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princess-of-riviaa · 3 years ago

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Dark Minx: Training the Asset

Pairing: Winter Soldier x OFC (Larisa Antonov)

Summary: Larisa Antonov, a lifelong servant to Hydra, had one purpose: to seduce. She trained Hydra agents, male and female alike, in the art of seduction. Specifically, how to use it against anyone in the field. Those above her had recently deemed her worthy of the highest honor: training The Winter Soldier.

Warning(s): winter soldier angst, dirty talk, (kind of) degradation kink, dominant!OFC, submissive!Winter Soldier, blowjob, glimpse of dominant!Winter Soldier

Word Count: 2k

The Winter Soldier’s confinement chamber was cold and bare, making it unsuitable for the job. So they did it in Larisa’s chamber instead, which consisted of nothing more than a plush bed and a desk, but was more than enough to get the job done.

Larisa Antonov, a lifelong servant to Hydra, had one purpose: to seduce. She trained Hydra agents, male and female alike, in the art of seduction. Specifically, how to use it against anyone in the field. Those above her had recently deemed her worthy of the highest honor: training The Winter Soldier.

Little did she know that it would be so hard. Or that the world-renowned assassin would be so… shy.

“You can look at me,” Larisa spoke softly as he entered her room, scanning his surroundings for any sign of threat and completely avoiding her gaze. “In fact, the simplest form of seduction comes through eye contact.”

The Winter Soldier said nothing. He obeyed her, though the wariness in his eyes as he locked gazes with her told her he wasn’t listening because he wanted to, but simply because the only thing The Winter Soldier knew how to do was comply.

She rose from the bed, her black lingerie set twisting with her movements. The only sound in the room was her feet padding across the marble floor as she closed the distance between them. She placed a hand on his cheek. He flinched at the movement, and something about that tugged at something inside of her. He stayed stiff and uncomfortable as she touched his cheek, rough with his stubble.

“Do you not want me to touch you?” she asked.

He said nothing.

“It’s important to use your words when being intimate with someone,” Larisa told him. “Pleasure finds its peak when both people get what they want. Tell me what you want. It’s okay; it’s just the two of us here.”

He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Larisa stayed silent, giving him however long he needed.

“I want…” His voice was hoarse, and she found herself wondering how many days he had gone since speaking. How long it had been since he had been allowed to speak. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I want to leave.”

Part of her wanted to tell him that that wasn’t an option for either of them, that they would both be punished if he left. If she failed to teach him something today.

But she saw the fear in his eyes, and the vulnerability. How long had it been since he’d been honest enough to admit what he wanted? That look in his eyes… it was like looking into a mirror. Larisa recognized those feelings all too well.

So she let him leave.

…

The next day, he lasted a little longer.

She was smart enough to start their training off by asking, “Do you want me to touch you today?”

He was hesitant, but eventually gave a single shake of his head. No.

She nodded. “Okay. I’ll keep my hands to myself. But I’ll need you to touch me.”

Something flashed in his eyes, something Larisa couldn’t place. But he stepped towards her. Slowly. As if he was calculating each step. But even when the distance between them was less than a foot, he didn’t touch her. His hands opened and closed at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Have you ever touched a woman before?” Larisa wondered.

He frowned. “I… I don’t remember.”

“It’s okay,” she assured. “I can show you how.”

She reached for his hand, then stopped. He didn’t want to be touched. So she changed tactics. She brought her hands to her neck and slowly lowered them, trailing her fingers over the skin between her breasts, around her hips, on her waist.

“When you’re seducing someone,” Larisa began, “think of their body as a canvas, and your hands, your mouth, your tongue—they’re the paintbrush. Touch her softly, slowly, teasingly. You don’t need to go anywhere near her sensitive parts to make her writhe for you.”

She finished her demonstration and lowered her hands to her sides.

“Why don’t you try?” she offered.

He swallowed. But, after a minute of hesitation, he touched her. The leather covering his metal hand felt strange against her skin. His gaze was focused on his hands as they trailed down the curves of her body, touching her the way she had showed him. All the while, Larisa found herself wondering what it would feel like to be touched by the cool metal of his bionic arm. She watched his face closely, scanning for the slightest change in expression, scanning for any sign that he was actually enjoying this.

She found nothing but fear in those blue eyes.

He dropped his hands suddenly. Took a step back, away from her. And said, “I want to leave.”

Again, she found herself wanting to protest. Not only because they would be punished if the people above them found out he wasn’t learning as fast as he should be, but because… Because suddenly her heart was racing. And everywhere he had touched her, her skin now burned.

She wanted him to stay because she wanted him.

But she knew that fear in his eyes, and so she let him leave once again.

…

“Do you want me to touch you today?” Larisa asked as she had everyday for the last week. She asked the question more out of habit now. He had never once said yes to her, and she soon stopped expecting him to.

But today, finally, she watched him nod. “Yes,” he added when she just stared at him in disbelief. “I want you to touch me.”

She moved towards him slowly, giving him enough time to change his mind. But he never did. She searched his face for any sign of uncertainty. There was none. He just held her gaze, unblinking, unafraid. Her face burned as she realized she was probably the first person he’d ever dared to look at like that since… since before he became The Winter Soldier.

He tensed when she brought her hands to his face. The look in his eyes exposed his struggle to relax. How long had it been since someone had touched him gently like this? She didn’t let herself think about it, not as she dragged her hands down his chest. He was thick with muscle, and she found herself wanting to know what he looked like without the layers of clothes. He gasped as her hands trailed down lower, just beneath his navel.

“Is this okay…?” Larisa frowned. “Um, I just realized I don’t know what to call you.”

He frowned too. “I think… I think my name is James.”

“Is this okay, James? Me touching here?”

He was silent as he genuinely thought about his answer. “I want you to touch me somewhere else.”

It was so innocent, the way he said it, but it made Larisa’s core burn all the same. God, she wanted to touch him too.

She brought her mouth to his ear to whisper seductively, “With my hands?” To give him a taste, she brought her hand down to his manhood, palming him over his pants. “Or my tongue?” She licked a stripe up his throat to let him imagine what it would feel like when she did that to his cock. “Or something else?”

He groaned—the most heavenly sound she’d ever heard. It drew the breath from her lungs. She would do whatever it took to elicit that groan from him again.

James moved his hands to her hips. He’d never touched her so willingly before and she wondered if he was even aware he was doing it, or if it was simply instinct, a reaction to his arousal.

“I want your hands,” he said finally. “And I want your tongue. Can I have both?”

“Sweet boy,” she murmured against the soft skin of his throat, “of course you can have both. Will you lie on the bed for me? I think it will maximize your pleasure if you lie down.”

They moved to the bed. Larisa was slow to lower his pants, teasing him with her words and the look in her eyes. The evidence of James’s growing arousal was found not just in his lengthening cock but in the look on his face, in the way his pupils dilated and his mouth parted with quick, shaky breaths.

“I want you to touch me,” James said, his voice shaking.

She smirked down at him. “I know, baby. The need is building, isn’t it? You just need me to touch your cock, don’t you?”

He gave her a desperate look. “Please.”

“Patience is key to seduction,” Larisa explained as she moved between his legs and began kissing along his navel, getting close to his cock but not quite touching it.

James released shaking breaths with every teasing kiss and lick she gave him. She basked in it; in the power this gave her. He was already writhing and desperate and she hadn’t even really touched him yet.

Larisa was slow to wrap a hand around the base of his thick cock. The velvety-smooth skin was warm, the thin vein pulsing. She wanted to put him in her mouth as badly as he did, but she still had to teach him a lesson. One of the rules of seduction was that pleasure needed to be withheld until the last possible moment to extract whatever information one needed from their target. So she kept her hand wrapped around his shaft without moving it, teasing him with the promise of jerking him off but not yet delivering.

“Touch me.” The voice he spoke in now was different. It was dominant, demanding. It was fucking hot. The voice of The Winter Soldier. As arousing as it was terrifying.

Larisa smirked down at him. “And if I don’t?”

He hesitated, not knowing how to answer.

“When you’re in the bedroom, you take the reins,” Larisa told him, holding his gaze so he would know how important this was. “You’re the one in control, not your lover. If you want me to touch you with my mouth, you tell me to do that. Most people love to be dominated, and the more verbal you are with what you want, the better.”

“I want your mouth on me,” he replied, the desperation darkening his eyes.

Larisa smiled and lowered her mouth to his cock, licking a stripe up the side of his shaft. He let out another pornographic moan that made her thighs clench together. She wanted him to make that sound when he fucked her. She bobbed her head up and down his shaft a few times before pulling away.

“You can guide me, move my head how you want,” she offered before going back to sucking his cock.

A second later his fingers were grasping her hair. He pushed her down his length until his cock brushed the back of her throat. She gagged around him, and he finally released her with a pleasurable sigh. They continued like that for several moments—her bobbing her head along his shaft a few times before he would force her to take all of him, only letting go when she signaled that she could no longer breathe. Drool and tears fell down her face by the time his hips began to buck up with his rising climax.

He muttered something in a language Larisa didn’t recognize, and then he was spilling his warm, salty seed down her throat. She eagerly licked up every drop. His body shook even after she finished lapping up his cum.

“How was that?” she asked him.

He just smiled.

“What are you thinking right now?” She wanted to know the thoughts running through his head.

He said, “I’m pissed that I didn’t ask you to do that sooner.”

...

Tag Squad:

@thereisa8ella @geralt-of-baevia @the-soot-sprite @bitchyikes @captainsy-cookiemonster

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #the winter soldier smut #the winter solider fanfiction #the winter soldier

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starshipsofstarlord · 4 years ago

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The Sheriff and the Murderer

Part Four

Previous Parts | Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Series Masterlist

Summary | car rides come to a gruelling end, leaving you and Sandy with the dirty business of burying Simon’s limbs. Though, when Lee enters the station, he hears the news of a weeping widow, that has been touched unfairly by your husband. He has to find Simon.

Warnings | mentions of death, mentions of rape, mentions of pregnancy, angst, mentions of sex, includes smut, swearing, fingering, blowjob, titty fucking, dirty talk, anal sex, squirting

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Dirt moulded upon the seams of your knees as you knelt, placing Simon’s hand upon the pile of his scattered body parts. There had been many holes dug in the woods, and it was beginning to get dark, as you and Sandy finally finished hiding the evidence of your crime.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you had finally finished stowing away the parts of your life that haunted you, and with much pleasure, buried it deep within the ground. “Surely now you’ll be looking for a new husband...” Sandy snickered, grabbing a rag to wipe the grime from her well adversed hands off on.

“That would not at all be suspicious.” You rolled your eyes at your friend, grabbing the shovels and moving towards her trunk. “But I’m going to need a story for his disappearance, Lee among others will certainly find it strange to never see me worrying of his return.”

A light scoff emitted from the blonde, as she shook her unruly curled head. She placed a hand upon your shoulder, giving you a tender smile to soothe your thoughtful nerves. “Ain’t nobody gonna wanna find that poor excuse of a man. And if they do, you’re gonna be the last person that they suspect.”

She had a point, the people in town that knew of you, were aware that you were nothing more than a simple housewife. You were forced to depend on Simon and his income, and without either, you would fall into squalor. But a life of difficulty, fighting against sexist poverty would be better than living with that monster.

Because that is what Simon was, a monster. He had no recollection nor care for the value of you being a woman, like many men in the day and age. And now, with his bones hidden in the middle of nowhere, far form citizen eyes, you were free, though you were unsure of what to do with your newfound freedom, and how you would manage it.

“What about that wife of his?” Lee snapped his head around, as he looked between the door that held the victim, and Deputy Reeves, who had decided to bring the woman that owned his heart, and another man’s ring upon her finger, into this case. But it was inevitable, you were to be dragged into it, Simon had a hell of a nerve for putting you into the corner.

“And what may your point be to bring y/n into this inconvenience?” The sheriff snapped at his co worker, containing his anger concerning the situation. Reever reeled his head back at the sound of Bodecker’s tone, frowning at his commander’s voice.

“I meant, she may know where Simon Priot is! I’m not assuming that she is the reason that he has gone off the grid, hell knows he wallows in the dark corners of this town. You need to make your likening towards that lady less obvious, I remember back during our training days, you’d carry around a picture of her, and now look at her... she’s bound to have be with a child in a year or so, she moved on Lee, and you’re still stuck on her like gum on the bottom of her shoe.”

Lee bit his lip, restraining the need to explode on this man that was below him, yet was still talking down to him. It was true, it was a fear of his that he’d watch you balloon with an heir, that Simon would raise under his manipulative thumb. And the chances would be, that the baby was genetically identical to his genes, having been made from the pair of you sexually intermingling.

“So your concern is that y/n may know his whereabouts, and not what he may do to her behind closed doors? This woman that we are interviewing may be from a wealthy family, mourning her own well established partner, but because y/n and Simon are married, it surpasses over your thick skull!”

He steadied his breath, holding his hands upon his hips as he tried to control his authority, though, Reeves did not entirely seem impressed with Lee’s words. Instead, he simply bellowed a laugh, finding his sheriff’s prejudice to be amusing. “That is one way to act jealous. Guess I’ll just go over to her home, and see if Simon is present.”

“I’ll go.” Lee grabbed his mug, glaring at his coworker as he walked profusely away, sending a point of his finger towards the door that the widow was concealed behind, prompting that Reever best continue his work, whilst he perceived to do the same.

A series of knocks had you bustling out towards the door, clothed in nothing more than a towel, as you had just left the premises of the bath, finding it to be only Lee on the other side. “Hiya sheriff, is there anything that I can help you with? Maybe you’d like to come inside for a cup of something smooth and sweet.” You bit your lip, giggling as he pushed you through the door.

He shut it behind himself, pinning you against the wall, as his face tucked into your neck, planting ravishingly kisses against the column of your neck, making you revel your head back. “You do feel smooth.” His hands ran up the length of your leg, worming it’s way beneath the rough fabric, sliding his fingers up and into your entrance, causing you to moan up and toward his chin. “I’m finding this suspicious...”

At his words you froze, becoming paranoid that he had found something out. You stared up at him as he thumbed at your clit, as you rutted your hips down and upon his fingers. “Lee, you have to listen to me, there is nothing to be - fuck!” He shoved another two fingers into you, stretching you open, as your hands stroked against his sleeved biceps.

“Every time you answer that damned door, you’re dressed in practically nothing. It’s like you’re trying to seduce all the men around here.” He smirked, using his free hand to tug off the towel, leaving you in nothing more than your own nude skin.

“Just one.” You played with his tie, wincing as the sheriff removed his fingers from inside of you, raising them to your lips as you tasted your own juices from his flesh. “He’s quite the charmer, that smile of his, well that’s contagious. And don’t get me started on that plump belly of his, I love to feel it pressing against me as he fucks me into the mattress. He’s so handsome, and has such a big, pulsing cock.”

With that said, you dropped nakedly to your knees, tugging at his belt, looping the leather out from its holsters, and dragging the layers of material down, so that you could expose his erecting cock. You grasped his base, instantly moving your mouth down to his balls, sucking his left one into your mouth, causing the man above you to grit his teeth.

You stroked his length, moving back up towards his tip, tapping it against your tongue, moaning against him as he began to comb his fingers through your hair, before sinking his fat cock down your throat, feeling his taste upon your buds, as you stared up at him with your innocent eyes.

“Such a talented mouth.” He moved his hips, sinking further into you, as you muffled your noises of gagging on him. “Simon really is a lucky man.” He muttered to yourself, the words being inaudible to where you were below him. But where was Simon?

“Love sucking your cock.” You popped him out of your mouth, swiping your tongue up his shaft, as you continued to pump him. “So big Lee Lee.” His eyes rolled to the back of his head, as he handled himself, moving himself of out your grasp, as he watched you press closer to him, a breast on either side, as he rested on your chest.

You grasped your breasts, a hand upon each, as you suffocated his length with your tits, bouncing on your thighs, as you fucked him with your assets. “Y/n.” He breathed, humming at the sight of you, licking his lips, as he felt swarmed with pleasure.

He remembered back in the day, when he would come over to your house and help you study for mid terms. Those sessions ended rather similarly, with one of you performing some kind of pleasure on the other, keeping as quite as you could so that your father would not hear.

But of course he knew what was going on, which was why he had decided to introduce you to Simon, so that his blessing would sway you into choosing him rather than Lee. “I’m going to cum, baby girl. Gonna soak your lovely tits with my spunk.” He groaned, watching behind heavy lidded eyes as he spilled over your chest, painting it white, as he stepped slightly back, and turned soft.

“Oh my - Christ!” You squealed as you were held chest first against the dining table, remnants of Lee’s cum sliding upon the surface as you were pounded back and forth, Lee behind you as he took you from that angle. “Harder baby, har - ah!”

A light scream reckoned from your throat, your fingers grasping the corners of the surface, as he slipped his cock out from inside of your pussy, pressing his tip against your tighter hole, using no lubrication except your own natural essence that cloaked his skin, as he began to press into your ass.

“Honey, you’re so tight.” He squinted, as he began to slow down, allowing you to adjust to his girth within your asshole before moving slightly faster. “You’re ass feels so good. Never let your horrible husband in your back door, have you?”

The thoughts of ways that Simon had never brought you pleasure, times that you consented to it, made him pulse harder within you. Lee had been permitted to do more socially unacceptable things with you, in your home, and it completely turned him on. If anyone knew that adultery, and all these other things that Lee did to you, they would even look down on him, the sheriff.

“No. Only you Lee Lee.” You threw your head back, moulding with the pressure of his hand upon your back, forcing you to be flat against the table. “I want more baby, give me something more sweetie.” Giving you a light spank upon your ass, making your tighter walls clench around him, he trailed his hand to your front, pinching your clit, before delving his fingers within your contracting walls.

“Holy heaven.” Lee groaned, feeling at how your wetness seeped down his hand, as he hammered into you. This session had been going on for so long, and if he weren’t mistaken, he’d think it to be one of the best. “Cum baby, cum all over me. And I’ll feel this ass up, yeah?”

Feverishly nodding, you continuously clenched around his thick fingers, until a flow of clear liquid squirted out from your pussy, creating a puddle upon the kitchen floor as he removed his hand from inside you, shoving it in your mouth to mute your screams. His balls slapped against the middle of your ass cheeks, as he thrusted, falling back against you as he filled you up.

Grasping your hips lightly, he pulled back, watching as his cum dripped out from you, cascading down the back of your thighs, as your pussy withered from emptiness. He bit his lip at the sight, and for a moment, he forgot why he had visited you this early on the day for an exchange, and then he remembered, it all flashing back to him.

Perhaps another round was in order, to numb the reminder of your marriage, and the case that he was on duty for. As you returned to your senses, he helped your get up, carrying you towards the bathroom to partake in more fulfilment and cleanse the both of you.

Tags;

@charmed-asylum @tcc-gizmachine @stucky-my-ship @brynthebulldozer @acciosiriusblack @lady-loki-ren

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writeblrfantasy · 3 years ago

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excerpt from acogs: agathon

been a while since yall have seen acogs content, hm? this has to be one of my favorite pieces of it, certainly one of my favorite backstory pieces. i'm so endlessly proud of this part and i just. ahhhh. please enjoy nikolai's innocent childhood bisexual love <3

wc 2100

When Nikolai was ten, he met a boy.

He had brown skin and golden eyes, and the wonder in them could’ve only been matched by Nikolai’s own. His hair never seemed to lie smooth, no matter how much he pushed it down, contrary to Nikolai’s, which always stuck flat to his head and forced his tickly bangs into his eyes. It still does.

He carried the sun around with him, captured pieces of it in his eyes, infused its warmth into everything he touched. Nikolai heard the sun in his laugh, saw it reflected in his smile. In his confused, cagey, ten year old heart, he understood he was around something special.

Agathon, that was his name. Agathon. So smoothly it rolled off the tongue.

He and his family, all seven of them, arrived in Nikolai’s town with their canvas covered wagon, their camels—this was when Windcarpets were less trusted than they are now—and right into Nikolai’s heart. They came from a remote village on the Urkon-Cairic border, a family who made their living from weaving rugs and clothes.

Nikolai was interested in them the day he saw them, but he always thought they paled in comparison to Agathon. His parents were kind to Nikolai, always offered him honey cakes and tea when he visited, and Agathon’s siblings shared their toys. Agathon’s eldest sister taught him to play the lute.

But Agathon…oh, Agathon.

Agathon took to Nikolai immediately. His first words to him were, “You have spots on your face!” which Nikolai later understood to be the light smattering of freckles that appear across his nose in the summertime, put there by the sun.

He and Agathon spent their days talking about everything and nothing, as ten year olds did, racing each other through the long grass to the west of their desert town. Where the Pelia ended on the north side, at the edge of the village, they would drink and dip their feet and shriek when the water was too cold.

In the winter, on the rare days when the cold rains came and they all had to go inside, Nikolai would beg his mother to let him stay at Agathon’s house until she gave in. The two of them slept side by side under layers of fur that only got used once a year, for occasions like this.

Agathon’s father would read them stories by the fire. Nikolai’s house didn’t have a fireplace, and he was always fascinated by this one. Those were the soundest nights of sleep he ever had, his head nearly buried under fur with Agathon’s hair in his face, his father’s soft voice lulling him to sleep. Nikolai took to calling him Father for a while.

Nikolai rapidly felt himself falling into something he was too young to know. All he understood was that his chest seemed to be expanding every day, a little more, filled with a little more sunlight and warmth every time Agathon laughed at one of his jokes.

Nikolai didn’t ever want to say goodbye to him at the end of the day, he wanted to stay for dinner and stay in Agathon’s room, sleeping on the floor by the fireplace if it was too hot for the furs. They would stay up all night talking and waiting restlessly for morning to come, where they could wander farther than their parents knew and would’ve never let them go had they known.

His mother never invited Agathon to their house, but that was okay. Nikolai didn’t want her sourness, her constant scolding bringing darkness to the light in his chest. One touch of Agathon’s hand and he swore he could fly into the very sun that beat down on them every day.

Nikolai once pressed his lips to Agathon’s cheek on impulse, no self-restraint so young, and he remembers the swoop in his stomach before Agathon turned his head and smiled at him with all the warmth in the world. Nikolai didn’t know what it meant, but he knew enough to sigh in relief and accept it when Agathon grabbed his hand. They ran through the grass field together that day, instead of a race.

And then, like most things in his life, his mother ruined everything.

That’s not something he realized until he was much older and she was dead. Hell, even recently, thanks to Katya, he’s been examining her ghost differently. Agathon was the first in many, many incidents she stripped away his privacy, his privileges, down to the way he thought about himself and his desires. Everything became about pleasing her just enough to keep her off his back.

