#fuck this is me getting excited about entering Keys second half otherwise known as

[minijenn]

HI I HAVE NO SELF CONTROL AND @oblivionsrebirth-posts EGGED ME ON SO HERE’S THIS DRABBLE I WROTE IN LESS THAN HOUR PERTAINING TO THIS ANGSTY ART I POSTED JUST A LITTLE WHILE AGO ENJOY MY SON SUFFERING SOME MORE BYE: 

Sora’s learning more and more that his Master’s favorite method of torturing him is emotional. Beatings, while leaving his body bruised and bloody, ultimately won’t break him, and Xehanort knows that. Just as he knows the worst kind of pain he can possibly inflict upon his newest vessel comes from deep-cut scars that no one can even see. From the scars that linger upon his long-torn, very close to shattering heart. 

Today’s torture unfolds in front of most of the other members, all of them more than eager to see their foe-turned-slave taken down yet another peg. Ansem finally relinquishes his iron-like grip on his arm, throwing him hard to the ground right at the feet of the Master himself. Xehanort doesn’t even have to command him to stay put; Sora can simply feel the unspoken command surging through his caged heart and imprisoned body all the same. 

“There’s no need to bow, boy,” his Master says, essentially contradicting himself. “In fact, I’d say it’s more appropriate for the rest of us to be doing that instead. After all, it’s come to my understanding that we just so happen to be standing in the presence of royalty.”

A round of confused murmurs ripple through the other members as Sora is forced to stand. He shares the palpable bewilderment of his fellow vessels as he watches Xehanort approach him, grinning coldly all the while. “Have you already forgotten, my thirteenth?” he asks, eventually stopping right behind his newest vessel. An all too familiar sense of fear starts swelling up in Sora as he wonders what unknown horror awaits him this time. “Allow me to remind you then, of a night not so long ago. A night when you were nothing less than the epitome of a prince…”

His master’s hand lightly skims his shoulder, yet strangely no pain sparks from his touch this time. Instead, Sora notices a different kind of shift, one that settles over his clothes. The dreary black coat they’d forced him into when the first brought him here is gone. Instead, he’s clad in a much more familiar ensemble, one that makes his heart fold with nostalgia and grief when he sees it. 

It’s the same, elegant suit he’d worn the night of the ball, one that had been lovingly, magically crafted by Fairy Godmother before, but by Xehanort, it’s been cruelly corrupted in just about every way imaginable. The vibrant touches and trimmings of the outfit have been drained of their color completely, leaving dull, lonely shades of whites and blacks in their place. His gloves are torn and tattered, his crimson claws tearing out of them easily. The only ounce of color that’s allowed to remain is his cape, but even then, the ruby red cloth is largely leeched of its cheery shade, half of it drenched in a fading, lifeless grey. A mirror suddenly shows up in front of him, allowing him to see the full result of his twisted attire, as well as how his eyes, gleaming garish gold, and his hair, white as frigid snow, make him look like a meager mockery of how he had on that perfect night so long ago. A night that can only ever exist in nothing more than his memories now. 

A few of the other members lightly chuckle as they take in the despair of their thirteenth member’s face. But even so, their master’s latest round of torment has only just begun. “What an honor it is to bask in your presence, ‘your highness’,” Xehanort sneers, his condescending tone clear. He suddenly places something atop Sora’s head that makes his heart sink even more: a heavy silver crown that, at one time, might have been impressive and immaculate. But instead, it's old and tainted, with just as many cracks marring its metallic surface as there are upon his own Keyblade. “There,” Xehanort steps away and for a moment, Sora foolishly thinks that might be it, that he might leave him be. By this point, he also knows he should know better. “A broken crown for a broken prince. My vessels,” he says to the other members, who are eager to get in this humiliating display. “Why don’t you take the time to show our thirteenth the proper… respect that’s due to him.”

The other vessels do so eagerly, pouncing upon him before he can even hope to prepare. Their weapons are drawn, and upon their master’s permission, they show little restraint on taking their sadistic delight out on the newest among them. To add insult to injury, each of their brutal blows come with the same sort of topical teases: 

“We are truly humbled by your ‘radiance’, your grace,” Vexen mocks as his shield slams into Sora’s back. 

“You sure are looking sharp there, ‘your majesty’,” Larxene laughs as she digs her knives into his arm. 

“But not sharp enough,” Marluxia comments before he slices his scythe across Sora’s cape, trimming it down to a short, ragged length. “Isn’t that much better, ‘your eminence’?”

“Aw, c’mon fellas,” Xigbar chuckles as a barrage of his arrows tear across Sora’s face. “I think our poor little princey here gets the point.”

And on and on it goes for what feels like an eternity until Xehanort finally commands them to stop. Until Sora’s lying on the ground, his falsely regal attire in tatters, his blood staining their black cloth red. Until his master decides to dig the knife of this awful torture even deeper, just like he always does. 

“While you certainly look the part,” Xehanort forces him to look up, even despite the black eye and bloody nose he’s sustained. “But don’t you remember, my thirteenth? There’s one thing no prince is complete without. Or in your case, two things....” 

He steps aside and suddenly Sora sees them. He sees them and his heart breaks all over again at the mere sight of them, and how much he misses them, how he knows he’ll never get to be with them again. His heart breaks even more somehow when he sees what they’re wearing. Kairi in her stunning pink ball gown, Riku in his well-trimmed suit vest. Both of them looking every bit as beautiful as they had on that night. That one, single solitary night when, for just a brief moment, he had thought everything might just turn out alright. 

How incredibly wrong he ended up being. 

Neither of them say a word to him, but the looks in their eyes say enough. They stare down at him in disgust, as if he’s a grotesque, distorted, despicable creature not worthy of their time or attention. Any trace of love that either of them might have once carried for him is gone, replaced with derision and disdain and hatred for the darkness he’s fallen into, for the monster he’s become. He reaches a shaking, clawed hand out to them, desperate for their presence, longing for even just a single gentle touch. But as they swiftly turn away from him, he’s left with nothing. No comfort, no affection, not even a single shred of dignity as he sits there, bleeding and broken, inside and out. 

“Let this serve as a reminder to you, my thirteenth,” Xehanort’s voice speaks somewhere behind him. He hardly hears it, hardly cares. But he knows that every word his master says to him is nothing less than the truth. “Let it remind you of what you used to be, and what you now are. A prince of light… fallen from his throne to become nothing more than a servant of darkness. That’s all you were ever meant to become, and now,” The edge of master’s Keyblade pushes his crumbled crown off his head. It shatters into countless broken pieces on the floor, just as his very own heart does the moment Riku and Kairi leave him, just as he’s reminded of just how much he’s lost, of what he’ll never get to have again. “That is all you’ll ever be.”

#HHHHHHH WHOOPS I DID A SAD #fuck this is me getting excited about entering Keys second half otherwise known as #bunch of goths bully a baby for a bunch of chapters #so basically this #anyway fuck every single last member of organization XIII i hate them all #and i hate myself most of all for writing this #jen writes #keys to the kingdom #drabbles #plot bunny as they'll ever be one #kingdom hearts #sora #xehanort #organization xiii #blood mention

[miracle-sham]

Die Like the Butterfly Shoot With Their Guns.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Week 2, Day 7: Guns} |

Chapter 1 of Sheltered by Darkness not yet Moths to the Flame.

| [Ao3 Link] | | [Masterlist Link] | | [Spotify Playlist Link] | | [Chapter 2] |

———

| Sometimes a family can be a gang comprised of eleven vigilantes, and their AI robot, fighting against the father of one of their own. |

| Or alternatively: after falling through the cracks, they do what they must to survive. And if that means committing crimes in order to bring down the Big Butterfly and all the other corrupt businesses in the city, then so be it. |

———

| Tonight's the night. Half of them will strike one of the Big Butterfly's warehouses that just so happens to contain some fancy new gun tech. Besides, it'll be in better hands with them than the Big Butterfly or his associates. Now all that matters, is that nothing goes wrong! |

| Word Count: 3,322. |

| Warnings/Tags: Cyberpunk/Criminal/Gang Au, Explicit Language/Swearing, Hacking, Breaking and Entering, Theft, Mentions of Bombs and Guns, Mentions of corrupt/shady businesses, Fluff, Gang/Team as family/family dynamics, Found Family. |

———

| A/N: It is Cyberpunk Au time! This is a twoshot, so have a looksy to see if you can find all the snippets of foreshadowing I've set! Also this is mostly Action/Fluff but beware of the warnings regardless. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

Rain patters against the concrete, sound mixing with the low hum and high buzz of electricity. The ground is slick with murky puddles that never seem to clean the pavement. Still just as filthy as before, permanently dyed with dried bloodstains, mud stains, electric scorch marks, and far worse. The air is heavy with the smell of cigarette smoke, ozone, and that ever underlying decay that clings to the city.

It's dark—dead of night—but the streets are awash with flickering neon lights. There are a few others haunting the street though most of them are sticking to the areas of light, avoiding the shadows.

Which is where Marinette, also known as the ruthless gang leader Fantôminou, is lurking.

Jason—Red Hood, her co-leader—snarls as he drops down onto the shadowed fire escape beside her. “We've got a rat. Someone's tipped off the big Butterfly and security has been increased around the perimeter. Most likely interior security increased too.”

Fantôminou flexes her glowing clawed gauntlets, “I suppose we should check in with our local pied piper, before we strike, hmm?”

There's a bzzt in her earpiece as the channel is hijacked by the familiar voice of their gang's hacker, Max aka Raijack. “I wouldn't worry about that if I were you, our pied piper has already been contacted. Whoever they were, they didn't reveal which location we were targeting, so it's just a general security increase.”

She hums. “Raijack, link us up with the rest of the strike force.”

“Got it, 'Minou.” He responds, and not a split second later, the earpiece makes another bzzt and there's the faint ping of the rest of the channel being alerted at someone joining.

“Look, I think you could totally pull off the—oh, who just joined the channel?” Adrien, Cheval Mallet, asks in surprise.

“Just me and our anthill tiger.” Red Hood announces, snorting at the glare Fantôminou sends him.

Silence echoes across the line before a scrabble of hushed but excited voices causes a ruckus.

Fantôminou sighs, “I know we're all excited to hit the big Butterfly hard by stealing some of their new fancy gun tech. But let's leave the yelling for when we inevitably set off the alarms!”

“Hey!” Raijack protests. “I'll have you know I have produced a new virus that has a ninety-eight per cent chance of not setting off any alarms!”

Red Hood rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, but you've still not worked out how to get your viruses to deactivate the bombs in the crates yet, huh?”

“I will one day, until then it's your job to stop the bombs from triggering the rest of the alarms!” Raijack counters with a huff.

Fantôminou sighs again, this time with an added sprinkling of are-you-kidding-me. “Red Hood, Raijack. I can and will kick your asses if you do not shut up so we can discuss final prep before we begin the pesticide protocol.”

Bumping shoulders with her, Red Hood snorts again. “I've got nothing against being beat up by someone as pretty and buff as you Minou, you know that!”

“Oh, I think we can all agree to wanting to get crushed by Minou's guns.” Cheval Mallet pipes up once more.

Fantôminou sighs very wearily. “Nevermind, are you all ready?”

Red Hood salutes at her, and despite his mouth being covered, it's easily telling that he's grinning cockily underneath. “I'm ready. My guns are ready, and I've got the bomb defusal kit at the ready.”

“I may be holding my horses but I'm saddled to giddy-up on the go!” Cheval Mallet cheerfully announces.

“This has to be one of your worst attempts at horse puns yet.” Raijack comments, “otherwise, I'm in position and ready to hack on your call, Minou.”

Red Hood exchanges a glance with Fantôminou as silence falls over the earpiece channel. “Hold up, where's Arsenal? Shouldn't he have checked in by now?”

Taking his hand gently, Fantôminou gives it a reassuring squeeze.

“He already did but because you two had your issues getting into position and avoiding the unexpected police patrol, Arsenal had to deal with another issue that popped up which would've threatened our plan,” Raijack informs, sounding nonplussed.

“Well, you don't sound concerned.” Fantôminou points out the obvious. “Has he got back up?”

There's the faint tapping of a keyboard through the earpiece channel before Raijack responds, “Chèvrapide is on her way to back him up, don't worry.”

“Then that's everyone accounted for. Let's rock and roll.” Red Hood orders, dropping from the fire escape and landing in the rain-slick alleyway with ease, conveniently right beside the hoverbike they had stashed here.

Fantôminou hops down after him, except she manages to flip and expertly land in the driver's seat. “I'm driving Jay, you're the one with the guns after all,” she all but states, putting one gauntleted hand up and flexing just to hammer in the point, “I'm close range only right now and you know it.”

Red Hood throws his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey! I'd never complain about getting to watch you drive this beauty of a hoverbike.”

Fantôminou snorts. “Just get on, pretty bird!”

“Well, if you say so, pretty kitty!” Red Hood teases back, vaulting onto the back of the bike behind her. He wraps an arm around her waist and rests the other hand on his sheathed-for-now gun.

She revs the engine of the hoverbike and steers out of the alleyway with practised ease. There's no directions on the hoverbike's holoscreen, but it's not like they need any—the directions to where they need to be outside the warehouse have already been memorised by each and every one of them.”

Down the left street, take the right at the T junction, pass under the flyover street, then take a further two lefts and then straight on until the block of office buildings forming a protective extra layer between the warehouse electric razor wire tipped fencing and the road. Easy.

“All networks in the office buildings have temporarily shut down. As far as the tech will be concerned, it'll look like the networks just decided to not work today.” Raijack announces through the earpiece channel, voice coming through slightly more robotic than usual.

“So no security cams?” Fantôminou checks cautiously, circling like a hawk around the small stretch of street between her and the office building she and Jason will be entering through. The rain has slowed to a drizzle but that doesn't make the circling in it any less mildly uncomfortable, at least inside it'll be dry.

There's the familiar clack of keys once more. “Not quite, they're a little harder to crack than entering in through the backdoor via someone's unprotected webcam in the office. Thank you, Shodan.” Raijack pauses, keys continuing to clack in the background. “Unfortunately, the Big Butterfly's got tech security smart enough to keep the security system on a closed network so I can't hop from webcam to computer to network to cams. However, they didn't account for Markov, suckers!”

Red Hood snorts. “Isn't Markov a little obvious for this kinda mission?”

“Oh, did I forget to tell you?” Raijack says, in a voice that very clearly conveys he didn't forget so much as purposefully neglected to mention, “I recently upgraded Markov, outfitting him with the currently most highly advanced cloaking system. Thanks to some help from Fantôminou's knowledge of cloaking and camouflage fashion.”

Red Hood leans his head onto Fantôminou's shoulder. “I'm hurt, you knew and didn't tell me? I want cloaking guns! Think of how much cooler I'd look with them!”

Fantôminou merely hums in an unamused response. “Raijack wanted it to be a surprise.”

He huffs. “I see who your favourite person in our gang is then!”

“You're right! It's me!” Cheval Mallet cheers, jumping into the conversation.

“Fucking 'ell!” Red Hood curses under his breath. “I thought you were gonna mute whilst getting in position.”

Cheval Mallet's laugh cuts in and out across the earpiece channel. “And when did I hay that!”

“Hacker voice, I'm in!” Raijack interrupts. “Looks like the security system was perfectly untouched by whatever minor error caused the main networks to crash, how lucky. Which is to say, looping is in process, and we now have free entry.”

“Got us a place to park yet, though?” Red Hood asks.

Raijack doesn't immediately respond, but the sound of the garage door connected to the office building opening, is answer enough. “I might.”

Fantôminou snorts. “Thanks, Raijack. Hood and I need to split here right, just until we get past the fencing right?”

“That's right.” Raijack responds, “good luck, and Markov and I will see you all on the other side.”

“Break a leg, or three!” Red Hood calls over the earpiece. “Preferably some else's though!”

Fantôminou pulls the hoverbike into the garage, keeping her gaze ahead. “If I could elbow you without fucking up my parking, I would.”

Red Hood cackles quietly in response, trying to at least keep to the stealth part of the mission plan.

In the blink of an eye, the hoverbike is securely parked. Perfectly hidden in plain sight but easily accessible for a quick and clean getaway should nothing go wrong. And well, if something were to go wrong, there's not going to be any hoverbike left for evidence. Though, that's not to say a small part of Fantôminou's brain doesn't anxiously hate how they're practically sitting on top of bombs ready to blow up at the slightest hint of things going wrong. However, they've been through enough strikes like this for the concern to be mostly easily ignored.

———

With the hoverbike parked, Fantôminou and Red Hood part ways.

Fantôminou heads up through the internal stairwell connected to the garage, whilst Red Hood takes one of the external doors leading to the office building next door.

The stairwell is like any other maintenance stairwell. Grey concrete walls, metal railings and steps. Even Fantôminou's light footsteps clang loudly against the ridged metal stairs. It's cold, just as cold as the garage was and barely warmer than it is outside in the rain. The air is stuffy but at least the respirator hidden beneath the bandana wrapped around her mouth makes it bearable to breathe. Other than the aforementioned clanging of steps, and her breathing, Fantôminou is alone with the ominous silence of a liminal space.

The stairs stretch on upwards for what seems far longer than it should, but eventually, Fantôminou reaches the final steps to the roof entrance door.

