#they just chose to let him keep that prize and kept other prizes (or punishments) for themselves

[a9saga]

Matt really took the Josh Duhamel punishment well.

[ghouldump]

God Complex | Lestat x Reader x Louis

ෆ you want out, realizing your little family isn’t as perfect as you thought, but they would never let you slip away so easily.

i definitely went overboard 😅

“Lestat, you don’t have to do this,” Louis stressed.

“She has to learn, it’s either this, or we are exposed,” Lestat said, shutting the coffin. Under the pebbles you laid, crying, begging for forgiveness. Despite your attempts to break free, the coffin wouldn’t budge.

“Louis, please, Lestat, I’m sorry,” you screamed, your voice falling on deaf ears, as he shut the door of the basement, leaving you alone at the bottom of the townhouse.

“Neither of you are to let her out, a few days will teach her a needed lesson,” he pointed at the two. Louis looked distressed, knowing his companion was right, despite his desire to argue. While Claudia frowned, saddened by your cries, but knew better than to go against her father’s words.

“I’m sorry,” you kept crying. If only you could take it back. This was your second time acting so careless, and you knew better than to think Lestat would let you do this a third.

From the moment Lestat turned you, you were a wildflower. He loved how animalistic you became, while Louis enjoyed how sweet you remained. Claudia was happy to finally have someone new in their lives, other than the two.

You were exceptional at hunting, and Lestat became lenient, oftentimes letting you wander. You’d find your meal, and quickly and efficiently discard the mess. However, when the arrogant salesman came into the bar, speaking to everyone as if they were beneath him, your tongue tingled at the sight.

The thought of him submitting and begging for mercy turned you on beyond comprehension. Biting your lip, you stood, approaching him, intentionally bumping his shoulder. His hand went to your waist, as he began to apologize, while his eyes not so discreetly roamed.

“Garret Anderson, darling,” he introduced, as you shook his hand.

“Hi,” you smiled, mischievously.

“Not him, choose someone else,” you heard Louis’s voice. Usually, you’d listen, but you couldn’t this time, not when the smell of his blood made you feel feral in the best way.

“Would you like to dance-

“Come with me,” you ignored him, grabbing his hand to pull him out of the establishment. He grinned, thinking he had won a prize when he was walking straight into the trap.

Pushing him into the dim alley, you slipped your tongue into his mouth, pressing your body against his own.

“Oh, I don’t think I got your name”

“You don’t worry about my name, sugar, just focus on my voice,” you told him, as he looked into your eyes.

“Ok,” he nodded, hypnotized.

“Y/n, Lestat doesn’t want you to choose him,” Claudia said, as you bare your teeth.

“It’s too late,” you spoke, biting his neck, drinking his life away.

“Please,” you heard him inaudible beg, his grip loosening from your arm, as his form began to weaken.

“What part of not him did you not understand?” Lestat asked, snappily, standing behind you, as you released the man, watching his corpse sink to the wet ground.

“Was I supposed to play with my food?” You pouted, the action usually worked, but this time he kept the harsh gaze.

“This man is related to Tom Anderson and the last person he has been seen with, was you,” he said angrily.

“I didn't know, and I always clean up after myself,” you defended.

“That isn’t the point, you get the order to choose another and you still chose to disobey, putting all of our lives at risk, again,” Lestat said, trying to keep his composure, feeling himself about to yell.

“We can talk about this when we get home, Claudia and I will clean up,” Louis said, hoping to de-escalate the situation.

However, after the body was burned, Lestat continued to yell, before deciding to bury you in the rock-filled coffin, as a punishment. 

You weren’t sure how long you were locked away, starving. It could have only been days, but on an empty stomach, it felt like weeks. You cried for too many hours, begging, trying to communicate with Louis and Claudia - but no one ever came. No one would come, you’d be left here to starve to death until Lestat was ready to release you.

You began to dream, imagining yourself on all kinds of adventures. Traveling to different countries, tasting the different people, none of which Lestat planned on doing soon. He made the rules and you all went along, occasionally finding compromise. Finally, after what felt like forever, the coffin was opened.

Louis worriedly pulled you out, Claudia dusting the rocks off of you. Lestat didn’t say a word, standing behind the two, watching as they tended to you. Slowly approaching you, he placed his hand under you jaw, making you look up.

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” he said, before making his way upstairs.

“Y/n,” you jumped, snapping out of the trance as Louis opened the coffin, holding his hand out for you to grab.

“Sorry,” you smiled sheepishly, as he grinned, helping you out.

“It’s alright, why don’t you get dressed, and we’ll be waiting on you,” he winked, leaving you to change.

As you made your way down the stairs, you kept your eyes down, feeling his gaze.

Claudia was first to swing the door open, excitedly skipping out of the house - Louis not too far behind. Gulping, you went to follow him, when Lestat grabbed your waist, stopping you.

“You look nice, ma chèrie,” he complimented.

“Thank you,” you smiled, rushing to join Louis.

You didn’t wander, staying close with the group, choosing the easiest target. You’d always preferred your meal flamboyant, the loudest in the room always had the sweetest blood. However, you were too afraid to upset Lestat, ending up in the cramped coffin again.

Cleaning your mouth, you sat on one of the many benches in the park. You were still hungry, starving actually. The pathetic excuse of a human was no where near filling. As Lestat and Louis approached, their meals close behind like lambs being led to the slaughter, you got up.

Entering the house, you were about to follow Claudia upstairs, when Lestat grabbed your hand, leading you back down.

“I want you to be more vigilant about prey, not neglect and starve yourself, come, we have a plus one,” he told you, before announcing to the trio of men you’d be joining them.

“Do you think there is more to life than New Orleans?” You asked your coworker, Carol.

“I ain’t got time to think about that Y/n, I’m 24 and already a widow with an infant,” she huffed, wiping the table.

Opening your eyes you stared up at the coffin, trying to think back. You didn’t remember too much about your mortal life, not even your family. You worked at a bar when you met Louis and Lestat, both incredibly charming. You were interesting to them, this wasn’t anything new for Lestat, he had no problem admiring multiple people. Louis on the other hand, was surprised by his interest. You were easy on the eyes with the kindest soul, lighting up the room with your presence.

You ended up getting pneumonia and despite taking the needed medication, you began to succumb. On the brink of death, you saw him, was he a god? angel of death? You didn’t know, tiredly watching as the two men exchanged words of agreement, before he lifted you, biting your neck.

You remembered the agony, throwing up as your body rejected your soul, killing itself. Louis carried you, while Lestat led the way, and the rest of your memory was gone.

Opening your coffin, you looked around the room, each side of you was a black coffin, empty. Noticing the small note on Lestat’s as you climbed out.

‘Louis and I have business to attend to this evening, I trust you will hunt with Claudia, ma chèrie’ - L

Sitting the letter down, you walked down the stairs. Knowing Claudia, she had already left. Slipping on your shoes you began to walk the streets. The memories replayed in the back of your mind, as your feet aimlessly moved. Recognizing your surroundings, you slowed down, staring into the bar you’d plucked the Anderson relative from.

Suddenly, someone bumped your shoulder, catching your attention. An older woman, holding shopping bags.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry-Y/n?” You were stuck like a dear caught in headlights.

“God has brought my baby home, don’t just stand there and give your mama a hug,” she sat the bags down, as you cautiously approached, letting her tightly wrap her arms around you.

You were thankful for the times you practiced restraint and self control. It had been nearly three years of being a vampire, stuck at 26 and you grew better and better at controlling your urges around mortals, despite the occasional slip ups.

“Mama?”

“Oh baby, I knew you’d come back eventually, how was New York?” She asked, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“New York?” You questioned, confused.

“Why don’t you come home, just for tonight?” She asked, hopeful. Slowly you nodded, letting her lead you to her car, handing the bags to her driver, you sat in the back seat next to her. Looking around, you hoped your surroundings would seem familiar but you had no clue where you were headed. After nearly fifteen minutes of driving, and your mother gushing about how much you were missed, the car began to slow down.

As the large house came into view, you frowned, unable to remember living there. The driver parked, and the front door opened.

“Did you get-Y/n? Y/n is back,” the younger boy who was exiting the house stopped, jumping for joy, screaming inside. A few more people came out, a familiar face catching your attention.

“Y/n,” the woman screamed, running to you, colliding into you, as she wrapped her arms around your waist.

“Carol, can you make sure Y/n is made comfortable,” your mother asked.

“Of course, mama,” she nodded, grabbing your hands, leading you into the house.

“What’s with your eyes?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” she let it go, as you stopped near the stairs, seeing all of the portraits. Family portraits. You stood amongst them, in the photos, even a painted portrait of yourself, along with your siblings.

“Daddy is going to be very happy to see you,” she smiled, pulling you up the stairs to a bedroom.

“Where is he?” You asked, eyeing the room before you sat next to her on the bed.

“At the sugar mill, duh, you know he’s a workaholic,” she laughed, before sitting up.

“So how have you been? The last time I saw you, you were going on and on about that De Pointe Du Lac,” she smirked, biting her lip.

“I’m fine, Louis is fine,” you nodded.

“My god, you married him? I hear he has a popular business in the quarter-

“No, we have a…companionship, if that makes sense,” you mumbled, as she raised her eyebrows.

“Oh? That’s nice-

“Daddy’s home,” the younger boy burst into the room, his eyes focused on you.

Standing up, you followed Carol from the room, down the stairs. Seeing the men and women standing downstairs, you stared plainly. These were your siblings and yet you couldn’t remember or feel a thing.

“It’s good to see you,” the man, your brother, smiled, pulling you into a side hug before you followed them into the dining room.

Your father sat already, at the head of the table. Turning to face you, he stood up, you could hear his heart pounding, trembling. Slowly approaching you, you spoke up.

“Daddy,” you tried to sound as normal as possible, when he slung his arms around you. He began to cry, while you listened in on his thoughts. You were his favorite.

“You two come sit, stop crying before I start too,” your mother laughed, as your father pulled away in agreement.

“So how was New York?”

“Yeah and why didn’t you say goodbye, like you send a letter and disappear for three years,” your younger sister interrupted.

“Deloris, stop it, I’m sure Y/n wanted to stop by but couldn’t,” your mother interjected.

“I-New York was fine, very beautiful,” you said, accepting one of the many bowls of food being passed along. Taking a small piece of meat, you sat it on your nearly empty plate.

“You came just in time for Joseph’s engagement, he’s met a fine young lady from Gretna, Sarah, she’ll be here in a few days,” your mother pointed at your brother.

“Finally, he’s nearly 30 and we never thought he’d get married,” your younger brother said, making everyone laugh.

“Congratulations,” you told Joseph.

“Thank you, and have you married, or are you with someone?”

“I have companions,” you smiled, nervously.

“Multiple?” Your father asked, stunned.

“One of them is Louis,” Carol clapped.

“The De Point Du Lac? I hear he lives with that French man-

“Lestat De Lioncourt, god to be under him for a night”

“Deloris, watch your mouth”

“Sorry”

“You managed to stay in contact with him, but couldn’t reach out to your family?” Your father spoke, a saddened expression.

“It’s complicated,” you mumbled.

“You don’t think it’s a bit…scandalous to have two lovers, who is the other?” your mother asked.

“Lestat,” you said, clearing your throat, bracing yourself as nearly everyone gasped.

“Lucky,” Deloris snickered.

‘Y/n, where are you?’ You heard Clauia’s voice, but you didn’t respond.

“Y/n, please tell me you're joking,” your father shook his head.

“I don’t think this is a laughing matter,” you said, straightening your posture.

‘Y/n, where are you at?’ Louis asked, making you clinch your jaw.

“You kept in contact with those peculiar men, but it never crossed your mind to come home,” he slightly raised his voice.

“I said it was complicated,” you screamed over him, stabbing the fork into the meat, breaking the plate, before standing up, going to storm out of the house.

“Y/n, wait,” your mother chased you, stopping you before you could leave.

“I’m sorry I came here,” you apologized.

“No no, everyone is handling you being home differently, stay, you can go up to your room, here, I have something for you,” she reached for your cold hand, her warm thumb brushing over your veins. Leading you upstairs in the room, she went to the nightstand, pulled out a diary, handing it to you.

“I kept it, in case you ever came home, and I made sure no one read it,” she smiled sadly, kissing your forehead before she turned to leave.

‘Ma chèrie, enough of this, come home’ Lestat said. You knew they were probably worried, for him to also use his powers to reach out to you.

‘I won’t be home tonight,’ you spoke, sending the message.

“Did you say something, honey?” Your mother stopped, turning to face you.

“No, ma’am,” you shook your head, watching as she exited the room.

Opening the book, your fingers traced down the words, the minor annotations, and little drawings on the side. You could still hear your vampire family faintly in your head when the room door opened.

“Hey, Daddy is sorry, he’s too ashamed of how he acted to face you right now, but I’m just letting you know, that Joseph, Antony, and Loretta left,” Carol spoke.

“Ok,” you chuckled.

“Also, I apologize in advance for the noise, Frankie is coming home soon and he is still a handful,” she laughed.

“Frankie?”

“Yes and he is going to be so excited to see his favorite Aunt,” she said, before shutting the door.

Closing the curtain, grabbing a pillow, and climbing under the bed, you read the diary. Entry to entry, you consumed the thoughts of your former self, your heart growing more confused as you began to remember. By the time you finished, Claudia and Louis became silent while the sun was peeking into the room.

Slamming the book shut, your mind ran wild, questioning everything you thought you’d known. Your nails digging into the floor. Feeling the bloody tear slip down your eye, you quickly wiped it, as a you heard a soft knock.

“Y/n? Y/n?” Your mother called out, a bit of panic in her voice.

“I’m under here,” you called out, waving from under the bed.

Lifting her dress, she moved to the floor, her eyes widening seeing you.

“What are you doing under here, honey?” She asked.

“I…I recently was diagnosed with a disease, my skin doesn’t react well in the sun anymore, burning, irritation, the doctor says I should avoid it altogether,” you said, almost feeling guilty for lying, hearing how much it saddened her thoughts.

“I see, give me a few hours and I’ll make sure things are more comfortable around here, you try to get some sleep, love you”

“I love you too,” you said, watching as she left the room.

‘Y/n, please tell me you are okay, we can’t sleep’ you heard Louis’s voice.

‘I am fine’

‘Where are you?’

‘That is none of any of your concerns’

‘Don’t be like that, what's the matter-

You shut your eyes, blocking out Louis’ voice, taking deep breaths, you thought about the words from the diary, as the sleep passed over you.

‘Mama and daddy have been arguing as of lately. I’m 25 with no boyfriend or engagement, still living with them. Daddy doesn’t see a problem with it, I have more time to find the perfect husband he argues, while Mama thinks I’m not even looking. I haven’t been, but that’s because as special as New Orleans is, no one seems special enough to catch my attention. Since the issue has come up, I’ve found myself with Carol more. She is trying to find a new husband, a new father for Frankie, since his dad died in the Navy’

“All of the bachelors come here, you just might find yourself a treat,” Carol giggled, as the two of you sat at the table. The fancy restaurant in the French Quarter wasn’t too interesting to you. You were already wealthy, and guaranteed quite the inheritance, while all of the women stood around, almost looking as if they were waiting on their lottery ticket.

“Do you ever wonder if there is more to life, than New Orleans?” You asked her boredly, as she made eye contact with the banker, waving at him.

“I ain’t got time to think about that Y/n, I’m 24 and already a widow with an infant,” she told you, standing, before walking to the man, sure to sway her hips, reeking of seduction.

Now alone, you sipped your wine, leaning back in your seat. The few men who looked your way eventually backed away, as you kept a scowl on your face.

“If you keep your face like that, it might get stuck,” you heard, making you turn to face the crèole man.

“If only I could see the appeal of this restaurant, then I wouldn’t frown,” you told him, as he sat down.

“I agree, everything is so tasteless and looks so-

“Cheap,” you and the blonde-haired man said at the same time, making you smile.

“I’m Y/n,” you held out your hand.

“Louis de Pointe du Lac,” he accepted your hand, his thumb brushing against your knuckles.

“And you, do you have a name?”

“Lestat De Lioncourt,” he said, taking your hand from Louis, kissing your knuckles.

“Would you like to get out of here?” Louis started.

“Sorry boys, I hope you didn’t think I was that easy,” you pouted, laughing as Carol approached.

“You ready to go?” You asked, seeing the look of disappointment on her face.

“Yeah,” she said, crossing her arms.

“It was wonderful to meet you both, goodbye”, you told them, standing up, and walking with Carol back to the car. Looking back, your eyes met theirs once more before you were on your way.

‘Lestat and Louis, there had been plenty of rumors that the two were lovers, even I was sure they were. However, they continued to reach out, inviting me to spend time with them. Carol’s friend, Lucy, thinks they might be competing to win my hand in marriage, but I think it’s far from that.’

“Mr. De Lioncourt hasn’t taken his eyes off of you all night,” Lucy bumped your shoulder, as you stood amongst the women. You were trying to not be “shameless” keeping your contact with Lestat and Louis to a minimum. However, their eyes had been glued on you from the moment you entered the party, and they weren’t even hiding it.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” one of the women rolled her eyes, perking up, as they approached.

“Ma chèrie, you never responded to our letter,” Lestat told you, as you stared at the two of them surprised but confused.

“With your flowers,” Louis said, as you gasped.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice a note with them, they are in my room, I’ll look when I’m home”

“Please do, we’re dying to know your response,” he told you, slinging his arm around Louis as they walked away. All of the women frowning in jealousy, while Carol laughed at them.

‘They are together, Lestat and Louis are together, but they like the idea of sharing? After a night of passion, I think it’s best that I stay away from the fabulously handsome men. I could never explain what happened to anyone without being judged, and so I will keep it to myself. They have been trying to reach out, but I am throwing every letter away. I hope they can understand.’

“I’m assuming you’re not a party girl?” Louis asked you, making you jump, swiftly turning around.

“This kind of party isn’t my thing, all of these people, hoping to get on my father’s good side, it's pathetic,” you crossed your arms, as he approached.

“How did you find where I was?” You asked him, tilting your head. You were hidden in your mother’s miniature hedge maze, sure no one would find you.

“I followed your scent, you always smell nice,” he grinned, while you rocked back and forth on your heels.

“You shouldn’t have followed me, what if I was a monster? luring you away from everyone,” you smirked at him.

“Trust me, you wouldn’t be the monster”

“Why do you think that?” You squinted at him, making him laugh.

“You’re too cute, too precious, you should be more careful, you could’ve been being followed by a big bad wolf,” he taunted.

“I can defend myself perfectly fine”

“Is that right?”

“Of course,” you smiled, watching as he leaned forward, his lips pressing against your own. Wrapping his arm around your waist, you moaned, before he pulled away.

Gasping, you noticed Lestat standing only feet away. Taking his usual confident strides, he stopped in front of Louis, the two sharing a passionate kiss. As the kiss broke off, he walked around to you, his hand softly going to the back of your neck, before he pulled you into a kiss.

“Be our companion…”

“Our’s alone…”

“Ok,” you agreed, not understanding at the time, the situation you'd put yourself in.

Standing in front and behind you, they took turns, kissing from your neck to mouth, slowly removing the articles of clothing. By the time you were finished, they laid in the grass, smiling, praising you, while you hurriedly dressed.

“I have to go,” you told them, running away, your hand going to your neck, where a bite mark resided.

‘My intuition was wrong about the two, Lestat and Louis are dangerous. Lestat seemed possessive, he didn’t like the idea of me entertaining another man besides him or Louis. But Louis, he seemed convinced I was perfect with the two of them, they both just seemed delusional. I recently caught the pneumonia virus and I’m trying to heal, and get over the fact that I was sick for my birthday but their constant sending of gifts isn’t making me feel any better.’

“Y/n, honey,” your mother called out, making you open your eyes.

“Yes?”

“It is safe to come out,” she said, as you slowly made your way out, noticing the windows covered by a board.

Leading you down the stairs, you felt uncomfortable seeing your siblings stare at you like an animal in zoo.

“Mama told us about your skin condition, I’m sorry, I-we can have the engagement at night,” Joseph offered.

“I couldn’t do that to you-

“It would be a pleasure, I want you there, and Sarah won’t mind, she’ll be here tomorrow”

“Then I’d love that,” you smiled, nodding.

“Wonderful, I have something you can wear,” your mother clapped.

“I was hoping I could talk to you, about something,” you told your mother, as she sat on the sofa.

“Okay, what’s on your mind?”

“Do you remember when I was sick, with the pneumonia?”

“Yes”

“When I was staying in the hospital-

“Hospital? You didn’t stay in a hospital, you were in your room. We were so worried, when you first caught it, but your body fought hard, you were better in no time,” she said, her hand on her heart.

“How long was I here before I left, for New York? Reading the diary has my brain a little foggy,” you told her.

“Only a few days after, I believe, before you left your letter,” she said, looking away at the memory.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, trying to remember what happened. The fuzzy memory slightly coming back.

“It’s okay, honey, you’re here now,” she waved.

Sitting up in bed, pillows propped up behind you, you listened to the vinyl jazz music. Playing low in the room you hummed lightly. Everyone had left the previous day, going to see relatives, but you were still too sick to go. Although you were already feeling better, no longer bed-bound with a nasty fever. Hearing the sound of the front door opening, your ears perked up, as you climbed out of the bed. Stopping the music, you slowly tiptoed out of the room, stopping at the top of the stairs

“Ma chèrie, it isn’t nice to ignore people who care about you,” Lestat said from the bottom of the stairs.

Shaking your head, you went to run, bumping into Louis. Who also, didn’t look too happy, backing down the stairs, you froze, seeing Lestat slowly walk up to you. You were trapped, dropping to your knees, you shielded yourself.

“Please,” you covered your face, gasping in confusion as you were lifted, carefully brought to the sofa in the living room.

“You haven’t seen any of our letters?” Louis asked angrily before Lestat spoke.

“You ignored us out of society-inflicted shame,” Lestat started.

“No, it was nothing more than casual sex,” you said before he squished your cheeks together.

“If you weren’t so afraid of being judged by society, would you continue to deny yourself the pleasures you deserve?” Lestat asked, sitting next to you.

“One of you bit me, I don’t think I want either of you,” you told him as he chuckled before you noticed his abnormally sharp teeth. Fangs.

“She doesn't want us, hear that Louis, we’re being rejected by our companion,” Lestat laughed loudly, as Louis stared at you as if you had two heads.

Suddenly, the front door opened, and your parents and your younger siblings entered the house. Doing a double take, your father frowned.

“What's going on in here?”

“Nothing Daddy, we're just talking,” you stood up, moving in between him and the two peculiar men. Looking at them, you noticed the fangs in Louis's mouth.

“I don't think so, you two boys need to leave my house,” he said, the look on their faces showed they were highly offended at the choice of words.

“I am no boy, I am much older than you…” Lestat stood up.

“Don't hurt them,” you told them, your eyes going from Louis to Lestat.

“Perhaps we can get to an agreement, they are spared, in exchange for your companionship,” Lestat offered. You searched for his face, trying to see if he was serious, while he stood, waiting on your response.

“Fine,” you sighed, watching as Louis approached your family, putting them into a trance.

“You came home and went straight to bed, Y/n was feeling better and decided to spend time with some friends tonight-

“You should grab your things, ma chérie, and don't worry, that shame and fear instilled into you will be no more in a short while,” he told you, ushering you to go upstairs, while Louis made up a story to your family.

By the time you finished packing, they were gone, only Louis and Lestat waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. Not saying a word, you followed them to the car, trying to let the realization sink in, but it still all seemed surreal.

Entering their home you nervously followed them, into the bedroom.

“You can meet Claudia later,” Louis said, as they stared at you.

“Your daughter?”

“Our daughter,” he corrected you, but nodded.

