#i love the sharing clothes nonsense. it is glorious | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shachaai · 4 years ago

Note

I don't know... Could you do a post with some of your favorite Fanfictions? (your Hetalia Fanfictions ❤️ I really like to read your work) thank you 😘

This is a bit all over the place and there is a lot of (fem!)England-centric fic, because apparently I’m a messy one-trick pony. =w=;;;

...

Gods AU

First and foremost I want to say some of my favourite hetalia writing has been done for the Gods AU that is/was a shared baby between Hoof, Eden and myself (with a few pieces by some very kind babysitters over the years as well). It’s a heavily engport-centric AU, where Portugal (Lusus) is the God of the Underworld and England (Albion) his somewhat volatile spouse. It’s an ensemble cast and most of the characters are deities of some kind, and is heavy on pretty scenery, stupid families, and tragic love. Also there’s a bunch of fluff and ancient historical/mythological-style smut - in both writing and art. (The art, obviously, is Very Not Mine.)

Nationverse

No Quarter: A bet tumbles the four of them into bed. (They would've done it even without the bet.)

England/Portugal/F!England/F!Portugal

Historical, Fluff and Smut, Nationverse but if both the regular cast and nyos existed in the same universe

Chapters 1/4, 2,739 words

Ok, this one is a WIP, but the single chapter that there is so far can actually standalone, and contains four idiots being both Incredibly Sexy and Incredibly Stupid. I really like how I handled their dynamics here, and the ebb and flow of control between them.

Small But Golden: France and England watch a meteor shower together.

France/England - though it can be read as either friendship or romance (or both)

Oneshot, 1,285 words

Honestly, this one just made the list because it’s got one of my favourite stupid endings to a fruk fic I’ve written. These two old farts will bicker about anything, and they’re both so smug whenever they feel like they’re ‘winning’ - it makes it even more fun to write about them cocking up.

For A Muse of Fire: I’m cheating, because this is my F!England Nationverse collection, but all of its works are very dear to me one way or another. Particular favourites for me though are:

Sweet Dear Tempting Mischiefs: Whitehall, England. May, 1672. Two young people, Nations, so in love they're ridiculous. And, fancy clothes be damned, romantically having sex up against a tree.

Fem!England/Portugal

Oneshot, 13,851 words

This is my fic where there is a lot of pretty clothing and flirting, and f!England and Portugal are very, very soft and smitten with each other. And also they go horse-riding and then fuck up against a tree.

One of my tags on AO3 for this fic is ‘there’s a war on in the background and you wouldn’t be able to tell’, and that’s about everything you need to know about this fic after the pretty clothes, outdoor sex, and fluff.

Queen of the Golden River: Hong Kong, Peking, Calcutta, Suez, Paris and London. 1859-1861. It shouldn’t be so difficult to throw a grand Christmas party for everyone, should it, not if you are the glorious empire that rules the world?

Chapter 1 features F!England and France (implied fruk) with a young Hong Kong, in Hong Kong, discussing the Opium Wars and China

Chapter 2 features F!England and Scotland with a young Australia and New Zealand, in Victoria (Australia)

Chapters 2/?, 9,591 words

Another WIP, but I think both of the chapters that already exist stand well as individual timestamp pieces, and I think they’re worth a read for the historical dynamics at the time.

A stupid amount of research went into just these two chapters, and I think they’re great if you like imperialistic conniving, awful romances and seriously dysfunctional families.

Fruits of Immortality: France, England, and apples through the ages.

France/England, also featuring young America and Sealand

Oneshot, 2,800 words

This is just a series of snapshots of England and France through the eons around the theme of ‘apples’ - originally written as a gift for suddenlyapples. XD;;; It’s very soft and sweet, and features young England and France bickering about a dragon that eats shoes. (One of my favourite arguments that I’ve written for those two.)

AUs

A Star Is Moving Somewhere: Elaine has unexpected leave for the holidays. Julia didn’t expect Elaine to offer to spend it with her.

F!England/F!Prussia, F!Germany, Germany’s dogs (F!England/France and America mentioned)

A human AU featuring: Christmas nonsense but if the background is a futuristic space opera? (F!England is the captain of a spaceship.) Open relationships (the fruk in this are engaged to be married as a power alliance, but F!England is dating/sleeping with F!Prussia, and France is sleeping with America. Everyone knows and consents to this).

Oneshot, 4,195 words

Sob, I just think this is a really good piece of my own writing? Plus the ~sexy moment~ descends into funny chaos, and I personally love wrecking a potential sex scene like that.

The Little Fox and its sequel Kitsune-mochi

A supernatural AU based upon a switch of canon Halloween costumes between Japan and England.

Vampire!Kiku adapts to suddenly becoming a vampire, and befriends baby kitsune!Arthur.

I don’t have a wordcount for these because I’ve not crossposted them to AO3 (yet) but they’re both just short pieces of fluff.

Nothing Can Hurt You Here: a spaport oneshot I wrote as a gift for Trevo and Lunie for their Game of Thrones AU. Lunie has since wiped her stuff, I think, but Trevo’s tag for the AU still exists.

Oneshot, no word count available

IDEK, I just like how I wrote about the scenery and their wordplay. Hedonists.

Wealh: The sharp thegn Coenwulf has just wed an uncanny wife, everyone agrees, a strange, competent but difficult woman. How vexing it is then, to be the foolish slave that loves her.

A human AU set in 7th century Anglo-Saxon England

F!England/F!France with incidental F!England/Netherlands, Belgium, Liechtenstein, Monaco and a few others

Oneshot, 31,006 words according to my notes on this (but I haven’t counted again since then)

Head’s up, this one was written for an event where I was assigned to write a tragedy and it deals with some serious topics such as slavery, but it’s seventh century femslash, I’m still so proud of it? I wanna add more to this story before it ever makes it to AO3, but it’s very far down my priorities, and I am intensely proud of everything there is for it already. (Also I think the NedEng parts are hot. /SHRUG)

#calhau-defumado #Shacha fic #I really hope the formatting on this works; it's taken a long time to sort out #ETA: nope - the formatting broke

25 notes · View notes

hardkinkbardkink · 4 years ago

Text

anon asked: Witchers undergo mutations around/before puberty, right? As a result, their cocks are incredibly small — Geralt’s even more so, due to the double rounds of mutations. Jaskier is so enthralled by this, and loves stroking and petting it so softly while saying the meanest things to Geralt for it, calling it an overgrown clit, spanking the shaft when the witcher tries to touch it when they fuck. If Geralt can’t come from just his hole, why should he come at all? It’s not like his cock is worth it.

***

Jaskier is notorious for getting his hopes up too damn high.

At least this time he had fine reason for it, didn’t he?

He’d spent months observing his witcher, noting the nuances of his physique–and his main conclusion is that Geralt is, at the very least, a demigod. Maybe a full deity. Maybe he is Chaos, personified, there to tempt Jaskier away from salvation with a chiselled jawline and thighs girthier that most tree trunks they pass.

It is only logical to assume, under these circumstances–

Well, and Jaskier isn’t vain, he really isn’t, shallow only when it comes to his own person but definitely not to others, and–

It’s not to say Jaskier doesn’t appreciate having Geralt naked for him anyway, every last inch of his scarred, golden, hair-covered skin, but–

He’d thought Geralt would have a cock to match all of that thick, overgrown rest of him.

“I’ll order you a whore. For the trouble.”

Jaskier doesn’t register the words at first, too preoccupied with the way Geralt’s cute tiny prick bobs between his legs when he makes to get dressed. When Jaskier does process his intention, he quickly crosses the space between them and presses all up on Geralt’s glorious chest.

“Nonsense. Nonsense, my witcher, we’ve just begun.”

They barely begun, more like. Shared a wet, breathtaking kiss downstairs, with Jaskier wiggling onto Geralt’s lap. Got gently spit on and chased up the stairs to their one solitary room. Out of all that, getting Geralt to undress took them the longest.

And sure, Jaskier thinks, when he reaches to pet at Geralt’s cute little cock, his tight balls–sure, he’d already got all stretched and slick before he even went downstairs, and oil is dripping out of him, soaking the seat of his trousers, but–well, plans can be changed, can’t they?

“Go lay down for me, dear,” he says before he goes to undress, back turned to the bed. He can hear it creak when Geralt does as he’s bid, and Jaskier shudders at the unexpected surge of power.

Geralt inhales sharply when Jaskier is fully divested of his clothes, bent over casually so Geralt can catch a glimpse of his gaping, puffy hole. He rummages through his travel bag longer than he should; just for the fun of it. Just to rail Geralt up some more.

“Jaskier?” Geralt says with a note of uncertainty when Jaskier crawls on the bed to straddle Geralt’s thighs.

Jaskier smiles at him brightly as he uncorks a vial of unscented oil and tips some onto the wooden, lacquered cock in his hand. The sound of his palm working it over is quite obscene. Jaskier can see Geralt’s prick twitch and drool as he watches.

“You see, Geralt,” Jaskier begins as he shuffles a bit forward, bringing the toy behind himself, hovering just above Geralt’s straining prick. “I really was rather looking forward to getting utterly wrecked by your fat cock tonight.” He sinks the toy into himself easily, smooth and curved just so. “But it seems that you’ve failed to provide the cock.”

He huffs out a laugh when Geralt turns his head in shame, clenches his fists by his sides.

“It’s the mutations,” Geralt tells him quietly.

Jaskier brings a hand to his witcher’s cheek and guides him back to have Geralt watch as he bounces on his toy.

“Oh?”

It’s not his biggest toy, but Jaskier does love it greatly. Perhaps not as much as he loves the despair in Geralt’s eyes as his gaze stays glued between Jaskier’s legs, on the wooden cock disappearing into him and Jaskier’s own hard dick bouncing heavily along with him.

Jaskier moves his free hand to touch teasingly at the wet tip of Geralt’s prick.

“We–we were all children when they first started the–the process,” Geralt explains in a rushed manner and Jaskier rewards him with a quick tug at his cock.

“So all witchers have pathetic little boy cocks?”

Geralt whines and looks like he’s about to stop talking, so Jaskier strokes him more firmly, fucks himself on his toy harder.

“Mine’s the smallest.”

Fuck, and isn’t that a thought? His White Wolf, the fastest, strongest of all the witchers–with the tiniest, cutest prick?

“Oh, Geralt,” he sighs blissfully. “Have you ever even got to fuck anyone properly? Or do you have the whores lick your little cock like it’s a clit?”

Geralt twitches in his palm, moans when Jaskier tightens his grip.

“No matter now, darling, I’ll take care of it for you, won’t I? Make sure you’re nice and satisfied, poor thing.”

Geralt nods frantically and presses his lips in a tight line when his prick pulses out a few pathetic drops of spend. Jaskier laughs.

“What a cute thing. Just for decoration.”

Jaskier snatches one of Geralt’s wrists and brings his hand to wrap around Jaskier’s own cock. He thrusts into the tight clutch of it, clenches around his toy until he sees stars.

“Fuck, you like my big cock, darling? Feel how nice and hard it is? You’ll like it when I put it in you, I promise. You can ride it just like this, and I’ll rub your little clit until you squirt for me.”

Geralt groans, and Jaskier tosses his head back when he comes, laughing breathlessly.

They’re going to have so much fun.

***

Jaskier does make sure Geralt stays satisfied, though maybe he indulges himself too much, sometimes.

“Did you use to ask the whores to fuck your needy hole with their fingers?” he asks as he does just that.

Geralt writhes a bit under his touch, but shakes his head faintly.

“Did they suck your tiny cock? Bet they could fit your balls in their mouths, too, all in one go, trying to choke on you but you’re just too small.”

Jaskier tucks his pinky along with the rest of his fingers and crooks all of them just right. Geralt gives a reedy moan in response and his fingers flex when they tighten around the fistfuls of sheets at his sides.

“But you don’t need me to do that anymore, right, dear? You’ll be a good boy and come just on my fat prick.”

“If you put it in me,” Geralt huffs in the voice he usually uses to threaten people. As if it’d work on Jaskier.

“Oh, that’s very naughty of you. Good little boys don’t get bossy. They take what they’re given or else they get nothing.”

Jaskier pulls his fingers out, to better show his point, and watches as Geralt bucks his hips, humping the air.

“And look at that little thing, all red and swollen and eager,” he says, bringing a single finger to rub tiny circles around Geralt’s dripping cockhead. “Don’t you want to feel good when I fuck your sloppy hole like it’s meant to be? Don’t you want to come over and over while I breed you and rub your clit?”

He can see the muscles in Geralt’s thighs and belly quiver, until he takes his touch away entirely.

“What do we say, love?”

Geralt squeezes his eyes shut and spreads his legs wider when he whispers,

“I’m sorry.”

Jaskier raises his eyebrows expectantly and gives Geralt’s prick a light slap to get his attention. He decidedly does not expect Geralt to whimper and his cock to drool. Fascinating.

“Please fuck my greedy hole and make me squirt on your fat cock.”

There isn’t much conviction to the words, not yet, but the corner of Jaskier’s mouth twitches involuntarily anyway.

“Good. Very good.”

Sinking his cock into Geralt’s tight, virginal hole (oh, were you embarrassed, dear? Didn’t want a real man to see your adorable prick and laugh?) is a spiritual experience. Maybe Geralt is a god after all. Jaskier knows he doesn’t have to be gentle, so he isn’t–just fucks Geralt roughly like he’d been dying to ever since he first thought about it.

“Oh, you’re perfect, darling, aren’t you? My perfect little plaything, begging to be used.”

Geralt doesn’t answer, and Jaskier can’t even be sure whether he’s heard a word of it–because his perfect face is slack with pleasure, mouth open and eyes heavy-lidded, the very picture of debauchery, and he moans at each thrust of Jaskier’s cock like a whore paid to do it.

Jaskier has to focus very hard on not coming at the mere sight of his witcher lost in such rapture.

Lost completely and utterly, because he goes against Jaskier’s explicit wishes and reaches down to palm at his prick.

Jaskier tuts at him and bats his hand away, before he slaps the little thing, once then quickly a second time when Geralt howls.

“I told you, dear, you don’t get to touch.”

Geralt looks at him, then, and his eyelashes are breathtakingly wet.

“Jaskier.”

A flick to his cockhead makes Geralt squeeze around him deliciously.

“If you were meant to touch your cock you’d have an actual cock, love, not this pitiful little thing.”

He slaps it again, and then lands a few hits to Geralt’s cute pink balls that draw up at the attention.

Jaskier fucks him properly, rides him like he needs it to breathe because he does, really–he could survive exclusively on the dizzying moans that spill out of his witcher.

Geralt comes after a few moments, untouched and beautiful in his pleasure, squirming and twisting away when Jaskier keeps abusing his oversensitive hole, and then quickly comes a second time with a hoarse scream, his pretty little cock pulsing out more spend than Jaskier’s ever seen it do.

“That’s it, darling, gods, you were made for this.”

When Jaskier spends with a shudder he feels a hand come to rest firmly at the back of his thigh and Geralt, voice quiet and broken, whispers,

“One more. Please.”

And who is Jaskier to deny his perfect, lovely plaything?

#cw humiliation #cw degradation #cw cbt #nothing extreme tho #another favourite of mine

92 notes · View notes

keelywolfe · 4 years ago

Text

FIC: Colors, ch.25: Iris

(A Spicyhoney ‘The Village’ AU)

The story so far:

8. Whiteout | 9. Sable | 10. Blue on Black | 11. Midnight | 12. Ebony Falling

23. Gray | 24. Vellum

~~*~~

Read ‘ Iris ’ on AO3

Read More Here!

~~*~~

Rus had no idea of the hour when he woke. He rolled over stiffly, his bones chilled and achy from sleeping curled up on the floor. It couldn’t yet be dawn, the only light from the walls came from along the lowest section, a dim, warming glow, like coals banked in a stove for the night.

He sank down, letting his head fall back on a cushion that was normally for sitting and while it certainly worked as fine a pillow for his coccyx, his skull was less enthused with purposing it for a night. He wondered dismally if Edge were still abed, curled up sleeping comfortably warm in the furs and blankets of their pallet. Rus thought it more likely Edge was just as restless as he was, tossing and turning and missing the comfort of holding a loving spouse in his arms.

With a little poor sleep and distance from their argument, Rus was starting to regret his impulse to stay the night in here. After thoughtlessly dredging up Edge’s memories of his lost family, it was passing cruel to deny him what little he did have. As much as Rus desperately missed his brother, he was at least alive and well, kept safe by his status as healer.

Rus looked up at the scattering of stars across the cave ceiling, painted so carefully he could hardly distinguish them from the ones in the sky. Edge was wrong about the village, and about Blue, but sulking alone wouldn’t solve that.

Decision made, Rus scrambled to his feet, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders against the chill as he followed the overhead path of stars to their bedroom. His bare feet scuffed against the floor rugs as he shuffled along. The cloak he’d tacked up while the Dogs stayed as guests was still hanging in the doorway and Rus drew it aside, slipping into the room to head for their pallet.

Only to gasp and stagger back, his shoulder banging painfully against the wall at the crimson eyed figure that abruptly loomed over him, their hands wreathed in flame. For a brief moment, fear overwhelmed his good sense and he nearly fled, a shriek blossoming in his throat.

Then logic reasserted himself and that scream became a gasp of, “edge?”

He watched his husband blink in the dimness, his eye lights winking in and out, then he hastily shook away whatever spell he was calling up, reaching out to take hold of Rus with hands that were still overly warm and yanking him into a tight embrace. The sound that escaped him was rough and anguished as he rattled out, “Sorry, so sorry, k’uhah, my soul, sorry—"

“hush,” Rus soothed, “i’m the one who’s sorry, i didn’t mean to startled you so.” He held Edge close, petting the smooth curve of his skull with gentle fingers. He was shaking a bit, Rus realized distantly, but it was nothing compared to Edge. His husband was trembling so fiercely Rus could hear the rattle of his bones muffled against the blanket between them

“Sorry,” Edge mumbled again. He rubbed his cheekbone against Rus’s collarbone up to his shoulder, absurdly reminding him of one of the stray cats that often roamed the village. “I was not myself. My dreams were troubled ones.”

Of course they would be, Rus thought, tears springing into his sockets. He’d had an abrupt and unpleasant reminder of the horrible loss of his family when he’d only been a child and then his husband abandoned him to deal with the haunting memory on his own.

No matter, he could deal with his own regrets later. For now, Edge needed him and with gentle tugs, Rus persuaded him towards the bed, leading in a strange sort of dance until they could sink into the furs together. Edge curled up tightly into Rus’s side as Rus soothed him with gentle touches, smoothing a hand down his spine, the other cupping his cheek bone in featherlight strokes until his shivering slowly subsided.

Perhaps he should have expected Edge’s hands to begin wandering on their own, but Rus was still bemused as his touches became less ones of soothing and turned to the urgently carnal. But he offered no protests as the clothing and blankets between them were tugged away, moaning his delight as Edge explored his most sensitive places with barely restrained need. If this was what his husband needed to chase the ghosts from the dark corners of his mind, Rus was eager to give it.

Those stroking fingers left off their fondling of his ribs and spine, gliding down to his pelvis and there his hand lingered, coaxing and shaping and Rus understood even before Edge nuzzled against the side of his skull, murmuring hoarsely, “Need you, be with me? Inside me?”

Even as burgeoning desire clouded over him, Rus managed to clear his thoughts, concentrating hard so that he might give Edge the shaft he’d wanted. It was easier than before, his need to care for his husband guiding his desire and he gasped as the shaft settled into place at his pelvis. Almost immediately a hand surrounded it, stroking him from tip to root and Rus was forced to grab Edge’s demanding hand, stilling him.

“wait,” Rus gasped out. “wait, i’ll spill too fast.” He tried to catch his breath, slow the roused pulse of his soul and his efforts were not at all helped by Edge’s hips grinding against his thigh, the wetness of his mound rubbing slick against his femur.

“Need you,” Edge moaned out, “k’uhah, Rus, need you!”

There was nothing for it. Rus pawed at Edge, pulling on him roughly until he settled astride him. Through the dimness, he watched as his husband sank down on his shaft, the twisting pleasure on his face a mirror to his own.

“oh!” Rus cried out, grappling at Edge’s hips. “oh, please! oh!” Tight slickness engulfed him, slick walls gripping as Edge rode him, chasing his pleasure as he muttered out words in his own tongue that were either too fast for Rus to grasp or simple nonsense. Rus could do nothing but endure, pinned by Edge’s weight and clinging to whatever shreds of control he still possessed to keep the folly of his sudden ecstasy at bay.

His end still came with shameful swiftness, straining against his husband’s weight as he ground down on him, taking Rus deeply into the glorious tightness of his body. Rus couldn’t think any longer, could only follow his own clumsy eagerness, blindly wanting, needing, and the cry that strangled out of him when he tipped over his peak was muffled into a choked groan into Edge’s mouth, the plunge of his tongue inside mimicking that of his shaft.

He sagged back, breathing harshly and mortified at leaving Edge wanting. Only Edge was shuddered over him, his hand working between his own legs, fingers grazing where they were still joined. Rus pulled him down into another kiss, urging him on, his moans broken with arousal. When Edge stiffened, sockets squeezing closed as he toppled into his own pleasure, Rus held him gently, hardly grunting at the suddenness of his weight sagging down atop him.