Nikolai had been working up the nerve to tell Agathon how he felt for a few months, because even then he knew that sort of thing wasn’t always met kindly, when his mother broke the news. They were moving, going north to the capital city Thiria, leaving the town he’d lived in his whole life. Agathon wasn’t coming with them.

It would take a year, his mother said, but she would establish herself and her ideas enough to get her son elected by the community as queen. Nikolai had never had a day of sword training in his life, he couldn’t be a king, a fighter, but he had a silver tongue. He would be a queen.

The clever system of choosing queens and kings in every Actium country puts a pressure on the person to be worthy of the throne. If they are both a good diplomat and a good fighter, they choose whichever label they like best. If they are neither, they should not be on the throne. How simple.

After he’d be elected, his mother would buy herself all the fine clothes and indulge in all the food and get all the attention she’d lacked in her lonely life. Nikolai was merely an instrument. Which is exactly what happened.

It’s an accident that as he grew up in the throne, he started to care about Urkon and the people who brought their problems to him every day. When he learned about the ticking time bomb in his front yard, the one that wouldn’t ever explode but always had a small chance, he breathed through it and went on.

He grinned and bore the knowledge, at eleven, twelve, thirteen, that Urkon was so much more than his little western village and Agathon’s old home. He dealt with farmers who needed a land dispute settled, ambassadors from the west and east and north, he had servants waiting on him, silk and velvet, stuffy city air.

He goggled at just how much his mother didn’t care, but how much effort she put into pretending.

He has risen from nothing, as they all do, to luxury and power, bringing with him an unconscious air of the inexplicable magic that stems from the Staarenclock. From the cerulean diadem that drips from his hair while he sprawls on his throne, to the shining black paint on his fingernails, to the jewelry that rests on his neck, he attracts, he seduces, disappoints.

He’s never tried, and until he was queen, he never noticed. When he did, it became a tool to sate his momentary desires, a temporary fix for his long term ache, a way of fooling people. No one believes a pretty queen is capable of anything.

Good.

Nikolai doesn’t remember much from after his mother’s bombshell announcement, which is partly good. It’s a lot of gaps in numbness and anger he can never get back, and she’s not around to fill in the details. He remembers holding back tears so many times with Agathon, not wanting to ruin their last precious weeks together.

Nikolai went kicking and screaming. He doesn’t want to know how he looked to the villagers, to Agathon’s family. He remembers the tears running down Agathon’s face, the gold fading at long last from his sunshine eyes. Nikolai’s mother was dragging him away, he was no longer close enough to touch him and shudder through the warmth seeping into his skin. Just the knowledge that he no longer could made him ache for it all the more.

Agathon was screaming for him, too. The pair of them must’ve been the most dramatic thing the townsfolk had ever seen, acting like they were dying. Nikolai remembers the agony on Agathon’s mother’s face, the effort it was taking her to hold her son back from running to Nikolai again. He broke free anyway, sprinting toward Nikolai and tripping over himself.

They were locked in each other’s arms for one last time, ugly crying into each other’s shoulders. “I love you,” Nikolai said, as he had seen Agathon’s parents tell each other while they cooked side by side, laughed, shoved each other playfully when bickering. He knew it meant something. He knew it meant everything.

His mother picked him up and carried him on her shoulder the rest of the way, but he watched Agathon mouth it back.

He only had a year with Agathon, but being ripped away from him was like reaching into his chest and pulling out an artery. He had never known pain like that. He told his mother over and over that first year when she was working her way up in Thiria that his heart wouldn’t stop hurting, he missed home, he wanted to go back.

Of course, he didn’t miss the town that much. Thiria was intimidating, but there was so much to do, always something to occupy him. The one thing he missed more than anything in the world was Agathon and his sunshine smile.

As a child, his feelings were so much rawer. He didn’t bother repressing them because he didn’t know how yet, and his mother wasn’t deep enough yet in her madness to teach him to.

Two years later, when he was queen with his mother the real queen behind him, while he tried and failed every day to buck off her hold, he met Saige.

He had forgotten and moved on from Agathon somewhat, of course. He learned from both his mother and practicality that he couldn’t spend all day crying in bed and begging to go back, threatening to steal a camel or a Windcarpet when he got truly desperate. Agathon wasn’t in his head every moment of every day, but he took one look at Saige and it all came back.

The day he met her, he had heard nothing about her but the king who had been put through hell and needed no one but her war of vengeance, and she heard nothing about him but the queen whose mother always seemed to be there.

The day he met Saige, he got his mother to leave them alone for a while. Looking into her brown eyes, her little smirk, her friendly smile, a little piece of his chest ached, but in a different way than it did for Agathon. Hers was the ache after a dislocated joint snapped back into place. Hers was the stretch in the morning, an ebbing headache, the ache of waiting for a healing wound to finally close over. Something that punched the breath out of you, but in a way that was right. Like it was supposed to happen.

The day he met her, he heard Agathon’s parents in her voice, bickering, shoving each other, watched her move and saw them bumping hips as they did the dishes together. He saw Agathon mouthing his final words to him when she spoke.

He’s never told her this, but Saige healed him. It only got better after that day. After stumbling, falling, she guided his feet and helped him find his footing. She did not replace Agathon, because that would be a disservice to both of them. Nikolai found space easily in his heart for her. It was as though she had just been waiting to move in to the space he had prepared for years.

He loves her. He would burn down the world for her, as he hopes she would do for him.

He doesn’t tell Kayani that, however. He skims over the depth of his feelings for Saige—he’s at peace with them, he has nothing to be ashamed of, and he’s pretty sure she knows, but it’s for them. Not Kayani, not anyone else. Not that.

When Nikolai’s done, Kayani is still watching with rapt attention, a bit of shock. He looks up at the moon and inhales. He didn’t realize he’d been rambling so long. Saige is still asleep, thankfully.

“Did you ever try to find him again?” Kayani asks.

“No. It was never the right time, even after her death.” He thinks of it, now. Trying. But the thought makes his chest ache, so he puts it away.

acogs taglist (lmk to be added/removed) @magic-is-something-we-create @inkflight @spencer-nyx @writing-is-a-martial-art @ashen-crest @wisteria-eventide @nikkywrites @denkis-phone-charger @myhusbandsasemni @lynolord @ettawritesnstudies @golden-apple-s-blog @chazzawrites @pen-of-roses @47crayons @wickerring @sleepy-night-child @florraisons @faithfire @croctears @inkovert @kait-writes

#writing #Lila’s wips: acogs #writeblr #fantasy #fantasy wip #my fantasy wip #my wip #bean's excerpts

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winter-fox-queen · 3 years ago

Text

Kisses Like Wine Part 5

Warnings: Cursing, some not very nice dealings to not very nice people, angst.

Summary: Despite his best efforts, you catch up to the Thief…but the consequences are far from what you hoped for.

That bastard had no right to look that good in a red velvet coat.

There he was, in his own private box, watching the opera like like he was the king of the world, opera glasses looking fragile and delicate in his hand.

Concentrate. He’s here for the same reason you are. And you are damned well going to beat him to his prize.

Her brother had come through. Found out who owned the auction house — I’d managed to find out about the discrete, underground auctions when I worked at Gambrel’s. I found out that the couple would be here tonight, all I had to do was see if I could find a way to get their key card fir the suite at the hotel they were staying at. Apparently they did not live in Rome, and only came in when they had things to sell.

They were older than I imagined. The woman looking elegant and patrician, her husband looked like a oversized fire hydrant. Their body language was not what I expected. They seemed to like each other very much, a fondness of many years together That made me a little envious. I’d followed them from the hotel, managed to see where he put the key card. I’d been careful…I heard whispering of how they made their money, and if it as true they where Not to be Messed With.

So, of course, I was planning on messing with them.

I snuck into a seat not too far behind them, but hopefully out of the path of The Theif’s gaze, and tried to be patient. I would move during intermission. Then I would have a whole half an opera and late dinner to break in and get what I wanted.

I glanced back up at the thief. He was too beautiful, and I liked looking at him far too much. His question about why I wanted the star was bothering me. What was the point? I followed him because he told me to. Because I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Because I hoped if I retrieved the star I’d be…more equal. More accepted? I probably have about as much of my family’s love and acceptance I was probably going to get, but the idea of being the hero was alluring.

Maybe even as alluring as the Thief.

I was pretty angry with him, honestly. I knew he drugged me, I felt slightly drunk and out of it for a moment, enough disorientation to give him a chance to flee. It was stupid, probably, to be disappointed. If a tiger bites you, do you yell at it? Or do you accept that you shouldn’t have petted it in the first place?

Intermission. Finally. I followed them at a pace. I actually wanted to see if he would approach them first. So I hid. Followed, pretended to join a group and nod wisely until they noticed me and I muttered apologies and moved on. The place was a crush of people drinking, talking, discussing the opera. Perfect.

There. Flash of deep velvet. He was moving nonchalantly, as if he had nothing to do, closing in along her right side, away from her husband…so I did something awful. I pushed the elegant woman right into his arms. The Thief had two choices, let her fall, or catch her.

He caught her.

I went in, dipped into the man’s pocket, grabbed the wallet and left, letting the jostling of other people and his distraction with a very handsome man holding his wife cover up my actions.

I extracted the key card, turned the wallet in at the bar, and left quickly.

It was all so smooth. I felt fairly cocky. It was all so simple.

Until I got to the safe. I found it fine. There were only so many places to look. But I sat there, cross legged, my tight, elegant dress pushed up so I could sit comfortably on the floor, and realized I was completely out of my element. I fiddled with the edge of my latex glove and worried.

“It’s not in there.”

I squeaked. Like a damned mouse. I turned and hurled a shoe at him, and he ducked.

He smirked at me.

“How did you get in?”

“She had a keycard in her purse…thank you for throwing her into my arms. That made things so much easier.”

I stood. “You are so…insufferable. Yes. Don’t you dare look hurt, you know you are. Now. How do you know it’s not in there? There’s no where else it could be.”

He leaned against the low dresser and shrugged.

“Fine.” I shooed him away and returned my attention to the safe.

“I’m telling you, you are wasting your time.”

“Why should I believe you? You who love to drug me, lie to me…”

“I don’t love that at all.” He had the nerve to sound actually hurt rather than the fake hurt of earlier.

“So either tell me where you think the diamond is, or open the damned safe.”

He smirked at me. “They aren’t going to put a million dollar jewel in a hotel safe…but they might put something less expensive looking in there.” He got out his phone and started playing with the screen. The safe made a sound. I knelt and opened it.

“Well?” He asked.

“You had an app on your phone to open a hotel safe?”

“Absolutely. Hotel safes are worthless, might as well keep your valuables in a locked drawer under some tampons.”

I caught the dig, glared at him. “Everyone’s a comedian. I have an iPad, and a slip of paper.” A slip of paper wrapped around a USB key.

He held out his hand, and I gave him the iPad.

“No, that’s useless…I want the paper.”

I smiled and pushed it down into my bodice.

He stepped closer to be, his eyes dark. “Do you think I am above retrieving that?”

I looked up into his eyes. They were almost completely black, and I shivered. I was filled with the need to feel those large hands, cupping my breasts, stroking my skin. I cleared my throat and said, “The play ended forty five minutes ago. They probably got to Francesco’s for their reservation about ten minutes after that…the place right across the street from the opera house. That means that we probably only have a half an hour left before they get here, so I suggest…”

The elevator dinged. We looked at the still closed door.

“There are three rooms on this floor,” I said softly.

“Not booked.” He threw the iPad back into the safe and closed it. I ran to the window.

“No ledge,” I shot him a panicked look.

The coat closet. They might use that. The Bathroom. They would definitely use that. The bedroom…sneak under the bed, and wait?

He grabbed my waist swept us behind the door as it opened. He sprayed something in their faces and they fell before they were even truly across the thresh hold.

“Now what? If they come to they’ll know…”

“And they’ll change the code you are so obligingly keeping for me in your bosom. So…we must get them ready for bed.” He grabbed the man by the wrists and pulled him the rest of the way in, as I shut the door.

“I don’t…”

He looked me in the eye. “If you woke up naked in your husband’s arms, would you say you didn’t remember how you got there?”

“That’s…that’s horrifying on so many levels. I mean…she does not look like a woman who would be happy with strangers seeing her naked.”

“I don’t want to see other of them nude, but unfortunately someone interfered with my plans and now we have to improvise and hope for the best.”

I started to help him. “I cannot believe this is the first plan you came up with.”

He shot me an annoyed look. So, we improvised.

A short time later we were back on the sidewalk again. “I am going to feel horrible about that for the rest of my life,” I informed him as the cool night air hit my face again.

“We were as polite and gentle as possible. And, in truth, neither of them will ever find themselves guests at a cocktail party in heaven.” He turned to me. “Now, as for you…”

“No. No you don’t. You don’t get to come close enough to drug me or seduce me. Ever. You want the USB, you have to follow me to the warehouse.”

He walked a circle around me. “You are not dressed for the occasion.”

I followed him the best I could. I could feel the bite of the USB under my right breast. “I can adapt.”

“You can. You do. I am impressed with you,” he said in his most satin voice.

“Stop it.” There was a plea edging my words.

“What is your price?” He said, so close his breath ghosted over my bare shoulder. I stepped away quickly, turned. He raised his hands, all innocence.

“You won’t pay it. Now stop this…stop this seduction garbage. You don’t want me. You want the damned USB.”

“I’ll pay. Oh, I’ll pay. My first honest transaction in years. Now. The price?”

I shook my head, I felt overwhelmed. Conflicting hopes and thoughts churning away inside of me, and I couldn’t tell anyone.

“The Star. For your family. Will that give you what you want?”

“What else can I have?”

He gave an expansive shrug, haloed in the yellow street lamp like a Renaissance saint. “What do you want?”

“What about you? Are you on the table?”

He stopped. “No.”

“But you told me to come find you.”

He looked away. I felt like I’d stolen all his lines, and now there he was, naked and exposed on the stage.

“And you did.” His face closed like an iron door. “Good job.”

I’d misread him. I thought I’d understood this wild chase, but I’d been fool. What did I expect? I didn’t even know his name. “I don’t want anything from you, then.” I said, and I pulled the USB out of my bodice. It caught, it was not a smooth motion, it was awkward and I felt stupid, my grand gesture of throwing it at him ruined. It bounced off him and fell in the street. “I’m tired of you. You’re no better than my family.” I didn’t look up to see how the words hit, I just kept walking.

Thank you to you lovely people for being on my tag list, if you want added or dropped just let me know. <3

@grogusmum @mishasminion360 @hnt-escape @littlemisspascal @pedro4ever @writteninthestars18 @fromthedeskoftheraven @sharkbait77

@quica-quica-quica @eri16 @the-blind-assassin @ayoungpascallover-readings @songsformonkeys

#casillero diablo wine Commercial #The Thief #Pedro Pascal

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thelemmerpie · 4 years ago

Text

You look at your watch, and the same question since the beginning of the school year crosses your mind.

Why having classes on saturday morning?

Everyone is tired, except the teacher. Everyone will have to work this weekend. Students never have a vacation, only stolen time paid from sleepless nights.

Whatever. Since you know Mandy, your saturdays to you two are as free as possible and almost nothing prevents you from seeing each other. Every week, you end up in your favorite italian restaurant for a dinner, often accompanied by a night of pleasure in your flat, or hers. Even if it's still impossible for you to live with each other, spending the weekends together is not uncommon. So much that she has clothes and toilet stuff in your appartment, and vice versa.

You thought about her face floating above a table, lit by candles. It perfumes your spirit and you quickly forget the courses. Gracious, her smile revealing so cute dimples, her long and willowy hair tumbling down like a waterfall made of the most sleeked mirror on her oppulent chest, more or less revealed according to her mood...You're already on a cloud only by thinking about her. The day is beautiful, your eyes closes while you're smiling, and nothing can lift you out of your contemplation.

-Mr. Johnson seems already on weekend. Unless he's still in dreamland?

Almost nothing. The comment is as striking as a bucket of iced water. You turn your head to the old vulture who serves as a teacher. The bun as tight as her thin pinched lips, she looks at you with eyes ready to throw lightning. You stutt.

-Sorry mam'. Tiredness.

-Think about sleeping at night, young man.

As if you could afford it...This first year of master's degree in plastic arts, sculpture course, is more exhausting than expected.You wish you could rest your head every night on Mandy, which is impossible. Since she obtained a bachelor's degree and works on the other side of the city, she had to take a flat. You, you stayed on the campus. Life is good inside it, but not as much as with her.

The rest of the class is deadly boring, but you strive to make as many notes as you can. Finally, after what seems like hours, the old harpy frees you by asking you to return a project for the next time.

You turn on your phone and the notifications appears. Mandy sent you a text. You open it right away, hoping for a soft message to wait until tonight.

"I'm sorry, I have to cancel dinner tonight"

A fleeting moment passes, then an immense disappointment falls like a hawk on his prey (and on your heart. And on your libido). This is not the first time that one of you cancels at the last moment, but it's always unpleasant. Nevertheless, you decide to not hold it against her, even if it saddens you.

"Too bad :'( All you alright? I miss you so much ".

The answer doesn't take long to arrive.

"Yes, I'm fine, but I really cannot go out yet."

She doesn't give you more details, which worries you a bit. Usually, you immediately tell to the other the reasons for the cancellation. You are puzzled, but you trust her and don't insist.

"If you need anything, I can go to your house tonight. Shop, or anything else. What about pizzas and a movie on the TV ?"

"Yes ! That would be wonderful, and much better ! If I can't go out right now, I can at least let you in ~~ I'm sending you a list."

It's autumn, but the heat persists and the blue sky makes you want a sandwich. You would like her to be there, by your side, lying in the still soft green grass, but she never liked the heat for a simple reason : finding suitable clothes to go out in such heat is almost impossible. Not because of being overweight, no. At least, not all over her body. It's a very local overweight: a macromastia.

As a teenager, her chest was already growing at an impossible rate. At 17, she was competing with the most buxom models you'd ever seen. Since then, her chest continues to grow steadily. Every four months, she is forced to buy new bras. Whole boxes of old underwear hang around her house.

She learned to do with it. As soon as she's back home, she unravels the torture instrument to free her chest. If it excited you at first, it fast becomed as common as taking off your shoes. Ignoring her chest is clearly impossible, especially when it jumps in all directions. But the moments you prefer are those quite ones where you are together to the couch, watching TV while behaving and more if you're in the mood. These moments are still too rare. You hope this will change one day. In such a big city, your respective obligations separates you and if you get closer, it would be your obligations that would be too far from you.

You sigh. In just over a year, you'll be able to live together. Her father has promised you a job in his molding company, and he already considers you two as married. Maybe you'll even be able to take up his business later. A clear path, a good job, a dream girlfriend, and a lovely family in law. It's well worth it to endure on saturday mornings with the vulture and work like a madman.

You finish your sandwich when your phone vibrates again. It's Mandy. A short list is displayed. She doesn't need much : food, some medicine...And new bras.

There, you frown.

She bought some two weeks ago, and they were already costing a fortune, in addition to being horribly uncomfortable. Having a big chest is considered as chance, but the bad sides can be counted easily : besides the expensive and inconvenient underwears, you can cite the look of others and the lustful solicitations from complete strangers when you go out in the street.

And yet, you've never seen her complain. No back pain, a body of foolproof flexibility, and an amused satisfaction when she surprises the eyes of others dive into her deep cleavage. She likes to seduce as well, but has always looked for someone who would consider her as something much than a toy for a titfuck. Her breasts didn't leave you indifferent, but you quickly became interested about her to the point that even naked, you can discuss with her as when she wears a triple layer of thick clothes, in autumn and winter, the only seasons where she can go out without problems. Her two favorite seasons have quickly become yours as she feels comfortable.

And yet, what a pair !

You could carve it from memory on pink marble, with all the details that her body offers. Round, no, a little oval. Glossy, smooth, plumped in her clothes, looking like a silicon bag that other women implant themselves. Except that she's natural. It's so unlikely that many people find it hard to believe, at the point that "fake boobs" yeled loudly always been an insult. Harassment, she knows that. But she has always been proud of her body, and you have always been proud of her. People talk, you live your love, that's enough for you two.

You keep thinking about your sculpture. Her tits would be nothing without gravity, of course. A challenge, to account for a chest so beautiful, so full, but that falls so little. Languid into the lustiness of her own pleasure, as she is after love. She's like her chest: proud, but so smoochy when she loves...

And the nipples, of course ! Small, discreet, as cute and innocent as infants. Two small chicks hatched by two aerolas, soft hen mums. Everytime, you vacillate between kissing them softly or sucking them. Everything in her is so perfect that to soil her would be a crime, if she wern't agree to welcome you near her and into her.

Nevertheless. New bras just two weeks after buying other is strange. Have they broke ? With a chest like hers, nothing surprises you anymore.Those before were worse than grandmother's bras. Thick sackcloths, oversized sports bras, with braces stretching out day after day, until her breasts overflowed and compressed her too much. A sexy photo later, you left to buy others. Shopping with her is always a pleasure, even if shops providing sizes at her convenience are increasingly rare.

You call her, and her voice soon rings in your ears.

-Hello, Danny ?

-Mandy, sweetie, I got your list. Had you not...already bought new bras recently?

It still gets you to be embarrassed to talk about her breasts, sometimes, and you must carefully prepare your words in order to not blush. You prefer to look at them and touch them, in silence, without any other noise than her pleasure moans.

-Sorryyyyyyyy ~~ . But I can't do otherwise. I can't go out with the old ones, it's getting worse and worse.

-Better and better, you mean ?

-For you, yes.

-And for you too. I know you love your breasts.

-Stop, she said, laughing. Or I could cancel the pizza tonight.

-You wouldn't dare !

The indignation in your voice is falsely exaggerated, which makes her laugh once again.

-If the handsome and brave knight carries out his mission and goes shopping, maybe the princess will send him a foretaste of what awaits him...

-An antipasti before the pizza, hm? I'll be curious to see what you're making...

-First, shop. I will prepare everything for tonight.

You're about to say goodbye to her, when a genius idea comes to you.

- What if I buy candles?

- What for?

- You know...candlelit dinner?

- For delivery pizzas ? No thanks. And then, I'm lazy to do the dishes. They have grown so much that I start having back pain...

-Really? In this case, prepare your oils for a long and good massage.

You hear hear murmuring with satisfaction.

-Very well, brave knight. If you manage to kill the hunchbacked dragon, the princess will offer you more than an antipasti.

-It's a great honor you give me, my lady.

-Come on, hang up. The shop will not make it himself.

- See ya, sweetie.

-See ya, cutie.

You hang up, a smile on your lips. Never in your life had you had such spars with anyone before. Each of her words brings you joy. Hurry the day you move in with her : your happiness will be complete.