“Ok”

“Y/n, the love that we’ve grown for you, it’s inhumanly, meant to be shared for an eternity, we can give you that,” Louis told you.

“You’re scared, I can make sure you don’t feel any pain, I can give you a piece of everlasting life. None of the things you have in this life hold any value to you, but I can give you something you will cherish,” Lestat told you.

“Choose us and we’ll choose you for the rest of eternity,” Louis said, before you hesitatingly nodded.

“You won’t be in pain for long,” Lestat told you, before he pulled you close, biting into your neck. Falling limb in his arms, he laid you on the bed, cutting his wrist, feeding his blood to you.

Shortly after, your body felt like it was on fire, your vision blurry. The two men stood over you, talking, Louis asking for a favor and Lestat debating on if he wanted to give in.

“Do it, before it’s too late, please,” he said, before Lestat looked at him, nodding, and facing you.

“Look at me, ma chèrie, you used to be a waitress at a bar…we were frequent customers when you met us….” As Lestat told you the fabricated story, he made sure to completely conceal your memory of your mortal life, as Louis requested.

As the memory came to mind your hands went to your eyes, trying to stop the bloody tears from leaking. The memory that changed the way that you viewed your maker and companions.

“Are you alright dear?” your mother asked, worried.

“I'm fine, mama, just happy to be home,” you told her, making her smile.

“Awe, honey, I'm glad that you are home, we all are,” she gushed, pulling you into a firm hug, before continuing with her conversation with your sibling.

‘Y/n’ Louis called out to you.

“Excuse me,” you said, getting up, going to the bathroom.

‘Leave me alone, please’ you told him.

‘Where is this coming from?’

‘I just need this time away, it’s just me time’ you told him, staring at your reflection.

‘Y/n, are you coming home?’ You heard Claudia.

‘Eventually’

‘Alright, love you’

‘Love you too’ you told her, before leaving the bathroom.

“Y/n, I just wanted to apologize for my outburst last night. What you do in your private life is your business, and I’m happy you’re home,” your father said, nervously, as you came back into the living room. Smiling, you didn’t say anything, approaching him, pulling him into a hug.

As night fell, everyone turning in for bed, you went to the backyard, thankful to find a few rodents to feed on. With your hunger satisfied, you went to your room. Sitting at the desk, you ripping a piece of paper from the diary, grabbing an envelope from the drawer.

‘I don’t think this companionship will work out anymore. Lie after lie, neither of you have been honest or truthful with me. I thought relationships were built and thrived on trust. Not ours, a big lie to feed both of your delusional obsessions. Stay away from me. I will be leaving New Orleans soon, probably headed back to New York’ you wrote, placing a stamp on the envelope.

“Hey,” you called out, as you went outside stopping the teenage boy on his bike.

“Bring this to Lestat De Lioncourt, his address is 1132 Royal Street,” you hypnotized the boy.

“But that’s all the way in the French Quarter,” he said in a monotone voice.

“I know, you will go right before the sun rises and it is okay because you were paid to do this,” you told him, watching as he smiled.

“You’re right,” he nodded, accepting the letter, before taking the money in his other hand, stuffing it into his pocket.

“Go on now, it’s getting late,” you told him, as he nodded, riding home to his house as you went inside.

“Y/n, you okay, darling?” Your father stood at the top of the stares.

“I’m ok, daddy,” you smiled, going upstairs to your bedroom.

Just as the sun began to rise, the young boy peddled his bike, careful to stay out of the way of any cars. For a second he wished his dad could have driven him, the 30 minutes bike ride would have been much shorter in a car.

Finally, he arrived, panting, he approached the townhouse. Opening the gate, he approached the door. Knocking softly, before speaking.

“Mail for Lestat De Lioncourt,” he said, pushing the letter through the mail slot, before he left to peddle home.

Still wide awake, Lestat stood from his piano, approaching the door, stopping. He watched at the young hand slipped in, the letter floating to the floor, before the sound of the footsteps became distant.

Reading the letter, he felt a series of emotions, sadness, rage, disappointment.

“Louis,” he called out, his companion jogged down the stairs in confusion.

“Yeah?”

“Y/n remembers,” he gulped, as the two looked at each other.

“Looks like we’ll have to make a stop tonight,” Louis said, before going back to his coffin.

“You’re just as beautiful as Joseph said you were,” you gushed to Sarah. The house was filled with guests, the sun had set not too long ago, and the night was still young.

“Oh my, thank you, he talked about you all the time, I never thought I’d meet you,” she said.

“Y/n, come here,” Carol called from the kitchen, before you excused yourself, joining her.

“What?”

“Mr. Alexandre is asking to see you,” she lightly pushed you in the direction of the living room.

“Who?”

“He’s one of Daddy’s associates, he’s young, rich, and handsome,” she said.

“And why don’t you talk to him?”

“He wants to speak with you and I’d prefer his brother, I hear he’s a widower,” she whispered, as you turned, walking towards where the man stood, amongst a few other businessmen.

“Miss Y/n,” the man called out, stepping forward.

“Mr. Alexandre,” you said, accepting his hand.

“If I could have a moment with you…”

“You may,” you said, walking into the hallway with him, near the stairs. You could feel his colleagues staring at the two of you.

“What is it?”

“I was hoping I could take you out for dinner, perhaps the steamboat, there is a nice band that plays-

“I am sorry, but no thank you,” you shook your head, about to leave, but he gripped your forearm.

“A little birdy told me that you have a thing going on with the European and crèole man in the quarter, I thought they were homo-

“Mr. Alexandre, my personal business is none of your concern”

“Then to have that little girl with them, like she’s their daughter, it’s twisted. You don’t need to get involved with them, tarnishing your reputation,” he said, making you think back to the society-inflicted shame Lestat spoke about.

“Do not speak about my reputation or any of them,” you shoved him, watching as he collided into the wall. A few people gasped, coming to see what was the commotion.

“Y/n, what happened?” Your father asked as the front door opened.

Along with a gust of wind Lestat, Louis, and Claudia all walked in, heads turning as everyone murmured about them. All of the eyes were on them and they never looked their way, solely focused on you.

“Y/n, why haven’t you come home?” Claudia ran to you, pulling you into a hug. You could feel how tense she felt, you frowned at the thought of her being upset.

“I’m sorry,” you told her, closing your eyes and taking in her usually sweet scent.

“Y/n,” your mother called out, now standing next to your father, a confused expression in place.

Before you could say anything, Lestat turned her way, gasping, you stepped up, when he turned facing you. Immediately you stopped, your eyes going down, while he moved closer.

“Madame,” he held out his hand, accepting hers, before placing a soft kiss on it.

“Get away from my wife,” your father said, taking her hand back.

“So you was gonna leave home?” Louis asked you, taking off his glasses.

“You lied to me, both of you did,” you told him.

“Louis, what is she talking about?”

“Nothing, go wait outside Claudia”

“Louis-

“It’s okay, go wait outside,” you told her, watching as she walked away, bumping the shoulder of a few guests, scaring them.

“You…both of you, did this to me, and for what? to satisfy your fantasies-

“To save you, you don’t belong with these people, their rules and principles, your nature goes against all of it. You could have never been happy with the way they wanted you to become,” Lestat told you.

“Y/n, it’s not safe to be around any of them, how long do you think you’ll be able to resist your urges, it’s best to leave them where they’re at,” Louis told you.

“Is this the brainwash they both feed you, two queer men trying to destroy and isolate everything you’ve known. I wouldn’t burden you with such ideologies,” Mr. Alexandre said, standing up, limping off the pain.

“And what are those ideologies, you speak of?” The tension thickened in the room as Lestat was in front of him within a flash.

“I-I-“ he began to stutter.

“These ideologies include being unapologetic even if it goes against society, not putting limitations on yourself, and redefining what family is. None of these things you know anything of because you think Y/n is as brainless as the rest of these women,” Lestat said before roughly grabbing his jaw.

“You could learn a thing or two before you let your mouth run so loosely,” he said, shoving him, watching as he collided with the wall, breaking through the wallpaper.

“Now you-

Lestat raised his hand, freezing everyone in the room, as your father began to yell.

“Your memory was wiped away, but everything has been real. Our love, Claudia’s love, nothing was forced. These people have caused you nothing but anxiety and shame, but if you want to throw us away, for them, I won’t stop you,” Lestat screamed, storming away, as the bloody tear slipped from his eyes.

“I thought I could balance both lives, it isn’t possible,” Louis told you, as you kept your head down.

“Is it possible to take away their memory, I won’t kill them, if they could just go on with their lives like before I was here,” you asked, while he immediately nodded.

Lestat had been right about so many things, how different you were, the restrictions you felt in your previous life. You weren’t ready to be on your own, you still needed your family. Perhaps it was better for you to not have been aware of the truth, to begin with.

“That can be arranged,” he said, motioning for you to go outside with Claudia. Stopping in front of your mother, you kissed her cheek, before leaving the house.

Getting into the backseat of the car with Claudia, she intertwined her fingers with your own. Lestat didn’t say a word to you, walking back into the house, as everyone unfroze.

After nearly 15 long minutes, the two left the house. You could see the party continuing, Carol could be seen with a small boy in her arms, accepting him from an older woman. The entire ride home was painfully quiet. The faint music from the locals could be heard as the house came more into view.

Claudia went to her room, while you meekly followed the two to your shared room. Stepping out of their clothing, they were preparing for rest, when you stopped.

“Lestat, I-please make me forget again,” you asked, making them look at each other, before staring at you.

“After all of this-

Moving to your knees, you crawled to him, prepared to beg to him, as if he was your god. Raising his eyebrow, even he looked surprised by your actions.

“Please make me forget, and we can go back to how we were,” you told him. Reaching for his hand, your head laid upon it, begging for your wish to be granted.

“Stand up, ma chèrie”

“How was the hunt?” Louis asked as you and Claudia both entered the house.

“Wonderful,” you laughed, plopping next to him. Lestat sat at his piano, idly pressing the keys that still managed to sound effortless.

“What are you doing?” You asked Louis, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Catching up on the paper, gorgeous,” he smiled, flipping the newspaper.

Your eyes widened at the image of the article, L/n Sugar Mill family home is burned down, leaving no survivors after an extravagant engagement party.

“Wow, and that was such a nice house,” you said, pointing out the picture, before picking up a nearby book.

“It was,” Louis agreed lowly, the trio briefly making eye contact.

With your memory wiped once again, the last thing any of them wanted was another situation that could cause you to want to break away from them. No one could ever come close to loving you like the three and they made sure there was no would who would awaken your memories, tearing you away from your little family.

this may or may not be deleted later …

[buffaloborgine]

Ever wonder that something is off with this scene when you read the manga? 

This scene has always feel wrong to me, I mean, something is definitely not right with it. And then it dawned on me: what exactly is Kimblee’s purpose in killing the superiors and keep the stone? 

Well yes, many people had interpreted this scene as that Kimblee gets power hungry and killing the superiors is just moving away the obstacles between him and power - the stone.

But then, what’s the meaning of having power when you can’t use it? (Noting that Kimblee is well aware that he can always use the stone if he likes, even if he is locked in prison, as shown when Ed slashed his right palm, Kimblee dropped the round stone into his left palm to activate the explosion Alchemy)

Kimblee didn’t grab the stone and run, he stepped out of the command center slowly as if he invited the other soldiers to seize him for the crime of murder. And as far as we know, no other soldier was killed after that. 

So it’s simply that Kimblee let himself be captured and imprisoned, while keeping the stone insides him (probably somewhere around his intestine but surely not the stomach). 

However, we also know that Kimblee doesn’t really value the stone like something he has to take for whatever prize it costs as he also sees the stone along with the process to create it as “vulgar”  

He also shows that he doesn’t really need to keep the stone to himself at all cost, as when Ed kicked the edged stone off his hand, Kimblee doesn’t give any effort to go find it back again. 

Then, we go back to the main question of this post: what exactly is Kimblee’s purpose in killing the superiors and keep the stone?

Well, to answer this, let’s look at those panels again.

There is a pause moment between when the superiors giving order to Kimblee to return the stone and when Kimblee threw the stone into his mouth. 

It was the moment Kimblee contemplating on what best to do for the order given to him. 

Yes, the order of “This (the stone) must be kept securely stored away” is what Kimblee chose to follow, not “Give us back the stone”. That’s why his next reply was “Now with this... You are the only ones who know that I have the Philosopher’s stone.” 

There is no way to keep the stone “securely stored away” than all the people who know about are dead and the one holds it stays in prison, where it is then really well guarded. 

I also want to compare this scene in particular with the scene when Truth granted anyone opened the Gate of Truth then punish them. There is a very subtle parallel between Kimblee’s decision and Truth’s “punishment” as both were “asked” for something, they then make the equivalent exchange: granting what the person wanted but then also punish them in return. 

But it is always a “worthy” trade, isn’t it? 

[houseszarr]

Astarion closely resembling Vellioth is why Cazador chose him fanon is correct, yes.

Cazador has deep discussions with Vellioth's skull but also prattles on about nonsense with him. Vellioth hated his endless chatter, too.

Vellioth saw Cazador as his ultimate prize. He had him at his side constantly as a reminder to all he conquered the Szarrs.

Cazador is left with long scars from his impalement. He also has bite marks on his neck but wears high collars to hide them. He hates these physical reminders from Vellioth. Very few people have seen these since he became a fully fledged vampire lord.

Vellioth treated Cazador as a concubine and called him his spouse sometimes, not just spawn. He acted sometimes as though he had married into the Szarr dynasty and was part of their legacy. His own vampiric line had historic rivalries with the Szarr coven. They went out into society to night-time events presenting as a couple, with Cazador acting subservient generally- never leaving Vellioth's side unless directed- and he would be punished for not misbehaviour and would not be allowed to attend the next event if he failed to behave properly in Vellioth's eyes.

He enjoyed dressing Cazador up. He made Cazador grow out his hair to braid and play with it.

Vellioth learnt Kozukuran.

He encouraged Cazador to continue his poetry on and enjoyed exposing him to blood but denying him.

The rules Vellioth devised were designed for Cazador after misbehaviour. He made Cazador listen to him repeating them each night to cement them into his beliefs.

Vellioth had other spawn who were kept more as servants. Cazador was above them in the hierarchy and had his own bedroom as the favoured spawn, which is where the idea of having his own spawn compete for the position came from. He never had competition though.

Cazador admired Vellioth's strength, cruelty, and his art. He envied him and aspired to become him. His fascination led to him keeping his master close. He had a twisted love for Vellioth.

A part of Vellioth's soul is trapped in his remains due to Cazador's necromantic magic. He cannot let go of his master. He wishes for Vellioth to witness his success and to have his company. When Astarion joined his house, Cazador found he was spending more time interested in his own spawn and being creative with the methods Vellioth raised him by. Cazador wanted to outdo Vellioth and make his former master envious and proud that he accomplished Ascension and had total mastery of his own spawn.

Real talk, what are our Vellioth and Cazador headcanons.

[plush-rabbit]

Aphrodisiac Induced Reader + The Brothers

A/N: The brothers!! I hope yall enjoy!! Aphrodisiac induced is always a fun thing to play with. The brothers,, my beloved

-

You really should have known better than to take food that was offered by Beel. You know that he has the right intentions in mind- that him sharing food is a miracle of itself and rejecting him would have his brows furrowed and lips pursed into a pout- but he’s also gluttony. He can eat whatever he wants and as much as he wants without so much of a stomach ache. You, on the other hand, cannot. You should have seen this coming when the cupcake you bite into filled your mouth with such an indescribable sweetness that it made your teeth ache, the flavor otherworldly and leaving you hungry for me, taking greedy bites out of the cutely decorated pastry. There was a sharp pang in your stomach, your body on fire and sex dripping with every nudge that your body made.

You couldn’t be alone right now- or maybe you should have been left alone, maybe that would have saved you from humiliation of your dripping arousal that was leaking past your slit. You’re quick to rise, standing on shaky legs, curled over as your cheeks burn, sweat beading against your skin, only worsening the sensitive state that you are in. It’s fast-acting, making your breaths come out in heated gasps, and everything just feels a bit too much, just too good for it to be normal. An aphrodisiac- a strong one that is making you impossibly aroused. You suck in a sharp breath and go to the person who you know will treat you right.

Lucifer:

Lucifer is a gentleman- most of the time at least. But during your time of need he is perfect to go to. He’ll allow you- or more like insist- that you stay in his office until the aphrodisiac’s effects have passed. You’ll lay on the couch, face buried into a throw pillow while the other one is between your legs. Shame has long been gone since you’ve entered his domain, his eyes never really leaving your shaky frame. When you moan his name, he stiffens, the pen in his hand is held tighter but he still rises, walking towards you in concern. He’ll sit beside you, let his hand curve over your forehead, feeling the heat go through his glove.

He clears his throat, pulling his hand away, and there’s this heavy look on your face, the pillow squeezed tight between your legs, the pillow under your head has faint imprints of your teeth. He’ll avoid touching you, pulling his hand away from you and walking briskly to his desk chair. He can hear your steps across the floor, the way you gasp his name and seem to rub your thighs together for any sort of friction. He won’t spare you a glance, eyes focused on the paperwork in front of him. Underneath the desk, his leg jolts as you snake your arms around his shoulders, your lips wet as they touch his neck.

There isn’t enough time in the day and night for him to focus on his work and on your growing needs that are starting to mark everything in his office. Black ink scratches along the pape, the letters growing shaky as you snake your way onto him. He’s actually startled when you situate yourself on his lap, your sex pressed against his erection. He’s surprised by your sudden confidence but writes it off due to the effects of the aphrodisiac. You’re above him, arms snaked once more on his shoulders and you play with the hair that rests on the nape of his neck.

The feeling of shame is not foreign to the Avatar of Pride but even then, letting you know that he is indeed aroused given the situation does bring a bit of heat to his body. His hands find their way to hold onto your hips, trying to ignore the way that you have begun to grind against his. But there is work to do and despite the growing need to pleasure both you and himself, he displaces you, ignoring the way that you call his name and can’t seem to stop touching him.

The only way to gain his attention that you desperately long for is to push him away, the wheels locking against an edge of the floor and you bend yourself over the desk. Lucifer wants to throw you out so you can be another’s problem but you pull your bottom layer off, your fingers searching inside your leaking hole and pride starts to fuel him. You touch yourself in front of him, beg for him to touch you- of course you would. Slender hands come to touch your body, and you’re already leaking onto the floor, thick, sweet arousal staining the very room that he allowed you to enter. His cock is against you, rimming around your entrance, hearing your cries and please for him to simply fuck you but you did cause him to become distracted from very important work and he is going to punish you for that.

Mammon:

Of course you’d go to him. He is your first after all, why wouldn’t you go to The Great Mammon? But wow, he was over his head when you came knocking at his door. Always eager to see and spend time with you, he allows you to enter without seeing the state you’re in. You stagger into his room, holding his hand and stumbling into him and it’s only then that he can smell the sweet, lingering aroma in the air. He wants to believe you’re just trying a new perfume and now it's made you sick, but it’s worse than that when the hand you’re holding moves to your chest. He can feel your rapid heartbeat, the way your body is in flames that can rival hellfire itself, the pained cry of his name as you try to pinch your legs together in the awkward embrace.

Frozen for a moment, Mammon completely blanks on what to do. He can feel your pain, the aching need in your entire body that makes you feel as if you’re going to combust into flames. He doesn’t know whether to touch you or not. But then you cry his name- sobbing it out in broken syllabus and you cry that it hurts and you think you might die and you're in his arms. Your hold on him tightens and he thinks he can leave you to be- let you wait out the excruciating pain in his room until the feeling fades and just thank him with attention or material objects later. He fails to consider that he is weak to you and when you look at him with teary eyes, he falters.

He stutters in his explanation, talking about how he can maybe go out and get you a toy or something- and he promises to be quick, he is the fastest after all. But then the thought lingers and he imagines your sex stretched with some toy that he chose, and his body jerks. Your vision is growing blurrier by the second and the hold on his hand tightens until your knuckles pale. You pull on him, thanking whatever God is watching down on you, that the door to the prized car he keeps in is open. Even he’s unable to know what is going on until you push him inside, crawling onto the back seat, calling his name and begging for him to join you.

In such a closed space, the Avatar of Greed is trying desperately to avoid touching you. He stays seated in the front seat, fingers drumming along the steering wheel. He cares for the car deeply- one of the few things that gives him freedom that is indescribable and yet, here you are. Your sex is leaking, your cries echoing across the closed space and what is music to his ears in his dreams is now a horrible reminder that you are seated behind him, victim to an aphrodisiac. He needs an excuse to touch you, needs to just feel you for a moment and when you threaten to stain the flawless leather seats with your slick, it’s enough for him to crawl to the back seat.

He never realized how crowded it was, how his elbows and knees tend to knock into things. He doesn’t notice how you’ve kicked your shorts off, how your underwear has become dark in color to your dripping sex. You kiss him, and Mammon is weak to you. His hands are on you, the scent overpowering and he promises to keep the touching to a minimum to only touch what you’ll let him touch and kiss where you want him to. But you’re huffing, grabbing onto him and trying to meet his crotch. The windows grow foggy, the car begins to creak but neither of you pay it any mind. It’s cramped and you’re too close but not close enough, you ache to be closer to him, to have him pressed against you until all you can remember is the way that his chest feels against your skin, the warmth of him, and the way his kisses are so tender and feverish all at once.

Leviathan:

Leviathan refuses to make eye contact with you. He won’t even address you. He sits on his desk chair, playing a game that doesn’t need half of the attention he usually gives. You rest inside his bathtub, curled over he presumes, whining and mumbling something that sounds like his name but he can't be so sure nor does he expect you to mumble his name in your current state. But as much as he wants to drown you out, he can’t. You’re too whiny, crying and begging for a solution, peeling your shirt off because it’s too hot. He reasons that’s because of the aphrodisiac because his room is always kept to a cool temperature. So now, he has you topless in his bathtub and the only proof is your shirt that was tossed where he sits and the reflection above, portraying a teasing, blurry image of your torso.

It’s possibly the worst situation for the poor, introverted demon. He finally has you all to himself and you’re in such a needy state and the plot is so close to a top tier hentai of his- Help! My Friend Took a Drug and Now They Won’t Stop Grinding on Me But I Also Don’t Want Them To Stop. But You came to him, you trusted that he would watch over you and whether it was because he kept his room so guarded or because you trust him, he really doesn’t know which. It’s just too muddled for him to believe that you would actively choose him. So, he does what he does best- he immerses himself in a game. The cutest game that he could think of- one that even if he grew and remained hard would make him feel more like a degenerate than he already does. He puts his headphones on and as if everything is trying to punish him, the loading screen takes forever.

The soundtrack plays loud, booming in his headset and effectively drowning you out. But he knows you’re still crying for him- that you're still in the same room with him. The perverted otuka glances up where he can see your reflection and he catches a glimpse of your hands cupping the swell of your chest and his face burns. Had you caught him peeking before? Was this a way for you to play with yourself without actively touching yourself? He can feel his growing arousal, translucent pre-ejaculate spilling past his slit and staining his boxers. It’s humiliating and he hates that the idea of you touching yourself in his room is more than enough for him to get in the mood.

He’s ignoring you- the only way that he can hopefully soften without actually creaming his pants. He avoids your reflection, ignores how your hands grip the curve of the tub until your knuckles pale, how you swing a leg over and it meets the hard layer of the bath, and for a moment, you still. He’s ignoring your decision to remove yourself from the place he rests and staggering to him. When he feels your hands on his thighs, he startles and the game minimizes into a small box. Unaware of what to do in this situation, he freezes, letting his body tense as you crawl onto his lap, your eyes heavy with lust and body feeling so warm above him that he’s unable to breathe.

