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quietrainfan · 3 years ago

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Hey! Anyone want some heavy platonic Loceit angsty headcanons I've extracted from the new episode? Well, too bad because it's happening regardless. :)

Yes, also some Unsympathetic Patton. You know what blog you're on. (This interpretation/headcanon shall not die. Not here.)

(Also, this is going to combine my observations and thoughts as well, so sorry in advance if this post turns out as a bit of a mess.)

Alright, so! Orange Side confirmation. How we feelin', Sanders Sides fandom, how we feelin'?

Honestly, the Orange Side theory wasn't something I was really all that into. It was a 'meh, could be cool' headcanon for me personally. But I have to say the way the reveal was handled made me jump in my seat with pure joy. No joke, I audibly gasped when Logan's eyes flashed orange.

It was all downhill from there, I was excited. Anyone who knows me will tell you I'm a sucker for character's eyes glowing when they've reached their limit or are displaying a power they've never shown before, combine that with an unexpected reveal and I'm sold.

Plus, glowing eyes have been a common theme with Unsympathetic content and Dark Side headcanons so you could imagine how the first peak into the Orange Side's existence (or, rather confirmation. we all saw the 'hello' hint, Orange, you cheeky little munchkin.) was his color in Logan's eyes made me feel. It was so cool!!! Ah!

Then Thomas had to tease us again at the end card with our boy Orange's eyes popping up in the darkness, waiting for his chance to be too loud to ignore. Like, the audacity. Who do you think you are, Thomas?! (That was a joke. Sorry, I'm just really pumped.)

Also, Remus got quite a few laughs out of me. Ah, I missed him.

Okay, headcanon time! We're going to do Logan first, then Janus, then combine the two. Sound good? Alright, here we go (Trigger Warning for discussions of alcoholism, please if anything I write here sounds insensitive or inaccurate, let me know and I will edit. Also, no need to read if you don't want to. Stay safe.) :

Logan

Logan knew where to grab for that alcohol bottle.

I mean, I guess that makes sense since he lives there and is naturally the most observant Side. But...that bottle's placement was a little too convenient.

Sure it was played up as a joke and it was funny.

But something about the way Logan threw his coffee into the sink and quickly replaced it with the wine stuck out to me.

I've joked about Logan and/or Janus having to "drink to cope" due to sharing the single brain cell Thomas has amongst all the chaos. But seeing that in an actual episode, even as a gag, is kind of...different.

Let me explain.

This may be a common thing for Logan that he struggles with.

He wakes up early to be the first one to help Thomas start the day, naturally. Logan goes to make his cup of coffee and there's always the lingering urge to take a sip of wine before anyone can see because he just...can't face everyone without needing just a little bit of it to cloud out all the gross, petty, negative feelings he experiences every day around them.

He's logic. He can't be drinking and risk any more harm to Thomas's function.

So, it's a constant battle with coffee vs wine, coffee vs wine, coffee vs wine-

Most of the time Logan is able to resist and go with the coffee.

It doesn't make him feel good in the slightest. If anything it makes him feel even worse knowing he'll be more alert that day.

Logan hates that was even a thought at all. He needs to be alert. Otherwise everything will fall apart. He is the rock in the system and without him everything will crumble.

Such a selfish mindset. He needed to focus.

Other days Logan just doesn't have it in him to discard the wine regardless of how much he wants to.

He knows what the day holds for him. It was all so repetitive at this point. Logan knew when he wasn't able to get through it despite it all.

That didn't stop him from shaming himself for caving. He should be able to handle this. He's made so much progress with resisting it up to this point but today he through it away again because he just had to, right?

Sometimes Logan finds himself "cheating" by hiding a couple drops of wine into his coffee on days when he chose the coffee but later felt particularly bad about...a lot of things, into his second cup.

Logan more often times chooses neither. The temptation for clouding out the others was just too strong and was a waste of time.

Logan is beyond tired of the others.

Every single action they have agitates him now. No matter how minor it is.

Roman's loud voice and constant references makes Logan's toes unconsciously curl beneath his shoes. Even a silent warm smile and wave from the prince fills Logan with an unpleasant tingle in his knuckles.

Virgil's neverending foreboding and unnecessary nasty remarks that he doesn't even bother to filter provokes Logan's new habit of biting his tongue. Any kindness he ever gives him makes his stomach twist.

Patton's nicknames, poking for for a laugh, his "sweet" way of shoving away any objection he may have, how casually he behaves as if he isn't part of any problems- how quickly he's prepared to "bounce back". Logan feels like every word, action from him something steps on a guitar cord in the back of his mind that makes the ugliest, loud, screeching sound. He feels this strange warm fuzzy ache he can't define. All he hears is that cord playing faster and faster the longer he stays in their presence. Logan no longer trusts himself alone with Patton.

Logan thinks if he just separates from the others long enough, the ugly strumming noise will go away.

But he's so wrong.

Logan can hear it even when he's all alone. When it's finally silent, he still can't get rid of it.

It's loudest when Logan is alone in his room. Logan has lost count of how many nights he's spent clenching his head, quietly sobbing, and praying for it to just go away already.

Logan often feels like he's losing it.

On nights where the sounds are particularly louder than usual, he swears he can see orange shadows creeping around him, lights of the color flashing on and off, he sometimes even sees it seeping in and out of the cracks of his door like a thick fog. At times he'll even wake to it glowing absurdly bright through his window.

It's just the sunrise. Logan tells himself. He has to believe that. Everything else looked normal, after all.

What's worse is Logan doesn't know how long he's been hearing this sound or seeing the strange lights.

Patton knows about Logan's late night and early morning struggles.

But surprise, surprise, he pretends as if he's nonthewiser.

If either Virgil or Roman asks about Logan, Patton will answer: "Oh, that silly billy's probably got his head in one of his astronomy books again! I wouldn't bother him right now."

Knowing full well he's having an emotional breakdown in his room that gets worse every day.

Knowing about the little sneaks of alcohol in his hot morning beverage. Might even speak about yummy drink combinations when they hang out in the living room, while Logan is present, specifically and even only on the days Patton knows he's cheating with his bad habit, while he's still drinking it.

The further Logan is to the edge, the better. Patton is still bitter about the events of Redux ending in his favor, after all. He needs leverage from somewhere.

When Thomas left to see Nico, Logan heard the cord again. His chest tightened and though he could feel the tears welling up, he kept them down.

Thomas hasn't been very happy lately. He had to let him have this.

No matter how loud those cords get.

Janus

I noticed that Janus was either unseen by the others or unacknowledged by them.

Janus was near all of them but far enough that he was separated.

He could've just popped up at the end without them noticing but...that's less angsty therefore less fun so-

Janus has been the instigator for bringing Sides that have been hidden away to be brought to light for a long time. If the assumption that Janus let Remus out is true.

He's always been hinting at upcoming events that are sure to come if Thomas continues to ignore certain aspects of himself.

He knows. He knows our Orange boy is getting worse and soon will be too loud to ignore. Janus wants to protect Thomas but that's becoming harder every day. Thomas is making it harder.

Janus will reveal the Orange Side eventually. And very soon. Hell, that's looking like less and less of a choice considering Logan's...outburst.

I think Janus has this painful awareness that he can be seriously hated for doing his job. After all, he's always the one who's forced them to acknowledge uncomfortable truths about Thomas.

He's the one giving them all of those hard pills to swallow and especially after Remus, it is definitely overwhelming and exhausting to be met with.

They question their roles more and more because of how used they are to the fixed mindset Thomas has had for such a long time.

That can't feel good.

Janus knows that his job may cause more hatred to fester the more that's revealed.

Janus is being kept at arms length and he knows that won't stop any time soon.

But he's a clever snake. That won't keep him from keeping an eye on Patton.

(Find it real suspicious that Patton was all mushy with Janus in that end card but still is at a big distance from him.)

Loceit

Janus will sometimes find Logan in the common room with his head in his arms, sprawled out against the coffee table. His glasses being discarded from half his face, unmistakable tears lazily dripping out of his lifeless eyes.

Janus would wordlessly go to the sink and grab a glass, filling it with water.

Janus goes over to Logan, giving him a gentle rub on the back. He urges him to sit up. It takes Logan a few minutes but eventually does.

Janus hands Logan the water, supporting the back of his neck as struggles to get it down, reminding him to take his time.

Janus takes his glasses and gently sets them on the table. He hands Logan some tissues.

Logan lifelessly takes them and tries to clean his face. But he always ends up crying into them.

Janus moves Logan unkempt bangs from his face before moving his head to his shoulder. Janus manifests a warm blanket over Logan and uses a bit of his abilities to soothe the shorter man's pain, tenderly putting pressure on his neck.

Janus and Logan have a talk. Logan always asks why he bothers to stop and comfort him.

"You've helped me through a lot, Logan. Not returning the favor is out of the question."

That was always his answer.

Janus and Logan do this often.

Janus opens up about sometimes needing a bit of a drink himself from time to time. Though mostly that consists of tea more often than not, he sometimes has a glass of wine or two to relax on days when it's particularly hard.

He feels ashamed of it. Janus has to be the strongest out of everyone, especially the Dark Sides. Allowing things to faze him was the worst case scenario. At least, to that degree.

But Janus understands that isn't his fault and urges Logan not to blame himself, either. While he hated that weakness he occasionally submitted to, he wasn't going to let the rare slip up to define the worth of his role.

Logan thinks that Janus really is the strongest out of all of them just for saying things like that and he's being too hard on himself.

On nights when things become too much Janus will sit with Logan and share a drink. They try to have as many conversations without wine as possible but sometimes Janus says "screw it" and sits with Logan with one or two drinks.

Just having Janus there helps Logan choose his coffee in the mornings and feel as if he's being heard even a little bit.

Now if only those cords could actually quiet down, that'd be even better.

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illfoandillfie · 3 years ago

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Kinktober Day 6: NonCon (+Bondage +Overstimulation)

Kinktober Masterlist | Regular Masterlist

Pairing: Fairy!Lucy x Fem!Reader, Fairy!Lucy x Fairy!Rami, Fairy!Rami x Fem!Reader (with small cameos from Fairy!Ben and Fairy!Gwil)

Words: 3,232

Warnings: NonCon, bondage, overstimulation, anal, anal training, oral (f receiving and m receiving + toys), throat training, sex toys (dildos/strapons/anal plugs), use of magic, begging, crying, creampie, cum swallowing, PIV, degradation, humiliation, orgasm denial, forced orgasms, loss of consciousness, mention of double penetration, mention of pimping reader out, mention of flogging.

A/N: As soon as I saw non/dubcon was one of the optional prompts for day 6 I knew it would fit with another chapter of the Fairy AU! But, I also really liked bondage and overstimulation, so I decided to just incorproate all three into this one chapter lmao.

As with the rest of the Fairy AU, this can probably be read as DubCon but in this one Reader does use words like ‘no’ and ‘stop’ so I’ve categorised it as NonCon. Please don’t read if that isn’t your thing.

Lucy had taken Gwilym’s suggestions for training you seriously. By the end of the week he’d supplied her with three dildos, each one larger than the last, which had been stuck to the wall of your room. Every day you had scheduled training time in which you’d kneel on the floor and fellate the toys, learning how to handle them better, supervised closely by one of Lucy’s staff or by the Queen herself. She would reward you when she felt you’d made sufficient progress and punish you when you didn’t. Once, while she was watching, you’d gagged and choked too much as you’d attempted to deepthroat the smallest of the dildos, and so she had flogged you before forcing you to try again, plainly unmoved by your tears.

In addition to the dildos, Gwilym had also supplied an anal plug (with the promise he could get a larger one when you were ready for it), and since then you’d been perpetually full. The end of it was marked by a jewel – similar in colour to the shimmery beads which hung from your collar – and was clearly visible through the sheer dresses Lucy clothed you in. You weren’t permitted to touch it. Lucy gave permission to remove it so you could use the bathroom and wash or so you could be fucked, but otherwise you had to endure the constant fullness of being plugged. Rami, for his part, thoroughly enjoyed your new training regime. When Lucy had passed on the suggestion that he should use your throat and arse more frequently, he’d been quick to agree, and you couldn’t remember a day since that he hadn’t made good on his word. Though neither he nor Lucy had entirely stopped using your cunt. They’d discovered the joys of penetrating you at the same time, treating it as a something for them to do as a couple. They felt that by fucking you simultaneously it could bring them closer together and, so far, it seemed to be working. The chamber maids and staff in the castle whispered about it as they worked, gossiping about how loved up the royal couple seemed, speculating if that meant a child would soon be on the way. Of course you knew that a pregnancy was unlikely considering Rami usually filled you with his seed. Even when he fucked Lucy he’d more often than not finish inside you. Lately he'd favoured your throat, his cock tasting of Lucy as he held your nose and forced you to swallow. Another part of your training.

Even in your off hours, when both of your masters were otherwise occupied, you couldn’t escape the constant feeling of being full, the plug inside your arse stimulating you as you walked through the corridors. Once, while going about your business, you’d run into Gwilym and Ben. Gwilym had asked about your training and Ben had stepped behind you to see the plug. They’d drawn you into an empty room nearby and made you lift your dress and bend over so they could get a better look. You’d not wanted to, worried what Lucy would say, but the didn’t give you much choice and so you’d obeyed, trying not to let it affect you when they discussed how wet you were and what they’d like to do with your body. Ben seemed a touch jealous that Gwilym had used you already but at the same time he sounded pleased that when it was his turn to have you, you’d be better able to take whatever he decided to dole out. They’d eventually let you go but not before Gwilym interrogated you further about your progress since beginning training.

If Ben or Gwilym had ever mentioned their private meeting with you, Lucy had never alluded to it, and you’d never found the courage to mention it yourself. It was hard to know how she’d react. Instead you focused on being a dutiful pet. Quiet, except when you were being fucked, and obedient at all hours. If Lucy said it was time to practice your cock sucking skills, you’d kneel at the wall and suck until she told you to stop. If Rami entered your room after dark and rolled you onto your stomach, you’d press your arse into the air to make it easier for him. And if either of them ever asked if you were enjoying yourself, you told them you loved how it felt to be taught to serve properly. For the most part they were happy with your behaviour and your attitude to the new training regime. Lucy would coo about what a good pet you were as you ate breakfast in the courtyard and reward you with whatever trinkets your heart desired. Until you displeased her.

About a month or so into the training, Lucy decided you weren’t enjoying yourself as much as she’d like. “I was lenient when we started,” she said, pacing from one side of your room to the other as you knelt on the floor and wiped drool from your lips, “I knew this wouldn’t be easy for you, that everything would feel new and difficult. But we’ve been at it now for long enough that you should have grown to enjoy it more.” “I do like it,” you said weakly, but Lucy just scoffed and strode past you again. “Liar. You endure it. Which is fine. If enduring it is all you’re capable of then you’ll just have to endure it until I'm sick of playing with you. When I bind you in the gardens for the first night of the bacchanal you will endure every single one of my people who comes to use your holes. When I reward Benjamin for his loyalty by presenting him with your pliant body on a silver fucking platter, you’ll endure it. When Gwilym comes to assess your progress, you’ll fucking endure that too. But I’d like so much more to have an enthusiastic whore.” She paused in her pacing to regard you, “It’s no skin off my nose if you don’t enjoy what happens to you. But it would be in your interests to learn, not just to endure it, but to actively crave it.” “Yes Mistress,” you dropped your head as you spoke, trying to breathe naturally when all you felt was panic. “Come now, don’t cry pet. I think I can help you. We just need to give you better motivation. So, starting today, you are not permitted to cum unless you’re having your arse or throat fucked.” “My Queen?” “Don’t worry, pet, we’ll still take pleasure from your cunt. But you won’t. You’re going to learn to associate orgasms with anal and oral. We’ll start with just Rami and I but if I feel you need extra motivation then I can inform your minders to make you cum while you practice with the dildo wall. And if that doesn’t work then I’ll declare you a lost cause and let you suffer while we enjoy your services. Sound fair?” “Yes, Mistress, very fair.” “Good. Now let’s try it out shall we? Up on the bed, legs spread for me. And remember, no cumming.”

Lucy was true to her word. It was hard to adjust to, being edged while they played with your pussy, but they always made sure you had at least one orgasm while they used either of your other holes. In fact, Lucy was quite generous and would often magically remove your ability to orgasm so you didn’t have to worry about accidentally falling over the edge. And then she’d let you moan into her cunt while Rami filled your arse, taking away the spell so that Rami’s touching your clit made you cum with all the force of the orgasms you’d been denied before. You thought perhaps her plan might work. It was easier to feign excitement about both anal and fellatio when you knew that it was your only chance to cum and the more you pretended to like it the more you actually did start to like it. It was slow going though and you could tell Lucy still believed you could be more enthusiastic. Perhaps that was why sometimes she was less nice. On days when she wanted to test you or when she came to you needing to vent some frustration after dealing with a troublesome queenly duty, she’d forget the spell. She’d take great joy from ploughing your pussy with her dildo or rubbing herself against you or even eating you out, mocking you when you whined about being close and ordering you to hold it or suffer the consequences. You weren’t sure what the consequences were but you weren’t all that keen to find out and so you’d struggle through, trying desperately to keep the orgasm at bay. Which is what happened one night when she came to you, clearly pissed off about something that had happened in the meeting she’d just returned from.

Lucy didn’t elaborate on what or who had pissed her off but you instantly knew she was going to make you suffer. Her fingers had tugged at your hair hard enough that it felt as if she were ripping it out, as she pulled you down to lick her pussy. Even after she’d had her orgasm she was still angry and so decided to use you to alleviate her frustrations. Meekly you removed your dress and lay back, following every order she gave you quickly and without question. She considered you for a moment before approaching the wall and pulling the largest dildo from it. You gulped as she used her powers to attach it to herself and then, in the blink of an eye, was on you, the tip of the fake cock at your entrance. You had no hope. The moment you saw the glint in her eye you knew she would be making you cum one way or another and certainly without permission. Lucy was looking to punish someone and you were the perfect candidate. But you tried. You did everything you could think of to keep from cumming as Lucy rode you, toying with your clit until she grew fed up with waiting and sent a bolt of magic through you that had you clenching on her cock in an instant. She tutted at you as she pulled out, “Oh pet. That was a mistake. I’m going to have to punish you now.” “Please don’t, My Queen. No, please no. I tried Mistress.” “And you failed. So now...” There was a flash of light and the next thing you knew was being bound to the bed, arms and legs immobile. No matter how much you tried to pull at them they held, as you’d known they would. Lucy watched you, amused, until you stopped struggling so much. The only movement she made was to take off the dildo she wore, absentmindedly tracing her fingers over its length, already slick from being inside you. “There now, have you got it out of your system?” she asked when you gave up trying to free yourself, “You know I hate doing this but it’s the only way you’ll learn.” She grinned as she spoke, clearly enjoying every second of your dismay. All you could do was try to brace yourself as your queen shoved the fake cock back inside you, her magic making it thrust and vibrate.

The toy had a mind of its own and all you could do was writhe against your restraints and moan as you were unwillingly pulled into an orgasm. “Don’t you look so pretty like this.” her laugh was tinkling and musically sweet and you knew there would be no hope of being released until she’d had her fun. Your stomach tightened as another orgasm began to build and, though you knew it was futile, you couldn’t help but beg again and again for it to stop, knowing it would only get more painful as it continued. “Such a noisy whore aren’t you. That’s good. I’m sure the whole castle will hear what pleasure I bring you.” “Mis-Mistress, p-p-p-lease,” you cried out, somewhere between sobbing and moaning, “Ple-ase st-stop.” “Oh no, I’m not going to do that. You wanted this. You wanted to cum and so you did, disregarding my order entirely.” “No,” you shook your head but Lucy just talked over you. “Yes, whore. You asked for this.” You let out a high pitched whine, barely hearing the door open and Rami walk in. “Sweetie!” Lucy said excitedly, beckoning him towards the bed. “What’s going on here?” “You remember what I told you about Gwilym’s assessment of our pet right?” “Which part?” “How he asked if she’d ever passed out while we played with her.” “Of course. You were wondering how much it would take to make it happen. Is that what we’re testing out here?” “It is!” She clapped her hands together excitedly, “Our silly pet decided it would be okay to steal an orgasm, even though she knew that I didn’t want her to have any. So now I’m giving her all the orgasms she wants and we’ll only stop when she loses consciousness.” The tears that you’d spilled already had been brought on by pain but now you cried out of fear, terrified about how much you’d have to endure before you reached the end of your torment. Every orgasm you were forced to have was a little more painful than the last and came faster too, giving you less time to recover. And, though you tried to plead with Lucy, tried to apologise and promise to be good, it was getting harder and harder to speak. Your words were interrupted by whimpers, whines, sobs, and every so often a moan as your pleasure peaked enough to overtake the pain for a moment or two. Lucy remained indifferent to it all, watching you with excitement and greed.

“Actually, Darling, watching our naughty little slave has made me very wet.” “Say no more, my love.” Rami said softly, leaning in to tenderly kiss Lucy’s cheek as undressed. And before you could properly register what was happening above you, Lucy was moaning as he eased into her cunt from behind. Lucy kept her eyes on you except for when they fluttered shut as he began to thrust, “Good whore. Keep crying. You’re going to help me get off.” You couldn’t have stopped crying even if you’d tried. The pleasure peaks had grown less and less frequent as the pain became more acute, hurting you from the inside out. And knowing that your suffering was making your mistress horny, that she was enjoying your torment, only made it worse. It was humiliating, not least because part of you felt glad to have pleased her. “That’s it, like that,” Lucy panted but you couldn’t tell if she was still talking to you or if the words were aimed at Rami. You screamed as you came again, your arms and legs pulling against the restraints, sobbing in the aftermath as you already felt the next impossible climax start to build. Lucy arched her back, drool dripping from her lips onto you as she moaned out the word yes over and over, being fucked just the way she liked, pushed closer and closer to her own release. And when she came she moaned, her mouth falling open in an O shape that made you jealous of her good it must feel compared to the orgasms ripped out of you. “Pull out Rami.” she panted as she came down, groaning at the loss of his cock, “Got somewhere special for you to put it.” You had no idea what she meant, barely understanding what she’d said, until she moved aside so Rami could kneel between your legs. You cried through a blissful five seconds as Lucy removed the vibrating dildo from your throbbing pussy and then it was replaced by Rami who roughly thrust into you until he had his orgasm too. You could feel him twitching inside you as he pumped his cum into you and then pulled out. For a moment you hoped that would be the end but then your overworked cunt was filled once more with the toy and you screamed as it continued to overstimulate you. “How about one for each of her holes?” Lucy said softly, already stroking Rami’s cock, “Like a proper cumdump deserves.” You felt limp and exhausted, unable to even attempt to thrash against the bonds that held you in place. And so, when Rami knelt by your head and forced his cock between your lips, you did nothing but cry. Even before he was finished painting your tongue you began to feel dizzy, struggling to keep your eyes open. Rami pulled out and laughed, “I think this is it my love. See how she struggles now?” “Oh you’re right,” Lucy moved closer, examining your face as you felt another shockwave roll through your body. The last thing you heard was Lucy ask, “Are you going to pass out now pet?” And then there was darkness.

You were no longer bound when you woke, no longer stuffed full with the dildo. The familiar taste of Rami was on your tongue and the moon was where it had been before so you knew you hadn’t been out for more than a few minutes. “You’re awake!” Lucy exclaimed, “Rami she’s awake!” You blinked away the grogginess and winced as you moved. “Well?” Lucy asked as both she and Rami peered down at you, “Do you remember what happened?” You nodded, memories rushing back, “You punished me for disobedience.” you said softly, needing to clear your throat before the words could be heard. “Yes. So what do you say?” “Thank you for teaching me a lesson My Queen.” The full weight of what you’d been through caught up with you and another sob wracked your chest, “I’m sorry for disobeying.” “Does that mean it won’t happen again?” “It won’t, Mistress. I’ll be good from now on.” “And you’ll put more effort into enjoying having all of your holes used?” “Yes, Mistress. I’ll love it I promise. I’ll love it so much I’ll beg for you to use them.” “I like the sound of that. Why don’t we start now. I promised Rami he could fill your arse but you blacked out before he had the chance and we didn’t think it would be right for you to miss it by not being conscious. So why don’t you beg him to use you now.” You nodded, fresh tears leaking from your eyes, “Please Rami, Sir, please use my arse. I need it so bad.” “Not so hard now was it.” You shook your head as rolled onto your stomach, pushing your hips up for Rami even as your legs and pussy ached. "Before my future husband takes you, you should know something. We’ve decided that, for the moment, it would be safer if you were to stop gaining pleasure from your pussy. We’ll only be using it while you’re asleep. Any other time your other holes will take priority. Does that make sense?” “Yes, Mistress. Whatever you think is best.” “Good girl.” Lucy gave a nod and Rami unceremoniously removed your plug. He groaned as he sank his magically lubed cock into you and began to thrust.

Taglist: @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini

#my writing #my fics #lucy boynton x reader #rami malek x reader #lucy boynton smut #rami malek smut #lucy boynton imagine #rami malek imagine #i......dont have any excuses for this

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amethystpath-writes · 4 years ago

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A Cage of Moonlight and Magic:

You guys asked for a collab so here’s collab number one, with the one and only @nightfrostshadow ! We had a blast writing this and bouncing ideas off one another, so sit back and enjoy :)

******

“Listen to me carefully,” Supervillain held Villain’s chin, slid his hand so casually near his circus pet’s neck- his throat. “Those water and ice crystals are not yours at all. They are mine, you hear me? They are the audience’s. You exist only to provide entertainment, to provide glory. But you are neither of these things without your powers.” He stepped back, peering at his subject with a glimmer in his eyes.

“I’ll kill you,” Villain promised. “Someday when you least expect it, I will do it.” He’d said this before, many times- with many bouts of frustration, confidence, and determination.

Supervillain laughed. “With water?”

“Haven’t you ever heard of being swept away by a current?” For once, Villain allowed a smile to curve upon his lips. Something wicked enraptured his thoughts- more than just murder; it was torture. “When the water is so fast, so strong, that your head never breaks surface ever again. You drown.”

The hand near Villain’s throat faltered, but ultimately tightened. “Don’t forget who you are speaking to.” And that was the end of that.

***

“I think it’s fun,” Hero said, “when the little kids’ faces curve into shining smiles. And the adults, too. I wonder how many grandparents have made our show their last one. What an honour, isn’t it, Villain? That we may be the last magic someone sees?”

Villain who had been gloomily forming a little water tornado in his palm looked up at Hero. “Absolutely not,” he scoffed, and the swirling water fell to the ground.

“Does it not bother you that we are nothing but tools to Supervillain?” Villain asked. “Meant to forever use our powers in such a pathetic way, to entertain people? Would you not rather be the one in power of your own life? To live free…free to do whatever we want with our powers instead of what Supervillain wants!” What a magnificent fantasy Villain let reel in his mind.

He shifted his body, knees dragging in the dirt- in his bed. “I’m reduced to having to put up waterwork shows. Waterworks can you believe it? Out of all the things I can do?”

A spritz of water in Hero’s direction. “And you.” He waited for Hero to meet his eyes. “With your stars and fireworks…you could do so much more. We could do so much more, Hero. Yet here we are, the famous opening act for Supervillain.”

Hero pondered over this as she thoughtfully looked down at her own hands, making little stars and sparkles erupt from her fingers, thus illuminating the surroundings. Such a great contrast to the darkening sky, she thought before answering Villain. “We bring light to the people watching, you know?” Literally, in Hero’s case.

“You could bring heat to them as well.” Villain was watching the little sparks in his co-worker’s hands as she’d spoken. Darkly, he thought, She could set the world ablaze if she wished. “Don’t you understand that we are animals to them? They think we are tamed.” He expected a response- anything besides Hero’s plain face. “That fact doesn’t bother you at all?” Villain’s voice pitched, incredulous.

Hero smiled slightly as she sent out a shower of sparkles raining down on them with a flick of her fingers and met Villain’s eyes as she spoke “I try not to think about it, you know? I just think of the good in every situation. It helps me be happy and peaceful. Besides, we’ve been here long enough; it’s not like we can leave so I just find the wonder in everything we do…it warms my heart to see the joy in people’s eyes as they watch us perform. You should try it, too, Villain.” She looked at him earnestly.

Villain stared at her in disbelief as he smiled bitterly,” There is nothing that can warm my heart here. Looking at the joy in peoples’ eyes as they don’t even care about us? Looking at them angers me even more. All they care about is watching the magic show in front of them. What has there been for us to celebrate in these past years?” Villain took a deep breath. “Nothing. I haven’t felt happiness in ages, Hero…and my heart?” He formed ice at the tips of his fingers as if to demonstrate- “It’s frozen.”

He sighed as he laid down on his bed- if you could even call it that. Once again he longed for the blanket he desperately needed, yet was never given on the cold winter nights.

***

“Up and at them, monsters.” Supervillain casted his light throughout the tent room, illuminating every square inch, every shadow hiding in every nook and cranny. He seemed to ignore his own monstrous ability.

Perhaps moonlight wasn’t such a devious subject to some, but to the magis, it was the cruellest of all magics- a searing light close to a large pane of lasers. The light hurt. And Supervillain was fond of using it every day, using it to wake his subjects up, to force them into the confines of a life hardly worth living. A circus like what they performed was better than the pain, but the pain was inescapable.