But now, groceries. Your phone is vibrating again. It's a text sent by Mandy.

"I called Georgina this morning, you just have to take the package and pay. It's a huge lucky break, she has just renewed her supplies and agreed to take back those of two weeks ago. I will repay you".

The advantage of being a loyal and regular customer for out-of-the-ordinary clothing is that the ladies around the globe forms a small private club where they can discuss and exchange advice and services. The shop she usually goes to is far away, but it's a warm one and the woman who holds it is super great. Georgina, the manager, is a little old woman as wrinkled as an apple and had the same chest problems. She quickly decided to help women like her. If the bras remaines expensive, she gladly takes over the old ones to retouch them. She's even made customized tailor-made. But as long as Mandy's breasts will continue to grow at a breakneck pace, it will be useless and she clearly told you that : "I should take new measurements immediately after my work is done. I'd never seen that ! Go on like this, my little one, and congratulations, young man ! "

The shop bell tolls when you enter into it. Some times later, Georgina comes out of the back shop and greets you, delighted as you go forward the sale desk.

-Ah, Daniel ! I received Mandy's message. This girl beats all records, I made a new storpile just for her ! Only two weeks, and you'd think she took six months all at once !

-Thank you, Georgina, this is the first time that happens ...

-Tell me about it ! I've never seen that ! Fortunately, I have a good contact in England. Tell her to slow down, she never listened to me! It's not like you're not already happy with what she have, huh?

You try to show a neutral face, as every time Georgina talks about your relationship. Some grandmothers are discreet, but the old seamstress would be able to collapse buildings just by talking. Like every time, you fail and can only display a shy smile.

- I'll tell him, thanks. How much do I owe you?

The old woman sweeps the air with her hand and rejects the imaginary money.

-Nothing ! We'll see that when she returns the others. Knowing her, she didn't even touch it. She made her measurements, but I put her several sizes just in case. She will only have to bring me back as soon as possible.

-Thank you so much for your generosity. Without you, we don't know what she would do.

-Bah, we have to stick together! It was even worse when I was young.. Corsets that choked you even more than the things I'm selling today ! I say, I can't wait the day we can go out without it, half naked, like you men, without being attacked at every street corner! It's not Mandy that would bother ! Beautiful melons as big and as firm as the pectorals of my late husband !

You agree, but you don't know what to say. You may have an empty look, because Georgina allows you to leave.

-Ah, you men ! Go find your beauty and make us beautiful children, it will make my pleasure !

-Yes Ma’am. Thank you Ma’am.

You leave the shop, a second opaque plastic bag in your hands. Even through it, you can feel the fabric of the cup. The more Mandy's breasts grow, the less they seems thick, padded, comfortable. As for the shoulder's straps, they must be tight to cut off her skin. You can't wait the day she'll be able to wear custom made bras for her ease. You send her a text.

"I have groceries and bras, Georgina didn't charge me and she added several sizes just in case."

The answer is quick to arrive.

"Really ? Wonderful ! I'm gonna jump on her neck when I see her. How long before you get in?"

"An hour, I just went out"

"Too looooong..."

You strat to write, but another one appears.

"Here's a little something that will make you want to come even more faster..."

A few seconds later, your reward appears on your screen. It's been a while since you're used to her chest, but your mouth is opening and it takes little to make you drool.

She never sent photos of her completely naked, preferring provocation in exciting clothes. Sometimes she sends you her pretty face. Sometimes full body in a simple, wise, accompanied by her long hair that always makes you fall in love with her when you gaze at them. This time, they are tied over her head, revealing her neck, shoulders and thin arms. She seems to come out of the shower, a few drops still bead of her soft skin A new pair of diving breasts, with monstrous cleavage, overflowing beyond a towel about to explode.

You totally understand the need for new bras. At sight of the nose, only the widest will fit.

And sh's only 21 years old. And she has not finished her growth yet.

In size, yes. Not in cup size.

A new text appears.

"Have you choosed your pizza yet ?"

"I don't know, I'm in a mood for a snack right now. A stuffed sandwich, if you know what I mean ;-)"

“I thought you was in a romantic mood ? Candles of for lightning, not for BDSM, we agrée ?”

"You're impossible, as your jokes"

"No, I'm real. Why don't you touch me, if you don't believe ? I'm still waiting for my brave bra knight ;-) ".

The bus is here. You close your phone, ranks right at the bottom of your pocket so that no one can suspect your activities, and you sit down in a quiet corner.

Something tells you that you will not have time for eating tonight.

__________

Model is MandaDawn, on Patreon and Onlyfans. That photo is clearly not the best, from two or three years ago when she was on tumblr, but I don’t know why, it inspired me with the force of a train. I barely touched her story since her breasts are effectively still growing, for an actual X cup.

#MandaDawn #Story #BreastGrowth #BreastExpansion

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beautifulchaostrash · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! could I get some fluff with Lester Sinclair and a female S/O? like a date, they go to the woods to search for animal bones and other cool stuff that can be found in the forest and at some point they get lost because they were too distracted being adorable? thank you so much!!!💞💞💞💞 love ya! hope you're doing well💞

A Paisley Afternoon

Lester Sinclair x Fem!Reader

SFW, mentions of abuse, swearing

Word count: 4,884

assasdjhajfsgawgeu you are SO sweet! QwQ I hope you’re doing good as well!

Quick disclaimer: I have not seen the House of Wax, and I haven’t really written for the Sinclair brothers that much, so if their characterization seems off plz let me know! This was hella fun to write and I’m super glad you requested this! (I’m also lowkey simping for Lester Sinclair, what have u done to me)

I know u asked for fluff and while this mostly is, I made the ending kinda angsty cause I can’t help myself...T-T but it has a happy ending tho

cut because this is a loooong ass fic

“S-so uh, Y/N! V-Vinnie asked me to uh, go get some stuff from the forest, ya know, for his artstuffs? And uh, ‘was wonderin’ if you wanted to come with, since yer a big fan of nature and stuff, heh. I-if you don’t that’s ok I understand I-”

You silenced his nervous rambling with a kiss on the cheek.

“I’d love to! Could we make it a picnic? I don’t get to cook for you often,” you hummed.

Lester blushed a deep red. “Y-yeah if you wanna, I’d love that...uh, m-meet you at our usual spot? Four pm?”

“I’ll see you then!” You gave him a chaste kiss on the lips before turning to go back into the house.

He gawked for a minute before jogging down the porch steps, stammering his goodbyes. He drove off as if he had gotten de-pantsed during gym class and was retreating to hide out his shame in the locker room.

...

He would never call this a date. Not in a million years. After all ‘Dates are s'posed to be nice and fancy, and if there’s one thing I ain’t it’s that!’. Lester’s self-deprecating humor came back in your mind as you sat on the edge of the boarded-up well. The well served as your go-to meet spot for these kinds of outings.

Even though you had both been dating for years, Lester always treated every date as if it were his first. As if he couldn't believe that you wanted to spend time with him. It broke your heart to think about, but it was sweet in away.

Every time he came up with an excuse. ‘Bo wants me out of the house for the evening'...'We need more parts for the House of Wax, and I need some help'... 'You’ve spent a lot of time inside lately, you should go on a walk'! And I’ll come with to protect you in case people come by.’ But you knew better.

You knew that Lester was too nervous to ask you outright. You’re snapped out of your daydream by the slam of a car door. Looking up to see Lester jogging towards you, Jonsey following close behind.

“S-sorry I’m late! Lost track of ti-...Y/N! How many times have I told you not to sit on that well!?!” he picked up his pace, sprinting to where you sat.

You sheepishly stood up, not noticing that you had been leaning on it in the first place.

“Sorry sweetheart, guess I jus’ got tired,”

He pulled you into a tight hug, then pulled away to check your body for injuries. He was like a flustered mother goose, almost.

“That well is ancient, why it-it was 'prolly here before Bo and Vinnie were even born! If you p-put too much weight on it, it could-”

“Collapse and I could get hurt, I know, I know. Gah! You worry too much darling,” You stood on your tiptoes to press a kiss into the bridge of his nose.

He stood back and put his hands on his hips, eyeing you up and down.

“Why I oughta-” He wagged a finger in your direction.

“What? You oughta what? What’re you gonna do huh?” you smirked and leaned into him, tilting your head.

“I oughta…” He trailed off at your sudden challenge, blushing hard.

His eyes widened and a mischievous grin spread across his face.

“I oughta kiss you, fer being so reckless!” He crossed his arms.

You giggled and put a hand over your forehead. “Oh no! What a tragedy! Forced to kiss the most handsome man in the world! Whatever shall I do???”

You sank to the ground and leaned against Jonsey, putting a hand to your forehead. Lester looked down at his feet and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Aww shucks!” He muttered.

You jumped up, wrapping your arms around his waist and ghosting your lips against his. Lester pressed his hands against your waist and closed the distance between you two. You stayed connected for a moment, savoring the tangy taste of sweat and dirt on your tongue. You only broke away when you heard Jonesy snuffling around in the picnic basket you brought with. After shooing her away from your food, Lester went back to his truck to gather his bag, and you were both on your way.

You and Lester walked through the forest, taking your time to pick your way for the undergrowth. Even though you both did this often, and usually traveled the same path each time, you never failed to find stuff.

Jonesy, not learning her lesson from the last time, went after a badger and got her ass kicked again. Leading to a very angry rant from Lester, even though she couldn’t understand what she was saying.

Even though you were looking for animal bones, anything was game. From discarded beer cans to cool looking rocks, weird plants, whatever you managed to find.

You both stopped in a small clearing, the trees were sparser here and the grass a bit taller. A perfect place for treasures to hide. Lester beamed, moving to start sifting through the vegetation. You set your basket down nearby and followed suit, hiking up your pant legs to avoid the mud.

A few minutes and a couple of oddly shaped rocks later, Lester called out to you. He showed off a very excellent stick, that was a bit shorter than him and looked thick and sturdy. He handed it to you, proclaiming that it was going to be your 'wizard staff'.

“Wizard staff?” you chuckled, grabbing the stick from his hands.

“Why yes! You are the most magical person I’ve met! You’ve got to be some sort of powerful enchantress! Sein' as you’ve put a spell on my heart~” he smiled and grabbed you by the waist, leaning down to kiss you.

You gasped when he pulled away, blushing at his cheesy comments. You sure as shit weren’t gonna let him get away with it without firing back with some of your own.

“That’s funny, seeing as you’re the one who’s charmed me~” you whispered in his ear, your breath hot on his sensitive skin.

You spun around and stooped down to pick through the grass, ignoring his flustered gaping. He smiled and kneeled next to you in the dirt, enjoying the silence of the forest.

You both trek on for another hour or so, before finding a level area near a creek to collapse and have lunch. You made quick work, unfurling the blanket and setting out the food. You tossed a few treats towards Jonsey to make sure your meal wouldn't get sacrificed.

You fell onto the ground with a thud, letting your aching muscles relax. Even though it wasn't hot out, the humidity made doing anything outside torture. You don't know how Lester managed to do it every day.

“You need to eat, here d-drink some water,” he pushed a canteen into your hands along with a sandwich.

“Water?” Taking a swig from the canteen, you smirked. “Why, I think you have more than quenched my thirst, gorgeous~”

Lester went red from ear to ear as he realized that you were ogling his backside while he rummaged around in his bag. He flushed and sat down next to you, suddenly very invested in the ham sandwich in front of him. You finished your sandwich and leaned against his shoulder. Lester blushed and started stammering. You silence him with a kiss, one hand moving to cup his cheek, the other moving to his chest.

He reciprocated, wrapping his arms around your waist and deepening the kiss. His lips slid against yours, chapped and sweaty, and tasting faintly of blood. It was more than gross, it was ghastly, repulsive even, and yet so so addicting. Every time you think you get enough of him he leaves you yearning for more. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought him to be a succubus or some kind of land-dwelling siren.

But nope, it was just Lester. Lester bringing you gifts in the form of wildflowers, pretty rocks, and books. Lester giving you full-throated, heartfelt praise and sappy comments. Lester giving you more passion and love and charm in one smile than anyone else could give you in a lifetime. Bo may be a smooth-talking seducer, but Lester? Lester was straight up husband material, and it made your heart melt.

And it made other things melt as well, you realized as you were craving more of him. You opened your mouth slightly, pushing your tongue on his lips to savor more of that sickly sweet taste. He obliged you, parting his lips to brush your tongues together. Straddling his waist, you press your body against his, leveraging a more intimate kiss.

He gave out a small groan, which only spurned you on further. Your hand reached down to pull at the hem of his shirt, when his rough hands gripped your hips and pulled you off of him.

“Not in front of Jonesy!” he hissed into your ear.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the notion.

“Jonsey? Babe, she’s just a dog she doesn’t care what we’re doin’, she doesn’t even understand what sex is!”

He puffed up , a bit offended by your words. “She is not jus’ a dog, she is an innocent creature and does not deserve to be exposed to that kind o’ stuff!”

You snickered again, conceding defeat. “Alright alright, but you owe me, mister,” you teased.

He smiled and kissed the top of your head as you snuggled into his side.

“Don’ worry bout a thing darlin’, I always pay my debts,”

You both relaxed, exchanging kisses and occasionally commenting about work, or the weather. After a while, you both decided it was time to move on, and you packed up camp.

As you stopped to refill the canteens from the creek, your eye noticed something odd in the water.

Upon closer inspection, you realized it was a very smooth rock. You, of course, fished it out to take home with you. Only then did you realize what about it that had caught your eye in the first place. The rock itself was a dark color, flat, and about the same circumference as a small wine bottle. Right smack in the middle of the rock was a hole going clear through to the other side.

Your jaw dropped. It was a hag stone. You had heard of them before but had never expected to ever find one naturally occurring. They were ridiculously rare and only formed under specific circumstances. Even though it seemed to be a bit silly, you mentally thanked the forest and the creek for giving you such a gift. “Lester!” you called out. “Come look at what I found!”

You ran over to him and dropped the stone into his palm. His eyes widened, his fingers running over the smooth surface, tracing the round hole.

“You found this in th’ creek?” he held the stone up to his face and peered through the hole curiously.

“Yeah! It was just sitting there,”

“Well I’ll be, I never seen anything like it!”

“They’re called Hag Stones! It's rumored they hold powerful magic, since they're only created through natural means,”

Lester hummed and pushed the stone back into your hands.

“That’s a real hell of a find y/n!” He smiled.

You palmed the rock, thinking for a moment. An idea popped into your head.

“Say Lester do you have any rope or string?” you asked.

He nodded and went to retrieve it from his pack. It was a small bundle of thin para-cord, stolen off some unfortunate tourist.

“Perfect!” you beamed.

Taking the loose end, you compared the length to your neck to gauge it, then took a small pocket knife and cut the rope. Looping one end through the hole in the rock, then tying both ends in a secure knot. Beckoning Lester to lean down, you looped the necklace over his head, leaving it to rest on his neck . He looked down at it and smiled.

“When Hag Stones are worn around the neck like this, they make the wearer pretty much immune to curses and bad luck. It’s even said that if you look through it, you’ll be able to see into the kingdom of the Fae Folk! And because we found this one in the forest, it grants you favor with the tree spirits!” you bit your tongue and blushed, realizing how silly and hippy-dippy you sounded.

“‘Course that’s just all legend, but it is still pretty though, and I think it suits you nicely.”

Lesters’ eyes widened, and he tried to lift the stone from around his neck. “I can't! Y-you need this more than me!”

You snatched his hands from the cord and laced your fingers in his, shrugging.

“You deserve it baby, you deserve to be protected. You deserve to be happy and loved too! I’m plenty safe with you and Jonesy around. It’s your turn to be taken care of,” you leaned and pressed your forehead against his.

Reaching up, you rubbed his cheek, surprised when your hand came away wet. Looking up you saw that he was crying.

“Oh, Lester? What’s wrong sweetie?” you wiped away the streams of tears with your thumbs.

“N-nothing I just-” he closed his eyes and let out a choked sob. His hands came to rest atop yours. “No one’s ever t-told me that, that i d-deserve to be happy and s-safe!”

He burrowed his face in your shoulder and sobbed. You stood and held him there, rocking back and forth while rubbing circles on his back in through his hair. His arms gripped you tight enough to hurt, but you didn’t mind. Even as you cooed and shushed him, anger bubbled behind your soothing tone.

You were furious. Furious at his parents for treating him like he didn’t exist, at Bo for bullying him constantly, and at Vincent too. Even though Vincent wasn’t as nasty, he still brushed Lester off like a horsefly that wouldn’t leave him alone. When Lester tried to talk to him, show him something, even just say hi, Vincent would always sign the same things.

‘I’m busy,’

‘Go bother Bo,’

‘Lester please, I have a headache, be quiet,’

It made your blood boil and your vision go red. Yeah sure, Vincents’ mute and can’t eat or smile without his deformity causing him pain. Bo was treated like the devil incarnate by his parents in favor of Vincents’ artistic talent. But they had the same fucking parents. The same fucking childhood. The least they could do is treat him like something more than a piece of dirt. Some days you wondered if they even cared about him.

You snapped out of your ire when Lester pulled you into a tender kiss, lower lip still trembling slightly. You pulled back and planted kisses all over his face, on his nose, chin, eyelid, everywhere. He devolved into a fit of wet giggles, his nose crinkling as your lips tickled his handsome features. He wiped his eyes again and looked you in the eyes lovingly.

“I love you, Y/N,”

“I love you too, Lester,”

You smiled and gave him one final kiss. He beamed. Taking the stone, he held it up to his eye, peering through the hole at you.

“Well hey! Would’ya lookit that! I’ve already found myself a fairy! And a mighty cute one at that!~”

You giggled and pushed him away bashfully. “Go pack up the rest of our stuff ya goofball!”

>>>>>

Following the river, you continued to look for stuff along the winding trail. You snagged a pretty decent haul, all things considered. Animal bones and carcasses and rocks and some jewelry left behind by a camper. Nothing really out of the norm for the pair of you, and things were going great.

That is until you realize too little too late, that the sun had all but set, and left you in the dark with no idea of where you are. You tried to follow the creek down back the way you came and kept following it. And kept following it, and….

“Lester? I don’t recognize any of this…”

You hoped that Lester would put on his brave act and reassure you that yes, Y/n. He knew the woods like the back of his hand and that you would be home in no time. You did not get that.

“Yeah, me neither, I don’ know where the hell we ended up. It’s too dark for me to read my compass an’ I left the flashlights at Ambrose ‘cause I didn’t think we’d be out past dark,” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone. “Ah, damn it’s dead! Knew I shoulda charged it before I left this morning! Did you bring yours?”

The lack of panic and fear in his voice made your skin crawl. How the hell is he so calm??? And no, you didn’t bother to bring your phone with you this time, not wanting to be annoyed with phone calls from work. Lester seemed to notice your mounting panic and quickly set about comforting you.

“Y/N! Y/n, dont be upset, we’ll be ok! You got me an' Jonesy here to protect you. I’m pretty sure that this creek leads to the main road, and we can follow the road back to Ambrose. You have extra food in that basket right?”

“Uh, yeah, treats for Jonesy, some apples and an extra sandwich I think, and we have water in the canteens still,”

“Alrighty then, If worse comes to absolute worse, we’ll make camp for the night in the forest. Then I can make a fire and we’ll head out in th mornin' when it’s light out, ok? Hey…” He reached out and put a hand on your shoulder. “We’re gonna be ok.” he said with an air of finality, putting you somewhat at ease and strenghtening your resolve.

You continued to follow the creek, holding hands so you wouldn’t get separated. You walked on for what seemed like hours, but eventually, you came across the road Lester talked about. You would’ve cried out for joy if you weren't so goddamn tired. You hadn’t realized how far you went into the forest. Lester stepped out into the middle of the road and looked towards the sky, looking for something. You stepped out and looked up with him. You gasped at the sight of the sky. You had never seen so many stars in the sky before. Well, that’s a lie, Lester took you stargazing often, but it still stole your breath every time.

“Fuck” he whispered under his breath. “It’s a new moon,”

“Why’s that bad?” you asked.

“Can’t tell which way east is, ‘least not very easily,” he muttered.

He scanned the sky further, peering at it with an intense stare. Even though you were horribly, horribly lost, you were happy to be able to spend time with Lester. A little bit of impromptu stargazing was also a plus.

“Jesus, you think after a while i’d start to remember to bring the flashlights, huh? Guess you can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” He chuckled.

You reached out for Lesters’ hand again, squeezing it gently. He continued to curse under his breath before giving up on whatever it was he was looking for. “Y/N, I’m really sorry this turned into such a shitshow, I-”

“It’s ok pumpkin, shit happens sometimes. The only thing we can really do is try to do better next time,”

“Yeah, I guess,”

You both stood there staring at the sky, not knowing what to do or where to go from here. So you stood, and stared at the sky, in the middle of the road, like a couple o’ crazies.

You were so lost in thought that you didn’t notice the car approaching you in the road. A door slammed, jarring you out of your stupor. You rubbed your eyes, stuggling to adjust to the birghtness of the headlights. You heard a voice call out.

“Lester? Jonesy?” it was Bo, of all people, and he seemed to be somewhat concerned for once in his goddamn life.

“Yeah we are we, just got,” Lester was cut off, the worry vanishing from Bo in an instant once he realized you guys were ok.

“WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!?!? IT’S ALMOST ONE IN THE FUCKING MORNING AND YOU GUYS SAID YOU WOULD BE BACK AT DAWN!!!” he roared. “You haven’t been answering your phone Lester, and YOU, for whatever fucking reason, decided to leave yours at home, what in the fuck happened?!?”

“We got lost,” Lester shrugged.

“Lost?” he hissed. “Fucking lost? Let me guess, asswipe didn’t bother to bring flashlights did he?” Bo asked you, sarcasm and venom dripping from his voice like sour honey.

He was about to launch into another bought of cursing, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Bo whipped around to face his twin, who signed something quickly. You couldn’t make it out in the darkness, but whatever he said, it pissed Bo off.

“Don’t you fuckin’ ‘Bo’ me, I’m tired of this lardass going ‘round ‘causin trouble!” He whipped towards you and jabbed his finger in your face. “And you! You-”

Something inside you snapped. You were exhausted, in pain, and flat out sick of everything.

“What?! I’m what Bo? I’m a worthless, good for nothin’ piece o shit? Huh? Just like your FUCKING BROTHER HUH?!?”

“Ya know what, now that you say it-” he smirked.

CRACK The air around you was still, and thick. Bo doubled over, trying to comprehend what happened. You clenched your jaw, refusing to show tears on your face, even as pain blossomed through your joints.