The burden was not for long. Edge managed to slide off to the side quickly enough, leaving a single leg slung over Rus’s, an arm draped over his ribcage, holding him close as pleasant quivers still trembled through them.

The restless night joined with the exhaustion of exertion and sleep was trying to claim Rus, pulling him into yet another embrace. He struggled against it, wishing to stay in Edge’s arms some longer and sleepily, Rus murmured, “I love you.”

“Love you,” Edge returned with equal tiredness. “Love you, Rus. K’uhah

They were a mess, shared fluids drying on their bones in uncomfortable places and Rus did not care. He held his husband close and when he did finally give in to sleep’s persistent claim, it was without dreams to haunt him.

~~*~~

When next he woke, Rus noted with bleary confusion that he was alone. That wasn’t entirely uncommon, Edge often let him sleep while he went out to check the traps, but after last night, it was particularly disappointing. He’d rather hoped to wake in Edge’s arms and surely after a row of the sort they’d had, that was the best-chosen path or at least that was what he gleaned from watching Blue and Azzy’s spats and their layabout ways the day after.

He supposed he could hardly blame Edge for being unfamiliar with that sort of mutual contrition.

There was hardly time to feel the pinch of unhappiness when the curtain over the door was pulled aside and Edge ducked beneath it, bare as the day he was born and holding two steaming cups.

Ah. Well, it seemed Edge wasn’t as eager to get to his traps as Rus assumed and a hot flushed crawled up his face, burning high in his cheekbones as he tried not to look at the faint honey-orange stains that still decorated the insides of Edge’s femurs.

His husband was utterly without shame and the thought was a fond one, swelling along with the love in Rus’s soul. So unlike anyone in the village, unlike Rus himself, and that was a less appealing reminder of all he’d recently learned. It was still so difficult to reconcile his new knowledge about the village Elders, the uncertain loss of everything he’d been taught since childhood filled him with a strange grief.

Every prayer meeting he’d attended, every rote recitation from the pages of the Book of Prayers were a deception whether or not those that taught him knew it.

The loss was one he’d simply have to learn to deal with and a renewed determination to meet with his brother, to share the truths he’d learned, surged in him, filling that void of left by grief.

Rus reached automatically for one of the cups Edge held, absently anticipating the bland, thin taste of slippery elm tea. Only to blink in confusion as it was held out of his reach. Realization came with the rueful smile Edge offered him before he drank it himself and Rus didn’t need either of their languages to interpret it. This time it was his husband’s turn for due diligence against creating a child and Rus returned that smile with a sheepish grin of his own even as he recalled the toe-curling memory. He chose the other cup and nearly choked, swallowing down an unexpected mouthful of slippery elm.

What in the name of the Angel…the way Edge’s smile slowly widened into a more predatory one revealed that it was not at all the will of the Angel on his husband’s mind. Hastily, Rus tossed back the contents of the cup, swallowing it down with a grimace, barely in time for it to be snatched away as he was tumbled back into the blankets.

His laughter briefly echoed around the room quickly replaced with moans.

This, he decided hazily, was the best way to make a proper apology and as Edge slid down between his legs, Rus arched into his touch, eager to join him on the path to forgiveness.

~~*~~

Time was difficult to discern without windows, but the sun was high in the sky when Edge finally left their cave. Rus stood by the entryway, still buried into the depths of a blanket and the chill of the floor had him hopping from foot to foot, hissing unhappily as he offered a last kiss to Edge before he left.

He stayed only long enough to see his husband off before darting back inside and soon enough the inner warmth was enough for him to shed his blanket. He folded it with a sigh, heading back to set it within the parlor room. They might be off to a late start for the day, but there was still cleaning to be done and dinner to consider.

When he stepped into the parlor, Rus paused, catching sight of the journal still on the table. The locket from Edge’s medicine bag was sitting next to it and Rus picked it up, running his fingers over the delicate shape as he thought of the woman whose portrait it contained.

Selfishly, he wondered if Edge’s mother would have liked him if they’d had the chance to meet. He hoped so.

It was such an awful that her story was unknown in the village, Rus thought unhappily. That all the suffering she’d enduring and the sacrifices she’d made to discover the truth were concealed only in the mind of her son and now in Rus’s, her words crying out from the very pages for vengeance, both for herself and their people.

A misbegotten injustice, that was it, the forced degradation of their people by the Humans who greedily took and took, stealing any magic they found useful and doing the same to their bodies, like Elder Smith did time and again, and Rus only realized he was clutching the pendant tightly in his fist when the pain of it cutting into his bones registered. He forced his hand to unclench and gently set the locket down on the journal, smoothing the broken chain along the cover. The others in the village needed to know all of this, his brother, Dogamy and his kin, it simply must be, if only there was a way—

Rus straightened abruptly, dawning awareness striking him.

There was a way, he realized. He had the map Edge gave him and the compass from his pack. The village couldn’t be more than a day’s travel away or Edge wouldn’t have suggested he visit the cave. If he left early when Edge went to check his traps, he could be back by sunset, a reverse of his earlier trips to the woods to visit Edge. He could travel to Dogamy’s farm and surely they would send for his brother, giving him enough time to reassure Blue that he was doing well and to give him the journal before he traveled back…right into his husband’s anger.

Edge would forgive him, Rus told himself fiercely. Their bond was deeper than one of the mere spoken words of marriage, they were bound by their souls, and yes, it would be difficult, yes, Edge might well be furious for some time. But Rus could endure it, do whatever he needed to earn his husband, no, his k’uhah’s forgiveness.

In truth, it was no longer simply his own wish to see his brother at stake and a strange urgency was rising within him, demanding that he go as soon as possible.

He needed to do this.

Hastily, Rus snatched up the journal and locket both, carrying them back to the bedroom. He hid them in the small alcove that wardrobe, beneath the stack of his trousers. He wouldn’t lie if Edge asked after them, but if he saw them lying about, Edge might move them to a place Rus couldn’t find. With them hidden, perhaps he would forget for a time, long enough for Rus to sneak away with them.

That done, Rus hurried off to the kitchen, his soul throbbing agitatedly in his rib cage. Plans needed to be made yet, but for now, it would be best to follow his normal routine.

He filled one of the crocks with water and set it on cooking stone, contemplating the contents of their pantry as he mentally sorted through the few recipes he’d learned. Perhaps he’d ask after some of Blue’s cookies, he told himself, both for a recipe and to bring some back to Edge; he’d enjoyed them very much the last time Rus brought them to the woods. A present might help smooth the rough path of forgiveness, even a tiny bit.

With that thought, Rus began humming a quiet song, choosing his ingredients with care. A good dinner, tonight, yes, that was what they needed, and perhaps they could read a bit from that saucy novel again or even indulge in a little more of their own sauciness tonight.

He didn’t allow himself to think of anything else.

Not yet.

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #village au

36 notes · View notes

hardkinkbadkink · 4 years ago

Note

Witchers undergo mutations around/before puberty, right? As a result, their cocks are incredibly small — Geralt’s even more so, due to the double rounds of mutations. Jaskier is so enthralled by this, and loves stroking and petting it so softly while saying the meanest things to Geralt for it, calling it an overgrown clit, spanking the shaft when the witcher tries to touch it when they fuck. If Geralt can’t come from just his hole, why should he come at all? It’s not like his cock is worth it.

hnghhh fuckk man all of this right here!! so there are two schools of thought currently in my inbox re: dick size, 1. that witchers have big monster cocks due to the mutations & 2. that they have tiny little boy pricks for the same reason and honestly?? i subscribe to both of those cos im gay & not picky in the slightest

once again picking prompts out of order to keep it Spicy

***

Jaskier is notorious for getting his hopes up too damn high.

At least this time he had fine reason for it, didn't he?

He'd spent months observing his witcher, noting the nuances of his physique--and his main conclusion is that Geralt is, at the very least, a demigod. Maybe a full deity. Maybe he is Chaos, personified, there to tempt Jaskier away from salvation with a chiselled jawline and thighs girthier that most tree trunks they pass.

It is only logical to assume, under these circumstances--

Well, and Jaskier isn't vain, he really isn't, shallow only when it comes to his own person but definitely not to others, and--

It's not to say Jaskier doesn't appreciate having Geralt naked for him anyway, every last inch of his scarred, golden, hair-covered skin, but--

He'd thought Geralt would have a cock to match all of that thick, overgrown rest of him.

"I'll order you a whore. For the trouble."

Jaskier doesn't register the words at first, too preoccupied with the way Geralt's cute tiny prick bobs between his legs when he makes to get dressed. When Jaskier does process his intention, he quickly crosses the space between them and presses all up on Geralt's glorious chest.

"Nonsense. Nonsense, my witcher, we've just begun."

They barely begun, more like. Shared a wet, breathtaking kiss downstairs, with Jaskier wiggling onto Geralt's lap. Got gently spit on and chased up the stairs to their one solitary room. Out of all that, getting Geralt to undress took them the longest.

And sure, Jaskier thinks, when he reaches to pet at Geralt's cute little cock, his tight balls--sure, he'd already got all stretched and slick before he even went downstairs, and oil is dripping out of him, soaking the seat of his trousers, but--well, plans can be changed, can't they?

"Go lay down for me, dear," he says before he goes to undress, back turned to the bed. He can hear it creak when Geralt does as he's bid, and Jaskier shudders at the unexpected surge of power.

"Jaskier?" Geralt says with a note of uncertainty when Jaskier crawls on the bed to straddle Geralt's thighs.

"You see, Geralt," Jaskier begins as he shuffles a bit forward, bringing the toy behind himself, hovering just above Geralt's straining prick. "I really was rather looking forward to getting utterly wrecked by your fat cock tonight." He sinks the toy into himself easily, smooth and curved just so. "But it seems that you've failed to provide the cock."

He huffs out a laugh when Geralt turns his head in shame, clenches his fists by his sides.

"It's the mutations," Geralt tells him quietly.

Jaskier brings a hand to his witcher's cheek and guides him back to have Geralt watch as he bounces on his toy.

"Oh?"

It's not his biggest toy, but Jaskier does love it greatly. Perhaps not as much as he loves the despair in Geralt's eyes as his gaze stays glued between Jaskier's legs, on the wooden cock disappearing into him and Jaskier's own hard dick bouncing heavily along with him.

Jaskier moves his free hand to touch teasingly at the wet tip of Geralt's prick.

"We--we were all children when they first started the--the process," Geralt explains in a rushed manner and Jaskier rewards him with a quick tug at his cock.

"So all witchers have pathetic little boy cocks?"

Geralt whines and looks like he's about to stop talking, so Jaskier strokes him more firmly, fucks himself on his toy harder.

"Mine's the smallest."

Fuck, and isn't that a thought? His White Wolf, the fastest, strongest of all the witchers--with the tiniest, cutest prick?

"Oh, Geralt," he sighs blissfully. "Have you ever even got to fuck anyone properly? Or do you have the whores lick your little cock like it's a clit?"

Geralt twitches in his palm, moans when Jaskier tightens his grip.

"No matter now, darling, I'll take care of it for you, won't I? Make sure you're nice and satisfied, poor thing."

Geralt nods frantically and presses his lips in a tight line when his prick pulses out a few pathetic drops of spend. Jaskier laughs.

"What a cute thing. Just for decoration."

Jaskier snatches one of Geralt's wrists and brings his hand to wrap around Jaskier's own cock. He thrusts into the tight clutch of it, clenches around his toy until he sees stars.

"Fuck, you like my big cock, darling? Feel how nice and hard it is? You'll like it when I put it in you, I promise. You can ride it just like this, and I'll rub your little clit until you squirt for me."

Geralt groans, and Jaskier tosses his head back when he comes, laughing breathlessly.

They're going to have so much fun.

***

Jaskier does make sure Geralt stays satisfied, though maybe he indulges himself too much, sometimes.

"Did you use to ask the whores to fuck your needy hole with their fingers?" he asks as he does just that.

Geralt writhes a bit under his touch, but shakes his head faintly.

"Did they suck your tiny cock? Bet they could fit your balls in their mouths, too, all in one go, trying to choke on you but you're just too small."

"But you don't need me to do that anymore, right, dear? You'll be a good boy and come just on my fat prick."

"If you put it in me," Geralt huffs in the voice he usually uses to threaten people. As if it'd work on Jaskier.

"Oh, that's very naughty of you. Good little boys don't get bossy. They take what they're given or else they get nothing."

Jaskier pulls his fingers out, to better show his point, and watches as Geralt bucks his hips, humping the air.

"And look at that little thing, all red and swollen and eager," he says, bringing a single finger to rub tiny circles around Geralt's dripping cockhead. "Don't you want to feel good when I fuck your sloppy hole like it's meant to be? Don't you want to come over and over while I breed you and rub your clit?"

He can see the muscles in Geralt's thighs and belly quiver, until he takes his touch away entirely.

"What do we say, love?"

Geralt squeezes his eyes shut and spreads his legs wider when he whispers,

"I'm sorry."

Jaskier raises his eyebrows expectantly and gives Geralt's prick a light slap to get his attention. He decidedly does not expect Geralt to whimper and his cock to drool. Fascinating.

"Please fuck my greedy hole and make me squirt on your fat cock."

There isn't much conviction to the words, not yet, but the corner of Jaskier's mouth twitches involuntarily anyway.

"Good. Very good."

Sinking his cock into Geralt's tight, virginal hole (oh, were you embarrassed, dear? Didn't want a real man to see your adorable prick and laugh?) is a spiritual experience. Maybe Geralt is a god after all. Jaskier knows he doesn't have to be gentle, so he isn't--just fucks Geralt roughly like he'd been dying to ever since he first thought about it.

"Oh, you're perfect, darling, aren't you? My perfect little plaything, begging to be used."

Geralt doesn't answer, and Jaskier can't even be sure whether he's heard a word of it--because his perfect face is slack with pleasure, mouth open and eyes heavy-lidded, the very picture of debauchery, and he moans at each thrust of Jaskier's cock like a whore paid to do it.

Jaskier has to focus very hard on not coming at the mere sight of his witcher lost in such rapture.

Lost completely and utterly, because he goes against Jaskier's explicit wishes and reaches down to palm at his prick.

Jaskier tuts at him and bats his hand away, before he slaps the little thing, once then quickly a second time when Geralt howls.

"I told you, dear, you don't get to touch."

Geralt looks at him, then, and his eyelashes are breathtakingly wet.

"Jaskier."

A flick to his cockhead makes Geralt squeeze around him deliciously.

"If you were meant to touch your cock you'd have an actual cock, love, not this pitiful little thing."

He slaps it again, and then lands a few hits to Geralt's cute pink balls that draw up at the attention.

Jaskier fucks him properly, rides him like he needs it to breathe because he does, really--he could survive exclusively on the dizzying moans that spill out of his witcher.

"That's it, darling, gods, you were made for this."

When Jaskier spends with a shudder he feels a hand come to rest firmly at the back of his thigh and Geralt, voice quiet and broken, whispers,

"One more. Please."

And who is Jaskier to deny his perfect, lovely plaything?

#cw humiliation #cw degradation #cw cbt #nothing extreme tho

33 notes · View notes

raendown · 4 years ago

Link

For the @madatobiweek prompt the was only one bed.

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 5104 Rated: T+ Summary: Hashirama runs in to an old friend unexpectedly and Tobirama - well. Tobirama would like to have a firm chat with life's manager. No way is it fair for any human being to look that delicious.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Woodn’t It Be Nice

‘Just an old friend from middle school’ Hashirama had called him. Tobirama didn’t doubt that part, his brother had a habit of befriending every person that crossed his path by sheer force of will, but he found himself slightly upset that Hashirama hadn’t seen fit to warn him even a little bit before introducing him to the human wet dream known as Uchiha Madara.

Madara had, at one point, big plans to follow along with the dreams his family had for him to become some big business exec. Evidently those dreams had been cast aside at some point when he realized the high stress lifestyle was not how he wanted to spend his years. Tobirama didn’t really see how anyone went from business school to taking up a career in lumberjacking but he was hardly about to complain. Living in the deep woods and hauling trees for a living had clearly done wonders for Madara’s figure.

And Tobirama really wanted a piece of that.

It was truly unfair how good that man made tartan look considering how many times Tobirama had snuck in to his brother’s closet only to despair that such patterns still didn’t suit him. Also high up on his list of unfair things was the sheer mass of all that thick dark hair falling in wavy tangles and how utterly scrumptious he looked without, apparently, having yet discovered the socially accepted function of a hairbrush. Given time and a good keyboard Tobirama was sure he could have produced a thesis length paper on why he should be allowed to bury his hands in all that hair. Two on why he should be allowed to touch that chest.

Because wow the chest. With a rib cage the size and general shape of a barrel and a waist line built for standing his ground against at least a smaller sized tank, it was almost enough to distract Tobirama from the thick muscle outlines clearly visible under the flannel – almost, but not quite. If he looked any harder his eyes might actually fall out of his head but he couldn’t seem to stop or even convince his mouth to close.

Using his mind to juxtapose the image of an ax over those stubby thick fingers, Tobirama swallowed hard and wondered how many people had tried to pick this man up with some sort of bad wood puns. And more importantly whether that would work for him too. He definitely had some wood sprouting up that he wouldn’t mind letting Madara take care of.

“What do you think Tobi?”

“Glorious…”

“Right? I do have good ideas sometimes!”

“Huh?” He turned to find Hashirama beaming at him but his brother was already turning away without giving him a moment to clarify that he hadn’t actually been paying attention to the conversation.

Clapping his old friend on both shoulders, Hashirama smiled so wide he nearly split his own face in half. “You’ll love staying at our house. And you’ll love sharing a room with Tobi!”

“Wait, what!?” Maybe he shouldn’t have taken quite so much time to admire that chest.

Hashirama laughed. “You didn’t think I’d make him sleep on the couch did you? Not when you have a perfectly good spare bed in your room!”

“But that- that’s Itama’s bed. What if Itama comes home?” Growing up with four boys in the same house, each only a few years apart from the others, it still felt wasteful for all of them to sleep in separate rooms even now that they were older and Hashirama’s job at the hospital had paid for a much larger house. It didn’t matter that Tobirama had actually been getting a little lonely while their two younger brothers were off at university in another city. Extra space or not there was no way he would survive sleeping in the same room with Madara unless he was granted an hour or so of alone time first. And knowing his older brother’s enthusiasm for socializing that wasn’t likely to happen.

“Itama called last night,” Hashirama reminded him with an absent smile. “He’s off this weekend with his roommate to some concert happening a city away from them. I would ask Madara to sleep in Kawarama’s room but he’s still not over that cold he’s been fighting all week. We wouldn’t want our guest to get sick!”

“Appreciated,” Madara grunted.

Slightly panicked, Tobirama cast about in his mind for any other excuse he could think of. “What if I’ve caught it too? He'd still get sick.”

“Nonsense, Kawa hasn’t let anyone near him except the dog. Neither of us is sick.”

“I don’t know, Anija, I feel pretty warm.”

“Maybe because it’s like a hundred degrees out,” Hashirama laughed. “Come now, Tobi, if you keep saying stuff like that I’m going to think you don’t want Madara in your room!”

One look at those massive flannel-clad arms and Tobirama quickly swallowed his next words. The man could probably crush his head without thought and as delicious as it was to imagine being caught between those biceps he was also quite fond of living. While his brother threw an arm around broad shoulders Tobirama forced his eyes to look elsewhere, contemplating the restless night ahead.

Thankfully for his sanity he was at least able to sit alone in the backseat on the drive back from the hotel Hashirama just happened to spot his old friend going in to. Madara sat up front and nodded or grunted along to the man’s endless chatter. The backseat was quiet, free of tempting muscles, and gave Tobirama all the room he needed to stretch his legs across the width of the car. He noted Madara stealing glances at him in the rearview mirror several times but it was hard to tell what expression might be hiding under that scruffy beard. The fact that it was apparently due to be shaved off at the first opportunity was probably one of the greatest tragedies this world had ever seen.

As a history buff Tobirama felt particularly qualified to make that call.

When Madara was finally encouraged to speak more than a word or two strung together he told them how he had come to be in town with no plans and nowhere to stay. Apparently his younger brother Izuna still lived in Konoha and he’d planned his vacation to make a surprise visit. Except he was the one surprised to discover the house locked, one of the neighbors calling over to him that the whole family had left on a vacation of their own just a few days before.

“Good thing we caught you then!” Hashirama declared. “No point in spending money on a lonely hotel room for two weeks when you could be catching up with me! I can’t believe how little you’ve changed!”

“Really?” Tobirama muttered under his breath. If Madara had looked like this back in middle school he definitely would have remembered a face like that. Puberty would no doubt have smacked him in the face several years earlier.

After a slow blink Madara grunted, “Beard.” That was, apparently, all he had to say on the matter.

Never before in his life had Tobirama been quite so grateful to arrive home as he was that day, spilling out of the car and heading for the door as if all the devils of hell were chasing him. He made it in to the kitchen with enough time to set the kettle boiling and slip back out towards his bedroom before the other two even made it inside. The planet earth itself would fall out of its heavenly rotation before he let Madara walk in and see the absolute mess he typically lived in, research notes strewn here and there, clothing left on the floor where it was shed after yet another twenty hour binge on the latest project. No one needed to know the shame of his bedroom during the months when Itama was gone.

