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lokisgoodgirl · 7 months ago

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A Royal Audience: The Rite

Chapter 1 Masterlist for The Rite is here A link to my full Masterlist is here Summary: (1) You, an Asgardian court nobody, fall asleep in the palace baths and have an unconventional introduction to the elusive Loki Odinson. (w/c 3.7k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Loki x female reader. Smut. Language. Voyeurism.

Water splashes and your legs fly up, floating out into the murk of torchlit water. Bracing against the stone edge, you glance over your shoulder with a blossoming horror. The curved arch reveals the glittering lights of Asgard below; mountains which had glowed with low-afternoon light when you’d settled in the palace baths now cloaked in darkness. Why did no one wake me? It's forbidden for anyone but the Royal family to be in the baths after sundown. And the penalties are severe.

Surely more of a guideline than a rule, you think optimistically as you get your bearings. Panic twists in your chest. Surely Odin can’t imprison every member of the court who dozes off in the hot springs.

Heaving yourself onto the side, you shiver in the immediate chill. The loss of warmth is like the absence of a lover’s touch; leaving their bed on a winter night. You’re surprised you can remember what that feels like. A breeze blows through the atrium as you grasp for the robe you discarded earlier. It sticks to clammy skin, thick droplets seeping though the fabric as you gaze longingly at the towels lined up at the side. No time. But as you flick soggy tendrils of hair from beneath the collar, your ears prick. No. Footsteps. There’s only one doorway to the baths. A security thing. One hallway – in and out. Your eyes dart frantically at limited options. Tall, imposing pillars encircle the room. One of them will have to do. All you can do is pray the guards just take a quick peek around the door. The squeak of your bare feet on the floor fades just as your wet skin meets marble. You cover your mouth, eyes screwing shut. The door swings open, creaking on ancient hinges. “Prepare the oils,” someone commands. A dark, enunciated order which seems to settle in the steam.

A shudder runs down your spine. That voice. Another one replies in hushed reverence, flopping sandals scooting over the marble floor while bottles rattle. “Haste,” the first growls.

You clutch the flimsy robe tighter to your chest. The first time, you might have been mistaken. But as the irritated syllables of that solitary word settle, there’s no mistaking it. Prince Loki. If you were asked to swear in front of the Norns that you’d never envisioned the dark prince as you touched yourself in the dead of night, thought of his forbidden curls twisting through your hair as you rode him, the timbre of his moans as you choked on his cock – you’d be a fucking liar. I mean, who hasn't? But this? This is beyond the pale. Even conjured from your sickest fantasies. This is wrong. This is...a death sentence.

And yet, you find yourself edging closer to the side of the pillar.

Should you announce yourself? Grovel? Retreat out the door with garbled apologies, bowing with your face lowered and begging for your life? Probably.

But it’s too late now. Far too late. And if you’re going to end up in the dungeons, as on some level you always suspected you would, at least this image will sustain you.

Loki Odinson stands all limbs and and length at the edge of the baths. From emerald-encrusted slippers to the crown of dark waves spilling over his shoulders – he’s perfect; unmistakeably royalty even in his lounge-wear. What little there is of it.

White steam rolls above the water, as sheer and flawless as the chiffon robe that moulds to his body. The faint hue of his skin shows through the forest-green material, fingers toying with the tie circling his hips as he casts a scathing glance to the servant whirling a phial of oil between his fingers. “Tis’ ready, my lord” the servant says. The prince grunts, letting the sash fall open.

You hold a breath as the garb falls down the sinewy bulge of his shoulders, deep carves of tricep muscle illuminated in torchlight. You’ve never seen him so close; never had time to admire the stark beauty emanating from every angled inch of him. Without the distracting glint of his armour it’s almost enough to make your eyes water. Glimpses of him had been in passing, a stolen gawk before you bowed you head and he moved quickly through the great hall past the other courtly nobodies.

The luxuriously weaved material slides over his skin, folding and rippling as it drips from his fingertips. It shimmers in low flamelight and he rolls his shoulders back as it drops, abdominals clenching. You clench along with them as the robe pools around his ankles. Your palms sweat against the pillar, fingers beginning to claw as Loki steps into the water. He rakes his hair back, tilting his chin to the ceiling as he puts one foot ceremonially in front of the other. Making an entrance, even without an audience. Or so he thinks.

The servant stands obediently by the bath’s edge, staring ahead as the prince’s thighs flex with each effortless step, liquid lapping around his knees.

As much as you try not to look, sort of, to preserve some sliver of dignity for the god, saliva wells under your tongue. His perfect cock bobs between his legs. It’s true what they say, you think in a daze. His pubic hair is an immaculate shadow. Even his balls are perfect.

Loki sinks down, dipping long hair back in the water before seating himself in the opposite spot you’d occupied minutes ago. Jet hair plasters to his skin like tar, droplets of water clinging to his torso. “Begin,” he mutters with an air of annoyance. The servant complies, pouring the rose-tinted phial into his hand and beginning to massage the god’s scalp.

You watch in utter beguilement as Loki’s head is nudged from side to side, indecent moans of pleasure snaking from his throat as the favoured servant carries out his work. Thin drips of oil roll down the prince’s brow, catching the light. He tips his head back, jawline pointed to the ceiling like the blade of an axe. He lets out a whimper of pleasure.

You press your lips together so hard it hurts as a crease appears in the god’s brow, his eyes shut as the man kneeling behind turns the attention to his shoulders. The oil spreads down the thick of his neck, to the crevices of his collarbone; glistening. “Oh-h, yes…there-” the god growls, a gnawing groan shaking the air. For the first time, you notice the unmistakable heat of arousal sliding between your thighs. Squirming, you think briefly about looking away. You decide against it. In the blink of an eye, Loki’s mood changes like a winter wind. He leans forward, an abrupt tsk punctuated by the wave of a hand. “Leave me,” he demands. The servant looks visibly confused, fingers poised in the air above tense muscle. Loki turns expectantly over his shoulder. “Need I say it again?” he purrs menacingly. It was quietly brutal. You smirk in spite of yourself. Classic Prince Loki, you muse. You never dreamed you’d get to see it in person.

The man shakes his head, shuffling to his feet. He shuffles out the room with little bows and letting the ancient latch clunk into place. Your breaths quicken and the sudden gravity of the situation settles like a boulder in your throat. Frozen, you watch Loki eye the door a moment longer before resting back against the stone with a lazy sigh.

Long fingers run through the slick of his hair while water slops around his nipples. Gods, how you want to pull one between your teeth as you pump his- “Aren’t you cold?” His voice was an arrow. Sharp, targeted, tipped with venom. It’s hit spreads through your body, white noise filling your brain, blood thundering in your ears.

“Aren’t you cold?” he repeats, sterner this time. You realise with horrifying clarity that Prince Loki of Asgard, as eusive and unknowable as faraway galaxies to a mouse, is talking to you. And he’s naked. And you’re definitely spending the next decade in the dungeons. If you’re lucky.

With shaking hands, you step out from behind the pillar. The game is up. But to your credit, you have closed your eyes, one palm shielding them in a last ditch attempt at salvation. “Your Majesty I apologise I...fell asleep in the water, and woke up after sundown- the laws, and you came in...I didn’t know where to go- what to do-please have mercy...” You squint between parted fingers to gauge his reaction, hoping that the last threads of your long-gone innocence are believable. The prince curls a finger to his lips, covering a smirk. “I did not look upon your majesty...” you lie. The god’s eyes run from your ankles to your face, a devious smile playing at one side of his mouth. His lips part, chin tilting upwards, tongue resting behind his upper teeth before the perfect enunciation of, “Liar.”

“I did not look upon-” you stammer, lowering your hand and staring at the floor.

“-Oh, stop it.” Loki says. It’s followed by a melodic chuckle ricocheting around the marble walls. You glance up. One elbow rests on the stone behind him, water rippling against his chest. He tilts his head, raising the other arm out the water. “Never let it be said the God of Mischief is not merciful,” he rumbles coyly. A solitary finger beckons. “You must be cold,” he repeats for the third time, softer. “I assure you the baths are warmer than the dungeon, if that was your intent for the remainder of the evening.”

Each step feels like an eternity as you let yourself be drawn forward by weak flesh. You can’t take your eyes off his, thundering silently into your soul like a sexual storm. “I am not to the dungeons, then?” you ask cautiously. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

He winks, a perfectly timed droplet of oil falling from his chin to the water below with a thick plop. It makes your stomach flip. He stiffens suddenly, raising his palm in a ‘stop’.

“You may leave now...if you wish,” he says. An aura of stiff formality settles on his expression.

This is the Loki you recognise from feast days and speeches which ring around the towering cloisters of the great hall. The palm held upright softens to gesture to the other side of the pool. “Or you may stay, if you wish. Either way, sending such a flower to the dungeons to wilt and wither would surely be a greater crime than the one you have committed.”

He pauses. There’s a flash of pink as his tongue runs over his lips. His gaze drops to your fingers fidgeting nervously with the sash of your robe, still stained with watermarks from its hasty assembly. “Curiosity is only natural, one supposes,” he says.

“I didn’t mean to do it,” you reply quietly.

Loki’s eyes meet yours, one eyebrow rising. “Ah, but you did.” His voice is deeper, wisps of intrigue catching in every syllable. “In my experience, the path paved with mistakes leads to better stories. Wouldn’t you agree?”

You bite your lip. “Your Majesty are you...sure? I’m-” you glance towards the door, hesitating before you met the prince’s waiting stare, “-naked, under this.” Loki’s long index finger dips teasingly into the water, feigned surprise making his brows rise as he watches it sink beneath the surface. The lip twitches again as his digit skims, slow ripples pulsing out from his body. “Egalitarian, wouldn’t you say? Considering your recent education on my own state of undress.” Heat rises in your cheeks, matching the inexplicable confidence beginning to blossom in your belly. Loki smiles expectantly, resting both elbows casually on the ledge.

His lips form a soft o as your robe falls around your feet. You feel his stare roaming your body as keenly as though its his hands. Can he see the translucent sheen of arousal smeared down your inner thighs as you step into the pool? Possibly. Probably.

It’s true what they say about his body, about his temper, about his cock, after all. Why not his powers of perception?

The water licks against your skin, the thrill of this forbidden meeting making every hair on your body stand to attention. Pores tingle against the embrace of heat as you sink beneath the surface, perching on the flat stone seat beneath. The curve of your mounds bob above gently lapping water.

The same spot you’d been in earlier. But now, the view is entirely different.

You imagine that the archway behind you is a beautiful scene. Asgard’s moons would be shining, their light halo’ing your wetted hair against a blanket of stars. And yet, Prince Loki’s eyes never leave yours.

Although ten meters stretch between you, the whisper of his breath seemed to curl against your ear. You widen your legs beneath the water, immediately squeezing them closed again. Your lips purse, stifling a whine. “Your first royal audience, I gather?” Loki asks politely. You nod. This is madness.

Slowly, he shifts. One arm slips beneath the water, then two. His chin dips, observing you seductively from half-lidded eyes. “Why have I never seen you before?” The question hangs amidst the steam rolling over soft ripples.

“I find myself new at court, your Majesty” you hear yourself answer. It isn’t true. But it's better than the embarrassing reality. You're an invisible cog. “Liar,” he murmurs seductively. The corners of his eyes crease with mirth, a wet curl falling down to the side of his cheek. Somehow, your fingers find their way to your clit; hidden beneath the sweet-smelling veil of the baths.

“How can I have overlooked such a jewel in the midst of this grey wasteland?” “Wasteland?!” you scoff. It's bold, a peal of laughter escaping in spite of yourself. “Hardly.” The god cocks an eyebrow. “Despite my hyperbole, the sentiment remains. How did I miss you?”

There’s a moment of silence; anticipation choking the air. A suspicious disturbance begins to swell at the water by Loki’s mid-section and a chill of desire makes you shiver despite the temperate water; imagining those long, elegant fingers wrapping around that long, elegant cock. You began to toy with yourself, sparks of pleasure thrumming through your veins. Your shoulders began to roll in time with the pressure of your fingers. Unmistakeable. Breaths rise and fall in your chest, breasts bouncing lightly at the surface.

He grits, throat working as the straight lower line of his perfectly white teeth flash into view. The swell of water above his groin crests to a flurry; his deep, filthy exhales wrapping around your inhibitions and choking them. All pretence gone, you release the moan you’ve been holding.

Loki breaths out hard, a low ragged breath that seemed to part the steam caressing the water’s surface. “Mmm,” he grunts, neck stiffening. A vein at his throat stands hard and thick, straining as water began to splash against him from his abuse beneath. This is a scandal. You are a scandal. If anyone finds out, you’re finished...and yet. As the prince’s chin points to his glistening chest, wet from the splashback from fucking himself beneath the surface, you find you care not one jot.

His eyes darken, long lashes curled up to knitted brows. Loki’s lips are parted, tongue hovering and forming senseless words between laboured breaths. His cheekbones flash in the low light, soaking hair strewn over his milky skin. And always, his gaze is on you. The lofty, untouchable, inscrutable god that you’ve fantasised about is looking at you as he pleasures himself. Thinking about you as he sits across the water tugging his flawless cock. And if this is the shining, glorious moment which would burn out in a blaze of reputation-ruining glory to ash then so be it. Worth it. His dulcet moans of onanism grow louder, timing with your own. Only once do you tip your head back as you feel climax rear, a growled command of ‘look at me,’ through gritted teeth snapping you forward again.

If you’re ever deigned worthy to feel the prince inside you, have his marble body flush to your own in the throes of passion, feel his lustful praise hot in your ear– just once – you would die happy. But this? This could be enough. “S-so dutiful,” the prince moans, his shoulders juddering as he strangled the words. “B-brave,” he gasps. His brow furrows deeper with one last longing stare at your glistening neck and shoulders as you cum hard, a quiet mewl of his name echoing around the baths. It’s all you can do not to scream. “G-gods,” Loki chokes. Every muscle you can see in his body seems to tense, a thundering roar like ripping leather cascading from his throat. His mouth hangs open, grimacing to the atrium above. In the death of his cry, there’s silence but for the splash of water as the two of you compose yourself. Still flushed from orgasm, you push your hair back. The prince raises the hand that had been pleasuring himself out the water, inspecting a thick, white string that clings to his fingertips. He turns his gaze to you as he sucks the cum from his digits. God he’s fucking filthy, you think. I knew it. It takes every piece of willpower not to wade across the baths and lick it from his mouth. You bite your lip, matching his sultry demeanour and the prince’s eyebrow twitches. Your reaction is clearly to his satisfaction. “This has been amusing.”

He stands abruptly, breath stealing from your lungs as his entire body comes into view again. You aren’t prepared. The god’s cock is still hard. Long and perfectly formed, it’s earlier fairness now replaced with the blush of his work. Above, his abdomen glistens; pearled droplets of oily water running leisurely over muscled ridges. You open your mouth and close it again. Loki smiles. He turns and the toned meat of his ass shifts on his ascent up the short steps out the baths. With a click of his fingers, the robe and slippers he’d discarded are upon him once more. Your stomach drops.

“I didn’t tell you my name,” you blurt as he approaches the door. Prince Loki’s profile slices into view, the perfect arc of his bone structure lined over one broad shoulder in dancing torchlight. His eyes cast down and move to yours with theatrical precision.