“Not another fucking word out of your goddamn mouth, Bo Sinclair, or so help me god I’m gonna be the one gluing your lips shut! Got it?” your voice quaked low and dangerous, and even Bo knew better than to try and talk back.

“The way you treat Lester is fucking shameful! The ONLY thing you seem to be good at is making people feel like shit, and I would fucking expect an ADULT MAN to have more emotional maturity THAN A FUCKING THREE OLD!!!” you felt your voice go shrill and high, warbling with rage.

“I DON’T GIVE A SHIT THAT YOU PUNCH PEOPLE ‘CAUSE YOUR DADDY DIDN'T LOVE YOU, ‘CAUSE NEWSFLASH, ASSHOLE, LESTER’S DADDY DIDN’T LOVE HIM EITHER, AND NEITHER DID HIS MOMMA!!! A detail you seem to fucking forget even though he’s YOUR FUCKING BROTHER, AND YOU SHOULD BE TREATING HIM WITH MORE RESPECT THAN YOU GIVE TO YOUR FUCKING PICKUP!!!

And you!”

Vincent jumped and almost fell backward when you turned to talk to him. You could see his eyes wide with fear under his waxy mask. Good. You wanted this lesson to fucking stick.

“You have less spine than your fucking wax statues! If you had even an ounce self respect, you’d grow a pair and stop putting up with Bo’s bullshit! Or at the very least, you’d stop cowering in the basement being all sad and tragic and try to be invested in what Lester is trying to say rather than blowing him off with bullshit excuses because you can’t be FUCKED to give shit!!!”

You finally let yourself pause, catching your breath. You heard Vincent shifting his weight on his feet, and felt the eye daggers Bo was stabbing you with. “You three are brothers, so fucking act like it,”

And with that, you grabbed Lester by the hand and led him to Bo’s truck. Neither Bo nor Vincent seemed to make any move to follow you. Opening the driver’s side door, you let Jonesy hop up into the back. Noticing that the keys were still in the ignition, you pulled them out and tossed them to Lester. You slid into the passenger seat and let out a silent sigh. Christ, did your head fucking hurt.

You noticed that Lester seemed a bit anxious, but you could tell that he was happy that someone stood up for him.

You looked over at the twins just in time to see Bo smack Vincent's hand away.

“DOn’t fuckin’ touch me!” he growled.

“Bo, get in the fucking truck,” you hissed.

Vincent scrambled through the driver’s side door into the backseat. You exhaled through your nose, noticing that he chose the seat opposite of where you were sitting. Bo was a little late to the party, but you savored the humiliation of him having to crawl into the backseat of his truck.

Satisfied, you leaned against the headrest of your seat, trying to steady your breaths. The purr of the engine was a welcome distraction from the tense air around you. You must’ve fallen asleep at some point because the last thing you remember was Lester carrying you to bed. He gave you a kiss, whispering a gentle ‘thank you’ before you drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

BONUS:

Bo gritted his teeth and rolled his eyes.

“I cannot believe you are making me do this,” he mumbled.

“Please, Bo! I don’t wanna get yelled at again!” Vincent signed hastily.

Bo raised an eyebrow. “You really are a self absorbed prick, aren’t you?”

Vincent dropped his hands in exasperation before picking them up again. “Fine, It’s the right thing to do, and I’m a jerk just like you, now will you please-”

“Alright, alright,” Bo waved Vincents’ hands down.

He reluctantly got up from the couch and trudged up the stairs, Vincent tugging him along . Bo gently knocked on Lester’s bedroom door. Hearing a muffled ‘yes’, he opened it to see Lester standing near his dresser, putting his gear away. Y/n was fast asleep under the covers.

“She asleep?” He nodded his head towards your shape on the bed.

“Uh, yeah i think so, why?” Lester whispered.

“We need to talk,” Bo stated numbly.

“Oh...Uh, gimme a minuet,” he stuffed his pack in the wardrobe before following Bo and Vincent out into the living room.

Bo stood for a moment, shooting his twin a sour glare. He rubbed his forehead and inhaled sharply.

“I’m sorry,” he groused.

Vincent looked at him expectedly as Lester tilted his head in confusion. Bo let out a long-suffering sigh.

“I’m sorry fer always yellin’ at you and tellin’ you yer a piece a shit, ‘cause ya aren’t. I know that you don’t mean to forget things. The reason why I got so angry tonight was ‘cause I was so damn worried about you, but that’s no excuse. So, I’ll try and uh, ‘manage my emotional outbursts', his words, not mine” Bo nodded at his twin.

“What he’s trying to say is that we both care about you, and we’ve both been letting our emotions dictate how we treat you.” His hands hesitated slightly before continuing. “I...as much as would like to believe, I’m not any better than Bo just because I don’t yell at you. I’m self absorbed, and I need to be more self aware and not let myself get strung up over little things,”

Lester sniffed, wiping the tears that were forming on his eyelids. “You wax-heads, of course I know you guys care about me! Why else would you come looking for me at ‘one in the fucking morning’?” he snickered. “I do appreciate your apologies though...I know you an’ Vinnie ain’t got it easy, god knows you didn’t, I was there, but that was it. Just, there. A bystander. I can’t help but wonder if I had said or done something maybe-”

“Lester,” Bo interrupted. “What happened to me-what happened to us is not your fault, or your responsibility.”

“I figure, but the problem is I’m still a bystander now, here in Ambrose. I don’t ever take charge of anythin’, I just stand there and wait for one of you to tell me to do something. Heh...that’s not really useful, ain’t It? I want-I should be takin’ a more active role in the House of Wax, we all have our part to play, don’t we?” “You’re right, we all need to work together,” Vincent signed.

Bo rolled his eyes and huffed, shaking his head at Vincent.

“OOOKAYY, if this shit gets any sweetter im gonna have a heart attack and die!” Bo stood up to leave. “Goodnight,”

“Oh no, not so fast mister!”

Lester wrapped his arms around Bo and pulled him into a hug. Vincent was quick to hug him from behind, pinning Bo between him and Lester.

“Alrighty, I love you too...ok that’s enough you can let me go

now...guys?....Helloooo?”

“We're not lettin' go 'til you hug back~,” Lester sang out.

Vincent rested his head on Bo’s shoulder in place of making a sarcastic remark. Bo grumbled, throwing his arms around Lester, who in turn, squeezed Bo tighter.

“Hey! A Sinclair Sandwich! Ain’t had one of these in a long time,” Lester giggled.

“Happy now?” Bo muttered.

“Yeah,” he sighed.

Bo relaxed a little, allowing himself to sink into the physical affection. Vincent hummed happily in response, and Lester nuzzled into Bo’s other shoulder. Bo closed his eyes, and for a fleeting moment, believed that he was going to be okay.

-Mod Elith

#house of wax #lester sinclair #vincent sinclair #bo sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #fanfic #fluff #angst #angst with a hopeful ending #slasher #istg if lester doesn't stop being such a h i m b o im gonna have to get down on my knees and propose to him #i SWEAR to you this is not anti bo or vinnie #i love the sinclair brothers equally #I just reallt wanted to put the fear of god in bo #mod elith #i still don't know how to add tags when answering an ask on desktopadjskfhalhf

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satansliteraryhero · 4 years ago

Text

The First Female Host - Ouran High School Host Club

Summary:

After transferring to Ouran Academy, your first day ends with you joining the host club as their first official female host.

Fandom:

Ouran High School Host Club

Pairing:

(Light) Tamaki x Reader

WARNINGS:

MENTIONS OF ANXIETY, LIGHT SWEARING

Words:

2,276

A/N:

I’m not sure if this will turn into a series or not. Also, Haruhi does not exist in this universe. Hope you all enjoy! :)

The sound of your heels clicked against the smooth marble flooring of Ouran Academy. You had just transferred as a first-year. So here you were, walking down the halls in search of your first class of the day, Class 1-A.

As you walked you could clearly hear all of the other girls talking about you, whispering and gossiping into the ears of anyone who would listen. While most would crumble due to the anxiety of their peering eyes, you quite enjoyed the attention and kept walking with your head held high, besides, there is no such thing as bad press.

Your family appeared to be ‘mysterious’ to most. Despite your high ranking in the world, you made sure to stay out of the news, more specifically, most of the world was unaware you even existed. Your father descended from royals, but he didn’t let that define him or his family. You could have easily shown up today in a limo, or carriage, or even a helicopter, wearing the most expensive pieces of jewelry you owned, flaunting your wealth and making even some of the richest kids at this school feel like disgusting and worthless street rats, but you didn’t. You didn’t care for all that stuff, you just wanted to attend the school like a normal kid, make friends like a normal kid, and have fun like a normal kid.

You finally reached the door to Class 1-A. You had worn the girls school uniform today with a side bag for your books. So, with two strands of your Y/H/C hair tied back with a simple white ribbon, you opened the door and stepped inside.

As soon as you stepped inside, all eyes were immediately on you. No, it wasn’t because you were late. And no, it wasn’t because you were hideous, in fact, you were very beautiful, having a pure beauty to yourself that you knew others envied, but even then that’s not why people stared at you. It was because you were new. To them, you were a mysterious piece of fresh meat, but I suppose, fresh meat is better than being seen as a spoiled brat.

You quickly scanned the room in search of where to sit. Most of the seats were taken except two, one next to a pair of wildly identical twins, or next to a scary-looking girl that looked like she would break every single bone in your royal body... you quickly made your way over to the twins. You placed your bag on your chair, making sure to take out the books you needed to start the lesson.

You turn and smile to the twins before speaking, “Hello, my name is Y/N! I just transferred here. What are your guys’ names?”

They looked at each other, seeming to give one another a silent approval to answer the question, they both turned towards you, “I’m Kaoru,” the one closet one to you says.

“And I’m Hikaru,” the one to his right says.

They both begin speaking simultaneously, “We’re the Hitachiin twins! It’s a pleasure to meet you Y/N!”

You smiled kindly, “It’s a pleasure to meet you both as well.”

You realized quickly that your conversation had ended at you turned back to the board. Hitachiin, you recognized the last name. Their mother, Yuzuha Hitachiin, was a well-known fashion designer. Although you had never worn one of her pieces, you admired her work. The teacher walked into the class, your attention snapping to him as he began class.

The school day finished quicker than you anticipated and you realized that you have yet to make any real friends, besides the Hitachiin twins, but they don’t count since you’re barely their acquaintance. You walk around the school in an attempt to find a quiet place to read. Reading has always been something you loved, ever since you were a child, of course back then your mother would have to read to you, but you still enjoyed every second of it.

After walking for what felt like days, you reached a quiet hallway, spotting a room labeled Music Room 3. You pressed your ear against the door, checking for any practicing musicians. You didn’t hear any instruments so after taking a deep breath, you opened the door.

The aroma of rose petals filled your senses as you let your Y/E/C eyes get accustomed to the bright light. You blinked a few times before looking back up, shocked to spot six boys staring at you. You were even more shocked to spot Kaoru and Hikaru among them, they even appeared to be a little surprised themselves at seeing you there.

Before you were able to greet them, an attractive blonde boy with deep violet eyes spoke up with a velvety voice, “Ah, a new guest! Welcome, Princess, my name is Tamaki, the King around here. The Ouran Host Club welcomes you!”

He had moved forward while talking so he now stood right in front of you, he grabbed your hand and before you had time to question his forwardness (and gross use of the pet name ‘Princess’), he pulled you into his chest, “Now tell me, which one of us do you find the most attractive?”

He stared into your eyes before twirling you around so your back was now pressing into his chest, giving you a view of the others. At first, you spotted the twins, they seemed to be avoiding your gaze and you being too embarrassed to smile, you looked at the rest of the boys. It immediately caught onto you that each of them seemed to have a sort of stereotypical character trait that made them stand out. You assumed Kaoru and Hikaru were known for being identical twins (obviously). You looked at the boy standing next to them, he was big and scary looking, but on his shoulders sat a smaller boy holding a stuffed pink bunny rabbit who looked like a harmless little kid. Aha! The opposite duo, the innocent child, and the intimidating yet gentle beast. You then brought your gaze to the boy on their left. He had gentle yet firm eyes and on his face he was sporting a pair of glasses, so he was probably the brainiac. And the jackass blonde behind you who manhandled you is the obviously the leader of the group, or in another term, the king. But why have a bunch of different attractive characters? Then it clicked, Ouran Host Club!

Time to have a little fun with these boys. You turned around, placing your hands on Tamaki’s chest and making sure to appear as though you were blushing and shy, keeping your voice high pitched you said, “Well gosh! I’m not sure! It’s so hard to decide... C-can I be honest?”

He leaned in, resting his hands around your waist and lower back. Even though you knew he was just trying to seduce you, you couldn’t help the chills that rand down your spine and the butterflies you felt in your stomach.

You quickly recovered, looking into his eyes through your long and delicate eyelashes, “None of you.”

You aggressively pushed him off you, making him stumble a little.

You faced all the boys and smirked, “I know what operation you’re running here, and let me tell you, your little tactics aren’t going to work on me.”

Tamaki brushed off his uniform jacket before looking at you and calmly asking, “Tell us then, what operation are we running here?”

“You’re a host club, entertainers, a brothel of sorts.”

All the boys gasped, Tamaki seeming to look the most hurt, “Brothel?! We’re not a brothel! We’re hosts, are job is to make women happy!”

I rolled my eyes, “Right, anyway, I’m assuming you’re somehow profiting off this service of yours, so that’s even more shallow.”

You turn around, facing the blonde boy, “And you,” you point a finger at him with a stern look on your face, “I know the likes of you. All charm yet they’re all full of lies. Boys like you, ones that are narcissistic and egocentric, are more hideous than any beast.”

He gasped, and you knew you got under his skin. You now stood right in front of him, feeling the eyes of the boys on you, “Because boys like you are rotting on the inside, which automatically makes you disgusting and vile looking all around, no matter how,” you look him up and down, clearly checking him out, “appealing you are to the eyes.”

As you stepped back, you saw that Tamaki was blushing and you couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or from you checking him out.

He began to stutter but you turned back towards the boys, “I hope you all know that there’s more to life than just being a stereotype.”

You turn towards the door, ready to leave when you hear one of the boys call out, “Wait!”

With an eye roll, you stop and spin on your heels, raising a questioning eyebrow.

The one with the glasses spoke up, “What do you mean by, ‘stereotype’?”

“I mean, every boy in this room is a different stereotype, a different character if you will. Hikaru and Kaoru are the wildly identical twins, these two are the gentle giant and childish little boy duo, you are the kind brainiac, and Tamaki is the king, correct?”

The boy with glasses raised his eyebrows slightly in surprise, signaling that indeed you were correct.

Tamaki spoke up, “Wait a minute! I told you my name, but I never told you Hikaru and Kaoru’s. How do you know them?”

“I wouldn’t say I really know them, we just introduced ourselves in the class we share.”

Tamaki looked to the twins for confirmation, they both nodded before speaking, “It’s true, this is Y/N, she’s a first year. We share Class 1-A.”

Tamaki pursed his lips, “Y/N, huh? That’s a lovely name. Tell me, are you the new student that just transferred here?”

You look Tamaki in the eyes before speaking, “Yes, I am.”

The childish blonde boy spoke up this time, “My name is Mitsukuni Haninozuka, but you can call me Honey Senpai! This here is Takashi Morinozuka! And you can call him Mori Senpai!”

Ahhh, the Haninozuka’s and the Morinozuka’s, amazing fighters. Their family’s had a lot of history together, and history with your own family as well. Your great grandfather and both Honey Senpai and Mori Senpai’s grandfathers were good friends, and to this day your families were still friends. Although, this was the first time you had ever seen them in person.

Honey pointed to the boy with the glasses, “This is Kyoya Ootori, also known as Kyoya Senpai! And him over there,” he pointed to Tamaki, “That’s Tamaki Suoh, Tamaki Senpai! He’s our king!”

Ootori, his father owned The Ootori Group, a large and successful medical facility. And Suoh, his father was the chairman, your father had spoken to him about you transferring here.

The twins stepped forward, “And you already know us, Y/N.”

You gave a nod and a smile, “Indeed I do.”

You heard Tamoki grumble but ignored him as Kyoya spoke up, “Say, Y/N, what’s your last name?”

Your eyes involuntarily widened. If you told them your last name, no matter how much your parents shielded you from the news and public, they’d still be able to find out who you were. Did it matter to you if they knew? I mean, the school will found out eventually, right?

You looked him in the eyes, forcing your voice to come out steady, “Y/L/N. My name is Y/N Y/L/N.”

Kyoya’s eyes widened a little and you knew that he recognized you. You had to admit, he was smart.

Tamaki spoke up, “Y/L/N? Where have I heard that before?”

“Yeah,” Honey agreed, “The last name seems very familiar to me!”

Kyoya answered their questions, “Her father owns Y/L/N Jewelers, a jewelry company known worldwide for their intricate, handcrafted creations. Plus, her father is of royal blood.”

All the boys’ mouths were agape except for Mori and Kyoya.

“So, you’re like, very rich?” Tamaki asked in a weak voice.

You giggled at his drama, “Yes, I’m very rich. But you see, I don’t go around flaunting my money or power, in fact, I’d rather nobody else knew my real identity. So if you could keep that secret, that would be great.”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Hikaru spoke up, “You know that you’re the most powerful and wealthiest one at this school and your choosing not to say anything?! Do you realize how popular you could be?! Girls will envy you, boys will want to be with you! You’re just going to throw that all away?!”

You pretended to think about it for a second, “Yeah, pretty much. Anyway, I should get going, see you guys!”

“Hold it!” Tamaki shouted, “Let’s say, we don’t want to keep your secret? What if we want to tell the whole school?”

“I mean, although I’d prefer you not to, I can’t stop you. Well, technically I can, but I won’t.”

Honey spoke, “So you’re not going to tell people but you won’t stop us if we want to?”

I smiled and nodded, “Correct, Honey Senpai.”

“You’re the weirdest girl I’ve ever met,” Kaoru said.

“Y/N,” Kyoya caught your attention, “How would you feel about being our first female host?”

Tamaki’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor and your eyes widened in surprise at his offer, “Oh, well, I’m not sure, you guys seem to have your own little thing going on and I don’t want to intrude and-“

“Please, you wouldn’t be intruding. I can see you have lots of potential, You’re pretty, I can see you have fire in you, and you figured out our character’s quicker than anyone we’ve ever seen.”

You brushed off his compliment and thought about his offer. Be a host? But don’t they entertain girls? Although you don’t really care, don’t they already do that on their own?

“I wouldn’t be bringing you any business, I’m sure there aren’t many girls who would be interested.”

Kyoya shook his head, “You wouldn’t host to girls, Y/N, you’d host to boys.”

“Oh.”

Hosting to boys? That could be interesting.

“So what do you say?”

“Um, sure, I guess. It could actually be pretty fu-“

“Hold it right there!” Tamaki cried, “She can’t just join our club! Not without getting the approval of daddy!”

The other boys looked at Tamaki with an irritated glare. You tried not to laugh at the fact that he just referred to himself as ‘daddy’.

He laughed nervously, “And without the approval of the other hosts too.”

You turned to him with a bored expression, “Okay. How do I get your ‘approval’, oh wise king!”

His face lit up at my use of his title but quickly fell when he realized I was being sarcastic, “You’ll have to show us that you can actually host, you’ll have to woo one of us. And then we’ll vote if you can join, majority rules. Deal?”

He stuck out his hand for me to shake. I couldn’t help but feel as though I was making a deal with the devil. Wasn’t Lucifer said to be devilishly handsome as well?

I shook his hand, smirking, “Deal.”

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unibrowzz · 4 years ago

Text

Mod (finally) reviews all 67 winners of the Eurovision Song Contest Part II: The 1960s

Welcome back! To this...

Whatever you wanna call it, I can barely call half of these “reviews” but ANYWAYS.

The 60s are. Mid-table. Not a tremendously bad decade by all means, but they’re also the only decade to have three songs in my “would refuse to listen to” category, which is an achievement.

I’m sure you can all guess at least two of those songs by now!

Without further ado, let’s move on to what I think of the winning entries from the 60s.

1960: Tom Pillibi

Country: France

Artist: Jacqueline Boyer

Language: French

Thoughts: Whenever I was younger and enjoyed singing, I was frequently told that I had a "nasally" voice. I never knew what this meant, and I rarely heard my own voice to hear what it meant. Since people told me I had a nice voice, I continued to sing without fixing it. But now I'm older and know a tiny bit more about music, I can finally hear what they meant. Jaqueline here had a very nasally voice and a very high song to go with it. You can hear the notes being directed through her nose and sinuses rather than up from her diaphragm and mouth, resulting in a voice which sounds impressively high… but also very thin and flimsy. There's no resonance or depth to these notes, she sounds like a kid half her age trying to sing. Maybe that's what she was told to do, but given how this song is about a girl telling us about the shit her cheeky boyfriend tells her, I'd like to think not. Then again, this IS the 60s.

Is this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what is? United Kingdom- Bryan Johnson- “Looking High, high, high”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 54th

1961: Nous les Amoureux

Country: Luxembourg

Artist: Jean-Claude Pascale

Language: French

Thoughts: I know this song didn’t compete for France, but have you ever heard a more aggressively French song than this? This is one of the most sultry, seductive songs in this lineup; like it just feels like the song itself is trying to seduce me and is going to offer me a glass of fine red wine before leading me to a candlelit bedroom and a four-post bed with rose petals scattered across it or some shit. That or it's gonna blow a long stream of cigarette smoke right into my face. One or the other. Going back on track, I like this song. Granted I wouldn’t call it a favourite or anything, but it’s still a Hell of a lot more likeable than most of the other 60s winners, and Hell, you could even argue this one is a lot more admirable given how the lyrics of the song are intended for a male lover of the singer’s. Which, for the early 60s, makes this a bigger deal than it would be nowadays. The singing is buttery smooth, and the song itself has a bit of a skip to it. It’s a very appealing song, and one I appreciate just a little bit more than the other songs from the 60s.

Is this my personal winner for this year? 50/50

If no, what is? France- Jean-Paul Mauric- “Printemps, avril carillon”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 26th

1962: Un Premier Amour

Country: France

Artist: Isabelle Aubret

Language: French (Translation: “A First Love”)

Thoughts: You know whenever you play a CD too much and it eventually becomes all scratched and worn down so whenever you play it it skips back to the same part over and over again before unsticking to play a bit more of the song, but keeps getting stuck over and over? Yeah, imagine a whole song like that. This song just drones on, with no charisma or vocal animation to break up the monotony. I don’t even think the rule “well it was the 60s” applies, since this isn’t really a song that needs flashy setpieces, costuming, dancing or anything; it just needs a charismatic singer. And, unfortunately, Aubret just isn’t one, in my opinion.