Just as he kicked out a foot to steady a precarious stack of textbooks the door opened and Hashirama cheerfully invited their guest in to a room that wasn’t even his. Madara blinked around, eyes pausing on the one bed that had clearly not seen any recent use.

“Hope you didn’t clean up or anything,” he said. “It’s just me.”

“Oh don’t worry, Tobi’s always really clean!” Hashirama chirped, oblivious to his brother’s uncomfortable shifting.

“Right. Where can I drop this?”

Madara held up the duffel he’d been carrying when they spotted him on the street. When told he could put it anywhere he liked it was tossed on the floor with little care, a sure sign there wasn’t anything too breakable inside. A moment later he seemed to think the better of his actions and asked where the bathroom was as he stepped across to riffle in one of the duffle’s pockets.

As quickly as he had hurried to his own bedroom Tobirama was gone again just like that. The kettle should be going off any second and he was pretty sure if he stuck around for Madara to come out of the shower all damp and delicious and possibly half naked - well, suffice to say the police probably wouldn’t accept any of the excuses running through his mind just then.

Like it always did, a large hot cup of tea helped to settle him in his skin, leaving him feeling much more in control of his own reactions by the time Hashirama came back downstairs. His brother gave vent to a gusty contented sigh while he poured a cup for himself.

“It’s hard to believe Uchiha Madara of all people is upstairs in my home!” he said. “Honestly I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. But, isn’t it funny, i was just thinking about him the other day!”

“Whatever keeps you going when Mito tells you to bite the pillow,” Tobirama murmured.

“No! Ew! It’s not- hey! She doesn’t make me do anything like that!” Hot tea sloshed all over the counter as Hashirama slammed his cup back down and bent double to gag exaggeratedly. Sometimes it was hard to believe he had failed drama in highschool what with all the dramatics he filled every day with.

Tobirama let the poor idiot catch his breath a little before daring to ask, “He taking a shower before dinner?”

“Um, I guess so. He didn’t say. What would you like to eat?”

Dinner - fish, of course, since the choice was left to him - was about as quiet as meals in their house ever got with Hashirama chattering endlessly. Amazingly Madara actually seemed to be listening to it all, nodding in the right places or humming in tandem with Tobirama whenever it was needed. It was nearly impossible to tell what was actually going on in his mind and Tobirama hated himself just a little for being so desperately intrigued by it. He’d never loved anything more than puzzles, taking things apart to see what made them tick, digging and digging until he ran out of questions to answer. People like Madara were exactly the sort of rare person who were able to hold his attention.

Even more so since their guest came down for the evening meal with a clean shaven face, dark shaggy beard sacrificed to the waste bin upstairs, and Tobirama came to the horrifying conclusion that it needed to be glued back in place as soon as possible. Surely it had to be illegal for any human being to walk around looking as delicious as this. It wasn’t fair.

Under normal circumstances he would have said that going to bed was a relief, being allowed to crawl between familiar sheets and allow the privacy of his own room to unclench the tensions in his body. With Madara stumping in to the room after him he knew that he had nothing to look forward to but a few hours of restlessness until he gave in and snuck off to shame himself in the bathroom down the hall. Itama’s ancient bedframe gave a mighty creak the first time its new resident sat down. Normally it bore a much lighter load than all the rippling muscles clinging to Madara’s frame but it held up alright and the two of them were able to lay their heads down with goodnights murmured in to the darkness.

Tobirama lasted only an hour and a half. He really hoped the other man only thought he was getting up to pee.

During the day things weren’t so bad. For the most part Madara spent his time with Hashirama getting dragged from one end of the city to the other to re-experience all the things they had done in their childhood together. It was actually somewhat of a relief not to be the center of his brother’s attention for a while, left blissfully alone to work on his research and occasionally greet the ghost of Kawarama whenever he ambled past for food or water before holing up again. With one sibling down for the count and the other away for university the task of indulging Hashirama’s ceaseless energy had fallen entirely to him and it wasn’t until he was finally able to be productive again that he realized just how little he’d been getting done lately.

Even meal times weren’t too terrible if he kept his eyes on his food instead of the tasty meal he would rather be having across the table. It was the evenings when he truly suffered. Getting Madara to come out of his shell and actually engage in conversation had taken a couple days, out of practice as he was from spending most of the few years quietly knocking and hauling lumber, but once he finally opened his mouth long enough to say more than two words together Tobirama was exasperated to discover a mind as beautiful as his face. Was there any way this man wasn’t perfect for him? The universe must be having a grand laugh at him, that was the only explanation he could think of.

Still, as much havoc as it wreaked on his libido it was wonderful to have someone else to converse with who could actually keep up with him. Madara understood the basic concepts of his research, asked intelligent questions, even offered a few philosophical insights that Tobirama himself hadn’t thought of. If he didn’t want the man in his bed so badly it hurt he might have been tempted to offer him a job as a research assistant.

He saw the signs coming from a mile away of course. Stopping it was impossible, though he still gave it the old college try. Catching feelings for his brother’s friend, a man who was only in town for a few weeks and then would likely never be back again, was probably one of the stupider things he had ever done. Tobirama wanted to be mad at the idiot for not just being a pretty face he could seduce and then let go of but it wasn’t like it was Madara’s fault that he checked every box on a lonely albino’s list. He probably wasn’t even aware of how tempting he was. Tobirama really hoped the poor man hadn’t noticed all the drooling and staring and whatnot.

For a little over two weeks things went on like that, so close and yet so far, sleeping in the same room and slipping away to the bathroom for a while just to get himself to sleep. Even as a teenager his body hadn’t ruled him this much. If their family hadn’t been raised to be so frugal it was entirely possible that nothing would have changed, that they would have parted ways as nothing more than a what-if. But Itama loved that old bed no matter how it creaked and groaned and so none of them had ever thought of replacing the ancient thing until one night Madara flopped down on to the mattress and with a loud protest the entire frame shattered underneath him. Almost more shocking that that was the indignant squawk that gurgled up his throat, so unlike the smooth deep baritone he usually spoke in. Tobirama could do nothing but stare from where he stood halfway through the motion of getting up, one arm outstretched, and try to process what had just happened. Apparently all that muscle was too much for the bed to handle.

He could relate.

“Are you okay?” he asked. Madara blinked up from the center of the now very lumpy looking mattress.

“I’ve been better.”

“You didn’t hurt anything did you?”

“No. Well, I think I hurt the bed.” With a groan he rolled off the mess and stumbled to his feet where he stood looking down with a wry expression. “I’ll pay for that.”

Money was not exactly the most pressing concern on Tobirama’s mind at the moment. “That, ah, is that just some of the frame pressing up from underneath?”

Praying to all of his ancestors that the mattress was still usable even if it had to rest on the floor, he watched the other man haul the entire thing up with one hand like it weighed no more than a feather and tried not to whimper. With no light but the moonbeams twisting around the curtains it was easy to see there was nothing directly under the mattress that would make such shapes.

“Bunch’a springs broke under the pressure, I think,” Madara concluded. When he let the whole thing drop back down it did so with a muffled thud much like Tobirama’s heart inside his chest. “Guess I won’t be sleeping there anymore.”

“Not unless you want metal springs digging in to your spine all night long.”

Madara nodded slowly. “Couch it is, then.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be an option,” Tobirama reluctantly called the man back before he could get halfway to the door. He tried not to be obvious about cringing when Madara turned to pin him in place with dark eyes turned obsidian by the shadows around them.

“Why not?”

“You’ve been here an entire week and I’ve never once seen you sit comfortably on the sofa. It’s just not built to hold someone of your...stature.”

For the space of three heartbeats Madara did nothing but stare and blink. Then he sighed and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose with one hand because it was true. Hashirama had bought most of their living room furniture for his tiny wife and his three whipcord thin brothers; he himself preferred to disappear in to the single cushy armchair that could actually hold his tall frame. If Madara went to go sleep on either of the two couches he would probably roll off the first time he tried to take a full breath in.

Genius that he was, Tobirama had already done the calculations. He already knew what doom was about to fall upon him. In their house there were four beds for four people and two couches. One of those beds already had two people in it, Mito quietly arriving home from her work trip earlier that evening. Another contained one highly contagious whiny Kawarama and stank of dog after several days of the two curled up together in it. Now the third bed had collapsed, frame and mattress and all, leaving only one other place left as an option for sleeping.

Tobirama squirmed. Why had he ever thought it was necessary to buy such a roomy bed? He was only one person, surely a twin mattress would have held him and saved him from eyeing the several feet of unused space at his side with defeat in his bones. It was this or ask Madara to sleep on the floor.

“So if I can’t sleep on the couches then where the hell am I supposed to sleep?” He even eyed the carpet as though wondering whether it was plush enough to let him get some rest but one night wasn’t the problem. Laying flat out on the ground for several days in a row would do murder on anyone’s back and just because his job left him in the wilds for months at a time didn’t mean he had to play at camping even in his off time.

“I’ve got room here,” Tobirama forced himself to say.

“You don’t have any sort of air mattress or anything?”

“Not anymore, no. Our dog got in to the closet and chewed them all last summer.”

He watched the other man nodding slowly, a small frown drawing his brows together, and wondered if the option was really so detestable to consider. The offer was on the tip of his tongue to ask if Mito would share a bed with him instead for a few days so Madara could rest beside the friend he had much better reason to trust but the words never had a chance to be spoken.

“You don’t kick or anything, do you?”

“No,” he murmured, hardly daring to breathe.

“Right.”

Then Madara snatched up the same pillow he’d been using for the last couple weeks since Tobirama only had the one on his own bed and stumped across the room with all the grace of a bear. As unsexy as that image was Tobirama still managed to find his thoughts in the gutter, privately thinking that he wouldn’t mind taking up bear wrestling if this was his opponent.

Somehow he managed to keep such thoughts to himself as the mattress dipped to accommodate more than double the weight it was used to. Convincing the anatomy inside his trousers that it was not Go Time was a little more difficult to do. Tobirama carefully rolled on to the side facing away from his new bed partner; at least in this position he was only tenting his own clothing rather than the bedding as well. Nothing could possibly make his desires more obvious. After a moment’s pause he felt Madara shifting around and finding a position to settle in to as well, hopefully facing away from him though he couldn’t exactly see what was going on. When the movement finally stopped he cleared his throat.

“Night,” he mumbled awkwardly. Madara grunted, which he had learned was about the equivalent of him saying it back.

In the silence that followed Tobirama dearly regretted leaving the curtains cracked. Just that small amount of light made shadows on the wall for him to trace with his eyes and glare at as though they were the source of all his problems. If there were shadows on the wall that meant there was enough light for Madara to see if he threw back the covers and tried to escape to the bathroom. Not to mention that it would be much harder to sneak off even after the man had fallen asleep when there was a chance any shifting of the mattress could wake him again and alert him to Tobirama’s nightly embarrassment.

He smothered a groan and curled a little tighter in to himself. Sleep was an impossibility when all he wanted was relief and there didn’t seem like a safe way to achieve that with the source of all his delicious miseries lying so close. It seemed he was doomed to simply lie here while his balls turned bluer and bluer.

“Alright?” The word rumbled low in the space between them and Tobirama nearly leapt out of his skin.

“What?”

“If you’re not feeling good I don’t want to catch anything.”

Clenching his fists he grumbled, “I’m not sick.”

“Seems like you’re not alright though,” his companion mused.

“Oh and how would you know?”

A beat passed before Madara answered. When he did his tone sounded almost hesitant in a strange way. “You don’t usually sleep all curled up in a ball. Is it your stomach? Maybe dinner doesn’t agree with you.”

Pausing in his prayers for death to take him in a localized strike of lightning, Tobirama frowned in to the darkness. It wasn’t such an unusual question - or it wouldn’t have been if they had known each other for any appropriate length of time. He struggled over whether or not to say something until finally his curiosity couldn’t take it anymore.

“Do you...watch me sleep?”

Choking sounds accompanied the sudden brush of air against the back of his neck, startling enough that he instinctively shot up on to one elbow so he could twist around. There he was greeted with the sight of Madara spluttering and cutting his way through several disconnected syllables. It was hard to parse which part of the scene before him was the most shocking, the fact that Madara was quite obviously embarrassed or the fact that he had apparently settled down to sleep facing the center of the bed rather than away towards the wall.

“I’m just...observant!” He finally managed to choke out.

“While we’re both lying down on opposite sides of the room you somehow manage to observe my position every night when your eyes are supposed to be closed?”

Madara flushed visibly. “I have trouble sleeping a lot. Sometimes I sit up for a while!”

Fascinating as it was to see a new flustered side to such a composed man of so few words, Tobirama couldn’t truly enjoy this rare opportunity when he was distracted with yet another devastating revelation.

“How long does it usually take you to get to sleep?” he whispered.

“A couple hours.” The words had already passed the man’s lips before Madara seemed to realize what he had just given away.

“Oh.”

The two of them stared at each other, wide eyed and silent, as they both processed what the other now knew. If Madara was awake each night long enough to observe what position Tobirama fell asleep in then he was awake each night to observe him slipping out of bed and down the hall for much longer than one would need for a simple nightly piddle. He knew. And he hadn’t said anything.

“It’s not every day,” Tobirama blurted without thinking. “I’m not some kind of obsessed nymphomaniac or anything.”

“Right.”

“I’m not!”

“Okay. So. Is it just...me then?”

The twitch in his pants said yes but the flaming heat in his face, well, that probably also said yes despite what he would have preferred. All the genius in the world couldn’t help him think his way out of this particular spot, lying in the same bed with a man he could already feel himself developing very ill advised feelings for while that very man stared back at him processing the knowledge that he was very interested in taking up certain physical activities together. What would Hashirama do, he wondered, if he woke up tomorrow morning to discover that his little brother had been smothered to death by those glorious and very strong biceps?

“Didn’t mention it to your brother yet,” Madara finally spoke again. “Wanted Izuna’s opinion on the idea first. But I’ve been thinking about moving back in to town lately. I got a job offer at one of the factories.”

“O-oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Think maybe you’d want to grab a coffee or something sometime?” Somehow the man was able to project both flawless confidence and an adorably unexpected shyness at the same time.

Tobirama nearly swallowed his own tongue trying to rein in his own frantic nodding. “I’d like that.”

“Good, good.”

All plans for throwing himself off the edge of the earth were put on hold. How the hell he had missed his dream hunk returning any sort of interest was beyond him but the last thing he would be doing was complain about it. Who was he to say no when being handed everything he thought he couldn’t have? All wrapped up in a pretty package with gorgeous unruly hair, naturally pouty lips, and thighs he would be happy to have his head crushed between. Whatever small fragment of the universe had taken pity on him deserved a massive ethereal fruit basket in thanks for giving him this.

“You wanna make out?” Madara cut in to his thoughts. “Or do we need to wait for that first date?”

“Now is good,” Tobirama breathed, already twisting the lower half of his body to face inwards as well. Maybe later he could take the time to be ashamed of his own enthusiasm but right now he had an entire beefcake to throw himself on and judging by the appreciative moan that greeted him it didn’t seem like Madara had any problems with that.

He had already managed to roll himself on top of this woodsman adonis and gasp at the stretch in his thighs for how wide they had to open just to sit astride those hips when he paused, pulling away from quite possibly the most mind-bending kiss he’d ever experienced in his life.

“What’s your opinion on wood puns?” he mumbled.

“I will kill you,” Madara replied with absolutely no inflection.

“Noted. Can I wear your shirt tomorrow?”

“You would look absolutely terrible in tartan.” One dark eyebrow lifted slowly, something like hunger gathering in the man’s eyes. “Sure.”

Tobirama shivered and decided if he said anything else he would probably spill every dirty possessive thought his brain had ever come up with. It was much safer to dive in again and tremble under the feeling of large hands curling around his bottom.

Maybe - maybe - he was glad that Hashirama had decided to take a different route home that day and happened to spot his old friend. A reward this good was definitely worth the torture of thinking it was all beyond his reach, that he would suffer through the stages of falling in love and then be forced to ssay goodbye when Madara left, to never see the man again. Whatever it took to convince him that moving back in to town was a good plan he would do it. Even if he had to track down this Izuna fellow himself and beg on his knees for a little support.

For now the only thing he planned to do on his knees was moan, however. Possibly beg. That depended entirely on how far Madara was willing to go before they even made it out for a simple coffee or discussed anything between them with any sort of depth.

Whatever the case, he just really hoped his brother was well and truly asleep down the hall because he had zero plans for staying quiet after finally getting his hands on such a perfect dream.

#rae writes #madatobiweek2020 #madatobi #madara #tobirama #hashirama #fanfiction #modern au

29 notes · View notes

shitiger · 4 years ago

Photo

I based the dress Count Duckula wears off of these two. He’s wearing the first dress, but it has long sleeves, like the 2nd dress.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27503851

Every Rose Has It’s Thorns: When Duckula discovers a room full of wigs and dresses, he decides to try his luck visiting the village in disguise. It goes better than intended when he catches the eye of Dr. Von Goosewing. But how long will his charade be able to last?

(Shi Tiger)

Chapter 1: Miss. Lobilia's Debut

Count Duckula had only been reaching for a book to read. He hadn’t expected to find a secret room behind the bookshelf in his study. “So, there’s a fake book on that shelf. And by pulling it, I opened a door. Very curious.”

The vegetarian vampire stepped into the adjoining room, glancing around at what appeared to be a lady’s dressing room. Two long closets lined the walls, filled to the brim with lacy dresses, silken gowns, and wigs of various shapes and colors.

“Igor! Igor!” Duckula tapped his foot as he waited impatiently for the butler to enter the study.

“Yes, my lord?”

“What is this room? Was one of the previous counts married? All I see are dresses and wigs and jewellery,” said the vampire, waving at the little room.

“Ah, I see you found the dressing room, my lord. I can assure you that no ladies were ever invited in there. This room belonged to your great-great-GREAT grandfather. He was a frivolous sort of fellow. Enjoyed dressing up, and dining on handsome young village men. He threw the most splendid parties,” Igor sighed.

“Oh, well… That’s interesting,” Duckula said, closing the bookshelf to once again hide the little room. “Not that I’m interested in that sort of thing - especially not the dining on young men part. You may go, Igor."

“And you, sir?” the butler asked, raising a brow.

“I intend to cozy up with a good book for the afternoon. Yep.” The vampire plucked a random book off the bookshelf, and settled down into the green armchair next to his desk.

“Of course, sir.” The old buzzard left, closing the door behind him.

“That’s right. I’m just going to read this book, and forget all about that crazy room.”

***

The dresses really were pretty. They’d probably feel soft and dainty against his feathers. What was the harm in trying on just one dress? Perhaps the purple one.

Well now, this was nice. A bit like his cloak, really. Duckula gave a twirl, a tingle of delight rising in his chest as the dress swirled around his legs. “A pity I can’t see myself in a mirror.” A blond wig with delicately-crafted ringlets caught his eye, and he reached for it. It really was a shame to see the dust gathering on such beautiful clothing.

After shaking out the wig, he slipped it onto his head. As an afterthought, he slid on a pair of (slingback) purple shoes. The extra inch of height caused him to wobble, but after a few strides back and forth, he soon found his footing. “And a lady would never leave the house without some kind of jewellery,” he told himself. “Not that I’m a lady… I’m just disguised as one. That’s it! A disguise. To fool the villagefolk into thinking I’m just like them.”

He slipped on a silver bracelet, admiring the way it sparkled on his wrist. “Duckula, you genius, you. No, Duckula isn’t the name for a young lady.” A spark of inspiration hit him like a sledgehammer. “My nayme is Lobilia. Well, I nevah. You cannot ask such a thing of a lady of my standing. I’m a proper southern belle, I am.”

The count slipped out of the room, leaving the bookshelf door open just a crack. “Maybe just one quick trip to the village - just to be sure my disguise is working,” he told himself, holding onto the banister as he stepped carefully down the stairs.

“Oh my! What a pretty young lady you are. Does Duckie-boo know you’re here?” Nanny asked, catching sight of him as he reached the landing.

“Nanny, it’s me. I’m Duckula!” the vampire said, giving her a delicate curtsy.

“Oh, my stars. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen any Count Duckula in such pretty clothes. Brings back memories, it does,” the heavyweight woman sighed, wiping a tear from her eye.

“Indeed. I had a feeling those outfits would catch your attention, master,” Igor chuckled, stepping out of the adjoining hallway.

“It’s not like that. I’m just… in disguise. In fact, I’m heading to the village right now to see if anyone recognizes me,” Duckula said, striking what he knew was a very unladylike pose.

“Of course. I have no doubt that you shall ensnare any man or woman that crosses your path, my lord,” Igor insisted, smiling deviously.

“I’m not..!” Duckula sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Sure, that’s it, Igor.” Might as well just go along with it. It wasn’t like he was actually going to bring a young man or woman back to the castle with him.

“Wonderful!” The butler clapped his hands in merriment. “I’ll prepare the special dungeon.”