“Your name?!” he purrs incredulously. “We must keep some mystery, surely.” And with the swirl of his robe and a thud of the ancient latch, he’s gone.

Loki’s stomach churns, emerald slippers feeling heavier with every step. He feels along the wall, blinking away the dizziness growing behind his eyes. Risky. Even for me. He pauses at the end of the corridor, steadying his breaths. There was something about her. Something which shattered any semblance of decorum he usually clung to in the presence of the court, however strange the situation. Her audacity. Gods, the look in her eyes as she brought herself to climax; pinning him under her gaze like a starving wretch at a feast. He stares at his feet, jewels throwing prisms from torchlight. “Brother?” Loki looks up, immediately rolling his eyes. “Spying on me? Truly you need to find something more wholesome to occupy your time, brother.” “Of course not. I intended to join you.” Loki’s stomach lurches as he notes the robe hanging off his brother’s shoulders, the plush red towels stacked in his glowering manservant’s arms. “No,” he snaps as Thor attempts to pass. The hand pressing against his brother’s chest is still wet, and he has a sudden hope it’s only water. “The temperature is not pleasing tonight. Tepid, at best. Trust me, brother.” “Is that so?” Thor asks, eyebrow rising. If he finds her in there, she’ll be punished. He won’t think twice before running to father like a dog. The thought wouldn’t usually cause him alarm but there it was again, that niggling feeling that greater fates were at play. He studies Thor’s face. "Trust me," Loki says. His brother sighs. “I trust you with very few things, Loki, but the temperature of bathwater is verily one of them.” He waves a hand and the servant scuttles away into the gloom. “In truth, brother, I hoped to speak to you about the Rite.” A hiss blows between Loki’s teeth, eyes darting to the side. “In my own time.” “Your own time?!” Thor stomps forward, making the torches rattle. “You’ve had five hundred years to find someone, Loki. Nine moons; that’s all you have until you must wait another five centuries for the alignment. Don’t you want to secure yourself in the succession? What if something were to happen to father? To me? The people of Asgard must be assured of your suitability.” “The entire thing is a farce. The fact that you succeeded, proves it.” Thor’s face darkens. “Don't speak of our sacred traditions that way. You know they’re in place for a reason.” A snort steals from Loki’s nostrils. “I have no doubts of my skill, I know I could rule Asgard’s people selflessly and with great enthusiasm; why must it be paraded in an inane peacocking which will make the high-lords wilt with inferiority?”

Silence hangs thick in the narrow corridor.

“A fact which makes your refusal to participate even more perplexing," Thor says, narrowing his eyes and yanking the sash at his waist in a way Loki assumes he thinks to be dramatic. "Nine moons, brother.”

As Thor's footsteps die away; he listens for splashing, for movement, for sneaking. But there’s nothing. He steps out the emerald slippers and pads back to the door, turning the handle with a final, furtive glance behind him.

He expects to see you draped nude over the chaise in the corner, or perhaps spread for him at the edge of the baths with hungry longing in your sharp eyes...but you’re gone. Loki frowns and stalks to the pillar which concealed you before. “Borr’s blood,” he hisses under his breath, scanning the room.

And then he sees it; something silken and knotted loops around the balcony pillars, glimmering in moonlight. He realises suddenly that the draping which normally billows in the evening breeze is gone. Loki smirks as he paces to the balcony and casts a cursory look over the edge. The makeshift ladder hangs to the level below. The royal laundry, if he’s not mistaken; the same hot spring source. “Nine moons,” he repeats quietly to the silence, rapping his knuckles against the marble twice before turning away with a smile.

💖Thanks for joining me for this lil journey! 🕯️Tags in comments x Read Chapter Two, Successional Pleasure HERE

#loki x reader #loki smut #the rite #loki fanfiction #loki x you #loki x you smut #loki odinson #loki odinson x reader #lokismut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki x yn #loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut #loki imagine

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freshpeachpulp · 1 month ago

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handle it | unravel

Ellie Williams x wife!reader / 2.3k words / smut, use of restraints, some unserious moments.

You and your wife have had a dry spell of sorts and you believe it’s time to switch things up!

oh friends it’s been so long, i hope there’s still sub!Ellie enthusiasts out there. this has been sitting in my drafts for a hot moment lmao! i hope u enjoy :) btw i have a prequel to this hidden in my google docs somewhere if anyone is interested

You peek over your shoulder and dim your screen before typing on the keyboard. You don’t even know why you did that, you’re literally sitting on the floor against a wall and it’s midnight. Ellie’s fast asleep in the bedroom, or maybe she’s watching tv, you’re not sure. You’ve been in your office all evening, finishing up a project due for work.

You open up a new tab and type in the website. Www.yvesapple.com pops up on your screen. You see, your sex life with Ellie has gotten a little… monotonous. There’s still passion, and you both orgasm, but it’s predictable and doesn’t happen as much. You’re both happy, you know she loves you, but you’re dying to switch it up. Your married friends warned that the bed can get a little dry over time, and that trying new things is a must. You’re both so busy with work and life’s responsibilities, you don’t have the time to get tipsy and fuck in every room of the house like you once used to.

So here you are, on a website searching for something new. In the shop tab you click ‘all’ and scroll through. You don’t know what you’re looking for, something, anything. You scroll past the ball gags and bdsm gear, that’s not something you’re ready for at the moment. You’ve always been a bit vanilla so they kinda scare you a little. You keep scrolling past straps and dildos —you and Ellie already have a good selection.

You scroll but stop when you see a lingerie set. It’s a long silk sash tied intricately around the model's body. As you scroll through the pictures available you notice there’s many variations, an almost endless amount of ways to tie it over your body. The set comes with a matching restraint and a blindfold. It’s been a while since you’ve dressed up for Ellie, the most being your business attire and makeup you wear to work, this could be fun. You quickly order it and close the tab before heading to bed, too giddy to finish your project tonight.

—-

A week later you're at work when you get a notification that your package has arrived. You’re thankful that Ellie works late spearheading a construction project today, you can surprise her. You race home after work and shower, and begin wrapping the silk around your slick, oiled body. Across your chest like a bandeau, crossed over your belly, around your back and bring the rest over your crotch and you tie it in a little bow at your hips. There’s extra silk that you tie under your ass to bunch up the fat.

It took you a while to adjust but you’re pretty impressed with the way the red silk intricately accents your body. You look irresistible. You leave the restraint on the bed and throw on your usual unsexy robe and wait for Ellie to come home.

Her truck rolls into the driveway about an hour later, though it feels like eternity. She steps out and slams her door, disgruntled. You’ve noticed it’s become more common for her to be irritated after work, she’s in need of a good release too.

You hear the front door open and call her name with the cadence you use when you need her help with something. “Ell-ieeeee!”

“What?” she barks, her voice is piercing and you know she’s upset but you can’t help but feel turned on.

“There’s something wrong with the closet door babe, I need you to take a look at it,” you tell her, and you watch as she grunts something to herself while kicking off her work boots. She begins undoing the buttons of her plaid shirt and follows you to the bedroom. You gesture at the closet and move behind her as she observes it.

“There’s literally nothing wrong,” she says, exasperated. “Look. I literally just got home from wor— Oh…“

She turns around in time to watch the robe slip off your body. Her jaw slacks before she licks her lips, the agitation on her face morphing into excitement. You shimmy before twirling around and bending over so she can see how the sash barely contains your round ass and swollen pussy.

“Ooh freaky girl,” she teases and it makes you flush. She walks behind you and grabs your ass, observing the silk ties wrapping around them. Her hands are calloused and rough, a sharp contrast from your soft, warm skin. She squeezes and you can feel your pussy pulsate.

“Aht! No touching baby,” you tease, playfully swatting her hand away. It takes all of your willpower to break the contact. You guide her to the bed and she notices the restraint.

“Can I try that on you Ellie? Do you want it?”

“Yeah I do,” she says. She grabs your chin and pushes your head up so she can kiss you from behind. She grabs your neck and grinds into your ass, and you can feel the world melting around you. You two haven’t kissed this passionately in months, and you feel dizzy thinking about all the things you want to do with her tonight.

Ellie pulls away from the kiss leaving you wanting more, and she knows it. She thrusts her hips into your ass, it catches you off guard and you fall over the bed.

“So. You gonna take the lead tonight, cupcake? Or do you need me to handle it?” You look over your shoulder and she’s so smug, she gently smacks your ass and watches the fat jiggle. You could explode from the tension in your belly and the pressure in your pussy. All of you wants to surrender and let her tie your ankles to your wrists and fuck you slowly with her thick veiny strap. But you had a plan for how you wanted the night to go.

“Let me,” you manage to muster, crawling across the bed. “Come,” you say, grabbing the restraints and pointing to the front of the bed.

Ellie strips of her work jeans and shirt, leaving her in boxers and a wife pleaser. She then sits on the bed and rests her back against the headboard. You seductively crawl towards her, maintaining eye contact the whole time and make a show of mounting her hips, swaying your hair and poking your chest in her face.

Ellie smirks, eyeing your body with reverence and anticipation. She holds her hands out to you and you pin them above her head and begin tying them to the headboard behind her. You’re thankful it’s open-framed, so you can tie her to it like a post, but it’s more awkward to tie her than you thought. You're awkwardly hovering over her, trying to remember just how that knot was supposed to go.

“Need a hand babe?” Ellie laughs to herself, pleased with her pun. She stays completely still for you, content to watch you struggle with the tie, and your cleavage is in her face. Who is she to complain?

She begins pressing open mouthed kisses on your breasts, sucking on the cleavage that’s showing, paralyzing you with pleasure. You’ve managed to tie her hands but you can’t pull away from her mouth just yet. In one swift motion Ellie bites the red silky fabric and yanks it down with her teeth, your breasts springing free in front of her face. You shriek when she quickly takes a nipple into her mouth, too pilant and needy to pull away when she hums and sucks on it. The sash unravels around your body, the same way her mouth is unraveling you. Ellie then pulls away and looks you deep in your eyes, leaving you exposed and burning to the touch.

“I thought you were supposed to be taking the lead tonight?” she mocks, licking her lips. “You know you want more. C’mere baby,” she says, all smooth and low. She knows just how to lure you in like a siren’s call. You almost fall for it, but you regain your composure.

“You love this mouth baby, imagine if my hands were untied. Let me go and I’ll—mumph!”

You turn around and shove your pussy in her face, “I’ll give your mouth something to do!” you grunt, grinding your pussy along her face. Her muffled moans vibrate against your swollen lips, shooting euphoria through your veins.

Ellie, defiant as ever, is determined to get the upper hand. She sucks and licks with hunger and ferverency. She knows what makes you feel good, what makes you fall apart.

You become so lost in the pleasure, reality loosening around you that you jump when she bites your clit. You jolt forward on the bed, body trembling and shiny from sweat. She didn’t bite you hard —she’d never hurt you, just enough to sting for a moment. Ellie chuckles behind you, satisfied with your reaction.

“I’m gonna make you pay for that,” you vow, looking her dead in the eyes.

Ellie licks her messy, wet lips and smirks, she wants to push you to the limit, see just how many buttons she can press, “I look forward to it,” she replies.

That’s how she ends up like this.

“Nnghh” she huffs and writhes, pursing her lips and glaring at you, defiant as ever. Her wife-pleaser has been ripped from her body, and her boxers are long gone, a dusty pink blush covering her from her cheeks to her chest. Her arm muscles are bulging, and her abs are tense. Her body is slick with sweat, you watch as a drop of sweat falls down her breast and over her nipple. They’re so pert and puffy as if they’re bursting with milk.

You’ve been at it for almost an hour now, finding all the ways to drive her body crazy then pull away before she can orgasm. First, you ripped her clothes off and kissed her down from her neck to her thighs, reveling in the way her skin grew hotter to the touch with each kiss. You reached her swollen pussy and opened her lips to flick her heavy clit. She moaned, deep and guttural, growing wetter with each flick of your tongue. You pulled away and kissed her lips, making her taste herself while you dipped your fingers inside to massage her hungry pussy.

You held a vibrator to her clit, watching her writhe as she neared her peak before stopping and using it on yourself in front of her. Made her watch helplessly as you spread your legs and pressed it to your swollen clit, your face contorting while you grabbed your breast to massage it. You watched her eyes grow dark out of jealousy. It should be her making you cum.

It’s sadistic how much you’re enjoying this power over her. Ellie’s enjoying it too, she knows the safeword, she just doesn’t want to use it. You place your face close to hers and she grunts, pursing her lips trying so hard to stay tough.

Her pussy is so wet and throbbing, needy and commanding attention, it’s irresistible not to touch. You dip two fingers inside her pussy and flick them around, fast and sloppy. Droplets of her juices spurt from her with every thrust. “Let me come,” she groans, deep and guttural, her wrists red from straining against the ties. Her body is ready to release and then you pull away, and she looks as if she’s about to cry.

She’s in such a compromised position, disheveled and sweaty and pilant, and you know just how you want to finish things. You push a girthy dildo in her tight pussy. “Augh!” Ellie moans as her muscles pulse and throb around the phallus. She’s paralyzed with need. She’s desperate like she’s about to explode and all she has to do is ask nicely.

“Please baby,” she begs, throwing her head back and something inside you breaks. You hover over her again and she’s unrecognizable, she’s so submissive and docile and completely at your mercy. Her eyes lock with yours and they’re pleading. You reach for the hilt of the dildo and begin to pump it, obscenely loud squelching fills the room and her breath begins to hitch.

“Oohhhh baby don’t stop,” she moans while you press kisses against her sticky, flushed neck. Her arms strain against the silk and you stop to untie them. She gasps from relief and grabs your head and your shoulder, pulling your body flush against hers. She’s gone now, her eyes are glazed and words aren’t coming to her, all she wants is for you to get her there. She whines as you resume pumping the dildo into her, wrapping her legs around your waist and gripping your hair to try to pull you close.

Your arm is burning and you feel grateful for Ellie’s strong arms and fingers that have pumped you for hours on end. You push through the discomfort for her and you’re rewarded by a gush of thick liquid that lands on your forearm.

“Holy shit baby!” you exclaim, licking it off.

“Mmmmm,” Ellie moans, completely fucked out. You clean her up and curl into bed beside her.

—-

“Call off from work,” Ellie says. You’re awakened by her voice and greeted with the morning sun peeking through your window. “Im gonna make you pay for what you did,” she declares.

That’s how you end up with your ankles tied to your wrists while Ellie reminds you who’s the boss.

thank you all for reading this far i hope u enjoyed :)

#ellie williams x reader #tlou2 #ellie williams #ellie the last of us 2 #ellie williams x you #tlou x reader #ellie williams x y/n #fun fact i made a side blog for my fics but im too lazy to transfer this draft over there so nevermind i guess!#the last of us part 2 #ellie tlou #ellie x reader

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roosterforme · 3 months ago

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Aim for the Sky Part 26 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You've given Bradley one job to do, and he's not quite sure how successful he has been. But he couldn't care less whether or not you're on birth control. Not when he's in love with his family. Not when there are so many other things starting to press on his mind.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, lactation kink, body image, oral sex, smut, DILF Roo

Length: 4000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Bradley loved La Jolla. He loved this hotel. He loved the people that you and he became every time you stayed at this hotel. By Friday night, he'd eaten two seafood platters at the beachside restaurant, taken two naps on a blanket in the sand while you played with his hair, consumed a lot of your breast milk, and fucked you all over the hotel room.