Is this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what is? United Kingdom- Ronnie Carroll- "Ring-a-Ding Girl"

Personal ranking (out of 67): 62nd

1963: Dansevise

Country: Denmark

Artist: Grete and Jørgen Ingmann

Language: Danish

Thoughts: Oh fucking finally, something unique for once. Which is very surprising because, from what I've seen and heard, the early contests weren't all that kind to songs which didn’t fit a certain criteria. If anything, most songs which came off as being unique with different sounds, instruments, and moods compared to the rest of their years ended up pulling up the rear in last place, more often than not with nil points. So it's nice to see a song which not only has unique elements to it (ie, a brooding sultry guitar accompaniment and a steady sweeping tempo), but is also in a stereotypically "ugly" language do well this early on. Getting back on track, this is one of those songs I find tends to be a cult favourite, especially amongst vintage and retro fans. And why wouldn't it be? It's a breath of fresh air in an era where so many songs sounded exactly the same, just in a different language. This is one of the few fan favourite winners where I can see the appeal myself.

Is this my personal winner for this year? Yes

If no, what is? N/A

Personal ranking (out of 67): 27th

1964: Non ho l’Eta

Country: Italy

Artist: Gigliola Cinquetti

Italian: (Translation: “I’m not old enough”)

Thoughts: If that title isn’t off-putting enough, then I don’t know what is. You’re all probably well aware of this right now, but I don’t like this song. At all. Everything about it just makes me feel creeped out and kinda dirty every time I hear it, which is a shame because the melody on its own is very pretty. It’s the song equivalent of flicking through re-runs of Top of the Pops and landing on a segment where Jimmy Saville is hosting; it just sends a disgusted shiver down my spine and I have to turn it off as quickly as possible. Which, given the lyrics of this song, is understandable. Think about it; you’ve got this visibly nervous, very young, still-legally-a-child-in-most-countries teenager, singing about how she “isn’t old enough” to be in a relationship with someone who seems to be older than she is. Maybe it’s just because I don’t speak any Italian, and the meaning is all semantic and context based, but this is my personal opinion at the end of the day, and, unfortunately, these lyrics just come off as really creepy to me. This song reminds me a lot of the song “Baby, it’s Cold Outside”, in that the lyrics used to be totally innocent and sweet, but to a modern listener come off as shockingly creepy and off-putting, and you’re not sure if it’s down to a change in slang and colloquialisms or if the past really was that messed up. Just like how in "Baby it's Cold Outside", a line asking "does this contain alcohol" now sounds like "have you spiked this with something", what was once “I’m too young and naïve to be in a serious committed relationship” now comes off as “I’m underaged, please leave me alone”. Doesn’t help that Cinquetti was underaged, hated the song, didn’t want to perform, and only showed up because she was forced to by a pushy manager. Which, for the 60s, was par for the course.

Is this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what is? Germany- Nora Nova- "Man Gewöhnt sich zu Schnell an das Schöne"

Personal ranking (out of 67): 66th

1965: Poupée du Cire, Poupée du Son

Country: Luxembourg

Artist: France Gall

Language: French (Translation: “Wax doll, stuffed doll”)

Thoughts: And now we come to Non ho L’eta’s ugly little sister in that, just like with that song, there’s a weirdly sinister edge to this one that I just can’t shake off. My French isn’t fantastic, admittedly, but every line of this song seems like it has another, less innocent meaning. Like the whole song is one big double entendre. Which, given how this was written by Serge “I made a 16 year old sing about blowing dicks when she thought she was singing about lollipops” Gainsborg, wouldn’t surprise me. Dodgy lyrics aside, this song is just… terrible. Songs which repeat the same motif over and over are a dime a dozen in older Eurovision, though most of them at least spice it up with a key change, adding more instruments to the instrumental, or even just having a nice melody. This? Is just an uncharismatic, uninterested teenager barking the same few notes over and over again ad nauseum. I know it was the 60s and that the contest was way more restrictive in how songs could be performed, but there’s just… no enthusiasm or animation or anything to make this charming or remotely enjoyable. It’s just shouty, unpleasant, and lacking any semblance of charisma. And I don't care if it's "important", it fucking sucks and we deserved a better song as our “first uptempo winner” of the contest.

Is this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what is? The Netherlands- Conny Vandenbos- “‘t is Genoeg”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 67th

1966- Merci, Chérie

Country: Austria

Artist: Udo Jurgens

Language: German (Translation: “Thank you, my dear”)

Thoughts: I’m so conflicted on this song. It’s very beautiful, emotional, dramatic... BUT. I just find it so forgettable, I’m sorry. I’m struggling to even talk about it right now. Do you know how long it took me to even finish this mini review? Too damn long. I forgot all about this song mid way through it. So at the recommendation of a friend I put this one on so I could review it whilst it plays and… it’s just a very sleepy song. Udo Jurgens is a good singer, I won’t deny that, but, God, he sounds like he’s nodding off as he sings. The first minute and a half of this song sounds like one big yawn. And that’s over half the song wasted just building to a climax, since I don’t think this song has a chorus, and for a song this short and slow I just don’t think it’s wise to put your climax right in the middle. I feel it would be better if it had two climactic parts or just put the climax right at the end of the song so the whole song is spent building that suspense. Shoving it smack in the middle of the song just makes it feel shorter. Also the fact it’s a piano song reminds me of Non ho l’eta and I don’t need to repeat myself to remind you that’s a bad thing, so, moving on.

Is this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what is? Italy- Domenico Modugno- “Dio, come ti amo”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 45th

1967: Puppet on a String

Country: United Kingdom

Artist: Sandie Shaw

Language: English

Thoughts: You know, I was pretty shocked to find out this song is a Eurovision song. Partially because I didn’t realise just how old Eurovision actually is, and partially because as somebody who grew up in Britain in the 2000s, I was just bred to believe the UK is inherently shit, has never won ever, and is incapable of sending songs people actually cherish and remember. But that’s a rant for another day. Anyways, this is the song Poupée du Cire wishes it was. It’s charming, it’s bouncy, it skips along so merrily you forget how the lyrics have aged about as well as a pint of milk left out in the sun for too long. Then again, I think the lyrics were outdated even back then. I suppose what sets this song aside from the other “60s entries with sexist lyrics sung by young women who didn’t want to be there” is that Shaw is a damn good performer, and hides her disdain expertly. If she wasn’t so vocal about how much she hates this song, you’d swear she loves it, her performance is that charming.

Is this my personal winner for this year? Eh

If no, what is? Portugal- Eduardo Nascimento- “O vento mudou”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 24th

1968: La la la

Country: Spain

Artist: Massiel

Language: Spanish

Thoughts: And the award for most creatively bankrupt name goes to… Granted, 1968 was one of the dreariest years I’ve watched, so it’s pretty easy to see why a song like this would have done well. That said, this is a really bland song, and even in a year as dull as 1968, I still don’t think this should have won. It’s the kind of song which relies on repeating itself ad nauseum in order to get stuck in your head, and let’s be honest here, that makes it more annoying than anything else. There’s only so many rounds of “la la la” you can take before you feel like rupturing your own eardrums with a knitting needle after all. I don’t really have anything else to say about it, it’s just mildly annoying and not that good.

Is this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what is? Norway- Odd Børre- “Stress”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 55th

1969- Four Winners, One Contest

France: Un jour, un enfant

Artist: Frida Boccara

Language: French

Thoughts: Well this is objectively the best of the four songs we have here, and it’s also my favourite winner from France, so at least it has that going for it. Though, let’s be real, I’m hardly a big fan of France’s winners, or French ballads in general. So this is… a big emotional ballad. What more is there to say? It’s big. It’s emotional. The lyrics are nonsense because God help us if we have songs with strong emotions this early on in the contest. Summary: Very nice, but lacking substance. Personal ranking (out of 67): 21st

Spain: Vivo Cantando

Artist: Salome

Language: Spanish

Thoughts: I’m not really what you’d call an advocate for bringing back a live orchestra, but, man, songs like this sure turn me into one. The live version of this song is in a whole other league compared to the studio version; like it is just pure, infectious, Spanish cheer. It’s an absolute blast to listen to, and I strongly recommend checking out the live version before going anywhere near the studio. Summary: Infections, but choose live over studio because it’s better okay. Personal ranking (out of 67): 20th

The Netherlands: Der Troubadour

Artist: Lenny Kuhr

Language: Dutch

Thoughts: I mean.... The guitar solo is impressive at least. I’m sorry, I don’t see the appeal in this one. And I feel so weirdly alone in that stance. So many people I know have this song in their top ten best winners list and I just don’t understand it. I just find it very dull and repetitive, and the singer’s voice is definitely an acquired taste. To me she just sounds like she’s forcing her voice lower, like a reverse falsetto or something. And that’s all I really have to say about this one. I just… don’t like it that much, or at least not as much as everyone else I know seems to. Summary: I don’t “get” it. Personal ranking (out of 67): 53rd

United Kingdom: Boom-Bang-a-Bang

Artist: Lulu

Language: English

Thoughts: Ah yes, the forgotten UK winner. Everybody knows Lulu did this contest once, and everybody knows Boom-bang-a-bang was a British entry, but I swear nobody knows she actually won. Probably because she had the audacity to tie with other countries, the horror. And that’s the most interesting part of this song because it’s otherwise just kind of alright. It’s very twee and sweet, and if I didn’t know that “bubblegum pop” was a genre reserved for one-hit-wonder nobodies and not decade-defining names then I’d say this is a perfect example of it. It’s just a decent-ish fluffy pop song with very saccharine fluffy lyrics. Standard British Eurovision pap, if you ask me. Summary: Cute, but lacking substance. Personal ranking (out of 67): 25th

So who really should have won in 1969? Either Spain or Monaco if you ask me. That kid had charm.

#eurovision #mod's winner reviews #these took sooooo long to format lmao will draft the 70s and 80s tonight so i can post them on time tomorrow #ESC winners

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hallospaceboyy · 5 years ago

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Hi, I was wondering if you could write a Zelda Spellman x Female reader where the reader has been following a rather strong demon into Greendale because of an old vendetta, and end up saving one or more of the Spellman’s. Totally a plus if the reader is a bit taller, buff and a powerful witch. Love your writing by the way! Make it as smutty as you want☺️

Demonology

AN: I'm not sure if this is QUITE what you were expecting. I basically just made it into a fic of Zelda being v turned on by the reader being extremely powerful and saving her life lmao. We all know Zelda's hot for power 😂 Hope you enjoy!!

Warning for smut and strong language

You had been following the Demon for quite some time, tracking it's movements, had trailed it from town to town. You could have banished it back to Hell any time, but you didn't want that, wanted to defeat it, crush it entirely from existence. You'd watched it hurt people, kill people; innocent people and it made your blood boil, the terror and carnage it left in its wake.

Of course the redhead walking alone in the woods in the quaint little town of Greendale had foiled that plan. It's the witching hour, and the demon is upon her before she can even register its presence, and you have to act fast, as it knocks her to the ground and black, viscous tendrils begin to coil around her form, bubbling at her pale skin, and she is screaming, writhing on the ground.

You don’t even have time to think, throw your hands up and banish the demon, strong voice resounding throughout the woods, bouncing off of the trees, and the thing releases an animalistic shriek as it goes up in flames and disappears. The redhead lays there panting, eyes squeezed shut, and you sigh in frustration, striding over to her and falling to your knees at her side. Her skin is covered with blistering welts where the tendrils had been, and you slide a hand over them, healing every one with ease, restoring the porcelain skin to its perfection. When you glance up at the woman’s face, she is watching you curiously, and you see her visibly relax when the pain subsides.

“Th-Thank you.” Her voice is smooth and velvety, and there's a flutter in your stomach as you properly regard the woman, realise how beautiful she is. So very attractive, and she’s smirking at you now as she sits up and dusts off her arms.

“You ruined my plan.” You scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. “I've been trying to figure out how to kill it, not banish it.”

“A witch that hunts and kills demons? That is unusual.”

You shrug, biting your lip. “I'm Y/N, by the way.”

“Zelda. Zelda Spellman.” She holds out her hand and you shake it firmly, can’t withhold the gasp at the pulsing magic you feel coursing through her.

“You're a witch too.”

She hums in affirmation, green eyes searching yours with perplexity, and something else, a glint there that you can’t quite place.

“How did you banish the demon without using it's name? I didn’t think that was possible. It was quite astounding.”

“Uh, um. I don’t know. I just... can.”

“You're powerful. So very powerful. I can feel it. I can smell it.” She leans closer to you, cupping your cheeks, and your breath hitches in your throat. “You saving my life has made me embarrassingly frisky.”

“Are you trying to seduce me, Zelda Spellman?”

“Mm. Am I succeeding?” Her soft lips brush yours, and you flick your tongue out teasingly, smirking.

“Yes.”

Zelda surges forwards and pushes you down to the ground then, pinning you beneath her, wrists above your head, and you squeak in surprise, laughter cut short as she crushes her lips to yours, kissing you with a hungry passion that has a heat coiling in your lower abdomen, throbbing between your legs.

Her slender hands snake beneath your shirt, pushing the material up as her nails rake over the expanse of your stomach, stroking higher and higher, and then she's groaning with delight when she finds you braless, scrapes her nails over your nipples, and you tilt your head back and moan, arching into her touch.

“Is this how you usually thank people for saving your skin?” You ask breathlessly, and she chuckles, leans down and presses damp open mouthed kisses to your sternum.

“It’s usually me saving theirs.” Her hot mouth finds a nipple, and she grazes her teeth over it, bites down gently and then sucks hard, and your hands tangle in her auburn hair, tugging slightly and she hums.

You're growing impatient, and embarrassingly wet, so you lift your hips and push your trousers down, and your underwear, kicking them off of your legs and gasping when your bare ass comes into contact with the dewy grass beneath you.

“Someone's eager. Does it make you wet, saving the lives of unsuspecting witches?” She murmurs, hand trailing down between your legs and ghosting her fingertips over your folds.

“No, but it does make me wet when an extremely attractive witch pins me down in the middle of the woods with the intent of fucking me senseless.”

“How do you know I'm not dangerous. I could kill you right now.” Her free hand clasps at your throat, and you release a strangled whine as her fingers brush your clit, feather light, teasing.

“Then kill me, Zelda Spellman. I can think of worst ways to die than with a pretty witch's fingers at my cunt and her hand around my throat.”

She grins at that, chuckling with delight. Her hand clutches tighter at your throat, and the throbbing arousal between your legs is becoming increasingly more insistent, and her fingers suddenly begin rubbing firmly at your clit, and you moan loudly, rolling your hips.

“Mm, you're positively dripping. All for me, you naughty little witch. Letting a perfect stranger fuck you in the woods in the middle of the night.”

Her slender fingers press to your entrance, and you whimper, bucking your hips in desperation, needing her inside you, needing her to fill you, to satiate the ache in your cunt.

“P-Please Zelda.”

The redhead laughs, slowly pushes the tips of her fingers in, and then pulls them out, and you groan in frustration. “I love making a strong witch beg.”

“I swear if you don't get on with it I will-" You're cut off, releasing a loud moan when she thrusts two digits into you, curling them deep inside your cunt, pressing to your g-spot with exquisite accuracy, and you writhe against the damp grass as waves of pleasure pulse through you.

“You'll what, darling?” She hovers over you, her face inches from yours as she thrusts her fingers into you, slow and deep, and you force your eyes open to look at her when you feel her hot breath on your face.

“Shh, you talk too much.” You grip her hair and press her lips to yours, tongue searching out hers, letting out laboured pants against her mouth as she begins to pound her fingers harder into you, speeding up her movements. You squeeze your eyes shut, flames of colour licking at the back of your eyelids as each thrust makes you see stars, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through you. She's so inexplicably good with those fingers, have never felt anything like it, and you claw at her scalp desperately, clutch at the jacket covering her back. She removes her hand from your throat, resting on her forearm beside your head and tangling her fingers in your hair.

You cry out against her mouth as you come, writhing beneath her body pressed to yours, and she huffs a laugh, amused by your shameless need to be vocal, moans and groans echoing throughout the woods, and several birds flutter from the treetops with alarm. You clench and spasm around her digits, and Zelda pulls away from your lips, buries her face in your neck and bites down on your smooth skin, sucking a dark mark there. You barely know the woman, but let the mark of her bloom there, too inebriated by the intensity of your orgasm, the intoxicating scent of her to care.

You go limp against the wet grass, panting heavily, and still clutching at the redhead, wrapping your legs around her slender waist. When she tries to pull away, you cling tighter, and she chuckles, nipping at your jaw. She gently extricates herself from you, sits back on her haunches to regard you. Her shining eyes rove your body, legs spread, shirt rucked up under your armpits, leaving your pert breasts exposed, and she smirks, biting her lip.

“You are as exquisite as the magic that courses through your veins.”

You blush, suddenly shy now, clamping your legs shut and pushing yourself to sit up with trembling arms. You inhale a shaky breath, letting the cool night air fill your lungs and closing your eyes, relishing the moment, the soft buzz of your orgasm still present in your limbs, a pleasant ache between your thighs.

“Are you staying in town?” She asks, watching as you tug your shirt down, lazily begin to dress your bottom half.

“I don't know. I hadn’t planned to, but I could.” You grimace as you pull your trousers on, your legs and ass damp from the grass. It feels unpleasant when the material presses to the cold, wet skin. “Would you like me to?”

Zelda smirks devilishly, raising a single perfectly arched brow. “Well, I’ve seen your magical prowess, I have yet to experience your abilities of the sexual kind. I have a distinct feeling those hands will be skilled at more than just spellcasting.”

You laugh, groaning as you stand and holding a hand out to help her up. She takes it gratefully, lets you pull her to her feet and into your strong arms, and you wrap them around her waist, hands resting on the swell of her ass beneath her tight skirt.

“Same time tomorrow, then? Hopefully without the demon this time.”

“I'll be here, Y/N.” She presses a lingering kiss to your lips, and then turns and walks away, and you watch her go with a smirk, admiring the sway of her hips, her toned calves. Tomorrow night can’t come soon enough.

#zelda spellman x reader #zelda spellman #caos fanfiction #caos

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princess-of-riviaa · 3 years ago

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You Are In Love

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Skye of Skellige (OFC)

Summary: Geralt and Skye have had feelings for each other for ten years. Geralt finally addresses the elephant in the room.

Author's Note: The title for this oneshot comes from one of my favorite Taylor Swift songs of the same name on her 1989 album.

Warning(s): sex toy (vibrator), mentions of periods, dirty talk, emotional Geralt, masturbating (female), voyeurism, fingering, oral (female receiving), sweet smut

Word Count: 3,024

Little got under Geralt of Rivia’s skin. That’s what centuries of fighting for survival had done to him: turned him into a shell of a person that watched the world around him behind a glass wall, always shielding his heart and mind away, lest it see the light of day, or worse—lest it get reeled in by a mortal human, who would only cause him longing and heartache after a few quick decades spent together. No, it was better to hide himself away from that kind of hurt, the kind of hurt that even a poisonous scratch from a kikimora couldn’t compare to.

Little got under Geralt’s skin—until Skye of Skellige walked into his life.

She was everything he wasn’t: young and unscarred by life; kind and forgiving when most people wouldn’t be; and, maybe most importantly, loved by everyone. It was all of those things and more that drew him in. But it was the fact of her mortality that kept him fighting against his instincts to claim her as his own for an entire decade. The war to stay away from her had worked well enough--until one night, when his defenses had finally crumbled.

He’d convinced her to move further inland, and though she’d eventually agreed, noting that he had a point about the safety of the land protecting her from the sea gangs, she insisted that he would help her move what little belongings she had into her new cottage. Skye was moving in with her sister and brother-in-law, whom Geralt had only seen a handful of times in the last ten years. Silver, Skye’s sister, was staying on the coast for the night, preparing to bid farewell to her husband as he left for a sea voyage at dawn. Geralt and Skye had the small cottage to themselves.

Skye moved to the kitchen to find something to cook up for Geralt, while he continued to help her unbox her belongings. There was a small, frail box hidden inside a larger one that Geralt picked up and set on her bed. He opened it, merely intending to find a place for the contents before moving onto the next box. An intricate cloth was inside, wrapped around something long and circular. He picked it up and unwrapped the item, curiosity getting the best of him, and froze when he realized what it was. Painted a soft pink, the toy was capped with a smooth silicone head. It was small enough to be held in the hand comfortably, and the button on the side was placed in a convenient spot, allowing a finger to easily click it onto a higher setting when needed.

Geralt was old enough to be familiar with toys like this. In his youth, he’d witnessed enough women pleasuring themselves with them to understand their sole purpose. But the thought of Skye having one--sweet, innocent, naive Skye…

His cock twitched in his pants. Images of her sprawled on her bed, her naked body convulsing under the pleasure this toy gave her… It instantly aroused him. But there was a bitter feeling in his gut, too. It took him a moment to realize… it was jealousy. He was jealous of this pathetic toy, getting her off when he was more than capable of--

“Geralt…?” Skye’s voice came from the hallway.

His mind was still racing by the time she entered her small room. She scanned his face, noted the strange mix of emotions in his eyes, and then looked at the toy in his hands. Her lips parted, though she said nothing as her cheeks burned the brightest crimson.

Geralt realized this was the moment when he was supposed to apologize. He shouldn’t have opened the box, shouldn’t have gone through her things. He’d just been trying to help, but he’d crossed a line by finding this. And yet... he couldn’t find it in himself to apologize. An apology would imply regret, and he didn’t regret the thoughts running through his head right now. He didn’t regret thinking about how Skye would look as she lay naked on the bed sheets, spreading her legs for him as he neared her. Looking at him with desperate anticipation in the moments before he filled her up. Crying out in pleasure as he pushed inside of her, her walls tight and aching around his cock.

No, the only thing he regretted was that he was standing there wordlessly like an idiot and not taking her to bed right this second.

“I meant to unpack that earlier, but I couldn’t remember what box I’d put it in.” Skye mumbled the words as she stepped towards him, her gaze locked on his hands, on the toy, refusing to meet his gaze.

“This is yours,” was all he could think to say. Like an idiot. Way to state the obvious.

Skye stopped in front of him, and he swore her cheeks burned even brighter at his words. She reached out for the toy, but Geralt wasn’t about to let go of it, and her hand stayed locked on his and the toy. “Yes,” she whispered.

He should stop. She was clearly embarrassed. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable--

But he’d hidden the animal in him for years, and the sight of Skye’s toy had woken it up. He couldn’t hold back his desire now, no matter how selfish it was.

“You know how to use it.” It wasn’t a question.

