ so fucking perfect" as his lips kissed one breast as the other hand teased, the other, his lips captured my nipple, as his thumb pinched and rolled the other, I moaned, his lips releasing as his teeth grazed gently, taking his time he gave the other breast same torturous treatment, my hips lifting trying to get some friction as my core throbbed .

“Patience Darlin, you picked my room, so I’m going to take my time taking what I want.” His nose nuzzling between in the valley between my breast my core clenching at his words. His hands skimming , your stomach as his mouth followed his touch, his hands went further down tracing the outside of my panties, his fingers moving them slightly to the side his fingers began to explore as his kisses moved back up , “ So wet, but I’m going to need you ready for me” his fingers grazed my clit, over my underwear, giving me a little taste of friction. I moaned,under his touch, “ so responsive, does it feel good, darlin getting close to what you want.”he said . “ Fuck Me please”I pleaded his hand pulling the panties all the way to the side as he inserted two fingers and his thumb on my clit. I moaned as his lips captured mine, his mouth and fingers working in tandem, it was overwhelming and perfect at the same time. I felt my pussy clinch around his fingers and my legs began to shake, he broke the kiss, watching my face , “say it say my name, say my name as you come all over my fingers, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, don’t fight it, I’m right here, darlin come for me show me how good I am, show me how good I am for you.” Those last words took me over the edge as he kissed me his fingers and thumb never stoping their motions as my release coated his fingers. He withdrew his fingers and he brought them to his lips , tasting me on them, “ just as sweet as I knew you’d be”. He removed my panties discarding them to the floor.

“Adam please, I want you, please I need you.” with that he removed his boxers I his body back over mine I spread my hips so he can settle in between them, the top of his cock teasing my entrance. His hand comes up and caresses my face holding my chin, “I’ve got you” as he pushes into me inch by inch, “ I’ve got you darlin” his thumb moving lightly over my cheek, until he’s fully seated. He pauses and winces slightly and I nod, I hook my heels around his hips and bring him in that final extra little bit. “Darlin, you’re gonna break me, before I even begin.” his voice a rasp fighting for control .

He begins to move in long fluid strokes, my hands running up his back. “ Lift your head darlin” taking the pillow from under my head, “lift your hips for me” I follow his words, he slid the pillow under my hips angling it so he could go even deeper, when he began to move again his pelvic bone hit my clit, I gasped, at the unexpected sensation, he set a new rhythm, that as he watched my face As the pleasure took over and the pressure started to build low in my abdomen a deeper fuller feeling, “ Adam” as he hit that spot deep inside me, my walls bringing him in deeper clenching and holding him there,, the room was filled with out moans and sighs, and the sounds of our bodies together.

“ Adam I’m close” knowing that this fills different than the first, “ Let go for me, let it all go" his pelvic bone grinding providing the extra pressure, as I came hard, my breath caught as my release washed over us both. Adam pumped a few more times as he came, calling my name. He collapsed on top of me shifting his weight as I melted into the mattress.

“Darlin, you were amazing.” I nuzzled into his neck not ready to look at him, “ That’s never happened before, I nearly lost consciousness for a moment“ I said slightly embarrassed. “I know, the French call it La petite mort, it means the little death. I saw it on your face and I felt it wash over your body. It was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen or experienced. How did it feel? “he asked. “It felt like I was floating my mind cleared, it was blank and it was indescribable.” I said. “That’s what they say it feels like that it’s a space between here and the next realm, that it’s spiritual pure euphoria.”

Kissing my shoulder. He withdrew himself from me, and I missed him immediately. He went to the bathroom and brought a glass of water and a warm wash cloth running it lovingly over my body. He settled us both under the covers, his arms wrapped around me pulling me close into him I fell into a deep sleep.

#aew fanfiction #hangman adam page x y/n #hangman adam page x you #hangman adam page imagine #hangman adam page x reader #hangman adam page smut #adam page smut

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percehaies · 4 months ago

Text

Communiqué de Louis de Bourbon, duc d’Anjou :

Le dépassement de soi, le respect des autres. Voilà un bel enseignement que nous pouvons tirer des Jeux Olympiques pour le monde entier en général mais évidemment pour la France en particulier. Dans la grande tradition antique, les Jeux célèbrent ce qu’il y a de beau et de bon dans l’homme.

Les athlètes que nous verrons s’affronter susciteront autant notre admiration que notre enthousiasme et ceci, dans un climat festif bienvenu après un début d’année ponctuée par des crises internationales et nationales.

Je souhaite donc que ces Jeux Olympiques de Paris soient un moment de saine communion pour tous les Français, une parenthèse qui permette de sortir quelques instants de nos soucis quotidiens.

Cependant, malgré cet engouement auquel je prends part, en tant qu’aîné de la Maison de Bourbon, en tant que descendant des quarante Rois qui ont fait la France, je ne peux rester muet face au désolant spectacle d’une partie de la cérémonie d’ouverture. Alors que durant celle-ci des performances artistiques et techniques étaient à la hauteur de ce qu’est la France, certains se sont plu à distiller un contenu idéologique mortifère et abject. S’éloignant du projet initial des Jeux Olympiques de rassembler et d’unir les peuples dans un climat respectueux et à portée de tous, des petits comme des grands, des scènes ont été volontairement offensantes et provocantes.

Une fois de plus, le régime actuel a montré son vrai visage, profondément anti-chrétien, oublieux du long passé de la France dont la monarchie chrétienne fait partie, et désireux de mettre au pinacle des époques troubles où ne régnaient que la terreur et la division. Alors que la cérémonie se voulait inclusive et respectueuse de tous, la religion catholique, comme les morts – que venait donc faire là le massacre de la pauvre reine Marie-Antoinette ?- ont été marqués du sceau de l’infamie et de la dérision.

Je refuse que la France soit conforme au modèle qui en a été présenté. Notre pays vaut mieux que le sang et le burlesque grinçant. Avant d’être la mère des révolutions et du progressisme dévergondé, la France fût la Fille aînée de l’Église ainsi que la patrie des Lettres, des Arts et du raffinement.

Tant que ma Maison demeurera, et avec l’appui de nombreux Français de bonne volonté, nous ne cesserons de montrer qu’un autre chemin est possible, que la grandeur vaut mieux que le sarcasme, que le Beau vaut mieux que la laideur, que la Vérité vaut mieux que le mensonge. À tous les Français qui se sont sentis humiliés et bafoués, à tous les sportifs ayant le sens du sacré et du religieux, à tous les autres peuples de la Terre qui ont été outragés, je vous le dis, la France n’est pas le spectacle auquel vous avez assisté. Cela n’était que l’émanation d’idéologues qui ont piétiné un héritage millénaire dont ils sont pourtant redevables.