"Let's call and check on Rose again," you mused, laying across Bradley's lap on the couch. He had his hand tucked inside the front of the fluffy, white robe you were wearing, gently caressing the soft underside of your breast and your belly. He had just finished making sure you didn't feel too full, and now you were yawning and snuggling up against his thigh.

"If you want to FaceTime your parents, we should get dressed."

"Why? I think the robes are fine," you said, gesturing to the matching one he was wearing that was a little too small on him. "It's not like they don't know what we're doing here."

Bradley felt himself blushing. He supposed anyone would make the same assumption, but he pulled your robe tight up to your neck and tied the sash anyway. As if that would ward off the idea that all he wanted to do for the rest of the weekend was fuck you until you couldn't walk.

"Okay, let's call and check on Rose."

A few seconds later, you were sitting next to him on the couch, and both of you were staring at your phone screen. Rose was on her play mat in the living room, holding her head up like a total boss, trying to reach Tramp.

"I swear she's almost crawling," your mom's voice said through the phone.

"She's only three months old!" you replied, rolling your eyes.

"Almost three and a half," Bradley supplied, pulling your phone closer to him. "I told you she's a damn genius."

"She is," your mom said. "She holds the bottle by herself when we feed her, and she reaches for the pages in her board books when she likes the colors."

"See?" Bradley asked you, gesturing like he was right all along.

"And she's just adorable, too," your mom gushed, moving the phone closer to Rose's face. "Such a sweet baby. Just like you were."

"An adorable genius," Bradley reiterated, making you bury your face against his neck while you laughed. "Everything's going okay there?"

"Of course," your mom promised. "Dad's taking a little nap so he can do the nighttime feeding. He took Tramp for a long walk earlier. Rose has been eating like a pro. Everything is good. Enjoy the rest of your weekend."

There was a hint of teasing in her tone while she said the last sentence, and Bradley cradled his face in his hand as you said goodbye and ended the call.

"It's like she knows we did a bunch of dirty shit on the balcony last night," Bradley murmured.

"Do not start with me, Bradley. Dr. Morris knows you've had your cock in my ass because you can't keep your mouth shut."

"Oh," he said, immediately perking up. "Can we do that again? Zero risk of you getting pregnant even if I don't pull out."

Your lips were all over his even as you laughed. "I didn't bring the fancy lube. It's probably on my nightstand with my pill pack."

He wanted to suggest he knew how to get you so wet you would be fine without the fancy lube, but he wasn't about to press his luck or hurt you. And now he was distracted as you yanked at the sash securing his robe before kissing your way down his chest. "Okay," he grunted, watching your every move. "I like this, too." Your wide eyes were aimed up at his as you trailed your tongue down along his abs and settled on the floor between his legs. You let your cheek rest on his thigh, close enough to his hardening cock that he could feel your breath when you spoke.

"I have an idea."

"Jesus," he whispered, licking his lips as yours grazed his sparse leg hairs. "Tell me, Baby Girl," he coaxed, running his knuckles softly along your cheek. "Anything you want is what we'll do."

Your lips brushed his balls, warm and deliberate, and a shiver surged through his spine like electricity. A low groan escaped before he could stop it. His eyelids fluttered shut, head tipping back as you kissed him delicately.

"How about we get drunk on champagne and mess around for the rest of the night?"

He cracked his eyes open. You were waiting for an answer, but you'd never rush him when it came to this. He didn't love the idea of drunk sex. Consent was important to him, especially because of the manner in which he'd lost his virginity. But you were the only woman he ever trusted with his whole heart, and he knew you would never take advantage of him.

"Change drunk to tipsy, and you've got yourself a deal, Sweetheart."

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

You kept tugging your robe shut while Bradley kept trying to discreetly open it further. "Roo," you whispered on a laugh, perched with your legs straddling his lap.

"Hmm?" His own robe had been discarded behind him on the couch, and he was holding a chilled bottle of champagne against your thigh while he sucked on your neck. His mustache was sinful, and his thick cock was heavy against your core. "You're so pretty." He flashed his brown eyes up at you. "I love you so much. Why you trying to hide those titties from me?"

Oh, he was definitely a bit tipsy now, but so were you. Getting him to mess around like this was always a bit of a hard sell, and you didn't want him to feel uncomfortable. But he really turned you on when his lips loosened up a bit. It was always a perfectly mixed combination of sweet sentiments and dirty talk, and you ate it right up.

This time, when he tried to nudge open your robe with his nose against your collarbone, you let him. His eyes lit up as he pushed the sleeves down your arms. "That's better," he whispered as the fluffy fabric fell to the floor at his feet. He leaned back and took a long sip of champagne while he studied you with half lidded eyes. "Oh god. Sometimes I can't believe you married me." Your cheeks felt warm from the champagne as well as from his words as his cool fingertip traced your dainty rooster tattoo. "You didn't have this last time we were here."

You shook your head slightly. "That was your wedding gift."

One big hand slid down your back until he was cupping your ass, and he stood up in one fluid motion while you scrambled to hang on. "Bradley," you shrieked as he walked past the open balcony door and carried you all the way to the bathroom. "Where are we going?"

"I want to fuck my wife," he replied casually, setting you down on the marble counter. "Where we can get a little messy."

You shivered when he tipped the champagne bottle and let some of the bubbly drink trickle down your breasts and across your hard nipples. "It's so cold!" you complained, but his mouth smothered your words and you moaned. When you tried to squeeze your thighs together, he was wedged firmly between them. You were grabbing along the vanity, at his mercy, and you were so turned on.

"I want to fuck you," he repeated before another kiss left you reeling. Then he trailed sloppy kisses down to your breasts, licking away the sticky, bubbly mess. "I want to fuck you so hard, Sweetheart."

His cock was right at your opening, begging for entrance, but all you could do was whimper his name. Then there was more cold champagne on your sensitive skin followed by his warm tongue. You were so turned on, you wanted to cry as you scooted closer to his body.

"Please?" Bradley begged as just the tip of his cock slipped inside you. His voice was like honey as he set the bottle down and wrapped his hand around your hip. "I'll make you feel so good," he crooned, staring at your lips while he stroked your tattoo. He pushed his cock a little deeper still and kissed your forehead.

"Fuck me, Bradley," you moaned as he held eye contact. You were a little tipsy and very needy at the moment as you added, "Hard."

You wrapped your calf around his hip, trying to get what he promised you, but instead you got another slow inch and his cool lips on your temple. Gently, he tipped your head back and whispered, "Are you sure that's what you want? Because you're allowed to have anything. I'll gladly give you anything."

"Why are you like this, Roo? You're sweet and so fucking dirty. Just fuck me."

You squealed when his big fingers dug into your thighs, guiding them further apart, watching the place the two of you were intimately connected. His gaze trailed slowly up your body to your face. "God, you are so fucking sexy," he whispered with a snap of his hips. He bottomed out as you reached for his shoulders to keep yourself steady. "You look like my little slut, the way you're taking me. But you're my wife, which is so much better."

Bradley's words were filthy, and his lips were soft and sweet. But his hands and the pace at which he fucked you were demanding and unrelenting. When his thumb found your clit, circling at a pace that left you breathless, your teeth began to chatter as your back arched. When you came for him, he slammed into you. He let you have him, hard. Breasts bouncing and voice jerky as he went all the way. Sweat beading on his brow as he moaned your name like he'd never get enough.

Your head was spinning with desire, and he went until he was gasping and grunting, using your body to coax him through his own orgasm. "I love you," he murmured breathlessly, his glistening cock still gliding in and out of your pussy before he pulled himself free, shooting cum all over you. The back of your head tapped the mirror as he kissed you just as hard as he'd fucked you.

When he finally let you breathe again, he whispered, "Somehow I love you even more now than the last time we were here."

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

On Sunday morning, Bradley got carried away. There was no more champagne, and the two of you had been out late on the beach watching fireworks the night before. You were tired, and he was tired. But when he woke with your body nestled on top of him like usual, your lips were pressed to his neck, and your tits were leaking onto his chest.

"Fuck," he gasped softly. He'd already had you all to himself so many times this weekend, but he wanted one more. He stroked himself as he whispered your name, but you just snuggled in closer against him, working your lips along his skin. It just turned him on even more.

Sometimes he wondered what on earth happened to him that made him go from countless one night stands to a one woman kind of guy. Then you moaned his name, and your eyes fluttered open as you looked at him. Your pretty lips were parted, and your cheek had a soft imprint from cuddling against him. And you kissed him, replacing his hand on his cock with your own.

"Good morning," you whispered against his lips, and this was the reason why. You were all the reasons why.

"I need it," he whispered, and you settled on your back with your engorged breasts in your hands and let him have everything. He fucked you so slowly, barely moving as he drained your milk until you were comfortable. You combed his hair back from his forehead, in no hurry as he plucked at one nipple and then the other, nuzzling his way along your breasts. He rocked into you with steady pressure, making sure you could feel his body against your clit as he kissed you.

It was a slow build, and the two of you would most definitely be late for your check-out time. But he didn't care. Your fingers were laced with his against the pillow. His nose found the curve of your cheek and then your ear. He inhaled your sweetness and your warmth. He could feel it at the base of his spine, the way you were his. It was powerful. You were close, and he knew it. But he drew it out until your body was tense beneath him before going limp. You shook your head, making the most feral sounds, and when he looked down at you, it was almost too late.

"Oh, shit," he grunted, jerking his hips from your body, sending ribbons of his cum against your pussy and thighs and the bedding.

"Did you pull out in time?" you whispered, circling your pert nipples with your fingers and looking up at him through a lust-filled, post orgasm haze.

"Uh," he replied, gasping for breath as he parted your thighs and kissed your rooster tattoo. "Yeah." But he didn't sound convincing even to his own ears as he waited, looking for the telltale sign of a cream pie in your pretty pussy. He saw no evidence there and repeated himself with a bit more authority as he worked his thumb along your opening. "Yeah. I did."

You propped yourself up on your elbows and raised one eyebrow. "You don't sound so sure." Then you paused and chewed on your lip. "Did you pull out last night? Or when we were on the bathroom counter?"

"Yes," he promised, remembering how badly he didn't want to, but doing it anyway. But now your brow puckered in concern.

"Seriously, Bradley. Are you sure?"

He had offered to drive back to Coronado to get your pills. He'd been good about all of it until this moment, and he was afraid to remind you that he came inside you on the balcony as soon as you and he arrived at the hotel. "I'm doing the best I can here, Sweetheart. Okay? Have you ever tried to pull out of your delicious pussy? No. You haven't. It's hard, Baby Girl."

A smile found your lips as he knelt there between your thighs, red-faced and frustrated. "Oh, Roo."

He kissed your bent knee and climbed out of bed. "I'm sorry I like cumming in my wife," he murmured, starting to pack his stuff to head back home. He really didn't see what the big deal was about you being on the pill or not being on the pill anyway. What difference did it make in the long run?

You scrambled out of bed after him, kissing his scarred cheek as you said, "Thank you for pulling out. I'll get back on the pill as soon as we get home. It's the first thing I'm doing after we give kisses to Rosie."

He paused and smiled. "I missed the Nugget. A lot. Next trip we take will be the three of us."

"Agreed."

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

"Did she get bigger since Thursday?" Bradley asked, completely scandalized when you and he ran inside after parking the Bronco in the driveway. "I think she grew!"

"I think you're right." You were on your knees next to the play mat where Rose was chewing on one of her crinkly toys and trying her hardest to roll over onto her back. Neither you nor Bradley greeted your parents before you were both cooing at how cute your daughter looked. Bradley ended up with his big body stretched out on the floor, pressing kisses to Rose's forehead as she looked at him.

"We missed you," he whispered, tickling her cheek. "Next time, we'll all go away together, okay?"

"He's such a good dad," your mom muttered behind you, giving her son-in-law heart eyes. "You picked a good one. Proud of you."

You wanted to roll your eyes at her, but you just smiled. "Thanks for staying with her so we could have a break."

"Your mom wants the house in Maryland up for sale by October at the latest," your dad said casually from the couch. "Less than three months away."

"Really?" you asked, glancing back and forth between the two of them now as Bradley rolled onto his back and placed Rose on his chest. "And you'll start looking for a house here pretty soon?"

Your parents shared a look. "Well... we may have already found one," your mom said slowly.

"Rose and I found it when I was pushing her in her stroller," your dad added.

"It's cute. Two streets over from the water," said your mom.

"You better not be joking," you whispered.

"I would never joke about being able to see my granddaughter every day," your mom promised.

"Well, maybe not every day," Bradley muttered, giving you side eyes while Rose reached for his mustache.

You nudged him with your foot and stood with tears in your eyes. "Keep us posted, okay?" you whispered, giving both your mom and dad a hug at the same time.

Once again, your parents were there to stay with Rose when you went to work on Monday morning. Going back to your regular routine in a few more days was going to be hard and exhausting when they were gone again.

"You really wore me out this weekend," Bradley muttered as he rolled his shoulders at a traffic light on the way to base. "I might need a night off."

"Thirty-eight years old seems rough, huh?" you asked between sips of your coffee. You also desperately needed a night off, but you'd never tell him that as he just grunted at you. Three days of nonstop sex and champagne had been lovely, but you wanted a solid nine hours in your bed tonight. And you knew you wouldn't get it any other night after your parents flew back east again and you had to get up to feed Rose alone. "You may have a night off, Roo. But I expect a foot rub."

"So fucking demaning," he muttered, leaning in to kiss your cheek before the light turned green. "You know you can ask me for that whenever you want it."

"I know," you whispered, still yawning as the guard towers came into view. "I hope to god Bickel doesn't pull some three hour long meeting or something today. I just don't have the patience for it."

"I'm kind of hoping to avoid Maverick altogether," Bradley replied, finding an empty spot in the parking garage. "He's always extra hyper after a holiday weekend."

When the two of you parted ways, you dumped your stuff in your office and grabbed your computer before heading to the lab. You just had a feeling something was going to happen, but your boss wasn't even in there when you arrived. In fact, it was just Cat sitting quietly at the counter, tapping away on her keyboard, entering code with a big, fat diamond engagement ring on her finger.

"Are you serious?" you gasped, nearly dropping your computer as you ditched it on the closest counter to make your way over to her. "Jake proposed?"

Her dark eyes seemed to be all mixed up with emotion, but a smile spread across her lips as she held her hand up for you to see. "Yes," she whispered. "Didn't I tell you the ring was massive?"

"Your sure fucking did," you replied examining the rock which was easily four times the size of Carole Bradshaw's ring on your own finger. "Holy shit."

You pulled her in for a hug, wrapping her up tight. "It's too much," she said. "I told him it's too big and that it could pay for college for Jeremiah, but he said he'd make sure that happened, too." When you released her from the hug and gaped at her, she whispered, "He wants to adopt Jer."

"Let him," you replied immediately. "Oh my god, Cat, he loves you both so much."

"I know," she said, pressing her lips together. "We're talking about the next steps that we want to take together." You watched as a single tear rolled down her cheek. "You're right. He'd be a good dad."

You sat and listened to her recount the way Jake proposed as the two of them tucked Jeremiah in bed in his room at Jake's place. He waited until the Independence Day fireworks were over and they were all alone to do it. She used the word perfect to describe it.

