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aquilaofarkham · 3 years ago

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title: the little death rating: T+ word count: 2,409 summary: Two years after his fight with Death, Trevor’s injuries start catching up to him while Alucard realizes that humans are more fragile than he thought.

For @trevorsmellmont ❤️ Thank you so much for commissioning me!

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There’s a sharp pain pooling beneath his right arm, coursing through his ribcage. Trevor ignores it just as he’s ignored all the other aches, jabs, and stings over the past two years. Two years of building something better, something sustainable to last far longer than its young, admittedly green founders. Countless days, weeks, and months erecting homes, gardens, and pens for those dumb gentle animals who think the entire townscape is their personal pasture. Not another mistake of allowing them to wander aimlessly straight into the castle. As if heifers need to learn how to craft medicine or conduct what’s being referred to as “electricity”.

The work will never be finished. Even on days like this when the sun burns hotter than any circle in hell. A few drops of warm salt-ridden sweat crawl past Trevor’s pressed lips and into his dry mouth. Pain and thick heat were never enough to stop him before—he tells himself this, barely certain of his own supportive thoughts (a new concept taking root in his mind). Take it slow, don’t push yourself, idiot. This cabin made from the earth will get built eventually. Another family will receive their forever home to fill with lots of babies. Old wounds beg to differ as Trevor’s arms begin to weaken, each movement slower than the last, struggling to keep up with Greta’s superior pace. She’s always known her way around a mallet.

Another bead of sweat gets caught in Trevor’s lashes, sparing his eyes from temporary discomfort. Though it wouldn’t have mattered as they’re already past any sort of respite. He looks for distraction but can only see the blurred shapes coming from a huddle of bodies, despite being a short distance from them. He knows it’s only Sypha and Alucard with the village children, which gives Trevor some relief.

There’s more comfort to be felt when he remembers that one of those little monsters is his own, nestled in Sypha’s lap then placed in Alucard’s gentle arms. She has a name far too long for any toddler to pronounce—Elizabeta Belnades Tepes Belmont—so what rolls off her developing tongue instead is simply “Liza”. She’s innocent now but once she leaves this little man-made paradise and ventures into a harsher world, she will take more after her mother and father. Grabbing whatever life offers with both fists, clawing and biting her way through every obstacle until her teeth are reddened with bloody meat. For the time being, they relish Liza’s soft cheeks, wispy hair, and the way she throws herself at whichever adult happens to be in her nearest vicinity. The other children are helping her socialize by playing games and embracing frivolity; a tactic Trevor remembers from his own upbringing, though with less games and even less frivolity.

“Think you can handle one or two more?”

Greta’s voice manages to cut through Trevor’s mental fog. Funny how she asks if he can “think” about anything especially at this suffocating moment. She must have noticed the way his lips curl into a happy doped up grin while observing his family and couldn’t help but inquire. As any close, loved and valued friend would.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“What’s wrong with looking a bit further into the future? Now that we all have one.”

“Looking is one thing, but seriously suggesting is something else completely. My… performance in certain areas isn’t as up to snuff as it used to be.”

As Trevor says this, things deteriorate and get a bit fuzzier from his eyesight down to his chest. Out of focus. Painful. He keeps talking, keeps ignoring the inevitable. Always ignoring what his own body screams for.

Greta wrinkles her nose at his statement. “There are children present, Belmont.”

“What? I’m referring to the house. I barely managed to get one wall up while you’re already on the fucking roof.”

“So dramatic. You three really do deserve each other. And you’re still young.”

“On the outside, maybe.”

She laughs at his lie, misinterpreting it as another piece of mild self-deprecatory banter he might never be able to live without. Greta says something else, perhaps her own personal jest to counter his, but Trevor cannot hear. Breath grows heavier, forcing out a raspy “it’s fine. It’s just my chest”. Barely able to tell if Greta actually said anything about his sudden condition. Or rather, not so sudden. No, this has been building over quite some time now. His muscles and bones screaming, begging for relief or death, and end to everything—whichever comes first. Feelings that only worsened over the years.

Trevor loses control over his legs, now practically boneless. The collision between his head and the ground is nothing compared to the inner war over his heart. Whether it will finally succumb. Greta immediately calls for help—he thinks without confidence, once again. Trevor can still hear voices, but not their exact words. Not Sypha when she demands to know what happened. Not Alucard when he begs for him to stay conscious. Not even Liza as she cries for her papa.

Then all the chaos in the world fades into slow darkness.

Alucard stands outside the closed bedchamber door, contemplating how often he’s touched Trevor’s body. Lithe fingertips have memorized every crevice, scar, soft and rough spots alike. Not just as a lover with wandering hands underneath blankets in the dead of night. Or a friend who holds him steady on both feet when he needs it. But as this family’s self-appointed physician.

Perhaps the prince of two worlds took after his father after all. “Polymath” is what Alucard used to describe Dracula and the very same word others have referred to him as, mostly in the realm of medicine. He knows more than anyone, little offence given towards the herb dispensers and leech farmers (only to be polite for his own townsfolk). Thus, through the anxieties and trembling hands, Alucard gave Trevor his diagnosis: heat exhaustion along with a muscle somewhere in his chest that decided to go rogue and strain itself.

The son of Tepes, the only local doctor worth trusting, and arguably the co-leader of their little prospering hamlet paces across the hall like Trevor did the day Liza was born. He’s on the other side of that closed door, resting. Bedridden from heat exhaustion and a fucking pulled muscle. It bothers Alucard. This shouldn’t have happened to someone who stood up to the personification of Death and pissed in his eye. A stupidly common and easily treatable inconvenience to the human body shouldn’t be the end of a fucking Belmont.

It shouldn’t—unless Trevor’s scars have anything to say about it. The ones on the inside and outside. Inside, unseen, and untreatable. There’s a harsh revelation to be found there; one which the prince has been purposefully avoiding up to this moment. Alucard can try as he wants, use the tools left behind by his father and mother as though it were their final death wish, but he might never tend to what pains Trevor on the inside. He’s a Belmont, undeniably so, but Belmonts are human despite the many recurring signs pointing to the contrary. Then there’s Sypha with her magic, but she’s human as well. Greta and Liza are still human. Humans are more susceptible to dying easy, little deaths even when they follow world-saving victories.

Where does this leave Alucard? Thoughts spiral down, down towards darker places the longer he nervously hovers outside the bedroom. He’s been known to awkwardly stumble into deflection, insisting he’s only half human whenever certain someones bring up this topic of necessary conversation. Meaning he might as well not be human at all. Not when the bodies of those he loves change so rapidly while his remains petrified. It’s only been two years, filled to the brim with countless hours he wouldn’t ever want to trade for the entire world. But the thought of one night as they nestle themselves into bed and Alucard touches either Trevor or Sypha’s chest only to feel an anomaly within their hearts. The earliest sign that time and age will eventually betray them as it does for all mortals—it could be the one thing to break him.

Alucard stops himself at the opportune moment, right before he starts thinking about his mother and father. Did Dracula ever contemplate Lisa’s mortality? Was the decision to never turn her easy or the hardest thing he forced upon his unstable, immortal conscience? Arms crossed over his chest like a protective cage, fingernails digging into the fabric of his shirt until it hurts, Alucard swallows a bitter glob of spit and reaches for the doorknob. Sypha will have to accept the fact that he couldn’t wait for her. He quietly thanks her for the lessons she taught him. If he needs to talk about something—truly talk, no sarcastic wit or banter, just the raw emotions—Alucard no longer hesitates. He won’t, not as he enters the room and immediately sees Trevor still in bed, not quite altogether there. At least he can manage a decent smile and wave of his hand.

“Evening.”

“How does your chest feel?”

“Still a bit tight, but I’ve been taking deep breaths like the doctor ordered.”

The amount of strain heard in Trevor’s voice worries Alucard. Hopefully the Belmont has learned something from the recent past, so he won’t be stupid and suggest anything having to do with leaving bed or getting back to work.

“I think I should get up.”

“I think that’s a poor decision.”

“Are you saying that as my physician or because you’re letting that pretty little blonde head of yours get too worked up?”

No. Yes. Both? If only Trevor didn’t look up at him with those glassy eyes (can he still see him?) the colour of stained glass windows erected in cathedrals he felt so unwelcome inside. If only that smile, somehow both soft and shit-eating, wasn’t in place of a more serious expression. Then maybe Alucard could voice his concerns without being accused of acting overbearing—an accusation grounded in solid evidence but he’s not ready to admit that yet. Not out loud.

“Normal, healthy adults do not become bedridden after pulling a small muscle in their chest.”

“Belmonts aren’t normal… or healthy in my case.”

Alucard’s brow furrows. “I want to think you’re healthy—” I need to. “—that you’ll live long enough to see the children of this village have little ones of their own. Liza included.”

“God’s sake, she’s only two years old. You and Greta, always talking about looking one step too far into the future. Let her be a child before adulthood rears its ugly maw.”

“Try not to change the subject.”

Trevor lifts his head off the indent pressed into his sweat drenched pillow. “Alright. Fine. I feel much better. I won’t push myself and give my heart some more time to recover.”

No response coupled with broken eye contact; sure signs of Alucard’s reluctance to accept his rather weak assurance. The Belmont has no other choice.

“Come here. Sit.”

Another moment’s hesitation before Alucard complies. Feeling his weight upon the mattress, Trevor blindly reaches for his wrist until calloused fingers grip cool, unblemished skin.

“Now lie down. No, no. Not like that. Place your head right here.” He pats his chest and with a fleeting amount of guidance, Alucard’s cheek fits perfectly between his breasts. Two hands smooth over the dhampir’s curves before one before one rests on his silk smooth head and the other against the small of his back. Alucard lied about one thing: his own body can change in small yet noticeable ways. Without the need to fight for the lives of others, whether today or tomorrow, sharp edges turn softer. Trevor and Sypha have finally let themselves breathe as well, let go, and enjoy all of life’s pleasures.

“Hear that?” He asks Alucard.

“... It’s slow.”

“Slow and strong like it should be.”

Alucard wishes he could bottle up that heartbeat or place it in a box. Preferably a music box to listen to its soothing melody long after its original body and soul are both eventually gone from this world. Who knows? It might make things hurt a little bit less like when he redrew his parent’s portrait or built a much larger nursery where his own used to be. Not a lot, but Alucard could possibly live with just “a little”.

“Speaking of Greta…” The baritone of Trevor’s voice sends deep vibrations through his broad chest, tickling Alucard’s cheek. “She said something about more children.”

“More orphans joining us?”

“No, even though I know how much you love those damn orphans. She asked if we could handle one or two more.”

“What did you say?”

“I implied that she was taking after Sypha’s influence by being wonderfully insane.”

Alucard chuckles in agreement. That sounds like Greta. “You never know. It might be good for Liza if she has a younger sibling.”

With the sound of Sypha’s well timed arrival, he’s mercifully saved from Trevor’s lengthy speech about how patience is apparently a virtue and tirades about his “performance” or lack thereof. Greta reveals herself shortly afterwards with a still crying Liza in tow. So many bodies gathered around one inebriated individual, here for him and him alone. Trevor’s consoled yet exasperated expression directed at Greta in particular says “isn’t there someone more important you could be helping right now?”

Sypha is the first to voice her gratitude after fussing over her exhausting loved one. “I will never be able to thank you enough, Alucard.”

“I think the bed did most of the heavy lifting, love.”

Trevor is given an affectionate, somewhat caring glare in response but his focus is demanded elsewhere once he suddenly notices Liza jumping onto the bed. She snuggles herself between him and Alucard, wetting their shirts with her tears.

“Easy there, you little monster. Papa’s still a bit tender.” Not that she can understand or care.

There’s an aura of relief felt amongst everyone in the room—less with Alucard who smiles bittersweetly. It’s a truth he knew he had to acknowledge before it tore his heart open. Trevor and Sypha will die one day and he will have to bury them. He’ll bury Greta, he might even bury Liza. Not today thank all the gods, or tomorrow, not for the next few decades if fate is kind enough.

But the day will come. And it will be Alucard’s own little death.

#castlevania #castlevania spoilers #castlevania fanfiction #trevor belmont #alucard #alucard castlevania #sypha belnades #greta danesti #trephacard #trevorcard #my writing #*cvfic

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moonbaby26 · 4 years ago

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Title: Night of the Storm

Pairing: Loki x Goddess!Reader

Summary: Story set nearer the Viking Age. You were a Greek sea goddess who crossed paths with the god of mischief. Continuation of previous chapter. Weeks after Loki’s last appearance you were finally beginning to give up hope, only to find you’d been on his mind all along as he lures you into being alone with him late one night. His other side shows more of itself as things quickly turn into relieving that pent up physical need.

Warnings: People drowning. Also *here comes the smut.* But the start and finish of it is still marked in red within the chapter if you want to skip that part. I know everyone has their own comfort levels. The only thing in this though that I would even consider slight kink is just a bit of biting and tiny bit of blood from that, like really small. Otherwise it’s just needy gods doing what needy gods do.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @rosaline-black , @lawfeys , @loveableasshole , @insanitybyanothername

My Masterlist

——————————

You had replayed your last words with Loki over and over so many times in your head. Had you been too forward after all? Was it too presumptuous to think anything could really come of such a random acquaintanceship?

The more days that passed, the more you questioned what you really remembered of your brief time together versus what you may have only imagined in your optimism.

The night he left, you remembered feeling so sure that he would return. Maybe you weren’t certain in what way he would want to see you next, but you had at least felt he would set foot in your home he called Midgard again. And that he would call your name to the waves once more.

So when the days eventually stretched into weeks with no further sign of him, you had to accept the possibility that you were very wrong on your assumptions.

As you stared upward now from the deep ocean, the blackness all around was only penetrated by the briefest strobes of white. The occasional lightning’s flash silhouetting the wooden ship hulls rising and falling far above you.

It was so late into the night, but your Father’s anger cared not for time. The captain of the fleet above had committed the sin of hubris. He had declared himself a master of the sea after too many trips safely across, and now your Father’s storms aimed to remind this man of a harsh truth.

Your uncle Hades would surely claim souls tonight, one way or another. That was already decided per Father’s orders. But should they all die, then none of the men could carry on this message, this teaching moment either.

So you waited, and you listened. Who among them would plead for intervention as the waters first breached their ships? Father could show his wrath, but he’d sent you to show the other side as well.

Mercy from the gods. Whichever ship contained the most believers, whichever prayed the hardest, that was the one Father had asked you to spare.

But the rest....you could only watch as their bodies joined you one by one in the darkness. And you knew soon that they would only find themselves upon the banks of the river Styx.

You bid the nymphs to comfort the men as best they could, to accept fate rather than fight it. The ocean above was simply rage, but down in this abyss they would only know peace.

When the chosen surviving ship had emerged in your mind though, you pushed only that one forward. The waves began to miss it, ignore it even as the ship fully righted.

“Follow them all the way to their home shores,” You commanded the nymphs. “Let none from that vessel drown under your guard.”

“Yes, goddess.” They answered, swimming quickly to join the now fleeing ship. These mortals would return home with tales of their brush with death. But they would also remember as their prayers had parted the seas only for them.

Yet you felt no satisfaction, even with your duty to your Father done. Your distraction still lingered as you only sank further away from the storm’s flashes in the time afterward, to the colder depths where you intended to again sleep alone.

Floating, suspended in the blackness as you’d closed your eyes, to any that could have somehow seen you, you would have looked most like a corpse as well. Albeit intact, unmarred, and with that smallest pulse of life as the thin slits on your neck pulled in those tiny breaths.

But after only a little while you’d opened your eyes again into the void. Because you felt that someone was watching you. It would seem impossible, but you were so certain of this fact so abruptly then that you called out, your magic giving your words wide presence even within the water.

“And what being are you that should watch a goddess as she tries to sleep? Do you now judge my actions invisible one?”

You waited, but of course the void would not answer back, could not even as the feeling of some ethereal eye upon you would not leave.

What did it want from you?

“Milady!”

You startled harshly, even the distant voice of a nymph shocking you at this depth. She couldn’t reach you though, so you had to swim back upward to her.

When you neared further back towards the surface a quick moving fish cut across your vision. It circled, panicked, and calling again. A younger nymph who could not yet take on any larger form. “Milady, thank goodness I found you. Loki has finally returned! But he is injured!”

That was the last of anything you had expected. But you ordered her to stay where it was safe, to only join the others once more before you tore off into the darkness to head for shore.

———————————

As you emerged from the waves, they crashed rough against your back. You hadn’t realized father’s storms had stretched this far. The rain stung against your now exposed skin as you walked onto the beach in the downpour. Loki had never come at night before. And for it to be now no less, in this tempest, you breathed as you looked around for him in the darkness. But you heard nothing over the wind and waves.

“Loki!” You called.

At last you saw a shadow somehow darker than the rest, shifting then just within the tree line. You hurried towards it.

“They said you were injured!” You spoke over the storm.

“I’m fine.” He grumbled, though seemingly more agitated at the rain as he looked all like a drenched rat fallen off a moor line now, making you wonder how long he’d really been waiting for you here.

“I know a place, come on,” You insisted.

But even in these circumstances, you hesitated to touch him, yet knowing it would have been far easier to guide him if you could have only taken his arm. But you did your best to lead him regardless, further along the shore until you came upon the cave opening you were seeking.

“Even during high tide it stays dry in here,” You explained, now finally able to speak at a more normal volume with the sounds of the storm muted somewhat as you went farther back into the cavern together.

Yet light would be an issue, as you were already looking around for a way to at least make a fire.

But to your surprise one started from nothing, in the center of the cave now flickering as the light then shown on you both.

Loki lowered his hand afterward, evidently having just used some other kind of magic you weren’t aware of.

But as you turned to him, you could now see the deep bruising on his face even in the firelight.

“You said you weren’t hurt.” You spoke, that tone of concern not hidden.

“It is minor.” He answered, but offered nothing more.

You waited for one long moment, before finally deciding that any notion of privacy he may hold was now overshadowed by the obvious need for some explanation. “Minor enough to come here in the dead of night in the middle of a near hurricane?”

He gave you an odd look, but you didn’t shrink back.

“I only had another large, predictable argument with my brother.” He finally said. “He decided to help solve things in the only way he knows how. I used magic, he used his fists, and here I am.” Loki had already started to try and smooth his wind mussed hair back into place though, some vanity evident there even as he continued. “And this was only one of few places he would not follow me. Brother has no interest in this part of Midgard currently. He at least allows me this.”

“I see.” You answered, though feeling something was still not right here even as you tried to choose your next course of action carefully. “Would you like help drying off at least then?” You asked.

“You insinuate that you can control rainwater as well?” He questioned skeptically.

“Only if it’s made by one of my father’s storms, yes. Which this clearly was.” You replied, raising your own hands as you willed the water to leave him. And it did lift from his hair, from his clothes, even his skin as the reformed droplets floated strangely in midair before you cast them back out the cave entrance with another flick of your hands.

He watched the water leave with the slightest bit of interest before turning his attention fully back to you then.

“And what is your dear father so unhappy with tonight?” Loki asked, adjusting his now at least somewhat dryer clothing. You couldn’t pull out every bit of dampness true, but it was far better than being completely drenched.

“He felt a mortal had lost respect for the dangers of the seas.” You answered plainly.

But Loki actually was silent for a moment at that as only a dark smirk crossed his features. That little knot in your stomach seemed to tighten at the sight.

“And they say I’m petty.” He finally said. ��How many mortals did you really let drown tonight, goddess?”

“So it was you.” You said abruptly, accusing him then and there as you neared closer. “You were watching me!”

“No.” He corrected, though looking pleased none the less that you had made the connection so quickly. “Heimdall was. Yet by my request.”

“Why?” You questioned, but not really knowing what to feel as a mix of anger and embarrassment rose in your confusion.

“I wanted to know if your parting words held any truth. And if you’d grow restless the longer I waited to return.” He smiled then, but there was still a cruelty to it. “Yet that show I did not expect. Heimdall can be quite good at relaying details when pressed. And sparing only the mortals that plead for you tonight, letting the rest become food for your sea beasts....ah, and yet with your servants still comforting the damned. It was really quite a finishing touch.”

“So this is the kind of god you are then?” You asked sharply, though still not sure what you’d really expected.

“I am.” He offered. “And I also am not.”

You tensed, patience truly beginning to wane. “There is no point to speak in riddles to me. What is your real intention here Asgardian?”

“Tsk. Now you wound? I am only back to the Asgardian again?” He tilted his head slightly. “No, you tell me. Why did you leave the protection of your seas so quickly at only the word I was wounded, so panicked that you did not even think to bring that spear of yours?”

Your eyes widened slightly, that realization only just hitting you with his question. It hadn’t crossed your mind once to bring it, even now as he stood so near with that growing look of triumph in his eyes.

“You play games with me.” You retorted, even as you watched those fake bruises now fade from his pale skin.

“And now I know what you would do if it were all true,” he answered, yet with that smirk returning.

“I could fill this entire cave and drown you where you stand you know.” You countered.

“You could try,” He agreed. “But you won’t.”

“You presume too much.” He was becoming maddening. Everything you said, he only grew bolder, he taunted harder. And the worst of it all was, you were not really fighting back. Why were you not fighting back?

“You missed me, goddess. It isn’t that hard to deduce. Not anymore. You wanted this.” He finally said. “And if it’s all the same, I share that frustration. I kept away long enough to be sure. But watching you, knowing what you’re willing to do...I wanted to come back and see it first hand.”

And in all these weeks, tonight wasn’t the only night you’d let mortals perish in Father’s name, or even caused it yourself as you’d manipulated the seas on his orders. And was that really what excited Loki tonight? Seeing you use your powers to this darker extent?

“Is this really how Asgardians flirt? Over the bodies of the innocent?” You asked, unable to keep yourself to sane words any longer. It had all gone too far so quickly.

“I am not all Asgardians. And you and I both know there is no such thing as innocence.” He murmured just as his hands first touched you, taking your wrists. The grasp of his long fingers was surprisingly cold. That chill honestly the first thing you noticed, even as you didn’t push him away.

You watched only his eyes for that moment. And in your own awe you realized he was actually still waiting for you to deny him. You were being given a choice here. But you didn’t refuse him. You couldn’t. You’d already thought of this possibility more than once in your many nights alone.

And it was only you who closed the gap first as you took his lips in yours. You felt him tense briefly though, as if he was still somewhat surprised himself before he returned the motion in full force.

****SMUT INCOMING, KEEP SCROLLING IF WISHING TO SKIP

The rock wall of the cave soon met your back as he pressed you against it. It hurt somewhat, but you weren’t made of glass.

As he pinned your arms against the wall as well, his tongue pressed its way into your mouth. But the taste of him was something you only wanted more of then. Yet when your own tongue fought quickly back, you felt him pull away just enough to look into your eyes once more.

His face hovered only inches from your own as he eyed you hungrily. “You realize I won’t be able to stop once this starts. It’s been far too long. Speak now...or be silent save for saying my praises, goddess.”

“Prideful beast,” You breathed, shifting in his grip. “You think I do this each night either? Try closer to never.”

He seemed even more goaded at that, pleased at the revelation, “Then tell me what you want, (Y/N).”

“You.” You answered immediately, reservation shattered as his body pressed further against your own.

“Then I shall enjoy the privilege.” He whispered huskily, and you leaned your head back just as you felt him bite suddenly after, his mouth rough on your neck. You were sure he was testing if marks could be made on your skin, trying to claim it any way he could now as he pressed a little harder and harder with those teeth.

The juxtaposition of a man who would sit with you for hours only reading, versus this possessive creature he was now shifting towards was so very interesting.

And as he released your wrists, his hands only moved to the straps of your dress next. Yanking them from your shoulders, and sliding the thin fabric easily from your chest, exposing your breasts to his groping touch before his mouth moved over your chest.