“We have a big show tonight. Some very esteemed guests will be making an appearance. You will all be expected to put on your best performance.”

As eyes creeped open, and quiet gasps and shouts of pain sounded around the dirt room, Supervillain’s lips curved into a bow. He did love the sounds and movements they made under his power- something incapable of being shown to an audience, per say, but something most definitely to be used behind closed curtains. He was thankful there was no expected sizzle to come from the burning skin of his subjects. The audience might hear that, and then what would his show be?

Villain rolled over onto his stomach, pushing himself up onto his knees and collapsing in on himself to form a ball. The moonlight burned, as usual, but it was worse on this late night. He felt the light in all places, even those not accessible- hence the tight position he held himself in, a form of self-defence. Moonlight poured between his lips, filling his mouth in a pain that could only be expressed through blood-curdling screams.

Knowing Supervillain and his antics, Villain had the sense to guard the sounds he made in a self-made bubble. Should anyone outside this room hear his screams, they would become concerned; they might try to break into the performers’ room. Supervillain would do worse than let the moonlight flow inside Villain’s body, then.

“It feels like drowning, doesn’t it?” Supervillain asked, so suddenly knelt on the ground beside Villain’s bubble of muteness. “Do you regret your words from yesterday yet? Will you behave today?”

As experimental as Villain was with his powers, he never once tried to purposefully experience the feeling of drowning. Right now, though, he could imagine this burning inside his body must be what it felt like to breathe in water. He didn’t have gills despite many people’s beliefs. He knew the feeling of water shooting up one’s nose, of coughing and gagging on it with the ever-present idea of never breathing again. Water was scary, even he would admit.

It was in this moment that his bubble fell. Villain swallowed his screams, clenching every muscle in his body to prevent the sounds of continued pain. “I’m sorry,” he managed to say, if only to stop Supervillain’s act of revenge. “Won’t- won’t threaten you again.” But, of course, he would. The fight, the defiance, was in his blood.

Esteemed guests, he said? Villain focused on his thoughts as the moonlight slowly escaped his body. I’ll be sure to give them a show, then.

***

It hadn’t taken long for Hero’s eyes to widen with surprise as she’d watched Supervillain slowly stride on over to Villain with a look of admiration in his eyes. Meanwhile, Villain had been writhing in what was undoubtedly pain. She could just barely hear his agonized screams through the water he trapped himself in. It was as if she had been listening to him beneath the water surface of a pool- goodness she missed those. Her jaw, which had apparently been opened, snapped shut in a desperate moment to withhold an empathetic cry.

Hero thought back on the conversation she shared with Villain earlier that morning- about how horrible this life was.

Yes. Yes, she could agree that certain aspects of it weren’t preferable, but…well, Villain did this to himself, didn’t he? He pushed and prodded- he poked the bear if you would. Albeit horrible, Villain’s treatment was somewhat deserved.

This didn’t mean that Hero didn’t find the treatment absolutely gut-wrenching. Sometimes she had nightmares about the same pain coursing throughout her own body. Fortunately, they were dreams and she only knew the pain existed within them because of her unconscious hollers.

Either way, Hero knew she could never exist in that amount of pain. She might very well pass out, and then what use would she be to the show? What use would she be to herself? Those bright, smiling faces in the audiences warmed her in a way her powers never could. They kept her going. They kept her alive.

So, she would withstand those slight waves of pain every day. She would endure because any alternative was too frightening, too dooming.

“Five minutes!” Supervillain announced, and with that, he stepped out, flaps of the tent room snapping shut behind him.

Not wasting a moment, Hero crawled over to Villain, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You’re okay?”

His response was a glare. He shrugged her off. “Get ready,” he said simply. “We have a great show tonight and little time to prepare.”

What Hero didn’t see was the vengeance pooling in Villain’s stomach, much like the moonlight Supervillain had placed there just a minute ago.

***

Villain smirked as he stood in position with Hero, ready to open the show, waiting for the curtains to rise. In three, two…

The curtain rose and as the audience stared, no doubt waiting, excited to see what the show had in store for them, the cue was given and Hero prepared to do her part, hands twirling with both anticipation and preparation.

Watching Villain, she faltered, one hand clumsily colliding with the other…all because she noticed something unordinary. Villain was not performing with her, and he had a look in his eyes, a- a gleam which Hero had never seen before. This can’t be good. Not only did Villain have such a mischievous glimmer, but he had not moved from his initial position.

With eyes now closed, Villain summoned all the water he could. Opening them once again, he sent his arms forward- a fast motion which released wave upon wave, crashing into the audience.

He laughed darkly as he sprinkled a whirlpool here, a current there, and a water tornado- which served as an escape, a path of destruction that cleared the way of all the chairs, as well as the audience members themselves.

Just as Hero had faltered before, Villain did in that very moment- a familiar pain blossoming in his body. He gritted his teeth.

Supervillain had begun fighting him more quickly than expected. Clearly, the waves that had engulfed him, therefore knocking him over, and the shards of ice Villain had aimed towards his chest, hadn’t been enough.

But he couldn’t stop clearing the path- the only path that could ensure him life- ensure him freedom. His motivation to succeed tonight enraptured his every move…because if he failed…well…he didn’t want to think of the consequences.

The adrenaline which Villain possessed now helped him more easily bear the once excruciating pain. Now, it was only a dull throb, a throb that allowed Villain to continue concentrating on clearing the path of obstacles, for anyone in his way would regret it.

Villain’s body ached, having never spent so much energy on his powers. Especially not at the same time as Supervillain using his own powers so strongly against him.

Struggling to hold on as he started to feel the pain sharper than ever, Villain focused on the path- his salvation- ahead. Supervillain was no match for the determination manifesting in Villain’s veins.

***

Hero was lost in the literal sea of madness. A part of her was grateful to only feel the sprinkle of swirling water around her, yet another quaked at the sight before her- of the people she so graciously served being tossed like ragdolls.

What was worse: the sight of Villain captured in his cage of moonlight, or seeing the audience so helplessly being…being drowned? For once, she decided on the latter. Hero never imagined a day would pass that Supervillain’s power wasn’t the most terrifying thing in existence. Seeing what Villain did now, though? It was horrible- excruciating.

On another hand…Hero understood. Villain endured so much pain, so often, who else wouldn’t lose their mind- wouldn’t wreak havoc if it meant being free of the torture? Clearly, this life wasn’t meant for him. And he was stubborn enough that fighting for such freedom was all he’d ever know.

Seeing as Supervillain was just as strong-willed, he’d never stop torturing- never stop trying to break Villain. Making an escape was Villain’s greatest hope.

Who was Hero to try and stop him?

******

*insert cliffhanger* Mwahaha 😈

Part two here

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oftenderweapons · 4 years ago

Text

Steamy Waters – Jin

Pairing: Seokjin x reader (nicknamed Angel) Wordcount: 9.1k Genre: smut, unadulterated smut, slightest fluff, established relationship, idol!au Rating: 18+

Hello wildflowers! Welcome to Jin’s Steamy Waters scenario (and coincidentally his birthday fic too). Let me explain you the plot, real quick: the fic is set right after the MAMA ceremony, and because of the several award ceremonies and a busy schedule, Jin and his gf unfortunately couldn’t celebrate his birthday in time. However, Jin decides to take the matter in his own hands, offering Angel a nice bath, which quite expectedly turns into very hot business.

And now on to TRIGGER WARNINGS: this is an established relationship and yes, the character have unprotected sex; no, this does not mean that you should forego condoms or dental dams. There is some swearing. Other than that, well, big dick, jackhammer!Jin is back (couldn’t really do any different. We know he’s blessed like that); breast worship, slight marking, nipple suction cups, clitoral suction cup, oral sex (both male and female receiving), cum shot (face and chest), cum eating and more generically cum play; masturbation (both male and female); barely dommy Seokjin; slight degradation (he calls her naughty and dirty a couple times, but he’s more patronising than insulting); gagging (he puts his fingers in her mouth to keep her quiet); overstimulation; very briefly, playfully mentions erectile dysfunction (Jin jokes about it). Angel has medium-big, quite sensitive breasts. Jin and Angel briefly discuss a past scene where a pinwheel and a riding crop were involved, and where Angel used her safeword (no angst).

In case you need it, well here is my masterlist

(I’ll be editing this again sometime soon, here it’s ass o’clock in the morning and atm I can barely think straight -- well, I never really think straight, I’m bi af.)

Enjoy 💜✨

–——————————————

Jin came through the door with the tip of his nose red, rubbing his hands together.

“Darling.” You called from the kitchen. It was almost one am and you had just finished watching the MAMA ceremony, waiting for him to get home. As you waited, you got two cups of tea ready, especially after he told you he had been cold all night long.

When he appeared, he was the personification of an icicle, shaking all over. “Hi.” He greeted.

“Hello, baby. Would you like some tea?” You asked, standing in front of him.

He nodded. You hugged him tight. “Oh, you’re frozen, baby.” You stood on your tiptoes and kissed his lips. “Congratulations on your… how many prizes?” Your frowned in confusion.

“They’re… eight? Nine? I lost count.” He shrugged and dipped down his head, kissing you again, rubbing his frozen nose against yours. “And I’m happy about those, but...” He placed his hands on your waist, letting them slide down to your hips and ass. “I have other stuff on my mind.”

“Like?” You said, smiling and running your palms up his chest, gripping his shoulders.

“Like the fact that we didn’t celebrate my birthday because they kept me busy.” He murmured, kneading your ass through the fine fleece of your pyjamas.

“You want to celebrate?” You said, combing his hair back, grimacing as your fingers got caught on several strata of hairspray. “Maybe after you shower?” You suggested.

“Maybe you could keep me warm in the bathtub.” He looked down and licked his lips, raising his eyebrows as he looked into your eyes.

You raised your eyebrows in reply, a bit surprised by his proposition. “You’ve eaten already?” You asked.

“Mhmh.” He confirmed as he kept his hands on your waist, backwalking towards the bathroom with small steps.

“What are you doing?” You asked, with a smirk.

“Claiming my birthday present?” He suggested, taking bigger steps now that he was in the short corridor leading to the master bedroom and that you looked more complacent.

You chuckled. “You really want to take a bath at one am?”

“I just want quality time with you.” He said. “And I need to get washed.”

“Okay.” You nodded as he finally entered the bathroom.

He grinned, immediately walking to the tub and blocking the drain before he opened the tap, placing the settings on hot water. He poured some soap in, his sweet jasmine scent wafting through the room. The air in the bathroom was toasty, and he placed his hands near the heater, letting them warm up before he undid the buttons of his shirt.

He only had a white tank top on underneath, which made you realize how cold he must have been. The garment emphasised his thin waist and wide shoulders so beautifully that you walked closer, backhugging him. “Did you have a woolen jacket on or was it light fabric?” You asked, rubbing your hands down his arms.

“I had the jacket on stage, I had my coat in the backstage.” He reassured you.

Your hands met his belt, so familiar with it that it was almost too easy to undo.

“Are you helping me get undressed?” He asked with a playful tone.

“Maybe.” You replied with a cheshire grin that he spotted through the mirror.

“Why aren’t you undressing yourself?” He asked, curious.

You shrugged. “I prefer when you undress me.”

He turned around in your arms, cupping your cheeks, his eyes glimmering with dark intensity. He looked so unbelievably beautiful as he licked his lips. “You want me to undress you?” He asked, his voice calm and serious and warm.

“Yes, Jinnie.” You whispered, placing his hands on the waistband of your sweats.

“Here.” He said, as he bent down, dragging the garment with him, helping your feet out of the legs of your pyjamas while he stayed crouched at your feet. Standing up, he noticed the lack of underwear. “No panties?” He asked, raising his eyebrows and smirking slowly.

“They were making me uncomfortable.” You explained, raising your arms as he took off your camisole.

“And what about the bra?” He asked, immediately cupping your breasts and diving his face in between them, pressing heavy kisses on your breastbone.

“I never wear it at home and you know it.” You stated matter-of-factly.

“Sometimes you do.” He said.

“Never with my pyjamas.” You objected.

He shrugged and kissed both your nipples gingerly. “My turn?” He said, raising his arms.

You slipped your hand under his tank top, dragging it up with your nails, his hands landing on your ass.

“You’re on fire tonight, Jinnie.” You teased. He had become more passionate with time, warming up to you and your kinkier needs, discovering domination and all the connected disciplines. He had learned a lot — most importantly that having sex with you was just as good and perfect as making love to you — which had come as a revelation to him and a blessing to you.

Still, sometimes you wished you hadn't set the beast inside him free, since he could be the most demanding, exhausting lover you could ever imagine.

He caught your wrists, stopping your hands from tugging down his slacks and underwear together. “You don't want it?” He asked, suddenly serious.

You thought about it. You were tired and your eyes felt droopy after six hours in front of the television. “I'm just surprised. I didn't know you had been craving it like this.” You explained. “I would have helped you out if I had known.”

He pushed your wrists down, dragging his trousers too in the process. “I wanted to take our time. Make it something big, festive.” He said just as you kneeled to take his pants off, his half hard cock springing free.

“If you want, we can put a ribbon on your dick and there you go, 'big and festive'.” You joked, already trying to get your mouth on his length.

He chuckled and your heart filled with happiness as his joy manifested. You love making him laugh.

“I have an idea.” He announced suddenly with a serious face as he took a step back, stopping your naughty endeavour.

“Your ideas scare me. And no, we're not doing the pinwheel thing again. I still have to emotionally recover from that.” You said.

His mind went back to that evening. It had been almost ten days. “You looked so pretty, though.”

“I just need a bit before we go there again.” You explained.

“This conversation is not over, let me just go grab a thing,” He said, wrapping a towel around his waist and exiting the bathroom. In the meantime you closed the tap, getting ready to dip your toes in.

“Don't go in just yet.” He said, entering the room just in time. He placed two small objects on the bathroom counter. “Come here, please.” He said. “I think this could work, but I'm not sure.”

You took a few steps, your frame standing naked in front of him. God, he wanted you in so many ways. Your grace and finesse and selfish sexuality, all enslaved to his pleasure. He wanted that. He wanted to use you for his pleasure and drive you completely insane as he did so. He wanted you to live your pleasure through his. He wanted your soul, your body, your big eyes staring at him, and your cunt dripping all over him.

Later, he told himself.

He turned and picked up the tiny accessories from the bathroom sink. “These cannot go underwater, Angel. If they do, they might lose the vacuum effect and release your pretty buds.” He bent down to your left nipple, cupping the underside of your breast to bring it closer to your mouth. He suckled on it a little, his hand cupping your mound, teasing a wetness that he seemed to evoke simply with his attention towards you. Parting from your breast with a loud sucking noise, he used both his hands to fix the small nipple pump around your small protuberance, keeping the cylinder firm as he twisted a small screw on top of the cylinder which regulated the amount of pressure inside the cup.

He repeated the same procedure on the other nipple, after he laved it with wide, lush licks. “It would have been lovely to put one on your clit, but I'm not sure it could hold.” He kissed your sternum. “Plus, I shouldn't spoil your pretty cunt from the very start.” He bent to your ear. “You've got to earn yourself heaven, Angel.” He smiled innocently and winked before standing up straight.

You frowned and took a step back before noticing the way the towel was still draped around his hips and sat a bit awkwardly around his growing cock.

Smirking, you tugged at it, leaving him naked. He lifted an eyebrow before sporting a lop-sided grin. “Don’t make me put you on your knees, Angel.”

“What if I wanted you to do just that?” You asked, stepping closer, dragging your nails down his thigh.

“In the tub. Now.” He ordered.

“You won’t even let me kiss it?” You asked, batting your lashes at him.

“Later. Maybe.” He said, looking at your breasts and licking his lips. “Get in the tub, Angel.” He repeated, more gently. You hugged him and you were suddenly reminded of the small suction cups as they collided with Jin’s chest.

Holding your waist, he started taking small steps to his destination, leading you as you walked backwards. “I want to relax with you first. Talk about some stuff.” He stated softly.

You simply nodded, just a small part of you growing alarmed at his statement regarding “talking about stuff”. You trusted him and your relationship was solid. There was nothing to be worried about.

He stopped you just shy of the tub, entering and holding your hand as he helped you in, sitting down first and making you settle between his legs. His hands immediately moved under your breasts, supporting them to avoid the cups getting underwater. “There we go, my love.” He murmured gently. “So what happened with the pinwheel? Would you like to talk about it? Did I cross a line?” He asked.

Truth is, Seokjin has learned a lot. From being a novice, he had become an upper-intermediate in terms of domination and punishments. If you asked him, he would say that half of his improvements were because of the excellent communication that the two of you had built. Moments like this, where you simply connected and recollected events together weren’t rare at all. He would ask you for suggestions and improvements, he would question you about what had gone wrong and what you would like to explore further.

“I think that at a certain moment you snapped? And the riding crop was… too much. I was so focused on the tiny feel of the pinwheel that the crop was all too sudden and...I couldn’t stand it.”

His body was finally warm at your back. He slowly let go of your chest, making sure that the cups wouldn’t submerge as he stretched to dry his hands with a towel, only to fix your hair on top of your head, trying to make sure that they didn't get wet. “You used your safeword a couple times but you didn’t stop. Why?” He asked.

“I used our yellow. To slow down.” You recalled.

He hummed in confirmation.

“I liked your attitude. I wanted you to keep going, even though the scene was a bit harsh.” You explained.

“Was I too harsh?” He asked delicately, his hands going back to your breasts, massaging the heavy underside. The dry pull at your nipples made you clench the inner walls of your entrance, and you could almost sense the wetness already forming inside,

“A few times. When you hit the spot where the pinwheel had just been. Especially on my breasts. And crotch.” You explained trying to keep your composure but failing, throwing your head against his shoulder and huffing out his name.

His hands were teasing in that skilled, knowledgeable way he knew, like you were his harp and he was playing you with the most delicate stimulation. With his thumbs he was drawing lines that moved from the perimeter of each breast to its nipple, like rays of an inverted sun, going from the outskirts to the centre. Your skin grew more and more sensitive, with blood blooming to the surface, summoned both by the suction on your nipple and by his delicate touches. The arousal, only adding onto the vicious circle, made your heartbeat faster, fatefully increasing the amount of fresh blood running under the skin skimmed by his fingers, in an endless game of chase where all you did was run in circles around pleasure, without ever a true chance of reaching it.

“Are they getting sensitive, my love?” He asked, his hands continuing with their pattern even as your hands dove underwater to grip his knees. Anything that could anchor you down and keep you from moving like a flame to his wind.

“What are your intentions? Do you want to play?” You asked. You knew he was tiptoeing around that fine line that divided your Jinnie, bright and playful and loving, to the dark and demanding master that he could become when in his worst behaviour.

“I wanted to see if we can just… blur the line a little.” He asked, slightly doubtful. “I know that so far we have always discussed most things together and that has kept us this close.” He said, right when his hands went back to simply cupping your curves.

He nuzzled his nose into the hair of your nape. You shivered slightly, just as his cock fluttered, trapped between his abdomen and your backside as he spooned you. “Tonight I thought we could keep all the rough stuff on the side and just… Have fun? Like, doing what we do but without me overpowering you and using you and all of that. I just want it to be light. And fun. Light like when we make love and fun like when we play.” Jin asked, frowning as he realised just how strange and confused hus request was.

“You want the sex without the domination.” You rephrased before he nodded simply. “That is fine to me.” You agreed.

“I mean, I might still take control. I have the strange feeling I will. Like I will completely ignore this conversation and turn Godzilla on you.”

You shrugged. It’s not like you didn’t enjoy him doing that. Actually, it’s what he did best. Not that the rest wasn’t nice. Quite the opposite. But if his vanilla was ten out of ten, his… So to say… Beast mode… Well, that was an eleven.

“Jinnie, baby. It’s your birthday, love.” You said. “Well, not really your birthday birthday, but it’s you that we’re celebrating. You know I support you whatever you do. If I don’t like it, I’ll tell you.” You stated coolly.

“But you promise you won’t say yes when you want to say no only because it’s my birthday?” He asked, and you could almost hear the small pout in his voice,

“No birthday privilege can push me through my hard limits, Jinnie.” You reassured him.

“Cool.” He stated.

“Cool.” You echoed.

“Will you wash my hair, please?” He asked, kissing your temple.

You smiled, falling in love all over again, head to toe, in that precise second. You turned your head, looking at him from over your shoulder. “Of course.” You turned around fully, facing him, kneeling between his legs as he moved closer to the middle of the tub. His hands immediately moved to your waist, touching it as if he was moulding the thin neck of a vase.

“You’re very handsy tonight.” You noticed as you drew the small shower head close to his head, placing your hand at his hairline to make sure that he wouldn’t get water in his eyes.

“I…” He began, however he found himself speechless. He didn’t really have any reasons other than wanting you. He didn’t quite understand how it was that this craving of his had appeared so sudden and intense. He didn’t know what made it so different from the other times. He was just… So needy. It felt right. So right, to cross some boundaries tonight, to go the extra mile — miles, even — to please you. He just needed to see you come apart in his arms. Maybe he needed a confirmation? Yes, he needed to know that he was going in the right direction. But he also just wanted to have fun. To feel young. To feel that teenage frenzy that had never possessed him.

Because he felt envious. Sometimes. Of the way the others seemed to live sex as this possessing and at the same time liberating experience that seemed to just cleanse them from all the frustration of rehearsals and performances and shows and everything. Of the way Hoseok waltzed in all fresh and loose-limbed, five minutes late on Saturday morning. Of the dizzy smile Taehyung had that morning when Lace slept at their place. Of the way Yoongi randomly disappeared every now and then, only to come back with bruises on his neck and this lazy and sated look on his face. And of the way Namjoon was always so energised and productive till the late hours after Vixen left his studio in bright red stilettos and a fancy — and suspicious — raincoat.

They were the ones who could barely hide it. Jimin and Guk normally were more discreet. Except the little one had unnerving ego boosts every time he came back from weekends with Candy. And Jimin’s brattier side seemed always asleep once Princess had had her sweet way with him.

He wanted to be relaxed and careless and arrogant, just like that.

He kept thinking, where was the trick? What was it that made it that good? Was he doing something wrong?

Curious about his long long silence, you reckoned he was worrying over something. “What is it?”

He hesitated a couple seconds before his eyebrows knitted together in a focused expression. “What do you think it is that makes sex good?” He asked. “Perfect, even.”

You smiled and frowned, confused. “Why are you asking?”

“You know that relaxed, easy feel you have afterwards, when you’re just… Like, feeling hazy and all of that.”

You giggled and poured some shampoo on your palm, foaming it up before beginning to massage it into his scalp. “I guess it’s hormones.” You said, shrugging.

“Yeah, but… I don’t know. I’ve never felt that relaxed.” He said. “Of course I like what we do, and it’s not that what we’ve had so far isn’t good, but when the guys get laid it shows. Like, really really shows.”

Your eyebrows shot up, as you sat straighter, using your fingertips to scratch the crown of his head. He moaned, “right there”, and whined as you kept rubbing the spot with a knowing smirk. As his eyes opened slightly, he found your tits right in front of his face, at which he placed his forehead on your sternum dragging his face side to side, nuzzling into your breasts.

You laughed. “But it does show, when you get laid.” You moved your hand behind his ears, still checking for any leftovers of hairspray or hair gel.

“Really? How?”

“It’s subtle. You don’t boast about this stuff. But it shows.” You said, rubbing his scalp, just shy of his forehead, where most of the hairstyling had happened. You knew that having his hair lifted up like that over his face, showing the neat, broad expanse of his brow must have meant lots of hairspray and hair gel. “You walk straighter. Like you’re the king of the world. It’s like… In your spine. You scream ‘daddy material’ with your whole posture. You get even sexier than normal. You don’t notice it maybe, but you laugh more easily and you let yourself rest a little. That’s how it looks.”

Rinsing his hair, you let the water push it back, out of his forehead, which you admired for only a second before focusing on getting all the suds away from his hair. Once happy with the results, you closed the tap to the shower head, placing the tool back on its prop. You admired the smooth extent of clear skin under your eyes, his brow glimmering with water droplets. Bending down, you placed small kisses on it, making sure that not an inch went unkissed or unloved. “But maybe I should show you how it feels to really let go, to get that loose.”

He kissed your mole, right under your breast and slowly worked his way up, towards your caged nipple. “How does that work?”

You caught his head in your arms, cradling it. “Let me take care of that.” You suggested delicately, just as he teased the suction cup with his nose. The movement caused a shift in the flesh, a fresh wave of arousal washing over you. His wide, brown eyes stared into you, obviously knowing what that reaction must have meant. His hands tentatively caressed the back of your thighs, from your knees to the curve of your ass, slithering between your legs and pushing you forward, making you straddle his lap. This time he ran the tip of his thumb around the base of the cup, making your eyes roll back.

“What about you? Who’ll take care of you?” He asked, lightly patting the underside of your breasts before moving to firmer, slapping motions.

You lost your mind.

You let your hips fall, meeting the flesh of his cock and grinding against it. Penetration was a foolish thought at the current situation, but grinding? Yes, please.

Plus, the moment you heard Jin’s groan when you pressed him to your belly, you knew tonight was the night you would finally drive him over the edge. You knew that when he ventured into scenes with you, in the end he was relaxed, but he was still struggling with that sense of guilt that after a few months had significantly reduced, but was still there, on a smaller extent. And when he made love to you, he never really went to the end of it, refusing to let himself loose to make sure that you were completely taken care of.

But tonight it was you taking care of him. And you would not let him go until you had sucked him dry. Rubbing yourself against him, you let your hand into his hair and direct his mouth to your other breast, where he pressed his tongue against your curves, shifting the weight of them around. It was such a strange feeling to feel the very base of your boobs so affected by a simple, superficial teasing. It was like the motionless emptiness inside the vacuumed cup only found its true value when the flesh underneath it was moved, like the sudden rush of blood caused by movement was what kept the fire burning.

“I wanna taste you.” You murmured, your lips hovering over his.

“You wanna kiss me or…?” He asked, looking at you with hooded eyes. He looked beautiful and lustful.

You realised only in that moment that you hadn’t really kissed him, if not for small pecks and gentle brushing of lips. That you had been naked, fairly horny, in a bathtub for the last thirty minutes, and you hadn’t even kissed.

Cupping his cheeks, you dove for his lips, both your and his mouth hanging open waiting for your tongues to meet and intertwine. You pressed even harder into him, moaning as your tongue entered his mouth, giving a little flick with the tip to his lower lip before conquering the whole cavity of his cheeks and palate with wide, slow sweeps.

He reckoned none of his exes had ever kissed him like this. Like he was one of their possessions. Like he belonged to you and you were simply claiming your right to his mouth and every other part of his body.

You were the best kisser, especially with the way your hands moved on his face and hair and shoulders, kneading into the tense skin until he was like putty in your hands, until he was feeling nothing but the way you moved on his lap, your hips gyrating on him. “I want out.” He said, slightly drawing back from the kiss. “Let’s get out of the tub.”

You cupped his jaw and with your thumb, you played with his lower lip. How round and firm it felt, so plump and full. Ignoring him, you simply bent down and bit on it with small nibbles, using only your front teeth to test the density and texture of the flesh.

It was just inhumanely thick. You reluctantly parted from his mouth, looking him in the eye, only to move your gaze downward, to inspect how reddened and abused his lower lip looked after your rough treatment.

His hands slid on your wet skin, the water barely resisting his movements as he moved his hands from your waist to the small of your back, finally resting on your ass, gripping it aggressively. In reply, you bent to his neck, closing your lips around the indentation of his collarbone, feeling it with your teeth.

The breathy moan that resulted made you so proud — and so aroused.

“Let’s get out. I wanna...” He moaned as you wrapped your hands around his wrists, leading his palms to your breasts, silently telling him to go back to the gentle massage that complements the heaviness of your bosom and the suction on your nipples, now so acute that it almost resembled a pinching sensation.

You went back to his mouth, still grinding on him, just as he tightened the suction cups even harder on your left nipple, his large palm and fingers holding your flesh as he kept the cup firm with his thumb and forefinger, the other hand spinning the small screw increasing the pressure. “Too tight?” He asked on your lips.

You simply shook your head no, diving back to his lips.

He did the same on your other nipple, your lips parting in a shameless mewl as your clit rubbed with one perfect stroke against his shaft, running through the whole length of it. “Jin.”

“For the love of god, Angel. Please, let’s get out of here.” He spoke with a voice so gruff he had to clear up his throat before he could speak smoothly. “I can’t get inside you like this.”

You kept moving against him, hoping for some relief. “Please.”

He shook his head. “If you let go of me we can get out and do this properly. I can’t do what I want in here.”

“And what is it that you want?” You teased, your hands sliding down his chest and dipping underwater to toy with his hard sex.

“Let me go and I’ll show you.”

Pouting, a bit reluctant, you removed yourself from his lap, looking at him as he stood up in front of you. The position was interesting: you kneeling in the tub while he stood in front of you.

Your mind screamed blowjob and you had no reasonable counterarguments to that, still he stopped you with a hand to your cheek.

“Not here, love. Too risky.” He said, referring to the chances of slipping. He stepped out of the tub, his feet landing on the soft towel he had laid on the ground as he stretched to grab another towel to dry himself up.

Yes, you did stare at his ass as he did so, looking at the taut muscle of his glute and letting your eyes slide further down, to the straight column of his thigh.