Just before lunch, you couldn't wait another minute to talk to Jake yourself, so you jogged out through the hangar and across the tarmac to the tower. You were hoping to catch him as well as Bradley in the rec room, and you weren't far off. You could hear both of their voices before you turned the last corner. They must be out in the hallway. Then Bradley said your name with a laugh.

"Fuck you, man. She's going to want another ring if she learns the one you gave Cat is three carats."

You rolled your eyes at the teasing tone in his voice as he went on to congratulate Jake, but you stayed tucked out of sight when Jake asked, "What did Maverick want you for?"

Bradley groaned, keeping his voice low. "This new opportunity to train incoming pilots at Top Gun. Originally I thought the idea of fewer deployments was appealing, but Mav is all hyped up about me going to Fort Worth for a week or two. He wants me to hand pick some promising aviators to train at North Island starting in the fall. It's starting to sound like a lot more work."

"What's the problem?" Jake drawled. "You'll be home with your family more in the long run."

"Yeah, I know," Bradley said with a sigh. "But my in-laws want to move from Maryland to Coronado, and Maverick wants me to transition to this new role as quickly as possible. There's just so much shit going on, and you know how my wife gets. I don't want her stressing out. And... sometimes I just don't know what I want."

You crossed your arms over your chest and glared at him through the wall. He told you he was excited about all of these things. If he didn't want you to be stressed out, maybe he shouldn't make things difficult.

You ducked around the corner to find them both in their flight suits, and while Bradley looked surprised, he didn't look at all annoyed. "Hey, Sweetheart," he said with a smile, but you threw your arms around Jake instead.

"I heard congratulations are in order," you told him as his arms wrapped around your back. "A wedding and hopefully an adoption?"

He chuckled. "Thanks, Angel. Yeah, I better get both."

"I think you will," you whispered, pecking him on the cheek. As soon as you released him, Bradley pulled you in his direction. "Hi, Roo," you said quietly.

"Does this mean you didn't come all the way over here to see me?"

"I did not," you confirmed. "But since I'm here, you can have a kiss, too." The peck you gave your husband was on the lips, but that's all he got.

"There better be more where that came from," he muttered, cocking his head to the side.

"It's your night off, remember?" you asked, patting his abs. "We can talk about some things when you're rubbing my feet later?"

He nodded in the affirmative, but when the time came, he didn't say a word to you about Maverick or Fort Worth or his new position.

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

Well, let's just see where this goes. Thank you for reading! And thank you @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 27

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noceurous · 5 months ago

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a guide to dating in twenty first century

you met a kind stranger at a bar, next day you ended up on his couch, on your first date…

warnings: implied age gap, hints of abusive relationships (not by joel or reader), hint of dom!joel, no outbreak, usage of pet name(baby), lots of alcohol consumption, can be considered as dubcon but consent is asked and given, mention of food, swearing, talking about marriage, smut (18+), fingering (f receiving), reader is afab and able bodied, she has some hair.

a/n: here it is folks, my first joel miller fic. please give comments/reblogs if you like it.

part i: the ‘first’ date

The song had just started when you entered the garden side of the bar. A rock classic filling the place, still laudable through all the chattering.

Your eyes scanned the area, trying to find your friends. Just before you took out your phone to text, you saw a familiar back of the head turning towards you.

“Hey!” Maggie raised her hand, she looked gigglier than usual. You have already told them to start without you so her being tipsy was understandable. You started walking towards their table, “You’re late!” She protested as you got in the earshot.

You pulled the only empty chair they reserved for you and hung your bag at the back. You greeted the rest of the table with a smile and a simple nod before sitting down. All of the girls already ordered their drinks, and half way down finishing the snacks.

“And you don’t wear a tiara or a bride sash!” You half-protested as you turned towards her. Acting like you were just a few minutes late, not like it took you extra half an hour to get ready mentally.

“Not my thing.” You chuckled, raised your hand in the air for a waiter to see you. Thinking you were ready to start drinking and catch up with the girls.

—

The first half of the night was good. You fake-smiled and joined the conversations about when is the best time to have a baby, and best place to have a honeymoon. All thanks to your little helper in a glass. As you were about to finish your second one, you felt like you reached your quota about non ending monogamy speeches.

A girl turned towards you. She was a colleague of Maggie and you only saw her before once at some New Years party. Jen something? Or was it Jess? You were sure it started with J.

She asked as she leant towards you. “So? Who is going to be your plus one?”

There it was, the question you waited for all night long. You were the maid of honor, also the only single girl in the table. Of course people were going to ask why you had no plus one.

“Noone.” You explained in one word, playing with the straw inside your glass.

“Oh, really? Are you sure? You can't just go alone! If you want I can set you up with-” Maggie intertwined the conversation, placing her elbows on the table and her chin inside her palms. As she did, all the girls stopped talking again and all turned their heads to you.

“She is not interested Alice. I’ve even told her the only other person who is coming alone is my grandma, and that’s just because she’s a widow.”

“Well you never know. Maybe she’ll find her next true love from the groom’s side.” Maggie rolled her eyes as the rest of the table chuckled at your joke, returning to talk about what they were talking about before. Before Alice, not Jess nor Jen, could ask you something you put your hands on the table.

“Okay, I need to hit the ladies room first. Then we can talk about why I need to find a guy ASAP.” You said as you raised yourself from your seat.

The ladies room was occupied so you had to wait in line with another girl who seemed too drunk to stand on her own. Playing with her fingers, rocking back and forth in her place. "Do you have weed, or something like that?"

You pressed your lips together and shook your head. "No, sorry." The girl huffed and crossed her arms on her chest.

The door opened and the girl in front of you threw herself inside, not even waiting for the other girl to step out properly. You two shared a look, “What is her problem?”

You sighed as you got all alone resting your head on the wall to take a breath. You hated when people became all invested in your love life, or the lack of your love life in better words.

You spent almost a year to recover from your shitty break up by going on even shittier dates, then you simply gave up. Not like you had too many admirers, since your life was usually spent between work and home.

As you were looking down, somebody’s shoes came into your point of view. The tips of the dark leather boots were pointing on the tips of your high heeled sandals.

“Hi.” You raised your head when you realized he was talking to you.

He was clearly older than you. Salt and pepper hair and a patchy beard and mustache. He seemed cute, and somehow it felt like you could trust him. Like he was over with his bullshitting phase which every guy on your age was into.

He dressed nicely, an old pair of jeans and a dark colored shirt tight enough to hint he was built. Broad shoulders and thick biceps, large colloused hands…

“Hi?” You spoke sooner than you preferred. Sound just one octave higher than it usuallt was.

“Uhm, I don’t wanna seem weird but I noticed ya and heard ya were single so I—” You smiled at the southern accent, it fit him nicely.

“I don’t want to step over a line, and sorry again if this seems too brave… May I have your phone number?”

Here it is…

“Oh, well…” You spoke, eyes going between the still occupied ladies room door and the table of your friends.

He raised his hands in the air, taking a step back. Pressing his lips together as he slowly gave you a nod. “I understand completely.”

You felt like someone stabbed you on your chest when your eyes found him back. He looked like a small puppy who got kicked.

What is the worst thing that could happen? You probably gone over many shitty scenarios already.

“Wait-“ You said as you looked at the door again. The girl was taking forever and sure she would not come out anytime soon.

He stopped, raising his eyebrows. Eyes sparkling with a little piece of hope, and you could not find the strength to break his heart in yourself.

“I’d be happy to give my phone number.” He smiled, taking out his phone from his back pocket, opening his keypad before giving it to you.

You quickly tapped your number and called yourself. Your phone buzzed inside your back pocket. As you took it out, its screen was screen flashing with an unsaved number, “Done.”

“I’m Joel, by the way.”

“Hi Joel.” And you gave him your name, the first time it sounded so natural to hear it from someone else.

Like she took it as a que, the girl finally stepped out leaving the light switched on. Joel pointed to the door with his chin, before taking a step back again. “I’ll text you.” He said before leaving.

When you made it back to your table, your drink was gone and so were some of the girls including the girl whose name starts with J. And you just felt a relief that she would not ask you anymore questions about your dating life.

“I thought you left.” Maggie said, finishing her fourth glass.

“The girl before me took forever.” You explained as you put on your purse, preparing to leave with the rest of the gang. You scanned the room, hoping maybe you would see Joel somewhere in the corner. But all you saw was a guy eyeing you up and down, courtesy of wearing a skirt in the 21st century.

“Do you want me to call you a cab as well?” You turned to Maggie, shaking your head.

“No. I will take the subway. It’s cheaper. I spent a good amount back there, my credit card deserves a break.” She chuckled as she gave you a kiss goodbye.

On your way back you saved Joel’s number in your contacts. Joel.

Plain and simple, because he was the first Joel you knew.

He hadn’t texted you by the time you made it to your place. You tried your best to not overthink it. Calling it a lucky shot if he remembered to text you the next morning, and focus on anything but him.

You put your phone back on your nightstand after checking it for the 1000th time. Hating for yourself how you always ended up as the person who waits.

On next day at 13:42 your phone buzzed with a message.

After spending the night wondering when he would text you back and trying to distract yourself from wondering…

Hi, it’s Joel Miller from last night. I got your number as you were waiting on line at Ophelia’s ladies room.

You smiled at the formality of the text message. It was probably better than ‘wasssuppp’ the guys around your age sent you.

You quickly started typing a reply. He was still online, you felt that was your lucky shot. Hoping would not wait for 12 hours again for a reply.

Even if he did, you would just give up and throw your phone out the window.

hi joel

You felt a weight was over your chest when you saw typing… under his name. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you saw his message.

How are you? Any signs of hangover?

just tired from last night.

we left the place at 2:24 AM.

That’s bad. I assumed you would leave later than us, so I didn’t want to text you in the morning and disturb you.

The us seemed more important to you than focusing on the fact that he only texted late because he cared.

Because he thought you could be tired, and he just did not want to disturb you late at night—

us?

Yeah, throw your senses out the window… Ask it away…

I was with my brother last night.

You felt shame because of your doubts. What would he say, his wife?

I wanted to ask if you would like to have dinner with me tonight?

I’m a nice cook :)

sure :)

is 19:30 good?

Yes it is. I’m sending you my location.

I can also send an Uber to pick you up.

no it’s fine. you don’t live far.

At exactly 19:33 you rang the doorbell. You fixed your top as you waited for him. It was cute and see through enough for a first date. You’ve also taken your pants showing your ass like a masterpiece from dry cleaners.

Lucky guy…

You didn’t tell Maggie or someone else that you were going on a date because you didn’t want them spiral this into something bigger than it was.

You felt the inside of your palms getting wetter. Your heartbeat sped up as each second he did not open the door.

Should you go back? Maybe you co—

He opened the door before you could gather your thoughts. Smiling when his eyes found you, leaning his head towards the door. “Hi.” He did not look nervous like you, he looked like it was just a Saturday night for him.

“Hi.” You said smiling back, and joined your hands in front of you. Feeling the muscles on your back relax as he opened the door wider for you and stepped inside.

“Welcome. Sorry it took me awhile to open the door, I was waiting for water to boil.” He explained as he closed the door and turned towards you.

You took a better look at the place once you were inside. It did not have much, seemed like he only purchased the necessary stuff. He did not have posters or painting decorating his walls like yours did, or a large bookshelf filled with books.

“You have a nice place.” You said as you followed his guide to kitchen.

He turned on his heels, looking at you. He was wearing a dark Pink Floyd tshirt and blue jeans. You could see his biceps peeking out from the sleeves. His hair was nicely done, beard was trimmed. He looked even better than you remembered.

“Oh thanks, I’ve just moved in here actually, wanted to be closer t’ city.” He said as he pulled your chair for you to sit. “Dinner will be around half an hour, do you want to have something to drink first?”

“Sure.” You said as you sat on the bar stool, watching him to come back with beers. When he closed the fridge door you noticed the only photo placed on it. The magnet was just some dark circle, and your fridge was decorated with cute and funny ones.

On the photo Joel was next to some guy and had his arm placed on his shoulder. The guy had a longer, combed back hair but shared Joel's love for mustaches.

They were both wearing black tux, and had a buttonhole. The guy’s was larger than Joel’s, so you thought it was probably from a wedding.

“Who is that?” You asked as you pointed on the photo. He looked over his shoulder.

“That’s Tommy, my little brother. It’s from his wedding day. 'was a few years ago.” He explained casually, taking a sip from his beer. “I was the bestman.”

“My friend is getting married in two weeks as well, I’m the maid of honor. We were having bacholerrette party the other night.” You felt a twist on your stomach as you spoke. A pressure on your shoulder getting heavier as you spoke. You tried your best not to frown, as you remembered what your ex told you.

You’re overwhelming, all your problems and your whines… All you do is talk talk talk—

“A few weeks later you may have one on your fridge with your friend as well.” You smiled at the thought. Not like there was a space left on your fridge for one more photo.

“Yeah I suppose. I hope we both look good in the photo as you guys do.”

“Hire a professional. That’s the secret. You cannot tell we were both hammered, thanks to the guy.” He admitted and you both laughed at that. You felt lighter as he joked and asked you questions. The knots in your stomach getting untwisted as he spoke. You weren't sure if it was because of beer or his interest even in the most mundane things you told him, but you felt lighter. “Are you excited for the wedding?”

“Not really, they’ve been dating for years. I was wondering when he would ask, rather than if he would ask.” He nodded, checking the food in the pot and he raised himself to stir it.

You gulped when you saw his flexing muscles underneath his tshirt. Your fingers played with the rim of bottle, watching him prepare the plates and his thick arms and long fingers move.

“Tommy was nervous as hell when he proposed. Maybe same thing happened with him as well.”

“Yeah maybe. The idea of marriage can be scary.”

“You think so?”

You are not the kind of girl suitable for marriage.

“Yes, but I also know you do not get scarred that much when you know you are married with the right person.” You were not sure if you were saying this to him or yourself.

“Well, you haven’t seen my brother at the end of the aisle but he is one of a kind guy. But Maria was relaxed, so you might be right.” He said as he came back with two plates of food.

“It looks delicious.”

“Told ya I was a nice cook. Let’s dig in.”

—

The most of the dinner was spent with questions about your jobs and family. Nothing too personal, nothing to make you nervous. Although you had beer for that. The screeching voice of your ex had stopped echoing in your head.

Now you were sitting on his couch, drinking and going over your funny stories to one another.

His knees were touching yours, his hands was close to your thigh, but he was not directly touching you. His left hand’s pinky were barely grazing your upper thigh.

“So the stripper you hired took wallets of three guys from the party and nobody blamed you?”

“Well, I got the number from a guy at work. If anybody were to be blamed, then it would be him. Plus, I’m not someone who loses all his senses when a girl in underwear sits on my lap.”

“You are not?”

“Nawh baby, I’m not a teenager anymore. I can focus when a pretty girl is on ma lap.” You raised your eyebrows, chuckling at his confession.

Baby.

You could definitely go with being called baby.

You wetted your lips as his pinky brushed your thigh, you had to restrain yourself from opening your legs.

“Really? That’s good for you then, we don’t want your wallet to be stolen as well.”

He shook his head, his fingers brushing over your thighs. When you turned your gaze at him your heart skipped a beat.

He looked amazing in the dimmed lights of the room. You got closer to him, wondering what would be his next move.

“Want me to show you?” He whispered and you nodded. A bit quicker than you’d prefer…

He gently pressed his lips on yours. Waiting for a response as his lips lingered on yours. You kissed him back, leaning your body closer to his.