The door is unlocked, and so Fantôminou opens it as quietly as possible. She walks out into the rain once more and scrunches up her nose. A quick glance of the roof yields no immediate signs of danger or anything of note, so she continues to the edge of the roof.

Fantôminou rests one foot on the lip of the roof and flexes her gauntlets, lights switching off for stealth. Carefully, she turns around and crouches on the lip, gauntlets gripping the edge and toes of her boots braced against the wall. Bit by bit she descends, gauntlets making it more than easy to stay attached to the wall.

Two-thirds of the way down, Fantôminou climbs onto a window sill. The fence is only a metre below, with a further four-metre drop. No security drones in sight, yet—but no alarms have been triggered yet either.

A shadow drops down the building and over the fence on the other side of the compound. Not a second later is the double buzz of the earpiece signalling that someone is in position.

Fantôminou smirks beneath her face coverings, not one to be so quickly outdone she leaps forwards in a dive—spinning midair as she begins to plummet. Clearing the razor wire fence with room to spare.

She hits the ground in another diving roll, and immediately uses the momentum to throw herself up and run towards the nearest warehouse building. As soon as she reaches the wall, she double-taps her earpiece to send the double buzz signal to others.

A moment later comes the third double buzz, soon followed by the fourth and final signal.

“Markov is covering our air support.” Raijack's voice clips across the earpiece channel, “Fantôminou, you and Red Hood are on opposite ends of the same warehouse. I've unlocked the doors for you. You know the drill.”

“Thank you, Raijack. Entering now.” Fantôminou responds, she slinks over to the warehouse doors and cautiously pries open the now unlocked door.

Fantôminou heads straight for the terminal, and knows Red Hood is doing the same. Slipping Raijack's new and improved virus into one of the terminal's ports. Seconds pass.

“Interface secured,” Raijack informs.

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Red Hood prowling over to her. She nods to him and taps into the terminal with her gauntlet.

Red Hood readies his bomb defusal kit as she instructs the internal warehouse drones into delivering the goods to them.

The drone, blinking yellow—a sure sign of Raijack's virus in effect—hovers over and drops a large black cased crate before them.

As soon as the claws of the drone release the crate, Red Hood is immediately on it, pulling it open and weeding out the bomb.

They wait with bated breath. Red Hood tinkers away. The earpiece channel is silent as the team focuses.

He hisses through his teeth, and Fantôminou tenses—ready to grab him and run, in the worst case—but he only packs the kit back away and sighs in relief.

He taps the earpiece thrice—signalling success.

Raijack and Cheval Mallet don't respond, so Fantôminou and Red Hood stuff their haul into Fantôminou's Miraculous, for ease of transport, and begin making their way towards the warehouse the other two were hitting.

By the time they reach the nearest warehouse doors, the earpiece triple buzzes. Success, again.

They pause only to exchange a nod between the two before continuing to meet up with Cheval Mallet and Raijack—no rendezvous needed this time so far.

It takes forty seconds to cross halfway to the other warehouse, where they meet the other two along with Markov in the middle.

Cheval Mallet waves a hand and the five of them skulk over to a small shed off the side of another warehouse. He raises his horseshoe weapon and calls out, “Bon Voyage!”

The portal forms and Markov flies through first. The remaining four exchange glances then bolt forwards, racing to see who can get through first.

The blue light blinds them all for a second, despite how used to the power they are.

“Mission success!” Fantôminou cheers breathlessly once the blue fades, throwing her hands up in celebration.

“WOOH!” Cheval Mallet yells, jumping up and punching the air.

Red Hood snorts, “but more importantly I so won!”

Raijack hums, “let's see what Markov has to say about that.”

Markov makes a series of boops and beeps, yellow LEDs flickering. “Red Hood is correct, he won the portal race.”

“YES!” Red Hood crows.

“Oh come on!” Raijack grumbles.

Footsteps and clapping approaches. “Well done,” Félix praises, “but perhaps leave the celebration until after you've all gotten into jammies.”

Cheval Mallet giggles, “Flicks, I can't believe you can somehow still sound pretentious whilst saying something as childish sounding as "jammies"!”

Félix raises an eyebrow, “you say this every time I call pyjamas that. Now come on, I've ordered pizza and Roy, Alix, Luka, Artemis, Kori, and Bizarro are already waiting for you lot, in the lounge, so we can get the party started.” He turns on his heel and walks out of the utility-changing room.

Markov, as the only one not needing to change, shows the tongue-sticking-out emoji on his LED screen and zooms after Félix.

Jason, Marinette, Adrien, and Max all start changing out of their gear as quickly as possible.

“Oh no!” Adrien gasps, half undressed, suddenly remembering something. “We forgot to take the motorbikes back!”

Marinette groans, “I knew I was forgetting something!"

Facepalming, Jason sighs. “We were all too caught up in everything going well for once.”

Max snorts. “Oh don't worry! I anticipated this, all it took was a little hacking into our hoverbikes and now they're on autopilot to one of our empty storage bases.”

“Oh. Well, that's good then.” Adrien says, looking a little embarrassed.

“Yeah… anyway come on, we don't want to keep your cousin and the others waiting any longer! They'll eat all the pizza!” Marinette exclaims.

They all finish changing into loungewear and pyjamas just as music starts to play from the lounge and so frantically, they all dash towards it, trying to shove each other out of the way and laughing playfully as they do so.

They've won a battle, they've successfully gotten in and out with a good haul of gun tech. No alarms tripped, nothing went wrong. Hoverbikes undamaged and on the route home. For once, everything went smoothly. And that, is cause for an evening of celebration.

Leaving the worries of the rat for tomorrow.

———

In a dark observatory with a closed butterfly window, a folder is tossed across a desk.

Papillon glances down at the folder with indifference. He rests his elbows on the expensive polished wood and steeples his fingers. “You said you had acquired information that you believe will interest me?”

The man in a black suit sitting opposite Papillon, smiles patiently. “My informant went through quite the lengths to acquire this. Why not take a look inside.”

Papillon purses his lips, “this better not be a waste of my precious time, Lex.”

Lex Luthor raises an eyebrow in amusement. “I assure you, Gabriel, you will find what is inside most interesting.”

There's a moment's pause as Gabriel waits. Nothing happens. He nods and then opens the folder. He spreads the papers inside in arc across the desk. In the middle of the papers, is the photo of a smiling teenage girl with bright blue eyes, and blue-dyed hair. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng?” He reads out, lips curling into a contemplative frown.

“Poor little girl,” Lex croons mockingly, “missing—presumed dead—after her parents' bakery was destroyed in an Akuma attack. Her name should be familiar to you though, won your one-day derby hat competition at her school.”

Gabriel's fingers still mid-steeple, and he moves one hand up to his chin in thought. “Ah yes, I remember that designer. The one with the feather derby whose design was stolen and copied. That signature embroidery was impressive work.” He recounts.

Lex grins, “yes, however most distressingly, it would seem this up and coming star of a designer has lost her glow.”

“How so?” Gabriel responds, furrowing his brows.

“Well you see, my informant has found… evidence, that our poor little designer here fell through the cracks into the shadows after the loss of her parents and bakery. It's rather obvious that the larvae have taken her as their own, some of their masks and clothes fit perfectly with what we know of her unique incorporation of her signature, as well as stitch work.” Lex explains, waving a hand towards the rest of the photographs and documents spread from the folder.

Gabriel frowns and eyes a few of the other papers with interest. “I see, that is most unfortunate.”

“But.” Lex cuts in before Gabriel can say anything more. “I'm well aware you're plenty familiar with fixing larvae with damaged wings and frayed wires. As such, a strange little cold case brimming with potential for your program, would do quite nicely for your collection, wouldn't you say?” Lex insinuates, rising from his seat as he continues, “rescue the poor larvae, craft it a chrysalis, and nurture the Pupa into something radiant. Not unlike what you did with the Macrothylacia Rubi, and your replacement wife.” With that, Lex smiles smugly down at Gabriel and then strides out of the observatory, not giving Gabriel a chance to respond.

And leaving Papillon to the folder and his musings.

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| Behind the Names: Fantôminou is a portmanteau of Fantôme (Ghost/Phantom) and Minou (Kitty). And she's called that because I thought the Black Footed cat fit her, and they're nicknamed Anthill Tigers. They also have the highest successful hunting rate! |

| Raijack is a portmanteau of Raiju (lightning dragon) and jack plug (the connect-y bit on headphones into a phone for example) but is also a play on the word Hijack. |

| Cheval Mallet is an evil horse spirit that offers rides to weary travellers and kidnaps them. Yes, there is a reason behind this. It's covered in Chap 2 |

| Chèvrapide is a portmanteau of Chèvre (Goat) and Rapide (Fast). |

| Also feel free to send me any comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I’ll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

#Maribat #MLB x DC #DC x MLB #Jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #JasonetteJuly2021 #JasMari #MariJay #Marinette x Jason #Jason x Marinette #Jasonette July Week 2 #Jasonette July Day 7 #Jasonette July Guns #Sheltered by Darkness not yet Moths to the Flame #SbDnyMttF #Die Like the Butterfly Shoot With Their Guns #DLtBSWTG #Sham's Posts #Sham's Writing #Sham's Fics

[flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash]

Pursue - Jim Hopper x Reader

Summary: How far can you push Hopper before he loses control?

Characters: Jim Hopper x female reader

Words: 5,310

Warnings: smut, language/dirty talk, light bondage, throat fucking, praise kink, implied age gap, I think that’s it? This is dirty smut so if that’s not your thing, don’t read. 

Author’s Note: This was written for sherrybaby14′s Fall Into You writing challenge. My prompt was to use the line “You want to be my good girl, don’t you?”

Pursue

Grinning with amusement, you twirled the phone cord around your finger and tried to sound innocent, though you both knew it was all an act. The mission was to drive Chief Jim Hopper mad with lust, and so far, your plan was working brilliantly.

 You had been teasing him all day, starting in the morning when he had received a call right as he got to the office. You could practically feel his surprise at your bold words, detailing to him how you were still laying naked in bed and wrapped up in sheets that smelled like him, wishing he was there to satisfy the lust you were currently feeling. He had growled out that you were going to regret teasing him when he got off work, and when you baited him further by saying that maybe you should just pull out your vibrator and pretend it was him, he gave a strangled groan and hung up. You had called about an hour later, and when Flo answered and said Hopper was busy, you asked her to relay the vague message of, “I took care of the situation myself.”

 It was now his lunch break, and you had, of course, taken advantage of the opportunity to call again, knowing that he couldn’t resist his curiosity about what else you’d have to say. You mentioned buying some new lingerie, a black lace teddy that clung to your curves like a second skin.

 “The neckline goes down a bit too low, so that I’m almost popping out. And I had no idea that the back would be a thong, but oh well, too late to return it now,” you said with an exaggerated sigh, listening intently for his response.

 Satisfaction darted through you at the unmistakable sound of increased breathing on the other end; you could clearly envision him in his office chair, leaning forward over his desk with a death grip on the receiver. The thought of him sitting there with a hard-on and trying to imagine what you looked like only served to ramp up your own desire, thighs squeezing together where you lounged on the couch in the aforementioned lingerie.

 “Don’t you want to know why it’s too late to return it?” you pouted, biting your lip to stifle a giggle.

 “Why?” His voice was raspy with desire, making it sound so low and commanding that you shivered.

 Giving a slow grin, you whispered, “Because I’ve been wearing it all morning, so it’s soaked from me thinking about you.”

 Dead silence. He must be holding his breath, body taut and unmoving. You knew because you were doing the same thing. Then, the smallest click...and the following silence lasted only a few seconds before the beep of a disconnected line sounded.

 He hung up?!

 Annoyed at the thought of him ending the conversation right as it was getting good, you redialed the station. Poor Flo was probably getting sick of transferring your calls to Hopper’s office, but she did so anyways. After the dozenth ring, it was obvious he had either left or was purposely ignoring you. Hanging up the phone, you puffed out an irritated breath that the game was over...for now.

 Getting up from the couch, you decided to make a sandwich for lunch. You grabbed your purple house robe and put it on over the black teddy before going to the kitchen to hunt down some lunch meat and bread. You really should go to the store later, seeing as how Hopper’s frequent visits had dwindled the fridge down to practically nothing. You and the Chief had officially started dating about six months ago, but it was only the past month or so that he seemed to spend more nights here than at his cabin.

 Getting the tall, brooding man’s attention hadn’t been an easy feat. It had taken weeks of you finding various excuses to stop by the station for him to finally get the hint. He later admitted that his cop buddies had all but begged him to ask you out, and that he genuinely hadn’t thought you’d be interested, the silly man. Usually you preferred playing a little harder to get, but from the moment you moved into Hawkins and met Chief Jim Hopper, you wanted him. And if you had to act a little too obviously interested to get his attention, then so be it. Otherwise he’d have never gotten a clue, since he’d had some warped idea that you were too young and pretty for him.

 But once you had gone on that first date, the rest was history. It had been hot and heavy from the start, especially after he’d asked what you were doing at Enzo’s with him and not someone younger and more carefree, someone who had their life together. You had smiled, grabbed his hand where it laid on the table, and told him that none of the youthful boys around town made you wet with just one glance, and none of them made you feel both recklessly turned on and completely safe at the same time. But he did.

 He had practically eye-fucked you for the rest of dinner, and you barely made it back to your place in one piece, Hopper unable to keep both hands on the wheel during the drive there. He had fucked you up against the wall right inside the front door, and it would be a miracle if the neighbors hadn’t heard your screams of ecstasy.

The chemistry between the two of you was off the charts, and it was by far the best sex you’d ever had. Just the thought of the things Hopper could do, of the reactions he was able to elicit from your body, had a shiver going down your spine as you cut the sandwich in half and took a bite.

 You had just finished chewing and swallowing when there came the unmistakable sound of tires screeching recklessly into the driveway, followed shortly by the loud slam of a car door. Putting down the sandwich, you walked from the kitchen into the living room. Right as you were starting to feel a bit alarmed, someone came up the front steps and crossed the porch, and your worry instantly turned into excitement. Those heavy, booted steps could only belong to one man...

 Standing there with bated breath, you heard the key you had recently given him turn in the lock, anticipation making your thighs clench. The door swung open and there he was, filling the entrance with his broad shoulders, gaze immediately zeroing in on where you stood in the middle of the living room. He walked inside, the door slamming slightly as he forcibly closed it with his boot. Dressed in his snug Chief’s uniform, your mouth watered at the sight of all that sexually frustrated man focused in your direction. His eyes trailed down over your form, nostrils flaring as he realized that all that stood between him and the lingerie you had teased him about was a thin layer of purple terry cloth.

 He took a step forward, but then halted when you danced backwards two steps. Brows furrowing, he took another step to test the waters, and sure enough, you backed up again. A teasing smile and cocked eyebrow signaled your enjoyment of the game, though Hopper looked far from amused. He suddenly came at you with a growl, but before he could get within arm’s reach, you turned with a squeal and fled.

 Adrenaline, fueled by a mixture of fear and excitement, pumped through your veins as bare feet darted from the living room and across cool kitchen tiles. The roles were suddenly switched from earlier, and the pursuer was now the prey.

 Skidding around the counter island in the kitchen, you grabbed the edge of the surface to help halt your forward movement, breath accelerated as you saw Hopper storm into the room only a second later. He eyed the counter with disdain then looked up and locked eyes with you, the intensity in his stare causing hair to stand up on the back of your neck.

 “You’re only digging yourself a deeper grave, sweetheart,” came the gruff warning.

 “That so?” you taunted back. “Guess you’ll just have to punish me then...if you think you’re quick enough, old man.”

 You saw the flash of anger in his eyes at your jab a split second before he charged around the counter on your right. Almost falling for it, you started to run to the left before realizing at the last second that he had only feinted going one way before abruptly turning around and charging the opposite. His intent was to cut you off before you could make it out of the kitchen, but you ruined the plan by skidding to a stop on the tiles. He was almost within arm’s reach when you flew back the other way, careening around the same side of the counter you had entered from and making a break across the kitchen back towards the living room.

 Heart in your throat, you sprinted through the lower level of the house, the bottom of the robe flapping out behind you like a beacon. There was a dart of euphoric satisfaction that you had thwarted him, as you beelined straight for the staircase with the goal of making it to the bedroom and closing the door. If you could get it locked in time, then it would be beyond entertaining to see what his next move would be. Images of him begging you to open the door and let him in flashed through your mind, making you smirk with sadistic glee. However, you should’ve known he wouldn’t let you get that far. Despite his size, Hopper was swifter and lighter on his feet than most people would suspect. In fact, you’d later look back and wonder if he had purposely let you think you were winning, and had actually been toying with you the entire time before waiting for the perfect moment to swoop in and capture his prey.

 You hadn’t even heard him gaining on you, so it came as a surprise when you only made it halfway up the staircase before strong fingers wrapped around your ankle, causing you to fall to your knees on the carpeted steps with a cry. Refusing to admit defeat, you continued to try and move forward, leg kicking against his grip, but he was unrelenting. You felt him come up the steps behind you, the presence of his large body hovering expectantly, waiting for you to turn over and accept your fate.

 “You should know better than to run from the police, baby,” he drawled in a raspy, lust-ridden voice.