“Don’t!” Duckula called after him, but it was too late. Honestly, all he wanted to do was go to the village, and see if anyone recognized him. It would be nice to walk around the locals without screams of ‘Vampire!’ plaguing him every step of the way. And it had absolutely nothing to do with enjoying the feeling of wearing women’s clothing!

***

The vampire hunter was sitting down to a nice evening meal at the local tavern, eager to enjoy a night of good food and pleasant music, when he laid eyes on HER. She is radiant, Goosewing thought to himself. A flower amidst the brambles.

The lovely woman stood near the stage, transfixed by the band playing a sultry melody. The flow of the lights highlighted on her blond ringlets, and emerald feathers. As he considered the best way to approach her, a waitress caught her attention first.

“Excuse me, miss. Do you have a reservation?” the brunette asked pleasantly.

The woman turned around quickly. “A reservation? Why, I hadn’t thought to call ahead. My family is new to these here parts.”

The vampire hunter nearly swooned at the southern accent that fell naturally from the lady’s pretty yellow bill. It was so refined and elegant. She must be the daughter of a wealthy family. Goosewing could look at her all day, and never lose interest.

“I’m afraid we’re quite booked today, miss…”

“Oh, Lobilia. Miss. Lobilia,” the emerald duck said, giving the waitress a delicate curtsy.

“Yes, well. If you don’t have a table…”

“Excuse me,” Goosewing interjected, rising from his nearby seat. He gestured to the empty chair at his small table. “I have an extra seat if the lady is interested.”

Dark eyes focused on him as an expression of surprise passed over the woman’s face. “Are you…” She cleared her throat, her southern accent thick and melodious as she continued, “Aren’t you just a fine, upstanding gentleman.”

“You flatter me, meine fair lady.” Goosewing rushed to pull out her seat, admiring her pretty lavender dress as she sat down to join him. The waitress stepped up to the table, her smile slightly strained as she slipped a notepad out of her apron.

“Alright then. What can I get you, miss?”

“Oh, goodness.” The woman riffled through her handbag, before setting it down on the floor by her feet. “I forgot my coin purse at home. I hadn’t intended to partake of a meal tonight, but the music was just so lovely… Perhaps just a glass of water.”

“Nonsense,” Goosewing protested. He passed the menu to his feminine guest. “I would be happy to cover the bill - if it isn’t too forward of me.”

The lady blushed shyly at his offer. “If you’d like. But I insist on pay-in the next time.”

“The next time?” Goosewing perked up, his feet tapping happily under the table.

The woman gazed at him from beneath purple-shadowed eyelids. “I-if that isn’t too bold of me…” she replied softly.

“Not at all, meine lady!” the vampire hunter said, unable to keep a smile off his beak.

“Ahem,” the waitress interrupted. “Would you care to order, miss?”

“Um, yes, well… I happen to be a strict vegetarian, you see. I have a meat allergy.” The lady’s gaze returned to Goosewing, her dark eyes gazing into his heart. “Even the slightest drop of blood upsets my delicate stomach.”

“May I suggest the golden beet stew, with a side salad,” said the waitress.

“That sounds lov-e-ly, my dear.”

Goosewing felt his feathers tingle with excitement. No blood! She was definitely not a vampire like that cold-hearted fiend, Count Duckula. Even if her feathers were a similar color… NEIN! Her feathers were far more glorious, and her eyes were velvety pools of night.

“Oh, goodness me. I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Lobilia… Duck. Yes, that’s it,” said the woman.

“Dr. Otto von Goosewing, at your service, meine lady. As you recently moved to the village, may I ask how many people there are in your family?”

“Oh, um…” Her gaze flickered to the musicians who were strumming a new tune. “Just my uncle and aunt. They don’t leave the house much these days.”

“Oh? And what are their names?” the professor asked curiously. He barely noticed when her eyes darted around the room, as if trying to come up with an answer on the spot.

“That would be Uncle… Ignatius, and Auntie Nann… Nancy,” she exclaimed, giving him a soft smile. Their conversation was briefly interrupted by the waitress returning with her order. As the evening stretched on, they shared light small talk as they listened to the local band play.

“What a wonderful evening, made all the better with your company, meine dear,” Goosewing said, kissing the woman’s soft hand. “May I be so bold as to walk you home, meine liebe Frau?” (my dear lady)

“I… No. My family is very strict, you see. But… maybe I’ll see you again soon?” Lobilia said, batting her pretty purple-lidded eyes at him.

“I would be delighted. How’s about next Friday at the same restaurant?” Goosewing suggested, eager to see the fair maiden again. She giggled, delicately covering her bill with a hand.

“I look forward to it, my dear sir. Don’t forget, it will be my treat.”

Goosewing sighed as he watched the delicate flower sashay off down the street, her purse dangling from her elbow. “There goes the most beautiful woman in the entire country.”

#fanfiction #count duckula #photos #inspiration

7 notes · View notes

if-the-crown-fits-translate-it · 4 years ago

Text

Discord pt 106

[Date: 28/03, 2:57 AM GMT - 28/03, 3:40 AM GMT]

[Direct continuation of pt 105]

jayyyyyyyy: “can I assume you both like the color pink? or am I just reaching”

[Duke: “However, civility is the noblest pillar of which humanity stands on. Please cease your fighting you two, it can be easily discussed later.”]

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “y'know what fine I don't want to get shrunk any further so I'll try not to argue for now, sorry if I upset you”

Jack the Observer: “I'm sorry, Duke and Duchess, I was about to retire for the night when I noticed you had arrived. I must be on my way, but I hope you will find this humble place at least interesting :)”

Duchess: “Of course; you need not neglect your rest for our sake. Have a lovely night.”

Duke: “Thank you! I wish you happy dreams and sweet slumber.”

llyr (they/them): “ooh, what about favorite animals, if you two have one?

jayyyyyyyy: “I’m still curious-- is your favorite color pink?”

Duchess: “I would say our favorite animal would be cats. And yes- we are both guite fond of pink.”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “why are you asking for colors? this isn't normally something we ask-”

Duke: “It represents such glorious things, pink. Both soft and strong, loving and deceiving, cool yet warm.”

jayyyyyyyy: “nice! I’m not too big on pink, but its a really nice color”

jayyyyyyyy: “hey siblings, do you want to hear a fun fact about pink?”

Luna Stories: “Hey, what did I miss?”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “Duke and Duchess are here”

Big G (they/them): “Apologies for not speakin in ender, Im too tired right now. But pink is a nice choice!”

Luna Stories: “Oh!”

[Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “why are you asking for colors? this isn't normally something we ask-”]

Big G (they/them): “We don't normally ask this?”

Duchess: “Certainly, Jay! what is it?”

Duke: “The Korat and Dragon Li are my favourite out of the feline breeds I feel compelled to add. Cat is such a widespread response it only feels fair to gift you with more.”

jayyyyyyyy: “theres actually a specific color pink that Icant really remember the name of that, when standing in a room with the walls painted the pink, would lower your strength by 30%”

[Big G (they/them): “We don't normally ask this?”]

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “no we normally ask things like, fit check, favorite number, chicken nugets, circlet color n' stuff, memories about meeting crown, etc. etc.. I dont think we've ever asked about colors in the first bunch of questions-”

jayyyyyyyy: “the nfl had to ban teams from using it because they would go and paint their opposing teams locker rooms the color before games”

Big G (they/them): “Well that's very odd, huh.”

jayyyyyyyy: “scientifically theres no reasonable explanation for it, but it still happens. its very intriguing”

Duchess: “That is very fascinating!”

llyr (they/them): “actually, that's a fair point :3″

Duke: “How interesting!”

jayyyyyyyy: “mhm! I’ve always wondered about it, but could never even think of an reasoning”

llyr (they/them): “what's you two's opinions on chicken nuggets??”

Big G (they/them): “and on soup?”

Duke: “I am unfamiliar with this dish known as chicken nuggets. It... Is a dish correct?”

Duchess: “Oh, I think they're a fine food! I did enjoy them regularly as a child. And soup is a wonderfully versatile dish.”

jayyyyyyyy: “aWHATA”

jayyyyyyyy: “Duchess, has Duke never had chicken nuggets?”

Duchess: “Duke... Again, I apologize. I am unsure as to why he is... Like this. We have both certainly had chicken nuggets before.”

jayyyyyyyy: “I was about to be so upset if Duke never had chicken nuggets”

Duke: “Duchess, we have not? Not to my recollection - what in the world do you mean?”

Big G (they/them): “jay, friend, I think you should hide your befuddlement you're being a bit rude.”

jayyyyyyyy: “well now I’m just confused

do you guys have alternate memories?”

emuhlee: “I find it quite odd how your experiences differ so much as you're twins, and you ideas and opinions are so similar. very interesting.”

Duchess: “Duke, we definitely...It is fine. Chicken nuggets are small pieces of chicken which are breaded and fried. They are a popular food item for children.”

jayyyyyyyy: “its a genuine question! they seem to be having similar confusion!”

Duke: “Oh, nonsense! we of course do not, we are twins after all! I'd say we even have such a strong connection we could finish each other's sentences. There just must be a simple mix-up in this all, no?"

jayyyyyyyy: “Duke, we gotta get you chicken nuggets, theyre so good”

emuhlee: “my twin and I never really got the hang of finishing each others sentences...”

Duke: “A popular item for children does not sound terribly appealing I'm afraid. With runny noses and sticky palms children have quite... Adverse tastes.”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “Duke, Duchess, sorry if this seems rude, but are you two human? it's a genuine question. I apologise if I come off as impolite”

Duke: “Oh! Oh! You have a twin?”

jayyyyyyyy: “although its popular with children, its still very much loved as adults!”

Duchess: “Not at all! we are human, yes.”

emuhlee: “I do! A twin sister :)”

jayyyyyyyy: “I still think Duke should try chicken nuggets. theyre So So Good, not just to children”

llyr (they/them): “Ilike chicken nuggets :3

they taste like. chicken :D”

Big G (they/them): “Wendy's chicken nuggets are really good,”

jayyyyyyyy: “if not nuggets, tenders are also good!”

Duke: “I hope you cherish her, emuhlee.”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “Duke have you tried bacon before? if so what'd your opinion on it?”

emuhlee: “oh I do, she's my best friend”

Duke: “Chicken is rather tasty although sometimes almost too salted, I do hope these nuggets will not dissapoint.”

Duke: “I have had bacon, yes. It is quite tasty.”

Duchess: “Apologies to you all, but I have had a rather busy day and I feel it may be time for me to retire for the evening. I will leave you all with my brother and bid a good night. It was delightful to meet you all.”

jayyyyyyyy: “goodbye, Duchess! have a good night!”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “goodnight Duchess!”

Dollar General Tubbo: “Good night, Duchess! Rest well”

llyr (they/them): “goodnight, Duchess!! :3″

emuhlee: “goodnight!”

Duke: “goodnight, sister.”

Duke: “Oh dear me, I have been reminded that I have not given a fit check. I hope I used that sentence correctly?”

emuhlee: “yes, you used it correctly.”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “yeah you did”

Raeva: “I'm a bit late but excited to see Duke and Duchess here”

Duke: “I do not have photos such as my sister but certain family members have said - and I am quoting this so do forgive me if it makes as little sense to you as it does to I- that I am "stealing her look" and "you're basically just wearing her clothes but male dude lmaoooo like you got that bow at your throat but where's the og style? is this a twin thing or do we need to take you shopping? no don't get mad at me I'm just speaking facts."”

Duke: “Raeva, hello! I know of you through my sister, I hoped you enjoyed the conversation you two shared.”

Kate: “Alright, I'm back! Hello again, all!~”

Big G (they/them): “Hullo kate!”

llyr (they/them): “I think I'm actually going to go, heehee. night, y'all!! please be nice to each other :3″

Kate: “Hello! :D”

Raeva: “It was interesting to say the least I don't believe I've spoken to you though.

Night Llry!”

Big G (they/them): “gn llyr”

Duke: “I wish you sweet dreams and soft slumber.”

jayyyyyyyy: “whoever said that to you, Duke, is generally rude and shouldnt have said that

who cares if one person dresses like another? if they like it, let them be”

Big G (they/them): “I would have fought them”

emuhlee: “Duke, I have a question, if you don't mind?”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “who tf is ur family member?? I will beat their ankles >>:(”

bite I meant bite”

Duke: “I do believe it was meant in jest and it was before they knew us as they do now. It is alright, but I thank you for getting angry on my behalf. What question do you have, Em?”

emuhlee: “Oh! I was just wondering, which of the two of you is oldest?”

Duke: “I am, of course. Do not listen to Duchess if she tells you otherwise, I adore my sister but when it comes to things such as that she likes to bend the truth.”

jayyyyyyyy: “...I sense a little bit of hostility?”

emuhlee: “I see. I understand where she comes about, on that.”

Duke: “Oh! none at all. She is wonderful and kind, my sister. She is a beacon of glory and I love her to my heart's deepest corners - she is the one who I would dive down for into murky waters and toil in horrid sun and sand for. However, it has been an issue since childhood with her claiming to be older. Our parents did not refute her so this has continued on despite the fact she should know better.”

jayyyyyyyy: “I see.. did your parents favor your sister? since thats what it sounds like :(”

Duke: “Oh my! what a ridiculous notion. My darling parents adored us both. I do hope they are doing well now.”

jayyyyyyyy: “I see.. they sound nice! they probably miss you guys a lot”

Duke: “I.... Suppose so.”

jayyyyyyyy: “mhm. though, its not my business-- how about a topic change?”

Duke: “Oh well! We live in the now, no? Dwelling on the past is for fools and crumbling men and we are neither"

#on:discord #by:duchy #by:duke #by:duchess #if the crown fits

1 note · View note

sincerelymarinette · 5 years ago

Text

A Recorded Life (31/50) - Miraculous Ladybug

Words: 1960 Chapter Summary: Today is the day of the first song of the Jagged Stone album cover collab! Marinette and the gang are excited, and Jagged has a surprise for them! She finally feels comfortable reading comments again (mostly) and how this collab will work when the album is fully released is explained. Author's Note: This was a lot of fun. I love Uncle Jagged so much. More action next chapter, I promise! Also, I think the story could come to a close pretty soon. I love writing this story, but the main plot could finish up in like the next ten parts or so. I haven't decided yet if that's when I'm finishing it, because I love writing youtube marinette. What do you guys think? I'd love to hear feedback :)

its 11:30 its still sunday ;)

Prev / Next / Masterlist

Lift Up Release with Jagged Stone

---

Friday

"Marinette," The soft, high-pitched voice said. "You need to get up and get ready for school."

"My alarm hasn't gone off yet, Tikki, I've got more time," Marinette mumbled back.

Tikki looked to Plagg, getting no empathy from him. "Marinette," She said. "You've slept through your alarm three times."

Marinette's eyes shot open. "What?" She almost yelled. "How did that happen? I've never slept through them! Turned them off, sure, but never slept through them!" She said.

Tikki shrugged. "I don't know. You and Adrien fell asleep really fast last night, must have been tired from the contest," Tikki said.

Marinette was confused by her statement; then her eyes drifted to the other side of the couch. "Oh yeah," She remembered. "I forgot he was here."

"Clearly," Plagg said. "Kid, get up!" Plagg said as he dropped onto Adrien's head. It was a much different awakening than how Tikki handled it. Adrien wasn't moving, so Marinette stood up and walked over to him.

She put her hand on his shoulder and shook lightly. "Adrien, get up. We have school soon."

Adrien's eyes slowly opened and smiled when he saw Marinette. "W...what? School?" He asked.

"Yeah. We fell asleep watching our movie. My parents probably turned the TV off and just left us alone," She shrugged. "But we have to get ready, or we'll be later, well, later than usual."

Adrien hopped up from the couch once he fully realized what happened. "Oh no," He searched for his phone. "I'm so dead."

"What?" Marinette asked.

Adrien found his phone and swore at himself. "I have eight missed calls from my father, and ten from Nathalie. And a text from Gorilla," Adrien said. "I didn't tell them what was going on; I didn't intend to fall asleep here. God, they probably filed a missing person's report and everything. How did I sleep through all of these? I normally wake up if Plagg breathes too loud," Adrien worried. His mind was moving so fast that he could barely keep up with his thoughts. He put the phone up to his ear to call Nathalie.

Marinette went to her room to grab a change of clothes, giving Adrien some privacy to explain to Nathalie what happened.

"Adrien?" Nathalie answered, sounding worried.

"Hey, I'm okay. I'm so sorry. I was watching a movie with Marinette last night, and we fell asleep. I didn't mean to, I'm sorry for not letting you guys know," Adrien said before she could ask questions.

Nathalie sighed of relief. "You had us so worried, Adrien. We thought something had happened."

"No, I was just with Marinette. I'm sorry, I was just worried about the school thing and being a superhero, and we were talking and lost track of time."

"The school thing?" Nathalie asked. "Didn't your father tell you? He's not pulling you out; he thinks it's better if you stay with your friends and have some freedom. Not that you shouldn't tell us where you are, but enough freedom to have school."

Adrien blinked once to process what she said. "Wait, really?"

---

Marinette and Adrien were...a little late to class. They walked in twenty minutes late and didn't say a word, trying not to cause a distraction.

"Where were you, girl?" Alya whispered.

"I slept through my alarm three times. Tikki had to wake me up," Marinette said.

Alya looked shocked. "You actually slept?"

"The best sleep I've had since the video," Marinette sighed. "Adrien and I fell asleep watching a movie. We must have been exhausted."

"Do you think it was from what the Guardian gave you?" Alya asked.

With a shrug, Marinette pretended to be looking at her book. "Not sure. He said it was supposed to make us more aware, but I slept through my alarm. I was probably just so exhausted from all the not sleeping that my body finally gave up," She said. "Adrien slept through like twenty phone calls."

"That's strange. He never does that," Alya said, and Marinette only replied with another shrug. "Don't tell me you forgot what today is."

Marinette turned her head to look at Alya, confused again. "Come on, girl! Jagged Stone!"

"Oh my god, you're right! His single comes out in a few hours," Marinette said. "And everyone's going to see my artwork. Oh, I'm so nervous," Marinette was going through different stages of emotions. Excitement and nervousness were the two most prominent.

"I'm sure you have nothing to worry about," Alya comforted, and they both went back to looking like they were paying attention.

In the front row, Adrien was still trying to figure out how he slept through all those phone calls. It was one of the best nights of sleep he has ever had, but he couldn't help being confused. He couldn't focus on what the teacher was saying; what changed his father's and Nathalie's minds?

The whole day, while Adrien and Marinette felt much more well-rested, they were distracted. Maybe if they figured out why this was the effect of the cure, it would ease them.

The day zoomed by because of the distractions, and as they were walking out of the school, Adrien and Marinette were telling Alya and Nino about their intense video game battle. Marinette was laughing, but stopped once she saw her name on a sign in front of a car. "Uh, guys?" She pointed at the car.

The door opened quickly. "Marinette!" The familiar voice shouted. "Only an hour until the song and your album art are released! We have to celebrate!" Jagged Stone shouted as he got out of the car. "With all your friends, of course."

Marinette was surprised. "Oh, Jagged, you don't have to-"

"Nonsense! This is a big day for both of us!" He insisted. "Plus, Fang loves ice cream."

Marinette looked at her friends to see if they would agree. "And you can make a video!" Alya suggested. "Get everyone even more excited about this collab by showing our two stars celebrating together. People will be so excited to see us all out together," Alya said.

"Perfect idea!" Jagged Stone pointed at her. "You all in? My treat."

Marinette's friend's all agreed and got into Jagged's limo. Fang sat across from them, next to Jagged, and Penny was making light conversation with the teens. Marinette pulled out her camera. "Do you want me to start now?"

"Go for it," Jagged said, giving her permission.

Marinette turned the camera, so she was in front of it. "Hi! I'm Marinette!" She smiled. "You may be wondering: Marinette, where are you? Well, I am in a limo," She said and started to turn her camera. "With Adrien, Nino, Alya, Penny Rolling, Jagged Stone, and Fang. Everyone say hi!"

All at once, everyone, save for Fang, waved to the camera with big smiles, and Marinette turned the camera back to her. "Today is a very important day. Jagged Stone's single, Lift Up, comes out! It's the first one of our album cover collab, and I'm so excited. I've heard the demos of the song to get inspiration for the cover, and I can't wait to hear the final version. He's even taking us out for ice cream!" Marinette said.

"We have forty-five minutes until it comes out. Why not play it now?" Jagged Stone said.

"Really?" Nino and Alya said at the same time, stoked to hear the song.

Jagged laughed. "She really didn't play the demo for you guys?" He asked. "I assumed she would have for her best friends."

"I would never! I can't make the hype for your music go down if I went around sharing the demo," Marinette defended. "Although, Adrien did hear some of it. He surprised me and walked in while I was working. But he doesn't count."

Jagged grabbed his phone that was already hooked up to his limo. He started the song, as loud as he could make it. It started out slow, but was leading up to the major rockstar that Jagged Stone is. Everyone loved it, a coming of age song about getting back up on your feet after life throws you down.

"That was...glorious," Nino said. "We really got to listen to Jagged Stone's new song...with Jagged Stone!" He said.