The kiss was slow; he didn’t push his tongue into your mouth right away. Something you were glad he didn’t.

His hands stood on his sides, allowing you to set the pace. You bit down on his lower lip, slowly, signaling him to open his mouth. He grunted, clenching his hands into fists to stop himself from touching you. Opening his mouth to push his tongue inside yours, sucking your tongue.

You could taste the bitter taste of the beer, but didn’t mind. Sure same could apply for you as well. Your hands placed on his cheeks, his stubble digging inside your palms.

He slowly placed his hands on your waist, guiding you on his lap. When you were settled, he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer. A small whimper left your lips, when you felt him getting harder under you.

His other hand moved south, palm following the shape of your ass. Your one hand moved further down, feeling his muscles fletch inside his tshirt.

“You’re good.” You admitted as you broke the kiss for air. His hands still on your body, caressing you. He rested his head on the back of the couch.

“‘Want me to show ya things I’m better at?” His tone was smug. You nodded quickly, letting your body make decisions for you.

He pulled you back to his torso, kissing you rougher than before. His hand was now in front of your jeans, cupping you. You moaned when he pressed his fingers onto tight denim.

A few seconds later you were lying down on the couch with him between your legs and your jeans were already left your body.

His palms were rough as they moved across your legs, moving towards your upper thighs then your panties. “May I?” He said between kisses, waiting for your approval.

You nodded, but he only hooked his fingers on the hem of your panties. “Words baby, use your words.” You felt yourself getting wetter when he called you by that nickname again.

“Yes, please.”

“That’s my girl.” He said as he quickly pecked your lips, sliding off your underwear. His fingers traced your lips, gathering your slick. “Fuck, I didn’t expect you to be this wet baby.” He whispered on your lips.

You felt the heat rising through your cheeks but before you could hide your face Joel already pushed a finger inside you. “Oh!” You moaned loudly, he raised your leg and hooked it on his shoulder.

“I’d love to hear your voice baby. Let’s see if you can be louder.” He said as he started moving his finger rapidly. Hitting your sweet spot with the pad of his finger at each stroke.

Your toes curled and you felt your stomach got tighten with his movements. “Hmph J-Joel!” You held onto his upper arm for support. His lips on your neck, kissing and nibbling. Before giving you a chance to get used to first one, he pushed his second finger inside you. Your grasp on his arm got tighter, leaving crescent shaped marks.

You could feel yourself drip onto his palm, hearing the slick noises as his fingers moved inside you. “I-I’m cl-close.” You admitted, feeling your walls close around his fingers.

“Yeah baby?” He said as he slowed down to look at you, brushing off to hair strands on your face. You nodded, biting down on your lower lip. “Let go for me, okay? Come on.” He said as he got back to his old pace, scissoring his fingers.

When your orgasm hit you, you raised your head to kiss him. Wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you. He gladly surrendered to your kiss, his hand placed on your cheek as he deepened the kiss.

Slowly pulling his fingers as your breaths slowed down. His hand moved to the hem of your top. You felt your heart shrunk on your chest. You placed your hand on top of his, shaking your head.

He pulled his hand back like it just touched fire. Muttering an apology as you raised yourself. “I’m so sorry.” You said, reaching for your underwear and pants to quickly put them on.

“It’s getting late, I should get going.” You explained as you checked the time on your phone.

10:34 PM.

After ten is late right?

He nodded quickly. “Let me drop you off.” He said as he got up from the couch. You noticed his boner once he stood back on his feet. Pressing your lips together to stop your cunt from throbbing at the sight.

You were leaving the guy who gave you a body wrecking orgasm with a huge, thick boner…

“We both drank. I think it is better for me to call an Uber.”

“You are right.” He slurred his words, walking over to you. “Let me walk you out then. I can join you as you wait.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” You dropped your shoulders, seeing the guilt all over his face. You nodded, allowing him to walk with you.

You took out your phone to call for an Uber. Sighing with relief when you saw your driver was close to you.

“So that was… good?” You raised your head back to him. Putting your phone back inside your bag. Guilt and tension were all over his face.

“I really had a nice time. I have this thing in the morning and we drank and it’s—” He put his hands in the air. Stopping your mumbling.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me.” He said, smiling down at you. “I’ll call you then, for next time?”

“Yeah that’d be great.” You answered, eyes going back and forth between him and the road.

Shifting on your feet from one foot to other. His hands were in his pockets. Resting his body on the metal gate, casually checking you up and down.

When you saw your car coming you gave him a small goodbye hug, wrapping your arms around his waist. “I had a great time. Thanks for everything.” You explained again, trying your best to assure him he had done nothing wrong.

“Anytime. Text me once you get back, alright?”

“Sure.” You said as you walked over to your car, looking over your shoulder before you got in. He waved you slightly, you smiled back and he mouthed the words ‘Be safe.’

Once he was out of your sight, you relaxed on your seat. Let go of the breath you were holding since you put back on your jeans.

Your fingers were rubbing your temples. As you quickly recapped the night.

You ended up on a guy’s lap again on the first date. You even went to his place and let him finger you. At least you did not let him fuck you with his seemingly huge cock. That showed self-improvement…

And lastly, you turned down the guy who was the nicest guy you have met.

You knew you kissed your chance to a second date goodbye as the Uber turned around the corner to your street.

[part ii]

#joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller oneshot #joel miller series #joel miller x reader #joel miller au #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller modern au #joel miller tlou

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world-of-wales · 2 years ago

Text

CATHERINE'S STYLE FILES - 2023

1 JUNE 2023 || The Princess of Wales along with Prince William attended the State Banquet held in honour of the Royal Wedding of Crown Prince Hussein and Crown Princess Rajwa in Amman, Jordan.

Catherine was in -

↬ 'Georgia' Gown in Pink by Jenny Packham

↬ Queen Mary's Lover's Knot Tiara

↬ Greville Diamond Chandelier Earrings

↬ Royal Family Order of Queen Elizabeth II

↬ Art Deco Diamond Set Brooch from Bentley & Skinner

↬ Dame Grand Cross of the Royal Victorian Order Sash

↬ Dame Grand Cross of the Royal Victorian Order Badge

↬ Dame Grand Cross of the Royal Victorian Order Star

↬ Satin Logo Box Clutch in 'Blush' by Prada

↬ 'Rania 105' Pumps in 'Silver Glitter' from Gianvito Rossi

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royalty-nobility · 3 months ago

Text

James Francis Edward Stuart

Artist: Attributed to Alexis Simon Belle (French, 1674–1734)

Date: 1700-1705

Medium: Oil on Canvas

Collection: Royal Collection Trust, United Kingdom

DESCRIPTION

This portrait is typical of the French Jacobite images produced at the beginning of the eighteenth century. The young Prince James Francis Edward Stuart, Catholic claimant to the English throne, appears in armour with the blue sash of the Order of the Garter. The painting probably dates from around 1701, either slightly before or just after James' father, King James II, died in exile; on his death, Prince James was declared the Jacobite 'James III'. Despite claiming this title, James is shown without a crown or other royal regalia. This decision visually emphasises the Stuarts' stated commitment to a peaceful restoration after the death of Queen Anne (r.1701-14), James II's older daughter and the last surviving Protestant Stuart.

Despite this, the blue Order of the Garter, a longstanding symbol of English royal power, stands out emphatically against the portrait's red and brown palette, emphasising James' royal lineage. Combined with the armour beneath it, it also serves to indicate that – however peaceful and diplomatic he is prepared to be during the reign of his half-sister Anne – James will fight for the crown if necessary. This military undertone became more common in portraits of James after the English Act of Succession of 1701, which specifically excluded him from the English throne in favour of the Protestant Electress Sophia of Hanover.

#portrait #francis edward stewart #prince #alexis simon belle #french artist #european art #blue sash #order of the garter #english royal family #english nobility #young man #costume #english #early 18th century england #english history #royal collection trust

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arc-misadventures · 10 days ago

Note

Friends AU:

It's been 6 months since jaune join the ace ops and ironwood has been giving jaune more responsibility after seeing the work his done and even gaining the trust of the poeple

His even been opening up to winter and she's happy to see jaune smile

Wait, What Happened?

Jaune's finger ran across his breastplate, he remember distinctly where precisely, Tryian had stabbed him with his stinger, and yet he couldn't find so much as a scratch on his armour from his stinger.

: Looking for something, Jaune?

Jaune looked over to see, Winter walking across the locker room towards him.

Jaune: Hello, Winter. I'm just checking my armour.

Winter walked over, and stood next to, Jaune running her hand along his chest piece feeling the smooth mental under her gloved fingers.

Jaune: I'm impressed; Atlas's armour's are quite skilled. If it wasn't for the fact that it was me who got stabbed, I dare say I was never stabbed in the first place.

Jaune finished speaking as he put on his armour, and fastened its straps. After, Jaune checked the snugness of his armour, he grabbed a small black box, and pulled out a silver falcon badge, and placed it on his left coat collar. Winter watched as, Jaune put the badge on, eyeing it with extreme suspicion.

Winter: What... What is that?

Jaune: Hmm, oh this?

Jaune turned to look at, Winter as he pointed to the silver falcon badge.

Winter: Yes, that...!

Jaune: Yeah, I got this from, Robyn Hill.

Winter: Robyn Hill gave you that...?

Jaune: Yeah.

Winter: And, why did she give you this... thing...?

Jaune: Uhh...? It's a token of affection...

Winter: A token of what now...?

Jaune: I-It was a thank you! I saved her from, Tyrian, she gave me this as a gift!

Winter: Then why are you calling it a, 'token of affection...?!"

Jaune: W-W-Well, I'm a knight... a k-knight in shining white armour, and I saved the maiden from a monster... S-so she gave me this badge as a 'token of affection!'

Winter: So, you two were just playing on your knightly stereotype...?

Winter was walking ever closer to, Jaune leading to be place his back against the locker as her ice cold gaze stared him down.

Jaune: Y-Yes...?

Winter gave him a look before grabbing his sash, and tightening it, Before using it to pull him closer to her.

Winter: Then this is my token of affection. That I gave to my knight. Remember that!

Jaune: O-O-Okay!

Winter: Good... I'll see you in the meeting room, Jaune.

Jaune: O-Okay...

Winter then let go of, Jaune and started walking away, a noticeable sway in her hips as she left. Jaune slowly slide down the locker doors until his butt slumped on the ground as he exhaled a deep breath as he calmed his nerves.

Jaune: Bloody hell...

: Well, that was something?

Jaune: What?

: Who knew that, Winter could be so jealous. But, for you, Jaune, I can understand why~!

Jaune: Ohhh... shut it, Pyrrha...

Pyrrha: Ah-hahaha~!

~~~

Ironwood: Ahh, Specialist Arc. Glad you could make it.

Jaune: Sorry, I'm late, Sir.

Ironwood: It's alright, Mr. Arc. It makes sense that you are a little groggy since it hasn't even been a day since you were in the hospital.

Yang: Wait, Jaune was in the hospital?

Ruby: What was he in for?

Ironwood: Honestly, Mr. Arc, I'm tempted to order you to some, R and R. The last reports I read did said that you're still fighting off the last of the poison in your body.

Nora: Jaune was poisoned?!

Blake: How did that happen?!

Jaune: Only if you do the same, Sir.

Ironwood: That's not happening.

A small chortle of laughter echoed through the meeting hall, but it stopped as, General Ironwood started the briefing.

Ironwood: Now then, two days ago we were alerted to the fact that, Tyrian Callows was in, Mantle...

The presentation started, showing a photo of, Tyrian's insane expression,

Qrow: Ugh, not that deranged fucker...

Ren: This isn't going to be good.

Ironwood: Luckily, thanks to, Specialist Arc's recent actions, we will not need to worry about him causing any chaos.

The next photo of the presentation displayed a photo showing another picture of, Tyrian his mouth, and eyes closed, and a purple ring ran along his neck as it was bent at an odd angle.

Qrow: He's dead?!

Ruby: Jaune killed him?!

Weiss: The hell...?!

Ironwood: And, because of, Specialist Arc actions we've were able to acquire several useful items of information's...

The presentation changed to show a photo, and a diagnostic of, Tyrian's prosthetic tail.

Nora: He got a new tail?

Ruby: Well yeah, he had too after I cut it off.

Nora: Oh yeah, I forgot about that.

Weiss: You did what?!

Ironwood: Thanks to the efforts of the, Atlas Corp of Engineers as well as help from, Dr. Polendina we were able to find a... stylistic signature.

Nora: What's that?

Penny: A set of distinctive stylistic choices, be they patterns, methods, or overall designs that renders someone work identifiable from a glance.

Nora: Wha?

Ironwood: This 'signature' was identified to be from someone we thought dead. This man here...

The slide turned to show a photo of a lanky, scarecrow of a man in a white lab coat.

Ironwood: This man is, Arthur Watts, we assumed he died ten years ago in a lab explosion. Since we never found the body, we can now assume that he faked his death. Now, Arthur Watts is highly skilled with cybernetics, and biomechanics. He is not a skilled fighter, but he makes up with his skills in computers. So, while you are out in the field, keep an eye out for, Watts. Watts, and anyone else you may see with him. Any questions?

Several hands among the, Specialist rose up, Ironwood nodded his head in silent pride of his, Specialist incitive to ask questions about their missions.

Ironwood: Clover?

Clover: Since we've identified this man, and we know his specialties, what countermeasures are we implementing to counter him?

Ironwood: We've been beefing up the cybersecurity, and fire walls around, Atlas to prevent him from exploiting our systems.

Jaune: Are you also upgrading the cybersecurity for, Mantle, Sir?

Ironwood: Yes, after the implantations of the fortifications are done, we need to beef up the severally unreliable security systems in, Mantle.

Jaune: Good. May, I ask another question, Sir?

Ironwood: Of course.

Jaune: During the, Fall, the, Atlas's Knights turned on us. Do you think that this, Arthur Watts fellow had anything to do with that?

Ironwood: Hmmm... That is a good question... It is likely theory that it was him who hacked our, Knights during the, Fall. I best order that the, Knight be given an upgrade as well. Excellent observation, Specialist Arc.

Jaune: Thank you, Sir.

Harriet: Wait, if this man hacked, and hijacked our, Knights... Then what's the chance of him doing the same to, Penny? I mean... she may look human, but she is an android.

Silence enveloped the room as everyone turned to look at, Penny as she nervous looked about. Ruby took her hand as she tried to reassure her friend at the sudden realization that she could be hack, and turned to attack her friends.

Ironwood: Hmm... Penny?

Penny: Y-Y-Yes, Sir?

Ironwood: Call your father, I wish to have a meeting with him at his lab, and I will require your presence as well for this meeting. We have... much to discuss about.

Penny: Yes, Sir...

Ironwood: Now, then... Specialist Arc?

Jaune: Yes, Sir?

Ironwood: Based on the fact, Tyrian tried to attack, Robyn Hill, it is evident she has become a target. I want you to go down to, Mantle, and inform her of the situation. Since you saved her from, Tyrian she will no doubt trust you.

Yang: Wait, Jaune saved, Robyn Hill?

Nora: When did that happen?!

Penny: The same day he killed, Tyrian Tallows.

Weiss: When did that happen?

Penny: Three days ago.

RWBYNR: What?!

Nora: Did you know this, Penny?

Penny: Yes, I was there when we extracted, Tyrian's dead body.

Ruby: Why didn't you tell us any of this?!

Penny: ...

Penny: Error...

RWBYNR: WHAT?!

The Specialists, as well as, General Ironwood all stared at the members of, Team RWBY as well as, Penny, Nora, and Ren. waiting for them to stop their impromptu conversation.

Ruby: Eh-hehe... Sorry...

The group finished staring at them before returning to face, General Ironwood, and his presentation.

Jaune: Understood. How much information am I allowed to share with her, Sir?

Ironwood: Only what she needs to know, Specialist.

Jaune: Understood.

Ironwood: Now then, go down to, Mantle, and inform her of what is happening.

Jaune: Yes, Sir! Permission to leave, Sir?

Ironwood: Permission granted.

Jaune got up, and grabbed, Crocea Mors, attaching it to his waist as he made to leave, but was stopped as, Winter made an impromptu request.

Winter: Sir! Permission to accompany, Specialist Arc.

Ironwood: Denied.

Winter: May I ask why, Sir?

Ironwood: You are needed here for information about, Tyrian's prosthetic tail.

Winter: But, shouldn't, Specialist Arc be accompanied by his fellow, Specialist's? After all, it hasn't been a day yet since he was discharged from the hospital.

Ironwood: No, Specialist Arc, has proved himself more than capable of handling himself with, Tyrian; He should be fine.

Winter: But, shouldn't he have someone with him when it comes to dealing with that bitch...?! I mean, Robyn Hill?

Vine: Did she just call, Robyn Hill a, 'bitch?'

Elm: I-Is she jealous...?

Harriet: Wait, does that mean, Winter likes...?!

Clover: Oh, he's totally going to have to explain that to me later.

Marrow: Wait... what's going on?

Ironwood: No, your reputation as my second, and as, Jacques Schnee's daughter will no doubt sour her willingness to discuss anything with you present.

Winter: Shit!

Ironwood: You're dismissed, Mr. Arc.

Jaune: Uhh... Yes, Sir.

Winter soon took her seat, her arms crossed as she silently grumbled to herself. But, as she grumbled to herself, Harriet leaned over to ask her the important question that was on everyone's mind.

Harriet: So... You, and Jaune~?

Winter: Fuck off!

Harriet: Okay?!

All the while this was happening, Weiss was a few rows behind her sister losing her mind at the sudden realization.

Weiss: Winter... likes, Jaune?!

Yang: Looks like he did steal your sister away...

Weiss: What the fuck?!

Ruby: Guys the meetings over, we need to ask, Jaune what happened before he leaves!

Yang: Oh, shit you're right!

Nora: Let's go! He's got a lot of questions to answer us!

Weiss: Many questions!