Une cérémonie d’une telle ampleur ne peut être que pensée et réfléchie à l’avance. Rien n’est dû au hasard ou à la maladresse. Notre pays subit les assauts toujours plus violents de cette idéologie profondément contre nature et destructrice. Ainsi, chaque jour de manière plus pressante, à nous Français, de choisir le modèle que nous voulons pour la France. Il nous faut rebâtir notre patrie chérie, et construire un avenir solide, crédible, ancré dans les traditions, le respect et l’union.

Que saint Louis protège la France, et qu’il donne de la force à nos athlètes pour que brille une authentique fierté française, modèle pour les autres nations.

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ajgrey9647 · 3 months ago

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Offering them up as the entertainment to party guests to do with as they please: Sentries Skull & Adam~

The Real Lady Drakkon

She cast discrete glances through her long lashes, lifting the crystal wine glass with its pool of deeply scarlet liquid to her lips. The flickering light from the chandeliers played across Lord Drakkon’s angular features, which were more pronounced than the Tommy Oliver of Scorpina’s world. He was older than the boy she’d once fought alongside during the height of Rita’s Green Ranger days, twenty years older by the tyrant’s estimate. A fine weaving of black veins ghosted the flesh of his neck, reaching as high as his hollowed cheek bones as if the man bore an infectious disease.

‘An overload of Grid energy,’ the woman noted. ‘Mere humans were not meant to use the power of two coins at the same time. Their pitiful bodies can’t handle the side effects.’

To her discerning eye, however, Lord Drakkon appeared to be tolerating the combined energy quite well. Strapped with thick muscle unlike the lanky, leaner Green Ranger, he boasted an impressive physique under the elaborate formal attire that stretched snugly over his biceps and chest. Definitely not hard on the eyes if Scorpina could ignore the memories of the freckle-faced, childish Tommy Oliver, who somehow turned into quite the wet blanket once freed from Rita’s obedience spell.

She hadn’t foreseen becoming trapped in an alternate universe in her future, certainly not one as dystopian and… ‘Gothic’ was the term she needed, yet the alien bounty hunter wasn’t familiar with such human terminology. Here in the Coinless realm, Rita Repulsa had won, destroying the Rangers and taking over the Earth.

But such feats had cost the witch her life, dying at the hands of those snot-nosed little brats before they’d scattered like a nest of cockroaches. Scorpina found herself under the protective gauntlet of this ‘Lord Drakkon’, a more aggressive and lethal version of Tommy, who’d taken the reigns and ruled over this bizarre Wonderland.

Tonight, he’d thrown a grand ball to celebrate her arrival and make the proper introductions to the aristocracy. The cavernous room seemed to sparkle as the array of candlelight reflected off the cut crystal vases, wine decanters, and goblets, twinkling upon the handles of sterling silver and ivory utensils, and highlighting the intricate engraving of the fine China plates and bowls.

Fragrant blooms tumbled over the lips of vases situated in the middle of linen-covered tables and the music of stringed instruments floated delicately through the air, playing music of a by-gone era. Several of the aristocracy, bedecked in jewels, silks, furs, and sweeping ballgowns twirled across the dance floor in something Drakkon informed her was called a ��waltz’, before taking his place at the head of the table.

As he sat staring down at the grandeur of his wealth and power, the man’s expression was impassive, almost bored. Idly, he swirled the wine in his chalice, taking the smallest of sips as an afterthought. The plate before him boasted an aromatic cut of lamb with mint sauce, new potatoes swimming in rich butter, and bourbon-glazed carrots, all untouched. It smelled delicious to Scorpina and she was confused as to why the evil Ranger allowed it to grow cold as the band continued to play and the dancers gracefully executed the elaborate steps in a harmonious rhythm.

Lord Drakkon must have felt her eyes trailing over him and, when he slowly turned his head in her direction, she quickly averted her face, cheeks flaming. Quickly, the petite woman pretended to be engrossed in the activity taking place just across the room from where all the gaiety was taking place. For those uninterested in dancing or feasting, the tyrant had thoughtfully catered to a different sort of appetite, one that jarred with the fancy, ethereal ball going on about them.

A select number of Sentry guards, boasting all colors and ranks, were contorted in various positions in all stages of undress as they serviced Drakkon’s sycophants, each man’s face etched in sheer passion and enthusiasm though they truly felt anything but…

There was a steep price to pay if one didn’t play ball, so to speak… If they were to sour the illusion and the fun being had…

One of them, a dark-haired Red Sentry Captain, artfully managed to sit astride one partner while also being mounted from behind before a third cock found its way into the inviting mouth. The sweaty drunks grunted and groaned, sounding like pigs in mud as they used this guard like an old gym sock.

Scorpina had to admit that the Sentry had talent, moving in tandem with the motions of the bloated bodies crushing against his own.

“Enjoying yourself, my dear?” Drakkon’s rich, elegant voice cut into her thoughts.

The evil Ranger’s deadly fingers uncurled from the stem of his wine glass, the action strangely mesmerizing, as he settled it on the tabletop before he hooked one to summon one of his servants.

“Refresh the lady’s beverage,” he ordered icily.

His mouth smoothly shifted into a flirtatious smile when he again met Scorpina’s eyes.

The warrior curled her moist ruby lips, slowly licking the lingering drops of red wine from the lower.

“Yes, your lordship. I appreciate all the generosity you’ve bestowed upon me,” she purred.

Lord Drakkon favored her with a grin of his own, the sight more one of horror than friendly endearment.

“You are most welcome, Scorpina. A friend of my former empress is a friend of mine,” he responded, the sentiment sounding as if read from a script. “Rita was a remarkable woman. It was an honor to serve her.”

The loud moaning of several men reaching climax erupted from the ‘dark side’ of the ballroom, though the tyrant remained as nonchalant about the interruption as he would a bird swooping through the sky.

“I’m sure that you long as much as I do to avenge our empress’s demise at the hands of those troublesome Coinless filth.”

Tears pricked Scorpina’s eyes, and they glistened in the candlelight.

“I can’t believe they killed her… I thought Rangers had some type of hero’s code or something,” she growled.

This Coinless universe was very different from the one she knew, a place ‘out-of-time’, relegated back to the days of old. The social hierarchy was something the woman warrior intended to commit to heart, knowing that the best odds for survival came with aligning with the one most powerful.

Drakkon grunted dismissively, his eyes staring out into the bustle of the ballroom.

“As I did as well. However, teenagers can be…fickle. Impulsive. Temperamental.”

Pushing his chair back from the table, he hauled his large form from the upholstered seat, garnering the attention of the others in attendance. Gracefully, Drakkon strode to Scorpina’s side, pausing to hold out a gloved hand, his glossy, gray-streaked mane brushing his waist when he bowed.