 A shudder of arousal went through you at the words, and you slowly turned over onto your back, his hand still holding your ankle captive. He was looming over you, his broad frame blocking out the rest of the world. Looking up at his face, you saw that his pupils were blown wide with lust. The sight caused a smirk to twitch at the edges of your lips, satisfied to know that you weren’t the only one physically affected by all of this.

 “You think this is funny?” he growled menacingly, leaning down until his face was inches from your own. “Did you enjoy making me chase after you? Perhaps I should show you what happens to bad little girls who play games with the chief.”

 With that, his grip left your ankle as he all but tore into the tie of your robe, flinging it open and off your body. A groan of masculine arousal accompanied his hand diving between your legs, and you gave a soft cry at the feel of his fingers pressing into the soaked crotch of the teddy.

 “You weren’t lying about not being able to return this, baby. Even if the wetness wasn’t enough evidence, they’d be able to smell your cunt on it from a mile away.”

 Gasping at his filthy words, you were so focused on arching up into his fingers for more friction that you barely registered the sound of clinking metal. The realization of what he was doing hit a second too late, as Hopper lifted his hand from your crotch, grabbed both your wrists, and had the handcuffs clicked into place in the span of mere seconds. Even though it was futile, you still pulled at the cuffs, which only served to press the unrelenting metal into your flesh. You gave a huff of frustration that instantly turned into a squeal of surprise when he picked you up off the steps and threw you over his shoulder. Desire swirled in you at how his strength made you feel light as a feather, while the world also swirled as your head was suddenly upside down and staring at an absolutely delectable ass in tight, beige pants.

 Your own ass must’ve also been a distraction, as a warm hand came down with a smack on your left buttock that was bared by the thong of the teddy. He gave a second smack to the other cheek, causing you to groan and clench your fingers into the back of his shirt as he started up the rest of the steps and down the hall towards the bedroom.

 Once inside the room, he tossed you down onto the bed, back bouncing on the mattress from the force. Immediately trying to roll over and away, unwilling to admit defeat, your escape plan was cut short before it even began. His unyielding body came down over your own, thick thighs straddling your waist as he gathered your cuffed wrists in one hand and pinned them to the mattress above your head.

 Leaning down, he took your earlobe between his teeth before whispering, “Ah ah, baby. None of that. I caught you fair and square, and now you’re mine.”

 Shivering at both the feel of his mouth and the words coming out of it, your body squirmed underneath him with anticipation, declaring its surrender without your brain’s permission. Moving down to your neck, he sucked the flesh roughly, bringing blood to the surface so that you’d carry the mark of his possession around for days to come.

 The hand not holding your wrists captive ran down over your side, mapping the curves of your waist and thigh, his calloused fingers causing goosebumps to erupt on your flesh. He continued to skim past the places that wanted his touch the most, tracing fingertips lightly along the sides of your breasts in the black lace and along your lower stomach, before changing direction up and away from the part of you that wept for him. He caressed you slowly until every nerve ending was straining for him to do more, to give your body what it was craving. In response to your panting whimpers, he brought his mouth up to hover mere centimeters from your own, teasing you with his warm breaths.

 “What wrong, baby? I thought you enjoyed playing games?”

 Damn him to hell. You had no clue how he still had any control left, but apparently he was keeping a tight rein on his desire until he paid you back in full for your earlier teasing. You had meant to drive him mad with lust and be in control of the situation, but had apparently underestimated Hopper’s revenge tactics, which left you as the one panting and begging for more.

 Giving a groan of frustration when both large hands lifted from your body, you felt cold and bereft. Frustration turned to excitement at the sight of his fingers undoing the front of his pants, and you subconsciously licked your lips at the sight. Giving a deep chuckle at the motion, Hopper rasped, “Yea, you got the right idea, baby.”

 When the pants were unbuttoned and unzipped, he reached inside and pulled out his thick cock, the tip already weeping with desire. Unable to help the impulse, you lowered your hands towards it like a moth to flame, but they were grabbed roughly before you could even make contact. Shoving them back into the mattress above your head as he once more covered your body with his own, he leaned down and growled, “You want to be my good girl, don’t you?”

 A raspy moan and frantic nod was your response, the teddy becoming even more soaked at his words. A slow, arrogant smirk curled his lips; Hopper knew how much you got off on being praised, and he wasn’t afraid to use that knowledge to his advantage.

 “Then do as I say and keep your hands just like that, sweetheart. If you don’t move them while I fuck your pretty little mouth, then maybe I’ll let you come.”

 Another panting nod was all you could manage at the moment, your gaze fixated on the cock bobbing closer to you as he moved up the bed until he was straddling your shoulders. Grabbing his dick with one large hand, he gave a few slow, rolling strokes before placing the tip against your lips.

 “Open up, baby. Time to show the chief what a good little cock sucker you are.”

 You obeyed instantly, lips parting on a moan as Hopper fed you his cock. He started off slow and easy, barely moving his hips, which automatically motivated you to take control. Moving your head back and forth, you took him in with no added assistance. Grunts of pleasure fell from above as your tongue swirled around his tip and mouth worked his length. Looking upwards, you felt another gush of wetness between your legs at the sight of Hopper staring back down at you, heavy-lidded gaze focused on the sight of his cock disappearing between your lips.

Suddenly, he went from passive recipient to once more being in charge. His hand grabbed the back of your head and pulled forward while thrusting his hips. The movement forced his cock down your throat until his balls hit your chin and dark pubic hair tickled your nose, a strangled, fuck coming from the man above you. Eyes instantly watering as you gave a slight gag, you looked up at Hopper pleadingly, even though you knew the sadistic part of him loved watching you struggle to take him.

 It was all you could do to keep your wrists in place and not try to buck him off, but then his other hand came down and gently cupped your face as he rumbled, “What a good girl. You look so fucking sexy while choking on my dick, baby. I can’t decide if I want to come down your throat or wait until I get in that beautiful pussy.”

 His words caused your throat to instantly relax and loosen in submission, while your pussy clenched tightly with jealousy that it wasn’t the one being currently filled. As if he knew your body’s new dilemma, he reached back and down between your legs, which instantly spread to make room for his hand. Shoving the soaked fabric to the side, he ran a thick finger down your slit, causing your hips to buck and throat to moan around his cock, the vibrations wringing a strangled snarl from his lips. Two fingers easily slid inside your dripping cunt, his thrusts accompanied by the sloppy wet sounds of your arousal gushing around his digits. You felt dizzy, both with desire and the lack of oxygen, as you laid there with his dick down your throat, clenching on his fingers. Both your mouth and pussy provided him with a warm, wet welcome and begged for more, the two of you groaning simultaneously at the sensations.

 Disappointment and oxygen hit your lungs when he suddenly pulled out of your mouth, a long string of saliva hanging precariously between the tip of his cock and your lower lip before it broke and fell. Giving a cough and taking a deep gasp of air, you felt his fingers also leave your body as he reached into the front pocket of his undone pants and pulled out a set of keys. It was obvious by his pulsing, reddened cock that he had been close to coming but decided to wait until he got between your thighs, a decision which made your cunt pulse in eager anticipation.

 Jingling the keys teasingly between his fingers, he said, “You still going to be a good girl if I take these off?”

 Nodding frantically, you arched your body underneath him, panting, “Yes! Please, Jim!”

 Satisfied with your submissive response, he leaned up over your head, and you felt the cuffs fall away as he unlocked them. He set both cuffs and keys on the bedside table before taking a moment to bring your wrists down in front of his face, rubbing them gently while inspecting to make sure there hadn’t been any damage done. The gesture sent a flutter through your chest; even during intense moments such as this, Hopper’s protectiveness still reared its head, reinforcing that you were always safe with him.

 Once satisfied with his inspection, he moved off the bed before turning to fix desire-blazed eyes on you, thighs spread and chest panting as you awaited his next move. Without hesitation, he reached down and shoved the teddy’s straps off your shoulders, roughly peeling it down your body as if he were a kid tearing into a long-awaited present on Christmas morning. The fabric scraped down over your rock-hard nipples, causing a faint shiver, then was pulled off your hips and legs so that the cool air of the room hit your desire-glazed cunt.

 “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

 Smiling at his praise, you arched your back a little and cupped both hands under your breasts, offering yourself up to him.

 The animalistic sound that came from his throat sent chills down your spine, and he wasted no time in tearing off his uniform. You watched greedily as more and more skin was revealed, biting your bottom lip to muffle the moan of arousal when he stood naked and proud. You got a fine view of his muscled ass when he walked across the room to his chest of drawers, yanking the top one open and pulling out a condom. He came back but stopped at the foot of the bed, his sharp gaze searing a path down the length of your curves before lifting and locking onto your own.

 “Be a good girl and get on your hands and knees for the chief, baby,” he commanded in his best cop voice while tearing open the condom and rolling it down his throbbing cock.

 Body begging to be filled, you immediately obeyed, flipping onto all fours on the mattress, ass up and legs widely parted in presentation. Unable to resist a little teasing, you slowly rocked your hips back and forth while looking over your shoulder at him with a knowing grin. A jolt of excitement went through you at the expletive hissed from a clenched jaw, his predatory gaze raking downward, greedily taking in the way you were spread out on the bed and waiting for him. He had frozen for a moment with your movement, but quickly recovered and moved forward onto the bed at record speed, his body radiating heat and hunger as it came up behind your own.

 His rough hands trailed down over your sides while his cock bumped against your inner thighs, causing a shudder to ripple along your flesh. Arching back into him, you let out a whine of impatience, tired of the games and just wanting him to fuck you.

 Knowing you were getting desperate, he leaned down so his front fit to your back with mouth at your nape, as he whispered, “You ready for my cock, sweetheart?”

 His words stole your breath, so that you could only nod frantically before pulling enough oxygen to breath out a shaky, “Yes.”

 Unable to deny both of you any longer, he reached down with one hand to line his dick up at your entrance, and slowly pushed inside. Mewling with pleasure, you tried to widen your thighs even more on the mattress and gripped the bedspread as your walls stretched around his thick length. Fuck, but he was big, and your body never failed to remind you of that. No matter how many times the two of you had sex, that slight burn of possession always made itself known during that first thrust.

 Once he was balls deep, he went still for a few long moments, both of you savoring the feel of him deep inside. Then he planted his left hand down on top of your own on the mattress, the gesture dominant and possessive, yet also reassuring, while his other hand snaked around the front of your waist and dove between your open thighs. The tips of his fingers unerringly found your swollen clit, zeroing in with tight, fast circles in the rhythm needed to make you moan and instinctively push back into him. If there was one thing Hopper had learned over the past months of dating, it was exactly how to touch you in a way guaranteed to make come.

 And if there was one thing you had learned about Hopper, it was that dirty talk affected him just as much as it did you.

 “You can go again later, right?” you tried to sound seductive and saucy, but it came out as more of a breathless whimper.

 “Was that an insult, little girl? You think I can’t keep up with you?” he growled in your ear, fingers speeding up into even faster and tighter circles on your bundle of nerves.

 Shaking your head, you gasped, “I just really...w-want…I want to...”

 “Want to what?”

 Almost convulsing at the carnal, deep command in his voice, you panted loudly for a few moments before answering. “I want to finish what I started...suck you off. I want to feel you come in my mouth.” The words were puffed out in a rush at the end, head dropping forward from the overwhelming pleasure of his body over and in yours.

 “Fuck,” was the only verbal response, followed by the hand on top of yours lifting to grip tightly onto your hip. His thrusts increased until you had to clench the bedspread for dear life to keep from being forced face-first into the headboard.

 Even though it was usually him using filthy words to take control, to make you beg and come, the idea of turning the tables caused more wetness to run down your thighs. He might be dominating your body right now, but you had the key to dominating his mind.

 “Do you want that? Me taking your cock in my mouth, deep down my throat.”

 “Sweetheart…” he groaned warningly, his hips stuttering out of rhythm for a moment as he fought off his orgasm. The fingers at your hip dug in painfully as he jackhammered into you, while his other hand kept its punishing rhythm on your clit. Toes curling, you could feel him start to lose his iron-tight control, and fuck if that didn’t amp your own arousal up to new heights.

 “I want it...I want to suck your dick and...swallow every drop of your cum,” you gasped between heaving breaths.

 “Jesus fuck!” he cried, and a dart of triumph went through you as he upped his movements in a way that was pure carnal instinct, his control flying out the window and body taking over. Cock pounding so hard that his balls slapped your clit with each thrust, the wet sounds coming from your bodies was so obscenely erotic that you could only moan in response and hold on. The coil drew tighter until you were unable to speak even if you wanted to, knuckles turning white and every muscle in your body tensed as you hurtled towards the peak.

 With an animalistic groan, Hopper went over the edge, his large body shaking behind yours as the throes of ecstasy hit him. Not wanting to leave you behind, he kept thrusting, trying to drag you down with him. When his hand lifted away for a split second, only to then come down hard in a slap directed perfectly on your throbbing clit, you exploded. Sparks of pleasure radiated through your entire body, making your back arch and cunt pulse as you wordlessly cried out Hopper’s name like a litany.

 It took a while to come down from the high, both your bodies shuddering against one another with aftershocks. Giving a whimper when his now-limp cock left your body, you collapsed onto your side at the same time he also rolled onto the bed. Snuggling up behind you, his body spooned along your own so you could still feel his chest rapidly rising and falling, his breaths loudly puffed out against the back of your neck and causing goosebumps on your sweat-dampened flesh.

 You laid there in silence for a couple minutes, just soaking in the moment and allowing your heart rates to slow down to a more normal rhythm. Rolling over to face Hopper, you ran soothing fingers over his chest and looked up at him, happy to see his usual brooding expression had relaxed and the usual lines of tension he carried in his face and shoulders had eased.

 “So?” you asked expectantly, trying not to grin when his eyebrows raised in question.

 “So, what?” he grumbled, voice already taking on a sleepy quality that let you know he wouldn’t be conscious for much longer.

 “So...was I a good girl? Or do I need to try again?”

 His eyes, which had been drifting shut, shot back open and locked onto yours. He studied you intently, cop face firmly in place. “Ma’am, are you purposely trying to kill me? Because murdering a police officer is a serious offense.”

 Giggling with delight, which made his own lips curl upwards at the edges, you leaned in and whispered against his lips, “Even more serious than running from said police officer?”

 Closing the distance so that his mouth covered your own, he kissed you breathless before pulling back and murmuring, “They’re both serious, and you’ll be punished accordingly once I get feeling back in my legs.”

 Smiling, you traced fingers down along the side of his stubbled cheek and across his strong jaw. “I think it was only fair, considering.”

 “Hmm?” was the rumbled response, his eyes once again closed.

 “I just figured that after all the pursuing I did in the beginning to get your attention, it was about time you were the one who had to chase me.”

 Groaning in exasperation, he wrapped large arms around your waist and pulled you in close, body pressed full-length against his own. “You and the boys at the station are never going to move on and let me live that down, are you?” This was murmured in a low tone that let you know he wouldn’t be conscious for much longer, and you internally preened that he was so worn out.

 Since it was obvious he didn’t plan on returning to work anytime soon, you laid your head on the pillow next to his with a contented sigh. A quick nap couldn’t hurt before you roused him for round two and made good on your dirty words from earlier. You could hardly wait to try and make him lose control again, and maybe you could even sneak those handcuffs back in somehow.

 A soft snore broke the silence, Hopper unable to stay conscious long enough to finish the teasing conversation. However, knowing he was asleep made you bold enough to answer his question in a more honest way, the words a whispered confession of commitment.  

 “If it means more afternoons like this, then no, I won’t move on...ever.”

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[honeymoonjin]

part of the Roll Deep project.

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genre: pornstar!au, pro dom!jin || word count: 7.4k || warnings for sexually explicit context: bdsm, sex work/porn, use of safe word, oral (m receiving), fingering, anal play (f receiving), unprotected sex, sex toys, bondage, humiliation/degradation, pet play, multiple orgasms, forced orgasm, jin is a filthy bitch, please heed the tags, dom!jin, sub!reader, voyeurism/exhibitionism.

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The longer you stand outside the door to the dungeon, the more nervous you get, but you imagine that's rather the point. It's cold in the waiting room, especially when you'd been already instructed to remove your robe, leaving you in the plain white lingerie all subs on the show wore.

Although you had seen every single episode of Play Hard at least twice (once out of curiosity when you were applying for the show and a second time to try and prepare yourself) the actual behind-the-scenes information was kept under lock and key. You had even signed a non-disclosure, stating that you couldn't publicly or privately reveal any of the goings-on that weren't released in the official episode.

It means that you now feel unbelievably off-guard and underprepared, shivering in the waiting room. It's silent apart from the metallic whirr of the air-con. There's not even anyone in here now that the director had slipped inside to check on the proceedings.

You can't help but scoff a little. Director. One of the few things you had managed to glean from a past costar was that the director was there to arrange the setting up of equipment and then sit and watch. The middle-aged American guy had introduced himself to you in the waiting room, given you instructions and taken your robe, then left promptly, but that short time was enough for you to realise that what you had heard was probably true. He was so spineless and jittery you could've mistaken him for a trainee PA.

Two solid thuds ring out against the heavy metal door, making you jump slightly, a fresh wave of goosebumps breaking out on your upper arms. That was the signal to go inside. Suddenly you want to turn tail and run away. Instead, you push open the door and step inside.