His breathing is ragged, his hands stopping on the curve of your bum, as he’s unable to look anywhere else but your face. You’re flushed, gripping onto him, your tongue out as you pant and you’re so desperate for his attention that you lean close. His hands raise in an attempt to push you off but as if it were a cliché moment, his hands curve over your chest and you whimper his name at the simple touch. The third born should have been careful, he shouldn’t have let you grind against him and he surely shouldn’t have let himself becomes distracted by a kiss and yet, here he is, undressing himself as you greedily slide yourself onto his cock, your face scrunching up as every scale is pushed further into your aching hole. Leviathan is holding you close, the computer screen dimming as your can fill him spill inside of you.

Satan:

Eager to learn, he knows the effects of what an aphrodisiac can do to a being. So when you come knocking at Satan’s door, begging for refuge, leaning against him and gripping at his shirt, he pats your hand, and welcomes you inside. He allows you to rest on his bed, letting you bury yourself under his blankets. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea for either of you- you’re inhaling his scent during a time of desperate need, and soon when the effects wear off, he’ll be left in a bed that is drenched in your scent. That, however, is a problem for another day.

In order to keep his mind and hands busy, he’ll finally organize his room. He’s able to ignore your whining, the way that you shiver under the covers and bury yourself into his pillow, how you spread your legs so they are uncovered by the blanket; he ignores the sweet scent of your arousal that fills the room and his lungs. He holds his breath, taking few, deep breaths every now and then to avoid inhaling too much of you. You’re whining, talking through the pillow about how it hurts and you just need something- and doesn’t he have a spell he can use to just rid you of at least a tiny bit of it.

It’s the growing arousal of himself and your constant whining that edges him closer to annoyance. He holds books tight in his hand, orders them by author and published years, height and volumes, but it isn’t enough to drown you out. He regrets letting you enter his room but in the same second, he regrets having the thought. He’s happy that you came to him, trusted him enough to see you in a disheveled state. He doesn’t want to scare you off or make you feel unwanted, so he edges closer to you, tugging on the bottom of his shirt as if he were a nervous boy instead of a grown demon. The bed creaks under his weight and your hand latches onto his thigh. He jerks his leg, your hand only squeezing tighter and when he makes eye contact, your eyes are filled with tears, glistening and catching on your lashes like fresh dew.

You’re aroused, deeply and sweetly. It's a nervous thing to be attracted to someone like you, a demon that has been round and born with blood and wrath etched deep into soul and yet here he is, nervous to even touch your trembling hand. He knows the effects of something as strong as an aphrodisiac and for a demon made one, there is no real spell for it. He lets you lay on his lap, your mouth close to his sex, eyes lidded and holding tight to his hand. His control is fading, his growing need pushing past logical thought. He offers himself, and you rise quickly, already straddling his lap, your chest pressed against his, asking if it is okay. A cold shiver runs through his spine and he nods, offering that he’ll take care of you.

The trembling, nervous demon fades just as quick as it came when your lips are on his. You kiss him, need so transparent that he’s teasing, pulling away, letting your back meet the bed. His smile is sharp, leaning to kiss your pursed lips, grabbing your leg and pulling it upwards, mumbling praise under his breath when you hook your leg around his waist. Satan is heavy when above you, and maybe it’s the aphrodisiac that still lingers on your tongue, but he is unwilling to move away from you, kissing you and hooking his fingers in your mouth when you moan. You’re needy and he wants to hear you beg for him, calling his name. He cups your face with spit coated fingers, asking you to be good for him and mew for him.

Asmodeus:

As the Avatar of Lust, Asmodeus immediately knew something was off in the house when he felt lust in the air. It’s sweet. Intoxicating and bitter all at once. It’s like the sweetest honey known to mankind and he knows the feeling well enough to open his door before you have the thought to knock. He welcomes you into his room, letting you rest on the bed, a small part of him on the inside crinkling when you ruffle the sheets. But, of course, he knows this isn’t you- you would never be so careless. It’s all because of the aphrodisiac making your movements more frantic.

He knows the cure to end it- sex, plain and simple. Masturbation might help but he fears your hand will become sore. Always eager to have somebody in bed with him- out of his own sin and own need for company- he offers you two choices. You can borrow a toy- new, still in the box and all- or he could take care of you. Perhaps he shouldn’t have offered the second option, he knew how excited you were to simply enter a room with another living being but he couldn’t help himself. You look absolutely adorable with your flustered face.

A kiss from the living Avatar of Lust is better than any pleasure that you’ve ever received. And he knows it. You moan under him, your body shaking and eyes rolling to the back of your head, clawing at the shirt on his back. He smiles into the kiss. So eager to be taken care of that a simple kiss was enough to make you climax, your arousal dripping onto your underwear, so heavy in the air, that he pulls away as he feels your breaths start to shorten due to lack of air. But even as he pulls away, you still reach to pepper him with kisses, your breathing reggae against his face, gasping for breath with every parting kiss.

Your hands are on him, eager to pull him into another kiss. You want him and it’s evident from the way that you don’t push away when he removes his clothing. But, he stops for a moment, watching your gaze on him, wide and dazed and you stare at him as if he was something more than just a demon, you give him your worship and you pull him into another kiss. He stiffens, pulling away and asking if this is what you want, touching your bare skin only to flinch away as if it burned him. And when your lips are on him, your smile returns for a moment, telling him that you came to him because you knew he would tend to you in any way, and he melts.

His lips return to yours, kissing you eagerly, wanting nothing more than to just keep his lips on you. And as last time, you shudder beneath him, another orgasm washing through your body, your release spilling pass your slit. Limps entangle with each other and you cry the name Asmodeus, moaning it as if it were the only thing on your mind, sobbing under him and telling him how good it feels. You pet his head and let him bury his face into our chest, peppering kisses until he reaches your neck. His eyes close, an unexpected climax teases at him, as you pull him closer to your aching body. Every sigh from you in a gentle gust of wind, every cry a song that not even choir from the Celestial Realm can rival. He pushes deep inside of you, letting you feel every curve and texture from his cock as it molds your leaking hole into his shape.

Beelzebub:

Beelzebub feels incredibly guilty when you come to him, his shirt knotted in your hands as you explain what you ate. He blames himself, going to hold you only to flinch when you hiss and pull yourself closer to him. It’s an aphrodisiac, he should have known that you’ll be more sensitive to touch during this time. He apologizes as he leads you to his bed, shaking his head and holding your hand. He’s gluttony- he should have been able to smell the scent of an aphrodisiac.

Of course, he’ll let you hide in his room until the effects wear off. He won’t make a single peep but it’s difficult for him. His clothes are sticking to him, his body is in an odd sticky situation where sex clings to him clothes and skin. He knows the effects of the aphrodisiac but he feels guilty for giving it to you so when you cling to him, begging for him to not let go of you, he sighs and stays beside you. He’s stiff, unwilling to move and can only let out a shaky breath, when you press yourself closer to him, hooking a leg over his and curling it over. He can feel your sex- hot and pulsing and he leaves ripped bedsheets as his hand curls into the comforter.

He’s rubbing your back, letting his fingers drum against your spine as he hears your panted breaths. He knows he should stop, that he should at least go and take a shower so he can at least smell good but you hold a tight grip on him. You’re feverish, burning against him and he can tell you want more, your lips open up and kiss along the side of his ribcage but he can’t move.

It’s getting too much- even for him. He doesn’t want to take advantage of this needy state that you’re in but as he rises with a feeble explanation that he’s going to take a shower, you pull him down. He’s above you, your eyes watery and cheating rising and falling with heavy breaths. He can’t kiss you but you’re leaning closer, your lips brushing against his and he can smell the aphrodisiac that still rests like heaven on your tongue. You don’t blame him for the accident slip, you’re just begging for him to take care of you, letting your hand rest over the swell of his breast and he’s growing weaker by the second.

When your lips are on his, your tongue slipping past your lips, Beelzebub can taste the aphrodisiac and he’s melting. His tongue has made its home on your mouth, curving over your pink muscle and feeling the way you shudder beneath him. His name is muted by the kiss, your hands clawing at his clothing and he’s sweaty and aroused, watching you as you strip yourself of your clothes. The lovely pastry that still lingers isn’t enough for him to go into a full rut, but it’s enough for him to bend your legs to your chest, your hole pulsing as his cock aligns to it. The way that you call his name is enough for him to push himself fully into you.

Belphegor:

Belphegor is asleep under the covers, pillow tucked under his head and he does not awaken to your scent growing closer and closer, heavier and sweeter than usual. He doesn’t awaken when the doorknob wiggles, a frantic turning but he does awaken when you slam the door. He is startled awake, his eyes wide for a second before narrowing, teeth flashing as he lets out a low growl. He stops when he notices it's you, yawning and telling you to get into bed with him. It’s only until you’re beside him, greedily taking the invitation, that he realizes the state you’re in.

He has to prod you until you tell him what’s happened, watching as you bury your face into a pillow, whining out pathetically as you tell him what happened. He laughs, it’s sharp and teasing. Of course, you took an aphrodisiac by accident. It could only happen to you. He tries to be sympathetic with you. He knows you must be in a great deal of pain, but then again you came to him and that makes him stay awake for a bit longer, turning over on his side and watching you struggle to not touch yourself despite the aroma of your arousal that is thick in the room.

Sloth offers to put you under a deep sleep- he can’t promise that you’ll be still- but he can promise that you’ll wake up without the effects of the aphrodisiac. When you refuse, he merely shrugs, turning over with a pout. He’s disappointed but he can’t do much. He does tell you that he is tired, so he’ll be sleeping but you’re allowed to spend the rest of your heightened arousal in the attic with him. The power of an aphrodisiac- one made a devil no less- is strong, and giving it you in even worse. He can sense the neediness in you, the way you watch him with lustful eyes, your mouth parted the eagerness to get into bed with him.

As promised, he slips off into a sleep, leaving you alone. But your body is on his, legs parted with his single leg. He isn’t asleep long enough for him to be in an actual slumber before he feels the bed move ever so slightly. It’s constant and your whining, mumbling apologies and he opens his eyes to find you humping his leg. It’s pathetic and hot all at once, watching you get off on his leg alone, so desperate for release that you’ve succumbed to humping him. His smile is tight, turning over and letting his tail curl around you, the static in the air only causing you to arch your back when his demon form pops out. It pricks against your wrists, the fur unkempt as he rises above you.

You wanted his attention and now you’ve gotten it. You’ve woken him up from nap, it’s normal and expected for him to be grouchy but thank goodness that the smell from your leaking sex is more arousing that anything else he’s encountered. You’re on your knees on the mattress, his hips meeting yours and letting out a loud grunt when he finishes. He’s tired and over it but his cock still stands upright and you’re still needy and awake, your sex leaking with his arousal. Belphegor will lay on his back, offer himself in his sleep to you until you’re content. The last coherent thought he has is sighing at how warm and squishy you feel against him.

[duskamethyst]

broken reverie.

a/n: he’s not wearing glasses in this one.

word count: 3.9k

genre: smut, nsfw, college AU

warnings: taboo rs, slapping, spanking, choking, face fucking, brat taming (kind of), slight degradation, creampie, age gap (nanami reaching 40)

pairing: professor!nanami x f!reader

summary: professor nanami calls you to his office to ‘talk’ about your terrible performance in his class.

maybe you went too far.

or else you wouldn’t have ended up in his office. 

but is this the outcome you coveted? yes.

the door creaks behind you before it closes again as you sit and wait in front of the big wooden desk. you were kind of excited when he told you to come and see him at his office earlier but now you’re having a whirlwind of emotions making your stomach churn and you don’t dare to look around to face him– even though he’s going to be sitting in front of you in a moment.

his shoes clack against the floor as he strides and sits on his chair. the air in the room feels dense when the male doesn’t say anything; as if you’re not in his presence to begin with.

he looks exasperated. a long, deep breath is emitted through his nostrils as he loosens up his tie from the collar. you only gawk at him in awe as he does so, but quickly snap out when he finally shifts his gaze at you. 

“so, are you going to tell me what’s going on?” he finally breaks the silence. the deep, husky tone of his voice fills your ear and you hope he doesn’t notice your thighs press against each other almost immediately.

“tell you.. what?” you mentally slap yourself. you’re clearly aware of what he’s insinuating but you’re suddenly lost for words. there’s a huge difference between seeing him in class and being alone together with him. it’s even more nerve wrecking than you imagined and oh god, is his ac broken? because it suddenly feels hot.

nanami raises a brow, evidently unamused. “i had the courtesy to make time for you when i should be having brunch now so i don’t appreciate you playing coy.” 

you gulp audibly, “i’m sorry, sir.”

“if it’s not clear to you yet, i’m talking about your grades.” he opens the drawer under his desk and pulls out a pile of paper before slamming it in front of you. you blink in surprise and flip through the pages, though you know you don’t need to see it when you already know what lies on them. there are a lot of red circles on the papers, namely yours, with huge unpleasant numbers on the corner ranging from 12% to 25%. 

then he takes out another file which you realize as your student record throughout your semester and the subjects you currently take. 

“i find it odd that you scored well for your other courses.” he skims through the pages. “you certainly didn’t cheat, i can tell.”

“no, of course not.”

“then, what’s the problem here?” his tired eyes bore into you as he waits for you to answer or come up with whatever excuse.

“well, i–” 

“you’re doing it on purpose.” he snaps.

it’s as if time comes to a stop. your cheeks heat up with humiliation and you can’t bring yourself to continue to look at him in the eyes. although you’re aware that your silence means compliance, you’re still jumbling up words in your head to deny his assumption. 

“are you going to tell me i’m wrong?” 

“yes– i-i mean–” you stammer.

“then enlighten me.” he glances at the branded watch donned on his left wrist. “we have time.”

you shake your head, “i have another class soon.”

“skip it.” he quickly retorts. “i’m sure you have no problems with that. your grades are doing well for that one, but certainly not mine.”

sweat starts to form on your palms as you look down on your thighs, purposely avoiding his eyes that hold nothing but so much intensity. you’re weighing between two options; to keep on bluffing or come clean. you don’t think that nanami would let you get off the hook if you keep on lying and you’d definitely be bombarded with more questions, yet the outcome of the latter would be so embarrassing and you don’t know if you can live it down for the rest of the semester.

you’ve fantasized about being alone with him but.. not particularly this way. 

gathering courage and taking a deep breath, you decide it’s best to just tell him the truth.

“you’re right,” you feel your ears burning, hands clammy. “i purposely failed your class.”

lifting up your head, you see the male grinning lopsidedly in his seat. maybe he’s pleased that you’re not wasting his time anymore, you’re not sure, he’s not easy to read.

“wasn’t that easy?” he folds his arms in front of his chest. “i have my own speculation but i wanna hear why you did it.”

“um,” you look down to your hands again, also half wondering what kind of bold assumption he has in mind. “i was dared by my friend.”

“wrong,” he scoffs. “and look at me while you’re talking.”

you sigh defeatedly and nervously fix your gaze. if you’ve learned one thing now, it’s that your professor doesn’t have tolerance for bullshit and he knows one when he hears one.

“i-i did it for.. attention.” 

“my attention?” he emphasizes, maintaining his stoic persona to mask his amusement of finding out that his speculation turns out to be indeed true.

you purse your lips in a thin line, nodding your head quietly. nanami remains to stare at you as he ponders in silence. you can hear your heart beating rapidly in your ears and you want to break eye contact so badly but you’re certain it wouldn’t be wise. 

“all that, just for a crumb of my attention?” he spits with a hint of venom in his voice. “are you happy with what you did?”

well, you’ve imagined him punishing you on his desk, fuck you raw or spank you with his belt until your ass turns red– not some serious interrogation.

“no, sir.” 

nanami props his elbows on the table, hands clasped under his chin to keep his head up. the air around him becomes even more threatening but it somehow manages you to feel even more aroused, making your toes curl in your shoes. you definitely need to get out soon.

“you know, if i have even one student failing my class, i could get into trouble and be questioned for my performance.” he starts. “to have you doing that for your own selfish incentive is unacceptable, don’t you think?”

“i’m sorry.” you mumble with meek.

“besides that, you might have to retake this course again for your next semester and it’ll waste your time– or..?”

you stay silent to let him continue.

“or you were intending to be in my class again so you can see me?” 

“y-yes.” you bashfully admit after one silent moment, knowing that lying will take you nowhere. “i’m sorry, sir.”

nanami chuckles, finding your naivety to be rather entertaining. never has he ever met a student like you, outwardly expressing their interest in him by failing their paper. he’s not too sure what you’re trying to get out of him but maybe he can put one and one together. it’s pretty common that younger women have an attraction to older men like him and your classmates are.. well, not exactly the best looking either. 

“are you?” he smirks cynically. “do you have any idea how many students i have to monitor? how tiring my job can be?”

“yes. it was inconsiderate of me. i’m sor–”

“show me.” nanami cuts you off and leans back on his chair. maybe he can push you a little bit, he thinks. you owe him this anyway.

you blink, perplexed. “what?”

“you kept saying sorry.” he undoes two of the buttons on his blue dress shirt and spreads his legs apart. “talk is cheap. show me.” 

you do a double take as he taps his thigh and waits for you to come over. you have the faintest idea of what he’s implying but your body freezes and your brain short-circuits as if paralyzed.

“you chose to lie again? you’re not really sorry, are you?” 

“no, no! that’s not it. i just..” 

an ongoing battle takes place in your mind– sure that this is a part of your deepest, darkest fantasy yet you’re just baffled over how quick nanami catches on to it. now that your debaucherous dream has become a vivid reality, you don’t know which is the right step to take. 

“but if not now, when?” a soft voice in your head whispers. if desire could embody a voice, you think this is it. gentle, yet seductive as if it attempts to give you a push to pluck and have a taste of the forbidden fruit. 

“how much longer do you have to touch yourself to the thoughts of your professor before you go to bed?”

“although this could be a one time thing, at least you’d know how it feels like.” 

you slowly get up from your seat and make your way towards him. nanami’s eyes trail up at you, down to the floor then back up at you; gesturing you to get on your knees.

you settle between his thick thighs and look up at him timidly through your lashes before you bring your hands to undo his belt.

“no hands.” he quickly demands. 

you lick your lips as you figure the structure of the belt and how you’re going to take it off without the aid of your hands. the taste of cold metal and leather instantly invades your palate as you feebly use your teeth to tug the front loop of his belt. your head shifts awkwardly side to side until you finally get to catch the buckle between your teeth, pulling it hard before the belt soon unfastens.

nanami only observes you indifferently from above, yet the large tent in front of you doesn’t conceal the excitement he currently possesses. 

you take a deep breath before you continue on succeeding your quest. you twist your neck as you find and tug on the fabric loop that holds the button.

“i know you’re a smart girl.” he praises as he rests his hand on top of your head while you struggle to lift up the zipper with your tongue and grasp it between your teeth. the simple praise inflates your confidence and you become more eager to complete your task so you can claim your awaiting prize.

with valiantness, you finally lock eyes with him as you pull down his zipper completely to reveal the huge bulge pressing against the fabric of his briefs and the tip slightly poking out from the top. 

“hm? you still have to take it out, no?” he smirks as he notices you gape at the outline of his cock. 

you quickly pull yourself together and lean back up to the stretchy band on his waist. he hisses when he feels your tongue purposely graze against the flushed tip before you pull down the briefs by force to reveal the one thing you’ve been desiring for so long. 

you press your thighs together as a dull ache forms in your core from the sight of his thick cock standing proudly in front of you. it’s nothing like you’ve ever imagined– it’s better and you’ve finally found it worth going through all that trouble of failing his class (and using your mouth to take off his pants).

“this is what you want, isn’t it?” he sneers, titling up your chin with his fingers, brushing your lips with his thumb and pulling the bottom lip apart so he can see a row of teeth.

“y-yes, sir.” you gulp and breathe as you wait for his next command. 

nanami’s lips tug into a conceited smirk, “suck.” 

leaning down your head to the base, you flatten your tongue underneath the shaft and slowly drag upwards in favor of reveling the veins on his hard cock. nanami lets out a sigh of content when he feels your tongue licking his tip and his hand tugs on your locks by reflex. you look at him as you wrap your lips around the tip, slobbering the tip with your saliva and his precum.

“fuck.” he curses under his breath and his head falls back when the warmth of your mouth finally engulfs his throbbing cock as you take most of the length inside your mouth.

you hollow your cheeks together, head bobbing up and down as you struggle to take more of his cock that you nearly choke whenever the tip hits the back of your throat, but the hand on top of your head grabs a fistful of your hair and he pushes your head down to sink all his length inside your mouth deeper. when you want to pull away, he only holds you in place and remains his cock down your throat. 

“through your nose.” he mutters. tears start to well in your eyes while your saliva just trickles down to his balls as he screws his eyes shut and relishes in the pleasure that washes throughout his body. “i needed this so bad, you know?” 

your whines only give him more stimulation and his hips jerk in response, “just wouldn’t think that a student– fuck– out of all people would choke on my dick.” he lets out a sardonic chuckle as if something just crossed his mind. “it’s wrong, but that’s what makes it feel so good, isn’t it?” 

nanami keeps you in the position as he ruts his hips slowly into your throat. his eyes are closed in concentration and his lips part slightly in fast and short pants. you work on your gag reflex as you let him fuck your mouth, enduring the sharp sting on your scalp when he tugs your hair harder– at least you know you’re making him feel good.

“if i cum in your mouth, you’d gladly swallow, won’t you?” 

you can feel his cock twitching when you let out a choke of assent from your throat but you splutter as soon as nanami abruptly pulls away his cock because of a sudden knock on the door that startles the both of you.

“get under the desk.” he urges and you quickly crawl to hide while he coughs and inches closer to his desk. “come in.”

you hear the door open followed by echoes of footsteps before it comes to a halt in front of his desk.

“didn’t i tell you to contact me before seeing me?” his voice is laced with irritation yet collected as he speaks. you can imagine the agitated look on his face, thinking it would be only natural for anyone to assume that he’s already having a bad day. and to them, interrupting the peak of his orgasm is most definitely not it. 

without a second thought, you take back his dick inside your mouth. a spur of triumph swells in your chest when you feel his body jolts in surprise. you think it’s only fair since he has choked you with his cock and what perfect timing to carry out your petty vengeance when the man is busy advising his student. 

however, nanami shifts on his seat to give you more access to take more length of his cock. he tries to stay composed as he feels your tongue gliding up and down his shaft but once the wet muscle prods against the slit, he emits an oddly sharp exhale. you can hear him almost stammering as he speaks and the way his tone changes to conceal the squelching sounds you elicit from underneath the table as you please his cock with zeal.

“so, i want you to fix the mistake and hmm..,” his hands ball into fists on the table as he takes a deep breath. “show me in class tomorrow.”

“sure. uh, are you okay, sir?” you hear the voice say. “you don’t look well.”

his eye twitches when your tongue wraps around his balls, taking one inside your mouth to suck harshly.

“yeah, fine.” he clears his throat. “thanks for asking.”

nanami only watches as his student turns to walk towards the door until the door closes behind him. once he’s sure that the student has left the door, he finally leans back on his chair in relief. 

“fuck.” he groans, glancing down at you as you look up at him innocently with doe eyes and your swollen lips wrapped prettily around his balls. yet, he looks dissatisfied more than anything. 

nanami grabs your arm and drags you out from under his desk until you’re on your feet, “i never took you as a fucking brat.” he lifts up your skirt and bites back a groan once he sees the damp patch on your panties. “did you touch yourself?”

you hum a ‘mhm’, feigning guiltlessness as he grazes his fingers on your inner thighs. 

“you’re just asking for me to touch you here, hm?” shivers run up your spine when his thumb ghosts over your wet slit and up to your clit.

“y-yes.” your breath hitches.

“begging for me to push your head on the table and ram my cock inside you?” he muses, pressing on your clit as he watches you squirm. “is that what you want?”