“Care for a waltz? I’m an excellent teacher,” he cooed.

A chilly aura radiated from his proffered arm, whether due to the combined, bastardized coin or his own person, she was uncertain. But clearly, this was the one she needed to beguile; she would just have to ignore the fact that this was essentially the more deadly twin of the boneheaded Tommy Oliver.

Batting her lashes playfully, she pretended to dry her eyes and accepted the invitation.

“I’d love to, Lord Drakkon,” she whispered breathily as she daintily placed her fingers over the glove’s alarmingly cold silk.

He assisted the woman to her feet, then the pair skirted the length of the expansive, linen-draped table; the villain guiding her gallantly as if they were in some old-fashioned romance novel. All eyes were on them when they reached the dance floor and Scorpina pressed her svelte form seductively against the tyrant’s body.

Lord Drakkon seemed to loom over her, his hulking build dwarfing her own, much like a grizzly bear balanced on its hind legs. The thought of those rippling muscles sent a tingle directly to her groin and she wandered if the man could feel her nipples, not constrained by any bra or bodice, through the silk of their garments. If he did, his expression didn’t give it away as he began to grandly twirl her about the ballroom.

From the head table, Drakkon’s two ‘head guards’ kept watching, their attention sweeping the grand room for any signs of dangerous foe.

The Ranger Slayer, an older, more hostile version of that annoying Kimberly Hart, was dressed in a daring black and pink ball gown, the skirt split up the thigh to accommodate a tussle if one was called for. Her brown hair shorn and ears sporting multiple piercings, along with a battle-hardened brittleness to her pretty features, almost made her unrecognizable as the former Pink Ranger.

Watching with detachment as her master moved about the room with Scorpina on his arm, the Slayer’s expression never altered much as if she were incapable of expressing any emotion.

Not so with the lithe, gray-haired man that had been eating at Drakkon’s right hand, his lowly position accentuated by his place on the floor instead of at the table proper. However, his formal attire was a black, form-fitting suit accentuated with flashes of silver. His hands were covered by fancy black gloves that appeared to somehow sparkle when he moved his arms.

Even as he dutifully assessed the assembled party, he glared down at Scorpina with glittery eyes, though his mouth was fixed in a facsimile of a wide grin, showing all his beautiful white teeth beneath a dark beard. Whoever he’d once been, or whatever version of some Prime universe human, Scorpina didn’t know. But it was evident that the pet didn’t like her touching Drakkon as the woman looked up at him, feeling the weight of his fury on her.

“You are quite the dancer,” she complimented her partner, daringly tracing a red lacquered nail along the villain’s jaw, an obviously flirtatious move designed to aggravate the human-canine. “There must be some way I can repay you for you protection and hospitality.”

Watching the impertinent tart throwing herself at his master, Red’s grin shifted into a jealous snarl, his gloved fingers hooking as if they claws were they rested on his powerful thighs. He nearly growled aloud when a firm hand settled over his thick, shaggy hair. Ranger Slayer had quietly moved down to sit beside him, and she imperceptibly shook her head.

“Down, boy,” she ordered robotically.

Lord Drakkon continued to sway and dip the errant Prime visitor as if he didn’t notice the overt way she was trying to seduce him. Whether he was truly oblivious or just fucking around wasn’t yet certain.

Now, Scorpina’s fingertips brushed the tyrant’s jaw, teasing at his lower lip as she lifted herself on tip-toe under her mouth was very close to his.

“Surely, there’s SOMETHING I can offer in return,” she breathed, letting the implication linger as she upped the ante.

Ranger Slayer could see the woman was pushing it with Red, who’s mouth now gaped open in a version of a canine lifting its hackles, promising swift bloody death. Kim’s hand had glided to the back of the pet’s neck, scruffing him, while the sharp point of her bow, obscured by the tabletop, poked his chest, dissuading him from bounding over the elaborate feast and tearing into the woman.

“Stay!” she hissed. “Behave yourself, bad dog!”

“I’m going to tear that little bitch to shreds,” he rasped vehemently, daringly pressing into the sharp blade of the bow as if he didn’t even register the growing cut, beads of blood appearing on the cold steel.

The Slayer cursed, the word sounding bizarre with no emotion behind it as she gripped Red’s neck more tightly and lifted the pointed heel of her stiletto to hover it over his groin.

“No, knock it off! Heel this minute!”

The notes of the dance slowly faded away then and the dictator briskly stepped back from Scorpina’s cloying embrace.

“Allow me to consider what would best please me,” he simpered, lifting a delicate hand to his lips. “In the meantime, I wish to present you with a special gift… A token of my appreciation for the promise of your future assistance in dealing with my quarrelsome Coinless resistors.”

He gave a piercing whistle.

An almost angelic looking Black Sentry appeared at his side within moments.

“He will escort you to your room, my lovely. You may use him for your pleasure however you see fit,” he smirked. “I would prefer to keep him in service as he’s also an excellent seamstress, so I’d appreciate whatever activity you undertake not end in his death. But…”

He shrugged.

“Things happen. I can understand that better than anyone.”

Drakkon clapped his hands twice and emitted another sharp whistle to get the other guests’ attention.

“Party’s over… Now get the fuck out of my palace!”

As if anyone needed told twice…

Scorpina had looked confused even as she took the Black Sentry’s elbow and allowed him to guide her from the ballroom. Drakkon played up wide-eyed obliviousness until the petite woman was out of sight. It took much to reign in the mischievous laughter that threatened to bubble over at the whole sordid situation.

He strutted comically back towards where Red and Ranger Slayer sat, grandly scooping up his chalice for another sip of wine, a job well done.

“Such a gullible one, isn’t she? A little disappointing from the Scorpina that battled the Rangers at my side,” he idly commented. “Still, she warrants keeping a careful eye on, my darlings. There’s information she possesses that could be most helpful to my cause…”

“I don’t like her!” Red suddenly snapped, speaking out of tune in a way he knew would earn him the strap. “She’s a little bitch!”

He’d leapt to his feet, almost toppling Kim onto her ass, and he looked like he was about to stomp his foot in a childish tantrum.

Even the usually emotionless Ranger Slayer looked taken aback by the spiteful outburst. She knew that Red knew better than to speak without express permission, to curse in Drakkon’s presence, or give his opinion without it being asked for. The mutt was asking for it at this point.

But the tyrant chuckled tenderly, reaching out to grab a handful of the front of the pet’s fancy attire. He tugged Red over the table until they were face to face.

“Aww…. Got a touch of the green-eyed monster, darling,” he teased, before slowly lapping his tongue over the other man’s lips.

“Don’t fret… I only have eyes for you, my beautiful Red.”