~~~

Ruby: Jaune wait!

Jaune was walking towards the landing pads, and was about to reach one of the bullheads when his named was called out from behind him. When he turned around he saw seven individuals he wasn't looking forward to see. A tired sigh escaped his lips, as he stood before them with his hand resting on his swords pommel.

Jaune: Can I help you?

Ruby: You were in the hospital?!

Blake: You killed, Tyrian?!

Ren: They said you were poisoned, were you poisoned because of, Tyrian's stinger?

Nora: Why didn't you tell us any of this?!

Weiss: Did you fuck my sister?!

Jaune was going to answer their string of questions, but was stopped when, Weiss asked her very deliberate, 'important' question. In fact, her question derailed everyone's train of thought. They all shared a stare at, Weiss who looked back at them all in indignation.

Weiss: What?

Jaune just shook his head, before answering everyone's question, deciding to answer, Weiss's first. She looked like she was about to blow a gasket if he didn't answer her first.

Jaune: Okay, Weiss... Winter, and I... Well... we're not in a relationship... there is something there... but... we're... yeah...

Yang: You have no idea what's going on between the two of you, do you?

Jaune: I have as much as an idea as, Winter does. I mean, I like her, she likes me... She kissed me when I was in the hospital. Other than...?!

Weiss: YOU KISSED HER?!

A flash of steel flew through the air as, Weiss drew her rapier, and pointed it at, Jaune's face. He stared at the tip of the blade, resting mere inches from his face. Jaune watched as, Weiss, was being restrained by, Yang, and Ruby. While, Jaune just nonchalantly pushed the blade away from his face with his finger.

Jaune: Weiss, if you want to know anything about this... situation, then ask, Winter. I'm still not sure what to do with her, and... yeah...

Weiss: Fine... but, if I heard you did anything to my sister, I will gut you like a fish!

Jaune: Noted...

Weiss then sheathed her blade, but was still staring daggers at, Jaune.

Jaune: Haa... Okay...

Jaune: I went to the walls of, Mantle to check on the progress of the fortifications. I learned that members of the, Happy Huntresses caused a small disruption at the wall. I learned about a rally that, Robyn Hill was holding, so I went down to ask her what happened.

Jaune: It turns out that only a few of her followers went down to the wall, they were simply demanding why it was taking so long, Luckily members of the, Happy Huntresses dispersed the crowds. After, Robyn Hill explained this to me, I decided to stick around so nothing happened. Good thing that I did...

Jaune: While I was watching the crowd at the rally I noticed a suspicious individual making their way to the stage. I moved to cut them off, and low, and behold it's, Tyrian.

Jaune: So, we fought, I was mostly stalling for time for help to arrive, and to buy time for the civilians to get out. Robyn stayed behind to help me fight, Tyrian. I learned that, Robyn was, Tyrian's target, so to make sure he didn't kill her I threw my sword at him. This left me exposed, and then he jumped me, stabbed my in the shoulder with his shoulder. He then pinned, Robyn down, and was about to kill her. When I then got up, and snapped his neck, killing him. Then fainted, no doubt from a combination of, Tyrian's poison, and an adrenaline rush. Then I woke up in the hospital a day later. Annnnd, that's it.

As, Jaune finished speaking everyone stopped, and stared at, Jaune in stunned amazement. Several of them, Yang, and Blake wanted to call bullshit, but since had, Tyrian's dead body in a morgue somewhere, it was pretty difficult to deny it.

Yang: Okay... that's a lot to take in...

Ren: All of that happened in a day... half a day at that?!

Jaune: A little less than that, but yeah, pretty much.

Blake: You got stabbed by, Tyrian's stinger, and got poisoned?

Jaune: Yeah, his prosthetic stinger was strong enough to pierce my armour. Not to mention his semblance made a hole in my aura to pierce through it. So, I got poisoned. Least I killed, Tyrian, and saved, Robyn Hill.

Nora: Jaune... W-Why didn't you tell us any of this happened?

Jaune could hear the sorrow, and the pain upon, Nora's face. He looked at her, and gave a tired sigh. But, as he thought of his answer, an interesting question came to mind.

Jaune: I was in a coma for over a day, and when I woke up I was going through medical tests to check for poison in my veins. But, if you want to be upset with anyone for not telling you I was in the hospital, they you should ask her, and ask why she didn't tell anyone I was in the hospital.

Jaune looked past, Nora, and looked towards, Penny who walked back in shock.

Penny: M-Me? Why me?

Jaune: You were there when the, Specialists took me to the hospital, and you were there with me, and General Ironwood when I was giving him a debriefing at the hospital. Why didn't you tell them anything about happened?

Penny: Well I...?

Jaune: Now that I think about it... You've been asked multiple times to contact, and find me, and you didn't, couldn't. You were supposed to invite people to my birthday, but you didn't invited anyone. You forgot about me during the game of hide 'an go seek. And, you've lost my contact data several times when you wanted to talk to me. Penny, do you hate me?

Penny: No, I don't hate you. Hiccup!

Everyone froze as they all turned to look at, Penny as a stunning realization slowly came in.

Yang: She hiccupped...?

Weiss: She's lying, why is she lying...?

Jaune: Do you hate me, Penny?

Penny: No, I'm don't. Hiccup!

Jaune: What did I do to make you hate me, Penny?

Penny: Nothing. I don't... Hiccup! I don't hate you. Hiccup!

Jaune: You know hiccupping is your tell, Penny. We all know you're lying. Why are you lying?

Penny: I'm not! Hiccup!

Jaune felt like, Penny was hiding something, not from him, no she was hiding something from herself. And, whatever it was involved him, but how was the question.

Jaune: You're not angry at me for something I did?

Penny: No, no I'm not!

Nora: She didn't hiccup?

Ren: But, why is she hiccupping?

Jaune: You're not angry at me for something I did... Then... Are angry at me because of something someone else did to you?

Penny: No. Hiccup!

Ruby: Why is she angry at him for something someone else did to her?

Yang: Good question...

Jaune: You're angry at me because of something someone else did to you. Yet, you're taking out your anger on me, and not the other person. You're using me as a proxy because you can't let that person know that you hate them...

Penny: N-No I'm not! Hiccup!

Jaune: Not because you don't want them to know you hate them, but because you can't hate them because... because they're dead...

A silence hung in the air as the realization struck them. Penny didn't hate, Jaune because it was, Jaune. She hated him because he was close to someone who hurt, Penny, and Jaune was the only person she could hurt in retribution.

But, this hate had been shoved away by, Penny's subconscious mind. Deep away that she could no longer remember what, or who it was she hated. But, the memory was not shoved deep enough that she didn't remember the raw emotions of this hate. No, she remembered the pain, the sorrow, and her hatred of the one who wronged her.

As, Jaune's mind struggled to put the pieces together he came to a sudden, and startling realization. The fact that there was only one person who had wrong, Penny, and was close to, Jaune that she could direct her hatred towards him.

Jaune: Pyrrha... You're angry at me, because, Pyrrha, my partner, killed you. And, because she's is dead, you cannot direct that hatred towards her, so you've been subconsciously directing it towards me. So, the reason you've been forgetting about me... Is because you've been substituting me for, Pyrrha, and you don't remember that you hate, Pyrrha. So you forget me?

Jaune smiled as he came to this stunning realization. It was a mad, and an absolutely bonkers idea. But, the worst part about, Jaune's mad theory was that it made sense, too much sense. And, they all knew that it was exactly what, Penny was subconsciously thinking when she started hiccupping like a storm.

Penny: That's not...! Hiccup! That's...! Hiccup! I don't...! Hiccup! Pyrrha, didn't...! Hiccup! I-I-I-I...! Hiccup! Hiccup! Hiccup!

Ruby: Penny? Penny, Penny, Penny!

Ruby, and Weiss rushed forward and, caught, Penny she was stumbling about in a fit of hiccups.

Weiss: She's having a panic attack!

Jaune: Ren, use your semblance!

Ren: On it!

Ren reached over, and placed his hand on, Penny's shoulder as a black wave flooded over, Penny as he breathing calmed down, and became more steadied. As they were all watching these things, Jaune gave them a look before walking back to the bullhead.

Ruby: J-Jaune?! Where are you going?

Jaune: I'm sorry, but I have a job to do. I don't have the time, or the training to deal with, Penny's hidden trauma. And, since I seem to be part of the cause of her trauma, I think it'd be for the best that I leave.

Jaune walked onto the bullhead and grabbed the handle bars on top.

Jaune: I'll leave this... situation to you. Till later then.

As the bullhead started to lift away, Jaune spared one last glance at the group as they all comforted their friend. Jaune couldn't help but feel envious that they showed such compassion to their friend.

But, it anger him, because they never showed such compassion to him. Never.

~~~

Jaune was walking down the auditorium as civilians walked around resetting things, some stopped him, and thanks them for saving them, Jaune just told them to thinking nothing of it, he was just doing his job.

But, as, Jaune moved closer, he looked up, and saw, Robyn, and some of her fellow, Happy Huntresses upon the stage. When, Robyn saw him, a wide smile erupted across her face as she came down to greet him.

Robyn: Jaune! You're here!

Jaune: Miss Hill, It is a pleasure to see you are doing well.

Jaune held out his hand as, Robyn came closer to him. Robyn looked at his hand for a moment before remembering to adopt her mask as, Ironwood's political enemy, thus, Specialist Jaune Arc's enemy.

A small smile still spread across her face as she shook, Jaune's hand before adopting a neutral mask once more.

Robyn: It is a pleasure to see you as well, Specialist Arc. How are you doing? I heard you were in the hospital for a while dealing with that scorpion faunas's poison.

Robyn knew fully well what happened to him at the hospital. She went there, and kissed... Checked up on him! No doubt this was just all a political game for the audience to enjoy.

Jaune: Luckily I was able to get to the hospital quickly, and was administered antivenom. I was unconscious for about a day as my body fought it, but bar being a little groggy I am fine. I'm on light duty while I fight threw the last of the poison.

Robyn: I see...

Jaune: Tell me, Miss Hill, how are you doing? Dealing with a near death experience from a psychotic faunas who wanted you dead because your platform wasn't pro-faunas enough must have been pretty straining.

Robyn quirked an eye brow at, Jaune's statement. She quickly caught on to the story he was trying to spread so the citizens present could better understand why, Robyn was attacked by, Tyrian Callows.

Robyn: Ahh yes... Well, you try, and give people something to make their lives easier, yet they still want the world...

Jaune: Did you expect someone like the late, Jacques Schnee to be happy with a just one slice of the cake?

Robyn: No he wouldn't. The greedy bastard would want the whole bakery.

The duo of a politician, and a Specialist as well as several of the people surrounding them shared a laugh. There are many things that divided the people of, Atlas, and Mantle, but shitting on, Jacques Schnee was something that would unite them all.

Jaune: Now then, I need to have a word with you, Miss Hill. It has to do with your recent attack. Alone.

Robyn: Very well. Will you come with me?

Jaune: Lead the way, Miss Hill.

~~~

Robyn, had taken, Jaune on a walk to the head quarters of the, Happy Huntresses. Wasn't much of a place really, just a abandoned warehouse with beddings, and what not put into it to make it live able.

Jaune: And, this is your 'secret base?' It's nice... A little spartan for my liking.

Robyn: You don't like it?

Jaune: Nope. It's has about as much life, and personality as your wanted posters do.

Robyn: Wanted posters? HAS, General Ironwood made wanted posters for...?

Jaune: Your political posters.

Robyn: My campaign posters? What are you...?

Robyn turned to look at one of her campaign posters. She gazed at the strong, and proud visage as it presented in her in a...

Robyn: Oh shit... It does look like a wanted poster...

Robyn's body slumped over as she realized the blunder she had just made. Jaune walked by her, patting her should in a comforting gesture.

Jaune: Don't worry, you're worth at least, ten thousand lien.

Robyn: T-Ten thousand?! I'm at least worth fifteen thousand!

Jaune: Yeah, keep dreaming big, Robyn. Keep dreaming.

Robyn: Ass...

Jaune: Haha.

Jaune then walked past, Robyn as he rubbed his head with his hand letting loose a tired, and pained groan.

Robyn: Are you okay?

Robyn walked over to, Jaune, and place her hand on his shoulder.

Jaune: I'm fine... just a little dizzy. Poison is still being purged from my system.

Jaune shook his head as a deep breath left his lungs.

Jaune: Okay, let's get down to business...

Jaune: Your would be assassin, as I mentioned before, his name was, Tyrian Callows. He was sent here to kill you in order to destabilize the relationship between, Atlas, and Mantle.

Robyn: I suppose that line about me not being pro-faunas enough for his liking was for the common folk?

Jaune: A lie yes, but a believable one nonetheless. The White Fang may have been weakened in the rest of, Remnant, but based on the reports I've read there is still a sizeable force here in, Mantle.