He is the first thing you see upon entering. His back faces you when you walk in, and you swallow hard. His shoulders are so broad that it blocks you from seeing anything on the table he's standing at, so you simply hover awkwardly, wringing your hands together as you hear the doors shut behind you, and the director scamper back off to his seat.

He ignores you, fiddling with something metallic on the table, and although it builds that anxious feeling in your gut, you take the opportunity to look him over properly. His hair is a natural inky black, so glossy the backlight reflects off it. His clothes are intimidating, even from behind, even though you've seen them a hundred times before. Stretched tightly across his shoulders, a black button-down shirt is bracketed by a leather harness that cinches around his waist, and again halfway up his torso. There are two thick silver loops attached to that upper band on either side of his spine, and you know from watching his show there are more on his front. A spike of electricity jumps through you when you remember one of his more recent episodes where he had locked a sub's wrist cuffs to the back loops. She was a tiny girl with short arms, and by the time she was locked in she was completely pressed up against him, speared on his cock; helpless and unable to get off it. Fuck, what was a girl like you doing here?

"Eyes on the floor."

Your head shoots down immediately before you even consciously process his words. His voice is low and resonant, a richer timbre in real life than the mic clipped to his shirt could ever hope to pick up. You hear his feet, clad in heavy black shoes, shuffle against the hardwood floor as he turns to face you. You curl your bare toes against the cold, varnished planks. You'd never look up, never dream of disobeying his orders before you've even really begun, but you couldn't have predicted just how blazing his gaze feels on you, even, especially, when you can't see it.

"Babybaby223?"

You nod your head at the sound of your username. Even though it's obvious he would know it (he personally cherry-picks subs he wants to work with, after a rigorous audition period), it brings to mind the thought of him watching your videos. You bite down on your lip to fight a wicked smile. The image of the famed professional dom jerking off to one of your livestreams is delicious. You feel your nerves melt into raw excitement.

"You've only been in this business for two months, is that right?" You nod again, more enthusiastically. "Yet you think you can handle me. Ambitious little whore, aren't you?" He's on the move again, each step echoing dully, growing louder. You can see the tips of his perfectly-shined shoes right in the top of your vision when he stops. Eyes straining, your head tips up just slightly so you can see a little more of him. "You were a very good girl in your audition. I liked that little schtick about denying yourself so that you can come for Master. Very cute. Are you going to be a good girl for me again today?"

You nod again, taking the opportunity to raise your gaze a little more once your head stills again. You can see most of his pants now, barely able to make out where the black fabric strains over his thighs. Just a little more...

He stomps his foot suddenly, bringing it down hard and fast on the floor to create a sharp thud. Instinctively your eyes shoot up to meet his but he's storming towards you, and you get only a blurred glimpse of the glare on his face before a hand is coming out and pressing down hard on the crown of your head, forcing your chin to press uncomfortably on your sternum. You wiggle, trying to bend your spine and ease the tension, but he keeps you there, fingers tightening around the top half of your scalp, nails scratching slightly in your hair.

"Apparently not," he growls, and you squeeze your eyes shut in regret, "I guess you were just faking it in that audition tape, then? Because so far I've only given you one command and you've already disobeyed me."

"Sorry, Master," you rush out, but the sound is squashed and guttural with the tight bend in your throat.

His fingers curl into your hair, tugging at a handful of it in one sharp yank. You wince, but stay otherwise silent, drinking in the sensation of his hand on you. Suddenly there's a pressure against your cheek, and a whisper in your ear. "Did we agree that you could speak?"

You tremble, the warm air brushing down your neck lighting up your nerves. You shake your head, bowing your head even further.

Suddenly, his grip eases off, and the hand begins to smooth out your hair. "It's okay," he says lightly, though there's a sharpness to it, "I'm sure you know the two strikes rule."

You nod, his cheek warm against yours as the muscles in your neck ache. His two strikes rule was famous, even featuring in his logo as two slashes across the web-series' name. Taken from the well-known 'three strikes and you're out', this version meant dictated that if Master gave you two strikes, the rest of your session was punishment in any way he saw fit, no matter how much time was left. Pathetic sluts don't deserve three chances, he'd often say.

You mentally berate yourself on getting a strike so soon. One time last year a bratty sub had gotten on the show and blown both strikes within ten minutes. The video was a brutal documentation of her almost four-hour long disciplining. You didn't think you could handle that.

You bite down hard on your lip to stop yourself from apologising verbally, instead focusing on staying as still as possible.

With one last demeaning pat on the top of your head, he removes his hand and stands back up to his full height. You keep your eyes focussed firmly on your own two feet as he walks away, calling out to you in a firm tone. "You may look up. Join me at the table."

You scamper over, but with his back to you again, you take the chance to glance over at the production team.

They're, for the most part, all bunched up along one wall doing nothing but twiddling thumbs and watching. You've never had a problem with being watched during sex (it would make shooting porn very difficult if you were) but going from self-filmed cams to a web-series was a lot to take in.

The director watches you as you cross the room, meeting your gaze for a moment, simply shrugging in response to your concerned look. He wasn't going to help you here. Unless you used the safe word or something went seriously wrong, your only shot at leaving here without a bright-red ass, or worse, was to be the best-behaved sub Master had ever had.

He doesn't even look at you. "Wrists."

You hold them out to him hastily, watching in wonder at the effortless grace he has in looping a raven-black rope around one, then the other, before tightening it so they draw together, pressed tightly against one another. The feeling of danger spliced with security is always addictive; even at home you'd sometimes practice self-ties for your livestreams, though it was always different knowing someone else was in control of your mobility. You shift your hips slightly, clenching around nothing.

Once he's finished, he steps back from you. "Try to get out."

You jiggle your wrists, only to have no give, and look back up at him. His mouth flattens and his jaw tenses. You swallow hard, taking a deep breath before tugging more vigorously, expelling all your energy into slipping them off or pulling them apart. Once again, they don't give.

"Good. The EMT shears are with the director; if either you or me needs to use them, use the safe word plus "rope". If for any other reason you or I feel like we need to use the safe word, say it verbally, or if you can't, use the hand motion." You nod obediently, feeling yourself calm down again with this brief respite. This was never included in the episodes, but you appreciate the reinforcement of a safety net around the scene. "Say the safe word and do the gesture so I know you remember it."

You close both of your hands into fists, leaving the pointer fingers out and wiggling them. "Purple."

He nods once. His face is still taut and his mouth hard, but there's something lighting up his eyes. He's excited about this. "Finally, if you say the safe word once, it stops that particular activity, if you say it twice in a row or on more than one occasion, it stops the scene. Understood?"

You nod again, a smile playing at the corner of your lips. This was great; you didn't know what you were so frightened about. You think back to the list of kinks you had to submit with your application; a comprehensive check-mark list of all the things you could possibly be into. Ropes and bondage was definitely one you checked off, and you're suddenly feeling euphoric, filled with anticipation of all the kinks you loved. You couldn't wait for him to try them out on you. It had been a while since anyone other than yourself had given you pleasure.

"On the table, facing me."

You step up to it, turning in anticipation, only to freeze. It's higher than you were expecting. The edge of the table rests on top of the swell of your ass, and you futilely try lifting a leg up one at a time to shuffle on, but it's no use. You could jump, but with your hands tied you'd risk falling and injuring yourself.

A dark chuckle breaks your attention away from the table. You stare up at Master with wide eyes. His lips are full and rosy, even when they're stretched across his face in an amused sneer. "Need some help?"

Your bottom lip sticks out slightly as you nod. He could've let you get up and then tied your wrists together. But his smug grin as he wraps his hands around your waist tells you that getting you off-guard and reliant on him was exactly the point.

You squeak as he lifts you up with ease and dumps you down ungracefully on the table.  You suck in a hiss through your teeth. The table is wood, too - the same dark grain as the floor - and it's freezing against your ass, the thin fabric of your underwear doing nothing to provide any insulation.

Your eyes are on his. You feel electric, liquid excitement running through your veins and  gathering between your legs. He quirks his eyebrows in thought, letting his eyes run over you. Automatically, you find yourself straightening your spine and sucking in your tummy, conscious of the way it would look on camera. Your eyes dart nervously over to the cameraman who paces in closer to you in a crouch.

Goosebumps raise up on the tops of your thighs. God, why was it so fucking cold in here?

You jump slightly when a hand comes down on your thigh. It's not hard, nothing more than a warning swat, but you swallow hard at the fire burning in his eyes.

"Who's your master here?"

"You are," you reply immediately, with a dutiful head-bow, only to jump again when a harder slap hits the sensitive skin of your thigh.

He's looking at you in disappointment now, a pensive frown on his face as he reaches around behind you, and somehow that's much worse than anger. His face is leaning over your shoulder as he reaches for something, pulling back a slip of black fabric.

You bite your lip, toes curling. A blindfold. One of your favorite accessories in the bedroom. Everything always felt more intense when your vision was restricted, and it would help you forget the intimidating presence of an entire production team.

"Now," he states brusquely, running a veined hand over the fabric to smooth it out, "I noticed you checked off sensory deprivation on your list of kinks, so I thought I'd be a generous master and give you a blindfold. But it seems you can't keep your fucking mouth shut, so I'm gonna have to use this to shut you up. Open wide, princess."

The corners of your mouth quirk down with the sarcastic pet name, but you open your mouth for him nonetheless, biting down on the thick twist of black cotton that he slips between your teeth, tying it tightly at the back.

With that done, he resumes his inspection of you, completely ignoring you as he runs his fingers lightly and impersonally over you, like you were a doll he was inspecting.

Over time you can feel the cotton wicking away all the moisture in your mouth, and your glands start to work overtime to produce more saliva. With a growing dread, you can feel lines of drool slipping down your chin. Every societal instinct in you screams to wipe it away, but he currently is holding your wrists up, a single finger looped in the rope, pulling it away from you like an afterthought as he inspects your breasts, head cocked to the side.

Here was another procedure you had never seen on his show, and you were feeling as off-guard as ever. With no clocks in here, you had no way of knowing how long it had been, but it felt like hours before he finally reached your head, tipping your jaw up and to each side, moving you like an object.

Once he lets your jaw go and looks at your face, he spots the spit on your chin and laughs. "We've barely even started yet and look how messy you are. Don't think I didn't notice how you've ruined your panties already."

You make a little whine and widen your legs, arching your back as best you can.

"Baby, baby," he coos condescendingly, referencing your username. "Are you feeling needy, hm?" You nod. "Tell me what you want."

You blink at him for a moment. How were you supposed to-? Though your grin isn't visible behind the gag, you know he can see the way your cheeks lift and your eyes light up as you get an idea.

Lifting a leg up, you use the tips of your toes to poke his crotch teasingly. To your delight, he's rock hard.

He runs a hand through his hair, disrupting it slightly as it parts to reveal his thick brows. With one palm on your knee and the other on the table beside you, Master steps forward, your foot pressed flatly against him, bending at the knee. His voice is deceptively smooth, a sharp edge dripping with honey. "My sub wants me to fuck her?"

You nod quickly, though your eyebrows crease at the way he talks about you in third person, instead of directly.

"Well, I'm afraid I can't do that just yet." His pink tongue slips out to wet his lips. "What kind of dom would I be if I let my sub tell me what to do?"

The back of his hand strikes across the bone of your ankle, batting your foot away. He steps right up, pressing his hips against the edge of the table between your legs, crotch right on top of yours. Any levity or humour has disappeared as he reaches out and latches onto your chin with an iron grip. He turns your head harshly towards the cameras and leans in, nipping at your earlobe once in warning. "Don't think for a second that this is about you. I'm sure you've heard many times that the one with the most power in a scene is a sub, because they can call off the scene at any moment. Perhaps you can call off the scene if you need to, but that does not mean you have any power here. The scene ends, your contract ends, you hear me?"

With wide eyes you attempt to nod, though his grip is too tight. He uses his hand to make you, guiding your jaw up and down. His grip is so tight, his fingers press through the meat of your cheek and squeezes on your teeth. You wince, but he doesn't let up.

"We all know that subs come here for one reason, and that's to get publicity. Cams aren't enough for a greedy whore like you, are they? Well, let me tell you a secret, princess: every single one of those twelve million viewers on my series don't want me to let you have your way. They don't even want me to fuck you." You tremble as he bites down on your ear again, tugging at the lobe before growling in your ear again. "They want me to ruin you."

All of a sudden he's letting go of you completely, and you hastily prop yourself up with your bound hands to prevent yourself from slumping over. You run your tongue over the inside of your sore cheeks as best you can with the gag in, panting.

"Turn around. Ass up, tits down."

It's surprisingly easy to navigate onto your stomach once you get your knees up on the table, and it's actually kind of comfortable letting your chest rest on your tied wrists, knees tucked between your tummy to prop your ass up.

Of course, comfortable was not in your contract. You suck in a shocked breath when his hand comes between your legs, lifting you up by your crotch until your knees no longer touch the table. You squeeze your eyes shut as you put your focus into staying stable with your front half securely pressed against the table.

"Are you a fucking amateur? Spread your legs."

You do as he says, hovering them open in the air, your shins bumping against the table edge, and finally he lowers you back down. Once he removes his hand, you whimper at the loss of pressure against your clit, feeling unbelievably vulnerable, but still it's not enough for him.

"Wider," he commands impatiently as he presses down on the middle of your back so that you have no choice but to arch further, knees splayed out wide. It's only once you reach this position, tensing your thighs slightly, that you realise that you can't get up anymore. Your legs are so far apart that you couldn't get your knees under you if you tried, and his palm rests heavy on your bare back, a reminder of the dominance he has over you. If you had ever doubted it before, here was the first-hand confirmation that he was a profession, and the thought of what he might do next makes you keen, whining again.

He hums to himself in consideration, and you hear him shifting around behind you. Another pair of footprints patters up, something metallic clinks, and hand rubs your back almost soothingly. "Now," he begins, moving around to your side, "you've shown me that you're incapable of following instructions, so I think I'm going to have to take some precautions."

You drop your head onto your hands, the rope on your wrists rubbing the tops of your breasts. The urge not to swivel around and see what he's doing only increases tenfold when the hand on your back disappears, but you force yourself to stay still. Two strikes, you remind yourself, and only one left.

To your left, you hear a swipe, some clanking, and then a tug. You almost jump right off the table when a solid strap of leather is thrown across your back, just below your shoulder blades. It lays there loosely for only a moment as he walks around to the other side, but soon enough you feel it growing taut over you. He pulls it tighter and tighter until your top half is completely flush against the table, your arms squished in between, and your back arching up to present your ass.

Your breathing picks up again, constricted slightly by the tight angle, and your eyes fall shut again, head to the side on the table. You can feel yourself truly slipping into subspace; it's liquid, like falling asleep or relaxing in a hot bath. The realization that you no longer have control, and that resisting it is futile, settles into your bones, and you feel your muscles ease.

"There," he drawls from somewhere above you, "that's sure taken the fight out of you, hasn't it? Now you're mine to play with." You shudder when he pairs his comment with a finger trailing up your spine, and he chuckles low in his throat.

His voice echoes, moving behind you. "In fact, if I wanted to, I could scrap all the other plans I had for you and just use you as my little cocksleeve. Fuck; if I got tired I could sit back and let the others come and have a go. If that's what I wanted, there'd be nothing you could do about it. You'd just have to sit there and take it."

He's not telling the truth; the safe word is firmly etched into the contract, as well as the fact that no persons were allowed to engage without also signing the contract, and no one had. Still, as a fingernail drags ever-so-lightly across your behind, along the seam of your panties, the thought causes you to whimper.

The teasingly featherish tough changes to a surge of heat as both his palms flatten over the globes of your ass, long fingers slipping under the fabric as he massages the flesh. "...but as good as that sounds, I have something much better in store for you, something I'm quite looking forward to seeing."

His hands move against you, shifting around to either side, gripping at the fabric. The white lingerie every sub on the show wore were purpose-made to be extremely easy to remove. As such, the seams on the panties were practically perforated, easy to rip off in the situation that you couldn't simply slide them down. It only takes two purposeful tugs before they tear, and the fabric falls away, clinging to your folds momentarily.

You sigh out at the feeling of the cold air on your center, the slick that's made its way all over your folds quickly cooling. A finger or thumb running down your middle has you biting down on the fabric between your teeth.

"I'm a big believer in lube," Master divulges, "but I prefer mine all-natural. So before we get to the main event, I'm going to have to replenish my stocks."

In your sex-hazed mind, you don't understand what he means until a single finger is sinking into you, enough of an intrusion to send your nerves alight, but not enough to give you any real relief.

It leaves you, and you hear the obscene sound of him sucking on his finger with a wet pop. He groans. "God, if you hadn't been so poorly behaved, perhaps I'd have given you a reward and eaten that pretty pussy of yours." You make out a disappointed sob, attempting to shift your hips back for more friction although the tight band across your middle keeps you infuriatingly stuck.

"Mm, you're soaked as it is but better to be safe than sorry, no?"

Your heart is pounding in your chest as he leaves quickly to grab something else from the props manager, and you swear it stops for a minute as you hear him plug something into a wall socket. You make a questioning whine from behind your gag.

"Well, we don't have all the time in the world," Master explains as he presses something silicon-like and firm against you, slicking it up. "The quickest way to get you dripping for me is an orgasm, and I'm not going to waste my time making it special for you." He flicks a switch and an audible buzzing vibrates powerfully between your legs, causing the muscles in your thighs to jump. "Now hurry the fuck up and cum for me."