The anxious pet was still not soothed, his dark eye large and wet, as if he might burst into nervous, insecure tears.

Drakkon sighed, rolling his eyes at the mutt’s dramatics.

“Why don’t you show me just how much I mean to you in our chambers tonight? I might even spare you getting the strapping you so rightfully deserve for bumping your gums like you just did…If you do a good job expressing your devotion, of course.”

Strolling arm in arm with the waif-like Black Sentry, a man who’d quietly stated his name was Adam as if she gave a fuck, Scorpina puzzled on where exactly she’d went wrong this evening. The woman knew she was attractive with a toned, trim figure, perky breasts, and a tight ass. Normally, human men drooled over her appearance.

Her eyes cut over to this ‘Adam’, who’d wisely remained silent, an obviously submissive little worm. The Sentry wasn’t bad looking either, his features still maintaining a patina of innocence despite his day job. She could do a lot with that and as horny as she was, that was a good thing for them both.

But something nagged at her.

“Let me ask you a question,” she demanded, visibly startling the dark-haired man.

“Yes, milady,” he politely responded. “How may I be of service?”

She paused as she considered how to phrase her musing.

“So, Lord Drakkon…” Scorpina began. “He’s a very handsome man… Powerful…rich…”

Adam nodded slowly, his expression hesitant as if he didn’t want to talk about his lord. Or maybe he was too afraid to.

“Yes, ma’am, he is,” he carefully answered.

Was this insect daft? How did he not get what she angling to find out?

“Well…” the warrior prodded impatiently. “Surely, there’s a…I don’t know… a ‘Lady Drakkon’ in residence?”

The Black Sentry came to a sudden halt, nearly causing her to fall backwards.

“I’m sorry… What? A Lady Drakkon?”

Adam looked genuinely lost.

“I think the lady’s asking if our dapper dictator has a lover. Am I right?” another voice echoed up the corridor, sounding somewhat amused, though exhausted.

Looking over his shoulder, the Black Sentry caught sight of Skull limping his way towards them, his hair pulled in sweat-dried tufts, lips swollen, and stinking of body odor and sex.

Scorpina curled her lip in disgust.

“That’s exactly what I’m asking, you breathing sex doll. Is there a lady who has his heart?”

Suddenly the men erupted in a roar of laughter, the Red Sentry Captain even slapping his thighs as he bent at the waist, grimacing through the giggles.

“A woman who has his heart…” Skull crowed. “A fucking HEART!”

Adam at least tried to reel it in in order to spare her feelings.

“Oh, there IS a Lady Drakkon, I guess… I mean, technically…”

He looked to the other man, unsure how to explain the wildness in his own words.

“That isn’t the title I’d use exactly,” Skull snorted. “Well… sometimes it works…”

Scorpina pushed the soft-spoken Sentry off her person, planting her hands on her hips.

“What are you two going on about? How is there a ‘sort of’ Lady Drakkon? Is she like a high-priced whore or mistress or something?”

This only caused the men to laugh harder.

“Something you should know around here,” the Red Sentry Captain explained between guffaws, “you won’t get anywhere with Lord Drakkon. But word to the wise… You’re better off just not discussing it or asking questions when it comes to his personal affairs.”

Scorpina rolled her eyes dramatically.

“Let me guess who the lucky gal is,” she snarked. “It’s the same in my universe! Little Miss Kimberly Hart!”

Adam tried to hide the look of distaste behind a gloved hand.

“Lord, your universe is messed up!” he remarked. “That’s sort of nasty. Ranger Slayer? And Drakkon?”

The woman couldn’t see what the big deal was.

“Why are you acting so grossed out? Tommy’s got a thing for the Pink Ranger in my world too. Big whoop!”

She was starting to get pissed now at being the butt of their laughter.

“Lady,” Skull drawled. “This isn’t the Prime universe… Pigs fly here but no way in hell has Drakkon ever diddled Ranger Slayer…”

“You talk too much,” she decreed hotly, looking at the Red Sentry with contempt. “Get lost.”

Then she stared imperviously at Adam.

“And you… take me to my chambers. I’ve got an itch to scratch, and I’m bored playing these mind games!”

To her delight, this ‘Adam’ showed much promise when it came to pleasing her. If he was feigning being aroused by her bossy, bitchy demands, he was one amazing actor. Scorpina had been willing to sacrifice being in control in the bedroom if that’s what Lord Drakkon required, though it truly wasn’t her forte to be the submissive one in the dynamic.

Perching on the edge of the vanity’s plush stool, she spread her legs beneath the flowing skirt of her ballgown and pointed to the carpet immediately before her.

“You… power down or whatever it is you guys do here…”

She smiled dangerously.

“I’ve got something for you to taste…”

Scorpina spent a fair amount of time busting Adam’s balls, wearing the soft-spoken into a writhing, sweat-drenched shell before she decided the pitiful human could take no more. She orgasmed at least five times and, while it took the edge off, she wanted…

More.

Surely, a man of Drakkon’s immense power, bolstered with the Ranger strength and endurance of two coins, could finish her off…

Her panties were still soaking wet, clinging to every curve and crevice as she crept up the winding staircase to the tyrant’s private chambers. She hoped the aroma of her arousal would inspire the clueless Ranger as to where her desires truly lay tonight. With all that he’d accomplished, Drakkon couldn’t be as ridiculously boneheaded as his Prime counterpart.

Deciding between leather and lace for the rest of her ‘gift-wrapping’ had been difficult, but she ultimately decided that the tyrant must prefer leather. Scorpina could just…tell. She’d heard the wild stories of his theatrical fuckery and leather just fit.

Of course, she thought must of those tales had to be greatly exaggerated.

Lord Drakkon was a little…’off’ but he hadn’t behaved as nutty as she’d been led to believe.

Adam and Skull were clearly full of shit. She’d been utterly confused as to how they couldn’t answer a simple question.

Was there a Lady Drakkon?

She’d gotten something of an answer when her manicured fingers wrapped around the Black Sentry’s balls and gave a ‘friendly’ but authoritative squeeze.

He’d cried and wept and screamed something about a…trinket. And something about that loony territorial mutt. Then Adam had passed out in a puddle of sweat, piss, and cum to her growing frustration.

Quietly, she moved up the stone risers, her ears straining for any noise coming from above. The notes of a song echoed faintly to her ears, the delicate, yet yearning notes of ‘Swan Lake’. Reaching the shadowy entrance to the outer chamber, Scorpina’s bare feet made the barest of whispers on the emerald green rugs as she moved closer to the sitting area.

Reclining on a jacquard chaise lounge, Lord Drakkon was completely nude, the dancing flames from the fireplace highlighting his broad chest and toned abdomen. Powerful thighs were spread languidly, a thick, prominent erection dripping a clear fluid of anticipation.