As he roughly kissed one breast, his hand squeezed the other tightly. In another too fast movement though, his other hand had now already pulled the rest of your dress away. He pulled you from the wall just enough for it to fall around your ankles then as you realized just how quickly he’d rendered you fully nude here before him. All while you’d only been nearly still, too wrapped up in the desperate feel of it all.

After the dress had fallen though, he did pull back not long after, seeming to admire the view for a moment before his hand then went between your legs.

“I wondered how much you’d taste of the sea,” He murmured, licking that slight residue of salt from his lips as his fingers massaged your entrance.

You opened your legs a little more, leaning further back against the wall to help support yourself as those little flicks and movements of his fingers weakened you further.

“You have entirely too many clothes on,” You panted quietly, not caring if your tone sounded more like pleading in that moment.

“You just want me in you already, don’t you, goddess?” He all but growled, taunting you even as he slipped his fingers inside then.

Before you could hope to really answer, he was kissing you again though, his tongue probing nearly as hard as his fingers were pressing below.

You could feel the resistance decreasing though, the more your inner wetness grew and his fingers slid in and out all the quicker. Something he no doubt could feel as well as he broke the kiss once more.

“Beg me then,” He commanded against your ear.

Even in your own need, you were realizing how much he wanted to be in control. Power aroused him, just as he’d evidently been watching you exert your own in all these days, and just as he wanted to feel dominant over you now.

But you also knew how little you cared either way in this moment. You wanted him to be satisfied just as much as you wanted your own release.

“I want you,” You tried again, locking eyes with him once more. But as you tried to reach for his clothing he only caught your hand in his free one.

“Not good enough,” He reiterated, needing more.

It was hard to think in depth though as his other hand only kept moving just enough to keep you stimulated, but not enough to finish you off.

But alright, you could play this game if you had to. You growled a little yourself, “Fuck me, Loki”. That’s what he wanted to hear wasn’t it? You could see that desperate look in his eyes grow and you knew you about had him. In the moment though, you added one more thing, this time being quick enough with your hand to grab hold of his crotch before he could stop you. “Do it, King. Fuck me.”

He let out another sound, somewhere between a growl and a moan as he pulled his fingers out from you before grabbing you by the arms to force you away from the wall entirely.

He released you only brief enough to face his palms towards his own body. The dark green cloak he wore separated at once from his other clothing, it then splaying out across the floor of the cave. And with another motion his black leather unwrapped itself, almost like invisible hands pulling it all from him as he stepped out of his boots. Then at once he was to you again as the rest of his clothing folded itself neatly out of the way.

But you wished time would slow down in that moment, yourself trying to see every detail of his naked form in the firelight before his body slammed back against yours. That vivid white skin, lean, but surprising you with the musculature that had still been hiding there.

In the ocean, you knew well that it wasn’t always the biggest, bulkiest predators to fear the most. Some of the leaner, faster ones could have your throat ripped out long before the others should you let them in too close.

And his mouth met yours just as harshly then, urging you down to lay on your back upon his cloak on the cave floor.

If your back was bruised later, you hardly cared, as you wrapped your legs around him and he laid his weight upon you. Your hands were free now, and you gladly used them, running them through his hair, and up and down his body to feel all you could of him. He was smooth, with that chill to him that was still so unique.

You found his already strong erection as well, stroking it with one hand as your other moved back into his hair. You held the back of his head as he moved down again to suck at your collarbone, his fingers digging into your hips harshly as he thrust against your hand, urging you to guide him in.

And you were more than ready, allowing him to push inside as you angled him as deep as he could go.

He took full advantage at once too, pulling almost all the way back out before slamming back inside as you gasped.

He lifted up onto his elbows enough to look you in the eyes as he pulled out again, before repeating the second harsh thrust, then a third, and a fourth.

It ached, yet somehow you couldn’t imagine this any other way tonight. He wanted to claim you now, as hard and thoroughly as he could.

And you could take it as you breathed his name. You wanted him to let out all his frustration as your hands moved to his back and your nails dug into his shoulders with each faster thrust.

He bore his teeth with a hiss of pain as your nails finally broke his skin. But he liked it you knew, even as he bit down on your shoulder in return.

You felt the pressure, maybe a little stinging, but your back only arched into him as his hips continued to slam against you mercilessly.

As his mouth let go of you again though, and he lifted up, manhood still inside you, you could see that slightest bit of gold ichor on his lips. The blood of the Olympians. Your blood.

He smiled, knowing full well what he’d done in his haze of lust. “Is that what the remnants of ambrosia tastes like?” He whispered, licking his lips.

Contact with ichor could kill any mortal outright, and here he was playing with it. Yet you truly had no idea what its effects could be on an Asgardian. “You do take risks, don’t you, King?”

He made a pleasured sound, still thoroughly enjoying that word out of your mouth as he grabbed your breasts again, thrusting hard once more. “Only when the odds favor me, goddess.”

Your muscles were tensing though, as he squeezed your breasts and changed his angle slightly to rub more against that sensitive bundle of nerves at your entrance as his cock slid in and out.

You couldn’t know what you really looked like to him right now, sprawled out on your back beneath him, laying on his own cloak as he fucked you like he’d never have the chance again.

But you could see his own expression, and his eyes were so intense, like under a spell of euphoria as his breath grew more rapid.

Would he pull out you wondered? Did you even want him to?

“Loki,” You spoke, raising your hand up to the side of his face gently, even though you realized his own red blood now dotted your fingernails.

He surprised you when he only turned his face enough to kiss your hand though, still watching you even as you felt him jerk inside you abruptly. You saw him shudder as that orgasm went through him, and you felt his seed pulsing out deep inside you.

But even as he came, his hand went back to your entrance, bidding you to do the same as he tormented your clit. You’d been on that edge for so long, it was easy to finally let go as you trembled beneath him, getting your own release then.

And even then he still didn’t pull out. He only tugged you so that you both rolled onto your sides on his cloak, still facing one another.

You were both breathing rather hard now, and you truly wanted to close your eyes to rest for a moment, but you felt his fingers edging along the side of your face as you opened your eyes again.

He kissed you once more, and you could taste that sweetness that you knew was indeed the leftovers of your own blood.

****SMUT DONE, CAN KEEP READING HERE

“Have you been sated?” You asked, reaching up to run your thumb across his bottom lip.

He grinned slightly at the touch. “To say yes would only be another lie now wouldn’t it? I am never sated, dear. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t thoroughly enjoy this.”

With that he reached out enough to touch his hand to the cloak beneath you. You felt the material shift before the sides of it suddenly extended, wrapping around you both like a blanket in the cool cave.

More of his own magic no doubt, but there were no complaints from you as you just rested your head against him, closing your eyes again. He allowed it, so you supposed he was also too tired to do anything differently.

You weren’t sure for how long he would actually stay this way. But for now you would only take comfort in this rarity of intimacy as best you could, breathing in his scent, and savoring the feel of his skin still against yours.

———————————-

It was only the extremely persistent calling of seagulls that finally woke you. Groggily you yawned, only startled as you realized yourself fully naked and for one chaotic moment could not remember how in Gaia’s name you got that way.

You sat up abruptly as the green cloak fell away from your bare body. But the silky feel of it brought you back to reality as you ran your hand out across it.

The sunlight was shining brightly into the cave. The fire long gone, and Loki along with it as you now sat alone here. All his clothes that had been stacked against the wall were also gone. Though with some bit of humor you realized your dress was now neatly folded beside the edge of the cloak for you to find. Quite far removed from its original point of just being piled beside the wall last night.

Though with him gone it was interesting that none of the nymphs had yet joined you. Perhaps they had just been too polite. But when you saw those same annoyingly loud gulls with some now walking up and down nervously at the cave entrance, you realized them for what they were.

You pulled Loki’s cloak back around yourself before laying back down, even while calling out. “You can come in, girls! I’m awake!”

With that a flurry of seagulls immediately flew into the cave, landing all around. And in moments they were all beautiful sea nymphs again, staring at you expectantly.

“You cannot tell my father, okay?” Was the very first thing you said as they all nodded highly enthusiastically.

But when you didn’t say anything immediately more, you could tell they were all about to explode in anticipation. “Yes, we coupled. Yes, I’d do it again.” You finally said.

They all squealed, no doubt realizing as well how badly you’d wished for his return in the last weeks. Yet that was also when the questions came.

“But was he better than an Olympian?”

“Was he tender, or rough? Did he try to please you, milady?”

“Was he big? I’ve heard everything is bigger up north. Aren’t they from the north?”

“My gods, girls, I don’t know. It’s not like I do this all the time.” You grumbled a little, curling up further into his cloak. It still smelled like him you realized. A rich scent, likely whatever it was that the royal quarters in Asgard smelled like.

“Oh we know! But it’s just, oh this is so exciting! You’ve finally taken a lover!”

Though as they continued to chat away, you did think of something you could actually ask them in return.

“When did he leave anyway? Did you see him?” You questioned.

“Oh,” They considered this for a moment. “Before sunrise surely, but we were um, asleep...most of us. We roosted outside the cave to wait for you, goddess.”

“I followed him!” Another one said. “But he told me to leave him be and go home.”

“What form were you in?” You asked, surprised he would so quickly recognize a nymph if in another form.

“Oh...well I was a seal.”

You blinked, imagining the ridiculousness of a nosy seal trying to inconspicuously waddle behind Loki all the way back up the beach and hillside last night.

“You should have been a small shorebird, and stuck to the trees to watch from a distance.” You commented.

“Ah, yes, that probably would have worked well.” They agreed.

You sighed a little, but it didn’t matter much regardless. As much as you still wanted to savor last night, Loki was already gone again. Which also meant that once again you could only wonder when, if ever, he might see fit to see you once more.

He’d already showed his capacity to fake his own injuries just to lure you in faster. So there was always the possibility that everything, all of it, had just been some elaborate scheme to bed you. And with that pleasure won, he may only be off to his next challenge far away from here.

You would have to accept whatever the Fates allowed, because what other choice did you have? But there was still no question. If you could see him again, you would gladly do so.

——————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

#loki fanfic #loki smut #loki x reader #loki x original female character #loki x oc #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki #loki odinson #loki odison x reader #loki imagine #loki laufeyson #loki fandom #loki of asgard #loki layfeyson x reader #loki layfeyson imagine

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guqin-and-flute · 3 years ago

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Are You Here to Stop Me?--Chapter 4

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [First post in Peony to Lotus Verse]

[Ao3 Series]

[I had the hardest time shaking this man and making plot fall out, he was wholly uncooperative.]

This was all such fucking disaster.

A-jie was sick, the Jiang were once again yanked into a political fiasco that they had to pay for with their own reputation, there was a fierce corpse puppet in his home--a home that, apparently, had already been invaded by the Jin Clan demanding answers to said political fiasco while its master wasn’t even there. In a few days time, it would be invaded again by strange Wens he didn’t know or want.

If his mother were alive, she would kill him. He would probably deserve it. He didn’t know what his father would think. He would probably be disappointed--either that he didn’t think of it in the first place or for his resentment.

He stood frozen by the door, anxiously watching Wen Qing treat a barely conscious A-jie. It wasn't like he had never seen his sister feverish and weak before, but it scared him the same every single time. To know that she was in pain and he couldn’t do anything about it. To know that this could be the illness that would take her from him. That this could be the last time that….He gnawed on the inside of his cheek and folded his arms tight across his chest to keep them from fidgeting at his sides.

Jin Guangyao seemed to think everything was under control--at least, that’s what he had said. It would have been far more comforting if it hadn’t been in such a distant voice while being unable to look away from A-jie. Clutching her hand in a white knuckled grip. Expression all strained and pale with badly concealed terror.

This is your plan! Jiang Cheng wanted to scream as he clenched his aching fists. I did this because you said it would work! You’re the one that’s supposed to know what you’re doing!

What he wouldn’t give to actually know what the hell he was doing. Being an adult couldn’t just be this, right? Just guessing and grasping around in the dark, tripping like you’re wearing your father’s too big robes? Every other person he met seemed to be controlled and mature, while he was barely treading water--hell, even Wei Wuxian did the things he did with confidence. It had to get better at some point, because, right now, this mess was embarrassing--enraging. But most of all, it was terrifying.

What the hell should he do? What was right?

A-jie kept breathlessly trying to tell them all that she was alright, that they should rest and continue preparing. But she could barely keep her eyes open. Her head lolled around like a floppy doll. Every once in a while, she was wracked with violent, hacking coughs that shook her and left her gasping.

When she whispered Jiang Cheng’s name and raised a trembling hand as Wen Qing stepped away to prepare something, he practically dove to her side, his knees slamming painfully into the floor in his haste. Clasping her hand in both of his, he found it freezing, so he chafed it gently between his palms. “A-jie?”

“You...must be...so tired.” She smiled weakly, eyes slurring to the Wen child who had fallen asleep on the other pillow, leaving grubby little smudges all over the bedding. “All of you. I’m fine. Go. Sleep.” Even this short speech left her breathless, then coughing, wet and harsh. She trembled as Jin Guangyao helped her sit up and held her close, stroking her back.

Jiang Cheng hated everything about this. He was going to kill Wei Wuxian.

She wasn’t wrong, though. His limbs felt like practice weights, his overworked core throbbed like a pulled muscle within him. (His core? Wei Wuxian’s core? The core? This reminder burrowed in him like a barbed arrow every time he remembered again, further and further since the night he had learned it. Regret and anger and nausea, swimming and hot, every day, every fucking day. A stranger inside himself, but not. Another thing he was helpless to.)

When A-Jie finally dropped into unconsciousness not long after, Wen Qing announced that under no circumstances should she be allowed to exert herself for the next few days, until she could sit up on her own and breathe without wheezing. “The fluid in her lungs has worsened,” she told the two of them, voice still hoarse. “But since I have access to the supplies here, her fever should hopefully break sometime tonight. She shouldn’t be in any immediate danger but she will have to take her medicine on a strict schedule.”

“She will,” Jin Guangyao agreed immediately, thumb smoothing repeatedly over the back of A-jie’s limp hand. “Just tell me when and I’ll do it.”

When Jiang Cheng finally stood to leave, just about every muscle from the base of his skull to the tendons at his heels screamed and gods, he wanted a bath and sleep and for this to not be happening. Wen Qing collected the still sleeping boy, and Jin Guangyao rose, seeing them all out into the hall before bowing, sharp and deep. “Thank you, Wen-guniang.”

Damn. Jiang Cheng hastily followed suit and bowed. You tactless asshole. She watched them both with weary eyes, expression as closed as it had been for days, but she inclined her head to accept. “Come get me immediately if anything changes.”

Straightening, Jin Guangyao nodded, his habitual smile nowhere to be seen, drained and serious. “I will. I’m going to stay up to watch her.”

Her eyes narrowed warily. But she only nodded.

The entire trip leading her through Lotus Pier to her prepared room was silent.

Jiang Cheng knew he should say something. He wanted to say something--to thank her more personally for A-jie’s care or tell her that she would be safe here, that when he made a promise, he kept it (unlike some people.) Maybe reassure her that this wasn’t a ploy by him to corner her, that this was honestly a waking nightmare he kept wishing he would wake up from.

That this wasn’t how he had imagined marrying her. As a last resort. As a trap.

Instead, he was silent. Nothing he had to say would come out right and he would either sound like an ass or an idiot. Or both.

She was just as quiet, anyway, drifting behind him like some sort of mourning wraith, carrying the limp child. The only sounds were their footsteps, distant murmurs, and the frogs droning from their intermittent little ponds and from the lake beyond. Chill from the young evening settled into their still damp, days old clothes. The clean, living scent of the water was comforting, so at least there was that.

He wondered if it just smelled like mud to her.

When they came to the room, he saw that the lanterns and the incense burner were already lit, and a while ago, judging by how thickly the scent of jasmine and musk lay over everything. It was one of the nicest guest suites, with a wide bed, wispy purple wall hangings, and intricate lotus blossoms crawling up in carvings on the screens. It occurred to him suddenly that it might seem horribly insensitive to remind her exactly where she was and why. Tacky. He ground his teeth.

Wen Qing staggered right by him into the room without a glance, practically collapsing across the bed to lay the boy down. Angry? Disgusted? Done with him, whichever it was. But Jiang Cheng stayed by the door, fingers worrying at the thick fabric of his robe, running the edge of his nail along the weave as she tucked the blanket up to the boy’s chin. The need to say something--anything--was becoming too much to bear. “I’m sorry it isn’t very big.”

Her voice was dull and she didn’t even turn around. “It’s fine, Jiang-zongzhu.”

Fuck.

“You don’t have to...you can call me Jiang Wanyin,” he said, because he was apparently very stupid. The slow, disbelieving look she gave him over her shoulder was well deserved. “You don’t have to,” he added, because he apparently was not done being stupid. I mean, you’ve literally cut me open before, so I figured….

“...Alright.”

Jiang Cheng wanted to melt into the floor. Or possibly die. His mouth worked around his grimace of self disgust and he managed, “I’ll have the servants send in a bath.”

She sagged back on her heels beside the bed, still looking over at him. “Where is A-Ning?”

Oh. Right. “Probably….” Actually, he had no idea where Wei Wuxian had taken him. His room? The idea of that puppet leaking black resentful energy and lying on his childhood bed seemed ridiculous. “With Wei Wuxian,” he finished, lamely. “I’ll find out.”

Her gaze transferred to the floor, eyes unseeing and darkened by smudges of dirt and exhaustion. She was still quite pretty, but it was a gaunt, unkempt sort of beauty. The silence stretched, uncomfortable. He should have let a servant show her to the room. She was waiting for him to leave, she didn’t want to be anywhere near him.

“Thank you,” she said, suddenly, just as he turned around to simply leave, saving them both the agony. “For doing this.”

His jaw tightened and he kept his eyes locked on the light wood of the column right outside her door. Instead of anything helpful or comforting, what came out was a low, unplanned, “Why didn’t you come to me.” She had the comb. She had to. It had been gone when he came back to check and he had thought...hoped….

Skin on fabric. She was probably looking at him, and so kept his shoulders rigid, back straight.

“I didn’t know if you would help.” Her voice was quiet, not angry or accusatory. But his fists clenched as heat flooded his face, his head throbbing. ‘You're untrustworthy and selfish and immature. Why the hell would I trust you?’

He was fucking this up. Again. Useless.

Jiang Cheng refused to dig himself a deeper hole. About 10 minutes too late. Without a word, he stopped darkening her door. Instead of going to his room and ordering a bath like he should have, he looked for Wei Wuxian, blood pulsing in his ears. Stalking through the halls, he scattered several anxious servants in his wake like ripples behind him.

When he found him, he actually was in his room, though the puppet was on an extra mattress on the floor instead of on the bed like Jiang Cheng had imagined. The room reeked of resentful energy--sour, burning, metallic. Old bile and blood and worse. Wei Wuxian himself was hunched over it with a brush and seemed to be adding to the fluttering layer of talismans that already festooned the prone form. It even took a minute for him to realize Jiang Cheng was in the doorway, but when he did, he leapt to his feet, haggard face anxious. “Shijie?”

“...Sleeping.”

“What did Wen Qing say? Will she be alright?”

“No thanks to you.”

Wei Wuxian’s shoulders sagged and he blew out a breath. Then, he perked up, coming over to gently shake Jiang Cheng by the shoulders with a reproachful smile. “Ah, Jiang Cheng, lead with that next time, will you? You appear at my door looking like you’re about to avenge someone, what am I supposed to think?”

Smacking Wei Wuxian’s hands off his shoulders didn’t do anything to change his attitude. He just grimaced playfully and said, “Ow, careful! Now be nice, we’ll all be in trouble if you damage these hands,” while wiggling his fingers. It made the sharp rage in Jiang Cheng’s chest flare. It made him want to punch his stupid face.

“This is your fault.”

At this point, it was like they pulled out a script book for some overdone play, a rulebook outlining the steps to their fight. The brush off. Wei Wuxian looked past him, craning his head to peer out the door. “Where’s Wen Qing and A-Yuan? I wanted to tell her how Wen Ning is doing.”

The jab. “Are you even listening to me?”

Wei Wuxian rolled his eyes at him, shrugging his shoulders as if letting the words just slide off of him with a stretch of his arms. The dismissal. “Ah, you’re always scolding me, so what’s the point in listening to you when you’re just saying the same things you have been for days? I’ll pay attention when you say something new. You’re so predictable.”

The snap; Jiang Cheng snarled, “How’s this, then? It’s your fault that A-jie is so sick.” He jabbed Wei Wuxian in the chest with his finger, knocking him back a step, pursuing. “It’s your fault if the Jin decide to wipe us all out again.” Another jab, another step. The insouciant air slid from Wei Wuxian’s face--instead, it was tight, the beginning of regret.

“Listen--”

“This is your fault and you’re not even sorry.”

A deep breath. “Jiang Cheng--”

He needed him mad. He needed him to stop moving away. “You weren’t thinking of anyone but yourself, like you always do. You’re making me take in and marry the people who killed my parents to protect you.” He could see Wei Wuxian bristle--because he knew it wasn’t quite true, it wasn’t really fair but Jiang Cheng didn’t care.

“What are you even saying? They’ve both saved us a hundred times over! These people are innocent, they were being brutalized, I had no choice--!”

“You always have a choice!” Jiang Cheng was shouting, now. “You just choose the one that causes the biggest scene! First you embarrass me in front of all the other Clan Leaders, then you kill Jin disciples and steal their prisoners--!”

“What right did they have to treat them that way? What crime did they commit?! I’m supposed to just leave them?!”

His outrage just fed the fury burning through Jiang Cheng, roaring in his ears, and he wanted to take his brother by the throat and shake him. He wanted him to be just as hurt and terrified as he was. He wanted him to stop acting so fucking noble, like it meant anything anymore after everything they had been through. His lungs burned from the resentful energy hanging in the air. Zidian sparked once, sizzling. “You always need to be the center of attention. Well congratulations, everyone’s looking at us, now! Aren’t you such a fucking hero? Isn’t it nice to have a shield that will rise up against every stupid thing you decide to do? When will it be enough?”

Wei Wuxian’s swallowed hard, jaw tight, eyes shining. “Do you think I wanted this?” He asked quietly, and Jiang Cheng had to bark a laugh that tasted bitter.

“No. I don’t think you thought at all. You just did whatever you wanted and expected the Jiang Clan to clean up after you.”

At this, Wei Wuxian looked away at the wall, shoulders bunched up, hands in fists at his side. “I wasn't...” he said tightly. “I was going to go. To take them--”

“Where?”

“I don’t know!” He snapped. “Somewhere I could keep them safe! I thought...maybe the Burial Mounds.”

A chill flooded through Jiang Cheng and he stared. “Are you insane? That hellhole?”

Wei Wuxian was still looking at the wall, though he swallowed again. “I could...control the resentful energy. Make it safe.” He clenched his jaw. “It doesn’t matter.”

The thought alone had him reeling. Wei Wuxian really had been going to do it. He really would have left, after everything. After promising to rebuild Lotus Pier with him, to support him. After Jiang Cheng had fought so hard to find him the 3 months when he had been missing. After Jiang Cheng had stood by him when the war ended and everyone had started whispering about sinister ulterior motives--did Wei Wuxian have no concept of how this looked? “And do what? Establish your own Sect? Build your own empire? Should I call you Wei-zongzhu from now on?”

Wei Wuxian recoiled, face screwed up in disbelief as he finally faced him again. “No! What? No! Jiang Cheng, don’t be an idiot. I was going...I was going to take care of it myself. I wasn’t going to ask or involve you. I didn’t--I was going to handle it.”

That rage condensed and dropped sourly into his gut like sick. That was worse. That was so much worse. ‘I didn’t know if you would help.’ He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted that cleansing fury back. “Nice fucking job.”

Wei Wuxian vented a short, mirthless chuckle, shaking his head. “Shut up.”