As he stood up straight, he quickly dried himself wrapping the towel high on his waist, to try and hide his raging hard on, just a little. The lights of the bathroom were just a bit too bright and he felt a bit wary, even though he understood you had seen him naked and turned on so many times.

Noticing his discomfort you sauntered out of the tub, walking to the mirror and switching on the small light, shortly before heading to the door and switching off the light on the ceiling.

The atmosphere was suddenly completely different. It felt quiet and intimate. Right, even.

“Better?” You asked Jin, walking towards him.

He nodded with a grateful expression. “Yeah. Thank you.” He hugged you to him, frowning a bit at the sensation of the cups against his chest. “Do they hurt? Want me to take them off?” He asked, untucking the towel and looping it around the two of you, dragging you impossibly closer.

“No, I think I can handle it.” You replied. You weren’t new to nipple play. Jin simply loves playing with your tits and he had all kinds of vicious devices to do so, the suction cups being arguably his favourite. You knew that this was just the beginning: cups and clamps and tweezers were only a way of sensitising. This was a mere appetizer to the whole meal that was about to come. Once your breasts felt heavy, sensitive and delicate, he would feast on them, licking them, biting them and using his tongue to tease them as he sucked your pert nipples into his mouth with slow and strong drags. He would knead them, his big hands covering them entirely and squeezing them with attentive rolls of his fingers.

But for now he was simply staring at you, his eyelids low. He looked relaxed.

Your hands wrapped around his torso, slowly working their way down his back. “May I start with my gift?” You blinked at him seducingly as you tried to kneel, your hands reaching the upper curve of his behind.

“Wait. Your knees.” He said, blushing before helping you up, gently inviting you to join him on the small, plush rug in front of the sinks. “Here. It should feel better.”

You looked at him with glimmering eyes. “You just worried about my knees?”

He raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Isn’t that a given?” He asked, hesitant. “We can do it on the floor if you prefer.” He suggested, dubious.

You shook your head, smiling. “I just want to blow you ten times harder.”

He smirked, leaning against the counter and giggling as he observed you licking your lips and slowly lowering yourself on the carpet. Dragging your nails against his abdomen you checked on him quickly. “Is it too cold in here for you?”

Temperature always made him sensitive. “No, it’s nice.” He said, his hands combing your hair back as you kissed his thighs.

“Good.” You replied, your hand flying to his thick erection, swallowing his tip straight away.

“Warn me Angel, would you, goodness — Fuck!” He swore as you started bobbing your head straight away. You knew there was no way you could swallow him, so you simply focused on sucking him hard enough and using your hand to compensate for what your mouth couldn’t do.

Using your drool on him as lubricant, you dragged your palm around the base, wrapping your fingers around him, your thumb and middle fingers barely meeting, and tugging at him energetically, making the muscles of your hands twitch around him, trying to mimick the contractions of your cunt on him, going hard and fast straight away, your goal making him cum as many times as possible.

“Angel, love. Slow down, you’re gonna — Ah!” His sentence was interrupted by your hand coming to his balls, gently massaging them in an attempt to make him completely forget about words and anything that wasn’t your mouth on him.

You dared look up, his throat taut and his head thrown back in pleasure, his hips thrusting into you, his hands toying with your hair lovingly. “So good.” He said as you sank down some more on him, two thirds of him into your mouth. You lasted a couple more seconds before coming up for air.

“Is it relaxing enough?” You asked, extending the strokes of your hand to the tip, working your right thumb over the frenulum and the slit, rubbing it carefully while your left hand took care of the shaft.

He simply moaned in response, thrusting into your fist, patting your hair, trying to keep himself from leading your mouth back on him.

You smiled, “Has your birthday gift been satisfactory so far?” You asked with a grin.

“Absolutely.” He replied with his breathing ragged, his voice hoarse, his vowels dragged a bit long as he spoke slowly, carefully, struggling to put the syllables together.

“We’re all about customer satisfaction.” You replied, smiling innocently as he looked down at you. You licked your lips and kept the eye contact as you brought his tip to your mouth, smearing a small pearl of precum on the seam of your lips, before letting your tongue dart out and lick the salty liquid smeared on your lower lip. And next you licked him, noticing how his eyes blew wide with marvel and curiosity, only to flutter close with arousal and pleasure.

With renewed excitement you sank on him as far as it would go, knowing that even though you were paying attention he was too thick for your teeth not to get in the way with a gentle scratch. Still, you sucked him hard, until he reached the back of your mouth, almost choking on him when you went a bit too fast. Your eyes watered but you went on enthusiastically, helping yourself with your hand.

It was almost too easy. A small squeeze of his balls, matched with a tight downward thrust and his fingers curled into your hair, while the other hand flew away, gripping the sink hard to keep himself from pushing too deep into your mouth. With small, shallow thrusts — completely opposed to the sheer force and pressure he was exercising on his fists —, he fucked your mouth as gently as he could, in true gentleman fashion. No matter how crude and animalistic the action was, he managed to be so gentle throughout all of it, looking so beautiful as he slowly came undone, his legs giving out partly as you detached your mouth from him, only when he had spilt all he had. His knees gradually bent as he slid down against the counter and sank to the floor, on his knees, right in front of you.

His mouth joined yours absentmindedly for a couple kisses, tender and light. “Are you okay?” He asked, looking at your reddened eyes and flushed cheeks. He ran his thumbs down the wet tracks of your tears. “That was… excellent.” He said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I need you to lay down, Angel.”

You looked at him, blinking blankly. “Here?” You asked.

He bent to kiss your neck, suckling at it a little. “Wanna move to bed?”

You shook your head. “I was just surprised.” Following his previous command, you sat on your hip and laid down, your back resting on the plush, cream rug, your legs bent and your knees placed together while the soles of your feet were still planted on the ground.

Crawling, he moved to your feet, holding your calves and making you part your legs.

Your eyes inspected his torso as he crawled on top of you. He bent down and kissed your forehead. “Is it cold?” He asked.

You shook your head.

Nice, he thought, sitting on his heels before his hands moved to your chest. “Let’s take these off, yeah?” He murmured gently as he unscrewed the system tightening the cup to your nipple before stretching to place it on top of the sink. He moved to the other breast, removing it faster this time, as if he were impatient. “Now let’s reward my little Angel.” He smiled at you kindly and that was the moment you knew you were done for. He was going to use you. He had that intense expression that always formed on his face when he played with you, using you for his pleasure. Scooting away from your inner thighs, he made space for his torso, looking at you as he licked a thick, slow stripe up against your slit, reaching your clit, sucking your arousal off your folds and into his mouth, savouring it with small, quiet clicks of his tongue against his palate. “I’m going to place it here.” He said, drawing a circle around your clit.

You nodded like a madwoman, lifting yourself onto your elbows to look at him as he parted your labia, drawing a loose spiral around your clit before placing the cup there, giving just a couple spins on the screw, leaving the pressure fairly mild, but still securing a solid grip.

The sensation was strange, like having your clit tugged but without being touched. Your hips shifted slightly as you got used to the feeling. “How is it?” He asked, attentive.

“Strange. New. Overall good.” You replied, offering him feedback.

“Good. Now, let me use these.” He murmured before placing his forearms beside each of your sides, leaning down to finally kiss your right nipple, then your left one, gingerly.

“Baby,” you moaned slowly, as he shifted his weight again, trying to find a comfortable position to free his hands and place them on you. Balancing his weight on his thighs, he finally managed to place his palms on the flushed skin of your chest, kneading the full curves of it, while his fingers tweaked the two peaks. “Seokjin.”

“Yes, my Angel?” He replied, softer now that you’d spoken his full name.

“It feels so good.” You murmured quietly, eyes closing as your inner muscles contracted, your clit responding to the suction and to the tightening of your inner walls.

“Keep touching them for me, will you, love?” He asked, at which you frowned, confused, almost ready to ask why when you noticed his hands moving to the suction cup, adding a couple spins before he placed his hands on his length.

“Is it okay?” He asked, giving a tentative pump.

Once more you tried lifting yourself up to look at him, your brow furrowing when you didn’t feel him entering you. He looked so beautiful, with his dark, thick eyebrows knitted together, quivering whenever a wave of pleasure rolled down his spine, making his hips undulate forward seducingly.

While your left forearm kept your torso up, your right hand was free to roam over your chest, massaging your right breast with slow tugs drawing all the blood to the peak, for which Jin bent down, his mouth eager to complete your hand’s ministration.

“I’m close again.” He said, with a half delighted, half desperate snicker. His mouth parted wider, his lips settling around your puffy areola, where the cup had left a slight indentation. Freeing your left arm from below you, you tried down as gently as you could.

“Cum on me.” You said, throwing your head back, showing him the fine column of your neck.

He kept rubbing his lips against your sensitive skin as he spoke. “We just washed, you sure?”

“We’ll need to rinse once we’re done with this just the same.” You replied, your hand dipping into his damp hair, pushing his mouth against your boob.

“I love you.” He mouthed before sucking your neglected nipple shortly but intensely. He struggled a bit as he straddled your waist. “I wanna...” He began, before you placed your hands on his hips, pushing him down, making him rest his ass on your stomach, his weight held up mostly by his thighs in an attempt not to squish you. Immediately you took his erection between your breasts, using the slight sheen of wetness left from the bath to help him slide. You knew you had little time before it dried up and everything got uncomfortable. Pressing your boobs together, you matched the long, powerful strokes of his hips, just as his moans started getting higher and higher in pitch, shorter and more desperate, the air in his lungs suddenly feeling not enough. His breath was so shallow when he thrusted out of the small cage of your breasts, his hand moving so, so fast before his left palm landed beside of your head, on the floor, holding him up as he came all over your breasts, whining weakly as he spilled messily, his release reaching your chin and cheek with the first spurt while the others landed more controlledly on your chest and stomach, his hand still milking his cock weakly before he stopped.

His eyes opened just in time to see you collect his cum from your cheek with your fingertip, his ears feeling very hot as you brought the liquid to your lips, cleaning your digit. Next, you lolled your tongue out, trying to reach for the rest of it on your chin and at the corner of your mouth.

Carefully, he tried to stand up, helping himself with the counter nearby. Once he was on his feet, as steady as he could be, he wet a corner of the towel under the tap, sitting at your side to clean you up.

“I’ll be very forward now, Angel.” He said, cleaning your cheek and your chin before moving down between your breasts, dabbing the towel against the stain before swiping away what was left. “I really wanna pound into you on this tiny rug in our lovely bathroom, but if you prefer, we can move to the bedroom anytime you want.” He explained.

You looked at him like you weren’t even sure it was your Seokjin kneeling at your side, your eyes wide as saucers. “Excuse me. You’re the same boy who thought that birthday sex was rose petals, champagne, silk sheets, dimmed lights and background music?”

It was his turn to stare at you with wide eyes. “Did you want that?”

He had fucked up. He was already thinking what to do to fix the situation, trying to imagine what he could do to offer you the whole—

“For the love of god, no. Rail me on the bathroom rug. Please.” You begged, wide eyed and needy, especially when — squeezing your thighs together — you were reminded of the accessory between your legs.

He laughed vivaciously before throwing the towel away, grabbing your knees and making you part them.

“You wanna be railed on the bathroom rug?” He asked, teasing you.

“Yes, sir.” You replied, playful, but also taunting his dormant dominant side.

“How naughty.” He said, splaying his hand on your crotch, his palm snug against your hole while his fingers parted around your clit, the cup sitting between his middle and ring finger. As he settled, kneeling between your bent legs, he applied some pressure, arousing you just like that. “Is that your idea of birthday sex? Getting railed?” He said.

He loved the word. Because it was literally that. Raw and crude and fast. And it drives you insane, which, subsequently, drives him insane.

“I forgot it’s your idea of any kind of sex.” His hand started sliding a few millimetres back and forth, mimicking the sensation of skin brushing against skin like when he moved into you, his pelvis stimulating the outer parts of your sex while his cock plunged deep into you, giving you something thick and long to squeeze with your inner muscles.

“Because you’re dirty like that, uh?” He asked, using his left hand to titillate the cup, the sudden movement causing your clit to shift and your kegels to twitch a few times.

“I’m your dirty angel.” You said, wetness pouring out of your cunt and meeting his palm, suddenly slipping against you.

“You are.” He murmured appreciatively. “Let’s see how long it takes for my Angel to get ready for me.” He said, placing his left forefinger on top of the screw of the suction cup and pushing it around, leading your clit in small circular movements, while his right fingers and palm retracted and, in one fine sleight of hand, his index and middle finger slipped inside you.

“Jin!” You screeched, the invasion too sudden and thorough.

“Don’t worry, my darling angel. I’m just warming you up.” He said with dark eyes, lifting an eyebrow before scissoring his fingers inside.

“So good.” You babbled, your eyes crossing and rolling shut, enjoying the tugging, sucking feeling on your clit, mixed with the slight circular tugs, and then the filling, pumping and spreading sensation of his fingers moving inside. “It’s too good.”

“I know, Angel.” He pressed a kiss to your knee. “It’s too good for little demons like you.” He tugged at the cup a couple times, until it miserably unlocked and fell off.

“No.” You cried out weakly.

“Oh, you prefer the cup to my mouth?” He asked, stopping his transition as he was trying to bring his head close to your lap.

“No. I want your mouth. Please. Use your mouth.” You begged, just as he grinned and bent down, catching your clit with his lips and licking it heavily. The wet feel of his tongue after the dry, vacuum feeling of the toy was exquisite.

“Just another finger, darling.” He said, extracting his digits and rubbing his ring finger up and down your slit, coating it in wetness before he pushed three together and placed them on your entrance, sliding them in slowly.

A slow, quiet cry accompanied his movement, from the moment he slipped the tip in to the moment his knuckles met your flesh. “There you go, Angel. Better get used to it, I’ll give you a couple minutes.” He warned you, before he began tentatively massaging your inner walls with his fingertips, with tiny pumping motions, while at the same time kissing the apex of your labia.

“In, please, now Jin.” You begged.

“You sure?” He asked, parting from your clit hesitantly.

You nodded energetically. “Please.” You repeated, parting your legs further.

Following your lead, he moved his forearm beside your head to prop himself up, his hand pulling out and landing on his erection. He hoped he would last just one more round. Doing multiples like this was not his thing anymore. He snickered.

“What is it?” You asked, looking up at him with a confused glance.

“Just considering that I’m not a teenager anymore. Three rounds is… wow. Long time no see.” He murmured, blushing a little, but still opening up about his fleeting thoughts.

You laughed underneath him. “Indeed.” You said. You considered things a little. “You need more time, love? It’s absolutely okay, you know? It’s late, you’re tired, it’s been a long day.” You said, trying to show him you understood him and there was nothing wrong.

“Don’t worry love,” He said, kissing your neck as he dragged his tip against your slit. “I’m not that old yet.” He said, smirking as he sank in with one slow, thorough stroke.

“Oh my god, Jin, yes.” You moaned as he bottomed out. His hand parted from his sex and reached your mouth, his wet fingers sliding past your lips and laying flat on your tongue. “To help you keep quiet.” He said, before he pulled out and slammed violently into you.

Your muffled cry echoed in the room as he stilled for a second, drawing out slowly before thrusting back in forcefully.

“Like this?” He asked, breath strained as he held himself up. “Wanna be railed like this?”

You shook your head no teasingly, at which he he removed the fingers in your mouth, letting you speak. “Faster, harder.”

He stared into your eyes as he was buried deep inside you. “Then you better keep quiet Angel, because I need both arms for leverage.”

You nodded.

“Legs around my waist, or bend them to your chest and spread them. You choose.” He suggested, settling in his position.

You crossed your ankles behind his back without second thought.

“You good like that, darling?” He asked, using his hand to cup your cheek, at which you nodded, observing his face, the way his hair had almost completely dried by now, how flushed he looked, how his eyelids looked heavy and his eyes lust fuelled and intense. You had no other adjective to describe them but ‘intense’.

“Yes, Jin.” You replied, anchoring your hands on his shoulders.

“Nice.” He said before giving a small stroke, drawing out only partly and then sinking in again.

You bit your lip and gave a small grunt.

“Love you, Angel.” He murmured, running his thumb against your cheekbone.

And like that, he gave up on his human side and set the beast free. His pace was wild, the crude sound of thighs meeting thighs, his crotch slapping against your lap and belly, your breasts bouncing wildly at each of his attacks.

It all unravelled quickly. The sense of fullness inside you and, at the same time, his cock stretching your walls repeatedly and furiously, punching your cervix, and rubbing against your g-spot so deliriously: it was all too much.

“Cumming. Jin, love, I’m— Please.” And with a broken plea you let yourself come undone for him.

And he resisted.

It was tough, but the two previous highs had somehow dulled the edge and he managed to outlive the tight squeezing of your inner muscles.

You were still fucked out when he decided to keep going, enjoying the tightness of your cunt after the orgasm, his hand connecting with the back of your knee, holding it up by his side as he pinned you down, studying your blissful expression before attacking his lips to your left nipple, sucking it. “Touch yourself.” He growled as he felt his end nearing.

“Too much.” You whimpered, screeching.

“Touch yourself.” He growled again, not allowing any opposition.

And like that you obeyed, crying out as your abused, sensitive clit was met by your digit, rubbing it weakly.

“Close. Make yourself cum, Angel.” He ordered gruffly, his voice hoarse and cavernous, oh so serious in his commandeering tone.

“Trying.” You replied, huffing out a stressed breath.

“Faster.” He said, hiking your leg higher up, bending it all the way to your shoulder.

You complied.

His teeth sank at the crook of your neck. “More.” He said, his hips moving in a harsh staccato, taking a small pause between one plunge and the next.

“Not cumming without you. Quick, Angel.” He growled.

He shifted his weight on his other arm, freeing his left and using it to help your other knee up to your shoulder.

His cock felt enormous inside you now that the bent legs made him meet the last few untouched spots inside your cunt. “Fuck, fuck Jin, quick.” You cried out, completely shocked by how deep you could feel it. He arched off of you, pressing even harder against your cervix.

He felt the shift immediately. The wetness left from your previous high and the tightness due to the new position made him shut his eyes tight.

“Jin, please. Hard and fast. please.” You cried out, desperate.

And he delivered.

You lasted maybe a minute before your eyes rolled shut, head thrown back, all your erogenous zones on fire. Your hand shot away from your clit, your breathing stopping out of the blue, your ears suddenly unsensitive to any stimulus, the twitching of your thighs and the trembling of your calves turning into an earthquake before stopping entirely. You froze.

And then Jin’s hand moved between your legs, rubbing your clit a few more times as he delivered the last few strokes, hard and punishing.

Crying out, you threw your hands against him, trying to remove him from your clit, but he fought harder, determined on seeing you toss and thrash below him.

Which you did.

The overstimulation was cruel and drew tears to your eyes, your mouth moving, forming words that your ears couldn’t fully comprehend as your legs shook violently again, your hands gripping his shoulders, sinking your nails in, before slapping at them.

You were just a body spasming against his. Nothing more.

You had no control over yourself.

And Jin hadn’t either.

You collapsed on the rug, trying to open your eyes in vain.

Jin’s body fell on top of yours, pulling out of you delicately. The moment he didn’t hear your protest, he worried. “You okay, my love?” He asked. “Too far?”

He only heard your small grunt.

That made him proud. Fucking you into complete exhaustion was yet a feat he had to accomplish. He could tick a new box on his list. Still, he had to check on you. “I need to hear your voice, my darling Angel.” He said urgently and sweetly.

“Jinnie?” You called weakly.

“Yes, love.” He replied, caressing your cheek.

“What…?” You asked.

“I think your nerves went in a bit of an overload.” He suggested, giggling. “You looked like you were feeling very, very good.”

“I was.” You moaned, wrapping yourself around him.

“Is it a good idea to get a quick shower before we go to bed?” He asked. “Are you feeling strong enough for that?” He asked you, kissing your mouth.

“I might need to move very slowly and be assisted through it.” You said before chuckling.

“Was it a nice birthday railing?” He asked, rolling on his side and sitting up. He was happy the bathroom had floor heating.

“Very nice.” You replied, sitting up yourself. Looking down you bit your lip. “We’ll have to wash the rug.”

He shrugged. “Later. Now let me take care of my little freak.”

And just like that, you were in the shower, washing it all off before he carried you to bed.

He wasn’t sure what made it work, but he did feel relaxed. Accomplished even. He had had beautiful, kinky, rough sex with his girlfriend, with no sense of guilt, no pent up anger, no hard feelings. He felt like he wasn’t really sleeping with you in your room. He felt like you and him were floating on cloud nine, bathing in warmth and moonlight.

It felt like poetry.

He kissed your temple and settled you in front of him, spooning you. “Goodnight, my Angel.” He mouthed against your neck.

You snuggled into his embrace. “Happy late birthday, baby. Goodnight.”

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idontmeantosoundrudebut · 4 years ago

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Many of Horry - Chapter three: Sated hunger, sated madness

HELLO THERE! (that's fucking obi-wan Kenobi meme) it has been a hot minute but I have returned with the promised saucy goods and oh boy, its a mess. Both of ours boys are a mess, a hot mess, yes, very hot, very messy. BUT. Also very soft, very gentle, very romaaaance and its a bit of bad romance (insert lady gaga here plz). Snotlout has no marbles, boy's done lost them all, and Eret is just being British, idk tbh??? Should of added a "you know nothing, Jon snow" gag but that's a bit petty, though i may change my mind, I'm two-faced like that!

This is the boys doing the horizontal tango (add careless whisper saxophone here plz) with violence, soft moments, bickering, angst, scars, body-worshipping and all of the stuff that make weapons of mass destruction!

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Chapter summary - Ten months prior to Eret's leave, Snotlout a mad decision. Ten months prior to his leave, Eret took a mad man to bed.

Chapter warnings - SEX! SMUT! THE HORIZONTAL TANGO! THEY GOT AT IT LIKE RABBITS! Um, also scars, mental instability (Snotlout is kinda crazy in this fic) violence

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He's not even given the pleasure of a warning. No distant cursing, no dramatic door-knocking, no crass bragging. Nothing.

Snotlout just storms into his cabin and punches Eret in the face.

It sends him to the floor and he stays there for a second, hand rubbing at his aching jaw as he looks up at Snotlout, confused and angry. Snotlout's eyes, hauntingly pale in the firelight, are brimming with unspoken rage and his lips are curled back in a wrathful snarl, there is too much anger in him and its brimming at the surface.

After that, his immediate instinct is to stand back up and fight back. Which he does. He thrusts his hands against Snotlout's chest, pushing him back a few feet, and Eret is confused when that snarl flips into a crooked grin. He wants this, he wants a fight, and who is Eret to deny him that?

"If you wanted a scrap, Snotlout, you should've just asked," Eret rolls his shoulders, feeling confident and angry because how dare this short mad man come into his home and attack him? Unprovoked, mind.

"Where'd be the fun in that?" Snotlout laughs and it raises goosebumps along his arms because there is something distinctively unhinged about that sound, it leaves an unnerved feeling in his gut. Men who laugh in the face of danger are the true animals, his father once said, for they have no fear. Even dragons cower at the prospect of death. Mad men howl for joy.

Snotlout charges forward with an arm reeled back, ready to throw a punch, and Eret ducks to the side as that closed fist falls through the empty space, leaving Snotlout staggering forward. But that mad smile doesn't falter as he expected it to and the look that Snotlout gives him from beneath his lashes triggers his flight or fight. It's the face of a rabid animal, of a mad wolf, of a deranged dragon, of something so deluded it doesn't even know what it's doing.

But despite this, Eret stands his ground and fights because he's ran away from things his whole life. Not anymore. He will fight Snotlout, he will fight this mad man.

He heaves in a heavy breath, holds it, then lurches forward with a closed fist. Snotlout doesn't dodge, or move, or even blink and there is something terribly wrong with that. A crunching sound fills the room as his fist hits Snotlout square in the face. Eret exhales harshly as he brings his hand up to brush the loose hair from his face, knuckles throbbing and heart thumping in his chest.

Snotlout takes a step back, head down and hand to face. By all rights, he should be on the floor, out for the night, Eret hit him as hard as he could. That too leaves a sickness in his gut. How can such a small body take such a huge punch? (Not that he's bragging, he's just aware of his own strength)

After a moment, Snotlout let's his hand falls to his side and it's wet with blood.

Then the dragon-rider looks up at him. Eret swallows firmly.

Rivers of blood pour from his nostrils and steadily flow over his lips and down his chin, thick droplets dripping from his jaw and some streak down his neck like exposed veins. He looks terrible with all that blood on him. Oh Gods.

But Snotlout, to his horror, smiles at him with all his teeth and they too are red, glistening, threatening. (It might be the trick of the firelight, but they look sharp)

He looks like a wolf, a wild animal that's just made a kill.

"Snotlout-" Eret starts, no longer angry but concerned because this isn't the Snotlout he knows (not that he knows him well), this isn't the prideful man who's bull-headed and overconfident, who's put-together and two dimensional. No, this is something else, something Eret is familiar with.

Many men went mad under Drago's tyranny.

Snotlout takes no notice of his name being spoken and throws a poorly aimed punch, his fist a good foot from his target. He staggers forward before righting himself, staring at Eret with wild eyes.

"Snotlout, enough now," He states firmly, forcing himself to stand taller to intimidate the shorter, but Snotlout just laughs through his wet teeth.

"What? Am I too much for the greatest dragon-trapper alive?" Snotlout mocks darkly as he opens his arms, almost inviting Eret to attack him.

And hot with the sudden rage of being mocked, of his dark past being bright to the light like its a joke, Eret takes that invitation eagerly.

He yells out as he tackles Snotlout to the floor, anchoring him down with his weight, and his vision blurs as he swings again and again and again till his hand feels close to breaking. Snotlout doesn't fight back. He pummels Snotlout's face as a great hatred unfurls in his chest, a hatred that does not belong to Snotlout, but to Drago.

To Drago. To his corrupted home. To himself. This hatred that's been festering within him belongs to all the things that have caused him to run away. All he's ever done is run, like a coward. Now, he will fight. When he looks beneath him, he sees Drago, he sees the men who murdered his father, he sees himself.

But when the fog clears, Eret is overwhelmed with regret and the first thing that goes through his head is oh Gods, I've killed him. Beneath him is Snotlout, not the men who made a coward of him. What have I done?

Eret pants and stares as he lowers his face closer to Snotlout's, who also pants. He's alive, thank Gods, I'm not a murderer. No, you are, you're still a murder, you're just like the men who killed him!

"Thanks,"

Eret shakes his head and really looks at Snotlout because what? Did- did he- did he just thank him? And then he catches the grin, this blissed out grin made of split lips and bloody teeth, Gods, he's been smiling the whole time. He can't find the words to answer back, he doesn't even know what he would say. (You're welcome)

The rider's face is red and shiny with blood and it makes his eyes so bright, so pale, so blue that he could drown in them. And in those eyes, in those cold waters, Eret sees a calmness that shouldn't be there after getting your face battered in. This is what he wanted, he let you do this, this wasn't a fight, he doesn't know what it was, but I wasn't a fight.

Then those eyes do something Eret wasn't expecting. They flicker down, down, to his lips. And they stare for a few moments before looking back into his, ghost-like and near-white. It leaves a familiar coiling feeling in his gut and he can't stop himself from doing the same, glimpsing a look at those red-shining lips that, suddenly, looks so kissable, even with all that blood.

He wonders is Snotlout came here for any other alternative motives.

Perhaps he asks this question through his eyes because Snotlout's eyebrows jump suggestively and he runs his tongue over his teeth, smearing that deep blood. It sends a hot flash straight to his cock and Eret swallows to quench the dryness in his throat.

"What do you want, Snotlout?" He asks lowly, hands on either side of the shorter's shoulders.

"I think you know, Eret," He responds stubbornly, his voice smug, and they feel so close, like there are no gaps between them. His heart feels like it's suffocating.

Eret does know, or he believes he does. He doesn't want to assume, doesn't want to make this situation worse than it already is.

"I want you to say it,"

It's a challenge and Snotlout's grin widens until there's too many teeth (just like Ruffnut's) and he raises his head till their noses touch, till their breaths warm each other. He licks his lips like a hungry beast and doesn't break eye contact, Eret can't believe how wildly blue they are. It's like looking at a frozen lake, the thick ice has cracked but not feel enough to break.

"I want you to fuck me,"

And that's it. It's out in the open. Eret is suddenly aware of the hardness pressing against his thigh and oh, how it just urges his own to grow in strength, and Snotlout know this too. He bites his bruised lip and blinks slowly. It has to be the prettiest thing he's ever seen. Never mind the blood, never mind the bruises, those eyes are otherworldly.

Slowly, Eret closes the gap between them and the kiss isn't rushed or violent, it's a hesitant movement. After a moment, Snotlout's breath hitches and reels back at the tender touch as if Eret has just smacked his across the face. He looks up at him and Eret swallows at the sudden insecurity that's swirling in those eyes, no longer angry or mad or confident, but unsure in the face of tenderness.

Eret waits for him to move and, sure enough, Snotlout again lifts his head, eyes fluttering closed as Eret meets him in the middle. Their lips slot together like they're meant to be and it fills Eret's heart with a warm feeling, like molten gold in his arteries. The irony taste of blood touches his taste buds as he swipes his tongue along Snotlout's busted lips, who lets out a quiet moan from the back of his throat. More, Eret hears.

