#which frankly was a stupid position for him to take but you have to hand it to him

[tetrachromate]

kind of funny that no (epic americans) on here give a shit about ulster scots being like The Orangeman Demographic while shitting on the anglos (who proportionately are far more likely to be chill). Cartoon understanding of 20th century irish history

[fartcloudfartcloud]

What about Logan meeting a reader with more dominance than him? Like what would he do, what would he want to do to them?

*giggles and wrings hands together* You've found my achilles heel mr.69

i dont know if this is what you wanted but im using this as my excuse to write FREAKY SUBMISSIVE LOGAN PORN!!!

warnings: Edging, Logan being mean and then begging on his knees a second later, i do say reader is "5 foot whatever" but if that doesnt apply just ignore it lmao, I do describe him as almost crying every now and then so if that turns u off this might be a skip

This is short (1.5k) but I love submissive men so do NOT be afraid to lmk if you want more :)

Personally, I was raised by a woman way too strong headed to ever be the stereotype of submission, and I'm sure a lot of you share the same sentiment in some way or another. I was always told to never let a man tell me what to do, and I can picture a reader being the exact same way. 

Not mean, not bullheaded or rude, but strong. Tough. Logan had expected to blow through you like he had the rest of his team (or at least how he thought he did, though he was a lot tougher in his head than in action). But when he stood up to you, all 5 foot whatever of you, it felt like you were standing eye to eye.  

You did exactly as you were taught, chin up and shoulders back as you spoke with confidence, and it easily had you slipping into positions of power in the mansion with ease. He admired you from afar for a while, watched as you seamlessly commanded a room, effortlessly organizing missions and handling insubordinate children like it was nothing.  

Logan couldn't describe where the attraction came from. Originally, he thought it was his manly man urges to take a dominant woman and make her pine for him, but you and I both know that's not why you got him going. 

If you were to ask him right now in his current scenario, he wouldn't be able to tell you which was his favorite part. Not sure if it's you under him in between his knees, looking up and fluttering your pretty eyelashes at him like has something to behold; or if it's your firm grip around his cock, effortlessly bringing him so close to the edge before you manhandle him back down to earth. 

It had only been once so far, but you had gotten him bad. Your hands all sloppy and wet working up and down his length with vigor, your filthy loudmouth a never-ending record of come on baby, let me see it, let go for me. 

All that build up, just for you to -right as he whimpers out a breathless "going to fucking cum"- halt all action and grip your flingers tightly around his base. 

It ripped a deep growl from his chest, the feeling almost painful as his finish line is so rudely ripped from him.  

He should've known, he knows you too well too have assumed he could get you all pretty on your knees without some anterior motive.  

"You want something?" You ask him innocently, that stupid pretty smile still spread across your face. He grinds his teeth as the pressure in his stomach slowly simmers down, not enough air in his lungs to formulate a response.  

You slowly start stroking him again, an agonizing pace that has his cock flushed a deep red and practically throbbing in your hand. The sound is pornographic and it's all too much for him. 

He's whining now, head thrown back and noises getting increasingly high pitched as you keep his release just barely out of his reach. If he could focus enough to use his ears, he’d hear you laughing at him. 

He so rudely tries to interrupt you, tries to bring his own hands down to just get himself there, but you wouldn't allow it. You'd make him sit on his hands if you had to, and when you grabbed each wrist and planted them next to his thighs and told him to "stay," he knew better than to disobey. 

"Gotta ask for the things you want, Wolvie." You remind him. It's just basic manners, really, frankly he should be thanking you for still touching him after being so rude.  

"Don't gotta ask for shit," He spits out through clenched teeth. 

See, that was Logans problem. He had too much fucking pride, needed someone to teach him a lesson. Guess today he needs it to be you. 

"Mm you're right, Logan," you've got a smile on your face as you speak that Logan can't read. Either way, he's scared. 

None of it matters though as your hand picks up speed and pressure, resuming your prior ministrations as your fingers suddenly massage every spot with precision. His breath is gone as his head hangs limp on his shoulders, his fingers gripping the comforter like it would save him from your attack.  

"You don't gotta do shit," You're talking but he's not listening. It's all too good, he's being hurdled towards his orgasm faster than ever, he couldn't hear your jests even if he wanted to over the pressure in his ears. He’s gonna cum, he's so fucking close, and your hands feel so fucking good so perfect and it's all so much and- 

"But neither do I," and just like that you're off him. Not like before, this time you stand up and physically take a step back from him, watching his form head to toe as he's forced to cope with his second lost orgasm. 

The groan he lets out is primal, you expect to see him start ripping the pillows and sheets with how his writhing on your bed. He’s on his back twitching, practically crying from the ache pulsing through the center of his body. It hurts, he's so desperate it physically hurts, his hips rutting into the air in search of anything. 

He has no sense anymore, no control over any of his limbs as he falls to the floor and crawls to you, the only thing he can make out in his fogged-up mind is need.  

"Please baby," He begs mindlessly, "You're so fucking mean to me," He's kissing your thighs and pulling at your hands, buttering you up and wallowing in any contact you'll give him.  

Neither of you know how it happened, know at what point in the night he broke and became a whimpering messy puppy, but God did it feel good to watch, to see him yearn for you so desperately. 

His eyes are teary eyed and hazy as he speaks, "I'll do anything princess I'm sorry," He kisses you palm and knuckles and up your wrists, "Please baby I'm sorry I'm sorry just fucking-" His hips involuntarily grind down, his thighs twitching and his hard cock bobbing between his legs. "Please touch me baby I can't fucking take it,"  

He’s a mess, his cock is leaking all over his thighs and the floor, and his lips won't leave your body, lathing kisses anywhere he can, worshipping your body as you stand still and look down at him.  

"Why can't you just behave the first time?" You ask, wrapping your fingers in his hair and gently tugging his hair back, making him look at you as he speaks.  

"Was just playin baby," He kisses the wrist of the hand in his hair, "shouldn't have teased you baby I'm sorry, please baby please," his arms are wrapped around your thighs as he nuzzles into you. It's pathetic, and if anyone else ever saw him like this he's sure he could just explode on the spot.  

"Get back on the bed." You order, taking pleasure in the way he scrambles back to his spot, his legs spread for you and his hands pressed back into their spot next to his hips. He’s disheveled, his hair falling over his face and sticking to his forehead, a thin layer of sweat covering him head to toe. Youd keep him like this forever if you could. 

You decide to take mercy on him though, the sight of him on his knees begging like a dog more than enough to satisfy your cravings. Now, all you wanted was to do was so how pretty he looked once he actually finished for you. 

You find your spot between his legs again, looking up at him all pretty just like before. God you were going to ruin him. 

"Go on. Tell me what you want," you give him one last instruction before giving in. His breath is shaky, his words coming out in a whole different tone than before. He sounds small, on the brink of tears as he whimpers out one last desperate, "please," before you spit in your hand and wrap it back around his cock.  

Instantly he's gone. He doesn't even have the energy to moan or cry, he's just paralyzed. His eyes roll back and his hand clamps over his mouth, no air left in his lungs as the most mind-numbing wave of pleasure works up from his core. He wasn't even cumming yet and it already was making him shake. 

He should've just trusted you, should've known that you'd make him feel so fucking good if he just listened. Never again, he'll never say no to you ever again. 

By the time his orgasm actually hit him, he's laid out flat on his back on the mattress, his mouth dropped open, and his eyes squeezed shut. Both his hands are wrapped in the sheets, stuck in place by his claws that slowly inch out with every rope of cum that comes from him. There's no sound until it's all out of him, your hands not stopping till he's whining and pushing you away from him. 

You watch as he recovers, his chest rapidly rising and falling as he desperately tries to get air back into his lungs, aftershocks still tumbling through him. His eyes flutter back open, not enough energy to focus on anything else though as his claws start sheathing back into his knuckles.  

He sits up as you return from the bathroom with a washcloth, gently cleaning off his stomach and anything that was coated in a thin layer of his finish. He’s sensitive, hissing and gasping as you gently clean his slowly softening length and thighs.  

Once all evidence is taken care of, you look up at him with soft eyes. He looks so amazing like this, his eyes can't focus on anything while his lips slowly pull into a big dopey grin. You let him take you in for a moment, just staying like this with him till he has the strength to speak.  

"Jesus Christ," Is all he says before he presses a chaste kiss to your lips before falling back onto the bed.  

"Are you going to make it?" You tease, cuddling up under his arm where he lay and resting your head on his bicep.  

"I don't think so," He giggles, enough oxygen in his system now, enough strength in him to wrap himself around you and kiss your head. "You were a lot closer to killing me then you think,"  

You giggle and smack his chest, "keep being mean like that and next time I actually will," 

[mxstellatayte]

I said no touching with Lewis

nsfw under the cut <3 minors can lurk but please do not interact!

the bass of the music rattles your bones, and your head pounds with the heat of the club, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

since you've gotten here, seven people have offered to buy you drinks, all of which you've declined.

not like lewis is counting.

you're flowing freely with the music, and you're positive your legs will be absolutely killing you tomorrow, but frankly, with the way lewis is looking at you from across the club, you couldn't care less. he looks hungry. eventually, you make your way over to him, a sly smile on your face because you know exactly what he's going to try to do. he's going to lean forward, snake an arm around your waist, and pull you close to his side.

when he goes for the move, though, you slip away and shake your head, turning to look at him. "i said no touching, lewis. you know this. be good."

"i hate you," he mutters.

"nah."

hours later, you have to repeat the same sentence. you're straddling lewis' thighs, pressing gentle kisses all along his neck, at each exact point that you know makes him shiver. his hands grip the duvet cover below him, and it makes you grin when you can feel him flinch, wanting so desperately to feel your skin beneath his palms, but resists.

"mm, now that i think about it, i'm pretty tired. maybe i can get you off just like this. what do you think? can you be good and stay still for me?" lewis nods, not daring letting his lips part for fear of incomprehensible pleas never stopping. "use your words, lewis."

"yes, i'll be good. i'll stay still, i promise."

"good boy." you lean down, press a gentle kiss to his lips, and begin grinding your hips against his bulge. moans immediately tumble past his lips and into your own, and you happily swallow every noise he makes. your fingers thread through his braids, each gap between your digits finding two or three braids each and pull. the moan that rips itself from lewis' throat is sinful, and you need more. your tongue tangles with his, and the whines and quiet moans coming from lewis indicate that he's getting close to his own orgasm, and his brain is so fogged over with lust that he hardly processes your next words. "you can move, lewis."

"hm?"

"you can move. but still, no touching keeps your hands down."

lewis is barely able to get out a breathy "fuck, thank you" before his hips roll up, matching your own movements, and the two of you groan in unison at the new stimulation. you both continue like that for a few minutes before you're clawing at lewis' back and cumming with a shout, lewis following you not long after. the two of you take a few minutes to catch your breath and let your muscles relax, simply basking in the silence for a few more minutes, but, before long, it's you who speaks up first.

"you need a shower?"

"only if you remove this stupid 'no touching' rule."

[azurevi]

from the eyes of the beholder

pairing: leona x gn!reader

summary: 5 times others know that leona is head over heels for you, and the 1 time he acts on it. 7.5k

note: just pure, innocent fluff ❤️ reader = ramshackle prefect

1.

Jack liked to imagine himself as a somewhat perceptive person, especially with his large ears catching wind of exchanged whispers and his outstanding olfaction that allowed him to pick up distinctive scents. As reserved as he seemed, he tended to watch things from the sidelines and keep note of different people's quirks and whatnots, and so more often than not he would surprise others with his hidden knowledge and observations. All in all, he knew quite well about people around him.

Or so he thought, because whatever was unfolding in front of his widened eyes was making him doubt all his previous judegements about his much respected dorm leader. 

It was mid-afternoon with the sun hanging high in the sky, burning with murderous intent. Jack, having had the misfortune to be the first student spotted by Crewel, was tasked to 'bring him the disobedient cat who would rather sleep than attend his lessons'. Jack recalled the places Ruggie would go to find Leona and found himself in the botanic garden in no time, eyes scanning the lush green and distracting flowers. He smelled his presence first, then noticed something else mixed in that woody scent.

His confusion only grew when he recognized its owner, who was none other than the prefect of Ramshackle. The trail led him to a spot shielded by a thick canopy of banana leaves, and right underneath was Leona, serenely asleep and– wait, is he sleeping on the prefect's lap? And is that their hand in his hair?

Jack blinked. He wasn't hallucinating.

Your face brightened in recognition when he finally shuffled close enough. "Hey Jack! Here to check on the cacti?"

"...No," despite his initial shock, his voice gave nothing away. Leona spared him one glance before promptly closing his eyes again. "Crewel asked me to bring Leona to class, but… what are you doing here?"

As if just now realizing yourself, you removed your fingers from Leona's silky hair, earning a dissatisfied huff. "Your dorm leader here caught me passing by and made me his personal pillow. I haven't moved from this position for hours."

Jack hoped that you were only exaggerating about the time, but frankly he was too preoccupied with other thoughts to care. For one, the painfully arrogant, prideful, and self-assured prince was resting his head on your lap and letting you thread your fingers through his locks? The Leona who would scowl and glower whenever someone so much as brushed against his tail? The Leona who would bite someone's arm off before ever giving them the idea that he could be anything less than almighty, let alone soft?

"Just tell Crewel you failed. I'm not about to ruin my nap to brew stupid potions," Leona stated, stubborn as usual.

"No way, I'm not missing my classes so that you can have your fun in dreamland. Get up!" You nudged him. No movement. "Jack, can you help me drag him off?"

Before the poor boy could take a step, Leona growled. "Don't you dare. Just give me ten more minutes, damn it."

"That's the third time you've said it." You deadpanned, to which he responded with a half-hearted hum. Seeing as he wasn't moving any time soon, your shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, Jack. I'll bring him over as soon as the ten minute mark passes."

It was less than ideal to have to go back to Crewel empty-handed, but there was no convincing Leona when he was hell-bent on doing something. With a defeated sigh, Jack nodded. "I'll be relying on you then, prefect."

If there was one person in NRC who could be deemed trust-worthy, it had to be you. He mentally gave himself a pat on the back before bidding goodbye.

In reality, didn't leave right away. He knew that he shouldn't intrude on his friend's life (let alone his senior's), but curiosity got him in a chokehold. Besides, he needed to make sure that you wouldn't get your wrist torn off if you tried anything else.

"It's quite unfair, actually," you mumbled. "All you do is lie around all day, how do you even pass your classes?"

"Everything the school’s teaching, I’ve already learned back home." Leona's mouth curled into a smirk. "What, are you jealous?"

"As if," you rolled your eyes. As if out of habit, you started smoothing his mane out again. With each gentle stroke, Leona's face relaxed into a peaceful expression, and his ears twitched in what Jack could only identify as delight. You must've noticed it too, because something akin to interest flitted across your feature. Jack's stomach dropped. He had seen that look many times before, and it was a telltale sign of trouble. 

After only a bit of hesitation, your outstretched hand moved to touch Leona's fluffy ear. That's it, Jack thought. You'd done it– poked at the hornet’s nest, shoved your hand inside a tiger’s yawning mouth, threw yourself into a river filled with piranhas. It was nice knowing you. There was no way you were going to get away with this.

Leona's eyes shot open, his nose scrunched in annoyance. "Careful where you touch, herbivore."

"Fine. My bad," you removed your hand with great reluctance, returning to dedicate your attention to his hair. The moment carried on as if nothing had happened, and within seconds Leona was already snoring.

What the hell was that. Jack swiveled on his heels and let his legs lead him away. In his head was only thoughts darting around, trying to make sense of why exactly Leona acted so differently towards you. The fact that he had you stay during his sleeping time was already out of character enough, but to let you off after you touched his ear, one of the most sensitive parts of a beastman's body? 

There could be something going on here. Jack had a hunch on what it was, but he didn't feel like jumping to conclusions just yet. For now, he should just sit and watch.

At the end of the day, he got caught by Crewel again. It turned out that Leona never showed up for his lesson after all.

2.

It was a breezy afternoon, but for Epel it was hotter than ever on the sports ground. The Magift Club was having its routine training, and everyone was dedicating their best even though it wasn't a real tournament.

His own heartbeat was the only thing he could hear as he dashed towards the opposing team's goal, the golden disk hovering right beside him. Yells and heavy steps followed him, but he was determined not to let his legs give out. Eagerness lurched inside his throat as the net neared, and he angled his arm to throw the disk–

-- only to get thrown off balance by a gust of wind. He landed on his butt with a groan, and looked up to see the disk in the possession of one Savanaclaw student. Cursing under his breath, he swatted the dirt off his knees and dived into action again.

After some more intense chasing and magic being thrown around, he headed with the rest of the team towards the benches, where Leona was sprawled out on a chair, sharp eyes heavy-lidded and coated with sleep. It wouldn't be a surprise if he turned out to have slept through the entire match.

"... Your weakness is that you only know how to charge forward." Leona commented just as Epel was about to take a sip from his water bottle. "You can't improve if you never learn how to look out for ambushes."

"Ah… thank you."

Alright, so maybe he hadn't been out for the count after all. Nonchalantly, Leona shifted into a more comfortable position, his face angled away from Epel. Even if he came off as detached and uncaring most of the time, there were occasions where he would give out short yet valuable advice and prove that he had been keeping an eye on his members. Epel only hoped that he could see the renowned player in action more often. Sadly, it only happened once in a blue moon.

"Ah, look who's here," Ruggie said. Epel followed his gaze and spotted you walking across the field, holding a paper bag large enough to topple you. It wasn't rare that you would drop by and visit. In fact, most of them had been looking forward to you and swarmed you with warm welcomes (presumably because they knew you were hiding snacks in that bag, but Epel decided not to comment on that when his stomach was rumbling too).

"Where's Leona?" You asked once you've given Ruggie a bag of donuts. The grinning hyena jutted his head to the side, "Lazing around as usual. Wanna stay and watch us play?"

You arched your head back and scanned the clock above the rows of seats. "Sure, I have some time to kill." You gave him a thumbs up and made your way towards the chairs at the front. 

Epel watched as you kicked Leona's chair to wake him up. He was too far away to hear whatever you were talking about, but you looked pretty close, chatting away with an exchanged chuckle here and there. Even though Leona still looked sleep-laden, he rested his head on his fist and kept his eyes on you the whole time.

One was his club leader, and the other was his close friend. He was starting to wonder how you two had become so close when Ruggie threw his arm around his frame. "Time for round two! What, you still haven't finished the cookies? Need some help?"

Epel quickly shoved them inside his mouth. "No fran qu (no thank you)!"

Everyone had already spread out in two teams when Leona promptly stood up from his humble 'throne' and stepped onto the field. "Wait. You, swap with me."

The second-year student in question pointed at himself and blinked. 

Leona frowned. "Do I need to repeat myself?" 

"N-no!" The student ran off with his tail literally between his legs. Epel's eyes followed the man as he made his way to the front of the opposing team, stretching his muscled limbs. 

The match started as soon as you blew the whistle. If Leona actually getting on the field was out of the ordinary, then him putting effort in playing was enough to leave one flabbergasted and dumbfounded. He didn't even have to lift a finger to weave his way through the wall of opponents. Yet, as Epel watched on, he couldn't help but feel both amazed and startled at the same time. 

Amazed, because Leona really lived up to his name as one of the top players among the long list of magic schools. He was quick on his feet, never letting anyone so much as touch the hem of his shirt as he flashed past defenses. In fact, his moves were so unpredictable and fast that whatever formations that had been discussed dissolved within moments as everyone scrambled to block him. But that was not all– he was tactical. One moment he was making others chase him so that he could sweep them away with one single hit, the other he was planting traps on the ground and sneering as they fell victim. It was like he could predict everyone's move.

There was no chance of beating him even if he had his eyes closed all the way. Though Epel's eyes were trained on the lone figure, he could hear your voice booming across the field.

"Ruggie! Epel! Go get him!"

"Ugh, I'm trying!" Epel clenched his jaw and rushed forward, shouting as he prepared to launch a sneak attack from behind– then Leona turned his head and smirked.

–

It only took fifteen minutes for Leona to render everyone useless. Epel dragged himself towards the benches and dropped himself carelessly, limbs sprayed out as he tried to catch his breath.

"Did you have to go that harsh on them?" You said as Leona returned with nary a bead of sweat. There was a touch of playful reprimand in your voice.

"They need to be humbled once in a while lest they become too full of themselves." 

You two moved somewhere else, the air carrying your words away. The temporary silence was replaced by Ruggie's wheezes. "Jeez- lemme catch my breath. That was hell."

"I know right," Epel answered weakly. "Do you think Leona-san joined because we weren’t doing good enough?"

"Please, he wouldn't bother," there were sounds of a paper bag being rustled. A moment later, Ruggie spoke up again, this time with food in his mouth. "The answer is pretty simple, actually. Why do you think he worked so hard out there?"

"...He wanted to kick our asses?"

"Nah, that's too much trouble. If he wanted to kick your ass he would've asked me to do it." Epel wasn't sure what to feel about that information. "The truth is- he just wanted to show off, duh."

Epel craned his head so he was facing Ruggie. "Show off? To whom?"

"C'mon. Just see for yourself."

He did as told, scanning the place and eventually spotting you still talking to Leona, this time playfully shoving at his arm at something he had said. There was this look on his face that Epel couldn't put a name to. He'd seen it on someone else though: Sebek as he gushed about Malleus, Rook as he read a magazine with Vil's face printed on the cover, Cater when he came across something Magicam-worthy. Epel knew exactly what these displayed feelings were, but then it would mean that–

"Leona-san worked us to the bone just so he could impress the prefect?" Epel all but barked out the accusation. Ruggie giggled at his reaction and shrugged, leaving the boy even more exasperated. That wasn't really the point, but irritance was clouding his senses at that time. It was only until he was back in his room and lying in bed that he would start to connect the dots and let out a loud, stunned gasp.

3.

The café near NRC had been flooded with customers all day, and the queue only lengthened as time passed. Cater squeezed his dry eyes shut, having scrolled on his phone the whole time he was waiting outside. 

Ever since a famed influencer on Magicam had complimented this café in a post, it had been getting all the hype. Cater couldn’t miss out on the fun, even if everything on the menu was too saccharine for his liking.

After what felt like millennia, he finally got inside the shop. It looked like pink had vomited all over the walls, but it should look aesthetic enough for the folks on Magicam. Cater spotted a vacant seat by the window and rushed towards it. From the corner of his eyes he could see a man heading in the same direction. 

“Shit-“ the man cussed as he tripped. 

“Ah, my bad.” Cater raised his hands and stepped away. The man muttered something under his breath and looked up. The seat had already been taken by the… same man that had just run into him?

Cater chuckled quietly as the man looked around the shop, then back at him again. His unique magic really came in handy sometimes.

He ordered the most famous dishes and turned to his phone again. Perhaps he would give them to those adorable first-years later, or just send them all to Trey.

After a while, even the endless scrolling came to an end. Cater pressed on the home button and waited for the page to refresh. Emerald eyes wandered lazily around the room, rounding when he caught sight of a familiar figure.

If it was any other person, Cater would’ve thought that his eyes had deceived him, but there was no mistaking those ears and long tail. That was definitely Leona Kingscholar, standing in queue with his hands shoved inside his pockets. Much like Cater, he was still in school uniform, and the look of irritance on his face made him stand out like a sore thumb in this sugary world.

Just what could he be doing here? Cater knew that the man wasn’t particularly into sweets and pastries. He definitely wasn’t one to follow trends either. Not to mention that he had zero media presence… unless he had a private account?

Leona’s tail flicked. The man in front of him suddenly crossed his foot in front of the other and stumbled out of the queue. Leona quickly stepped up and silenced whatever the man was going to say with a glare.

In the corner of the café, Ruggie’s shoulders shook with laughter.

Even with underhand methods, there was only so much the two could do to shorten the waiting time. It took another fifteen minutes for them to finally get to the counter. Cater watched with intrigue as the barista stuffed two well-loved red velvet cakes into a white box and handed it to Leona. 

Ruggie quickly finished one of them as soon as he got his hands on it, and Cater read ‘worth the effort’ from his lips movement. The two left with the untouched piece sitting peacefully inside the box.

Well, that was something. Cater shook his head and started snapping pictures of the desserts that had arrived moments ago. To think that Leona of all people would wait in line just for a piece of cake… his thoughts went on as he mindlessly typed out a caption. Could it have been for someone else ?

Nah. No way. He couldn’t imagine Leona ever lifting a finger for anyone other than himself. 

Night was already creeping on the horizon by the time he finally finished posting. The walk back school was accompanied by more scrolling. The prefect’s profile icon popped up in the ‘story’ section. Cater clicked in without a second thought.

It was a photo of a red velvet cake. The red velvet cake. The text above it read ‘pleasant surprise from an unlikely party!’ 

Within moments, he was already scanning the entire photo like a detective. There, in the right corner, was a tail. No doubt about it. And he knew the tail— he had just watched its owner spend nearly half an hour lining up in the cafe.

"Now isn't this an interesting discovery…?" Mischief passed over his eyes for a split second, his legs picking up the pace. It seemed that desserts wouldn't be the only thing he would be delivering today.

4.

It was nothing out of the norm for Leona to spend Monday afternoons napping under the tall apple tree. In fact, he went there so routinely that he might as well become one with the background. 

Today, though, something had changed. Or as Rook would call it, love was in the air, because under the tree were two figures in lieu of one.

You were sitting cross-legged against the trunk, sheets laid out around you like a protective shield. Every once in a while, Leona’s tail would mess them up, and if you berated him he would feign innocence.

��Come on Leona, you’re the only one who can help me with this.” You nudged his knee.

Rook squinted, his eyes locking onto the documents. There, on the top of what seemed to be the cover page, read ‘Sunset Savanna’.

Ah, a history project then.

“Ask Ruggie.”

“I would if he wasn’t busy doing your duties. So you’re stuck with me.”

Leona made a low grumbling noise, but Rook noted that his face showed no sigh of annoyance. How unfair! The first few times Rook approached the beastman during his nap, he received nothing less than distasteful glares and venomous threats.

One more evidence supporting his hypothesis.

“Fine. You have five minutes to ask questions.”

A smile bloomed on your face, one that Leona didn’t fail to catch. It was only a flash, easily overlooked, but Rook saw it crystal clear— the subtle tenderness intruding on his scowl. It disappeared as quickly as it’d come.

“Alright. So what’s Sunset Savannah like?”

“Hot.”

You heaved a sigh. “You’re not cooperating here.”

“Maybe your questions are too vague, herbivore.”

“Ugh- fine! Let’s start with the people. Do you guys have a mascot or something?”

Leona shifted so he was lying on his side, left arm propped up with his head resting on his palm. “There’s this warthog and meerkat everyone loves. They’re supposed to be related to the King of Beasts. Personally though, I couldn't care less.”

"How about something that cannot be found anywhere else?”

“Mm. Hot spring eggs,”

“You guys have hot springs?” With the way your eyes twinkled with interest, Leona couldn’t help but give in.

“No, it’s a volcano…”

Your ‘interview’ stretched out for far longer than five minutes, eventually jumping from general knowledge to Leona’s own experience with the place he grew up at. 

“Sure, the sunset is beautiful, but the real show begins when night falls. All kinds of stars come out, perfect for sentimental beings like you.”

“I don’t believe that you’ve never looked at them before.” You challenged.

Leona scoffed, reaching to scratch the back of his ear. “Only as a kid. It gets boring.”

“The privilege is showing, your highness,” you sighed wistfully, angling your head so you were gazing at the bright sky. “I wish we had stars here too.”

“If you really want to see them, I can bring you there next time.” 

Your face lightened up. 

“Of course, it comes with a price.”

You rolled your eyes. “And what will it be?”

A dismissive hum. “I’ll decide later.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it then.” You started packing your things, missing the way Leona’s tail swished. Even if you had noticed, you probably wouldn’t have understood what it meant. Rook tittered into his palm as he watched on.

“Leaving so soon? I expected more questions,” Leona said. 

“I'd rather not get on your bad side by keeping you away from your precious nap. I’ll come to you if I need anything—“ your words were interrupted with a sharp hiss. In your careless movements, the paper managed to slice through your skin, leaving a stinging cut.

Leona picked up the smell immediately, his eyes trained on your finger. The slit was unnoticeable at first, but red eventually started to bloom around it. 

“Tsk. How careless are you?” He jumped onto his feet and snatched your hand, observing the cut. Your eyes danced between his face and the wound, much like a flustered rabbit. 

“It's just a cut.” You started, trying to hide your hand. But his grip on you was strong, albeit not enough to hurt. 

“No it's not. You could get an infection and end up troubling me again. I’ll get you bandaged up.” He began walking with his hand still holding your wrist, pulling you along. 

You took advantage of the situation and dived into another round of questions for your project, and Leona, irritated that he might seem, answered them accordingly.

As the two of you neared the building Rook was in, his eyes suddenly shot up, practically shooting daggers at a particular window.

“What’s it?” You stood on your tiptoes. There was no one behind the glass.

His features remained hardened for a moment before he relaxed his shoulders. “…Nothing. You were sayin’?” 

Rook waited a few seconds to reemerge again. Although you’d already vanished from sight, he had already gathered all that he needed: the lion had been captivated by none other than the magic-less prefect, and he barely needed his instincts and observations as a hunter to confirm that.

5.

It wasn’t that you hated group work. If anything, you enjoyed having someone share the workload. But when your group mates were none other than the red & blue duo from Heartslabyul plus a cat-shaped trouble magnet, you would really rather be left alone. 

“We should make a body swapping potion. I bet it’ll be fun if Riddle and Floyd exchanged personalities.” Ace suggested with that look of his that often preceded undesired circumstances. You were heading to your next class along with the wave of students in the corridor.

“Can you please take this test seriously? I can’t get another fail!” Deuce slapped the back of Ace’s head, causing the redhead to stagger forward. A few students turned their heads around in curiosity, but most were already familiar with the two's antics.

Crewel had given each group the mission to brew from scratch one of the potions mentioned in the textbook as a part of the term test, not knowing what a mistake it was to leave the power of decision-making to you lot.

“How about a potion that can make all food taste like Tuna?” Grim asked, tail brushing your neck as he perched himself on your shoulder.

“Just ask Trey to do that for you.” You commented, not bothering to look up from the testbook in your hands.

“You’re right, henchman! Let’s go right now!”

“Focus on the test first, will you?” Ace was the one to complain this time, earning a hiss from Grim.

“Let’s narrow it down to potions that are easy to make. It’ll be more convenient if the ingredients can be acquired in the botanical garden.” Deuce went around the bickering duo to peek over your shoulder.

The mention of the botanical garden reminded you of a certain lazy lion. Being caught up in the test had kept you from meeting Leona in your free time. In fact, you hadn’t seen him for a whole week already. It didn’t help that he was in another year and had entirely different classes.

Perhaps you could pay him a visit later, but it’s not as if he would miss you or something. A foreign sadness crept up on you. You shook the thought off and opted to focus on the book instead.

It seemed that fate preferred otherwise, because a gust of wind carried Ruggie's laughter to you, followed by a gruntle from– speak of the devil– Leona. Your eyes were already searching for him through the passing crowd before you could contain your curiosity. The lurch in your chest told a lot more than you were willing to admit.

Leona, on the contrary, didn't need to search at all. His sharp eyes landed on you with infallible precision, as unreadable as ever. If it had been anyone else, you would've raised your hand and greeted them with energy, but this was the same person who once walked past you as though you were a mere stranger, leaving your open palm hanging in the air. As an attempt to preserve your dignity, you decided to avert your eyes.

Anyways, since when did Leona of all people go to classes?

Your heartbeat succumbed to a deafening rhythm the closer he got. Half hopeful and half desperate to suppress it, you held your breath the moment he was close enough that your shoulders touched.

As expected, he did not greet or even address you in any way. But there was something soft touching your cheek, the suddenness making your eye twitch in surprise. It caressed your face almost gently before cool air took its place.

You turned just in time to catch Leona's tail retreating.

–

Engrossed in the contents of the book, you missed all the meaningful gazes being shot around by your friends. Ace and Deuce had been at it for some time, while Grim pretended to understand. 

Deuce was positive that he wasn’t on the same channel as Ace. Just earlier, when he’d caught Leona’s tail poking your face, he shot a quick look at Ace. A raised brow, a glance towards you, then back to Ace. It was supposed to mean ‘Did you catch that?’, and Ace took it as ‘Wanna ambush the prefect?’

The resulted mayhem when Ace tackled you was something you never wanted to bring up again.

Now Deuce wasn’t sure what went on between you and the fearsome leader of Savanaclaw, but Ace had an idea or two. Epel and Jack had both commented offhandedly about the weird atmosphere that surrounded you two. Deuce was present both times, but it'd probably flew right over his head.

Deuce wriggled his brows. Do you have any idea? 

Ace mirrored him. Dude, what even is that supposed to mean? 

Grim’s feigned participation was cut short when he caught sight of two familiar figures entering the canteen. “Hey! What is that sleepyhead doing here?”

All three of you snapped your heads towards the entrance. There stood the spotlight of their discussion, Leona, in his usual rumpled form, half-awake daze, sharp fangs catching the chandelier’s light as he yawned. 

“First he heads to class, now he’s coming to the canteen himself. What’s up with that guy?” Grim gasped dramatically. “Is he plotting something again?”

“He’s not,” you came to his defense with suspicious rapidness. “Plus, what is there to plot about?”

“Mm. You have a point, henchman.” 

“Alright,” Ace held his fist out. “Loser buys lunch. Rock paper scissors!”

Grim let out a shrill laugh as Deuce stared at his sole open palm in defeat. It wasn’t your fault that he only ever played paper. 

While your cat proceeded to go off on a tangent the today's menu, you gazed over at the growing masses of students. 

“So,” Ace craned his head. “Have you chosen the potion or are we going with body swapping?”

“Or the tuna one!”

“Neither.” You tore your eyes away and turned the book around. “We’re making a flower-growing potion—“

They groaned loudly.

“—because it’s easy to make. Do you want to pass or not?” You insisted.

“I would rather be well-fed! Flowers are stu- FNNGA!”

Grim jumped a good feet in the air when someone slammed their lunch on your table, his fur standing tall in alert. Leona sank onto Deuce’s seat, while Ruggie took the spot next to Ace. “You should try to be gentler, Leona-san.”

Before the lion could answer, Grim stood up and yelled, “Hey! That’s Deuce’s seat!”

“Yea? He’s tiny enough to squeeze in somewhere.” Leona said nonchalantly. There was a curiously excessive amount of meat in his dish. After a beat, he turned to you. “What’re you up to?”

Ace resisted the urge to tell him off, preferring to indulge in your interaction to preserve Deuce’s interests.

“Potion test. What, have you missed me?” 

“A lil’ bit.”

That seemed to catch you off-guard. Ace snorted in his attempt to hold in a laugh, and received a kick under the table from Ruggie.

As you tried to come up with a response, he leaned in and grabbed your book. “Making something?”

“The one for growing flowers. Its ingredients are the easiest to find.”

“Ah. I know where you can find them in the botanical garden. I’ll show you later.” He closed the book and slid it across the table.

“Wouldn’t I be invading your precious rest?”

“Then you’ll just have to catch up and be quick.”

Just then, Deuce returned with an expression twisted between confusion and betrayal. Ace barely felt guilt-- there were many things he had to discuss with Deuce (and Grim, though he seemed ignorant).

For now, he just let the pouting boy squeeze in beside him and quietly observed Leona and you throughout lunch, utilizing whatever knowledge he had about love to analyze the situation. He picked up on the way you took Leona’s vegetables without having to ask and how you slapped his hand away when he reached for the meat on your plate. Occasionally he would throw in a snarky comment that aimed to drive you up and wall, and smirk when it succeeded. 

And those looks, sevens. If Ace had to watch for a minute longer he might have to puke in his lunch. He reckoned that he’d already seen enough before turning to address Deuce, who was still hung up on his seat being taken. 

It felt great, holding this kind of knowledge over you. If he played his cards right, he might even get some benefits out of it.

“Dude, what’s with that creepy smirk on your face?” Ruggie pointed out suddenly.

Ace shrugged, “Nothing. You’ll know sooner or later.”

6.

Ruggie was the first to know. 

Leona had been upfront and rather transparent about his feelings, but the hyena had long before noticed the shifts in Leona’s attitude towards you. It was hard not to when he was the one kicking him awake and dragging him to class everyday. Leona's actions spoke a lot more than words could, and the occasional passing glances were impossible to ignore.

When Ruggie confronted him about it, he admitted it while making it sound as casual as he could. Ruggie never for a second bought his nonchalance.

And it was great, knowing that his dorm leader wasn’t a stone-cold heartless jerk. It was both leverage and great material for teasing even when Leona would threaten to tape his mouth shut. 

That was until the people came in. First it was Jack, then it was Epel, then the many other friends and acquaintances who wanted first-hand information on Leona’s love life. Even underclassmen whom he’d only seen around campus approached him. At first it was a great source of income— nothing came without a price after all— but when it began to interfere with his work, it didn’t feel so satisfying anymore. 

If Leona would just make it official, it would make Ruggie’s life so much easier. But no, that lion was so stubborn that he hadn’t even confessed his feelings yet. And he doubted that you were any wiser. 

Now Ruggie knew better than to stick his nose where he didn’t belong. There were countless ways in which things could go wrong and he really didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Leona’s wrath. Yet if they went right, he could get those nosy students off his back and end the torture of seeing you dance around each other like two dumbasses.

No, he wasn’t concerned about your (or Leona’s, for that matter) love life at all. He just wanted Leona to spend more time with you so he could catch a break. 

Plus it’d put Leona in a good mood, and that’s really all he could ask for.

As usual, Leona’s room was disheveled when Ruggie entered, a chess board lying at the end of the bed while its rightful owner was snoozing, wrapped inside a blanket like a burrito. With light steps he lurked further in, inhaled deeply, and flung the file toward the sleeping lion with all his might.

Leona’s hand shot out from the blanket and caught the document mid-air. “What did I say about interrupting my naps, Bucchi?”

“That I should never wake you even if the sky’s falling down?”

As Leona stretched his limbs after the satisfying rest, the bed seemed to shrink in comparison. “You better have a good reason then.” He said mid-yawn, opening the file to read the papers inside. He was supposed to pick them up from Crowley, but decided that they weren’t important enough to warrant his presence.