You recognise this raw power immediately. A plug-in-Hitachi. Famous in porn videos everywhere, you had been inspired to splurge and buy one yourself once, only to realize just how powerful it was. You had used it once, too much sensation to even orgasm, and given it away.

It's infuriating, unbearable, having the wand pressed up to your clit as he runs it back and forth impatiently. It's too much to take, but you physically have no choice but to take it. Your teeth are clenching tightly around the fabric, drooling onto the table, and your hands are squeezed into fists, the muscles of your abs, butt and thighs flexing even though they can't move you away from the torrent of pleasure.

"Pweathe," you gargle, "koo ngucks!"

"Too much?" he questions, though his voice is tinted with bemusement rather than any genuine concern. "I don't care."

You let out a frustrated scream from the back of your throat, feeling tears squeezing out the corners of your eyes. You crack them open to see the director in the edge of your vision, staring intensely at your hands, waiting for any sign of the safe word signal.

Although you're so sensitive you can't help but cry, and your nerves feel like they're being electrocuted, something runs deeper, a viscous current of pleasure building up inside you. Oh, god. You're actually going to cum.

The moment you entertain the thought that you were getting close, the orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, crashing over every inch of your body. You feel yourself convulsing on the table as much as your bondage allows, spit pooling around your cheek as you hopelessly drool around the gag. As soon as you cum, you're already being thrust into oversensitivity, and your master cruelly keeps the vibrator held against you as you sob hopelessly.

Then you feel something, a strange object swiping between your legs against your folds, dipping in slightly. The wand falls away, and you go silent, feeling that weird sensation as you lie bonelessly on the table, knees parting even wider as they fail to hold you up at all.

A soft chuckle is pushed out of his nose. "Mm, that shut you up. Bet you're wondering what this is, huh?" You pant, managing to summon enough energy to nod, twitching every time that hard yet thin thing gets too close to your abused clit. "Let me show you."

You knit your eyebrows and open your eyes, blinking against the bright backlights, as a waist comes into your line of vision.

You crane your neck to look up him, hyper-aware of the wet patch on the table, but he doesn't comment on it, instead cheerily showing you a small clear squeezy-bottle and a spoon. Tears of humiliation spring to you eyes as you see him discard the spoon and produce the bottle's top from his pocket, twisting it on and testing it, squeezing out a small amount of what could only be your slick onto his finger.

He rolls it absentmindedly between his thumb and pointer finger, staring down at you with a smile you haven't seen before. "Good girl. Now we can move on to the fun stuff, hm?"

You shudder as he moves away. If this was just a preamble, what the fuck did he consider the fun stuff? Your muscles ache when he loosens the belt across your back and removes it, though a slap to your ass and a barked command leave you spread open on all fours for him.

"Now, my sources tell me you like being called baby and babygirl, is that right?"

You make a noise of confirmation, too weak to nod.

He places a hand on your behind, spreading your cheeks. You jump when a warm liquid drizzles down your crack, and a finger presses against your rim. "Well, I'm not going to call you that today. In fact, you look so pretty on all fours that I think I might call you..." he trails off as he pushes past your tight ring of muscles, pressing a single digit deep inside you. "...my puppy."

You shake your head resolutely. "Ngo."

"No?" He laughs, slowly fucking you with the one finger. "'No' isn't our safeword. It's sad," he muses, squeezing out some more of your juices to make the slide a little easier, picking up the pace. "Because if you're a good little puppy for me, I might just fuck you like a bitch in heat, just like you wanted. Does that sound good?"

You whimper when he slips his finger out and you clench around the empty space, but he's reaching forward to undo the knot around the back of your head and suddenly you're able to spit out the gag, sucking in lungfuls of cool, fresh air.

"Answer me this time. Do you want to get fucked, puppy?"

Your breath leaves you in a hopeless sigh as he moves back, upgrading to two fingers inside of you. "Yes, please," you whine.

"Oh? That's interesting, I didn't know puppies could talk. I don't want words. One bark for yes, two barks for no."

Your hips lift up off of the intrusion. "No, purple, I'm not- I-"

"Hey, hey," Master eases, rubbing your back soothingly, "it's okay, you don't need to explain. Do you want all of this to stop?" You shake your head reluctantly. Even though all you want to do if bury your head in your hands and disappear, you can't deny that his finger inside you felt unbelievably erotic. "Just that last bit?" A nod. "Are you gonna be good and let me stretch you out for me?"

You nod one last time, breathing unsteadily, shuffling a bit so that the ropes on your wrists no longer dig into your sternum, instead laying them out in front of you so that you can rest your head on the softness of your upper arm.

He puts his fingers back inside you, and you swear softly at the intrusion, the unusual pleasure that it was causing in the pit of your stomach. Although you'd been careful to muffle it against your arm, you hear him give off a warning growl, crooking his fingers inside you. You squeak and your hips waver, but he leaves it at that, and goes back to scissoring you open patiently.

You have the realization in the back of your mind that he's easing you back into things, instead of going full Master immediately, but soon your gratitude melts away with the addition of a third finger. Every breath comes in a snapped huff; you feel unable to hold your breath for longer than a second, as every movement inside you makes your toes curl. You feel your brain turn to mush when they slip out of you, and you groan lowly in protest.

Your disappointment is short-lived, however, as soon after a cool glass object is being pressed firmly into you. Your mouth falls open as you widen around it. Above you, Master rubs your ass, keeping your cheeks spread. "Silly puppy forgot her tail. Luckily I have one for her."

Your top half goes slack with resignation. Even as your cheeks light up with embarrassment at the thought of wearing a fucking tail, the widest part of the plug slips inside you and you feel so addictively full. You clench around it a couple times, shivering.

"Alright, let's get you off the table. Puppies belong on the floor."

You let him wrap his arms securely around your middle, lifting you up off the table and lowering you down onto the ground. Your knees knock painfully against the wood, but you get your bound hands down in front of you soon enough to hold yourself up.

You look up at him, at the glimmer in his eye. He grins back down at you, holding a palm out. "Stay," he commands softly, in the same tone one would use for dog training.

You wait obediently as he turns and walks down towards the filming crew in front of you, reaching into a large black box filled with equipment. On your hands and knees, you fight the urge to swivel around and look at the plug. You know you could easily see if you wanted to, and as it is you can feel something soft brushing against your cheeks, but you worry that if you saw it with your own eyes, you'd be too humiliated to continue on. You bite your lip and glance at the main camera. You can't afford to use the safe word again and end the scene, not after you've already done so much. You need this episode to go public so that you're not stuck in the camgirl scene forever.

"Good girl," Master cooes when he returns, ruffling at your hair affectionately. He crouches down in front of you and shows you a collar, a dark red, glossy leather one with a silver buckle. After the plug, this is nothing, and you simply tilt your chin to give him more room. His eyes light up with something akin to pride, and you feel your chest warm as he fastens the collar around your neck.

Once he finishes, he sits back on his heels to look you over, tucking two fingers under the leather to make sure it's not too tight. You swallow hard. You have to admit, there's something deeply satisfying about the way it feels around your neck, the way it digs in when you duck your chin. The reminder that you're his.

"Stay," he commands once more, before standing up and moving over to the other side of the room, pulling up a chair and sitting down in it. He pats his thigh. "Come."

You glance down at your bound wrists, then back up at him in question. He simply cocks his head to the side and waits, legs wide open and pants tented.

With a reluctant sigh, you begin to awkwardly hobble over to him. It's slow going, and you feel yourself blushing all the way down to your neck as the softness between your legs tickles the backs of your knees, but you force yourself forward, crawling forward as if you have three limbs, moving them one at a time, feeling the plug shift teasingly inside you the whole way.

After an age, and some seriously sore knees, you stop in between his legs, and glance up at him question.

"Good puppy," he praises, "now sit."

You do as he says promptly, hissing when the plug is pressed up into you suddenly. He laughs as you try and make yourself comfortable, sitting back on your heels.

You watch with a salivating mouth as a veined hand comes down to play at the button of his pants. He pops the button, pulls the zip down next, and silently lets you watch him with wide eyes as he pulls out his cock, knitting his dark eyebrows when he grips it loosely.

After a few self-indulgent strokes, Master looks down at you with lidded eyes, and scoots his crotch even closer to your face, his thighs on either side of your head. "I'll give you what you want, puppy, just let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours first."

You whimper. Whoever had said that the camera removes a few inches was right. Watching his series, you always knew he was big, but now that it was right in front of your face? There was no way that was fitting inside you, no matter where he tried to put that thing. Still, you open your mouth and stick your tongue slightly out, and the swear he lets out from the back of his throat makes it all worth it.

This was what you had been waiting for. The chance to make him lose himself, become just as fucked out as you were.

Master reaches down with one hand and hooks his finger underneath the collar, making it completely taut against your throat, and uses his other hand to guide his cock to rest on your tongue.

It's heavy, and the slight tang of precum has you wanting more. Risking punishment, you bat your eyelids and take initiative, lapping at his head like a dog. He lets out a guttural noise again and tips his head back. You watch with satisfaction as he swallows hard, his throat bobbing. "Oh, that's a good puppy," he praises.

With the hand tucked partly into your collar, he pushes your head down on him suddenly, and you gag around him as he forces himself to the back of your throat, but instead of letting up, he holds you there, moving his hips to increase that friction.

You force yourself to widen your mouth and breath through your nose, knowing that the more you think about it, the more your gag reflex will kick in. Gradually, Master grows more aggressive with his thrusts, until he's practically face-fucking you, and your eyes pool over with tears. Desperate to feel something to tide you over, you begin subconsciously grinding your ass against the floor, feeling the plug move inside of you, and you begin to moan on his cock, rutting yourself more to chase the feeling.

Above you, your master is moaning through clenched teeth, some of them coming out more like a growl, and his eyes are fixed on you, lidded with desire.

Finally, just when you splutter, unable to stop from choking on his cock, he tugs roughly on your collar and pulls you off of him. You gasp for air, eyes streaming and lips swollen, as he grips himself tightly to keep his orgasm at bay.

"Good girl," he praises gruffly, "good girl." Once the two of you take a few deep breaths and he comes back down from that edge, he runs a hand through his hair and grins down at you. "Puppy loves her tail, doesn't she? I saw you rubbing yourself against the floor like a horny bitch." You flush, but he just reaches down and hooks the ropes around your wrists, deftly untying them. "As promised, since you were a good little puppy for me, you can have your reward. Does puppy want the plug out first?"

You bite your lip, eyes glazing over as you consider it. You probably should. It was embarrassing having to act like a dog, and he's so big that you can't imagine they'd both fit. But then....

You shake your head. Master nods proudly. The ropes send warm lines of friction across your skin as he undoes each tie, and soon enough your arms are falling loosely apart.

"Up you get," he instructs, and you push yourself up, stressed that the plug is going to fall out even though you know realistically it's definitely snugly stuck in there. It shifts slightly as he grabs onto the tail, and uses the other hand to wrap around your waist and pull you closer, your legs on either side of him. With a twinkle in his eye, he looks up at you. "Puppy, sit."

You bite your lip and take a steadying breath, grabbing his slick length and placing it at your entrance. Painstakingly slowly, you lower yourself down onto him, feeling him open you up inch by glorious inch. You stop halfway, panting, before a quick tug on your tail gives you the motivation to lower yourself further, until your ass cheeks rest on his thighs. The zipper will probably cause you a few rashes on the insides of your thighs by tomorrow, but for now you're so drunk on pleasure that the pain feels good too.

You rest your head in the crook of his neck, legs gone weak. You feel so unbelievably connected and close, and so full, that you can't even move. Luckily, all it takes is one strong hand cupping your ass, holding you up, for Master to begin thrusting into you.

Immediately on the first snap of his hips you cry out loudly in his ear, fingers curling around the thick metal loops on his harness like they're handles.

"Feel good?" he asks, grunting with effort as he fucks up into your pussy.

You make out half of a 'yes' before you're moaning hopelessly again, rendered incoherent by the slide of him inside you, of the wall that divides him from the plug.

"Fuck," he groans, "I've been hard as a- a fucking rock this whole time, I- I'm gonna cum soon."

You whine, secretly grateful, as each time he impales you on his cock, you feel yourself punted closer and closer to that edge. "Mmme too," you manage to make out, "s- oh, so full!"

"Yeah?" Master begins to pant lowly, using up the very last of his energy to bring the two of you to your ends. "Puppy, come."

You let out a scream and do as he says, the orgasm ripping through you violently, leaving you like dead weight on his chest as he pushes down on your ass cheeks, holding himself bottomed out in you as he releases with his own cry.

You shudder helplessly, every slight movement triggering aftershocks, your body completely lax on top of his. He rubs your ass lazily as he comes down from his high, his cum slowly leaking out of you.

"Cut!"

#btssmutclub #thekimlinenet #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #bts smut #jin x reader au #bts x reader smut #bts fanfic #bts oneshot #ksj #seokjin smut #god what the fuck am i doing

[artistic-writer]

The Contract :: CS Omegaverse :: Ch 8

Title: The Contract Rating: E Summary: Emma had never wanted much in her life, despite being married to one of the richest men in the world. For ten years she has felt like a prisoner in her own marriage, denied the one thing she wants the most, but her husband cannot help but bargain her want like a cheap business deal.  Enter Killian Jones, the Alpha her husband has hired to make sure she gets what she wants. And then some.

AO3 - Ko-Fi (100% of coffee’s bought go towards buying @adognamedkillian toys and treats!)

A/N: Ooooo! It’s here!  THAT chapter (if you have heard me talking about this chapter you’ll know what I mean.)  I’m very excited for you all to read it, and I really hope you enjoy it!

Artwork by me, @artistic-writer and beta’d by the lovely @shardminds who deserve all the love you guys can throw her way. And as ever, thank you to all the ladies in Discord! Thanks ladies!

This is an Omegaverse fic featuring A/B/O dynamics.  Whilst this varies from fandom to fandom, for the purposes of my fic, there will be no mpreg.  Just so you know.  There will however be knotting, breeding, heats and other delicious things that come along with A/B/O.  If you do not know what A/B/O is, feel free to message me :)  Many thanks to @hollyethecurious @shardminds @kmomof4 @darkcolinodonorgasm @resident-of-storybrooke and @ineffablecolors for letting me bounce my complicated ideas of you lol

If you wish to stay away from this fic, blacklist the A/B/O tag.

Taglist:  I’ll be honest, i have lost my taglist for this fic, so if you want a tag, please message me here on on discord (Salem #5158/ [email protected]) and I’ll add you!  I’ve tagged the following people i KNOW want to read this, but i don’t want to accidentally tag you if you do not like ABO.

@hollyethecurious @shardminds @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @darkcolinodonorgasm @thisonesatellite @xemmaloveskillianx @hookedonapirate @teamhook @winterbaby89 @carpedzem @courtorderedcake @profdanglaisstuff @itsfabianadocarmo @donteattheappleshook @ultraluckycatnd @jennjenn615 @melly326​ @klynn-stormz @stahlop​

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Killian never liked to cancel on clients, especially when he was giving up the opportunity to sleep with someone as beautiful as Emma, but it seemed his rut had other ideas. It had arrived early, his already frenzied mind sent into overdrive at the thought of not having her, even if her husband was insistent she go away for a week. She would be back before it’s end, but he didn’t want to risk her seeing him that far into his rut, so before she had even arrived home, Killian had told her husband he would be unable to see her until otherwise notified.

He should have known his rut was approaching when, during their last sexual encounter, he had found little things more precise, her scent more enticing, if at all possible, than before, and her body reacting to him more like an Omega than a Beta. One minute they were fucking, and then, before either of them knew it, he was knot deep in his favourite place in the world. It came without warning, his body so tuned into hers that he didn’t know what was happening until it was too late and her body was clenching around his bulb and drawing every last drop of his soul out through his orgasm. It shouldn’t have been so easy to knot a Beta without prior lubrication, but somehow they fit together like puzzle pieces, Emma cut exactly right so that he would fit inside her.

Alpha’s could control their early rut, it wasn’t hard, unless they were a few days in or there was a reason. Emma was a Beta, so there shouldn’t have been a reason he had felt so incredibly starved of her that he had acted so possessive. No Omega scent coaxing out his ultimate arousal, although Emma’s scent did things to him he couldn’t explain, or rut frustration unsated by the woman beneath him. Killian was confused, his mind foggy and in a daze so much that he almost didn’t hear the soft tapping against his apartment door.

He was ripped from his thoughts by the scent first, the absolute sweetness of it wafting under the thin gap under his front door and straight into his nostrils. His body reacted instantly and he stared at the heavy door wide eyed and unable to believe what he was sensing. The smell caused a tickle to stir in his groin, the pit of his stomach falling away from him as he was overcome with the need to fuck, but something else held his attention for a second, something that confused his already rut addled brain.

Emma.

Killian took a tentative step towards the door, the gentle knocking echoing through his apartment once more. The closer he got, the stronger the scent became, and his brow pulled together with his last coherent ounce of thought.

“Killian?” Emma called softly through the door, her voice riddled with agony.

Killian gulped hard, another scent coating his taste buds as he swallowed it down and it sent a ripple of excitement over his skin. He reached for the door, pulling it open quicker than he thought he would, half scared by what he would find on the other side.