Jagged laughed loudly. They had been at the ice cream place for a few minutes now, but listening to the song was much more critical. As they walked into the parlor, Jagged turned to Marinette and her camera. "Do you want to know a secret about the song?"

"Even if she says no," Adrien intervened, "The answer is yes."

Marinette rolled her eyes at Adrien. "I would love to know the secret," She said and pointed the camera at his face.

"It's actually about you," Jagged Stone smiled, making Marinette do a double-take. "I wrote it a while ago, after I found out you were Ladybug and you were going through a rough time. No matter what happened, you always bounced back and were back on your feet. You never gave up," He said.

"Seriously?" She asked, still in shock. "There's no way."

"Way! I'll have to show you the original lyrics with my notes sometime," Jagged said. "Now, let's get some ice cream." Marinette panned the camera to the ice cream shop, showing her friends already getting ice cream and talking amongst themselves. After they all got ice cream, they brought it back to the limo so that Fang could enjoy a treat too, and they continued talking to Jagged and Penny about the album and Marinette's designs. Penny slipped her a bag with a few mockups of how they would look when released hardcopy, and Marinette would definitely be looking at them later.

---

Later that night, in between editing, Marinette took a look at Twitter to see the response to Jagged's song and her design for him.

oh my gosh, Marinette's design for this song fits it so well. I can't wait to see ALL of the covers!!

man yall are really gonna make me buy every version of the album. im gonna go broke because of you.

Lift Up is my new anthem. It's so good. And to know it's based off Marinette is so cool. This new album is going to rock!!

So i'm still a little confused how the covers work- do we really have to buy every album to get all the covers? Like, I'm sure they're gonna be amazing based just of Lift Up alone but like, I don't have enough money to buy twelve albums. Either way, great song!!

im so excited for the album you guys don't even know. when will we have a release date?

I can't wait for the video Marinette and Alya teased on twitter like i am SO HERE for this jagged x marinette collab i love seeing them work together

JAGGED @JaggedStone Awesome feedback on the song and Marinette's design! Thanks all for listening, we are so excited to release the rest of the album. The release date will be out soon!

JAGGED @JaggedStone I noticed some are confused about how the covers will work. There will be a few options. You can buy the album, with just one cover, like normal. Or, you can opt for the deluxe album with two extra songs and all of the covers that you can display or switch out as you please.

JAGGED @JaggedStone We will also be selling merch! Shirts, posters, and maybe some other goodies, with all the covers on it. I've seen some mockups, and it looks incredible. Marinette is still putting final touches on everything, but trust me, you guys are going to love it.

JAGGED @JaggedStone And make sure to follow @MarinetteDC to keep up with her!

---

@lady-of-the-roses-and-lilies @bookishserendipity03 @avatheexceed @gkz10 @coccinellegirl @kat-thatoneweirdo @strawberryblondish @snow-swordswoman @lilgaga98 @evufries

#Miraculous #mlb #ml #miraculous ladybug #ladybug #chat noir #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #miraculous fanfic #fanfiction #lilly writes #adrien x marinette #adrien agreste x marinette dupain-cheng #marichat #adrienette #ladynoir #ladrien

43 notes · View notes

pyromania2667 · 4 years ago

Text

Royal Intervention

This was a request by someone for some King Rastakhan x Zul I love trolls, they’re great. You can also find this on my Ao3 account https://archiveofourown.org/works/26130199

The sun smiles upon the plateau of the Zandalari. King Rastakhan resides on his throne, reading updates from the news on his city below. Such is the life of a king, sometimes magic, but often mundane.

The political nature of his status required him to constantly deal with foreign trade and regulate his citizens properly.

The steady pace of the sluggish day is interrupted by his droll. Zul... the prophet. His speeches are like fanatical screeches, often it’s utter madness. Rastakhan is the king, and whilst he remains on the throne he knows there will be no ill fate coming to the Zandalari.

“My king!” Zul pants. breathless from racing up the steps before kneeling, “I have seen a dire future ahead, it’s another vision! Please, you must listen!”

“Relax, prophet,” Rastakhan replies, raising a hand to silence him, “I am de king, such as you know. I rule over all of Zandalar, as long as my reign lives, we are safe. Each day ya come to me wit dese ridiculous visions, none have come true yet. You’re losing your touch, Zul”

Zul remains tense as he rises to his feet, “Please, my King, this is a dire situation, you cannot ignore me dis time!”

Rastakhan raises an eyebrow as he rises from his throne, the two guards beside him exchange wary glances with each other.

“Enough, Zul” Rastakhan states through gritted teeth, “You have pestered me with ya nonsense for long enough.”

Zul recoils slightly, shrinking down before the king, “But, my king…”

“Enough!” Rastakhan shouts, “We will settle dis elsewhere, a punishment will be decided for your repeated impertinence.

Without any hesitation, Rastakhan walks toward Zul, picking him up by the waist before dragging him away from the throne.

The guards shake their head, Zul always seems to have an apparent habit of getting Rastakhan upset.

Despite Zul’s querulous rant, Rastakhan continues marching down the steps with the prophet.

It is not until Rastakhan enters through the large golden door Zul finally ceases his complaints.

“Now, now Zul…” Rastakhan states, “Dire emergency again? Dat is de third… no, FOURTH time dis month.”

“Forgive me, Rastakhan,” Zul replies meekly, his face blushing with barely held excitement, “I just cannot stop tinking about ya…”

Rastakhan smirks, “Well, ya caught me at a slow day, perhaps we could share de entire afternoon togetha…”

Zul’s eyes light up with excitement, “Really? It’s been so long, I neva thought I’d have de chance ta spend de entire day wit ya…”

Rastakhan nods, “Anyting for my favorite council member… I’m surprised you haven’t foretold dis today...”

Zul blushes, his ashen face deepening into a crimson hue.

Rastakhan gives him a smug grin as he brings his arms up to his crown, setting it on the golden drawer containing his clothes. With the crown discarded, he allows his arms to remain at the back of his head. Zul follows his lead, taking off a handful of his accessories.

“Come on, Zul, we got all day, betta make de most of it…”

Zul eagerly approaches Rastakhan, allowing his hands to explore every inch of Rastakhan’s body. Zul brings his hand up to the sharp, knife-like osteoderms on Rastakhan’s hips.

“Ya always seem ta love my hips, don’tcha, Zul?”

Zul nods eagerly, “You truly are magnificent, my king…”

Rastakhan grins, “Good, dere’s still plenty of me left ta worship.”

Zul looks up at Rastakhan, “Remember how I said one day I’d cut off ma tusks so that I can finally get my tongue all ova ya?”

Rastakhan snickers softly, “Den de council will know dat we’re up ta something.”

Zul gives a pensive sigh before nodding, “Still, I just can’t get over you sometimes…”

“Good,” Rastakhan replies, pressing more of himself onto Zul’s eager hands, “Cause you’re far from finished…”

Zul gives him an ardent glance, “Can I undress ya dis time?” Rastakhan gives a contented smile before nodding, “Of course.”

With shaky hands, Zul begins to undo the golden clasp around Rastakhan’s torso, helping him out of the armor until his glorious torso is on full display.

Zul takes a deep breath as he continues admiring Rastakhan’s firm abs, running his finger along the creases of the king’s perfect physique, “When was de last time I touched ya like dis, Rastakhan?”

“Too long…”

Zul reaches both of his hands up, rubbing the side of Rastakhan’s chiseled torso, admiring the feeling of his fingers along his strapping back before dragging his hands up to his firm pectorals.

Rastakhan stands tall, puffing his chest out slightly for Zul, eager to let his favorite prophet revel in the sensation of his toned body.

“Mmm, yeah…” Rastakhan moans, “Right dere, keep it up Zul…”

With an overeager nod, Zul brings his head up, placing the side of his face against Rastakhan’s chest. He brings a finger up to Rastakhan’s areola, gently tweaking at him as he presses himself even tighter against the king.

His ministrations coax a low moan from the king, “Keep dis up and I’ll just have ta take ya right now, won’t I?”

With a heavy sigh, Zul pulls back slightly, wanting to toy around with Rastakhan’s body for a moment longer.

He reaches up, barely able to touch Rastakhan’s neck. Rastakhan brings his arms down, pulling Zul closer to him as the prophet reflexively wraps his legs around his king. Now at a more advantageous position, Zul continues to grope and fondle Rastakhan’s muscular traps, admiring the shape of his broad shoulders as his hands roam further down.

Rastakhan gives a gentle growl of appreciation, enjoying every moment of Zul’s ministrations. Zul spends a moment admiring the shape of Rastakhan’s firm arms, allowing himself to eagerly stroke at his thick biceps and triceps.

“Mmm, what a strong king I have…” Zul mutters

“De better ta protect you with, Zul,” Rastakhan replies.

Rastakhan brings an arm up while his other arm tightens around Zul’s underside. He flexes his impressive physique for the prophet, “Yeah, nearly 200 years and I still go it, right?”

Zul nods eagerly as he admires his form, “It’s as if you’re only getting stronger…”

Rastakhan gives a cocky smirk, “Such is true, I’m sure you know as a prophet I’m only gonna get stronger.”

He brings his arm down to the underside of Zul’s chin, “And you’ll be here by my side… always…”

Zul gives Rastakhan a pleading glance as the king slowly leans forward, carefully navigating both of their tusks as he plans a firm kiss on the smaller troll’s lips.

Zul gives a weary sigh, reveling in the assertive presence Rastakhan has over him. After a moment of indulging in the passionate embrace, Rastakhan pulls back, as small beads of saliva drip from Zul’s mouth from the intense kiss.

“Mmm, I tink it’s about time we finally get to business, shall we?”

Zul responds with an eager nod, “Yes, my king, please…”

Rastakhan sets Zul down on the ground, his erection nearly pushing aside his loincloth.

“Betta open up ya gift, who knows how long until you can get one like dis again.”

With eager motions, Zul grips the hem of Rastakhan’s loincloth, desperately pulling it down until every inch of his manhood is unveiled. Zul reflexively leans in, enjoying the subtle scent of the king.

“I can’t remember de last time I could just bask in your radiance…”

“I always love it when you do…but now it’s my turn to have fun,” Rastakhan replies with a smirk.

He brings his massive hands down, helping Zul out of the remains of his garments. Rastakhan slowly removes each article of clothing one by one, making sure to allow his hands to roam around the slender troll’s physique.

With each second Rastakhan graces his ashen skin Zul can’t help but quiver in anticipation, eager for more of his king’s touch. He can feel his erection press up within his loins, eager to be released.

Rastakhan brings a hand down, slipping Zul’s undergarments off, leaving him completely naked.

“Mmm, someone’s excited,” Rastakhan mocks.

“Please…” Zul begs, “Please, I can’t take dis anymore, I just want t’ be wit ya.”

Rastakhan replies with a smirk, “Den I’ll be sure ta give ya exactly what ya want…”

Without a moment of hesitation, Rastakhan drags Zul onto the ornate bed, setting aside the pillows and comforter until Zul is safely nestled underneath his tremendous body.

Bringing Zul’s arms up above his head, Rastakhan keeps the prophet trapped beneath him. His erection pokes outward, nearly twice as large as Zul’s. With a soft grunt, he bucks slightly against Zul, frotting his shaft against the smaller troll’s.

Zul whimpers with need, wrapping his legs around Rastakhan’s thick waist.

Rastkhan gives a domineering growl, “Mmm, go on, beg for ya majesty. I won’t give ya what ya want until I know you’re ready.”

“Please… Rasta…” Zul begs, his breathing staggered by Rastakhan’s repeated grinding against him.

“My king, my savior, I want you… I need ya now more dan ever… Please save me from my needs. Give me your royal gift…”

Rastakhan gives a low growl, “Hmmm, betta… But I know you got more in ya.”

“Rastakhan…” Zul pleads, “You’re my only hope, I cannot see a future without ya. I need you inside me!”

Rastakhan gives a coy smirk, bringing his hand down to align his pre-leaking erection with the entrance of Zul’s backdoor.

He slowly drives his massive girth into Zul’s rear, forcing the smaller troll to grunt with need.

“Hmm, we’ve done dis how many times? And ya still be too small for ya majesty…”

Zul whimpers softly as he clutches his hands onto the sheets beneath him, desperate for Rastakhan to give him more love.

“Looks like I’m really gonna have ta give it to ya, Zul. You’re all mine now.”

Without any further warning, Rastakhan gives an aggressive buck against Zul, causing him to howl with pleasure as his hole is completely stuffed by every last inch of Rastakhan’s girth.

With desperate panting, Zul clenches his grip around Rastakhan, taking a moment to get used to him.

Slowly Rastakhan begins pumping in and out of the small prophet, keeping a steady rhythm despite the rough entry.

“Rastakhan…” Zul whimpers with a shaky voice…

Rastakhan shushes Zul softly with a single finger, “Dat’s a good boy, just let your king give you de treatment ya deserve…”

Zul’s entire body continues to shiver in ecstasy, he brings an arm up to gently grope at his pectorals, desperate to get the most out of the situation.

Rastakhan smirks as he one hand clutches tighter around his waist while the other slides down his body until it reaches Zul’s throbbing erection. Gripping it gently, Rastakhan slowly jerks off the eager prophet.

It doesn’t take long, and with a howl of pure bliss Zul reaches his climax, jetting several ropes of his seed over Rastakhan’s hand.

“Mmm, already?” Rastakhan smirks, “Ya betta hold on tight, I’ve barely even begun…”

Zul desperately reaches outward, attempting to stroke any part of Rastakhan’s chiseled body he can manage.

Rastakhan leans down, gripping both of Zul’s wrists, bringing them above his head and pinning him beneath his weight once more. Minding the prophet’s tusks, Rastakhan carefully brings his face in to plant another kiss on him.

Zul moans into the embrace, submitting completely to his king. He is unsure how long he’s spent being bred by his king, the only thing he’s aware of now is the dull bliss of being nailed by the bulky troll.

Eventually, he can feel Rastakhan’s kiss grow desperate, his bucking is losing its steady rhythm and he can feel his king’s breathing become frantic.

The throbbing girth inside him pulsates with greater intensity, Zul cries out once more, his girth leaking out more cum onto himself.

“Are ya… Ready… For a king’s gift..?” Rastakhan pants.

“More dan ever, Rastakhan…” Zul replies with shaky breaths.

With a loud howl, Rastakhan cries out, hilting every last inch into Zul’s rear.

With a deep moan, Rastakhan finally cums, depositing every ounce of cum he possibly can into Zul.

Zul gasps slightly as he can feel wave after wave of warm seed shoot inside him, filling him well beyond his limits. He cannot wish to hold it all, and despite Rastakhan doing his best to plug him completely, it continues to leak out of him. His stomach distends slightly from the intense load he’s received.

Rastakhan falls over, pulling Zul on top of him. The bed is quickly painted white by Rastakhan’s orgasm leaking out of Zul.

“Mmm, I hope dat’s whatcha wanted, Zul…” Rastakhan moans softly, holding the prophet closely to him.

Zul can only respond with a satisfied moan, nodding in assurance.

“Good, cause I still have a lot more ta go today, I hope you’re ready… My favorite prophet is going to have a day to remember.”

Zul gulps softly, mentally bracing himself for yet another round.

#rastakhan #king rastakhan #prophet zul #zul #rastazul #World of Warcraft #worldofwarcraft #troll #gay #writing #My writing #zandalari #zandalar troll

5 notes · View notes

crazy-little-cool-cat · 5 years ago

Text

Hand in Glove - Chapter 24 | Ben Hardy x OFC

A/N: I’m a shooting star leaping through the skies like a tiger, defying the laws of gravity. Don’t stop me now. Also, y’all can thank the Jewish holidays for giving me so much free time to write. This chapter was written in collaboration with @ramibaby. My dear, thank you for sacrificing your fics for this chapter. You are a champion.

Word Count: Laughs nervously.

Warnings: There’s smut. Also, I’m kind of making fun of fanfics in this one, which means I’m making fun of myself, mostly, so please, fellow writer - do not take this seriously. This is pure fun. If you’re confused by this statement, just read the chapter and your issues will be resolved.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14 , Chapter 15 , Chapter 16 , Chapter 17 , Chapter 18 , Chapter 19 , Chapter 20 , Chapter 21 , Chapter 22 , Chapter 23

“Bullocks.”

“I’m telling you, Jamie. They hated it.”

“Sweet Clara,” Jamie shook his head and pursed his lips, “they’re lying. At least one of them is.”

“Who’s lying?” Annie startled them both.

“You are.” Jamie said, tongue in cheek.

“Enlighten me.” Annie crossed her arms.

“We’ve kissed, what, trillions of times?” Jamie asked. “Not one of them was like kissing a croc. Or an eel.”

“How do you even know -”

“The Snitcher here told me all about it.” Jamie patted Clara’s head. “Anyways, someone’s lying.”

Annie took a deep breath.

“Well, then?” Jamie tapped his foot as he waited for Annie to either tear him a new asshole or come clean. “Which one is it?”

“I mean, it wasn’t that bad.” Annie said, looking at the ground.

“Oh, no…” Clara took a step back while Jamie lifted his closed fist and released it, dropping an invisible mic. “Annie, what are you saying?”

“It wasn’t that bad.” Annie shrugged. “Did I make a whole show of it to get you knuckleheads to stop? Yes. But so did Joe.”

“Wait, what?”

“Oh, the plot thickens!” Jamie leered.

“Fuck off, Jamie.” Annie shot back. “Look, did I like the way Joe kissed me? No. Not really. He’s too gentle.”

“But?” Clara prodded on.

“But it wasn’t as horrible as we both said it was.” Annie said casually. “Will I do it again now that I know what it’s like? Nope.”

“Jamie?” Clara looked at the tall redhead.

Jamie squinted suspiciously at Annie, scrutinizing her from head to toe.

“She’s telling the truth.”

###

“How many more of these do we have left?” Ben rubbed his face with both hands and threw his head back against the back of the sofa he, Gwilym, Rami and Joe were crammed in since the morning. “If I have to answer the same bloody questions again…”

They finally got a break. Gwilym decided to go stretch his legs a bit and Rami went out for a smoke, leaving Ben and Joe alone in the room.

“I know, right?” Joe grumbled.

“Can I ask you something?” Ben removed his hands and turned his head to look at Joe.

“Shoot.”

“You liked kissing her, didn’t you?”

“Look, Ben, I don’t want to hurt your feelings…”

“So, you did.”

“It wasn’t as horrible as we made it seem, no.” Joe started. “But I didn’t like the way she kissed me, man.”

“What?”

“She’s too aggressive.” Joe shrugged. “The lip biting thing? I don’t like it.”

“Wait -”

“I mean, she’s not a bad kisser at all.” Joe rephrased. “Very... passionate.”

“Huh.”

“Just a bit too much for my liking.”

“Good. That’s good.” Ben straightened up. “So it won’t happen again?”

“No.” Joe smiled. “Although, her kiss did make me wonder what your sex life is like.”

“Amazing, actually.”

###

Annie stared at her phone, scratching her head in confusion. After looking through her texts while Ben filled the car with petrol, she had half a mind to pay someone to build a flying saucer for her and her family leave this planet forever.

“What’s wrong?” Ben said as he put on his seat-belt.

“The world.”

“Uh?”

“There’s people out there pining over Clara and me. Like, romantically.”

“Come again?” Ben adjusted the rear view mirror and smiled when Rory’s reflection appeared. “What are you on about?”

“They call us Clannie, Ben.”

“What?”

“They’re writing stories about Clara and me as a couple. Graphic stuff.”

“Can you send me a link to one of them?” Ben smirked.

“No!” Annie shuddered. “You sick, sick man!”

“Could be hot.” He shrugged.

“So could the stories about you, Gwilly and Joe.” Annie smirked back.

“What, like Gwil and me, Joe and me, and Gwil and Joe?”

“No, no,” Annie stifled a chuckle. “All three of you at once.”

Ben blinked, staring at the road ahead.

“Da!”

“Yeah, baby?” Ben replied instinctively, before slamming his foot on the breaks. “Did she just call me Da?”

“She’s six months old, I’m not sure babies start talking at that age.”

“She called me Da.” Ben insisted.

“She’s a babbling blob, Ben.” Annie rolled her eyes. “She didn’t call you Da.”

“She said her first word and it was Da.”

“Ben, you’re being irrational.”

“You’re jealous.”

“Da! Ba! Bfffffffffff!” Rory continued.

“I know, Rory,” Annie turned around in her seat, “but doing press interviews can make anyone hear things.”

“Sssssssseeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

“You’re absolutely right.” Annie replied. “But we love him anyways.”

###

If there’s one thing Annie hated the most about promoting season two of Greensleeves, it’s doing the interviews and late-night talk shows. Same questions, different people. It got tiresome. She managed to play the “Baby Card” more times than she’d expected... Until the producers realised what she was doing and the proverbial party was officially over.

“So, is the cast really that close?” Jason, the host, asked Clara and Annie.

“Some are closer than others.” Annie replied, surprisingly diplomatically. “Jamie and I have known each other before and Clara and I basically grew up together, so that was inevitable.”

“The previous George Boleyn was alright, I suppose. He didn’t last too long, though.” Clara chimed in. “But the new guy? We love Mike.”

“Oh yeah, he fit right in.” Annie smiled. “As far as the older cast members - we look up to them, but we don’t share our nonsense with them too much.”