Well, here goes nothing. “I take it that you haven’t heard then.”

“Heard what.” 

“That the prefect is leaving soon,” Ruggie walked around the room to pick up the miscellaneous items on the floor, unfazed under the lion’s relentless glare. “Crowley found a way to send them back to wherever they came from. They’ve already started packin’, emptying the building and all.”

The silence was heavy. A heavy cloak of tension draped over the room. 

“No,” Leona turned in his bed. “If they really were leaving, they would’ve told me.”

“Yea, but why?” Ruggie pushed, stifling a titter at the way Leona's tail swayed to and fro in growing agitation. “It’s not like you’re close or anything.”

Leona opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. A laugh startled out of him. “You’re fucking with me, Bucchi. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”

"Whatever, man. I've said all I have to say." Ruggie took a peek of his meticulously concealed expression. It didn't matter that he wouldn't believe it now. He'd planted a fear in his heart, and fear was a vicious, powerful thing. He did one more round around the room, decided that Leona wasn't going to say anything else, and headed for the door. 

“Y’know, I’m just saying, but we don’t know when, or  if they will come back, so maybe you should get off that— okay! Stop throwing shit at me! ” Ruggie scurried out with his tail between his legs, cursing under his breath. 

“The things I do for these dumbasses… they better pay me ten donuts if it works– no, twenty!”

—

The blanket was starting to feel constricting. Leona kicked it off of him and reluctantly opened his eyes, now wide awake and ruminating on what Ruggie had just said.

You're leaving.

He rolled over and turned on his phone– something he almost never did. There were over a hundred unread emails and messages, mostly from home, but he ignored them all and found your contact after some scrolling. The last time you'd texted had been about his absence at the prefects' meeting, and he'd left you on read. In fact, the conversations were mostly one-way, with occasional 'ok's and insincere emojis dispersed on his side of the screen. 

It wasn't that you didn't talk a lot. You usually met up in person, and if he really needed you, he could just call you, though that was not an usual occurrence.

"It's not like you're close or anything." 

His eyes flew up to your status. Last online: 6 hours ago. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, then retreated. 

So what if you were really leaving? It shouldn't matter to him. You were just someone he tolerated more than most, and he'd known from the beginning that you didn't belong here. There had always been an expiration date on your stay. The horror of you suddenly vanishing from his life shouldn't be this hollowing. 

But it was very, very hollowing, and very, very real. Perhaps a part of him had always thought that everything would stay the same– you and him here, where he was far enough from home that he could forget his empty, meaningless title as the second prince, the unwanted son, where he could rest knowing that nothing, and no one, could take you away from him. 

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe there was nothing he could do, and he was destined to lose you the way he'd lost everything he'd ever wanted to someone else.

Or maybe– there was a tiny voice at the back of his head– maybe he still wanted to try and fight against it, as pointless as it sounded. Deep down, he only knew two things: that he would never forgive himself if he just let you slip away, and that you were always worth trying for.

Stupid herbivore, always planting this stupid hope in his heart. 

He all but hopped off the bed, and pointedly ignored Ruggie's smirk as he made a run for the mirror chamber.

–

Trapped on all sides with arms so sore you could barely lift them up, you reckoned that the decision to deal with all this by yourself was a great mistake.

There was old and new furniture occupying the spaces around you, and some more that were stuck on the porch, all demanding your attention. You’d naively thought that the unpacking and moving would take no time. And now it was dusk already, and you’d barely gone through half of the deliveries. 

After what had probably been months of requesting and protesting, Crowley finally allowed you to buy some new furniture for your dorm with the school’s money. It’d felt like winning a long, taxing battle, finally able to bid farewell to the drawers that wouldn’t open and the chairs that wobbled. 

It was all fine until the furniture came. You’d been in class when the driver rang, and by the time you returned, he'd already left, leaving the heavy boxes outside the door. 

Perhaps you really should’ve called some friends from Savanaclaw that were strong enough to help. Jack, for one. Maybe even the unmotivated dorm leader. Anyone would be a much better help than Grim, really, who was probably outside the building trying to claw his way into the unopened boxes. 

In the midst of your wallowing, you failed to pick up Grim’s sharp yell, only the slam of the front door that shook the whole building. A scolding formed on your tongue, but quickly dissolved when you heard heavy footsteps come up the stairs. Squeezing your way through the furnishings, you poked your head out of your room and waited.

The stomps came closer, stopped. A pause later, Leona came around the corner, mane disheveled and eyes flying around, almost in panic. When they landed on you, his shoulders sank in relief.

“Leona? Wh-”

“Thank the sevens,” He marched up to you in a few strides, and when he’s close enough, his arms suspended in the air, reaching for a part of you that he could touch. After a long moment, he stuck them back to his sides. 

Emerald eyes landed on the disastrous scene inside the room, especially the emptied shelves and belongings piled in a corner. Something strained passed over his features.

Once you got over the initial shock, you remembered what you’d just been thinking of. “Hey, now that you're here, do you think you can help me move-”

“Don’t leave.”

You blinked. “What?”

He clicked his tongue in annoyance, brows knitted in a frown. “Don’t make me say it again… I can’t believe you decided to keep me in the dark.”

You looked inside the room and back at him. “I mean, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“What if it is for me?” With a gentle hesitation that you’d never seen him exhibit, he reached for your hand. Your heart skipped when he brought your knuckles to his lips, his gaze solely focused on you. He’d always loved lingering around your personal space, but not like this. Not with his feelings being put on display, like a show you weren’t supposed to see.

“I came here in such a rush that I didn’t even have time to think over what to say. Just…” he closed his eyes. “Reconsider your leave. Please. Or at the very least, stay for a few more weeks. You can’t just stumble into my life and leave without a sign. I don’t even want to imagine returning to a life without you. For this once, I need you to choose me.” 

And then, as if realizing his unusual display of vulnerability, his face hardened up. “...Look, I rarely ask anything of anyone. Whatever deadly grip you have on me, you gotta be responsible for it.”

You sucked in a breath, processing his abrupt spill of feelings, before lowering your head. For a moment he took the trembling of your shoulders as you crying, but soon enough he recognized the peals of laughter that fell out of you. If he hadn’t just laid his heart out in front of you, he would’ve taken the time to indulge in the sound that he loved so much.

“Is this funny?” He scowled.

“Mm. No,” you jutted your head towards your room. “Did you think I was leaving?”

Confusion passed over his face. “Of course. You have everything packed, and Crowley…”

He trailed off, the gears in his head turning. Suddenly it all became clear to him. The new stuff laying around. The absence of your clingy friends. The simple fact that no one seemed to know that you were 'leaving'. After a moment, something akin to fury dawned on his expression. “…has never actually been helpful. Damn it, Bucchi.”

Your heart dipped when he removed his hand from around your wrist, ruffling his long locks. “Just a house makeover then. Got it. Forget about it. Bye.”

“Wait, no!” You rushed in front of him, blocking his exit. “What about all the stuff you just said?”

He raised a brow, feigning ignorance, and earned a roll of your eyes, “Well, I’m not letting them slide. I’m not going anywhere, at least not yet.” You thought for a moment. “The truth is, I haven’t decide if I want to leave. I’ve built so much around here that it’ll just be like leaving another home. But if it soothes you, I’m sure the day I have to choose is still far away from us. So, in the meantime…” You reached for his hand in the same manner, kissing the knot of his knuckle. His ears twitched, giving away his carefully concealed emotions. “Let me be responsible for the turmoils in your heart?”

“About damn time.” Leona moved in, this time landing the kiss on your lips, and his smile spread into it easily, like a lovesick lover returning home.

[hotheadedhero]

Love at First Fight

We can have an adoration for someone but sometimes it takes a special moment to realise how we truly feel about them. This moment is different for everyone and isn't always... conventional

Raphael x Reader

Watching Raphael fight and spar has always fascinated you from the first moment you spotted him from your apartment window. It must have been after he had one of many arguments with his brothers because he was clashing with a gang of Purple Dragons on his own. You’ve always been a night owl, so it was only a matter of time before one of these battles fell before your wondering eyes. After getting over your initial confusion about his appearance, you found yourself utterly enraptured by his moves and how he fights with a lack of reservation. Curiosity got the better of you that night and urged you to take a closer look - a decision that has snowballed into you being here with him and his family now. 

“I’ll spar with you,” you chime, earning many baffled glances. 

“And risk wrecking that pretty face of yours?” he asks through a teasing, confused smile. “Not happening, princess.”

Your blood warms with both the sly compliment and his skepticism. It isn’t uncommon for the two of you to flirt, whether it’s playful banter or a means of trying to disarm one another. No one is entirely sure how this exchange came to be but everyone has put it down to you retaining a similar fiery temperament. What they don’t know is that this friendly transaction of dallying quips has been hanging hot in your stomach recently. You can’t pinpoint exactly when this materialised but you know that you’ve got it bad. He’s just so iron-willed - brazen in the face of danger no matter the circumstances. You’ve always revered strong figureheads, so you suppose it was only a matter of time before you’d develop a crush on your friend. 

“You think I can’t take it?” you challenge bluntly. 

“I know you can’t. Remember how many times I had to save your ass within the first week of knowing ya’?”

How could you forget? This guy makes a point of reminding you every opportunity he gets - a fact that annoys you tenfold given the feelings you harbour for him. You would love nothing more than for him to see you as something other than a damsel in distress. That being the case is admittedly your fault but it’s time for a change. You don’t expect to dazzle him but it would be nice to feel as though you can stand on his level and what better way than to engage in a sparring session? That is pretty much his language, after all. Hopefully, this will be the defining moment that halts the frequent patronisation you endure. It just so happens that you have a little something up your sleeve. 

A hand makes home on your hip, pushing out slightly as you quirk a brow in his direction. “Will you at least humour me?”

His eyes flicker down and up again to meet yours, noting the absence of any jest. You are dead serious on this one and that alone manifests a new level of respect. It’s stupid, quite frankly foolish to volunteer a match with him, but he will oblige nonetheless. Raphael may give you a hard time but deep down he does care about you (though he’d never admit it), which is why he’s going to go easy on you. He has years' worth of training and genuinely doesn’t want to run the risk of hurting your pretty little head. 

When he caringly rests his sais to one side and stands just a few feet in front of you, you know you’ve gotten your way. Promptly, you dash for your bag, retrieve a small item, and return to your position. His head cranes to the side as you open up the case and slip in your earbuds. A smile from the youngest of the brothers shines from the corner of your eye. Michelangelo was a huge inspiration for this idea and he’s more excited than anyone to see how you follow through. Your opponent merely saunters ahead of you with an unamused patience that is wearing thin, assuming that you must think this to be some kind of joke. In a sense, you do.

After a quick song selection, you hop on the spot and shake everything off before readying yourself. A raised hand that double taps the air is all it takes to beckon him to make the first move. He sprints in and swings a hand around your right, a hit that he holds back enough in case you don’t dodge but you do. You swerve back and your feet crisscross in time with the beat before one leg swings up to jab him in the cheek. The look of stark surprise pressed onto his face with the contact of your calf will be cherished forever; heavy bass and harmonic strings vibrating into your skull make the small victory all the more worthwhile. He doesn’t fall but the shock has him stumbling until he quickly regains his posture. 

Your movements aren’t copies of Mikey’s, so there’s no way he taught you any of this. One wouldn’t trust him to teach to begin with. When Raphael turns back to face you, he is met with an expectant grin. Raised tauntingly, your hand gestures for him to go at you again. He complies by doing so, swinging with less restraint than before and, yet, every jab sent your way is only met with empty air. The rapid movement of your limbs doesn’t give him a clear indication of where you’re going next. In between each side-step, you smirk at him, egging him on with your rising cockiness. You barely attempt to strike him, instead focusing on these effortless evasive manoeuvres. 

As if you can sense his agro, you decide to stop this back-and-forth shuffle and hook an ankle around his knee, knocking him onto his front. This will be a short-lived win, however. Frustration finally takes its helm and Raph pirouettes on his hands before he forces a foot into your abdomen. With a strained grunt, you fall back and one of the earpieces tumbles onto the floor. Your face scrunches up and you gasp against the hysteria of your rattling stomach. 

“Crap!” Any grievance he had before diminishes and he’s quick to try and make amends. “You okay?” 

Once he’s close enough, you lurch your hands on either side of your head, lift your legs into your chest, and use any strength left in your core to spring up and kick. Your shoes make a crisp smack against his cheek and he loses enough footing to fall onto his back, arms pressing into the floor to prevent his shell from rocking. He can’t find it in himself to form any words at this moment. Words have lost all meaning. All he sees is stars. That was… incredible. He had you down on the ground and still, you found a way to turn the situation in your favour. Where has this side of you been hiding? Have you always been able to fight or have you been taking lessons in secret? The latter may explain why he hasn't had to come in and be your knight in green amour as of late. Regardless, he’s speechless. Usually, a beatdown like this would have him going savage but the only thing he feels is admiration and a strange rush in his chest. If it’s adrenaline, it’s like nothing he’s ever experienced amid battle before. This intoxicating, almost painful sensation sends his mind into a spin and he barely registers the small hand outstretched in front of him. Your prideful smile only accelerates the screaming pounding of his heart and it takes a second before he manages to take your grasp.

You help him back onto his feet and chortle confidently. “Reckon I can take it then?”

“I… how…?” These are the only words he manages to stammer out with his slowly furrowing brow. “What?”

“If you think that was cool, you should see what I can do with flamenco,” you joke, crossing your aching arms over your chest. 

“Where’d you learn to fight like that?” 

“My old man used to teach me self-defence.” You kneel to retrieve the stray earbud from the floor and place both back into their pod safely. “As for the dance moves: that’s all self-taught, honey.” 

The shot of a wink from your person has him reeling again but he has another burning question that just about keeps him stable. “If you know how to defend yourself then how the hell d’you end up in so much trouble back in the day?”

A mischievous grin brightens your face and you absentmindedly shrug. “Had to get your attention somehow.”

Softly, you pat him on the cheek you had just pummelled - the sting only now registering with your touch - before leaving to check for any bruising. If you want to avoid questions at work, you’ll need to treat them quickly with a cold compress and some aloe vera; a neat little trick courtesy of the braniac brothers. This leaves Raph to stare at the doorway you just left through. A million and one questions are still whirring around in his head but he can’t seem to shake the thought that you have just unequivocally bewildered him. You wanted his attention. That confirmation alone threatens to burn his face, surely worsening the condition of his bruise, but he doesn’t care. The only thing he loves more than your playfully flirtatious banter right now is the fact that he now knows you can handle yourself in a fight. 

Cooing from his brothers’ voices draws him out from the rose-tinted world and he glares them down to the best of his abilities with his supposedly tarnished pride. 

“You just got served, son!”

“Yeah, well, I won’t be holding back next time.” A confident smirk pulls at the side of his lip and his eyes return to the open doorway. “Especially now I know she’s got what it takes.”

A/N: It was a happy accident but I got ecstatic with the parallel of you falling in love with Raph from watching him fight, and him falling in love with you because you proved you could fight. Hope you enjoyed!

[closed-third-eye]

you have to understand why they make lucerys out to be a bully rather than aemond who is chasing after a child and aegon who is bullying his brother and led him to his sexual assault.

Biggest fight aemond has been in his life, is been against a child, because that is all he will ever win. so how do you make person like that look cool? You cannot point to his training which took place in a controlled environment by a man who in concerned for his safety. Only thing left to do is make lucerys, aemond's victim, out to be the perpetrator of his trauma

Aemond is a nasty bully on his own, he knocks down jace's practise sword unprovoked. Bullying someone smaller and weaker than him.

He calls rhaena a pig, a girl he met that day of her mothers funeral, and provokes her into a fight. He is again a bully to someone smaller and weaker than him

He has all the kids beaten and he has the rock in his hand, if he wants to he can walk away, but he doesn't. so lucerys takes the only stand he can.

And what happens next is his mother fault, she put the idea of taking the eye as a payment in his head, and while she regrets her out burst, he remembers

Next lucerys's laughing, which while it is a complete dick move he is put down for it, called bastard, he is even beaten, he learned his lesson

Then we go to storms end where brave little lucerys goes inside Storm's end even when he knows vhagar is there so it's obvious who else is, he still walks in does his duty and tries to leave.

But he is again insulted by aemond, instead of lashing out like a child as aemond would, lucerys listens to him and defiantly says no, he doesn't hide or walk away, he could have if he wanted to and maybe results would be same, but lucerys always acted in a manner befitting his station and position.

Aemond on the other hand acts like a child, screams and runs after him, after saying"fight would be little challenge"

And then chases after him like a crazed dog and on his crazed dog.

And this is their biggest enemy by the way. This is who scares them and they think abuser of aemond all his life and the next one is who they say is the abused

now how else do you defend a murderer? Than make his victim out to be a perpetrator

I would also like to add how utterly psychotic some of these people and their arguments are, I genuinely worry how they treat people in real life at the anger they spill over fiction.

And also how much does the narrative and even his own face have to show to say he didn't think death is the right prize and that he actually was simply being a bully, his true nature.

I frankly fear these blind followers of these characters and how they speak of them, if you look at that post it's derived from false emotions, as a way to justify their nonsense.

Aemond has issues, from his mother's neglect of him which allowed his brother's abuse to go on and the added damage to his face, and he focused on the biggest one rather than them all

And to understand aemond as a person you have to take the bad with the worse, but I'm not sure any of his fans are intelligent enough to do that, I make this assumption based on things they say.

Not sure what they wanted lucerys to do in storms end, had they gone book route it would have shown aemond didn't jump him but provoked him, lucerys again is more jumpscared. And they believe he wouldn't fight because he supposedly can't win? Who has to win fighting itself is a crime for for an envoy which they both know, I'm assuming the historian aemokd knows. But also aemond generally says one thing and does the other, he's shown to be less intelligent more reactive and stupid. And when you see the type of admiration he gets, like attracts like.

[solitablvd]

Read My Mind

**Minors DNI**

chapter six

read chapters previous chapters below

Masterlist

Pairing: Demon!Javier Escuella x Female Reader

A/N: Thank you for reading :) I appreciate the love Warnings: NSFW, pure smut tbh, unprotected p in v, female reader, brat Javier Escuella idc

Word Count: 2.5k

AO3 Link

chapter six:

With his arm wrapped around you and your head placed on his chest, Javier kept his eyes on the ceiling as your breathing steadied into a slow rhythmic pattern while you fell asleep. 

He slowly caressed your body while he slept. He closed his eyes in frustration, with his mind racing he wished he was able to sleep just to put his mind to rest. The past few days had been extremely confusing for him. He was having feelings he had never had before he met you. 

Even now, he was laying here at your side with no thought of leaving you. This wasn’t normal for him. He hadn’t felt this way for anyone else, if he could even explain what exactly he was feeling. All he knew was that when he was with you he felt a tugging in his chest and a need to be with you for as long as he possibly could. 

And that scared him, frankly. He wasn’t supposed to want you this bad, not like this at least. He felt caught up between lust and— he couldn’t even say the other word. 

At the thought he shifted uncomfortably beside you, slipping away from your side and hooking his legs over the side of the bed. He reclothed himself with ease and rested his head in his hands in frustration. Everything was wrong. He wasn’t supposed to be feeling this way. Just hours ago he was feeling jealous over some stupid mortal. Before that he was reading that romance novel in the library and couldn’t stop himself from thinking about you. Everything felt backwards to him. 

He knew how you felt, but he couldn’t let you say it out loud. Then it would be all too real. 

And that kiss? That kiss. His fingers brushed lightly against his lips, tracing the ghost of your touch. He hated how much he enjoyed it, how soft your lips felt against his. He wanted more of it so bad, but could do nothing of it. Not without consequences. 

He looked over to your still, sleeping figure. He took a deep sigh. He remembered what he had read from one of your books, a leap of courage is what it would take. He felt scared at the thought, which was new for him. He had been having a lot of new feelings lately, since he met you. 

He leaned over to you, reaching his hands around your neck to unclasp the necklace. With the locket in his hand he took another deep breath. 

In an instant he vanished from your room, his surroundings replaced with a dark hallway. The hallway was lit only by a few torches against the stone wall. The air felt thicker down here, but he was accustomed to the feeling. He began making his way down the familiar hallway, ignoring the distant wailing and chain rattling coming from the closed rooms he was passing. 

He gulped as he thought of his possible fate. He had never heard of anyone doing such a thing before. Falling in love was the last thing he was supposed to do, but he didn’t do it on purpose. He just felt this never-ending need to be with you at every moment. 

He could feel the heat from the room as he neared the end of the hallway. He placed his hand on the metal knocker, but didn’t move. He froze, staring at the large door’s elaborate carvings while he gave a final contemplation to his next actions. He had to be sure this is what he wanted. 

Finally, he gave three knocks before positioning himself upright behind the door. The locket was still firm in his hand as the door slowly opened itself. He stepped into the throne room, following the narrow path surrounded by a seething river of fire below. He approached the looming, massive throne crafted from jagged bones, keeping his breath calm. Seated upon the throne was a large, familiar, grinning figure. 

He stopped at the steps of the throne, kneeling down in a genuflecting motion. He looked back up at the figure, knowing his face was ridden with the reflection of his uncertainty. 

“Javier,” The overseer nodded, accepting his sign of respect, “What brings you to the throne?” 

“Sir…” Javier began, looking down at the locket in his hands. He stared at the garnet stone as his voice trailed off. He briefly closed his eyes, seeing you in his mind’s eye. The feeling was still there. He knew he was doing the right thing. 

The overseer looked down upon him, not saying a word at first. 

Before he knew it, the locket disappeared from Javier’s hands. He looked up quickly to see it had appeared in the overseer’s large grasp. 

The locket dangled from his fingers as he examined it before looking back at Javier with dark eyes, “You’ve grown weak, Javier. Look at you, groveling like some mortal. Over what? A girl?” 

“She’s more than that. She’s— she’s more.” Javier spoke, growing defensive, but not wanting to say too much.

“More?” The looming figure gave a sinister laugh as Javier’s eyes betrayed him. He continued, his words dripping with mockery, “Maybe you need to spend another 50 years in this trinket, or better yet, you’ll stay here. You clearly are not fit to fulfill duties above ground.” 

“No— I need to be with her.” Javier protested.

“No?” The overseer growled, standing from the throne. 

He slowly stepped closer to Javier’s knelt down body, demanding, “I want to hear you say it. Say you love her.”  

*** 

You woke up with a jolt, feeling as though you had caught yourself from falling. You sat up quickly, looking to the empty spot beside you where Javier had been laying. He was gone. Your eyes scanned the room, the illumination of the rising sun seeping through your window just enough for you to see. He was nowhere to be found. 

You opened your mouth to call for him, freezing as you instinctively reached for the locket around your neck, feeling nothing but your bare skin. 

You look around the bed quickly, seeing if it had fallen off anywhere, keeping the thin blanket draped around your body. The thought that Javier left with the necklace briefly crossed your mind, but you didn’t want to think about it. Maybe kissing him had been a mistake. Maybe he didn’t feel the same way you did. 

“Javier?” You called softly, your voice trembling slightly.

A beat passed before he finally appeared. As if he had been dropped into your room, he fell with a hard thump. You looked down at him from your bed, puzzled as he had never had an issue with teleporting before. Still, you were relieved to see him. 

“You’re here,” You let out a relieving sigh, admitting, “I thought you were… gone.” 

Javier looked up at you. Though, his eyes seemed different somehow, as if they were lighter than their usual color. 

He seemed to contemplate his words, but as he opened his mouth to speak, you interrupted, “Wait, how are you here right now? I mean, the necklace— it’s missing.” You explained. 

Javier, standing from his spot on the floor, reached into his pocket. From it he held the locket delicately in his hands. You moved to reach for it, but he popped the trinket open, revealing the garnet stone, once smooth, had now been shattered. 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “What happened?” 

Javier sat at the edge of your bed, facing you. If you could read his mind you would have heard him giving a quick ‘speak from the heart’ mantra to himself. You looked down at the shattered garnet, then back up to Javier. 

As your gaze connected, the pieces all seemed to fall in place, “Does this mean you’re not a…” Your voice trailed off. 

With a deep breath, he finally spoke, “I care about you. Which is strange because I’ve never cared about anyone before, not how I care about you. I’ve never understood love. I’ve helped others find it, but I’ve never fully understood it myself. And you— you’ve been looking for love and I’ve been helping you, but I—” 

“What are you trying to say?” You interrupted his nervous rambling. 

He took a deep breath before finishing, “Stop searching.” He pressed his lips against yours, caressing your cheek with one hand and wrapped around your waist with the other. 

You immediately kissed him back, moving your lips against his. His kiss was sweet; delicate, as if he was being hesitant with every one of his movements. You felt a rush of warmth as you mirrored his rhythm, placing a hand on his cheek to let him know you felt the same way. 

You pulled back to catch your breath, your heavy breathing matching his. The two of you were silent for a moment. You wanted him, but not in the same ways you’ve felt before. This time, you wanted him forever. You wanted to wake up beside him every morning and fall asleep in his arms every night, for as long as time would permit. 

“What are you thinking about?” He asked, being now unable to read your mind. 

“I’m in love with you.” You smiled, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders as you were finally able to truly express how you felt. 

Javier felt his world come together. He wasn’t entirely sure what a loving life with you would look like, but he knew he wanted that with you. “I’m in love with you, too.” 

He pressed his lips to yours once more, melting into your kiss as you let yourself fall against him. The thin white blanket left little to imagination as it continued to slip off your body with every movement as you pulled him onto you. His kiss grew in passion as he grew comfortable with the sensation of kissing you. He never thought he’d be in a position like this: where he had given up everything for someone, not just anyone, someone he loved. 

He followed as you guided him on top of you, positioning himself between your legs; you could feel he was already hard against you. His lips left yours to catch his breath; he sat up on his knees in front of you, and for the first time he began to manually undo the buttons on his shirt. He fumbled slightly with the studs, having not had to do this before. You stifled a laugh below him, finding his need to adjust slightly entertaining. 

“I’ll help,” You spoke, sitting up slightly to help him with his shirt. He gave a smile as you helped push his shirt off to reveal his upper half. You then leaned back as his hands worked to undo his belt. You took in his sight, biting your lip as you watched him undress. 

Once he tossed his clothes onto the floor below, he moved back towards you, smiling as he pressed his lips sweetly to yours once more. It was as though he couldn’t get enough of your taste. The kiss grew in intensity, your tongue beginning to swirl around his. Keeping his lips connected with yours, he moved his hand between the two of you and down to your cunt. You moaned against his mouth as he brushed his fingers over your entrance. He gathered your slick on his fingers before he began to slowly massage your clit. You ran your fingers through his hair as you gave another tight moan against his lips. 

You moved one hand down, wrapping it around his length, giving him a tight squeeze as flicked your wrist slowly. He groaned against your lips as your thumb brushed over his tip. He massaged your wet heat quicker as he grew in desperation for you, dipping his hand lower to slip his finger into you. He pulled away from your lips, resting his forehead on yours. The two of you held each other’s gaze, panting as you continued to pleasure one another. 

He bucked himself into your hand, urging you to jerk him off faster. When you did, he gave a small moan, pressing his lips against your jaw and leaving a trail of kisses down to your neck where he began to lightly suck on your skin. He hand moved to massage your breast while the other held him in place above you. With him in your hand, you positioned him at your entrance, guiding him as he pushed himself fully into you. 

He melted against you, telling himself to go slow. He wanted this to last as long as possible. He wanted to hold you for as long as he could. Your hands gripped onto his shoulders as he began to find a rolling rhythm. With every slow thrust you let out a light gasp, moaning as his lips found yours once more. Being able to kiss him like this felt blissful, your tongues intertwined while you grinded against him to encourage his pace. 

He nodded, quickening his pace for you, but not moving his lips away from yours. You hooked your legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper into you and shuddering with a moan at the sensation. You cupped his cheeks, deepening your kiss. You could feel a tightening in your stomach as you got closer and closer to your high. 

Your moans against his lips grew desperate and your kiss became messier. Your back arched as you trembled underneath him, moaning his name against his lips as the wave of ecstasy crashed over you. He gave a content hum, smiling and giving you a quick peck as you came. Feeling you clench around him was enough to send him over the edge. He gave a few final thrusts before quickly pulling out of you, taking himself in his hand and giving a quick flick of his wrist as he came on you. 

The two of you laid there for a moment, panting against each other. He lifted himself off of you, giving you another quick peck, “I really do love you, you know? I didn’t think I could love anyone, but when I’m with you, I just know.” 

His sincerity made your heart swell. You nodded, keeping your gaze on him as he moved to clean the mess he left on you. Once finished, he moved back to lay beside you, wrapping his arms around you and placing small, delicate kisses on your soft skin. You didn’t realize that he could be this sweet. 

The two of you laid in each other’s arms. Javier was partially grappling with the fact that this was his new reality, and you were cherishing being able to truly be with him. Neither of you could help but beam at the new feeling. He placed another passionate kiss against your lips, seemingly not being able to get enough.

You smiled against his soft lips and for the first time, you knew exactly what he was thinking.

[someforeignband]

wiggly worm wednesday 🪱✨

taken from a doc called “tiktok fame au” lololol

the worms have attacked and i’m back editing this piece !! thank you @yours-etc

“Don’t be mad- Steve, we can take it down if you want!” Robin falters, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “And we can totally, totally delete it! It’s- it’s just that… you’ve sort of become a fan favorite?” her voice ticks up at the end like she’s hesitant.

“Yeah,” Nancy breathes, nodding her head quickly in agreement. “Our followers really like you. A lot of people have become quite… attached.”

“Followers?” Steve asks, eyebrows raising, breaking his silence for the first time. “How many followers are we talking…”

“Oh god he’s mad.” Robin whispers, arms wrapping around her middle.

“I’m not mad!” Steve nearly shouts, eyes pinched shut. Great, that was really convincing. “I’m not mad.” He repeats again, his voice steadier, quieter, but his brows were still just as furrowed. To be honest, his teeth still sounded gritted, it probably didn’t help.

“I’m just confused, Nance.”

Okay, maybe Steve was a little mad. Some stupid TikTok of him and his teammates was fucking viral and frankly, he’d forgotten they’d even created it in the first place. It was all just very shocking. This video had more than two and a half million views and was the top liked video under the No Hands sound. It was a lot to take in.

An uneasy silence falls between the trio as his eyes dart between Nancy to Robin, who had curled into a ball on their sectional, then back to Nancy who was smiling tightly at him.

“How many followers?” Steve asks again, but this time it sounds more like a demand than a question.

“Nance- don’t.” Robin whimpers, bottom lip tucked between her teeth. “He’s gonna be so mad.”

“Nancy,” Steve grits, eyebrows raised. “How. Many. Followers…?”

Nancy’s eyes flick down to the phone in her hands, “Eighty-Eight…”

“Hundred?!”

“Thousand-” Robin squeaks, burying her face in her knees, arms folding over her head.

“Eighty-eight thousand followers?!” Steve screeches, hands coming up to rest on the top of his head, fingers interlocking overtop of the headband that held back his hair. He was still a little sweaty from the weightroom. He had to shower and get ready to go watch tape from last season with the rest of the guys.

This was his senior year. His last season playing for Hawkins University, and after all of the work he’d put in last season, he couldn’t let that be the end. He wanted at least a Sweet Sixteen finish in the tournament this season.

“Uh.” Nancy laughs, “Actually we just hit eighty-nine thousand.”

“Oh my god,” Steve smooths his hands down over his face. “Let me see. I just- let’s just rip the fucking bandaid off. Just- show me all of them. Catch me up to speed.”

“You will not!” Robin bolts up and out of her balled-up position on the couch. “If he couldn’t handle that one, do you think he’s gonna be able to handle the other one, Nance?” her voice drops, her teeth clenched together, eyebrows raised, staring straight at Nancy.

“He’s gonna see it at some point.” Nancy whispers, scrolling on her phone, pulling up a video and handing the phone back to Steve. “Might as well get this over with.”

“Well! It’s all Nancy’s media photos of the team, so be mad at her, not me!” Robin rushes out, stomping out of the living room to take solace in her room.

The TikTok in question was an edit to The Weeknd’s Party Monster, in which the text on screen read ‘our boys’ media day photos tho<33’, accompanied by a caption which read, ‘im a wildcat girlie or im nothing. #mensbasketball #fyp #HawkinsUniversity #hawkinswildcats.

anyway if you’re doing anything wiggly, i wanna see it!!!!!!! @sageclipse @yours-etc @kaspurrcat @pearynice @hotluncheddie and ANYONE ELSE IF YOURE SEEING THIS PLEASE SHOW ME YOUR WORMS

[c0s-lettuce]

insurmountable - loki x reader

gender not mentioned, loki s1e4 setting

a/n: had this in my drafts for a long time and finally decided just to get it done. anyway, can you tell i'm excited for season two? enjoy ;)

word count: 864

This sucks. There's no doubt about it. Loki knelt on the floor, head hung in defeat. A memory prison. He wondered which sadistic member of the TVA came up with this.

Loki couldn't spend much more time here, that he knew for sure. An honest confession to Sif only spared him the physical assault. The script didn't change. The same dagger was used each time.

"You deserve to be alone, and you always will be."

Footsteps approach again. Loki braces himself for another round, not even bothering to get back up.

But then something happens, something he would have never anticipated.

"Loki?" your voice sounds out from the entryway.

His head shoots up. Bleary eyes focus on you.

He's positioned in the middle of the courtyard. He's on his knees and frankly looks a mess.

As you approach him, you notice his face. It's almost unreadable; a mix of confusion, sadness and... relief?

"Are you alright?" You crouch down in front of him.

He grabs onto your shoulders as if checking you were real. You're slightly taken aback by the gesture.

"How are you here?" he asks, clearly shocked.

"Uh, I was just on my way back from my lesson with your mother," you say.

Of course. Early on in Asgard, you had shown "magical potential", granting you lessons with the all-mother herself.

This was before everything. Before the kiss, before the heartbreak, before the death. You were still a fresh face around the palace.

You continue, "Then I heard Sif yelling, which usually means something bad. And you're on the floor, which is also not good."

Loki's thoughts are running a hundred miles an hour. He looks down and exhales deeply.

"I'm a terrible person," he tells you.

Surprised at his sudden confession, you ask, "What made you arrive at that conclusion?"

He looks up at you, "I cut Sif's hair. I thought it would be funny."

"Oh, I see," you say, "...Did you apologise?"

"I tried, though it didn't help much."

"Apologies can be worth a lot. Give her some time to cool down. Besides, your mother's probably got some spell to grow back hair, right?"

He looks away again.

"Maybe," he shrugs.

"Hey, it's okay, everyone does stupid stuff," you tell him, "All you can do now is work on making it better."

Loki looks back up at you; you're as beautiful as ever. He feels too ashamed to look at you for long. He exhales again, rubbing his eyes.

"You seem really tired," you say.

Loki lets out a dry laugh, "You have no idea."

You take hold of his hands and help him stand up.

"C'mon," you say, "It's late. We should both go to bed."

Though Loki wishes he could sleep, he can't leave. He tried about two or three memories ago. The courtyard loops back into itself. The TVA must be really proud of themselves.

"I just need a little more air," he tells you instead, "You go on ahead."

"Are you sure?" you ask.

"Yeah, I'll be alright," he assures you.

"Okay," you say, "See you tomorrow then."

"I'll count the minutes," he replies.

You smile before heading off.

Loki falters. They'll be minutes he won't have. You'll disappear across the courtyard, possibly forever. And Sif will return like clockwork with her fiery rage.

"Wait," he calls out before you've made it too far, "I need you to know something."

You turn back around, "What is it?"

I love you. That's what Loki wants to say. I'll love you until every star in the multiverse dies. But he can't. Not to you. Not now.

So instead, he tells you, "I know we haven't known each other for all that long. But I want you to know, you mean a lot to me."

You react surprised, but not negatively. And Loki feels relieved to see that.

"Oh, thanks. It's nice of you to say that," you smile.

You take a moment to look away and think of something else to say.

When you do, you look back and say, "I'm glad we're friends, Loki."

He smiles back. And the two of you stand there for a little while. It seems both of you have more to say, but words don't come to fruition.

He longs for every second, though every second hurts more and more. It's a pain he would endure if it meant just a little more time.

But he knows.

"Goodnight," you finally say.

He knows he has to let you go.

So he responds, "Goodnight, love."

The pet name slips out, of course, from years of habit. But he catches you smiling a little more after hearing it.

You were still you, even though this never happened. Even though you weren't really there.

Everything was so much easier during this time. But if only it were real. If only this was an opportunity to restart and fix all the mistakes ingrained in Loki's past.

But it's not. A bust in the system, perhaps. Or someone took pity. Or maybe divine intervention decided to gift this moment with you.

Either way, it happened. So he takes his time watching you walk away. Insurmountable. Perfect.

You.

➸

[nikethestatue]

The Kings’ Wife

Chapter 11

The Black Ball

Warnings: explicit, language

A beautiful woman is like whiskey, and demands appreciation. You gaze first, you smell and you take a small taste. Only then is it time to drink.

Wednesday (4 days before the ball)

As it turned out, being ‘on a job’ wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be.

It was a blazing hot day, the funk of the Bronx coating the air in pungency–a heady mix of warm tar, asphalt, Mexican food, stale wine, burgers, garbage and exhaust fumes. 

Elain’s been on this job for only about two hours and she was already bored and hot and sweaty.

But she didn’t complain. 

While physically uncomfortable, getting veritably baked in the sun, it was she who spotted the orange glint of what she assumed was Eris Vanserra’s hair–the man they’ve been hunting. However, all the Venserras were red-heads, therefore, more proof was needed to confirm the identity of the occupant of the decrepit Bronx townhouse. 

Elain rolled over on her back and sighed dramatically.

“I can’t tell…”

“Yeah, neither can I,” Fenrys slid down on the blanket next to her, and pulled a bottle of wine from an ice bucket which they had brought with them. There was not much to do there, on the roof, so they lay and drank, and ate chips. Or crisps, according to Fenrys. Chips/crisps debate had been raging for most of the afternoon and was no closer to being resolved than when they started. 

He handed Elain the bottle and she took a deep swig of the Pinot. 

“This job is stupid,” she pouted and wiped her mouth, sighing. 

Fenrys smirked, hiding his amusement and lack of surprise at her comment.

“What did you think, baby, that we are going to blaze into a gun fight?” he teased.