“You don’t get to tell me to shut up.”

“I just d--” Wei Wuxian stopped himself, jaw working. When he spoke again, it was with careful containment. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“What a stupid thing to say, of course I did,” Jiang Cheng snapped back. “What other choice did I have?”

“You could have just let me go. I would have been fine. You didn’t need to…you don’t need to put yourself out on my account.”

He would have preferred he had just fucking stabbed him. Honestly. Then who the fuck was he? Some acquaintance? Some stranger? To not ‘put himself out’--

He was really that easy to leave behind? Just that unremarkable, unneeded, unwanted? That every option, even the Burial Mounds where he had been trapped was preferable to staying with him in the home he had rebuilt with blood and sweat, plank by plank for them--for them, the only family he had left in this world.

What was so broken about Jiang Cheng that no one could possibly just love him as he was? What did he have to do to stop people from leaving him?

He wanted to stab Sandu through the corpse that used to be Wen Ning’s chest, tear off the talismans and throw him in the lake for the fish to take out of sight. To seize Wei Wuxian and scream; Stop letting go of me!

“Well, aren’t you so brave. Aren’t you so noble,” gritted out, all dark and vile, and Wei Wuxian flinched and Jiang Cheng would have felt triumphant if he didn’t feel so fucking awful instead.

“I had to.”

“You had to.”

Wei Wuxian said nothing. But he didn’t look ashamed. He just looked tired.

“Right. Because you’re so strong and powerful and right, always, and I’m the asshole who doesn’t care enough.”

“You know I never said that.”

“But that’s what you think. You still think that I didn’t do enough. That I didn’t do the right thing.”

Instead of fighting back--instead of denying it--Wei Wuxian let out a loud breath, shook his head and turned away to drop himself heavily beside the mattress on the floor. This retreat left Jiang Cheng completely empty. His nails cut into his palm and he was shaking all over, staring down at Wei Wuxian as he picked up another talisman, not looking at him. They had had this conversation already, in fits and starts on the race back to Lotus Pier, but hadn’t been able to fully say any of this around A-jie or the Wen’s and so had just jabbed at each other for days. But here, it was all unraveling at once like too tight bandages coming off. He craved a conclusion--the give and take of a shouting match or the clarity of a split lip and Wei Wuxian wasn’t giving it to him.

Couldn't. If it came to blows, Jiang Cheng would just hurt him.

And why was that, again?

His brother's face was gaunt as he ignored him, eyes shadowed, fingers raw and red with blood and cinnabar. Still working. Giving. He was always giving of himself to everyone. His protection, his trust, his love, his time.

His core.

Just more proof that he was better; kinder, more generous, better in every way. Well. Not every way, now. The overworked core gave an untimely twinge. But that even bore his fingerprints, didn’t it? His sacrifice. (He had tried so hard, so fucking hard to give Wei Wuxian something that only he could give, the only protection, the only apology Jiang Cheng had left for what he had blamed him for. And he had shoved it right back like an unwanted gift.)

Jiang Cheng wasn't special, though. That knowledge bristled in his throat like knives, now. What he had done for Jiang Cheng wasn't because he loved him--apparently, it was because it was the right thing to do.

And Wei Wuxian always did the right thing. He would have done it for anyone.

Jiang Cheng's eyes went to the talismans fluttering in the dark breeze. It was the Cloud Recesses, the Yin Iron, the oh-so-perfect-and-peerless-and-interesting-Lan-Wangji all over again. Leaving Jiang Cheng behind to go be a hero because he just didn’t fucking matter enough to keep around. Because Wei Wuxian thought he was pathetic and selfish.

Jiang Cheng’s eyes were burning, his voice shaking when he spat, “Great. Then just keep trying to make yourself a better shidi out of that thing. I’m sure it will never stop kissing your ass.”

On his way back to his room, he snapped at a young servant girl to order a bath for Wen Qing. She practically ran.

Nice fucking job, idiot.

Crashing face first onto his bed, he fell into unconsciousness immediately.

#peony to lotus #my fic #my stuff #This is one of those times where I'm not even sure I like this I just need to /get it out of my face/ so I can move on x.x #[points at jc] you'd better behave better next time or I will never write your POV again do you hear me young man? That was NIGHTMARE-ISH #I cut a LOVELY CONVERSATION BECAUSE OF YOU

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broadstbroskis · 5 years ago

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five times you shared a bed with your best friend plus one time you didn’t | matthew tkachuk

lol so @slimskjei-dy requested the prompt 16. We’ve been sharing a bed since we were little so why is this weird now? from a list i put out a couple days ago to write blurbs for and this spiraled out of control, so here’s nearly 4k.

one

The Tkachuk’s move into the house next door to your family the summer before you start preschool and at the ripe age of three, you are too young to have any idea what going with your mom to drop off “welcome to the neighborhood” brownies is going to mean for your future.

Really, it likely has more to do with the fact that “welcome to the neighborhood” brownies turned into a glass of “welcome to the neighborhood” wine between your mom and Chantal Tkachuk, which turned into a bottle of wine while you and Matthew played in the backyard with Brady’s chubby little baby legs trying his hardest to keep up.

By the time Keith arrived home from a midday skate session, with your dad awkwardly following behind, babbling about how your mom had just planned on dropping something off quickly but was still missing, their friendship was basically cemented. Chantal and your mom did everything together. And your dads’ friendship didn’t take long to form after that.

Which meant you and Matty were right there with them.

But neither of you cared. You’d settled quickly into a friendship, just like your parents had, where you’d play hockey with him and he’d begrudgingly play soccer with you, and you both pretended you had no idea what Brady was talking about when he ran to tattle that you were ganging up on him and not letting him play.

There’s countless pictures of the two of you growing up, getting into all kinds of trouble, but then also, of the quieter moments too. Sitting too close to the TV watching movies, eagerly waiting by the door for Keith to come home from a road trip with souvenirs, the naps curled up around each other in one of your beds.

“The quietest twenty minutes of the day.” Keith continues to joke, anytime one of those pictures resurfaces.

two

You wince at the sound of glass crashing behind you and decide the best course of action is to keep moving forward with your mission to find Matthew. Whichever hockey bro of Matthew’s house this is can take care of that; it’s not your job.

Besides, the room is spinning from the cheap beer and booze you’d been drinking all night since the two of you arrived at this party, and you’re pretty sure it’s a bad idea to go near glass.

You find Matthew in the kitchen, with a few of his St. Louis hockey bros, a couple of them guys that you’re still friends with even after he’d left to go join the NTDP, as well as a few faces you don’t recognize. You slip up into their circle, sliding under Matty’s arm when it lifts to wrap around your shoulders, grateful for the solid body to lean against.

The room is really starting to spin.

“You okay?” He asks, ignoring whoever’s speaking.

“I don’t think I can go home tonight.” You admit.

He laughs. “Text your mom and tell her you’re staying with me. Big Walt and Chantal are at a tourney with Brady and Taryn; nobody’s home.”

“You don’t think she knows your parents aren’t home?” You scoff, but you’re already pulling out your phone and carefully drafting the text, making sure to avoid any spelling errors that might give your drunkenness away.

“Yeah, but she can’t prove what she hasn’t seen.” Matty winks at you and you roll your eyes.

“Is that what you told your mom after you left her a three minute voicemail at 3am last month?” You chirp at him, smiling at the instant laughter from the friends around you and accepting a fist bump from Luke Kunin.

That line of chirping continues for a few minutes, until Matty manages to turn it around on one of the boys, and then it dissolves into a free for all before they’re all just laughing at each other.

By the time the giggling ends, you’re about three seconds away from falling asleep on Matt’s shoulder, and it’s his nudge that wakes you. “You ready?” You nod, joining him in making goodbyes to your friends, and then following him out the door to begin the walk back toward your houses.

The fresh air does some good to sober you up and you feel marginally less dizzy by the time you and Matt make it to his room. He throws you a t-shirt to change into and you fall into bed after changing, waiting for him to join you, eyes shutting the second you feel the bed settle beside you.

three

The night before Matty’s due to leave for Buffalo for the draft, your phone buzzes with a text from him. You’re expecting more of the same that you’ve been exchanging all day with him-in various group chats with your friends, at a barbeque with both your families, when the two of you were chatting with Brady while you hid in the far corner with the beers you snuck while Taryn and your sister were off doing their thing.

It’s not. Let me in the text says, so you shove the blankets down and make your way downstairs to open the door for him.

“Shh.” You tell him. “They’re all asleep.”

“It’s 3am, of course they are!” He whispers back.

“Well so was I until you woke me up!” You start walking back toward your room, knowing he’ll follow.

Matthew doesn’t speak again until the two of you are in your room, the door is closed, and he’s lying on his side to face you in your bed. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“You can’t possibly be nervous.” You whisper back, knowing he’s talking about the draft. He shrugs and you reach your hand out to shove his shoulder down, allowing it to rest there. “Matty.” He blinks at you a few times as you think of what to say next. “You’re gonna go somewhere and you’re going to be great. One of these teams is going to love you enough to draft you and everyone after them is going to be mad they didn’t have the chance to and almost everyone before them is going to be mad they didn’t end up picking you and you’re going to go off to whatever city does and forget all about me back here.”

Matthew wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him so you move your hand from the top of his shoulder around to rub at the blade gently. “First of all, that’ll never happen. You’re stuck with me forever.”

You nod seriously. “Somebody’s got to put up with you.”

He pokes you in the side for that one and you have to bite your lip to keep in the squeal of laughter. “Second of all, almost? Almost everyone is going to me mad they didn’t pick me?”

“Leafs got first pick to get Auston! I just don’t think they’re going to regret that!” He pokes you again and you don’t manage to hide the squeal this time. “Matty! Everyone’s sleeping!”

“You should be nicer to me.” He tells you, once you settle down.

“I should be nicer to you? You wake me up at 3am to talk you off the ledge and I should be nicer to you?”

He nods, pulling you even closer to bury his face in your hair. “Always.”

You laugh, the sound muffled into his chest now. “Are we all good now?”

“Hmm?” He says, sounding sleepy already.

“Never mind.” You tell him, rubbing his back again. “Good night, Matty.”

“G’night.”

four

Calgary is a thousand times more incredible than you’d ever imagined. You’d been teasing Matty about being stuck in a frozen wasteland, sending him snaps from sunny gamedays at Mizzou and laughing anytime you get one in return with snow in the picture.

There’s snow on the ground when you arrive in December, fresh out of finals, and still feeling both the mental exhaustion from your exams and the hangover from a day of binge drinking with your friends immediately after they’d ended. You’ll never fly hungover again; the next time you do this, you’ll leave yourself a day of rest between exams and flying up to visit your best friend, since you know you won’t stop drinking earlier.

College is making you smarter already!

Matthew actually laughs when he meets you in the pick up lane, like puts his head on the steering wheel and has to hold off on driving. He gets honked at by the car behind him. “Your laugh is making my headache worse.” You whine.

“So I take it you don’t want the bottle of wine I bought for us to split tonight?”

You look over at him suspiciously. “What kind of wine?”

He laughs again, but softer this time. “Atta girl.”

It’s a red blend, a favorite of the two of you, but a much nicer one than you’ve ever bought before. You let out a low whistle as Matthew places the order for dinner. “Suddenly you’ve got some cash flow and Barefoot’s too good?”

“Hell yeah! Wait until you see what kind of vodka I got for us for Saturday.”

You perk up. “What’s on Saturday?”

“Party with the team before my parents come in.”

You laugh, accepting the glass of wine he pours for you. “You don’t think Big Walt would want to come to the party?”

Matty gives you a look. “I know that’s exactly what would happen and that’s why I told them to come Sunday.”

“Smart thinking.” You admit.

“See, who needs college?” He teases, which settles the two of you into your familiar teasing and banter while you wait for the food to arrive.

It isn’t too long after dinner and Netflix that you and Matthew are heading to bed, pressing yourself as close as you can to suck up as much warmth that he’s radiating. “Fuck, your feet are cold.” Matty mutters as you giggle and press your toes into his calf.

“Haven’t you missed me?” You sling your leg over his for maximal toe digging, laughing when he jumps.

“I guess.” He says, but his tone says Absolutely.

five

“So what are your plans for after graduation?”Ashley, Sean Monahan’s girlfriend (and soon-to-be fiancee if Matty was to be believed) looks at you during a stoppage of play late in the third.

“God, don’t remind me.” You groan. You’d wrapped the fall semester of your senior year a couple days ago and then taken off to Calgary in what had become your annual post-finals trip. It’d be the last one you ever took, with your final semester of college looming over your head.

Ashley grins. She’d become a close friend of yours over all your trips to visit Matthew, even flying down to St. Louis last season when the Flames were in town and spending a weekend with some of the other girls visiting you at school afterwards. “Just come hang out up here forever.”

You burst into laughter. “And live where?”

She gives you a look, like it’s the most obvious thing ever. “With Matt?”

“Oh my god, you’re serious.” It takes a full minute for you to recover. Play has resumed, there’s a minor scrum on the ice in front of the two of you but you barely even notice, too shocked by Ashley’s words.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because why would I ever?”

“Because you already do.” She says, with more patience than you’ve possessed in your entire life combined, and then laughs at the look on your face. “YN, what you two have is so special! To fall in love with your best friend at age three and still feel that way is amazing! If Sean and I can look at each the way you and Matt do after twenty years, we could only be so lucky.”

“We’re not in love.” You deny. “Matty and I-we’re just-we’re not.”

Ashley bites her lip, but doesn’t push it any further. “Alright.” She agrees, and thankfully, the game ends there, so you’re able to just gather your things with her and make your way down toward the family room to meet the boys.

But you can’t get her words out of your head as you and Matthew arrive back to his place and start getting ready to go to bed. You move around each other with a practiced ease, handing him the toothpaste before he even asks for it and accepting the oversized sweatshirt he passes to you, somehow knowing that you’re extra chilly tonight.

Lying next to him in bed, the same way you have for nearly twenty years, suddenly feels suffocating. You roll onto your side, hoping for some room to breath, but now it just feels awkward; this isn’t how you sleep.

You sit up, ditching the sweatshirt. Maybe you’re just too warm. Lying back and pulling the covers back up does nothing to solve that problem, and actually, you’re shivering, so you sit back up and yank the sweatshirt back on.

“Could you settle down?” Matty mumbles, pulling you into his side the second that you’re flat again. His arm rests on your waist, thumb in the dip of your hip, a position it’s been in many times, but suddenly you think you’re having trouble breathing. You open your mouth to tell him this, but he presses a kiss to your temple and says, “Relax, just sleep.”

You don’t sleep a wink the entire night.

plus one

“What do you mean you’re not coming?” Dylan, a good friend of both yours and Matthew’s, is usually one of the most upbeat people you know, so the sound of disappointment coming throughout your phone actually makes you wince. “YN?”

“I just-” You hesitate. You’d have to leave right now in order to get to St. Louis in time to make the Skills Competitions, and even then you might be pushing it, and things were still weird for you with Matty, as evidenced by how things were between the two of you when he came home for his short Christmas break. And things were weird. Everyone noticed- your families, your friends, Matthew. The two of you had spoken only once since, in the group chat where Matthew had texted an invite to your group chat to come home for the weekend for the All Star Weekend and you’d noncommittally responded wow that’d be awesome. “I’m super busy.” You finish lamely.

Dylan sighs. “Look, YN, I don’t know what the fuck is going on between you and Matt and I don’t really care. It’s not my business. But I know he’d really want you there no matter what’s going on and I know you’ll regret not going if you don’t.”

You close your eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. He’s right. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Dyl.”

“Hell yeah,” Dylan cheers.

By the time you make it to St. Louis, you have to race to meet your friends in your seats and the cheer they send up is poorly timed, but it does make you smile. “Shitty seats.” You accept the bottle of Bud Light someone passes you.

Dylan laughs and points up to the giant platform next to you guys. “He’s going to be shooting from there in a while.”

“Alright.” You nod. “I guess this is acceptable then.”

It’s a good while before Matty and the rest of the guys participating in the Shooting Stars event start making their way up, but it’s nice to catch up with your other friends while you wait. If you got a big cheer when you rolled in, the one that goes up when Matthew walks by is deafening (and boostered by the friends of Brady’s that are sitting right behind you guys). The two of them look over at you guys, grinning already, and you see it in Matthew’s face when he spots you, the smirk softening a little and his eyes locking on you.

You’d read about moments where time stands still but it’d never actually happened to you until now. It’s like the crowd doesn’t exist around you, like you don’t actually need to breathe. The only thing that matters is the moment in time when your eyes meet Matty’s.

And that moment’s broken by Brady shoving him forward.

As you watch Matthew throughout the entirety of the last event, you know you’re screwed. You’ll get through this weekend, go back to school, and get over these thoughts by the time summer comes. Everything will be back to normal by the time you see Matty again.

In the meantime, you do your best to avoid him once the Skills Competition ends and you join everyone at the after party on the rooftop bar of the hotel. It’s easier than you think it would be to do. When Matty’s talking with some of your local friends, you find yourself catching up with both sets of your parents. When he starts making his way toward your parents, you excuse yourself to the bathroom. You see him make a beeline towards the bar, so you dart off in the opposite direction, where Brady is talking with a couple of his Atlantic Division teammates and push yourself in between the height of him and Auston Matthews, which seems like a safe spot to hide.

“YN!” Auston grins, throwing his hands up in the air, in a drunken greeting that you’d love to be more lowkey.

You reach up and grab them, yanking them down. “Listen, I know it’s been a while since we’ve last hung out and all, and I know from the way you talk and dress and everything about you that this is a hard thing for you to comprehend, but I’m really going to need some subtlety from you.” Next to him, Mitch and Freddie burst into laughter. “Down low, boo. Down low.”

Auston is laughing as well and you remember that while the times you’ve spent with him have been few and far between, unable to visit Matthew as frequently during his time with the NTDP as you have been in Calgary, they’ve certainly been memorable...so moments like this are unshocking to him, to say the least.

They don’t even faze Brady, who’d grown up with both you and Matthew, and is merely looking at you with an entirely too familiar smirk and a raised brow. “What’s the subtlety for, YN?”

“Fuck off, Brady.” You flip your middle finger up at him quickly but it’s just enough time for the entire group of hockey players around you to pounce. You really should have known better.

“I knew something was up!” Auston grins.

“Nothing’s up.” You deny, very poorly.

“Really?” Brady grins. “‘Cause Matt’s like right there.” He points. “On his way here. So I guess if nothing’s wrong, you can-” He starts immediately laughing when you shove your way out of them.

You think you manage to lose your best friend by pushing through a large group of players and family from the Metro and Central divisions and throwing yourself out the door to the outdoor patio, which is mostly empty, despite the unseasonably warm winter St. Louis has been experiencing. You can see Brady, Auston, and Quinn laughing together through the glass door, but Matty’s nowhere to be found, and you sit down on the closest bench, taking a minute to just breathe.

“You gotta tell me what I did.” The voice scares you, but it shouldn’t, because you really should have known better than to think that Matty wouldn’t be able to find you.

When you look over at Matty on the bench beside you, you can’t think of another time he’s looked this devastated. Maybe that semi-final loss in World Juniors? Maybe? It’s all over his face and you can’t just leave him like this any longer. “It’s not you.” You tell him, holding back tears. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it!” Matthew says, frustratedly.

“You can’t fix it!” You sniffle, trying to scoot away from him, to give yourself some distance, and feeling the tears start to fall when he closes that space again. “You can’t go back and stop Ashley from making me realize that I’m in love with you, okay? So you can’t fix this and I just-I need some time, Matty! Okay? I need some time!”

“Don’t be fucking stupid.” He breathes, like he’s only just recovered the ability to talk, which, he might have, and you tilt your head to meet his eyes, which puts you in a perfect position considering he’s already leaning toward you.

Matthew fumbles for a second, his hand reaching for your cheek and catching your ear instead with you turning, but he recovers quickly, stroking gently down the side of your face. You gasp, the kiss entirely unexpected, and Matty takes the opportunity to tug on your lip gently before pulling away and you let out a whimper at the loss of contact.

He smirks.

“Don’t be smug.” You shove at his shoulder.

“Don’t be stupid.” He repeats, pulling you closer. “How could you ever think I wouldn’t be in love with you?”

“I didn’t want to ruin us.” You tell him softly. “But I am willing to concede I was wrong.”

Matty grins. “Sure were. Can do this anytime I want now.” He kisses you again, leaving you just as breathless as before.

You suppose, at some point, that’ll start to wear off, but as the two of you trade lazy kisses on the rooftop, you can’t imagine that point ever coming. This is perfection, this is the piece of your relationship you didn’t even know was missing coming together, this is-

-Brady knocking on the window?

What?

You blink again, realizing where you’re at. Still on the rooftop bench, with your arm wrapped around Matty’s neck, your legs draped over his lap, and your face tucked into his shoulder. Matthew’s arms are wrapped around your waist, holding you close, and his head rests on top of yours. Somehow still asleep through all the banging Brady’s been doing.

“Matty.” You poke him awake.

“What?” He groans, sitting up.

“Brady.” Matthew looks over at the window, where Brady is still gesturing that it’s time to leave, with a very smug grin on his face. Matthew lifts one hand off your waist to flip his brother off, allowing you to climb off.

“You couldn’t have answered any of the texts we sent you?” Brady asks, once you step inside, but he doesn’t sound annoyed at all, still looking between the two of you with the biggest grin on his face.

Matthew shrugs. “Must have fallen asleep.”

“Bullshit.”

“You just saw us!”

Brady rolls his eyes, knowingly. “Just kiss her already.”

Matty grins. “Gladly.” And then he’s pressing a heated kiss against your lips, looping his arm around your waist, and it’s all you can do to grip his arm with one hand to keep yourself standing and flip off the crowd around you with your other as whoever’s left at this after party burst into applause and wolf-whistles.

#matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk fanfic #matthew tkachuk fanction #hockey imagines #hockey fanfiction #nhl imagines #hockey fanfic #my hockey fics

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angelic-holland · 5 years ago

Text

Let’s Play

Summary: Tom loves to show off his girl.

Pairing: Tom, reader, Jake Gyllenhaal, Zendaya, Harrison Osterfield

Warnings: group sex! Anal, double penetration, humiliation and degradation, unprotected sex (plz use a condom), f x f interactions, oral, come play, spanking, mild pet play (a leash is used)

Word Count: 6.1k

A/N: well.. this is the filthiest thing I’ve ever written... hope you enjoy.... anyway it is sort of edited but mostly just like porn without plot so there’s that

“Hey Tom?” You ask as you get ready for bed.

“Yes, love?” Tom hums, watching you slip into one of his t-shirts before climbing into bed with him.

“I was wondering…” You start, resting your head against his bare chest, “you know how Z and Jake are going to be filming in London soon for the rest of Far From Home?”

Tom nods, combing his fingers through your hair, having no idea where this is going, but he waits for you to continue.

“Have you ever thought about, maybe, you know, doing something like what we did with Haz, again?”

Tom’s grip on your hip tightens at the memory of the time the pair of you brought Harrison into the bedroom.

“With Jake and Z?”

You nod, shying away from his eyes, “and Haz again.”

“You want to be used by four people at once, baby?” Tom coos, finger brushing along the skin of your hip, gliding into your panties.

You whine, nodding your head as he flips you over, straddling your hips.

“You’re such a slut, want more and more, what do you want them to do to you?”

You whimper as Tom gently rubs your clit over your panties, biting your lip as the pleasure builds in your stomach at the thought of the interaction.

“I just, I was thinking about what it would be like if you all, dunno, hung out, and did stuff while I just had to behave?”

Tom smirks as he stops rubbing your clit, “you like being a good girl for me don’t you? Love to make sure you’re well behaved, huh?”

“Yes, would be so well behaved for you.”

“You want me to show you off to all of my friends? Show them how much of a good girl you are?”