Finally, her eyes lifted to meet his. Those grey eyes were as stormy as the clouds above the sea that she called home. It was one of his favorite things about this woman--the way her eye color seemed to change with every emotion she felt, just as the changing tides of the sea did. She stuck out her chin, forcing herself to look assertive. “Yes.”

“Show me.” The words were spoken before he could stop himself.

Her heartbeat quickened at the suggestion and the wicked thoughts that were undoubtedly running through her head now, if the swirling darkness in her eyes was anything to go by.

“Geralt…” Her voice was soft, shaky.

Four years ago, Skye had tried to seduce Geralt. She’d been nearing her monthly cycle, her hormones raging wildly inside of her, and Geralt was the only man around she trusted enough to be intimate with. And, she had claimed, the only man she had any desire to bed in the first place. She’d been a virgin then, and the thought of taking her first, the thought of claiming her in ways no one else ever could… It had taken all the willpower he had to turn her down. But he had, simply because he was terrified that she’d regret lying with him by the time the sun rose.

She’d told him years later that she hadn’t, in fact, regretted asking him to take her virginity. And when she’d given it to another man, a man who’d promised to marry her and fled as soon as he’d gotten what he’d wanted from her, she swore that it was a mistake. That she should have only given that part of her away to Geralt, because he was the only honorable man that deserved it.

But that wasn’t the point.

The point was that she’d wanted him for years now, in the same ways he craved her, and she now stood before him, looking at him like he was promising something too good to be true.

Geralt murmured, “I want you to show me how you use your toy. I want to see how you touch yourself. And then, I want to show you how I can make you feel a million times better than that toy ever could.”

She whimpered.

Fuck, that sound--his cock jumped again in his pants. Every instinct in him roared to take what he wanted, what she’d offered up to him years ago, but he forced himself to wait. Forced himself to take in a deep breath and ignore the scent of her growing arousal beginning to drip between her legs. Forced himself to say, “Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me that you’ve changed your mind about me, and I’ll pretend I never saw the toy. We’ll walk out of here and eat dinner like nothing ever happened.”

She swallowed, her eyes widening, as if the thought of ignoring the heat between them for even one more day was terrifying. And his knees practically gave out in relief as she said, “Lock the door.”

…

Skye’s heart was pounding as she lifted her hands to her dress. She had no doubt Geralt could hear every racing beat of her heart, even from where he stood leaning against the doorframe. Her back was to him as she untied her dress and it fell to her feet, leaving her in nothing but her undergarments.

The air was electric, heated by the intensity of their unspoken lust. She’d wanted this for years now. Why was he finally giving in now? No, she wouldn’t question it. If this was some sort of dream, too good to be true, then she’d see it out until the end. She’d wanted her Witcher too long to hesitate now.

She undid the wrap around her chest. The small garment joined her dress on the ground. Her panties were next. She could feel Geralt’s eyes on her back, noting every feature on her body as if he was trying to memorize it.

Her hands continued to shake as she crawled onto the small bed and turned onto her back. Geralt took a step towards her, as if the sight of her naked body was too much for his self-control. She could see it in his eyes--the animal he’d leashed up around her, finally clawing free of its restraints. She wanted that wild creature to take her, to make her feel more pleasure than she thought possible. And more than anything, she wanted to make him feel just as good. His golden eyes darkened as he took in the rise of her breasts and the valley between her thighs. A deep, thrilling sound fell from his throat as she spread her legs for him.

She wasn’t just wet. She was soaked. Her fingers slid between her folds, gathering up her slick, teasing herself. Geralt watched every movement she made. From the look on his face, she knew he could smell her arousal. It made her thighs clench to know that he could sense the depths of her lust for him.

A second later the toy was in her hands. She slid it between her folds, lubricating the tip before turning it on. The soft whirring of the toy against her clit was the only sound in the room. She closed her eyes and pretended she was alone as she began to pleasure herself. The toy buzzed and vibrated between her folds, circling her entrance and making her walls clench around nothing. With a flick of her finger, it moved to a higher setting, and she slowly dragged it up her folds until it was pressed tight against her clit.

A moan escaped her as she gripped the bed sheets in her free hand, needing something to cling to as her body began to burn with delicious pleasure. She opened her eyes to look at Geralt--and moaned at the sight of his erection straining tight against his pants.

She wanted him inside of her.

Geralt’s eyes flared as he released a growl, and she realized with a start that she’d said that out loud.

He was at the bed in an instant, taking the toy from her and shutting it off before setting it back in the box he’d found it in. He moved to hover over her, getting as close as he could without touching her. He was teasing her, she realized.

“Geralt,” she whimpered, her mind already clouding with desire.

“What do you want first?” he breathed against her skin, his pupils swallowing up all the color of his eyes. “My fingers?”

She whimpered.

“Or my tongue?”

She moaned, the sound so whorish it made her entire body burn.

But then his head was between her legs and her embarrassment morphed into pleasure. He kissed the inside of her thighs as he moved her legs over his shoulders. And then he got to work on her core. He teased her with quick, short kitten licks at first. But upon watching her buck her hips with wanton desperation, he buried his face against her core and began to suck on her clit, closing his eyes as if he felt every drop of her pleasure.

“G-Geralt!” she moaned brokenly, her hands moving to tug at his hair.

He growled against her. The sound vibrated against her pussy and her back arched as her vision went white--

“I’m c-close, Geralt,” she whined. “Please don’t s-stop.”

He placed a hand at the edge of her lips and she began to suck on his fingers as her hips ground against his face. He opened his eyes and met her gaze and the sight of him looking up at her, his mouth against her core, his fingers in her mouth, made her dizzy. Her mouth fell open in a cry of pleasure and he pulled his hand back--only to shove two fingers inside of her. That was all she needed to fall over the edge. Her body shook against him as she came so hard she squirted around his fingers.

When she was spent, he pulled away from her. She watched through tired eyes as he rose to his feet and began to undress himself. This man was a god of beauty; she’d go to her grave believing it. For years, she’d been convinced there was no hotter sight than Geralt in his black Witcher gear. She finally realized how terribly wrong she was. His body was perfect, sculpted by the gods themselves, and she scanned his body, devouring every curve of muscle and pale white scar on his body.

And his cock--

He was huge. His erection poked out at her and she bit her lip, wondering how the hell she was supposed to fit all of him inside of her. Dark curls swirled around the base of his shaft. The tip was red and throbbing, precum already making it shine.

“You’re perfect,” she breathed, and then he was on top of her, pushing her back until her head was against the pillow.

His arms wrapped around her as his mouth met hers. The way he held her… she’d never felt safer. Or more aroused. Her hands were a wild frenzy on his chest, not knowing where to touch first. They swallowed each other's moans as they moved against each other, losing themselves in burning desire. Skye’s heart was beating so fast she thought it would burst out of her chest, but she didn’t dare stop long enough to calm down. Not as Geralt’s leg pressed against her core. Her hips moved on their own, desperately bucking against the pressure of his muscled thigh. The sound of his breathless moans, the feeling of him clenching the sheets around her--it was all so much, yet none of it was enough.

“Fuck me, Geralt,” she breathed into his mouth.

He growled as he bit her bottom lip. And then his mouth was moving lower, biting sensually at her neck, her chest, her breasts. This fire was going to burn her alive.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he breathed against her skin. “You.”

She released a broken moan as he spread her legs and rose to his knees. “I’m yours, Geralt. I’ve always been yours.”

And it was those words--the promise that came with them--that rang throughout the room as he entered her. Skye’s mouth fell open at the pain of him splitting her open. She bit her bottom lip, and before she could clutch onto the bed sheets, trying not to cry out in pain, he laced his hands through hers. She held onto him as he slowly pushed all the way inside of her.

He buried his head in her neck as he filled her to the brim, and for a moment they just laid there, basking in the sensations of their united bodies, of finally getting what they’d both craved for so long. Geralt murmured something against her skin.

“What?” she asked, just as the words registered.

I love you.

She blamed it on the intensity of the night as her eyes filled with tears.

Geralt pulled back to look at her, fear in his eyes as he waited for her to react to the words.

But she merely pulled him in for a kiss. Words escaped her, but that kiss seemed to say enough for him. He kissed her back deeper, his tongue gliding along hers as his hips began to move. She moaned as his cock slid between her walls.

“I love you,” she breathed back as he quickened his pace, desire making her see stars.

They exchanged those three words over and over as he moved inside of her. And when he finally came, it was her name that he cried out, the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard.

After, they lied together on her small bed. Skye rested her head on his chest, listening to his slow heartbeat. Their legs tangled together as his hands ran through her hair, the touch so soft and relaxing that her eyes grew heavy.

“I love you,” he said into the quiet room, sounding almost hesitant. As if he were afraid that, now that their lovemaking had ended, she wouldn’t want to repeat it.

“Took you long enough,” she said with a smirk.

She could feel his gaze on the top of her head. “What?”

Skye finally looked up at him as she said, “I’ve been in love with you for ten years, you idiot. You’re lucky I’m a patient woman.”

He gave her a playful glare, opening his mouth to rebuttal, but she interrupted him with a kiss, and he seemed more than content to kiss her back.

...

Tag Squad:

@agniavateira @littlefreya @celestial-vomit @lestersglitterglue @honeychicana @penwieldingdreamer @mary-ann84 @elixasays @buckysgoldenheart @noz4a2 @trippedmetaldetector @omgkatinka @lunedelorient @aphrodites-punch @yespolkadotkitty @sweetybuzz25 @iloveyouyen @deathonyourtongue @wondersofdreaming @tsukuyomi011 @the-soot-sprite @desperate-and-broken @palaiasaurus64 @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @henrythickcavill @secretlyactivated @madbaddic7ed @wheretheriversrunintothesea @ravenclawvsfairytales @eldarwen333 @mzchievous-blog @myloveforhenrycavill @jayismz

Let me know if you want to be added/removed from my taglist

#geralt of rivia #geralt #geralt of rivia smut #geralt the witcher #the witcher #the witcher smut #henry cavill #henry cavill smut

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ourworldofwonders · 3 years ago

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Medieval!Villanelle ~ Killing Eve AU : The Duchess of Murder

Warnings: Murder, possessive behaviour, drugging, time-appropriate sexism.

The Duchess of Rothesay was the gracious host as she welcomed the guests into her home. The late Victorian night was the perfect backdrop for the supposedly important meeting her husband was giving; not that he was here to greet the people arriving. Not that she minded; the more they were apart the better it was for her. It hadn’t started like that, Cassandra remembered. It had been a marriage of convenience but there had been love there; or at least on her side anyway. The many mistresses leaving and returning to his room drained her of the last emotions she felt for him.

However, her smile still widened as she followed the last of the guests into the large parlour of the grand mansion belonging to her. Cassandra’s long blonde locks were intricately braided down her back with soft pearls dotted into them. Her station was high, which was obvious to the rubies adoring her neck, ears and wrists. The blood red stones matched her long gown perfectly. “Welcome. Hello, nice to see you.” Cass nodded and spoke as she walked past the guests. Her life only ever consisted of social events and smiling perfectly so nobody would suspect her unhappiness.

Her servants that were more like family smiled as she passed by on her way around the room. Cassandra played with one of her many ruby rings as she subtly looked around for her husband. It didn’t take her long to know why he was so late as his most famous of mistresses walked in and a moment later, so did her husband. The audience around them were none the wiser , which Cassandra was extremely thankful for as she leaned away from his kiss that was now planted on her cheek. The overly placed, fake perfume of the whore in the corner had her nearly sneezing but she was a lady; a Duchess and she had pride. She politely greeted her husband before stepping to the side and happily allowing his attention to be taken from her again. Her interest peaked at the sight of a new woman in the corner of her room; her first thought was that the woman was another one of her husband’s mistresses.

“Hello, I don’t think we’ve met.” Cassandra gently introduced herself as her eyes could never stray from this woman. The woman’s cat-like eyes moved towards her and Cassandra couldn’t hold back the shiver moving through her. “I’ve only just arrived in town.” The unknown woman spoke softly and with an accent that Cassandra only wanted to hear more of. The curiosity was getting the better of her and it had Cass gracefully placing herself next to the still unnamed woman. “I’m Cassandra,” The Duchess introduced herself with a soft smile. “Villanelle,” She moved herself to be angled more to Cassandra; her black dress clinging to her curves. It was a very simple design but Cassandra thought she looked like a Goddess. “I love that name.” Cass complimented and the woman could only blush and duck her head.

The young assassin had never felt this way before; usually her emotions were so much more guarded but the woman in front of her seemed to pull at her interest like no other. Villanelle noticed everything as her eyes had wandered the room whilst she had placed herself in the corner. The husband was easily found and Villanelle had already noticed the women hanging off him as well as the moans she’d heard coming from rooms when she had scouted out the building. It was always the prettiest of birds that had the most awful of husbands, she thought to herself whilst watching Cassandra take two glasses from a passing servant. “What brings you here?” Cassandra couldn’t stop herself from learning more about the mysterious woman as she sipped her champagne and passed the glass into Villanelle’s hand. “Unfortunately my father couldn’t attend so i’m here instead.” She lied perfectly. Her father had been dead for many years now and by her own hand. “Well, I’m glad you are here.” Cass hummed around her glass. She wasn’t too sure where those words came from and now it was her turn to blush. Maybe it was the loneliness that had made itself at home inside her that was talking now. Her eyes sleepily fluttered after the exhaustion of the day was creeping through her. “Are you sure I’m not boring you?” Villanelle couldn’t help but tease as her eyes wandered the Duchess’s form. “Oh, no, of course not.” Cassandra was quick to argue as she turned back towards the mysterious woman. “It’s more tiring organising events than people think.” Cass finished off her glass and placed it next to her. Villanelle followed her line of sight and had to fight against rolling her eyes at such a disgusting man. It seemed the sleeping sedation potion she’d placed in the Duchess’s drink was taking effect just as she wanted. The soon to be widows of her targets were never harmed and she tucked them into bed but this was the first time that she disliked the time between them coming to an end.

“I think I had too much to drink,” Cass spoke mostly to herself as she moved to stand; her mind already trying to count the glasses of the night but she knew her emotions sometimes got the better of her. Villanelle moved with her and reached to gently steady the Duchess for a moment and enjoyed the closeness a little too much. “Want me to escort you up?” Villanelle asked with her words dripping with innocence. If Cassandra was in her right state of mind she would have declined, but her loneliness had gripped her harder than she ever thought. “If you wouldn’t mind.” The sight of two women walking up the grand staircase made no eyebrows move if it had been a man and a woman; something Villanelle always used to her advantage as she watched the husband whisper in his mistresses ear. For some reason, the assassin wanted to place the blame on her as if she was protecting the honour of the Duchess beside her.

“I’m glad to be leaving that party.” Cassandra babbled whilst her head gently leaned onto Villanelle’s shoulder who in turn subtly took in her mouth watering scent. Villanelle had a greedy nature and she enjoyed such pretty things. “You didn’t enjoy yourself?” She asked gently and played with a lock of those blood red curls. “Unfortunately not,” She sadly whispered as the Duchess moved down the long halls before turning the handle for her bedroom door to open.

Villanelle followed silently behind Cassandra as she looked around the room and enjoyed the luxurious decor and jewels dotted around the place. A soft hum escaped her as the scent of the room washed over her as she watched Cass move towards the bed to gracefully sit down. “You should rest.” Villanelle came to kneel in front of her and looked up with those eyes of hers that seemed to stare into the Duchess’s soul. “Hmmm..” It was all she could say as the softest of sheets underneath her were seducing Cass into her bed. “Maybe,” She carried on quite sleepily and if she was more of a sound mind, Cassandra would have begun to question why she was so tired. The watchful eyes of Villanelle followed her whilst helping Cass from those shoes; her fingers tracing her smooth skin for a second longer than needed.

It didn’t take long for the drug to take it’s full effect as she watched the sleeping Duchess for a few moments. Villanelle placed the most luxurious of sheets around her for warmth before stepping away; too much time had already passed. The assassin silently moved around the room before reaching for a nearly empty bottle of perfume; the very same on the sleeping woman’s body. A last look was all Villanelle gave as she skilfully pocketed the bottle and left the room as silently as she’d entered.

The soft music and chatter from the party could still be heard as the assassin moved easily through the home. Villanelle hardly felt nervous anymore; she was far too prideful in her own abilities. It was far too easy to follow the moans that disgusted her more than anything. Villanelle rolled her eyes as she slid into the room to see the traitorous husband of the Duchess tangled in bed with another. The two were far too involved with each other to see the silent assassin. Usually the women in her target’s bed were left unharmed but Villanelle was feeling vengeful. She wondered why the husband would leave the stunning wife he had for this whore. It was these thoughts that confused her and Villanelle wondered why she was taking this affair so personally.

Villanelle finally brought herself under control as she stepped from the shadows of the dimly lit room. It was easy for her to gain control of the situation as she slowly without sound brought her favourite dagger from her thigh. The rubies shone in the candle lit chandelier above her as a smirk of dark promises came across her face. The silence spread across the room as she watched the woman nearly pass out next to the Duke. It seemed their activities had exhausted them, which worked perfectly to Villanelle’s advantage. The slash of her dagger was quick and far too quick of a kill for her liking but she didn’t have time. Neither did the Duke as he grasped at his bleeding neck but his vocal cords were damaged and his mistress slept perfectly beside him. It was the perfect set up, Villanelle thought to herself.

The open window in the room gave her the perfect escape but she knew she would be back; the Duchess was far too interesting for her to leave now. It wasn’t too long before the screams brought the attention to the murder.

#killing eve #villanelle #oc character #fanfic #tw:murder

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wxste-lxnds · 5 years ago

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QUEEN OF GLASS Thoughts & Opinions (part one)

So, here are my thoughts and opinions on part one of Queen of Glass <- throne of glass’s original story. I know, it’s a bit stupid to critique an almost fanfic but I want to so I’m doing it.

Prologue:

“Adarlan was famous for it’s glassware. [...] At one point, glass shoes were all the rage.” I like this little nod to the Cinderella inspiration, to be honest. The original concept of T/OG was that it was Cinderella as an assassin. Which would’ve been amazing if executed well and T/OG... wasn’t.

This prologue is full of infodumping about Adar/lan’s history. This is easily forgiveable, given Sarah was 15/16 when she wrote this and infodumping country history is a common mistake for new writers. (We’ve all done it!) There’s a lot of untapped talent and potential here in the prologue too which is sad when you consider what her published books are like.

Terr/asen is called Trasien here, which is interesting. There’s a lot about how this is the real story of Cinderella, which once again would have been so interesting if executed well. That’s about it for the prologue, nothing really notable yet.

Chapter One:

“Due to her rather violent nature, she had a new one at least three times a month.” This is the edgy, killer queen we were supposed to see in T/OG. Though, this a bit unrealistic, she would’ve been hung already for killing this many overseers so quickly.

“None of them would ever assume that she, a woman, would actually be a real threat! [...] After all, she hadn’t been Adarlan’s deadliest assassin for nothing.” So, she’s forced to compete in a weekly fight club and it took them two years to figure out she needed more than one man to restrain her. Humble brag, I guess? That’s, again, not quite realistic but sjm likes OP character’s so I’m not surprised.

“You know,” Celaena said, in her cool, cultured voice.” What in the fuck does THAT mean? Also her overseer talks the same way Hagrid does in the Harry Potter books and I am killing myself with giggles, imagining poor Hagrid arguing with Celaena in a mineshaft. She laments about killing someone with an innocent hairpin. Um. Okay.

“[...]If you put shackles on me. I’ll still be an assassin, just a much more intelligent and vengeful one.” I get the sentiment, I do. But assassins kill for political and monetary gain. Here, Celaena’s just killing for shits and gigs. Which makes her a serial killer (and in some cases a mass murderer), not an assassin.

Celaena discusses how she was caught, she mentions sleeping gas. I would’ve been interested to know what exactly the sleeping gas was, given this is obviously set before the creation of mustard gas etc.

“They beat her because they were afraid of her.” They usually beat prisoners because they like to exert power and control and harbor violent and sociopathic tendencies. Plus, Celaena is a young woman and they are grown men used to getting their way.

“In three months, Celaena had killed seventeen overseers.” The gallows are in your future, sweetheart.

“Celaena Sardothien was a beautiful woman - or at least, some had considered her so. Granted, she was never considered unattractive, but her degree of attractiveness depended on those judging her.” Uh, yeah. That’s how attraction works. Why is this paragraph even necessary? We know she’s beautiful, she won’t shut up about it. She could’ve left it at the first sentence.

She goes on her about her special eyes and how they entrance and bedazzel people. Look, I have hazel eyes. Depending on what I’m wearing/what makeup colours I have on/the lighting I’m in, my eyes will appear different colours. Compliments happen, yes, but do they entrance and bedazzle? No, because they’re fucking eyes.

Celaena also says she uses cosmetics to enhance her not so attractive traits. I wish we were told what these cosmetics were, it’s not like she can take a gander to Sephora and pick out a pretty lipstick. Apparently her beauty makes her a good assassin. This isn’t how it works, usually. A person can only fall for physical features to a certain extent and not every person is the same. Cunning, stealth etc are all much more important assassin skills than a pretty face. Also, it’s a bit creepy that she was a young girl (as in 14-17) seducing old men. Isn’t that just child prostitution with murder being the dessert?

So basically these fights clubs are like The Hunger Games. Shes a crowd/guard favourite so she gets more food and supplies than the other slaves. Makes sense, but still. An 18(?) year old girl beating battle-hardened war criminals twice her size? Nah.

“You won’t be eating there tonight Sardothien.” It was not the voice of her overseer. It was dark, smooth, and sounded almost civilised. It had been so long since she’d heard someone speak properly!” This comes across as racist, Sarah. Ew. The overseer says something in his Hagrid accent and the man (I’d assume is Chaol?) says “translate please”. Come on, Sarah. Look how that sounds!! The overseer can’t read, either. Christ, this is nuts. Anyway, Chaol Wydrael is here to taken Celaena away, she thinks she’s going to be hung.

So that’s the end of chapter one and the prologue! Wow, that was gross and so, so much infodumping. At least with T/OG and ACO/TAR, the infodumping wasn’t too bad. Then came CCity...

Anyway, I’ll do chapter 2 and 3 when my brain stops feeling like it has teeth. Thank you @crescentcitysux for sending me the file

#anti sjm #anti tog #anti acotar #anti queen of glass #anti celaena sardothien #anti sarah j maas

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

Text

You Know You Love Me, Chapter 4 (Branjie) - Kiki

A/N: Not me thinking i could upload every three days lol sorry there was a bit of a wait for this chapter but college is attempting to kill me off on a daily basis. Regardless, hope you enjoy and chapter 5 should be up in a couple of days!