She frowned and murmured, 

“Well…I dunno. Maybe.”

He was laughing.

“That only happens in America! Everyone is going in, guns blazing, rolling over cars, at least 200 bullets per gun and generally, an infinite amount of ammo…”

“We are in America!” she protested.

“Do you want me to give you a gun so you can shoot someone?”

She rolled her eyes. 

“Don’t be stupid, Fen!”

He hummed to himself and then drank a little more wine.

“Think of us as spies!” he suddenly proposed.

She cocked her brow and him and looked at him with interest.

“Spies?”

“Yeah…That’s what we are doing. Spying. Before you plan a mission, you gotta do recon.”

“Yes!” she nodded vigorously. “We are doing recon!”

“Exactly,” she smirked a satisfied smirk.

Yep. It was all about presentation. Positioning. He was very pleased with himself currently, and his quick thinking. Instead of having Elain sit here and complain and lose interest and then not even want to be with him here, he made them into spies. And who doesn’t want to be a spy?

Recon, frankly, was fucking boring. Absolutely his least favourite thing in the world.

He was a man of action–quick decision making, rough and tumble, slam, bam, thank you ma’am. In and out. Azriel, however, wasn’t like that at all. He was cautious, methodical, some may say slow, thoughtful. Recon suited him, but didn’t suit Fenrys. But this was an important job and Fenrys knew why he was tasked with it.

To his surprise, and Elain’s utter shock, Ruhn suggested that she join Fen on this job and Azriel didn’t even argue! And Fenrys was glad to have his wife by his side on this tedious assignment. Truthfully, she wasn’t suited for it either, but at least they could complain and wallow together.

Elain was certainly a lot more patient than he was, but her head was full of fantasies of how things ‘should be’ and she felt that being ‘on a job’ should be significantly more exciting. Of course Fenrys wasn’t going to tell her that this was going to be as exciting as Azriel and Ruhn would permit her to engage in on any job. 

But he appreciated Ruhn’s and Azriel’s understanding and accommodation of Elain’s desires. Yesterday was tough on her. For the first time, she was faced with the realities of their lives, especially as they pertained to the Old King–Ruhn’s and Azriel’s father. Up until yesterday, it was all about the four of them–laughter, love, discoveries, petty arguments, and generally, finding new and improved ways of pleasing their new wife. 

The desire to please her came to the three of them absolutely naturally, and what’s more, Elain wasn’t expecting it or demanding it. Nevertheless, it pleased them to please her–Azriel, always there for emotional support, as a husband, as a partner for life, as a lover. He was the one to make her coffee in the morning, the one who embraced her when she needed it, the one who kissed her passionately when he came home and when they parted, the one with whom she snuggled on the sofa, the one who guarded her relentlessly, who was possessive of her, who adored her quietly and deeply, whose eyes never left her, the one who was her soul, and with whom she was discussing baby names. Ruhn was there to feed her from his fingers, the one who clung to her emotionally more than anyone else (a surprise to everyone), the one who marked her flesh with ink and teeth, the one who challenged her and made her laugh hysterically, the one who encouraged her wild streak, the one who craved her and wanted her with intense jealousy and the one who fucked her raw. And then there was Fenrys, who was a friend and a confidant, who filled her plates with food, who joked with her and joined her in her love of fast cars, football and cooking, who chased her around the house, who slung a confident arm around her and showed her off to the world, the one who bathed with her and protected her with unfailing scrutiny, the one who loved her ardently. 

*

Monday (6 days before the ball)

When Elain, Fenrys and Ruhn returned home after their little bloody escapade in her shop, Elain went to shower and change out of her cheap, Dollar Store clothes. She was done quickly, curious about the thick fancy invitation that Azriel was waving around, wondering who it was from. She didn’t bother dressing, and just threw on Fen’s t-shirt and pulled some clean underwear on, before heading out in the hall and downstairs. 

“I am sorry,” 

“It’s fine, just do it!”

It was Azriel apologising and Ruhn urging him on impatiently.

Elain stopped in the hallway, listening to their whispers. They were indeed whispering, as if trying to keep whatever was happening between the two of them. 

“It’s really deep,” Azriel hissed, and his voice betrayed some inner distress, which Elain picked up on instantly. “Was it a buckle?”

“Yeah,” Ruhn’s voice was strained, like he was trying not to be vocal. “The one with the K on it…”

“Ugh, it’s like 2 lbs of metal,” Azriel grunted under his breath. “Hold still, brother, I got you…At least you got to fuck our girl, right?” he snorted and Ruhn gave a soft laugh in return. “That’s something,” Azirel continued, while Ruhn hissed through his teeth. 

“She is perfect, our girl,” he vowed. “She was all I needed and she was there for me,”

Elain was eavesdropping, and barely registered Fenrys bounding up the stairs, taking three at a time.

“Baby,” he said urgently, extending his hand to her, “come…let’s go downstairs.”

“No,” she snapped stubbornly.

“Elain!”

“No!” she stomped her foot with irritation. 

Instead, she pushed the half-opened door and entered Ruhn’s bedroom.

She’s been here before, though Ruhn kept most people out of it. It was sparse–not luxuriously comfortable like Azriel’s or kitschy and fun like Fen’s. Ruhn seemed more exuberant and chaotic in life, but it didn’t translate to his quarters. There was a simple bed, large, to accommodate his size, with tightly stretched, un-creased coverings, which, Elain knew, the maids worked on every morning–to make it as smooth and as pristine as possible. There was a sleek leather chair too and that’s about it. On the wall, there was a complicated abstract painting. Nothing personal to be found. No personality either. Though Elain did spy something that wasn’t here before–a photograph. The bedside table was just a plain piece of wood, built into the headboard, and now it housed one thing–the photograph.

It was a photograph of Ruhn and her, taken the day after the wedding, when they went on their ‘date’. After they’d eaten their Subway sandwiches in the little park, Ruhn pulled her into a tight hug, and then whipped out his phone and snapped a selfie of the two of them. They looked carefree–his heavily tattooed arm grasped around her chest, and her hands clutching his forearm, and his cheek pressed to the top of her head. His aquamarine-blue eyes were especially bright, and all her 13 freckles were accounted for in the bright sunshine. He was smiling, his head resting on hers, and she was laughing, and they looked happy. 

Now, Ruhn was lying on his stomach at the foot of the bed, with Azriel perched on the very edge. Ruhn’s back looked like a piece of tenderised meat, with deep long bloody gashes criss crossing his skin. He wore only jeans and was barefoot, his long black hair tossed over his shoulder, so Azriel could clean and disinfect his wounds. A pile of discarded bloodied cotton balls was heaped on the floor. 

Elain stopped in her tracks, looking in horror at the incomprehensibly brutal scene in front of her. When Ruhn had come to the shop, she’d noticed scuffs and bruises on him which weren't there in the morning, before he left to see his father. But she certainly never imagined this…this…atrocity. He didn’t even flinch when they were having quick, passionate sex on the counter, but he must have been in terrible pain. 

“It’s okay, beautiful,” Ruhn looked at her, and his voice was gentle, “go downstairs. We’ll be right down,”

She skidded on her knees on the floor to the bed and wrapped her arms around his head, pressing her whole face into his. He groaned with discomfort, but extended his arm and pulled her to him, keeping her close. 

“Why are you crying, sweetness?” he murmured into her cheek.

“Why?!” she whispered, “why does he do this to you?”

“To remind us all that we are nothing,” Azriel growled, as he put a plaster over an especially deep cut on Ruhn’s back.

“Why do you allow him to do this?” Elain whipped angrily at Azriel, her face streaked with tears. “How could you?!”

“Shhhh,” Ruhn stroked her head, “it’s okay, it’s not Az’s fault!”

“It’s not his fault, but how do you allow this?!” she repeated, wiping her tears with her fist, glaring at Azriel. “How can you send him to that horrible house? To that awful man? What is wrong with you?!”

Azriel’s face tensed, and he muttered through his teeth,

“You were right there, Elain. And you know that Ruhn chose to go,”

“What is this bullshit excuse!?” she exclaimed angrily. “You knew that this might happen to him.”

“I did, but…”

Ruhn pulled her face to his, grabbing her by the back of the neck and pressed his mouth to her lips. He kissed her hard, holding her to him almost painfully. When he pulled away, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. Elain landed on her knees in front of him, as he gripped her hand in his and cupped her cheek. 

“You are my girl,” he said, his expression ferocious, “mine. And I will always protect what’s mine. And I will never let that animal near you. I will never have him step foot in our home. Do you understand me?”

She nodded, tears flowing slowly down her cheeks. 

Azriel sighed and dropped on the bed beside his brother, lacing his fingers, his shoulders drooping heavily. 

“He's right, you know,” he said. “We’ll take anything for you, any punishment or sacri-.”

“I don’t want you to do it for me!” Elain argued, an angry frown on her face. “I don’t want sacrifices. I need for you to find a way to deal with him. If he is a problem–which he is–then he needs to be eliminated,” she added ruthlessly.

Ruhn’s lips twitched with a smile.

“I love it when you are bloodthirsty, beautiful. It’s hot as fuck.”

“I am not kidding,”

Azriel scratched his chin,

“It’s not that simple, flower. We can’t just take him out. He has a lot of power and influence. He is deeply feared, and respected. And if word gets around that his own sons killed him, that would weaken our position tremendously.”

“Then we’ll have to build different alliances,” she declared simply. “It may take some time, but we can do it. Maybe it’s time for something new–the old families are different. They are not able to move with the times,” she took both of their hands in hers and gently stroked their fingers. “And if they cannot, then maybe they should be left behind,”

“How do you mean, beautiful?” Ruhn asked thoughtfully, listening to her with interest.

“Well,” her expression was serious, and it looked like she gave this some serious thought. “The old generations were less educated, less technologically and financially sophisticated. You are. We are. They thought and operated in millions. You operate in billions. You have perfectly legitimate businesses and very diversified holdings, and someone like Rhysand to run them. Even look at your security team–it’s sharp, lethal, well-organised, smartly operated. It’s not a ragtag group of boys from the hood running around, waving guns.”

“I wave guns,” Ruhn chuckled, but she squeezed his fingers tightly in warning, as she ignored him and continued,

“You are so smart, Az. You can do anything!”

“Not anything,” he smiled softly, looking at her enthusiastic, excited face.

“Yes, anything,” she cut over him sharply. “The only thing that you must avoid at all costs would be another mafia war. But that’s why we are married, isn’t it?”

“Well,” Ruhn drawled, “i wouldn't say that that’s the only reason why we are married,”

“But that was the reason, initially,” she insisted. “Now you just have to decide who you want to be in bed with,”

“You,” Ruhn said quickly and Azriel laughed. “Definitely you!”

She rolled her eyes and muttered, “Be quiet, you two!”

“What do you want us to do, Ellie?”

“Weaken your father,” she suggested logically. “Build alliances which would strengthen you, and weaken his own. Yes, he is strong. He has a lot of support. Other families fear him. But you can be stronger. Invite some of his supporters to talks. Offer them incentives, and see if they budge. This is not first, or even second generation Sicilians, who have undying loyalty to each other. All the lofty notions of honour and silence are long dead, much like most of the members of the old families. Now, we have to deal with everyone, including the Irish, Mexicans, other Italians, Russians…You have to capitalise on that and expand your reach, and eventually, leave your father in the dust.”

“Hmmm,” Azriel scrubbed his chin, thinking everything that she said over, while Ruhn lay his heavy hand in her head and said,

“You are like…brutally smart, Elain.”

“What do you suggest?” Azriel asked.

She shrugged, 

“Start with what you can control,”

“Which is?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she exhaled mysteriously. “You’ve got some low hanging fruit that you can pick quickly,”

“Which is?” he pressed again.

“Nesta might not be very powerful, but our family is old and well-established, with lots of connections,”

Azriel turned to Ruhn and winked at him,

“Hey Ruhn, wanna marry Nesta?”

Elain scowled at him and pulled her hand away from his angrily.

“Do not joke like that!” she snarled suddenly, taking both of them aback.

“Babe, I,” Azriel stuttered, but she interrupted him,

“Don’t presume that you can bargain with my husbands’ eligibility, even in a joking manner,”

“Elain, I never,” Azriel was shocked over the possessive viciousness of Elain’s expression and the harshness of her voice. 

“Ruhn or Fenrys are not fucking available to anyone,” she snapped. “They are mine. You wouldn’t offer me to another man for a wife, would you?”

“Of course not.”

He growled under his breath, the idea of that cutting him so deeply that he fought the urge to grab at Elain and fuck her right then and there, just to remind her and himself who she belonged to. 

“Then don’t ever dare to propose something like that for either of them,” she warned, her tone cold and menacing.

Ruhn, eager to cool the tempers, and calm her down, murmured softly, as he stroked her head,

“Beautiful, I am yours. Only yours. Forever. Just you and me, gorgeous.”

“Okay, good,” she seemed to have been placated, though Azriel bit his tongue, letting Ruhn take the reins.

His brother then asked,

“So, what are you thinking?”

Elain exhaled and finally said,

“Nesta is in love with Cassian.”

Azriel sputtered and his eyes flew wide open, and Ruhn had a similar reaction.

“Ellie, I don’t think,” Azriel began saying, but she waved him off. 

“You don’t know Nesta,” she stated.

“Clearly not,” Ruhn agreed, scratching his head. “Because I would’ve thought that she couldn’t stand him,”

“Nah,” Elain shook her head, “she loves him. All this time, I think she’s been…waiting. Waiting for him,”

“For Cass? Our Cass?” Azriel pressed, needing to make sure they were speaking the same language.

“Yeah,”

“The Cassian that she keeps sniping at? The same Cassian she rolls her eyes at? Tells him to move out of her way? Pulls her hand away from him? That Cassian?”

“Yep. The very same.”

“Well, that’s a weird way to show someone that you are in love with them,” Azriel noted. 

“Nesta doesn’t show anyone love. She thinks that love is weakness. But I know her better than anyone, and I know what she feels for him–and it’s something that keeps very close to herself. And I am telling you this, expecting you to keep this completely confidential.”

“Of course,” they both promised.

“But…if you can offer assistance of some kind, that would help bring the two of them together, then I think,”

“Low hanging fruit,” Ruhn muttered under his breath.

“Yes,” she inclined her head in agreement.

After a pause, Elain said, “Now, I want to be with my husband.”

Both men exchanged glances, not knowing which ‘husband’, but she pointed at Ruhn,

“This one.”

Azriel did not protest, got up and said ‘I’ll leave you two alone’.

In the hallway, Fenrys pushed away from the wall and looked at Azriel expectantly.

“Were you aware of this whole Nesta and Cassian thing?” Azriel asked, knowing that Fen heard the entire conversation. 

Fenrys bobbed his head evasively and murmured, “I might have had an inkling…”

“I’d like to hear more about this inkling?”

“You know Cass likes her…And Elain is right. If the two of them end up together, then that’s a win for us.”

“I mean, to be honest, I am not convinced that just because Nesta gets together with Cass, she’d be on our side,” Azriel cocked his brow and Fenrys laughed, nodding. 

“But I’ll take care of it,” Fenrys promised vaguely.

Azriel shuddered and then pleaded under his breath, “please don’t make it weird…”

*

Elain rose from her knees and sat beside Ruhn on the bed.

She looked at his battered back, her finger skimming lightly over the ripped skin. 

“It’s still bleeding,” she murmured quietly, her voice broken.

“It’s not a big deal, beau-,” he started saying, but she snapped at him.

“Stop it! Stop saying that!” she exclaimed angrily. “It’s like you want me not to care!”

“It’s not that,” Ruhn began, but she interrupted him again, while she grabbed another cloth and dabbed it with antiseptic, before pressing it to his back.

“No, you are trying to downplay this,” she insisted, gently caring for his cuts and wounds, “because let’s flip this,”

“Flip what?” he frowned.

“Oh, I don’t know. Let’s say I went to my father, and then came back with wounds and bruises and horrible cuts all over my body–how would you react?”

Ruhn never thought of it that way.

He’s been living with the terror that was his father for so long…in fact, almost all of his life…that it became embedded into his psyche. He allowed the violence, knowing that he couldn’t escape it, because then, his brothers would be punished. They were, especially Azriel, who’d suffered even more brutality at times, and unfortunately, the threats were what tethered the brothers to their father.

“I’d destroy everything and everyone who dared to touch even one golden hair on your head,” he snarled and Elain saw the truth in his eyes. 

He would.

He’d turn into a monster for her.

They all would. Her men would rip apart the world for her, of that she was sure.

“Then why do you think I wouldn’t feel the same about you?” she asked. 

Ruhn sighed and put his heavy arm around her shoulders, pulling her into the heat of his powerful tortured body.

“You are the best thing to ever happen to us, Elain,” he said. 

“Ehhh,” she pushed at him shyly, denying his praise of her.

He pressed his lips to her head, and murmured,

“But to me…to me, you are everything.”

“You’ve got quite the silver tongue,” she chuckled, and he stuck it out, wiggling it suggestively, before he winked, “you are the one to know, beautiful.”

She gave it a consideration, and then hummed, before reminding him,

“Actually, I don’t…”

“Don’t what?”

She raised her brow at him and said, “how well you use your tongue, my darling husband.”

“You’ve gone through a lot of firsts with me, sweetheart,” he reminded her smugly.

“Hmmm,”

“Shall I remind you?” he offered, and began counting off on his fingers,

‘Who was the first man inside you? In your sweet pink pussy? Fingering you? Me.’

‘Okay,” she agreed, blushing lightly.

He chuckled and continued,

“Whose dick did you see first? Mine. Whose cum did you taste first? Mine.”

She blurted “Oh,” suddenly remembering just how much she’d experienced with him, and who was the one to carefully, but steadily bring her into womanhood.

“Uh-uh. Oh,” he teased. “And then,”

“You were the one…” her blush deepened and he laughed quietly. 

“Yes?”

“You know!” she hissed.

“I must have forgotten,” he argued innocently. “I don’t remember,”

“You suck!” she hissed and pushed at his shoulder.

He snapped his fingers and grinned.

“No, beautiful. I think it’s you who sucked…First dick in your mouth–also mine. I recall you begging so nicely for me to put my cock between your lips and push it as far as possible in your throat,”

She elbowed him in his side and said primly,

“You are uncouth!”

He burst out laughing, and in retaliation, she pressed a cotton ball into his back a little too roughly. 

“Baby, you know I am uncouth!”

She puffed her cheeks and then shrugged, 

“Actually, you pretend to be uncouth. You are, in fact, a well-bred, well-educated rich boy. You are polite, cultured–you think I haven’t heard you humming Vivaldi? Or singing along to “Tosca’? And the whole art thing…”

“Elain!” he cried out in mock horror. “My street cred!”

‘Yeah…your ‘street cred’,” she made exaggerated air quotes. “I know what you are–you are a bad boy. But you are also a prince.”

“But this bad boy knows how to please his girl!” he insisted. “I was there for the first time too.”

She licked her lips and he tracked the movement with his eyes, smirking to himself. 

“Yes,” she breathed softly. 

He cupped her cheek and rubbed his thumb over her lower lip, looking down into her warm brown eyes. 

“Did you like that, sweetheart?”

She nodded and answered shyly, ‘yes’.

“Good,” he smiled. “But what objections do you have to me and my very capable tongue?”

She bit his thumb and he laughed at the bite of pain, before pushing the thumb deeper in her mouth as she licked it softly and slowly, watching him intently.

“No objections,” she whispered at last, pulling back a little. “But I can’t remember it!” she pouted. “You’ve done so many other things to me that I can’t remember the tongue thingy,”

“Pfff,” he laughed, mocking her in a thin, girlish voice, “my life is so hard! I have too many handsome well-hung men going down on me and eating my pussy that I am all confused as to who is who! Woe is me!”

“Oh my god!” she screeched, pressing her palm to his mouth and he bit the inside of her hand, while laughing at her pathetic attempts to silence him.

“But am I wrong?” he goaded her. “Though if you can’t remember, because you are just so very busy with too much dick, then I suppose I could remind you,”

He grabbed her waist and flipped her back, pushing her on the bed, while she laughed and tried to fight him off.

“Ehhh, beautiful,” he shook his head with disappointment,

“WHAT?” she exclaimed.

“Your fighting leaves much to be desired…kinda pathetic, actually!”

“No! What?!” she pushed his shoulder, “I fight good!”

“Listen, you couldn't fight off an angry poodle!”

She scowled at him and muttered,

“You are an angry poodle…”

“I am a big ass snake, baby,” he argued. “I can eat you whole.”

“No you can’t!” she protested, “because I can fight you!”

Ruhn didn’t mind having her beneath him, her soft body arching and wiggling under his weight, her silken thighs parting for him as he pressed into her. 

“How are you so horny when your back is all messed up?” she demanded, “and we already had so much sex today!?”

He frowned and then barked a loud laugh,

“So much sex?”

“Yeah!”

“You came once. Maybe twice. I came once. That’s not ‘so much sex’,” he corrected her. “That’s a quickie. When you can’t walk straight and are half-delirious from like fifteen orgasms, then we can talk about ‘so much sex’.”

“I can’t have fifteen orgasms!” she gasped. “I will die!”

“Nah, you won’t die,” he assured her, “but you sure will be mighty pleased. But,” he butted her nose with his, “don’t change the subject,”

“What subject? That you are insatiable? Or,”

A firm, deep kiss stopped her rambling and he swiped his tongue over her lips, her teeth, kissing her slowly and thoroughly, leaving both of them breathless, while he buried his hands in the luscious wave of her hair.

“The subject of you learning how to fight and defend yourself,” he explained at last, as he peppered her face and mouth with soft kisses.

“I know how to fight!” she insisted. “Also, why do I have to? if I have you? And also Fen and Az, and Varian and all the others,”

His voice stern, Ruhn said,

“Because you never know when you might be alone, El. And I will never forgive myself for not teaching you self-defence and some basic moves that could save your life.”

His voice was laced with apprehension, almost pain, and Elain reached and stroked his cheek tenderly, seeing that the idea of her getting hurt genuinely upset him. She kissed him and wiggled the tip of her tongue into his lip ring, tugging on it playfully, until he finally relaxed on top of her and smiled.

“Okay, teach me to fight and kick ass,” she decided with a firm nod.

Ruhn laughed again and kissed her neck, digging under her hair and finding the tattoo on the back of her neck. His tattoo. His mark. His. 

He recalled how hard he bit her, sucking and licking on her tender flesh, marking her skin with himself, with his teeth and giving her both his lust and his pain, until she submitted to him and accepted him as hers. He was inside of her then, making her tender, bleeding pussy his, moulding her over his dick, making her take all of him inside of her. He fucked her hard and deep, and bit her. Bit her, while burrowing himself as deep as possible inside of her trembling body, while she moaned and cried softly and submitted to him. He didn’t think he’d be able to push the entirety of his thick, heavy dick into her bruised passage, especially not after watching Azriel pound into her mercilessly. But he forced it in. All the way, until his balls slapped into her plump ass. He hurt her, and the tears that ran down her cheeks confirmed it, but he wasn’t going to be merciful or gentle with her. She was his fucking woman, and her virginity belonged to him, just like it belonged to Azriel. They took her together, and she took their dicks and she thanked them for it. He pulled his teeth out of her neck only when he came in her, mixing his cum with Azriel’s, pumping and pumping into her, shoving his seed as deep as he could, while he licked his bloodied lips. When he finally withdrew, he did it slowly, so she felt every thick inch of him on the way out, and then he and Azriel spread her legs widely, so they could watch her freshly-used pussy, which was brimming with their seed and trickled blood. She was shy, and wanted to close her thighs, but they laughed at her feeble attempts and kept her nice and open, while shoving two pillows under her butt, so that their cum had no way of escaping. 

Since then, she has been his. His love, his wife, and his responsibility. His to protect, his to empower. He was in charge of everyone’s safety, but hers was paramount. She was the most important thing in his life–yes, his brothers were too, but Elain…Elain was his personal, private obsession. His girl. The only one he’s ever loved and would love–of that, he was certain. 

He kissed the mark deeply, pressing his lips to the spot and holding his face there, while she stroked his hair and kept him close.

“I will teach you,” he promised. “And so will Cassian.”

“Cass? Why him?”

“It’s his thing,” Ruhn explained vaguely. “Teaching women how to defend themselves. He makes it his mission. He taught your sister, you know,”

“Feyre?”

“Yes. So now it’s your turn. And maybe we can add Nes into the mix,” he chuckled.

“Oh god…Nesta is going to hate it!”

“Oh, I am sure. All the more reason she should be involved.”

“Hmm,” Elain thought about it and then smirked. “Okay, that’s cool. I want to fight! I think I would be a very good fighter,” she added confidently. Ruhn smiled. Nodded. Of course she would be.

Ruhn firmly pressed his pelvis between her soft thighs and wrapped his arms around her, kissing the beautiful lips and enjoying the way her plump breasts squished beneath his chest. She wasn’t wearing a bra under the t-shirt and he definitely felt the familiar fullness of her delectable tits. Her hands gently brushed against the sides of his body, avoiding his battered back, while she took his tongue between her lips and sucked on it lightly. He couldn’t help himself and slipped his hands under the roomy t-shirt, muttered into her mouth, “‘you smell like Fen,”

She smiled, raising her brow at him and allowing him to lift the shirt up and over her breasts. 

“These I like a lot,” he smiled, palming the hefty globes at once, and squeezing them firmly in his huge, strong hands. 

“Are you going to make me smell like you instead?” she teased, running her fingers over his tattooed arms, while he slurped over her nipple, pulling it deep inside his mouth and tonguing it ferociously, ripping a moan of pleasure out of her throat.

He sucked greedily, teasing her other breast in his palm, squeezing and rolling it about, while his hips rolled languidly between her thighs, the harsh seam of his jeans rubbing right into her clit.

“We promised not to get jealous of each other,” he said over her nipple, his chin pressing into her breast and the luminous blue eyes twinkling with enticing mischief. “As long as you smell like the two of them, I am all good. Besides, our boy Fenny Fen smells delightful,”

Elain laughed, looking down at him, as she threaded her fingers through his long lustrous hair. 

“He does, doesn’t he?” she agreed with a nod. 

“But that’s as far as I am willing to accept another man’s scent on you, beautiful,” he warned coldly.

She rolled her eyes and chuckled at his dramatics.

“I think I am at my cock limit, Ruhnnie. I don’t think you’ll ever need to worry. The three of you are like 12 men for any other woman–if you were human and normal,”

“Oh, is that the equivalency?” he was laughing, squeezing her flesh, his dark, tattooed hand in stark contrast with her soft, pale breast. “Each of us is equal to four human men, as you put it?”

“Yeah. I mean, I wouldn’t really call you normal and human, can we agree on that?”

“Definitely not normal. Human–questionable too. Definitely dick size is equal to that of four men,”

“Oh god,” she moaned. 

“Oh no, it’s all me, baby,” he assured her with a smirk, biting on her nipple and making her shudder with pleasure. “No god can make you feel like this.”

He grabbed her thigh and pressed his fingers into the smooth skin with enough force, to probably leave a mark. They always left marks on her, though she enjoyed biting them too, and scratching into their flesh until she drew blood. Their love was far from gentle.

Sex with him in particular was rough, raw. Unapologetic. 

Just the way Elain needed it. Craved it. Desired to submit to him fully and have him own her wholly. 

“Should I take a swirl in your pussy?” he considered lazily. “To remind you of what my tongue is capable of?” he proceeded to swirl his tongue around her nipple.

“Oh my god!” she cried out, scandalised, “I have my period!”

“Yes,” he agreed blandly. “And?”

“Are you crazy?” she demanded.

“Yeah. And?”

“I can’t with you,” she protested, trying to push him off, which was impossible. He was about 230 lbs of solid muscle on top of her. Also, she wasn’t trying very hard.

“I can!” he grinned. “Also, I am hurt,” and he immediately offered her the big eyes, “if I want a cookie, I should have a cookie…”

“Oh non-no-no!” she gave him a stronger nudge. “Don’t you even start with the hurts and the puppy eyes,”

He blinked even more vigorously, pressing into her and rubbing against her slit, while his hands continued playing with her tits. 

“Buuuttt,” he began, but she cut him off, 

“No ‘buts’!’

Sighing loudly, he complained ‘baby, you are so harsh. I guess there is only one option left,” he added dejectedly.

“What option?”

“You suck my cock for as long as I want to,”

“That seems like a weird alternative, but fine,” she shrugged.

“Fine?” his eyes lit up.

“Obviously it’s fine,” she propped herself on her elbows and looked at him with tenderness, and an earnest smile on her lips. “I love you.”

Ruhn’s face softened and he murmured, “I love you too, beautiful.”

“Now,” she finally managed to push him off, “I have to go make involtini!”

“Baby,”

“No, I have to make dinner. I love your glorious cock, and it will be sucked to your heart’s delight, but I have stuff to do and I want to find out who sent us that invite!”

He rolled off of her with a groan and grunted at his prominent hard-on, while landing awkwardly on his side, as his injuries didn’t allow him to lay flat on his back.

“I am kinda curious about that invitation as well,” he agreed, and then wrapped his arm around Elain’s waist and hauled her to himself, lifting her in his arms and digging his large hands into her ass, making her wrap her legs around his thighs. 

“I can walk!” she protested, but did not make a move to step on the floor, and instead wrapped her arms around his neck.

“You could, my good girl, but that won’t allow me the opportunity to stick my tongue between your pretty lips!”

*

Fenrys was sitting on the sofa, his hands stacked on his stomach, a frown on his face.

Azriel was in the same space, though he was on his phone, throwing glances at his unusually glum-looking cousin. 

“What’s up Fensky?” he inquired at last, looking at Fenrys, who stretched his long legs in front of him and was pouting like an angry baby.

“Nuthin’,” Fenrys muttered.

“You sure?”

“Yeah…”

Five more minutes of pouting, and Azriel snapped,

“Okay, I can't take it anymore! What’s wrong with you?”

Fen threw his head back dramatically and whined,

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong. But what if she is going to love Ruhn more now?!”

Azriel winced at the stupid comment and muttered, “what?”

“Yeah! Yeah!” Ferys grew agitated. “What if she loves him more? He is now all dark and wounded and tattooed and brooding…I bet he is laying it on as thick as cream cheese on a bagel! And she doesn’t even realise it and is lapping it up!”

Azriel was chuckling, shaking his head.

“You are jealous that he got the shit beaten out of him?”

“It’s not like that!” Fenrys grimaced. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I think you are being the ridiculous one. You want me to punch you in a dick? So you are wounded too? Maybe she can suck it, to make it feel better,”

For a moment, it looked like Fenrys was considering the proposal, and Azriel rubbed his temples, thinking that he needed a damn vacation right about now.

“I hate you,” Fen offered at last. “I can’t believe you want to kick me in the cock!”

Azriel shrugged and said, “I didn’t say that I want to kick you in the cock, I simply offered it.”

Fenrys frowned and grumbled, “she is still gonna love him more.”

Just then, Ruhn and Elain appeared at the top of the stairs, Azriel looked up at them and huffed under his breath. Ruhn was carrying Elain in his arms, and she was still only wearing a t-shirt and her long bare legs were wrapped around his own, while he was kissing her sloppily and with a lot of tongue. 

“Don’t drop my wife,” Azriel laughed.

“She is my wife too,” Ruhn sang out loud, grabbing a handful of her ass and squeezing it, as if to demonstrate that she was his as well. 

Fenrys was glaring at them, his thick beefy arms folded on his chest, as he watched Ruhn bring Elain down and finally set her on her feet, though he still wrapped his arm around her, and wouldn’t let her go.

“How are you feeling?” Fen asked, his brow furrowed. Ruhn still wasn’t wearing anything but his jeans and Fenrys guessed that his brother was still in considerable pain and couldn’t bear wearing a shirt over his wounds.

“My babe fixed me right up,” Ruhn announced jovially. The man’s tolerance for pain was legendary–his father’s tortures and ‘tests of resilience’ notoriously brutal and bloody–but Fenrys guessed that Ruhn was probably pretty uncomfortable despite the flippant attitude.

Ruhn followed Elain to the kitchen and sat down at the counter, offering to help and she immediately handed him three eggplants to slice. ‘Lengthwise, thin,” she instructed firmly and Ruhn saluted his understanding.

Azriel rose from his seat and slowly prowled towards the kitchen counter, where Elain was bustling with onions and garlic and a grill pan. He watched her for a beat, the shapely legs and the t-shirt which was somehow erotically enticing. Maybe it was because of how feral she went over these t-shirts, and how important they were to her, because they smelled like her men. Ruhn was watching her too, ably slicing the eggplants, barely looking at them, because his eyes were firmly planted on the beautiful girl across the island from him. He was throwing the slices right on to the grill pan, and therefore soliciting little amazed gasps from Elain, who acted like he was juggling with a couple of fireballs, while swallowing a sword. That girl was way too easily impressed.

Azriel came closer to her and wrapped his arms around her soft body, gently clasping her wrists within his hands and bringing her fists to his lips.

“No, no,” she squealed with a laugh, “garlic hands!”

He chuckled and kissed her knuckles, whispering, “I love garlic hands!”

“No you don’t!” she argued, while he pushed her steadily against the counter, kissing her hands relentlessly.

“I most certainly do,” he argued. Then he leaned in and kissed her neck gently, whispering, “and onion neck…”

She burst out laughing, but he only moved to the other side of her throat and placed another soft, deep kiss on the pale skin, adding, “and paprika throat,”

“That’s beginning to sound like a sofrito,” Ruhn commented, as he sliced the rest of the vegetable and began grating some Pecorino Romano. Azriel chuckled at the comment, but continued kissing Elain’s neck, making her whimper with enjoyment. 

“I’ve missed you, my beauty,” he whispered against the corner of her mouth, while lifting the hem of the t-shirt that she was wearing, baring her smooth, taut belly, and then one of her full breasts. 

“And peachy boobies,” he complimented, turning her just so, allowing Ruhn a good look, while Fenrys moved on the sofa, craning his neck. 

“Az…” she breathed, when he bared her other breast  and she stood in the middle of the kitchen topless, wearing only her plain cotton knickers. Azriel cupped her titties in his large scarred hands and said, “give me these, my love’. Before she could say anything, even breathe, his lips closed on her breast, tugging on it and pulling it deep inside the wet warmth of his mouth. He stooped over her awkwardly, being half a foot taller, but that didn’t stop him from wrapping his arm around her waist and latching firmly onto her tit, sucking on it with deep, sensuous pulls of his mouth. Elain moaned loudly, her head dropping backwards, but suddenly meeting with a firm, warm chest or her other husband. Ruhn was behind her, his hand finding her throat and clasping it as he turned her face to him and looked at her, and then at his brother, who was sucking and biting her breast without pause. 

“Are you feeding Az with your titty?” he murmured, smiling with a pleased smile. She nodded helplessly, licking her lips, and holding Azriel’s head to her tit while he feasted on it. Ruhn slid his other hand down her stomach and then rested his palm there, murmuring hotly in her ear,

“When I put a baby in your belly, beautiful, will you feed my son, so he is strong and brave?”

She nodded once, whispering, “Yes…all of my boys.”

Ruhn stroked her neck and smiled at her. 

“That’s right, beautiful. That pussy of yours will never be empty. Right?”

Azriel nodded in agreement against her breast, biting down on her swollen nipple and then stroking it with his tongue until she cried out. 

“It will be either full of dick, or full with babies. Or both. I can’t wait to watch you on my dick when you are round with my baby,”

She was so taken with Ruhn’s filthy words and promises, she didn't realise that Fenrys prowled from the sofa to the kitchen and now stood in front of her. He cupped her face in his hand, dragging his thumb over her jaw and then leaned to kiss her with a heady, open kiss. 

“Boys,” she tried, but Fenrys interrupted her with another kiss, before whispering, 

“This sweet pretty pink pussy was made for us, sweetheart. For us to fill it with our cocks, and ride it and use it. Isn't that right, baby?”

She bit her lip, glancing between the three men around her and then nodded at last.

“Yes,” 

“Yes what, gorgeous?” Ruhn squeezed her throat lightly, prompting her to speak.

“I was made for you, my darlings,” she stroked their shoulders, their necks. “And you were made for me. So of course you’ll ride me…”

Ruhn was nodding with satisfaction, while Fenrys tugged her other nipple between his fingers, twisting and squeezing it. 

“Three cocks, babygirl,” he warned, cocking his brow at her. “Three cocks daily. You will take our dicks, because you are our sweet, good girl. And your pussy is for us to use as much as possible,”

“Boys,” she began again, but Azriel finally tore himself away from her tit, which was now red and glistening, and said, 

“No, Ellie. You will have to take us in all your holes, my love. We agreed to share you, but that’s the price,”

“Yes, my darlings, I know,” she assured them, “I have three holes and my three boys. I am excited for when you will be riding me all together,”

“Oh honey, we are excited about that too,” Fenrys grinned devilishly. “Az in your tight little pussy. Ruhn pumping you from behind in your pretty asshole, and I am choking you with my dick. How does that sound?”

“I am a little scared,” she admitted shyly, “but I like it…I love you, my boys. I love you so much,” she cupped Azriel’s cheek and kissed his lips, before stroking Fern’s face and kissing him as well. “Now you, bad boy,” she laughed and kissed Ruhn in turn. 

He kissed her back, and then dropped on the stool and pulled her on his lap.

“Now that that’s decided,” Ruhn said seriously, “there is another matter we should discuss. As a family.”

Fenrys nodded, and went to turn the aubergine slices over, before filling the grill with another batch. “This is gonna be good,” he muttered under his breath, before turning to the other three. Azriel seemed curious about what Ruhn was about to say, so he folded his arms on his chest, leaning against the wall and waited. Ruhn held Elain close to his chest, his hand resting on her hip possessively, while her t-shirt at least covered her body somewhat. 

“So?” Fenrys prodded, “what are we talking about?” he went about slicing a fresh loaf of bread for dinner, as he waited for Ruhn to say his peace.

Ruhn’s hand slithered under Elain’s t-shirt and he cupped her breast, pawing at her greedily, while she took it in stride and kissed his neck lovingly.

“We have to complete our side of the agreement,” Ruhn said finally. “For the peace treaty.”

Azriel grunted in displeasure and Fenrys turned the aubergine slices on the grill with a pair of tongs, not commenting.

“And,” Ruhn added meaningfully, “I, personally, am not crazy about this,”

“What?” Elain looked up at him from his shoulder.