You nod, whining low in your throat as Tom gets off of you, grabbing his phone.

“What’re you doing?” You ask, sitting up as he pulls you into his lap.

“We should come up with a list of things you want to happen, what you’re okay with, what you’re not okay with, then we should call them, we won’t have much free time when shooting starts but we have some free time tomorrow when they’ve all landed.”

“You really want to do this?” you ask excitedly as Tom pulls out his notes app.

“Of course, you know I love showing you off to my friends, I can’t wait to show all of you off now,” Tom grins, kissing your neck as you begin to flesh out absolutely everything you want from tomorrow.

The phone call to Jake went smoothly, you just knew he had the biggest grin on his face when Tom told him a little about what you wanted for the evening. You had a feeling that Jake was into some pretty freaky stuff, and his enthusiasm about the idea confirmed your belief.

Zendaya was absolutely thrilled and when she revealed she’s always thought about you in that way and that she was going to pack her strap-on, you audibly moaned.

Tom lightly pats your hip once you hung up with Zendaya, “should we go ask Harrison?”

When you bring it up, Harrison’s jaw practically drops before he nods eagerly, “you sure?”

“Absolutely, she always wants to be a good girl, might as well show you lot how well she behaves.”

You smirk, flushing a little at the way Harrison looks at you, running his eyes up and down your bare thigh.

“Alright love, let’s go rest up, you’ve got a long night tomorrow,” Tom says, his hand around your waist tightening when he noticed the way Harrison looked at you.

Before you went to bed, you talked one more time about it, “you sure you won’t be too jealous?”

“What do you mean, baby?”

“I mean, you just shot Haz some serious evil eyes. You do realize he’s fucked me before and he’s going to fuck me again tomorrow?”

“I know, I know, but I also know that once tomorrow is over, we’re just us again and I have nothing to be jealous about because I get to have you after.”

***

Tom helps you prepare for the night by a nice bath during the day, helping you exfoliate your skin, wash your hair, eat a good meal. He sent the rest of the occupants of the house to a hotel for the night, insisting that he deserves time alone with you, little did they know that you and Tom were going to be the polar opposite of alone.

Harrison is chomping at the bit to start, so fucking eager to touch you again. Tom snaps at him to stay in his room while he gets you ready.

How does he get you ready?

He once bought a deep red collar, one with a detachable leash, a while ago, never getting the chance to really use it until now. You kneel naked in front of him in the living room, where you decided tonight’s events would take place.

“Look so pretty like that, I’m going to put the collar on, and that means the scene will have started. What’s your safeword?”

“Yellow for slow down, red for stop,” you say confidently, keeping your hands clasped behind your back.

“Good girl, now, I want you to stay very still while I get you ready. Even more still when I invite them all inside. Do you think you can do that?” Tom’s hand goes to cup your chin, bringing your eyes to meet his.

“Yes sir,” you reply, wanting nothing more than to rub your thighs together to relieve some of the tension you feel between them. But you don’t, keeping them wide as Tom fits the collar around your neck.

He attaches the leash before grabbing the nipples clamps that you both loved. Without fail, every single time you used them, you managed to come so much quicker than without them. Tonight it would be a real challenge to control yourself until Tom gives you permission, especially in front of all of his friends.

Tom kneels down in front of you, his bulge already evident from his grey sweatpants. He’s just as excited as you are. He kisses each of your nipples, lightly sucking on them before adding the clamps. You hiss but bite your lip before you make any actual noise, knowing Tom typically likes to give you permission to talk in a situation like this.

“Feel okay?” He asks, gently tugging on the chain that connects them.

You nod as he tugs them harder, making you fall forward slightly.

“Good, now, stop biting your lip, I just want to fuck your mouth whenver you do,” Tom demands, grabbing onto the leash and pulling you toward the coffee table. You whimper as he lifts up one end, settling the leash around it so you could only move about a foot or so from that spot, and only on your knees.

“Now, stay like that, on your knees, hands behind your back, legs spread, I’m going to get Harrison and the rest of them, they’re waiting outside. Are you ready baby girl?” Tom asks as he stands up.

“Yes sir,” you reply, readjusting your arms so you have a better grip of both hands as he walks towards Harrison’s door.

The second Harrison sees you he groans, sitting down on the couch and gazing over your form. You are so still, trying your hardest to be a good girl for Tom.

“Hands off until I invite the rest of them inside, mate,” Tom warns Harrison who gulps and nods, unable to take his eyes off of you.

Your breasts sway slightly, the tug on your nipples making your whimper. Tom shoots you a warning glance before walking off toward the front door.

“You look so fucking pretty like this,” Harrison comments, palming himself over his sweatpants. You whimper, struggling to stay still and not respond until Tom comes back. You hear multiple footsteps and you keep your head down as Tom walks in with Jake and Zendaya.

“Wow, what a pretty little accessory you have here,” Jake’s deep voice makes you want to look up and get a look at him but you wait for Tom’s instructions.

Jake runs a hand through your hair, grabbing the back of your neck and forcing your head up. You finally get a look at everyone here, Tom has pride in his eyes as you keep your mouth shut. Zendaya has her natural dark brown curls brushed into a bun, she’s especially fixated on your nipples under the clamps. Jake is watching the way you struggle to keep your legs open, watching how wet you are and how your pussy is practically throbbing already.

“Let’s let her sit for a while, catch up?” Tom says, sitting down on the couch next to Harrison who hasn’t really said much of anything, but is watching as Jake brushes some of your hair out of your face, cupping your cheek as he kneels on the ground in front of you.

“Are you a good girl for Tom? Do everything he says?” Jake asks as Zendaya situates herself on the couch on the other side of Harrison.

You nod as best as you can, eyes glancing over at Tom who gives you permission to speak with a simple nod.

“Yes,” you breath out.

“Yes what? You really should learn how to talk to people who are going to be fucking you, baby girl,” Jake coos, lightly tapping his hand across your cheek. It isn’t exactly a slap, but it’s close enough to have you cry out and want to beg for more. You’re patient though, answering how you know Jake wants.

“Yes, daddy, I’m a good girl for Tom,” you answer as Jake slips his hand away from your cheek, tugging at the leash lightly.

“Good, now lay down on your back, want to see all of you,” Jake demands, dropping the leash and standing up.

All eyes are on you as you lay down, your breasts swaying as you do, the leash and collar choking you slightly until you can rearrange yourself into a better spot.

When you finally do, you set your hands at your sides and spread your legs, waiting for another instruction.

Instead, Tom ignores you, asking Jake and Zendaya how their flights were. They make absentminded small talk for a little bit. You feel your pussy become even more damp every single time one of the guests would look at you. Tom never did however, keeping his eyes trained on whichever of his friends was talking.

“Want to play a game?” Tom asks and you whimper, nodding eagerly. He laughs cruelly, getting up to kneel at your side, “not you,” he lightly slaps the inside of your thigh, “you stay like the good slut I know you are.”

“Yes sir.”

“Here, while we play, Jake is going to edge you, how does that sound?” Tom asks, holding up the slim vibrator that you normally use when he wants to tease you and not give you full and complete pleasure.

“Good, sir,” you answer as Tom hands the vibrator to Jake.

Tom steps back and Jake takes his place, shedding his shirt and kneeling between your legs. You try your hardest not to moan as he leans down, the gold chain around his neck trailing up your thigh as he kisses your skin.

“Be a good girl for daddy and take what I give you,” Jake murmurs, turning the vibrator on as you glance at Tom, begging him through pleading eyes to let you make some sort of noise.

“Don’t make me get that ball gag of yours,” Tom warns, picking up the controllers from the coffee table and handing them to Zendaya and Harrison. Maybe it’s because Tom is used to this sort of play with you that he’s the best at not being distracted by your shaking and naked form, but Zendaya and Harrison have a hard time tearing their eyes away from you for long enough to select which characters they want to play.

You hear Harrison try to show Zendaya how to use the controller properly but your attention is torn from them as Jake presses the vibrator right against your clit.

“Fuck!” You cry out, immediately biting your lip to stifle the rest of your moans when Tom gives you another look.

Jake slaps your thigh harshly, the sting making you buck your hips up against the vibrations.

“Did we say you could talk?” Jake asks, running a finger through your slick folds. You shake your head, whimpering as your breasts and the clamps move with it.

“Right, so originally you were going to be allowed to come every single time they got past a level, but I think you’ll get a ruined orgasm now, how does that sound?” Jake asks, thrusting his finger inside of you as he presses the vibrator harder against your clit.

You whimper, “yes daddy.”

“You’ll take whatever we give you, won’t you? Such a whore,” Jake chuckles, watching the way your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he added a second finger to your tight heat. His fingers are considerably thicker than Tom’s, creating a whole new sensation as they press against your sweet spot.

You’re not sure if they’ve even started the game yet, you can only focus on the way Jake’s beard scrapes against your skin and his fingers pound into your pussy with ease.

You hear triumphant cheers before Jake rubs your g-spot with his fingers, letting go of the vibrator to replace it with his tongue.

“Come, slut,” Tom says, it’s so casual and nonchalant and your eyes squeeze shut as Jake sucks on your clit, urging you closer to the edge. Your fingers grasp at the soft material of the carpet and you want nothing more than to grab onto Jake and hold his face against your pussy but you want to be good for all of them.

Just as you feel yourself start to come, Jake pulls his fingers and mouth away from you, slapping your thigh with his hand already soaked in your arousal.

“Such a good girl for daddy,” he praises as you try to come back from the ruined orgasm.

You whimper, blinking your eyes open to watch Jake lick through your folds, hands pushing your thighs apart so he can taste you.

He licks into your entrance, nose bumping against your clit as you struggle to not fight back against his hands. With every jerky movement you heard a warning from Tom and the collar and leash around your neck would tug slightly, choking you.

Jake was teasing you relentlessly, one hand constantly slapping your thighs, the other would either fuck your pussy or rub your clit, switching with his mouth.

You hear another triumphant shout and then Tom, “come.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as Jake’s teeth graze your clit, pulling away from your right as the knot in your stomach almost snaps.

“Fuck!” You groan, biting your lip when you realize you spoke out of turn.

“Z, sit on her face to shut her up,” Tom says, shaking his head at you as Jake turns the vibrator back on, sliding it through your folds, pussy practically begging for more stimulation as Zendaya sets her controller down and stands up.

“So needy, be a good girl, be quiet for us, Harrison and Tom need to concentrate,” Jake teases as Zendaya moves to pull off her leggings, revealing her bare pussy.

You groan and Jake smacks your thigh again as she leans over you, long and slender finger running along your bottom lip. You peek your tongue out to gently lick at it, and she gently slaps your breast with her other hand, causing you to moan.

“You have such beautiful breasts, baby,” Zendaya coos, situating her thighs on either side of your face, muffling another of your moans with her pussy.

You slip your eyes shut as you start to fuck your tongue into Zendaya’s entrance, her hands cupping your breasts.

Before long Zendaya is bouncing on your face, your lips wrapped around her clit as you try to make her come, slightly distracted by her nails scraping against the skin of your breasts, tugging on the clamps from time to time.

Jake’s making the most depraved noises as he sucks on your clit, slowly pushing the vibrator inside of you. It’s slim, slimmer than his fingers, but the added vibration against your g-spot has your hands trying to grab at something or anything, resulting in an order from Tom to put them back down on the floor before he ties them above your head.

You moan at that, the vibrations from your mouth sending a shiver up Zendaya’s spine. You could tell she was close, because she bent down and started kissing and biting along your breasts, marking you over and over again as her hands tighten around your sides.

“Fuck, go ahead baby, I’m gonna come all over your face, that’s right, make me feel good,” Zendaya gasps out, your nose bumping against her clit as you fuck your tongue into her entrance, tasting her as much as possible.

She’s sweet and as she comes, she lets out the most beautiful high pitched cry that makes everyone turn to you and watch, even Tom who was dead set on completely ignoring you for as long as possible.

She all but collapsed against the coffee table as she slipped off of you, her fingers running along your wet and plump lips, smearing her orgasm over your face.

“God, you look fucking beautiful like this,” she murmurs, leaning back down to capture your lips in hers.

She moans when she tastes herself and you allow yourself to get lost in the kiss as Jake fucks the vibrator into you.

Your hips keep bucking up to his movement, the knot in your stomach tightening.

You didn’t hear Tom’s gentle warning not to come, and before you could stop yourself or Jake could pull away, you’re coming, a strangled cry against Zendaya’s lips as she tugs on your nipple clamps.

They both pull back as you pant and try to come down from the orgasm, embarrassment flooding your body because you disobeyed Tom.

He kneels down beside you, smirking as you whimper, thighs quivering as he rests a hand against your collar.

“You’re so needy, can’t even follow simple instructions, can you baby?”

You whimper as he unclips the leash and takes off the nipple clamps, kissing each of your sore nipples.

“You want us to pay attention to you?” He asks, brushing some of your hair out of your face.

“Please,” you whimper, voice hoarse as you watch Harrison stroke his cock, blue eyes dark with lust.

“I guess we can take care of you, but first I think a punishment is in order, you came without permission-,”

“But Jake-,” You start, forgetting the rules for a moment.

Tom slaps your thigh, making you groan before he rests his hand against your throat, “you came without permission and distracted Harrison, made him lose the round. I think it’s only fair he gets to punish you, what do you think?”

“Please, please Haz, daddy,” you whisper, watching the way Harrison groans, letting go of his cock to kneel down next to you.

“You need a little punishment before we can use you, huh?” Harrison asks, stroking your cheek.

You nod, pouting slightly as Tom let’s go of your neck and stands up.

“Let’s go get something to drink, leave Harrison to take care of the slut and put her in her place.”

There’s a hint of jealousy in Tom’s voice but Harrison and you can’t notice it, too caught up in each other as the rest of the group heads into the kitchen, right next to the living room with a very clear view of the both of you.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to see how you react to a little punishment,” Harrison says, his thumb gliding over your bottom lip.

“Please,” you whimper as he traces your collar.

“On all fours, baby girl,” he says, helping your trembling form get up.

He drapes his body over your own, kissing your shoulder as he holds tightly onto you hips, keeping you still.

“Now, I’m going to spank you, are you going to be a good girl and count for me?”

“Yes, yes daddy, promise, I’ll count,” you whimper as he leans back, his hand smoothing over the skin of your ass.

You hear Tom laugh, and you flush, trying to focus completely on Harrison.

“Don’t know how much of a punishment this is, she fucking loves getting spanked,” Tom muses.

“Shhh, don’t listen to him baby, focus on me,” Harrison says, he’s wearing his rings, you can feel the cool metal against your skin before it disappears.

The force of the slap lurches you forward, making you cry out as you try to steady yourself.

“Aren’t you going to count for me? Thought you were a good girl,” Harrison teases, spanking you again.

“I am! I’m your good girl,” you whimper, feeling his hand run down to play with your pussy.

“Do good girls stay this wet when they get spanked? I think you’re a naughty girl, but that’s okay, let’s try this again, hmmm? And what will you do when I spank you?”

“Count,” you stutter out, waiting for him to start over.

“Good, let’s try, shall we?” Harrison says, spanking you again. You stay still this time, with the help of his grip on your hip.

“One,” you whimper, biting your lip as you brace yourself for another slap.

“See? That’s not so hard, is it?”

You shake your head, turning it slightly to watch Harrison, as well as Tom, Jake and Zendaya speak in hushed voices in the kitchen.

By the tenth spank your entire body is shaking and you’re struggling to stay up as Harrison smooths his hand over your skin, kissing down your spine.

“Look so pretty, with all my marks, took your punishment so well,” Harrison praises you and you whimper.

“Open up her ass Haz, I know how much you love fucking it,” Tom says.

All of them are back in the room and you can’t remember when they got there, but you don’t mind, watching Tom hand Harrison a bottle of lube.

“How do you want us?” Tom asks, cupping your chin and forcing you to look up at him.

“Can, fuck, I want to ride Jake, want Haz, in my ass,” you whine as you feel one of Harrison’s fingers trace your second hole, his thumb rubbing your clit.

“Of course, I know how much a greedy slut needs her holes filled,” Tom smirks, kissing your lips softly before pulling back, “but what will I do? What about Zendaya? I thought you wanted to take care of all of us.”

“I do, sir, I want you all, just, ah,” you gasp as Harrison slides one of his fingers into your ass and your hips instinctively push back, trying to let him fill you up.

“Good, now, be a good girl and take what we give you,” Tom smirks, kneeling back so Zendaya and Jake can get a better look at the way you’re falling apart around Harrison’s fingers.

“Can I- fuck,” you gasp, eyes squeezing shut as Harrison pulls his finger out of you, adding more lube before pushing two fingers into you.

“Can you what?” Tom teases, “you know the rules, you have to use your words.”

“Can I come?”

“I don’t know, can you? I’m not the one fucking you, ask Harrison,” Tom says, glancing at his blond haired friend.

Harrison’s bottom lip is caught between his teeth as he watches you move your hips back against his fingers, your clit throbbing against his thumb.

“I don’t know, baby girl, how do you ask me?” Harrison teases, adding a third finger and more lube.

“Please Haz, daddy, need you,” you whimper, feeling your stomach tighten when he pinches your clit.

“Go ahead, then, come for me, want you nice and wet for when we fuck you,” his lips trail back up your spine, making you cry out, coming around nothing as he continues to finger your ass.

“That’s it, good girl,” Harrison praises you.

“More,” you whine, wanting to feel full.

“So needy, Jake, why don’t you fuck her pussy so she stops complaining?” Tom suggests and Harrison’s fingers slip out of you, pulling your back against his chest, one hand around your waist, lips whispering in your ear as Jake undresses.

“Excited to take as many cocks as you can tonight? Want to be stretched as much as possible huh?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whine, watching Jake lay down in front of you, stroking his cock as Harrison rubs your clit.

“Go ahead and sit on Jake’s cock, I’ll fill you up in a second baby girl,” Harrison says, kissing your cheek gently as he guides you to straddle Jake’s hips.

Both Jake and Harrison have their hands all over you, your hips, your ass, and when you finally lower yourself down onto Jake’s cock, you let out a loud whine because you’re in pure fucking bliss.

“Maybe we need to have that mouth stuffed full, too hmm? A little too loud for my liking,” Tom says, watching you bite your lip and Harrison push gently at your back, pressing your chest against Jake’s.

“Come on, gonna open you up again, you want me to fuck you too?” Harrison asks, his hand gliding down to grab a handful of your ass.

“Please!” you cry out, pressing your face into Jake’s chest, your lips trembling around his gold chain as he keeps your hips still.

“So tight already baby girl, you’re going to be so tight when Harrison fucks your ass, going to feel so good for daddy huh?” Jake asks, petting your hair as you whine and nod, tears prickling in your eyes as you feel Harrison’s fingers circle your ass again.

“You like my gold chain, don’t you?” Jake chuckles, watching you sit up slightly and tug the chain between your teeth.

“Yes, daddy,” you mumble, gasping when Harrison begins to fuck his finger into you, making you clench around Jake.

Eventually, with lots of soothing touches and Zendaya playing with your breasts, Harrison is fucking three of his fingers into you, and you’re begging for more.

“Please, daddy, fuck me, need you in me,” you whine, clutching onto Jake’s biceps as you turn your head toward Harrison.

He looks like he’s going to burst with excitement, gently pulling his fingers out of you before adding lube to his cock, stroking it a few times as you whine.

“Be patient, daddy will fill you up,” Harrison teases, his cock nudging at your entrance.

You whimper, the stretch burning slightly as you press your face into Jake’s neck, distracting yourself but sucking and biting at his skin.

“How’re you doing, baby girl?” Jake asks, running a hand up your back to calm you down.

“Good, ah, more, please,” you whine, clenching around Jake as Harrison bottoms out.

“So greedy huh? Already getting fucked by two cocks, you want more?” Tom chuckles, watching Zendaya pull out her strap on, it was thick and purple and a little bit longer than Tom, which only sparked jealousy within him.

“Please, daddy, need you to move.”

Harrison’s hands tighten around your hips, shallowing fucking into you as Jake sort of lifts you up, making you bounce on his lap.

They find a rhythm quickly, tugging you between their two bodies.

You aren’t sure how many orgasms Jake gives you when he sneaks his thumb between your bodies, but with each one, Tom teases you even more, remarking about how he’ll have to get the carpet cleaned with how much of a mess you’re making.

Jake is the first to come, because every orgasm you have completely rocks him, and right before he does he pulls you down for a filthy kiss, his teeth tugging at your lip, “want daddy to come inside of you?”

You whine, high in your throat, trying to fuck yourself harder down on Jake’s cock as he comes, hot and deep inside of you with a growl. Harrison isn’t far behind, his grunts filling the air as Jake’s thumb rubs your clit.

“Come on baby girl, come for daddy,” Harrison grunts, coming inside of you as his hips still.

“Daddy!” you cry out as Harrison wraps a hand around your waist and pulls you up against him, another orgasm washing over you as Harrison kisses down your neck, hands steadying your hips.

“I bet you’re going to look pretty with our come dripping out of you,” Jake smirks, drawing circles on the skin of your thigh as you come down from your high.

“Please, Tommy,” you cry out, vision blurred as you writhe on Jake’s lap.

“Need more?”

“Zendaya, please, more,” you beg, tears slipping down your cheeks as Harrison pulls out of you, leaning back to watch you struggle to keep his come inside of you.

“You want me to fuck you baby?” Zendaya asks as Jake sits up, practically pulling you off of his cock.

“God, yes, need your cock Z, please,” You whimper, kneeling on the floor in front of her, her strap inches from your face as you spread your legs, showing her your fucked out pussy.

“God, I’m going to fuck you so well, fuck you better than any of these boys,” Z murmurs, her thumb tracing your bottom lip before forcing your jaw wide open.

“Please,” you beg, leaning toward her strap, wanting to suck her off.

“Go ahead, get my cock nice and wet for me,” Zendaya smirks, stepping forward to slap her strapon onto your tongue.

You groan as she fucks into your mouth, making you gag as her hands grab at the back of your head.

“Fuck, yes, take my cock so well, want to make sure it’s nice and ready for your pussy,” Zendaya smirks, pulling you back after you’re drooling down your chin.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Zendaya asks,

Tom sits back against the couch, patting his lap.

You turn on your hands and knees, crawling to Tom.

“That’s a good girl,” He smirks, slowly stroking his cock.

“How do you want me sir?” You ask, kneeling in front of him as you wait for more instructions.

“Come and sit on my lap, face Z, I know she loves your tits,” Tom smirks, watching Z stare at the way they bounce as you turn around, straddling Tom’s thighs.

“You want her to fuck your pussy?” Tom whispers, brushing hair from your neck and sending a shiver down your spine as he lifts you up.

“Please, please Z, need you inside me, need you to fuck me, please,” you beg as Tom’s cock begins to easily push into your ass.

“Anything for you, baby,” Zendaya smiles as Tom seats you fully on his cock, making you whimper and reach out for Zendaya.

She pushes your thighs open, running a slender finger through your folds, collecting your own orgasm as well Jake’s come, dragging it up your chest, circling your nipples before shoving her finger in your mouth.

They all watch as you suck on her finger, eagerly cleaning it off as she taps her strapon against your clit, making you buck forward and gag on her finger.

“You’re going to look so fucking pretty full of my cock, baby,” Z smirks, pushing her cock inside of you, slowing when you wince.

“How do you feel?” Tom asks, hands tight on your hips and holding you still when you start to try to fuck yourself down on both of their cocks.

“I’m, ah, it’s a different position, just stretching me more,” you grunt when Z’s lips brush against your chest, eventually wrapping around one of your nipples.

“Tell us when we can move, I know you like being nice and full, don’t you?” Tom asks, smirking at the moan that falls from your lips.