Robyn: Really? I thought after what happened at, Beacon, and at Haven Academy they would have been disbanded.

Jaune: Technically they did, that is if you can call a rebranding a disbanding.

Robyn: They rebranded?

Jaune: Yep, the Atlas faction of the, White Fang is now calling themselves the, Ice Fangs.

Robyn: Ice Fang? Not a bad name...

Jaune: Better than the 'Happy Huntresses.' Who came up with that dumb name?

Robyn: Hey!

Robyn lightly punched, Jaune's arm as he laughed at her expense. The smile on her face was radiant as she laughed with him. But, her smile slowly fell as serious face crossed her face.

Robyn: Will he be the last, or the first among many that seeks to take my life?

Jaune: ...

Jaune: It's hard to tell... They might come after you again, so I suggest you keep your guard up. But, they might not come after you; General Ironwood is their main target, there's no doubt about that. Tyrian may have just been exploring, Mantle, learned that you were holding a rally, and that you happened to be there. You could have just been nothing more than a target of opportunity.

Robyn: That's somewhat comforting...

Robyn: You promise you'll save me, from these... shadows in the dark?

Jaune: I swore that I would, Robyn. Arc's don't break their word.

Robyn walked over to, Jaune and gently grabbed his collar as she looked at him.

Robyn: You know... It really is nice to have a knight in shinning armour watching over me...

As she was playing with his collar, she noticed he was wearing the badge she gave him.

Robyn: You're wearing the badge I gave you! It's crooked, may I...?

Jaune: Go ahead. I just put it on today. I think it got moved around when, Winter interrogated me about it.

Robyn froze as she was readjusting the badge.

Robyn: She did what...?

Jaune: Yeah, she saw it, and I explained it how I got it, and why I called it a token of affection, she lost it when I said that...

Robyn: Lost it...?

Jaune: Yeah. She gave me this sash when I join the, Specialist as a present. Then after she learned about the badge you gave me being a token of affection, me being a knight and all of that. She decided that this sash was her token of affection, to her knight. It was really scary actually...

Robyn: A token of affection...? Winter's token of affection... for you...?

Jaune: Yeah... her token of affection for her knight. That's what she said.

Robyn: 'Her' knight...? Jaune...?

Jaune: Y-Yes, Robyn...?

Jaune felt a chill run up his spine, a chill that only intensified as she stared at him with those cool lilac eyes of hers. She gripped the collars of his coat in her hands as she gave him a cold smile.

Robyn: Jaune~! Please tell me what your relationship with, Winter Schnee is~?

Jaune: S-S-She's my superior officer! Nothing more!

Robyn: It's red!

Jaune: What?! You're using your semblance on me, not cool, Robyn!

Robyn: Tell me the truth, Jaune!

Jaune: Okay okay okay! I have a crush on her, she somehow has a crush on me of all people! She's given me a token of affection! That's it!

Robyn: Its red again!

Jaune: Okay, okay! We've kissed, that's it!

Robyn: When did you two kiss?!

Jaune: At the hospital! B-Before you kissed me!

Robyn: What?! She kissed you before me, dammit! Alright then, Jaune... you tell, Specialist Winter Schnee this! We are at war!

Jaune: War? What are you talking abou... MMPH?!

Robyn pulled, Jaune in by the collar for a hungry, and thirsty kiss. As the kiss ended, she bit his lips, dragging her teeth across his lips as she pulled away, as she let out a deep, hungry gasp of air, as she stared at him with hearts in her eyes.

Robyn: We're at war, for you~!

Jaune: F-F-For me...?!

Robyn: For you~!