Emma looked up at him slowly, her face puffy from her tears and her hair dishevelled like she had been grabbed. She was dressed in just some leggings and a camisole top and was barefoot, despite the temperature outside being almost freezing, and she was covered in a fine sheen of sweat that took Killian’s breath away. He only just stopped himself from growling out loud when he noticed a dark red swell under her right eye, the skin there split open in a small line that had stopped bleeding but was probably going to need a stitch.

Her hands trembled, her fingers interlocking in front of her as she fidgeted, her entire body shaking under his gaze. It felt like forever before one of them moved, Killian finally, against everything reasonable screaming inside his head, reaching out, grabbing her arm and pulling her into his apartment. His hand on her skin was the most calm Emma had felt all day and she let out a sigh, almost thankful for the lightest touch that had somehow eased her pain.

Before the door even closed behind her, Killian was stalking away from her, putting as much distance between them as he could. It was only the first day of his rut so there was minimal control left over his urges, but he had to try to resist them. Emma was clearly here for a reason but as much as his head was telling him to take her, fuck her, breed her, claim her, his heart won out as soon as he saw she had been hit.

“What happened?” He said finally, putting the couch between them and neglecting to look at her, brushing his finger across his own cheek to indicate the reason for his question.

“Graham,” Emma whimpered, her body flushing hot once more. Killian caught the new wave of her heat from the other side of the expansive lounge area of his new apartment, his back pressed to the huge floor to ceiling glass window that looked out over the city. Not even the frozen pane could cool his body, and he rubbed a sweaty palm over his already damp forehead angrily at the man’s name.

How could a man hit his wife? How could Graham have even dreamed of hurting something as precious as Emma? Rage boiled inside of Killian and he tried to focus on that rather than what his rut was telling him to do. He was in such a conflict, his brain telling him she was his when really she wasn’t, urging him to make it so, when he couldn’t. He looked up to her again, the pathetic looking woman in front of him sniffing away her last tears as she met his darkened gaze, his eyes flitting to the pulse point in her neck where he now knew her scent gland was.

“Emma-” he began through ground teeth, her name nothing more than a warning to stay back that she ignored.

“Killian, what’s happening to me?” she pleaded, stepping away from the door and her body instantly feeling the AC in his apartment blasting down onto her skin. It was cool but not enough, the slick between her legs making her even hotter as she felt pulled towards him. “I can’t-”

“You can’t be here,” he warned her darkly, his face contorting as if he was fighting a voice in his head.

“I have nowhere else to go,” Emma said sadly, her voice breaking at the realisation that she was homeless. Her fight with Graham had escalated to abuse, him yelling at her to get out and never come back. Everything she had ever known was a lie, her entire life a shit show with her as the star attraction.

Killian took a deep breath again, raking his hands over his face as he tried to think. He couldn’t kick her out, there were other Alphas living in this building and even he could smell she was unclaimed. It would be like throwing her to the wolves. And he couldn’t leave either. The fury he felt would undoubtedly take him straight to Graham and then to a prison cell, exactly the opposite of where he wanted to be right now.

Where he needed to be.

“The bedroom,” he grunted, nodding behind her to a door. Emma followed his gaze and looked back at him confused. “It’s the coldest room in the apartment, and you can lock it from the inside.” He lifted his gaze, locking her stare with his. “You’ll be safe there.”

“Safe?” Emma asked dumbly. “But I-”

“NOW, OMEGA!” Killian barked, hating himself the second the words left his mouth. Emma flinched, rushing to the door before she had time to question why she was acting so obediently at his tone. It was harsh, demanding and something inside of her was aroused to the point of pain, the throb between her legs intensifying and a new wave of slick coating her underwear.

Killian was on her heels, the newly excreted slick drawing him like a shark to blood in the water, and Emma slammed the door in his face, turning and fumbling with the key in the lock. She gasped a squeaking sound, covering her mouth to hide the fear laced adrenaline coursing through her body when Killian pounded a fist against the wood in rut induced annoyance. Another bang made her jump back away from the door, her eyes flicking to the key that was only half turned in the lock, and she surged forward and twisted it completely until she felt the mechanism slide into place.

“I’m sorry,” Emma cried, unable to stop the tears again.

Killian sighed, his entire body sagging against the other side of his bedroom door, his fingernails scraping down the surface as he regained some semblance of his control. He rolled his sweltering forehead against the surface, cursing his lack of power when it came to his rut, his feral insides feeling like they were in a tug of war with the rationality of his brain. Emma was scared, she clearly didn’t know what was happening and here he was, like an animal, trying to get to her simply because it was the first day of his rut and something had been wafted under his nose. He wasn’t that kind of Alpha and he never wanted to be.

“Emma, I’m sorry,” Killian whispered softly into the surface of the door. “I can’t-”

“What’s going on?” Emma whimpered back, her voice muffled in his ears. “I came here for your help and instead you yell at me.”

“Emma, I’m so sorry,” Killian told her quickly. “As soon as I smelled you, my body-” He began, unable to form the words. How do you explain to someone, who always thought they were a Beta, that they were actually not? For a second Killian was so preoccupied with his own wonderings that he nearly neglected to ask Emma the most important question. “How is this possible?” He muttered. “You’re Omega,” he said, confused by his own words that were more of a statement than a question.

“Tell me about it,” Emma laughed hysterically, shaking her head at her own predicament. “I can’t even fucking think straight right now. One minute I’m at the spa, then Ruby tells me there is a baby, so I rush home, leaving everything behind, including my medication, and then Humbert drops this in my lap!”

“Medication?” Killian asked, his eyebrow bouncing up on his forehead with intrigue. Had Humbert been suppressing his own wife? Had the entire Humbert clan been using heat suppressants and scent blockers on her since she was a child? The thought made him recoil in fury.

“Yeah,” Emma nodded, turning her body until her back hit the door and she slid down the cold wood to the floor. Even the floor felt cool against her skin but she was still roasting, wiggling out of her leggings and tossing them aside. The AC in Killian’s room hummed gently in the background, almost invisible but Emma felt like everything was more alive right now. All of her senses were sharper, her world less muted than before, including her insatiable need to be fucked. “Long story short, I’ve been sick my entire life, this week I didn’t take my pills and I’ve never felt so alive. Apart from these damn cramps and sweating and-”

“And need,” Killian finished for her, his voice laced with a dark passion that made her even more wet than she was.

“Yeah,” she breathed, sighing in relief like his words had been his hands on her, soothing her aches and fixing her insatiable appetite for him.

“Emma,” Killian began gently and she looked at the door as if it was him. “You’re Omega and you’re in heat.”

Emma looked down at herself, skin tacky with sweat, her entire body feeling like it was on fire and there was something inside of her trying to claw its way out. She looked the same, but she felt infinitely different, like she finally had the answer to a longing question she had never been brave enough to ask. It explained everything. The cramps, the want, the never ending need to be filled and it also explained why, before anyone else, Emma had sought out Killian.

“But-”

“You came here because I am Alpha,” Killian explained, his words strained as if he was fighting against his urge to knock down the door. “I’m what you need.”

Emma’s breath caught in her throat, his words taking on a dark, sultry tone that had her skin itching and her clit throbbing. Graham had been right, she was what he had told her, and for years that snake of a man had been trying to suppress her nature because he hadn’t become the Alpha his family thought he would. He was a coward, and a liar, and if Emma wasn’t in an agonising heat right now, she would march back to their house and punch him right in the face.

But she was in heat, a doors width between her and the Alpha she had begged her bastard husband to find her.

Emma ground out a moan, baring her teeth as she clutched her abdomen and doubled over when another wave of pain shot through her. Her body was screaming out for something to make it stop, drawn to the door where she curled against the hard surface and pulled her knees to her chest. Her red cheeks pressed to the cool door, and when the first wave passed, she relaxed her body with a sorrowful sigh.

“How do I stop it?” She whined.

“You can’t,” Killian said firmly. “You can only make it feel better for a time.”

“How?” Emma ground out. “God, please tell me how.”

For a second Killian was thankful for the door, and for the last amount of restraint he had left because when Emma begged him, the primal creature inside of him reared its insatiable head once more and wanted her like nothing else. He needed to fulfill his own desires, ease his own need, and Emma’s begging further cemented his Alpha need to claim her as his Omega. He wanted to take away her pain, soothe her aching bones and look after her like she deserved, but he also knew this was all new to her and a full rut could scare her away.

“Emma,” he whimpered desperately, his hand finding the door handle and his fingers closing around the cold steel. He pushed down on it and the mechanism slid open, but the locked door did not budge, a sigh of relief leaving his lips. “The chest, at the end of my bed, open it.”

Emma’s gaze wandered to the chest he described, the darkened room barely light enough for her to see it before she dragged herself towards it. Her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting quickly once she had stopped pinching them closed, and her body followed his direction obediently without her even realising. Emma traced her fingertips over the lid, his initials etched into the wood right above the latch, which she grabbed and pulled it open.

The chest was deep, filled halfway with what she could only imagine were rutting toys for Alphas without a mate. Her eyes scanned the selection, her throat dry where her mouth hung open, thoughts and images of Killian fucking each and every one of the tiny holed silicon toys making her excrete yet more slick. A tiny moan deep in her throat escaped involuntarily before she blinked her vision clear.

“Okay,” she called out to him in a shaking voice. “Killian, these are-”

“Clean, I promise,” he chuckled. “In there you should see something that looks like a penis but a the base there will be two huge-”

“Got it,” Emma announced in a whisper. She lifted the toy in her hand, the mottled silicone feeling so lifelike in her hands that she felt another rush of arousal pound her core. It was big, much bigger than Graham and a little bit wider than Killian, and as Emma inspected it further, she frowned. “It’s hollow,” she said softly, almost to herself, but Killian answered immediately.

“It’s wearable, love,” he cooed. “I bought it to knot you with. Under the contract, I couldn’t naturally, and until we...I had never-” he paused again, her floral scent clinging to his taste buds. If he didn’t get her to orgasm soon, he was going to lose his mind.

“Was I your first?” Emma asked timidly, her own voice foreign to her ears.

“Aye,” Killian growled, the thought of knotting her again making him even harder than he already was. “Too many too quickly. I think you induced my rut.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma said softly, turning her attention back to the hollow dildo in her hand. It was cold against her skin, slightly too soft for her liking but just looking at it was making her even more horny than she had ever felt.

“If you...fuck yourself with it,” Killian sighed heavily, his words faltering. “It will feel better, I promise.” He turned away from the door, needing to distance himself from the pull of her scent. It wasn’t just her slick, but Emma’s scent gland was spiking each time she felt aroused, which right now was every time he talked to her. He was rock hard in his lounge pants, his erection pressed painfully to the inside of the cotton, and he was almost certain his knot was straining to escape the confines of his body.

Killian made his way to the couch, dropping his lounge pants until they pooled at his feet. He kicked them away with a sigh, running his hands through his hair and thanking any higher power who was listening that he could contain himself in these early stages of his rut, his usual feral nature not exposing itself until at least day three. Naked he felt cooler, if only for a second, before he wrapped his hand around himself and began the familiar regime of coaxing out his orgasm to satisfy his rut related urges.

If he was quick he would beat Emma to hers and she would be safer. He already knew what it felt like to have her heat envelop him, so his hand was a poor substitute, especially when he heard Emma moan from the next room. His ears pricked up, straining to hear the sound he yearned for again, and when she crowed a second time, he couldn’t stop himself rushing to the door, flattening his hands over the wood and pressing his ear to it eagerly.

“Killian,” Emma sobbed desperately, the sound of her lubrication against the toy between her legs watery and turning her on even more. She drove it into herself again, the friction delicious but so obviously fake that she groaned in anguish.

Killian ground his teeth, the muscles in his jaw ticking under the length of his stubble, and he balled his fist, pounding the door in frustration.

“Killian, please,” Emma whined, her voice barely there above the breathy sigh that followed. “It’s not enough,” she pleaded despairingly, now realising hy she had become almost addicted to the welcome stretch and burn of Killian’s knot.

“Emma, you don't know what you’re doing,” Killian grunted, headbutting the door. “What you’re asking-”

“Alpha-” Emma begged in a whisper, the hurried plea tumbling from her lips before she even registered what she was saying.

Early rut or not, Killian couldn’t contain himself any longer. He grabbed the door frame, fingertips clawing the paintwork as he leaned back and pounded his bare foot into the hard, immovable surface. The door gave a little, the wood bowing away from the hinges, but it didn’t give.

“Hurry, Alpha, make it stop,” Emma begged again, her words filling Killian with more rut induced strength than he had ever had, his foot colliding with the door one more time before it swung open and sent the key flying across the room. He righted himself in the doorway, eyes scanning the darkness before he finally laid eyes on his prize. She was beautiful, gloriously naked and prone on his bed, lying on her back with the toy in one hand and her breast in the other, kneading her aching flesh with a soft cry.

Emma wasn’t even shocked when he burst through the door, instead thankful for his scent. It filled the room, powerful and intoxicating, sending her into a lust fuelled spiral that had her tossing the toy aside and clambering to the end of the bed on her knees to meet him. Killian’s hands on her felt like water when she was thirsty, clawing over her skin like he needed to get inside, and despite his dark, aggressive stare, he was as gentle as anything.

Emma clawed her way up his body, fingers dancing through his coarse chest hair, and clutched his face in her hands. She pulled his lips to hers, crushing their faces together as she kissed him. He was her salvation, the only one who could make it all better and when he kissed her back just as fervently, she arched her body into his even harder. Still standing at the foot of the bed, Killian leaned over and without even breaking the kiss, he gathered her up into his arms, holding her thighs around his waist. Emma gasped, breaking the kiss for a second, when his length touched the wetness that coated her almost entirely.

“Oh, Emma,” Killian purred, conflict in his voice, his tip brushing her slickness as he held her. He rested his forehead on hers, eyes tightly closed as he paused, contemplating the ramifications of having Emma in his place. She was married and there was no going back from this, but nothing would satiate his rut like he now knew she could. Like only she could. “What have you done?”

“I don’t care.” Emma shook her head, her slightly damp hair tangling in his fingers as he combed his hand through her locks.

“You say that because you’re in heat, love,” Killian rationalised, the fact he was holding her body to his calming the beast and letting him see sense for a second. “You’ll say anything for an Alpha’s knot.”

Killian couldn’t believe what he was saying. He felt like two different people, torn between what he wanted and what he knew was right. The Alpha in him wanted nothing more than to claim, mark, make her his own, but the man in him knew that even though Graham wasn’t Alpha, he felt like she belonged to him. Graham was a force, and he had no doubt the man would never give Emma the divorce she so eagerly craved, especially now. She was a prisoner to her own life and he had no doubt he would have to fight for her.

“I don’t want any Alpha’s knot,” Emma cooed. “I want yours.”

The touch of Emma’s soft fingertips on his cheek roused him from his inner dispute and he opened his eyes to meet hers. They had softened, the hazel edges to her hues less intense as she stared, boring straight into his, but they were filled with something he had not seen before. Emma had something else behind her desire darkened eyes that he had put there, something that made him realise that she hadn’t just sought him out because of her heat.

Killian saw compassion, the willingness only an Omega could show to an Alpha. Emma had love in her eyes and it was all for him.

“You don’t understand what it means to be Omega,” Killian told her gently, his hand sliding to find her face, his thumb tracing the outline of her lips. The memory of them on his body made his cock twitch and he felt his resolve fading.

“So show me,” Emma purred and the look that she gave him made Killian snap.

When Emma hit the mattress, she had hardly any time to react before Killian was towering over her and sealing her lips with his. He kissed her, hard, like he had wanted to before she had gone away. Like she was the most important thing in his life. In a way she was, deserving to be cherished much more than she ever had before, the way she needed to be.

Killian slid his lips from hers and kissed along her jawline, nipping the flesh as he went. He was already to a full knot, Emma’s newly expressed scent sending him into a frenzy as he neared the gland in her neck. He thrust his hips against her, collecting the nectar she had given in response to him on the tip of his erection, testing her for a sign of hesitation.

Emma whimpered, her arms clutching his body, hands splayed across his broad shoulders and pulling his body down against hers. She needed him close, wanted him so far inside of her she couldn’t take it, and her skin ignited from the contact with his, nipples hardening even further against his chest.

“Omega,” Killian sighed against her shoulder, inhaling her scent with a nuzzle of his nose. “I’m going to fuck you like you need, don’t worry.” He reached down between them, the bulb of his knot rock solid in his hand as he gripped himself at his base and glided into Emma’s scorching core. Her body reacted instantly, fingernails digging into his flesh, head thrown back into the comforter and thighs clamping around his hips like a vice. He hadn’t even moved yet, and Emma was gone.

“Killian, please,” Emma cried, her words catching in her throat. “I need you to move.”

“God, I want to fill you up so badly,” Killian said through gritted teeth, his hands skimming over the smooth curves of her lithe body until they found her behind. He shifted his weight, Emma gasping when he filled her more, and he tucked his hands underneath her buttocks, holding her steady as he shuffled forward even closer to her. Emma cried out again, her pleasure filled moan sending him into a primal state and he turned his mouth towards her ear. “I love you like this, open for me, begging, Gods, I want to breed you, my sweet Omega.”