“Fuck, Tommy, love it, move, please, you can move,” you beg before Zendaya kisses you, her tongue easily slipping inside of your mouth as her soft brown curls brush against your face. They easily find a rhythm to fuck you with, Zendaya’s lips were all over your front but she focused on your breasts, kissing and sucking every bit of skin she could get to.

Tom can’t help but groan watching how Zendaya marks you, her finger rubbing your clit as you try to keep your eyes open, wanting to watch everything you possibly could.

“Taking our cocks so well, want me to come in your ass? Fill you up?” Tom asks, holding onto the back of your neck, fingers tugging inside the collar to keep you pressed against him, his cock deep inside of you as it starts to twitch.

Harrison and Jake are watching you get fucked, they’ve pulled their boxers back on but they’re both palming themselves, eyes dark as they watch you stare at them, lips dropping open.

“You want Tom to come inside you? Fuck you even fuller?” Harrison asks, smirking when you can’t make a coherent response.

“Please, Tomy, come in me, need you, Tom,” you whine, feeling Tom twitch inside of you again as he helps you grind against him.

“I’ve got you, don’t be greedy, you’ll get my come, “ Tom murmurs.

It doesn’t take long for him to come, just watching Zendaya tug one of your nipples between her teeth and the way you absolutely sob, babbling and begging for his come. He fills you so well, his come, Harrison’s come, lube, everything starts to drip down your thighs, making you tremble as Zendaya teases you, making fun of the mess you’re making.

“Can’t keep their come inside of you huh?”

“So fucking full, baby, love being stuffed full of come? Show everyone how well we fuck you?”

You’re only able to respond with half mumbled yes, fuck, more and please Z, let me come. You’re completely delirious with want and when Harrison and Jake wink at you almost at the same time, you’re absolutely begging for her to give you another orgasm.

“Come on my cock,” Z whispers, staring up at you through her eyelashes, her eyes dark when you clench around her, screaming her name as you come, your thighs shaking as she holds them open.

“That’s it, good girl, going to pull out of you, try not to drip all over the carpet,” Z winks, slowly pulling back as Tom kisses along your shoulder blades, beginning to lift you up.

Jake and Tom work on cleaning you up, Zendaya helping you stay sitting up and taking off your collar, kissing along the small marks it left along your neck.

“Have a good night okay baby?” Zendaya says, kissing you softly. Her lips are definitely your favorite, they’re so soft and plump and she knows exactly how to use them.

“Mhm, Z, you’re my favorite,” you giggle as Tom’s hands tighten on your hips and Jake grazes his teeth along your shoulder, moving to whisper in your ear.

“You were such a good girl for daddy, hopefully, we can play again some other time.”

Harrison gets to starting the bath in the master bathroom while Tom takes you to the other bathroom, letting you pee before helping you to the other bathroom.

“So, how was that?” Tom asks, brushing your hair from your face as he carries you to the tub that Harrison is sitting in.

“I think you should clean the carpet,” you slur, half in that hazy headspace that you get into when Tom and you have a rough scene.

Tom chuckles as he helps you into the tub, Harrison pulling you back against his chest.

“And you know to use her-,”

“Yes, Tom, the lavender body wash and her special shampoo, I know,” Harrison smiles, kissing your shoulder as you lean back against him, lightly splashing the water around you.

“I’ll be back in a little bit, princess, just want to get your pajamas and some food ready for you,” Tom says, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

You nod sleepily, yawning as Harrison begins to pour water over your hair and body, cleaning your body, gently pressing against all of the marks they made along the way.

“You’re a little tired, huh?” Harrison asks as he cleans you up, helping you stand up and dry off.

“Mhm, you all wore me out,” you giggle as he picks you up in the towel, bringing you to Tom and your bedroom.

Tom is standing by the bed, holding up your favorite pajamas, an old sweatshirt and satin sleep shorts. When Harrison sets you down on the bed, Tom helps get you changed while Harrison brushes your hair into your favorite blue scrunchie, kissing as much skin as he can as he does.

You’re tired but Tom insists on making sure you drink a glass of water and eat a granola bar as he rubs some lotion into your thighs and tummy, kissing your skin along the way.

“Mhm, can you cuddle with us Haz?” You ask, pouting as you watch Harrison start to walk out.

“Of course, I’m gonna go get changed, I’ll be right back,” he nods, winking at you.

You fall asleep between Harrison and Tom, after plenty of soft kisses and cuddling, you simply couldn’t keep your eyes open for any longer. You just recall both of their laughs when you say, “we are so doing that again,” right before falling asleep.

Taglist + people who might enjoy: @nsfwmcu @spiideymjj @mskatharinawho @stealthspideys @robbinholland

#tom holland #harrison osterfield #jake gyllenhaal #zendaya #tom holland smut #jake gyllenhaal smut #zendaya smut #harrison osterfield smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland oneshot #tom holland reader insert #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal x reader #harrison osterfield x reader #zendaya x reader

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wheresmynaya · 4 years ago

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Lost in the Lights Ch.11|Brittana

A/N - The 10 month work drought is finally over! A little bittersweet since I won’t have as much time to write as I once did so make sure you have notifications on for this story on whichever site you use so you don’t miss an update whenever it comes next. Thanks for your patience ❤

PS - Have you seen the amazing artwork that accompanies this fic made by @haru-snixx ? No? Check it out here! It’s VERY cool.

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & under the cut

Santana’s jaw drops when she sees those two players tackle Brittany to the turf. The crunch of bodies colliding is engrained in her memory and pulls an audible gasp deep from within the brunette. Santana knows that Brittany wears all sorts of padding and protection under her uniform but when she sees the quarterback motionless on the ground, her heart plummets.

The next thing Santana knows, she throws down her pompoms and runs for her life out onto the field.

Santana can faintly hear Quinn calling after her but it doesn’t slow her down one bit. She has heard stories about concussed players and broken ribs and punctured lungs and whatever else could go wrong on the field. She can’t just stand on the sidelines and watch this happen in front of her eyes; she has to get to Brittany, she has to make sure she’s okay for herself.

She’s bound to be breaking some kind of rule, but she doesn’t give a shit about that – not when Brittany’s just lying there.

There’s already a crowd of players gathering around the quarterback and Santana pushes past Puck and Karofsky before sinking down to her knees next to Brittany’s head. The blonde’s eyes are closed and there’s this pained expression on her face. Santana is so used to seeing Brittany as this invincible, gorgeous girl that it breaks her heart even further to see Brittany hurting like this.

She leans over the quarterback, trying to blink away the tears starting to well in her eyes.

“Brittany,” Santana urges, awaiting some kind of movement, “Are you okay?”

Santana can feel someone trying to pull her away but she blindly pushes them off of her.

“Santana, let the Trainer look her over.”

The voice belongs to Quinn, but Santana’s not moving until she sees the blues of Brittany’s eyes again, even if that means one of these assholes has to throw her tiny body over their shoulder and haul her away.

She’s not moving until Brittany does too.

The Trainer crouches down on the opposite side and Santana eyes him up and down.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Santana questions bitterly.

The Trainer looks surprised by the question, “This isn’t my first rodeo, kid.”

“That doesn’t mean you know what you’re doing,” Santana bristles.

“Santana,” Quinn chastises with another tug on the brunette’s arm, “Let him do his job.”

“What?” Santana huffs, “Who knows what kind of medical experience he has? He could be a drop out for all we know!”

The Trainer scowls at her, “I’m right here.”

“And?”

The Trainer shakes his head and continues his examination.

The longer Brittany keeps her eyes squeezed shut, the more worried Santana becomes.

She thinks about every moment, every word she has said to Brittany over the past couple of days, and she doesn’t want them to be the last Brittany hears. She doesn’t know if she’s being dramatic here or what, but in this moment it feels like her whole world is falling apart.

“Britt,” Santana begs, her voice cracking as she does, “Come on.”

This time, Brittany’s slow to blink but her eyes open nonetheless. She looks to the Trainer before she settles on Santana. There’s a surprised and confused look on her face before it turns into a sly smile.

“Did you just call me Britt?”

Santana’s lips part for the right thing to say but she fails to find the words. She’s just relieved that Brittany’s eyes are open and she’s talking. The Trainer takes over and Santana pushes to stand before she rounds on the players that surround them.

“She forgot her name!” Santana yells at them, “She forgot her goddamn name!”

“Wait, what?” Finn looks from Santana to the Trainer, “That can’t be true.”

The Trainer glares at Santana, “It’s not.”

The Titans look a mix of confused and worried and scared while Santana continues to fume.

“You have to get off the field,” The Ref says. Coach Beiste isn’t too far behind either.

“I’m not leaving until I know she’s okay!”

Azimio shakes his head at Santana, “This is exactly why girls shouldn’t be playing this kind of sport. They ain’t strong enough, ain’t as athletic for a game like this!”

“Shut the hell up!” Santana growls, “You sound as stupid as you look.”

Azimio looks at her like she has lost her mind.

“Santana, we need to get back to the sidelines,” Quinn tries, “We shouldn’t be out here.”

Santana doesn’t budge as she looks to every Titan surrounding them, “Which one of you imbeciles was meant to guard her?!”

No one makes a sound; the players just shift side to side and look around at each other.

Karofsky seems the guiltiest, “Shouldn’t be playing if she can’t take a hit.”

Santana looks shocked by his comment as she pushes Quinn’s hands off of her. Despite being the smallest on the field, Santana steps up to Karofsky like she’s ten feet tall.

“You shouldn’t be playing if you can’t do your goddamn job.”

Karofsky waves her off, “How about you just head on back to where you came from and keep waving those pom – “

It surprises everyone when Santana lunges at him fist first.

She’s not sure where she’s aiming because the guy still has his helmet on but she doesn’t care at this point. She’s so angry by the lack of concern for Brittany that all she sees is red. If you’re running your mouth to her right now, you’re going to get punched.

“Get off the field!” The Ref orders.

“What about him?” Santana challenges while Quinn holds her back, “He should be thrown out or cancelled or whatever you call it!”

“Ejected?” Sam offers.

“Whatever!” Santana yells, “He did this to her! Throw one of your little yellow flags at him, I don’t give a shit. He’s the one that needs to go!”

“Santana, stop!” Quinn tries harder.

“Get off me, Fabray! I’m going to end him! He had one fucking job: protect her! He couldn’t even do that so now I’m going to go ALL LIMA HEIGHTS on his sorry ass!”

Everyone starts to get restless the angrier Santana becomes. Mike and Sam try to help Quinn with wrangling Santana while Puck’s looking curiously at Karofsky. He starts to see Santana’s point and steps up to him.

“You let that Linebacker get the jump on you. Didn’t you?” Puck accuses before looking to Azimio, “You both did!”

“Prove it,” Karofsky mocks while still avoiding Santana, “You can’t.”

“I was the only one blocking for her!” Puck argues, “I was the only one there! Where the hell were both of you?”

Karofsky brushes him off and glares at Santana, “Get the lesbo out of here so we can play some real football! I’ve over this!”

“That’s right!” Azimio adds, “Too many damn emotions out here.”

Quinn loosens her grip on Santana at that, “On second thought, I’ll help you.”

The pair of them go to tag team Karofsky and Azimio while Mike and Sam try to break it up. Puck’s going after Azimio with Quinn and Finn’s just looking back and forth trying to make sense of everything. Coach Beiste is trying to help break up the fighting while Coach Sue looks on at her Co-Captains with a satisfied smile on her face.

Everyone’s so wrapped up in the commotion that they don’t see Brittany sitting up with the help of the Trainer.

\\\\\

Brittany’s nodding to every question the Trainer asks about how she feels and other routine questions that could spot a possible concussion. In all honesty, it’s not the hardest she’s ever been hit but it has been awhile so she can see why she’s a little slow to recover.

Hearing Santana call out her name so many times really helped though.

“I’m good,” Brittany assures the Trainer, “Just a hard hit.”

The Trainer seems satisfied with Brittany’s responses so he helps her get back on her feet.

Brittany wiggles out the slight soreness but she feels good – she can keep playing, no need for a Concussion Protocol. What she doesn’t expect to see is Santana and Quinn trying to take on her Right and Left Guards. Actually, she doesn’t expect to see all the arguing going on between everyone.

Crawford County is just staring at them while the officials and coaches try to get everyone under control. It might be the rowdiest game this stadium has ever seen and that’s including the game against Carmel High where Puck was ejected for swinging at a player.

Santana’s the feistiest one there and it doesn’t look like she’s backing down any time soon.

Brittany doesn’t understand why she’s here though – well, she does and she doesn’t. Santana was the one who said there were no feelings here; if that was really the case then what’s the explanation for this? Because despite everything she said that day in the locker room, Santana is once again showing the opposite of what she truly feels.

There’s no time to sit and overthink it though, there’s still a game Brittany needs to win.

She thanks the Trainer for checking on her before jogging over to the feuding players.

“We don’t discriminate based on gender!” Coach Beiste shouts as she pushes Karofsky back after something he said. Her face is beet red as she says, “What’s the matter with you?”

Brittany raises a brow at that but Karofsky isn’t her main focus, Santana is and the girl is still trying her hardest to fight through Mike in order to get to Azimio. Santana doesn’t falter in her advances until Brittany makes her presence known by standing in her way.

“Santana, stop,” Brittany tells her calmly with her hands on the Co-Captain’s waist. The touch seems to surprise Santana and she instantly relents enough that Brittany can guide her back even further.

The more distance Brittany can put between the team and Santana right now, the better.

Santana only stares blankly at Brittany like she has just seen a ghost.

“Should you be up?” She asks worriedly, “You need to sit out or something?”

“I’m fine,” Brittany assures her, “I need to finish the game.”

Santana laughs in disbelief, “Seriously? You were hit hard, Britt, I don’t think – “

“So I wasn’t hearing things.”

Santana frowns, “What?”

“You called me Britt.”

Santana softens and Brittany swears she sees a hint of a blush, “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

Brittany starts to grin despite wanting to keep her expressions to herself, “Just the first time you’ve ever said it.”

Santana crosses her arms and her brows furrow as she says, “You shouldn’t play through an injury, you’ll only make it worse. I can call my dad and have you checked out by an actual doctor – not this guy who probably learned everything from episodes of Grey’s Anatomy.”

“I told you. I’m fine,” Brittany insists before she knocks on her side, “See? Rib protector; the pads took the brunt of the hit. I barely felt a thing.”

“Then why’d you look like you were in so much pain?”

“Reflex,” Brittany shrugs, “You try being hit by two Linebackers who weigh twice as much as I do. It’s not fun.”

Santana looks warily but nods in the end, “Just…be more careful, okay?”

Brittany quirks her brow at that; such a change in Santana’s tune compared to the other day. She really doesn’t sound like someone who isn’t capable of having feelings for someone else and she’s dying to know if Santana can see that too. Brittany doesn’t point it out though; not while they’re still on the field. Besides, she thinks it’s kind of nice how much Santana cares, whether she wants to admit it or not.

“I don’t know,” Brittany tries to joke instead, “Seeing you run out here trying to fight the whole team in my honor? Kind of cool.”

“I wasn’t trying to fi –"

“Alright Rocky, let’s go,” Coach Beiste interrupts as she and Quinn walk up, “We have a game to get back to.”

Santana looks at them and nods before turning back to Brittany, “Win this thing, Britt.”

Hearing Santana say her name gives Brittany another endorphins boost. She liked when Santana called her Pierce, it was their thing, but this hits differently. Brittany can’t help but think about what they could be if Santana would just give them a chance. She’ll take her little wins instead though because to have Santana checking on her like this, in front of everyone, and they’re sober? That’s big.

But, one thing at a time. It’s one play at a time, one touchdown, one win.

Brittany only winks before Coach Beiste starts to escort the Co-Captains off of the field.

A few minutes later, the teams are brought back together to continue the game. There are no penalties for the interruption since Santana isn’t a Titan and they’re able to pick up where they left off.

After Brittany’s sack, the Titans are now on their fourth and final down.

That means it’s their last try to make something happen this drive before the ball is given back to Crawford County. They either play it safe and have the special teams come out to punt it away or go for it and at the very least get enough yardage for a new set of downs.

It’s a tough call because they’re about three yards away from a first down.

If the Titans can turn this into something, that’ll be amazing. If they can’t, it puts Crawford County in really great field position and with just six minutes left on the clock and the Titans only leading by 3 points, no one wants that.

There’s also the issue of Karofsky and Azimio and what the hell happened that last play. With how fast she was taken down, it really makes her wonder whether or not they let the defenders slip by on purpose. It all happened so fast though, it would be hard to tell. Still, if she can’t trust the guys meant to protect her then it really throws a wrench in the overall confidence she has in her teammates.

She can’t get hit like that again either, once was enough, but she needs to make a decision: go for it or play it safe?

“I can get three yards,” Puck says confidently as if he could sense the QB’s dilemma.

Azimio shakes his head and Puck shoves at him.

“I don’t need you to do it either,” Puck barks, “You and Karofsky might as well play for the other team!”

“What?” Karofsky looks to Puck and gasps, “I’m not gay.”

“I meant literally, dumbass.”

“Enough!” Brittany orders, “I’m over the arguing. Let’s just win the game first and deal with this later.”

The Running Back doesn’t waver though as he squares his shoulders off with Karofsky. He’s the one looking for a fight now, but Brittany can’t take any more interruptions.

“Puckerman!” Brittany urges, “Focus.”

“Alright,” Puck flinches at Karofsky and Azimio one last time before turning to Brittany.

“I know the perfect play,” The quarterback says, “We haven’t practiced it much but I don’t think they’ll expect it.”

“Okay,” Puck nods resolutely, “I’m down for whatever, Cap. Just give me the ball.”

Brittany has Mike and Sam get into position on the far left side of the field and their defenders mirror them. Puck’s situated behind Brittany hoping to get a running start once he’s handed the ball.

Brittany gets up close to her Center and gets her hands ready for the snap.

“Down,” She calls out as she eyes the defense’s movement. She stomps her left foot and Matt comes rushing across from the right side, “Down…HUT!”

She grips the ball tightly as she spins around and hands the ball off to Puck who is already running to the left side of the field. The handoff is smooth and Puck’s able to bring the ball in to his chest, his arms blocking the defenders from punching it out to force a fumble.

All Brittany can do is hang back and watch the play unfold.

Puck continues to run fast and hard, bouncing off a defender, then slipping through the break in the defense that Mike and Sam are able to create – something that Karofsky and Azimio haven’t been able to do all night!

The receivers stay with Puck and offer some protection as he continues to up field, leaving Crawford County in his dust. The Titans only needed three yards for the first down and Puck’s just crossing over for five!

Brittany’s jumping up and down, pumping her fist, as she watches him haul ass. Mike gets tripped up as he throws his body in the way of a defender that nearly got his hands on Puck, so now it’s just Sam that’s chasing after him. Two Crawford County players are closing in on Puck but the endzone is just a few yards away now.

He could go all the way!

Suddenly, one of the defenders leaps forward and gets his arm around Puck’s waist and soon his heels are digging into the turf to slow him down. Puck keeps fighting though and he’s able to get an extra yard until Sam and the other defender collide into him.

“Hell yeah!” Brittany cheers as she runs up to meet the rest of her team. She jumps up in time to bump shoulders with Puck and when they land to the ground in time, she slaps him on the helmet, “Way to step up, Puck!”

Puck tosses the ball to the Ref before turning to Karofsky and Azimio with this smug grin on his face, “Told you I didn’t need you.”

“Quit it,” Brittany chastises although she’s also pretty proud that they were able to pull off that play without relying on her guards.

Now not only did they get the first down, they’re also just yards away from the endzone!

A great turn of events for the Titans, but she can’t let that get to their heads just yet. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve been able to get this far and not come away with a touchdown. They need to be more focused than ever – especially with the game clock still ticking away.

“Alright let’s keep the momentum going,” Brittany says in the quick huddle, “We made it this far, let’s have something to show for it. Okay? Titans on three. One…two…three!”

“Titans!”

Brittany sets her mouthguard back in place before rubbing the towel that dangles from her waistband between her bare fingers to wick away the sweat. Her heart races in anticipation for being this close to the endzone but she inhales deeply to try and slow it down. It’s important that she remains cool and composed because stress on the field right now is like blood in the water and Crawford County are the sharks.

This next play was meant to be a simple run up the guts by Puckerman but Brittany reads the defense’s formation like an open book. They’re going to blitz – not good. Defenders are going to rush at them from all angles at full speed to flush out any possible run game, so Brittany has to opt for Plan B: a slant route.

“Alert! Alert!” The quarterback yells down the line in both directions to warn the team that she’s going with Plan B. From the corner of her eye, she sees #89 creep towards the gap in her O-Line and quickly points it out, “Watch #89!”

Matt adjusts his position so that he can block the defender before Brittany’s calling for the snap.

The ball is hiked and Brittany secures it in her hands. Within seconds, she quickly fires it at Mike, but his defender is able to bat it down before the receiver can bring it in for a catch. Mike looks to the turf and shakes his head as he jogs back to the line of scrimmage.

Brittany brushes it off though and they reset for the second down.

“Shake it off,” She tells her team as she readies herself for the snap.

This time Brittany fakes the handoff to Puck before running in the opposite direction. No one is open though and the defense is quickly closing in on her. She looks left. She looks right. Still no one can get open. To avoid a second sack of the game or a possible interception, Brittany throws the ball over the heads of Sam and his defender out of bounds.

She starts to feel the pressure as the Titans head into their third down.

Brittany of course still has hope that they’ll make something happen. If anything, she can always bring out Kurt and the special teams for a field goal instead. That’s 3 extra points on the board, but being this close to the endzone? Brittany has to do everything she can to bring in a touchdown.

“This is it, boys,” Brittany says to her team in the huddle, “This is the moment Coach was talking about. There’s only a couple minutes left of this game and it’s looking good for us, but we can make it look even better.”

The guys look battered and bruised but they all nod along with Brittany.

“Big Wheels,” The quarterback calls before looking to Mike and Sam, “Run fast, get open and I’ll find you.”

Mike and Sam knock their fists together and nod.

Brittany then looks to Karofsky and Azimio. She heard Santana and Puck’s claims about them while the Trainer was looking her over. Honestly, she’s never been in this kind of situation where there’s a possibility that her own teammates would purposely let her get hit.

She looks at them with her jaw tightened, “Now’s the time to prove to everyone on this team – including me – that you deserve to be here.”

“What –“

“Don’t,” Brittany stops them, “Show. Don’t tell.”

The guards look taken aback but the rest of the team sides with Brittany on this. It’s one thing to be an asshole, but to upset the balance of the team on purpose like they’ve allegedly done? It doesn’t sit well with anyone.

“Let’s go Titans!” Brittany claps before everyone walks out of the huddle and into position.

Big Wheels is a passing play, that means Brittany has to sit in the pocket long enough for her receivers to get into position up field then it becomes a jump ball. She launches it to whoever she thinks has the best chance at jumping up and catching it despite their coverage.

Usually, the play is used for Hail Mary situations – for when they’re so far away from the endzone or first down that Brittany just has to chuck it and see if it’s caught. It’s a ballsy play, especially if coverage is tight but Brittany has faith in her receivers.

After all, they won their first game against Crawford County with this exact play. It’s kind of fitting that they do it again.

The Titans walk up to the line of scrimmage and the energy in the stadium spikes. Time is quickly ticking away and this could potentially be their last play of the entire game. The Cheerios are shouting Go! Fight! Win! and the spectators pump their fist in time with each word.

Brittany looks to Santana in what feels like the first time since she left the field earlier. She’s the only one not cheering along with the squad, but instead anxiously awaiting the Titans’ next move. The incoming play relies heavily on Karofsky and Azimio doing their job correctly so it can buy Brittany some time in the pocket.

If Santana knew that was Brittany’s plan, the blonde can probably guess that she wouldn’t be too pleased with her – especially if she’s meant to be careful. This isn’t a careful sport though and Brittany can’t live in her fears. For the overall success of the team, she has to put herself in risky positions sometimes.