“please–” you roll your hips slightly to soothe the ache on his thumb but a hand comes down harshly on your ass, gesturing for you to stop in a fierce manner.

nanami chuckles mockingly, “well, that’s what exactly you’re not going to get.”

a whine elicits from your lips when he draws back his hands to his thighs and you glance at his dick; still throbbing and leaking precum from the florid tip. well, at least he hasn’t put it back inside his pants, so you still have a chance.

“come on. you haven’t shown me how much you’re sorry.”

with your inhibitions already flew out of the window, you stand in between his thighs, hoist the skirt to your waist and tug your panties to the side before squatting down to smear your slick on his dick. sparks of arousal swim through you as you grind your clit on the tip before you sink down, gasping as his thick cock stretches your cunt and down until you’re filled to the brim.

you glance at the male expectantly, waiting for him to move but he raises a questioning brow at you, “if you want something, work for it.”

not exactly what you sought for, but it should suffice. you begin to gyrate your hips slowly, adjusting to his size before you can pick up the pace. you fight the urge to hold onto him for leverage, in fear he wouldn’t appreciate the crumple on his expensive dress shirt later.

as you become more delirious, you start to hump his cock vigorously, whining like a bitch in heat as you feel every vein and ridges on his cock brushing deliciously against your walls. nanami lifts the hem of your shirt and brings it up to your mouth and you quickly catch it between your teeth. 

“the door isn’t locked, you know.” he muses, staring at your bouncing tits with half lidded eyes; mesmerized and thick with lust. “what’s going to happen if someone comes in and sees you bouncing on her professor’s cock like a little whore?”

a low, guttural sound rips from his throat when he feels your walls clenching around him in response.

“you’d like that, don’t you?” he smirks, tugging your bra down slightly and brushes his thumb against the erected nipple, making you mewl through the fabric in your mouth.

“you know you’re not supposed to do this but,” he brings up his thumb to caress your cheek. “you’re just so eager to please me, aren’t you?”

you sniffle in response, hands clutching on his solid thighs as you melt into his soft gaze before it’s gone in an instant.

“but i don’t like brats.” he sneers, drawing his hand away to slap your breast. “i don’t like people making my job harder. are you a brat?”

you shake your head, he slaps again.

“you act like one. stop lying.”

nanami tugs down the shirt from your mouth, a part of the fabric already drenched with your drool. his large hand circles around your throat while the other grips your hip firmly to roll your hip even faster on his dick. 

“oh– feels good–!” you moan wantonly, eyes rolling back as you let him control your body and assert his dominance over you.

“fuck it does.” he presses your throat tighter on the sides, restricting air from entering your lungs but your walls squeeze harder in retaliation. 

“bratty little bitch. clamping down on me like that.” he grits out and slaps across your face. what seems to be a rather harsh form of treatment, the pleasure filled sting and the lack of oxygen only fuel your arousal that you don’t even notice the way you hump on his cock has become more rapturous.

“getting off to this?” nanami slaps your other cheek before he lets go of his grip around your neck and you’re finally able to breathe air again. yet, he doesn’t spare you time to gather yourself before he promptly lifts up your hips and starts to pound inside your cunt relentlessly. 

the position causes you to tip to the front and you immediately hold on to him; face burying on the crook of his neck while his cologne fills your senses and sends you into a state of frenzy. 

“you like me using your tight cunt like that?” nanami grabs your ass for leverage, the angle allows him to fuck you so deep that you’re able to feel his cockhead kissing your cervix with each thrust. 

“y-yes–!” you cry, the pressure in your stomach building up as you inch closer to an orgasm.

“like it when i use you to take out my frustrations?” he spanks the meaty flesh; walls clenching tighter on his fat cock and more slick dripping down his balls. “you just want to be my little cocksleeve, don’t you?”

“yesyesyes– please–!” your body starts to tremble above him. “w-wanna cum–”

“then fucking cum.” nanami rams into your cunny faster, abusing the spongy walls until the pressure snaps and tips you over the edge. you moan breathlessly into his neck, while your pussy gushes and creams around his cock. 

“that’s a good girl,” he fucks you through your high, grunting and panting as he pushes through the pulsing walls in order to chase his high. “and good girls get rewarded, right?”

you hum in agreement, still dazed and swimming in ecstasy as you gawk at him with heavy lidded eyes; the sweat glistening his forehead and sharp eyes focusing on where your bodies join. 

“then you’re gonna get some huge load in this pretty pussy.” his pace begins to stutter, nails digging deeper into your skin before his cock twitches and his hips freeze as he paints your insides white with cum.

both exhausted bodies rest against each other, chests heaving as you and nanami take time to regain composure and come down from your highs. he lifts you up slightly to take out his spent cock and he tugs back your panties in place, not minding the cum that dribbles from your quivering hole. 

your legs tremble once you get off of him that you have to force yourself to find your footing as you fix your skirt while the older male pulls back his pants in place. 

“do your best for your next papers, no more of that bullshit.” he fastens his buttons and straightens his tie before raising his hands to brush against his sleek, light brown hair that’s mixed with a few strands of grey. “but if you have any problems, just come and see me in my office.”

nanami falls quiet for a brief second to contemplate and you straighten your back when you once again meet his icy gaze, “after hours.”

enjoyed this piece? wanna buy me coffee? :)

duskamethyst © 2020 • do not modify, translate or repost anywhere.

[kueruzu]

Guess who finally has the confidence to share the drabble they made based on the jumbled up Soul Eater divergence au they made up.

Me!

I do!

So this is a Soul Eater Canon Divergence drabble I did based on an au I randomly conjured up around Maka and Soul doing some “evil” shit.

Please note of something like this exists I had no idea of it!

Trigger/Content Warning:

This includes, Emotional Manipulation, Aggression, Chaining up/Imprisonment depicted (probably/assumably) incorrectly

There was no proof-reading either— Have f u n—

Here we go!

The cell floor hurt. Her legs hurt, again. The dripping water grated her nerves. The lack of things to pull her attention made her unfocused.

But she couldn't complain. She put herself there. She chose to do bad and for that long? It's a miracle Shinigami showed her mercy, even if she had been the one to outsmart his rules and get off without dying.

Was death that bad though? Compared to living in this dirty cell with her meals brought to her and someone coming in to make sure she exercised each day, death seemed like a nice release.

She looked up as the slider at the top of the door in front of her moved. Green eyes peered at her with pity before the door opened. She saw her chance immediately.

Were they dumb enough to send him of all people?

“Maka...”

Apparently so.

She began to struggle back as he approached, crocodile tears welling up.

“Go away! Go away!”

“Maka there’s no need fo-”

“You might as well have gagged me too! I never want to see you again! Go away!”

He kneeled in front of her, still a ways away for her comfort. Still ever the ‘caring’ father.

“You watched them... You let them lock me up...”

“Maka there was nothing I-”

No words or proper syllables came out, just a guttural scream in his face as the tears poured. He kept calm though, his expression was still soft. But she knew he’d crack. She just needed to hurt him more. Just a tad bit more.

“You watched them do it... You helped! You..! You..! You threw me away! You never lo-”

“Maka you know I love you-”

“LIAR!”

His composition began to crumble and internally she smirked. So close. So, so, so close.

“Maka, please...”

“No! You! Mama! Sid! All of you! You all loved it when I went off the deep end huh?! You were all waiting for it! You were so thrilled to get the waste of talent out the academ-”

“MAKA!”

Silence befell them again. Maka’s tears streamed down her cheek. Spirit watched her as tears welled in his eyes. Her head tilted down in shame as Spirit placed down the food he had brought. His hands lifted to cup soft cheeks as his thumbs brushed away the excess tears.

“Maka. I couldn't do anything. You... You did something unspeakable. You... It’s a miracle you weaseled your way out of being on his list... I know it doesn't seem like it but really, I do lo-”

“My arms hurt... Papa my arms hurt...”

In seconds he was leaning over, peppering soft kisses on her cheeks and atop her tears. She hiccuped and sobbed as he did, beginning to struggle in the restraints.

“Papa, Papa my arms hurt. Please, please they hurt a lot. Papa-”

Soon he was shushing her, trying to soothe her to the best of his ability without crossing lines. But she kept crying and struggling and she knew he was right at the edge of his rope. Soon he’d give in. But for now, she accepted the fake affections.

Mama, Sid, Stein, Him, even Shinigami-sama. She hadn’t been lying in her accusations. She knew they were true. She knew they all saw her as weak. She was nothing more than a burden for her team. They must have celebrated when she was gone. Kid, Star, those two must have been elated. She knew it. Deep down she could hear their voices so clearly, each hiding behind those fake words of praise. They either pitied her for being so unbelievably weak or wished she’d simply die in battle so they never had to see her again. All of them did, all of them still do.

Except him. Lord Death bless him, he never thought of her as weak. He saw her as a partner, an equal, his friend, his most prized and treasured person.

And soon she’ll find him again.

“I know it hurts. I know Maka... But soon you’ll get council with Lord Death or I. Then we can discuss the proper punishment. You just... Just need to stop trying to escape...”

She whined and he sighed.

“Just behave..? Please? It hurts. I know it hurts. But if you behave, your council won’t keep getting pushed back..!”

No response came from her. She could almost hear how he fell off the ledge.

“Maka? Maka? Sweetie? Please. Talk to me... I’m sorry..”

And just like that, she wrapped him around her little finger. Just a few more words and she’d be free from these chains.

“Papa...” she watched his face light up as she gently nuzzled against his warm palm, “Papa can you take them off? Can you take them off? The arm and leg cuffs. Please..?”

“Maka you-”

“Daddy please..?”

Like that, he was uncuffing her.

People are so easy with the right words.

Her arms fell to her sides and she shifted her legs. She smiled shakily, looking up at him and sniffling. Seconds after she was engulfed in a hug. Slowly, she hugged back, her arms snaking around his neck and returning the hug. Her head rested on his shoulder as she blabbered her apologies.

Not yet.

She pushed him away gently, trying to stand after the long hours of sitting with little movement. Shakily, she got to her feet, stretching and holding his hands for support. Giggles erupted from her and she looked up at him with a beaming smile.

A bit more.

He let her walk around him, fixing her balance all on her own. Soon enough she was hugging him again, burying her face in his chest. A solemn smile curled on his face when she looked up. He closed his eyes and hugged her against him.

Now.

She pulled away, Spirit still relaxed with their moment. She grabbed his wrists firmly, a quiet hum and escaping him in confusion before she pulled and kneed him in the crotch. With a yelp, he fell forward, the girl taking the opportunity to grab him in an unrelenting chokehold.

It took only a mere 50 seconds to knock him down, what with all his struggling and confusion. Plus, he wouldn’t dare hurt his ‘pride and joy’ of a daughter. She existed in his heart as his little ray of sunshine behind the clouds.

People are so easy with the right tricks.

His body was dropped to the ground with a decisive hum. She grabbed his ID card, the keys for her restraints, two pieces of gum to chew on, and snuck off, hoping to be able to use it in her endeavors.

She crept her way towards the door, peeking out to look through the hallways. Once deducting that the coast was clear she let herself out, silently finding her way to his cell. She popped a piece gum in her mouth as she did, much too happy to enjoy the treat.

They thought putting him far away would affect her soul perception? She could find him in a sea of doppelganger easier than an addict can find their next buzz. Soul was almost like her drug anyway.

After a few minutes of careful walking and dodging other faculty members, she found his cell. After looking through the slider to double-check that it indeed was him, she began to fiddle with the lock.

A few quiet curses slipped before she got it. Why was this whole place so easy?! It’ll like Shinigami-sama made it to cater for children!

The door opened and she hummed.

“Eat shit.”

“That’s no way to talk to me.”

His eyes shot up, widening with understandable confusion. Soon he couldn't deny who stood before him. Just as he realized it wasn’t some sick joke, she lunged.

She hugged him close, a hiss of pain the only response before he nuzzled his face against her hair. She took a deep breath in, enjoying the soft embrace.

When they pulled apart, reluctantly, of course, she began to uncuff him as well.

Soon enough, he was wrapping his arms around her and she was burying her face into his chest once more. Slender pianist fingers carded through blonde strands. Small and calloused hands gripped onto his sides like a lifeline.

“It’s only been like 18 days.”

“Three weeks.”

He nodded at her stern tone. She kept track of each day. Surely she wanted to escape right? Surely she wanted to get out right? Surely she wasn’t going to simply stay here till time ran out right?

“I missed you… Your hugs are warm.”

He chuckled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“Hmm? Then I’ll have to give you more.”

A simple nod, “yes please.”

They both giggled, sighing and laying against each other before Maka stood, trying to get him to stand as well.

Footsteps came before she could.

The door slammed open and she yelped, falling against him instinctively. His arms wrapped around her, holding her to his chest protectively.

“Maka Albarn!”

Sid.

“Wait no!”

Papa?

“She’s good I swear!”

Sod stood in the doorway, managing a menacing glare at the two. While Soul glared back just as angrily, Maka held him like a vice. Actual tears welled up this time. She was so close to some sort of escape! Yet she ruined it with her sentimentality for him. She should have just took off the restraints and had him transform. It wouldn’t have taken so long and she’d probably cover more ground with a big fuckin scythe opposed to just sitting there like a dumbass.

“Sid stop it! She’s not all bad I swear!”

“She knocked you out!”

“We made a deal!”

Sid begrudgingly dropped his glare and stepped back. Spirit walked ahead of him, stopping in front of Maka.

“He-”

“I-I’m sorry. Don’t lock me away again. Please don't lock me away again.”

He sighed, crouching down in front of her. Vague memories of five-year-old her looking up at her cool Papa came to mind before she squashed them.

“I can’t say we won’t. But-”

“You hate me! You really hate me! You want to throw me away into a cell so you never have to see me again!”

“Maka no! I-”

“You’re gonna let him lock me away again! You’re gonna let him lock Soul away again! I bet you told Kid and BlackStar we would be fine! You lied to them too huh?! I-”

“Let him speak!” roared through the cell, abruptly shutting up Maka’s cries and Spirit’s sputters. After Sid’s demand, Spirit fixed his tie and opened his arms for her.

“We can sort this out, Maka. I know you wouldn't have done something like that. You’re your mother’s daughter. You grew up in Death City. You understand why Shibusen is so important. Please, let me help you.”

The room was quiet save for the dripping of water that wasn’t too far off due to a faulty pipe.

Maka glanced at Soul who only motioned with his head for her to move. She tentatively squeezed Soul’s hand before moving away to wrap her arms around Spirit’s neck again. He closed his arms around her torso, hugging her close and standing up straight. He turned to face Sid, smiling and humming as she latched to him. A smug look was thrown at the zombie and Sid sighed.

Spirit’s pained yelp pulled Sod from his relaxation. Maka jumped out his hands as Spirit crumbled. Soul, fixing himself back into position as Maka landed, shot a glare at Sid. Maka darted for the door, hoping to squeeze past him in his momentary shock but she should have known getting past an assassin would be no easy task on her own.

Her arms were grabbed and she was pinned before she could get ahold of what was happening. She squirmed and kicked, screeching about him putting too much pressure and hurting her. He retorted that the only reason she hurt was her own resistance. It didn't stop completely but she calmed.

Soul stood, about to attack Sid when Maka shot him a glare from against the wall. His body stiffened and he bit back the angered insult he was about to throw.

“Spirit this is the fifth time! If she’s so good, why is she so annoying! I wasn't the type of guy to give up but really! Don’t you think this is eno-”

With a hiss, Spirit got to his feet. But he fell over just as quickly. He shook his head, “She’s just-”

“Rebelling? Angry? A teenager? Misguided? Trust me I've heard them all. I've said them all. Spirit I'm taking her to the tighter cells. She already had the same treatment Medusa had but clearly-”

Her scream came out broken and shaken. Granted, that's exactly what she wanted, “Papa!”

Sid pitied the poor man. His daughter could manipulate him easier than Medusa did Crona and he couldn't see it. Love is blind and that doesn't stop when it’s familial.

Spirit ripped his pant leg, tying it around his wound. Soon he began to protest, began to sputter out some retort to make it so Maka wouldn’t be hurt. But both knew how this ended. All four knew despite two struggling against it and two keeping their tongues tied.

“A-Arachne had that moral manipulator, right? Sh-she must have done something to Maka to make her act like this..! Maka... Maka would never!”

Soul rolled his eyes in the background and Sid sighed.

“Spirit. You can’t prove that. Besides. Even if she did, Maka still did those things...”

Spirit sighed dejectedly, sitting down and nodded.

“Ain’t she your daughter? You’re really gonna abandon her like that. You are one messed up geezer-“

“Mr. Eater.”

The shark-toothed weapon looked up with disdain upon hearing his name but his words ceased.

“You’re to be dealt with ne-“

“Soul didn’t do anything!”

And like that, the room was silent for a moment. At least, till she began sputtering just like her father had earlier.

“I-I used the machine on him! H-he didn’t want to follow along with my plans! S-so I manipulated his morals to-“

Soul stepped forward, only stopped by Spirit’s outstretched hand. Maka kept going, looking at her father with some sort of appreciation even if it was small.

“I manipulated his morals to align with mine! A-along with his loyalty and trust! I did it! Please don’t-“

“The hell is wrong with you? Stop lying!”

She twisted and struggled to try and lock eyes with Sid. To an extent she was successful but now the cold stone pressed against her cheek. She whined, her eyes pleading as she continued.

“S-see! With the manipulation his loyalty only amplified! I did everything! I did it all of my own accord and dragged him along!”

“Maka shut up!”

“I take responsibility as the Meister!”

And yet again, silence fell upon them. Spirit hung his head and Sid nodded. Soul gawked. He was the first to break the silence.

“Y-you don’t believe her right..?! I-I’d follow her to the ends of the earth to keep her safe! I did that before! Come on,” he stepped forward, grabbing at Spirit’s suit sleeve, tugging it harshly, “You gotta believe me. If she’s getting put in some sort of solitary confinement then-”

Sid began to lead her out. Spirit kept his head low. Soul tried running after him but Spirit’s hand wrapped around his wrist was firm.

The last thing she heard before being taken away was Soul’s screams. They weren't painful. At least, not in the absolute physical sense. But they were pained. Both knew this was the end of their partnership. Neither accepted it easily. Yet everyone seemed to think it was for the best.

[laurore-stormwitch]

Here is 2219 words of plotless angst and yearning and emotional pain because I’m freaking out over row coming out in eleven days and I’m terrified. I used the quote which came out the other day  “Sweet words and grand declarations were for other people, other lives.” Shoutout to the amazing @claudiarya and @not-just-human for the support.

for other people, for other lives - ao3

Sweet words and grand declarations were for other people, other lives.

Not for the one she was living now. Not for her, certainly. Those words were only meant to wither in her memories, now. This life had been a succession of wrong choices when it came to men she found herself to believe in. An absent and unaffectionate father, a manipulator and mass murderer. And now, of all the men she could let herself feel for, she chose the damn king of Ravka. Zoya did not regret believing in Nikolai, fighting for him, trusting him. He had never let her down. But caring like this for him? The epitome of bad choices. She felt the urge to rip her thrumming heart out of her chest. Her hands went to press on her temples: even the muffled sounds coming from the ballroom were unnerving her. The hope for fresh air drove her to the balcony, along with a pressing need for quiet and solitude. She was sick of everything that was going on; the party, the music, the false and hollow laughter of ambassadors and dignitaries throwing themselves at the king’s feet like their country was not on a brink of destruction. Nikolai’s charm sticking like sap on the people, a pretence of confidence and normality, with his hand on Ehri’s arm while his look stayed trained on Zoya’s sapphire eyes. It was all way too much to handle on a clear and sober mind. The voices increased as the door opened, to be swallowed again when she heard the lock. The steps that echoed on the marble floor could only be of one person who had enough of a suicidal strike to follow her when she had clearly wanted an escape.

“Get back inside, Nikolai.”

She exhaled without even bother to look back at him. Nikolai chuckled and came to stop at her side.

“You’re really attentive.”

“You’re really not subtle. I ought to teach you how to properly sneak up on people.”

He shrugged, letting her have the last line, and dangled a glass filled with a liquid the colour of amber. As close as they were standing now, their shoulders brushing, she could feel his scent meddled with a spiking note of alcohol. Nikolai was not one to indulge in drunkenness in such a delicate night, but it still had to appear like a party, and he clearly looked like someone who had needed a couple of drinks to survive the evening. She could not blame him, as a matter of fact. Still, his ruffled state only added to the treachery of being together like this. Last time they were alone, it did not exactly go down well, a moment that haunted her every waking hour since it happened.

“Weren’t you having fun inside?”

“Not particularly. It was tedious and sickening. “

“Why, my dear general, I even saw you dance with a handsome sergeant.”

Zoya rolled her eyes, scowling at him. He was grinning, but he had an edge to his voice only Zoya could sense. Do you really believe it means anything, she wanted to ask? It was true, the boy was handsome, and at any other moment she wouldn’t have thought twice on getting herself some hard-earned distraction. She had felt Nikolai’s eyes studying her the whole time, as the soldier’s hand slipped on her lower back and he spun her around. Zoya knew it was not about jealousy, or rather not the kind of possessive sentiment people would assume of. She knew because she felt it too with Ehri; what bothered her was not the affection they could share, but the way they could be together in public, how easy it was for them. The absence of barriers, propriety, and obstacles. Everything her and Nikolai could not afford to have, that simplicity. Everything he must have envied too about that common man holding Zoya’s waist.

“Genya asked me to pretend I don’t loath everything about this. But believe me, I do.”

It was as close to a reassurance she could manage to give him, without betraying herself too much. The king lifted the glass towards her in an offering gesture.

“I’m on duty.” The raven-haired general glared at his smug expression. “You know, trying to avoid people running a blade through your chest.”

Nikolai shrugged his shoulders, downing with little ceremony the content she had refused.

“I’m starting to think that being alive may be thoroughly over-rated.”

“What exactly is over-rated about a king’s existence?”

“It comes with heavy responsibilities and too many boring dinners.” His eyes looked like they were taking her vision in, intensely scanning her features. They lingered a moment too much on her lips, before darting back up to lock on her blue glowing irises.  “And it forces me to give up on a lot of things I’d like to be free to pursue.”

She shifted, uneasy, a shiver running through her spine. The wind rose slightly at her nervousness and tugged at the hem of her silk embroidered kefta, lifting it off the ground. Zoya smoothed it, grateful for the decision of keeping her uniform tonight. It made her feel a bit more like herself, a bit more in control. The frustration and anger building inside her put venom in her voice, though the exhaustion and defeat creeping through were clear enough to catch.

“What are you doing here? And cut to the chase, please.”

“I saw you leave. You looked – “ He stopped, exhaling a long breath. “Weary. Upset. I wanted to check on you.”

Without yielding away from her eyes, he took a tentative step toward her; the ghost of their almost kiss, or rather barely avoided disaster, flooded the back of her mind, along with the ushered and frantic words he had spoken to her. She clenched her jaw, tension running through her veins like a fire scorching a barren ground.

“We’re facing battle on countless fronts and still wasting time on worthless charades like this” She gestured to the closed doors and the lights beyond them, the whirl of dresses and laughter. “Of course I’m weary and upset.”

“Nothing else?” Was he really coming back to this? To being hopeful and stubborn?

“No, Nikolai. Doesn’t it seem enough to you? Besides that, I’m perfectly fine.” Clipped words and pretty lies. “I don’t need anyone to check on me.”

“What do you need, then?”

You. And it terrifies me in a way you cannot fathom. How quick was her mind to betray her. Take the dreadful truth and smash it into a proper deceit.

“I need a break, and to be left alone for some godforsaken time.”

He cocked his head to one side, considering her. One of his hand ran through his golden flocks, messing them up even more. Zoya had rarely seen him so deprived of his usual bright endeavour, so taken on by fatigue. He still managed to flash a smile in her direction, one that did not reach his eyes but died on the curve of his mouth.