“This,” brazenly, he cupped her crotch in his hand and squeezed the supple flesh.

“You can’t be serious!” Azriel moaned. “She’s been fucked twice,”

“Thice,” Ruhn corrected aggressively.

Elain frowned and asked,

“What are you two talking about?”

With pursed lips and a frown, it was Fenrys who exclaimed,

“They are talking about your virgin pussy, that’s what they are talking about. Which they fucked. I haven’t fucked it, but they have. And the fact that you aren’t pregnant.”

Ruhn shrugged innocently, followed by Azriel’s equally nonchalant shrug. Without releasing his palm’s grip on her delectable little triangle of flesh, Ruhn mused in a self-satisfied assholish way,

“I am gonna be honest,” he began, and Fenrys cut in, grunting,

“Please don’t, I don’t really need your honesty right now,”

Ruhn ignored him and continued,

“I fucked a lot of pussy in my life. Can’t deny the truth,”

“A truth I am not interested in hearing,” Elain pouted glumly, echoing Fenrys.

Ruhn smiled at her and kissed her lips and pressed the heel of his palm deeper into her flesh, feeling her wetness through the cotton of her underwear. 

“But my wife’s silky pussy is a gift from above,” he vowed passionately. “It’s the tightest fit, the most beautiful shade of gorgeous pink, stretching it with my dick was a sublime experience, which, by the way, I highly, highly recommend!”

“Fuck. You.” Fenrys snarled.

Elain was laughing on Ruhn’s lap, while Azriel was smirking. He was nodding over Ruhn’s explicit assessment, adding,

“Flower bled so beautifully over our cocks. She comes like a stunning wild thing–while her pussy milks your cock for what seems like forever! My fucking lord. It’s like getting a blowjob while fucking–that tight pussy sucks and sucks on your dick, like it can’t release it!”

“Yes!” Ruhn confirmed enthusiastically. “That’s exactly what it is. I’ve never had a pussy that wanted to be fucked so badly. It makes love to the dick–it caresses it and kisses it and squeezes it so tightly, you are about to pass out, and at the end, as you fill her with your cum, her pussy is thanking you and asking for more.”

Elain was blushing profusely, but she didn’t argue and didn’t tell them to be quiet. She was biting her lower lip, listening to them, and when Ruhn bit the side of her cheek, he murmured, “Tell us what you want to say, beautiful. Tell us,”

“Tell us, Ellie,” Azriel came closer and cupped her cheek, making her look up at him.

“I…” she swallowed and then sighed, “I…I love being filled,”

“Yes?” Azriel smiled at her.

She kissed the inside of his palm and said,

“I love when you boys give me orgasms–I’d never get enough of those…But,” she turned her head and kissed Ruhn’s lips softly and wetly. 

“What else do you love, gorgeous?” he pressed.

“I want to be filled,” she confessed. A soft but tortured moan escaped her lips, “I need it…I need to be filled.”

The three of them looked at her with wanton curiosity, listening rapturously to her words, while Fenrys made it over to her too, and cupped her breast in his hand. All three of them were now touching her, caressing her.

“Boys,” she whispered, “I want you all…”

“You have us all,”

“To take me,” she continued, “fill me. Fill all my holes. Please,” she was almost begging now, her voice thin and desperate. “I think I might die if I don’t get filled with your seed.”

“You love our cum, honey?” Azriel asked, grinning happily.

“Yes,” she moaned. “Yes. Once I started tasting it…feeling it…drinking it, swallowing it…I can’t get enough. I want it on my skin. I want it in my mouth. I dream of it,” she gasped. “I want my pussy bathed in it. Fill me with your cocks and your seed…”

“We can do that, baby,” Fenrys promised simply. 

Ruhn smirked with satisfaction and said,

“I think that we can all agree that our wife is the most important person in our lives.”

“Yes,” the other two confirmed in unison.

“And we want to fuck our wife? Please her? Pleasing her is our duty,”

Without warning, he thrust two fingers in her mouth and ordered, “Suck, sweetheart.”

He began pumping his fingers in and out of her lips, and she sucked obediently, watching him with adoration. He bit around his lip ring and smiled at her with approval.

“My good girl,” he whispered, and then looked at his brothers with a frown.

“Then why the fuck is she not being pleasured and used at all times?” he asked severely.

Fenrys blanched and Azriel cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“You both have cocks. Cocks that she craves. Ballsacks filled with cum, with which you could be filling her and making her needier and needier…for even more cocks. You, boyo,” he glared at Fenrys. “Why is that massive dick of yours, which you are so proud of, not currently in her mouth? Pumping her full of your cum?”

Fenrys looked at the two of them, at Ruhn’s fingers between her lips and then took a determined step forward, following Elain’s faint nod of agreement. Wordlessly, he unzipped his jeans and then then extracted his fantastically magnificent cock from his undershorts, palming it and giving it a few firm tugs. Elain’s eyes lit up hungirly at the sight of the thick, threateningly long shaft, which always made her shiver with slight fear. It was an indescribable dick–a real weapon, if it wanted to be. 

“There you go, big boy,” Ruhn chuckled. “Now you are thinking with your dick, like you are supposed to. Feed it to your wife, and make her choke on it. I want to see you fuck her mouth until she is spluttering and crying over your cock.”

He pulled his fingers out of her mouth, and before she could even draw a breath, Fenrys was sliding the bulbous pink head of his cock inside, filling her with its overwhelming girth at once. Ruhn held her head steady, kissing her cheek and whispering, “take his cock, honey’.

He gestured to Azriel, and said, “bring her a cushion.”

Meanwhile, he rested his chin on Elain’s neck and whispered in her ear, 

“That’s our little wife. Does pretty Fen have a delicious dick?”

“Uh-uh,” she tried to confirm, as Fenrys laughed and Ruhn smiled, while the heavy meat pole pushed forcefully deeper and deeper between her lips.

Ruhn cupped her breast in his hand and squeezed it rightly, before pinching her nipple. She squirmed on his lap, because the pressure of his fingers increased, and he pinched harder.

“I want to watch Fenrys fuck your mouth, beautiful,” he directed, his tone stern. “Is that understood?”

Her eyes travelled between the two men. 

Ruhn pressed his fingers tighter over the nipple and she yelped from the pain.

“No. Not just fuck your sweet lips. I want him to make a mess of you. I want your throat raw and painful once he is done with you. You think you can do that for us, sweetheart?”

She nodded in acquiescence and Ruhn kissed her hollowed cheek and stroked her head.

“I love you,” he whispered lovingly. “I love you when you care for us. When you worry about us. I love you when you suck us off. I love you every moment of the day. I love everything about you, my gorgeous beautiful girl. Now, work for your husband and love on his nice, big dick. Only you can make our dicks that big and hard, beautiful. Let Fen show you how much he loves you that weapon of pussy destruction that he carries,”

Fenrys laughed out loud, pulled out and lightly slapped Elain’s lips and tongue with the heavy shaft.

“Sorry baby,” he opened his palms, “it will be your pussy that will be destroyed with my dick.”

Azriel took a cushion off the sofa and then tossed it on the floor. Ruhn gripped Elain’s waist and then lifted her off his lap and placed her on her knees in front of Fenrys, who was already eagerly thrusting his cock in her mouth.

Ruhn rubbed his hands together and exclaimed, 

“That’s better! Our girl is on her knees, worshipping a cock with her mouth, like she should.”

Elain was slurping noisily, her jaw parted widely to accommodate Fenrys’s size.

She sucked Fenrys off every morning in the shower–their morning ritual has never been interrupted or missed, and no matter where he or she were, they found each other and Elain dutifully dropped on her knees before him and impatiently stuffed her mouth with his gorgeous heavy shaft. 

Fenys placed both of his hands on top of her head, not grabbing it, but gently massaging her scalp with his strong fingers and holding her head in place, while he fucked her mouth steadily. She made satisfied hungry noises with every thrust of his cock, her cheeks pink and hot, her dark brown eyes on Fenrys, seeking his approval.

Ruhn moved to Azriel’s side, and lit up a cigarette.

“What’s your plan, Ruhn?” Azriel asked. “You are circling around something, but what is it?”

“That’s my girl,” Fen was  meanwhile moaning, his narrow tapered hips moving rhythmically, “my good girl…You can take more, baby…” he forced more of his shaft into her mouth, making her gasp and gag over it, as she squeezed his thighs tightly. 

“Ellie, you look beautiful with your lips around a cock,” Azriel threw a complimentary wink her way. 

“Do you like sucking, baby?” Ruhn encouraged her, watching her choke and suck desperately, as tears began to spill out of her eyes from the pressure. She nodded over Fen’s dick, gagged with his heavy pole.

“I think you should lick his balls, sweetheart,” Azriel suggested. “Show us all how much you love it,”

Fenrys tugged his dick out of her mouth and thrust his balls in her face, as she began to lick on the seam between them, tucking her head so she could take them in her mouth and suck. 

“So?” Azriel pressed his brother, while they both watched the soft curvy girl of their dreams work her little pink tongue over Fen’s ballsack. 

“We need to breed her,” Ruhn said simply.

“What?”

“You heard me. And you know what I mean.”

“She wants to be on birth control,” Azriel reminded him.

“Yet she’s done nothing to obtain it, correct?”

“As far as I know.”

“We can’t make that decision for her,” Ruhn said, “however, I am speaking as a King and as her husband. As your advisor and the head of King Security, we have to live by the treaty. We can’t take years to do this, while other families unite and start making plans around their offspring. Between our father, the other families and us not having kids, we will be weakened, and I fear it might be irreversible.”

“I am not impregnating her against her will,” Azriel said bluntly. 

Ruhn gave him a cool stare and retorted,

“No one said anything about doing things against her will. I’d like that to be her will. Very much her will. I want her to ask us to be seeded. And bred.”

“You are talking like a caveman,”

“I am talking like a man. And that girl is all about mating. That’s her terminology, not mine. She’s been reading this shit in her romance novels, and everyone is mating, and seeding and breeding in there. Everyone is coming copiously inside their mates, and is always frenzied and dominating their females.”

Azriel chuckled, though he didn’t disagree. He’s read enough of the fantasy novels that Elain loved so much to know that Ruhn wasn’t wrong. Apparently, though, Ruhn’s been reading some things himself.

“Has she not told you that you are her mate?” Ruhn cocked his brow at his brother.

“Yes. And I don’t think she is wrong,” Azriel agreed. 

“She is all ‘you’re my heartmate, Ruhn!’ and ‘Azriel is my soulmate!’”

“No,” Azriel snapped quickly. “I am her bonded mate! Fen is her soulmate.”

Ruhn stifled a smirk, seeing how his brother corrected him so quickly, and didn’t like the incorrect ‘mating’ assigned to him. Whatever Azriel tried to pretend otherwise, Ruhn knew that this was important to him. 

“Okay. Then can we agree that that delicious pussy ought to be seeded frequently?”

“I don’t have any problems with seeding her as much as possible,” Azriel shrugged.

“Okay, then we are on the same page. And I will bring her on our page,” Ruhn concluded confidently.

“You can’t be balls deep in her and pressure her into making a baby,” Azriel warned. “That’s not fair.”

Ruhn slapped Azriel’s broad shoulder and winked.

“Oh Az…So little faith in me. My beautiful girl will be begging for you to fill her up, just trust me. Give me a little bit of time, and we’ll be fucking her pussy together. At once. And she’ll be asking for more.”

Azriel winced, though the faint blush that bloomed on his high cheekbones told Ruhn that he certainly didn’t hate the idea. And maybe was all kinds of intrigued by the prospect.

“She is tiny and tight,” Azriel argued half-heartedly, waving his hand. “She can barely take one dick. How do you propose…well, whatever you just proposed…”

“I guess we’ll just have to squeeze it in, huh,” Ruhn winked at him with a salacious smirk. 

“You are insane.”

“No, I am her heartmate. And she is mine. And she is mine to dominate and to breed. And that’s what I’ll do.”

Fenrys, meanwhile, was fucking Elain’s mouth roughly and lustily. He pounded her aggressively, forcefully, thrusting his meaty oversized cock down her throat, while he held her face tucked back, so he could dip into her throat.

“Well, if anyone is dominating her, it’s Fenrys,” Azriel commented. 

The outline of the cock was visible inside her throat and Fenrys looked at them with a bragging sort of pride written on his handsome face. He pounded quickly and brashly, his body fully in control, while also controlling hers. Then he pulled back, allowed her to breathe, and then thrust back in, continuing to push mercilessly for a good minute. Another pull back. A few slaps on her lips and tongue with his cock, while she gulped on air, before he was plunging back in. The lack of oxygen made her docile and she meekly and eagerly allowed him to use her, looking up at him with adoration. 

Ruhn couldn’t help but admire Fen’s technique. The man knew how to make a woman take his cock willingly and compliantly, while he bruised her throat with his dick, and she looked at him like he was her god. That took skill. 

“Ready to drink up, sweetheart?” Fenrys asked, stroking her head gently.

He was a unique combination of rough and demanding, and tender and loving. His massive dick was truly a weapon, which he used expertly, rendering his partners, including Elain, to a begging, pleading, gasping, moaning mess. But, no matter how rough he was, it didn’t surprise anyone when Elain gasped and demanded breathlessly, “no…more. A little more…”

“Is that an order, sweetheart?” he thrust back and began moving harshly, making her weep over his cock, as she panted loudly, while threading her fingers with his own. “Because with my dick inside you, I am the one giving commands, not you,” he warned. 

For all easy going attitude, Fenrys liked to be in control, and needed to dominate no less than the very domineering Ruhn.

Elain slid on her butt limply, exhausted and satisfied, enjoying being used the way she liked. And Elain liked to be dominated. It wasn’t even something that she was aware of or verbalised to her men, but they picked up on the signs pretty quickly. And what Elain wanted, Elain got. Their job, and the agreement between the three of them was to please their wife, their maiden and give her whatever she desired in life, and in bed. Please her, in whatever she needed physically or emotionally, while allowing her the freedom to be herself and do what she liked, and protecting her in the dangerous world that they occupied. Elain was their perfect little submissive beauty, who loved them and the array of dicks that they offered to her. She loved being filled with those dicks and enjoyed when they came inside of her as much as possible. That was their Elain. And they aimed to please her. 

“Or was it a request?” Fenrys asked, thrusting his heavy balls in her mouth and letting her suck on those. 

“A request,” she mumbled sweetly, her face hidden somewhere beneath his sack.

“I think you should ask me nicely,” he decided, toying with her.

She was licking his balls with wide, generous swipes of her tongue, and she barely paused, before saying,

“May I please continue sucking?”

“Sucking what, sweetheart?” he teased.

She rolled her eyes and then added shyly,

“Your cock. Okay? Your cock.”

“Okay then. You did ask nicely,” he agreed easily and eased his dick back in her mouth.

Ruhn went to the kitchen counter, slapping Fen’s ass on his way, and complimenting, “I admire your stamina, boyo!”

He messed Elain’s hair playfully, watching her deepthroat the shaft with renewed enthusiasm.

“And you, my girlie,” he added, “don’t forget that you will be taking my cock later tonight.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Azriel demanded, watching Fenrys push her head back and tell her to relax, which she struggled to do because he was jamming his thick shaft down her throat, opening her up. 

“Relax, sunshine,” Fen cooed to her, stroking her cheeks. “Let me in…relax…” She was panting loudly at his feet, but began to take his cock calmly once she followed his directions, her chest rising and falling rapidly. He dipped his dick inside of her, holding it down, so he could plunge it in and out, and the two men watched the lewdly explicit act with lustful fascination. 

“She’ll suck you too, my poor brother,” Fenrys chuckled in response to Azriel’s complaint. 

“Yeah, try not to dislocate her jaw,” Azriel muttered, his own cock hard and needy. Everyone was fucking his wife it seemed, except for him. Ruhn, the supposedly scary Ruhn, whom she was expected to be afraid of, has been the one who’s been with her the most out of the three of them. She did whatever he wanted her to do with him, never argued and submitted to him wholly and beautifully. Ruhn used her determinedly and with his usual dominant aggression, but Elain didn’t do anything but open her silky thighs for him, or her eager mouth and he took whatever he wanted from her. 

“No playing with your pussy!” Ruhn warned, seeing her fingers snaking down her body and between her legs. 

She frowned at him, but he only shook his head and said, “Unless Fen tells you it’s okay to touch yourself, you aren’t allowed.”

She sighed dramatically, but compliantly withdrew her hand. 

When Fenrys finally came, making her drink everything, which she did pleasantly, as expected of her, Azriel again found himself not being jealous at all. When his brothers fucked his girl it seemed completely…natural. 

Before her, he wasn’t much of an orgy guy. He wasn’t exactly a perfect boyfriend, even with Morrigan, and fucked around plenty. But generally he preferred a girl’s attention to be on him, and wasn’t much for conducting a symphony of sex between multiple people. 

However, with Elain accepting them all, and wanting them all and living with all of them harmoniously and adoring them all sexually, while they all craved her like rabid dogs, it ended up being–perfect? Therefore, he loved watching his brothers with her and inside of her–riding her, teaching her, loving her, indulging her. Elain was their precious maiden, who came to them untouched, and they took that very seriously–they were responsible for her physical and mental well-being, as well as her sexual satisfaction and happiness. She was going to be theirs for the rest of their lives, and she was going to have a happy life with them, if that was the last thing they did. This specific girl was chosen for them by someone, or something, and she fit them precisely and somehow, made sense for each one of them. Hence, Azriel was going to prove to her and to himself that he was always the right choice for her. That despite their brutal natures, the blood on their hands and the scars on their flesh, Elain made the best possible choice for herself by opting to be with the three of them. That loving them was always going to be inevitable, but also truly a bond like no other. 

Azriel yearned to love Elain the way he wanted to–possessively, endlessly. And he wanted his brothers to do the same–love her the way they needed to. Brutally and eternally. And now she was theirs, and she was going to be theirs forever–there was no going back for any of them. They had all made a choice, and they were each other’s choice. 

Fen finally dragged Elain up and she made a big show of hurting joints and stretched, while he wrapped his arm around her and wiped a bit of his cum from her chin with his thumb, before making her suck it off. 

“You did so well, my sweetness,” he complimented her earnestly and kissed her deeply, not minding his own traces inside her mouth whatsoever. 

“I sucked it well, Fenny?” she whispered happily.

“You always do, sweetness. You are a pleasure.”

None of them wanted to sound too smug, but in the past two weeks or so, their sweet, loving maiden has become an insatiable cocksucker. The woman loved sucking dick, and blessed be she for her excitement and the need to drink their seed. Not that she was an expert yet, but her enthusiasm and genuine desire to give them pleasure, and take what she needed for herself, drove all of them crazy with lust and appreciation. 

Never has she ever denied any of them, and was ready and willing to wrap her soft fuckable lips over them at their beckoning.

Fenrys added, “But Ruhn is right–we haven’t been using you enough and I think we will now.”

Azriel came behind her and put his hands on her hips, gently pulling him to her.

“Would that be alright, flower?”

She leaned back on him and breathed in his scent, and he smirked, knowing that she was probably going to steal another of his t-shirts. 

“Yes,” she nodded. “All the time.”

Azriel laughed and kissed the top of her head, wrapping her tighter in his arms.

“All the time, huh? Are you quitting work?”

“Are you?”

“For you, flower? I think I might. Fucking you all the time, all day long, sounds like am amazing way for me to spend my life. But only if we can get Fen and Ruhn to quit their jobs too. Because we have to fuck you together.”

“Count me in,” Fen announced immediately.

“I am down,” Ruhn agreed.

“Then it’s settled,” Azriel smirked. 

Elain finally made it back to the counter, where she finally proceeded to make her involtini, stuffing the grilled aubergine slices with a mixture of ricotta, prosciutto and various other cheeses. She made quick work of it, though it was not without challenges, as Azriel would not leave her side and was attached to her like a limpet, even if he was helpful as well, opening jars of sauce and arranging the rollups in the baking dish. 

Ruhn was smoking and setting the table, still undressed, and Elain threw concerned glances his way, though he didn’t show that he was in pain. Azriel kissed her cheek and her head repeatedly, comforting her and whispering that Ruhn was alright. 

“Oh meant to ask you–who and what is the invitation for?” Ruhn inquired and Elain perked up in Azriel’s arms, turning to him and looking up at him. He bowed his head and tilted her chin, before kissing her deeply, his tongue swiping over her lips and then inside her mouth. Her arms went around his neck and she fell into the kiss, humming to herself from the pleasure of his lips on hers. If nothing else, Azriel was a good kisser. He knew that he fucked well and was thorough, if firm, and women did everything possible to chomp at his power and be controlled by him, even though many realised that his kind of loving wasn’t for them in the end. But it was for his sweet little virgin of a wife. 

“Ahhh, you kiss so good,” she moaned against his lips once they came up for air.

“I try,” he said humbly.

“You are one of the best kissers I’ve kissed,” she concluded, and then disengaged from him to go to the oven.

Both Fenrys and Ruhn were looking at him with fake shocked faces and grins. 

“One of the best,” Ruhn mouthed, stifling his laughter.

Elain pulled the pan from the oven, set it on the counter and then hurried upstairs to get ready for dinner.

Fenrys slapped Azriel’s shoulder and whispered,

“How does it feel to be one of the best?”

Azriel shouldered his hand off and snarled.

“What the fuck!!”

Ruhn was laughing, as he went to look for wine for dinner. 

“That wild girl knows how to humble us with one word,” he lamented. “Here we are, clowning in front of her with our big dicks and our sexual prowess and our bellissima is like ‘I’ve seen bigger’. And off she goes with her round ass swinging.”

“I am going to fuck that ass into submission,” Azriel growled. “So she fucking knows who she belongs to. And how good it feels to be mine and at the mercy of my cock.”

“I think Az is a little angry with his ‘flower’,” Fenrys teased. 

Elain skipped down the stairs five minutes later, wearing a knee-length pleated skirt and a sexy satin top, under which her full round tits bounced prettily. 

Azriel sat at the table, pouting and frowning like the angry penguin, Pingu. The other two were smirking at him, and Elain flitted around, not paying attention. 

“Sunshine,” Fenrys called out, while she brought the pan to the table. “Who is the best kisser then? Ruhn or me? Since we know it’s not Azriel.”

She sat down and took a sip of her wine, which was already poured for her, and Azriel took her plate and began to fill it with food, like he always did, even if it was the angriest table service she’d ever experienced. 

“Az, are you mad?” she asked in confusion.

“No,” he snapped. 

“So? Fenrys pressed, ignoring him.

Elain popped a few pieces of salame in her mouth and then shrugged, and announced,

“I mean, you are all good…”

“Why do I feel like there is a ‘but’ there,” Ruhn chuckled, as he piled his plate with cured meats and six varieties of cheese. “Fess up, beautiful.”

She sighed audibly and then announced, “I had boyfriends in high school, you know, Ruhn. So I kissed them!”

“While I am not super pleased to hear about all these kissings that you did in high school,” Fenrys cut in, “I simply cannot believe that any of those pimply teens kissed you better than any of us,”

“Ugh,” she grunted, and then muttered under her breath, “they weren't pimply…”

“Did they touch you?” Azriel demanded jealously.

“I was going out with Blake for almost a year,” she exclaimed. “So yeah, we kissed and stuff,”

“What is ‘stuff’?” Azriel pressed, gulping on his wine. “Also, Blake? Elain, you went out with a Blake?”

“What’s wrong with Blake?” she shrugged. “He was the quarterback for,”

“Oh god, of course he was,” Ruhn groaned. “It’s all very predictable, sweetness. The prettiest girl going out with a non-pimply high school football star,”

“Were you the prom queen?” Fenrys teased. “And he was your king?”

“She has her three kings,” Azriel all but snarled. “And it’s us. She didn’t have any other fucking king before us!”

Ruhn raised his brow at his raging brother and then said evenly,

“Az, it was high school, man. Calm down…not a biggie. Ellie is the most beautiful girl in the world–did you really think she wouldn’t have had a boyfriend?”

Elain was both pleased and appalled by the display of jealousy from her husband. Azriel was possessive and that wasn’t anything new, but he was just about spewing fire now. 

“So, was it Blake who was the best kisser of your life?” Fenrys laughed, serving her a couple of roll ups which looked and smelled incredible. 

“No,” she snapped. “But I am not gonna tell you, because you are all crazy!”

“No, no!” Ruhn pleaded, “tell us, baby. We want to know,”

“Yeah, who to kill,” Azriel growled. 

She rolled her eyes and shook her head no.

“No, you are gonna get all mad, I am not telling.”

“What if we promise not to get mad?” Ruhn threw Azriel a warning glance.

“I don’t believe you,”

“Come on, beautiful. Be a good girl and tell us. Now we are all dying to know,” Ruhn coaxed her. 

“Not if he is going to yell,” she pointed at Azriel.

“I don’t yell,” he said coolly. 

Fenrys reached for her and buried his face in her neck, kissing her hungrily. Then he said into her skin,

“Good girls get rewarded. Good girls get good cock.”

She blushed and before she could respond, Ruhn was on the other side of her, kissing her neck as well, but his hand cupped her breast and he squeezed it provocatively, loving that she wasn’t wearing a bra under the satin. 

“And what do bad girls get?” she asked quietly, her eyes hooded, as Fenrys also squeezed her breast in his huge palm, his thumb rubbing against her puckering nipple.

“Oh, bad girls also get cock,” Ruhn assured her. “But they get a rough and dirty cock, where they beg and cry and get all their holes stretched…”

She licked her lips and he laughed softly.

“Does my girl want the bad and rough cock?”

“No one stretching any holes,” she pushed both of them away, “I have my period!”

“It’s very convenient,” Azriel sneered, “that when Ruhn wanted to stretch your hole, you suddenly became available to him, period forgotten. It’s a miracle from god!”

“Beautiful, tell angry Az who is the best kisser,” Ruhn encouraged her, laughing under his breath, “so he could kill someone and unburden himself.”

She crossed her arms on her chest, thus covering her breasts and making everyone unhappy all at once. 

“Well,” she pursed her lips and announced, “you cannot kill him.”

“Sure can,” Azriel huffed. “I can kill anyone.”

“Good for you,” she rolled her eyes. “But can you kill Lorcan Salvaterre?”

A shocked silence descended on the table and the three men glared at her full of silent indignation. Meanwhile, Elain slowly sliced into her involtini and delicately placed a piece into her mouth, chewing slowly. 

“This wine is very good,” she complimented the drink, taking a erotically-charged sip.

It was Fenrys who exploded first, shouting ‘Lorcan?!!? I knew it!’

“You knew what, exactly?” she wondered casually.

“That you had the hots for that huge motherfucker!” Fenrys threw an accusatory finger at all.

She just shrugged and continued eating.

“Lorcan is the best kisser?” Azriel demanded, fuming.

“Firstly, he is not huge. He is just very tall,” Elain said calmly. “And I like tall men. And yes, I enjoyed spending time with him. He was a good cook, he courted me well, and he kisses …” she made a long mmmmm sound and Azriel just stuck his tongue in his cheek. She continued, “and no, you can’t kill Lorcan.”

Azriel got up and went somewhere, returning a minute later, and tossing an envelope on the table.

“Well then, wife, you will be happy to learn that your former boyfriend and the winner of the Best Kisser Award is expecting you at his ball!”

Elain grabbed the envelope excitedly, absolutely disregarding all the testosterone fueled anger at the table and read the invitation. 

Don Azriel King and Donna Elain Archeron King

Don Lorcan Salvaterre requests the pleasure of your attendance at the 

Black Ball

On Saturday, 19th of July at 18:00 o’clock

Venue to be announced on 19th of July, at 14:00 o’clock

Attire: Formal / black only

Retinue of no more than six attendees is permitted

“Ohmygod! We are going to a ball!” Elain cried out happily.

“That is not decided,” Azriel poured cold water on her excitement. 

“Why?” she demanded angrily. “Why aren’t we going? Of course we are,”

Ruhn took the envelope and twisted the invite in his fingers, thinking about something.

“Not a lot of time,” Fen noted seriously, drinking his wine.

“No time at all,” Ruhn corrected, “he is smart,”

“He knows what’s what,” Azriel agreed. “No venue information until the day of. Less than a week's notice. He plays the game well,”

“I’d imagine he has to, in good old Napoli,” Ruhn agreed. “And he brought the style here,”

Elain, meanwhile, lamented loudly, “I can’t believe it’s a black ball. I don’t like black at all. It’s not my colour!”

“Elain, we aren’t even going anywhere yet,” Azriel pointed out. 

“Yeah, right. Of course we are,” she decided for everyone.

“Baby, it’s politics,” Fenrys reminded her, “this isn’t about dresses,”

“Of fuck off, Fen,” she snapped, irritated. “As if I am so stupid that I don’t realise that!? How many times do I need to tell you three–make friends with him!!”

“He is competition, who wants to take over for us–he won’t hesitate to get us out of the picture at first opportunity,”

“Wrong,” she argued firmly and then got up. “Even when we were dating,” she began, and Azriel expelled a tortured sigh. 

“Yes, Elain, please tell us more about your dates with Lorcan. We can’t wait to hear all about them…Don’t skip over the makeout sessions–I am sure we are all fascinated.”

Elain glared at him and then got up from the table and wordlessly made her way to the stairs. 

“This discussion is not over,” Azriel snapped.

“Oh, I think it is,” she threw.

Before he could continue, Ruhn grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “I will handle it,” he hissed. “Do. Not. Start.”

“Baby,” he called to Elain. “You know we have to discuss it, right?”

She relented a tad and sighed, nodding.

“I know. But promise that you will listen to me and hear me out–Lorcan is not your enemy.”

“It’s not that we don’t trust you, sweetness, but,”

“Talk to Cass,” she recommended, “figure it out. But we are going. If we don’t, it will make the Kings look weak.”

“Elain,” Azriel looked up at her and his voice softened when he looked at her. “You know we’ll do everything to protect you. I cannot put you at risk–ever.”

Her expression softened as well, and she nodded. 

“I know. But Lorcan won’t hurt me. Not ever.”

*

It was later in the evening. Azriel had spent most of the past two hours on the phone, talking to his cousin Rhysand, then having Cassian, Rowan, himself and Fenrys on a four-way call, discussing security measures and who would be attending this blasted ball, if they decided to go. Elain’s warning rang fresh in his mind–if they didn’t attend, they would look weak indeed. She was correct. Rowan was tasked with finding out what they were up against and who else was invited. Fenrys was in charge of arranging security measures. 

And Ruhn. Ruhn was not participating in the conversation tonight.

It was his decision. He told Azriel that he'd rather spend the evening with Elain and Azriel didn’t have it in him to refuse his brother. That’s also how Ruhn often thought–he didn’t need to discuss things. He constructed dozens of possible scenarios in his head and all the potential resolutions, as well as failures, for these scenarios. It used to be that Ruhn would just lay by the pool for hours, thinking and smoking. Now,

Well, now he was apparently doing TikTok dances. 

Azriel looked out of the veranda windows and watched Ruhn and Elain practising the ‘family dance’ which Ruhn was technically teaching to Elain. Unsurprisingly, she was arguing with him, changing the moves, telling him what to do…because Elain was only submissive in the bedroom. Once there were no penises in sight, she was bossing everyone around her, including Ruhn, who was loving every second of it.

Fenrys came up behind Azriel, laughed and whispered.

“And the sword fell in love with a marshmallow…”

“That marshmallow is a pain in the ass,” Azriel muttered. 

“You love it,” Fenrys laughed and shouldered him lightly. Then, seriously, he added, “let’s try to listen to her,”

“Not you too!” Azriel scrubbed his hand over his face.

Fenrys let the comment slide.

He knew his brother well enough – Azriel was a control freak, who was obsessed with Elain. The combination did not bode well for anyone. If it was up to Azriel, he’d keep Elain in the house, bent over, with his dick buried deeply and firmly in her at all times, her being lovingly subdued and dominated. That was Azriel’s ultimate fantasy when it came to his wife. Alas, his wife had other ideas about her life. 

“Az, let’s accept that Elain might be more knowledgeable and familiar with Lorcan and how he thinks,”

“Because they went on three dates?” Azriel contradicted.

“No. Because as per Varian, it would seem that Lorcan has a soft spot for our girl. I truly don't think that he would ever hurt her.”

“It doesn’t mean he won’t hurt us,” Azriel insisted, watching Elain almost fall over, when she was doing some twist with her arms and legs. Her arms flailed and Ruhn barely caught her around the waist. Amusingly, Azriel also spotted big fat furball Enalius, who arrived at the garden and was now observing the dancing. Maybe he really did like judging dancing contests?

Azriel sighed deeply and grunted, “Fine. I know you are all against me,”

“An exaggeration, but okay,”

“I will discuss with Cass and Ruhn further. And then we’ll make a decision. And it won’t be based on Elain wanting to go to the ball.”

“Our maiden is to be cherished and loved,” Fenrys reminded Azriel with a smirk. “I believe that those were your words? Our agreement.”

‘Our maiden’ or ‘our wife’ is how the three men usually referred to Elain amongst themselves. But ‘maiden’ somehow stuck and that was the preferred reference to her. Their beautiful, faithful, loyal maiden whom they adored. 

“Our maiden is to be cherished. And she is loved. But we also swore to protect our maiden, and that means protecting ourselves as well, for if we die, she won’t be too pleased.”

“No, I don’t think she would be.”

“Our maiden also vowed to trust us and allow us to make all of the decisions around our business and,”

“But, it doesn’t mean we can't use her and her charm when we need to.”

“I’d rather not,” Azriel concluded.

“I understand. But she may prove to be useful.”

*

It was late. Enalius was asleep by the pool, comfortably curled on one of the chaises. Elain was in another chaise, next to him. She was marginally satisfied with the dance and her progress. She was doing okay, but Ruhn was a strict teacher, and he didn’t allow many mistakes and corrected her ruthlessly. They’d have to practise more, and then she’d have to convince Azriel to learn it too. That wasn’t going to be easy. 

“You want to go upstairs?” Ruhn asked her, standing over her and watching her with a smirk. “Also, be a doll and lotion me up again,” he requested and then handed her a tube of some kind of ointment. She reached for him and took his hand, pulling him down. He straddled the chaise, but did not turn her back to her, and sat up, facing her. He looked at her in silence, at the soft curves of her body which stretched in front of him and gently, but deliberately parted her legs, so they fell around him. 

“Sunshine,” he said, “I am going to undress you.”

It wasn’t a request, but a statement. And not one that there was going to be an argument about. 

“I have to have my cock touching you,” he explained simply, as he hooked his fingers over the silky pleated skirt and then in one sure, quick motion pulled it down, along with her underwear. Even in the dim light of the few lanterns, fairy lights and the moon, Ruhn could see Elain’s blush spreading across her neck, and moving to her cheeks. She made a feeble move to cover herself, or do something, but he stopped her hand mid-gesture, and shook his head no. It was a bit of a warning, but also admiration for her glorious nakedness. He parted her knees even further, until she lay spread out in front of him, her chest rising and falling nervously. 

“Why are you shy, beautiful?” he cocked his head looking down at her, his violently blue eyes settling on the lovely pink slit, which was glistening with her perpetual arousal and the bud of her clit seemed swollen and desperate for a touch. 

“I feel very exposed,” she admitted, though she ran her fingers over his forearm invitingly. “It’s so…intimate.”

“But you are mine, sweetheart. Of course I’ve already seen everything,” he added with a satisfied smirk, “but still…you are mine. All your pretty holes are mine. You’ll take whole parts of my body inside of yours–why would you be shy?”

He slipped his hand up and placed it on her belly, just below the navel. 

“I love you spread out in front of me,” he told her seriously. “I’ve wanted you from the very first moment I saw you. When you met us at your father’s house, I knew that I would have to make you mine. I knew you were mine. I had no doubt in my mind, even for a second. If Azriel was going to bolt, I knew that I wouldn’t. I’d court you properly and I would’ve married you regardless of anything. You were always meant to be mine.”

Passion. Need. Devotion. 

The three things that Ruhn always looked for in women. He’s never had a girlfriend in his life, not only because it was simply easier and wiser for him not to tie himself to any women, but also because all the women he came across lacked something. 

He wanted to be needed by his woman. Wanted his woman to want him not only sexually, but emotionally as well. Yeah, he could fuck anyone to an orgasm or ten, but there needed to be something more. And then he wanted loyalty. Devotion on her part. And passion. Passion for life. Passion in bed. Passion for him. 

He always needed all three, and most women lacked something. Sometimes, all three. Sometimes, two. And it was never enough to have just a little. He wanted to have everything. 

Elain didn’t lack anything. 

She brimmed. She overflowed with all three. She needed him like he needed her, and her devotion to him and to his brothers was complete and undeniable. Ruhn was not a jealous man. Possessive, certainly, but jealous? If a woman didn’t find herself satisfied with him and his company, with what he had to offer, and if she went to look somewhere else, then she wasn’t the right woman anyway. He didn’t have time for jealousy. 

His thumb snaked down and then the other one joined and he spread her folds apart and kept her open, the cool night air making her shiver, as it licked over her wet, hot slit. He looked down without a shred of discomfort or embarrassment, letting his thumbs skid over the tender, wet folds. He didn’t bother with the tampon and left it in place, not intending to take this any further tonight. He simply started touching her–a little forcefully, allowing his fingers to dig and press into the smooth, sleek flesh of her pussy. His thumb landed firmly on her clit, lightly lifting the skin that covered her pink bud and exposing it completely, before starting to rub it firmly. She yipped lightly, back arching and toes curling, and he smiled, watching her fall apart in front of him. 

“Ruhn,” she moaned loudly and he smiled and said,

“Just enjoy it, beautiful. No need for you to do anything.”

She lay back, allowing him to take charge of her body, as if she had a choice in the matter. He bowed over her and kissed her deeply, but lightly.

Ruhn loved kissing Elain. He might not have been her Number One kisser, but she kissed perfectly. They were docile and gentle, her kisses. She opened her lips for him, and simply let him fuck into her mouth,  as he pumped his tongue between her lips. He loved licking her lips, wetly and obscenely, and she simply accepted it with indulging obedience. She wrapped her arm around his neck, keeping him close, as she cautiously sucked on his lip ring, the metal squeezing sharply, but pleasantly into his lip when she sucked. 