But it’s endearing to see Santana worry about her, so Brittany gives the Co-Captain a thumbs up before readying herself for the snap.

“Down…hut. Down...hut,” Brittany calls out coolly before leaning in again, “HUT!”

The ball is instantly in the quarterback’s hands and she drops back, keeping an eye on the defenders trying to squeeze their way through her O-Line as well as her receivers crossing into the endzone. She’s able to avoid a defender’s arm as he tries to slap the ball from her hands before Azimio pushes him back.

It’s that move that gives Brittany enough room to step up in the pocket and fire the ball towards Sam. He and his defender both jump up in the air, arms outstretched towards the incoming ball. Brittany watches with her breath held as the ball is juggled then caught and the two land in a tangled mess in the endzone.

She isn’t able to breathe again until the Sam pops up from the ground with the game winning ball in his hand just as the Ref signals the touchdown is good!

Crawford County gets the ball back with just over two minutes left in the game and they are unsuccessful in scoring against the invigorated Titans defense.

The McKinley Titans end up winning the game: 38 – 28.

They’re off to the Championships along with Carmel High for the first time in who knows how many years and they couldn’t be more excited! The Titans shake hands with the opposing team before returning to their sidelines to celebrate. They’re spraying each other with drink bottles and dancing to the music that’s blasting through the stadium speakers.

Brittany steps back and takes it all in with a proud smile on her face.

The sights and sounds and this feeling that can’t be replicated; it’s like no other and she soaks it up. Her family is chanting her name from the stands and it makes her laugh when she sees Pete with his entire face painted red and white. Her little brother is something else, it warms her heart to see him cheer for her so passionately. It reminds her a little of their dad and she’s glad that Pete’s carrying on his legacy.

Then there’s Santana who stares at her with this quiet kind of content. Her face is relaxed of any expression, but a storm cloud looms over her as she watches Brittany stand alone on the field.

Those on the team that have girlfriends are being hugged and kissed and congratulated, but not Brittany.

She just looks at Santana, waiting and willing her to do something – will she surprise her even more than she already has tonight? Will she finally blow off whatever anyone has to say about her or them and just do what feels right? Will she just come over here and kiss her already?

It’s like Brittany’s giving her this unspoken second chance and it really does look like Santana wants to do everything Brittany’s hoping she would. The Co-Captain is looking around at Quinn and Mike, Sugar and Sam, even Puck is making googly eyes at some random Cheerio. They’re both surrounded by everything they wish they could be, but Santana never makes a move.

Instead, she deflates – as if to say I can’t – before leaving with her head hung low and that just about answers Brittany’s questions.

Despite the win under her belt, Brittany’s spirits never get quite as high as her teammates’. She wishes they would, anything to make this sinking feeling go away, but it never does. Brittany can only watch as Santana and the other Cheerios leave the field and the stands begin to empty.

This is the place Brittany blooms, right here on this field, but for the first time ever that doesn’t happen. She doesn’t feel whole even after the win and she hates that she knows why that is. She just saw the reason walk away from her and there’s nothing she can do about it.

She just looks up at the bright stadium lights and wishes on them as if they were stars. She wishes that things would right themselves. She wishes for courage and strength, but not for herself. She wishes for things to get better because she doesn’t know how to make that happen on her own.

Brittany keeps wishing because in the place she used to feel so sure of herself, she has never felt so lost in the lights.

After finally going over to see her family and listening in on Coach Beiste’s post-game speech, Brittany makes her way to the girls’ locker room to get changed. She’s starting to feel those couple of hard hits she took during the game as she sets down her scuffed helmet and gets to work shedding her pads.

Brittany’s muscles are tight and her throwing arm is a little sore but it’s a nice relief once she gets her shoulder pads off. She strips down to her leggings and sports bra as she wanders over to the showers to get the water going. For once, she’s grateful she is the only one there because that means she won’t have to compete for hot water.

Brittany’s setting down a change of clothes on the bench by the shower stall when the locker room door creaks open. Brittany looks up and is stunned by who she sees creeping in.

“Hi,” Santana greets, her voice quiet as she closes the door behind her. She looks like a meek little mouse with her hands hidden in the pockets of her Cheerios jacket.

Brittany swallows dryly. She didn’t expect to see her here after the look they shared on the field, but Brittany greets her nonetheless.

“Hey. What are you doing here?”

Santana takes a couple timid steps closer, “Just wanted to say great game.”

“Thanks,” Brittany nods before turning back to hang her towel on the hook. She has to keep busy so she doesn’t try to turn this into something bigger than it is, “Have you been hanging around just to tell me that?”

“Kind of.”

“Could’ve texted me,” Brittany shrugs but Santana only nods.

“I didn’t want to. I…I also wanted to apologize about running on the field,” Santana adds to Brittany’s surprise, “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You were worried.”

Santana lets loose a nervous chuckle, “No, I was – “

Brittany sends her a tired look and it has Santana stopping in her tracks. She looks as if she’s just been scolded although Brittany didn’t even say a word.

“Okay,” Santana relents, “I was worried. You weren’t moving and I just…I thought the absolute worst.”

Brittany sucks in a shaky breath and watches as Santana carefully takes another few steps closer, “And that made you run out on the field?”

“Well yeah,” Santana says easily, “I couldn’t just stand there and watch you like that. What if it was serious? You never know it’s the last time until it is and I didn’t want that. I don’t want that.”

Santana’s words strike a sensitive nerve within Brittany, but the quarterback continues to stand there with this look of indifference. She’s not sure whether Santana’s still talking about the game or what and it frustrates her.

“You don’t want that?” Brittany lets out a bitter laugh, “I don’t get you, Santana.”

Santana’s shoulders fall slightly, but she moves closer again. Now that they’re just an arm’s length away it overwhelms Brittany to have her so near, but she stays focused.

“Your words and your actions don’t add up,” Brittany continues, “You say you don’t have feelings but you rush the field when you think I’ve been hurt? You can see how I’m struggling to make sense of that, right?”

Brittany can see Santana trying to form the words but she moves too slowly.

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” Brittany adds, “I don’t know how you feel about me and it’s confusing and I don’t like it. I don’t like these kind of games. I don’t want to guess, Santana. I shouldn’t have to. If you don’t really like me then spare me the heartache and the runaround and just tell – “

Santana’s lips are on hers in an instant.

It’s like that same sigh of relief and Brittany hates how she relaxes into it out of habit. Santana cradles Brittany’s face in her hands so gently and she kisses her like her whole life depends on it. She kisses Brittany impatiently, like she’s trying to put everything she can’t say out loud behind it – but that’s what’s wrong with them, isn’t it?

Sometimes this isn’t enough, sometimes people need to hear it for themselves too.

When Brittany reluctantly pulls away from Santana, her whole body is a buzz. Her heart tells her to get back in there, to press Santana against the wall and kiss her hard, but her head says no. She can’t go back on her stance, she needs a real explanation – not a kiss that can be interpreted however the heart wants.

“This isn’t an answer,” Brittany says with her lips still tingling from the searing kiss.

“I know it isn’t,” Santana sighs. She sounds desperate as she drops her hands from Brittany’s cheeks to rest on her hips. Her thumbs smooth over Brittany’s bare skin, “But it’s all I’ve been thinking about doing as soon as you opened your eyes after that hit.”

Santana starts to lean in again and Brittany lets her, because she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t thinking about doing the same thing too.

“I wasn’t brave enough to do it out there,” Santana husks; her eyes are steady on Brittany’s, “I’m sorry. I wish I could be the kind of person you deserve to be with but I don’t think I am…not yet.”

Brittany bites the corner of her lip in thought. It’s the worst idea because she can taste just a hint of Santana’s lip gloss there and it distracts her for a moment from taking Santana’s words in. It’s the first time she’s hearing Santana be honest about her feelings and it breaks her heart a little to think Santana doesn’t see what Brittany sees in her.

“I want to be though,” Santana adds, “I want to be brave enough to hold your hand when we walk down the hall together. I want to take you out on dates and buy you all the flowers that make me think of you, but most importantly I want to be able to kiss you whenever and wherever. Whether it’s between classes or out on that field in front of everyone after you’ve won the big game, I want to be brave enough to do it…I just don’t know how to do that.”

“I can help you,” Brittany offers, “You don’t have to do this alone.”

The tears welling in Santana’s eyes are unexpected, but the Co-Captain blinks them away as smile graces her lips, “So I’ve heard.”

“It’s true, Santana.”

“I know,” Santana replies, “It’s just taken awhile for me to believe it. You came here and everything changed, I changed. But it isn’t enough. You deserve someone who isn’t afraid to show you that they…that they like you. A lot. I want to be that someone someday.”

Brittany’s so moved by Santana words that she surprises herself by being the one to lean in first. She inhales sharply as their mouths crash together once again. It’s everything that Brittany has been trying to pull out of Santana and now that she finally heard it, she doesn’t know what to do but kiss her long and hard.

Santana’s hands are gripping Brittany’s sides while the blonde frowns at not be able to feel more of Santana too. As if Santana could read Brittany’s mind, she starts to shrug out of her Cheerios jacket. Brittany helps with pulling it all the way off before it’s tossed to the floor. Neither of them are thinking too clearly about where this is going, but the shower steam is filling the room like a sauna and it’s make their clothes feel too tight.

“Fuck,” Santana whines when Brittany nips at her lower lip.

“Take this off,” Brittany groans as she tugs on Santana’s top. The brunette’s hands have been all over Brittany and it just isn’t fair that she can’t feel Santana too.

Santana obliges without a second thought and the top falls to join her jacket on the floor.

Brittany gulps when she sees Santana’s lacy, black bra while her hands move on their own to roam. Her breath hitches though when Santana hooks her fingers into the waistband of her tights.

“These too,” Santana whispers against Brittany’s swollen lips.

Brittany quickly sheds them, trying her hardest to keep from breaking the kiss but it’s nearly impossible to do. They giggle when Brittany hobbles around on one foot trying to pull the last of the tights from around her ankle, but then it’s not so funny.

She’s standing there in just her bra and boy shorts while Santana mirrors her doing the same. The Cheerios skirt is the last layer Santana has on and it falls to pool around her ankles.

They’re equal now and Brittany’s chest is heaving at the sight. Her head is begging to know is this really happening but she’s pressed snooze on it for the time being. In this moment, she can’t help but follow her heart and it’s telling her to go for it.

Whatever it means.

“I’ve never,” Santana whispers a second later.

Brittany’s heart pounds but her voice comes out surprisingly even, “Ever?”

Santana gives her a look that makes Brittany want to laugh. It’s the perfect way to break up such a nerve racking moment.

“With a guy, yes. With a girl…no.”

“Well I figured considering I was your first girl kiss,” Brittany jokes and it has Santana smiling bashfully. Brittany softens, “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

Santana steps closer and her eyes flicker between Brittany’s piercing blues.

Then Santana leans in and the kiss that follows is softer than the ones before. It’s slow and methodical and Brittany melts into her yet again, but it doesn’t last for too long. The kiss turns needy and before Brittany knows it, she’s stepping backwards into the shower. She can’t tell if she’s the one doing the guiding or if it’s Santana, maybe it’s just a mutual thing, but when the warm water hits their bodies they pull each other closer.

They still have their bras and underwear on and the water is starting to soak through, but they don’t seem to notice as they continue to trade hungry kisses beneath the spray. After such a rough game in the freezing cold, this is the perfect way to warm up. It’s like Brittany can feel everything and it would be so overwhelming if she didn’t love every second of it.

Her hands smooth over all of this newly exposed skin, memorizing each and every curve of Santana’s body as if she was never going to see it again. Who knows, maybe she won’t? It’s one thing at a time and right now that one thing is showing Santana how great they could be together.

“Good thing you picked this one,” Santana mumbles breathlessly about the stall.

Brittany shakes away the daze of her thoughts, “What?”

“I pay the janitor to deep clean it twice a week,” Santana smirks, “No one else is meant to use it but me.”

“Whoops,” Brittany snickers, “I wondered why it was always so clean. There’s always really nice smelling body wash in here too.”

“You’re welcome.”

Brittany and Santana giggle as they share one more kiss, but this one isn’t like the others. It’s sweet and chaste and happens almost out of reflex.

Santana’s the first to break it this time, “So are you going to like…wash yourself or?”

Brittany quirks a brow, “You saying I stink?”

Santana gives her a look and Brittany sends it right back.

“Why else would I be in the shower, Santana?” Brittany teases, “There are many walls in here that I could’ve pinned you against other than this very clean one.”

“Smart ass,” Santana smirks as she grabs the shampoo, “Turn around. I’ll do your hair.”

“Really?” Brittany grins but Santana just shrugs. The blonde turns and lets Santana get to work washing her hair like it’s the most natural thing in the world for them.

“I’ve never showered with my clothes on,” Brittany admits.

“You can lose them if you want.”

Brittany looks over her shoulder at Santana to find her with this smug grin on her face.

“I doubt you could handle that,” Brittany flirts.

“You’re probably right.”

The blonde feels that same familiar sense of floating that she’s been so desperately missing the past couple of days as Santana scratches at her scalp. Even if they’re not doing anything too risky, this is much more intimate than they’ve ever been. It’s a nice change and it almost makes up for the last couple of days they’ve been apart.

Once Santana rinses Brittany’s hair, they go back to kissing lazily. They shift back and forth from hungry and needy to soft and slow, but their last layer of clothes is never shed. Despite their bras and bottoms being a sopping wet mess, no one crosses that barrier. They just stand beneath the spray like that until the water starts to lose its warmth.

Brittany finally feels like herself again, like maybe things will be okay but there’s an odd moment of clarity and it has her pressing pause.

“We should still talk about things,” Brittany reminds Santana, “This doesn’t count.”

Santana pulls away and looks Brittany in the eye again, “I know.”

“Okay.”

Santana gives her a shy smile, “Soon.”

Brittany nods before Santana steals another kiss. She has high hopes, because that’s just who she is. She always searches for the best in people, she always gives third and fourth chances. Whether or not that’s her greatest trait or her biggest downfall, she’ll never know. But when it comes to Santana, she just has to keep her head up.

Santana said they’ll talk soon, so she’s going to hold her to that.

#Lost in the Lights #Brittana #Brittana Fanficition #Fanfics #QB!Britt

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burgers-and-french-fries · 3 years ago

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Taron Egerton: GOAL!

Request: Hey there! I hope you’re doing well! I’ve got a request. I’ve been feeling some cute/domestic/fluffy grandpa Eggsy or Taron! Whichever you’re feeling! Stay lovely!

Note: Well hello there! It’s so good to be writing imagines for people again. I had so much fun writing this imagine and the one previous. So thank you to the awesome person that left me this request. I hope that you enjoy this and I hope that it lives up to what you had pictured in your mind.

This imagines is a M/M pairing of Taron and an original male character named Jacob. It’s full of encouragement, soccer and love that two very proud grandfathers have for their only grandchild.

Enjoy!

=== Ashleigh Markson was a typical 9 year old girl with a huge a passion for soccer, so when she was accepted to play for her local soccer club, she was over the moon excited. She refused to stop talking about it and it got to the point where Ashleigh’s parents, Brielle and Adam begged Taron and Jacob to take their granddaughter for the weekend.

The couple happily agreed and told Brielle and Adam that they’d collect Ashleigh on Friday after dinner and take her to her weekly soccer game. Brielle was so grateful to her parents as she and her husband really needed this break. They had even promised Ashleigh that they could build a blanket Fort like they did when she stayed with them. It was her favourite thing to do with them.

“Are they here yet?” Ashleigh whined for the millionth time in two minutes. Brielle rolled her eyes.

“Honey, you asked me that not more than ten seconds ago. Nothing has changed since then.” The mother said. Jacob chose that moment to ring the doorbell. Ashleigh jumped up from the sofa and bolted to the entryway, Brielle following close behind.

“Finally!” Ashleigh hollered as she unlocked and opened the door.

“Hi dad.” Brielle greeted. Jacob smiled and embraced his daughter before turning to Ashleigh.

“Are you ready to go?” He asked. Ashleigh nodded enthusiastically, making her mother and grandfather chuckle.

“Well alright then.” Jacob replied. Ashleigh smiled and moved to grab her bags before her mother stopped her.

“Ash, can you give grandpa and I a minute?” Brielle asked. Ashleigh nodded.

“Papa is in the car if you want to go and see him. I’ll bring your bags in a minute.” Jacob said. Ashleigh walked off to see Taron.

When Ashleigh reached the car, she knocked on the passenger window, making Taron jump. He quickly shut his phone off and placed it in the cup holder beside him.

“You scared me.” He said as he got out of the vehicle. Ashleigh giggled and threw her arms around her papa’s waist.

“Did you have a good day?” Taron asked, rubbing the girl’s back.

“It was good but I miss school.” She replied. School had been out for summer break and while spending time at home was fun, Ashleigh had no siblings to play with so it got quite lonely at times.

“I promise this weekend will be fun.” Taron said, his playful and cheeky side shining through with that comment.

Taron got Ashleigh settled in the back seat before helping Jacob put her bags in the back end of the car.

“Ready bug?” Taron asked as he and Jacob got back into the car and got belted in.

“I was born ready.” Ashleigh replied with confidence. Both men chuckled.

Once they arrived at the soccer building, Taron carried Ashleigh’s soccer bag in while Jacob went to find a good spot to sit.

“What if I miss the ball?” Ashleigh questioned, feeling nervous all of a sudden. Taron pulled the girl into a hug.

“I have every ounce of faith in you. You are a brilliant player. You practice all the time and as long as you have fun, you will be just fine darling.” Taron replied as he now looked Ashleigh in the eye.

“Just try not to be so competitive.” Taron smirked. Ashleigh smirked as well and wrapped her arms around him again. Taron knew just how competitive Ashleigh could be. She did have Egerton blood in her veins after all.

“Wish me luck.” Ashleigh said as Taron handed her the bag he had been carrying.

“Grandpa and I will be cheering you on.” Taron replied. Ashleigh nodded and watched as the Welshman walked off to find his husband.

A few minutes later, Taron and Jacob were sitting on the bleachers watching as Ashleigh kicked the ball toward the net. Unfortunately a girl from the other team managed to take control over the ball. Ashleigh felt annoyed but used that to retake the ball and score a goal for her team.

Taron and Jacob jumped up and cheered. They were so proud of their granddaughter and everything she achieved.

“I love that kid.” Jacob said as they sat down again. Taron took hold of his husband’s hand.

“She reminds me so much of Bri when she was that age.” Taron replied. Jacob had to agree but not before he let out a chuckle.

“What?” Taron asked, cringing when Ashleigh missed the ball.

“Remember Brielle’s tennis phase?” Jake asked. Taron burst out laughing.

“Your nose looks so much better now.” He told the man beside him.

“I didn’t think my nose would bleed so much.” Jacob responded.

“That was the last time she touched a tennis racket.” Taron remembered.

“Thank goodness soccer doesn’t involve flying rackets.” Jacob muttered under his breath. Taron heard the comment and simply lifted his husband’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of it sweetly.

The couple continued watching the game and slowly felt the stress seep into their veins as the time wound down. Ashleigh’s team hadn't been doing all that great despite Ashleigh playing her hardest.

“Go Ashy.” Jacob cheered when the girl fell. From his seat, he could see the frustration on her face. Ashleigh looked up at her grandfathers.

Taron and Jacob gave her their secret ‘you got this’ signal and she could feel the adrenaline course through her body. She took a deep breath and went for the ball.

She got a hold of the ball and at the very last second, the nine year old kicked the ball and sent it soaring toward the net. She scored the winning goal.

Her team cheered and gathered around her as parents and guardians jumped up and cheered from the bleachers. Taron and Jacob cheering the loudest.

Slowly but surely, the excitement died down and people started leaving the field. Ashleigh grabbed her bag and walked toward her grandfathers and into their arms for the celebratory victory cuddle.

“You played so well honey.” Jacob complimented.

“Does this mean I get Nandos?” Ashleigh asked. The adults chuckled.

“Absolutely.” They agreed as they all left and made their way to the chicken place.

After they got their food, they arrived home. Jacob went to the kitchen to grab all the dinner dishes whilst Taron took Ashleigh upstairs and got her settled into her room so that she could wash up for the night.

“Papa?” Ashleigh asked.

“Yes my sweet?” Taron asked in reply.

“Thank you for coming to my game.” Ashleigh answered. Taron smiled brightly as he felt his heart grow with more love for his only grandchild.

“You’re welcome darling. You sure made us proud.” Taron replied. Ashleigh grinned.

“I love you papa.” She mumbled as she gave him a hug.

“I love you too.” Taron responded before kissing the top of Ashleigh’s head.

#taronegerton #Grandpa!Taron #omc #taron egerton blurb #taron egerton fanfiction #taron egerton au #taron egerton fanfic #taronegertononeshot #taronegertonimagines

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a-heart-of-flame · 4 years ago

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Pick-A-Card Reading

This is my first attempt at a pick-a-card reading. I’ve done it as a way to practice my intuitive reading skills and to potentially get some feedback on my work! Please choose one of the piles from the photo below, and then find your pile listed under the “Keep Reading” cut ♥ The stones are from left to right; Carnelian, Black Obsidian, Citrine and Moonstone. The message is meant to be “what you need to hear right now”. I’d greatly appreciate feedback on this reading since I made it purely to test my skills and to practice. Let me know what you thought, if it “hit home”, was too vague or if I could write the messages more clearly etc. Any feedback is welcome, many blessings to you and yours ♥

CARNELIAN

Hello Carnelians, if you picked this pile the message I read for you is a call to action. A call to learn or build a routine or structure of some kind in your life. You’re called to allow yourself to believe in yourself, and to commit to your own happiness. I feel an air of stagnation? As if perhaps you have felt stuck for a while, feeling as if your situation is hopeless but that’s not true. Sometimes happiness and wellbeing work is the hardest of all as it can require a lot of discipline from ourselves. The cat and lion spirit cards however are asking for energies of confidence, independence and grace. You are worthy and deserving of happiness, allow yourself to believe that! Do not allow co-dependency and self-sabotaging habits to control your life. Remember that you have learnt from previous experiences what works and what does not, and also that all dreams and wishes require action in the physical plane to manifest. You cannot wish, dream or cast spells for the things you want without also doing the physical groundwork for it, and this is your call to do so. _______________________________♥_____________________________ BLACK OBSIDIAN

Hello Obsidians, if you picked this pile, the message I got for you was to take a step back from a situation or relationship that is not serving you. The commonly dreaded Tower card for me is a sign of an exercise in futility. It is a situation that will not be fruitful or that is unstable at best, like a structure built on shifting sands. You are investing so much energy and resources into this situation or person that you are left feeling completely overwhelmed and disappointed. Frog Spirit popped out immediately giving a clear sign to give this up. You can choose what to spend your energy and thoughts on. This situation or relationship is hindering you from growing right now. It requires a healthy dose of boundaries. Whether it be boundaries between you and another person or boundaries on how you manage your time, energy and resources. However if said boundaries can be established, I feel growth will occur as there is a lot of hope and encouragement in the other cards such as the bottom left, telling you that you and your loved ones are safe. To me this signified that the people who truly care about you and your highest good will not be disturbed or offended by your demand for boundaries. The people who love you will support your choice for change, and respect your feelings. The remaining cards told me that you either already know the true colours of this situation/relationship or that it will be made clear to you very soon. _______________________________♥_____________________________ CITRINE

Hello Citrines, if you picked this pile the message I got for you was to let go of control. There seems to be a strong yearning for a goal, dream or achievement that you have been striving for tirelessly but it’s not really moving forward. The spirit cards tells us that there is enough for everyone and you’re not wasting time. You’re not too old and it’s not too late. Also, other people’s success do not take away from you, nor does it reflect on your worth. There are blessings in your life which are hidden from you. It could be because you’re at a point in life where there is a lesson to be learned before you can move forward, an enlightenment to reach which you haven’t yet because you’re too busy trying to force your way forward. Or, you’re frankly ignorant or unappreciative of them. Whichever it is, it’s important right now that you take a breath and see things from another perspective. Tunnel vision is a thing and it seems you’ve been in it for some time now. I feel you will reach that goal, dream or achievement you’re chasing but first you need to relax and go about it from a different angle. The bottom cards say “Surrender to the Divine” and “Bring love into the situation”. Which tells me it’s time to trust The Universe, Spirit, your Deities or Guides, whatever you follow in your spiritual path and to stop suffocating progress by forcing it and instead ask yourself how you can bring love into it and nurture the situation forward. Very few flowers bloom in intense pressure. _______________________________♥_____________________________ MOONSTONE

Hello Moonstones, if you chose this pile the message I got for you is that it’s time to find your courage. I feel there’s a part of you who has been deeply wounded, perhaps at a young age too and it’s time to heal that part. There seems to be barriers or behaviours that you’ve built in self-defense. Defense mechanisms that has in the past lead you to miss opportunities you may have otherwise taken, these are the things you’re asked to start healing. You’re asked to reach out to someone you trust, or to ask for help in some way. You do not have to be in this alone, the walls are not needed anymore. If you were unhindered by fear, inquisitive and free like a child, what would you do? How would you approach a situation? That’s the question I feel this reading wants to ask you. The wild and wondrous side of you that you’ve boarded up and protected wants to come back out! Finally I sense there’s a bit of encouragement in these cards that the tough time you have been through is coming to and end. That’s why the defense mechanisms can be lessened now, because you need to do so to allow yourself to heal and grow. I will add that there’s no sense of urgency in this reading, you should take your time, one step at a time, but please begin ♥ _______________________________♥______________________________ Decks used: Mystical Manga Tarot, Animal Spirit Oracle, Whispers of Healing Oracle and Moonology Oracle

#pick a card #safi speaks #what do you need to hear right now

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gnoll-king · 4 years ago

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Well hello there. 💯🍬🏩🎀💘 or pick whichever you like more, I'm just bad at choosing only one, haaaa

I shall do them all because WHY NOT?