It's goes on for a few minutes, this gentle dance, before Snotlout tries to speed it up. He tries to make it angry and obscene, tries to make it as dirty as their fight but Eret isn't having it. No, if they're going to do this, they're going to do this right.

Forcefully, he takes Snotlout's hands and slams them to the floor, above his head, in an almost bruising hold, staring down at him with a dark look.

"Calm down," He orders, his voice rough and heady, and Snotlout's entire body goes weak beneath him at the his commanding tone, "I know that you want a quick fuck, but we're not doing it like that, understand? Not while you're like this,"

Snotlout doesn't respond to him, but now he's almost hyper-focused on Eret and the way he's reacted to the solid orders and the firm hands immediately clicks an understanding in Eret. Snotlout, proud Snotlout who hates authority and instructions, needs to be told what to do.

A soft feeling spreads across his chest and Eret lowers his head till his mouth is next to Snotlout's ear.

"You need me to get you out of your head?" He whispers softly, absently rubbing his thumb over the throbbing pulse on his wrist, and Snotlout lightly nods his head, a shiver moving through his body.

"Fuck me-" Snotlout growls frustratedly, "-like you hate me,"

"No," is his firm answer and he lifts his head to be met with those eyes, bright and angry again at his denied request.

"What do you mean no? You- you bastard-"

Eret rucks his hips, grinding their clothed erections together, and Snotlout's cursing breaks into a breathy gasp as he thumps his head against the floor, tilting it with his eyes as they roll to the back of his skull. In his own pleasure, Eret grunts and admires the exposed throat before him, pale and mapped out with rosy streams of dried blood. Lowering his head, he runs his mouth along the arching curve of Snotlout's throat, his teeth travelling along the pulsing arteries like a threatening blade, Eret could rip out his throat right now and Snotlout would thank him for it. It is a powerful feeling.

He places a kiss, feather-light, on his Adam's apple before lifting himself, freeing one of his hands so he can bring it to Snotlout's chin. Again, they are face to face. Eret is delighted to see a flush fanning across his cheeks and a wanton look glossing his beautiful eyes. They really are beautiful, how has he never noticed them before? It's like he's just seen the moon in the sky for the first time. So pale, so haunting, so strange.

"I don't do hate fucking," He clarifies to Snotlout, voice purposeful and concise, and the response he gets is a forceful huff and an irritated eye roll, manageable enough. A smirk of his own stretches across his face as he tilts his head, eyes ablaze with mischief as he snarks; "I'm only into love making,"

A great laugh explodes from Snotlout's throat and it fills the cabin with a rich, balmy atmosphere that oozes deep into Eret's skin, into his bones, into his heart, it is not a sound he will easily forget. This isn't a sarcastic or mocking cackle, but a genuine laugh that Eret has only heard briefly in unshared moments. If thunder could laugh, it would be this.

"Shut the fuck up," Snotlout chuckles roughly, crinkled eyes looking up at him with mirth and Eret is aware of arms circling around his shoulders, bringing his face closer to Snotlout's.

"Shut the fuck up," He whispers again, voice silken and unchaste, and Eret is drawn into a shameless make out session that draws on till their lungs are aching from lack of breath.

They stare and pant like rabid dogs and there has never been a better feeling than this. This reckless desire, this violent delight, this bloody kiss, those brilliant eyes, that mad smile. No night has ever left him feeling so much. Eret notices that Snotlout is still covered in blood, blood that he spilt, and he rubs his thumb into the drying maroon crust beneath his nose.

"Get up," He says simply as he rises onto his feet and Snotlout makes a barely-audible whine when the hot weight on his lap disappears, gazing up at him from the floor with this lustful yet somehow also tired look in his eyes.

"Can't you just fuck me here?" He groans, sitting up onto his elbows and rolling his neck, and, Gods above, it's all about fucking with him, isn't it? Not that Eret can blame him, by the straining in his pants, he's just as eager as the shorter man.

"It's not love making if you're on the floor and covered blood," Eret retorts smartly, a grin tugging his lips as he offers his red-touched hand to Snotlout, "Now, get up and go clean your face,"

With a bemused snort, Snotlout takes his hand and is easily lifted to his feet. They don't let go of each other straight away and when he looks down at their hands, he sees that they are both flaking with dried blood. Snotlout's blood. It's a strange moment, almost like time has slowed, up until Snotlout's hand slips from his, dark blood-dust grating from their calloused fingers.

"Um, there's a wash basin in my room," Eret states, trying to dislodge his heart from his throat as he leads Snotlout to where his room is, their shoulders brushing as they walk through the doorway.

The copper basin resides on top of the dresser besides his bed and he refills it with clean water everyday, a thing of habit his mum drilled into him as a child.

It's quickly tainted from a shimmering clear to a murky pink as Snotlout splashes water on his face, the diluted blood from his nose and lips slipping through his fingers into the dish. Eret averts his eyes from that glistening skin and concentrates on scrubbing the dusty blood from his hand, the skin of his middle knuckle has split slightly and stings against his rubbing hand. All he can here is the tranquil movement of water and the echoey beat of his heart.

Briefly, he looks to the Rider beside him and notices that there's still blood on his neck, neighbouring with the gold-glinting streams of water droplets. With a face no longer shining with blood and madness, but with water and calmness, Snotlout looks like something from a soft dream and it leaves Eret's mouth dry and pulse running. He swallows, unsure what to do other than stare.

But the longer he stares, the more that calmness shifts in a restlessness that's writhing deep within, barely controlled, barely holding back. He should just give Snotlout what he wants, a quick shag, in and out business as it were, but there was something about that madness in those eyes that tells Eret a swift fuck isn't what Snotlout needs. Sure, it's what he wants, but it's not what he needs.

"Here," He says as he brings a wet cloth to Snotlout's throat, who asks what he's doing through wide, almost angry eyes.

"You've got blood on your neck," Eret clarifies for him, sponging the rag along the fading lines lightly and he can see Snotlout's artery thumping rapidly against the wet skin, it does a strange thing to his gut.

Snotlout turns to face him, head up but tilted to the side with his lips pressed together in a frustrated sort of expression, like this gentle act is an annoying inconvenience. Eret finds it both amusing and terrifying how quickly Snotlout's moods change, from wrathful to deranged to seductive to... Embarrassed? Is that it? He has no idea, but it must be painful to feel so many things at once.

To be honest, he feels a bit light headed himself from the quick changes the atmosphere has taken in the last half hour. The tone in the air currently feels domestic-like, with a hint of apprehension.

"Fucking Hel, stop," Snotlout brutally bats Eret's hand away and looks up at him with a firm, determined face, "Stop with the- the- the foreplay and just-"

In a moment of great confidence, Eret mercilessly rams Snotlout against the dresser and takes hold of the hair on the back of his head, yanking unkindly until Snotlout's throat is completely bared and his eyes are locked with his. There are no gaps between them. Their heaving chests are pressed together so closely that they can feel each other's pounding hearts and Eret presses his leg firmly between Snotlout's legs. A poorly restrained groan comes forth as Snotlout melts like butter in his heated embrace.

"Just what? Fuck you?" Eret growls and those blue eyes glow like a prayer in the candlelight as he faintly nods against the force of Eret's hold, Adam's apple bobbing through a swallowed breath.

"Yeah? You want me to be bend you over, fuck you till I'm done and throw you out, hmm? That's what you want?"

A hotness sweeps along Eret as he watches the submissiveness in Snotlout's eyes grow, his mouth dropping open at those dirty words, at that foul desire.

"Yes, Eret- Fuck yes, do- fucking that," Snotlout drawls breathlessly, a moan colouring his voice as his hair is pulled, legs spreading so Eret can ruck his knee up higher.

And Eret concludes that this, this is the prettiest thing he's ever seen and the power that consumes him is addicting, because it is no simple task to get a Viking Warrior like Snotlout to beg. Proud, fire-blooded Snotlout who now leans against him trembling and begging like a desperate whore.

Eret grins, mean and sharp, as he brings his mouth close to Snotlout's, their lips touching in a open-mouthed kiss that has yet to start.

"Well, too bad," He says in a low voice, lips brushing with each word, and Snotlout stares up at him with begging eyes that almost made Eret reconsider his choice.

But he doesn't.

So, he removes his leg, releases the harsh grip on his hair and slightly backs up so Snotlout has more breathing room. But he keeps his face close, keeps their lips touching and swallows the complaint working on Snotlout's tongue with the vigor of a gentle man. It's one of those kisses that leave you light headed from the softness. Snotlout's hands are frozen in mid air like he's never touched a person before and Eret takes them, holds them, feels the tremors in them and wonders what's so terrifying about tenderness. It's a quiet kiss, a quiet kiss in the quiet night.

They part only slightly to catch a reprieve, lips still touching as they inhale the moment, as they wallow in the balmy warmth of this strange but comforting moment. To think that they were at each other's throats not so long ago. It beggers belief. With closed eyes, Eret trails his mouth along Snotlout's jaw and down his throat, kissing and sucking at the dewy skin with a gentle passion because this is all his tonight, all his to feast on, and he shall savour this taste.

"We'll do this slowly, okay?" Eret mumbles into the crook of his neck, a heavy pulse against his lips, "I am going to fuck you, Snotlout, but I'm gonna do it slowly-"

Eret brings his mouth up until it's right under Snotlout's ear, teeth nibbling at the sensitive flesh and making the Rider's body tremble excitedly.

"-I'm gonna make it feel so good for you," he whispers headily into his ear and his abdomen tightens at the pitched, needy keen that slips from Snotlout's mouth.

"Okay- okay, just- Damn you, Eret, you can fuck me slowly! Just get me to the bed quickly!" Snotlout rasps, caught between desperation and frustration, and Eret can't stop the laugh from bubbling out as he throws his head back.

It's Snotlout this time who goes in for the kiss and it's all teeth and tongue, all hunger and thirst, all the things that Eret associates with a starved man. Starved of touch and tenderness, Eret too feels the cramp of desire. It has been too long.

Thick fingers pull loose the strings of his scaled vest and Eret grins into the kiss, moving his hands from Snotlout's hips to the hem of his vest as he steps back so he can pull it over his head. Dropping it to the floor, he watches as Snotlout gazes with an open appreciation at his bare torso, tongue wetting his lips as he runs his hands down his muscular chest. It leaves Eret's heart thumping wildly and a hotness creeps along his face at the touch, an admiring almost worshipping touch that is so very foreign to him.

"You're... Hot," Snotlout drawls lowly, half-lidded eyes and calloused hands trailing from his pecs to his abs, fingers just brushing over the teasing trail of hair on his abdomen. It sends shivers down his spine.

"I know," He replies confidently, though he can’t quite hide the quiver in his voice.

He knows he's attractive and he is frequently reminded of it, which does not help his ego, but the few men he has been with have always been a bit hesitant in the face of that bold brand on his chest. They've always given it a weary look, kept their hands close and guarded lest they get burnt themselves, treated him as if he's something wounded. He knows he's handsome, but that scar turns that confidence into loathing because it's so ugly and wrong, so evil to him. It's tainted him, it's marked him, it's labelled him.

SLAVE BOY! COWARD BOY! HE RUNS AWAY, SELFISH BOY! MURDERER! TRAPPER! SLAVE! ALWAYS A SLAVE, FREEDOM IS A JOKE AND NO ONE IS LAUGHING!

But Snotlout seems unhindered by it, trailing his fingers along the outline of the furrowed, pink scar with a curious, admiring touch that leaves Eret breathless. He expected a cringe or a hesitant hand, but Snotlout almost seems drawn to his many scars, like a moth in a room of candles. Hands palming and fingers tracing the wicked lines along his toned stomach, his broad shoulders, his exposed collarbone.

He is a marked man. A slave to a greedy country, a slave to a mad man, a slave to violence. He is marked by each and every one of his masters and forever he will be reminded that freedom was a dish never served to him. It was a dish he stole. No longer is he a slave, but there is something missing in his freedom and he doesn’t know what.

"I thought you wanted to get a move on," Eret mumbles with an almost strained voice and Snotlout looks up at him, golden from candle-flames and still glistening from water, he looks like dew at dawn.

"I thought you wanted to slow down," Snotlout retorts back, hands rubbing up and down his chest, and he grins smartly up at him, "What? I'm allowed to touch you, aren't I?"

"Y-yeah, of course- I-"

Expelling a deep sigh, Eret ducks his head and ensnares Snotlout into a passionate kiss, no longer wanting to talk. Despite his charm, Eret finds words difficult at times and sometimes actions speak far more clearly in certain situations.

Snotlout doesn't seem to mind, the shorter gladly returning the kiss with just as much vigour.

There is something about kissing Snotlout that feels very filling, like eating your heart out after months of rationing on a ship. Perhaps he's been starving this whole time. Even after all these years a freedom, there's still a hole in his gut but it doesn't feel so empty right now, with Snotlout's hands on his chest, lips on his lips, heart on his heart.

Perhaps this is truly freedom.

"My turn," Eret whispers against his lips, delving his fingers beneath Snotlout's shirt and feeling the hot skin beneath.

"Wait," Snotlout breathes, taking hold of his wrists, and Eret looks down at him with an almost anxious look, afraid that he's going too fast with this, despite that being what Snotlout wanted.

Snotlout swallows thickly, eyes blue and uneasy as they flicker between Eret's face and his hands, half hidden beneath his vest. The skin there feels strange and oddly familiar though, he can't quite pinpoint what, but his fingers move briefly over raised marks.

"Just... don't ask questions or... Give me any pity, okay? Just... Ignore them,"

Them? Ignore what? And pity? Eret isn't a pitying man, he knows how weak it makes you feel, he'd be a hypocrite to do so. But why would Snotlout warrant any pity? He doesn't quite understand, but he does as he's told and doesn't ask any questions.

"Alright," he agrees with an honest voice and Snotlout then nods his head, lower lip caught between his teeth.

Eret takes hold of the hem of Snotlout's shirt and pulls it off, discarding it behind him before turning back to the Rider.

At first, he doesn't react at all. Not physically, anyway. But his mind screams-

Oh Gods, oh Gods, there's so much, they're everywhere, oh Gods, how is he alive? No one could survive this, he's a corpse, oh Gods he's been kissing a dead man because no one could possibly survive this!

Snotlout's entire torso is the home of hundreds, and by the Gods, he means hundreds, of ivory scars. They're all raised and twisted and cruel-looking, like crooked grins etched into his skin that mock and laugh. They shine against the candlelight and most of them are so overlapped, that they look like just one awfully huge scar. These are lashes, whip lashes, Eret is all too familiar with these scars for he has his own set on his back but nothing like this. Nothing like this graveyard that resides upon Snotlout's flesh.

Drago gave him fifteen lashes and a branding that day, as well as a thorough beating from his henchmen. Since then, Eret had been able to avoid punishment and failure out of pure dread of what would happen if he failed again. Perhaps this is what would've happened, perhaps he would've mauled and marred and... Marked.

He wants to ask who (what) did this to you? Why did they do this? When? How are you still alive? How are you still standing with the weight of the scars that mark you?

But he says none of these things because Snotlout asked him to and even if he'd been given permission to, his breath has been stolen from him anyways. He cannot simply ignore them, though. These hundred echoes of a hundred agonies, if scars could speak, they would be screaming. How are you not screaming? How are you still so brave?

Eret steps forth and Snotlout's eyes, hauntingly bright, stare at him with a hidden shame within them that Eret sees clearly. He nearly mistakes that shame for his own. Lowering his head, he kisses Snotlout's shoulder and licks along a nasty scar that bends over his shoulder to his back. He makes the mistake of opening his eyes and he sees that there are a hundred more vicious wounds defacing his back. He could be sick, he really could be, that's why he closes his eyes again.

"Eret," Snotlout gasps, blunt teeth biting down onto that raised line as hands map out and feel along the almost inhuman terrain of Snotlout's body.

Eret touches each scar with a great tenderness, devoting his hands to the gentle caresses along his chest and stomach, his sides and back. All scarred, all layered with the ghosts of torture because what else could this be? There's nothing worse than this, Eret thinks, death is kinder than this. He kisses the thick scars criss-crossed on Snotlout's chest and massages the sunken marring on his waist and sides with his hands, trying to get Snotlout to understand that he's here to touch him softly, gently, tenderly.

You will not be harmed here, he reassures with his lips against his scar-streaked collarbone, I will hold you right now and will only let you go if you ask me to, he promises with his hands pressed against his mauled spine.

"Eret, can we..." The request goes unsaid, but Eret understands and finally decides that Snotlout has waited long enough. They both have.

Wrapping his arms under his thighs, Eret easily lifts Snotlout off his feet and his heart grows with the shocked sound Snotlout makes as he circles his thick arms around his neck. Eret chuckles and Snotlout lets out a breathy laugh, cursing him quietly. After a few steps, he gently lies him onto the bed and crawls over him, their noses touching as Eret settles between his legs. Their clothed erections press against each other and they simultaneously groan, that hot want kindling again in their guts.

With Snotlout beneath him, Eret feels that power again.

"I'm gonna make you feel so good," Eret promises headily against his mouth, hands fiddling with hem of Snotlout's trousers.

"You better get on with it then," Snotlout growls, baring his teeth before diving in for a violent kiss and Eret takes this as his final warning.

In an almost animalistic fashion, he tears Snotlout's trousers and underclothes off in one powerful tug and grins into the kiss at the surprised sound Snotlout makes in his throat. And that grin only grows when he wraps his hand around Snotlout's cock, the Rider breaking the kiss with a gasp as Eret skilfully pulls him apart. Bless him, he tries to hold it in with clenched teeth and pressed lips but the sounds still resonate through his throat and, though they are muffled, they are terribly pretty.

The sounds he pulls from him are almost enough for Eret to go over the edge himself to be honest, he's never heard such surrender in his life. But he made a promise to fuck Snotlout and he isn't going to let this opportunity pass him by because he can't control himself. With one last tug, Eret releases Snotlout and silences that arguing whine with an encouraging press of his fingers against his mouth, leathery pads brushing against the scabbed lips. Snotlout, quick to understand, opens his mouth and swallows two of Eret’s digits and its an image that he couldn’t have come up with even in his most wildest dreams. Yet here it is, here he is, atop a mad rival with his fingers delving down his throat as he makes the most lewd noises Eret has ever heard. Gods, he can feel those sounds.

After a steamy moment, Eret replaces his now-slick fingers with an open-mouthed kiss and brings his hand down to Snotlout’s entrance. His finger slips in nice and easy, causing Snotlout to groan lowly as pulls back from the kiss, spit on his lips while he tucks his head into Eret's throat, biting and kissing passionately.

"Good, yeah?" Eret murmurs with a wicked grin, adding another finger, and he can feel how hot Snotlout's skin gets as he nods into the crook of his neck.

He gasps, high-pitched and pretty, hips rising as Eret hooks his fingers inside him, teeth digging into his shoulder in an attempt to stop himself from voicing his pleasure.

And again, he is full of this incredible power as he pumps his fingers inside him, watching Snotlout sharply as he drops his head back down to the furs with a strangled moan. He pulls his lower lip with his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut, like the pleasure is bordering on agony. It's not enough, he needs more, and who is Eret to deny him that?

Once he's satisfied with how loose he is, Eret rises onto his knees and unties the strings of his trousers, pulling out his heavy cock with an apprehensive rumble in his chest. His blood bubbles like boiling water and he feels feral when he looks at Snotlout, sprawled below him with this vulnerability bared freely. He trusts you, he's baring his throat to you, Gods, he asking you to tear it out and you would, you will, you'd do it again and again only if he asked you to and he's laying here, asking!

Eret, hungry like a winter-born beast, takes hold of the back Snotlout's thighs and presses his muscled legs to his flushed chest, putting his weight on them at he leans over him. Snotlout's eyes are stunningly bright and he gazes deep into them, looking, searching, hunting. He's never wanted something so much in his life and by God's, if Snotlout lets him do this it just might kill him.

"Snotlout," he says his name softly, contrasting the hard grip on his thighs, the starved look in his eyes, the urgent press of his cock.

It's a question. Can I do this? Will you let me take your body, take your throat, take your heart? Can I touch you like you're a forgotten god who wasn't worshipped as you should've been? Can I do that? Will you let me?

And Snotlout sighs, deep and honest, like an answer. Yes, yes, yes. Forever yes.

With a blaze in his veins, Eret presses his hips forward and the overwhelming feeling of hot, wet, tight strikes him dumb for a few moments, black stars dancing in his eyes as he presses his forehead against Snotlout's. He vaguely registers his own drawn out moan as he stares, awe-struck, at the open-mouthed and closed-eyed expression on Snotlout's face. It is a look of pure, blinding bliss that looks so damn pretty on this irritating, fire-blooded Viking Warrior that has been Hel-bent on frustrating him beyond all belief. It is burned into his memory for all time and he begs that he'll remember it when he dies.

"Fuck," Eret gasps lowly, fingers flexing around the muscle on Snotlout's under thighs as he bottoms out, their hips connecting as if they've become one person.

In a moment of curiosity, he looks down and his panting breath is stolen once more as he sees Snotlout's thighs. Ripped and raised with scars. In a moment where he forgets everything else, he sits back and let's Snotlout's legs stretch out alongside his hips, fully revealing the extent of the scarring. Snotlout, still gasping from the fullness of Eret's cock buried inside him, has yet to realise what he has noticed.

Eret runs his hands up and down those marred thighs with a doting gentleness that he feels they've been starved of. He's never seen someone so damaged before, it looks like someone tore him apart and left him alone with nothing but a ball of string and a blunt needle, left him alone to sew himself whole again. Curling a hand around Snotlout's ankle, he lifts his leg till it's on his shoulder and kisses tenderly at the also scarred tissue of his calf, as if someone had repeatedly struck the back of his legs with a sharp-sided stick.

"Ere-" It's the beginning of a complaint, bitter and angry, but Eret easily cuts it off with a few shallow thrusts of his hips, still kissing his ankle and calf.

Snotlout tilts his head back, an almost shocked keen jumping from his throat as Eret rocks into him, still being gentle as not to cause any discomfort. Though, he can't lie, it's hard for him not pound violently into the gorgeous heat that's making his gut coil and spine shake. Snotlout wants it violent, wants it dirty and foul and angry, but Eret, as stated, doesn't do hate sex and no amount of surprised punches or provoking jeering will ever change that. He's a gentleman.

"Fuck- harder,"

Or he was a gentlemen, because there is something about Snotlout begging Eret to fuck him harder that brings out a ferocious thing from deep within. A gentleman, still, but there is something wild inside him that Snotlout has tapped into.

Eret covers Snotlout's body with his, knee to his chest and leg over his shoulder as he fucks deep and hard into him. It's like there’s nothing but this outrageous hunger churning in his gut and Snotlout is this gorgeous feast sprawled out just for him, like he's this deer with its neck open and Eret is this ravenous wolf.

And being this hungry dog, Eret takes his teeth to Snotlout's throat and feels the thrumming of blood beneath his tongue. Snotlout moans and writhes and pants, one hand balled in the furs and the other curled around his nape, tangled in his loose hair. The room is full of the sound of slapping skin and dirty moans and desperate breaths, the bed creaking slightly underneath it all. It is the sound of sex, of pleasure, of primal desire.

"So fucking good, Snotlout, so fucking good," Eret growls into Snotlout's hot skin as he fucks firm into the Rider, his muscles burning and skin glistening with sweat.

"Oh fuuuuck," Snotlout drawls out in a loud moan, eyes rolling and mouth snarling, and it takes Eret a moment to realise that he came, sudden and hard, between their bodies.

"Oh fuck, fuck, oh Gods, Eret," he babbles breathlessly, body shivering and flushed and limp as Eret continues to pound zealously into him, his own climax rushing him as he's enveloped in this unimaginable tightness.

"I'm gonna-" Snotlout doesn't give him time to finish, his strong hands clutching fiercely at the hair on the back of head and dragging his face down to his.

"Yeah, yeah, go on, give it to me, fuck, Eret, cum inside me you fucking bastard," Snotlout pants wantonly, lips pressed against his in a not-quite-kiss, bright, teary eyes gazing into his with this feral madness that, for the smallest second, scares Eret.

Briefly, he thinks, oh no, I've made a fool's mistake and put my dick in crazy.

But it snaps out of mind as his orgasm leaps upon him and all he can do is groan against Snotlout's open-mouthed grin, body trembling as he ruts through this mind-numbing climax. His body is on fire and Gods he's dying, living has never felt this good, nothing has ever felt this damn good.

It feels like hours, but it must have only been a few minutes, before the wildfire in his veins simmers down and Eret is half collapsed on top of Snotlout, elbows planted besides his head and chest pressed against his, their hearts singing to each other as they wallow in the afterglow.

He opens his eyes and stares, half in disbelief, half in awe, at the foreign expression on Snotlout’s face. Eret is used to the quirked grin during dinner or the irritated scowl that is commonly directed at him, the quiet sternness seen in serious moments or, though he has only seen it briefly, the unbridled bloodlust that breaks through on the battlefield. But the face below him now is neither of these, nor one of the recently discovered faces of Snotlout (madness, rage, lust, mad-lust, shame), it is something that Eret can only name as pure, unfiltered content and it suits him terribly well, especially with that bright flush on his cheeks and those shimmering tearstains streaking down the sides of his face. Perhaps, perhaps this is the prettiest thing; dream-like, gold-kissed, gently-touched.

Eret falls to the bed besides Snotlout with a satisfied exhale, feeling good and warm on both the inside and outside, like there is a candle kindled within him. He doesn’t trouble himself with the thoughts of tomorrow or of repercussions because he is simply far too tired for such thoughts, there’s no need to ruin a good moment while you’re having one. It’s the same kind of tired that you get after a big meal and he certainly has feasted tonight.

Lazily, he turns his head to Snotlout and there is this sudden, unspeakable feeling in his chest when he looks at him, eyes closed and lips parted, not asleep but just… resting, with no guard or façade protecting his features. Again, it’s Snotlout saying he trusts him and Eret has no idea how he earned that trust but he’s not a fool, he won’t throw that trust away. Perhaps this is Snotlout handing him an olive branch, saying in this crazy, sexy way of his that he doesn’t hate him, that they can be friends. Passionate friends are better than bitter rivals.

And Eret falls asleep like that, watching the steady movement of Snotlout’s chest, counting the wicked scars on his ribs, devouring the image of those split lips that Eret can still taste in the back of his mouth (blood, iron, lightning).

Later that night, Eret is woken by the sound of moving feet and ruffling clothes. The dream of cracked ice and calloused hands and a bleeding heart quickly slip from his memory like smoke through his hands but the sluggishness of sleep clings to him longingly, so much so that he struggles simply to open his eyes. When he does, it’s dark and shadowy, the candles all snuffed out, and he has difficultly trying to identify the source of those sounds. He pats his hand onto the other side of the bed, expecting to feel Snotlout’s body, but there are only disturbed furs laying there. Ah, he understands.

“Snotlout?” He slurs into the dark, sleep heavy on his mind, and the noises stop suddenly.

When his eyes finally adjust to the darkness, he’s met with the shadow-touched figure of Snotlout stood beside his bed, trousers on and tunic in hand, pale eyes watching him. He swears they were blue, they’ve always been blue, but right now, gods, they look like they’re white and glowing, like an animal’s eyes catching the moonlight, like two stars standing side by side. Eyes shouldn’t be so bright yet so haunted, they’re like ghost eyes.

“Are you a ghost?” He wants to ask, because he should be, with all those scars, he should be dead and maybe he did die but he’s lost, doesn’t know if he belongs in Valhalla or Hel because he’s got the heart of a warrior but the mind of a mad man.

“What you doing?” He asks instead, because Snotlout is no ghost, Eret has cradled his heart and held his body. You cannot touch ghosts, it’s a well-known fact.

“Go back to sleep, Eret,” Snotlout says and there is a faint softness in his voice that he almost misses, the biting tone his name is usually spat with now replaced with this indulgent whisper that sounds, not warm, but not cold either. Lukewarm.

“Where you going?” Eret murmurs back, rubbing the sleep-dust from his left eye as he watches the shorter tighten the strings of his trousers with the other.

“Home,” Snotlout replies back bluntly, that warmer voice iced down back to its cold familiar self, and Eret groans tiredly.

“It’s not even dawn, come back to bed,” He reasons, voice still deep and hoarse from sleep, his words barely coherent.

He hears Snotlout sigh frustratedly and vaguely sees the harsh rise and fall of his broad shoulders, eyes closed and face pinched in irritation. He’s reacting as if Eret’s just proposed the most outrageous offer to him and it rises the smallest amount of annoyance in him, but he’s far too tired to fully register the feeling, let alone act upon it, so instead he follows the negotiation route. Which will be poor due to his lethargic state, but he’s persuasive and has bargained tougher trades while drunk.

“Don’t be a git,” He murmurs, patting the empty space beside him, “Come. Sleep,”

“Shut up, sailor,” Snotlout grunts with no bite in his voice, just tiredness, “Shut up and go to sleep,”

With a sudden swell of courage and frustration, Eret leans across the bed and takes Snotlout’s hand into, his grip loose enough for Snotlout to pull from if he really wants to but tight enough to show he’s being sincere, even if he’s just half-asleep. Both of their hands are calloused from gruelling battles and hard labour and strenuous training and he can feel the rigid patches of old burn scars on Snotlout’s palm, a common marking found on this island where everyone rides a fire-breathing beast. Even Eret’s got his own collection.