“They were asking for you. They always are, the nobles, ambassadors, all of them. They want to gaze at the gorgeous squaller, the ruthless grisha who serves as the king’s right hand. They talk of you, and me, how the king has secured himself the most beautiful mistress in the palace.”

Nikolai was almost speaking to himself, his posture hardened, the despise he had for these people clear enough in his voice. Even though she couldn’t care less about the court’s hypocrisy and judgement and she had never asked Nikolai to defend her, he had always felt he needed to it somehow. Sarcasm tainted his speech, Zoya trying to assess where he was heading with this.

“They dare ask me sometime, even. How is it that I conquered you, assuming that I did, like you are some kind of prize to be taken. I told them you are nobody’s property. That you’re a general and they should hold you to that position without insulting you with their petty gossips.”

Her vindictive heart wanted to punish him for making her legs buckle with wanting, for making her heart race up in front of the rumbling rage he had for the people who did not respect her enough. He released his clenched posture, straightening. His eyes caught back their focus on her, turning soft and growing dark with desire.

“What I didn’t tell them tough, is that while it’s not true that I have you, you do hold the king’s heart in your dangerous hands.”

Zoya stilled. The hate she felt grew inside her like a tide. Hate for how much she wanted him, for how simple it was for him to speak these truths she was refusing to accept and ignore the grave reality they were living in. How natural and right it looked, coming from his mouth. How hard he kept making for her to drive the knife in him, again and again. Zoya used that familiar emotion to fuel her resolve.

“You shouldn’t talk like this. We can’t afford it.”

“What if I don’t care? What if I can’t keep on pretending anymore, if I can’t do this anymore?”

What if? What if, in another life, she would have been brave enough to tell him?

Stay. Stay with me.

Take the truth and twist it. Again.

“You should go.”

“Zoya -”

Pure anguish coursed in her at the sound of him pleading her name. Zoya felt like she was already mourning him; he was a couple of feet from her and still miles away, a distant memory blurring away with time. Nikolai turned silent and lifted a hand to her cheek, brushing the line of her jaw, floating against her neck, trailing her arm, and coming to rest on her wrist. He circled it with his fingers, tightening his grip.

Hold me. Again.

“Let me go.”

She hissed, a cold resolve in her voice. An order. He glanced at her under his lashes, pondering himself for a second, then left the hold on her wrist, his look unreadable under the night sky. Zoya turned away from him.

“I can’t do this anymore either, Your Highness.”

To her shame, her voice came out cracked with unshed tears. Would she be able to cry again, some day? She could not remember the last time she fought back the urge and her eyes just went dry. She could feel the prickle now, the pain, but the water stayed still in the endless well she dug inside herself. They were sparring, Nikolai trying to win this round and drag her to acceptance, Zoya holding her fortress. Zoya kept her eyes trained on the midnight sky beyond Os Alta, but she felt felt him move behind her, his body barely an inch from hers, his hand grazing the kefta over her hips. Nikolai leaned towards her, tilting his head and hovering with his lips near the shell of her ear. His breathing was ragged, warm against her neck, sending tremors in her body. She shut her eyes, thinking of how easy it would be to let her back rest on him, to turn and catch his mouth and tangle her fingers in his hair, to let herself be redeemed by his affection.

“Where does your heart lie, Zoya?”

It lies in the thought of your lips on mine. The wrenching need I despise of losing myself in your arms. The buried desire of a life where I could find comfort and peace, the need to give a voice to whatever this warmth and searing longing I have inside is. How your hand feels in mine, how your touch sets my skin on fire. The light in your eyes when the sun catches them, the endless nights spilling away like seconds when I’m with you.

The words came with the fury of a thunderstorm and drowned in her throat, scraping it.

You need someone different. You need someone loving, full of light like you are. He would only have found heartbreak and misery in her, a kind of affection too stiff and cutting on the edges for a soul as bright as his. Zoya pulled herself away from his hold and turned to face him, the closeness almost intolerable; Nikolai’s eyes were on her, bursting with the same yearning and despair she could feel in herself. It was gutting to see her feelings mirrored in someone else. She trailed at his side, breaking their connection; her hand brushed on his lightly as she got past him, the touch so soft and swift it could almost look unintentional to an innocent bystander.

“Some truths are better off unspoken, Nikolai.”

Zoya whispered under her breath, taking another step to get back inside. Sweet words and grand declarations were meant for other people, for other lives. Zoya was a soldier, and that was the choice she made every morning, day after day, until it would not be a choice anymore and the course of her life was set. She could not help the things she dreamed of, but not even the things she was made of; she was meant for waging wars and havoc, and she would rest in the secured loneliness and gilded cage she had built for herself.

[fuchsiagrasshopper]

Contending the Flame III

Author’s Note: Chapter Three is here, and it is my favorite so far. Thanks again for all the interacting with this story guys/gals, I’m glad I decided to post it after sitting on it for so long.

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Word count: 1633

Warnings: Language, master/servant dynamic

Ivar didn't know why he had decided to keep the nun as a thrall, but when Hvitserk had spoken in his ear about Ubbe off hiding with a Christian, anger was the first thing he had felt. He had got the idea in his head that maybe his oldest brother was softening towards the enemy or worse would take a second wife. Nothing could be worse than Margrethe, except a Christian.

Something had changed when you had been discovered fleeing from Ubbe's protection. It was the first time a woman hadn't fallen for one of his brother's charms. Let them know how he felt. Always women would fall in love with the sons of Ragnar, but never Ivar. His mother would whisper promises that his time would come, but as he grew older her empty words were cold comfort. Women did not want a cripple, but he would be so much more. He was touched by the Gods, and soon everyone would know his name.

When he first looked upon the Christian he held a strong sense of hostility that had been instilled by Floki. Their heavy garb and their gaudy crosses were everything he learned to hate. The Priest had suffered at his hands, and you would serve at his feet.

He found his way back to his makeshift chambers. It was a large storeroom that he had occupied until something more permanent could be established. They had only just finished securing York, but Ivar didn't favor the idea of lingering long, not when there were other places waiting to be conquered. 

As he entered his room, your large eyes found him before the door could shut. His men had left you tied to the post by the pile of furs in the center of the room, and at your feet was a bundle of new garments for you to change into. 

Ivar started towards you, and he felt a sudden thrill when you didn't flinch back. A brave front, but he would get it to crack. The sound of his crutches clattering against the stone floor carried with each step until he stood but a breath away from you. He was glad to be tall when standing, you seemed so insignificant next to him.

"Take off those clothes. You will no longer need them," He told you, waiting for a reaction. 

"How am I supposed to do that?" Your voice was soft. You raised your bound hands between your close bodies, before dropping your arms in defeat.

Ivar brandished a knife from his side, taking pleasure in the small gasp that you emitted when the cold metal touched the skin of your wrist. He sawed through the rope, and you were quick to rub at the sore spots that had been burned raw.

"There, all better," He quipped, but you made no move to disrobe, and his patience was growing thin. 

He grabbed at the veil on your head, wrenching it back to your shoulders. You threw a nasty look at him for the curt treatment, and that would have earned you a smack to the mouth if he had not been distracted by the oddness of your hair. There was little to be seen as if it had been sheared recently and had now only begun to grow back in short little seedlings. 

"Why is your hair like this? It's ugly." 

"I have no need for the frivolities of vanity."

Ivar studied your face scrupulously. Though he could speak your language, some of the meanings of the words you'd just used were lost on him. You did not seem slighted that he had just insulted your lack of beauty. 

"Were you punished?" He wondered aloud while letting his fingers graze over the soft sprouts of your hair. He hadn't worn his own that short since he was a boy, and likely never would again.

You flinched back from his petting. "No, it is something all the sisters have done. What need have I of hair?"

"A husband would appreciate a beautiful wife," Ivar japed.

"I am a Bride of Christ. I will never take a husband."

"Bride of Christ?" He found the title to be funny on his tongue, and he grinned at you. "It's true then, that you nuns don't fuck."

Your face lit up bright like the embers of a dying fire. "W-we are celibate, yes. Is that what you want from me. Are you going to rape me then?"

At the mere mention of the act, Ivar's face hardened, and he took a step back enough to let you breathe. "No. If I had wanted that I would have left you to my men. Now get rid of the rest of those clothes before I burn them off of you."

He started towards the makeshift bed, already tired of maneuvering on his crutches when it wasn't even midday yet. The blistering and the chaffing was a hindrance, but he had plans drawn up for something new to aid in his mobility. Together with the capable hands of a blacksmith, he would have his prize soon.

Leaving the crutches to stand against the wall, Ivar eased himself down onto the furs, adjusting his legs before himself as he faced to watch his thrall. You had knelt to grab the woolen gown that had been left for you, a lender from one of their women. These Christians had such a staunch sense of prudishness, so Ivar was astonished when you began to disrobe before him. Your white frock pooled heavily at your feet, and you took a dainty step out from the fabric. You kept your head down, but you did not blush like a virgin. Ivar did. His eyes couldn't seem to keep up with his thoughts. Only Margrethe had ever presented herself to him in such a way,  and he had forgotten how beautiful a naked woman could be.

Your skin was like milk, not loved by the sun or weathered from the wind and sea. You did not carry enough weight in the hips, and he judged you to be of low standing. On your left ankle, a small cut had scabbed over. It was the mark from when you had escaped from Ubbe. While Margrethe had held herself in a confidence that was tantalizing, you were shy. Every move was hurried to put some cover between you and his prying eyes.

"Stop," Ivar commanded.

The new dress was in your hands, but you halted in place. Your head tilted up, and you wore an agonized expression. "What is it?"

"You've forgotten something," He tutted, indicating the wooden cross that rested between your breasts.

You clutched it as if to shield it from him. "No."

"No? You forget your place, Bride of Christ," Ivar said, and he started to pull himself towards you on the ground. 

You grew startled, unsure of what you were seeing, and he took advantage of your hesitation by wrapping a hand around your leg and knocking you to the ground. With you stunned, Ivar crawled over you, trapping you between the floor and his upper body.

"I am not a man you can say 'no' to. You are my slave, I claimed you, and until I release you from my service, you will obey." He held himself above you, balancing on one forearm while with his other hand he reached for your cross. The cord snapped with one forced tug, and you tried in vain to pry it out of his hand. Ivar laughed. "Your god is no longer with you."

"God is always with me," You gazed up at him with a conviction that was captivating. "Whatever tortures await me from this day, you will never shake me of my faith."

With his clothed body draped over your bare one, they appeared locked in a lover’s embrace. Ivar was settled between your legs, but his broken lower half did not respond to your warmth and softness, and he resented the reminder. He wrapped his large hand around your jaw, tilting your head away to speak in your ear.

"What will you do, Bride of Christ?"

"Don't call me that, heathen," You spat. "I am Sister Mary Catharine."

Ivar eased his hold, but he did not relent. "I will never call you that meaningless title. What is your real name?"

"My old name is irrelevant. It is my past, and it was a path I chose to abandon."

"I figured you would say something of that nature." 

Ivar rolled off of you, and you were quick to snatch up the dress that had fallen to your feet. You now looked stricken with panic. So much for that strong front. But you continued to surprise him when you sought out his face once more.

"You never told me your name," You said, and he wondered if you were curious to learn more about him. It was a rousing thought.

"Ivar," He responded. As he observed you with this new knowledge, he decided on a new name for you. "And you are Ólaug."

You frowned, not comprehending a word of his language "What are you saying?"

Ivar grinned, and let out a laugh at your expense. He decided he liked the nun, even though he couldn't parade you around for your beauty like Ubbe with Margrethe. You would not be permitted to cut your hair again, and he would see to it that you were properly fed. If his father could foster a friendship with a Christian monk, then he could do the same with a nun. For Ivar, it was another sign from the Gods that he was fated to be the next ruler, the greatest of Ragnar's sons. Odin had smiled down on him that day, and he would not fail.

Taglist

@pomegranates-and-blood​

@siren-queen03

@peachyboneless

@didiintheblog

@soleil-dor

@zuxiezendler

@pieces-by-me

@xbellaxcarolinax

@heavenly1927

@everyartistwas-firstanamateur

@youbloodymadgenius

@xceafh

@shannygoatgruff

@tgrrose

@1950schick

@castielsangelsx

@rose1729

@mlchael-guerin

@strangunddurm

[starwarsimagines1105]

Sith Erinyes AS

Erinyes [ih-rin-ee-eez] the three goddesses of vengeance and retribution who punished men for crimes against the natural order

Requested by Anon: Could you write an Anakin x Sith! Reader oneshot, where because receiving the visions of her husband’s dark fate as Darth Vader, Reader takes his place as the Chancellor’s student instead. And Anakin finds out (after reading her journal once he and the others made it to a safe place after Order 66) and vows to save her for his and their children’s (Luke’s and Leia’s) sakes? Sorry... I hope that I wasn’t too specific in my request.

A/N It’s completely fine, I love this idea. And thank you for all the requests and compliments. Also, this won’t remain 100% faithful to the plot of Episode III but just ignore it.

~~

Opening your eyes, a hazy image came into view. You saw Anakin speaking with Chancellor Palpatine. It was hard to make out, but you were pretty sure it was them. You couldn’t hear the entire conversation, but from what you could gather, Palpatine was beginning to seduce Anakin to the dark side. It scared you. You knew Anakin was supposedly the most powerful force user to exist, and considering how Sidious killed his master, this wouldn’t end well. But what caught your attention was Anakin’s interest in Darth Plagueis The Wise. Why would Anakin want so desperately to bring someone from death? 

Unbeknownst to you, Anakin had already had this conversation, and he had already seen you dying. 

It seemed as if you were floating above lava; you noticed that the area was blazing hot, all land not covered by liquid fire was made of molten rock. Then you noticed two figures, each wielding pillars of blue light on top of floating debris. Recognizing Anakin’s black robes as well as Obi-Wan’s brown and white ones, you screamed for Anakin to be careful, but no one could hear you, you couldn’t even hear the words you so desperately tried to scream. You couldn’t look away as you saw your husband’s master jump onto safe land. They yell at each other, but you couldn’t hear anything. When Anakin jumped over Obi-Wan, you let out a strangled gasp as he cuts Anakin’s arms from mid-forearm and legs from mid-shin. They exchanged a few other words before Obi-Wan walked away. 

The scene shifted, and you saw a man standing against a table like a contraption, arms and legs bound. He was completely covered in black: black armor, black cape, even a black helmet that completely shielded his face. And though you couldn’t discern who was now screaming in agony through a modulated voice, something told you it was your husband, Anakin. 

-

Your eyes snapped open. ‘It was just a dream,’ you tried to reassure yourself. But you couldn’t shake the instinct that it was real, like a premonition. You began to get out of the small cot when Anakin’s arm tightened around you. “Where are you going, love?” he asked, now fully alert. He was a light sleeper, and it took him less than a minute to fully wake up. 

“Nothing, I just remembered I have to do something in my dorm,” you lied, stroking the side of his face. You were Darth Sidious’ sort-of-apprentice, but he wasn’t especially fond of you despite your power. He had preferred Darth Maul to you, and now there were rumors among his closest confidants that he was seeking to make Anakin his new apprentice. Sidious more so kept you because he didn’t want the Jedi to use you against him. He had found you on Naboo when you were only a newborn, your mother was a handmaiden to the Queen at the time, which was how he found you before the Jedi could sense you. 

Anakin nodded, slumping back down as you got dressed. You stood up, placing a hand on your slightly swollen stomach, and left your room, making your way to Darth Sidious’ quarters. You got onto the elevation and chose the 7th floor, stepping out once you reached his temporary living room. One of his personal guards approached you. “Tell Lord Sidious that Darth Erinyes wants to speak with him about Anakin,” you ordered, making yourself into the intimidating Sith Lord your master trained you to be.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, turning to enter Sidious’ office. Not long after, the guard came out, gesturing for you to enter. You walked in, head held high and black robes billowing around your ankles. 

“Erinyes,” Sidious addressed you, he never used your proper name, “is there a reason you are interrupting me at such a late hour?” 

“I apologize, Master. I only wish to speak with you about Anakin.” 

“What of the boy?”

“I know you want him as your apprentice and I’m here to ask you to make me your apprentice and instead allow him to go about his life,” you practically begged. “I don’t think it’s wise to turn him in such a forceful way.” 

“You, Erinyes, are not the Jedi I seek-” he began before you cut him off.

“I am just as powerful as him! I have been by your side since I was an infant and I outperformed Maul!” you realized that you were yelling at Sith Lord Sidious but at this point you had nothing to lose so you kept going. “Yet you favored him. Why? Because he wasn’t female? Am I just a prize for you? You keep me around so I don’t join the Jedi and overthrow you?” 

Lord Sidious sat silently. He didn’t speak for a few moments and you continued to stand there. “I will leave Anakin alone and let him make his own way to the dark side. In the meantime, you, Erinyes, will be my apprentice and my spy within the Jedi Temple.” 

“Thank you, Master,” you said in relief. You had expected him to kill you, or at least electrocute you for speaking out. 

“When you go back to the Temple, make sure you watch over Anakin.”

“Yes, Sir,” you said obediently before making your way into your assigned dorm and grabbing your journal. First, you wrote about your dream so you could look for signs that it might happen, and then you wrote about your encounter with Lord Sidious. Tucking the small journal back into your luggage, you got into your own bed. 

After about 10 minutes of wishing you had gone back to Anakin’s room, the door opened, and a figure walked in. They collapsed on the bed almost on top of you and you giggled, knowing it was your husband. “What are you doing?” you laughed. 

“You didn’t come back,” he said with a smirk, placing a hand on your stomach. Anakin’s happiness quickly dissipated when he remembered his own premonitions. It overjoyed him when you told him you were pregnant, but then he had a dream. In the dream he watched you scream in pain and die, and then he saw your babies being taken away. He had seen that you’d have twins, but he never told you because he didn’t want to scare you. 

-

The next morning, you both woke up to a droid opening the door. It only told you that the Jedi would depart in an hour before zooming away. “Well, I guess I have to go get my things from my room, Love,” Anakin kissed your nose.

“I guess,” you sighed. You never wanted moments like these to end. Moments when you didn’t have to think about the fact that you had been lying to the man you love since the second you met.

-

Anakin’s POV

It had been months since Y/N and I were at the Senate building, and by now she was heavily pregnant. Although, she somehow managed to hide her bump even now as she was into her 9th month. I had become Palpatine’s apprentice after he killed Windu, although I hadn’t told Y/N. She didn’t need to know I was doing this to save her and our children.

I walked into our room to see Y/N lying on the bed, face covered by her hands. “I hate this,” she groaned.

“I know,” I sympathized. “But remember, when this is over we’ll have out child.” I tried to excite her.

“Shut up, you’re not the one going through pregnancy and birth,” she mumbled.

I laughed, leaning down to kiss the side of her head. “So, something’s about to happen and I need you to stay in here.”

“What? Why do I need to stay in here?” Y/N stood up now. “Anakin, what’s going on?”

“Nothing Y/N, just please do as I say,” I begged, walking to the door.

“No, tell me what’s going on!” she insisted.

“No!” I yelled, using the force to grab her throat. She choked, looking scared of me, but I was so angry I couldn’t bring myself to let her go until she fell unconscious. I laid her unconscious body on the bed before leaving and locking the door to our room. “I’m sorry, Love,” I yelled through the door. I turned away from it, igniting my lightsaber, preparing myself to do whatever it would take to keep Y/N and our children safe and alive.

-

I laid on the burning ground, alight and in agony. I was livid with the only father figure I had ever known. He had betrayed me and I couldn’t stand it. But most of all, my heart was broken. Y/N, if she hadn’t already, would be going into labor and I wouldn’t be there to save her. I wouldn’t get to meet my children either. Eventually the pain overtook me and I succumbed to darkness, welcoming my death.

-

I finally woke up and realized that I was standing, yet strapped to a table. After a few moments of tugging and panicking, they unleashed me from the restraints. Chancellor Palpatine walked, so he was visible to me. “Lord Vader, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Master,” I replied. “Where is Y/N?” I asked, turning to him. “Is she safe? I she alright?” I continued to interrogate.

“It seems in your anger, you killed her,” he informed me.

‘What?’ I thought, ‘I killed her?’ My heart shattered. ‘How could I have done this to her?’ I wasn’t fully aware of my actions I was in so much pain but I fell to my knees, crying out in agony for what I had done to the love of my life.

~~

A/N I cut stuff out of the request because logically through my writing, it didn’t make sense. I’m sure the requester had a different path in mind, but this was like a puzzle I couldn’t manage to fit together.

Taglist

@algentforthewin @fanartcollectorwriter @randomfangirl7 @amberash05 @elizzysnow13 @vikingqueen28 @rhiannon-russo @mackycat11

[amoralityplay]

Kiev, 1992

The baroque house in Kiev was very quiet during the day, only interrupted occasionally by footsteps or hushed conversation between the maid and the handyman—Max was one of very few vampires who still kept thralls, of a sort—or sometimes by the jingle of a cat’s collar bell; Max had always rather liked cats, much to the chagrin of his wife…but, they hadn’t lived together, or really even seen each other in more than just passing, in centuries, so he’d have his cats if he wanted to. 

Audrey wasn’t particularly fond of cats, either, but hadn’t said anything about it. After all, her grandfather had been generous enough to let her move into his sprawling home after her finances had taken a disastrous turn; she’d already been living in Kiev, just a few blocks away from his home there, but the forced sale of her apartment had left her with only two options: stay with Max, or limp back to Boston. And Audrey was not going home, not yet. 

[Cut for length]

“You know, Audrey…it’s been nice having someone around the house again,” the older man mused, setting a teacup and saucer down in front of his granddaughter, the china rattling in his unsteady hands. Max had been turned when he was quite a bit older than many vampires—a member of the Roman senate at the time—and looked to be about sixty, though of course he was much, much older than that. He wasn’t a frail man and looked much like a living version of the Roman marble busts one might see in a museum, but the harsh military life he’d led before joining the senate sometimes showed in the tremor of his hands. “I know the circumstances weren’t ideal…but we never got to spend much time together, once you grew up and started moving around so much. I’m glad you’re here.” Audrey forced a small smile as she looked up. “I know, grandfather. I’m glad, too.” The truth was…Audrey wasn’t glad to be there. The life she’d planned on had unraveled over the last couple decades, starting with her arranged marriage, then her mother’s death, and now financial ruin. Audrey loved her grandfather, but this was not the future she’d hoped for. 

Max nodded, sitting across from her at the small table, set into a corner of a parlor room. “You don’t have to lie for my sake,” he said, reaching over to pat one of her hands where she’d flattened it against the table to keep it still. It wasn’t uncommon for vampires to develop the ability  to read another’s thoughts, and most vampires as old as Max were very good at it…meanwhile, vampires as young as Audrey tended to be equally as bad at keeping their thoughts quiet and were easy to eavesdrop on. 

“I know you don’t want to be here, and it doesn’t have anything to do with me. It’s just been nice, regardless. And you don’t seem so melancholy lately. Is it the birds? Do they help?” He lifted his own cup to sip at the contents—blood, warmed until it steamed slightly. Audrey disliked blood much above body temperature and left her own cup to cool down somewhat. 

It might have been true that Audrey was getting out a bit more than she had for years, really, testing the water here and there at various vampire gatherings…though she wasn’t sure her melancholy had been cured. 

“Well…Cyrus ate one of them,” she said with a small sigh, glancing in the direction of the huge white cat, wearing a blue velvet collar with a golden bell, that was lounging on the rug nearby. The birds her grandfather referred to, a trio of canaries exactly like the ones she’d tried to keep as a little girl, had not, in fact, helped her feel much better. If anything, they’d only soured her disposition further, given the first’s untimely demise and the remaining two that refused to sing at night, just like the ones of her childhood; that had not been an experience Audrey had wanted to relive. “They’ll sing plenty for the maid when she opens the curtains during the day…so I told her she should take them home. They’ll be happier with someone who can let them see the sun a little.” 