“Do it, Alpha,” Emma pleaded, turning to skim her lips over his. She pawed at his face, smoothing her thumb over his cheek and searched his eyes that were asking, not for permission, but for reassurance. Emma smiled warmly and gave him a knowing nod. “Trust me. It’ll all be okay.”

Killian seized her lips for another fiery kiss and his hips began to move against hers. She was held in place by his powerful grip, his thrusts long and deep, each one making her cry out as all of the air left her lungs. She was caught between gasping for breath and using what little she had left to call out his name, her nails tearing into the flesh of his back in a desperate attempt to hold onto him as he relentlessly pounded into her.

“Fuck, Alpha,” Emma whimpered, her thighs shaking against his hips as he tore his lips from hers and buried his face into the crook of her neck, his pace increasing tenfold and the bed banging against the wall. “Oh, Killian, yes, you feel so good.”

“Tell me what you need, Emma,” he demanded darkly. “Make me knot you.”

“Fuck-” Emma gasped again, her eyes rolling back in her head.

Her hand found the back of his head and clutched his hair between her fingers, instinctively guiding his lips to the spot on her neck where her scent gland was hidden beneath her milky, smooth skin. Killian’s brow pulled together as he fought to bite down. He wouldn’t until she asked him to, even if she felt like that was what she wanted right now, Killian knew it was just her automatic reactions to her heat. Her body was telling her to do these things, and he wouldn’t make the decision for her.

“Tell me you want my knot,” Killian growled, needing to distract himself from the overwhelming urge to mark her as his own. “Say it, Omega,” he barked, needing to press into her a little deeper, his knot now fully revealed.

“Give me your knot, Alpha,” Emma sighed, tugging his head until his lips were back on hers and she was staring directly into the stormy blue of his eyes between feverish kisses. “Make me come.”

Killian kissed her hard, grinding himself into her with enough force to push his knot inside, her walls clamping down around the painful intrusion that sent her skyward. Emma came hard, her orgasm taking her to heights she had never felt before, the pin prick dots behind her eyelids like stars in the night, a calm serenity following. Killian stilled, their bodies locked together again, and he lifted himself to watch her intently, her body almost paralyzed in euphoria.

Emma started quivering, his orgasm triggering another, and her hand flew up to flatten against his chest. It was a silent plea, his hips only shifting a little but enough to make her roll hers against his knot, eager to draw out every last drop of pleasure from their tie. Her fingernails raked down his chest, clawing through his chest hair and assuredly leaving bloody lines in her wake. As she calmed, her back resting back to the mattress, she let out a soft whimper.

Killian kissed her again, his tongue slowly massaging hers with a gentle caress that had him humming contently into her mouth. Emma’s lips turned up into a smile and she finally opened her eyes, relaxing the grip her thighs had on his body with a blush. The boyish grin Killian gave her back told her she had no reason to be embarrassed, even if she had said things she would have never dreamed of, because there was only one reason for how Killian was looking at her right now.

For the first time in his life, Killian felt complete. Emma’s inner muscles clenched around his knot once more and he gasped, shooting her a smirk when his overstimulated length twitched inside of her and released another load of his seed.

“You’re a naughty Omega,” he teased, kissing her eyelids tenderly. He framed her with his bulk, resting on his elbows and combing her messed hair away from her face.

“Am I?” Emma smirked up at him, nuzzling the tip of his nose with her own. Her hands found his face once more and she toyed with the shape of his ears as he nodded, the elfen tip slightly hard under her fingertips.

“Do you feel better now, love?” Killian asked her, arching his neck into her odd, but very satisfactory grooming technique.

“Much,” she nodded. “The cramps are gone and so has the sweating.”

“For now,” Killian offered tentatively. “Your heat should last about a week-.”

“A week?” Emma squeaked under him.

“Aye, I’m sorry,” he offered whole heartedly. “More often than not it’s only a few days once the hormones settle down.”

Emma scrunched her nose. “How long does that take?”

Killian pinched one eye closed as if trying to recall something he had been told a long time ago. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “Usually this happens to kids in their teens, but in your case it was suppressed for so long, I’m not sure I can give you an answer.”

Emma sighed and Killian felt his heart break. This was all new to her and he wished he could help her through some of the more specific questions she had, but truth was, it was all new to him too. He had never been with an Omega before, let alone one who had been ingesting heat suppressants and scent blockers for so many years. Who knew what kind of damage that had done to her and Killian’s jaw clenched at the mere thought of making the Humbert’s pay.

“What I can tell you is that I’ll be here, for however long it takes.” To emphasize his point, Killian nudged his knot into her further and Emma shuddered in pleasure.

“Oh God,” Emma whimpered, her eyes rolling back in her head.

Her back arched off the bed and she felt Killian’s calloused hands slide over her upper thigh and lift her leg over his hip, allowing him to sink into her even more now she was wide open for him. A fresh wave of slick made their tie slip and Killian growled, diving into the juncture of Emma’s neck where her newly discovered scent gland was emitting all sorts of fresh, sickly sweet aromas that had his heart racing. He could mark her. His body was telling him to. It was right there, throbbing just below the surface but Emma’s hands were on his head once more, nimble fingers tracing the edge of his ear once more and shaking him from his scent induced daze.

“You can’t just turn up to an Alpha’s apartment like this,” he scolded her lightly, rolling his head into her touch. “You should have called.”

“Would you have invited me over if you’d have known?” Emma asked innocently. Killian declined to answer, an eyebrow quirking up on his forehead. “I didn’t think so,” Emma purred, pulling his lips to hers again.

Killian rolled his hips again as they kissed, causing Emma to groan into his mouth. “Stop,” she giggled, unable to hide the grin from her face.

“Or what?” Killian challenged weakly.

“Or we’ll never part,” she smiled. Killian gave her another look, one telling her that maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Emma blushed under his gaze, rolling her bottom lip under her teeth coyly.

“You’re so beautiful when you smile, Emma, you know that?” He complimented her softly. His fingers brushed over her brow and passed the swell under her eye as he followed the trail of his hand down over the pulse in her neck. “He should pay for this.”

“Don’t,” Emma warned, her smile fading instantly. She grabbed his hand away from her scent gland, rolling her head away shyly.

“I hate that he hurt you,” Killian continued, his blood beginning to boil again.

“Please stop,” Emma begged.

“I hate that I wasn’t there to protect you from this, Emma.” Killian fingers gingerly traced over the purple-pink bruise developing under her eye again before Emma shook him off and turned away again. “I should have been there.”

“Please don’t mention him,” Emma sighed into the pillow, forcing the tears that pricked at her eyelids back inside. She wouldn’t give Graham the satisfaction of making her cry ever again.

“Hey,” Killian coaxed, hooking his finger under her chin and pulling her gaze back to his. “I just want you to be happy, my love,” he told her lovingly, giving her a quick flash of a smile.

She returned it weakly. “I am happy. Right now, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”

“Good.” Killian leaned forward and pressed his lips to the tip of her nose. “Me too.”

#the contract #A/B/O dynamics #A/B/O #cs fic #cs au #alpha!killian #omega!emma

[somniferouseyes]

Home Sweet Prison - Thoughts on Silent Hill 4: The Room

Recently I had the pleasure of finally playing the fourth Silent Hill game after years of planning to get around to it. I just finished it last night after three lengthy play sessions over the past week. It definitely had its flaws but I couldn’t help but love the game and wanted to share some of my thoughts. Obvious spoilers below.

This is going to be a long one, so buckle up. First, a little background. If you really don’t care and just want my thoughts on the game, skip down to below the line of ‘=‘s.

It must have been around 7 years ago I played my first Silent Hill game. I had heard bits and pieces about the series for a long time and finally I managed to get my hands on a Playstation 2 along with a copy of Silent Hill 2. The TV at my mom’s place didn’t make much sense to play games on, as I had to share it with a family that didn’t care much for watching games, and so only allowed me to play for short bursts. Definitely not suitable for playing through a game where atmosphere is one of the key elements to the experience. So instead I absconded with my PS2 and the game to the ancient CRT TV in my bedroom at my dad’s place, where I spent the night at most a few times a week. The solitude and old television at night made for a near-perfect playing environment for a game like SH2. The sound effects of the menus and the vibrant red of the save screen casting a bloody shade over the walls of that room are memories permanently imprinted in the inside of my head.

I had a great time with the game and eventually picked up Silent Hill 3 as well, excited for another journey to that destitute, foggy town. Unfortunately, after playing through around a third of the game, I discovered my disc was scratched and couldn’t continue, despite my best attempts to clean and buff it out. At that point I didn’t have any sort of disposable income so buying another copy just didn’t seem worth the expense. So unfortunately, my journey with that game ended there.

I was aware that the fourth game, like the first three, was fairly highly regarded, so I kept a tab on it in the back of my mind for opportunities to play. This past fall, I finally got my chance. I jumped with excitement at seeing GOG offering the now-ancient (by video game standards) title and immediately purchased it, fully prepared to experience what I had been missing all this time. I booted it up several days after and played for around an hour. There was the gameplay I remembered in all its clunky glory. As well as the haunting sound design and twisted visuals. It was a great throwback, but for some reason I didn’t come back for more. I planned to play more but it sat on the digital shelf for months before I would finally touch it again, this time with my partner at my side to experience it along with me. At first I worried having another person there would take away from the atmosphere, which is what I always saw as the strongest part of the series. Thankfully this wasn’t really the case. Anyway, now after enough extra shit, my thoughts on the game itself.

================================================

What first struck me was how creative and intriguing I found the setting to be. I’ve known for a long time what it was, but actually playing it now I found it resonated with me in an unexpected way. I recently moved into my first non-college apartment and as I played I found myself sort of day-nightmaring about what it would be like to wake up one day and find myself trapped in my apartment, door chained shut, windows stuck, and no real communication to the outside world but a strange hole which has appeared in my bathroom wall. Letting myself sort of float in that headspace really got me immersed into the world and I really grew to appreciate the apartment as a sort of hub world in the game. A safe space from the horrors that lay on the other side of the hole. At least, temporarily safe as I would eventually discover. Throughout the first half of the game the apartment served as a resting point in between forays into the unforgiving outside world.

Then one time I came home to discover that the ceiling fan had mysteriously broken and smashed down upon the coffee table. Henry, our lovely protagonist, commented that the air felt heavier as though a weight was bearing down upon him. The in-game ramifications of this event didn’t become clear until a bit later, when I discovered that my health no longer regenerated when in the apartment. My one reliable form of healing had been taken away from me. And the game being a survival horror game, I very quickly felt its effect. Healing supplies were very limited and I found myself struggling to survive through various enemy encounters now where before I had done alright with occasional trips home to heal up. But this was only the beginning.

It couldn’t have been more than an hour or two later that upon entering the apartment I was greeted by a castrophony of crashing and banging coming from the living room. I entered and found the windows there shaking and slamming against their frames, as if by the manipulation of some violent poltergeist. Even so much as nearing them damaged me and despite the frustration at not being able to interact with them anymore without fear of taking lethal damage, it was one of the coolest things I’ve seen in a game for a while. From that point onward every few visits to the apartment, I was met with some new form of haunting in various parts of the few rooms I had. Eventually they crept in the way of the save point, forcing me to put myself at risk in order to even so much as save my game. It was a level of brutality that has become much less common in games. Thankless and cruel. But I loved seeing my safe prison twist and disfigure into a dangerous nightmare. For once in a piece of horror, whether game, book, or movie, I felt as if I was the one being haunted. This was my home and it was being slowly but surely wrenched from my hands. The hub easily became one of my favorite things about the game as a result.

My feelings about the rest of the game were a little more mixed. As is Silent Hill tradition, the controls were a clunky mess. I’m sure it was by design, as fumbling with them creates a tension in common interactions in the game not unlike the loss of coordination one might experience in a dream. As neat as that is as an artistic touch, from a gameplay standpoint it did sour the experience a bit when it came time to deal with enemies (FUCK the ghost victims).

On a related note, for some reason the devs thought it’d be a good idea to have the entire back half of the game be a goddamn escort mission. One where the quality of your performance affects the ending you get for some reason, no less (???). In general I liked Eileen as a character and appreciated the whole slow possession thing she had going on, but trying to maneuver through the cramped corridors of the game while also trying to move around her and make sure she didn’t get left behind with a bunch of enemies was a nightmare in and of itself. One of the worst things about the game, honestly. There were times I made sure she got left behind in areas just to give myself some room to breathe.

Enemies in general were a massive pain in the ass, at least until late in the game when I figured out how to deal with them efficiently. It didn’t help that their designs for the first third of the game were so bland. One of my favorite things about the series is seeing all the fucked up enemy designs and the speculation from the fanbase about what they might represent from a narrative standpoint, so I was super disappointed to find the first chunk of the game only feature zombie dogs, some ghosts, and pointy bats. Later on I discovered that the ghosts were actually Walter’s past victims who had lost all control and sense of reality after being slain for his ritual, which was a VERY cool detail I missed early on. It lent a whole new dimension to what would otherwise be boring generic ghost enemies. I just wish it had been conveyed better, because obviously I didn’t recognize any of them until Cynthia’s showed up during the second visit to Subway World (Yep. It’s actually called that.) It was a lot of fun seeing how each of the people I had seen murdered had unique abilities as ghosts meant to represent their personalities or behavior in life.

Once I hit the water prison, the game’s enemy design picked up though. I had seen images of the Twin Victims before, but it hadn’t prepared me for their sudden appearance in those cramped circular halls. In the past games and the beginning of this one it seemed like enemies usually had a sort of introductory cutscene showcasing a little of their personality or abilities, but for the Twin Victims? Nope, you get nothing. One second you’re in ignorant bliss of their existence, the next a two-headed shrouded figure is charging at you on its hands.

The rest of the enemies were all decent I think in my memory, though some better than others. I’m not sure who gave the okay on the decision for the Patient creatures in Hospital World to fucking let loose the most wild burps known to man whenever they take a hit, but it was simultaneously tension-ruining and laugh-inducing to knock one down the stairs by accident only to receive a musical number comprised solely of belches in response. Definitely a highlight of the experience, if an unintended one.

Since I don’t want to spend a ton of time on the areas themselves I’m gonna just throw together a little list here of quick opinions on them.

Subway World - Awful. Boring area, especially since this exact type of thing was done already in a fairly lengthy section in SH3. Fuck the dogs. Second visit wasn’t any better because being chased by Cynthia’s ghost was incredibly annoying, especially since you’re still just figuring out the mechanics of Eileen following you at this point.

Forest World - Refreshing after Subway World but still boring. Just a bunch of trees and annoying bats. Highlight was Jasper, my bro whose character arc consists of being scared of rocks, drinking some choccy milk, then burning to death. Second visit was a little better? I liked the torch mechanic and finding the body parts in the 5 wells was a creepy little sort of puzzle.

Water Prison World - One of my favorite areas. Really interesting design and home to one of the few true puzzles in the game, even if it is kind of explained to you outright. Also home to the debut of one of the creepiest enemies, Twin Victims. Second visit was kind of underwhelming and frustrating because of Eileen getting swarmed by them though.

Building World - Other than winning the Dumb Area Name of the Century award, this place was fine. Some areas were a bit too swarmed with enemies, but otherwise a pretty fun place to explore. Reminded me of past games in the series in terms of design. Second visit was ROUGH. I finished with no healing items and only a sliver of health remaining as I went into the boss fight, so I had to make sure I wasn’t hit once for its duration. Also what the fuck is up with the way Richard’s ghost moves? Thought my game was straight up glitching for a bit.

Apartment World - I think possibly my favorite area of the game. Just your classic Silent Hill apartment complex. Loads of rooms to explore and find keys for, etc. Second visit was exactly what I wanted. Just chaos throughout the building and creepy shit around every corner. Highlight for me was the chains on the superintendent’s door, for some reason. Just thought it was cool setpiece.

Hospital World - A pretty cool place overall, but too short and with no second visit it had me wishing there was more of it. A bit simplistic in design but I had fun checking out all the various rooms and the creepy shit inside them. Creepiest Shit in the Game award goes to the massive bloody head of Eileen that stares you down with eyes that can only be described as vibrating. Normally I’d be annoyed at Henry literally not reacting to it, but it somehow adds to its disturbing factor. Almost as if its some kind of meta-scare that Henry can’t even see.

As for the characters, I found them overall to be okay. Nothing special really. Henry is boring as hell and doesn’t really seem to react much to any of the crazy things happening around him, which makes me question his mental state a bit. Eileen is probably the best of the group in my eyes. She goes through a LOT during the game. I thought the possession mechanic with her was very cool and loved eventually finding out that her level of possession actually modifies her dialogue at various points in the game. Definitely a very nice touch. Walter is pretty meh. Just your ordinary insane serial killer really. Nothing to write home about. Didn’t really have a personality beyond “I’m bloodthirsty and I want my mommy.” Also, for someone who was trying to kill me, it really didn’t feel like his heart was all in it. He was easy to sidestep and he’d just sort of become disinterested and wander off. I was a bit underwhelmed to find the superintendent didn’t have any role really past the halfway point in the game. Where did he go? In one of the endings he’s confirmed to be dead but otherwise not mentioned at all. He got a lot of the spotlight in the first half so it really makes no sense.