“Snotlout,” His voice comes out soft and meaningful, “Come back to bed,”

And Snotlout stares down at him with those eyes, those moon-drowned eyes, and it’s a stern, searching look, the same look he makes when he’s trying to figure out if an enemy is either being truthful or deceptive and Eret has yet to see Snotlout’s perception (or gut) to be proven wrong. Even in this half-awoken state, Eret feels his skin crawl and there’s a coldness in his chest, like his soul is retracting from the stark, glacial stare, he feels like he’s being judged. Is this what it’s like to be judged by a ghost?

Snotlout closes his eyes (much to Eret’s relief) and expels a long sigh through his flaring nostrils, faintly resembling Hookfang when he blows smoke from his nose. When he opens his eyes again, they’re blue and Eret is far too tired to think about it. But his heart leaps gleefully when he feels Snotlout squeeze his hand and Eret squeezes back unconsciously.

“Budge,” Snotlout orders, jutting his chin towards him, but Eret, so full of pride that he past Snotlout’s cunning gaze and convinced him to come back to sleep, is already tugging the shorter onto the bed.

“Oi!” Snotlout tries to abject, but by the time he starts his head is already being pressed against the curve of the sailor’s neck and Eret has already wrapped his arms around his waist and side, both of them lying chest to chest, both of their hearts giggling together.

“Shut up, rider,” Eret grumbles sleepily, pressing his proud grin into the tasselled hair on Snotlout’s head, “Shut up and go to sleep,”

Soon Eret feels arms reluctantly swathing around his ribcage, as if their cradling the cage of his heart, and then a face nestling against his throat, it almost feels like a tender mouth ready to rip it out. Again, he hears Snotlout sigh and its neither tired nor irritated, it’s a content sigh, a gentle exhale. Eret lightly brushes his knuckles over the warm skin of Snotlout’s shoulder in an easing gesture, a voiceless lullaby, and despite his sleepiness, he does this even after Snotlout has fallen asleep.

Eret just lies there on this quiet night, feeling Snotlout’s heart beating against his, feeling very full, very whole, very free.

#snotlout whump #eret x snotlout #eret son of eret #eretlout #httyd fanfiction #httyd

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sunflowerspectre · 4 years ago

Text

Hellfire and Ectoblasts

For @cleanlenins

Title: Hellfire and Ectoblasts Fandom: Danny Phantom x Lucifer Summary: The devil works hard, but Vladimir Masters works harder. When Vladimir Master dabbles in dealing favors to others to get his way - much easier than constantly possessing everyone - Lucifer Morningstar has a few choice words for the business tycoon. Rating: T for cursing (multiple uses of the F word, mentions of drug abuse) Final Word Count: 5005 Ft. Uncle/Redeemed Vlad AU

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Los Angeles is new territory, despite all the places Vladimir Masters has traveled. He has drunk martinis in the sands of Bahamas, made deals in Cancun, and has a passport larger than most politicians. He has even traveled further into the Ghost Zone than most of the fully ghosts there.

Yet the city of angels has always eluded him, or rather he eluded it. It never quite appealed to him, with the oddities and gaudy casinos. It felt almost beneath him and it has, honestly, never been on his priority list - at least, not until now.

Business is business and Vlad Masters will always go where business is; even if it is in a city like Los Angeles. Even if it is with an admittedly annoying sixteen year old teenager for a long extended amount of time.

Honestly, what was he thinking when he wanted Daniel as a son? He should have gone after Jasmine, he begrudges. At least she knew when to be quiet.

“Are we there yet?”

Vlad feels his eyebrow twitch, a vein throbbing in his neck. Daniel Fenton has the nerve to look at him with large innocent, doe eyes as if that is not the hundredth time he has asked that question in the past hour.

His somewhat nephew had jumped on the chance to go to LA with him; he would have been more suspicious of Daniel’s intention if not for the fact that the space shuttle endeavor will be within one quick bus ride from their hotel. As challenging, and even powerful, as Daniel can be - he is very much an open book that has been quite easy to read.

Danny opens his mouth, as if to ask that infuriating question again, but is stopped short by a small ecto blast. The ectoplasm effectively sticks against his mouth and despite the way he claws it, it refuses to budge. He settles for crossing his arms in a huff with a narrow glare. He idly considers it for a moment before a middle finger raises in contempt.

“Curse at me all you want, Daniel, but I refuse to listen to that infernal question the entire trip.”

Danny’s body language makes it clear that he is mocking him. Vlad waits until his fit is over before removing the ecto blast. Danny, huffing about being cut-off, leans back into the seat of the private jet. When he glances out the window, catching glimpses of clouds, he can not help but think wistfully how much better it would be to be flying Airline Danny. Jets, private or otherwise, are too confining now that he knows what it feels like to touch clouds.

He bets that the skies of Los Angeles is beautiful up close. He absently wonders if he gets far away enough to the nearby desert if he will be able to get a good view of the stars. The Orion constellation, not to mention a few planets like Venus and even Saturn, should be more visible here than it would be in Amity Park. He wonders if he flies high enough if he can get a good picture with a smartphone.

“Why are you going to LA anyway? Don’t you have enough money that you don’t need to be blowing it at casinos? Or is that the whole point?”

He barely even spares Vlad a glance through the corner of his eyes, arms crossed lazily against his chest as his cheek presses against the cool glass of the window. While being with Vlad is not the worst thing in the world - at least not anymore - he can not help but wish he would’ve been able to bring Sam and Tucker along. He imagines that they would be thrilled to go somewhere that’s not the Nasty Burger. At the very least, they would be better conversationalists.

Well, I guess it’s at least fun to mess with him, Danny thinks wistfully, a more devious smile on his face. If anything, it is a great way to pass the time. Messing with Vlad has always been a treasure, but now with little repercussions, at least nothing that compares to the way he used to threaten to kill his dad, it is like the entire world is his oyster.

“You can never have enough money, young badger.”

Danny coughs something into his elbow that sounds suspiciously like ‘ eat the rich’. His eyes watch Vlad carefully with feign innocence, as if he never said anything at all. His elbow hides the large shit-eating grin threatening to break on his face.

Vlad makes a point to ignore the comment, continuing easily, “Since our - my -”

He struggles to find the right word, fumbling a bit with a strained look on his face. Mentions of the past have always been hard to bring up when he is, honestly, doing his best to move forward from it. He feels strained at the mere mention of how he behaved beforehand, somewhat even embarrassed by the things he tried to pull. He cannot be thankful enough that the Fentons, including even Daniel, have even given him this second chance. The young badger’s trust is not an easy thing to earn.

“ Your redemption arc,” Danny offers somewhat helpfully.

While not fond of the term, Vlad has to admit that he cannot think of a better phrase.

“-Yes.”

He accepts the term Danny offers with clenched teeth, “-and as such, possession has become quite unfavorable . I have taken up doing business the old-fashioned way.”

Danny turns to face him. His innocently blinking eyes do not fool anyone with the gleam of mischief shining brightly in them.

“-Legal suits and proper paperwork?”

Vlad snaps at him suddenly, a vein throbbing in his forehead as he regrets taking off the ecto-gag.

“Oh will you - stop that?”

The outburst sends Danny reeling into a laughing fit, clenching his sides tightly.

__________________________________

Danny’s smartass comments cost him; though, in his opinion, it was absolutely worth it. To his dismay, Vlad drags him along through the city of angels instead of leaving him at the hotel. He claimed he needed to meet a new potential business partner. He gave an entire speech of how it would be good for him to learn how the business world works, but Danny can only recall maybe the first few sentences of said speech. Vlad even went as far as stuffing Danny into the most uncomfortable expensive clothes that he could find. Honestly, couldn’t the man at least get comfy expensive clothes? Gucci makes sweat suits. He makes a mental note to send some links to Gucci sweat suits to Vlad later.

Comfy or not, he still would have preferred to have just headed straight to the space shuttle endeavor. At least then, he would be in ghost form most of the time anyway. It would have been a ten - maybe fifteen - minute flight himself from their hotel room; he even promised Vlad that he would stay invisible the whole time and not touch anything he was not supposed to. A promise that was hard to give since oh man did he want to touch the shuttle just to say he touched something that was in space. He even begged his uncle. Slipped in a few mentions of how his mom would be so happy if he was able to go and get pictures.

He almost got him too, but alas, his efforts were in vain. Instead, he is stuck in a limo. It is not a bad thing in and of itself, but even a luxurious car feels suffocating when you want to be somewhere else.

He eyes the protesters lining up on certain streets. Sam would have loved it here. He keeps track of all of the ‘trendy’ vegan cafes he spots along the way for future reference; he even spots a few goth-centric stores. He snaps a few pictures, sending them over their group chat. He follows them up with pictures of pictures of every BBQ stand he finds for Tucker’s sake.

Sam: Still with the ex-villain?

Danny snorts, scooting away from Vlad as much as he could before snapping a picture of his unsuspecting ex-arch nemesis. Vlad visibly sighs, the exhaustion showing on his face as he does not even bother to look at Danny anymore.

Tucker: Someone looks like he’s having a great time

Danny: He’s with me, of course he’s having a great time. I’m a joy to be around. An absolute blast.

Tucker: Isn’t every party you’ve gone to nowadays a bit - dead?

Danny audibly groans at the bad attempt at puns, sending a quick message of how puns are his thing; it’s his whole shtick. But like all group chats do, the conversation grows dead pretty fast.

He is already growing bored again after having sent all the memes he could find ( and how dare they not laugh react at them) . He settles for rolling the window up and down obsessively, occasionally even sticking his head through it. When that adrenaline rush is short-lived, he ends up leaning against the door while obnoxiously clicking the window button repeatedly until Vlad is forced to ask the limo driver to put on the child lock. He considers the idea of just phasing his head through the window, but as weird as LA is, he thinks even that would be a stretch.

He could just phase away entirely. After all, the limo is not ghost proof. Vlad even got rid of most of his more outrageous contraptions and traps so he knows that the seat will not suddenly grow restraints if he tries to get up from it. He wonders if the oddity shop that they passed is still open? He did promise everyone souvenirs and the weirder the better (as is the whole point with souvenirs).

But he also promised his mom that he would get along.

Besides, Vlad said he would pay for lunch when they are done and they passed the most delicious looking burger place.

After what feels like forever, watching all the places he wants to go but can’t right now like a sad puppy begging for the window to be let down, the limo finally pulls up in front of a nightclub. LUX. Danny raises a brow. He may not be the smartest out of his family, but dead languages are his specialty. He glances to Vlad, wondering if he should be more concerned about his pseudo-uncle doing business here. Any nightclub named after light that looks this shady can not be good.

He is also pretty sure that he just saw a drug deal around the corner and some of the people in line already look under the influence of something .

“Am I even allowed here,” Danny questions, pausing a moment to count on his fingers, as they exit the limo. “I’m only like - sixteen? I am a literal child. ”

Vlad continues walking as if he does not hear Danny’s voice grating on behind him. Somehow, the teenager has a voice that seems to stick out like a sore thumb against the boom of the music coming out from the club’s doors.

“You are not a child, Daniel,” Vlad finally acknowledges.

“Uh the law would disagree, sir,” Danny waves a finger after him, “I am a minor.”

The sun is already starting to set, which means the club is steadily filling up; a majority of people are still out in long lines outside of the club’s door. He glances at them briefly, if in a bit of curiosity at the club wear. He blushes wildly at some of the more out-there club wear and focuses quickly on the fact that Vlad is steadily getting ahead of him.

“We are not here for drinking, Daniel,” Vlad’s voice comes out a bit exasperated as he fixes his tie. He eyes the people in line with a bit of disdain, but otherwise ignores them.

Vlad continues on past the lines, not acknowledging the way that some of them call after him. He keeps his hands in his pockets as he gets closer to the crowd; Danny realizes that it likely has something to do with the high possibility of getting pick-pocketed. After all, Vlad does not exactly blend in, but neither does Danny in the suit that Vlad forced him in.

Danny is close in tow as they head straight for the bouncer at the door.

If Vlad was not so used to the way that Maddie could ( has and absolutely will) beat him, he would have been more surprised at the woman at the club’s door. The choice being a bit abnormal in the job. Her intimidating presence is enough to make most of the more pushy people at the front second-guess themselves. A few of the people who dare to test the boundary of the velvet rope quickly change their mind as she just glances at them. Danny’s first thought is how much Sam would like the bouncer. The entire leather outfit is just something that feels like she would like, compared with how tough the woman seems to be. If the woman didn’t scare him so much, he would have tried to take a picture.

His second thought, however, is how off she feels. The closer he gets to her, the more his core vibrates deeply in his chest. As if it is trying to transform and get him out of there, like an animal’s instincts to a predator. Run. RUN. RUN. He digs his heels into the ground and refuses to listen to his gut. He refuses to let his gut determine what he thinks about someone, or how he acts on them. He learned the hard way to control that impulse.

Besides, she does not seem that dangerous - he thinks? He glances to the knives strapped to her thigh and the mean look in her eyes. Mostly. But his ghost sense has never gone off. That means that possession is off the table - so is her being a ghost. But he has never felt his core vibrate this way, in such a paralyzing instinctual fear. The only thing that comes close is when he faced Pariah.

Danny is sure that Vlad notices it too, he is way too smart not to. Vlad’s expressionless face does not give a single thing away, staring straight on even as the woman looks him over closely, a sneer on her face. Something about the way she bares her teeth feels more like a threat, as if she is prepared to rip your throat out herself at any given moment. The worst part is that it feels like that is something she is very much capable of doing. She gets startlingly close to Vlad’s face, sniffing him. He refuses to flinch and let this woman know how much she intimidates him.

He seems to pass whatever test she was giving him. Finally she just snorts, taking the card that he offers her. Danny only catches a glimpse of the red and gold lining against black with some sort of name written on it. He barely sees the flash of some sort of horned symbol on the edge. Just who is Vlad doing business with anyway?

Whatever the card is, it works. She backs off, crossing her arms against her chest as she moves out of the way of the door to let them through. The glare she gives some of the people at the front of the line scares them out of even thinking about shoving their way in through the open door.

Danny sticks close to Vlad’s side this time, feeling the urge to get as far away as he can from the woman. He is not sure if she will stop him. He would love to get out of this situation with Vlad, but he would hate that it meant staying anywhere near the woman. The wild beating of his core is getting worse and it feels like he can’t breath.

He is unsure if he can handle being around her much longer with his core acting up like this. He feels like he is this close to a heart attack.

“You smell weird, but whatever. He’s inside.”

He smells weird, Danny wonders how she can smell anything especially when all he can smell is all the people around them not wearing deodorant. He tries his best to brush it off as some sort of intimidating tactic. But when Danny passes by the woman, she leans forward, visibly sniffing him as well.

“Sorry it’s my - uh - aftershave,” Danny’s panicked lie confuses even him as he just waves at the woman as he enters the club, finally taking a deep breath in as the door shuts behind him.

Still thoroughly weirded out by whatever that was, something that does not improve when he’s suddenly surrounded by drunks and loud blaring music, he sticks abnormally close to Vlad. The people surrounding them are too drunk to notice when he phases through the elbows that are just too close to him or the shoulders that almost bump into him. Vlad looks back at him briefly, a ghost of a smile on his face, before he turns attention to the crowd.

“Whatcha looking for? The bar? Drugs? A confessional?” Danny asks as they finally reach a section that gives them some elbow room. He brushes off imaginary dirt, and not so imaginary something , off of his shoulders.

“My business partner,” Vlad answers curtly, eyes still scanning the crowd. He knows what he’s looking for, despite not having met the man before.

When Lucifer Morningstar reached out to him, insisting that they meet in person to discuss business, Vlad almost brushed him off. However, a combination of the man’s obsession with the devil and the fact that Lucifer Morningstar’s very identity doesn’t go back any further than a few years intrigued him. How does a man who legally has only been around for a few years get so ahead in the business world? More importantly, who is he really?

“What does he look like, maybe I can help.” Danny offers, looking over the crowd as if he would suddenly be able to who they are looking for.

“It is our first business meeting, I’m afraid, but if he looks anything like his photos, you can’t miss him.”

That gets Danny’s attention. He swerves suddenly on Vlad, jutting his hands out to form a T, his fingers press against his palm, “Whoa, time out! You brought me to a business meeting with someone you never met before? How do you even know the guy’s like, I don’t know, a ghost hunter?”

“You're a paranoid teenager, young badger.” Vlad’s voice is dry with a lack of amusement, “I’ll have you know that I reach all my partners quite well. Lucifer Morningstar is nothing more than a lunatic, however he is quite popular with our mutual partners.”

“ Lucifer,” Danny harshly whispers, his voice only half-way kidding, “Don’t tell me you actually made a deal with the devil?”

Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise him if Vlad did - if such a thing is really possible - but it would put a strain on their now alliance. Vlad’s about to retort, likely something along the lines of you’re being ridiculous Daniel, but he gets cut off prematurely by another voice.

“Well not yet, but let’s see if that changes today, shall we?”

A particularly British voice gets their attention as a man in a well fitted suit, looking vastly more comfortable in it than Danny is, struts their way. Despite looking like every other business man he’s seen, the man doesn’t feel like the usual stuffy suit type. He feels dangerously charismatic, with an easy smile on his face and a magnetic pull that makes it difficult to turn their attention away from him. He has a few beautiful women, and at least one man, at his side. He whispers something that Danny wishes he didn’t hear, to each of them before they regretfully leave his side.

“You must be Vladimir Masters.” The tone of voice is not a compliment, coming off more mocking, “Look at you, a bit older than I expected, but ultimately age is never an issue. Provided you’re at least an adult.”

The sultry look that the apparent Lucifer Morningstar has as he looks Vlad up and down appreciatively reminds Danny too much of how Vlad used to look at his mom. He starts to feel sick to his stomach, gagging exaggeratingly in the background as he tries his best to ignore the way his core has returned to vibrating, thumping hard against his chest.

Whatever the woman at the door was, Lucifer Morningstar must be at least the same thing - or something close to it - to make his core react the same way. He should be more concerned over it, but he glances toward Vlad. He looks stony as ever, the only sign of discomfort being a vein beginning to throb on his neck. Ah, so he does notice.

He doesn’t seem surprised either. Danny wonders if this is some sort of test again, to see what he will do and how he will react. Especially in front of an unknown factor. Shit. Danny curses when he realizes that’s why Vlad brought him along in the first place and then curses again - more directed at Vlad himself this time - for Vlad being as cryptic and vague as Clockwork.

I just wanted to see the endeavor, Danny bemoans as the man ushers Vlad (and by extension, Danny) to a clear booth. Taking Vlad’s lead, Danny acts more confident this time around, trying his best to act like every inch of his being isn’t screaming to run.

“Drinks,” Lucifer offers, seeming comfortable in the booth with his arms stretched out wide against the edge of the seat across from Danny and Vlad. While Vlad accepts the offer, ordering a simple old fashion, Danny speaks up with a cheeky grin.

“I’ll have a coke on the rocks,” Danny orders, showing a lot of teeth in his grin as he gives finger guns, of all things. After a pause, he adds on, “Not shaken nor stirred, please.”

Vlad’s exasperated sigh is barely audible as he breathes out through his nose. At the very least, he should be glad that Danny is acting normal - as awkward and tiring as normal is.

“I must admit Mr. Morningstar, I was a bit surprised to receive your invitation,” Vlad speaks easily. He politely sips at his drink, but otherwise leaves it untouched, more focused on the conversation. He tries to not let his eye twitch when he hears Danny suck up his coke through a straw.

Lucifer looks at Danny in amusement, seemingly unoffended by the teenager’s manners (a small blessing). Unlike Vlad, Lucifer doesn’t shy away from his own drink, downing it easily. He orders a few more at one of the ladies passing by, followed by flirtatious compliments that make her giggle and once again, makes Danny wish that he couldn’t hear what was being said.

“Well how could I not invite a man such as yourself, Vladimir,” Lucifer’s voice is exaggerated, almost strained, “Or is it Vlad? Vladdy?”

Vlad does twitch at that and Lucifer grins, “Vladdy it is. Better than douchebag, I suppose.”

Danny snorts at the sudden word, laughing hard enough that he barely stops the coke from pouring out of his nose. He takes in a deep breath, wiping at his face with a cocktail napkin as his nose burns from the soda.

“I prefer to use the term fruit loop,” Danny speaks up helpfully.

Lucifer seems delighted at this information, his eyes lighting up in glee as Vlad visibly sinks into the seat.

“ Fruit loop,” Lucifer repeats gleefully, “Lacks a bit in curse words for my liking but fruit loop it is!”

“You can always say fucking fruit loop,” Danny offers as if he is still being helpful, the grin on his face more genuine, “Or fruit by the fucking loop?”

Lucifer’s laugh is infectious, his eyes gleaming as Danny joins him in laughter at Vlad’s expense. For a moment, the two continue back and forth before Vlad is forced to intervene; the vein is his neck is more noticeably throbbing at this point.

“Mr. Morningstar,” Vlad cuts in, his voice stern, “What exactly was the point of the invitation, if I may? I hope it wasn’t to just call me outrageous names.”

Lucifer nonchalantly waves off Vlad’s growing ire, “Oh no, I invited you over for much more than just that. Favors, you will find, are my specialty. One could say it’s my whole business. I grant favors and I do not take kindly to others who sneak up on my business and steal it away.”

There’s a flash of something in Lucifer’s eyes. Something dangerous. As brief as it is, it’s enough to make Danny’s core hum against his chest, his hand grips his knee tightly. His eyes flicker to Vlad and as much as the older man is trying to hide it, Danny can tell that he’s just as suddenly bothered by whatever that was.

“It’s the point of the matter, you know,” Lucifer continues, “Steal my business, shame on me, steal my shtick, shame on you.”

He downs another glass and grabs something off a platter as someone passes by. It looks suspiciously like a joint. He lights it up without a second thought; Danny tries his best to act like he doesn’t know what it is as Vlad eyes him through the corner of his eyes.

“Word is that you, Vladimir Masters, have been sneaking around granting favors to a chosen few. I don’t know how you grant said favors, I don’t particularly care. But I do wish you would stop.”

The dangerous aura that’s thick in the air is heavy, but the realization that Vlad has still been up to shady business is heavier. Danny slumps into the seat, leaning forward with a heavy sigh.

“So you have been up to shady shit,” Danny mumbles under his breath as he absently stirs the straw in what has to be his third glass of coke.

“If you don’t stop,” Lucifer continues, “I’m afraid I’ll have to make you stop. If Mazikeen does not get to you first.”

He gestures his thumb toward the woman that was outside the door; she hovers nearby as if she knows exactly what they’re talking about. The grin on her face is malicious, bordering on feral as she twirls a knife across her knuckles without breaking eye contact. That woman is intimidating, Danny swallows thickly, but grins wildly at Lucifer.

“Oh he’ll stop,” Danny reassures the man before Vlad can even get a word in. There’s an edge to his words; a very clear message underlying his words. “Otherwise I’ll make him stop myself.”

A flash of ectoplasmic green swirls across his eyes. Vlad, not quite intimidated by a sixteen year old still going through puberty, simply mumbles under his breath, oh stop with the ‘scary’ eyes, Daniel, honestly. Lucifer catches the moment, eying them both with interest as he relaxes into the chair. He makes a motion with his hand and suddenly the woman - Mazikeen - isn’t there anymore; Danny isn’t sure where she went, if he should be worried about it, or if it was a sign of good faith.

“ You are a very interesting child,” Lucifer says, “At first I thought you two may have been one of mine, but that’s not really the case is it?”

Danny isn’t sure what one of mine really means; he doesn’t really want to know either. The way Lucifer says it feels off, as if he’s not concerned by it or that they would have been in worse trouble if they had in fact been one of his (whatever that means). Vlad recovers fast, eying Lucifer with narrowed eyes.

“Just what is it that you’re inferring, Mr. Morningstar?”

“Why, that you’re not human, of course!”

He says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, a large grin stretched on his face as he finishes off the suspicious joint, making a point to blow the smoke away from them. It may have been a trick of the light, or even just a magic trick, but Danny swears that the smoke formed some sort of devilish face. Complete with the horns and all.

Danny’s grin falters as he watches Lucifer closely.

F-uck-ing typical. At this rate, he will never get to see the endeavor or any other of California’s space museums. Why can’t he have just one normal road trip for once? No circus ringleader, no reality altering devices, no ghosts, and no ghost hunters. He just wants to get a selfie with a space shuttle, order as much hotel food as he can off of Vlad’s card, and then crash. Maybe even go to the Griffith Observatory. Fly to the Hollywood sign. Sneak into a Disney park and take a selfie on top of Cinderella’s castle. Just a normal trip (with a few added advantages to being a half-ghost boy). Now, he has to instead worry about some devil-obsessed (but definitely weird and maybe not human at all) club owner finding out his secret.

This is exactly what Danny told Vlad; meeting someone you don’t know is just a risk. At the very least, Lucifer doesn’t look like a ghost hunter. He definitely doesn’t fit the M.O. of a Guys In White agent. There could be other agencies out there though, other people who want to hunt them down. Who knows, maybe whatever this guy really is likes to eat ghosts or hunt them for sport. This is exactly what he was concerned about. Now, his secret, and Vlad’s secret too he supposes, could be blown all because Vlad had to go make a shady business deal.

Danny turns to Vlad, not even bothering to whisper as his voice cuts through the loud music.

“I told you so.”

#danny phantom #lucifer #crossover #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #x-over #uncle vlad #vlad masters #au

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lotusss-flowerbomb · 4 years ago

Text

Liberator

Bucky x reader

Warnings: Smut, cream pie eating, cum swapping

A/N: My sis @bluestarego randomly came up with an idea for this chaise and her ideas are literally the bomb, so of course I had to write it. There is unprotected sex in this story. Remember, this is fiction, so in real life package the meat before a beat. Hope y’all enjoy!

Word Count: 4.7k [My baaaddd]

********

"Ayo, tin man, where you going?" Sam asked Bucky when he saw him grabbing his jacket.

"To the bookstore. I'm tired of sitting here." He hurried to the door.

"Hold on, I'll tag along this time. Maybe we can finally look at some furniture for this place. We'll be here for at least another four months." Sam laced his shoes and followed him out.

Bucky and Sam had been undercover on this mission 3 months and counting. Nobody seemed to notice them in the small southern town. Either that or no one really cared.

Sam had been going on and on about getting furniture for the house to be more comfortable, but Bucky knew he was full of shit. Tony had given them a bunch of cash and he just wanted to shop.

"You know, you've been down to this bookstore everyday this week... What's her name?" He inquired.

"What?" Bucky tried to keep from smiling, but it was almost impossible whenever he thought about you.

"Yeah okay, you can pretend if you want. She'd better be cute or I'm gonna clown you. Does she know you're half robot?"

"Sam..."

"Relax, I'm kidding," he laughed.

When they pulled into the lot, the men jumped out, but before Sam could open the door Bucky stopped him.

"Please do not embarrass me." He said seriously.

"Man, move, you do enough of that on your own," Sam brushed past him.

"Welcome! I'll be up shortly," you yelled from the back.

You put away the stack of papers that you were going through and exited the small office.

"Hi, how may I — oh, Mr. Stan, how are you today?" You smiled.

"Please, call me Sebastian," he smiled. "I'm good, how are you?"

You heard some books hit the floor. When you both looked over there, Sam was clutching a rack trying to keep it from falling completely over.

"Guess I should go help with that. Be right back," you walked off.

Bucky rolled his eyes. He made busy pretending to look for a new book, but he was having a hard time ignoring your laughing at all of Sam's lame jokes. He finally walked over.

"Are you done tearing up the store?" He asked.

"I've already apologized to the lady, Mr. Stan," he teased.

"Do you have any new recommendations for me today?" Bucky asked, completely ignoring Sam.

"Oh, yeah, I was telling Anthony about this new thriller we got in today. The author is pretty new to the scene, but this will definitely put her on the map. I had a chance to read it before the book was officially released." You handed him one of the books from the rack.

"But this is new, so I can't rent it."

"I won't tell if you won't," you winked and walked away.

"Are you gonna ask her out?" Sam asked.

"Are you insane?" He rolled his eyes and followed behind you.

He handed you the book to check out. He liked your store, because it was a little different from any bookstore he was used to. You sold books, but you also rented the older ones. New books couldn't be rented for six months, but you were always willing to do buybacks for the ones in good condition.

"Oh, I remember you telling me that you were looking for new recipes. I thought you might like this," you grabbed a cookbook, scanned it and then handed it to him.

"That's nice, maybe he could whip something up for you," Sam patted his shoulder.

Bucky gave him another murder glare.

You laughed at his expression.

"Don't worry, Mr. Stan, it's fine if you don't want to."

"No, it's not that I don't want to —"

"So you do?" You cut him off.

"I uhh…" he ran his fingers through his hair. "Give me two days to find something that I think you'll like."

"Your phone?" You held out your hand.

He handed it to you and you put your number in and gave it back to him.

"So I'll see you Saturday?" You gave him his bag.

"Yeah, I'll see you Saturday," he confirmed. "But only if you promise to call me Sebastian."

"Promise," you chuckled.

You waved goodbye to the two men and watched them leave. You waited until they were in the car and pulling out of the lot before you picked up your phone and called your best friend.

"You'll never guess who I have a date with this Saturdayyyy," you sang.

"Is that weird guy who wears a leather jacket and gloves even though it's hot outside?" She said sarcastically.