He was watching something like a feline would watch a beautiful songbird hopping along the ground, waiting to pounce, to bite…

As she watched, Scorpina realized there was someone else in the room, their graceful body poised near the fireplace, back to her. Shiny black ribbon circled their ankles, feet standing en pointe in satin ballet shoes. Sheer dancer’s stockings covered the woman’s legs, a flowing black tulle spilling down from her waist. Diamonds dripped down the open back of the leotard, glittering like stars in the night sky as she moved.

A thick head of ebony ringlets brushed the ballerina’s shoulders, like an old pin-up movie star.

Drakkon was riveted by the woman’s graceful poses as she moved to the music, teasingly coming closer and closer as she leapt and twirled, the muscles of her legs and back bunching under…scarred skin??

Scorpina frowned.

“You excite me beyond reason, Trinket,” the tyrant groaned, a hand starting to reach for his shaft then resisting the urge. “How could you believe my head could be turned by another?”

Was this ‘Trinket’ Lady Drakkon?

Why didn’t Adam and Skull just SAY that? And what did that nutty mutt Red have to do with her?

Speaking of that spooky bastard, where was he? He clung to Drakkon like a second skin whenever he was in the same room.

The ballerina glided on pointed toe to where the evil Ranger lay. He reached for her with his large hands pulling her astride his waist to grind his cock between her silky thighs. Trinket rained kisses over his stubbly cheeks leaving behind bright red lipstick.

Scorpina observed that the dancer was rather tall and muscled but given the rigors of her chosen dance she would have to be strong.

It was when Trinket arched her back, allowing her lover to rove his lips down her neck and chest, that she caught sight of the gold collar and the facial hair.

Trinket was Red…

Drakkon was fucking Red…

Red was in essence ‘Lady Drakkon’…

Well, Scorpina wasn’t one to kink shame; she could play nasty with the best of them. This ‘Trinket’ roleplay wasn’t about to throw her off her game. It only meant that she needed to not only win over Lord Drakkon, but also that crazy canine.

‘He might believe he’s a dog, but a man’s a man…’ she erroneously told herself…still not getting the big picture. ‘I can play games too.’

And when the tyrant flipped his beautiful ballerina to his back, shoving the tulle aside and tearing the silky bodysuit to mount his lover, Scorpina made her move. Both Drakkon and Red were so blissed out…and inebriated on some exotic line of coke…that they didn’t initially register her appearance.

Until she lowered her wet, swollen cunt over ‘Trinket’s’ mouth, her own pressing harshly against Lord Drakkon’s did the pair realize they weren’t alone. Red was too stunned at first to even think about swatting at the intruder or biting her or…anything. Finally, he managed to emit several muffled shrieks of outrage and garbled threats as the bitch continued to ride his fucking face!

He’d never even entertained the idea of pleasuring a woman, though the subject certainly came up in his ‘research’.

Drakkon must have been stunned as well because he also didn’t speak or move for several moments, pausing mid-thrust in a way that aggravated ‘Trinket’ greatly.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he finally demanded, Red’s incensed squalling continuing to float up from between her legs.

“You two looked like you were having fun,” she pouted, jutting out her lower lip but still rocking her hips over the ballerina’s mouth, so close to cumming again that she physically couldn’t stop.

Red seemed to sense it as well, feeling the rush of heat and the quivering of her muscles.

“Don’t you DARE!” he gasped angrily.

But it was too late.

The only reason she didn’t immediately lose her head was because Drakkon needed the information she possessed. It took all his self-control not to make an example out of her…

Hell, she’d just defiled his darling’s luscious mouth!

“Well, my dear…this is a PRIVATE party!”

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felipe-v-fanblog · 4 months ago

Text

Augustin Cabanès, illustrations by Henry-André. Mœurs intimes du Passé - Huitème série, Éducation de Princes par le Docteur Cabanès.

Les trois fils du Grand Dauphin, jouant au Jeu des Fortifications.

#visual #bourbon #felipe v de españa #philip v of spain #le petit dauphin #charles duc de berry #louis duc de bourgogne #i think i should stop using the louis de bourgogne tag bc there was another louis that used that title after him but #nobody likes him so i will roll with it

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kinda-iconic · 1 year ago

Text

Consequences

Summary: Adrian makes a very big mistake...with heart-breaking repercussions.

Warning: References to infidelity

Tagging: @bloodboundismylife

Word Count: 4'400+

Pairing: Adrian Raines x F!MC (Amelia)

On a cool, autumnal morning, Adrian awakens from his slumber, the stale aroma of yesterday’s bourbon reaching his nostrils as he reaches up to mask his eyes, the orangish hue of sunrise trickling in through a tiny opening underneath the blinds. He exhales softly, his arm stretching across the mattress in the hope of his fingertips greeting a familiar warmth; to his relief, he soon finds comfort, his gaze befalling a petite silhouette resting beside him, but his newfound comfort soon dissipates into dread as the figure turns over…

…it’s not Amy.

He sits upright, immediately removing himself from the covers before scrambling around for his clothing. He manages to locate his trousers and shoes, his expression paling as memories from the night before begin to flood his thoughts. He hurriedly dresses half of his body before a quiet mumble causes him to pause; the woman stirs, her voice groggy as she lifts her head, gazing sleepily over her shoulder at the commotion.

“Going so soon?” She whispers suggestively, “I thought that maybe you and I could-”

Her words fade away as she sees the devastation in his features, her brows furrowing in concern as she watches him fumble around for his shoes.

“Is everything okay?”

Adrian sits at the foot of the bed, struggling with his laces; he continues his attempt to untangle them, refusing to so much as glance in the woman’s direction, though it isn’t long before his panic and frustration get the better of him. He launches his shoe across the room, his head dropping into his hands in defeat as his fingers grasp harshly onto his hair, most likely inflicting pain to his scalp. The woman frowns, tilting her head.

“Are you late for work or something?”

He takes a shaky breath, his arms falling to his sides, knuckles whitening as he grasps a hold of the bedcovers.

“W-what…” his words come out in a broken whisper, “what did we do, Lena?”

“What didn’t we do?” She smirks in satisfaction, “we met up again…had a few drinks…and you did not disappoint.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but his words quickly dissipate into a strangled sob, his hand reaching instinctively to cover his face as he begins to tear up, the reality of what has occurred leaving a visibly distinctive impression on his body language. Lena’s previous grin fades; she shuffles forward, stopping only when she is resting beside him, the realisation as to why he has responded in that manner slowly dawning on her. Her mouth forms an ‘o’, her voice soft and gentle.

“Your girlfriend…”

Adrian sniffles, responding to her utterance with a profuse nod. She reaches for him, only to pause midway through the gesture, having no choice but to be a spectator as he shies away from her touch.