“Ah, well, don’t be cross with Fedir for sending them, he hadn’t seen you since you were a teenager. It was what he remembered about you.” Fedir, a vampire Max had sired in the early 1700’s, had always taken a bit more interest in Audrey than anyone—especially Audrey—liked and had been, apparently, rather crushed when she was matched to someone else--he’d long lobbied Max to use his sway with Phersipnai to ensure Audrey was matched with him—and was equally elated to hear the wedding was called off and she’d returned to Kiev. He knew how vampire matches worked and that Audrey was still betrothed regardless of what her current feelings towards her fiancee were, but had made a handful of attempts to garner her attentions regardless. Max thought it was harmless and Audrey found it mildly annoying and certainly hadn’t encouraged the efforts…but she hadn’t exactly put an end to it yet, either. 

“I don’t get cross.” Audrey frowned down at her teacup. 

Max chuckled and nodded. “You have a tendency to be cross, my dear…isn’t that what this is all about? Why you’re in Kiev to begin with? You’ve been cross with Rowan for twenty years, don’t pretend you don’t get cross.” 

“Please don’t start with that,” Audrey groaned. 

“Well. It’s the truth. And your grandmother is supposed to call today—any minute, I think—to talk to you about it, so best you hear it from me first.” He shook his head, running a hand over his short cropped, grey hair. “You should head upstairs, take the call in your room.” Phersipnai hadn’t alerted Max that she’d be calling that day, but after nearly two millennia together, they often had a sense for what the other was doing or feeling, even across continents. Audrey didn’t move immediately, looking down at the blood in her cup as it started to congeal. As she had any time she had been away from her grandmother, she’d remained close with her, writing often or, in more recent years, speaking by phone…but since she’d been in Kiev, the calls had gotten tense…and thus Audrey often avoided them. “Go on. You know she won’t let it slide if you won’t answer.” Max stood and nudged Audrey’s shoulder, and the younger vampire stood with a small sigh. As predicted, the phone rang within a couple minutes of Audrey stepping into her room; she sank into the armchair beside the small pedestal table and lifted the receiver. “Hello?” “Audrey, finally. Do you know how many times I’ve called and that silly little mortal maid your grandfather keeps told me you were out? Have you really been out, or are you avoiding me?” Phersipnai’s voice was unmistakable, lilting with a faint Italian accent. 

“I was out, grandmother. I wouldn’t avoid you.” “Oh, don’t lie, you’re terrible at it. When are you going back to the States, Audrey?” “I don’t know. Maybe never.” 

“Stop that. It’s been twenty years and you’re being dramatic, I think that’s plenty long enough to have this little tantrum. You need to go home and sort things out with Rowan. I know he’s written you all those letters and you haven’t even had the decency to write back.” 

Audrey drew in a small, angry breath. “That’s unfair.” “No, Audrey, what’s unfair is I went to the trouble to make sure your life was comfortable and you never wanted for anything, and then made sure to find you a match that could do the same for you and was a decent person, and you turned around and repaid me by running off to your grandfather the moment things got a little unpleasant—“ “A little unpleasant? He humiliated me, grandmother! There were a hundred other vampires sitting in that church, he could have asked to delay things at any time, but he chose then to do it! People still talk about it when I walk into a room at coalition meetings! Not to even mention he was already practically married and you couldn’t even mention that to me!” “You will not shout at me, Audrey Lavinia Alden.” Phersipnai’s tone dropped low with warning. “People still talk about it because you’ve been punishing him for it for two decades. Rowan has been apologetic and there’s no reason you shouldn’t have at least spoken to him. If you had come back after a few months and sorted things out with him they wouldn’t have anything to gossip about. And I didn’t tell you about his partner because it was irrelevant to your arrangement. Do you really think, with as long as we live, vampires only engage in monogamous marriages where they’re romantically in love with their chosen match? You’re naive. Their partnership existed outside of our rules about marriage—call it a loophole, if you want—and thus had no impact on yours or the obligations you have to each other. And you’re lucky enough that Rowan actually does care about you, even given the circumstances and that it isn’t required of him, and you still treat him like you have.” “No impact? You don’t think that would have an impact? Are you insane?” Audrey had never taken such a tone with her grandmother before, but she couldn’t believe she’d have the gall to tell her that her fiancee already being married to another man wouldn’t have any impact on her own marriage to him. “You don’t care about what I want at all! All you care about is getting a great-granddaughter for your precious line to carry on. I’m not anything more to you than a prized cow you want bred.” Phersipnai didn’t say anything for a moment, the line quiet and Audrey nearly wondered if she’d hung up, but then the Elder finally spoke. “You’re right about part of that, but you’re no prize cow, Audrey. You’re an ill-tempered heifer and I can only hope that any child you have has their personality curbed by their father’s influence.” She paused a beat, drawing a slow breath. “Pack your things. I’m coming to get you. I’m not going to tolerate any more of this nonsense. If you want to act like a child, I will treat you like one. You’ve made it clear enough that you can’t take care of yourself and you can’t be trusted to make reasonable decisions. You have 12 hours.”  Audrey’s hand were shaking so hard she nearly lost her grip on the phone receiver. She wasn’t going back. And it didn’t matter to her if Phersipnai was an Elder. She was going to prove that she could live without her grandmother or Rowan or anyone else. “No.” “No?” Phersipnai parroted, incredulous. 

“No.” And with that, Audrey hung up. 12 hours was plenty of time to get a head start on the Elder…and Audrey had always wondered what Tokyo was like. 

[dopescotlandwarrior]

The Dancer-Chapter Four

                              A special thanks to @statell​ for all your help

Previous chapters on AO3

Chapter Four

Claire sat on a high-pile, soft rug with children circled around her. Jamie noticed they all leaned forward from their Indian-style positions, eyes wide and staring at Claire. They were all on their trusted ponies flying across the Arizona desert, running after the bad guys who robbed the train. Claire did her best to narrate the story with inflections of fear and desperation while the story became real to those around her.

Jamie made a trip to his office and was waiting for Claire when the wee ones ran to their mothers, laden with purchases from the store. The room emptied out in ten minutes and Jamie flopped down on an overstuffed chair. He handed a baggie full of orange slices to Claire.

He noticed that her hair was still down and today she wore a soft dress with a bright colored flower pattern. The skirt was almost to her ankles so sitting on the floor, being eye to eye with the kids was easy. He looked at her approvingly, happy she had embraced her new look.

Claire noticed Jamie hanging around during her Storytime and book club meetings and he always kept her after for conversation and shared food. She wasn’t sure she understood what he needed but if she could answer his questions and understand his conversation she just went with the flow.

“I’m leavin Claire. It’s time for a new manager to take over this store so I can get to Glasgow.”

“I’m sure you will be missed, Jamie.”

“I’ve been doin this for the past nine years. This is the last store I will build. Once it’s up and running I start a new job, new level, and maybe dinna move around so much. Even if I’m offered a corporate position it willna be here in Scotland. More likely Germany or London.”

Claire did not understand where the conversation was going so she just kept up for his sake. Jamie was always so confident about the book business, but she thought it sounded like a lonely existence and wondered if he felt the same. She had never known a man more beautiful than Jamie Fraser and thought it unlikely that he spent time alone if he didn’t want to. So why did he come to see her dance? Week after week leaving hundreds of pounds for her.

“Claire, I want ye to consider taking over for me, as manager of the store. Ye’ve owned a bookstore, this is just bigger. I trust ye lass and that is more important than any experience or degree. Please think about it and we can talk again in a few days.”

“How about tonight? There is so much I don’t know.” She watched him intently.

“Sorry lass. I have plans tonight and canna break em.”

Claire sped across town and found a grumpy Madu in her studio, pacing like an irritated bull. He could look quite intimidating Claire thought. He was over six foot with a muscular frame and a mop of black curls fell against his cheeks and forehead. A beautiful man, she thought, watching him in the seconds before he noticed her.

She could feel his interest in her, barely contained, ready to sweep her off her feet. They would make a good match she assumed. His family would embrace the orphan in her and Madu would show her the heights of passion she had only dreamed of. The union made perfect sense, but she had not fallen in love with him the way she always dreamed it would be.

Claire had only one reference for passion and love, the face of Jamie Fraser when she danced for him. She noticed the change in his look, his posture, his gaze that touched her in a place she had not known before. What started out as punishment for someone she hated had become a quest that she was ashamed of, but she continued, desperate to know what smoldered behind his eyes.

Claire jerked out of her reverie when Madu called to her. Her head flew up and she rattled off excuses for being late, running to dress for her dance. Madu gave her a knowing look and waited for the student to stand before him.

Claire considered Jamie’s offer to manage the bookstore. Her popularity for exhibition dancing and private parties had grown, as did her fees for such things. While the good people of Edinburgh were going to bed each night, she was draped in veils doing what she loved. She would help the new manager as much as she could but decided to decline Jamie’s offer.

As Jamie’s final days in Edinburgh grew near, he spent more time at the restaurant watching her dance. Claire tried to imagine his absence in her life, in the audience, and at the bookstore, as he went on with his life without her. The promise and desire behind his eyes would remain unknown to her and the blame was hers alone. If she had told him from the beginning that she was the dancer things would have gone differently. But she was hell-bent on revenge at that time and then it was too late. She tried to think of a dozen ways to tell him the truth but nothing would hide her betrayal, so she accepted her fate.

Jamie accepted Claire’s decision not to manage the bookstore like a gentleman and told her he was a phone call away if she needed anything. He promised to visit often as the new store was just a town away.

When he brought the new manager around for everyone to meet, Claire decided she was looking into the eyes of a human Bambi. John Grey was handsome on Jamie’s level but in a softer, more refined way. His smile was something to behold and she almost lost herself in it until she looked at Jamie and felt his power burn her on the inside.

Jamie was shaking hands and laughing with the staff, but he caught Claire in a moment of weakness and the look on her face made the hair on his neck stand up. She pulled away from the group and disappeared. He looked for her later wanting to spend some time with her before he left but she was nowhere to be found.

Claire drove home to get ready for her dance tonight. It felt like she was full of adrenalin with that awful feeling of impending doom. She knew this was about Jamie and his last night in Edinburgh. What ever did she want from the poor man who never received as much as a nod from her?

“Geillis! I have a problem. There is a man I have danced for numerous times. The way he looks at me makes my knees weak and I can barely keep it together. He is leaving town tomorrow and I may not see him again.”

“Okay Claire, you have my attention and I’m waiting for the problem. He’s married, he’s gay, he’s homeless, what?”

“No. None of those things. He’s perfect, and single, and moving to another town after tonight. I want to know him, that way, before I lose the opportunity.”

“That way?” Geillis was quiet for a minute. “Do ye mean ye want to fuck him, Claire?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then do it.”

Geillis caught on quickly that Claire needed help so she pledged to be there right after work, and they would make a plan.

Claire spent a quiet afternoon thinking about what she was doing and realized she could not stop herself if she wanted to. She spent an hour in a hot tub removing all her body hair, even her most intimate places. She was painstaking about her makeup, eyelashes, and bright red lipstick. The oil she smoothed over her skin was from Cairo, a gift from Madu. It heightened her senses when she dabbed it between her legs until she almost fell completely apart.

Pulling her most prized costume from her closet she zipped it into a garment bag for her second show, when she would touch Jamie and he would touch her.

Geillis whistled at the costume Claire chose and said she was getting hot just looking at it.

“Claire, relax. If ye want to fuck this guy and ye look like that, and he’s interested, then just let it happen.”

Geillis was winding the string of chains around Claire’s hips and looked at her friend.

“Ye know sex doesna bring love, right Claire?”

Claire nodded her head and raised her arms for the chain bra top Geillis was pulling onto her chest. It was time for her second dance and the invitation for Jamie to come to her dressing room. Claire felt the throbbing between her legs and could not wait for whatever was on the other side of that desire in his eyes.

When the spotlight hit the rows of chains, Claire sparkled like a thousand diamonds. Her body undulated up out of the fog layer Omar cranked out. Her performance was raw, and sexual, the best of her career because she would never have a greater prize than Jamie Fraser to dance for.

Jamie sat transfixed, unable to move as he watched the undulating hips and popping breasts promise forbidden love, the kind he would trade his soul for. As she spun in his direction the chains flew out at waist level looking punishing for any man who ventured to close to her. He watched her spin away from him and in a magical moment, he saw a card left on the table.

I await you, is all it said, and Jamie shook his head wondering if he imagined it was an invitation. He walked to the stage door and knocked softly. Diners were still eating but didn’t seem to notice him waiting for the door to open.

A warm hand pulled him into the dressing room which glowed with dozens of candles that smelled amazing and exotic. He bent to Claire and kissed her softly, noticing her chest rise and fall with her deep breathing. Whether from arousal or nerves he would take his time and see her relaxed and needy before he feasted on her body.

“What is your name lass?”

In that instant, Claire’s plan popped like a bubble. Holy crap, she thought, I have to talk to him? Why the hell didn’t I think this through? Her panic was rising, gripping her throat to choke her for being so selfish and concupiscent. In her panic, she could not think of a way to control the situation. She was bested and she knew it, so she just stopped moving and hung her head. She had heard enough Arabic to string some words together and show Jamie the door.

He looked confused but he left, and she locked the door behind him. Claire was too exhausted to cry or do anything else. She laid on the sofa waiting to hear Jamie’s truck drive away, praying he would not come back with more talking. She closed her eyes and imagined his touch, above her, beside her, behind her. Her body craved him and the sublime physical joining that would free her from the mundane world she lived in. Why had she convinced herself this was even possible? Because at the moment it felt like her life depended on it.

Claire heard Omar knock softly on the dressing room door, probably waiting to walk her out. When the door swung open Jamie lifted her up and kissed her quiet as he pulled the breath out of her lungs and every thought from her mind.

“No talking lass, just let me kiss you and touch you a bit then I go, without a word. There’s a reason you invited me here and a reason I came, that’s enough for me.” His kiss seared her lips with his heat and his hands ran over her body like he was touching the holy grail.

Claire twisted the buttons open and pushed his shirt off. She gazed at his muscled chest and arms feeling herself blush when he chuckled at her reaction. The kissing continued until Claire’s mind and body belonged to James Fraser. When she pulled her bra top off he held her away to look at her, then he embraced her, skin on skin, tilting her head up to kiss him again.

Claire knew the chains and veils would not easily come off without instruction and she did not want him to stop kissing so she pulled them off and stepped out of the tiny pants.

Jamie feasted on her perfect skin and lithe form watching the candlelight bounce off the flat planes of her body. He was speed stripping to catch up with her nakedness, wanting to feel her inside and out for as long as she let him.

Claire laid on the sofa, arms raised to him, mouth open, chest heaving. Jamie burned the sight of her into his brain to keep forever. His large warm hands caressed every inch of her from neck to feet as he laid soft kisses in their path. She felt his hot breath on her nipples before he filled his mouth and sucked to make her remember. When she was powerless to move, he pushed her arms over her head and wrapped several chains around her wrists before he stole the remaining part of her brain. His kiss started softly as his knuckles ran down her body, over her nipples, brushing against her core.

Each minute was more exciting and pleasurable than the last as Jamie swept her into an erotic fog that shot firecrackers to her brain. When Jamie’s knuckles started their return trip, he nudged her legs apart and dragged a finger up her fold. Claire bucked in his arms and she struggled to loosen the chains on her wrists. His long arm pulled the chains tight just before she felt his beard on the soft skin of her inner thigh. Pulling her legs apart he placed what felt like dozens of soft kisses between her legs, and inner thighs. Every few minutes the tip of his tongue would touch her bud nearly rocking her off the couch.

Claire didn’t think she could take much more without self-combusting. She felt Jamie shift his position and his hot, wet tongue slid into her, torturously slow as she gasped and arched her back seeking friction.

He would not be hurried with the beautiful dancer and intended to make this last, for both their sake. Claire was immobilized, without hands to distract him, so he set a slow pace and was thrilled the way her body reacted to him. He pressed his tongue deeper into her and his gigantic erection grazed the side of the sofa, hot and angry for being ignored.

Two long fingers replaced his tongue and he felt the walls of her pussy clamp down as he moved them in and out. She moaned and rocked his fingers feeling like she would explode. Jamie felt joy and satisfaction watching her fall apart. He lowered his head and flicked her bud viciously knowing the instant she left the earth. No longer on the plane of mortal man, she kissed angels and fell through layers of sparkling, raw sensation.

She felt the chains loosen around her wrist as Jamie kissed her deeply, preventing her full return to sanity. He wanted more, and she wanted to give it. He carefully negotiated the small sofa, pulling her knees up, creating a space to lay his long body as his tip pressed lightly against her opening. The intensity of his kissing made Claire’s hips rise to find him. Jamie smiled at her heroic effort to squirm under him until her wet pussy was pressing his tip into her.

He held her hips still and slowly pushed into her, watching her expression, feeling her energy shift to acquiescence. She surrendered to his strength, his need, his promise. As Jamie pushed into her he laid claim to her mind, soul, and body. His hard thrusting was banging into her clit making her lose her mind. Jamie kissed her deeply and felt her body grab him as her back arched tightly against his chest.

Jamie watched Claire’s orgasm second by second. She was wild, uninhibited, and completely under his spell. He released the iron grip on himself, slamming into her at least a dozen times, fearing he would lose his mind from the stinging in his balls.

The banging cymbals leading up to his release suddenly stopped as he was rocked to the core with pulsing pleasure. He floated back to her and nuzzled her neck. They were slippery with sweat and Jamie gathered her under him to keep her warm while she dozed. When she would startle awake her arms clutched him around his neck like she didn’t want to be without him, making his heart ache for her.

Jamie laid very still, watching Claire succumb to her exhaustion and kissing her quiet when she startled. He did not want this to end and letting her sleep added precious moments with her. He pulled her into a massive cuddle that overwhelmed her sluggish senses and she slept deeply for several hours while Jamie watched.

He was not used to the intensity of their lovemaking that now filled his head. Remembering her body quaking under him, mouth and eyes open, chest heaving while he pushed his full length into her. He could feel his erection growing until it throbbed for her again. She startled and grabbed him wrapping her arms around him to hold him to her.

Jamie pulled her to his chest and wiggled under her as his large hands held her gorgeous butt against him. She kissed him like her life depended on it and when he broke the kiss, she chased his mouth until he was putty in her hands. When she felt his tip against her, she pushed back until he slipped into her with a gasp.

Control temporarily lost, he wrapped his hands around her shoulders pulling down and pushing his cock deeper inside her. Jamie almost came when he looked into the eyes of a woman who would shred this couch to get to him. She needed to come, like a powder cake ready to explode and only he could make it happen.

Jamie grabbed her shoulders and lifted her upper body, so she straddled him. He groaned when her body opened to him, letting him sink into her warm wetness. Claire glared at him, panting, hands splayed on his chest. The feeling was so intense she couldn’t help but move her hips until she felt Jamie’s strong hands on top of her shoulders, holding her down. He sat up so they were face to face and pressed her shoulders down again feeling his dick go deeper into her body. He watched her eyes, only inches from his own. She didn’t know what was happening and no longer cared. She trusted Jamie to see her safely through the explosions she knew were coming.

We are almost there love, he thought, as he pushed her shoulders down and pressed his erection even deeper. Claire was wide-eyed and wanton when he impaled her, and he knew she had not been touched like this before.

Claire knew something was about to happen, good or bad she was powerless to stop it. He touched her cheek and smiled, then he touched her throbbing core and watched Claire’s world spin out of control. She threw her head back and rocked him with her hips until she slowly came back to earth. Her eyes opened and she smiled her gratitude, breathing deeply. He touched it again and she flew even higher in a long continuous moan as her hips rocked his cock again.

Jamie could not hold out any longer and flipped them pushing her legs over his shoulders for a dozen thrusts and stopped. Claire watched him get to his knees and push her legs open. He stared at her core for a long minute before he pulled her pelvis up and entered her again, watching the erotic show as his cock slid into her, over and over again until he shuttered and exploded deep inside her.

Jamie collapsed next to her panting for his life and refusing to let her go. He felt her hands on his cheeks as she kissed his face a dozen times, and then he felt nothing.

Some hours later Jamie woke up and smiled at the curled angel he held. He was leaving for his next job in Glasgow and wondered if he would ever see her again. He felt his heart swell at her trust and mutual interest. When he pushed the hair out of her face she smiled and pulled a lungful of air and opened her eyes.

Claire woke up to panic as the room was filling with light from the sunrise. Jamie could see the panic on her face and jumped up to dress quickly. He promised no words, so he kissed her softly and left.

She laid still with her heart ramming until she heard Jamie’s truck roar onto the road. Ten minutes later she was brave enough to get up and pull her sweatsuit on before disposing of the evidence of their magical night. She wondered if she would ever again feel a man touch her like Jamie did.

Claire looked at her watch and counted the hours until Geillis would come to get this wig off her head. Geillis added dots of the glue around the entire wig, so she didn’t worry about it slipping. Now she couldn’t get even a finger under it. She dropped her keys on the kitchen table heading for the shower. Raising her leg over the tub she saw warm liquid from Jamie run down her inner thigh. She watched it until her tears rolled down her cheeks and she pressed her face into a towel and sobbed.

Jamie pulled into Lallybroch and noticed Ian’s car in the driveway again. He looked up at Jenny’s window forming a possible reason before shaking his head and laughing. “It’ll never happen,” he said out loud. Ian was like a family member. Since they were lads Lallybroch was his second home and he often met up with friends and left his car overnight.

An hour later, Jamie tossed his suitcase, and briefcase in the back of his truck, the garment bag with his suits was hung inside the cab. With Glasgow just an hour away it hardly felt like he was going anywhere. How odd, he thought, that his last project would be in Scotland and so close to his home.

Once his big black truck was pointed at Glasgow, he sat back and let his mind drift back to the trauma he felt leaving home the first year. He hugged Jenny for a full minute and looked at her crying eyes trying to be brave. His Da shook his hand beaming with pride and fighting his own tears. Jamie walked away to board a very large plane that would fly him to Ann Arbor Michigan where he would build his first store.

The odds were stacked in his favor thanks to eight gentlemen that knew what factors influenced success and correctly matched the project to the manager. Putting Jamie on the other side of the world, where English was spoken, the winters were long and cold, in a college town with a superior football team, and thousands of coeds was no accident.

The next year was Italy, after that France, then back to America, England, Australia, Italy again, Germany, Edinburgh, and now Glasgow. He always came home to Lallybroch to rest. Sometimes it was three months, many years it was less.

Jamie’s natural charisma pulled people to him like moths to flame so he never felt lonely, or afraid. He saw his life as a never-ending string of new experiences, new challenges, and new people to meet, which became his Achilles heel.

Jamie remembered her still, the girl he cared for in Ann Arbor, the girl he left behind and then missed for the entire next year. It was a lesson to his heart to stay away from those most interesting, the most lovable, the most anything. He would find a lass or two in each town and move on quickly when they wanted more from him. It was a hard thing to do because he craved intimacy and feeling connected to someone. As his Scotland friends paired up and became a husband, Jamie realized he was going against the natural order, denying himself a heart to love. It got harder each year, but he never faltered from his plan. He would not leave a string of broken hearts in his wake.

The dancer crept into his thoughts and in his mind he reached for her, lovingly, protectively. Well, looks like yer comin to Glasgow with me. I thought maybe last night would cure me but here ye are. I’m no sorry. Ye are a rare gift to the world and I dinna want to let ye go. Not yet.

Geillis was losing patience, “hold still or I’ll spill this acetone in yer eye!”

She wasn’t feeling charitable this morning after being roused from her newest squeeze by a begging Claire. She dabbed the Q-tip into the glue as she pulled the hair from Claire’s skin.