"Yes!" You replied giddy and undeterred by her sarcasm. "You have to help me find something to wear. I also need you to do my nails please?"

She was quiet for a moment and then she bit out, "Fine, but I think he's weird and if he tries anything you'd better not hesitate to pepper spray him."

"He's not weird. He's just different and I'm ready to find out what it is."

Sam and Bucky walked through the furniture store. Bucky didn't know exactly what he was looking for, but he knew he wanted it to be nice for when you came over.

He felt like every piece he liked looked really old. He may have been 100 years old, but he didn't have to let you know that.

His eyes were suddenly drawn to this odd looking chair. It was red leather with a high sloped back, a deep arc in the middle and the bottom was low with a slope. He read the tag; Liberator: $400, but who cares? Tony could afford it.

"You thinking about getting this?" Sam asked, seemingly coming out of nowhere.

"What do you think? You think this is something she'd like? Should we get a few of them for the front room?"

"Nah, this should go in your room. I think she'll like it. She's young and this is a very modern piece of furniture." He advised.

Bucky decided to trust Sam for once. He told the salesperson that he wanted that chaise. The poor girl's face turned a bright red and she was unable to look at him. He didn't pay too much attention to it, he was used to people shying away from his presence.

The guys picked out the rest of the furniture and headed home. Bucky noticed that Sam was giggly. More so than normal.

"What are you so happy about?" He asked.

"Nothing man, a guy can't just feel joy? It's a good day, Buck, we finally got some furniture. You got a really nice chair. I'm happy." He tapped on the dashboard.

"Why'd you bring up the chair?" Bucky squinted at him.

"Because it's a nice chair. I like the chair. You know I'm all about relaxation."

Bucky let it go. If he hated the chair once it was delivered, he'd simply return it. No big deal.

Bucky put the final touches on the meal he'd chosen to prepare for you. He garnished the plates, set them on the table and wiped his hands on the apron he was wearing.

The doorbell rang. You were right on time. He gave the table a once over before coming to the door.

"Hi," he greeted.

"Hello there," you said.

He just stood there and looked at you from head to toe. The white lace dress you wore hugged you perfectly at the top and flared at the waist.

"Can I come in?" You asked, tearing him away from his thoughts.

"Oh, yes, sorry. You look beautiful," he said as he walked you to the dining area.

"So do you. I think the apron is my favorite part," you teased.

He looked down and quickly removed the apron from around his waist. He blushed a little. You smiled at how cute he was.

He pulled your chair out and pushed it in once you sat down and then took his seat.

" It smells wonderful."

"Thank you, I tried something new tonight."

Truthfully, everything was new for him. Bucky never did any of the cooking. That was usually Sam's thing. He only got the cookbooks to suggest things, but tonight he gave it try for you.

You took a bite and tried to keep from gagging. You saw Bucky take a bite and immediately swallow. He didn't bother chewing it anymore.

You took a sip of wine after you were finally able to swallow.

"It's terrible," he said.

"No, it's not bad at all," you absolutely lied.

"I'll order us a pizza," he said and took your plate away.

You just smiled at him. You didn't have the heart to tell him the food was gross, because he tried and that's what counts.

You moved to the living room and he turned on the TV while you waited for the pizza. You noticed that he still wore a glove on his left hand and was sure to keep it away from you. You figured he was just a little shy about having a prosthetic arm.

Once the pizza arrived, you put on some quirky movie and ate your dinner.

"I'm sorry about this. I should've practiced the recipe a little more."

"What? This is perfect," you told him.

You talked with him a little. He told you that he grew up in Brooklyn. How he and Sam were college roommates and started a contracting business together.

You clung to his every word and listened without interrupting.

"So, are you gonna give me a tour of the house?" You ask.

"Oh, sure," he says. He slips your shoes off of your feet before walking with you hand in hand to the stairs.

"It's not much, but this is our office space, that's Sam's room, bathroom and this is my room." He pointed.

You flipped the switch on in the room. You were shocked and quickly walked over to the red leather chaise.

"You don't strike me as the type to have one of these," you ran your fingers over the cool leather.

"Oh, yeah, I thought it was a very nice modern piece of furniture to have. Um, Sam actually talked me into it."

"Did he now?" You smirked.

"If you hate it, I can move it out of here. I won't force you to look at it," he rubbed his neck.

"Come here," you reached out for him.

He gave you his hand and you told him to sit down on the chair. You straddled his lap and moved your hips in a circular motion until you felt him getting hard. He rested his right hand on top of your ass and laid his head back.

He had been so focused on his work that he'd forgotten how much he missed the feel of a woman. You leaned in close and put your lips to his ear.

"Undo my dress," you whispered.

He reached up and pulled the string of the bow ties on your shoulder. The thin material fell down and exposed your breasts. Your nipples immediately pebbled from the cool air.

You scooted back a little and pulled at his shirt.

" No," he grabbed your hands, "I um, maybe we shouldn't."

"What's wrong?" You quiz.

"Nothing, it's just that I…" He was lost for words. He didn't know how he would explain his arm without you freaking out.

"Sebastian, I don't care that you have a prosthetic arm or hand. Whichever you hide under these long sleeved shirts and gloves."

He inhaled and pressed his forehead to your chest. He was nervous. Now he remembered why it had been so long since he'd had a relationship or sex.

"Hey," you lifted his head, "it's okay, we don't have to do this if you're uncomfortable." You kissed his lips.

You felt his body relax as he exhaled slowly. First, he took off his glove. You ran your fingers over the shiny black metal. You then lifted the shirt a little, this time he didn't stop you. You pulled it over his head and tossed it aside.

You lightly dragged your fingers down his neck until you reached where the metal connected to his shoulder. You traced your fingers over the lines of gold, before moving back to his scar.

"It's connected to you, so is it fully functional?" You were curious.

"It is," he replied.

"That's pretty cool. The doctors must've put a lot of work and thought into this."

"Yeah, much better than the first one I had after the war," he blurted.

"Oh, you're a vet?"

"Uh, yeah," he said after realizing his mistake.

"What was your rank?"

"Sergeant…"

"Well, thank you for your service and sacrifice, Sergeant." You pressed your lips to his.

He slipped his hands underneath your dress and squeezed your ass. The cool metal of his hand made your pussy clench.

He slid a finger down your ass until he reached your folds. He rubbed your clit in a circular motion over the fabric of your thong. He moaned into your mouth when he pulled it aside and felt how wet you were getting.

You broke the kiss, stood, unzipped his pants and pulled them down. His hard dick popped up and was at full attention.

"Sss, ooh," you hissed as you wrapped your hand around him.

Bucky laid back and closed his eyes. Your hands felt so good on him. You spit on his dick and rubbed it all around making sure it was coated.

You lined him up with your opening before slowly sinking down on him.

"Shit!" He had to brace himself and fight a mental battle, so that he wouldn't cum at this very moment.

You were trying your best to take all of him, but he was stretching you wide and the pain was almost too much.

Once he was able to get himself together he grabbed your hips and thrust into you. He pulled your dress over your head, so it wouldn't be in the way.

You rolled your hips slowly and sped up as the pain turned into pleasure. You braced yourself on the balls of your feet and held to the head of the chair as best you could.

"Bounce on this dick," he smacked your ass.

You bounced up and down while he sucked a nipple into his mouth. He used his right hand to rub your clit.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," you warned him.

"Don't." He said and continued to rub.

"Sebastian, I —"

He grabbed you by the throat, "I said, no," he stuck his tongue in your mouth and continued to drive his hips upwards.

He waited until you were right on the edge of your climax and then lifted you up. Your first instinct was to rub yourself to completion, but he stopped you.

"I'm the only one who touches you from now on. Understand?"

You nodded, but he wasn't satisfied. He wanted to hear you say it.

"Yes, I understand," you said as you moved back, so he could stand.

"Good, girl," he pulled you close to him and kissed you.

He sat you down at the foot of the chair and dropped to his knees. You spread your legs wide and watched while he admired your pussy. Running his fingers up and down your slit.

"Can I taste you?"

"Yes," you moaned and laid back.

Bucky sucked your clit into his mouth and licked you in circles. He was using his tongue to apply just the right amount of pressure to your clit.

"You taste so good," he said. He spit on your pussy and rubbed it before sticking two fingers inside of you.

He sucked your clit into his mouth and curled his fingers a little.

"Ah! Fuck!" You screamed as you felt an orgasm building.

He could feel you contracting around his fingers. Once again he kept going until you were almost there, then he pulled his fingers out and stopped sucking.

"Why? Please!" You begged.

"Ooh, that was only the second one and you're already begging? It's gonna be a long night, baby girl." He teased.

He pulled you to the edge a little more, rubbed the head of his dick up and down your slit and then slid inside of you.

You rolled your nipples in between your fingers while he fucked you. He couldn't take his eyes off of you. He'd wanted to feel you for so long. Ever since the day he wandered into your store and laid eyes on you.

He pulled out of you and turned you on your stomach. This time switching his pace. He spread your ass cheeks apart and rolled his hips slowly as he watched his dick disappear inside of you.

"Fuck!" He moaned as he felt himself losing control once again.

He watched as you clawed at the chair. He could feel your pussy getting tighter and tighter.

"Can I cum? Can I —" you were cut off by your own moans. Your body didn't wait for permission.

He felt it. Your pussy gripped him tight and he exploded inside of you. His hips jerked as he gave you every last drop.

He pulled out and dropped to his knees behind you.

He smacked your ass, "Give it to me, push it out," he demanded.

You pushed the cum mixture from your pussy and was shocked when you felt his mouth on you sucking it out. No man you'd ever been with had been so bold or comfortable.

Once he was satisfied, he stood and turned you around to face him. He squeezed your cheeks together, so you'd open your mouth. You stuck your tongue out ready for what he was about to give.

You were so fucking turned on, you grabbed his hand and slipped his fingers back into your pussy.

He spit the cum into your mouth and then kissed you. Swirling his tongue around yours as he fingered you to another quick orgasm.

He looked at his cum coated fingers and then licked them clean. You couldn't resist kissing him again and tasting yourself on his tongue.

Bucky picked you up and carried you over to the bed. You didn't want to let him go, but you finally gave in. He walked to the bathroom and came back to clean you up and then himself.

He got in bed with you and laid his head on your chest. You ran your fingers through his hair. So many nights he'd thought about this moment. So many nights he'd thought about just being closer to you. He wished he could stay with you forever.

He sighed.

"What's wrong?" You asked him.

He sat up and looked at you, he wanted to tell you the truth, but he knew that he couldn't. It would put you in danger and he couldn't risk it.

"Nothing, everything is perfect," he smiled.

"You have beautiful eyes, they remind me of someone, but I have never been able to quite put my finger on it."

"Thank you," he kissed you again and turned away.

You played with his hair until he fell asleep and then you slipped out quietly.

You were opening boxes and getting ready to stock a rack of magazines. You'd been doing well with keeping them out of the store, but a few of the teenagers kept asking and you finally caved. You let them know that you drew the line at tablets and that they were absolutely out of the question.

You flipped through one of the fashion magazines and came across an article about Earth's mightiest heroes. You were skimming the article when you heard a knock at the door. You looked up to see Bucky waving at you. He was holding a cup holder with two coffees and a bag of donuts.

"Hey," you greeted him.

He returned your greeting with a soft kiss. You didn't think you could ever get tired of those kisses.

"Doing some stocking?"

"Yeah, I was taking a break and reading this article. I finally ordered some magazines for the kids," you picked it up and thumbed through the pages.

Then he caught your eyes. There he was stretched across the page. The photo had a blue and purple tint to it and his hair was long, but it was most definitely him.

"You're Bucky Barnes," you said in disbelief.

"What?" He seemed startled by your words.

"This is you!" You shoved the magazine in his face. "I knew that you looked familiar. A freaking superhero?! You lied to me, Sebastian — Bucky, whatever your name is!"

"No, it's not like that, I couldn't tell you." He tried to explain. "I'm on a mission. Sam and I, we're undercover."

"Oh, you're on a mission, so get with a local to blend in a little better? Ugh! I knew you were too good to be true." You paced back and forth.

"No, that's not true," he grabbed you, "my feelings for you are completely real."

You squinted at him, "Get off of me and get out, because you'd still be lying to me if you'd never gotten caught." You pushed him away and walked into your office slamming the door behind you.

Bucky picked up the box of magazines and took them. If you recognized him someone else would too. He couldn't take that chance.

He knew doing that stupid photo shoot would backfire. He didn't want to do it, but Steve and Sam talked him into it, because it was for a good cause. He knew they'd have to speed up their plans.

He called Sam as he headed back to the house and let him know that they had to move in on the targets sooner rather than later.

You came out of your office once you were sure Bucky was gone. You looked around to see that he had taken the boxes.

"Great now he's a liar and a klepto," you rolled your eyes.

You heard the bell on the door and turned around thinking it was Bucky again, but it was just one of the people who ran the laundromat a few doors down.

"Oh, hey, Austin," you looked at your watch, "is something wrong? You know I'm not open yet."

He didn't say anything. He just kept stalking towards you. Your fight or flight kicked into gear and you made a dash for the door. He reached out and grabbed you, but you kneed him in the balls to escape.

You didn't get very far before you were grabbed from behind. They put a bag over your head and threw you into the back of a car where they zip tied your hands in front of you.

"Let me go! What do you want?!" You kicked and screamed.

"Keep it up and I'll gag you… Maybe even with my cock," you heard one of them chuckle.

You immediately calmed down. Last thing you wanted was that.

"Please, if you want money you'll have to take me back to the store. I keep it in the safe."

"Shut up, we won't tell you again." Austin said.

"Austin, please tell me why you're doing this?"

"Because your little boyfriend needs to be taught a lesson. Him and his friend have been causing trouble and it's bad for business. Unfortunately, sweetheart, you're collateral damage."

They drove you for almost 20 minutes before they dragged you from the car and into a building. They took you inside, sat you down and bound you to a chair.

"Call your boyfriend," one of his henchmen ordered.

"How exactly am I supposed to do that with my hands tied, genius?" You sassed.

He reached into your pocket and pulled up his name. You could hear the line ringing.

"Can you at least take the bag off of my head?" You requested.

Bucky was fuming. He and Sam had followed the rest of Austin's gang to this warehouse. But when Austin himself pulled in, he had you.

He thought it was odd that they were all coming out here, but now he sees that this is a set up. His phone was vibrating in his pocket. It was a call from you.

He accepted the call and sat his phone down to look through his scope.

"You can either let her go right now or I will kill every single one of you." He said calmly.

"Sebastian," you cried.

"It's okay, baby girl, I got you," he hung up.

He let off two shots taking out the men who stood guard at the door. He took down the others as they came running from the building.

"I'm in position," Sam said into his comms.

Bucky jumped down from the tree he was in and moved in. He hoped you were safe. He never meant for this to happen to you.

You heard the shots. They were so loud and it seemed like all hell broke loose after. The men around you started shouting and then you heard the door slam.

You rocked from side to side in the chair until it tipped over. You tried your best to get loose, but nothing was helping. You started to panic as the gunshots were getting closer.

Fear and adrenaline took over and your ears began to ring. It seemed like the bag was keeping you from breathing as you started to hyperventilate.

You started screaming when you heard the door get kicked open. You could feel the person cutting the tape away. You were gonna fight this time. They wouldn't get the opportunity to take you somewhere else. They'll kill you for sure.

Once your hands were free you started swinging.

"Stop!" Bucky yelled. "It's me—"

You punched him in the eye. He could barely get a grip on you, but when he finally did, he snatched the bag off.

"Y/N! It's me, calm down." He hugged you.

You relaxed into his hold and sobbed into his neck.

"They were gon-gonna kill m-me," you stuttered.

"I never gave them the chance. You're safe now."

Weeks had gone by and nobody spoke a word about Austin or his mysterious disappearance. In fact, people seemed to celebrate the fact that he was gone.

He'd been running a drug operation through the town and using his business as a front. Apparently, he had ties to Hydra, which is why Sam and Bucky were brought in to shut him down.

You were back at your store and business resumed as normal. Bucky had left the same night of the incident. He didn't even say goodbye. He was too ashamed to face you.

You heard the bell above the door and looked up from your phone. Your heart skipped a beat when those blue eyes stared back at you.

"Hey," he waved.

"I'm busy," you said and tried to walk away.

"Wait, please," he grabbed your arm, "please?" He asked a little softer.

"I'm mad at you, you didn't even say goodbye!"

"I know and I should have, but I was a punk and I want to make it right." He pleaded.

"You have two minutes," you crossed your arms.

He lifted you up on the counter and stood in front of you. It was very dramatic.

"I'm James, but my friends call me Bucky. I'm 103 years old, but I spent most of those years frozen and brainwashed. I really did lose my arm in the war, but it was world war 2. I'm from Brooklyn and my favorite food is pizza." He said. "Oh and I fought in two alien wars, although it felt like only one, because I died in the first one and when I woke up 5 years had passed."

"Hi, Bucky, nice to meet you."

You pulled him in for a passionate kiss. He pulled away and pressed your forehead to his.

"I'm sorry," he said.

He helped you down and watched you lock the front door and switch your sign to closed.

"If you're really sorry, you'll make it up to me," you grabbed his hand.

He scooped you up and carried you to your office. He'd absolutely make it up to you with no problem.

@titty-teetee

@bluestarego

@literaturefeen

@fandomfavesss

@angrythingstarlight

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #Bucky Barnes #Sebastian Stan #Smut #marvel smut #Avengers #marvel fanfic #avengers fic #Lotusss Writes

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softrozene · 4 years ago

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Hellooo! I hope you're okay. Can I get a scenario for Benn Beckmann, Crocodile and Smoker with a female reader who confesses her feelings, please ?

I’m doing amazing Lovely. I hope you’re doing wonderful too! <3 I am such a sucker for requests like these. They feed into my love for fluff and cuteness, so I hope you enjoy this! Because of the theme requested and the characters personalities I gave the reader more of a shy girl kind of personality!

Benn, Crocodile, Smoker x Female Reader

Warnings: Fluff to the max

Words: 1818

Benn Beckmann-

Benn has a bad feeling the second he saw your cute form go up to the captain. He always gets an uneasy feeling when you talk to Shanks and yes, he is aware he is jealous, and he does not hide it very well, but this time felt different. Mostly because Shanks is giggling like a girl and your face looks beyond flustered.

Normally, he would go to your rescue but the second he sees Shanks look at him he had the urge to run away from his captain’s idiocy. He could not do so after you turn as well and give him a look that makes his heart ache. Whatever is going on he does not like it but seeing that look you gave him, makes him stay in place.

Benn is usually a quiet man and one who definitely does not wear his heart on his sleeve but the crew members who he’s been with from the start of the Red Hair Pirates can see through him. They know how smitten he is with you just as you are with him. It is almost painful that the two of you are not together and that is why while Benn is keeping an eye on you and Shanks from afar, Shanks is trying to convince you to confess to Benn.

The thought terrifies you. Your face heats up like a fire and you feel dizzy just thinking about it. Shanks is making fun of you and you want to hit him but of course, you do not dare. It is all in good faith that he is teasing you anyway.

The worry practically paints your being and Shanks gives in to give you his captain talk.

“Listen (Name), you are a strong, beautiful, intelligent woman. I can promise you that Benn will reciprocate your feelings. On the highly slim chance that he does not I will owe you a date night to lather you up with the romance you deserve,” Shanks promises.

The thought makes you want to gag immediately since you are not interested in your captain and Shanks laughs since you did not hide that. His words did reach you though and you turn around yet again to see Benn staring at you.

It is now or never.

As you walk up to Benn, he kicks himself for staring for so long. Even more, he wishes he knew what Shanks said to you to make your face so flustered.

“Benn?” Ah. The way you say his name makes him smile as he hums in response.

You go for it. “I like you. A lot. I know I may not be the most confident of women but-“

This is really happening. Benn can’t hear your words as the smile on his face grows. He glances back towards his captain who in return gives him a thumbs up. He cuts your now stuttering sentence off as he places a hand on your shoulder.

“I like you too, (Name). If you are sure you want to pursue a relationship with me then by all means I accept,” Benn says.

And that was how Benn accidentally killed a crewmember, his new partner, with Shanks as a witness when your body hit the ground and you went to cloud nine.

Crocodile-

“Do you know why you are here?” Crocodile questions.

You look a bit nervous but overall, pretty composed. He is impressed since anyone else would have usually pissed their pants by now. You do not answer him and even though that agitates him he lets it pass since you are one of his most valuable assets.

“You have been distracted. It is affecting your work. Would you like to tell me why?” He asks leaning into his hand.

Despite the way he asked it with a certain gentleness to it, his hook starts to carve into the desk leaving the silent threat. Any other person would be terrified, and it looks like you are, but you are just nervous. Your heart is racing wildly as you try to distract yourself from feeling a bit too hot from the threat of his hook.

“I have a perfectly reasonable explanation,” You start.

You want to tell him, but it may mean your death sentence. This man does not tolerate distractions. The only reason why he has not murdered you on the spot for your suddenly slow work is because your loyalty is as high, maybe even higher than Mr. 1’s loyalty. That is a great feat and one Crocodile appreciates even if he has no problems getting rid of his loyal followers.

He raises an eyebrow and you decide that saying your feelings for him would be worth it even if he decides to take your life.

“I like somebody… Romantically,” You begin.

Your eyes widen however when his hook crashes into the desk leaving a big and ugly scratch. The veins on his neck are prominent and for a moment you believe that he is jealous. It is a silly little thought but one that could bring you to tears with joy. It’s impossible though. You want to cry from embarrassment now. Crocodile is just angry that your romantic feelings got in the way of your work, you convince yourself this.

In reality, the second you admitted this, Crocodile saw red. You have feelings for someone? Nobody but he deserves your kind and loyal personality. You fit him perfectly and he would protect you no matter what. So, he is angry at whoever has your mind and heart right now.

He lost his composure for a second and he regrets it upon seeing your saddened face. Slight pride is in him for being able to get that reaction out of you though because that means you know your feelings for another are unacceptable.

Crocodile decides to go straight to the point. “Tell me who he is so I can destroy him. You are aware that feelings only cause distractions.”

The words sting and hard. He can see you flinch from this and your hesitation is strong. This is a first and he astounded that you out of everyone else may withhold this information. It almost makes him scoff. Of course, he should have known better. Even among the most loyal, they may betray him.

He is ready to crush all his feelings for you at this moment when you open your mouth and freeze. He allows you the moment to say the stupid name, but his eyes widen at what you do say.

“It is you. I like you romantically.”

He can sense your need to go run and hide and honestly? With what he does next he does not blame you. He laughs. Anyone would take this the wrong way which is why he is quick to compose himself and say, “This changes everything. Especially since I return your feelings. It would only make sense that we get involved with each other officially to avoid any more distractions, doesn’t it?”

He seems to have broken you as you stare at him awe that he really feels the same way. He accepts that as an answer.

“Prepare for a date tonight. Expect nothing but the best now that I can freely call you my woman.”

Smoker-

Today felt funny to Smoker for some odd reason. Usually, he is not this dense especially when his subordinates are involved which is why he is getting heavily annoyed that they are whispering amongst themselves while sending him glances.

He can’t recall what he did to warner these glances, but he suspects it has something to do with you as soon as he sees them glance your way. You, as always, are stuck in your head. It makes him stop as he thinks about you for a moment.

You are a strong and resilient woman. At first, he did not believe this with how much of an airhead you were but then he saw you in battle and honestly? He saw you more than a subordinate. He realized how compassionate you were for others. Seeing you in a different light alone made him angry but whenever you are around, he becomes fully aware of his body’s and emotion’s reactions to you. He becomes aware of how the subordinates treat you.

Getting a bit irritated with his feelings, he looks away from you and begins to glance over the ship. Though from the corner of his eye he can see Tashigi talking to you. He huffs more at the thought of you two being closer seeing as you both are the only females on this marine ship.

He looks away and grits his teeth as the irrational thoughts in his head begin to deepen.

“Sir? Sir!” You call out making him jump.

He immediately tries to fight off the blush trying to paint his cheeks as he realizes how close you are to him. You are trying to peer into his face to see if he is okay.

“Are you okay?” You ask genuinely concerned.

Smoker forces him to cough as he nods his head. “Yes. Fine. What is it you need, (Last Name)?”

“I, uh, it really is nothing. I just wanted to say how much I appreciate you and that I actually find you really attractive and I know it’s against the rules since you are my superior and all but when I look at you I see a handsome man that I can really build a future with and I haven’t felt this way about anyone else before and I just can’t help admire the way you look and behavior sometimes and-”

Many ands later, Smoker’s face has turned beet red and he can feel the need to vanish into the smoke but from sheer happiness. You, you confessed to him? Even more, you gave a whole speech with your confession and somehow you manage to look adorable as you try and retract your confession. You seemed to realize that you ended up rambling and now became a mess as you try and backtrack the conversation to the original question of if he was okay.

He finally as enough. He can’t help it, especially when he finds out that your feelings are mutual. He grabs your face with one hand, pinching your cheeks as he makes you pucker your lips and he pushes his on top with ease.

It made you shut up… Oh… It made you almost pass out. He can feel the heat off your face as your brain sizzles from malfunctioning.

“Go finish your duties (Name)… I’ll request a night off for the two of us for a proper date,” Smoker whispers as he returns to his serious face.

Even if he does get serious again, you can’t help but notice the slight pink on his cheeks still that is proof you accomplished something with your confession.

#my writing #benn beckman x reader #crocodile x reader #smoker x reader #one piece #fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #scenarios #one piece scenarios #female reader #benn beckman #one piece crocodile #one piece smoker #one piece x reader #fluff

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nightfrostshadow · 4 years ago

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A Cage Of Moonlight And Magic

Ahhh guess what?! I collaborated with the wonderful @amethystpath-writes ! :D <3 It was so much fun to write this together ahaha it was a wonderful experience and especially the fact that the first collab I did was with you is amazing ! My first friend on Tumblr :’) :D <3

This has a continuation - Part 2

***

“I’ll kill you,” Villain promised. “Someday when you least expect it, I will do it.” He’d said this before, many times- with many bouts of frustration, confidence, and determination.

Supervillain laughed. “With water?”

The hand near Villain’s throat faltered, but ultimately tightened. “Don’t forget who you are speaking to.” And that was the end of that.

***

Villain who had been gloomily forming a little water tornado in his palm looked up at Hero. “Absolutely not,” he scoffed, and the swirling water fell to the ground.

He shifted his body, knees dragging in the dirt- in his bed. “I’m reduced to having to put up waterwork shows. Waterworks can you believe it? Out of all the things I can do?”

He sighed as he laid down on his bed- if you could even call it that. Once again he longed for the blanket he desperately needed, yet was never given on the cold winter nights.

***

“We have a big show tonight. Some very esteemed guests will be making an appearance. You will all be expected to put on your best performance.”

Esteemed guests, he said? Villain focused on his thoughts as the moonlight slowly escaped his body. I’ll be sure to give them a show, then.

***

Hero thought back on the conversation she shared with Villain earlier that morning- about how horrible this life was.

So, she would withstand those slight waves of pain every day. She would endure because any alternative was too frightening, too dooming.

“Five minutes!” Supervillain announced, and with that, he stepped out, flaps of the tent room snapping shut behind him.

Not wasting a moment, Hero crawled over to Villain, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You’re okay?”

His response was a glare. He shrugged her off. “Get ready,” he said simply. “We have a great show tonight and little time to prepare.”

What Hero didn’t see was the vengeance pooling in Villain’s stomach, much like the moonlight Supervillain had placed there just a minute ago.

***

Villain smirked as he stood in position with Hero, ready to open the show, waiting for the curtains to rise. In three, two…

With eyes now closed, Villain summoned all the water he could. Opening them once again, he sent his arms forward- a fast motion which released wave upon wave, crashing into the audience.

Just as Hero had faltered before, Villain did in that very moment- a familiar pain blossoming in his body. He gritted his teeth.

Villain’s body ached, having never spent so much energy on his powers. Especially not at the same time as Supervillain using his own powers so strongly against him.

***

Seeing as Supervillain was just as strong-willed, he’d never stop torturing- never stop trying to break Villain. Making an escape was Villain’s greatest hope.

Who was Hero to try and stop him?

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inawickedlittletown · 4 years ago

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Buck and Eddie in 4x03 - meta

Notes: yes, more meta...and I think I will have one more coming after this one...and of course spoilers below.

This episode really did feed us with all the Buck and Eddie interactions. Certainly far more than I expected.

Right at the top of the episode we have the gag of the episode — Eddie’s concern over smart tech. It’s all new information for Eddie when Buck informs him that he doesn’t need to have a smart home to be under surveillance through the internet at large. Then the smart home actually greets Eddie by name and brings up coffee makers after Eddie mentioned them just a few seconds earlier. Buck gets a kick out of it and can you blame him?

The whole thing really brings back the Buck and Eddie banter that we love so much. We get some teasing and Buck teaching Eddie something new about the world and it’s just nice to see Eddie in this sort of vulnerable/paranoid role. It’s comedic and played so so well. We bump into a few things with his interaction, Buck brings out his knowledge, Eddie expresses his preferences in how he wants to live, and they both play into their roles of friends who really truly value the other. It’s lovely. And if it’s just meant to be friendship I do honestly love it, but it can also be more.