“What are you going to do?”

For a moment, the room is silent, the air suddenly becoming awash with unease. It is only after a couple of minutes that Adrian speaks, almost breathless.

“I…I need to tell her the truth.”

Lena’s eyes widen, the colour seeming to drain from her cheeks at his remark.

“You-you can’t!”

“She deserves to know,” he leans down, having finally spotted his missing shirt; he pulls it swiftly over his head, not even stopping to adjust the cuffs, “I’m not keeping this from her. I won’t.”

“Why ruin what you have?” She clambers off the bed, wrapping herself comfortably in her robe, “the truth isn’t going to help anyone, Adrian. This will destroy your reputation-”

He doesn’t respond at first, instead hastening over to the dresser to collect his blazer.

“Are you even listening to what I-” she huffs, running a frustrated hand across her face, “if you go public with this, you’ll lose business; you’ll lose credibility. Do you think anyone will want to remain associated with you if this gets out? You’ll be seen as a Playboy – it’ll ruin you.”

“Do you honestly think that I care how people perceive me?” He counters, shaking his head in disapproval at the notion as he collects the shoes and forces them onto his feet, “the only opinion I care about is my girlfriend's.”

“Ex-girlfriend.”

Adrian regards her with a warning glare, but it doesn’t deter her from following him when he moves towards the open kitchen; she grasps his arm, gently yanking him into step with her.

“If you tell her, you’ll lose her. She will walk and you will never hear from her again.”

“I cannot lie to her, Lena. I love and respect her too much to put her through that.”

He removes himself from her grip before heading for the door, not giving his companion a second thought. It is only when he has left the apartment that he hears it; her voice calling to him from the entryway, her tone sullen and defeated.

“You’re going to lose her, Adrian. She won’t forgive you.”

Adrian tenses at her words, but he doesn’t warrant enough time for pause, making a hurried beeline for the elevator doors.

Adrian sits in his car for what feels like forever, staring emptily at the steering wheel as he rakes over everything that has brought him to this moment, all the while unable to form a coherent thought.

After a while, he manages to focus just enough to start the engine, putting the car into gear before reversing out of the parking lot. His gaze remains fixated on the road, the city lights soon becoming blurry as fresh tears cloud his vision.

He sniffles once more, hastily wiping his eyes to clear his sight, yet his attention is abruptly caught by his Bluetooth as an all-too familiar ringtone echoes through the car. He glances down at the dashboard, his breath hitching in his throat as he spots the caller ID.

Amelia.

He tries his hardest to collect himself, waiting for the hammering in his heart to concede before answering the call, plastering a smile in the hope that his feigned happiness will seep into his tone.

“H-hey, sweetheart,” he waits momentarily before continuing, “are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” her response is laden with giddiness, “Happy Anniversary!”

He swallows harshly, his previous upset threatening to spill over once more. Amy waits patiently for a response, the sound of her soft hum causing Adrian to choke up, his next few words cloaked with sadness.

Anniversary…our Anniversary.

“H-Happy Anniversary, my love,” he stutters, “I-I’ll see you back at home, okay?”

“…Adrian?”

“Mmm?”

“You sound sad. Has something happened?”

He exhales sharply, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel, leaving an indent in their wake.

“N-no, I…” he hesitates, replaying Lena’s words in his mind, “actually…could…where are you?”

“I’m at the mall. I went to collect your anniversary gift.”

“Are you heading home soon?”

“Yeah,” there’s a brief pause as Amy thanks someone on the other line, “I just got myself a little caffeinated treat.”

“Have you already texted her about bringing you back?”

“Not yet,” she takes a sip of her drink, “why?”

“C-can I meet you at the pizza place?” He asks softly, “I…I need to talk to you about something.”

“Okay!” Her tone is hopeful, the cheeriness leaving a sharp pain in Adrian’s chest, “did you want me to get us a table?”

“N-no, I…I…I’ll be there in 10 minutes, alright?”

“I’ll wait for you outside, but I can’t promise that I won’t bring some doughballs home.”

Rather than laugh at her humorous response, Adrian remains quiet, clearing his throat in preparation to speak.

“I-I love you, Amelia…so very much.”

“I love you too,” she replies gently, “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

“Goodbye, sweetheart.”

He ends the call before she can bid her farewell, releasing a shaky breath as his fingers skim across the dashboard, selecting another name in his phonebook. He waits patiently for the call to be answered.

“Hello, brother.”

“I need you to do something for me. It…it’s important.”

“What is it?” Kamilah asks, the sound of her nails raking across her keyboard filling his ears before she continues, “normally you would text or ask me to meet up with you to discuss the issue.”

“I don’t have time for that,” he sighs, briefly casting his gaze down to the screen, “I need you to ring Amelia tonight.”

“Why do I need to do that?” She pauses, “is everything alright?”

“It is for the moment,” he replies, “but it won’t be for long.”

“What did you do?”

He wastes no time in relaying the previous nights mistakes to Kamilah, who remains eerily silent throughout his explanation. It is only when he finishes that she speaks, her once calm and warm demeanour shifting into one of anger and disbelief.

“I honestly don’t know what to say right now.”

“I know I messed up, Kami-”

“Messed up is an understatement,” she releases an agitated breath, “how could you do that to Amelia? I thought she meant something to you.”

“She does. That hasn’t changed.”

“Well she clearly isn’t as important to you as you make her out to be. You wouldn’t do that to her, otherwise.”

“I wasn’t thinking…”

“You were certainly thinking about something but it sure as hell wasn’t your girlfriend.”

He takes a deep, pained breath, resting the back of his head against the headrest.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Kamilah.”

“I should hope that you’re going to tell her the truth.”

“I am…” he pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head, “I just don’t know how I am going to tell her.”

“She needs to be told the truth. Nothing more, nothing less. Either way, this is going to upset her, so it doesn’t really matter how you deliver it.”

He nods in response, his voice seeming to crack as he talks, “could you be on standby should Amelia need somewhere to stay?”

“I am sure that she is more likely to seek out Lily’s company…but yes. I shall ensure that my guest room is ready for visitors should she need it.”

“Thank you, Kamilah. Truly.”

“Believe what you will, but I am not doing it for you. That poor girl is going to have her heart ripped apart tonight. She will need support as she tries to rebuild her life without you in it.”

He swallows thickly, his eyes beginning to brim with unshed tears.

“Y-you think that she will leave me?”

“You betrayed her, Adrian. The logistics of your relationship no longer matter. The trust and belief will be gone. If she cannot trust you, why would she stay?” There is a brief pause before she carries on, her tone sombre, as if telling someone about a loved one’s passing, “I need to end this call, now. I have a meeting in five minutes and I need to ensure that I am prepared.”