Jaune: Uh oh...

~~~

Jaune entered the locker room for the, Specialist. He hadn't done much today, mostly talking with people, but good gods he felt exhausted.

As he entered the room, he saw, Winter at her locker. She turned, and smile when she heard him enter.

Jaune: Hey, Winter.

Winter: Oh, hello... Jaune...?

Jaune: Something wrong, Winter?

Winter walked over to, Jaune grabbing his cheeks as she looked at his face.

Winter: Is that lipstick on your face?

Jaune: Oh shit! I forgot to... Ahhh?!

Winter fiercely grabbed, Jaune by his collar, a common theme of the day so it seemed.

Winter: Who kissed you?!

Considering this was the third time he had been roughly grabbed by his collars by a feisty. Huntress, Jaune decided it was best to just answer her, less he gets killed, but a jealous woman.

Jaune: Robyn, Robyn Hill did it! S-She likes me, just like you do!

Winter: SHE WHAT?!

Jaune: A-And, she kissed me as her declaration of war to you!

Winter: A declaration of war? For what?

Jaune: M-Me...

Winter: Okay... then the next time you see her, Jaune, tell her this!

Jaune: Tell her wha... MPHH?!

For the second time today, Jaune had been pulled in by the collar for a fierce kiss. Instead of teeth biting his lips, Jaune felt, Winter's tongue invade his mouth leaving a trail of saliva as she broke the kiss.

Winter: I accept~!

Winter lightly tapped his cheeks as she left, leaving a stunned, and very confused, Jaune behind. He panted heavily as he whipped his lips clean of the make up, and saliva from, Winter's tongue. With nothing but, one thought upon his mind.

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Well, I'm fucked...

301 notes · View notes

bowsnstrings · 13 days ago

Text

No More Hiding!

Onyankopon x Black Coded Character ✌️🏾

Summary: Milana is tired of being the shy, dorky, campus “weirdo”, but isn’t so sure about how to open up. When put in a situation where she has to at least communicate will she sink or swim?

Warning MDNI!: Mentions of weed, Mentions of food, Original character with original descriptions.

Masterlist: 🍃

Word Count: 2.3k

What’s the difference between being antisocial and cast out of society? Milana wasn’t really sure as she felt a mix of eyes on her, trying to make her way off campus to get home after a long day of lectures and homework.

There was still so much to do when she got home, looking around and seeing people’s heads turn as she walked by, feeling the anxiety grip her quickly. Even with headphones and strictly looking ahead she could still feel their eyes boring into her skin.

Gosh, why are people so rude? Couldn’t they just let her live? She didn’t even know why they stared, just knowing that when they do, she just wants to shrink in on herself and hide away from the world.

That didn’t sound like a bad idea at this point, just wanting to see her cat, Oreo, and smoke a nice joint to kick off the weekend as she wrote some poetry in her journal. The perfect stress relief, and to top it all off, she’d order in sushi, turn on Insecure, and watch her favorite comfort show.

Nothing could ruin this for Milana, not even her nosy neighbor, Shelly, who was trying to peek into her doorway as she cracked it open. Simply ignoring her and kicking the door shut, unbothered for the first time in ages.

Milana practically ran to her bedroom, excited to get started, pulling out her remote and sticker covered book as Oreo jumped on the bed. His lovely little face stared up at her as she went around the room searching for the last item.

“Where is it?” She asked herself, pushing her curls out of her face as she leaned down on hands and knees to look under her bed.

Milana reached and grabbed the familiar tin jar, hoping to see a pre roll in there all ready for you to spark up, but found the entire container empty. “Nooo!” She whined softly.

Oreo laid his paw on her hands, meowing and trying to get some extra cuddles, which she provided as she tried to think. Who could she hit up last minute… She didn’t really know that many people on campus either.

Sasha’s boyfriend? Connie! He knew some guy who dealed right? What was his name though, it started with an “E”. Eric? Eren, maybe? Yeah, that was definitely it.

She could’ve sworn she saw those two together a few weeks ago, and when she clicked on Eren’s Instagram he was posting pictures of wrapped up cannabis in pouches ready to sell. It wasn’t too much of a shock either given how much the guy likes to party.

Without a second doubt she was pulling out her phone to text her best friend. Sasha asked Connie, her boyfriend of three years, and sent over Eren’s number to hit him up. She definitely owes Sash a manicure or something to really thank her.

Eren was slow to reply, mostly sending abbreviated messages that were like reading a new language, only to tell her that he can’t make the drop. Milana sighed, defeated and ready to give up when he sent a new message asking if she’d like his friend to drop by with something for her.

At this point she was desperate. Milana told Eren his friend could stop by and tossed her phone on the charger. She figured she could kill time a bit while she waited since it’d be a while.

Nothing a hot shower couldn’t fix to get started, hopping up from the floor and making her way to the bathroom. She flipped the handle to hot, and ran to the kitchen to start the kettle, deciding some tea will really make this all better.

She shed her clothes on the way back, dropping them off into the hamper, and stepping into the steaming shower. It was just as relaxing as she hoped it’d be, sighing in relief, feeling the scalding water cascade down her body.

Milana took time to really wash herself down in her baby pink body wash, the scent wafting through the entire bathroom as she did. Scrubbing her skin then stepping out onto the bathmat, turning off the shower and jumping into a towel.

As she made her way back to the kitchen she checked the time to make sure that she hadn’t accidentally lost track, pouring hot water into her mug. It was a pretty special tea blend she was using, really wanting to celebrate today and all her little wins for herself .

She took the tea with her to her bedroom to steep as she rubbed herself with lotion, smiling happily at the smell. Taking small sips of her drink in between getting dressed, trying to keep Oreo away from her mug before he knocked it off her nightstand as she shimmied into a skirt and crop top.

Eren never specified who his friend was, so she tried looking at least a bit presentable, at least enough to quickly grab her weed in the doorway and lock herself back in her room to get in some pajamas and into bed. A knock at her door had Oreo’s head peaking up curiously before scurrying across her apartment to hide in his bed.

At least they didn’t show up at a crazy hour, but she didn’t expect them this soon. Better for her actually, she thought to herself as she made her way to the door, grabbing a cardigan from her coat hanger and wrapping it tight around her body to protect from the cold.

Her hand paused before she opened the door, a sudden wave of anxiety as she took in her appearance in her closeby mirror. Oh God, what if they made fun of her, or started talking about her to Eren? What if words gets out on campus? Maybe she should change. Another knock sends her out of her spiral and scrambling to answer the door.

“Sorry, I was just-” As she looked up to speak it was like coming eye to eye with a literal piece of art. Her eyes taking in all six foot something of him as he towered over her.

Lifting her head from his clean white Air Force ones to his lax black jeans, barely on his waist. They were only slightly covered by a baggy black hoodie that couldn’t even hide how muscular he was.

Her jaw nearly went slack when she got to his face. Sexy goatee and rich dark skin, with a beautiful white smile directed her way? She couldn’t even get to his eyes before she realized that she must’ve been staring with how amused he looked.

This was literally Milana’s worst nightmare. She took a deep breath of air and straightened up, throwing her arms around herself in case he could see she wasn’t wearing bra.

“Hi…” She wheezed out, hands trembling at the first bit of human interaction she’d had in while.

“Hi.” His voice was firm. Deep and warm with mirth. Her neck craned up to really see him, his hood on with a satin black durag and brown eyes that anyone would want to swim in. Just perfection.

Deeply, immensely, intimidating perfection. One that had her wanting to just slam the door in his face and not face him ever. Oh well, she was here now, might as well try not to make a complete fool of yourself.

“Right, are-are you Eren’s, uhm, friend?” Milana felt like a bug leaving its cocoon for the first time. She really had to get better with talking to people, it was starting to get embarrassing.

“Yeah, I am.” Straight and to the point. No extra filler words or anything, she didn’t really know how to respond, nodding and waiting for him to say anything else. “You just need a “G” right?” He asked, tilting his chin up to reveal a shining gold chain around his neck.

She went to speak until she tried to think of something cool to say, pausing mid air only to sigh out a shy, “Yes please.” Speaking under her breath while trying to hold her composure. She watched his hands come out of his hoodie to rub together in the chilly night air.

“I’m Ony.” He nodded to her, and she smiled politely at his name. “You said cash right?” He confirmed, and she realized that he might’ve been rushing her a bit so he didn’t have to stand in the cold.

“Sorry, right!” Jumping straight into autopilot she turned around to go inside, quickly turning back so she didn’t look rude for just leaving so suddenly. “I will- I’m just going to- let me go inside!” She rushed out all jumbled together as she spun on her feet.

Ony’s eyes nearly went blank as she turned her back to him, Milana’s hair swaying her scent in his face. Mhmm, strawberries, vanilla ice cream, and marshmallows. She smelled like the perfect dessert, and he had to adjust himself while she wasn’t looking just so she wouldn’t see him nearly drool.

As she went back inside to find the money she took a minute to breathe, hiding behind her bedroom door with a hand over her thumping heart. Oh my gosh, that man was so fine, like actually gorgeous! The only man she’s ever looked at and actually wanted to even attempt to flirt with.

It took a minute to calm her racing heart, but she had to remember what her real mission was here! Milana made her way to her vanity, grabbing the small ceramic dish containing some cash she kept for rainy days, pausing to actually get it together and cool down.

As she made her way back out, she tried to put on a braver face, smiling and focusing her energy into seeming relaxed. She was about to hand over the bills until she heard a needy meow behind her. She could recognize the sound of her hungry cat anywhere.

Oreo slithered out the door behind her, making her do a double take and open the door to let him back in. “No, baby. Pst, pst, pst.” She kneeled down trying to coax him back and watched in awe as he slithered around Ony’s legs instead.

The cheeky little boy decided to take a seat right between his feet, purring in content. “Cute cat.” Ony finally acknowledged him, smiling with amusement as her pet leaned its head back to look up at him.

“Thank you, he’s not normally so friendly.” Milana smiled as she scooped up Oreo in her hands and deposited him back inside. Quickly, she closed the door before he could escape again and stood back up, noticing Ony’s eyes on her the entire time.

“So he’s the one holding you down here, huh?” He said distractedly, eyes moving up and down her figure, almost committing it to memory.

She shrugged, ignoring his stare and looking down at her sandals as she answered. “Ah, y’know. He’s the only man in my life, so.” She laughed at her own joke before getting embarrassed at how lame it sounded, shrinking in on herself by trying to pull her cardigan around her body.

“What’s your name?” Ony asked, shocking both himself and her. That wasn’t typical for this type of interaction, to give your random plug your name while trying to buy some prerolls. She didn’t know what to say, but he was so assertive that it was hard to just do nothing.

“My name is Lana- Milana, sorry.” Oh no, why did she give this man her government name? What was she thinking? “Milana is my real name, but I never give it out. Everyone calls me Lana, except my professors, but they can never pronounce it right anyways so…”

She shut herself up before she could ramble anymore. “I’m Onyankopon.” Ony smiled, reaching a hand out smoothly, starting over with her. He never gave out his government name either, but something about her was just too good to resist.

Gorgeous girl, natural beauty too. Not an ounce of makeup, but he couldn’t even imagine how good she’d look wearing it too. Her curls were long and tight, shiny, just as healthy and moisturized as she looked.

When she stepped outside for the first time, it took everything in him not to pull out his phone and thank Eren for wanting to smash some random chick tonight. With the way her body was looking too, he’d really have to make sure this wasn’t the last time he came up here.

“If you need anything,” His hand gently took hers as he stepped forward, her eyes dropping down then jumping to his face. “Give me a call. I’ll have Eren give you my number.” She didn’t even notice how he slid the small baggie into her hand until he pulled away.

Offering up her cash, he took one look at the slightly crumpled bills and shook his head. “Just gimme five and we cool.”

“Five?” Sputtering softly in surprise, she held out two bills instead. “No, no. That’s not enough right?”

He almost laughed at how she nearly gave him twenty five dollars for a twelve dollar bag.

“Call it a discount. For my new favorite customer.” Ony plucked his five out of her hand and let her keep the rest, allowing the silence to wash over them as she felt the weight of his words.

Was he-No. he definitely wasn’t flirting. No way. He’s being funny or nice. He had to be, right? He for sure wasn’t sending her a wink and another smile as he left, walking away and leaving her in the doorway to ponder about what he said.

She felt like she was in a daze as she made her way back into her apartment. Replaying everything in her head as she changed and sat back in the covers, finally lighting up the preroll.

She didn’t know how to feel, the weed calming her down enough to not feel so embarrassed, but that didn’t mean she stopped thinking about Ony. Or Onyankopon? Which one should she use? More importantly, would she even see him again? Milana didn’t know, but she definitely knew who’s number to hit up if she ever needed him.

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stuffedeggplants · 5 days ago

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You're not crazy; he looks like Vlad the Impaler because the costume designer was specifically taking inspiration from later 16th and 17th century noble fashion from the part of present-day Romania he was from, elements of which are shared by peoples from neighboring areas like Ukraine, Hungary, and Poland. Proximity to and sometimes actual control by the Ottoman Empire in the case of Ukraine, Hungary, and Romania strongly influenced fashion there during this time period, making styles more visually distinct from what you think of when you look at noble fashion farther away in Western Europe from the same time period. I know Vlad the Impaler was pre-16th century, but there's a direct line of development from the fashion of his time into fashion that became popular a couple centuries later as Ottoman influence on fashion continued to grow and trading opportunities expanded up through the Balkans and Black Sea and beyond to the countries directly next to those areas. (The huge mustache remained popular as well.)

If you think of culture as moving in gradients, and you center your story around characters living in England (Dracula) or Germany (Nosferatu) in the past, you can pick a villain from another culture in this border region where the gradient shifts a bit--Hungary, Romania, Ukraine, etc.--somewhere far away enough to be at once familiar while still being unfamiliar enough to invoke deep-level anxieties about foreigners. The parallels to the reception and persecution of Jews in Europe--many of whose ancestors were brought there as slaves or forcibly deported from their homeland in Israel by Roman imperialism and repression--as 'perpetual foreigners' in the countries their communities survived and evolved in are obvious.

Because of the nature of the vampire myth, what it represents on a deeper psychological level, and how it's localized to this part of Europe in the movie and popular culture, I 100% understand if there are some Jewish and Ukrainian viewers (or others) who watch the movie and are reminded of how other peoples in history and/or the present time have stereotyped and persecuted them, regardless of what the filmmakers intended or if I necessarily agree that it's 'meant' to show/be something. Art is a personal experience.

Anyway, here's a costume designed for the new Nosferatu!

You can see the similarities it has with this drawing of a 17th century Polish nobleman and the portrait of Gábor Bethlen, a Hungarian prince of Transylvania from the same time period. Note the elements of the coat--lined with fur inside, the decorative designs on the front, the super long sleeves hanging over the shoulder that aren't actually meant for your arms, etc. The hats all have a jeweled ornament decorated with feathers, and the inner jackets are wrapped with sashes at the waist. (We actually have the correspondence of a Transylvanian nobleman who ordered two sashes custom made in Constantinople, but there were issues with his order which I'll explain in the tags.)

Some more 16th and 17th examples drawn from contemporary Hungarian illustrations and paintings:

If you zoom in on the costume's coat, you'll see floral patterns created out of the negative space of surrounding gold embroidery. As a "similar" thing in terms of floral embroidery made of precious metal thread, we have Leopold I's dolmány, made in Italy but produced in Hungarian style. On the right is another example from the same time period of golden floral embroidery, which could be purchased directly in the Ottoman Empire and then further sewn or altered in Hungary/Wallachia/wherever.

I know I just used one Polish example, but there's a ton of upper class male fashion from this time period that looks like this from there, Ukraine, the Balkans, etc. because that's the region where this stuff was popular. Obviously it should all be brought back immediately. This is why the movie costume looks like that--it's specific to a particular time and place, calling back to where Vlad the Impaler came from and where Bram Stoker got his general inspiration and vibes from, only a couple hundred years after Vlad actually lived.

“If it should be, and he came to London, with his teeming millions. … There may be a solemn duty; and if it come we must not shrink from it.”—Bram Stoker, Dracula

A vampire must avoid direct sunlight to avoid crumbling into ash, yet few folk horrors have been subject to more scrutiny than the transformative bloodsuckers who dominate the night. A new and absolutely terrific cinematic take on the myth, Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu, has hit theaters, and its most notable element, in addition to outstanding performances, dialogue, and production design, is that this new version really amps up the lusty goth quotient. (So much hallucinatory writhing and moaning!) However, its release so close to the inauguration of a U.S. president who has stoked fears of immigrants draws out xenophobic elements inherent to the text, and an inner tension with its own reactionary origin is part of the genius of this new film.

If you aren’t a subscriber to Fangoria magazine, you may not know the Nosferatu backstory. The first version, released in 1922, is a landmark of German filmmaking that plundered intellectual property as if it were the grave of a Victorian noblewoman buried with her jewels—a fate some of the characters in Dracula think has befallen poor Lucy Westenra, before it is revealed she is actually an accursed undead demon!

Unlike his most famous literary creation, though, Irish-born writer Bram Stoker does not walk the earth a century after his death. As such, the theater manager who wrote books on the side would likely be surprised at the strength of his legacy. Dracula, published in 1897, was only a modest success at the time. It was not even the first book about vampires published in English; how it became the wellspring for vampire iconography—to the point that is used to sell breakfast cereal—is perhaps due to vivid, dueling film interpretations.

In 1921, a German film producer with an interest in the occult created a new studio (Prana) with an eye toward making supernatural-themed films, and kicked things off with an adaptation of Dracula. He hired Henrik Galeen, who co-wrote the outstanding expressionist The Golem: How He Came Into the World, to write the screenplay, and F. W. Murnau—who would later make Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans, one of the undisputed masterpieces of silent cinema—to direct. But he did not pay for the rights to Bram Stoker’s book. Instead, Galeen changed the names of the characters (Count Dracula to Count Orlok) and the location (London to Wisborg, a fictional German city), and made some additional tweaks to the narrative. The title, Nosferatu, is a word used in Dracula to categorize vampires, meaning undead. (The etymology of this word remains debated, but it may have its roots in the Greek nosophoros, meaning “disease-bearing.”)

Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror was released to significant acclaim, but one person who wasn’t happily chomping on popcorn was Florence Balcombe, Bram Stoker’s widow. An anonymous informant sent her a handbill from the movie’s lavish premiere at the Marble Hall of the Berlin Zoological Gardens. The promotional material boasted that the film was “freely adapted” from Dracula. Balcombe took this to court, won her case, and bankrupted Prana, which was ordered to destroy every copy of Nosferatu. Clearly, this did not happen, as you can still watch the movie today—and, despite the iffy ethical origins, you should; it’s terrific.

But what Balcombe did next was key. Springboarding off the increased interest in the story (and to guarantee proper payment on copyrighted material), she greenlit a stage production. The show ended up being a hit in London in 1927, then moved to New York later the same year. That version starred Bela Lugosi. Four years later, Lugosi reprised the role for Tod Browning’s film version for Universal Pictures, the first talkie in the Universal Monsters series. It was a sensation, and Lugosi’s sharp-toothed Transylvanian is now an early screen icon on par with Chaplin’s Little Tramp.

Other Dracula movies were soon in the works—a Spanish-language version was actually shot concurrently with Browning’s, using the same sets—and have never stopped. Hammer Studios in Britain made several classics starring Christopher Lee; there’s the Andy Warhol-presented Blood for Dracula; the disco era’s comedy Love at First Bite; Francis Ford Coppola’s stylistic version from the 1990s; and then there’s Adam Sandler’s Hotel Transylvania cartoons. Moreover, Lugosi knew a good gig when he saw it. The actor reprised his role for comedy (Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein—and also the Count!) and special appearances (a gig on Fred Allen’s top rated Texaco Star Theater radio show is just one example), and also starred in several Dracula-esque horror titles like The Devil Bat. While Lugosi’s lines from Dracula were instantly quotable (“I never drink … wine” is certainly my favorite), behind it all was the less hokey, dreamlike silent film version of Nosferatu, sprung from illicit origins and filled with striking sinister imagery.

Shadow of the Vampire, released in 2000, imagines that the original production was cursed because actor Max Schreck, who played Count Orlok, was truly a vampire. (Willem Dafoe was nominated for an Oscar for his performance of Schreck in this behind-the-scenes comedy, which is especially amusing because he plays the part of Prof. von Frantz, a spin on Stoker’s Dr. Van Helsing, in the new film.) Shadow of the Vampire’s premise—the cover up of an unsettling (fictional) aspect of the original Nosferatu—works because, while the intentions of Murnau and company are hard to know, it is easy to see how German audiences of the 1920s could read Nosferatu as antisemitic.

The film and its source material read like a laundry list of antisemitic tropes: The Count comes from “the East,” a backwards, superstitious land. (Transylvania, while certainly a real place, means “beyond the woods.”) He has somehow amassed a fortune despite living apart from the villagers who fear and despise him. He is a non-metaphorical bloodsucker. When he gets to civilization, he immediately starts preying on women. In most versions of the story, the first woman he assaults turns into a vampire herself, then starts draining the blood of babies and children, recalling the many examples of supposed blood libel used to excuse antisemitic violence throughout the previous centuries. When the character of Mina Harker (called Ellen Hutter in Nosferatu) is finally penetrated by the count, she declares that her blood is “unclean.” The Count’s curse demands that he sleep each night in the earth of his origin, but he comes up with a sneaky loophole by packing several coffins filled with Transylvanian dirt. One way to interpret the Count’s actions is metaphorical: The immigrants are unwilling to assimilate and they taint our family lines and drag their traditions along with them from the old country. But on a much more literal level, it is quite bluntly blut und bloden, blood and soil, a Nazi rallying cry since the 1920s that, unfortunately, persists to this day.

While these symbolic plot elements exist in the 1897 novel, it was the 1922 German film that dialed them up, adding some undeniable antisemitic visual tropes. Count Orlok, compared to the Spirit Halloween-ready Count Dracula, has a hooked nose and rodent-like clutching hands, an exaggerated reinterpretation of the Count’s features compared to how they are described in Stoker’s book. (Lugosi’s Dracula from 1931 eases up on the visual stereotypes considerably, but he does wear a six-pointed star the first time we see him.)

Murnau also added a plague element to Nosferatu’s storyline. When the Count’s ship comes to Wisborg, it arrives with rats and a rapidly spreading sickness. This “verminization” goes hand-in-hand with the notion of the “dirty Jew.” It is believed that Julius Streicher, editor-in-chief of the Nazi mouthpiece Der Stürmer, was a fan of the film, and Hitler himself, in Mein Kampf, compared Jews to vampires.

So hold on a second, you are telling me that a major motion picture studio has released a work of antisemitic propaganda, and it’s in theaters right now? Do I need to send an angry letter? No, not at all. Please do not cancel Robert Eggers, one of the more brilliant directors on the scene today, whose take on Nosferatu tamps down the antisemitism. (This is his fourth film, following The Witch, The Lighthouse, and The Northman, all very sharp plays on genre storytelling, and all worth watching.). Now, Count Orlok just has a weird and striking nose, not a hook nose. He is also less of a schemer. He is compelled to come to Wisborg, as if it is part of his burdensome curse. If one were to ask, “Why make this movie again?” I’d say that, apart from the exemplary sets and performances and cinematography, Eggers emboldens the supernatural, psychosexual connection between the Count and Ellen. Yes, the town leaders of Wisborg—ostensibly the heroes—remain understandably xenophobic. But Eggers adds a top layer of tragedy, by making the subtext text: The Count and Ellen should be able to get their telepathic freak on, but the social codes of the 1830s are so stifling that even the Prince of Darkness can’t fight them. This creates a tension to the story (and its anti-immigration strain) that feels entirely new.

Considering that hardly anyone watching the new Nosferatu will be unfamiliar with vampire tropes, Eggers is well within his rights to essentially copy-paste elements from the more problematic version and build on it. The added shading, leaving the audience wondering if maybe the Count isn’t such a villain, is enough nuance to keep this from feeling like a definitive political statement. After all, the first thing you’ll likely talk about after seeing it is Ellen’s (Lily-Rose Depp) several moments of bed-ridden, prurient murmuring “he’s coming!” from a dream-like haze. For a director who has made three sharp movies dealing with the supernatural or fantastic, this story is in Eggers’ blood.

10 Vampire Streaming Recommendations

Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror (1922), dir. F.W. Murnau: The original nightmare.

Dracula (1931), dir. Tod Browning: The birth of a franchise. Warning: Though there are many classic moments, much of this movie is dull.

Dracula Has Risen from the Grave (1968), dir. Freddie Francis: The third Christopher Lee Dracula picture, and one that likely influenced the new one—as it was, for its time, a bit on the randy side.

Blacula (1972), dir. William Crain: An 18th century African prince is transformed into a vampire by Count Dracula himself, and ends up in 1970s Los Angeles. Released during the first wave of blaxploitation films, this was the first one to get supernatural.

Love at First Bite (1979), dir. Stan Dragoti: The Count comes to groovy New York and is faced with nonstop schtick. Richard Benjamin plays the famed vampire hunter Van Helsing’s grandson, a neurotic shrink named Dr. Jeffrey Rosenberg.

Nosferatu the Vampyre (1979), dir. Werner Herzog: Before Eggers, there was this German-language take focusing on Count Orlok. A slow-paced film that goes heavy on the plague storyline, featuring a substantial number of rats.

Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992), dir. Francis Ford Coppola: Gen X Dracula, with Winona Ryder, Gary Oldman, and Keanu Reeves.

Thirst (2009), dir. Park Chan-wook: Not a Dracula film, but an unpredictable spin on the vampire myth from one of South Korea’s great filmmakers.

Only Lovers Left Alive (2013), dir. Jim Jarmusch: Cinema’s king of deadpan cool presents artists and rock musicians as vampires eternally on the fringes of society. (A documentary?)

El Conde (2023), dir. Pablo Larraín: Perhaps of particular interest to Foreign Policy readers, this Spanish-language picture, available on Netflix, suggests that Augusto Pinochet was actually a vampire, and takes it from there.

#So a big issue with his order was that he gave them the length he wanted in units from Belgrade that they were ??? about in Constantinople #Apparently the artisans asked around but everyone had a different answer for how long this Belgrade length was supposed to be so... *shrug*#The guy also forgot to say what color he wanted so his intermediary basically wrote “what color pls respond” as respectfully as possible #Another issue was that the One Person who made big luxurious sashes was pretty old and on her deathbed so she couldn't do it #so a Jewish trader had to write to the people on a Greek island where they made these things and asked them to prepare the fabric #which would be dyed once they reached Constaninople #But they still needed to know how long to make the sash so the intermediary just told them to make it double the length of a normal one #I hope the guy was happy with his sashes once they eventually arrived lol #Back to the topic--#I haven't seen the new movie yet and I'm not sure if I want to #I'm definitely interested but I really can't do body horror so I might have to sit this one out based on the reviews :(#Nosferatu #costumes #long post

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