The next time we see Eddie vs. Tech, Buck and Christopher are having a playdate. Eddie shows up to cut off their internet. It’s an interesting scene because we come at it right in the middle of this game night so the game must have been going on for a while and Eddie cuts it off in the middle and immediately starts examining all the tech around them. It’s so much fun to see Eddie this way. He’s being stalked by ads for the coffee maker everywhere online and it’s clear that it genuinely bothers him because he makes it so Buck and Chris can’t keep playing their game and then becomes very concerned with the idea that Christopher is talking to people through the game. Clearly, Eddie is lacking in tech literacy and while this is all a big joke, all of his concerns are absolutely valid. Christopher, as a child, should not be talking to random people on the internet or through his games. A lot of tech does have spyware. There is no escaping it anymore.

There’s a big element of domesticity here as well. Not only do we have them hanging out outside of work in spite of the pandemic, and having it be a heavy Chris and Buck hangout since Eddie only really enters to put a stop to the internet and then leaves them to entertain themselves. So what is Eddie up to while Buck and Chris hang out? Was he on his computer getting haunted by coffee makers everywhere he turned? Was he making them all dinner? We may never know, but we do know that Christopher’s response to having his game paused is to ask Buck if they can go to Buck’s place to play instead. It’s the classic case of if one parents says no, ask the other. Buck defers to Eddie’s decisions even while Christopher is so set on both Buck and Eddie having authority. The whole thing is very domestic and fitting for them and their closeness being so easily read by Christopher just warms the heart.

Buck and Eddie just have such a good dynamic and this episode brought that out to play. It’s light and fluffy and the whole thing feels like fluffy warm fanfic straight from Ao3.

This all comes to a head when Buck — and Christopher — play a prank on Eddie by having that coffee maker he’s being haunted by delivered. The whole thing is perfect, from Eddie’s confusion to Christopher calling Buck once Eddie brings in the package. While this is obviously teasing, there’s also the layer that tells us that Buck went through the trouble of spending money on something that Eddie did at one point want. Maybe he’s too paranoid to use it after everything, but it is the thought that counts.

I love how well suited the three of them are to each other and how they really are in many ways family. They bring each other joy. They know each other. And the thing about Buddie is that these are the things we want for them. We want the domesticity and the partnership and them just being there for each other. Them being open with each other. Them teasing and playing around with each other. It really isn’t hard to imagine them being a couple and being romantically involved because we are already so many of the steps in. If I didn’t know better everything that happened in this episode could have been happening between an established couple. It really is that simple.

By the end of the episode, they are getting ready to head out to Texas and we have a lovely moment of them together before they go. To touch briefly on the crossover, it’s interesting that Buck is excited when they arrive there to be working with Eddie. He isn’t happy when Hen abandons him to work with the medics and then is definitely feeling left behind when Eddie also has somewhere else to help out. The scene plays it off like Buck is impressed or interested by Marjan and he wishes to be the one going with Marjan, but I think it’s more to do with Eddie.

There is a slight difference in his disappointment when Hen goes to do her own thing and with Eddie. It does make me wonder why that line from the promo was cut, the one where Buck says: “Do you think it will be weird, fighting fires with other departments?” because while Buck does fine working with TK and Mateo and the other firefighters, it’s also interesting that he maybe feels strange about not working with his team. This could even add to Buck’s abandonment issues and why he’s been talking to a therapist. Still, by the end of the crossover we see that Buck and Eddie are still Buck and Eddie and nothing has changed and with all the stuff going on with Maddie and this big secret reveal that we have coming up, it’s so nice to see that Buck does have someone that he trusts and that has his back in Eddie.

#911 fox #911 meta #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 on fox #meta #spoilers

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schrijverr · 3 years ago

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'Till Death Do Us Part

Part 13 out of 13

When Alex has to bring Philip to work, he and Thomas discover that they both have something in common: they lost their love. They form an unexpected bond and connection about this that grows into something more.

A medium burn with parental feelings about Philip and flowers.

On AO3.

Ships: Jamilton

Warnings: very very brief mentions of death

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

Chapter 13: Lesser Celandine Means ‘Joys to Come’

The nine-year-old bounded out before Alex and Thomas through the botanical garden. They had been living together for about three years already and life was treating them right.

Both still worked for Washington, they still argued about small stuff – which they claimed were discussions in good faith and their friends called bickering like a married couple – and Philip was doing well in school.

They had fallen into a routine together that the versions of themselves from five years ago could have never pictured. As much as they started as jagged edges running along each other, they now found themselves puzzle pieces fitting together.

It was early May and one of the first few beautiful days of the month after a lot of rain, so the three had decided to go to the botanical garden nearby.

However, Alex didn’t know that Thomas and Philip were in on a plot together, a plot to do with a little box in Thomas’s pocket.

Philip pointed at a cactus and yelled: “Look, it got spikes!”

“I can see that, kiddo,” Thomas called out to him, “Can it flower?”

After reading the little sign for a moment, Philip pouted and yelled back: “No.”

“That’s a pity,” Thomas said, then called out: “This one here had beautiful peach colored flowers, if you want to see.”

“That’s not peach,” Alex butted in.

“Yes, it is,” Thomas retorted.

“No, it’s obviously orange.”

“What do you think orange looks like?” Thomas sounded more distressed than anything.

If Alex looked again, he could see that it was indeed peach and the lighting had made it appear more orange than it actually was, but now he had taken a stance. So, he said: “Kind of like that, though I will give you that it’s light orange.”

“Peach is pastel orange, you know that right?” Thomas said.

“So, then I’m right and it’s orange,” Alex shrugged.

“No, because there are many shades of orange and this particular one is peach,” Thomas sounded frustrated.

“I don’t know, Tom,” Alex made a great show of observing the peach colored flower, “If I look at it now, it looks more like apricot.”

“Peach is the lighter and pastel version apricot,” Thomas exclaimed, “The difference is literally super small, but I know my colors and this is lighter than apricot, okay. It’s peach.”

Alex grinned at him and the realization dawned, Thomas tiredly stated: “You’re just doing this to fuck with me.”

“You know me so well,” Alex smirked.

From between them, Philip spoke up: “I think it looks pretty.”

“It does,” Alex agreed, before reading the signs and saying: “Oeh, there’s a butterfly greenhouse, we should go.”

Thomas took Philip’s hand and offered Alex his arm: “Lead the way, darlin’.”

In the butterfly greenhouse they marveled at the butterflies fluttering around. Alex looked mostly up, but Thomas and Philip made sure to read each sign, since they had agreed on a certainflower for it to happen.

When they walked past a particular patch of flowers, Thomas got distracted by Alex, who gasped when a butterfly landed on his face. He grinned at Thomas, who snapped a picture. Then Philip elbowed him in the side and pointed at a sign.

They found it.

Philip quietly retreated to the background with the camera, while Thomas squatted and pretended to read the little sign.

He hummed and read: “Lesser Celandine, or Ficaria verna. Classified as a noxious weed, since it flowers before much of the native fauna, establishing dominance over native species.”

Alex stopped looking up and inspected the small yellow flowers. He hummed: “Interesting, what made that flower catch you eye?”

“Well,” Thomas said, here it was, “I happen to know their meaning.”

“Is that so?” Alex asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.

“Yes, they mean ‘joys to come’,” Thomas shifted and reached into his pocket, “And I was wondering if you would want to explore all of the joys in the world with me.”

Gasping Alex looked at him with wide eyes, completely speechless.

“We’ve been through so much together,” Thomas went on, “You gave me so much more than I’d ever thought I’d have. So, Alexander, will you marry me?”

Alex didn’t care that he looked like the ultimate gay stereotype as he fanned his hands in excitement, tears in his eyes as he nodded and chocked out: “Yes!”

Thomas grinned and took out the ring to slip on Alex’s finger. Philip ran up behind him, camera still in hand as he threw his arms around Thomas’s neck, still at the perfect height from where he was knelt and babbled: “You said yes, right, Papa? You and Da are getting married!”

“I did, Pip,” Alex grinned, admiring the simple band with purple stone, “And I suppose you were in on it, little rascal.”

“Of course,” Philip smiled toothily as Thomas stood up, lifting Philip in a piggy back, “Da had to ask someone for your hand.”

“You asked Pip for permission?” Alex laughed.

Thomas shrugged: “Seemed the best option. I felt like he should get a say.”

“And I knew who he could trust,” Philip added.

“Oh yeah?” Alex asked, amused.

“Hm-hm,” Philip nodded.

“Yeah,” Thomas agreed, “It was smart to not involve Laf in this, just Eliza.”

“Dork,” Alex rolled his eyes, but he knew Eliza still had his ring size from when he and her went to find rings for his wedding to John.

“But I’m your dork,” Thomas informed him, “And you’ve just agreed to that being permanent, so I feel like that’s more on you than on me.”

“You’re insufferable,” was Alex’s reply, but they all saw he couldn't stop smiling.

“I know,” Thomas agreed, putting Philip down.

Alex pulled him into a kiss, while Pip made slight gagging noises that they both ignored. When they pulled apart, Alex whispered against his lips: “This was perfect, you’re perfect. Thank you.”

“Charmer.”

“God, I can’t wait to tell everyone!” Alex gushed. He had been the one to ask John, so he never got the excitement of sharing, just the stress of asking. The novelty of this new feeling, making him even more excited about it.

Thomas smiled at him, love filled eyes. Alex didn’t even know how beautiful he looked right now, basked in sunlight with butterflies fluttering around him as his eyes sparkled and his smile tried to break his face in two.

He kissed him.

“What was that for?”

“You’re beautiful.”

“Who’s the charmer now?” Alex teased.

“Da, Da, did you show him your ring?” Philip tugged on Thomas’s hand.

“I hope you don’t mind that I got myself one, I just had an idea,” Thomas shrugged, when he saw Alex’s quirked brow.

“I helped pick!” Philip told him proudly.

“Really?”

“Jup,” Thomas confirmed as he showed him the ring. It was identical to Alex’s, except that the stone was green instead of purple. Thomas said: “You know, those few years ago, I thought it was kind of obvious that we wouldn’t like each other, because purple and green are on other sides of the color spectrum, but I had forgotten how well they go together.”

“Only you’d judge people based on their color pallet,” Alex rolled his eyes, but his voice betrayed how touched he was.

“Do you like them?” Philip asked, eyes shining.

“I love them, Pip,” Alex ruffled his hair.

Thomas offered him his arm and that way Alex could look at his own hand, resting on Thomas’s arm with the ring reflecting the light. As they walked through the rest of the garden, Alex missed most of the flowers by being distracted.

That evening they invited their friends for drinks, when they were all sitting around Eliza spoke up, she had been the one involved, so she knew why this was happening: “So, Alex, any reason for the sudden get together?”

Alex grinned at her: “Well, Betsy, there is actually.”

“Is that so?” Eliza smirked.

“Jup, I got some jewelry today,” Alex told her, holding up his hand to show off the ring.

It was quiet for a second, then everyone seemed to make the connection and there was a wall of noise as everyone congratulated them, asked them how or when, as well as demanded to see the rings.

As Laf held their hands to see and compare the rings, he cried: “These are beautiful, but why wasn’t I told.”

“To be fair, I did think about it, but I was warned against it,” Thomas told him.

“Why!” Laf pouted.

“Because you nearly told John, by bursting out in tears when you saw him,” Eliza cut in, “I had to tell him your pet bird back in France died and he looked like him.”

“Oh, so that’s why he gave me a drawing of a bird,” Laf nodded, then moved on, “Anyway, I have grown, I would have been the perfect wingman in this.”

“I think Philip did a great job,” Thomas disagreed, “Right, kiddo?”

“Yeah, I got it on camera,” Philip said proudly, inviting a new round of chaos as everyone demanded to see.

“Ahw, ‘Lexi, you cried,” Angelica cooed, teasingly.

“I didn’t,” Alex huffed.

Herc looked at the video again and said: “Well, man, it kinda looks like you did.”

“Give me that,” Alex studied it, “No, maybe there was a bit of moist happening, but I feel like that’s more all the pollen in the air. We were in a big garden after all.”

“First of, using moist and grossing everyone out isn’t working,” Peggy said, “Second of, you fucking cried, just admit it.”

“I will agree to teary eyed, but no more,” Alex told her.

“Alright, Mr. Teary Eyed Little Baby Man,” Peggy rolled her eyes.

“Now that’s just plain rude,” Alex pouted.

“No,” James said, from where he had gotten a hold of the recording, “that’s truth, I can see it clearly here in this frame.”

“Gimme,” Lafayette snatched it and snapped a picture of it, “We need to start collecting pictures to show at the wedding.”

“Oh no, you’re all going to be terrible,” Alex whined.

“No, we’re going to be helpful,” Laf corrected.

“I somehow doubt that,” Thomas sided with Alex.

In the end they did have to come back on that. Their friends were absolute champions when it came to wedding planning. Though Thomas and Alex mostly made decisions themselves, the others were all there to give second opinions or double check for them.

They had decided on a late spring/ early summer wedding, so it would take a little less than a year, before they actually got married, but wedding planning took time and Alex took great joy in the word fiance.

Thomas did too, he just didn’t want to admit it.

That summer they arrived in Monticello – as had become tradition – however, instead of the usual greetings, they were met with: “Show us the rings.”

“No, hello, how are you, long time no see, what have you been up to. Of course not, why would they ask about us instead of some shiny pieces of metal,” Thomas grumbled playfully as he and Alex were practically passed around by the family.

Alex just grinned and let them, still amazed by the family he had accumulated.

Thomas had been right back then when he had told Alex that with Ma and Mary on their side everyone was bound to like him too, but Alex had still been nervous each time he met one of Thomas’s siblings. A fear he could now hardly imagine with how comfortable he had gotten in his family, a family he would soon be officially part of.

When he got to Ma, she pulled him into a hug: “I’m so happy for the two of you, son.”

And Alex couldn't do anything, but hug back and say: “Me too, Ma, me too.”

The months came and went and soon they were sending out the wedding invitations out. It was plain white paper, with on the back the date and place as well as the instruction to come dressed in white. While the front bore a poem written in cursive:

let us live like flowers

wild and beautiful

and drenched in sun

e.e.

When the day was there, Alex was stressing in the back of the church, while Thomas was waiting in the front. Alex had offered him the position of walking down the aisle, but Thomas had declined claiming it was too much pressure and that he at least knew what to expect if he got to stand.

Thomas was wearing a beautiful tailored magenta suit made by Hercules as he nervously shifted his weight from foot to foot.

The doors at the back of the church opened and first came the groomsmen and the bridesmaids. All decked out in beautiful white with accents in the colors of the bouquet, as well as flowers in their hair.

It began with Eliza and Maria, after them came James and Angelica, Lafayette and Peggy, Randy and Mary with Herc again roped into the position of flower boy, though he was helped by Kitty and Francie.

Once James, Angie, Laf, Randy and Mary had taken their places behind Thomas and Eliza, Maria Herc and Peggy on Alex’s side, the theme for Alex to walk started to play.

He was given away by Jane, who wore an elegant white 50s style dress, while Alex wore a tightly tailored emerald green suit. His hair was braided with flowers in it matching his bouquet of cluster musk rose, Christmas rose, heliotrope and hawthorn.

From the round window the sun illuminated him and Thomas’s breath caught when he saw him walk. There might have been tears, but that was a whole other thing.

Jane gave his hand to Thomas and smiled at him, before going to take her place in the audience with Kitty and Francie and the rest of the Jefferson clan.

Everyone sat and Washington appeared by Alex and Thomas’s side, ready to ordain them. Before he started Philip came down the aisle carrying the rings. He was dressed in an adorable light blue suit and his hair was tied back with a ribbon in the same color.

After he had given the rings to Washington, he stood next to Alex.

Alex had wanted to make him his best man, but since the best man had to sign as witness and Philip was too small for that, he was the ring bearer and Eliza would sign for Alex and James for Thomas, just like both had done before.

Washington started: “We’re here today to witness the union between Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson. Before this is officiated, they will say theirvows.”

“Thomas, when I first saw you I thought you were incredibly handsome and a gigantic asshole. One of my assessments has been proven entirely incorrect. You are one of the most kindhearted souls, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting,” Alex began.

He went on: “To me you are laughter over dinner, jokes in the hallways at works, a shoulder to lean on, a hand to hold like an anchor. You are sparkling eyes with crinkles that paint happiness on your features and a mouth that runs as smart as mine.”

“You know how to argue, but also when to let go,” Alex said, “You keep me on my toes, while knowing I sometimes just need to stand. I claim your arguments are shit and while that can be true, they always make me think and I love that.”

“The way you care for Philip and never asked for more than I could give, made my heart grow so fond of you that I cannot possibly picture a life wherein I do not love you,” he told him, “When I come home and see you there, I feel like I am whole.”

“According to Eliza I can’t force everyone to sit through the hundred pages I had written – even though it’s my wedding – which is rude, so I’ll try to wrap it up,” at that Thomas laughed, he could picture the scenario clearly.

“So, Thomas, you are all the little things that make life great,” Alex said, “No matter what, I want to support you and care for you, because I love you so much that it would hurt if it didn’t feel so right. I love you.”

Both were crying a bit and Alex chocked on the last three words as his hands shook while trying to put the ring on Thomas’s finger.

“Darlin’, you came into my life like a forest fire,” Thomas began, “You burned through all my arguments and notions of the world, like that was what you were meant to do. For a long time I thought you were out of control, but you proved me wrong once again.”

“You see, you’re not a forest fire,” he told Alex, “You’re a bonfire, a hearth in the heart of the home, a central place for family to gather. You make sure to keep the ones you care about warm, to illuminate them and pull them out of the darkness.”

He went on: “I always thought you talked too much, but I now know that for all your words, you know how to listen. Your smile can do as much as your words and you know how far a hug can go. The way you can be so intensely caring for the people you love is breathtaking.”

“I wanted to compare you to a thousand other things, but nothing could fully describe your beauty both within and out, which is incredibly corny, yet completely true,” he chuckled, “Anyway, this is my long winded way of telling you that I love you too.”

Now it was Thomas’s turn to struggle with the ring through the tears while behind them Washington began to speak again: “Alexander Hamilton, do you take Thomas Jefferson to be your lawfully wedded husband, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer,in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish,‘till death do you part?”

“I do.”

“And Thomas Jefferson, do you take Alexander Hamilton to be your lawfully wedded husband, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer,in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish‘till death do you part?”

“I do.”

“Then you may now kiss the groom.”

Neither hesitated to kiss the other lovingly, while beside them the church burst out in cheers and applause.

After they broke apart, they waved at everyone as they walked out of the church, with Philip between them.

Outside they took pictures with everyone, since everyone who had come was decked out in white, the three spots of color stood out all the more.

The time came to do one with the entire family, Alex cried again as both his friends and Thomas’s relatives gathered around them. When he had gotten to America he was all alone and then he had lost part of his family again, but now he was surrounded by almost more people than he could count.

They also took one where Thomas carried Alex bridal style, something Alex and John – being around the same height – had both failed at when they had tried at their wedding. Before Thomas could do it, Alex asked with apprehension: “Are you sure about this?”

“I’ve done this before, it’ll be fine,” Thomas smiled reassuringly, before literally sweeping Alex off his feet. He informed Alex of that fact and got an annoyed look in return, which was beautifully captured and framed by Angelica for on their desks at work.

The Schuyler sister insisted on taking one with Alex, because he was practically their brother anyways.

They took one with the Washingtons and Jane, a picture in which Alex had never felt so short in his entire life.

Herc and Laf, roped Randy and James into taking a picture where they carried the two groomsmen on their shoulders, something that most definitely went almost wrong on multiple occasions.

However, Alex’s favorite picture was the one where he and Thomas held Philip between them and both kissed a cheek, while Philip beamed.

Later he would hang that picture on the mantle between the other two wedding pictures, finally filling the promise that had been in the empty space.

But for now they went to the wedding venue for the reception.

When they were greeting all the guests at the reception, Burr congratulated themwith Theodosia at his side, little Theo had already disappeared with Philip, Kitty and Francie. He shook Alex’s hand: “Congratulations to both of you.”

“What a nice change to see you both here, you were even at the ceremony,” Alex grinned as he also shook Theodosia’s hand. Her smiling and congratulating them both.

“You’re never letting that go, aren’t you?” Burr sighed tiredly.

“Never,” Alex confirmed, “Good to have you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Burr waved as they disappeared into the crowd.

“What’s the story there?” Thomas asked, leaning in.

“I’ll tell you later,” Alex whispered back, before smiling and greeting the next guests.

Once everyone was there Alex and Thomas got to cut the cake. They had both agreed that neither of them would push cake into the other’s face, which meant that both ended up with cake in their face, naturally.

They mingled until dinner, when it was time for everyone’s speeches.

Thomas’s siblings all had rewritten a song from Thomas’s youth to fit the two of them and preformed it badly, but with a lot of love.

“I don’t know them,” Thomas whispered to Alex when they did that, making Alex laugh.

Jane retold embarrassing childhood from Thomas’s youth while Herc and Peggy had put together a PowerPoint of all Alex’s lowest points college and after.

Highlights included him standing on a table in a bar, tie around his head with a group surrounding him from that time he had attempted a revolution.

There was a picture of him surrounded by empty coffee cups, while he was passed out between them, face covered with sharpie.

Him with a cat on his lap, while he looked very displeased. Herc and Peggy took great joy in explaining why the cat had put that look on Alex’s face.

And it ended with the frozen frame of Alex crying – still claiming misty eyed, Pegs – while Thomas proposed to him, obviously they’d had help from Lafayette, but the Frenchman had an entire speech for them, mostly existing out of ‘I told you so’s.’

Washington had a short heartfelt speech about seeing them grow at work together as well as a few army stories about Alex.

Then Angelica stood up to give a speech: “I have to admit that when Thomas fell onto my couch over fouryears ago proclaiming that he couldn't flirt, I could not have predicted that we would be here now. Naturally I rooted for them, but you have to know that Thomas and Alex could be like water and oil at work, or maybe oil and fire would be a better description.”

A few chuckles from colleagues were heard.

“But here we are and I have seen how much you two have grown together,” Angelica went on, “Did I have to bribe and threaten you both to get that information? Maybe, but I did get to know everything.”

Thomas and Alex laughed at that.

“I remember the little humble beginnings, the tentative flirting, the first dates, the panic, the good times,” Angelica said, “And I knew you both for many years before that, I have seen you both happy and sad. And I am not the poetic one here, but I know what love looks like in your eyes and I can see it on both of your faces.”

She raised her glass: “To the grooms.”

The room echoed.

“From you friend, who is always by your side,” she went on, “To your union.”

“To your union.”

“And the family you have build,” she finished, “May you always be content and satisfied.”

She gave them both a kiss on the cheek and ignored they were all crying before she went back to her seat and Philip got to the front.

With Eliza as hypewoman, he walked in the Schuyler sister’s footsteps with a poem he had written and preformed as a rap:

“My name is Philip, I am poet

I wrote this poem just to show it

And I, can speech fine

You can find family, but you can’t find mine!

I practice French and play kite with my father

I have a Papa, and he’s a great fellow robber

My daddies tying the knot on this day, swank

Un, duex, trois, quatre, cinq!”

Everyone cheered and cooed as he ran into Alex’s arms afterwards and made himself at home on their laps as Eliza said a few words: “Alex is the speech writer between us both while I tell him it can’t be too long, so do not expect essays.”

There were chuckles around the room and Alex rolled his eyes, knowing she added that because she knew he would call her out in his vows, which she had proof read for him many times.

“But I did want to say that you’re a fighter,” she looked at Alex, “You always have been and I can see how much you’ve met your match in Thomas. I’m happy for you both.”

Alex hugged her closely and whispered: “God fucking dammit, Betsy, you’re not allowed to make me cry again on my wedding.”

She whispered back: “Like you weren’t already crying, you big baby.”

“Plausible deniability,” he sniffed.

“We’re filming it,” she smirked, before hugging Thomas as well and patting Philip on his head as she went back to her spot next to Maria.

Lastly, James got up to speak: “I am not a man of many words, so I’m keeping it short,” Thomas smirked and nodded at that, “All the times you annoyed me, Thomas, about what to do, have been worth it to see you so happy again.”

Now it was Thomas’s time to get emotional, hugging James tightly and saying: “I knew you cared,” attempting to tease and obviously failing.

“I know, a shocker,” James pretended it had worked.

After that dinner was served and everyone appreciated the dishes set out. While they ate, the whole room was alight with chatter as people talked, laughed and enjoyed themselves.

When the time came to dance, Thomas lead Alex to the tune of Hozier’s Like Real People Do. It was slightly haunting, but they had picked it, because it fit them so well. The song told the story about the singer recognizing the sadness in his lovers eyes and making them forget, focusing on the now.

As they spun, Thomas looked into Alex’s eyes with that crinkled smile and Alex nearly melted into the floor as he faltered as step.

He unknowingly retaliated, when Thomas picked him up and he beamed down. His braid had loosened slightly and a pluck of hair framed his face, while the lights gave him a halo, causing Thomas to nearly drop him.

Since there wasn’t really a father-daughter dance, Alex danced with Martha Washington, while Thomas danced with Jane. And after that, the two of them danced with Philip, the three of them laughing as they attempted it.

Throughout the night Alex danced with all the Schuyler sisters, Lafayette and Herc, while Thomas was whisked away by his own sister as well as Angelica and Lafayette.

At some point Jane took Alex’s hand and made him dance with her. Once they were on the floor, Alex smiled: “Hey, Ma, enjoying the wedding so far?”

“Immensely, sweetheart,” Jane smiled, patting his cheek, before he spun her.

“You’re an amazing dancer,” he commented.

“I’m spry for my age.”

“What age? You look not a day over thirty,” he grinned.

“Charmer,” she smiled, then said, “But I wanted to properly welcome you to the family. You’ve been a part for a long time, but still, today is a big day.”

She stopped dancing and reached into her purse. Out of it she got an old time watch with a leather arm band. As she handed it to Alex, she said: “When Thomas came out as pan to me, I prepared a wedding gift for all genders, just in case. Martha got my grandmother’s necklace, but this was my late husbands watch.”

“I- I don’t know what to say,” Alex stared at it with big eyes, he’d never had a family item.

“Maybe a thank you,” Jane grinned.

“Yeah, of course, thank you so much,” Alex hugged her, and repeated,“Thank you so much, Ma.”

She patted her cheek when he let go and said: “No problem, you’re one of us now and we don’t let go easily.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Alex smiled.

They parted ways again when the song was over and Thomas appeared at his side: “What was that about?”

Alex showed his wrist: “She gave me this.”

Thomas looked at it, then smiled sadly: “I remember that. It suits you.”

“You think so?”

“I know so,” Thomas told him, “I also know that Lafayette and Herc are about to do what they’re calling a classic college trick at the chocolate fountain and I need you to either stop them if it’s bad or help them.”

“Oh, definitely helping,” Alex remembered this one, “Grab your phone and film it. We’ll get them back if they ever get married.”

After an eventful night with enough tomfoolery that they were probably permanently banned to ever rent a venue from that company again, they returned home.

Thomas carried Philip to bed, while Alex put away their wedding gifts. When he was done, he joined Thomas’s in Philip’s threshold.

“He’s still so young,” Thomas commented, “But he looks like when I first met him when he sleeps.”

“That’s already so long ago,” Alex hugged Thomas’s arm, leaning heavily on the other man.

“It seems crazy,” Thomas agreed.

Alex hummed, then they stood there in silence, before Alex asked: “Did you have a good day?”

“Of course, I did,” Thomas replied, then after a beat, “Though I am fucking exhausted after this, why did we invite all those people again? I hate talking to people.”

“Because we wanted to actually fill the church,” Alex grinned, “But you’re right, I could sleep for a week.”

“Well, sleeping beauty, you will have to make do to with,” Thomas checked the time, “five whole hours, then we have to catch a plane.”

“Ah, yes,” Alex said, “Paris is waiting.”

“Along with the future.”

“You fucking sap.”

“Excuse you, that’s your fucking forever sap, Mister.”

“Yeah, yeah it is.”

“Who’s the sap now?”

“Oh, shut up,” Alex said, but didn’t protest when Thomas lead him back to their bedroom. They still had a future waiting for them. ‘Till death to them part, after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N:

Today in I try to write a natural time skip between chapters.

Me describing a scene in a botanical garden with one flower as the end goal along with a whole ass wedding with flowers, is such a struggle lmao, but that’s what I get for making flowers important.

Btw the wedding bouquet means charming (cluster musk rose), relieve my anxiety (Christmas rose), devotion/faithfulness (heliotrope) and hope (hawthorn). Fun fact: I wanted to name this chapter after heliotrope at first, but that felt a bit too cliché.

Also the bit of poetry is from ‘i saw you as a flower’I got the book! It’s so cute and I love it, I’ve never been a poetry person, but I’ve always wanted to be, so here’s to me trying stuff :D

I am never getting married for the sole reason that I do not want to write vows ever again.

Also, the wedding bouquet:

#RR writing #tw: death mention #Hamilton #Hamilton AU #alexander hamilton #thomas jefferson #philip hamilton #eliza schuyler #angelica schuyler #lafayette #marquis de lafayette #james maddison #hercules mulligan #washington #everyone kinda lmao #Jamilton #'Till Death Do Us Part #'Till Death Do Us Part Part 13 #'Till Death Do Us Part AU

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fuckingfinwions · 3 years ago

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Prompt: Maedhros/Fingon/Nolofinwe/Curufin/Celebrimbor, servant AU-Au where maedhros becomes king, submission, power play: Fingon being head concubine of the pseudo-harem, Fingon & Nolo teaching Curufin the ropes (or not! because fingon hates him?), stuff about tyelpe being the least used concubine, curufin being forced to submit and broken down while nolo & fingon enjoy relative calm and freedom, the orgy where maedhros takes control for the first time, fingon/nolo being ordered to dom curufin?