Summary: Brooke Lynn Hytes returns to New York City after being shipped off to boarding school and her ex best friend, Vanessa Mateo, isn’t too happy about it…which would be bad enough, but add in the fact that they’re lowkey in love with each other. (Gossip Girl AU)

1 year ago

The dim lights of Brooke’s dorm room reflected her mood almost perfectly. She was alive, yes. But she didn’t feel as alive as she used to. She didn’t feel the joy she used to feel when she was with Vanessa or the annoyance she used to feel when she’d fight with her mother. She just felt…numb.

Boarding school had not been what Brooke had expected. She thought it would be full of boring people from small towns in the middle of nowhere that she would have nothing in common with. So when she had actually made some pretty cool friends on her first day, she was surprised.

The girl she had become closest to was named Kameron. She was from Nashville and although Brooke had thought she was nothing but an extremely shy girl who never spoke the first few times they met, she had soon learned that once you got to know her, Kameron had an amazing personality. It also didn’t help that she was extremely hot, too.

They were lying on Brooke’s double bed passing a bottle of Don Julio tequila back and forth. Brooke Lynn had been shocked when Kameron had produced the large bottle from her bag, mostly because that particular brand was known to be very expensive, but also because she didn’t think Kameron was that kind of girl.

She had promised her mom that she would stay away from alcohol while she was there. That was one of the main reasons she was here, anyways. Her mom was concerned with her drinking habits. But one night couldn’t hurt, right?

Brooke Lynn knew she was a pretty girl and never really cared too much when guys hit on her (which happened often). But when girls hit on her, she was always shocked. Also confused. But mainly shocked. She had been picking up on Kameron’s little flirty comments every now and then. But she had been embarrassed by mistaking too many straight girls’ compliments for flirting in the past so she had learned to stop reciprocating anything until she knew for sure that the other girl was interested…and when she saw how Kameron was looking at her after a few shots, she knew for sure. Kameron was definitely interested.

Usually, something like this would excite Brooke. A hot girl liking her back? She had hit the ultimate lesbian jackpot. So why was she currently drunk crying about Vanessa?

“I just don’t know why I didn’t tell her I’m in love with her, Kam. I love her sooo much. Like, more than I’ve ever loved anything,” Brooke rambled on and on for a long time, not noticing how Kameron was frequently rolling her eyes whenever Brooke wasn’t looking. “And like, I know it wouldn’t work out because she’s so far in the closet and she probably won’t ever come out but Kam, I wanna be with her so bad.”

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned…” Kameron sounded annoyed as she took a large sip from the bottle. She had come here to seduce Brooke Lynn Hytes and so far, all she had got was Brooke whining about some girl she never even dated.

“And she’s so beautiful too. She’s got these gorgeous big brown eyes that could make you do whatever she wanted. And her hair is always so shiny and soft and it always smells like coconut and vanilla. And her skin is golden brown and so smooth and perfect. I miss her so much, Kameron.” Brooke started to sob uncontrollably, her face buried in her pillow.

Kameron patted her back awkwardly in an attempt to comfort the blonde but it was unsuccessful. She took another sip of the tequila and tried breathing deeply in an effort to calm herself down. She came here for one thing and one thing only…and if there’s one thing everyone should know about Kameron Michaels: she always gets what she wants.

A few moments had passed and Brooke stopped crying. She looked in the mirror in front of her and wiped the tears from her face, already seeming a lot more sober than she had just a few minutes ago. A blush crept up on her cheeks as she realised how stupid she must look in front of her new friend, but Kameron was just smiling innocently at her.

“I know it must be hard, B, but now that you’ve let it all out, you can try and move on.” Kameron said, touching Brooke’s forearm lightly.

Brooke narrowed her eyes in confusion at Kameron’s words. Move on? Why would she want to move on? She was in love with someone who might love her, or at the very least, like her back…shouldn’t that be something worth hanging onto?

“Sorry for ruining the night, Kam. I totally understand if you wanna leave—”

Kameron interrupted Brooke by crawling towards her and leaned in, invading Brooke’s personal space.

“The night isn’t over yet, Brooke,” she said with a devilish smirk on her face. “You need to focus on what’s right in front of you instead of being so worked up about someone who’s not even here.” Her hands went up to Brooke’s cheek and she lightly stroked her thumb across it.

“Kameron, I can’t do this with you…” Brooke said half-heartedly.

“Sure you can. You need a rebound and I’m happy to sacrifice myself to make you happy.” Brooke knew deep down that nobody, not even Kameron, would compare to Vanessa…but she felt so empty. Was it so bad for her to do something that could potentially make her feel something again? She knew it was most likely the tequila that was clouding her judgement. She knew she would never think of accepting Kameron’s offer if she was sober. But she did it anyway. Brooke placed her hand over Kameron’s and pulled her in slowly.

“If we do this, it’s a one-time thing.” Brooke whispered. Kameron nodded, seemingly not listening to her, and wrapped her arms around Brooke’s neck, pulling their bodies together as close as humanly possible. Their lips met and Brooke instantly noted that her lips weren’t as soft as Vanessa’s. The kiss was messy. It felt rushed and out of sync and Brooke wasn’t even sure if she wanted to keep going, but something deep down in her reminded her that this was the first time she’s felt anything in a long time. She could at least try and pretend that Kameron was Vanessa.

Kameron pushed Brooke down so she was lying on her back and straddled her waist. They continued making out at a fast pace while Kameron’s hands roamed Brooke’s body at a very quickly. As Kameron began to suck on her neck, Brooke knew that this would never happen with Kameron again.

The only thing that she felt was that she missed Vanessa even more. Trying to get over her was a stupid move. She didn’t think she would ever get over Vanessa, let alone have another chance to be with her…and nothing made her feel as sad as that realisation.

—

Now:

Spotted: Vanessa and Brooke having a day out on the town. These two trendsetters were seen in almost every boutique on the Upper East Side. Is there a special event coming up or were these two besties just reconnecting? Keep me updated. XOXO, Gossip Girl.

Brooke’s bedroom was filled with her two favourite things: Vanessa and shopping bags. It was their first day hanging out since Brooke Lynn had been back from boarding school. They were finally talking to each other again, they had kissed and made up and everything seemed to be going very well.

They had spent the day doing things that they used to do all the time. They got coffee and walked around in Central Park, they went shopping and spent a ton of their parent’s money and Brooke even surprised Vanessa with a trip to her favourite French restaurant since Brooke Lynn knew that Vanessa loved anything related to France.

There was a bit of an awkward energy between them but neither of them brought it up. Ever since they had kissed a couple of days ago, they hadn’t kissed again. It was all both of the girls had thought about since they went home that night and they both wanted to do it again, but the right moment hadn’t presented itself.

Sure, Brooke had thought about doing it when Vanessa brought her favourite coffee order (an iced americano with hazelnut syrup and oat milk). She had also contemplated doing it when they were in one of Vanessa’s favourite accessory stores and she was overwhelmed with how cute Vanessa was when she was visibly excited about the new headbands they had in stock.

Vanessa seemed to be having more trouble than Brooke was with physically restraining herself. All she wanted to do was make out with Brooke at any given moment throughout the day but she didn’t want to risk anyone seeing. The thought of people finding out she was gay terrified her…and she knew she would never forgive herself if the reason that people found out was because she was impulsive and couldn’t control herself around Brooke Lynn. She ended up having to calm herself down and settle for lingering touches and flirty looks thrown in Brooke’s direction, and they ended up having a lovely day that on the outside, made them look like any other normal teenage best friends.

Brooke was hanging some of the new clothing items she had just bought up in her closet while Vanessa was sitting on Brooke’s bed, making herself comfortable by laying back on the fluffy pillows and kicking her heels off.

“I forgot how damn comfy your bed is.” Vanessa said while removing her headband and snuggling up under the covers.

“And I forgot how often you used to fall asleep in my bed even though you claim to never be tired.” Brooke replied and Vanessa’s eyes shot open immediately.

“I’m not gonna fall asleep, I was just resting my eyes…” Vanessa said non-committedly while Brooke took her shoes off and got in the bed beside her.

“Sure you’re not, V…” Some of Vanessa’s hair had spread onto Brooke’s side of the bed so she began to stroke it. Vanessa sighed a deep sigh of contentment and tried to not let her eyes close. She hadn’t felt this relaxed in a very long time.

“I missed this.” Vanessa whispered as Brooke began to stroke her cheek.

“I missed you.” Brooke replied, earning a massive smile from Vanessa in return.

“So when are you gonna tell me all about boarding school?” Vanessa asked, leaning up on her elbow so that she was looking down at Brooke with an eyebrow raised. Brooke lay flat on her back and sighed.

“There’s not much to tell, really. I went to class, studied so they didn’t call my mom and tell her I was failing and the weather was awful. You would’ve hated it.”

“Hold up, am I hearing this right? You studied?” Vanessa asked with her mouth open in shock, which caused both of the girls to giggle.

“I had to, my mom made it super clear that if I didn’t get good grades, I wouldn’t be able to come back to New York so that was my motivation. Trust me, I hated every minute of it.”

“That’s the main reason she sent you there, right? Because of your grades?” Vanessa asked with a sad tone to her voice. Even though she had Brooke back in her life, she still hadn’t gotten over her leaving. She knew it would take time to fully heal, but she wished she could focus on enjoying her time with Brooke instead of focusing on when she wasn’t there.

“Yeah…that and the drinking. I also think she just wanted to live by herself for a bit and not have to worry about looking after a kid so she just shipped me off. I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner, to be honest.” Brooke was surprised with herself for revealing so much information without being asked. She hadn’t had a conversation with Vanessa for so long that she forgot how easy it was for them to open up to each other.

“I’m sure that’s not true, B…your mom loves you a lot.” Vanessa replied as she took Brooke’s hand in hers and stroked her thumb gently.

“I know…but sometimes her ways of dealing with things are a little bit shitty. Like, if I didn’t know any better I’d say she was a robot because of how emotionless she is.”

“You can say that again, my mom just jets off to Paris to avoid dealing with her shit here. And when things get bad over there, she comes back or goes to another European city. How did we end up with more emotional maturity than our parents?” Vanessa asked and Brooke laughed in response.

“You think that the two girls who didn’t talk to each other for an entire year due to stubbornness are emotionally mature?” Brooke continued to laugh and Vanessa rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, but at least we knew that was wrong. They don’t see any problems with what they’re doing.” She replied with a smug look on her face, knowing she was right.

“I guess you have a point there,” Brooke said as she pulled Vanessa closer to her so they could cuddle. “Have you seen your dad recently?”

“No…he said he was only going to France for a few months but…I don’t think he’s coming back anytime soon.”

“I’m sorry, V.” Brooke said as Vanessa’s head rested on her shoulder.

“It’s okay…I’m used to it,” Vanessa said quietly. She moved her head slightly up so that she was looking directly into Brooke’s eyes. Vanessa noticed how Brooke’s entire facial expression immediately softened as soon as they locked eyes and she started to feel overcome with emotion. “Just promise me you’ll never leave me again…” Vanessa whispered, still keeping eye contact with Brooke. Brooke let out a large exhale and cupped Vanessa’s cheek with her hand.

“I’ll never leave you, Ness. I promise.” Brooke said it with so much conviction that Vanessa was almost sure she would start crying, but she was unable to finish that thought as Brooke had leaned in to kiss her. The kiss was all consuming and managed to take Vanessa’s mind off of everything she had previously been worrying about. She allowed herself to focus solely on kissing Brooke Lynn, and she did it like her life depended on it.

—

2 years ago:

It was the fourteenth of December, one of Vanessa’s favourite nights of the winter season; the night of her infamous sleepover.

Teenage girls on the Upper East Side would make it their goal in life to get an invite to Vanessa Mateo’s sleepover. Even if they hadn’t been before, the stories they would have heard from other girls who had previously been had made the desire build in them and all they wanted was a chance to experience it for themselves.

Of course, getting an invite wasn’t that easy. Vanessa had extremely high standards and was very picky with who she let into her home. The only three people who had always managed to make the list every year were Brooke Lynn, Silky and Akeria. Other than that, the invite list changed drastically every year.

This year, there were ten girls in attendance, including Vanessa herself. They had just finished eating their three-course dinner and had prank called a ton of girls from school who had tried to get an invite but were unsuccessful. While Vanessa would have been happy to just sit around and gossip for a bit, Akeria had another idea that got all of the girls excited.

“Let’s play spin the bottle!” Akeria announced, already searching for something they could use as a makeshift bottle to play with. Vanessa noticed how her heart started to beat just a tiny bit faster, but she couldn’t let anyone know she was nervous. Not at her own party.

Akeria grabbed Vanessa’s reusable water bottle and instructed everyone to form a circle. Vanessa sat down on the floor beside Silky and Brooke Lynn grabbed a pillow from the couch and sat beside her.

Akeria started the first round of the game by spinning the bottle and it landed on Scarlet Envy, a very popular older student from their school. Scarlet seemed to not care about the game at all and leaned into the circle, grabbed Akeria’s face and kissed her forcefully and quickly. The girls all laughed and then it was Scarlet’s turn to spin.

It landed on Yvie, her best friend, and they had a quick make out session which ended up with Scarlet’s notorious red lipstick smudging down her face. It was Yvie’s turn next and as the bottle was spinning around in a circle, Vanessa saw it start to slow down as it made its way towards her. She held her breath as it moved slowly and started to mentally prepare herself with the awkwardness of kissing Yvie but to her surprise, the bottle landed on Brooke Lynn. Vanessa squeezed her first’s together in anger and tried to compose herself. On the outside, she looked fine. But on the inside, she was insanely jealous.

Yvie leaned in and gave Brooke a quick peck on the lips which made both Scarlet and Vanessa happy. It seemed as though the kiss was over before it began. Brooke sat up and grabbed the bottle, spinning it gracefully and sitting back down to wait to see who it landed on. Vanessa mentally cursed the bottle each time it passed her. She didn’t want to throw a tantrum at her own party but she really didn’t want to see Brooke kissing other girls. She just didn’t need that mental image in her mind.

It had been a few weeks since they had first kissed while studying at Brooke’s house and ever since then, they had been making out every chance they got when no one else was around. Brooke Lynn had even arrived earlier than all of the other girls just so they could make out before everyone else got there. Vanessa had somehow become addicted to Brooke and they had been spending way more time together than usual. While Vanessa was slightly scared about how much closer they had gotten in just a couple of weeks, it excited her way more.

Vanessa was suddenly brought back to reality when she heard Akeria and Silky screaming excitedly. She looked up from her daydreaming and saw that the bottle was pointing directly at her. She looked at Brooke who was sitting beside her with a devilish grin on her face. She raised her eyebrow and nodded at the bottle on the floor.

“Shall we?” Brooke asked and Vanessa nodded dumbfoundedly. She was about to kiss Brooke in front of people. What if people could tell that she was enjoying it? She wasn’t ready for people to know that she liked girls yet. She didn’t know if she would ever be ready.

Suddenly all of her thoughts were shut down because Brooke Lynn had leaned in, grabbed her face with both hands and started to kiss her. It wasn’t a particularly long kiss, Scarlet and Yvie’s had probably lasted longer, but it was enough for Vanessa to be left with a deep red blush on her cheeks.

As Vanessa tried to regain her composure, Brooke shared a knowing look with her and winked.

“I think Vanessa’s a little bit shook after her first lesbian kiss, everyone!” Silky said loudly which made everyone laugh, including Brooke, although she was laughing for a whole other reason. This did nothing to help Vanessa’s red cheeks which somehow got even redder. She felt extremely embarrassed, but was also on a bit of a high from the kiss.

She rolled her eyes at Silky’s comment and tried to get her control of the room back. She wouldn’t let herself be outdone or look like a loser in her own home. She took a small breath in and immediately her false sense of confidence was back and her bitch face was on.

“Shut up, Silky. It wasn’t even that good anyway.” She added with a wink thrown back in Brooke’s direction. Brooke seemed genuinely shocked at Vanessa’s comment but just narrowed her eyes and kept eye contact with Vanessa who had a guilty smile on her face.

The game went on for a few more rounds. Vanessa ended up being pecked on the cheek by Akeria and much to her own satisfaction, Brooke didn’t have to kiss anyone else. Once the game was all finished up, Vanessa made her way up to her bedroom to sit down for a minute. She needed to recharge her social battery so she could continue playing the role of the perfect hostess. What she didn’t anticipate was that Brooke had followed her upstairs.

Vanessa sat down on the armchair in the corner of her room when Brooke walked in. Brooke immediately walked over to where Vanessa was sitting and knelt on the floor in front of her. She had her hands placed on Vanessa’s thighs and stared at her, not saying a word.

“Hey, B…” Vanessa said quietly, squirming under Brooke’s intense stare. Brooke took a lock of Vanessa’s hair in her hand and began to twirl it around as she leaned in even closer.

“Not that good, huh?” Brooke asked.

“What?..” Vanessa didn’t know what she was talking about. Brooke was invading her space so much that she couldn’t focus on anything other than the blonde’s presence.

“The kiss. You said it wasn’t that good,” Brooke stated simply as she pulled back completely to look directly into Vanessa’s eyes. Vanessa was disappointed at the lack of contact and looked back at Brooke with needy eyes. She tried her best to form a sentence but her brain wasn’t functioning properly. “No words, huh?”

“I…didn’t mean it?” Vanessa tried her best to sound confident as she spoke but ended up not being able to say her words with conviction. Brooke leaned her arm in and stroked Vanessa’s cheek and smiled.

“That’s what I thought. I seem to remember us kissing like twenty times earlier and I didn’t hear any complaints.” Brooke said confidently, raising her eyebrow at Vanessa, who seemed to shrink under her gaze.

“I’m not complaining, B, I promise…” Vanessa whispered back, placing her own hand over the hand that was on her face. Brooke leaned in extremely close to Vanessa’s face but didn’t kiss her, their mouths were less than an inch apart but Brooke Lynn didn’t move. As soon as Vanessa tried to lean in and kiss her, Brooke pulled back.

“I don’t think so, babe. You can kiss me again when you’ve earned my forgiveness.” Brooke said with a grin as she slowly walked out of the room and joined the other girls’ downstairs, leaving Vanessa sitting by herself in her armchair, turned on and disappointed.

—

Now:

After they had made out for a while, the two girls fell asleep in Brooke’s bed. Brooke was laying on her back while Vanessa had her arm wrapped around Brooke’s waist, her leg thrown over her body and her head was resting on Brooke’s chest.

Brooke was the first to wake up. She started to stroke Vanessa’s back softly and placed small, gentle kisses on her forehead. Vanessa’s eyes began to flutter as she woke up and immediately made eye contact with Brooke. The two of them had massive smiles on their faces as they woke up together.

“Hey.” Brooke said, her voice raspy from just waking up.

“Hi.” Vanessa whispered softly as she wrapped her arm tighter around Brooke’s waist. They continued cuddling in silence for a bit before Brooke got up, with a lot of protests from Vanessa, and opened up the curtains. It was only six o’clock in the evening so it was still a bit bright out, the sun was only beginning to set. She got back into bed and her arms immediately found themselves wrapping around Vanessa’s body.

“We should go to the park tomorrow. Spend the whole day together.” Brooke suggested and Vanessa’s face lit up in delight.

“Can we have a picnic?” Vanessa asked excitedly. Brooke nodded in agreement and Vanessa sat up, mentally preparing which outfit she was going to wear.

“Can we feed the ducks?” Vanessa asked again. Brooke laughed at Vanessa’s excitement and sat up alongside her.

“You really haven’t changed since you were ten, have you? You still love doing the same things,” Brooke smiled as she spoke and Vanessa laughed softly in response. “But yes, we can feed the ducks.” Vanessa grinned and laid back down on the bed. She felt happy and content for the first time in a long time. Brooke’s arms embraced her yet again and she couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #lesbian au #gossip girl au #rich girl au #high school au #you know you love me #kiki #submission

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chickensarentcheap · 5 years ago

Text

I Found (chapter 9)

Warnings: there’s filth below. Utter filth. Tyler smut. Because that’s what we deserve.

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @alievans007 @hemmyworthy

They make love. Slow. Intense. As if their bodies and the sighs and moans of pleasure are somehow enough to convey the thoughts and the feelings that neither have the ability...or the courage...to express.

Like a long goodbye, Esme thinks, and has to screw her eyes tightly shut to rid herself of the thought and of the tears that threaten.

Afterwards she clings to him. Desperate to keep him inside of her. Her body accepting the full weight of his; fingertips and palms gliding over his arms, across his shoulders and down his back. Tracing every line of the Nordic tattoo. Finding his scars. As if committing every inch of him to memory.

There's so much she wants to say, but simply can't find the courage to. Getting the words out in the open means you can never take them back. They're out there. In the universe. Lingering like a foul stench or a bad omen. She's weak. Emotionally and mentally spent. So she hopes the soft caresses and the languid exploration does all the talking for her.

She despises the sense of doom that comes with that last kiss her gives her before pulling away. His eyes locked on hers, a sad smile playing on his lips as she cradles his face in her hands. Brushing her knuckles along his beard, using a fingertip to trace the scar that spreads over the bridge of his nose, then the one that takes up residence on the left side of his forehead. Her eyes find the one on his neck. The one that was a lasting remembrance of the day she nearly lost him. She looks away; eyes finding his face once again. And she pushes a hand through his hair. Tugging at the longer strands at the top and pulling his head back.

“I know,” he says. Voice low. Rumbling deep within his chest. “I know.”

*****

Later he lies on his back, a forearm across his forehead as he stares up at the ceiling. Listening to her soft breathing and the sounds of the apartment in the middle of the night; the settling of pipes, the distant drip of the kitchen tap, the neighbours shuffling around overhead.

He can't sleep. His body in agony. His mind on edge.

“Tyler?” her voice, soft and tiny, snaps his eyes open. She lies on her side, back towards him. Long dark hair fanned out along the crisp white pillow case.

He stretches out an arm, reaching for her. Palm coming to rest on her back. There's an overwhelming need to touch her. To stay touching her. It's desperate. All consuming. The irrational fear of if he stops touching her, she'll slip away. If he can feel her skin, feel the way her body rises and falls with each breath she takes, then she's still there. Right there in front of him.

“Yeah?” he responds.

“What are you thinking about?”

She knows him so well. Better than he knows himself sometimes. She senses when he is struggling. Whether it be physically or mentally. And he's thankful for that. It makes the burdens he carries a little easier to bear.

“Christmas,” he says, and she casts a glance over her shoulder.

“What?”

“Christmas. I was thinking about Christmas. It will be the baby's first. I was thinking about how it would be nice if we went and visited your family. I want to meet them. And your mom deserves to meet her grand daughter.”