“What about Jane Seymour’s character?” Jason asked.

“Well, we haven’t met her yet.” Annie confessed. “The production team’s goal was for art to truly imitate life and they want my reaction to be as genuine as possible. We haven’t filmed the part she comes into the picture just yet.”

“We don’t even know who she is, to be honest.” Clara added.

“I suspect someone messed up and forgot to cast a Jane, really.” Annie shrugged.

“Careful, there, Annabelle.” Jason chuckled. “Keep calling the production team out like that and you’ll end up fired.”

“I’ll be beheaded either way.”

“And what a glorious sight it will be.” Clara cheekily teased her.

“You two seem to have an amazing bond.” Jason admitted. “Do you ever fight?”

“All couples do.” Clara answered and Jason audibly gasped. “We don’t like to be too public about our tiffs.”

“Clara, you blithering fool…” Annie smacked her own forehead dramatically.

“Well, since you ladies brought it up -”

“Not this lady.” Annie muttered, pointing at herself.

“- what exactly is Clannie? I assume you’ve heard the term before.”

Clara and Annie exchanged amused smiles and sighed simultaneously.

“The bane of my existence.” Annie replied.

“Basically, I stumbled upon it the other day after a fan sent me a private message on Instagram, saying there’s an actual hashtag people use when they talk about Annie and I.”

“Sounds innocent enough.” Jason shrugged.

“Oh, you dirty, dirty man.” Clara joked. “You know damn well where this is going.”

“You seem to be enjoying this!” Jason laughed.

“Believe me, she loves every bloody minute of it.” Annie chimed in.

“Right, so as I snooped around I found that Clannie is like a code name for Annie and I as a couple.”

“Aha.”

“And the more I delved in, the more entertaining it got. People are writing some pretty wild fanfiction stories about us.”

“Is it really all fiction?” Jason asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if you’ll look at the screen here,” Jason turned back a little where a huge image behind the scenes of Greensleeves appeared. It was one of Annie licking cake off Clara’s face, “the show’s Instagram page is like fodder for the Clannie enthusiasts.”

“Oh my God, I forgot about that!” Annie burst out laughing. “It was Clara’s birthday! Season one! Jamie took this picture, actually. Right after I smashed Clara’s face into that cake.”

“It’s tradition.” Clara explained. “The cake licking part was definitely improvised.”

###

“Ben?”

“In here!”

Annie followed the sound of Ben’s voice and found him in the living room, folding laundry while watching whatever was on the telly.

“I am absolutely shattered.” Annie wrapped her hands around Ben’s waist and looked up at him. “Longest day in my entire life.”

“Likewise.” Ben murmured and kissed her. “Just got home a couple of hours ago. When I picked Rory up from my mum’s she was already asleep.”

“God, I wish I could be her for a day.”

“Yeah? Want me to give you baths and carry you in my arms and nibble on your little bum after I change your nappy?” Ben raised an eyebrow. “Just say the word. Also Joe and Gwil shot a weird little bit today when they read what Tumblr users said about the movie and cast and do people not wank anymore?”

“I, uh…” Annie was at a loss for words.

“How was your day?”

“If I have to hear about Clannie again I will definitely clock someone.” Annie released her grip on Ben and collapsed on the sofa. “Why are people so obsessed with this?”

“Two hot birds doing naughty things?” Ben shrugged. “I can see the appeal of it.”

“Ben, no.”

“Don’t be such a prude, now, love.” He put the last item of folded clothing in the hamper and flopped down next to Annie, his hand trailing up her thigh.

“Ben…”

“I missed you, alright?” his fingers poked their way under the waistband of her leggings. “I can’t stop missing you.”

“Ben, seriously, I’m so tired.” She grumped as he slid off the sofa and positioned himself in front of her, nudging her legs open. “I missed you too but -”

“Let me do all the work.” He looked up at her through his eyelashes as his hands gripped her waistband again. He looked up at Annie with his best puppy dog eyes and waited for her consent. With a sigh, she lifted her bum up, letting Ben pull her leggings and knickers down in one swift motion. “Good girl.”

###

When Ben’s phone rang for the fifth time and Gwilym’s name showed up on the screen yet again, he knew something was either horribly wrong or that Gwilym is drunk and emotional. Glancing at Annie, they both sighed in resignation before taking the FaceTime call.

“Have you been drinking?” Annie asked when Clara showed up on the screen. “What kind of fuckery is this?”

“We found a good story and we just had to share, alright? Calm your tits, Annie. It’s not a Clannie.” Clara rolled her eyes. “Why won’t Joe pick up?”

“I just texted him to pick up.” Ben shoved the screen into view. “As his husband, he’ll surely listen to me.”

“Bugger off!” Gwil turned his phone around and flipped him the bird.

“Why have I been summoned?” Joe asked, his face appearing on the screen.

“Well, we have a treat for you!” Clara practically sang.

“A treat?”

“Yours socks are going to fly right off, mate.” Gwil added as Clara pulled the story up on her phone. “You’re not ready for this.”

With a devilish smile to the camera, Clara cleared her throat and began.

“’Joe…?’ Ben croaked, eyes still closed, brow low and fingers wrapped firmly around his length over his jeans.” Clara started reading.

“Off to a good start.” Annie teased.

“It gets better.” Clara commented. “Right, where was I? Ah. There.” She snickered. “Suddenly, his eyes shot open and they landed on you once again; glassy and dazed they were as he stared you down, stroking himself with more purpose. He looked at you with such focus and intent, it was as though he was about to devour you whole. You looked at him with such longing, it was as though you were about to let him. ‘Undress… h-her.’ His words came out in a strangled whine and he bit his lip, looking over your body expectantly as Joe wordlessly obliged.” Clara raised her eyes from the screen and huffed. “Gwil, stop smiling like that!”

“What in the bloody hell is this?” Ben was visibly annoyed. “I do not whine. Annie, tell them I don’t whine!”

“He really doesn’t.” Annie nodded. “But Joe doing everything Ben says? That person hit the nail on the head right there.”

“Hey!” Joe’s brows knotted. “I don’t do everything he says!”

“But you do.” Ben and Annie choired.

“Shut up, you two-headed-monster.”

“People, can we please focus on the important stuff? There’s more to read here.” Clara scolded them. “Let’s see… Oh, this is good! Your nerves grew as a pair of warm hands rounded your shoulders from behind. Joe must have felt you tense up a little as he leaned down to murmur in your ear, ‘Alright, Y/N?’ The ghost of his words made you shiver on their way past.”

“Who the fuck is Whyanne?” Ben interrupted.

“Sounds like some hillbilly from a West Virginian trailer park with a potato gun and a cousin with missing teeth.” Joe added.

“What?” Clara was visibly confused.

“Who’s Whyanne and why did I tell Joe to undress her? This makes no bloody sense.”

“It’s written as Y-slash-N, you knobs.” Gwil explained. “Carry on, doll.”

“Anyways.” Clara continued. “You smiled at his redundant question - of course you weren’t.”

“I don’t like where this is going.” Joe commented. “Sounds a bit rapey.”

“Just let me finish!” Clara groaned. “You were certain your panties were soaked through at the mere sight of them - a fact you felt too compelling to keep to yourself. With that in mind, you shook your head slowly from side to side, eyes still on Ben before you, your chest inflating as you drew in a deep breath. Ben shot you a confused look, concerned you were having second thoughts.”

“Yeah, this is definitely rapey.” Joe concluded.

“Joe, if you won’t let her finish a bloody paragraph, so help me God…” Annie threatened, clearly invested in the story.

“Thank you, Banana!” Clara put a hand over her heart with a grateful smile. “Wait I lost my spot again… duh-duh-duh… there it is!” She smiled triumphantly. “Here we go. Hold on to your manties, gentlemen, this is about to get steamy.” She took a deep breath and got into character. “‘No,’ you breathed, tilting your head back to look at Joe. You reached a hand up to cup his jaw as he looked down at you, a look of worry overtaking his soft features.”

“My features aren’t soft.” Joe muttered. “They’re manly and feral.”

“Of course they are, bub.” Annie reassured him.

“Guys! Come on!” Clara snapped her fingers at the camera. “Focus!”

“Sorry.” Annie said sheepishly.

“’I’m so fucking wet and…”

“Whoa, whoa!” Ben cut her off. “Gwilym, control your woman!”

“She’s reading the story, you saggy tit.” Gwil explained.

“Joe emitted a soft whine -” Clara paused, knowing an interruption is due. “Joe, sweetheart, this sounds like something you’d do, don’t even think about denying it.” She pointed at the camera. “- Joe emitted a soft whine and his expression shifted; his eyes dark and nostrils flaring as his grip on your shoulders tightened. Pushing your ass back against his crotch, you disclosed, ‘…I think I’ve ruined my favourite…” Clara burst out laughing. “Sorry. ‘I’ve ruined my favourite -” the pitch in her voice rose ten octaves at the last syllable as she tried to stop laughing like a madwoman. “My favourite…” Clara was absolutely wheezing. She tried to finish the sentence, but all that came out of her was a screechy, “laaaaaace-pannnnneeeeeeeeeeeeeee”.

“What?” Ben looked at Annie in utter bewilderment. Annie shrugged in response.

“What was that last part?” Joe scratched his head as he tried to make sense of Clara’s incoherent shrieking.

“Lace panties.” Gwilym’s voice saved the day and translated his hysterical girlfriend’s nonsensical mumbling. “She ruined her favourite lace panties.”

“Oh.” Joe, Ben and Annie choired.

“Clara, compose yourself.” Gwil chuckled as she physically doubled over, tears running down, her laughter leaving her breathless. Moving to sit next to her and switch to the front camera on his device, he took Clara’s phone from her. “Right, guess I’m going to take charge now. You furrowed your brow, your mouth ajar as you began to slowly grind against him, your hand never leaving the side of his face as his eyes bore into yours.” Gwilym paused. “Seems anatomically impossible if her back is against you unless you have a freakishly long neck.”

“I thought she was looking at Ben?” Joe asked.

“She’s clearly looking at you, Joe.” Annie quipped.

“Joe tried to keep his composure - to play along in the same teasingly innocent tone as yours, but the feeling of you moving against him must have been a little to much to bear as he stuttered ‘oh n-no…” Gwilym snorted. “Wow Joe, got a little excited there, hm? His hands trailed down your waist before resting on your hips. He held onto them tight as he pushed his clothed hard on against you with such force you drew in a deep breath.”

“Oh, wow.” Annie leaned back, her eyes wide. “The power of Joe’s boner really got her there.”

“His voice was low as he murmured, ‘surely we can - ugh,” he licked his bottom lip, eyes closing a moment as you felt his cock twitch against your ass - he was just as worked up as you.” Gwilym paused there, mulling over what he had just read aloud. “Joe, whoever wrote this seems to think you have a speech impediment.”

“Right?!” Joe asked, “Why do I keep stuttering?! I’m the most charismatic one!”

“Anyways.” Gwilym said, ignoring Joe’s last comment. “His eyes fluttered open and he continued, ‘surely we can make it up to you’. ‘I’d like that Joey…’ you smiled.”

Joe, Ben and Annie waited, not sure if that was it or if there’s more to the story. After a minute of Clara’s heaving and the rest sitting in silence, Annie finally spoke.

“To be fair,” she looked at Ben, “if it weren’t for the lace panties, I’d be willing to bet cold hard cash that Gwil wrote that for himself to read.”

###

“Hey, Joe! I bought something for you to take on your tour!” Annie beamed mischievously.

It was the night the guys - minus Ben - were leaving for the press tour and Annie went out on a whim earlier that day and decided to tease Joe in the best way she could possibly imagine.

“Well? What is it?” Joe asked impatiently.

They were all gathered at Annie and Ben’s, from which the car to the airport was picking the rest of the guys up. Ben was mopey and miserable, a stark contrast to Annie’s cheeriness.

“Close your eyes.” Annie drawled.

“I’d rather keep them open, actually.”

“Alright then.” Annie shrugged and left the room to fetch Joe’s present. She returned with a life-sized cardboard cutout of Ben. “Ta-daaa!”

“I love it!” Joe gushed and rushed over to her, taking the present and looking it over. “What’s his name?”

“I call him Ben Cardy.” Annie said proudly. “You’re welcome.”

“Oh Ben!” Joe’s smile was so wide, his face could split in half. “It’s like you’ll be with us after all!”

###

Ben was staring at his phone intently, his hand lazily palming his crotch. He knew he shouldn’t have done that. He should not have gone down the Clannie rabbit-hole. But Annie was away at work, Rory was napping, and he just felt compelled to at least give it a look. He almost hung from the bedroom ceiling fan when Annie cleared her throat, announcing her presence. He dropped his phone with a yelp.

“Jesus, Annie!”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” Annie choked back a chuckle. “Also, surprise!”

“Why are you home?” Ben fumbled for his phone.

“Well, this is not what I was hoping you’d say.”

“Sorry, I mean -”

“I can leave if you want me to.” Annie suggested.

“What? No. Shut up.” Ben rambled. “Why are you home so early?”

“I figured you’d be sad and lonely now that the guys are away and decided to surprise you and come home early.” Annie shrugged. “Clearly, this isn’t the reaction I was expecting.”

“Christ. I’m sorry.” Ben’s face was beet-red. “I’m happy you’re home, obviously.”

“What do you have there?”

“Nothing.” Ben powered the screen off and tossed his phone aside. “C’mere.”

“No, there’s definitely something.” Annie stepped back and shook her head. “Was that porn?”

Ben had only a split second to think about a satisfactory answer that wasn’t also a total lie.

“Yes.”

“Well, that explains the tent you’re sporting.” Annie smirked. “Were you just getting started?”

“Uh.” Ben furrowed his brows.

“Alright. What’s up?” Annie pointed at Ben’s crotch. “Other than that.”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” Shame flashed in Ben’s eyes. “Just regular porn, y’know.”

“Ben.”

“Annie.”

“Give me the phone.”

“No.”

“Are you…” Annie grimaced. “Are you sexting someone?”

“What? No!”

“You’re hiding something.”

“Annie, just let it go.”

“Fuck off. Give me the phone.”

Ben bit his bottom lip as he contemplated his next course of action. Either he tells Annie what’s on his phone, or he tries to distract her long enough for her to forget about it. When Annie lunged forward and made grabby-hands at his phone, his instincts kicked in. He physically blocked her.

“Annie, stop.”

“What the fuck!”

“It’s a Clannie story, alright?!” he almost growled at her. “There. Now you know.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“Ben, that’s…” Annie struggled to find the proper adjective.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Ben looked mortified. “I was bored and lonely. It’s horrible.”

“Then why are you hard?”

“Because it turns me on.”

“I’m confused.”

“Look, it’s not Hemingway, alright?” Ben groaned. “But the stuff this person wrote? The mental image I have planted in my brain now?”

“Good Lord.”

“Just come here. Listen.”

“Have you gone utterly bonkers, Jones?”

“Seriously. Come here.” He patted the empty space on the bed next to him.

Muttering to herself, Annie did as asked and snuggled up to her boyfriend.

“Right, so I’m skipping the beginning because that was just all kinds of blah.” Ben’s voice had an animated quality to it as he scrolled. “There. Listen.”

“You’re awful.” Annie mumbled. “This is domestic abuse.”

“Shut up.” Ben got comfortable and began. “’I’ve never been with a woman before…’ Clara confessed shyly, avoiding Annie’s piercing gaze.”

“Starting off with a lie, I see.” Annie scoffed and rolled her eyes, trying to stop Ben from reading any further.

“Annie simply smiled at how bashful Clara had become. Reaching out, Annie tucked a wayward strand of hair behind Clara’s ear. Clara leaned into it smiling softly as her eyes met Annie’s once again. ‘Would you like to?’ Annie asked boldly -”

“Alright, stop right there.” Annie sat up straighter. “I am sick and tired of everyone feeling like Clara is this sweet, innocent, baby angel all the time and I’m some she-devil, maneater, sex-crazed banshee.”

“You were cast as Anne Boleyn for a reason, love.”

“That’s besides the point! Clara is a filthy, naughty little elf!”

“Right. Anyhow.” Ben cleared his throat. “‘Would you like to?’ Annie asked boldly sitting up on her heels so their faces were only inches apart. She could feel Clara’s warm breath ghost her cheeks as she replied quietly, ‘yes.’”

Ben paused and waited for Annie’s outraged reaction.

“No comment?” He asked, genuinely surprised.

“Nope. You know, with me being such a bloody whore and enticing sweet blondes into sex all the time and whatnot. Carry on.”

“I mean, where’s the lie, though?”

“In case you forgot, you kissed me on our first date. And convinced me to have unprotected sex.”

“You should thank me for it.” Ben booped Annie’s nose with his finger. “Gave us Rory.”

“Goddamn it. You’re right.”

“Let me just find where I was when you so rudely interrupted me and scared the shit out of me…” he scrolled through the story. “There. ‘Fuck Clara, so good!’ Annie moaned, bare chest heaving as she grasped at the bed sheets beneath her. For someone who had never been with a woman before, Clara certainly knew how to use her tongue in a way that had Annie screaming in delight.”

“This? This makes you horny?” Annie snorted.

“Shut up.” Ben kept scrolling. “Oh, this bit is juicy. ‘Thought about this for so long.’ Annie breathed, her fingers parting Clara’s slick folds and spreading her wetness around. Slick folds?” Ben blinked at the screen.

“My ears feel like they’ve been sexually assaulted.”

“Slick folds. Okay.” Ben took a second to recover. “Hmmm… ‘Thought about what your sweet voice would sound like moaning my name.” Annie continued. Clara’s breath hitched and hips jerked as Annie began lazily circling her engorged clit -”

“Oh my God that’s not even remotely sexy.” Annie covered her mouth with her hand. “Engorged clit?!”

“-’Fuck, Annie, make me cum!’ Clara almost sobbed.”

“Alright, stop. I’m the one almost sobbing.” Annie looked up at Ben as if she’d seen a ghost. “What the fuck was that?”

“I don’t know, but my cock is throbbing.”

###

“Do you two even realise what you’ve done?” Greensleeves’ executive producers were beyond livid. “The fans are furious!”

“They’re furious?!” Annie barked back. “Did you even see the utter shit that’s out there?!”

“It’s not that bad.” Clara shrugged. “Some of it’s pretty good.”

“Clara, if you don’t zip it -” Annie muttered, clenching her fists.

“Ben seemed to like it.” Clara blurted out in anger.

“Oh?” Jamie’s ears perked up. “Our little Benny Boy wants to see his girl get it on with her best friend?”

“Stay out of it, James.” If looks could kill, Jamie would be dead, resurrected and killed again, for good measure.

“Not a chance, Annabelle.”

“You imbeciles need to stop being so rude to our fans.” The executive leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, pointing at the trio. “If they want to write porn about the three of you, you shut up and look the other way. You don’t go on national television and bitch about it!” he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

“I’m guessing Ben won’t be into any Jannie stories, then?” Jamie quipped and earned a slap to the back of his head. “Ow!”

“Any publicity is good publicity?” Clara asked timidly.

“I mean, some of our fans loved our honesty. They’re all about Team Clannie now.” Annie said.

“Yeah, and some of them are planning to assassinate you for being evil enough to seduce Ben Hardy and Gwilym Lee with your witch-magic superpowers.” Mike finally spoke. “You two are in for some serious rounds of online shit-talking, ladies. Enjoy.”

#########

TAGLIST: @ramibaby @xgoingdownx @qweenly @violetpond @sweeterthancheese @drummerqueenrmt @westansstuff @justgivemethekeys @blondecarfucker @cheeseedreams47 @deacy-dearest @pinkmarvel @onceuponadetectivedemigod

42 notes · View notes

mercurysnitch · 5 years ago

Text

I’ll Be There For You

Summary: Freddie’s friendship is life changing for his favourite roadie.

A/N: This is not one of the many things I’d previously mentioned I was working on, it’s just some ‘Freddie being the best friend ever’ angsty fluff. I read a story featuring Ben that covered somewhat similar territory, and then this just sort of happened. I initially had the image of Freddie comforting Roxie backstage, and Roger holding her later in Freddie’s kitchen (well, at his back door, but that’s the room I imagined it leading into) and from that I churned it out over about five days, which is ridiculously quick for me.

This story involves an abusive relationship, so look away if that’s something you’re not comfortable reading. This is not something I have experience with, so hopefully it’s relatively realistic but if not, I sincerely apologise, I was trying my best. For reference I envisioned the abuse being mainly verbal or psychological, with occasional physical violence. Just in case that hasn’t come across well in the story.

I imagined the real Queen boys while I was writing, but this will work with the Bo Rhap versions too.

Title is of course from the Rembrandts song, aka the Friends theme song. The story doesn’t really have anything to do with the song, I just thought it was a nice title for it.

Warnings: Mentions of physical and verbal abuse, descriptions of verbal abuse, injury (bruises), fleeing an abusive partner, some angst, Freddie is a great friend

*******************************************************************************************Freddie, as always, was riding high after the show. Queen seemed to be on top of their game on this tour, and tonight had felt almost as good as Live Aid. They were going back to London tomorrow, for their glorious return to the scene of that triumph. The whole band was looking forward to it, none more so than Freddie.