“I hope the sex was worth all this.” She paused for a minute. “This is when ye tell me all about it lass.”

Claire stared out her kitchen window with a blank face seeming not to hear her friend's inquiry. She felt him touch her skin with warm hands that made magic happen the whole night. She tasted salty sweat from kissing his face when he was still far away spinning in pleasure.

“Claire!”

“What!”

“I’m talkin to ye lass. I’m gonna pull it off, ye ready?”

The wig pulled away and Claire instantly felt ten degrees cooler to her relief.

“Meet me at the wig store after work. Ye canna wear that one until yer skin heals. We can find somethin else to use. I have to break land-speed records to make it to work on time. Sorry to leave ye with the mess.”

Claire crawled into her bed where she would dream of copper-colored curls that tickled her nose, and thighs, and back.

For the next month, she spent a lot of time at the bookstore helping the new manager get settled. When she heard little voices yell her name she brightened considerably and watched tiny bodies run to the glass room with grateful mothers behind them.

The second month came and went but the bookstore still felt cold and sterile to her. John was becoming a dear friend who craved her company because he was alone in a strange city. Compared to Jamie, it was child’s play to avoid John’s constant questions about her other job. Claire was rarely bothered with anxiety anymore, so life went on with no great highs and no great lows.

When Claire was reading to her pint-sized fans she reached across the circle and pretended to grab someone's nose as little people erupted in laughter. Claire giggled back to her sitting position and froze when she heard his voice. Her heart was ramming and her ears almost hurt as they were seeking another sound wave, his wave, his cadence, and burr.

The story was over and the kids piled out to their waving mothers. Claire’s legs were hugged tight and tiny sets of eyes looked up to her smiling and waving. She waved back as the last few mothers led their children toward the exit. And there he was.

Claire felt the air evacuate from the room as she watched his genuine smile and outstretched arms. She leaned into him, smelling something lovely and familiar, wanting so badly to touch his curls and face. She felt his vibrating laugh when she hugged him and then quickly righted herself back to the friend zone tucking away her wants and desires for someone forbidden.

She smiled when John or Jamie made a joke but otherwise busied herself with cleaning up her room and flicking the lights off. She walked quickly to the exit and felt strong hands grab her arm pulling her to a halt. She knew that touch, those big hands, and felt herself shake inside.

“How is the new project going, Jamie?”

“It’s been a bitch, still is, but I’m done-in from all that anxiety and deadline insomnia.” He smiled at her, so relaxed and looking genuinely happy to see her. “I’m goin back tomorrow once I conclude some business here in Edinburgh, part of which is you.”

Claire looked up at him trying to look coy and relaxed. “What pray tell would that be?”

“Next weekend is Easter, Claire. I want ye to come to Lallybroch and spend the day with Jenny and me. Will ye come?”

“Yes, that would be lovely, thank you. And John? Will he be joining us too?”

“Who?”

Claire tilted her head to the upstairs office where John would be sweating bullets waiting for Jamie to announce the real reason he was here and hoping to have his job when he was through.

“Ah, yes of course lass, John too.”

Claire offered her hand and saw the change in Jamie’s face. “Until next weekend then.”

Jaime climbed the steps to the manager’s office feeling off balance at Claire’s stiff goodbye. His mind was in constant flux between two women since he left. The dancer reigned supreme in his thoughts and dreams, but he missed Claire in his life.

He felt his body calling to her, the dancer, and he knew it would take wild horses to keep him away from her tonight.

[alexiethymia]

humpty-dumpty

title: humpty-dumpy

notes: character study on yako. part of the ‘mysteries have no rhyme or reason’ series, formerly the ‘mysteries have no answers’ series

Yako hates things she does not understand, so it was inevitable she’d hate humans too.

To love any of them was pure folly, an incomprehensible act, so why would anyone do it?

Why did she?

Yako doesn’t understand herself either.

I wonder what it means to die. Yako never got the chance to ask Misaki. And she never would again.

But if she could have, perhaps she would have known where to go to follow. Yako doesn’t bother herself with thoughts that will lead nowhere. Why would she waste her valuable time better spent sleeping? (and at least in dreams she can see Misaki again)

Anyway, it’s a probably moot point, because for all that Yako can go anywhere, where Misaki went is probably the one place she can’t go. The fates of humans and supernaturals were never supposed to intersect. There is a reason the far shore and the near shore are kept separate.

Yako understands. It makes perfect sense. Look at what happened to her because of her excessive entanglement with an inhabitant of the near shore.

When Yako allows herself to entertain such foolish musings, she wonders if anything would have been different if anyone warned her.

Humans are fragile and easily broken, and though fixing the pieces of a shattered heart may be possible, it is not so easily done for a human.

Yako learns, the hard way, you can’t just put them back together again.

Again it’s a moot point, because who could have warned her? Certainly not that emo-spider. Just because she was a supernatural didn’t mean she mingled with other supernaturals. She was above that sort of thing.

Any connection she’d formed, if that, was after Misaki. It was because of Misaki.

But what’s done is done and she lost control. She’s not going to make excuses and blame it on rumours, because that desperation - to do anything - was all her.

Another reason to avoid entanglements with humans, they felt too much and let their emotions consume them. And what disgusts Yako so much more than becoming a monster is becoming too human.

For curiosity’s sake and in a rare bout of civility, Yako had asked the emo-spider what humans were made of. He was a science teacher right? He could probably answer her.

And then he’d spouted stuff about calcium, iron, carbon, nitrogen and things she had no idea of. Useless. He just made her head hurt.

Of course the best person to ask about humans was someone who was a former human himself, and though Yako will never admit he scares her (mainly because he has no scent that Yako can detect), she tells Honorable Number 7 what emo-spider said.

funny how stars and people are made of the same stuff, don’t you think? he’d said and left it at that.

How confusing. Yako just ended up back where she started.

Yako could have told you about stars and the stories they told. Even Orihime was not spared her love for the human Hokiboshi. Yako never understood the quaint practice of wishing upon stars when they themselves could not fulfil their own wishes.

Yako would not rely on that. She’d take action, no matter what that entailed. If she hurt others in the process, then just maybe, just maybe, Misaki would come back if only to scold her.

And when she failed, she decided - enough, no more. She wouldn’t subject herself to the same fate again. She’d avoid these cursed humans.

Unfortunately, like Mokke, their species were as numerous as they were stupid. Every piece collected didn’t give her the one human she wanted, but instead brought her three unwanted brats. It was like a scavenger hunt except what she got at the end was a punishment instead of a prize.

She’d bite them to pieces, but like Mokke, they kept coming back, these stupid children.

The girl was like Misaki and Yako didn’t want anything to do with her, but she scolded her - her! - and then called her beautiful.

The boy who was like her with his dead friend at least knew his place and properly called her Yako-neesan.

Honorable No. 7 still frightened her at times as their all powerful leader, but at the same time he was just a boy. Her disgust overcomes her fear when she sees him avert his eyes from a beautiful girl in a kimono (Yako did good work if she could say so herself) and fail to give even a half-decent compliment indeed proving that he was just a brat. He could stand to learn from Yako’s maturity and grace.

(but she sees from her perspective on his shoulder just how much his eyes are shining, just like a little girl’s once shone when presented a pair of shears)

As she said, how disgusting.

She was such a pitiful creature, being forced to work under his blatant abuse of power. If not for threats of kitsune udon, she wouldn’t have bothered leading them to No. 3’s boundary, or going to the festival, or napping on the girl’s lap at times.....what those chubby legs were comfortable!

She’d concede that they made for good resting spots at least - even that emo-spider. Like good slaves, they would carry her around as should be the case for a lady like her.

But it wasn’t worth it. They may be good footrests, but even that wasn’t worth it to see the same story happen again. And again.

What was the point when the ending would be the same?

Honorable Number 7 is cruel keeping her. But she doesn’t know whether he’s being cruel on her or being cruel on himself. It’s the same thing Yako would have done and she knows with bone-deep certainty that he’ll end up doing what she did when it happens. Driving his own knife though his heart would hurt less (she would know).

Honorable Number 7 doesn’t need to be reminded that he can’t put her back together again. Pretty as a doll is only a figure of speech.

Sometimes Yako wonders if she should just cut the red ties that bind them - her color, the color of blood when Misaki fell, the color of fate - before it ends up strangling them both. For all of Honorable No. 7’s power, he is still just a brat and maybe there’s something Yako can teach him. He can’t keep her like a doll in the hopes that she won’t break.

Love isn’t a beautiful thing. It’s twisted and dark and can drive anyone - human or supernatural - to do unspeakable things in its name.

But then again, maybe it’s not her breaking that he’s afraid of. Yako knows that once you fall, it’s over. In a rare bout of sympathy, she wonder if she and him were just doomed to shatter from the start. Even supernaturals aren’t spared the burden of a heart just because it no longer beats.

Just like Yako has only ever loved Misaki, she’s only ever missed him as well. She certainly won’t miss this overly familiar girl even if she didn’t laugh and call her dumb or stupid or any of the other words Yako calls herself, for falling, and looking like she understood her.

What a foolish notion trying to understand the unexplainable, a school mystery of all supernaturals, and trying to understand the one who reigns supreme and secret of them all.

What a foolish, foolish girl.

Yako won’t miss her and her fingers stroking through her fur calling it beautiful, as if the pure white was never blemished with red. Yako won’t miss her even if she did have good taste and a fine eye for beautiful things. Yako won’t miss helping her look lovely because though Yako may be a supernatural who doesn’t understand humans, females shared a common language across species, and she had also been young, and foolish, and in love.

She’ll tell her all the things she’s realised - that supernaturals and humans will always be a tragedy, but leave it at that. She won’t cut or destroy ever again, and just like Yako made her own decisions, she should too.

Humans aren’t dolls, Yako has already learned. They can’t be put back together again, they can’t be manipulated like puppets on a string, and they rush headlong into their doom for the people they love.

Incomprehensible. Illogical. Immoveable in their faith.

Sometimes Yako thinks humans are the real mysteries.

Yako chose her own heartache, and she will have to choose hers.

So Yako won’t miss her. Like she said, she already knows how this story ends. It’s just that she doesn’t want to have to wipe the tears of the other brat again. He already lost a friend. (when she cried, did anyone wipe hers?)

She doesn’t know if Honorable Number 7 will even cry. Or if like her, no one will ever be able to put him back together again.

This is why Yako doesn’t let her thoughts wander for too long. It all goes back in circles it feels like she’s chasing her tail.

Because Yako understands that she should have never been involved with humans - with Misaki.

She understands that all it brought her was pain.

She understands it’s the same fate that awaits those two brats.

But if given a choice of never having met Misaki and avoiding all of this in the first place, why does she know with bone-deep certainty that if she had to, she’d do it all over again?

And it is with that same certainty, she knows that Honorable No. 7 unfortunately feels the same.

[ask-de-writer]

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 16 of 83 : World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 16 of 83

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

copyright 2020

written 2007

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

//////////////

Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users   of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may   reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information   remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in   my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical   compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

New to the story?  Read from the beginning.  PART 1 is here

///////////////////////

A few days later, Barad laid aside the three ephemerids that Kurti had used to calculate their position.  She sketched their position lightly on the chart.  Barad marked boldly over her mark.  Kurti had done the entire sighting and calculation on her own, with Barad watching closely, and taking his own observations separately.

“That was excellent, Kurti.  I need you to prepare for an entertainment this evening.”

She listened in dread as he explained what he wanted of her.

I must have failed at something. Why else would he do this to me? “Sir,” she asked in a small voice, “I had thought that I was pleasing you.  What did I do wrong?”

He looked at her in genuine puzzlement.  “You have pleased me, Kurti. Nobody has ever pleased me as much.  This is not a punishment.  It is a matter of fairness.  Morgu won a night with Chena fair and square. She died before he could claim his prize.

“I am only giving Morgu and Selked a fair chance at the prize again. You can also be of help to me in two other ways.”  At once, she perked up and listened closely.  “By doing this, I am tying two of my best men tighter to me.  Besides, you can listen to what they have to say for clues to their true feelings and anything else that they may mention that I can profit from.”

“I think that I see.  I was afraid that you were punishing me, I admit. So, this isn’t about anything that I’ve done, is it?”

“No, Kurti, it isn’t.  If I ever seek to punish you, I will be direct and you will know what you are being punished for.  That is my way.”

“So, by doing this, if one of them wins me, I will be serving you.”

“True, now fix up this cabin and get yourself ready for dinner.  You will dine at the officer’s table with me tonight.”

Surprise must have shown on her face because he laughed out loud.  “You should see yourself!  I kept the other cabin girls locked up because it was necessary.  They would have talked without thinking and betrayed my secrets.  Even when there was nowhere to go, they kept trying to escape.  You are so different from them that you deserve better treatment.  Besides, there are a few officers who are getting too full of their place on this ship.  You will be the perfect foil for that as well.”

Now it was her turn to laugh.  “First Officer Timms is probably the only one that won’t be furious at you.  Shall I dress demure or risque?”

“I hadn’t thought of that!”  Barad had the delighted grin of a small boy getting away with a goodie that was not his.  “Let’s not push them too far at once.  Dress just a little on the risque side of good taste.  I leave it to you.”

Dinner aboard the Grandalor was rarely a cause for interest or any but the most vicious of gossip.  Tonight, some had noticed that an extra place had been set at the officer’s table.

“What’s that about?  Any idea?”

“Not even.  I asked the mess-boys about it and they don’t have any clue. Just say it’s Capt’n’s orders.”

“Gonna set up some new officer maybe?”

“Here he comes!  Maybe now we’ll know …”

Captain Barad strode imperiously into the dingily lit mess.  Nobody had seated themselves yet, not being so foolish.

The Captain’s imposingly solid bulk was dressed as though for a formal occasion.  He was wearing snug dark trousers tucked into flared topped ankle boots of dark dyed, pebble-scaled Wing Ray.  A white sash-belt set off and complemented a loose shirt of brown satin with moving black highlights.  He stepped aside from the entryway and Kurti stepped into the room beside him, casually taking his arm.

She was dressed in a snugly fitting blouse of the same satin as Barad’s shirt, also throwing dark highlights.  A narrow belt of white, matching Barad’s, contrasted with her snug dark pants and dark slippers of polished, glittering, small scaled Lesser Dragon hide. They made a striking couple and both knew it.

With inner amusement but a straight face, Captain Barad thought, there’s two officers — — four men and — — five women of the crew that have made an obvious effort to dress up.  Setting an example does appear to be working.  Look at them all stare!  I think that they’re in shock, I really do!  He led Kurti to the chair next to his on the left, pulled it out and seated her as though she were a lady of consequence.  He seated himself, and the rest of the crew finally sat on their benches.

The officers looked on in barely concealed anger and confusion at the cabin-girl who was usurping a place at their privileged table.  Kurti smiled back at them like a Wolf Eel seeing lunch swimming by.  The rest of the crew looked on with varying degrees of amusement and puzzlement.  

Kurti was one of their own but they had written her off.  A cabin-girl was as good as dead.  Everyone knew that.  Barad’s cabin-girls had never lasted long, once chosen.  None were ever seen again before this.  Now there she was at the officer’s table, on the Captain’s left hand, a place of high favor.  What was going on?

Gossip began to rage like a fire in the rigging.  It was well known among the crew that Barad was always quick to criticize poor work, nearly as quick to say a good word for work done well, and to ignore almost entirely work that was merely adequate.  The principal guess was that Kurti was doing — whatever her work was — extremely well.

Dinner itself was unremarkable.  Just the usual fish-cakes, seaweed salad and water.  Kurti smiled inside as she watched it being served by a confused Jaret.  He was a galley worker that she knew.  They had never gotten along.  When the meal was done, she left on the Captain’s arm.

They stopped by the sick-bay to see if Tanlin was any better.  An empty bunk greeted them.  Doctor Corin apologetically proffered a tallow-slate.

“I am sorry, Sir.  She slipped away last night.  I have prepared her particulars and other papers for the Log.  When you have done, I will sign the papers and entries.”

The Captain wrinkled his brow in thought and looked about the small sick-bay, at the eight curtained bunks, arrayed in a row of four, two deep, the Doctor’s desk with it’s tall apothecary cabinet and the examination / operating table, centered in the only clear space in the room.

“Thank you, Doctor Corin,” said Barad quietly.  He took the tallow-slate.

Kurti looked sadly at the bunk where the cousin that she had never got the chance to meet had lingered four and a half Wohans.  She spoke softly, “We appreciate all that you have done, Doctor Corin.  We visited her early last night.  When did she die?”

“I found her gone at the second drum of the third night watch,” he answered her.  Turning to the Captain he added, “I put her body in the corpse locker until you should order her funeral or embalming for transport back to her fleet.”

“Who knows of her death?” asked Barad, suddenly intense, struck by a thought.

“Only we three.”

“For now, keep it that way.  Curtain her bunk and let none see that she is gone,” he ordered.

“Not even my assistant?” queried Doctor Corin.

“Especially not Mikka,” said Barad decisively.  “Give her other work that keeps her out of the sickbay for now.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Barad and Kurti initialed the sick-bay casual visit list and left.  They were sobered by Tanlin’s passing but they had never truly known her.  The two had other and more pressing things to think about.  By the time that they had got to Barad’s cabin door, they were feeling once again the effects of their prank at dinner.

Once in his cabin, she laughed and the Captain chimed in.

“Did you see their faces?” he hooted.

“Which ones?” she replied, delighted by the response that she’d seen. “The officers or the crew?  The ones that I used to know just about fell off their benches!  That was even better than the officers for me.  After you chose me, they wrote me off and wouldn’t even talk to me when they did have the chance.”

Barad looked at her, seeing her anew, yet again.  “You have changed, Kurti.  I was sure that going before the whole crew like that would at least embarrass you.  You show no sign of it.  May I ask why?”

She sobered and considered carefully before answering.  “Truly, Sir, it is survival.  Your cabin-girls have a short life usually, and an unpleasant one, if rumor be true at all.  

“From what I have seen, they did not even try to please you.  That was their job.  You have always had a short way with people who don’t do their jobs.  Most folks have some point where they will say something like, I would rather die than — whatever.  

“I’ve decided to live.  That means doing my job as well as possible.   With what has passed between us, I could not marry to get off the ship now.  You would never feel safe, and rightly so.  One slip of a tongue and we both would be convicted of violating the Marriage Laws. Command me if necessary or just tell me what is needed and give me the chance to do what you want as well as I can.  For however long I live, Sir, I am yours.”

Barad beamed.  “I was right.  You think deeply.  This goes far beyond the present task.  You have clearly told me why I can trust you, in terms of your own self interest.

“Now, I have that game of Three Dragons to play tonight.  You are the stakes.  I leave the whole set-up and refreshments to you.”  He pulled her to him and kissed her.  She responded with the appearance of enthusiasm.  Then he released her and playfully patted her behind. “Get to it.”

As she was about to leave, Barad impulsively handed her a six-inch dagger of Strong Skin fang, honed to a razor edge.  Startled, she was about to refuse it when he spoke.  “Kurti, There are only two people on this ship that I trust enough to allow them to be armed in my presence.  One is Selked, whom I’ve known from childhood, and the other is you.  Carry this to defend yourself, if any of the crew should get ideas.”

TO BE CONTINUED

<==PREVIOUS   NEXT==>

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

[dragon-kazansky]

Going North - Chapter five

And now, the moment you have all been waiting for!

Summery: You come across a curious man who wants the same bear. You just didn’t realise at the time this man was about to become a big part of your life.

Chapter 5 - The aeronaut

After a much needed break, and a bit of cheering up on Coram's end, Lyra asked you if you would come into town with her. You agreed, leaving Coram to himself for a while and wanting to explore some more. You just made Lyra promise not to stir up to much trouble while out. She laughed and said she couldn't exactly promise that.

"Wasn't he impressive, though?" Lyra asked you after a bit of walking.

"You mean Iorek? Yes, he was." You smiled. "I've never seen anyone quite like him."

"I'm glad I got see him with my own eyes... I just wish Roger was there too." She looked away sadly. You reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, her gaze lifted back to you.

"I said it before, and I'll say it again: You and Roger will back together before you know it. You can tell him about all things you've done to just to get here. He'll be really impressed." You gave her a warm smile. "I bet he's waiting for you."

Lyra put on a smile and you both continued walking through the town.

You made Lyra feel more confident and content with everything that was happening. It was one of the reasons she liked you so much. You were both alike in some ways, yet different in others that complimented each others personality's. She couldn't wait for you to meet Roger. She knew he would like you just as much as she did.

As you both crossed a bridge over a small pond, a man up ahead began to shout out to everyone in town.

"Has anyone seen a bear?!"

You and Lyra began to approach him. What were the chances that someone else would come looking for the bear you lot wanted. The world felt rather small in that moment. Getting closer to the man, you got a better look at him.

He was rather cute.

"What do you want with a bear?" Lyra asked him, knowing he'll only get himself into trouble if he kept yelling things like that around town. Unknown to you, he had just been thrown out the bar behind him.

"You're bleeding." You pointed out, looking at him.

The man turned to face you both

"Hazard of the job." He said looking down at you from his spot on a rock. At this moment in time, Lee Scoresby found himself at a slight stand still. When he turned around to see who was talking to him, he wasn't quite expecting you. To him, you were most defiantly the prettiest looking person he had come across in this town.

"And what job do you do?" You ask, not taking any notice of the way he had been looking at you.

"I'm in aeronautics." He said, wiping his bloody nose with a cloth.

"What part of being an aeronaut...?" Lyra began to ask, but Lee cut her off, still looking at you. Not that you noticed, you had turned your attention to Lyra.

"Let me give you a tip, kid. Never upset a seagull." He jumped down from the rock and looked at the young girl.

"You're not serious."

"Not if I can help it."

You found yourself smiling. There was nothing serious about him. He spoke with such a cheerful tone of voice and you could see the mischief in his eyes.

"Will he want see you, this bear?"

"I hope so." He said, sounding the most serious he had in the past few minutes you had met him. "You know where he is, don't you?" He looked between both you and Lyra. "The town's no place for Iorek."

"How do you know him?" Lyra asked.

"Well, she's just a sprung box, isn't she?" He grinned, coming closer to you. "She just keeps asking questions. Lee Scoresby. Can you tell me where to find him?" He held out his hand to you.

"Y/N L/N. I'm just following her lead." You smiled at him, shaking his hand, then looking over at Lyra.

Lyra smiled at Lee when he turned to her.

"What is it about him?" She questioned. "What's keeping him trapped?"

"Kid, I'll tell you that when you tell me what you know."

"Another time." She walked past him. You followed her, Lee watching you walk past him.

"Why won't you tell me?"

"Because we need him, and I'm not sure that you won't take him from us." Lyra replied, pointing at him. You glanced over your shoulder at him as you walked away.

Yeah, he's cute.

As you walked away, Lee watched you leave. Hester hopped up beside his feet, also watching you go. She knew what he was looking at, and wanted to roll her eyes. Lee could be so predictable sometimes. However, Lee was a little bit annoyed about the secrecy. You two knew something and wouldn't share. He needed to find Iorek.

"She was nice." Hester said, looking up at him.

"Hmm." Lee turned around, looking around him. "She asked a lot of questions."

"I wasn't talking about the girl." Hester gave him a knowing look. Lee chose to ignore his daemon and walked away. Hester giggled as she caught up with him, sensing his annoyance.

By nightfall, everyone had gathered by the docks, where they would be staying for the night. The Northern Lights were out, glistening above. You found yourself standing out in the cold looking at them. Oliver was perched near by, looking at them too.

"Fascinating." You muttered.

"Quite." He agreed.

"I never actually thought I would get to see them in person. This is wonderful!" You smiled up at the sky.

"We have done a lot of things you never thought you would do." Oliver mused, looking at you now. You lowered your gaze to meet his eyes. You smiled at him. He spoke the truth. There were lots of things you had done you never ever thought you would do. If only coming here was under different circumstances.