“O-okay.”

“Just promise me that you will not put her in a position that she feels as though she has no choice to forgive you.”

“I-I wouldn’t-”

“Promise me, Adrian. Forgiveness is to be earnt.”

“I won’t do that to her.”

“Good,” the sound of shuffling can be heard on her end, followed by the closing of a door, “I expect to hear from you after you have spoken to her. Regardless as to how I feel about this situation, you are still my brother.”

“Th-thank you.”

“Goodbye, Adrian.”

“G-goodbye.”

The call ends, leaving Adrian to contemplate his actions in silence, each second that passes by causing his chest to constrict further as he gets closer to his destination. He spends the last few minutes of his journey attempting to regulate his physical responses, not wanting to worry Amy further. He manages to get things under control briefly, but these feelings soon make their reappearance known as he sees her standing by the restaurant, rocking back on her heels as she looks down at the delicately wrapped box in her hands, her brows pinched in befuddlement as she studies the string. He pulls up alongside the curb before looking up her once more; she smiles brightly, giving him an excitable wave, but he finds himself unable to keep eye contact, his gaze swiftly dropping to his feet as she crosses the road to his car. The sound of a car door opening causes him to startle, but he settles once a familiar voice addresses him, her joyful aura resonating through the quiet.

"Hey!" She elevates the box, "I got the doughballs!"

He smiles softly, greeting her with a nod as she climbs inside.

“You really didn’t have to pick me up,” she speaks with gratitude, “but I am grateful.”

He nods once more, “not at all. I was on my way back, anyway. It made more sense than asking Lily to come out and collect you.”

She places the box on her lap, moving to fix her seatbelt.

“Here. Let me help.”

He reaches over, tenderly removing the buckle from her hand and clicking it into place.

“Thank you,” she beams up at him, but her happiness is short-lived, for it fades when she notices his reluctance to meet her gaze; she places a gentle hand on his arm, “Adrian?”

“Hmm?”

“Is something wrong?”

“It’s nothing that we need to talk about right now.”

He returns his attention to the road; Amy frowns, her hand retreating to her lap.

“H-Have I done something wrong?”

He reaches down, collecting a small book from the centre console before resting it on her thigh.

“Kamilah came to the office yesterday; she thought you’d like to have this.”

She looks down at the novel, the pad of her thumb tracing the threading on the spine.

“It…it looks quite old…”

“Mid 1800s.”

“I can’t accept this. I might damage it.”

“No you won’t,” he speaks stoically, “Kamilah wouldn’t have given it to you if she thought that you would cause harm.”

She smiles faintly, placing her palm against its cover.

“You…you said that you wanted to talk to me earlier. What do you want to speak to me about?”

He visibly tenses, “it can wait until we’re back home.”

“Is it bad?”

“We’ll talk when we return. We needn’t discuss it anymore.”

Amy turns away, resting her head against the doorframe as the car presses forward, neither of the pair uttering another word until they arrive back at the penthouse. As they head upstairs, Adrian’s mind begins to roam to a destination that he does not wish to wander into, not breaking out of his thoughts until Amy’s voice carries from the doorway.

“I forgot my key.”

He wordlessly moves forward, forcing his key into the lock; the door clicks, opening just a smidge.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he repockets his wallet, “I’ll be through in a couple of minutes.”

She nods in understanding, greeting him with a timid smile before entering, her hand lingering on the handle as she lifts her head, trying to make eye contact.

“Adrian?”

He reaches towards her, wordlessly caressing her face with his palm, his delicate fingertips taking refuge in her sun-kissed hair. She leans into his touch, only for him to remove his hand, forcing it into his pocket before he inches past her into the living room.

“I couldn’t remember what wine goes with pasta,” he utters quietly, moving towards the fridge; he opens the door, retrieving several bottles from the shelf, “so I brought a selection. You can choose whichever you’d like.”

“C-can we talk now?”

His face grows ashen, his jaw tightening as he attempts to busy himself.

“Did you want the fancy glasses out tonight? It is a special-”

“Adrian.”

He regards her with a look of feigned confusion.

“I-I wanted to talk after dinner.”

“Why?” She edges closer, taking pauses once she is standing a couple of feet away, “you barely spoke to me in the car, You’re changing the subject whenever I so much as mention a conversation,” she smiles sadly, “I’m worried about you, Adrian. Y-you’re being distant and that isn’t you…”

“I…”

“Talk to me,” she takes his hand between her own, giving his palm a compassionate squeeze, “please…”

He appears to dither, unsure as to what he should do; however, after reminding himself as to what he needs to do, he takes her dainty hand in his, “come with me.”

He leads her to the couch, gesturing for her to take a seat. She does so, watching nervously as Adrian perches tentatively beside her, his hand refusing to let go of her own as he lifts it up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles.

“Do you remember what I told you? A-about last night.”

She nods, “you met up with a friend.”

“I did,” he confirms, “her…h-her name is Lena.”

“Did you have a nice time?” She asks, her kind smile brightening with every word.

“We went to the bar,” he casts his gaze downwards, his hands remaining clasped around her own, the pad of his thumbs tracing soothing patterns across her skin, “we talked for a while and had a few drinks.” He pauses for a moment, as if replaying the night’s events in his mind like a broken record, “then s-something h-happened.”

She tilts her head out of curiosity, unsure as to what he means by his remark, her brows furrowed in confusion.

“I…I’m not following…”

“We went back to her apartment, Amelia,” he manages to meet her eyes, the next few words that escape his lips spoken with sincerity and remorse, “we…did things. Things that I…that you and I…”

“Y-you…you didn’t…”

He hesitates…but then weakly squeezes her hand, revealing his guilt through the wordless gesture.

One that doesn’t go unnoticed.

“I…I’m s-sorry,” he carries on through a shuddery whisper, “I-I’m so sorry….”

A sudden movement causes him to look over at his companion, a sharp pain digging its claws into his heart as he watches her slump forward, her elbows colliding harshly with her knees as her fingers grasp onto her hair, tugging slightly as her palms cup her face. At first, there is no sound, but it isn’t long before she starts to cry, her tears left to fall freely onto her skin without interference. His chest tightens further at the sight, but he finds himself unable to look away, watching in despair as she retreats into herself. He reaches for her, but his hand is quickly shirked off.

“A-Amelia-”

“Don’t touch me!”

He startles at the tone of her voice, but complies, removing his hand.

“I-I’m sorry.”

She sobs, shaking her head rapidly as she tries to comprehend what she is hearing, becoming more breathless by the second as she tries but fails to regulate her breathing. Noticing her struggle, Adrian removes himself from the couch, instead moving to kneel in front of her, his hands ghosting her arms as he attempts to provide her with some comfort.