He was so caught up in thoughts of Queen's impending homecoming he wasn't paying attention to where he was going, which of course resulted in him nearly running into one of his favourite roadies on his way to the dressing room. He managed to avoid bodily contact, but his drink ended up on the floor. And the roadie's shirt. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" the roadie apologised immediately, looking alarmed. "It's alright Roxie," he reassured her, "I should have been paying more attention to where I was going." This was Roxie's first tour with Queen, but Freddie had taken a shine to her almost immediately. The whole band had, really, once they'd met her, but the others were usually too preoccupied with their families and everything else to spend much time hanging around with the crew.

Freddie looked at Roxie with concern. "You're all wet, you'd better change before you catch cold." "It'll have to wait til I load the truck, my bags are already in there" Roxie told him. "But that's hours away" Freddie gasped. "Come on, I'm sure there's a spare shirt somewhere in the dressing room." Roxie was alarmed. "You can't go to all that trouble just for me." Freddie just smiled reassuringly. "Nonsense, can't have my favourite roadie catching pneumonia now, can I?" Roxie had been following Freddie as he wandered backstage, and now realised they were in front of a door. Before she could think Freddie pushed her through and locked it. "Right, where's my clothes rack?" he wondered. Roxie stood staring as Freddie wandered around. "This is your dressing room?" "It's storage mostly, we all get ready together elsewhere" he explained. At that point he found the rack and started thumbing through. "Ah, this should do" he murmured suddenly. "Here. Nice and dark, and looks about your size too" he commented, passing a clean shirt to Roxie.

She was hesitant as she took it. "Well, go on then" Freddie encouraged. "What, here?" Roxie's eyes were a little wide. "Well, would you rather change in the corridor?" Freddie quipped. She shook her head. "Of course not, but…" Suddenly Freddie understood. "Oh, sorry, do you want me to leave?" "No, it's alright," Roxie assured him, "but could you…?" "Of course, dear." Freddie turned away without another word, and Roxie soon had her wet shirt off. "Looking forward to going home?" he asked casually, while he waited for the roadie to clean herself up. "Uh, I guess…" Her tone told him she really wasn't, which surprised him. Usually by this point everyone missed their families desperately. Then again, not everyone had a family of their own. "Nobody you've been missing while you're away then?" he asked, his tone still light. Roxie understood what Freddie was asking, and she wasn't bothered by it, unlike some. "No, my boyfriend's waiting for me back in London" she explained. "I just… I don't think I'm ready for this tour to be over yet." Freddie nodded. "It’s been fun, hasn't it?" "Yeah…" Roxie responded uncertainly. "Ok, you can turn around now." Roxie stood before Freddie fully decent, clad in a clean dark shirt. She looked a little unsure of something, and Freddie wondered as he farewelled her whether there was something more behind her lack of enthusiasm for the impending end of the tour.

Something about Roxie's behaviour bothered Freddie until he saw her again, before the Wembley show. She was sporting a fresh-looking bruise on her arm. "I didn't do that, did I?" he asked, concerned. Roxie stared blankly. "When I bumped into you the other night" he clarified. "No, no" she reassured him. "I, um, walked into a door." Freddie raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. He had a sudden suspicion as to the cause of her apparent lack of desire for home, and he desperately hoped it was wrong.

"Right. So, first night at home. Must have been nice to be back." It was a throwaway comment, but it seemed to crack something inside Roxie. "No, it was… I wish I could just stay on tour forever and never go home" she murmured tearfully. Freddie immediately embraced her. "Oh, darling. Did he do this to you?" Roxie was confused. "Who?" "Your boyfriend, what was his name?" "Rick" Roxie supplied. "Yeah, he - he doesn't usually act like that, but I told him about all the men I work with..." "And he didn't like it, did he?" Freddie said quietly. "No, he didn't" Roxie agreed, shaking her head. "I feel like a fool, it tooking me going away to realise how nasty he is." Freddie held her closer. "You're not a fool, dear" he murmured.

"You don't have to face this alone, you know" Freddie told Roxie softly. To his alarm this made her cry more. "But I do - I've got no one else. And it’s all his, the house and everything. If I do anything I'll be on the street, I've got nowhere else to go" Freddie smiled gently. "Yes you do, dear." He pulled the teary girl around to face him. "If you ever need anything, even a room, come to me. Even if it's the middle of the night. My door's always open to my friends." Roxie stared at him. "You can't-" He waved away her protests. "Nonsense. I've got plenty of room, and I'll use it however I want." Roxie felt as though a light had flickered on inside her. Maybe there was hope after all.

The first night at Wembley went so well even the crew backstage were buzzing afterwards. Roxie was immensely grateful there was no loading to be done until tomorrow. All the late nights and long drives were catching up to her, and she was looking forward to a nice long sleep. Unfortunately she came home to find Rick in a less than agreeable mood. He'd seemed happy enough when she got in, but the mood darkened when she mentioned the after party Freddie had planned for the following night. "You didn't say you'd go, did you?" he asked. He sounded calm, but Roxie knew it was really the calm before the storm. "No, no, of course not" she said breathlessly, trying to placate him. It didn't work. "You liar! You told them you'd be there!" he exploded. "How many times do I have to tell you he's your boss, not your friend?" Roxie went quiet as Rick raged in front of her, hoping to ride it out without angering him more, or bearing the brunt of it. Normally she would be scared he would lash out at her, or upset, or sometimes just a bit numb, but that night she felt like something had finally snapped inside her. Rick was wrong about Freddie, and she knew it. Besides, she didn't even report to the band themselves, just the tour manager. Freddie was definitely not her boss, and she was pretty sure he was her friend too.

That tiny bit of knowledge was enough to make Roxie realise she'd had enough. And for the first time in a long time, she had somewhere else to run to. Roxie waited until Rick had stormed out, as he was wont to do when angry, before making her escape. She had nothing but her car, which she filled with as many possessions as she could stuff into it. But she knew exactly where she was going. As she pulled up outside Freddie's she realised he must have company, despite the late hour, judging by the number of cars parked along the front of his house. So she decided to carry her bags around to the back door, not wanting to cause a scene.

She knocked gently, and watched as the door was wrenched open almost immediately. She was shocked when she realised a certain blond drummer was behind it. "What do you… oh, love." Roxie had crumbled into tears at the sight of Roger's concerned face. He immediately pulled her into his embrace. "You left, didn’t you?" Roxie nodded against his chest. "Wait, how do you-?" "Freddie told me. Thought you might want to see a familiar face at first" Roger explained. This news made Roxie sob harder. "Hey, hey. It’s alright,” he soothed, “you're safe now. You're going to be okay."

Roxie didn’t know how long she stood there being gently soothed by Roger before Freddie came in. "Roger what are you- oh, Roxie. You did it. Well done, darling." Roxie broke away from Roger, unsure of what to say. "Let's get you to a room" Freddie said softly. "Phoebe'll take you up." "Who's Phoebe?" Roxie asked, confused. She'd only ever heard of Freddie sharing his house with men. "Freddie's personal assistant, Peter" Roger explained, chuckling slightly at her expression. "I can show her the way, Fred, it's no trouble" he added suddenly, looking at his old friend. Freddie smiled. "That's a good idea. Lily's room's made up, third on the left." He bustled off back towards his guests, leaving Roxie feeling slightly dazed next to Roger.

Within minutes Roxie was installed in a spacious bedroom on the first floor of Freddie's mansion. She was confused about who Lily was, but Roger was happy to explain, laughing a little as he did so. "She's Freddie's cat. Well one of them, anyway." "His cats have bedrooms?" Roxie asked, mildly incredulous. Roger nodded. "Yep." "Spoilt things" Roxie commented, sitting herself down on the bed. She was suddenly unsure what to do with herself now she was here, safe in her own room, and there was a party going on. “D’you want to come down and say hello?” Roger suggested suddenly. Roxie was uncertain. “I wouldn’t be crashing the party?” Roger smiled. “It’s not really a party, we’re just winding down together” he explained. “Takes a while to come down after a show, especially one as good as tonight.” Roxie considered her options for a moment, realising the prospect of company sounded quite appealing now she knew it wasn't a wild party going on downstairs. "I think… I don't want to be alone right now" she finally declared. Roger smiled. "Good choice."

Roxie soon found herself on a plush couch, comfortably settled between Roger and the ever-gentle and comforting Brian May. Brian had been somewhat surprised when Roger introduced Roxie to the assembled company, but nevertheless invited her to sit with him without hesitation. As she glanced around she realised not all of Queen were unwinding together. "Where's John?" she asked quietly. "Didn't want to come" Roger explained. "Wanted to go home and see his football team of children instead." Roxie smiled. "Not that we mind, we all miss our kids when we're on tour" Roger added hastily. "Speaking of which, I'd better get home to mine before I fall asleep here." Roxie suddenly found she felt a lot less secure after he got up from the couch and said his goodbyes.

She said nothing, but Brian apparently sensed the shift in her mood. "Something wrong?" he murmured, so only Roxie could hear. "No, it's just… you're all going to go back to your families," she explained, "and I'm going to be left alone in that room, and…" Brian suddenly looked distinctly uncomfortable. "I'm not, actually." "Not what?" Roxie asked, eyebrow raised in confusion. "You don't know? The roadies are usually such gossips, I thought you would have heard by now" he murmured back, eyes wide in surprise. "I'm not going home to my family, I moved out." "Oh god, I'm such an idiot" Roxie groaned. "There were rumours going around backstage that something was going on with you and Chrissie, but I had no idea it was that bad." Brian smiled reassuringly. "It's ok, I know you didn't mean anything by it."

Brian's whole presence was oddly soothing, Roxie thought. Now that she was finally relaxed, the events of the night were starting to catch up with her. She was out, she was safe, she was with friends. With that calming thought running through her head it wasn't long before she gently nodded off, falling against Brian's shoulder. She woke up the next morning in a bed, still dressed in last night's clothes. She knew someone must have carried her upstairs, but she never did find out who.

*** 1991 Roxie stood on the doorstep of Garden Lodge with some trepidation, not unlike the night she had first arrived there. But this time she wasn't alone. There was her tiny newborn son, nestled against her chest. But there was also her husband, standing proudly at her side, an arm wrapped protectively around her waist. No, she wasn't alone, and this time she was very, very happy.

Phoebe beamed when he opened the door. "Roxie! It's been too long!" "Well, I have been busy" she joked, grinning as she nodded at the baby sleeping in her arms. "Oh, isn't he sweet" Phoebe cooed, Roxie smiling as he guided her over the threshold. She had fond memories of this house, and its residents. Coming downstairs the first morning and finding a place waiting for her at the table, as if she’d always been part of the household. Hearing endless assurances of “stay as long as you like, it’s no trouble” and knowing they were true. Really what she remembered was feeling safe, and always feeling welcomed by the rest of the household. Even the cats seemed to take to her, always following her or sleeping nearby if they thought she was upset.

Roxie was so caught up in her memories she barely noticed the others stopping to sit on the couch until her husband tapped her on the shoulder. “Sit down, love” he prompted softly. “We’ll have to wait a minute” Phoebe told them apologetically. “Jim’s just getting him dressed up, they won’t be long.” “It’s alright” Roxie reassured him. Sure enough, Jim appeared less than five minutes later. “Roxie! Wonderful to see you m’darlin” he cried, grinning enthusiastically. She smiled. “Good to see you too, mate.” Roxie had actually been a little unsure of Jim at first. He seemed so big and burly, some part of her didn’t want to trust him. But he’d endeared himself to her after the second Wembley concert.

Rick had somehow contrived to get himself backstage in order to see Roxie. She was beyond terrified when he confronted her. “Where did you go?” he’d hissed. “None of your business” she snapped. That sent Rick straight into a rage. “You’re coming home with me right now!” he yelled, but Roxie wouldn’t stand for it. “No I’m not.” Unfortunately this only infuriated Rick further, but before he could get far Jim had appeared, drawn by the angry voices. “She’s coming home with me actually” he declared. This served only to turn Rick’s anger on to Jim, but Jim was able to hold his own until security arrived and carted Rick off. Roxie didn’t think she’d ever forget the sight of a man she’d known less than a day standing up to Rick for her, or Jim’s kindness to her in the aftermath, holding her and gently reassuring her until she calmed down, and he managed to summon his boyfriend. Freddie was of course extremely impressed with his man, and Roxie and Jim became good friends from then on.

Roxie smiled when she realised Jim was leaning down to get a good look at her baby. “He’s beautiful, you two.” He paused, suddenly subdued. “You can go up now, he’s all set. He’s… he’ll be so pleased to see you. All of you.” Roxie’s husband smiled. “Thanks Jim.” Turning to her, he gently asked “shall we?” Roxie nodded, so he helped her stand up very carefully, and together they set off up the stairs to Freddie’s room.

Roxie’s husband entered the room first. “Freddie. How are you, mate?” Freddie smiled. “Oh, you know. Now, did you bring your wife today, Brian? I haven’t seen her for months!” Brian laughed softly. “It’s only been a few weeks, Fred. But yes, she’s here. And she’s brought someone to see you.” Roxie stepped into the room a little hesitantly. “Hello Freddie.” His face lit up when he saw her, gently cradling her tiny son. “Roxie! Darling! Come and sit near me so I can see you both properly.”

Roxie obliged, and Freddie smiled broadly when he finally got a good look at the baby. "What's this little dear's name, then?" he asked kindly. Roxie was suddenly nervous. "Freddie" she announced softly. "As long as that's alright with you, of course." Freddie beamed. "Of course it's alright, darling, why wouldn't it be?" The relief was overwhelming. "We just thought… none of this would have happened without your kindness, Freddie” she explained. “And then he was a boy and it just seemed… right." Freddie smiled. "It's perfect. Just like him."

The name was actually Roxie’s idea. After all, it was Freddie who’d brought her and Brian together all those years ago. Brian had been a frequent visitor to Garden Lodge during the months Roxie spent living there. In fact, he’d ended up sleeping there that first night, startling Roxie when he came in for breakfast, though she was soon laughing at his terrible bed hair.

She realised, after a while, that Freddie was looking out for Brian by giving him something of a refuge when he got too lonely in his little bachelor flat. She ended up spending many a night snuggled next to Brian on Freddie’s couch, drink in hand. He was relaxing company, and they spent hours just talking about everything under the sun. Neither of them were looking for it, but something grew from those late-night conversations. They kept it quiet at first, wanting to avoid the fuss they knew Freddie would make until they were ready for the world to know. The hiding was worth it just for the triumphant look on Freddie’s face the first time he saw Brian cuddle Roxie close, kissing her forehead after he pulled her onto his lap.

Roxie remembered it almost as fondly as the expression Freddie wore when he walked her down the aisle at their wedding. He was teary, of course, but his joy and pride in his friends was palpable. He was already very ill even then, so much so that Roxie had wondered whether he would be able to walk the whole way when she first asked him to accompany her. Maybe it wasn't traditional, but there was no one else she would rather have at her side for that moment. Freddie had been her greatest friend during her darkest hour, and even after she moved out of Garden Lodge to her own flat they continued to be close friends. The blossoming of her relationship with Brian seemed to bring them closer too, though she had heard Freddie had grilled Brian like an overprotective father when he'd first found out they were together. Freddie was taken aback at being asked to fill such a special role in the wedding, but accepted without hesitation. "I'll do it darling, don't you worry about me" he assured Roxie. And of course he did. In the end he was in good form on the wedding day, better than he had been for weeks. Whether it was intentional or just good luck Roxie would never know, but either way she would always be grateful for it.

Roxie was hauled out of her reminiscences by the sound of Freddie cooing over baby Freddie. He sounded oddly emotional. "He is a darling. You did well, Bri" he said, grinning even though his voice seemed to be shaking a little. Brian smiled modestly. "Well, Roxie did all the work." Roxie couldn't help smiling at that. "Do you want to hold him?" Brian added suddenly. Judging by the enormous grin that took over Freddie's face, he did. "If that's ok" he replied hesitantly. "We wouldn't offer if it wasn't" Brian assured him. Roxie very gently passed the baby over. By some miracle he continued to snooze undisturbed despite the jostling.

Freddie beamed as he cradled his namesake. But suddenly he started tearing up. Brian was immediately concerned. "Fred, what's wrong?" "Nothing's wrong, dear" Freddie assured him. "I just… I need to tell you something." Freddie took a deep breath. "I’ve had enough. I’ve decided to stop the medications" he announced. "I can’t take any more of this.” Brian looked horrified. “But Fred…” he protested, voice trembling. Roxie placed a reassuring hand on his arm, and he quieted almost instantly. “As long as you’re sure” she told Freddie. “I am” he replied. “Even more so for seeing him" he added, gazing down at the tiny child in his arms. "It just feels sort of balanced, you know… one life has entered the world, and now one is leaving.” Roxie nodded. “The circle of life.” "Exactly" Freddie agreed, leaning down to kiss the baby's forehead as he passed him back to his nervous father.

The new family didn't stay too long after that, keen to avoid tiring Freddie too much. As they left the room the singer grabbed Roxie's arm, suddenly looking rather concerned. “I worry about Brian, you know how he gets" Freddie murmured to Roxie. "You will look after him, won’t you dear?” “Always” she reassured him. "Don't worry about us, Freddie. We'll be alright, we'll have each other." Thanks to you, she thought. "Thank you" she added quietly. Freddie smiled. "For what?" "Everything."

Taglist: @wandering-at-midnight @fruityfreddie @trumanjo @ohmygoditsanthonyedwardstark @itsametaphorbriansblog @theedwardscollection @bookish-oreo @simplyvictoria-93 @kotoamor @j1224 @closertothesunwhenimwithyou @florenceivy @jennyggggrrr

As always, line through means the tag didn’t work, send me an ask or dm if you want to be taken off my general taglist (this is the list I had for Though You’re Many Years Away, so no sweat if you don’t want to be on it any more)

#brian may imagine #brian may x oc #brian may x reader #roger taylor x reader #freddie mercury imagine #roger taylor x oc #queen band #queen imagines #queen #round 2 #please work this time tumblr

66 notes · View notes

mrneighbourlove · 4 years ago

Text

Fall of a Dynasty: Ch 9. New Lineage

At Danjur, a summit was held between different royal representatives. Zannah was adjusting Manaco’s brand new royal suit before the meeting. “Hold still. Have you never worn a suit in your life?”

"No. Never saw a reason to---ack! Do you have to make it so tight?" Manaco felt like he was sweating a waterfall in the suit. "Why do I have to wear this? I'm not Danjuran, I don't have to be so prissy like your lover."

“You have to look fearsome, bold, daring. You’re Hasai royalty now.” Zannah finished tying his sash. “Athena is dolled up already. Now. I will lay down the law. You will stay with my pace. If I was to be feared and respected, you will become loved and respected.”

"I feel like you're serving me up on a platter to the hounds in this suit." Manaco remarked dryly. "And Athena is lovely just the way she is." When Zannah demanded that he keep up the custom, the man was tempted to role his eyes. His aunt and uncle made this 'royalty' nonsense look so easy. "I'm half Lorleidian, shouldn't I just walk out there all smiles and waves like Zelda used to do? Pageant wave?"

“Any other meeting but today. I don’t think it’ll be a happy experience.” Zannah barely told Annuciata the details of murdering her brother. The queen must have still thought it was Nihilus who was murdered. Even Zarazu and Covarog didn’t know, yet. She sighed, turning him to look at her. “I suppose a wave and smile can’t hurt. I’m sorry. There’s a lot on my plate. Promise me you’ll have my back, even against your Uncle if you would. You’ll find that their are rulers who will feast upon your weakness. Those who own slaves and harm the innocent. You have to be fearless.”

"I will do my best to be good leader, Zannah, but I will make no promises about taking sides. That is for Athena and I to decide together. Yet, we will not go against family." Manaco told Zannah, having no reason to lie. "I know from what my uncle and my aunt have told me, there are those who are snakes in the grass. I am like my mother; I know who intends me harm and who does not. I suppose I inherited that talent from her." He paused and then added, "Though, I am also going to take a page from Annuciata's rule book. I do not intend, and I will never support another all-out war against a kingdom. We want peace... and peace we will have."

“But keep your father’s warrior spirit. If you need to fight, to protect others, do not hesitate to kill. And to kill quickly.” She patted his back. “Now let’s go.”

Making their way to the round table, Athena was in a fine dress, sitting on a couples set, waiting for Griffith to take his seat.

Manaco was uncomfortable. These clothes, all the finery, the pompous customs... he really was not used to such life. His family were farmers, running a massive plantation. Maybe he should have spent more time at the castle despite his father's objections. At least then, he would not feel like a fool in front of a crowd. He was not the best at public speaking, but at least he had a talent to pull people together like his mother.

On the Hylian side of Delegations was Zarazu and her husband Covarog, making a rare appearance for anything Hasai related. Still present was Lord Malik and his wife, Lady Asakonigei. To Malik, he cared little about how Zannah used Kahli. In fact, he secretly praised her brilliance in reviving the Waku. Finally, there was Kahli and Zizi, making their first meeting since the secret came out. They wanted to be here in support of their son, however. They waited for Annuciata to welcome every one who came, since she was graciously being host to this gathering.