"I think I saw Lyra go over there." You thought aloud. You tugged your coat around you a bit more and wondered off to see if you could find her.

You heard voices. At first you thought she must be talking to Pan, but the second voice didn't sound like her daemon. As you got closer you saw she was with Tony. You stopped walking, not wanting to interrupt them. You turned your gaze back to the sky, keeping quiet. Your intention wasn't to listen on them, but they weren't talking as quietly as they may have thought.

"I find myself thinking about Billy at the strangest times." Tony said, not noticing you lingering a small distance away. "Even found myself thinking about him on the toilet this morning."

You rolled your eyes. You really weren't supposed to be listening, but out of all things to overhear.

"Heard you met a bear."

"Yeah."

"Fun? Scary?"

"Confusing." Lyra replied. "Definitely not what I expected." Silence hung in the air for a moment. "We're going to get them back, Tony."

"I know. We will do whatever it takes to get them back."

You felt your heart reach out to them. You decided that was enough lingering and moved forwards, making yourself known to them. Both of them perked up when they heard you approach and offered you a smile as you came into view. Oliver went to sit with the other daemons.

"You two not too cold?" You asked, hugging yourself.

"A bit." Lyra chuckled softly. "We'll go inside in a minute. We were just looking at the sky." Her gaze went back up to the lights above. You followed her and smiled.

"Beautiful, aren't they?"

Both of them agreed. Silence fell over the three of you and, not wanting to confess to hearing them talk, you smiled at the pair.

"Come on, inside. We need all the sleep we can get."

Both of them got up off the ground and followed you back to the others. Ma greeted you all as you got near and offered you all something hot to eat.

You wondered what the next day would hold.

In the morning Faa had asked for your presence. He had told you that last night the witches had agreed to help and it was time to move. You understood. You looked at Farder Coram, but his expression was empty. Whatever he was feeling was not clear to you, but you were sure he must have been relived to know Serafina would help.

"We're leaving?" Lyra asked, coming over to the group.

"Yes. The witches have agreed to help us." Lord Faa told her.

"But... But we haven't got Iorek. The Witch Consul said we need Iorek."

"He also warned there was little chance of getting him away." Farder Croam said.

"You don't know what awaits us out there. With Iorek on our side, we stand a chance." She told Faa firmly.

"Lya, we've just had a good word that your father has been taken prisoner and is guarded by armoured bears. The Magisterium are everywhere." He told her. "We can't dare wait."

"They have Asriel?"

"They do."

"Then all the more reason to have an armoured bear on our side!" She was becoming frustrated, you could tell.

"We don't want him. We made inquiries." This had nothing to do with you, you narrowed your gaze on Faa. "Iorek is being punished for fighting and wrecking this town. He was drunk. That's the only reason they managed to prize his armour from him. He is a savage."

Lyra began to pull out her alethiometer.

"Lyra, that is not necessary!"

"Just let her do it!" You piped up.

She began to do her thing, turning the hands and asking her question silently. You watched with curiosity. The alethiometer clicked away quietly in her hands.

"The alethiometer says that they got him drunk and tricked him. No bear would normally drink spirits."

"He tore thought the police house and the bank." Faa tried to counter. "The only reason they didn't shoot him  was because of his skills with metal. Why don't you check your alethiometer to see whether I'm telling the truth now? You don't need to, because you know it. I choose who I fight alongside, and that is my final word." Faa walked away.

Lyra turned around and looked at you with a pleading look. When you didn't say anything she rushed off.

You gave a deep sigh and hurried after her.

"Lyra! Wait!"

She slowed down further down the docks, letting you catch up to her.

"I have a plan." You came up beside her, looked around to make sure no one else was listening and then looked at her.

"What is it?" She asked softly, willing to listen.

"Well, there is one person in this town who knows that bear." You spoke quietly.

Realisation took over her expression and she smiled at you, she grabbed your hand and began to run. You let her take you. She knew where to go.

"You're a genius!"

Half way there she stopped and turned to you.

"I might need your help convincing him." She said.

"Why? I've seen you in action, you know how to talk people into listening to you." You chuckled.

"Yeah, but I think he kind of likes you, so he'll probably listen to you."

You stared at her wide eyed.

"What?"

She didn't say anything else, just grabbed your hand and carried on running.

Getting to the inn was no problem at all. It was right in the centre of town and you had both seen him here once. Lyra led the way inside, his back was to you. You were glad he was here. Lyra marched over to his table and took the empty seat, you came up beside her and stood, with no more seats available.

"Who didn't need you help?" Lyra asked, questioning what Hester talking about as she came over.

"You know, kid, much as I like you, now is not the time." He told her, glancing at you.

"I represent John Faa ruler of the western Gyptians, and we would like to hire you." Lyra leaned forwards against the table.

"You can't afford me." He told her.

Lyra looked up at you.

"Mr Scoresby, the Magisterium is stealing children. We have to get them back, and it occurred to us that the help of an aeronaut might be of some use. We'd be grateful for your services." You said, offering him a smile.

"We pay in gold." Lyra added at the end, reaching out to steal some of his breakfast.

"I know what you're fighting. You're going to lose." Lee stated.

"You play cards?" Lyra asked him.

"Ha! What do you know about cards?" He chuckled.

"I used ti play them with the scholars where I lived. They are much cleverer than me, but I generally won. I learned that sometimes a bad hand can be your greatest weapon." She said, stealing more bacon from his plate. "Sometimes, when there is no hope, it can allow you to bluff magnificently."

"Remind me never to play cards with you." Lee sipped his drink.

"We need you... and the bear." You said.

"You need the bear and I'm secondary."

"How do we get him to come with us?" You asked. "I know you know."

"He's obliged to this town. Iorek's going nowhere." Lee said, not making eye contact with either of you.

"He's an armoured bear." Lyra piped up, stealing even more from his plate. "What could they...?" She stopped herself, a thought coming to mind. You looked at her. "They got his armour."

"Hey, you got there without needing my help." Lee teased, sipping from his cup again.

"Why's his armour so important?" She asked.

"War is the sea he swims in and the air he breathes. No. Without his armour... his armour means as much to him as Hester here does to me." He smiled at his daemon.

"His armour is like his daemon?" You asked.

"His soul is in those pieces of metal." Lee looked at you. "But the Magisterium will have it well hidden. Now, I've been thinking that maybe I'm outgunned in this town," Lee turned around. Lyra tapped your arm and nodded for you to follow her, "but I've got some craft of my own, you understand. No, if I can't win Iorek's freedom, then..."

Lee turned back around to find you had both gone. The chair now empty and you long out of sight.

"Where did they go?" He asked in thought, confused as to how he hadn't heard you both leave. He saw the back door close. "She's quick, and she stole my bacon." He looked at his plate, all he had left were beans.

Hester looked at him.

Lee sighed.

"At least you got to see Y/N again." Hester teased him.

"Hester-" He sighed and ran a hand down his face.

You'd never know, but you had been on his mind a bit since he met you. He wasn't quite sure why. Lee decided he was going to finish his breakfast and get on with his day.

Nothing could possibly go wrong.

Tags:

@awyr @fandombeehive @charmed-asylum  @sigynbandraoi-blog @procrastinatingmurder  @beebofrank13 @gemellath @eagleandthebutterfly  @kpopgirlbtssvt @raeofstarshine @melancholicsthings @ettorah @iaintnofurry @thatkindofgurl @curse-brekker

[equalstrashflavoredtrash]

Left to the Wolves - 2

a/n: The long awaited second part! now ubbe has some alone time with her and they talk... I hope you enjoy, please leave your thoughts and comments. Is there anything specific you want to see out of this story in the future? I have a loose plot outline but I’m open to suggestions

warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, smut, slight bondage-just wrists tied, and vaginal penetration, some breeding talk 

FF.net // Ao3 // Masterlist

Ubbe X Reader // Vikings

word count: 3,506

PART 1

You had a leisurely morning, taking your time to rise and eat the breakfast of fruit and oats left out for you. Your body felt rejuvenated, like your skin was glowing and all was well with the world. There was a light twinge of pain when you sat that came from Hvitserk’s rough treatment, but you paid it no mind. That morning you woke in bed alone, and though disappointed, you were not surprised he’d taken his leave in the early hours.

After knotting the leather thong that fastened your boots, you finally entered the main hall, planning for a walk along the fjord in the sun, but it appeared the Gods had other plans. Almost immediately after stepping outside you crossed paths with Ubbe.

“Good to see you this morning, or should I say afternoon?” he greeted with a sly smirk.

“Good day, Ubbe,” you replied, ignoring the chiding comment. “What are you up to?” Leaning to the left, you looked past his shoulder at the chestnut-colored horse behind him.

“I was planning on going to set traps, but I would much rather take you for a picnic instead.” He bowed his chin as he spoke. With a subtle grin, his eyes connected with yours in a hold you couldn’t shake. Though his offer seemed innocent enough, with his gaze you felt the all too familiar pang between your thighs. That ache you’d thought you had satiated the night before was back and the blatant smell flooded Ubbe’s nostrils.

You hesitated, checking over your shoulder—though you weren’t sure who it was that you expected to be watching—then with a shy nod, you agreed. Ubbe offered to let you ride on the horse, giving you a helping lift into the saddle. His fingers lingered low on your hip a little longer than needed before he reached for the reins to guide as he walked on foot.

Riding through the woods was pleasant with the large trees shading you from the afternoon sun. The pair of you took your time traveling, occasionally stopping so Ubbe could set a trap when he saw fit, until you came upon a small clearing in the wood.

“We should pause to eat here,” Ubbe offered as he tethered the horse’s reins to a branch. Holding out one hand to aid in your dismount, the other found it way to your waist as you slid off the saddle. Undoing the fastener that kept his cloak around his shoulders, Ubbe shed the garment and handed it to you suggesting, “Lay this down, we can use it as a blanket,” before turning to gather the lunch he had packed. You couldn’t help but sniff at the cloak, taking in the musky scent of Ubbe which stoked the warmth in the base of you belly.

Clouds began to move in, hiding the sun as you settled next to Ubbe. He had laid out a variety of fresh bread, cheese and fruits. You picked at the foods idly while chatting with the eldest Ragnarsson.

“My brothers and I will be leaving for a few days to hunt,” he mentioned as he handed you a waterskin filled with wine.

“Oh? All four of you?” Lifting the bladder to your lips, you tipped your head back and took a drink.

“Not Ivar. Hvitserk and I want it to be a short trip so he offered to stay home,” Ubbe explained, flubbing the details to hide the true nature of Ivar’s words as he reached for the small basket of black raspberries.

Gently brandishing an overripe berry, Ubbe brought the morsel to your mouth. You bit down, feeling the fruit explode and flood your tongue with juice. As you chewed, savoring the taste, Ubbe let the pad of his thumb dance across your stained lips, just barely brushing at your skin.

“Is it sweet?” he questioned in a low voice close to your ear. You gave an affirmative hum before he continued, “May I have a taste?”

Slightly confused, your eyes darted to the full basket—there was more than enough to share, so why had he asked?

Smiling inwardly at your perplexed expression, he cautiously nudged your chin to face him. With a bit more force, he swiped at your lip again before connecting his mouth with yours. Initially shocked by the contact, you let out a soft gasp, granting his tongue entry so that he could lave at your own, taking in the sweet juice that coated the walls of your mouth while also urging you to respond to the kiss.

With a sigh you melted into him, the rekindled heat flooding through your limbs and blinding your thoughts. His hand covered the expanse of your cheek to neck as your tongues twined together.

Breaking away, you caught your breath while Ubbe stayed close, running his nose along your cheek when he spoke in a soft voice, “I could curse Hvitserk for getting to you first.”

“What do you mean?” His statement caught you off guard—the last thing you expected him to mention at this moment was his brother. Pulling back, you searched his eyes, hoping for an answer.

“Well, I am the oldest and next in line for the throne. Imagine the respect I’d garner with an Omega as beautiful as you on my arm.” Though his words seemed so confident and matter-of-fact, you still reeled at how he spoke—like an entitled Alpha. Of all the Ragnarssons, Ubbe had struck you as the one least interested in social status.

Pivoting in you seat, you shifted out of his grasp, sliding his palm from where it rested under your hair. “An Omega is not a trophy. I am not a prize to be had and put on display,” you began, trying to keep a firm tone as you picked at invisible pieces of lint from your skirt in attempt to avoid eye contact. You could feel his intense gaze watching you and although you were not sure if it was in shock or admiration, you kept your chin held high. “I have spent my life having to follow orders from my father and other Alphas. I hope that my mate would be different, that he will treat me with respect—as an equal. I do not wish to spend my life just making babies, I want to raise fierce warriors alongside my partner—whoever that maybe.”

Ubbe said nothing as you finally rose to your feet. Though he did not strike you as the vindictive type who would punish you for such insolence—speaking out of turn the way you had—you were still well aware of the fact that you were alone in the woods with a young Alpha who you had willingly joined. If anything happened now, nobody would question his actions. Hoping to diffuse the tension of the moment, you looked skyward. “They clouds are getting quite dark, I fear it will rain soon. It is probably best for us to return to Kattegat.”

Silently moving in tandem, the pair of you worked to gather what was left of the food. Once everything was secured, Ubbe climbed onto the horse’s back and held his hand out to you. “It’ll be faster if we ride together.”

Keeping your eyes low and averted, you accepted the gesture and situated yourself in the front of the saddle. The positioning kept both of you close. He brought the edges of his cloak to wrap around your shoulders, presumably for protection from the impending weather and chill. You couldn’t ignore the way his chest pressed inline with your spine as you rode, his body swaying with the horse’s gait. His legs cradled yours as his arms circled your waist, forearms resting on his thighs as he held the reins.

The journey was silent—save for his clicks and commands to the steed along with the noises of the forest around you. You had grown comfortable with the quiet, no longer fearing Ubbe’s ire when he gave a slight cough to clear his throat.

“When I spoke before about you as my queen, I did not mean to offend, but now—reflecting on your comments—I see how I misspoke.” You chose not to respond. Keeping your head forward you suddenly found yourself fascinated with the small twitches of the horse’s ears, each moving independently to perceive its surroundings while simultaneously staying focused on the path ahead. With a tense sigh, Ubbe carried on, “The dream you describe of raising a family together is all I could ever ask for. If I was lucky enough to do so with you; I would be a happy man. I cannot promise to be perfect, but I hope that you will correct me when I make mistakes.”

It was not visible to Ubbe, but a small smile tugged at your cheeks as you listened to his apology.

Riding back to Kattegat, all was quite between you and Ubbe, each enjoying listening to the sound of nature that surrounded the pair of you—the sound of the rain hitting the sprouting leaves with a light pitter-patter.

It seemed the moment Ubbe’s horse crossed the threshold into the barn it began to pour—as if the clouds had held back, waiting for you to find shelter before releasing their deluge.

The eldest prince dismounted first before helping you to settle on your feet. Stepping away you found a nearby post to lean against as you watched Ubbe undressed his horse, brushing the sweat off her back before leading his mare to her designated stall so she could eat her dinner of oats. There was something about watching him care for another creature so intently—listening to him coo to the horse, murmuring how she was such a good girl, having done well all day and deserving to rest—that made your insides twist into knots. His words about starting a family together rang through your head while you watched the way his tunic stretched, taught across his shoulder blades as he reached to secure the pen.

Pivoting on his heel he approached where you rested. He raised his hand to scratch at the short hairs on the back of his scalp, looking anywhere but directly at you. He motioned, opening his mouth as if he was going to speak before snapping his jaw shut and turning away. He grabbed his cloak from the hook and held it open at the shoulders. “It doesn’t look like this rain will let up soon. I think it’d be best if you head back to the hall. You can take my cloak and stay dry, I’ll wait out the storm here in the barn,” Ubbe explained, swinging the wool and fur to wrap around your shoulders before you could disagree. Once the ties at the collar were fastened he dropped his hand to rest on the middle of your back, leading you to the exit of the barn.

The rain seemed to come down in sheets and you hesitated at stepping out into the storm—even with the added layer. The inclement weather wasn’t the only thing that drew you stay put. Shifting away from his touch you faced Ubbe and bit you lip.

“I don’t have to leave,” you suggested, cautiously looking up at him through your lashes as you raised your hand to meet his, lacing your fingers together. “I could stay here with you.” Hesitating for a moment, you wondered if you should finish your thought, but then choose to do it anyway. “I could stay here and help you keep warm.”

A grin grew on Ubbe’s face as he watched your eyes and took in the meaning of your words. Cautiously he raised his open hand to cup your flushed cheek but you dipped away, releasing your fingers from his just before he made contact.

Spinning out of his reach you gave a flourish to the cape, guiding the the hem to swing out. You shot him a teasing glance over your shoulder before moving aside. Ubbe’s hands tried to catch your waist but you were a step ahead, keeping close but still far enough away. You couldn’t help giggling every time his fingers barely missed the wool of the cloak. The chase kept up but it soon turned when you were too focused on your pursuer and not the path ahead. Unexpectedly, you found yourself in a corner, pressing your back against wooden boards while watching Ubbe’s hungry approach.

You could smell the desire on him. It had spiked the moment you suggested staying the night in the barn, and it was obvious what thoughts were flooding his mind. His eyes burned into yours as you nervously reached to fiddle with the fastener near your throat, worried about the beast you may have provoked with your teasing.

Once he was near his hands clamped around your middle, easily dragging you against his chest. “Did you plan on keeping me warm by making me chase you?” Ubbe questioned, pinching your chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing you to look at him.

Simpering at his accusation you tried to feign innocence but he wasn’t fooled. Jerking your face forward, he held your gaze. “Maybe I did,” you teased, watching the way his mouth twitched as he listened. “Was there something else you had in mind?”

“If you are going to behave like a brat, then I should treat you as such.” His voice was low with warning, a scratchy grow that made your stomach jump. You stood flush against the wall, pinned by his chest as he held your jaw, his thumb sliding to brush along your bottom lip. “Is that what you want? To be punished?”

Taking a shaky breath you watch the dark gleam in his eye. “How would you punish me?”

“I could keep you in my bed, forcing you to orgasm until you beg for me to stop.” His tongue danced across his lip, enjoying the wide-eyed expression you wore, hanging on his every word. “Then I’d fuck you until you can’t walk without thinking of me. I’d fill you with my seed until it takes and you bear my children.”

His words stunned you—freezing you inplace, overwhelmed but the thoughts his implication brought forth. Ubbe took advantage of your shocked reaction to wrap his arms around your waist, easily lifting you off your feet. The sudden action rocked you back to reality as you yelped and clutched the wool of his tunic. After two long strides, he pivoted to deposit you on top of the bale of hay. You let out an ‘oof’ on impact as his hands moved to brace next to your head.

He lowered himself slowly, bring his lips to capture yours. You met his kiss, eagerly pressing against him. Shifting, Ubbe rested on one elbow, freeing his other hand to blindly fiddle with the fasteners on your clothes. First he released the cloak, letting it fall flat to serve as a blanket again. He made fast work of the rest of your garments, yanking your long dress over your head without fully removing your apron and adornments. Pulling back, he took a moment to admire your figure, taking in the soft curve of your hips and belly as his calloused hand ran down your side.

His touch tickled, causing you try wriggle away from him but still his eyes burned as he watched the way you moved. His gaze made you anxious—in attempt to take the attention off of your own body, you reached for his vest fumbling with the buckles. As you raised your hands, Ubbe seemed to realize that he was still fully dressed. He aided your advances, eagerly peeling off his layers before returning to kiss you.  

There was an energy coursing through your limbs every time he touched your skin that was all too familiar. You were in heat and with every second you spent near Ubbe the urge increased exponentially. Pawing at his shoulders you attempted to draw him further against yourself. Your nails dragged across his trapezius, leaving a score of red on his skin in their wake.

This only encouraged the prince, biting at your collarbone as he drew your arm upwards, pinning your wrists next to your ears. The smell of Ubbe’s arousal flooded your senses, drowning out any logical thought. The closer he pressed the weaker you felt under him.

Easily manipulating your body, he twisted your torso to roll over. Resting on your belly you were still reeling at what was happening when Ubbe fisted the kerchief you wore to keep your hair back. He ripped the fabric from your head, letting your hair fall loose as he twirled it up. He gathered your arms behind your back before you could resist and secured it around your wrists.

Giving the tails two hard tugs, he ensured your wrists were immobile before leaning in. His chest lined with your spine as he moved to speak in your ear, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about punishing you.” His breath fanned the side of your face as he pulled the knot tight with a final hard tug.

Ubbe moved away to kneel behind you, keeping one hand flat across your shoulder blades—forcing you to remain bent over, cheek resting against his cloak’s fur trim. Having your nose buried in his scent only stoked the fire in you, urging on your heat as Ubbe grabbed at your hips, lifting you to rest on your knees.

You let out a mindless, wanton moan as his palm smoothed over the expanse of your ass, edging close to your center. Just as his thumb began to brush your outer lips his hand lifted away.

Without warning Ubbe dropped his open hand to slap your ass. Skin cracked against skin as his palm made contact. You couldn’t hold back the yelp that passed your lips, nor the following one as he spanked your other cheek. By the third you had turned your head into the fur, trying to muffle your sound. The effort was proven futile when Ubbe wove his fingers into your hair, drawing your head back, craning your neck so you couldn’t hide your gasps.

“Do you want me to stop?” Ubbe teased, rubbing his nose against your temple as he kept you in such a vulnerable position. “Will you be my good girl now?”

“Please,” you gasped, trying to push your ass against his erection. Shifting your hips, you slid against his shaft until Ubbe finally released your hair. With a bruising grip, he shifted your hips into place, holding himself as he lined up with your center. Your pussy welcomed him as he pressed forward, sinking into your warmth. Biting your lip you tried to stay quiet until his hips hit yours.

Before you could fully adjust to his girth, Ubbe was pulling back and slamming back in. His hips cracked against your ass over and over in hard thrusts. With each impact you were driven further into the soft hay, a moaning mess that cared only about receiving what the prince had to give. He carried on at a hard pace, pounding into you with such force you could do nothing but take the brutal treatment.

You whimpered when he found his end—begging for him as he released, cumming inside of you. Ubbe seemed to collapse immediately, curling around your back before drawing you to lay on your side, spooning with him. His limp prick slid from your pussy as you shifted, feeling the warm trickle of his cum following it.

Wiggling slightly you cuddled back against him, almost forgetting about your arms before he undid the knot, releasing your hands. Shaking out the square of raw fabric, he flattened the kerchief against his hand before bring it to swipe between your legs. With a hard press he drew the fabric forward, gliding his covered fingers between your labia to best mop up the wet.

You laid halfway on your back, one arm looped backwards around Ubbe’s neck as he brought the square of his fabric to his nose. He gave a deep grunt as he inhaled the scent of your heat smeared across the wool.

“The perfect way to think of your while I’m hunting,” Ubbe growled after depositing the kerchief with his clothes. Returning his attention to you, he wrapped his arm tight around your shoulders, holding you firm against his chest.

Nuzzling your cheek against his chest hair you made yourself comfortable, sinking into the warmth of his body and  as you drifted off to sleep.

Than you for reading! please tell me what you thought! and if you have any ideas or suggestions of where this should go tell me, im open

@beautifulramblingbrains @ariwolf14 @titty-teetee @whenimaunicorn @sweetvengeancee @ivarinleatherpants @tiyetiye@romanchronicles @oddsnendsfanfics@murmelinchen @buckybarnesisalittleshit@laketaj24 @ivarslittlebadgirl @readsalot73@imgoldielikehawn @ivarsshieldmadien@ceridwenofwales​ @grungyblonde​ @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @athroatfullofglass @westcoastselkie [[if you want to be tagged for vikings stuff in the future, leave a reply]]