💯 What is my muse’s ideal date? Gnoll - Take this idiot on a picnic with his favorite food and star gaze where he can snuggle you. Lykos - Something fun! A fair or carnival where he can run around with you and play games. Coffee - A nice dinner, he doesn’t have a lot of energy so he’d like something very relaxing to do.

🍬 Is my muse a sub, dom, or switch? Gnoll - Chaotic Switch (who knows what he’ll be) Lykos - Top leaning Switch Coffee - Pure Switch, goes off of what his partner is.

Gets a little SPICY from here on so look at your own risk.

🏩 What was my muse’s first time like? Gnoll - His first time was shortly after he fully healed from his gender correction surgeries and in his words “It was a BLAST”. Lykos - He enjoyed his first time, since it made him realized he really likes being in control. Coffee - He hasn’t had his first time yet!

🎀 Who would my muse sleep with if nobody ever had to know? Gnoll - He has no shame, he doesn’t let the opinion of others stop him so there isn’t anyone he can think of. Lykos - Similar to Gnoll he doesn’t care about others opinions on who he sleeps with. Coffee - Anyone hes attracted too, hes too shy he doesn’t want anyone to know who he sleeps with.

💘 What are the ways my muse says ‘I love you’ without actually saying it? Gnoll - KISSES AND SNUGGLES! He will take any and all opportunities to smooch his partner and nuzzle up to them. Lykos - He’ll subconsciously make hearts that float from his head when hes feel a strong feeling of love, depending on his partner the color changes (for Lucio the hearts are gold!). He’ll also hold his partners hand or loop their arms and lean on them. Coffee - He has the hardest time expressing himself especially through words so to show his affection to his partner he’ll make them things! Little drawings, potions that might help with a problem they’ve been having, or he’ll just be around them, hes very introverted so being around his partner is the biggest ‘I love you’ he can give.

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howdoyousleep3 · 5 years ago

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Daddy!Steve NSFW ABCs 🌶

AHHHHH it is here! Well…it is here but it is in pieces, haha. I’ve decided to do little installments because I was getting carried away. This post is I, J, K, and L! It includes Twink!Bucky as well because it was inevitable. Please please enjoy and please please litter my inbox and notifications with love if you think I am worthy of it. ILY.

Parts A, B, C, and D

Parts E, F, G, and H

Intimacy

There are many words that Bucky would use to describe Steve Rogers: daring, confident, intelligent, devoted, caring. Out of all of those words Bucky would shove them aside and choose intense. Steve Rogers is one of, if not the, most intense men he has ever met. No one is as driven as Steve Rogers. When he puts his mind to something there is nothing that can get in his way that is a true obstacle. Steve would sacrifice himself and his health, mentally and physically, to accomplish a task. He can walk into a room and immediately demand attention from all occupants. People want to know him but are intimidated to approach him.

Steve Rogers is intense.

Steve Rogers is arguably even more intense in the bedroom.

When Bucky gets fucked by Steve, he feels like his soul is being turned inside out, punched out in the hysterical noises he makes, like he’s a different person on the other side of his time in bed with Daddy. He cried the first time he and Steve had sex, hadn’t even realized he had started crying until he heaved in a sob of a gasp and Steve was kissing at his cheeks, continuing to fuck him through it. A quick fuck, a marathon of sex, in the bedroom, in a car—no matter what it is or where it always feels like they’re making love.

Steve is attentive, the most attentive lover Bucky has had or will ever have, knows Bucky like he’s been studying him his entire life. Steve loves making Bucky come, focuses on it intently, not stopping until the younger has come at least twice. He’s never had a partner that wasn’t focused on coming themselves, chasing that pleasure, but with Steve his only sole focus is Bucky and how he feels. The attention made Bucky uncomfortable at first, not something he was used to, coming to realize that Steve is right in pointing out Bucky had a growing praise kink.

Bucky knew Steve loved him before the older man even said the words, could feel it in his actions, in the way he wrung orgasm out of orgasm from Bucky. The way Steve looked into his eyes, forehead pressed into Bucky’s, trying to maintain eye contact while fighting to prevent his eyes from rolling back into his head. The way he held onto Bucky, gripped his thighs, his chin, his arm across his chest, cradled his head, whispered his encouragement into his ears, his skin. The way he cherished Bucky and eventually verbalized his love for Bucky made him feel like he was the most-loved person on the planet.

Even during their drunken romps or goofy foreplay or giggles, Steve is still intense but moreso in how hard he loves Bucky and how focused he is on making the younger feel as much pleasure as possible. Bucky is one lucky bastard.

Jack Off Steve is a simple man. He likes his coffee black, he likes his pies apple, and he likes to greet the day with an orgasm. He tends to rise early, around five in the morning, enjoys that because he has a slow and steady start to the day. Steve has always had a sex and he especially has one now that he has this sweet little thing to fall asleep next to at night and to wake up wrapped around in the mornings. That fact alone, high sex drive or not, would make anyone a morning person, would make any man as hard as a rock within seconds of waking up.

Within seconds of waking up Steve is pulling the younger man towards him, snuggling in and wrapping him up tight in his arms. Bucky rarely wakes fully, very much a night owl, sinks into sleep like a stone in water. Within about a minute of that, Steve has a raging erection, one he likes digging into the meat of Bucky’s plush ass, slow and leisurely. It’s at this point that Bucky rises, comes to join Steve in greeting the day, sometimes in full and sometimes still half asleep.

Steve likes to start the day with an orgasm but Steve likes to start the day with an orgasm brought to him by Bucky. The younger man knows this, knows Steve’s desires and routine well within a few months of seeing each other, is aware of what Steve wants when he wakes, when he feels that hot and heavy erection pressing into somewhere on his body. There are a variety of emotions that Bucky can feel, sometimes grumpy and sometimes wanting to get off himself, but the overarching feeling for him is the desire. Daddy wants him, wants him the moment he wakes up, and how can that not make him all flushed and happy?

Steve’s favorite is when Bucky is a little sleepy, not quite awake, but shit is he sweet. His cheeks are all flushed and he’s snuggly and wants kisses and coos, wants to do anything to make Daddy happy. He’ll yield to Steve beautifully, something so angelic about Bucky when Steve gets to see him wakeup and greet the day, whisper, “Daddy want my hand?” and Steve will rumble, kiss that spot behind his ear that makes Bucky shiver. “I’ll take whatever you wanna give me, sugar. Don’t have to do a thing,” is what Steve will respond with, pressing his erection into the cushion of Bucky’s ass, the curve of his hip, his belly.

Steve loves Bucky’s hands on him. He loves the way Bucky’s fingers resemble the rest of him, lithe and delicate, loves the way they look fit snug around Steve’s cock. At the beginning of their relationship Steve spent time teaching Bucky, showing him the way that he liked to be touched, what Steve craved to feel from the younger man. Now Bucky could work him over efficiently, Steve maybe being too good of a teacher or Bucky having been too good of a pupil.

Either way, it was a stupendous way to start the day. Sometimes it was sloppy and Steve would have to do most of the work, rutting into a somewhat loose fist, Bucky making soft pretty noises, halfway asleep. Other times Bucky was more alert, could work both hands and run his mouth at the same time, sweet sleepy words, Steve being the one that is less awake. “Mornin’, Daddy. This fat cock woke me up, couldn’t ignore it anymore, wanna make it come. Would you like that? Yeah? Come ‘ere, roll over. Wan’it on me, all of it, come on, Daddy—”

Heartrates are still low, soft gasps, sunlight filtering in through the dark curtains. Rolls in the sheets, lips pressed into skin yet not quite kisses, hums, encouragement. Sleepy smiles, low groans, slow builds. By the time Steve is spilling into Bucky’s hand it’s with a gentle moan of a sigh, a stutter of his hips, a press of his face into Bucky’s neck, shoulder, cheek. It’s intimate and domestic and Steve is one lucky bastard.

Kink

Steve is kink. Lives and breathes it, continues to teach Bucky everything he knows, turned his world upside-fucking-down when they first met. There has been nothing that Bucky has brought up or asked questions about that Steve hasn’t confidently answered or taught him. Over time Bucky has learned which kinks are Steve’s favorites, which are reoccurring, the ones that make the older man hardest the fastest, aside from daddy kink. That one was a given, has been from Day One, being brought up during their first interaction.

Over time, Steve had explained to Bucky what it meant to him, more than just a name that frequented porn or Twitter. He explained that he loved the feeling of taking care of someone, of someone relying on him for a plethora of different things, of feeling needed on an almost necessary level. He loved the aspect of control he could have over someone, how hot that got him, how much he craved that. It made sense to Bucky, this dynamic and how it fit into their relationship, how it seemed to be built into Steve and who he was as a person.

Of all the other kinks there are three that Steve is more drawn to.

The first one is come play. There is nothing that makes Steve feel more like an animal, hotter in his gut, less in control, than Bucky and his come: Bucky wearing his come, Bucky swallowing his come, Bucky pushing his come out of his cunt. Marking Bucky with his come in whichever way he chooses is the ultimate sign of submission and it makes Steve’s gut clench, his head go fuzzy, his mouth drop open.

He can’t help but growl and groan when he watches Bucky look up at him as he swallows around Steve’s cock, fingers pumping tight over him, wringing him dry and taking every drop. He can’t help but hold Bucky close, lock eyes with steel blue ones, pump his hips a little frantically, when he comes inside of Bucky. The first time Bucky let him, had asked Steve to fuck him without a condom, the older man immediately grew hard, zoned out, grabbed for Bucky.

“You know what that does to me, sugar? Oh god, that you’re sweet enough to let Daddy mark you on the inside? Mmm, makes me hard as fuck, baby of course I’ll fuck you bareback…”

There’s an added level of pride and satisfaction when he is reminded of the fact that he made Bucky into his own little comeslut, was the one who made this sweet kid desperate for come, made him love taking it any way he could get it. He loves how much Bucky has grown to love his come.

The second kink that is up there for Steve is humiliation, but he simply cannot help it when Bucky makes him want to be a bad man. The first time Steve saw Bucky blush just from a simple sweet name and a direct flirt, he knew he’d be in for a treat. A wink eventually escalated to a hand on the back of his neck which then escalated to a filthy kiss. The first time that Steve called Bucky a sweet boy and asked him if he was hard for Daddy, he swore Bucky was going to combust, his whines and sobs damn near hysterical.

There’s something about showing Bucky new things, new feelings, a different side to himself, that Steve takes great pride in but that normally comes with pushing Bucky, making him a little uncomfortable. Steve loves to see his sweet boy uncomfortable though, loves to hear those whines and whimpers, loves to watch him squirm, the way his neck flushes red. He loves whispering filth into Bucky’s ear and hearing him get flustered, hearing those little shocked and aroused noises, the “Ohh, Daddy,” he lets out in response.

Steve loves referring to Bucky’s cock as “small” and “little” even though it isn’t, adores making Bucky tell him how he feels and what he wants, gets wrapped up in his head when he starts to see the signs of Bucky floating. Steve’s favorite is when he refers to Bucky as “Princess”, asks him if his little pussy is all wet for Daddy, if he’s all ready for Daddy’s tongue, his mouth, his fingers, his cock. Bucky held back tears the first time he pushed that envelope, shot off like a rocket to Steve’s fingers alone and then twice more on his cock. Humiliation has been good to them both.

The last kink that Steve can’t help but include, one that surprised himself, is Bucky being bossy. The first time Bucky got angry angry, not just the huff and pout kind of angry, it had been some of the best sex of his life. Steve had to fight for Bucky, fight for his submission, bent him hard over the kitchen counter and fucked the sour mood right out of him. He loved a little angry fuck every once in a while but the more common occurrence of bossy Buck that Steve adores is when the younger knows exactly what he wants, when he wants it, and there’s no messing around.

Steve knows it’s coming before it happens because Bucky isn’t sweet. There aren’t giggles or batting eyelashes or sweet kisses. There are more pointed looks, more hands, more force and Steve thinks it is hot as fuck to see his sweet little Buck take what he wants from Daddy. Bucky can want a variety of different things from Steve all ranging from wanting to suck him off as soon as he walks in the door (barely a hello, a push against the door, hands at his belt, a graceful drop to his knees) all the way to shoving him back on the couch for a hard and quick fuck (already prepped, half naked, bouncing in his lap, telling Steve to touch him so he can come).

Steve loves that Bucky feels comfortable and confident enough to push Steve around a little, to get what he wants and not just what Daddy wants. Sometimes they need that change of pace, need that alternate power swap, it being healthy for the two of them.

Steve’s favorite is when Bucky is feeling very confident, when he wants to be the one to tease and be in control, wants to ride in Daddy’s lap and tell him what to do. Steve is weak for that.

“No, Daddy—watch, don’t touch. Are you watching? Look how hungry that little cunt is for your cock, fuck so good, you gimme just what I need, Daddy, so big. Gonna go slow so you can see my cunt eat you up, oh god, is it tight, Daddy? S’feel good? No, I’ll tell you when I’m done, not yet.”

Needless to say, Bucky using Steve, taking what he wants and being in charge, are some of the most memorable orgasms of Steve’s life.

Location

If there’s one room Steve finds himself getting the most handsy in it is surprisingly the kitchen. He loves cooking himself but loves watching Bucky move around the room confidently even more, providing for Steve in such a domestic way that makes his chest tighten. It doesn’t even need to be a fancy dinner or a large breakfast that Bucky is working on; it can be a snack or Bucky can be finishing homework at the island and Steve is grabbing at him, kissing at his neck, whispering in his ear.

Bucky has come to know that the kitchen makes Steve hard, pokes fun at him, grows a little breathless and hard himself in almost a Pavlovic way. There have been countless times where Bucky is cooking, a blush growing on his cheeks as he works, comfy clothes on his lithe form, and he’ll look over at Steve and sigh.

“You’re gonna make dinner late, Steve,” he’ll say just in time for Steve to scoop him up and carry him to the bedroom or press him into the kitchen island. Steve will chuckle or hum in an acknowledgment, Bucky not surprised whatsoever, and he was indeed correct—they’d be eating dinner late.

Another honorable mention is the car, whether or not Steve is the one driving not mattering much. Steve has found Bucky pressed tight against his side and sucking on his earlobe in the back seat of a car more often than not. Something about the back and passenger seat of the car makes Bucky feel frisky and in return has made Steve to come and enjoy it as well. There’s nothing that quite matches Bucky all breathless and needy grinding in his lap in the backseat of a car or the younger’s alarmingly filthy mouth murmuring into his ear, hand at his growing erection, as he drives.

As much as Steve loves fucking on the couch (such an obvious spot when they’re cuddling and close, one thing naturally leading to the next) nothing can match the comfort and intimacy of their shared bed. It is so large and soft and comfortable and seeing Bucky spread out in it as Steve fucks into him—nothing can beat it. Steve can move Bucky around effortlessly, able to move from position to position like water, flowing from one to the other.

There are so many options in the bed whereas they are constrained when they are anywhere else: he can tie Bucky’s wrists to the headboard, he can bend him over the edge of it, can let Bucky’s head dangle over the side and fuck his mouth. He can fuck Bucky on his back with his thighs spread wide or his ankles crossed behind Steve’s neck. He can roll him to his front and fuck him diagonal across the mattress, press his body in tight to Bucky’s in a deliciously overwhelming way. The bed is closest to the bathroom and, just like the kitchen, Steve can’t help himself when he watches Bucky cross to the closet from the shower.

The bedroom is a classic for a reason and Steve isn’t about to mess with perfection.

Until next time...😘😘😘

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toartemis · 5 years ago

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Come on Love, Draw Your Swords - Part 7 (End)

I’m the worst and forgot to post here. Anyway, here’s the end, thank you so much for reading! <3 Read on Ao3. Here’s the complete Moon’s Serenade series.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 & 4, Part 5, Part 6.

Summary:

Sing to me, Moonlight For you, dear, are honey-tongued I dream just for you.

Or: The one where Jude finds out she's pregnant and Cardan begins collecting a thousand plants.

Warnings: Under the cut

Word Count: 3123

Preview:

And Jude can’t think under his stare, beneath his words. His tongue is honey, words sweet and smooth. He is the moon incarnate, and he sings just for her, serenades of sugar and spice and magic.

Warnings: I do give a description of labor pains and being in later stages of labor in this (I felt it was necessary considering it's basically the climax before Jude has to face what she's been so anxious about since the beginning) so if you'd like to skip to the end, just stop reading at, "She forces herself not to freak out..." and begin again at, "And all at once, it’s over."

------

When it happens, all Jude feels at first is relief. She’s never felt pain like this, no, but her thoughts aren’t of how much it hurts, they’re of just how eager she is to not be pregnant anymore, and to finally meet her baby.

It starts when she’s reading a book in their library, feet tucked up underneath her. The plush chair feels comfortable and soft until it suddenly doesn’t. There’s a slow ache in her lower back, and Jude loses her place on the page for a long moment before the pain ebbs. She makes it through a few more chapters when it comes back, harsher, scorching around to her abdomen. It rises and falls like waves, pushing and pulling, and Jude sits through it, trying her damn hardest to breathe.

She feels like the biggest fool when she realizes that it’s not just normal, everyday pain that she’s experiencing. The book clatters to the floor. Jude stands, but can’t quite straighten all the way as another contraction peaks. Panic rises in her briefly. How long has it been since they began? How far apart have they been?

Then she flips a switch and thinks through what she needs to do.

Get Cardan. Get the midwives.

Or is it the other way around?

Whichever, she doesn’t care. Jude hobbles forward and bites back a groan, waiting for the pain to leave. When it does, she stands fully, walking as calmly into the main rooms as she can manage.

Cardan should be meeting with… A general of some sort, she can’t be bothered with it at the moment. The point is, she needs him here right now or she’s really going to lose it.

Jude takes a deep breath before she wrenches the chamber doors open, startling the guards stationed outside. From the way they stare at her, she must look as horrible as she feels, because they’re momentarily stunned silent.

“Get the High King,” she says through her teeth, sweat dripping down her temple from nerves. Two guards tear off down the hallway, uncharacteristically frantic for their status. The remaining one is Mivian, to which Jude is immensely grateful. She doesn’t even have to give the order.

“I’ll sound the bell, the midwives will be on there way immediately.” Her deep voice soothes Jude and she nods in response. She refuses to be frightened yet.

Treat it like a task, like you’re doing your part of a job.

The problem, now, though, Jude thinks when Mivian runs down the opposite end of the hall, is that she’s alone. They’ve had less and less coming to and from their chambers these last months, and really, only Jude’s personal attendants are in this specific area of the palace daily. But now the guards are gone, and the attendants are off somewhere because It’s not yet time for Jude’s first appearance of the night, the sun having just set a few hours ago.

Jude has been in the beginning stages of labor for quite a long time, and now she's without help or much of a clue of what to do.

She forces herself not to freak out and waddles back into the room.

Pain begins flaring again at some point, starting at her lower back and reaching around, pressure stealing the breath from her lungs. One hand shoots out to grip the desk next to her. It doesn’t provide much stability when she bends over it from the cramps.

Her inner thighs have begun to ache by the time she makes it into their bed in the other room. Her pelvis is heavy, as if thick stones have been placed there, weighing her down, so she sits down in a chair near the fireplace. Time passes, she doesn't know how long, but eventually she hears boots crashing against the stone floors.

Jude makes a mental note that this is one of the first times she can hear her husband approach her this clearly. He’s usually silent as a shadow.

As soon as she catches sight of him standing in the doorway, eyes wide, clothes ruffled from running, she stands abruptly.

And her water breaks. It’s not like any of the movies she’s seen when in the mortal world, with fluid splattering onto the floor. It’s more subtle, like a steady stream of water when she shifts. It’s absolutely ridiculous timing, and she will surely laugh about it later, but right now Cardan is suddenly in front of her gripping at her elbows, and the amount of discomfort she feels surely has to be written on her face.

“How are you? What can I do?”

“Fine,” she says. It’s really not that bad, yet. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

He doesn’t look convinced. In fact, he looks more out of it than she is.

The midwives arrive then, three women, two of them human, one a fey with glittering wings. They shoo Cardan out of the way, which Jude finds hilarious, because she’s the only one who gets to do that to him, usually.

It’s a waiting game after that. The labor is not as long as they told her it might be as her first time. At some point they make her get up from whatever position she is on the bed and have her walk. She really, really does not want to walk, and she tells them so.

The cluck at her, and drag a pacing Cardan to her side. He definitely winces at the grip she has on his arm, slowly leading her around their bedroom and main chambers. He tries speaking to her, but her hot anger has taken control of her at that point, and she just wants to sit down.

After, it goes quickly. She does what the midwives tell her to, and they prod and press and pull her hair out of her face. They send Cardan out of the bedroom a few times, completely uncaring in the moment about ordering the High King around. Jude adds this to the list of things she’ll find amusing later.

Dawn has come and gone by the time they prepare for her to push. And there is a quick pang of fear, one that she stamps down hard as soon as Cardan’s face is before her, taking her hand in his as they told him to.

It’s simultaneously as bad and not as bad as she thought it would be. She feels like her body is trying to rip out of its skin. Time loses meaning in those hours. Some parts are the worst thing she’s ever been through, while others she got through no problem. Jude will refuse to be held accountable for the names she called her husband during that time, and yes, she does blame him with colorful language once or twice for her current predicament. He takes it all in stride.

And all at once, it’s over.

In the middle of Spring, as the sun passes high in the clouds, Jude gives birth to her son.