"I'm glad to see you all here," Annuciata sat beside of her daughter, Eleonora, both dressed in the finest silk gowns that Danjur had to offer. "I think this is a day that we shall all remember. We have two new rulers ascending to the throne and not only that, but we once again have stability within a nation. Peace is what we should all thrive for."

Athena waved kindly to Kahli. He was stuck between a look of frustration and genuine impressiveness that his son landed such a catch.

Malik whispered to Covarog, curious on his thoughts. “How do you see this change in the seating of power?”

"I'm glad that we have someone who knows better than to challenge me." Covarog admitted to Malik in a hushed tone. "That, and regardless of what I think of his origins, the boy is my nephew. My wife would throttle me if I tried to lay a hand on him. Yet, at the same time, I think we had a mutual understanding when we struck the deal that since the empire is now an extension of Hyrule, we are both going to have to do things we do not like. For example, being here instead of being at home." He then said with gritted teeth. "And the fact that he's going to be wed kin of Zannah's..."

"My king... be nice." Zarazu hushed the both of them. "We're here to be supportive."

“Look at it this way. From a certain point of view, you finally conquered the Empire.”

Zannah thanked Annuciata, giving a light bow to her for respect. Rising, she smiled to the others gathered. “Good afternoon everyone. This is a glorious day today. This is the day that my daughter, Athena, will be recognized as Empress, along with my son in law to be, Emperor Manaco by the rest of you. Carrying both the titles of Emperor and Empress all these decades has been a heavy crown. But we all know what the tensions of ruling can bring, don’t we all?”

"It's awfully hot in here..." Manaco whispered to Athena, tugging at his collar. He was sorely tempted to rip the damn thing down the middle so he could breathe. Was this what women felt like when they had to wear corsets? No wonder his aunt deposed of hers.

"Maintaining alliances and friendships take hard work." Annuciata agreed with her lover. "But at some point in time, we have to have faith in the new blood on the throne to be able to manage things."

“That we do.” Zannah looked dead on at the Hylian seats, smiling lightly. “Now, Queen Zarazu, I don’t want there to be any bad blood between us. I’m sorry for how I treated you sister. Even now, we’re working to be on good terms again as friends. I hope you and I can maintain pleasant relationships, even with myself off the throne. You’ve always been the smarter of the pair as the face of Hyrule.”

Covarog scoffed at Zannah's slight insult but said nothing. He promised his wife that he was behave to the best of his ability today, for Manaco's sake.

"Zizi is much more forgiving than I am, that is for sure. Maintaining a relationship, a pleasant one for that matter, will remain to be seen." Zarazu's tone of voice held no malice or contempt, yet it did hold disappointment... and bitterness. The queen was heartbroken for her sister when she found out how Zannah used Kahli. Yet, there was nothing she could do, lest risk war. "Since the Kikai Empire is now a territory under Hyrule's extension, there will be a few changes. Nothing major, just a few requests from my nephew." The queen of Hyrule gently handed the documents to Athena. "He has proposed a way to connect the closer islands via bridgework. After speaking with Queen Annuciata, the Kovinas under my rule, there is a possibility of construction with the right kind of framework. However, this would be a year long project or more, dependent upon the resources required." She then pointed out the second objective. "Next, there is a massive amount of land being unused. There, Manaco has expressed his desire to bring some of the plants from Slatki Plantations to begin a branch of the business. He wishes to create more jobs and teach the Hasai how to cultivate plants that can be used as medicine, food, or for infrastructure purposes." She then addressed the last issue. "Last but not least, he wishes to open schools; not a combat school or military school, but one to learn about various cultures and subjects across our alliances. You should be proud of him," She then added, "He has given this a lot of thought."

"... I'm better at putting my words on paper..." Manaco cleared his throat. "Though these ideas of mine, I do think could help the Empire."

“It will be their Empire now. I’m sure they do wonders. That said, I’ll be watching.” Zannah looked towards Covarog. “King Covarog, I know that you have a disdain for Hasai. I have one last message, I’d like to share with you.”

"Disdain for your past actions, Zannah, and for some current ones as well." Covarog had to bite the inside of his jaw to keep from growling. "Speak your words, yet remember... I will not try to harm your family as you once did mine. Manaco and Athena are to be wed. We will be... distantly... related then."

“Good. That goes for my people as well Covarog.” Zannah put a box on the table. “You should know, I care deeply about my people. Even after my daughter takes over, I will continue to watch out for their well being.”

"Hopefully your daughter will be a more adequate---"

"We believe that Manaco and Athena could use any guidance, both from you and his parents as well." Zarazu interrupted Covarog before his mouth could get the best of him. "That being said, we will be here for them, and offer any advice either of them need."

“Adequate? Better then your lack of competence. Now. To all the rest of you. If you think you can enslave or harm Hasai citizens under the gaze of Manaco and Athena, know that I’ll be on to you. And I’m willing to go to any length to punish any crime against Hasai citizens.” Zannah opened the box, taking the head of her brother out. “I had to protect all your kingdoms as well as my own by killing my own twin brother. I doubt any of you would have the stomach to do so. It nearly broke me. So know that I am serious that I will not hesitate to end anyone that will bring harm to my family or people. If anyone of you has anything to say to me, now is the fucking time…”

Kahli and Malik, both hardened warriors of various degrees were absolutely shocked. Malik physically back a little away from the table seeing the head be pulled out. His first motion was to keep his wife back. Kahli solemnly nodded no.

Zannah threw the head back in the box. “All hail Emperor Manaco and Empress Athena. May they have the fortune to bring prosperity built upon my sacrifices.”

Annuciata, who never in her life had been exposed to battle, paled at the sight of the head. She fanned her face furiously, but ultimately her nerves won... and she slumped to the side in her chair. Eleonora was not too stunned, having done autopsies on cadavers before, but the head still unnerved her. She managed to keep her mother from falling out of the chair entirely and silently looked at Zannah for help.

"I'm just glad you're off the damn throne and that your daughter has more sense than you do to agree." Covarog bluntly stated, earning a swift arm in the jaw from his wife. Still, not deterred, he said, "Emperor Manaco, Empress Athena... we look forward to helping you build the Kikai Empire into a noteworthy kingdom. May the goddesses and spirits smile upon your efforts to better your country. As my queen said, we will do what we can to help you."

"... damn." Asakonigei muttered under her breath to her husband. "I could have sworn they would have fought. I guess that means I lost the bet. Do you want lace or leather tonight?"

“I...” Malik patted his wife. He had other things on his mind. To the shock of Covarog, he gave a respectful bow to Zannah. “I can’t even imagine what you had to do. Killing one’s own flesh and blood… You have my upmost respect as a warrior. Despite how my king feels, you were a wise and strong leader. I hope you enjoy retirement.”

Zannah was carefully getting ready to cradle Annuciata. “...Thank you, Lord Malik.”

Covarog frowned when Malik bowed to Zannah. The ex-commander should remember what happened all those years ago - he was there and saw it all. A snake could change her colors, but a snake was still just that; a snake. He would never forget nor forgive what that bitch and her people did to his sister.

"This meeting is concluded." Covarog stood from his seat. "We have our family to attend to back home. You should attend to yours as well. We will notify our other allies of the change within the empire." He held out his hand to Zarazu who took it and stood alongside him. "Manaco, Athena... we will see you when the wedding occurs in the empire."

Athena nodded. “The wedding and final coronation will be in two weeks. We’ll send certificates soon.” Athena brushed her hair, her face incredibly pale from the sight of the head. “W-we... We look forward to seeing you then.”

As soon as the other visitors were out of sight, Manaco could not stand it anymore. He ripped open the impossibly tight suit and took a deep inhale. Zannah would fuss, but he'd deal with it.

"... you get me. In this. For one hour. A day. For meetings like this. Nothing more." He told Athena, and then added, for extra measure. "And if this is the usual royal attire, there are going to be some changes."

"Manaco, honestly, it just takes practice. Literally and figuratively, suck it up." Athena was heading to the bathroom. Once at the toilet, she hurled.

"Practice? This is torture, even my judgmental uncle doesn't have trouble moving or breathing in his clothes----" Manaco had followed Athena, thinking the two of them would discuss the empire's expansion plans when she shut the door in his face and he heard... her throwing up? "...?!?! Athena? Are you sick? Do you need me to call a healer?"

"I'm sorry. I just- god. I'm a terrible Hasai. I can't stand the sight of bloodshed. I fantasied it about your mother, but to actually see such violence now with my own eyes sickens me. Between my uncle's head and you cracking jokes about incinerating people alive…" Athena swallowed a breath of air, shaking as she picked herself up. "I've had enough of it. It's too awful for me. I can fight, but the killing? The blood? No more."

"... don't apologize for not being able to take such a thing." Manaco stood outside the door, waiting for her patiently. "I'd rather you never be exposed to it again. There were a few times when I was younger that I had to fight. I had to spill blood, or else, it could have been my blood that was on the ground. You... you don't have to be your mother, you know. It's okay to be different." He told her quietly. "Neither of us have to be a carbon copy of our parents. It's okay to feel this way."

"No one's ever told me that before." Athena carefully gargled down some mouth wash to kill the bad smell. When she was done, she looked back at her husband to be.

"I know your mother placed a lot of expectations on you, but now, this is our nation. We're going to do what we think is best." Manaco then, suddenly, swooped Athena off her feet, carrying her toward the bedroom. "But for now, you need to rest a bit. We can talk later about plans."

"Oh my. Do you do this often with other woman? Or have you simply practiced for me?"

"Only my little sisters when they wanted to play the knight rescuing the princess." Manaco chuckled. "So, I guess you can call that plenty of practice since I have ten baby sisters. Unless you prefer piggy back rides, that is."

"Manaco, I'd prefer to be set down. I can walk. If you're worried you can... hold my hand."

"What? I can't carry my bride-to-be and make her feel special for a moment?" Manaco asked with a grin, but respected her wishes and gently set Athena on her feet. "And I am a bit worried. Obviously, your nerves are making you feel a bit ill. I'd rather you rest and recuperate before we discuss anything further."

"I'm flattered you're so attentive and worried about me."

"It's what a good man, a decent husband would do." Manaco opened the door to the bedroom for Athena. "My father taught me that it's my duty to take care of my future wife, or any future children. It's what a family does."

Athena felt her heart putter at that. By instinct, she leaned in to kiss Manaco on the cheek. "Thank you for being so kind. Goodness. I've never kissed a man before."

Now, it was Manaco's turn to feel his heart skip a beat. He felt his cheeks burning, but was grateful for his darker skin not actively showing how bad he was blushing.

"... that's not how you kiss a man." He pulled her closer by the waist, and planted a deep kiss on her lips guaranteed to make her head spin. "That's... how you kiss a man."

Their contact was warm and sweet. The mouth wash the lady took made her taste like strawberries. Athena was indeed spinning at that kiss. Her brain was shooting singles that made her dizzy. Her heart was pumping, her brain was frazzled, and, by goodness, her loins were starting to fire up. "Manaco... you're so rough."

The newly elected Empress looked incredibly flustered. She hated the fact that she couldn't fight against her own biology. It seemed it didn't affect Manaco nearly as much to kiss her. "I didn't expect you to be so bold. That's what a kiss is like? I'm feeling rather hot..."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you if I did." Manaco felt a bit embarrassed. "I got a little carried away. I've wanted to do that for a long time." However, when Athena mentioned she was feeling 'hot', that really got his attention. "It... can make you feel that way."

"Yes, it most definitely can, but... it is lust that also makes us feel desire. Not just love." Manaco gently placed his hands on her shoulders. "And lust can make us rush into situations that we later regret. I... I want you to want me because you love me. Not because of a split second decision."

“Yes. Thank you. I’ve felt similar to this feeling before. Hasai bonding is complicated and a little scary.” Athena took a few deep breaths. “Are you ok with leaving the room for 10 minutes while I... unwind? There’s a ritual that’s helped me calm down in the past.”

"Of course," Manaco agreed, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. "If you need me... call for me."

Zannah carefully cradled Annuciata, playing gently with the Queens hair as she waited for her to wake up. In the time she was unconscious, she dressed them both in more casual clothing.

Annuciata was starting to rouse from fainting earlier. She groaned slightly, rubbing her forehead. "... I remember... a certain displaced... body... part."

“All in the past now. The meeting went rather well.” Zannah gently leaned down to kiss her lover’s forehead. “No more body parts. I promise.”

"That is going to be glued to the back of my eyelids for a while." She sulked at Zannah. "Eleonora has her cadavers and now you with your body parts. My palace is going to be haunted."

“I have a way to make it up to you. And before you ask, it’s not sex. That’s why I took the liberty of changing you.”

"...? If it's not sex, then it must be that brand new pair of Le'Bordair shoes I've been wanting..."

“I’ll remember to get you that.” Zannah carefully stood Annuciata up as she walked to a table she set up. Pulling off the first tarp, she revealed an assortment of ancient Sheikah cores, gears, and metallic parts. “The battle against my brother had unforeseen consequences. I was wondering if you’d like to see my own mechanical skills. As well as help me.” With a second tarp removed, she revealed what was left of T0-D.

"...!!! Toddy-Gears..." Annuicata was surprised to see the great robot in pieces. She thought he was more durable than this. Some parts of his metal were even melted. "This is... fixable. Though, I've never tinkered with Sheikah parts. I've always constructed my own." She tapped his head. "Is his wiring still intact?"

“Mostly. He doesn’t often get damaged like this.” Zannah picked up a wrench, effortlessly twirling it in the air. With a swift motion, she bent over to pry open T0-D’s stomach. Carefully, she took out his core. “I have to manually replace his heart by connecting this core with the tubes.”

"... can you do that again?" Annuciata's eyes were wide and her cheeks were flushed. Any display of strength was certainly a turn on, but metal working was... hotter.

“Yes?” Zannah bent over, not picking up on Annuciata’s growing desire. “There’s a delicate matrix inside. So long as there is a single undamaged core in his system, I don’t need to worry about lost memory. He can transfer and copy it from core to core.” With a slight wiggle, she moved to what would have to become new legs. “I like giving him talon feet with digitigrade legs to stand upon. The arms are very complicated, needing to divide into four if need be. Can’t believe Manaco melted them into slag.”

"Hm-hmm..." Annuciata twirled a wrench on her finger, watching Zannah work with a flushed face. "Anything else about his... core?"

"They are very, very rare. Obtaining one is nigh impossible in this era. Had to invade a different countries treasury in my twenties to reactivate him after the war. I stockpiled so I wouldn't have to do something like that again." Zannah got a spray of oil on her face when she pulled one tube out, quickly fusing it to another. "Napkin please."

Annuciata pulled out a handkerchief from her bosom and wiped off Zannah's face.

"I could always reroute him another power source, if necessary, in the future." The Queen of Danjur offered as she took a peek at the robot's core. "Huh... I'm surprised Manaco's fire reached that far. To melt metal into slag like this, he had to be a walking furnace. Maybe he's more than a 'farmer boy' like Griffith says." She examined one of T0-D's arms. "Hrm... he really needs an upgrade with these arms. See this?" She pointed to the 'joints' which flexed the appendages. "These are going to wear out faster and get too hot if he spins the blades too fast. I could replace them with nickel alloy material so the heat won't be too much of a problem."

"Making him fire proof would be a huge source of relief for me. Unfortunately, the cores are what keep his precious mind intact. Also what he would call his soul. I'm lucky to have spares for now." Zannah and Annuciata got to work on fixing the limbs, making small talk on mechanics. Soon, both grew quiet, invested in their work. After snapping the last limb in place, Zannah took set, grabbing a bottle of water provided by one of the Queen's servants, guzzling it down. The Hasai was covered in oil, her hair was messy, and she had a cut from not being careful near one of T0-D's claws. Turning to Annuciata, she smiled. "What a day."

Annuciata was as equally as messy as her lover. The queen's golden blonde hair was streaked almost brown by the grime. She had set to work on the wires and joints while Zannah fixed his arms in place. Helping her with T0-D's feet were the worst, trying to get the claw like appendages to rotate properly with the correct angular movement. Yet, assembling a protective sheet around the core was the hardest task. She had to work very carefully, as to not damage the new vital piece.

"I think..." Annuciata tightened the last bolt. "That will do it. Maybe he'll work now."

"Let's bring him back to life." Zannah kept his chest panel open. With spark of electricity, she channeled energy from her hands as she held his core. T0-D's eye slowly opened up, glowing blue.

"Tod. Can you hear me?"

It took the android a moment to answer, his voice almost lifeless. "Affirmative: I can hear you."

"Do you know what happened to you?"

"Affirmative: I had my systems over written by your brother. A god overtook my will. My mind felt blank."

Zannah pressed her temple to his head. "I'm sorry Tod. I should have protected you better."

"False: It is I who should have been more vigilant." The Android planted his feet, and Zannah stood back. The android closed his organ hatch and stretched his fingers out. "Scanning: Are we at Queen Annuciata's?"

"We are."

T0-D looked to the Queen, surprised by all the grease and gunk she was covered in. "Query: Did you rummage around my insides?"

"Yes, Toddy-Gears, I rummaged around in your insides." Annuciata winked at him. "Don't worry, I didn't fondle your nuts and bolts too much. Just gave them a good tightening. And you have better feet now." She pointed to his raptor-like appendages. "Better gear and less rust now too."

That seemed to bring more energy to his voice. "Caution: Hope you didn't do any funny business. Might have to rummage around your insides. However, that's more messy for meatbags."

Zannah sighed, glad to hear he was back to his dark, humorous ways. "Tod. My daughter and Kahli's eldest son have succeeded me as Emperor and Empress. I no longer rule the Kikai Empire. With that said, I want to know what you want to do with your life."

T0-D paused himself, calculating this new revelation. "Observation: I didn't think it possible. You giving up the throne, to Zizi and Kahli's child especially. And myself? I suppose you do value me as a Hasai citizen, and not a tool. The most logical sense would be to serve your daughter. However, with my own goals in mind, I don't serve the throne. I served you. Because you were a good master who valued my commitment and did the best for her people. I valued your dedication. If you relieved of your duties, than perhaps its time I should be relieved of mine."

"Tod?" Zannah suddenly looked sad. "Are you going to leave me?"

"Confirmation: Yes. Well, more accurately, I should ponder on what I wish to do. If it be staying at your side, or finding a different path to walk on. I will think alone on this. Thank you for reactivating me. Again. You are a special woman Zannah. And someone I'm glad to call friend. Now, I'll let you two enjoy yourselves. Between you and I, the Queen's heart rate is above average levels. I will be around." With that, T0-D walked out of the shop, leaving Zannah unsure of what to say or do.

"Way to rat out a horny woman, Toddy-Gears." Annuciata blushed ten shades of red when T0-D mentioned her elevated heartrate. "I can't help it that Zannah is hot when she does metalworking, okay? It's a turn-on for me."

That certainly snapped Zannah out of a funk. Hands leaned against the table, she looked at Annuciata in surprise. "You're turned on by me covered in grease and doing all this?"

"Yes, it's hot, okay? You're hot when you're talking dirty grease mechanics! It's my thing, you're doing the thing, and now, you got me all flustered, wanting to rub your tits with oil and eat you out against the toolbox." Annuciata admitted with a pout. "It's your fault. Talking like that."

Zannah's mouth went a gap, her checks a royal flush of shock. She was so stunned, that for once, she couldn't even walk forward to make the moves on her lover. "That's so dorky. You really find me that hot the way I am right now? I just talked about basic pumps, mechanisms and ancient tech."

"I can't help it, okay?!" Annuciata threw her hands up in the air. "It's like that time you told me I was hot when I did that split cause... flexible."

Zannah's breath was growing hot, and her mouth dry. "I'm no where near as smart as you. I was basically forced to learn how to build T0-D piece by piece. That's basic stuff even a jock can learn, right?"

"Basic components, yes, but still, to hear you talking even about tightening a damn nut would be a turn on." Annuciata decided she was done with waiting and simply snogged Zannah, slamming her against the huge toolbox. "Or even holding a screwdriver."

"Annuciata... I love you. I'm not going to leave you anymore if you don't leave me. I want to make love with you, be it in a shower, on a bed, or... covered in grease head to toe. Do you feel the same way?" The Hasai's hands ran up and down the Queen's sides.

"Of course I do, silly. For being an Emperor, you're awfully dense when it comes to when someone wants you." Annuciata purred at Zannah. "From the moment I saw you walk in like you owned my castle yourself, I wanted to get in-between your legs with my tongue."

"Well, come here than." Zannah pulled Annuciata by the girth of her hair, their lips locking together in deep passion.

"You know..." Annuciata had to part for air. "After Eleonora's coronation... we could always retire by my family's beach house. Quiet, simple... just me and you."

Zannah took a deep breath, thinking of the life she held up to this very moment. After all the suffering, peace sounded like the best course of action. "I'd like that. I truly would."

________________________________________________________________

Previous Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/621742623013666816/fall-of-a-dynasty-ch-8-the-hardest-choices

Crossover with @ridersoftheapocalypse

#Crossover #Final Chapter to an arc of stories #Next up King Malik!#Zannah #Zizi #Hasai #Manaco #Annuciata #Danjur #Covaorg

2 notes · View notes