He unzipped his jeans and pulled out his heavy, throbbing cock, while continuing to kiss her softly, playing with her little darting tongue. The way Elain’s eyes flared with excitement at the sight of his dick, and just a touch of caution and curiosity, made him smile to himself. She respected his dick. It was large and thick, and undoubtedly, she recalled the painful stretch that it offered her, as well as the pleasure that she received from it. He stroked her cheek with his available hand, while rubbing her clit steadily and very firmly. He squeezed the pole of his cock and then murmured into her lips,

“Open up for me, sweetheart. Show me how much you love it.”

She opened up her mouth obligingly and he immediately eased the shaft inside, pushing steadily, but hard.

“Kiss it,” he ordered, pulling back a bit, and she pressed a deep, loving kiss to the pink head, before scattering kisses all over the surface. He watched her with a smile, while she kissed the head again, running her pink eager tongue over it, before he rubbed it against her lips and then she ducked her head and kissed his balls without him prompting. She always started like that, compliant, loving kisses all over the shaft and the balls. 

“Do you love it, sunshine?” 

She nodded, licking his sack with pleasure, teasing her tongue over the seam, whispering,

“I love it. I love it so much.”

“Because?” he pressed.

“My babies will come from there,” she declared happily.

He ran his knuckles over her cheek and nodded. 

Unlike Azriel, or even Fenrys, Ruhn never made a secret of his desire to fill her with his seed until was heavy and round with his child. He trained her to take his cock and enjoy it for what it gave her: pleasure and seed. 

He wouldn’t share this with anyone, including her, but Ruhn became utterly obsessed with Elain the moment he saw her. He didn’t exaggerate–she did belong to him, and with him. Of that, he had no doubt. He wouldn’t have been surprised if it was Fen who got besotted with her–which he did–but no one knew how taken Ruhn was with her, and what she meant to him. The month between the engagement and the wedding was the longest month of his life. It lasted forever and he was just about climbing the walls, plagued by nightmares every night, imagining how Elain would change her mind about the marriage, how her greedy father would find a better match, how medding Nesta would push her away from them, and on and on and on…He came up with wild scenarios in his head about what he would do if she declined. Would he simply kidnap her? Marry her against her will? Beg and plead? Threaten? Go on a killing spree? Murder everyone who stood in their way? Lock her up like a psycho in some penthouse? Thankfully, none of that happened and she married him–fine, technically Azriel–but really, she married him, without a murmur of protest. He remembered it like it was yesterday, Elain in some meringue-like concoction of a dress, gliding towards him to the strangest choice of a wedding song, ‘Follow Me’ by Amanda Lear. In hindsight, it was a great song–fast and chaotic and it summed everything up perfectly about Elain and the three men that she was marrying. She was their fate. Their desire. She gave them wings. And they followed her. 

To the end of the world. 

But the obsession had only begun. When she, at last, moved in and wasn’t sleeping with Azriel, Ruhn silently made his way into her bedroom and watched her. Watched her sleep. It was weird behaviour, even for him, but he couldn’t help it and didn’t want to stop. He creeped into her plush bedroom, which, for the record, he designed and decorated himself, because that’s what he did. He was the one with good taste, and the one who knew about art and design, and the one who made their whole house livable, stylish and comfortable. He pulled a fine job before the wedding, and stole the Monet from the Art Institute of Chicago, which he then hung in her bedroom. Azriel had been really pissed at him about the painting. Not because he stole it, but because it would’ve interfered with the wedding if he was caught and arrested. Ruhn only laughed. He wasn’t going to be caught. Not when he was doing something for Elain. Though he went unusually flashy with the heist, modelling it after the heist in The Thomas Crown Affair. The movie proved to be an excellent blueprint for what he ended up doing. Funnily, it was also a Monet he was after, just like Pierce Brosnan in the movie. But he also pinched a Renoir that he’s been eyeing for ages–and gifted it to his brother as the wedding present. The Renoir hung in Azriel’s bedroom, the pale flesh of the nude much like the flesh of their gorgeous wife. 

He stood in the darkness and he watched Elain sleep that whole month. And when on some of the nights she migrated to Azriel’s bedroom, he stood there. Azriel knew that his brother was in his bedroom, and the first night he muttered, “you are creeping me out, man. You seriously gonna stand there and watch her?” Yes. Yes he was. But that also gave him an idea, because he didn’t want to just stand there and watch. Frankly, he was already obsessed, so what’s a little more unhinged behaviour. It’s not like he was known for being hinged. So, when he’d jack off and then gently tip the head of his dick between those sweet, soft lips and feed her a bit of his cum, he felt…good. The noise in his head quieted a bit. Not entirely, but watching her lick her lips sleepily, watching her swallow a bit of him and accept it, was a pleasure he hadn’t experienced until then. Then, every morning, when he saw her at breakfast, the piles of her golden brown curls streaming around her body, the chocolate eyes, the rosy lips, the innocence of her gaze, he also knew that he had a hand in defiling her a little bit. Slowly, but surely, with every touch, push, lick, kiss, and squirt of his cum inside of her, he was making her a woman. Until a text came from Azriel about five days ago.

Az: We are riding our maiden tonight

R: She ready?

Az: I am ready. And you are ready. Her pussy is ready. 

R: I am in. 

Az: Then let’s ride our maiden together

R: And we are going all the way in.

Az: As far and as deep as you want to brother. 

R: 2 dicks or all 3 for the maiden?

Az: Let’s start with 2. Baby steps and all.

R: Generous of you. Always a giver. 

With his dick sufficiently wet, he pulled out from Elain’s mouth and then wrapped his hands over her bare ass and tugged her closer to him. She slathered her hands with the ointment and then wrapped them around his big, muscular body, swiping her palms over his battered back. He wiggled his shoulders and groaned with pleasure. 

“That feels good, my girl,” he murmured and then looked between their bodies. She was spread out next to him, her pink, pretty slit open and naked, while his cock bobbed next to his stomach, hard as a goddamn rock. He gripped it at the base and pointed the thick cockehead between the warm, wet folds and pressed it to her pickering clit. 

“Let me make you feel good,” he offered, breathing in her delicate, but familiar scent of jasmine, honey and sex. She kept stroking his back, his shoulders, humming softly against him, clearly enjoying the firm rubbing of his cock over her clit.

“You always make me feel good, Ruhn,” she murmured into his ear, running her tongue over the multitude of earrings. 

“I love your pussy,” he stated simply. “It’s fucking sublime, sunshine. Once we get over this hump of your virginity and your period, I am planning on fucking it every day.”

She whimpered against him, her satin-covered tits rubbing against his chest and he gripped her hips tighter in his palm, while that thick cockhead kept sliding up and down her slit, landing on her clit again and again. She chuckled at his words and said,

“Whenever you say it, it sounds like a threat,”

He shrugged and shook his head,

“Not a threat. A promise. We are all curious, you know,”

“About?” she kissed his neck, burrowing closer to him, until she was completely enveloped in his scent, the thickness of his powerful body, the scent of oranges, smoke and something uniquely him. 

“Whether you can handle us, sweet girl. Everything is a test,”

“And how am I doing on your tests?”

“Very well,” he admitted, rubbing her wet pussy with his dick. “But we need to ride you a lot more before we know,”

She smiled and kissed his lips, brushing her tongue over his lips.

“I promise not to disappoint, husband.”

“You won’t, Ellie, you won’t.”

She hugged him closer, nestling her head into his neck and shoulder. 

“Help yourself, sweetheart,” he ordered, and then wrapped her hand over his shaft, letting her use him how she needed and wanted to. “Get yourself off on my dick.”

He held her close, kissing her face, her hair, but also watched her grip his shaft tightly and work it between her nether lips, pressing firmly and working it roughly against her slickness. 

“That’s right, sweetness,” he urged her on. “Rub that dick in your sweet pussy.”

“I love your dick,” she moaned loudly.

“I know, baby. It’s a good dick,” he chuckled. “And it belongs in you. Isn’t it nice to be mine?”

She nodded frantically, speeding up between them, while he opened up her knees further, so he could watch her in all her sexy glory. As her panting became more erratic and he saw how her breasts rose and fell with her oncoming climax, he managed to tear her shirt off and toss it on the ground, right before she came. She was naked in front of him, her breasts swollen and her nipples tight and plump, just like he loved them, while her clit also swelled against his cock, firm and pink. At the last moment, she fell back on the chaise, unable to remain upright as she started coming before him, her slim shoulders shuddering and her whole body bowing and arching off the seat.

“Just like that, sweetheart,” he encouraged, watching her, loving the obliteration that he wrecked on her body, even without penetrating her in any manner. He came right behind her, shooting thick ropes of cum all over her body. He always came copiously, and she watched him cover her breasts, her neck, before he jammed his dick in her mouth and made her drink. She swallowed slowly, savouring the taste of him, and enjoying every bit of his outpouring.

He leaned over her and kissed her deeply, swiping his tongue through the taste of him in her mouth and grinning against her lips.

“You taste good, sunshine.”

“Yeah?” she laughed and stroked his cheek. “I love sucking you. Thanks for taking my cami off…”

“I knew I was going to come on these titties and cum is a bitch to remove from satin.”

He shoved his cock back in his jeans, though didn’t bother to button up. She lay her hand on the patch of his pubic hair, dragging her fingers from his navel to the root of his cock in soothing, slow motions. 

“Always practical and pragmatic,” she giggled and he wedged himself next to her on the chaise, pulling her half on top of him. His hand swiped over all the cum on her chest and he brought it to her mouth, where she licked it off appreciatively. They slumped in a pleasant post-orgasmic oblivion, stroking each other’s heated bodies lazily.

Elain threaded her fingers with his huge hand and brought it to her lips, kissing his knuckles lovingly.

“Ruhn,” she said quietly, turning his face to her. He looked at her, while wrapping his arm around her body. “You know you are my mate.”

“I know, Ellie,” he confirmed calmly, preferring not to argue about this. She was dead set on this matehood thing and he just agreed. “We are heartmates.”

“Yes, exactly,” she nodded. “And,” she sighed and then gently stroked his arm, where it was cut with whatever his father had used on him. “Are you in pain?” she inquired, knowing that he must still be feeling rough.

“Nah,” he lied dismissively. Then he reached into his jeans pocket and withdrew a crumpled pack of Marlboros, lighting one up and inhaling deeply. Stupid habit, which was probably going to be the end of him, but he kind of needed the nicotine.

“Can I try?” she asked.

“Not really. No,” he refused severely. “I am only ruining your pussy. Not your lungs.”

“But,”

“No.”

He slapped her pussy and she yelped, and then huffed with indignation and he smiled. 

“Don’t be angry, baby. I can ruin all kinds of things. Your innocence. This cute little ass,” and he slapped her bare butt for emphasis, “I can break your resolve. The Ruhnious D is always at attention and eager to destroy your perfect body. But ciggies aren’t for you.”

She sighed but did not insist.

“The Ruhnious D?” she then repeated, rolling her eyes. He barked a loud laugh and nodded.

“You like?”

“No comment.”

He was laughing, as he explained,

“Well, there is also the Fentastic D. And the very unimaginative AmAZing D. So you have your pick, beautiful.”

“Just Amazing D?” she frowned with disappointment.

“Well, sometimes he calls himself K-O-K.”

“K-okay?” she frowned.

“No. Mr. Kok.”

“The AmAZing Mr. Kok,” she smacked her lips. “I love it!”

He laughed and then pressed her to him, kissing her lips. 

After a beat, Elain pulled away and looked intently at him.

“The thing is, Ruhn,” she said, her voice firm, and her expression serious, “because you are my mate, I feel compelled to avenge you.”

He looked down at her from his vantage point and cocked his brow at her.

“Avenge me?” he repeated.

“Yes,” she said simply. “I cannot stand by and watch that monstrous asshole hurt you. Hurt Az. I cannot have you come home after a beating that he just casually gives you, leaving you bloodied and bruised. What if there is a serious injury? What if he damages an organ? Breaks bones?”

Ruhn didn’t tell her, but bones had been broken. Wrist, collarbone, fingers, his shoulders have been dislocated numerous times, his cheekbone smashed, eye socket crushed. Cuts and bruises were a walk in a park, in hindsight. 

Naturally, Ruhn’s first inclination was to tell her ‘no’ and to order her to forget it. But he knew that he had to tread carefully. Elain’s desire to avenge him, her need to make him safe and comfortable was genuine, born out of her love for him. He didn’t want to dismiss or diminish her feelings, because in fact, her caring about him to that extent was precious. The most precious thing he could think of. 

“Do you want to kill him?” Ruhn asked calmly.

It felt bizarre–to be lying here, in the open, by their crystal-blue pool, while the city lived beyond the four buildings. His naked, well-fucked maiden and wife was casually discussing murdering his father. And he was agreeing with her. 

“I want to hurt him,” she said, “and then kill him.”

“I love it when you are crazy and bloodthirsty, sunshine,” he chuckled and took her hand in his. Elain was heavily blinged-out, with all the diamonds that they draped all over her for the wedding. She casually rocked about 3 million in jewellery on any given day, which for some reason Ruhn found amusing. Because she was clueless. She liked her jewels because they all came from her husbands, not because they were expensive as fuck. Just like she was clueless about the 120 million dollar painting that he hung on her wall for her. She was just excited that the girl looked like her. Ruhn suspected that she understood the value, but dollar value didn’t matter. 

“Promise me you won’t act without consulting me before.”

“Okay,” she nodded. 

“Promise, Elain,” he insisted.

“I promise, Ruhn. I won’t act until I consult with you,” she offered somberly.

“Thank you.”

He sat up and pulled her to him. 

“You are sleeping with me tonight,” he decided. “In my bed. Come on,” he scooped her into his arms.

“Can I wear your t-shirt?”

“Yeah, you sure can, baby.”

*

Tuesday (5 days before the ball)

Cassian Anteroga-Rossi was an early riser. Always had been. His cousin Azriel was also an early riser, and it wasn’t uncommon for him to be at work by 7 am. Since his wedding, Azriel has definitely been slacking and wasn’t too keen on arriving as early as he used to. Today, however, Cassian was summoned bright and early and that’s why he was making his way up to Azriel’s private office. It was so private, that only Fen and Ruhn were allowed to come here unannounced. Cassian’s been here before, but even he required an invitation. Azriel was secretive and liked his privacy, so this wasn’t exactly unusual behaviour for him. Most of their meetings took place at the AUX offices, fifteen floors below, where the security headquarters were located. 

Today, however, Az asked him to come here. 

It was not even seven in the morning, so Azriel’s grumpy, but efficient administrative assistant Devlon wasn’t at his desk yet, snarling and being rude. He was rude to everyone, only barely keeping his mouth shut in Azriel’s presence. Otherwise, no one was not immune to the barbs and the insults that poured out of his mouth, and Cassian suspected that Devlon was one of the reasons why no one liked coming up here to Azriel’s office. And one of the reasons why Az tolerated the man–he was a secretary, a guard dog, an assistant, and a keeper of secrets all in one.

Before he could knock, Cassian heard Azriel’s gravelly voice from behind the door, telling him to come in. Az always had this preternatural ability to see and hear things that no one else could. He could stay still and hidden for hours, almost without moving, lying in wait like a lizard, hearing and seeing things that others didn’t. 

Cassian entered and stilled. Dear Barbara. He almost gasped, though he held himself back. Barely.

He hasn’t been here in a couple of months and now…

The office wasn’t as large as one would expect, and it didn't have a ton of furniture either–just a desk, some chairs, a few shelves. Elegant, expensive, but compact and tidy, with huge windows that overlooked the cityscape. And now, it seemed that every fucking surface of the office was covered with …Elain. Elain. Elain. Elain. Everywhere there were photos of her. Wedding photos. Candid photos. Photos with the three brothers. Photos with each brother. Photos with Az. At home. By the pool. In the garden. On the streets. On the beach. Baking. With flowers. Without flowers. Sucking on spaghetti. Laughing. Drinking wine. Sharing a doughnut with Ruhn. In a bikini. Sleepily squinting in bed. As his brain tried to process this Elain-caused explosion, he was silently counting. Fifty-three. Fifty-three photographs. 

“Thanks for coming in early,” Azriel said casually, looking calm and relaxed. He wore a pair of slacks and a simple black shirt–surprising Cassian yet again, with the lack of his usual sharply tailored suit. 

“‘Morning. What’s up?” Cassian sat down in a comfortable leather chair and Azriel moved a cup of coffee in front of him. “Thanks man.”

“Didn’t want to talk about this at home, and it doesn’t really concern the AUX guys either,” Azriel half-explained, crossing his legs and stretching in his chair. It was weirdly informal. The shirt that he was wearing hiked up his torso and a measure of his taut muscular stomach became uncovered. The ‘normal’ Azriel wouldn’t have allowed himself that much leeway, even in front of his cousin and oldest friend.

“I see you’ve redecorated a little,” Cassian took a sip of coffee, which was fantastic, by the way, and made a vague gesture with his hand.

“Oh yeah…If I don’t see my flower, I get antsy,” Azriel shrugged like this admission was nothing special. 

His flower.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Az asked dreamily, his amber eyes skimming over the photos. “This girl, she drives me crazy.”

Yeah, clearly.

Jesus. The man was besotted. Not something Cassian ever expected to see from Azriel, of all people. Neither did he expect it from Ruhn, but what did he know? The brothers were fucking obsessed with their new wife…girl…flower…whatever. 

Truth be told, Cassian wasn’t entirely shocked by the marital arrangement. It wasn’t unheard of in their circles. Some families retained power by keeping it all in the family. Other families preferred to intermarry and expand. Sometimes, it was a man and a slew of women. The Old King was a good example of that practice–he was married to one woman, until she swallowed a bunch of pills and a bottle of vodka, which put her in the great King mausoleum, but kept a veritable harem of others, which included Azriel’s and Ruhn’s mothers. A rarer practice was a reverse harem–one woman, and multiple men, usually brothers, or cousins. Sometimes friends. That ensured that loyalty, children and blood all remained under one roof. It was a harder balance to achieve, male jealousy and competitiveness usually getting in the way of the arrangement, but when it worked, it worked out pretty well. Fenrys’s English side of the family, his uncle Ben was in one such arrangement–married to his wife, he also shared her and his life and domain with his two closest friends. 

The fact that Azriel King decided that a reverse harem would work for him and would include his half-brother and his cousin was nevertheless…surprising. 

The thing with these families was that marriages were in fact encouraged. Outside of the whole ’baby making and heirs and bloodlines and power and solidarity’ thing that these families were obsessed with, women played an important, some said, crucial, role in the structure of their underground society. Women had little influence otherwise, and Nesta Archeron was definitely an anomaly, and it took years and numerous machinations and struggles for someone like Immacolata Vanserra to amass the respect that she did, and the level of influence that she possessed. The women were there for the men to love something. Something beyond power and bloodlust and money. Something that wouldn’t allow them to lose their humanity entirely. Oftentimes, the women became objects of obsession: worshipped, adored, protected. Sometimes, it took a dark turn. At times it was pure adoration. In the Kings’ case, it seemed to Cassian that it was a little bit of everything.

“She made this involtini last night for dinner,” Azriel kept on rambling on. “It was so good, I seriously almost came!”

“Elain is a great cook,” Cassian agreed diplomatically.

It was a fine line that he walked all the time–agree and accept that Elain was beautiful, capable, amazing in every way, smart and incredible, because that’s how her men saw her, and yet, not overstep and compliment her too much, because the brutal, vicious possessiveness that they displayed towards her was always present. He was permitted to talk to her, compliment her, but not touch her. He was an affectionate man, and once he automatically went in for a kiss on the cheek with her. Well, he wasn’t going to make that mistake ever again. For a whole week after, he was genuinely afraid that he’d wake up in the middle of the night with Ruhn fucking King standing over his bed, with his scary ass sword in hand, slicing off his cock. Fen probably saved him–he smoothly pulled Elain into his own embrace and kissed her cheek instead, though the look that he threw Cassian was full of warning and malice. 

Elain was…interesting. Kinda odd. Weird. 

Not that he’d ever say it to anyone, and he even tried not to think it, because she was now family, but she was…kinda odd. Beautiful beyond belief, she was hard to figure out otherwise. She wasn’t interested in any ‘normal’ things that girls from her circle were usually into–she didn’t flaunt herself, didn’t care about material things much at all. She wasn’t loud, she wasn’t a ‘mean girl’, or a ‘good girl’, and didn’t fall under any typical labels. She was just–Elain. If someone said Elain, you immediately knew who they were talking about. The golden, light-filled flower girl, who had a waterfall of honey-coloured curls cascading around her. A very fine body. Yeah, Cassian wasn’t blind. Very full breasts, a tiny tapered waist, soft thighs, small round ass and incredible legs. She was the full package. A full package and a goddamn massive liability, because the hold that she had on the three Kings was astonishing. She was the type of girl that men would make dumb mistakes for, and if she was threatened in any way, they’d start a war over her. And that made Cassian very worried.

“So what’s up?” he asked, before Azriel could fully commit to waxing poetic over his orgasmic dinner last night. 

“Two things,” Azriel said, drinking his coffee. “Elain wants to go to the Black Ball.”

Of course. It had to do with Elain. 

“I am sure that she does, but is it wise to…” Cassian began, but Azriel steamrolled over the objections at once. 

“Before I bring her there, I want to make sure that we are all good to go. I know we don’t know the location or setup, but let’s get everything we can about the attendees. Who was invited. Who was blown off. Let’s position ourselves correctly here. I trust Elain–I thinks she is knows more about Lorcan than we give her credit for,”

Impatient, Cassian said,

“I know you want to indulge your wife, Azriel, but at what point did we start trusting Elain and her opinions about the business? What can she possibly know about Lorcan and his motivations? I know she wants to dress up and,”

Azriel’s expression darkened and he snapped,

“I am going to stop you right there, Cass. While I appreciate your input and your expertise, the decision is mine, and Ruhn’s. I want to ensure that my wife is secure and safe while we are there, but I am not cowering and hiding from fucking Lorcan.”

“I can’t protect you when she is leading you by the balls,” Cassian growled. “She is,”

“My wife,” Azriel reminded him coldly. “The kings’ wife. Deal with it. We have informants, work them. Find out what the word on the street is–are the Vanserras coming? What’s up with Eris and where the fuck is he hiding? And oh yeah, if Nesta is going, you can be assured that we are going too.”

Cassian frowned and grunted defensively,

“What does Nesta have to do with anything?”

“Nesta is a girl, and from a weak family, yet she has the balls to show up. You think the Kings won’t?”

“I hope it’s not because you are in competition with Nesta,” Cassian folded his massive arms on his chest, watching Azriel push his tongue in his cheek in irritation.

“Cass,” Azriel hissed in warning.

“Whatever, man. Or rather, whatever Elain wants, I guess.”

Azriel rose to his feet and then announced,

“If you are not vibing with the way I do things, I think we’d be able to find you another role in the organisation.”

Cassian exhaled and muttered, “for the love of god, Az. Really?”

“I am not fighting with you or anyone else over Elain and her position in the family,” Azriel concluded dryly. “We love her. She is ours. It’s inevitable she’ll have a say in certain aspects of the business. She is pretty hands off, but if she suggests something, I sure as hell will be listening to her. She’s grown up in this world, just like we did. I am not going to disregard what she’s gotta say just because she has a vagina.”

“It’s not about that,” Cassian began to argue, but Azriel interrupted him,

“It kind of is though. Women are to be seen–sometimes–and not heard. Right?”

“You are twisting everything,” Cassian shrugged, unwilling to engage in a fight with his boss. He knew that he’d lose and Elain would win. Azriel might have had a pair of brass balls but Elain held them in her small hands and wasn’t letting them out of her sight.

“Fine,” he sighed. “I will gather all the info and let you know.”

“Thank you.”

“What’s the second thing?” he wondered cautiously.

“Hmmm,” Azriel rubbed the back of his neck and then dropped another doozy.

“I’d like for you to train Elain.”

“What?” Cassian blanched. “Train her in what?”

“Self-defence. I want her to have some skills,”

“Why me?!” Cassian cried out indignantly. “Can’t Fen teach her? Or Ruhn?”

“They could,” Azriel agreed. “But I fear they would be ineffective. I don’t think she’d take it as seriously as she should, if it’s them, and I think they’d just want to bend her over the nearest bench and fuck her raw,”

“Jesus Christ.”

“We are in a pickle indeed,” Azriel said lightly. “It might surprise you, but Elain respects you. Likes you. Maybe even is a little scared of you,”

“Yeah right! If she ain’t scared of Ruhn, she ain’t scared of me.”

Az chuckled but didn’t disagree.

“Nevertheless, I think you are a good option.”

“Ugh…Whatever, fine,” Cassian sighed somberly because there was no escape.

Azriel grabbed his keys and said,

“Oh, and maybe invite Nesta. She could use some lessons too.”

Cassian perked up a bit, even if he tried to play it cool and asked, “Nesta? Like she’d join.”

“Between you and Elain, you can be very persuasive.”

He wrapped his arm around Cassian’s broad shoulders and pulled him alongside him, muttering, “come, let’s have breakfast together”.

*

“...I am not a roommate!!” Fenrys shouted aggressively.

Azriel entered his house, with Cassian trailing behind, already on the phone, talking to someone about Eris fucking Vanserra. It seems that that’s all they ever did–talked about Eris.

As he made his way through the house, towards the kitchen and their huge common living area, he heard Fenrys’s aggrieved tone, and Ruhn’s assholish, taunting laughter. Elain was there too–her soft silvery laughter drowned by the two men who were with her.

Azriel’s heart lurched stupidly in his chest.

Despite the bickering and the taunting, and this early in the morning, it still sounded like music to Azriel’s ears. 

His family. 

They were it. Those three people in the kitchen mattered to him more than anything else in the world. And finally they had something that they all cared about and loved–their girl. Their maiden. Their wife. Their lady. Their Elain. And with her in their midst, they slowly, but surely began building their family together. And this was their home–a place where they brought their girl to and where they loved her and where they argued and laughed and cooked and screamed at the TV. And maybe, while Azriel felt like Ruhn was pushing the issue a little too much, deep down, he definitely didn’t mind having a chubby baby waddling about among them. He couldn’t believe himself–he’s been married for a little over a month and he was feeling broody already. Ridiculous, but true. And he didn’t care. Creating a new life with Elain, giving their child a childhood that he never had, offering unconditional love, support and kindness to another human being, and raising the babe alongside his brothers was an amazing, and seemingly achievable dream now.

“You kinda are,” Ruhn teased. “Like think about it,”

“I am not thinking about it!” Fenrys parried ferociously, and Azriel paused in the hallway, listening to them.

“You should,”

“I am her husband just like you two,”

“Well, I beg to differ,” Ruhn drawled nastily. “At least Az and I gave her a good dicking down. A little rough, but nice and gentle too,”

“Gentle?” Elain questioned incredulously, and Azriel almost laughed out loud.

“Beautiful, we did good by your pussy,” Ruhn protested. “We pounded it nice and hard, you took two dicks like a trooper. We filled you with lots and lots of cum, just like you like it…”

“Yeah, okay,” she sighed in agreement and Azriel had to bite his lip over her tone, stifling his laugh. 

“Our Brit boy here however just sort of…hangs out and eats a lot of food. A husband he is not,”

“That’s it!” Fenrys roared.

There was shuffling and then Azriel heard,

“Elain. Let’s go fuck.”

Azriel stepped into the room, but didn’t say anything, as he crossed his arms on his chest and watched the scene.

Elain was standing by the counter, slicing fruit and when Fen demanded his fuck time, she gulped and a piece of strawberry fell out of her mouth.

“Wha…” she whimpered.

“Yeah, that’s it. Let’s go fuck,” Fenrys motioned on to her, while Ruhn was sitting with his long legs stretched out in front of him, laughing at the two of them.

“No way,” she waved Fen off, making a face.

“Yeah way, let’s go.”

She hissed and then propped her hand on her hip and repeated,

“No. Way.”

“Why no way? What the fuck, babygirl?” Fenrys growled loudly.

“We are not just going to go and ‘fuck’. You have to do it romantically!” she yelled back at him.

Ruhn slapped his thigh, laughing loudly.

“That’s right, Fenny. Romantically,” he repeated. 

“Excuse me. Excuse me?!” Fenrys raged loudly. “I have to do it romantically?!”

“Yeah!” she insisted.

“Why do I have to do it romantically? He,” and Fenrys jammed his finger towards Ruhn, “can snap his fingers, tell you to bend over and you bend over! And he fucks you,”

“Ugh,” she grimaced. “You are so rude, Fenrys Moonbeam!”

“You are, Fenrys,” Ruhn agreed.

Azriel made himself known and said, “you kind of are, Fen. Also, you have to do it romantically.”

“I don’t understand why I am stuck with the romantic crap?!” Fenrys complained. “I am not romantic! I am a killer. I am in the damn mafia!”

Ruhn waved a cigarette at Fenrys and tsked.

“See, that’s your problem, Fen. You, maybe unwittingly, cultivated a romantic image. You know, with the golden locks and the accent and the smooth personality…You are like Little Lord Fauntleroy,”

Fenrys frowned.

“Who?”

“Ehhh, philistines,” Ruhn moaned. “You are a pretty British prince,”

“Fuck you,” Fenrys argued. “I am a guy from Peaky Blinders,”

“Yeah, right….” Azriel rolled his eyes.

“Yeah right!” Fenrys insisted.

“Listen Tommy Shelby,” Ruhn declared, “let me tell you something. Even with all your Peaky Blinders aura–you know, the tweedy jackets, the flat caps, the swagger, the guns–you are still a romantic hero. That’s why the girls swoon around you and drop on their knees hoping you’d grant them the privilege of sucking you off. 

“Me. Ain’t nobody thinks I am romantic. I am Stallone. And ain’t nobody thinks that Stallone is sexy or delicious. And you, my man, you are Ben Barnes,”

“Who the hell is Ben Barnes?” Fenrys exclaimed, looking at Ruhn in confusion.

“What, you live in a cave?” Azriel wondered under his breath.

“Is that another of Elain’s boyfriends? A good kisser?” Fenrys snapped bitterly.

Elain meanwhile was nodding, as she agreed, sighing dreamily,

“Ben Barnes is so sexy,”

“See,” Ruhn jerked his shoulder at her. “And Ben Barnes plays a bunch of dicks and killers. And still, the ladies swoon.”

Azriel prowled towards Elain, while the other two men continued on arguing about Ben Barnes and whether Fenrys was a ‘mean’ killer or a ‘sexy’ one. 

“Good morning, my sweetness,” he smiled at her and then cupped her face in his hands.

*

Last night, Azriel had waited until after midnight for Elain to come to bed, but she never arrived and he found that he could no longer sleep without her next to him. Until she was tucked against him, half-suffocating him with her hair, her soft body relaxed and comfortable in his embrace, he didn’t feel at peace and couldn't fall asleep. He wanted to be with her. Wanted to smell her, the scent of her sex, of her skin, her hair. Needed to feel the suppleness of her breasts, the familiar roundness of her ass planted in the cradle of his hips. So he grabbed Mwah-Mwah and went to Ruhn’s bedroom. 

The two of them were asleep. Ruhn was holding her around the waist, like his own personal teddy bear. And it was nice. Azriel felt happy when he observed his strange, often brutal, cunning, sociopathic brother with their wife. Because there was something good and tender that peeked out from the infinite darkness of Ruhn’s pain and manic character when he was with Elain.

Azriel jammed Mwah-Mwah into Elain’s arms, and then slid under the duvet on the other side of her. He was always the big spoon in their bedroom arrangement, and she always slept in his arms, which is what he loved. This was new. But to be next to her, he was willing to spend the night as a little spoon. He backed up into her, and then grabbed her leg and draped it over his thigh, keeping it in place. And then he became her teddy bear, when she sleepily wrapped her arm around his stomach and then, just as he was drifting off to sleep, he felt her lips press to the back of his neck and she murmured ‘I love you’. 

*

Cassian strolled into the house. He had to give it to her–with Elain’s arrival, this place was pumping with hygge. He’s been reading all about it, and yeah, that’s how it felt–cosy and chill and comfortable and it smelled good and come to think of it, he was a little envious. But it’s not like he had three brothers to share a loving woman with. His brothers were here, and they were happy with their little slice of heaven. He wasn’t invited into the arrangement. And he was pointlessly pining for a sharp-tongued, proud, haughty and detached Nesta, who sure as hell wouldn’t be shared with anyone, including him, and wouldn’t be practising any kind of hygge lifestyle.

So he took in the warmth and basked in the love of others whenever he could. Elain might have been kind of strange and incomprehensible at times, but she was sweet and soft and kind of pleasantly docile and agreeable, which made the man in him purr quietly in his chest. 

When he entered their living space, he immediately noticed a scowling Fenrys, and Elain and Azriel down by the stove, with Azriel kissing her with such unbridled passion, it looked pornographic. He was holding her face in his hands, fucking into her mouth with his tongue, moulding every bit of her lips and teeth and tongue into his. It was slow and passionate and erotic. Azriel was never into expressive PDA, even when he was with Morrigan, Cassian rarely saw them being overtly amorous. Mor was touchy, affectionate, loud, unforgettably beautiful, generously proportioned, and much like Elain, presented an interesting, sharp contrast to Azriel. Cassian could see vague similarities between the two women–Azriel had a type, after all. But he was different with Elain–Elain was raw and alive and she made him feel and act in a new and different way.

While Azriel was sucking on his girl’s face, Cassian made his way to Ruhn and clapped him on the shoulder. Ruhn winced, but said nothing else, and Cassian bit his lip, sensing that Ruhn was probably injured. And there was only one person who made Ruhn hurt so much that Ruhn winced.

“Good news,” Cassian tried to sound cheerful and pretend like he didn’t notice the flinch. Ruhn saw right through it, but also acted like everything was fine. It was an old dance that they danced, both knowing the truth and denying it to each other. 

“We could use some,” Ruhn agreed.

“I think we found the prodigal son– Eris fucking Vanserra.”

*

Wednesday (4 days before the ball)

And that’s why Elain and Fenrys were currently rolling on the hot tar of the roof.

*

Tuesday (5 days before the ball)

Because yesterday, at breakfast, completely unexpectedly, Ruhn announced calmly, “I think perhaps Elain could run a job for us.”

Elain wasn’t even embarrassed when she dropped her spoon and oatmeal flew all over the floor and Cassian’s pants. She stared at Ruhn in disbelief, while he smirked at her, and Azriel smiled.

“What do you mean you want me to run a job?” she demanded, forgetting to even pick up her spoon, which Cassian did for her.

“I think we know where Eris Vanserra is hiding,” Azriel explained, “and we need to confirm and fish him out,”

“What are you going to do with him?” she asked immediately.

“Haven’t decided yet,” Azriel shrugged, as he took a bite of his eggs, “but discretion is of utmost importance. We might sell him to Lorcan, because they have beef between the two of them. We might keep the knowledge to ourselves and have Lorcan beg for it. Or not even tell him, and extract Eris and have him as a bargaining chip with his family. 

 “But we need to confirm the location, and then decide on extraction…That’s where you come in, Elain. If you are interested,”

“I am interested!” she cried out immediately.

“We figured you would be,” Ruhn smiled. 

“Cassian is in charge of the op. He will give you the coordinates.”

“Do I have to do it at night?”

“At night, you sleep in my bed,” Azriel reminded her with a meaningful look. She rolled her eyes and Cassian chuckled under his breath.

“No, I don’t think that night recon would be necessary,” he assured her. “This is not Fallujah. Or Afghanistan.”

“Do I get a gun?” she asked quickly.

“Umm,” Cassian glanced at her with ill-concealed concern. “No…? I don’t think we want you to shoot him,”

“Hmm,” she scratched her cheek, lost in thought. Then she added, “I think I should have a gun.”

“Well, we can’t just go around shooting people on the street,” he argued calmly.

She gave him somewhat of a condescending look and then announced,

“Yeah, Cassian. No one’s been shot in New York. Ever.”

Ruhn was shaking with laughter, while Azriel hid his own under a napkin.

“Elain,” Cassian looked at her and said sternly, regaining some authoritative ground. “Fenrys will have a gun, and it comes to that, he will be there to get into a shootout,”

“Fuck yeah!” Fen nodded eagerly.

“Otherwise, you are under my command and you stick to the plan and protocol.”

She glanced at him wide-eyed and nodded demurely.

“Okay. I will.”

“I mean it, Elain,” he warned, eyeing her with his big hazel eyes. “I am not one of your husbands or whatever this whole thing is…you will listen and do what I say.”

Azriel exchanged a wordless look with Ruhn.

It was the first time when they were recognised as Elain’s ‘husbands’ by someone outside of their family. 

And it felt surprisingly good.

Like they were legit now. Husbands. 

*

Thursday (3 days before the ball)

It was three days before the Black Ball.

Despite this being the middle of July, the morning was cool and crisp. A breeze came from the ocean and rolled over the city, which was quiet and dreamy at this hour. 

Cassian stood by the wall, two cups in his hands. 

A confident clicking of high heels on the pavement put him on alert.

On time, as usual. She was someone who valued her routines. 

There she was. Straight as an arrow. Tall. 5”10 he’d guess. Pushing 6 feet in her killer heels.

He probably shouldn’t have been surprised, but she wore a sleeveless slate-grey dress, which was cut to her figure, with a narrow black belt that emphasised her slimness. The black stilettos were so sharp, they could’ve been used as weapons. The hair, smooth and sleek, wrapped in a tight chignon at the base of her long neck.

Everything was right and firm and crisp. Not a wrinkle anywhere to be found. The only softness, and even that looked almost out of place, were the full, strangely large breasts. She didn’t wear any jewellery other than a slim gold bracelet. 

Spotting him at last, she stopped abruptly and her icy grey-blue eyes skimmed over his whole form, the gaze so unflinching, he almost wanted to shift on his feet. But he didn’t. He was a Commissioned Officer, First Lieutenant of the US Marine Corps. And he didn’t shift on his feet.

Instead, he smiled and said,

“Good morning, Nes.”

He observed the well-controlled expressions, the usual coldness of her features, but for a brief second, he saw it…oh, he saw it. She wasn’t even aware of it. But there it was–delight. A tiny, infinitesimal spark of happiness at the sight of him. Only to disappear just as quickly. 

“What are you doing here?” she demanded instantly, her eyes full of concern. No pleasantries from Nes. “Is Elain okay?”

“Oh, I am sure she is fine. Better than all of us, I’d venture a guess. Loved. Coddled. Running jobs. Picking out dresses for the Black Ball.”