He is a tiny thing with a shock of midnight black hair and what will be pale, golden skin. Jude can’t describe what she feels when they put him into her arms. She bursts into tears. She can’t help it. When she looks at him, drinking in the sight of his little, scrunched face, she feels the world click into place. It’s like she’s been living her entire life without seeing color, and suddenly a rainbow is before her. Each breath she takes feels new, as if her ribs have shifted to make room for the way her heart is singing.

His small cries fill the air, but Jude can’t even hear them. She never imagined what harboring instant, endless love would be like. She knows without a doubt that she will give everything she has in a heartbeat just to keep him safe and happy.

She struggles to tear her eyes from him, but when she does, she sees Cardan hovering near her, his gaze locked on them, and there are glittering tears on his skin. He is awestruck, barely breathing.

The midwives carefully lift her son out of her arms to clean him off, and when they bring him back, they give him to Cardan. Jude watches his hands cradle their baby like he’s afraid he’ll break. Cardan pulls him to his chest, and Jude feels another round of tears coming at the sight.

Mine. His. Ours, our baby—

The emotions flickering across his face has Jude unable to look anywhere else. The swirling ink of his eyes as he looks at their son has a star taking root in Jude’s chest, searing into her bones and marking her forever.

She feels like flying.

------

Jude sleeps until well after sunset after time spent eating and staring at her child. Really, she could stare at him forever. Just hours ago, he was in her belly, and now he’s here with her and breathing and wiggling around and Jude can’t quite wrap her head around it.

When she wakes, her hands go to her abdomen, where it’s soft and still round, just… empty. She turns her head to find Cardan there, sitting beside the bed. He wears no shirt and holds their son protectively in his arms. He’s doing nothing but staring at him, absolutely entranced.

“How will we ever decide on a name,” he whispers to Jude without looking up.

That’s right. A name. They’ve never really discussed it, always claiming they’ll know when they see the baby.

“I have no idea,” she says back, voice hoarse, limbs aching as she wipes matted hair from her face.

It takes them two days. Jude likes to think of it as the most calm argument they've ever had.

“Elios,” she suggests during her first bath after becoming a mother. Cardan pauses, their baby tucked against his shoulder.

“No, that’s not right.”

She nods in agreement.

Later, over a meal that Jude devours without manners, Cardan says, “Aarus?”

She looks up to find him staring quizzically at the tiny boy swaddled in the crib they had made for him. “Doesn’t fit,” she responds.

Before bed, he says, “I feel I’ve fully considered every possibility and none sound good enough.”

Jude smiles. “We could always name him something shockingly mortal, like Scott.”

Cardan scowls at her. Her grin widens.

“Rhyde,” she says when night falls and they wake. Both are cooing over the baby sleeping soundly beneath moonbeams.

“I detest that one,” he says, but his voice is light and singsongy. She agrees with him.

“Aegar,” he says at midnight, fingers caressing their child’s soft tan skin, poking at his adorable toes.

“That’s the ninth name with an A you’ve suggested, we’re not doing a name with an A.”

“Why, Jude?” he whines.

“Because this is my son and I said so.”

“Our son,” he murmurs, eyes on him. Butterflies erupt in her stomach.

In the end, it’s her picks. The sun has just risen, pastels mixing in the sky. The air outside is sweet and warm, and suddenly, it’s dancing on Jude’s tongue like it’s been waiting for ages.

“Faron,” she tests, staring out of the nursery window. It falls from her lips like honey.

“Faron,” Cardan repeats. She didn’t know he was listening, thinking him as lost in his thoughts as she is while he rocks the sleeping boy. “I do like that.”

She turns to him, back leaning against the wall. “Really?”

He looks to her, eyes shining. “Yes.”

------

The first weeks pass quickly, sliding through Jude’s grasp like water. She’s been too busy to really think, just basking in the knowledge that she and Cardan have a baby and they’re a family and Jude has never been so happy in her life.

Vivi and Aleena come with Oak to visit a week after Faron is born. Aleena falls in love at first sight. Vivi looks ecstatic the entire time and spends the day teasing Cardan on how much his son resembles him. Cardan is nothing but proud. Oak doesn’t care much for the fussy child, but he's pleasant company. He brightens visibly when they all talk about school and life in the mortal world.

Oriana stops by with Taryn. Cardan can’t get out of certain duties when they arrive, so it’s just Jude who greets them in one of the public gardens, reveling in the way they bow before her and her son. Oriana fawns over Faron they way she used to with Oak, and that settles something within Jude.

Taryn doesn’t say much except for complimenting Jude on the health and beauty of Faron.

Cardan strides into the clearing not long before they leave, all lithe figure and pitch black hair curling around his neck. His boots clack on the smooth stone path. He wears a billowy, dark green shirt embroidered with gold along the sleeves and chest. It complements the Blood Crown sitting haughtily on his brow. He doesn’t look at the guests.

She takes his ringed hand when he approaches, and he kisses her cheek, smiling softly. The look is gone when he turns to the others. They bow to him and exchange pleasantries.

Cardan then takes a sleeping Faron out of Jude’s arms and walks him over to a pond home to a family of tiny singing frogs. Jude bids them all goodbye soon after, taking Taryn’s hands withing hers briefly and squeezing them. The look her sister gives her says a thousand words. Oriana gives Jude an approving nod, and it seems almost like a compliment.

She joins Cardan at the water. They stay there for some time.

------

Days later, Jude puts Faron down to sleep when it hits her.

Terror, like she hasn't felt it in weeks.

It spreads like a forest set ablaze. She doesn’t understand why it’s come on so suddenly, she’s been doing fine, Cardan has been wonderful, they’ve both spent so much time with Faron, already Jude recognizes his father in him. Things have been perfect, and her anxiety has to go and ruin it.

She steps back from the crib, arms folding across her chest. Familiar thoughts run through her mind, the biggest one standing out as if its caught fire.

You’re going to fail.

She’s there until Cardan comes back from his greenhouse, smelling of sweet candy and earth. He notices her distress right away. The coat he’s wearing drops to the floor on his way over to her. He presses against her back, arms folding around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder. Jude’s eyes stay on Faron, swaddled among many small blankets. His face is peaceful, his hair so much like what’s brushing against her neck at the moment.

There is a second where Jude feels completely at ease, her husband surrounding her, both their eyes on the baby they made. Something spreads in her chest, buttery soft and aching. She wants to keep it there forever.

“What’s the matter?” Cardan speaks against her cheek, quiet. Jude takes a moment, wrestling with herself.

“The same,” she relents. Cardan hums.

“You think of yourself as lacking, when your entire life you have only proved that you’re able to do anything. It’s perplexing to witness.” He presses a kiss to her jaw.

“I don’t even know how I got here. I don’t know how I’ve accomplished what I have.”

“I suppose ambition can be blinding,” he says, tone nonchalant.

Jude smiles. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes. You don’t recognize that when you are determined, you will not stop until you’ve reached your goal, no matter what it is. You’ve never let yourself fail before, so why do you think you will now?”

She mulls it over, then whispers, “I don’t know.”

Cardan uncurls himself from her, stepping around to face her directly. Faron still sleeps soundly. For a moment, her husband simply looks at her, eye flicking across her skin. His brow furrows, a small frown on his mouth.

“Jude,” he says, her name on his lips sounds like a promise. “You have no idea of the power you hold.”

It washes over her like a caress.

“It is all around you, in the air when you enter a room. No one can mistake it. It is everything you are: Your ferocity, the way you accomplish things purely out of spite, the sheer will you have that could end all other wills. I admire you more than I can hope to describe.”

Her heartbeat flutters. Jude doesn’t know what to say, so she keeps quiet, her gaze held within his.

“It is what captivated me, back then. You were like a force, and I ran from you as I did everything else. I used to tell myself I was weak while I was under your command because I couldn’t help myself. Each time I took one step closer to you, I would stumble farther than I intended. So long I spent dancing within your shadow, fearing that you would notice. And then fear became longing.” His fingers graze over her cheek, his eyes deep and far away.

“I committed everything to memory, frightened I would lose you. The way you move, the way you breathe.” His thumb sweeps over her bottom lip. ”The look in your eyes the first time we were together.” He looks caught in a dream. Jude shudders, tingles running down her spine.

“I was tired of playing our games long before I realized. I wanted you so badly, for everything you were. Everything you are now.”

Jude swallows thickly. Cardan smiles to himself, eyes closing. When he opens them, Jude’s breath hitches.

“Sometimes, you look at me and I feel raw, like I’m missing my skin.” He drops his hand to his side. “Like my ribs have cracked open, and I hold my heart in my hands, baring every cruel and horrible thought I’ve ever had for your gaze.”

And Jude can’t think under his stare, beneath his words. His tongue is honey, words sweet and smooth. He is the moon incarnate, and he sings just for her, serenades of sugar and spice and magic.

Jude has nothing to say to him that could compare, but she knows that he won’t mind. He isn’t looking for that. So she reaches for him, hands brushing against his jaw, thumbs stroking against marble skin. And she tries, she tries so hard to pour everything she feels out through her eyes, and she says, “You are everything.”

She kisses him softly on the mouth, feels the thrum of life and power that radiates from his skin.

“I dream just for you.”

And it’s enough. It’s more than enough, because he understands, and he always will.

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bladekindeyewear · 5 years ago

Text

Bloggin’ bout HS^2 Commentary from start to Mid-Jan-2020

Sigh. Time to pay the piper. Someone’s gotta extract whatever plot-important and plothole mentions get mentioned in this commentary, even though reading behind-the-scenes stuff about Homestuck makes me even more nervous than reading frontend stuff ever could so I don’t really want to. FYI, that’s what you’re going to get out of my posts on these -- anything regarding plot stuff and plotholes, things we would’ve misinterpreted or missed otherwise, not any of the other paid content such as sketches or full quotes from them about things.

TWENTY FUCKING DOLLARS A MONTH!???!?? Is Andrew even seeing any of this cash? --no, not much of it I guess, he would want to make sure the WP folks get paid enough after the--

Yeah I’m not gonna even think about that.

Fuck it. I’m ponying up.

Alright, first commentary post on the Patreon, commentary and bonus sketches for Ghostflusters... whoa, this is long and extensive. Is it going panel by panel??

I guess I’ll give you a small quote just for a taste of how this starts...

Page 33: Not sure what any of this shit means. It’s pretty deep though. We were going for an echo of the beginning of the epilogue when John is dreaming in anime. Except here it’s Jake, and nobody is dreaming, at least not yet. Also an anime dream wouldn’t be a nightmare for Jake, since Jake likes anime. Or he used to. Now anime probably just reminds him of Dirk.

Good thing we’re never gonna hear from that guy ever again.

...because this commentary is sort of stylized. They’re kind of riffing on what they’re doing, and I get that -- when you have to write commentary you’re asking people to PAY for you can easily feel like you have to be entertaining. But they are describing the rationale for the shot choices they made and such. They’re also going for a sort of Andrew-recap sort of attitude, and I don’t blame them for that choice, either.

[Candy] Jade is...well, you’ll see.

GOD DAMNIT. Don’t remind me that Dave vanished on her forever while they were doing pro-revolutionary work and she’s probably going to be in a bit of a state! Stupid knowing author future allusions...

Then again, that’s exactly why I’m here blogging about the commentary for you guys -- for me to relay Authorial Intent on Stuff That Happened That Seemed Plotholey and Hints About What’s Going To Be Relevant.

I just, uh... didn’t expect there to be that MUCH of it. And that casual phrasing for that Candy Jade Is Going To Be Seen And Or Relevant hint is... kinda indicating to me that there’s gonna be a LOT more of that here than I wanted. :|

Continuing... there’s talk of why they started with Jake here, being unused to writing for middle-aged characters in Homestuck terms, et cetera, but again, I’m only here to relay anything with plot impact or SERIOUS perspective on how we should / the authors are viewing this. The rest stays behind the paywall for whichever of you all think it’s worth $20, I don’t really have a choice. At least now I know why there was no one to tell me what details were actually BEHIND the paywall. Seriously, that’s steep.

Speaking of how stylized the commentary is here, I can get why some might read it and view the authors as slightly callous -- I’m giving them PLENTY of benefit of the doubt, though. Andrew was FAR from callous and he hurt us worse out of love of artistic intent with the Epilogues than the HS^2 folks could EVER hurt us. Real Dirk-like, actually. Dirk is practically half of a self-insert, as we well know. No wonder Andrew thought the right thing to do was to take his hands off the story, what with Dirk’s villainous action being putting his own hands ON the story.

We like to make fun of Jake English as much as the next guy, but he probably is actually pretty good at “doing things” if the need arises.

Mhmm; there are some jibes at how screwed up Jake has made his life, but I don’t believe these authors actually disrespect Jake at all. He was dealt a bad hand by the story leading up to this point (quite INTENTIONALLY by Dirk’s narrative control in the Epilogues, too) and HS^2 and its bonuses so far have been exploring the heap of merits and potential he’s still got in him.

It’s kind of sweet how he wants to clean out his ecto-son’s house, even if most of that is to prevent the slow creep of mounting existential dread and narrative relevance.

Huh. So they think Jake can sort of feel that narrative relevance is seeping in around him, to him? That’s not out of the question at all.

Continuing... they’re going on a bit about the same sort of things I mentioned about their choices in detail or detail-less-ness when depicting people in this new format, considering ages and the paired text descriptions and such. That’s the sort of thing you’d traditionally want to pony up for commentary for, so rest assured that all that IS in their commentary posts if you want to do that. I’m kind of extracting the plot stuff out of the paywall just on principle.

A lot of making this comic--and every other comic ever--is trying to convey as much information with as little space as possible.

Quite so.

From this conversation we find out a couple things. 1) that Brain Ghost Dirk knows about Ultimate Dirk, and he thinks he’s a dickhead. 2) Brain Ghost Dirk knows who Jeff Bezos is, and Jake doesn’t. This could be a sign of a couple things, all of which are probably stupid.

This is ALSO what I came here for: Legitimate “don’t worry about it” handwaves about stuff that shouldn’t matter to us. I never ascribed the slightest bit of relevance or inference to BGDirk making a Jeff Bezos reference, and I’m glad I was completely justified in ignoring it. So far I agree with this probably-plural-but-acting-like-a-singular author’s train of thought.

Come to think of it, it’s maybe strange that in this Cool Future Earth where all of our characters are rich as hell, none of them have bothered to have any sort of corrective eye surgery. Jane, Jake, John, and Jade all still wear glasses. I guess they do have “signature looks” to maintain in regards to their brand.

I had to include this, I was legitimately curious. Understood it was probably an artistic decision to stay on-brand a fair bit -- and losing glasses even temporarily has a lot of thematic significance whenever it happens in Homestuck Proper -- but it’s nice to have some confirmation that this was the understandable rationale behind the choice.

Here we find out what Dirk thinks about Jake’s behavior of the last few years. In other words, we find out what Jake thinks about Jake’s behavior over the last few years. [...]

[Brain Ghost] Dirk is manipulating Jake here, but he isn’t actually saying anything demonstrably untrue.

Again, most of this was obvious at the time, but it’s nice to have authorial confirmation on what was being brought across as per the strange divide between Brain Ghost Dirk’s independent will and his mostly-part-of-Jake status.

Seriously though, shoutout to the conceit that god tiers can just fly endlessly, with no visible effort. It’s a really excellent form of narrative shortcut that fits perfectly into the bonkers vibe of earth c as a whole. Oh there goes one of the Creators, just flying over the Wal-Mart like an asshole.

You know... who IS doing the commentary here? One of the authors, all of them? One of the artists?? This really is a COLLABORATIVE effort between the authors and artists involved here, I think, and it shows in their clear surprise and appreciation for each others’ work that only settles into a full understanding instead of just knowing what one intended off the bat.

It calls into question exactly how much of the Condesce’s mind control was actually mind control at all, and how much was just a lowering of inhibitions.

Right, right.

We see Jane greeting Jake here with open arms, which makes you wonder exactly what is going on here. If you’ll remember from Candy, Jane has already served Jake divorce papers. A mystery in need of solving, for sure.

HERE we go! This is the potential plothole we were concerned about that got me alerted that the commentary had something to add in the first place. John mentioned toward the trail-end of the Candy epilogues that divorce papers had shown up for Jake. (And we also saw an HS^2 update ago or so that Jane hadn’t actually KNOWN Tavros was “awol” at all until he was literally a part of this whole clowncorpse logistics business.) So in light of what this post continues to say:

It could be that Jane has put aside the nasty business of their divorce in order to have a strong chest to cry on. Can’t really say I blame her. Jake English has many flaws but he does seem like a good person to drape yourself across and really let loose on. And without Gamzee there, Jane needs another punching bag.

...it all finally fits as pretty logically consistent, although the author is being deliberately coy in a way that leaves it open for more to be revealed later about exactly how this is happening. Good! No obvious plotholes in HS^2 (yet). That’s an honest relief. The more often they have something in mind where I’d previously worried they’d screwed up, the more often I can give them credit and speculate properly on those gaps in story-logic expecting something there, like we so often got to with Andrew before the retconsplit made even THAT kinda fucky.

If you’ve ever had a friend or family member go evil, you’ll know that one of the hardest parts is there’s always still elements of them that you like.

I can definitely say that from nearly personal experience.

Also, at this point in the story there is no lingering doubt that Jake and Dirk have had a sexual relationship. There’s a familiarity there that wasn’t around when they were teens.

I assumed so, but I guess I never thought ABOUT how I assumed so. Huh.

Do any of the creators have a moral leg to stand on if all they’re doing is curling up into a ball and hoping the world gets better without them? Actually, does anyone have a moral leg to stand on if they do that?

Almost Riddley, there.

These posts are certainly interesting! Steeply priced for what they are, but interesting. Moving on to the second of four so far... this one’s about Catnapped Part 1.

Taking over Earth C's business world certainly would have required rubbing shoulders with the already-powerful on the planet.

--yep, which I never doubted even when brought up in the Epilogues is a large part of her supply-side government views.

Ah, looks like the bonus commentary is a good deal shorter! But that bonus section was a good deal shorter than the story section covered earlier too, so.

On to the next one, for Clown Logistics.

Page 58: If you love Vriskas, i hope you enjoy more Vriska content. If you hate Vriskas, well. Here is another one that is kind of different. Feel free to contemplate nature vs nurture and how best to apply this dichotomy toward emoting about the vriskas of your choice how you see fit.

I’m starting to really enjoy this author commentary.

Tavros being named Tavros sure was a decision. Go back and reread the commentary for panel 58 but stop before the nature/nurture thing, since they are not clones, or even the same species. They just have the same name, which, in this universe, means you at least type kind of the same.

Hmhmm.

Page 65: Sometimes you try and come up with something to say about a page, and you cannot, and so you wait 8 hours, and go see Knives Out, and then you have 2 white russians, and then you still can’t come up with anything to say, but oh well! Commentary needs writing. Tavros is experiencing an emotion here.

Now THAT’s a mood. I gotta go see Knives Out sometime soon.

...Alright, I can see why some people think MAAAAYBE this author might be being a little disrespectful to the audience, but if they’re going based on THIS, I don’t have a clue what they’re talking about. This comment could have come from Andrew’s fingertips any day of the week!!! I honestly wouldn’t WANT replacement authors who couldn’ comment like this in there for a page in paid commentary, especially in a lighter section of the story that doesn't need too much said about it.

And I paid $20 for this shit.

...Continuing, I’m loving all this commentary on Harry Anderson. Representative excerpt:

Again, direct your eyes toward the boy. What a fucking asshole.

...these commentaries are honestly improving my mood! I didn’t expect that, really.

Ah, I didn’t even notice that the flying cars appear to be self-driving. I think maybe the back of my mind MIGHT have noticed but only a bit.

Referring to the corpse-carry crew:

Page 82: Pokedex entry for Magneton in Pokemon Sun: When three Magnemite link together, their brains also become one. They do not become three times more intelligent.

Ain’t THAT a mood.

(...I just had an internal “Wait, am I using that right, it being a “mood”? Isn’t that the hip new term, how do I have any right to latch onto that however much I feel it? Ohhh gosh I’m so fucking old” moment.)

It’s clear from the commentator’s complaints that the crew never viewed this commentary ALONE as worth upping the pledge to $20, but that’s... not quite a bad thing? I think it’d have been more disrespectful to think that they COULD make the commentary worth that. I doubt there’s a single person on their team who feels quite right about the business model (besides the artists they have plenty of context to know how deserving they are of a living goddamn wage), but it’s what they have to live with and go with, here. I feel weird for honestly understanding ‘em, and more than slightly pitying for how many people will look at all this and read “these assholes don’t care about us”. I really can’t think that’s anywhere CLOSE to true from this without more context. (And I really DON’T want more context, don’t send me any. I’ve got to read HS^2 and I’m enjoying reading it so far so let me keep enjoying it please. Background drama details make me nauseous, DON’T give me any if there is any (which I wouldn’t know about in the first place beyond an opinionated friend or two dropping hints in a bad mood).)

Did you know there are people who I’ve seen honestly believing “Undertale is pretty good but the creator is an arrogant asshole”?????

Because they saw his tweet about the game score passing Kojima’s MGSV on metacritic briefly and misinterpreted his wide-eyed disbelief, disbelief honed to nervous laughter to maintain sanity by Toby’s insecurity about his unprofessional work and work product??? They thought he was SERIOUS without any of the context of the usual insincere little dog persona they should’ve read into the game of his they played??

Awh man. That just ticks me off.

Anyway where were we.

Page 91: This is a flashback so I didn’t write this one, which means I thankfully don’t have to say anything about it.

Wait. What?

Are they trading off writers between chapters, or...? Hm.

Whatever they’re doing, it fits together pretty darn well SO far.

Alright, that finishes that off, time for the last commentary post on the second bonus update.

I don't know if you noticed, but everything is terrible right now. And I don't mean just in Homestuck's dumb fake earth. I mean in our dumb real earth.

Now that’s a mood.

I've been playing a lot of Death Stranding recently. Basically any media that you're making in 2019 has to either address what's going on around us or come off sanitized, sterilized, with its head in the sand. Kojima offers a simple power fantasy: Through Norman Reedus's sweaty, urine-filled labor, the things that divide us can be banished. America can be unified again.

Now THAT is a god damned MOOD.

The author(?) goes in about why this is happening, why Jane is being confronted this way, why she IS this way, et cetera.

Privilege, safety, and inherited wealth do funny things to the brain. People justify to themselves why they have what they have. If you have enough for long enough, you start to convince yourself you deserve it.

That’s one of the biggest goddamn reasons for the inequality and political landscape we have today IRL, yeah.

She saw a new world and chose, simply, to replicate the power structures of the 21st-century America she was raised in. Boardrooms, power pantsuits, formality and professionalism.

Jane's favorite comic, a noir-detective drama steeped in the pop-cultural trappings of pulp Americana, reflects this mindset.

So, our catgirl Seer of Light takes us through the looking glass, and we get to see an old friend.

Hm!

Nothing really to say, I just had to share this fitting context the author is giving. How things fit together even better than they seemed to, and this was all far from random.

I feel warmly ensconced in the womb of nostalgia, gently cradled on Norman Reedus's chest.

Pffffffff

Yep, more of what we already surmised and appreciated, how Swifer and Cliper were giving us some much needed perspective... the commentary post even has little traditional-Homestuck sprites for ‘em.

And... that’s it for the commentary so far! Again, I enjoyed all that more than I expected. $20 doesn’t sting for me as much as it does for others in general, but it stung a lot less after I was through reading all that honestly somewhat-entertaining stuff confirming a lot of the insights I’d thought the plot was having.

I’ll probably wait to check for further commentary posts until like... after bonus updates come out, in the future, and then just blog about whatever I’m not caught up on. Sound fair? I’m going to blog as often as a real or bonus upd8 comes out, but I’m not going to pop in more often than that for my own sanity’s sake. Have a good MLK weekend, y’all. :)

#Homestuck #hs2 #Homestuck Liveblog #bladekindeyewear #Homestuck Commentary #blastyoboots

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