(This doesn’t cover all of that, but here's Curufin being "broken in" with lots of power play)

Curufin had been tied to the wall in Maedhros's bedroom for two days straight, ever since Feanor's death. There was a spreader bar between his ankles, and ring gag buckled in his mouth. Occasionally Maedhros ordered Fingon or Nolofinwe to turn him to face the wall so that Maedhros could fuck him, but most of the time he faced the room with a plug in his ass.

Maedhros returned from his business ruling the city.

Maedhros idly picked up a crop, twirling it in one hand as he looked at Curufin. "Hmm. I want to relax after a long day, but you're just going to cause me more stress, aren’t you?"

Maedhros summoned Fingon and Nolofinwe. While he waited for them to arrive, he played with the crop, striking Curufin's chest and thighs but avoiding any particularly sensitive spots.

There was a knock at the door. "Your Majesty?"

"Come in." Maedhros sat in the armchair by the fire. "Fingon, strip and come over here. Are you prepped for me?"

"Not yet, your majesty."

Maedhros sighed in disappointment. "Open yourself quickly then, you know where the oil is. I want to fuck someone interested in my pleasure before spending an evening training this stubborn new one."

"Yes, your majesty," Fingon said.

Curufin made a noise behind the gag that was presumably intended to be a cutting remark about how Maedhros could just not rape him at all.

"Nolo, discipline your new friend for me while I'm busy. Five hits with the crop, anywhere except his cock. And take your tunic off first, I like your back when you move.”

"Yes your majesty." Nolofinwe had imagined many times what it would be like to make Prince Curufin endure the beatings he regularly dished out. But still, there was no joy in forcing another to the same life as his family.

Fingon rode Maedhros to completion - Maedhros's if not his own. Fingon let Maedhros's cock slide out of his hole, began to stand up.

Maedhos's hand on his ankle convinced him to pause. Instead, he sat back down, careful to place his weight on his spread legs rather than on Maedhros’s lap. Maedhros kissed him once, then ran a hand down his back, slipping between his cheeks and back out again.

"Nolo, what advice do you have on how to break him in?"

"I'm sorry, your majesty, I don't understand what you mean?"

Fingon wished he could exchange glances with his father, see if he should distract Maedhros or let this continue, but turning to look would be far too obvious.

"To teach my former brother his new place in this household, and stop having him try to bite in spite of the gag."

"I'm afraid I don't know, your majesty. I doubt I have a more informed opinion than anyone else."

"Oh, don't be modest. My father trained you in similar circumstances. Since he's no around to ask for advice, you're the only one with firsthand experience."

Nolo generally tried to put the whole year after his father's death completely out of his mind. "I have not thought on that in a while, your majesty. It was a painful time."

"I'm telling you to think on it now. How did my father turn you from a noble prince of the Noldor into an obedient servant and whore who will follow any order I give, regardless of the pain?"

Nolo sighed. “Feanor started by having me do normal servant’s tasks. When I protested that they were demeaning, he kept me in his bedroom for three days, beating me and raping me. The guards had orders not to let me leave, and though I might have fought free alone, I had three small children and would not abandon them. I continued to do servant’s work in the day. For the nights, I would rather walk to Feanor’s room and walk out in an hour than be dragged there for all night - or even several.”

Fingon shivered. He had never heard any of this, and had not known he was the reason his father submitted to this mistreatment.

“Tell me the details. I’m sure I’ll do some things differently with my own servants, but it will be a good start. Were you told the rules at the start, or only when you broke them? Was it pain or humiliation that you noticed most? Did the old king let you think you had any power at all to bargain away, or did he make clear your worthlessness immediately?”

Fingon didn’t want to hear any of this. “Should we be speaking of such in front of him? He can fight back better if he knows the plan.”

Maedhros wrapped one hand around Fingon’s balls, stopping just short of making a fist. “Do not interrupt. When I ask a question, I want to hear the whole answer. And you will address me by title unless I’m fucking you, in which case you may use my name, but you can never just skip addressing me at all, as if we were peers.”

Fingon’s eyes watered from the pain. “I’m sorry, your majesty. I intended no insult. I won’t speak out of turn again.”

“If you do, you’ll have to put on a gag,” Maedhros warned, though he loosened his grip. “Nolo, speak.”

“Of course, your majesty. King Feanaro didn’t explain the rules at all, unless you count saying that I was his personal fucktoy now. I was punished for being late or rude, but he did not tell what counted as rudeness until I had overstepped - and sometimes not even then.

“The pain was harder to ignore, but the humiliation hurt more. I could at times almost disconnect, focus only the next necessary action rather than its reason, but pain was always going to happen. The first few weeks - perhaps months - I was constantly in pain, whether because I had disobeyed or simply because Feanaro wished to see me cry."

“That is useful to know,” Maedhros said. “Hand me the crop now and get between him and the wall. I’m going to hit him while you pleasure him, but don’t bring him off.”

Fingon asked, "Your majesty, is there a reason you haven't been calling him by his name? We all kept ours when we were made servants."

"None of you are named after the previous high king. I suppose Nolo technically is, but that's easy enough to shorten. This one, though, used to be called Curufinwe Atarinke. There's very little to that name that doesn't indicate he is the son of King Curufinwe Feanaro, a title he no longer has a right to."

Curufin yelled at that, trying to bring his legs up and kick Maedhros.

"What should the steward put on his lists then your majesty, once the new one is..." Fingon paused as he searched for term Maedhros would like better than ‘beaten into submission’, "properly trained? Painslut or pet might be confusing."

"Hmm," Maedhros said. "I'd name him after a feature, but those are all so extremely Nolodrin it's hard to pick one out. Cumdump is likewise not specific. Perhaps Inke would do. It's already part of his name; should be easy enough to change the records."

Curufin protested wordlessly.

"I didn't ask for your opinion. Nolo, pull his legs up and fuck him. Don't bother with oil, he's had a plug in all day."

Curufin may have been plugged, but it had been hours ago. He was practically dry by now. Nolofinwe sheathed himself in one thrust, and his own moan of pain was covered by Curufin’s louder scream.

Nolofinwe didn’t dare take long to adjust though, with Maedhros staring at them. He slowly began to thrust, trying to focus on how nice it was to be topping for once, and not on how rough the slide was or on Curufin’s tears of pain.

To the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, Maedhros said. "Yes, Inke fits him well. Such a tight little thing to stick my cock in. Lissinke if I want something longer, once he eventually sweetens up."

Maedhros allowed Nolofinwe to come in Curufin’s ass. When he pulled out, there was a sticky mess dripping between Curufin’s thighs, but no trace of blood.

Maedhros turned to Fingon, who had been obediently waiting, kneeling with his cock hard and his arms behind his back. "Is Inke any good at sucking cock?"

"I have no idea, your majesty."

"I though he might have swallowed one of you before; those lips would look perfect stretched wide."

"He was very conscious of his station - I mean his former station."

"Take him down and try him out. Report to me whether or not he knows what he's doing."

"Your majesty, is that wise?"

Maedhros slapped Fingon across the face. "Don't question my orders. I don't plan to leave Inke on my wall forever; it’s very inconvenient to use him like that, and some nights I’ll prefer to not see him at all. Take him down and fuck his throat."

Fingon did so, with his father helping control Curufin’s flailing arms until Fingon could get them properly cuffed together. He tied to crawl away repeatedly, until Fingon tied Curufin’s feet to a small table and sat down himself in one the chairs nearby.

Fingon was still reluctant to put his mouth in Curufin’s face when he was so angry, and looked around for more things he could do to waste time.

"He has a ring gag, he can't bite,” Maedhros said. “Fuck his face now, or else I'll take the gag out and you can do it to shut him up”

“Yes, your majesty.” Fingon grabbed Curufin’s hair and yanked him into position - it was only fair after all, with the number of times Curufin had done the same to him. Fingon kept moving Curufin by the hair, setting a harsh pace and barely giving Curufin time to breathe.

“Well, how is he?”

“He has absolutely no idea what he’s doing, but his mouth is gorgeous. And he’s not choking.”

“Then let’s see how well Inke does with multitasking.”

Maedhros oiled his cock and thrust into Curufin’s ass. Curufin choked as he was shoved forward and further onto Fingon’s cock.

Fingon winced as his cock bumped into Curufin’s back teeth, but in a moment he was down Curufin’s throat. It was hot and tight and wet, and Fingon barely remembered to let Curufin breathe. He had never been deep-throated before, and it was amazing from this side of the experience.

Fingon and Maedhros quickly fell into a rhythm, one of them pulling out of Curufin as the other pushed in, tugging Curufin’s body between the with no care for his comfort or pleasure at all. Fingon wondered if this was how the Princes always felt, when two of them took him, or one of them ordered him to team up on Turgon and Fingon spent the whole time hoping his little brother didn’t pass out.

Fingon liked it a lot. He told himself it was justice, that Curufin had raped him and others often without even the excuse of orders, and so deserved to know what it was like to be on the receiving end of such treatment.

But it wasn’t any high principles that Fingon though of when he came. It was simply his cock in Curufin’s throat and his hands in Curufin’s hair, and Maedhros’s tongue licking open his lips, pleasure without any hint of pain.

Maedhros came a few moments after. Curufin didn’t move when he pulled out, simply laying on the ground and trying to catch his breath.

“Nolo, pick a plug and put it in Inke for the night; something different than he had earlier so he doesn't get too comfortable. Get a guard in here to put Inke back up, and then you’re dismissed. Fingon, you’ll sleep in my bed tonight. I’ve been busy lately, and haven’t touched you nearly as much as I would like.”

#timeline branch: maedhros gets the concubines #season of kink #servant nolofinweans au #power play #to add: Curufin expressing worry about his son rooming with ''perverts'' and Nolo finding that hypocritcal #to add: Fingon teaching celebrimbor how to do scutwork #actually this is already pretty long those additions can go in other pieces in this verse #lisse means sweet or sugar #so Maedhros has declared that Curufin's name is either Sweetie or Sugarbaby depending on how you want to translate it

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jubilantwriter · 4 years ago

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Heart Shaped like Sea Glass

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Part 4 - Distinctions Made to be Forgotten

Summary: Daniel has to remind himself constantly where he stands in this strange relationship he’s found himself in, less he forgets who they truly are and questions the choices he’s made.

im just. really living for this au. wowzers. this is probably the most prolific i’ve been for a story. anyway i hope you enjoyed that goofy fic last time because that’s gonna be the only nice, fun treat y’all be getting for a while

// // // // //

Humans are strange creatures. They experience loss, succumb to their desires, and die in various ways that may or may not feed him. They have a strange relationship with the ocean, some hating it, some loving it. Daniel isn't very envious of them - they live such short lives, after all, and they make for filling meals that can last him for days.

So of course he doesn't know much about them. After all, they're all food to him. But this human, the one he feeds every day now, is stranger than most he encounters.

The man doesn't protest much when Daniel barges into his home (to which the human tells him is called a "shack"), and he shares his meals with Daniel without a word (after Daniel takes the time to catch him the fish of the day, of course). He has never met a human more willing and more aware of the fact that he is, in fact, Daniel's next meal.

The more he provides for the human’s meals, the more he finds himself… feeling this strange tightness in his chest. It's not that it's off-putting, he thinks. No no, it must be that... it's too easy. Yes, that must be it.

It's too easy, sharing meals with this human, sharing conversation, and having the human accept his presence as though Daniel were nothing more than a-

Hm. Well, there's no fun in a meal that is too easy to hunt.

(He tells himself this over and over. It is the only reason, correct? Why he feels this unease, this unnerving feeling when the human's eyes still continue to look dull, like the broken shards he sometimes finds washed up in the sand, before the ocean carries away the debris from shipwrecks past and present.)

That's why he should be ecstatic when the human refuses to eat one day. He should be ecstatic, the human is being more impossible than usual, and that should make things exciting, right?

...Right?

"Human." He shakes the human's shoulder again, trying to rouse him out of his fake sleep. "Get up."

The human makes no sound, instead pulling the thin, worn cloth over his body some more and refusing to show his face. Daniel growls, frustrated because- well, it's because his prey is trying to starve himself! And starved prey never tastes good. Prey flavored with a proper diet taste the best, and they taste even better when they feel that rush of happiness, of pleasure, of joy, and all those positive emotions that make them taste so much like a sublime fillet of the most richest tasting salmon, or of that meaty, hearty taste of tuna. And all his efforts will be for naught if this human refuses to eat.

"You need to eat." Half a day has passed, and the human still refuses to answer Daniel. He curses himself, shaking the human more roughly as he remembers noticing the distant look in the human's eyes, how he gave Daniel more and more of his cooked fishes, how he grew more quiet, talked less, responded less, looked at Daniel less-

He doesn't know humans. He can't read the signs. But he chest squeezes and his face heats up as he realizes belatedly that he should have noticed. That probably wasn't normal human behavior, right? Oh but he doesn't know, he doesn't know! And now this human won't get up and eat, won't acknowledge him, won't speak to him-

The stench of rot almost makes him gag as he stumbles back from the human.

He's getting worse.

And Daniel doesn't know what to do.

He runs his talons through his hair, pacing around the human's abode as he thinks, and thinks, and thinks-

His song.

If. If he can't get the human to eat normally then-

Well. This is how he was always meant to hunt, right? He's a predator. Predators hunt. They kill. They lure and trap and chase after their prey and refuse to let up. Predators don't care for their prey as though they're little chicks in need of hand-holding, nor do predators feel... emotions when they see their prey struggling.

(Predators don't pace and fret and worry over their prey. Predators don't try to make them feel better. Predators find the weakest one, the sickest one, the most injured, the weakest, the youngest- and they strike without remorse. Because food. Is food.

Food. Is. Food.)

Daniel clears his throat. It's been a while since he's sung. He inhales deeply of the human's scent, ignores the rotting, and focuses on that deep-seated desire of his.

It smells like the ache of sprouts stuck under the shade of trees, unable to grow to their fullest potential. It smells a bit like bittersweet citrus, of fruits that bite at the tongue despite how desired they are. It smells like the trees on the mountains he's flown over every winter, the scent strong and overpowering and inescapable if he chooses to fly lower to the treeline.

They weave together into a song as his feathers fluff up, and an ancient power quietly fills his chest up as easily as a single breath of air.

"Cherished beloved, come lay in my arms. I swear to you, there'll be no charms. No more visions of death and harm. Come to me, and together we'll rest. From here on out, I promise the best."

The human jolts in his bed before sitting upright quickly. He turns to look at Daniel with eyes clouded over, (eyes wide and hurt and broken and pained and the stench strengthens and makes him gag) and he utters a soft, "Davey?"

The name of his lost love. He has no idea how he looks to the human, but he can see the tears pooling in the corner of his eyes as his breathing staggers and he stumbles out of his nest. Daniel opens his arms in a welcoming manner as he backs out of the shack. A broken sob escapes the human as he struggles to his feet.

"No- don't, don't go! It's dangerous, please, come back, I-"

Dangerous? Daniel quickly stops his train of thought as he continues to sing. "Follow me, my sweetest heart, and together at last, we'll make a new start."

"Davey!" The human lurches forward and tries to grab Daniel, but he quickly leaps back and puts more distance between them. The sand sifts between his toes as the wind begins to pick up. Idly, he realizes that a storm is on its way. The human flinches as a gust of wind hits him, and he stares wild-eyed and desperate as he reaches for Daniel. "Davey, Davey, come back please, I'll protect you- please, come back here, I don't need anything else, I don't want anything else, so please, please-!"

Daniel keeps stepping back, and the waves crash against the back of his legs as the human freezes in place.

(He's used to the ocean's angry whispers by now. That's what he tells himself, as the waves threaten to pull back further and further until they crash over him like a tidal wave. Except- except, there's something else in the whispers now too. A bitterness that he doesn't expect. A bitterness that borders on... dismay?)

"...Don't." The whispered word leaves the human like a strangled gasp. He reaches for Daniel again as his eyes widen in a vision that Daniel can't see. "Don't go in."

In? Daniel looks behind him. The ocean is agitated, true, but it won't be for a few more minutes before the waves grow tall enough to sweep and pull him away from the beach. A wave crashes over his feet, pulling the sand out from under him as he adjusts his position to stay upright. But the movement is enough to elicit a scream from the human, and before he knows it, hands are grabbing his arm and he's being yanked forward and into something warm.

When did the human-!

They both stumble as the human falls backwards onto his ass, Daniel's face pressed flush against his chest as he braces himself with his hands on the wet sand. Daniel barely has a moment to lift his face away from the human when the brunette’s hands bury themselves in Daniel's hair and clothes. He's pressed tight and flush against the human as warm tears splash against his shoulder.

This... feels familiar.

"Don't go in," the human whimpers out, "the forest is dangerous."

Forest?

The human keeps Daniel in his protective grip, nearly folding the siren into his arms as he curls over the blonde. "Please, I can't lose you again...!"

Rain begins to pour heavily from the heavens. Daniel looks down to where his talons can easily dig into the human's back. How he can sink his fangs into the human's neck and rip out a chunk of flesh that would leave the human's voice garbled and choking.

Daniel is a predator.

He is a predator.

And predators hunt the weakest of the group.

His mouth draws closer to the human's neck as the rain makes their bodies slick with moisture. The human clings to him tighter, exposing the junction between neck and shoulder to Daniel at a laughably tempting angle.

All he has to do is bite down.

That's all it takes to end his prey's life.

(...That's all it takes to end it all.)

"I love you," the human breathes against his shoulder, "I'm sorry. I won't let it happen again." The human's arm slides up the space between Daniel's wings and presses Daniel's head closer to his shoulder. "I swear it. I'll protect you this time."

Rain continues to pour around them. It soaks them to their core, the water sliding off his wings as they continue to sit on the rain soaked beach. Neither of them move as Daniel slowly brings his hands up to the human's shoulders. He doesn't push away, nor does he pull closer. Instead, his voice keeps up the illusion, despite the loss of that melodic beat he's been clinging to for his songs.

"...Let's get inside."

"...Okay."

Slowly, they untangle, but the human keeps a firm grip on Daniel's wrist as he leads them back into the shack. Once inside, the human leads him towards the fireplace and sits him down in front of it. A fire is started as the human wanders off, only to return with a single, thick fabric. Quietly, he uses it to dry Daniel's hair before draping it over his shoulders.

The brunette doesn't get one for himself.

Neither of them speak for a moment as the human sits down next to him.

Neither of them move as the fire continues to fill the silence between with crackles and pops.

And neither of them acknowledge the lack of haze in the human's eyes.

Instead, they drown in the silence of their voices, the thought of food forgotten.

(The stench of rot fills the air, and he ignores the clenching in his chest as the human hunches forward. He looks up towards the roof of the shack. Rain drips through a sizable crack.

A leak.

He focuses on the plip of the rain dripping through the crack.

And ignores the plip of the salty tears dripping loudly onto the floor.

It's the least he can do after what he's managed to do.

...It's the least he can do after what he's failed to do.)

#camp camp #cc daniel #cc jasper #siren au #drabble #mood whiplash is what im good at #daniel is constantly lying to himself its amazing #he doesn't know how to tell himself the truth #what a guy #jasper to daniel #what even are we #daniel to jasper #gestures expressively but in a meaningless way

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revengeoftheantichrist · 3 years ago

Text

What Kind of Man

Warnings: Manipulation, Inappropriate behaviour at the dinner table, cock-warming

AO3 <<<Previous

Chapter 7: Honeymoon

The journey to Paris had been a long, you spent most of it sleeping off the remnants of your fever in Michaels arms. Michael had spent the time writing away and reading documents in languages you were never taught. But you had finally arrived. The sights, sounds and smells had you in awe. The city was worlds away from your gloomy English castle.

You were staying in a large townhouse in the city, passed down to Michael from his grandmother. It was clear that old French nobility once resided in this place. The balconies were lush with greenery and gave you beautiful views of the city. The interior was illuminated with natural light during the daytime. The soft glow of the candles added to the romance at night.

Michael had surprised you with a new wardrobe just for the trip, waiting ready for your arrival. After taking a nap, he took you on a boat tour of the river, seeing the famous sights if the city in person. That night he had a meal prepared in your townhouse, the finest of French cuisine.

////

On your second day, you went shopping. Hearing the prices of some of the items your husband had bought almost made you faint. He made good on his promise and took you to the finest cloth merchants in Europe. The shelves were lined with the finest Chinese silks, Indian cottons and the softest of velvets. Your mind was racing with what you could do with them, the designs you could bring to life.

“Anything you want my love, it’s all yours,” Michael whispered to you, kissing your hand.

You walked further into the shop, going to inspect the fabrics you wanted, Michael stayed behind to talk to the shop owner.

“What happened to the blonde one?” asked the owner. Michael just shrugged. “Poor girl, she’s very pretty but nothing lasts that long once you have your hands on it. I always wonder who you’ll bring in next.”

Michael glared at him, “Keep your mouth shut, you’re lucky she does not speak the language, she’s got sharp ears. To answer your question, she will be the last.”

The owner looked sceptical, “that’s what you said last time.”

They stopped talking as you made your way back, having chosen the fabrics you wanted. The owner went to cut your pieces for you, totalling up the bill and preparing to send them to your current lodgings. You smiled at Michael, “the bill is still less than what you spent two hours ago.”

“well, you can’t put a price on looking good,” he laughed. You both walked out, onto the next destination.

////

Your third day was spent in museums. You think you saw Michael’s face in the statues from the ancient world.

Most of your day was spent in the louvre, looking at the pieces you had only read about, never thinking you’d be able to see them.

“This museum is very big my love, is there anything in particular you’d like to see?” Michael asked.

“’Psyche revived by cupids kiss’,” you blurted out.

Michael chuckled, “Of course my love,” gripping your hand and leading you towards the statue.

You gasped as you saw it, gripping Michael’s hand tighter. “It’s so pretty in person.” The sunlight streamed in through the windows, illuminating the faces on the statues. Cupid’s look of relief and adoration was prominent in the detailing.

Michael looked at you the same way.

“Do you like it my love?” he wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Yes, but Michael we’re in public you’re being scandalous,” you chided.

“Hmm?” he raised his eyebrow. He trailed his hand down your arm, holding your gloved hand, before slowly pulling the glove off. You blushed at the gesture, looking around to see if anyone was watching. He began to place kisses on your cheek and neck. Stroking your now bare palm with his thumb. The action making you shudder.

“M- Michael no is not the time nor place!” you blushed.

Before he could go any further, you were interrupted by someone clearing their throat. It was Mr. Shepherd.

“Nice to see you here Langdon,” He greeted, winking at you. Michael huffed and stopped what he was doing, standing up straight and putting your glove back on your hand.

“Wish I could say the same about you Shepherd,” Michael bit back.

“Fine then, I’ll talk to your beautiful wife,” Duncan turned to you, “How are you Lady Langdon? I hope your injury is feeling a little better now.”

“I’m very well thank you for asking, I’m healing well thanks to my Husband,” you replied. Michael’s grip on your wrist got painfully tighter. “How’s Miss Vanderbilt?”

“She’s well, still in the US, I’ll be returning to her after a stop in Geneva.”

“We have things to do today, so if you’ll excuse us,” Michael interrupted.

Michael started to drag you out, but he was stopped by Duncan, “Join me for dinner at least?”

Michael huffed and mumbled a ‘fine’.

The three of you headed to dinner, the conversation about business, making you zone out. You were brought back to the conversation by Michaels hand trailing up your thigh, you bit your tongue to keep your sounds at bay. He took your hand under the table, placing it over his trousers, making you feel his hardness. He moved your hand up and down, giving you a steady rhythm and encouraging you to do it by yourself. You lightly stroked him through his slacks, feeling him twitch occasionally.

“I’ll be back,” Shepherd left the table. Michael stopped your hand.

“Get under the table,” he ordered. You looked at him, mortified. He rolled his eyes and pulled you under. Sitting In front of you and pulling his hardness out. “Keep quiet,” He whispered. “Open your mouth,” Stroking his thumb over your lips.

You looked up at him with your doe-like eyes, hesitating a little before slowly opening your mouth. He rubbed his pre-cum around him, before pulling your head towards him. “Don’t bite,” he warned. You took him into your mouth, Blushing at the situation. He hissed at the feeling of your tongue working around him. He composed himself as Duncan came back.

“Where’d your wife go?”

“She’s feeling a little nauseous, she’s gone upstairs to rest a bit, she’ll be back for dessert,” he punctuated with a thrust, making you gag.

“What was that noise?”

“what noise?”

Duncan shook his head, thinking he must be hearing things. Michael tugged on your hair as a warning.

The conversation started again, you slowly moved up and down his length, using your hand for what you couldn’t take yet. He began to twitch again, taking breaks in the conversation and blaming his ‘tiredness’. All Duncan had to do was look down or move his feet slightly forward to catch you out in this humiliating position. But you had to admit, the thrill of it made you tingle.

Duncan finally left the table again. Michael pushed the table back and looked down at you, grinning. “If only he knew what a whore you were for me,” gripping your hair and thrusting into your mouth rapidly. He came with a loud groan. “Don’t you dare swallow, or I’ll take you in front of him and the whole staff, understood?” he warned.

You pulled off with a ‘pop’, rapidly nodding with tears in your eyes. He helped you up back to your seat. Readjusting your dress and hair so you’d look presentable. He took a napkin and wiped your eyes. Kissing your cheek before Duncan made his way back.

“Feeling any better Mrs Langdon?” All you could do was nod.

“She gets quiet when she’s sick, so don’t mind her,” Michael waved off, resuming whatever conversation they were having, you occasionally nodding to any questions asked to you.

Duncan finally left after what felt like forever. Michael turned to you, gripping your chin. “Open your mouth little dove, I want to see if you can follow instructions.”

You opened your mouth, showing him the mixture of your spit and his salty semen. He hummed in approval, moving your head around, watching it coat the inside of your mouth. “Always a good girl for me.”

He kissed you, open mouthed and tasting himself. Some of it dripping out and down your chins. He pulled away and made you swallow what remained. You finally looked at him again. Your lips both swollen and mouths glistening. The image was so erotic, you leaned up to kiss him again, hard; gripping his hair and pulling him closer, wanting to do nothing more than consume him, to swallow him whole. He pulled away, looking at you with glassy eyes, “Lets take this upstairs,” dragging you up to return the favour, to satiate the hunger.

////

The fourth day was spent at Versailles, you think that Michael would fit right into a place like this, the thought making you giggle.

“What is it?”

“I think this place is very you, that’s all.”

“What do you mean about that?”

“gaudy, over the top and very expensive,” you smiled.

He stopped and stared at you, looking offended. You started to laugh, hard enough to start crying.

“I am no longer sharing my desserts with you,” he pouted, sticking his tongue out at you.

The joy had almost made you forget about his antics in the city two years ago.

Almost.

On your fourth night, you had been invited to dinner by the Director of the Robichaux Ballet company. Constance Langdon had been a patron of the arts in France, Michael’s own mother was a known cellist. He had continued to sponsor the dance academy after Constance had passed.

You were greeted by Miss Cordelia Goode, the former Prima and now director.

“Lord and Lady Langdon, what an honour it is to have you here tonight.”

“It’s a pleasure to be here, I’ve heard a lot about the talents of your girls, news travels as far as my little village too,” you replied.

She took you on a tour of the facility, finally leading you to the dining room, where you were to dine with the current roster.

“This is our new Prima, Mallory,” Cordelia presented a mousey brunette, Michael greeted her and kissed her hand, sending a wave of jealousy through you.

You were finally seated for the feast. Only able to speak to some of the girls as most of them only spoke French. A red-head teacher, Myrtle, looked at you with worry, but you dismissed it. Michael and Cordelia getting into a heated conversation.

“You know why I’ve invited you Michael, where’s Madison?” quizzed Cordelia.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“My former Prima followed you back to England, after you had taken her honour. You promised marriage, remember? And now you bring another bride here?”

“Madison never came to me. I have no letters, no correspondence. Are you trying to accuse me of something?” Michael sipped his wine.

“Then where is she? My best dancer would not just run off like that,” she shot back.

“She might have wanted a different life and never came back, using me as an excuse to get away.”

“She would have at least written to me. Does your wife know about her? about your nights in this city? About your affair with the most sought out dancer in Europe?”

“No, she does not. And it will stay that way. I’m putting my past behind me now, looking forward to a future,” he held your hand.

“She’ll find out what type of monster you are soon enough, you’re lucky she doesn’t speak French,” she ended the conversation, going back to her own meal. Michael started to converse with Mallory, his new beneficiary.

There was a slight issue with Michael’s attempts to keep secrets. You spoke and understood French, he just didn’t know.

You sat and silently picked at your food. Myrtle gave you a knowing look. You hoped she understood that you wanted to keep your unknown skill a secret.

The revelation of the missing girl and Michael’s former lover weighed heavy on your mind. Were you just a replacement? Would you be replaced by Mallory? Something told you Michael knew exactly where Madison was; she wasn’t ‘missing’.

Next>>>

#my writing #michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #WKM7

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