“What do you mean running jobs?” Nesta’s face paled. Everything else he said didn’t matter.

He shrugged, “what? Elain has some claws.”

“She has NO claws,” Nesta hissed. “She is a child. She sits with her flowers and her chocolates and her books,”

Cassian said nothing, but he was surprised. It didn’t seem like Nesta knew Elain very well at all. He thought that the two of them were inseparable, despite Nesta’s abrasive and domineering personality, but he would’ve guessed that she understood Elain better than this. Elain might have acted a bit infantile, but she wasn’t a child. Elain was smarter than Nesta gave her credit for, and Cassian guessed that Elain was no less calculating than Nesta. Probably more. Elain had a wide array of suitors to choose from, but she bided her time and waited. And waited. Until the biggest, baddest fish swam right into her net. Azriel King. Cassian wasn’t so stupid or naive to believe that Elain wasn’t aiming high–something that Nesta apparently didn’t get about her sister. But in the end, flower enthusiast Elain Archeron was left with the two finest, choicest, most enviable options for husbands–Lorcan Salvaterre and Azriel King. No one in their world ever had options like that. Not one woman. No matter how beautiful, well-connected or wealthy she was, no woman had the luxury of actual choice, let alone between the two most prized stallions in the stable. And little soft Elain waltzed away with Azriel firmly clutched in her small hand. And from what Cassian could deduce, Salvaterre was still gagging for it. Wouldn’t be much of a surprise if this fucking pain in the ass ball was organised so that the Italian could dance with and admire Elain King, while skirting a very thin and scary line with Azriel King. 

“Books?” Cassian ignored the outburst and reached into his jacket, balancing the two cups in one hand. “You mean books like this?”

He handed her a book, with a bare-chested hunk on the cover, displaying an exaggerated six pack, aptly named ‘Deadly Affair’.

“Thought you’d like this one,” he explained easily. “One of your horny books,”

“They are not horny books!” Nesta snarled, “they are dark romances.”

“Okay, dark romances,” he agreed, watching her with amusement. A new book, a new ‘dark romance’ was like crack to her. Her slender fingers twitched at her side, wanting to snatch the book from him, but she refrained.

He pretended like this was a difficult task for him to balance the cups, and jammed the book into her hand, dramatically sighing and blowing at his fingers, like cups burned him.

“Jeez, just take it already,” he muttered. Then, unable to help himself, he added, “B-T-Dubs, I have a better six-pack than this guy.”

Nesta thrusted the book into her Birkin bag, the damn thing probably costing 50K, and then scowled, “No one says btdubs, you know that, right?”

“I do,” he shrugged. Then he handed her one of the cups. 

She balked and muttered,

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“I know, I know,” he sighed deeply. “This ain’t coffee. Green tea for the lady. And no muffins.”

She took the cup reluctantly and then opened the lid and peeked inside, confirming that it wasn’t coffee.

“You are paranoid, Nes. You need to relax a little bit. Go on a date. Drink wine. Eat a fucking muffin.”

She pursed her lips and said coolly,

“I shouldn’t be accepting drinks from strange men.”

“Oh, you hurt me,” he pressed his hand to his chest. “What, you think I am gonna roofie you with some green tea? We are basically related. Both of your sisters are boning my cousins. And if you want to continue the practice, I am available. Three sisters, three cousins.”

She grimaced and murmured, “No thanks. And we are not related. Or, perhaps we are, and it would be incest. Either way, I am forced to decline your oh-so-romantic proposition.”

“I can be less romantic,” he offered, “if that’s your preference.”

“Oh, I literally don’t think that it’s possible for this to be less enticing of a proposal.”

She took a sip of the tea and though she didn’t say anything, he knew that she appreciated the level of sweetness in it–she liked it with honey. Somehow, he knew. She wondered if he’d asked Elain, though it didn’t seem like a Cassian thing to do.

They started walking towards a glass building where Archeron & Sons, Ltd. was located. 

Ironic really. 

Three daughters, each wielding power of their own, erased from their family tree and exchanged for ubiquitous ‘sons’. Cassian wondered if Nesta would change the name, once Pops kicked the bucket. 

“So why are you here?” she asked, and he noticed that she didn’t hurry along, rather slowing her walk and almost strolling next to him. “And what’s this about Elain running jobs?”

“Don’t worry about Elain,” he waved his hand dismissively. “If Az thinks she can run jobs, then she can,”

“Are you serious?”

“I just work there,”

“Bullshit. You are head of their security, you know she shouldn't,”

“Not my call to make,” he said firmly. “She was with Fen. She was safe. And she was useful.”

Nesta released a derisive little snort.

“Right…”

“She found Eris Vanserra,” he said simply.

Nesta came to a halt and stared at him in disbelief.

“You are kidding me, right?”

“Nope, I am not. Not only did she find the safe house, she also approached him at a bodega, when he went to get some Gatorade. Fen didn’t want her to, but she did it anyway,”

“Of course,” Nesta hissed. 

“Anyway, it wasn’t anything dramatic. Only that Eris now knows that he can run, but he can’t hide. She played it off like it was an accidental meeting, but Eris isn’t stupid. He knows that we know.”

“And now what?” Nesta stopped and looked up at Cassian, her gaze curious and without hostility.

“Don’t know,” he shrugged. “Az wants to see what he does. Does he throw the gauntlet? Swagger in and put himself out there, as the Heir of the Vanserra clan, come hell or high water? Or does he run again?

“Doesn’t matter really. If he runs, we’ll know where he’ll be,”

“How?”

He grunted, but didn’t explain. She understood. They weren’t exactly allies. Yes, he was correct, both of her sisters were either married or involved with the Kings, but the Archerons were still their own family. The Kings didn’t owe her explanations, and she didn’t owe them anything either.

“We have ways,” was all he offered. 

“So the Kings are going to the Ball?” she asked, changing the subject. 

“Oh yeah,” he sighed, like the whole thing was a bother. “Elain wants to go to the ball.”

Ahhh…

“She could be persuasive, if she wants something,” Nesta said. “A few polite words, batting her lashes, and…” she paused, and then smirked, “let me guess–she squeezed Azriel’s bicep?”

Cassian eyed her sideways.

It was exactly how it went down at breakfast the other day.

Almost word for word. Azriel folded like a lawn chair. Elain beamed.

Now, Varian and the guys on her security detail were throwing around terms like ‘Armani Prive’ and ‘Marchesa’ and ‘Valentino’ and ‘bodice’ and ‘couture’ and having opinions. Opinions.

Because apparently ‘Gucci was Kardashian trash’ and ‘Chanel was granny’ and ‘Alexander McQueen was interesting’ and Prada was a big non-no, because their ‘Lady shouldn’t look like she is wearing a trashbag’ and their ‘Lady looked very good in vintage Dior’...

It was intolerable in the morning at their AUX meetings, because half of the guys were discussing fashion and opined on what ‘their Lady’ should be wearing, the other half of the guys were looking confused and resentful, and the third half were discreetly inquiring about how they could join the Lady’s detail. Varian had some of the strongest suggestions and he didn’t mind these fashion trips whatsoever. Cassian suspected that it was because Elain’s friend Nuala was there for the fittings, and though Varian didn’t mention her at all, Cassian had some inkling that perhaps she was the reason why he was so eager to accompany Elain. 

Cassian felt like he was standing on quicksand and consistently losing ground and control of his men. This fucking Ball couldn’t come soon enough!

Nesta stopped abruptly and asked,

“Why are you here, Cassian?”

“I was in the neighbourhood?” he hedged and she rolled her eyes. The action was surprisingly like her sister’s and it made him smile.

“Right.”

He took a sip of his coffee and laid his card out,

“Are the Archerons attending the Ball?” he asked bluntly.

She folded her arms on her ample chest and cocked her head to the side, assessing him. That gaze was penetrative and measuring, and for the second time today, Cassian wanted to shift on his feet.

“Father is sending me,” she said at last. 

Something dark and angry coiled inside Cassian’s chest. That old bastard was sending his daughter into the lion’s den. Not going himself, of course. If someone is going to take the fall, it would be Nesta. And she was ready. Ready to show that she had the guts, the confidence, the grit.

Also the stupidity. 

Cassian always found her frustrating, for a number of reasons, but this hot-headedness of hers and the desire to prove something to herself, and probably to her useless father, was going to be her downfall one day.

“I want to offer you more security for when you go,” he said, sounding gruff.

She frowned in confusion, asking,

“Why? Why would you offer me more security?”

“Because your security is shit,” he said bluntly. He could almost see the heckled rise, but he didn’t care.

“Listen, we have guys to spare. All three Kings, myself and Elain will be there, and we’ll have security stationed outside. Not that I am expecting anything,”

“Then why do I need security–which I already have–if you're not expecting anything?” she demanded logically.

Exasperated, he quipped, “Indulge me, Nesta.”

Why did everything have to be a fight or an argument with her?

She looked him up and down, and then stated, ‘no’.

Cassian felt helpless. Powerless. 

She didn’t listen. He had no influence on her.

So he did the only thing he could. 

“Please, Nesta. Do this for me.”

When she didn’t respond, he added,

“It would make it easier for me to take care of everyone, including your sister, if I knew you were safe and secure.”

She looked at him for a long time. Her pose did not change and she just stood there, with her arms crossed, watching him. He was silent too. 

“And what would Azriel say about this?” she asked at last.

Cassian shrugged nonchalantly and said,

“Azriel trusts me. Also, for better or worse, we are family, Nes. He certainly views you as that.”

Nesta clutched her cup and then turned around towards the building,

“Fire. Thank you,” she threw over her shoulder.

“You want to be my date for the Ball?” he tried, smirking.

“Don’t push it,” she told him, but he noticed a fleeting smile on her lips.

“Don’t fancy our own deadly affair then?” he chuckled and set off on his way.

*

Thursday (3 days before the ball)

There was a weight pressing on Elain. It was heavy and warm and familiar. She could tell them apart now, after sleeping with the three of them in the same bed for over a month, she knew what they smelled like, how they felt, what their fingertips drew on her skin, the cadence of their breaths, the texture of their hair, tattoos, piercings, rings, necklaces, bracelets.

This one tickled her face with his long hair and when he pressed his lips to her cheeks, to her eyelids, she felt the cold metal of his lip ring. He was also the second heaviest of the three–Fenrys was the biggest, the heaviest, his bones thick and dense, his immense height absorbing and covering everything in sight. This one was so muscular that he was just a shade lighter than Fen, but not by much. 

Elain ran her fingers over his face, ending up at his ears, which she tugged, her fingers pinching the numerous piercings that studded the lobes and the cartilage. 

“Why are you waking me up?” she demanded at last, her back arching as the hot pad of his tongue ran over her jugular and then he turned her head to the side, and pushed her hair aside, seeking the mark. He did it every morning. Multiple times during the day. Sought out his mark on her skin, touched it, kissed it, sometimes sucked on it. Sometimes, he stood above her, casual like, and simply pressed his fingers into the mark, knowing exactly where it was without even looking at it. 

“I am bored!” Ruhn whined. “I want to play with you…”

“Can’t you get yourself a dog?” she complained. “Or go walk Enalius!”

“Enalius can be a bit of an asshole. He is either needy or standoffish,” Ruhn sighed with irritation.

“I swear to god, if it’s before 6 am…” she cringed, opening one eye.

He was on top of her, his face hovering over hers, smirking happily at the sight of her waking up. 

“6:02 am, gorgeous,” he grinned maniacally. “Wakie wakie.”

Before she even opened her other eye, he was already stripping her of Azriel’s t-shirt and tossing it aside. Her breasts sprung free and before she could say anything, he was gathering them together in his hands, his mouth closing over both nipples at once, sucking aggressively. Elain whimpered, loving his impatience, the manhandling that he was inflicting on her body. He licked over and around her nipples, making them hard and swollen with his tongue and lips, watching her with his intense, wondrously cobalt eyes. 

“Your fucking period is finally over?” he confirmed, his eyes blazing with impatience and need.

“Yes,” she looked down at him, stroking his cheek. 

“Thank fuck,” he groaned and bit her nipple hard. She squirmed, feeling herself gush, the ache inside of her beginning to simmer urgently, reminding her that she hasn’t had anyone inside her for like four days. Yes, they all used her mouth multiple times a day, and she’d swallowed so much cum it felt like it was carousing through her veins, filling her with some of their masculine aggressiveness. If she could get pregnant from swallowing, then she’d be having triplets already.

Wednesday (4 days before the ball)

The other day, Az tried to do something with her…not something any of them did or even hinted at. And then stopped…Like he was scared that she’d not like it. Or that he was ‘defiling’ her. He was playing with her tits, kissing up her body, until he slid higher and higher, straddling her hips first, then her belly, and then, his beautiful cock landed on her chest. It didn’t seem like he realised what he was doing, but he pushed her breasts together and thrusted his dick between them, offering a few deep tugs between her globes. 

Elain loved anything new sexually–she was always eager to try things, letting her men guide her and show her things she never even considered. They were beasts, her men. And they expected her to be a lover to all of them, as well as to each individually. Each was different, but all were demanding, needy, rough and greedy. 

Yet, Azriel pulled away. As if something snapped in him, and he released her breasts from his rough, scarred palms and his beautiful face contorted in something that resembled guilt. Uncertainty. Instead, he slid next to her and took her in his arms, almost too gently and then took her lips in a searing, hungry kiss. 

Oh the kissing…

Elain cursed her big mouth ever since she dropped the news about Lorcan being the best kisser of her life. He was though. He truly was. But now, her husbands were hell bent on staking their claims on her mouth. Owning her through their kisses. She was kissed constantly. It began before she even woke up and ended when she was falling asleep. They kissed her. Softly. Gently. Sometimes tenderly and with lips only. They kissed her with flourish, dipping her in their arms and kissing her loudly and theatrically. They kissed her sensually, holding her jaw, covering her whole face with kisses. They kissed her hands. Her neck. They kissed her voraciously. Sloppily. Sexually.

Her lips were perpetually swollen, and she had to lie to Nuala and tell her that she has an allergic reaction to new lipstick. She had to wear halter tops, to cover her bruise-stained neck and throat, and her hair loose, so that the long curls would camouflage all the tracks and fingerprints that her men left on her skin. 

They cared for her during her period–so much so, that she’d never been cared for in such a dedicated manner before. 

Fen was all about her nutrition, reading articles about iron deficiency, making her kale smoothies, fetching bean and steak burritos, cooking her scrambled eggs and pan frying absolutely incredible mackerel for dinner. He was the other cook in the family and everything he made was delicious. He brought her vitamins, supplements and took her on walks to ‘breathe fresh air’.

Ruhn was all about indulgence. While Fen monitored healthy food intake and made her chamomile tea and some kind of ‘energy zing’ drinks, Ruhn was sneaking dark chocolate into her purse, came to the shop one day and took her for burgers and a thick milkshake, ordered her a massage and even tried to do yoga with her, though she got bored in fifteen minutes. Instead, she snuggled with him on the sofa, and he happily drove his dick into her ass, while they watched ‘Olympus Has Fallen’, with Fenrys piling into them soon after, resting his head on her chest. 

Azriel took care of her physically. She didn’t get bad cramps, but she usually bled like a stuck pig, so he got her every possible type of tampon and pad, even a cup, but that confused everyone, including her, and was quickly rejected. He rubbed her feet, and even offered to run her a bath, though Ruhn muttered that nobody wants to bathe in ‘blood water’, and after he put it like that, they agreed that a shower would be better. But Azriel thought that it was absolutely necessary that he shower with her, which he did, readily. He washed her hair, which was fantastic, because those rough fingers massaged her scalp so well, she actually moaned. 

*

Wednesday (4 days before the ball)

But, it bothered her that Azriel had pulled away.

 Later that day, she found Fenrys lounging on the sofa downstairs, in only his boxers. He had come home from some assignment, loudly laying his guns and knives on the console table, and then ripping his belt out of the loops. There was blood on his hands. Elain saw it, but she did not react. She wasn’t expected to react, unless he or her men were injured. Generally speaking, in the AUX world, non-life threatening injuries were first treated by their Lady, aka Elain. More serious injuries went to their resident medic, Orion Athalar, and then, if they were literally bleeding out or missing limbs, they went to the hospital. Despite Cassian’s initial lack of confidence in her abilities and willingness to offer medical assistance, Elain was under Ruhn’s order to be the go-to in case of emergencies. The ‘no-touching’ rule did not apply in those instances. The guys loved coming to her and she liked caring for them too. As a future Donna or Lady (she preferred Lady), she was taught throughout her teen years and up to her wedding, on how to deal with everything from bruises, sprains, busted knuckles, stab wounds, dislocated shoulders, cuts, torn ligaments, burns, and up to bullet wounds. 

When Elain came downstairs, Fen was looking at his phone, his face not as grim or annoyed as before. She walked straight to the sofa and then collapsed upon him dramatically. He burst out laughing and then kissed the top of her head.

“Why you angry, baby bird?”

“I am not a baby bird,” she argued into his chest. 

“You are. You look like one of those puffed up angry birds.”

He stroked over her back, before resting both of his palms on her ass, squeezing the cheeks tightly.

“Who made you angry?”

“I am not angry,” she insisted, but then looked up at him and sighed. 

“Will you tell me?” he pressed gently. 

Fenrys was the Elain Whisperer. 

He was the one who gave relationship advice to the other guys, and who listened to her and tried to help out. Because their maiden had to navigate a new life with the three of them, and however well it usually went between the four of them, it was still freaking messy. 

“Az doesn't want to do…sex stuff with me,” she admitted and a cute shy blush spread over her cheeks.

Fenrys chuckled and shook his head no.

“Baby, Az wants to do all the sex stuff with you. Trust me.”

“No he doesn’t,” she argued. “I think he wanted to do something and then he stopped…”

Now Fenrys was interested. He shifted her on top of him and squeezed her ass tighter.

“Now I must know!”

She squirmed a little, but then explained reluctantly,

“He…um…put his…you know,”

“Baby, I am dying here. Come on. You take three cocks on the daily, don’t be shy now!”

“I am not discussing this,” she huffed, but continued nevertheless. “He put his cock between my boobs…”

“Ah. And?”

“And then he stopped. He didn’t want to do it.”

“Oh, a tit wank,” Fenrys nodded with understanding.

“A tit wank?” she gasped and he laughed. 

“Is that what it’s called?” she pushed at him, and he nodded. “It is. In England.”

He reluctantly tore one hand from her ass and then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Baby,” he said gently. “Trust me, Az didn’t pull away from you. He pulled away from the act.”

Her brows knitted together and she glared at him,

“What’s that mean? He didn’t want to do it,”

“No, he did want to do it. He just stopped.”

Fenrys kissed her and then stroked her back, going back to the curve of her behind and squeezing it. 

“Az, you see, is kind of big on consent. He likes things clear and wants to make sure that everyone is on the same page. Ruhn, on the other, is very light on consent,” he chuckled. “Usually, Ruhn will tell you what you will be doing, and not ask you. As in ‘you’ll be sucking my dick, beautiful’,” Fen delivered the line in a perfect Ruhn accent, mimicking his brother’s voice and intonations precisely and Elain burst out laughing. “Or ‘I am going to fuck your tits’...Stuff like that. Ruhn is not sitting there asking you ‘Elain, would you like me to fuck your tits?’ However, Azriel would. Azriel cares about you and how you feel. 

“Azriel loves you, Ellie. The level of his possessiveness is also off the charts. This is a man who will try to keep you safe and impossibly happy. But he is still testing the waters. What’s appropriate with you, what’s not. If you want him to do something–you tell him.”

He slapped her ass and said,

“You take the reins, girl. You are the queen of the domain. You are the Lady of the Kings. Fucking own it, baby. You tell him. If there is something you want to implement, just present it and we’ll discuss it. You explained about the ball and Lorcan, and here we are–going there, and hopefully not dying,”

She rolled her eyes and waved a dismissive hand at him,

“You are not gonna die, Fen. But, will he listen?”

“Hasn’t he been listening? He agreed to you working. He agreed to your expansion of the business. He and Ruhn agreed for you to go on jobs. You went rogue yesterday, babygirl, when you approached Eris at the shop,” he tsked at her, “but Azriel didn’t even put you in timeout for that.”

“Pfff,” she huffed incredulously. 

Fenrys smoothed his large palm over her head and then looked at her seriously.

“Too many people have told Azriel that he was unlovable and that he wasn’t allowed to love you. He was expected to command you. Dominate you. Lead the family. Make you submit to him and his word, like a good wife should. And I don’t think Azriel wants any of that. Not from you, and not for himself. He wants to love you and be loved by you. And I think that would be enough for him.”

“It’s enough for me too,” she said quietly. “You three and me. And that would be enough forever.”

She looked at him and then ran her fingers over the apple of his cheek, scooting up to kiss his lips. 

“Fen. You are so good,” she murmured tenderly. “And so beautiful.”

He smiled, then said,

“I know.’

*

Thursday (3 days before the ball)-continued

‘No wakie wakie,” Elain moaned loudly into the pillow, while Ruhn was wrenching her face away from it, straddling her hips.

“Yes, come on,” he pleaded, manhandling her, laughing at her futile attempts to escape him.

Finally, she emerged from the blankets and pillows and pushed him off decisively, muttering under her breath, ‘I need to pee. I need to…’ Whatever else she needed to do, Ruhn didn’t hear, but he plopped back on the bed and yelled after her,

“Four minutes, beautiful!”

“I’ll take as long as I like!” she yelled back.

“Not if you don’t want me to get in there with you and fuck you over the sink!”

“Animal!”

“A wild one, too!” he retorted immediately, laughing.

He loved annoying Elain, especially first thing in the morning. Unlike Azriel who liked cuddling–god forbid he’d do it in front of anyone, except for Elain–or Fen, who’d wake up, scoop Elain tighter into his embrace and fall asleep again, Ruhn didn’t mind annoying her. She got all red-cheeked and blazy-eyed, and began dropping S and F bombs and it was frankly, hilarious. 

It’s been longer than four minutes, but Ruhn didn’t act on his threat, and stayed in bed. Instead, in a sing-song voice, he called out,

“Sunshine, come to me. I have presents!”

After a beat, he heard ‘What presents??!’ and he grinned.

“Guess you’ll have to come back to me and see for yourself,” he teased.

Elain emerged a minute later, her hair and teeth brushed and moisturiser already applied to her face. She looked fresh and beautiful–truly his personal sunshine. What’s more, she was only wearing a pretty set of pale pink underwear–it was cotton and lace, and did wonders for her already wonderful breasts. It would be a shame to take it all off soon.

“Okay, where are the presents?” she inquired immediately.

Ruhn was spread over the bed, wearing only a set of boxers, his back propped against the padded headboard, arms folded on his chest. Next to him, sat two boxes: one was larger, gray, with a white ribbon, and the other slightly smaller, baby blue, with a black ribbon. The stuff looked expensive. 

“Is it Tiffany’s?” she asked, eyeing the pale blue box, which resembled the famed jewellery store boxes, though the ribbon didn’t match.

He made a non-committal groan in his throat and shrugged.

“One way to find out, beautiful,” he offered, patting the spot next to him.

She bounced on her toes and begged, ‘tell me!’

He laughed and opened his arms.

“Come here, open the boxes. See what you think.”

She jumped on the bed and grabbed one of the boxes, tearing into the ribbon, while Ruhn chuckled at her aggressive eagerness. 

She opened up both boxes and exclaimed,

“Ohmygod! These are gorgeous reamers!”

Grabbing the bigger one, a sleek stainless steel one, with a larger tapered end, she explained,

“This one is good for bigger fruit. Oranges and grapefruits!”

Ruhn looked at her in complete confusion, but she continued,

“And this one,” it was a smaller, tidier, bulbous one, acrylic, with a pale pink rose embedded inside, “is for lemons and limes.”

“Baby,” he began, but she leapt into his arms and hugged him tightly. 

“Thank you! I love it!”

He stroked her cheek with his knuckles and smiled at her,

“What do you think this is, sunshine?”

Her brow furrowed and she said,

“Reamers! For juicing fruit,” 

“What?”

“What?”

After a pause, when they just stared at each other, he finally nodded. 

“They are reamers,” he agreed, at last, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Well, yeah,” she nodded. “Why did you go so fancy with them? You can buy them for .99 cents at IKEA!” she told him, practical as usual.

He pulled her on top of him, resting his hands on her pert ass cheeks, kneading them easily, lightly. 

“What if I told you they are made for something else?”

She looked at him, but got distracted playing with all his earrings and the necklaces on his chest, while he kissed the top of her head and stroked her bottom languidly.

“Do you want me to do the tongue thingy?” he offered with a wink.

She perked up and glanced at him,

“You wanna do it?”

“Do I want to eat your pussy? Ummm, yes?” he shook his head in indignation, like she was being dumb. Gently rolling the pretty, but pointless panties down her thighs, he dragged them down with his foot by the time they reached her knees. He squeezed her ass harder, fingers sliding over the crack lightly, making her breath hitch and she looked at him, before pressing her lips to his mouth. He battered through the seam of her lips, sucking on them, before licking into her mouth, his hands growing bolder on her soft, supple flesh, fingertips digging into the crack, as he spread her cheeks wider. 

“Ru,” she moaned, feeling his fingers skirt around her wet hole, just not dipping inside, even when she wiggled her hips, but he only teased, sucking on her tongue, making her uncomfortably hot and squirming on top of him. 

“You trust me, baby?” he whispered into her mouth. “I’ll make you feel good, my girl, but you’ll have to trust me, alright?”

She nodded, gasping when his other hand found the tight, pickering hole, which he worked in the same manner–just swirling his fingertips around it. Shuddering against him with want, she tried to ease her hips onto his fingers, but he didn’t allow it and only chuckled at her, shaking his head, while kissing her lips deeply and hotly.

Easily, he flipped her over, but instead of leaving her on her back, he whispered, “get on your hands and knees for me, baby,” which she did, and thrust her pretty round ass up in the air for him, which made him laugh. He slapped her thigh loudly, settling behind her and before she could do anything at all, he thrust his thumbs into her wet, hot hole, pulling it apart, exposing her obscenely. Somehow, with him, she didn’t mind. She wasn’t shy. Only hungry. Needy and wanting more and more. 

“My pretty girl…with the prettiest pussy in the world,” he marvelled, watching her clutch the sheets, while he opened her wider and wider with his thumbs, seeing deep inside of her. 

She mewled and gasped, her body flushed and warm, hips gyrating on her own, as she moaned,

“Put it inside,”

He leaned and then suddenly, bit her ass cheek, gnawing on it playfully, sliding his teeth up and down, until he reached the spot under her buttock, where Azriel’s mark resided, and then pressed his teeth into it. 

“Where is Fenny gonna mark you?” he pondered, sucking softly on the skin.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, “wherever he wants.”

Ruhn cackled and warned her, “don’t give him too many ideas, sunshine. Next thing I know, I am tattooing your clitty.”

“Noooo!” she gasped.

“Yeah, who knows with Fen?”

She squirmed against his face, pushing her ass at him, and demanded, “put it in me, Ruhnnie…”

“Yeah?” he tsked, and added, “well, since you are asking me so nicely…”

What Elain didn’t expect was feeling him spit into her ass. She jolted from surprise, and turned her head to look at him. He was smiling his assholish smile, the smaller, acrylic reamer in his mouth, as he licked on it like a lollipop. 

She was baffled by the action, before he shrugged innocently and unexpectedly, pushed the blunt end of the reamer into her anus. 

“Ohmygod!” she cried out, as he pulled her cheeks wide apart with his free hand and instructed,

“Relax, beautiful. Let’s get this thing inside and then I’ll lick you.”

Sucking her lower lip, she was watching him over her shoulder, her ass raised sexily in the air, back arching deeply, as he picked up some of her slick from her drenched pussy and smeared it over the reamer.

“Is it a buttplug?” she asked at last.

He winked at her and nodded,

“Indeed it is. A little ass reamer for my sweetheart.”

“Will it hurt?” she squeaked, when he pushed it against her hole again, this time, with a little more intent.

“Nah…it’s small. I need to start stretching your bum, sweetness.”

“Because you want to ride me in there?” she confirmed, blushing adorably.

“Oh yes,” he nodded, slowly working the plug inside her hole. She tensed, when the smooth end butted into her tight opening, but it wasn't painful–just unfamiliar and kind of strange. The pressure of the plug increased and in the next moment, he thrusted it through the tight rind of her muscles.

“Ahhh,” she cried out, wincing, but then her hand shot out and she grabbed his wrist, and he stopped, but didn’t withdraw the plug. Instead, he leaned over her body and kissed her lips.

“We all want to ride you, baby,” he told her, gently, but firmly pushing the plug deeper, though letting her hand guide his own, paying attention to the squeeze of her fingers on his wrist.

“But you’ll be first?” she gasped and wiggled her hips, but didn’t ask him to stop, while he licked her tongue with playful licks, watching her reaction. “Awww…it’s deep!” she hissed, when he nudged the thing even further into her. 

“Oh yes,” he palmed the bulge of his cock in his boxers, “this is all for you, my love.”

“I…” she sounded a little uncertain, “I…think I want you to be the first…in my ass,” she decided at last.

He pushed the plug to the end and then released his staining dick from the confines of his shorts and fed it to her. Her lips opened up readily, and if she was a little surprised, she didn't say anything and let him hold the back of her head in his warm palm, while he began to pump his cock in her mouth. The piercings quickly reached and hit the back of her throat, and without withdrawing from her, he pushed her on her back, and settled on top of her. He brushed his cock over her face, while she chased it with her tongue, before taking it in her hand and easing it in her mouth.

“That’s my good girl!” he approved, as she began to suck on the head, giving the shaft a few little sucks, especially when he opened her legs wide and began pushing the plug inside her rectum. She whimpered and moaned, because he pulled it out of her entirely, only to begin thrusting it inside again.

‘Suck,” he ordered, and plunged his thick, hot dick deeper in her mouth, not leaving her any choice but to suck on it obediently. Meanwhile, he wrapped his lips over her clit, tonguing it harshly, and making her buck and cry out against his cock, all the while pumping the plug in and out of her ass. 

She tasted fantastic, but was so highly strung from all the sensations that he was raining upon her splayed and stretched body, while he licked through her creamy slit, and sucked on her clit, that she came in about a minute, groaning loudly, spasming and struggling beneath him. He didn’t do anything to slow down her orgasm–edging with Elain was a no-no. It was rare that she didn’t enjoy or agree to something sexual, but edging was definitely the one thing she had no interest in. She wanted to collect her orgasms like it was a toll booth. A week or two back, Fenrys attempted a foray into edging, bringing her close to climax and then pulling back, doing that a few times. In the end, he earned himself an enraged wife, and then a swift kick in the collarbone with her foot. She pushed him off and away from her, and stormed out of the room. Azriel had to run after her and drop to his knees in front of her and finish her off with his tongue. Since then, there was never any ‘you can’t come yet’ or edging shenanigans. When Elain wanted to come, she came, and her men did everything in their power to get her there quickly and successfully.

Mellow, supple and tired out, she lay beneath him, her breathing finally subsiding from her bone-shaking orgasm that he delivered like it was pizza and continued to suck his cock eagerly, while he played with her little asshole, watching the pretty plug disappear into her hole again and again. Watching this only made him harder and more impatient. He thought that he’d have more self-control, but he didn’t. He came messily, all over her face, loving the sight of her covered in him, while she licked the head of his shaft and drank whatever ended up in her mouth.

“Oh, you killed me,” she moaned at last, while he collapsed next to her, panting loudly.

“I killed you? I think it’s the other way around, beautiful,” he argued, his arm thrown over his chest. He looked at her and then gathered his cum on his finger and let her suck it off. 

“I have a thing in my butt!” she reminded him pointedly and he chuckled.

“Yeah you do.”

He looked at her and then pulled her in for a kiss.

It tasted nice–him and her, inside her mouth, her tongue lathered with his cum. 

“How does it feel?” he asked curiously. 

She wrinkled her nose and admitted, “I am not sure. It doesn’t hurt, but it feels funny.”

“Did you like your first foray into 69?” he mused, gently smearing some residual semen between her legs.

“Mmm,” she snuggled closer to him and kissed his shoulder. “It was intense.”

“Good intense?”

“Yeah, good intense,” she agreed.

They went to shower together, but he refused to take the plug out and played with it and her tight asshole while soaping and lathering and shampooing her. 

“I want to show Fen and Az!” she exclaimed, wiggling in front of the mirror, looking at the bejewelled knob of the handle which rested at the edge of her hole. 

“Absolutely not,” Ruhn was drying his long hair, standing completely naked in the middle of the bedroom.

“Why not?!”

“It’s a surprise!”

She pouted and frowned at him, and he kissed her with a laugh. Ducking his head, he asked, 

“Can I see it?”

“Huh! Absolutely not!”  she even stomped her foot.

“Come on, baby,” he begged, “why not?”

“It’s a surprise.”

He sighed and muttered ‘fair’.

*

Saturday (the say of the ball)

 The Black Ball

“Where is beautiful?” Ruhn entered the house, striding purposefully through the rooms, his eyes glued to the phone, his bowtie hanging around his neck.

“We are all waiting,” Fenrys informed him, already looking pristine in his 15K tuxedo. It was like he was plucked from the cover of a vintage GQ and plopped in the middle of their house. 

“You are pretty, Fen,” Ruhn teased, while Azriel arrived from the other room, threading a cufflink into his cuff. 

“Fen is pretty,” he agreed, sizing his brother up. Fen sure was a panty-dropper if there ever was one.

Ruhn cleaned up nicely as well, looking sharp and dangerous, his tux bespoke and wrapping his powerful body like an oil spill. His hair was loose, and his numerous tattoos peeked from the cuffs and the collar, giving a bit of a view to the man beneath the refinery.

Azriel stretched and curled his inked, scarred fingers, and Fenrys noticed his discomfort, getting up from the sofa and wordlessly coming over and taking the cuffs, helping out without making it look like he was helping. Azriel appreciated it. The silence. The mutual understanding. Azriel’s burnt hands gave him trouble with tasks that required extreme precision and finger dexterity. Let’s just say, he wasn’t ever going to thread a needle. 

“They are on their way?” he asked Ruhn.

Ruhn shrugged and said, “for all good it will do’.

The location to the party was texted to them exactly at 2pm, as promised, and immediately, part of their security crew set off to the spot, to try and get the lay of the land. However, Ruhn was correct–no one would be able to do anything on such short notice. But, if they were going to take their girl anywhere, the least they could do was scout the location in advance.

Nesta and Elain had spent part of the day getting their hair and make-up done, and now Elain was upstairs, with one of the female servants who were allowed in the house. 

Elain had kept her dress secret from everyone, and Ruhn’s been trying to snoop, but unsuccessfully. He’s been begging, and bribing, and pleading with her, but she gave him an unequivocal ‘no way!’ which, in Elain’s language meant ‘absolutely not’. 

“Did Nesta and babygirl get into a fight?” Fenrys wondered, as he tied Ruhn’s bowtie for him. Fen was always a bit of a mother hen when it came to dressing.

“I actually don’t think that they did,” Azriel said, “so hopefully there won’t be an Archeron War that we’ll have to fight during this shindig. Because you know, I am not sure Cassian will take our side,”

“No, he definitely won’t,” Ruhn agreed with a laugh.

Fenrys suddenly stilled and Ruhn whipped around, because Fen exclaimed ‘holy fuck!’

And holy fuck indeed.

The three men stopped whatever they were doing and froze in their spots, staring dumbly at the staircase.

Elain was descending the stairs, and Ruhn whistled loudly, while Azriel blew out a breath.

The Black Ball? What black ball?

Elain King was dressed in white.

She floated down in an off-the shoulder concoction of white, gossamer tulle, and it seemed like she was completely nude beneath the dress. It was artfully slashed across her full breasts, allowing a tantalising view of her heavenly cleavage. The whole dress was threaded with silver, which looked like tree branches, because it wouldn’t be Elain if there wasn’t some floral element to her outfit. 

Her hair was left loose, cascading down her back in soft curls. The makeup was subtle, yet dramatic–her full lips were glossy, the eyes smokey, and she oozed sexuality so powerfully, that Fenrys was forced to adjust his trousers, Azriel thumbed the corner of his mouth, and Ruhn was shaking his head. 

“I say we forget the ball,” Ruhn proposed, devouring her with his electric blue eyes, “and stay here,”

“And peel that dress off of her,” Fenrys nodded in agreement.

“I am inclined to agree,” Azriel licked his lip.

To that, Elain announced “no way!”

She slowly walked down the steps, holding her flowing skirt in one hand, like a real princess.

“Fuck Elain, you look gorgeous!” Fenrys cried out, offering her his hand. She took it and he kissed hers reverently, unable to tear his eyes from her.

“Mrs. King,” Azriel swept to her side and cupped the back of her head and then pressed his lips to her throat, kissing it gently, knowing that he couldn’t go for her lips right now.

“Sunshine…you are stunning,” Ruhn vowed. 

“Gentlemen,” she said seriously, eyes jumping from one to the other. “I am excited. But mostly because I am married to the three of you.

“Shall we go and show everyone who rules this town?”

Azriel grinned and as she threaded her arm through his and Fenrys’s elbows, he said, 

“Lead the way, lady.”

While they had a four SUV cavalcade, not including their own Escalade, the only person who was going to be going inside with them was Cassian. Though Lorcan was permitting up to 6 people in the party, Ruhn and Azriel had made the decision to only bring one person–Cass–and that’s mostly because he was part of the family, and because he was interested in Nesta.

Azriel wasn’t planning on getting into a gun fight with anyone anyway. He was more concerned about keeping lecherous men and their eyes from his wife.

Elain sat between him and Fenrys in the back, while Ruhn was driving.

Azriel kept throwing alarmed glances at Elain’s chest, where her glorious, soft tits kept bobbing and bouncing within the dress, in danger of spilling out of that slash which didn’t seem like it could contain them at all.

“Flower, is this dress…secure?” he finally asked, while unable to help himself as he cupped one of the silky globes in his hand, squeezing it, his thumb brushing over the nipple.

She shouldered him and hissed, “you can’t make me horny!”

Next to her, Fenrys burst out laughing, while Azriel was not deterred in the least by her ask.

“I love making you horny,” Azriel whispered, nudging into her neck and licking a path from her collarbone to her ear. 