He's had a handful of conversations with his mother in law. She doesn't like him. He's the one that had taken her baby girl away. He was responsible for breaking up the family unit. It didn't matter that he'd also played a part in giving her a grand kid. Right now her need to hate him overpowered anything else. The old man was a different story. He seemed to get it. He seemed have a better grasp on what had happened. On why Esme had made the decisions she did.

“Sometimes we do crazy shit because we're in in love,” he'd reasoned once. “And trust me, son, this isn't the craziest shit I've heard about.”

Tyler knew his tune would change when...if...the full truth ever came out.

She moves beside him, rolling over onto her back. “Are you being serious right now?”

He nods, and once more reaches for her. There it is again. The agonizing need to keep a hold on her. As if something...or someone...was waiting in the shadows to snatch her away from him. His hand finds hers; entwining their fingers together, squeezing harder than he needs to.

“You gave up everything...everyone...to stay here with me. It's only right that I meet them. By then we'll both be out of the game. We'll have a normal life. We'll be doing normal things.”

“Whatever normal is,” she muses.

“I'll have to get a job.”

“Doing what?”

“I have no clue,” he admits.

Truth be told, he'd never thought he'd live long enough where venturing down another career path seemed a necessity.

“Private security, maybe. Or construction.”

“I can see that already,” she says. “With your hard hat and your steel toed boots and those jeans I love the most on you. You know, the ones that are baggy and hang off your waist. I can see you all shirtless and sweaty.”

He grins. “Is that some kind of fantasy of yours?”

“Baby, you ARE my fantasy.”

He smiles and brings their joined hands to his lips; pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

“What do we tell them?” she inquires. “About what we've been up to? They're going to want to know. I can't keep dodging the questions. It's getting harder and harder to lie. To remember what I've already told them.”

“You tell them that you met me when you were here on a business trip. That you seduced me.”

A derisive snort. “Give me a break. You seduced me. With your stupid handsome face and your stupid beautiful eyes and your stupid sexy voice.”

“I thought it was the muscles.”

She heaves a long, content sigh. “Those too. Definitely those too.”

“Just tell them that I got you drunk and took advantage of you.”

“Oh yeah, right...” she laughs. “...that would go over well.”

“I don't know. Tell them that we met and you didn't know how to say no. That you fell into my bed and never left.”

“As much as that last part is true, that is not something I can tell my mother.”

“So we stick to the story they already know. You met me, we fell in love, you decided to stick around. There's no need for much detail. Just that you stayed and I got into an accident and you nursed me back to health. That's it. Then we got married. Had a baby.”

“My mom is still bent out of shape that we never told her we were getting married in the first place. I guess she feels robbed. She didn't get to do the whole mother of the bride thing. What does it matter? She has another daughter.”

“Well, you were the first girl,” he reasons. “And people have second weddings all the time,” he reasons. “Tell her that. That that's something we could do. It's not the same but it might make her hate me less.”

“She doesn't hate you, Tyler. She just doesn't know you.”

“Do you really want her to?”

“Why wouldn't I? You're a great husband. You're an even better father. You're my best friend. My lover. My confidant. Why wouldn't I want her to know you?”

“I don't mean that Tyler. I mean the other Tyler. Like you said, I can't pretend he doesn't exist. That he still isn't part of me. Do you really want her knowing that part? Do you really want her knowing what I do? What I'm capable of?”

“It's a messy thing to get into. But you shouldn't be ashamed of it.”

“You know the things I've done. You've seen the things I can do. That's the stuff nightmares are made of.”

“But you've also done a lot of good things. You've helped a lot of people. You've saved them. You nearly killed yourself doing it, but you still did it. You have a big heart, Tyler. You hide it from everyone else, but I know it's in there. I know what you're capable of. Good and bad. You have a lot of love inside of you for someone who has done the things you've done. Look at the way you love me. Look at the way you love our daughter. Look at the way you love Ovi. You're not a bad person, Tyler. You're a good person who has done bad things. To bad people who deserve bad things happening to them. I mean, you even mourned for Gaspar even though he betrayed you and turned out to be a complete fucking tool.”

His thumb brushes over hers, then along the base of her fingers. Her hands are soft. Tiny. Especially compared to his.”What about Austin?” he asks, and he feels her hand tighten around his. “He was a good person. He was pure and innocent and good and I did a horrible thing to him.”

“You can't hate yourself forever. You just can't.”

“I know...” he sniffles noisily, fighting to keep back the emotions. “...but I can't forget.”

“No one expects you to. It was a difficult decision to be in. You did what you thought was the best thing to do at the time. You were scared. You didn't want to see him suffer. And I don't blame you for that.”

“I left him,” he laments. “I left him when he needed me the most.”

“Tyler...” she pushes herself into a kneel, and he spreads his leg apart as she comes to rest on her knees between his thighs.

He likes the way her hands feel against his face. That smooth, gentle touch through his beard, the way her fingertips rub against his ears and her thumbs glide across his chin. And he manages a small smile when one of her hand tunnels in hair and her fist gently grabs hold of it, yanking his face up towards her.

“You did what you thought was the best thing to do,” she reasons. “You made a tough decision. And yes, maybe it was the wrong decision. Maybe you should have toughed it out and hung in there and stayed by his side until the end. But we don't all handle things the same way. You did what you did, Tyler. And now you have to come to terms with that. You need to move on.”

“You were there. For your dad. You were there and you were just a kid.”

“And look how much it fucked me up. Look how messed up I am. It screwed me up, Tyler. I was seventeen. And teenage years are hard enough at the best of times. Never mind something like that. And yeah, I'm grateful for the time we did get together. For the conversations we had. But it took something like that for those to even happen. That's my cross to bear. I took it for granted that he would always be around. I was an asshole teenager. I rebelled. I broke his heart. I pissed him off. And it took until he was dying to make amends for all the shitty things I'd said and did. I hate myself for that.”

“You shouldn't. You were a kid. Kids rebel. Kids do stupid shit.”

“I waited until it was too late to make a real difference. I thought I had so much more time and I didn't. So we both have our crosses to bear. We both hate ourselves for one thing or another. But goddammit, Tyler Rake. You enormous, insufferable pain in my ass. I love you. I love you so much it hurts. So much I can barely breathe sometimes. And you make all that hate and all that guilt I have so much easier to bear. So you do save people. In more ways than you could ever imagine. You don't realize it, but you...saved...me...”

She's still cradling his face when she leans down to kiss him. His lips are soft and warm and she can taste the salt of his tears.

****

His hands rest on her hips; kneading the soft, supple flesh. And when he feels the press of her tongue against his lips, they begin their descent upwards. Sliding underneath the back of the flimsy tank top that she wears, feeling that shiver that passes through her as his calloused palms glide over her rib case, slowly moving upwards towards her breasts but then retreating, coming around to her back once more. He pulls out of the kiss in order to watch her face; the flush in her cheeks, her widened pupils, the way she tucks the bottom lip between her teeth.

And he continues to watch her as he runs his fingers along her back, slowly and deliberately tracing each and every indent and bump of her spine. Taken back to a year ago in Dhaka, in that squalid, dingy hotel room, where he'd finally let down the walls he'd built up and he allowed someone in. When he finally felt something other than grief and loneliness and an overwhelming urge to put a bullet in his own brain. Two people struggling with extremely different yet eerily similar demons. Discovering among those four dirty walls and under that water stained ceiling, that they could help one another. That maybe they could each fill the holes in one another that had long ago been abandoned.

Everything had been screaming at him to stop. That demon on his shoulder telling him that there was no way this could end well. That he couldn't possibly ever be the man that she needed. Wanted. Deserved. That he didn't deserve happiness. He didn't deserve love. That he was a horrible person who'd done horrible things and nothing good ever happened to someone like that. It wasn't the right time. Or the right place. And he'd known that. But he'd been powerless to stop it. He hadn't wanted to stop it. So he'd given in. To lust. To the power it gave him knowing that someone wanted him as badly as she did. To that little voice that told him that maybe..just maybe....this could work. That he could fall in love her. And she with him. That they could actually have a future.

He feels as if he's there. Back in that room. In the swelter of the Bangladesh heat. He can hear the hustle and bustle outside of the room; blaring car horns and the shouts and chatters of people on the street. He can once again feel the sweat on his skin; beading across his forehead, dripping from his temples, gathering at the nape of his neck. He can smell her; not as she is now, but the smell of her then. Of cheap shampoo and body wash mixed with her own perspiration. How he'd thought...at the time... that is was the most beautiful thing he'd ever smelt in his entire life. His once emotional dead and weary body had come alive as his hands explored her ready and willing form; kisses blazing trails over each inch of her, tasting her on his lips and his tongue, driven by an overwhelming sense of urgency and need. He even recalls how her own hands had felt; how her voice had sounded as she whispered his name. With a tortured, begging quality that he'd never heard from a woman before. And the knowledge that she was there..wanting him as badly as he wanted her...had been too much to take.

*****

Tyler feels that now. Those same sensations that the old Tyler had felt nearly a year ago. Every nerve ending on fire; blazing hot and growing deep in his stomach. Shuddering as she moves against him; her legs now straddling his lap and her breasts pressed flush against his chest. His hands move up her back; lightly and kneading her shoulders before his palms slide down that silky smooth. Their eyes never leaving one another as her grip tightens on his hair and she aggressively yanks his head backwards. Hissing sharply as her teeth nip a path that covers the width of his collarbone, wanders over his throat and the underside of his chin. Biting down on his bottom lip and his fingers digging into her hips her uses the tip of her tongue to trace the small red marks that her teeth that had left behind. This isn't a role she commonly plays. Domineering as opposed to being utterly submissive. She prefers the latter, and he enjoys the dom role, struggling to give up control even in their sex life.

He temporarily hands over that power; his hands moving to her ass and squeezing and kneading the soft flesh while her grip tightens in his hair and he allows her to manipulate his head just where she wants it. The other reaches between them, and he lets out a long, low 'fuck' when her nails scrape down his chest just as the tip of her tongue traces the outer edge of his ear. His cock already rock hard against her when he feels gentle lips against that scar on the side of the throat. That one that serves an everlasting reminder. Like a souvenir from the gift shop in hell. And his eyes close and his head struggles to fall forward against the grip she has on his hair as her mouth furthers down onto his traps.

“Fuck sakes,” he growls, a mixture of surprise and slight pain when her teeth bite down on that spot she always seems to find. That one that always serves as her victim. “That's going to leave a mark.”

“Good,” she says, as her tongue travels over the tender spot. “Then everyone will know that you're mine.”

He briefly wonders if by everyone she exactly means Nik. Just what was the issue there? What the hell had ever happened between them? He imagined if had everything do with him. His past with one and his present and future with the other. It was the elephant in the room; one made even bigger by Nik's appearance. But then all thought of his ex conquests totally flies out the window as his wife grinds her lower body against his, feeling the telltale sign of her arousal; slick juices now marking his skin.

“Tyler...” she whispers, that same whisper she'd used so many months ago. When her hands had been desperately clutching at his hair and his shoulders, his head buried between her legs as he used his mouth and fingers to drive her wild. And he remembers how her tone and the volume of her voice had rapidly changed. From that soft hush tone to something more needy and desperate. Escalating to a full out scream; her heels digging into the mattress and her entire body arching off the bed.

She pulls back to look at him. Those dark eyes full of longing and desire. Her chest heaving, hair hanging loose over her shoulder and down her back. But there's something else in the way she regards him. As if her eyes are searching his for some kind of reassurance. A promise that everything is going to be okay. At this time next year, they will be here in this very bed. No repeat of what had happened a year ago. Just two people going on with their lives with no fear of the future. She's scared. It's right there just under the surface. Mixing in with her want and need of him.

He never looks away from her as he runs his hands over her hair, along her shoulders and down onto her arms. And he entwines his fingers with hers and smiles. It's shaky; giving away his own fears and his own worries. But he hopes it is enough. Prays that it's enough.

“It's going to be okay,” he vows. “I'm going to be okay. We're going to be fine.”

“Promise me you'll keep us safe. Promise me. Promise me you'll be okay.”

He knows he shouldn't. The last time he promised her that, he'd nearly died right in front of her very eyes. But she needs to hear it. She needs to feel safe and protected and he's the only one that can give her that.

It's a blessing and a curse.

“I'll be okay,” he manages another feeble smile. “I won't let anything to happen to you. To our daughter. And I'll be okay.”

“Because we kind of like having you around. I've sort of gotten used to waking up beside you every day and that sleepy smile you always give me. And I'd really miss that. I'd really miss that smile. I'd really miss so many things.”

He cradles her face in his hands, a thumb trailing over her lips. “I'm going to be okay,” he insists, and then he kisses her, lips moving achingly slow against hers, hands moving from her face and sliding over her shoulders and down her arms, then reaching between them to find the hem of her tank top. Fingertips brushing against her skin as he peels it off of her body, tossing it onto the bed before he leans into her; his lips never leaving hers as he uses the full weight of his body to push her down onto the mattress. He needs to feel her against him; skin to skin. He needs to be able to feel her heart beating against him. Afraid that if he doesn't play his cards right, he may never get this chance again.

Her fingernails scrape down his back; deep enough to break the surface and leave noticeable trails across his skin. Placing one hand on the mattress, he supports his weight with one arms as the other hand roams her body, mouth following in their wake. Soft, feathery kisses over her throat and across her collarbone, his hair tumbling into his eyes and grazing against her.

“Tyler...”

Fuck he loves the way it sounds coming out of her mouth. A soft, desperate plea as her body shifts beneath him; legs opening as his hand wanders over her thigh and then in between. Stroking the soft, supple flesh as he drops his head in order to take one of her nipples into his mouth. Rolling it around on his tongue, drawing it between his teeth, suckling gently. And then he pulls back, blowing a steady stream of air on the moisten flesh just as he slips a finger inside of her.

She cries out, a mixture of his name and profanities, her entire body arching off the mattress.

“Shhhh...” he whispers, as his mouth and the tip of his nose travel through the valley between her breasts, the downward journey agonizingly slow. For both of them. His body sliding against the sheets as he moves down the bed, a hand moving slowly along her thigh and around to the back of her knee. “...you have to be quiet. You'll wake the baby. And we have house guests.”

Nik and the new kid had insisted on staying the night. A hotel too far away if they got themselves into a spot of trouble. One bedding down in the nursery on a fold out cot, the other on the couch.

“You make it a little hard to keep quiet,” she argues in a harsh whisper, and then has to clamp a hand over her mouth when his tongue delves into her navel and repeats the same action he had with her breast; thoroughly moistening the area before blowing on.

“Always so good for me,” he praises, as he presses a series of kisses from the back of her knee, all the way down to her ankle. Fingertips gliding against the bottom of her foot before his mouth moves upwards. Nibbling at her skin every so often, feeling the her goosebumps against his lips and his tongue. “Right from the beginning,” he says, as his fingertips drift over that extra sensitive spot at the back of her knee. “Right from the beginning you gave me what I wanted.”

She opens her mouth to reply, all words lost when his mouth reaches her inner thighs; a strong hand pushing them open, his eyes on hers as he settles himself between her legs. The things that man can do with his mouth. And his hands. Joining together to create a very potent combination.

“You are so beautiful,” he praises, as his presses a kiss to her mound. “You're so beautiful and I love you. So much.”

She tries to respond with the same but he is eager to get to work; all thoughts and all words disappearing from consciousness as his tongue trails over her clit. The pace is slow. Torturous. Even to him. His cock aching, desperate to be inside of her again. And her limbs tense and her feet dig into the mattress and her hands fists the sheets.

“Tyler...” it's needy now. She's pleading. And he's relieved. Because even he has had enough of taking it slow.

Slipping two fingers inside of her, he immediately zeros in on that magical spot inside of her. One no ever man had been able to find. In fact, she had confessed back in Dhaka that he was the first guy that had ever made her cum. That she'd never actually enjoyed sex enough to completely and totally relax enough to allow herself to enjoy it. And previous partners had never taken the time to make it a good experience.

They hadn't worshipped her like he had. Even that first night together.

The orgasm is fast and quick. Brought on by his fingers and the incessant pressure of his tongue, and when the first hint of noise starts tumbling from her mouth, he reaches up and clamps a hand against her lips. Continuing to lick and suck until she's begging him to stop because it's all just too much. Too sensitive. Too soon. Her hands in his hair once again, attempting to pull him up.

Her eyes are closed when he surfaces, a satisfied, proud grin plastered across his face. Her juices coat his mouth and his beard, and he likes it off of his lips, enjoying the taste.

“You okay?” he asks, as he removes his hand from her mouth.

“Fuck you, Tyler Rake. Fuck you for being so good at that. For being so good at some many things.”

“Especially the naughty things, yeah?”

“Especially those.”

He sits back on his heels, a hand resting on her fluttering stomach, waiting for her to come down from her high. And when she does, she pounces on him, catching him off guard and sending him toppling onto his back.

“Not every day you managed to get one over on me, love,” he says, smirking as those greedy hands immediately go for his boxer briefs. Normally he wore nothing; enjoying bare skin against the cool sheets and the way his naked body felt against hers. But with company in the house, a little modesty was a must.

He enjoys this side of her; aggressive, not afraid to take what she wants. She'd always been a selfless lover; willing to reciprocate. Never having to be asked. Taking it upon herself to make sure he was satisfied. Even on the first night together, when he'd been surprised that she'd been so keen on returning the favour. And she was good. So fucking good. And he remembers how he'd lay there afterwards, trying to catch his breath, trying to orientate himself with his surrounding, to realize what had just happened. She had just watched him. A smirk on her face and a devilish glitter in her eyes as she swallowed every last drop.

“Fuck...” he groans when she takes him into her mouth; a hand curling around the shaft.

His eyes close and his hands burrow themselves in her hair. That soft mouth and slick tongue working together to drive him insane. Her hand pumping and stroking. She was incredible; the enthusiasm with which she tended to him, the skill in which she possessed, the way she needed nothing more than subtle guidance from those hands in her hair.

“Jesus Christ...” he breathes, when she proceeds to deep throat him. He is long and thick. Much bigger than any other man she had ever been with. He had sensed as much when she had penetrated her for the first time that night back in Dhaka and she'd winced. He'd been worried about that; he didn't want to cause her any pain. Hurting her was the last thing that he ever wanted to do.

She removes his cock from her mouth; tongue concentrating on the head as her hand continues to jerk him off. Pleased with the reaction she is getting from him; the heavy breathing, the hands gripping her hair, the movements of his hips. And his groan is much louder when she takes him fully into her mouth again. His hand painfully tight in her hair.

“I don't want to come like this,” he pants “I don't want to come in your mouth.”

“It's okay,” she assures him.

“No. No it's not,” he insists, and wrapping an arm around her waist, effortlessly picking her up and dumping her onto her back. “I'll pull out,” he says, as her legs open and he settles himself between them.”

“You don't have to,” she says. “It's okay.”

“You're sure? Because we haven't been using anything and you said you weren't ready for another baby so...”

“It's okay,” she repeats, and wrapping her legs around his waist, presses her heels into the small of his back. She curls a finger around the chain he wears around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss that muffles the cry that escapes her when he presses into her. Burying himself to the hilt; a low, feral moan escaping his lips at the sensation of being so deep.

He moves above her; forearms on the mattress supporting his weight. His eyes on her face the entire time. Their lips brushing against each other, his hair over his eyes and brushing against her forehead. Long, deep strokes that has her arching her back with each one, her heels pressing into him.

“Look at me...” he gently orders, and those dark eyes flicker open. “...you're mine,” he growls. “Mine. You always will be. Tell me. I want to hear it.”

“I'm yours, Tyler. I'll always be yours.”

He smirks in approval, then covers her mouth with his own. His tongue immediately searching for hers; kissing her hard and long and deep as he continues to move inside of her. Until her own hips are arching off the bed and meeting him thrust for thrust. And she once again yanks his head up by the hair, and he shivers as she licks a path from his Adam's apple all the way to the underside of his skin.

She licks her lips. Enjoying the taste of his cock that still lingers. And the hint of sweat.

He removes one hand from the mattress and reaches back for her leg; fingers digging into the flesh as he pulls it up onto his help. Allowing him to get even deeper. His eyes closing, head falling forward at the sheer pleasure of it.

Her hands roam his shoulders and his back; exploring every inch of those muscles. Loving the way they feel under her touch; the way they bulge and twist and turn. He's a thing of beauty. All man; musky smell, wiry body hair, sheer power and force. A specimen unlike any other she's ever been with. And she bites back a cry as he unleashes a harder thrust; harder than any of the others, one that pushes her up the bed. His stamina is the thing legends are made, but she can tell he's close. The way his eyes darken and his brow furrows, how he exhales deeply and lets it go in a long, ragged breath.

She lifts her head to kiss him. Capturing his bottom lip between her teeth. Unspoken permission to let go. And he takes it, still holding himself up on his forearm, his free hand fisting her hair, yanking and twisting it.

He angles his hip just right; so that every thrust creates contact on her clit. Removing his hand from her hair and covering her mouth when she comes; the scream muffled against his palm. An orgasm so powerful that her toes curl and her entire body stiffens and tears spill down her cheeks. And as she continues to convulse around him, he slips an arm under her and then sits back on his heels; the pressure of his fingers bruising soft skin as he yanks her towards him by the hips. The thrusts sloppy and fast, until he's coming as well. Biting back her name as it threatens to erupt from her lips. Coming deep inside of her, hot and thick bathing her womb, holding her tight against him until her clenching inner muscles drain him dry.

“Fuck...me...” he groans, and flops over onto his back. Chest heaving. A thin sheen of sweat covering his entire body. His eyes closed, arms limp at his sides.

The mattress moves underneath him, and when he opens his eyes she's beside him on her stomach, face turned towards him, smiling . That sleepy little Cheshire cat grin she always gets after sex.

“You good?” he asks.

“Well I can’t see properly and I can't feel my legs right now. But I think I'll be okay. You?”

“I think I might need to hit the gym harder. I'm losing my touch.”

“As if,” she grins, and then lets out a long, loud yawn. It was one of two things for her after sex; sleep or food. Tonight it was going to be sleep.

Raking a hand through his hair, he sits up and gathers up the top blanket, draping it around his shoulders before lying down beside her and pulling her tight against him.

“I love you,” she whispers, as one of his large palms strokes her hair. “Please don't ever doubt that.”

“I won't,” he promises. “And I love you too. More than I ever thought I could love someone. More than I ever thought possible.”

She presses a kiss to that scar on the side of his throat, then nestles her face in that spot between his neck and his shoulder.

He closes his eyes, attempting to find sleep.

But that sense of doom returns.

The sense that they are living in the calm before the storm.

#tyler rake #tyler rake smut #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #I Found #extraction

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