“Amelia-”

“H-how c-c-could…”

“Breathe, Amelia. I-I need you to breathe-”

She shakes her head once more, her eyes slowly closing as even more tears begin to fall onto her cheeks, only to be soaked up by the hems of her sleeves as she tries in desperation to be rid of them.

He swallows thickly, cupping his mouth with his hand as the other gently reaches around her, rubbing soothing circles into her back.

“P-please d-don’t-”

“You’re breathing erratically, sweetheart. I-I can’t just s-sit here and let you make yourself-”

Before he can finish, she darts past him, making a beeline for the bathroom. He stands abruptly, following on after her, just for the door to be slammed in his face; he intends to wait a little while, giving her time to herself as she processes his revelation, though it isn’t long before the sound of nausea soon fills his ears; without thinking, he enters the room, his eyes soon befalling a sight that he never thought he’d see. Amy is knelt in front of the toilet, her arms resting on either side of the bowl, her long hair sticking to her stained cheeks as beads of sweat form on her forehead; the aftermath of sickness.

“Amelia…”

She slumps back down onto the floor, her breathing laboured.

Adrian moves over to the cabinet above the sink, collecting a fresh flannel from the shelf and running the tap; he soaks it in the water, returning to her side in an instant. He starts to dab at her forehead, guiding the material across her skin. She lifts her arm, blocking his access.

“Amelia, please-”

“I-I’m fine.”

“No you’re not,” he settles down beside her, attempting yet again to wipe her forehead, “now let me look after you.”

She swerves out of reach, holding onto the counter as she lifts herself from the floor, not wanting to overexert herself. He observes her with hesitancy for a while, moving to stand by the door, his face falling as the room clouds with tension.

"You need rest, sweetheart."

"I'm fine."

"I-I'll go and get you something to-"

"I don't want a-anything from you," her gaze darts to the doorway, "not anymore."

He nods in resignation, lowering his head.

"I can't fault you for that," he admits, "and I know that I don't deserve your time, but...will you hear me out? P-please?"

She doesn’t respond, but eventually nods, her arms wrapping tightly around her midsection as she follows him back to the living room. He sits down on the couch, patting the cushion beside him. She tries to walk over, but finds herself unable to move, as if her feet are rooted to the floor. Knowing that she cannot bring herself to do so, she shakes her head.

“I understand,” he trails off, a deep exhale escaping his lips as he lifts his head to meet her gaze, a sudden tightness grasping onto his heart as he lays eyes on her downcast expression, her eyes swiftly glazing over as they begin to well with unshed misery, “I never wanted to hurt you, Amelia. Y-you mean the world…you’re my…my e-everything…”

She sniffles at his declaration, silent tears trickling onto her cheeks as she turns herself away from him, her long hair seemingly shielding her emotions from visibility; though it initially works, her pain doesn’t cease to infiltrate her words, “d-did you e-ever really love me?”

“Of course I do,” he smiles sadly, “I never stopped loving you. I loved you yesterday, I love you today and I will love you tomorrow – nothing is going to change that.”

“Then w-why did you…”

“I can’t answer that, my love,” he moves to take her hand, gracing it with a gentle squeeze, the pad of his thumb stroking the inside of her palm, “I can’t give you a reason because I…I don’t have one.”

She swallows harshly, her gaze shifting to rest upon her feet.

“I cannot take back what I did; I know that…but I…I want to make it up to you. I want to prove to you that you are the one that I want. The ONLY one.”

“H-how…”

“Listen to me,” his tone softens further as he shifts on his feet, holding onto her as though his life depended on it, “I’m not asking for forgiveness. Not straight away. You are going to be angry…you are going to want to hurt me…to make me feel the pain that I have caused you and then some,” she shakes her head, this in turn causing his sad yet loving smile to return if only for a moment, “hell, you could call me every name under the sun and I wouldn’t argue back – I deserve all that and more.” He takes a breath, his eyes never leaving her own, “but please…don’t punish yourself for my actions. The choice I made…the man I became…that is on me and me alone.”

He gently caresses her face, pushing her hair back behind her shoulder, “you must not blame yourself for my choices. That is my burden to bear; it will never be yours.”

He begins to tear up again, becoming even more uncertain as to how this will play out.

“Just…t-tell me this isn’t over,” he sniffles, using his sleeve to quickly obscure his face momentarily from view, a strangled sob threatening to leave his throat, “p-please…t-tell me that I haven’t lost you.”

Their eyes meet for only a moment before she has no choice but to look away, her gaze drifting back down to her feet. She draws a shaky breath, folding her trembling hands within one another. Adrian shuffles towards her, resting a desperate yet hesitant hand on her elbow.

“P-please…” he focuses his attention on her face, fingertips trailing upwards to thread themselves in her hair as he tucks a stray strand behind her ear, “t-talk to me, sweetheart. P-please.”

She opens her mouth slightly in preparation to speak…

…but not a single word escapes her lips.

Instead, she turns abruptly, hurriedly retrieving her jacket before making a beeline for the elevator doors. Adrian is quick to follow, his voice hoarse and laden with despair.

“A-Amelia…d-don’t…p-please…”

Before he has a chance to finish, the elevator doors open; she shoulders her bag and walks inside, pressing the button for the ground floor. He calls her name, but when she doesn’t respond, he places his arm in front of the door, preventing it from closing.

“Adrian…”

“I’m not going to s-stop you from g-going,” he sniffles, shedding silent tears as he continues to plead, “just…l-let me call someone to t-take you home. It-it isn’t safe out there and…I couldn’t live with myself if something h-happened to you.”

The doors start to close and Adrian startles, the metal encountering his arm. He jerks back suddenly, not realising his error until it is too late for him to intervene.

“I-I love you, Amelia!”

She looks up at him then, but no words are spoken; instead, all Adrian can do is watch on helplessly as the doors finally seal.

Amy exhales slowly, releasing a shaky breath that she was seemingly holding; as the elevator begins its descent, she falls back against the metallic casing, sliding down the wall until her legs hit the floor. She instinctively draws her knees to her chest, her arms embracing them as she starts to sob, her head slowly burying itself into her folded arms.

Adrian calls for her , but his plea seems to fall on deaf ears, the whirring of the elevator as it descends drowning out his cries from above. He begins to weep, his forehead falling upon the cold metallic door, his legs a minute away from caving in on themselves. He retrieves his phone from his pocket and begins to draft a message, trying but failing to click send as his hands refuse to cease their trembling. Eventually, he manages to hit to correct button, refusing to glance down at the screen until the device vibrates, the colour immediately draining from his face as he sees the content of the message.

Amelia has already left the building.

#playchoices #choices bb #adrian raines #adrian x mc #choices: stories you play #choices fanfic #it's a LONG one

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