“Well, you can’t!” she protested, though somewhat weakly. “I can’t be horny at the ball.”

“Is there a law against it?” Fenrys chuckled. “Ball horniness?”

“Ugh, you guys are stupid. And yes, this dress will keep everything inside,” she pushed Azriel’s hand off her chest and sat back stoically.

“Is there anything beneath it?” Ruhn wondered over his shoulder.

“I think I can see your pussy,” Fenrys agreed, and she screeched and smacked his arm, while he laughed.

“Oh my god! I hate you all! You can’t see anything!” she yelled.

“No babygirl, I can definitely see your pussy,” Ruhn argued. 

“I am wearing a thong,” she snapped. “It’s flesh coloured.”

“You can take the thong off and show us your pussy,” Azriel proposed reasonably. 

“Why can’t you be normal?” she lamented loudly.

*

The location for this ball was an old rambling mansion outside the city. It was beautiful here–tree-lined streets framed huge, sprawling estates. Old money. No riff raff here. 

They drove up to one of the larger estates, following a long winding path which was shaded by old ewe trees and well-manicured shrubbery. There were dozens of cars rounding the circular driveway, unloading the guests, before being parked somewhere off site. 

“Ready for this, kiddos?” Ruhn asked jovially, getting out of the car first. He was greeted by Cassian, who was waiting for them outside. 

“Let’s do it!” Fenrys was out next, and then Azriel. The four men lined up, and Azriel helped Elain out of the car.

Cassian whistled quietly under his breath when she emerged from the car.

“Hi Cass!” she greeted him, and he couldn’t stifle a gasp. He wasn’t into Elain at all. She wasn’t his type, and his attention was firmly planted on her older, prickly sister, but gosh darn it, this one was a beauty! She was so wildly enticing, she almost didn’t seem real. No wonder her men tried to minimise her associating with other males–no man could be immune to this level of gorgeousness.

“You look…wow!” he complimented her badly and she smiled at him. 

“You look good too,” she offered. “You should all wear suits and tuxedos all the time!”

“Hard to kill people in a suit,” Ruhn said blandly, his heavy hand landing on the back of her neck. It snaked beneath her hair and she felt his thumb press on his mark on her neck. He rubbed it softly, almost absently, his eyes darting quickly around and assessing the surroundings. But nothing that Ruhn did was ever incidental or absentminded. This was a reminder. The light scratch of his finger on the mark was a reminder that she belonged to him. To them. No one else had the rights to her.

They were admitted to a vast foyer, with a spiralling wrought iron staircase and four chandeliers which were dripping with crystals and silver. Enormous flower arrangements of white flowers, even more crystal, silver branches and cascades of fluffy roses over bannisters and around the windows were the primary decorations. 

Azriel and Elain entered first, her hand resting on his arm, Ruhn and Fenrys flunking them on both sides, and Cassian in the back. Men in tuxedos were abound and women were all clad in various shades of black, a lot of skin on display, diamonds dripping from necks and ears and wrists. 

It didn’t escape Azriel that Elain didn’t wear any jewellery. Granted, her sparkling gown didn’t require any embellishments, but she had plenty of exquisite pieces at home that she could have showcased right here, right now. But she only wore her triple wedding bands–nothing else. Elain, always elegant, always aware of when it was enough and when to make a statement. She was making a statement right now–she was a wife, a King, and so wealthy she didn’t actually have to drape herself in gems. She was secure in herself and her position, arriving at a black ball in a white dress. And boy did she stand out. The din of noise around the reception room and the foyer died down when the five of them entered. By far, the most interest was directed at the lovely girl in a white dress. So much so that a whisper swept over the crowds and guests shamelessly gawked at her. 

There was Graysen Nolan, representing the Irish mob, a sneer on his face, for it was no secret that he was bidding heavily on the chance to marry Elain. The Zimnevskys were here as well–Kallias and Vivian, husband and wife, and first cousins to boot, both looking almost identical with their white hair and pale faces. Insignificant power-wise, they were wealthy beyond belief. Why? Third generation caviar dealers. That’s all they specialised in–fish roe. They were old money, the first Zimnevsky immigrating to the US in the early 70s. Not part of the ‘bratva’ or the Russian mafya. They were rich and snobby. 

Kier Hewn and his wife and sons were here as well. Kier offered Azriel a tight nod. He blamed Azriel for the death of his daughter Morrigan–perhaps rightfully so. Now, Azriel was married to someone else. The Morrigan-Azriel union was planned for years and when she died, Kier lost his hold on his future son-in-law. Azriel wasn’t sure if that troubled Kier more than the death of his daughter.

Red-headed Vanserras were sprinkled around. All tall, all pale, all with flaming red hair. 

“Ginger pubes are here,” Fenrys muttered nastily.

“It’s too early in the evening for me to start thinking about Vanserra pubes,” Azriel moaned. 

A shadow fell on them and Azriel took in the looming form of Lorcan Salvaterre. 

Dressed in all black, his long black hair arranged no less artfully than Elain’s, Lorcan gave them a friendly sort of smile, though his gaze was firmly on Elain.

“The three Kings, and their Queen,” he said.

“Thank you for the invitation,” Azriel retorted, his face placid.

Lorcan extended his massive hand and Azriel shook it. The man glanced at the scars on Azriel’s hands, but did not react, as if it was pretty normal and nothing special. Azriel didn’t mind the lack of scrutiny. 

“The pleasure is mine,” Lorcan answered politely. But it was clear that all of this chit chat was of no interest to him, as his dark eyes skimmed over Elain, her white dress, her breasts, her puffy lips, her naked arms. 

Suddenly, she pulled away from Azriel and smiled widely.

“Tanti auguri, Lorcan!” she exclaimed, and even more unexpectedly, opened her clutch and pulled out a small box, handing it to him.

“Ti sei ricordato?” he looked amazed, twisting the box in his massive hand.

“Of course I remembered!” she beamed at him. 

He offered her his arm, and she looped her hand through it.

With a smirk, he reminded her “Questa è una festa nera, bellissima.”

Elain shrugged and said, “Non gioco mai secondo le regole.”

He sized her up and commented, “Ne sono molto felice.” And then, pulling her away from her men, he murmured warmly, “Sei sbalorditivo!”

*

Azriel exchanged a confused and angry look with his brother.

“What the fuck was that?!!” Fenrys demanded, as they watched their woman and Lorcan make the rounds with the guests. Lorcan had a flute of champagne in her hand in 10 seconds stat and they were toasting to something, giggling like school girls.

“It’s his birthday?” Ruhn frowned.

“Ahhh, of course I remembered,” Fen taunted in a thin, girlish voice, rolling his eyes. “What else did he say?” he demanded then.

Cassian looked kind of amused by the whole thing, but he translated,

“He told her that it was a black ball. She told him that she never plays by the rules…”

“Seriously?!” Fenrys looked aghast. “That’s so…lame,”

Cassian shrugged, while Azriel caught a waiter with a tray of champagne and rage drank the whole thing, like the drink offended him.

“Oh, and Lorcan is very happy too,” Ruhn added glumly, “because his ‘beautiful’ doesn’t play by the rules. And she is stunning,”

His tattooed fingers twitched, like he wanted to smash something, Ruhn had a glass thrust into his hand by Cassian, before he could lose his shit completely.

“I call her ‘beautiful’!” he snarled.

Azriel sighed and motioned to them,

“Let’s go.”

*

There was a whole orchestra playing in the reception hall, and couples were dancing, while others huddled in groups, muttering and assessing.

Elain stood out in the crowd like a peacock among a murder of crows and it was easy to watch her. Ruhn was left to observe her and the crowd, his expression sullen, while Fenrys was unleashed and went to do what he did best–schmooze and rub shoulders with everyone. It wasn’t just the mafia dons who were here–a few recognizable billionaires mingled with well-known developers, gallery owners were talking to a famous actor, and Fen was soon surrounded by a gaggle of models, who all looked emaciated in their tiny black dresses. There were Italian billionaires and designers milling about, a few pseudo Royals from Monaco and Greece, and a whole lot of wealthy idle people who liked parties.

Ruhn didn’t give a shit about any of them. His attention was on groups of rivals, and on what those breakdowns looked like. The Vanserras were talking to the Nolans, and there was another player in that mix–the Vassilevskys. A brutal Russian clan, which liked to burn their enemies inside tires. Fingerless and earless Lucien Vanserra was apparently dating one of the daughters, Vasilisa Vassilevskaya. If that wasn’t a tongue twister of a name, Ruhn didn’t know what was. That would be a trio to look out for.

*

“Az!”

Azriel turned at the call of the familiar voice.

Helion DiGiorni stood by the wall, smiling. The man had more swag than Fenrys in his step, and as he approached Az, he opened his arm and gave his old friend and college roommate a one sided awkward man hug.

“How are you, man?” Helion asked. “How’s married life?”

He was dressed in a tux, but the shirt was unbuttoned three buttons down his dark muscular chest and the bow tie hung haphazardly over his neck. The man looked like he was undressing for an orgy.

That’s how Helion was–powerful, and loyal only to himself. He held his own to the rest of the families, the last remaining scion of a once-large DiGiorni family. Beron Vanserra killed two of Helion’s brothers. Mad Dog Hybern killed the other. Helion killed one of Beron’s seven sons. Elain killed Mad Dog Hybern. Hybern’s sister Amarantha vowed revenge, though no one but Nesta and the three Kings knew about Elain and Hybern. 

Yep. Theirs was an incestuous little world of blood and revenge, money and marriages.

“The wife is good,” Azriel smiled, clapping his old friend on the back and tracking Elain in the crowds.

“Beautiful as fuck is what she is,” Helion smirked. 

He was a connoisseur of beautiful women. Beautiful men as well. In fact, Azriel knew him…biblically. Back in college, Helion and Azriel and Morrigan had a few threesomes. A few other times, Cassian also took part. Foursomes. Twosomes. Whatever worked–it was college and college was a little wild. Or a lot. It was definitely very wild for Helion, whose numbers of conquests could only be rivalled by Ruhn. 

“Seems like our host is quite taken by her,” he cocked his brow at Azriel in a silent question.

Az sighed and said,

“They have history.”

“History? Do tell!” 

Helion was also a connoisseur of all kinds of gossip.

“They dated,” Azriel didn’t feel the need to keep that bit of history a secret. “He went to Italy, I swooped in. The rest is history.”

“Ahhh…well, not to Lorcan, apparently.”

Az blew out a deep breath and shrugged,

“Unless I go out there and rip out Salvaterre’s arms, or leash her to my side, there isn’t much I can do here.”

“Hey, this little infatuation of his might yet prove useful to you. Now, what about the other Archeron?” 

At that, Cassian, who stood behind Az, tensed.

“The Ice Princess,” Helion continued. “Nesta.”

“Should be here,” Azriel reported casually. 

It wasn’t the first time that Helion expressed interest in Nesta. Though Azriel suspected that to Helion, she was more of a challenge rather than anything else. A marriage between them would be tricky, both of them heads of their families, and also singular heads, with no one to take over if something happened to them.

A Silver Flame was what Nesta Archeron was.

Somehow, even without looking out there, Cassian felt her. Her presence was just that powerful. A beguiling siren call.

Azriel and Helion kept talking about business and gossiping about everyone present, trying to figure out Lorcan’s angle, and Cassian was only half-listening. Helion was a friend, but his relentless interest in getting Nesta into his bed was annoying. 

It’s not like Cassian had a reason to be jealous. It made no sense. He and Nesta never dated, barely spoke, and she could only bring herself to accept a cup of tea from him. She was stubborn as a mule. Impossible. Rude. Haughty. Annoying. Irresistible. Unattainable.

Why was he cursed to pine for this gloriously irritating woman?

God forbid he’d have someone like Elain, who fell for Az in about 30 seconds, and now lived happily with him and the other two, adored and adoring them. No. That would be too easy. Instead, he was stuck walking on eggshells around the Ice Queen, as Helion called her, and it was both infuriating and masochistically desirable.

There she was.

He turned fully, so he could experience the glory that was Nesta Archeron.

She strode forth, unbending, unyielding. 

So beautiful, his heart ached.

“Dio mio,” he heard Helion’s growl, “what a fine beauty.’

Nesta was basically the exact opposite of Elain. Where Elain was soft and fluffy, like a feather or one of the thousands of roses that adorned the halls of this estate, Nesta was a silver blade, sharp and smooth and precise. 

She wore a form-fitting black lace dress, which hugged her figure to perfection. And that was because her figure was perfection. Nesta was thin. No curves. The deep V of her neckline, which extended almost to the navel was the only sexy thing about her long-sleeved, mermaid style dress.

Her hair was gathered in a severe chignon, as always.

Somehow, Lorcan also sensed that she had arrived, because he made a beeline to her and Cassian observed him kiss her hand and then talk to her about something. She smiled, somewhat strained, but polite. Unlike Elain, Nesta didn’t like big social gatherings, or fleeting interactions with strangers. Cassian has known the three sisters long enough, and only Elain knew how to work a crowd. And work she did. She could be tireless and had the ability to convince each person that they were the most important person in her life when she spoke to them. Nesta was the opposite–she was short, often rude, disinterested. Feyre was a little bit of both, but she was socially awkward and shined only when Rhysand was next to her. 

She looked like a queen and when Lorcan offered her his hand in a dance, Cassian felt a stab of jealousy. Another man could touch her like that–touch her body, press her against him, whisper something in her ear–and he could barely get a handshake.

“Well, if nothing else, I am getting a dance out of this,” Helion announced decisively.

Azriel chuckled and murmured ‘good luck!’

“You think about what I told you,” Helion warned, and Cassian realised that he didn’t hear anything that was discussed, too consumed by his thoughts and the arrival of the object of his desire. Some head of security he was! He’d bet that neither Ruhn, nor Fen were swayed by anyone with a pussy, and when he glanced at Ruhn, who was talking to Thesan, a mysterious Japanese contact that may or may not have been in the Yakuza, he could see that Ruhn was absolutely attuned to everything that was taking place around him.

A soft little hand suddenly landed on his elbow and he jolted, turning to see Elain standing right behind him. Jesus! He didn’t even notice his Lady and wasn’t aware of her presence or her whereabouts.

Elain never touched him, but here she was, squeezing his arm and whispering,

“I think you should dance with Nesta, Cass.”

Gruffly, he argued,

“She is already occupied by Lorcan.”

“I think you should dance with her,” Elain pressed. “I’ll handle Lorcan.”

“I am cutting in,” Cassian stepped next to Lorcan and Nesta. “If you don’t mind,” he added lazily, doing the bare minimum to appear polite.

Nesta stiffened against Lorcan and glared at the intruder.

*

Lorcan was seven feet tall. Even though Cassian was almost 6’6, he was still dwarfed by the sheer size of the Italian, and not that he was intimidated, but it gave him an uneasy feeling to interfere with Salvaterre’s plans.

Then suddenly, the marshmallow swept in and just like that, Lorcan’s thoughts of Nesta were forgotten. 

Elain stood there, looking adorably lost–all an act–searching around, before saying,

“Ahh, I seem to have lost my husband! I wanted to dance with him!”

“I will gladly dance with you, Donna Elain,” Lorcan said at once, his eyes slowly and ravenously sliding over her body. He hardly left her side tonight, and the moment she reappeared, he fluttered to her like a moth to a flame.

“Are you sure?” she batted her lashes at him. “I don’t want to interrupt,”

Nesta rolled her eyes a bit, watching the performance.

“It’s fine, Elain,” she said crisply, “if Mr. Salvaterre wants to dance with you, he is welcome to.”

Then, as if unable to help herself, she added dryly,

“You do know that this is a black ball?”

Elain looked down at her white gown and shrugged innocently, like it was the first time she noticed that she was wearing white.

“Ahhh, I must have forgotten!”

“Your dress is perfect, Donna Elain,” Lorcan assured her, and then swept her into his arms. They danced away, Elain gently clutching at his bicep, her long hair brushing over his hand on her waist.

“You just had to cut in, didn’t you?” she snapped at Cassian, who was waiting. He dismissed her tone with a shrug and then pulled her to him, landing his hand firmly on her hip. There was a tiny, but audible gasp that came from her, when he pressed her to his body and took her hand in his.

“Can’t blame me. You look amazing,” he complimented her wholeheartedly.

Something softened in Nesta’s gaze at his words, and she relaxed a bit next to him, while he tugged her into the steps of the dance.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a dancer,” she commented, while he effortlessly led her around in his embrace.

God he looked good.

She already glimpsed a sight of Ruhn and Fenrys, and both looked like cage fighters who moonlighted as male models. Azriel didn’t disappoint as usual–he was standing next to Helion, another specimen of vulgar hyper-sexual masculinity, and looked sharp and in control.

Cassian, in her humble opinion, outdid them all. 

He was perfect. Big and muscular, dangerous, handsome and smooth. 

“Well, sweetheart,” he smirked, “you haven’t pegged me at all, but anything is possible.”

Her full lips formed a shocked O and he laughed.

“Loosen up, Nes. You are at a party.”

He spun her around, and then grabbed her waist and almost had her straddling his thigh. Firm, muscular thigh. Not that she’d noticed.

“And yes, I know how to dance. Attended enough of the King parties over the years. Those boys are tattooed and dangerous, but they are also fucking fancy.”

“And you?”

“Am I fancy?” he chuckled, his hands hot and strong on her waist. “Fancy enough. Our Fen here is probably the least fancy of all,”

“Fenrys?” she smiled. “I would’ve thought otherwise.”

“Nah, he is just an East End boy from London. Mostly brawn, but in his case, also beauty.”

“Speaking of beauty,” Nesta glanced at her sister, who was swirling around Lorcan, “what’s her game?”

“Ahhh, you noticed it too?”

“Obviously.”

“Elain is the Queen of the ball. Az is allowing it. Lorcan is lapping it up…”

“Why are you involving her in business?” Nesta grumbled.

“Oh, I don’t think they are. This is all Elain. This is Elain, Azriel King’s own Queen. Elain, showing everyone that the Kings can get to anyone. Even Lorcan Salvaterre.”

*

Elain was hot. The crowds on the dancefloor were swelling, and with all the dancing and chatting, she felt like she was moving in a furnace. 

Outside in the garden, there were tables with food and cocktails, and she escaped the ballroom, after an uncomfortable dance with gross Graysen. He was breathing loudly, and his touch felt weird. Once she was able to extricate herself from him, she escaped outside.

But she wasn’t alone for long. 

“Allow me to get you something to eat,” Lorcan’s smooth, deep voice sounded behind her. He gently herded her to a marble bench and she sat down, while he went to get food. She was brought water and a cocktail by a server, and then Lorcan returned with plates of appetisers. 

He sat down next to her and fed her a tiny shrimp pastry, which she accepted into her mouth.

“I am envious,” he blurted out suddenly.

“Of what?” she flipped her hair over her shoulder, and looked at him with curiosity in her gaze.

“Azriel King, I suppose,” he admitted.

Then, he locked her with his watchful, penetrating eyes and added,

“And Fenrys King. And Ruhn King.”

She didn’t react.

“Or so the rumours would have me believe,” he prodded.

She popped a slice of creamy potato topped with a dollop of caviar in her mouth and said,

“Rumours. As you said. Rumours.”

“Are they?” he pressed.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I wonder if Azriel is the type of man who would defy societal norms to this degree? And share his wife with his brother and his cousin,”

Elain popped her lips, but she didn’t seem upset by the weird line of questioning.

“He doesn’t share me,” she said at last.

Lorcan looked at her closely, as if hunting for a lie.

“They don’t share me,” she continued slowly, “we are a family. We just happen to be a family of four. It’s not like they pass me around like a toy. It was my choice…”

She looked down at her knees, and then he suddenly tipped her chin up and made her look at him.

“And you are happy?”

“I am.”

“If you are not, know that you have a friend in me,” he added meaningfully. 

“I am. Truly,” she confirmed. If she wasn’t happy, Lorcan would take care of Azriel.

“Swear it.”

“I swear it. I love them.”

After a beat, he sighed and said,

“Fine. We’ll set up a meeting.”

She exhaled. 

“Are you sure?”

“Would you rather I work with the Vanserras?” he inquired.

“No. I don't think so.”

“I think that you might be the future. Your Azriel might be the future, and I am interested in those who have the vision and the power to achieve it.”

*

Azriel was huddled with Ruhn and Fenrys, talking among themselves, when Elain cleaved their group and eased between them.

“Hey beautiful!” Ruhn greeted her. “I am surprised you even remember that we exist.”

“Drama queen,” she threw at him and the other two laughed.

“So what have you been doing all this time? Except for getting pawed at by Lorcan Salvaterre?”

“He didn’t paw at me! He’s been nothing but courteous.”

“I am sure,” Azriel hissed.

On more than one occasion, his brothers, and Helion, had to pull him back. He seethed silently every time Elain had a new dance partner, and Ruhn was forced to stop him from walking over and wrenching her away from the men she was dancing with.

“I hate this dress,” Azriel hissed venomously.

She smiled and cupped his face in her hand.

“No you don’t, you silly. You love it.”

“I hate it,” he insisted. 

“I hate it too,” Ruhn agreed with a grin. “So much so that I want to go home soon and tear it off her…”

“I would concur,” Fenrys rubbed his lower lip with his thumb. “This dress has been a point of contention the entire evening,”

“Not to me,” she shrugged innocently.

“Who even made this damn dress?” Azriel asked. “Whose hands should I break?”

“You gonna break Armani’s hands?” she gasped.

“Ugh, figures.”

“Okay you psychos,” she put her hands on her hips and stared them down. “While you’ve been obsessing over some dress and losing yourself in the fantasy of breaking Giorgio’s hands, I came to inform you that Lorcan Salvaterre would like to set up a meeting with you. To talk business.”

“With us?” Azriel perked up.

“You are his choice,” she confirmed. “He wants to get into the King game.”

“The King game is the game that wins,” Fenrys announced.

Suddenly, Ruhn’s face changed and he muttered, “Motherfucker!”

Everyone turned to follow his surprised face.

“Shit…”

“Eris.”

The tall, muscular prince of the Vanserra family entered the ballroom. He carried himself in a relaxed, confident manner. No one would believe that he’s been hiding for the past however months in the Bronx, trying to avoid Lorcan Salvaterre. He strolled in, his long red hair floating about him, the handsome face etched with his perpetual haughty sneer.

“Well, that’s ballsy,” Fenrys scratched his head.

Whispers rippled around the huge room, and when Azriel glanced towards Eris’s parents, Immacolata and Beron, they seemed just as shocked at his appearance as everyone else. Lucien, his youngest brother, looked confused and put off. In Eris’s absence, he seemed to have stepped up and taken the reins, and now, it seemed that the Heir was back and Lucien would lose his place on the crowded Vanserra throne.

Lorcan showed up in the midst of the gathering and walked slowly over to Eris.

Without batting an eye, he extended his hand to Eris and said,

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here, Eris.”

Eris looked unconcerned. He briefly shook Lorcan’s hand and said,

“The Vanserras were invited and I am a Vanserra.”

“So it would seem.”

“Well, don’t stop on my accord,” Eris left Lorcan behind and everyone watched as he made a determined path towards…Nesta.

Nesta shrugged Cassian off and watched Eris with the same rapt attention as everyone else.

He stopped in front of her and looked her up and down. It was like two snakes sizing each other up before a battle.

Extending his hand to her, he all but ordered her, “Dance with me”. 

Nesta looked around the crowd, her stormy grey eyes passing by Elain, and the Kings. Elain looked as shocked at the turn of events as anybody. Even Azriel looked surprised.

Nesta’s lips quivered with a smile. It wasn’t often that Azriel was taken by surprise.

Behind her, Cassian put his hand on her shoulder and softly murmured, “Nes…”

But she was already disengaging from him, her hand reaching out to Eris, who smiled at her with his cold smirk. Their fingers tangled together and then he pulled her to him, hard enough for her to stumble.

Elain looked at Ruhn, then Azriel, her face paling.

“What is she doing?” she begged. “Why?”

“It looks like Nesta is choosing sides. And she is not siding with us.”

[smolwritingchick]

Forced To Believe Chapter 49- That Supernatural Stuff Don't Work

Chapter Summary: Morgan is freed from Sister Abigail as she reunites with The Shield

Words: 4,000+

-------

On Raw, Morgan was sitting backstage as the crowd gave her a positive reaction. She no longer had any of the dark makeup on her. She looked like her regular self.

Moments later, the Wyatts walked over to her and she stood up. 

"Rose...you look well," Bray said as she showed a faint smile and nodded. "How do you feel?" 

"Better." 

"It felt good to get closure from The Shield, didn't it?" 

"Yes." 

"You accept Sister Abigail's truths?" 

"Yes, I accept her truths." 

"And did it satisfy you to slam that boy down the mat, off the top rope, last night? All the pain and frustration you had in your body...you took it out on him and it felt great didn't it?" 

"Yes." 

"I have a request, for tonight's ceremony," 

"What is it?"

"Sister Abigail has always dreamed of wearing a wedding dress to a ceremony. I want her to receive that gift. I want to summon Sister Abigail and give her one last goodbye before we all move on from her. I want you to take her place, tonight. Her work is done. She saved you and you are a true follower of the Buzzards. Now we must thank her for her sacrifices. Will you do it?" 

The crowd chants 'No' while Morgan starts to smile at him. 

"Of course." She replied as the crowd boos. 

"Excellent." Bray grinned. "The ceremony will begin tonight, in the ring. Rosa will help you with the dress. And I know Sister Abigail wants to wear her favorite color. You remember right?" 

"How could I not?"

"Good." He kissed her forehead and let out a dark giggle. 

Once the Wyatt family left, Morgan slowly dropped her smile and began to frown, narrowing her eyes, which caused the crowd to get excited.

"Uh oh...was that..." Cole trailed off

"Wait a minute..." King looked on, intrigued.

-------

Later, Morgan was walking backstage and stopped once she heard the voices of The Shield. She leaned on the wall and turned her head to the side as she listened to them. 

She saw an irate Ambrose, wearing his Shield hoodie and black tape on his hands. His hair was messy and damp. He was still that egotistical man that stole her heart. She continued to look on as she saw the fearless architect and the powerful enforcer looking at the erratic man. The situation did not look pretty. Dean had his hand on his shoulder and looked down at the ground. 

"So walk me through this, one time." Seth trailed off. 

"I've been repeating myself!" Dean interrupted. 

"Where were you last night?" 

"I've been repeating myself for 24 hours now, all right? I'm gettin' a little sick quite frankly, of you two ganging up on me..." 

"We're not ganging up on you " 

"And I'm gettin' a little sick of explainin' myself! So, if uh, if all that's not good enough for you two, and if you don't trust me, then whatever, whatever." 

"That's not what I meant...That's not it!" 

"I lost my girlfriend! I lost the best thing that ever happened to me because of my stupid mistake! I have a lot on my mind right now!" Ambrose confessed as Morgan looked down. "And now she made her choice to stay with The Wyatts. She's gone. Forever. I'm not gonna even bother with this anymore. I lost her. It's too late. She doesn't need saving anymore, so forget about The Wyatts. I'm outta here..." He walked away. 

"I dunno if I believe him...I want to, it makes a lot of sense but so many times now? It's just...over and over and over..." Seth sighed while Morgan walked away from the scene. 

As she walked backstage, deep in thought, Rosa found her. 

"Morgan! Oh, Morgan! I know you hear me!" she skipped over to her and dragged her into a locker room to show her the two dresses for the ceremony. "Look at these! Bray said he wants you to wear the dress that's Sister Abigail's favorite color." 

"Oh don't worry, I know exactly which one to wear," Morgan answered

Before they could continue to talk, The Bellas barged in and shoved Rosa out of the room, slamming it in her face as she complained. 

"What the hell is your problem?" Brie asked as she looked at Morgan. 

"What...?" Morgan bluntly asked. 

"You're not gonna go along with this, are you? Don't do this. Open your eyes!" 

"Guys, my eyes are open and I know what I'm doing-­" 

"Morgan! What happened to you? You're a totally different person! This is not the Morgan we know." Nikki exclaimed. "Please just walk away from this-" 

"Stop." Morgan retorted. "I know what I'm doing." 

Brie and Nikki glanced at each other and nodded. All of sudden, Nikki slapped her in the face as the crowd 'Ohs' at the impact. 

"Did it work?" She asked, looking hopeful. 

Morgan rubbed her cheek, narrowing her eyes at them. "Ow...what was that for?!" 

"Oh my gosh, it didn't work. Morgan! You would have ripped my head off if I slapped you. Come on, you gotta wake up!" Nikki exclaimed. 

"Look, I am awake. I'm fine, okay? Calm down, you don't need to help me. I know what I'm doing." she reassured

"Looks like we can't save you..." 

"I never needed saving!" She snapped, catching the attention of Bellas. 

Nikki smirked at the sound of her voice and nodded. 

"Okay. Suit yourself." Nikki looked happy and left with Brie.

Morgan sighed loudly and sat down on the couch. Moments later, she looked at the two dresses. 

"Okay..." 

-------

After changing into her dress, Melanie prepared herself at the Gorilla while Randy walked by with an amused smile

"Here comes the bride...here comes the bride." He sang. 

"Shut up! I'm not getting married." she giggled

Brie and Nikki giggled as they helped her get ready.

"You kind of remind me of Lita when she wore her dress during her wedding with Kane," Nikki said. 

"Why does everyone think I'm getting married?" Melanie chuckled.

"Okay, you're getting ready for a ceremony with the Wyatts. Happy now?" Brie grinned.

"Much better," Melanie replied. 

--------

Rosa, Luke, Erick, and Bray were in the ring and the crowd gave them mixed reactions. 

"Tonight...tonight you shall witness the summoning of a woman who has guided Morgan and has shown her the truths. Rose...I command you to come out here and reveal yourself." Bray announced.

The Wyatt Family theme came on as everyone looked at the stage. 

They waited a few moments but no one came out. 

"Is she coming out?" King asked but then the crowd started to cheer loudly. 

Rosa's jaw dropped while Erick and Luke stood with blank stares. Morgan slowly walked out in a Black Dress. She had black flowers in her hands and her hair was pinned up in a bun

"She-­she's wearing black!" King announced.

"And Bray does not look happy," Cole stated as Bray slowly started to look at her with a scowl. 

Morgan stood on the stage and looked at the crowd before looking back at The Wyatts. She started to look annoyed as she made her way down the ring. She wasn't fond of wearing dresses like this. Especially if a dead woman wanted to wear one. 

"Maybe black isn't Sister Abigail's favorite color," King said as Morgan exhaled and tightly gripped the bouquet. "At least she's wearing Sister Abigail's necklace with her favorite color." 

Celeste tweets 'Ha! That's the color a certain eccentric man loves on WWEMorgan101.' 

The Outspoken Diva slowly walked down the ramp, looking straight at Bray. 

Bray could not believe what she was wearing. He said Sister Abigail's favorite color, not black. He started pacing around while she walked up the steps and slowly got in the ring by the middle rope. The theme faded out as the crowd chanted Morgan's name. 

A dramatic pause occurred as Morgan and Bray stared each other down. "...I thought I told you to wear Sister Abigail's favorite color," he said. 

"I know but I­-" 

"I told you her favorite color." 

"Yes­" 

"I told you the story about how Sister Abigail always dreamed of wearing a bridal dress one day. You...you disrespected me...you disrespected the family. You...you are rebelling." 

"It's just a slight change. I thought it would be better. I'm sorry I disobeyed you." 

Bray eyed her down. "That kiss...that kiss was more powerful than Sister Abigail's kiss, wasn't it? Is that why you rebelled? 

"No."

"Do you still believe in The Shield?" He asked as the crowd screamed loudly

"In the hot seat now," JBL said. "Say yes! Please!"

"No...I don't believe in The Shield." Morgan replied. 

"Then go back and change," Bray ordered.

"What?" King asked. 

"Please don't do it," JBL said. 

The crowd chanted 'No!' while Morgan sighed and got in between the ropes. She stopped and got back in the ring as the crowd cheered. 

"On second thought..." She said. "No."

"Whoa!" King exclaimed as Bray glared at her. 

"Change. Right now!" He ordered but she shook her head. 

Bray's temper started to get the best of him. He was a leader and was not used to such disrespect...other than Daniel Bryan rebelling against him in that steel cage, a while back. 

"No. You do not disobey me! You do not disobey me!" He yelled. "If it wasn't for me, you would be nothing! I made you into the woman you are today!"

"Is he kidding me?" JBL asked.

Celeste tweets 'Oh hell no! Did he just say he made WWEMorgan101? Injustice!'

The Bellas tweets 'How dare he!? Bray needs to shut his mouth. He didn't make WWEMorgan101 at all!' 

Morgan narrowed her eyes at him while Bray started pacing around while venting. 

"If it wasn't for me, you would be broken and hurt by The Shield!" He shouted. "I did everything for you! I comforted you! I made The Shield feel the same way you felt when they betrayed you! I made you get closure! I made you stronger and wiser!" 

Celeste tweets 'WWEMorgan I know you aren't gonna let this man speak to you like this!'

The Bellas tweets 'Why are you taking this? You don't deserve this WWEMorgan101. Speak up!' 

"You are just like that cousin of yours...you are ungrateful...ungracious..." 

"How dare he? That is the Outspoken Diva he is talking to! She deserves some more respect than that!" JBL yelled. 

Celeste tweets 'What the fudge!? Are you kidding me!? I know you are not gonna take that WWEMorgan101!' 

The Bellas tweet 'He talked about your family. You better do something about that WWEMorgan101!' 

"You belong with the family." Bray declared.

The Bellas tweet 'No! #MorganBelongsWithTheShield' 

"And you will obey me. You came to me for guidance and I shall give it to you. And I will guide you by commanding you to change so we can get this ceremony out of the way." Bray went on.

Morgan slowly began to smirk at him, tilting her head to the side.

"Is she about to break?" Cole asked while Roman and Rollins were spotted in the crowd. "Uh oh! It's Roman and Seth!" 

"Where's Dean!?" JBL exclaimed as The Wyatts turned their attention to the crowd. 

Bray starts to order Erick and Luke to make sure they don't come into the ring. 

Turning to the stage, The Outspoken Diva drops her bouquet as she sees Ambrose walking down the ramp. 

Nikki tweets 'So romantic...here comes Morgan's Knight and Shiny armor...and he's wearing leather. That's hot. Go get her!' 

Ambrose meets up with Seth and Roman as they surround the ring. 

"This is gonna be good!" JBL looked on. 

While the Wyatts and Rosa are distracted by The Shield, Morgan slowly takes out her hairpins and lets her hair down. 

"What is going on!?" Bray yelled, still focused on The Shield who got on the apron.

All of a sudden, Morgan quickly grabs Erick and Luke, putting them in the double backfire position. 

"Yes!" JBL yelled as Morgan spun on one knee and stopped to turn her attention to Bray and Rosa while Luke and Erick rolled out of the ring. 

She stands up while Bray looks on in shock. The Shield smirk at the sight while Morgan rips off Sister Abigail's necklace, stomps on it to destroy it, and begins to slowly smirk at Rosa and Bray. 

"Yes! Yes! She's back!" King shouted.

As soon as The Shield get in the ring, Bray quickly escapes the ring while Rosa looks at the Wyatt Family at the end of the ramp. 

"Where are you going!?" She yelled. 

The crowd cheers as she slowly turns around and looks at The Shield and Morgan giving her dirty looks. 

"Hi Rosa, remember me? Grab that bitch." She demanded as Seth and Dean grabbed her. 

"No! No!" Rosa screamed.

She was kicking and screaming and did not want to face that angry Samoan who was glaring at her. She was more afraid of him than Morgan. Roman still had some unfinished business with her because of that low blow. 

"No! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Let me go!" she begged.

All of a sudden, The Wyatts slide back in and attack The Shield. Rosa gets released while Morgan spears her as the crowd cheers. 

"Here we go!" Cole shouted as The Philly Diva started unloading on her. 

"Everybody is going after everybody here!" King looked on. 

Morgan picks Rosa up to put her in the backfire position but she quickly escapes and runs out of the ring.

"You better run!" Morgan yelled. 

That chick has a beating with her name on it. She can run but she can't hide. 

Turning around, she strikes Bray with a spinning kick but then he grabs her by the neck. 

"You do not betray me like this!" He yelled while she tried to make him release her. 

He was stronger than she thought. 

But then Ambrose gets in the way and attacks him while Morgan falls down and leans on the bottom turnbuckle to watch the action as her hair is in her face. Ambrose throws Bray out of the ring while Seth and Roman throw out Luke and Erick. Seth and Roman slide out of the ring as they begin to mouth off to The Wyatts while Bray restrains them. 

"And The Shield hold the ring," Cole announced as the crowd cheered while Morgan and Ambrose were the last two in the ring. 

Morgan moves her hair from her face while Ambrose catches his breath and then turns his head to her. 

"Come on Morgan." JBL looked on in anticipation. 

Ambrose then rolled out of the ring and grabbed her gently to pick her up bridal style as The Shield's theme came on around the arena. 

"Yes! Thank you! I love it!" JBL cheered

Nikki tweets 'This is so hot. Nothing like Dean Ambrose in a leather jacket picking you up bridal style. #FangirlsBeJealous' 

"You okay?" Dean asked. 

"Yes," She nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck. She felt herself begin to smile as the feeling of his strong arms made her feel safe

The Wyatt Family and Rosa watch on while Bray begins to glare at them 

"The Shield staying strong," Cole said as the former lovers glanced at each other and then looked at the Wyatts. 

"And Morgan is still a believer!" JBL grinned

Morgan tweets twice 'Looks like the faking paid off. I was free since that kiss. Supernatural stuff don't work on the Outspoken Diva. Sorry #YouFailed #ImFree' 

'Follow the buzzards? #GetTheFOuttaHere #TheShieldAllDay!'

Bray replies 'You shall pay for your sins WWEMorgan101' 

-----

'WWE Exclusive Video' 

Morgan had her bag with her, walking backstage. 

"Leaving without saying goodbye or a thank you?" She turned around and looked at Ambrose who was leaning against the wall.

"Thanks..." she replied

"When did you come back to us?"

"The kiss," she answered. "Although I couldn't say what I wanted you to do, you knew. So I appreciate it. Wrestle me and kiss me. Sister Abigail screwed around and found out. I had to pretend to still be a part of The Wyatt Family for a bit after. After I broke free, my energy just went to zero. Must be a side effect of Sister Abigail unpossessing me. But...I'm ok now. I'm fine. Thank you,"

She needed time alone to get her head on straight. Dean understood that and surprisingly wanted to wait for her. 

"Good. I'm glad you're back. I missed you,"

She smiled softly. "I missed you, too. See you," she walked away as he smirked softly. 

-------

'NXT ArRIVAL PPV' 

The Shield were shown right after the Wyatt Family promo. 

"Listen to the Wyatt Family, boys, listen to em! Making outrageous claims sounds stupid to me." Dean retorted. "Stupid ugly beards, and your stupid camel masks..." 

"Whoa whoa whoa," Roman spoke up.

"Tryna scare somebody..." Dean went on.

"What?" Seth asked.

"Camel mask?" Roman questioned.

"Camel mask on his head." Dean declared.

"It's a llama mask, bro." Roman corrected.

"What?" Seth asked in a high voice. "What are you talkin' about?" 

"I just went to the zoo, it's a llama mask," Roman mentioned. 

"It's a camel," Dean said in a low voice.

"Hey! It's a lamb." Seth spoke up. "And that's beside the point."

Roman and Dean start mouthing off, what animal they think the mask is but they get cut off by a feminine laugh. 

"Haha oh my gosh...Did you-did you just say camel? Llama? Lamb? Okay, you all are wrong. It's a sheep. S.H.E.E.P." Morgan stated. 

"No, it ain't." Seth disagreed.

"No way." Dean shook his head.

"Sheep? Naw, It's a llama." Roman replied. 

"Oh my gosh, I've been near and closer to The Wyatts these past few weeks, I know the animal when I see it. Ha, I guess I'm the smartest one in The Shield, now. 100 points for Morgan!" She showed a thumbs up at the camera and grinned. The Shield gave her playful dirty looks. She turned her attention to Dean and nudged him in the side. "Don't worry buddy, don't be sad that I'm right and you're wrong. " 

"It's a camel!" he exclaimed. 

"Nope." She grinned.

"Llama!" Roman shouted

"Nope." 

"Lamb!" Seth exclaimed. 

"Nope." 

"Are you kidding me? I think I know my farm animals." Dean said. 

"Haha, you think!" She pointed out.

"I know. It's a camel. Read it and weep, sweetheart."

Morgan scoffed and stepped up to him. "Are you challenging me?"

"Uh oh," Seth looked on, amused. 

"Maybe I am. It's a camel." Dean said. 

"Sheep," Morgan stated. 

"Camel." He smirked. 

"All right, that is it!" She put him in a headlock. "Say it's a sheep!" 

"Ah! No! It's a freakin' camel!" 

Roman and Seth start laughing at them. Morgan missed this. The good times she would have with The Shield. It made all the troubles go away. 

"Say it!" 

"Camel!" 

"Sheep!" 

"Camel!" 

"Say it's a sheep!"

"All right! It's a sheep!" 

Morgan grinned and released him. "Thank you. So, anyone else want to disagree with me?" She turned to Seth and Roman while Dean rubbed the back of his head. 

"Sheep it is." Roman nodded.

"Sheep it is, Morgan." Seth sighed.

"Awesome. See how easy that was?" she grinned.

"Anyway, the point is, The Wyatts did not lay the foundation at NXT. They refer to me as the architect for a reason." Seth said. "I was the first ever NXT champion, and we laid the foundation for the future of this business, how we do that? By taking out The Undertaker, The Rock, John Cena, Sheamus, every single person...that goes in our way." 

Roman chuckled at his statement.

"Over the last year, we dominated and we have become the emergent leaders of the next generation. Believe that...and believe in The Shield." Seth continued. 

"And sheep!" Morgan grinned.

"All right, it's a lamb!" Seth argued. 

"Sheep! Oh my gosh, do you not know your animals?" she shouted as The Shield started to protest again. 

---------

During Smackdown, Rosa was in the makeup area, bragging about herself to the makeup artist who was working on her face.

"I should be Divas Champion because I'm one of the most dominant women in this company. I am one of the most talked about divas now. I betrayed The Shield...I was with the Wyatts...I am on top of the world. My career is going so well." She grinned. 

Morgan walks over to her from behind and the make-up artist backs away. 

Rosa had her eyes closed. "I wonder what would happen when I am in the Hall of Fame. I wonder who I want to induct me..." Rosa wondered. 

The Philly Diva rolls her eyes and opens a container of blush, beginning to shake it on her.

"What in the-what is this!?" Rosa quickly got out of the chair and brushed the blush off her body. She turned around to see Morgan smirking at her. "What are you doing!?" 

The Outspoken Diva throws the blush on her face and tackles her onto the table as she starts unloading on her. 

"Morgan! Morgan!" The Total Divas ran and grabbed her off of Rosa.

"Get off of me!" Morgan yelled as she tried to fight her way out of their grasp. 

"I am gonna get you, you bitch! You do not put your hands on me! I want you in a match tonight!" Rosa screamed while Cameron and Naomi held her back. "Get off of me!" she pushed them off. 

"Oh hell no!" Cameron yelled. 

"Are you kidding me?" Naomi exclaimed and then they started attacking her. 

"All hell has broken loose!" Cole yelled. 

"Let them fight!" JBL shouted as some of the heel divas came to Rosa's aid and fought the rest of the Total Divas. 

The refs and some superstars try to break up the chaos while Morgan storms off. 

"What the hell is going on!?" Triple H yelled. "Stop this right now! Enough!"

"It was all Morgan! She attacked me out of nowhere!" Rosa shouted.

"You started it! Don't put this on Morgan!" Cameron yelled while Triple H looked annoyed. 

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

At The Shield's Hideout, Dean, Roman and Seth were getting themselves together. 

"You got yourself together, tonight? Or are you gonna go rogue on us, again?" Roman retorted. 

"Ah!" Dean yelled and turned to face him. "Always telling me that I need to relax, all right? Is he still mad about the DQ thing?" he turned to Seth. 

"The DQ thing?" Roman asked.

"He's bringing that up again..."

"It's a thing?"

"Look, I don't know what you want from me, all right?"

"A DQ is a loss. Two losses in under a year and a half. Two losses in one week, why? Because of you." 

"Maybe if you aren't always yellin' at me, all the time!" Ambrose yelled. 

"Hey! Hey! Zip it, all right?" Seth exclaimed.

"Would you take care of this?" Dean pointed to Roman. 

"You know what? You lost all right? You got knocked down. You're a grown man, pick yourself up, move on." Seth said to Roman. "You know who's moving on? Bray Wyatt thinks he's moving on." 

"No, he's not," Roman said. 

"He thinks we're ashes in the way, on his path to John Cena. In case you don't remember, we were left for dead at the Elimination Chamber. Well, let's show Bray Wyatt, that it's not that easy to get rid of The Shield. Let's show Bray Wyatt that we're not, three lone wolves, that we are the hounds of justice and we run together always. Let's show Bray Wyatt that when you provoke the hounds, you get the teeth!" 

"Strap up boys!" Roman yelled as Dean started laughing. "It's time to hunt some Wyatts." 

"Well, not just the Wyatts..." Morgan reminded as the crowd cheered. She walked over to them as they turned around.

"Where were you?" Seth asked.

"I had a fight. I kind of caused the whole divas locker room to fight." She confessed. 

"I'm not surprised." Roman chuckled. 

"Don't judge me. It was all Rosa's fault. Speaking of Rosa...she's on top of Morgan's hit list, and I know she's on The Shield's hit list too. So...I have a plan. I got a match with her tonight and I think it's time to serve some justice." 

------

In the ring, before Morgan and Rosa can have their match, The Wyatts arrive after the lights go out. When the lights come back on, they appear in the ring while Morgan slides out of the ring, wisely.

"Common Morgan! Are you scared?" Rosa taunted. 

"No, I'm just not alone," The Outspoken Diva replied.

'Sierra'

'Hotel' 

'India' 

'Echo' 

'Lima' 

'Delta' 

'Shield' 

"Oh no! Here we go!" Cole exclaimed as The Shield walked through the crowd and jumped over the barricade. 

"Haha, I love it." JBL grinned as The Shield and Morgan get on the apron. 

They have a stare off with Rosa and The Wyatts but then Triple H's theme comes on as The Shield get annoyed. 

Triple H walked out on the stage. "Enough. This is not gonna happen now. I have too much time and money invested in all eight of you, to let this war happen again, right here right now. At least not without some promotion. This war...can take place this Monday. The Wyatt Family and Rosa versus The Shield and Morgan. But until that time...Shield...stand down." He ordered as the crowd booed. 

"And ladies, you've already caused enough damage for the night. You ruined the makeup area, and the whole diva's locker room got involved. It's not funny Morgan!" Triple H snapped as Morgan smirked in amusement. "This is serious... Shield...stand down. Now." 

Once he went backstage, Bray chuckled as The Wyatts and Rosa got out of the ring. Bray was on the apron. "Come on, you heard your daddy." 

The Shield and Morgan get in the ring as the crowd gets hyped while they stand before Bray. Morgan glances at Dean and Seth. Seth nods at them and the three of them run through the ropes. Seth hits Erick, Dean hits Luke and Morgan hits Rosa with a suicide dive. Seth and Dean slide back in the ring and stand before Bray with Roman while Morgan gets on the apron, behind Bray. 

"What now!?" Seth yelled. "Come on! Let's do this thing!" 

Bray backs up but gets grabbed in the Morganizer position after she gets in the ring.

"Uh oh!" Cole exclaimed but Bray quickly escaped it as the crowd booed. 

"This close..." Morgan said as Bray smirked and did his signature pose while the Wyatt Family theme came on. 

[lucky-clover-gazette]

evil emails

1050 words | canon-compliant | vio & shadow

Per our previous conversations, I would like to again emphasize the initiative and skill V has shown since swearing allegiance to our cause. I am contacting you today to follow up on my request to offer him a permanent position as my

Shadow looks up at Vio, whose stupid hat bounces up and down as he gesticulates wildly. He might not fully understand whatever niche historical event has piqued Vio’s interest this week, but Shadow loves to listen all the same.

as my assistant

as my companion

as my official right-hand man.

Author's Note: This is not my usual type of fic, but I thought it would be interesting to try some things I haven't before. This little moment takes place during the canon manga events and is not as clearly ship-oriented as my other work for this fandom. The line between platonic and romantic is up to you to draw.

read it on ao3 or under the cut:

It's an unconventional arrangement, but it works.

"...so the thing about attempting the trials on Master Mode, is that the enemies are all scaled up but the weapons remain mostly the same. An exception is an additional Iron Sledgehammer on the fourth floor, but it's not even useful on the miniboss because it's scaled up to a Luminous Stone Talus, which is the only kind of Talus that doesn't take four-times damage from that weapon. It's just another thing that makes the trials so fundamentally dysfunctional, not to mention how the durability..."

Shadow balances the laptop on his knees and elevates his legs onto Vio's lap. Half-listening to the blonde’s interest of the day, he clicks on the keyboard with freshly-painted purple fingernails.

Hey Boss,

Shadow shakes his head and backspaces. Writing emails will always be a chore, but it was ten times worse before he had Vio around for background noise. He can’t really explain why it helps him so much—logically, it should probably distract him from his writing—but it boosts his efficiency and makes Vio happy, and those are two of Shadow’s main priorities these days.

“…and the sneakstrike chaining is really essential because—Shadow, did you hear that, I said the sneakstrike is essential—”

"I did," Shadow replies, raising a thumbs-up. "Sneakstrike chaining is essential because you can exploit it indefinitely.”

"Well, actually, on the tenth floor it's harder to pull off, because the lizalfos are by water…”

Shadow rolls his eyes with a smile, returning his attention to the screen.

Dear Lord Vaati,

I hope this message finds you well.

Truthfully he couldn’t care less, but with the request he’s about to make he needs the hackneyed salutation.

Progress is going well on Death Mountain. The Fire Temple has been prepared for the heroes’ arrival with more than enough time to spare.

"Two silver lizalfos, Shadow, that's insane! It's like, impossible to beat."

Shadow hums and meets Vio’s eyes. “But didn't the Hero beat it?"

"That's what the legends say, but I still have my doubts. I just don't understand…”

Per our previous conversations, I would like to again emphasize the initiative and skill V has shown since swearing allegiance to our cause. I am contacting you today to follow up on my request to offer him a permanent position as my

Shadow looks up at Vio, whose stupid hat bounces up and down as he gesticulates wildly. He might not fully understand whatever niche historical event has piqued Vio’s interest this week, but Shadow loves to listen all the same.

as my assistant

as my companion

as my official right-hand man.

“One historian postulates that the Hero could have cheated the tenth floor using campfires, but frankly I think that's absurd."

“You're absurd,” Shadow teases, and is promptly flipped off. He sticks out his tongue and opens his file explorer.

I have attached a document outlining Vio Violet Link's contributions over the past few months, as well as statements from the head of HR (Hinox Resources) and Big Poe. Please share this information with Lord Ganon in preparation for next week’s board meeting. I would like to secure my associate’s role in the organization before the end of this quarter.

Shadow hesitates—here comes the hard part.  

As strange as it may sound, V’s allegiance is essential to our continued success. His capability for manipulation is far beyond what we had anticipated, and at this moment the lesser heroes still believe him to be on their side. With this deceptive advantage in mind, I believe we could potentially take over Hyrule before this quarter’s end. Of course, once we have achieved our goal, V’s original purpose in the plan will be fulfilled.

I humbly ask insist that V’s life not only be spared, but also protected indefinitely, by the forces of evil. Violet Link is our proven ally, your faithful servant, and my associate accomplice

“… may have lots of health, but they also die instantly when they hit the water, so of course the strategy is to knock them off the tower, and—hey.”

Shadow feels a hand on his shoulder.

“What?” Shadow asks, his tone more irritated then intended.

Vio frowns, meeting his eyes. He places his free hand on Shadow’s knee, holding him steady. “You just started looking really worried there for a second. Not an emotion I’d normally associate with emails.”

Shadow shakes his head, mustering a smile. “Then you must not know much about emails.”

Vio doesn’t appreciate his joke.

“I’m okay,” Shadow assures him. “Just trying to figure out the right word for something.”

“Oh. All right. Do you want help with that?”

Hylia, no he does not. Shadow places his hand over Vio’s. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got it.”

“Do you need some quiet, or do you want to hear more about…?”

“I want to hear it all.”

Vio seems surprised by Shadow’s response. “Thank you. I’m… still not used to hearing that.”

Shadow resents the world for ever making Vio feel unheard. It’s good, he supposes, that they’re going to destroy it together.  

So, he types:

Violet Link is our proven ally, your faithful servant, and my friend.

It may seen unprofessional to mention friendship in our correspondence, but I see it as assurance. I swear to take full responsibility for V’s actions—past, present, and future. I understand, of course, that there is always a possibility of his betrayal. In such case I

“…shock arrows in a treasure chest, but it might not be worth your—”

 “Vio,” Shadow interrupts, his hand hovering over the keyboard.

“Oh, sorry.”

“Don’t apologi—you know what, we can talk about that later. I just have to ask… I can trust you, right? You’re devoted to the darkness forever?”

Vio blinks. “Why are you asking me this now?”

“I need you to say yes, and I need you to mean it.”

“Then I say yes. You can trust me. I’m devoted to the darkness forever.”

Shadow nods, strangely unsatisfied by his satisfaction.

In such case I swear to end his life myself.

It’s his most compelling argument yet.

“So anyway,” Vio says, his discomfort getting the best of him. “The final boss is a Hinox, actually, and—”

I look forward to your response.

Sincerely,

Shadow Link

[pastanest]

if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to @iamburdened - thanks so much!! ♡

Daryl Dixon x she/her!reader

spoilers: set in season 6

warning: this is kind of an age-gap fic?? it’s not solely about that, but that’s referenced

Never Wondered?

Unfortunately, it wasnt an uncommon occurrence. Being one of the few young and single women in Alexandria, you gained far more attention than you wanted, and from all the wrong people.

Daryl watches from his porch as Spencer approaches you, and he scoffs, shaking his head and looking away. He doesnt want to see another guy get shutdown, it really is embarrassing for them. This isnt the first time Spencer has tried it either, clearly last time you werent harsh enough, which means this time you’ll pull out all the stops to make sure he gets the message. However, Daryl cant ever keep his gaze from you for long, and his eyes seem to drift back to you at the perfect time. Spencer puts his hand on your waist, and you slap it away, stepping back from him with a deep set frown on your face. Daryl is at your side in an instant, both to protect you and also to save Spencer’s ass, because he has no idea what you’re capable of. Your face softens when you look up at Daryl, like it always does.

“Leave her alone man, she aint in’erested.” Daryl grumbles, trying to lead you away from Spencer, and you gladly accept his invitation away from the situation. Until Spencer opens his big, stupid mouth again.

“I could treat you better than some old redneck.”

You stop dead in your tracks, the silence that falls after Spencer’s quiet, muttering words almost eery. Movements so slow they’re scary, you turn back around to face Spencer.

“What the fuck did you just say?” You call out, voice loud, wanting to make sure you heard him right.

Daryl stares at you worriedly, knowing from previous experience with guys testing your patience in front of him that your tone means you’re about to wreck house, but he’s unsure why. Sure, Spencer just disrespected Daryl in front of you, but he only insulted Daryl for being older than you, which he is, but in the position of your boyfriend, which he isnt. The two of you are close, you’ve been close for years, but you’ve always just been friends.

Spencer’s eyes widen, he hadnt expected you to hear him.

“I said-“ He begins, but you cut him off.

“You’re really stupid enough to repeat that shit to my face? Nah.” You shake your head, taking three quick strides towards him before your swift right hook cracks his jaw, forcing Spencer to the floor him.

Without a second thought, you kick Spencer onto his back and straddle his chest, punching him in the face one more time for good measure, then gripping his collar. He stares up at you with fear in his eyes, and you’re about to say more, but Daryl’s arms wrap around you from behind and pull you off of him. It doesnt take you long to figure out why he’d stopped you, Deanna and Rick are running down the street. Rick runs to you, while Deanna crouches down beside her piss baby son. She looks to you for an explanation, Daryl still holding you back.

“Sorry Deanna, but quite frankly this particular son of yours is a spineless little bitch. If he tries anything with Daryl or I again, he’ll regret it.” You tell her confidently, unafraid of what her response will be; you wont lie for someone like that just to keep your residency safe.

Deanna nods knowingly, sighing. “Sorry, I know he can be a little much. I already told him you two were an item, thought that’d take him off the scent, but...apparently I was mistaken. On his behalf, I apologise.” She says, looking up at you sincerely, and you nod at her in acceptance.

Rick lifts your hands, examining your bloody knuckles as he laughs. “You’d better go see the doctor.”

You smile at him. “Ya think that’s bad, take a look at the other guy.”

Rick laughs harder and pats your shoulder, ushering you and Daryl away. Much like many other occasions, your best friend has stayed silent during all of this, and he stays silent during the walk to the infirmary, but for some reason it feels like this time around he has something he wants to say, he just doesnt know how.

As soon as you step inside, Denise tosses Daryl an icepack, which he immediately passes to you.

“Oh, sorry, I heard the commotion outside and when you walked in I assumed Daryl had been the other guy.” Denise apologises guilty, and you grin at her.

“No worries, I beat him to it.” You nudge Daryl gently and he huffs at you.

Holding the icepack to your knuckles, Denise gestures for you to sit down, and she examines your wounds.

“A few split knuckles and some intense bruising, but no breaks. You knew what you were doing!” She chuckles, and you wink at her.

“Always do!”

You and Denise make casual conversation for a few minutes until she’s called outside to deal with a kid that’s fallen over pretty badly, leaving you and Daryl alone.

For maybe another minute, silence fills the room. The two of you have often enjoyed comfortable silences together, it was one of the many reliefs of befriending you: Daryl always knew you didnt expect him to talk, he liked that. However, after mulling over his words since the moment you defended him, Daryl finds what he wants to say.

“Why’d ya do that for me but not for yerself?” He asks, causing you to look up at him from across the room.

You smile. “When some guy is making me uncomfortable, I have a somewhat instinctive fear of what could happen. But when anyone, anyone at all, so much as gives you a dirty look? I’ll lose my shit, and that’s a promise.”

Daryl frowns, more confused than he was prior to your explanation. “Why?”

You shrug. “‘Cause you’re always the one to protect others, it’s about time somebody offered to protect you.”

Daryl scoffs, feeling somewhat defensive all of a sudden. “Can handle myself.”

Those kind eyes coax him back out of his shell. “Never said you couldnt, but that doesnt mean you shouldnt feel safe and protected too.”

Nothing else is said after that. When Dennise eventually returns, she apologises for forgetting to tell you that you’re free to go, but she isnt confused as to why Daryl’s still with you. Everyone here knows that if they ever need to find him, he’s never far from you. The two of you wordlessly head to your separate houses, Daryl feeling guilty for not thanking you, but you knowing he’s grateful without him having to tell you.

The next day, Daryl’s back on his porch when Spencer approaches you again. This time you’re further away, so Daryl stands up and slowly edges closer. Not too close to be obvious, but close enough to jump in if you need him. You stand with your arms crossed, nodding your way through Spencer’s clearly rehearsed speech that he definitely didnt come up with on his own. The speech takes so long that Daryl debates going and sitting back down for a minute, but then it ends, and you start responding.

“Oh, cool, you’re giving me a second to speak now? Much appreciated.” Uh-oh, Daryl recognises the sharpness in your voice, Spencer’s in for it now. You take a step closer to him, standing almost toe to toe, and despite being shorter than him, you somehow tower over him. “Let me just clarify that I dont give a shit about the apology your mom made you memorise, I appreciate her efforts, but I do not forgive you. So, for once in your life do the smart thing and read the fucking room: stay the hell away from Daryl, or I will beat your ass.” You pause, standing up on your tiptoes and grinning at him right in his sorry little face. “Again.”

You dont give Spencer the chance to reply, you just flip him off, but with the back of your middle finger literally pressing against his nose.

With that, you walk away, spotting Daryl almost immediately and smiling at him, your smile totally different than it had been when talking to Spencer, who’s walking away looking shell shocked.

“Thanks.” Daryl says shyly, avoiding your eyes.

You grin up at him. “No need to thank me, I know you’d do the same for me.”

Daryl shrugs your kindness off as per usual as he flops back down on the porch. “Yeah, but ‘s different.”

You raise an eyebrow and sit down beside him. “Why is it different?”

Daryl keeps his gaze locked on his raised knees as he wraps his arms around them loosely. “Im s’posed to defend you, s’posed to defend myself, too.”

You sigh dramatically, causing Daryl to look at you. “Well, if you’re sticking to all those outdated stereotypes of a gentleman, what does that leave me to do for you?” Daryl shrugs, and you ever so casually rest your head on his shoulder. “I dont need you to defend me at every opportunity because I know that you always would, you have nothing to prove to me, Daryl. I know you’re a gentleman.”

Daryl’s voice softens. “Ya aint got nothin’ to prove t’ me neither.”

You shake your head against his shoulder. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. A gentleman deserves to have his honour defended, and I know for a fact you’ve never really had anyone protect you before.”

Daryl huffs. “Had Merle.”

You sigh. “Yeah, exactly.” You loop your arm under his as it stays firmly wrapped around his knee, you hold onto his bicep. “You’ve never had anyone to protect you, and just because you’ve convinced yourself you dont need that, doesnt mean you wouldnt like it. You deserve to feel safe, you arent alone, Daryl. I’ve got your back.” As if to emphasise the meaning behind your words, you turn your head to kiss his shoulder, and Daryl tenses up.

“Spencer was wrong.” He says, and you nod.

“I know, he was completely out of line.” You agree, but Daryl shakes his head.

“Naw, he aint wrong in what he said about me, but he was wrong with what he meant by it.” Daryl says, and your arm leaves his as you sit up straight and turn to face him with an intense frown on your face.

“And what did he mean?” You ask him, like you dont already know.

Daryl fidgets awkwardly. “Y’know, he thought...same as what Deanna thought.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And what would be so bad if they were right? Because I can tell you now, Spencer was wrong in absolutely everything he said; he referred to aspects of you that would in no way make you a bad partner, to anyone, but especially not to me!”

Daryl turns to you, searching your eyes. “Whaddaya mean?”

Your face softens into a gentle smile. “Daryl, we are both adults, you being older than me makes no difference. Your accent and the things you know as a result of where you came from are all things I find incredibly hot, quite frankly. There isnt a single aspect of you that implies you would be a bad boyfriend, or that you wouldnt treat me well. In fact, I firmly believe that no woman could be treated better by any man than you.” You tell him, and Daryl has to avoid your eyes, the sincerity in your words being too much for him. You giggle at his reaction, resting your head back on his shoulder. “You never wondered why I dont correct people when they think we’re together?”

Daryl is quiet as he chews on his lip, debating his choice of words before he answers. “Never wondered why I dont neither?”

At that, you giggle again, turning to place another kiss on his shoulder as you loop your arm back under his. “Nope.”

Daryl smiles, and the two of you fall into another one of your comfortable silences, sat on his porch and staring at nothing in particular.

Somehow, you’d wiggled your way right into Daryl’s heart, and by the looks of things, you showed no sign of leaving. Much to his own surprise, and what he’s sure would also be Merle’s amusement, Daryl doesnt seem to mind one bit.

[feuerspirit]

“Speed” as Lewis/Miles prompts 🥰

hey hey! this is NSFW, pay attention ^^

The fact that Lewis is addicted to speed could never be a secret, after all, he made fast cars and the eternal search for adrenaline his whole life. But Miles prefers to save for himself the personal knowledge of how much this speed really turns him on. Of course, Miles thinks, looking at Lewis getting out of the car, standing in the crowd of his team, it's hard not to notice that he's excited, Miles is almost sure that later on Instagram he will find a lot of photos of Lewis not quite subtly adjusting his jumpsuit, bulging in the groin area.

He pulls Lewis into his arms, sneaking into the front rows of the celebrants, taking him only to himself, as Miles selfishly thinks it should be, but they only have a few seconds not to reveal to their still homophobic and racist world the tenderness of their relationship. Lewis fits easily into his arms, so tiny compared to him, so Miles can rest his head on top of his head if he wants, when he presses his cheek against his chest for a second.

"As usual today, bruv," Miles winks at Lewis, he has to shout a little to be heard in all this hubbub, but he keeps his words neutral enough not to cause any resonance. But Miles sees Lewis's eyes turn almost black in reaction to this.

Lewis runs off to the podium a few seconds later to receive his well-deserved reward, but Miles does not follow him, instead going straight to his motorhome. Miles does this for the good of both of them, because, a little conceitedly, he thinks that Lewis might not be able to resist doing something stupid if he saw him among his team in a cheering crowd, but, frankly, he does not fully trust himself in the ability not to express his own pride too clearly.

Instead, he takes the opportunity to calm down, tidy up the place (quite a bit, he's not a fan of cleaning) and bring Lewis water in his giant bottle, which he carries everywhere with him, as if it could somehow be convenient. Lewis doesn't let him down, returning even faster than usual, already in a jumpsuit unbuttoned to the waist, wet with champagne and sweat, and immediately sticks to Miles's chest, burying his face in it.

"Still wanna have fun?"

He asks, burying his fingers in Lewis's braids, released from the bun. Sometimes he is too exhausted from a hard race, even if he is still excited, and Miles never insists. But he feels the bulge of his hard cock under the soft fabric of his jumpsuit, resting against his thigh, and it can't help but turn him on. Maybe, he thinks distantly, over the years of their relationship, Lewis has passed on a little of his addiction to him.

Lewis is silent, but the way he presses a little harder against Miles, the way his breathing accelerates, becoming less controlled, tells him everything he needs to know.

Miles pushes him over to the couch, and Lewis obeys, effortlessly and naturally, allowing himself to be guided as easily as he had just guided his own car at several hundred kilometers per hour. He falls backwards without even looking, trusting Miles to take care of them both now. Miles kneels in front of him between his spread thighs and grins at his impatience as he watches Lewis trying to get out of his uncomfortable clothes as soon as possible. He gets closer, leans over his half-naked body; even so, on his knees, he's still practically on the same level as Lewis, so he has to bend over harder to reach his stomach, on which he leaves a few teasing quick kisses.

"Man, you need a higher couch, so bending over can't be good for my back," Lewis laughs, poking his toes into his thigh.

"Oh, shut up," Miles knows that in this mood Lewis does not want long foreplay, the adrenaline in his body makes him hyperactive, vibrating in his own skin, he is impatient and greedy. Miles doesn't want to let him down.

He holds Lewis's hips with his wide palms, enjoying the ease with which he can put him in any position, and he doesn't even feel the tension; his hands still seem big even against Lewis's strong hips, contrasts that he never gets tired of.

Miles sucks him off quickly, there is no grace and desire to delay pleasure, he does not tease and does not try to apply one of those cunning techniques that he learned during their relationship. All his movements are subordinated to the thirst for high speed, immediate sensations, immediate, momentary. He does not think about himself, while finding his pleasure in how responsive and shameless Lewis is now, how he willingly reacts to his hasty sloppy blowjob.

Lewis doesn't like to pull his hair, and Miles doesn't like to keep it long, so Lewis caresses the silhouette lines of his face and skull with his fingertips, gently touching everything he can reach to show emotions flashing too fast to be put into words.

He comes after a few minutes, unable to stand the pace and intensity of sensations in his body, Miles licks him until Lewis begins to whine softly from hypersensitivity, and then kisses his stomach and chest several more times while Lewis tries his best to make him rise higher to kiss. His own cock rests uncomfortably against the stiff fabric of his trousers, but he can bear it until they slow down the rhythm a little to take their own.

[summerlovingbaby]

death of the living

“ I have to kill him,” she said. It seemed like something so simple at the time, something that would be of little to no consequence. He took everything from her, he had to die. She saw no other soulution besides lead in his brain.

Guns were messy and violent, but that was what he deserved. Maybe it was because she was American, and the use of guns was nothing but second nature, but magic seemed to simply a death for a man like Peter. Though Peter was never really a man, he never got over his pathetic cowardly boyish habits.

Habits that were cute and accepatble when he was younder, but the more he aged, and the longer he refused to change, those habits made him weak. Y/N had a few bad habits herself, she picked up a pack a day habit, and could drink with the best of them. She could out drink Remus on a good day, and long trapped in the cave that was Grimmaud Place, she could drink all morning, spend the afternoon stumbling along the hallways like an uncordinated child and spend the evening sad and pathetic at her situation. The next moring she would do it all again, so she never experienced being hungover.

“ Peter has to die,” she said again, ��� he has to die tonight, he’ll kill Harry, he’ll kill you,” she looked at Sirus, who sat pathetically in the corner, chewing hoplessly at his cutcules. Azkaban aged him beyond mesaure, and made him fragile and brittle like an old man. “ He tried to kill you,” she pointed to him.

Remus sat at the dinner table watching her decompensate. There was so much to say, none of which would be helpful or needed, when she made up her mind on something, she would do it, and if she wanted Peter dead, he would be dead even if it killed her, which it probably would. Peter was surrounded by death eaters, a whole army of them, not to mention he was the Voldemorts right hand, something that was at first shocking to Remus, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

Peter was nothing if not parasytic, clinging to power and using it for all it was worth. Remus had to give it to him, he didn’t think he had it in him. Peter was always patheticlly simple, but not stupid like everyone assumed, and Remus understood exactly how smart he was and forgot almost every time. He wasn’t street emotionall intellignet like James, or booksmart like Remus, he wasn’t charasmatic enough to not bother with either like Sirus, he was clever. More clevar than anyone gave him credit for, which was prehaps the greatest rouse of all. To come across no more than a bumbling idiot, and be the death of them all.

“ He has to die, he’s taking to much from me, I won’t let him take anymore,” she said again.

Remus blinked at her, and she sat back down. Sirus sniffled loudly and ajusted his position, he chewed harder on his nail ripping it from the cuticle.

“ How do you plan to kill him, walk right up to him in a army of 100 death eaters and whip one out,” he parsed.

“ Something along those lines,” she said. In all honesty she hadn’t thought very much in ways of a plan, just something that started with her buying a gun and ended with Peter bleeding out in a shallow lonely grave that would be forgotten in 8 years.

Sirus sniffed loudly and cleared his throat, he croaked out something initelligable and breathed loudly. Remus looked at him and lifted a brow, so Sirus spoke again.  “ I want him dead,” he said plainly.

This statemnet seemed to solidify somthing in her, because she stood again.

“ Sit down,” Remus demanded, she was a bit taken back by his authority, but slowly sat back down in his chair.

“ Lou I know your opinion about murder, but frankly I don’t care. You don’t get to call yourself a pacifist were in war. I’m not asking for you to do anything-”

“ We don’t kill the living,” Remus said.

She concidered this. Remus wasn’t a man to speak in platitudes or vague useless setements or sonnets. Peter was dead, he had been dead for years. He died the day he stood on that porch, called for James and watched as his body fell limp and lifeless in the floor. He didn’t even have the diginity to fix his glasses, as fell when he collapsed to the ground. Peter signed his death certificate the moment he left Harry alone and crying in his crib while the lifeless body of his mother turned stiff in the corner.

“ Peter is dead already,” Sirus spoke quietly.

Remus considered this, Peter always seemed like nothing more than a vague memory. 

“ I’m talking about you,” Remus said. “ Pete is a cockroach he won’t die easily or quickly. You know that. He’s surrounded by an army, you can’t just go up to him and point a gun at his head. It’s not that simple.”

“ It is that simple-” she started.

“ We’re not kids anymore. You are alive, and that’s more than I can say for the rest of us. There’s just three of us now, and if you die, it will just be the two of us,” he motioned to Sirus, who had a vaguely unsatisifed expression. “ And it just can’t be the two of us, I’m not letting anyone else die that I love. I won’t. Peter has to die, he will die, but he’s not taking you with him. I won’t let him take anything else,” Remus said.

Peter took a lot from Remus, and took his whole life before he even got to live it. Remus wanted to get married, but now that idea seemed like nothing but a vague childish wish.

She considered this, chewed on her inner lip and nodded, she placed her arms on the table, folded, and placed her neck on her forearms. 

“ Fine,” Y/N said. “ Fine, but I want him in pieces.”

[fandomwave]

TCOAAL Update!

You know the drill, don't give yourself hives But for the rest of the freaks lets goooooooo:

I can't even begin to unpack why this is happening lmao but I adore the fact that Andrew fucking hates the concept of camping so much he has to convince himself there are other people out there who willing chose to do this. If I had to take a crack in the dark I'd say they probably ran out of cash to pay for a hotel, that's the easiest answer in my brain but these two are fucking stupid your honor so it could be the worst trap they have ever laid for their next victim.

MY FUCKIN GIRL! HOW DARE? A lot of people have said we don't see Ashley cry before but we do see one instance in the car, when Andrew threatens her after she continues to press her boundaries by calling him Andy, she is genuinely pretty distraught there. In my (frankly upsettingly exhausting) notes (that I still have no way of sharing without posting 30 essays) Ashley and Andrew start to REALLY see what their relationship will look like if they continue doing nothing to actually change their dynamic. Ashley realizes that by sticking with Andrew, his condition in choosing her is that she stops being who she is, or Andrew will forcibly stop her (with violence). Andrew is starting to realize that if he continues controlling Ashley this way he will in fact single-handedly kill whatever joy is left between them. He realizes he needs to give Ashley the room to prove him wrong in that he CAN trust her. I note that moment in the car as the real start of the coin flip between them, on if they end up down the Burial or Decay ending. If Andrew continues to double down, THIS is their relationship forever till death. Wherein eventually Andrew will act out and kill her. However... He can chose to be better, to settle down and let Ashley prove she's not Leyley anymore, that she's a fully capable adult. You can see that shift during their stay in their parents homes too. Andrew is far more playful and affectionate, we get a peak into what things COULD be between them if Ashley and Andrew just showed a little most trust in each other.

ANYWAYS All this to say that I think this is for sure a scene from Decay. It could be burial but from the way Andrew shifts his entire demeanor I can't imagine he'd go out of his way to hurt her this bad emotionally (I put the smallest caveat here to say that he COULD potentially freak the fuck out after their uh... *cough* tussle in the hotel. It would not surprise me post nut he has a cosmic meltdown which would leave Ashley feeling like this) But I could see Decay Ashley starting to understand just HOW full of shit Andrew is. We know with the hindsight of the player just how... uh... affectionate Andrew is towards Ashley. I still posit that Ashley cannot understand the difference between Romantic, Platonic and Familial love, but we KNOW Andrew can. We're well aware Andrew knows his affections for Ashley cross a line but he still doesn't STOP himself from flirting with that line. I imagine the further Andrew doubles down in his convictions in Decay, that Ashley is just a burden he needs to take care of and to stifle to the point of suffocation (literally) to make sure neither of them end up in trouble, the further those cracks start to show. Ashley probably learns just how much Andrew wants her back and probably for even LONGER than she's felt that, only to realize that he's more willing to kill her first than to entertain that concept? I'd also be on the floor in tears. Her realizing the full breadth of Andrew's bullshit would probably be devastating lbr

And finally the video of Andrew in whatever this is. We already know that Andrew was the one to summon Lord Unknown (it wasn't till he started helping that he showed up) and we also know he's marked with the eye symbol on his hand, which could be from holding the talisman but it could also be something that resided in him much longer. Even ??? is slightly.. hesitant around Andrew, and we can infer that the black soul with the horns (bunny ears), green eyes and text, is probably also Andrew, meaning he is just as big a Tar Soul as Ashley is. It'll be interesting to see if this is an actual event that took place in reality, or if this is part of the dream-scape/demon-scape. The red flowers only seem to show up in that space so it seems odd to have them show up here, and from prior updates it looks like there is a LOT of history building for Andrew happening in that realm. Something that I am DYING to know is if the red flowers are symbolic only for Ashley or if they are in fact deeply rooted to Andrew. It would make the scenes with Ashley being guided by these flowers, as well as her temper-tantrum towards them oh so much more interesting.

I've seen a few people mention that Ashley screams off camera causing Andrew to run towards the sound, but from what I heard that 'scream' sounds a LOT like the demonic growl that comes from Lord Unknown and ??? (and Mrs Graves that ONE time but comedy doesn't care for consistency) Which makes me wonder if this is actually taking place in reality or not.

Big food for thought! I cannot WAIT to see what actually happens and I'll be thrilled to be proven wrong or right on these theories :D