The plot was pretty entertaining. Might be sacrilege to say so, but I think I preferred it to SH2′s despite its flaws, though it’s been a while since I played that so maybe I’ll have to give it another run-through sometime and see. I just had a lot of fun following Joseph’s notes and slowly learning about the Wishing House cult and Walter’s murders. I found myself guessing at what we could expect from Walter and his twisted ritual around every corner and how the tale would eventually unravel.

Upon tearing into it more closely my partner and I found a number of weird little issues and nitpicks with the plot that we couldn’t seem to find any explanation for. Was Walter ever really in prison? The game is deliberately vague about this detail, and I assume we’re meant to come up with our own conclusions, but it felt a bit strange to not give a more solid explanation, as other issues arise from the lack of one. If he did really kill himself in prison, how did he get out of his grave and perform the Ritual of the Holy Assumption? If that wasn’t him in prison, why would anyone bother digging up the grave at all? And either way, why mark the coffin with his number, 11/21? It doesn’t really make sense. Not quite related, but we’re also missing the why of Walter’s split manifestations. What about the ritual caused him to split off a child version of himself? It’s not exactly important to the plot’s progression, but it’d be nice to know if he fucked up some part of the ritual, or was punished for being a little shit by God or whatever.

Unfortunately my partner and I found the endings to all be pretty lame. I got the ‘21 Sacraments’ ending, which I guess is to be expected because I wasn’t very careful in taking care of Eileen due to the controls being a massive pain in the ass while also not really understanding how to purge the apartment of hauntings with candles. I understood the mechanic but literally couldn’t figure out where to place the candles to achieve the desired affect despite all my attempts to, which was a shame. I’m also still not entirely sure why the ending I got results in Walter possessing Henry’s body when I clearly followed the instructions to put a stop to his ritual, but the other endings aren’t all that much better. In the ‘Mother’ ending, apparently Eileen is somehow still possessed? Why? By who? No explanation is given! Always a good time.

Despite the nitpicks at the plot, the confusing decision to make most of the game an escort mission, and the messy Silent Hill game controls, I still had a fantastic time. I still felt just in love with the atmosphere, sound, and enemy design as I did back when I played SH2. I wish there were more in the series to experience, but it seems like my options aren’t all that great. The first game is kind of a dated mess visually, I’m not sure I have the heart to replay so much of the opening of the third game to allow myself to experience the entire thing, and apparently all the games after kind of suck in various ways.

I find myself leaving Silent Hill 4 with a renewed sense of sadness at the cancellation of PT and the grim hopes for the future of the series, but excited to maybe get back into playing more horror games. It’s a genre I used to be all over but eventually fell out of entirely, save for a few recent titles, such as Resident Evil VII.

I’d definitely recommend Silent Hill 4: The Room in a heartbeat to anyone who can stomach the clunky controls as well as some some dated graphics and game mechanics.

Goodbye for now, Silent Hill.

#silent hill 4 #silent hill spoilers #horror #silent hill 4 the room

[feyrhycien]

Will You Be Our Valentine?

Based on @house-of-galathynius‘ shitty real life experience (see here.)

I hope you still had a nice evening, love! And look what your post resulted in!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“Are you kidding me? You're cancelling now?”

Lucien felt his stomach sink. She couldn't be doing this. Not today.

Vassa looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Please Lucien. I know I promised you to spend tonight together and wallow in combined misery, but you can't deny me the chance of true love! What if he's the one for me?”

“You met this dude today! At Happy Hour. In. A. Bar! He's not looking for a wife, he's looking for someone to bang!” Lucien snapped, unable to keep his disappointment and irritation at bay.

Her eyes shuttered and a fiery spark entered them.

“So what? Maybe I want to bang too, instead of being all miserable, going on a date with my childhood friend on Valentine's Day, because I can't find anyone else and he'd mope around at home otherwise,” she spat and turned on her heel, grabbed her purse and stalked out their apartment with her head held high.

“Don't come crying to me, when the dude turns out to be a creep, who wants you locked away in his cellar with all the other girls he keeps there,” Lucien shouted after his best friend and roommate.

Her words had felt like a slap in his face. Was that how she thought about him? Was he really that pathetic?

Yes, you are, he answered himself and sat down on the couch, running a hand over his face. You're alone on Valentine's Day and now even your friend dumped you, because she has better things to do than concern herself with your sorry ass.

Lucien wanted nothing more than to drown himself in a bottle of Whiskey and self-loathing, but just then the key turned in the door and his other roommate and his girlfriend stepped into the living room.

Rhys had just said something to make Feyre laugh, but the both of them fell silent when they saw Lucien sitting on the couch, dressed in nice pants and a pressed shirt, looking utterly miserable.

Seeing them, Lucien stifled a groan.

Right, the other reason Vassa and he had decided to spent tonight eating out together was Rhys having plans to cook a fancy, romantic dinner for his girlfriend, which, knowing the both of them, would probably end up with Feyre being the dinner and them having obnoxiously loud sex all over their shared flat.

And Vassa and him really didn't want to be around for that, if only, because Lucien was actually crushing pretty hard on Rhys and had been ever since they met, and lately also found himself fancying his crush’s girlfriend quite a bit.

“Are you okay? Weren't you having dinner plans with Vassa?” Rhys asked the same time as Feyre said, “You look sad. Why the hell are you looking sad?”

Lucien pressed his teeth together and didn't comment.

Feyre and Rhys shared one of their looks that meant their were talking without talking. Rhys took the grocery bags Feyre was holding, pecked a quick kiss to her lips and sauntered towards the kitchen, probably to begin cooking the fancy dinner they'd planned.

To Lucien's utter and complete surprise, Feyre came over to him and flopped down on the couch, her face turned fully towards him, studying his face.

Their knees were brushing up against each other and Lucien shifted a bit to avoid them touching. With her being this close, the gaze of those piercing blue-grey eyes trained on him, he felt rather self-conscious about the otherwise casual touch.

“What's going on Luc?” she asked, placing a hand on his knee for emphasis.

Lucien swallowed nervously, less because of the question, but because of her hand on his leg, that was causing some highly inappropriate images and thoughts to bloom in his head. Thoughts one shouldn’t have about someone else’s girl.

“Change of plans. Vassa met the love of her life at some bar’s Happy Hour today,” he deadpanned.

“More like a creeper that will lock her up with a couple of other girls he already keeps in the basement,” Rhys scoffed, returning from the kitchen, carrying a bottle of wine and glasses.

Lucien gave him a wry smile. “Exactly what I said. Get out of my head Rhys.”

Rhys and Feyre laughed softly.

“No need to read your mind for that. Vassa has the worst taste in men,” Feyre giggled and took the wine that Rhys had just poured for her.

“So true! What did the last one call himself? Death God?” Rhys said in an amused voice, handing another glass of wine to Lucien, who didn't take it, but instead regarded Rhys with a confused look.

“What?” Lucien stammered.

“You don't want wine?” Rhys asked, cocking his head to the side.

“No, I mean yes, but no, I thought I'd just go to my room or go out or -”

Rhys chuckled and Feyre have a snort.

“Please, don't be ridiculous. You’re staying right where you are and we're ordering takeout,” she declared. Eyeing the single bottle of wine on the coffee table, she nodded to herself. “And more wine.

“But you guys planned to have dinner and -” Lucien started again, but was interrupted by Rhys.

“We can have dinner another night. It's not like the food will go bad in the fridge overnight,” he stated determinedly.

“But it's Valentine's Day,” Lucien said in a last weak attempt to not upend their dinner plans with his miserable presence.

“Exactly,” Feyre replied, giving Lucien a mischievous little smirk that she must’ve learned from Rhys. “What more can a girl ask for on Valentine's than to spend it not only with one, but two pretty boys?”

“Will you be our Valentine, Lucien?” Rhys purred, still holding out the glass of wine for him.

Lucien felt the heat creep into his cheeks and dearly hoped it his face wasn't blazing red when he hesitantly plucked the glass from Rhys’ hand. Their fingers brushed and an entirely different heat spread from the place they touched, similar to the heat he felt on his leg, where Feyre’s hand still rested.

“Okay.”

They had a fantastic night. Feyre had ordered them Indian take-out and several bottles of wine, something that Lucien hadn’t even known was possible.

“You just need to live with Mor long enough, then you’ll know where to get booze at any time of the day,” Feyre confided to him in a low voice, as if she was telling him a secret. Well, it probably was.

They’d eaten and laughed and downed a few bottles, never moving further from the couch than strictly necessary. At some point, Lucien had gotten up and changed, trading his fine clothes in favor of a more comfortable outfit consisting of sweatpants and a tee shirt. Rhys and Feyre had complained loudly and immediately dashed to Rhys room, shedding their own clothes on the way, leaving Lucien slightly unsettled about the glimpsed of their bodies he catched, and emerging seconds later in an equally comfy attire - in Feyre’s case one of Rhys’ tee shirts and nothing else, showing off her pretty, naked legs for Lucien to secretly, and Rhys to not so secretly drool over.

And then they had somehow gotten all cuddly and sleepy while watching a movie, Feyre laying with her head resting in Rhys’ lap, sleeping soundly, her bare legs somehow ending up in Lucien lap, who was desperately trying not to fondle or stare at them.

“Those are nice legs, don’t you think?”

Lucien was startled out of his contemplation of Feyre’s freckles thighs. He didn’t know for how long, but he had been immersed in a silly drunk attempt to connect the little dots into pictures.

“Huh?”

Lucien raised his gaze to find Rhys looking at him, his violet eyes burning into him with such intensity, it made Lucien tremble.

“Feyre’s legs. They’re pretty. Well she’s pretty,” Rhys repeated, still looking at Lucien with a slightly wary expression on his face, like he was waiting for something or trying to figure something out.

Shit. Lucien hadn’t thought he had been quite so obvious about staring at them. He didn’t want Rhys to think he was lusting after his girlfriend. Well, he kinda was, but he hadn’t meant to make a move on her or anything.

“Uhm…, yeah, I guess. She’s pretty.” Lucien said.

He was trying to sound objective about it and not like he was attracted to Feyre. Because he was.

He hadn't known it was possible to be crushing this hard on two people at the same time, let alone a couple who was clearly in love with each other, but Lucien was. He felt himself falling deeper and deeper with every second they spent on this damn couch, drinking wine and watching a movie, doing utterly boring stuff that wasn’t exciting at all, but excited him nonetheless.

“You’re pretty too,” Rhys suddenly said, still eyeing Lucien attentively.

“I… what?”

Lucien wasn’t sure he had been hearing right. Did his long-term crush just called him pretty? While his gorgeous girlfriend was sprawled over both their laps, being half naked?

Rhys chuckled darkly, a sound that had Lucien’s stomach clench deliciously, and leaned towards him, his eyes boring into his.

“I said, you’re pretty too,” he purred.

And then Rhys kissed him.

A tentative, shy peck on the lips, like a hesitant knock on the door to see if someone was home. He withdrew immediately, studying Lucien’s face, gauging his reaction.

Lucien wasn’t sure he was breathing. Rhys had just kissed him!

He didn’t know if it was the wine they had, his pent-up sexual frustration, or the fact that he had wanted to do this for so long, but Lucien gripped Rhys shoulder and pulled him back towards him, kissing him fully on the lips. Rhys returned the kiss eagerly, leaving Lucien heady with bliss - and a raging hard-on.

“Hey!”

Startled, they broke apart to find Feyre glaring up at them from Rhys’ lap.

Lucien felt his stomach sink all the way to the floor when the realization of that they’d just been doing came over him. He had just kissed Rhys. Who had a girlfriend. Who was currently present and looking very put out.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” she snarled, sitting up and positioning herself so she could look at the both of them at the same time.

She pointed her finger at Rhys. “You said I could have the first kiss!” she said hotly, almost poking out her boyfriend’s eye.

Rhys gently grabbed her hand and folded her finger in, so he wasn’t any longer in danger of going blind.

“Can’t help it if you rile him up with your sexy legs, making Luc look all adorable in the way he tries not to stare at you, only to fall asleep in the middle of your seduction attempt. Someone had to kiss him!” Rhys defended himself.

Lucien watched the two of them in confusion. What was going on here?

He was still wondering about that, when Feyre turned towards him, grabbed his face between her hands and slanted her mouth over his, kissing him emphatically.

Woah woah woah!

Shocked, Lucien shoved Feyre away out of reflex, throwing a guilty look in Rhys’ direction. But Rhys didn’t look jealous or angry, but rather turned on by his girlfriend kissing the guy he’d just kissed himself.

“Someone care to explain?” Lucien asked perplexed.

Feyre and Rhys shared one of their looks, smiling faintly at each other, and then both turned to him, saying “We like you!” at the same time.

Confounded, Lucien shook his head, refusing to believe what he just heard. “Excuse me, come again?”

Feyre and Rhys both scooted closer, Feyre leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. When she withdrew, her eyes sparkled with affection, but then Rhys placed a finger on his chin to make Lucien face him and kissed him too.

“We like you. The ‘we’d like to do stuff with you’-like,” Rhys purred, looking at Lucien in a way that had him blush.

“Or the ‘we want you to be our boyfriend’-like,” Feyre added, sliding into Lucien’s lap and wrapping her arms around his neck, caressing the shell of his hear with her lips, while Rhys put his lips back on Lucien’s, who was too baffled to to anything but surrender to their combined onslaught.

“So,” Feyre whispered in Lucien’s ear, making him shiver adoringly, while Rhy’s tongue brushed over his bottom lip, asking for entrance. “Will you be our Valentine?”

@mywritingbox @highlordkaz @stars-wholisten @illyrianrhys

#feyrhycien #we need more feyrhycien #feyrhycien fic #feyrhycien shorts #feysand #rhycien #feycien

[petri808]

Change of Ascendancy

Nalu Love Fest Bonus day 10/27/17 Piercing prompt 

My final entry for this week.  Thank you for reading my stories, it was a blast writing them!  Please enjoy  : )  To read this story or more of my works, find me on AO3 http://archiveofourown.org/users/Petri808/works

The 24-year-old blonde sets up her guest room, getting ready for her Saturday night client.  This evening will be the man’s twelfth session, but who was counting?  She plops down on a chair and looks at the clock, 8:20pm, he’ll be there at 9 she smiles to herself.  After working in this industry for a couple of years now, this was the first time she’s looked forward to a particular client’s visits.  Sure, there had been a handful of bad seeds, men who tried to push things past the rules set in the club but nothing she or the bouncers couldn’t handle.  Most of the guests were just average patrons, if you will, looking for something different, a little more exciting than the typical partner was comfortable dishing out.  

But she was no typical girl.  Realizing in her teen years that while she didn’t always need to be in charge, the most satisfying bedroom games for her seemed to stem from controlling the situation, unfortunately, she also quickly learned that most guys prefer it the other way around.  So, her sex life ended up being few and far between.   That is until she came of age and learned about the world of the dominatrix, where she could get her kicks and even better, get paid to do it.  Well, not that she’d call herself a true dominatrix, she didn’t just dish out pain like they are commonly known for, no she’d use either physical or mental tricks and tools to drive these men wild.  Of course, the key to this endeavor was always maintaining self-control, and never getting personally attached.  

But this guy tonight, he started out as one of her typical clientele, probably had a high demand, intense or stressful job that required a lot of concentration or control, and to unwind from such an environment, sought out the very opposite world of being dominated.  And, three months ago, he had walked in for the first time, an obvious newcomer that she had to school in the do’s and don’ts of this avant-garde style.  The first thing being their safe words or nicknames, hers was always “Star” and he had chosen “Dragon”, she later learned he had a small fascination with the mythical beasts, primarily the fire breathing types.  If for any reason something was too uncomfortable they could simply call out the other person’s name and the action would cease.    

She had no idea what he really looked like because she required them to wear head masks to conceal their identity, but what she could discern was that he had a sweet personality, a very nice body, not to mention a ‘package’ any girl might kill for and the most gorgeous green eyes she’d ever seen.  He seemed close in age to her and always treated her with the utmost respect, never rude or demeaning, simply a very pleasant demeanor.  She couldn’t help looking forward to his now standing Saturday appointments.  In fact, lately she’s been skirting the rules of the club, absolutely no penetration but… while her job ordinarily doesn’t include any touching with their hands or other body parts, and mostly physical punishments with tools, with him she couldn’t seem to help herself…    

Natsu walks up to her door as he usually does, knocking first before entering.  She signals that it’s safe by buzzing him in from a second room where she waits.  He follows the now well-known routine of putting on the mask she has laid out for him and stripping down to his boxers before knocking on the second room’s door to let her know he was ready.  Lucy’s policy is the client can wear anything else they choose to bring with them, but the mask is mandatory; he just chooses to be in only his boxers since he’s too embarrassed to bring anything more, wild.  As she enters the room, she sees a huge grin on the man’s face just light up.  “Well hello…. Dragon…”          

By the time he left his apartment that night, he was practically giddy over getting to see her.  Saturday had become his secret pleasure and he spent most of the week simply rushing through it just to get there.  He didn’t know what it was about this woman that had struck his soul, but she just seemed to know exactly what would drive him utterly mad with passion.  So often he found himself dreaming that his once a week trysts could become a more permanent situation but alas, it was probably a fantasy held by many of her clients.  Who wouldn’t fall in love with a woman who could not only pander to your deepest desires but looked the part of a fashion model and still underneath the exterior facade you could sense the sweetness in her spirit; a total oxymoron of a doe eyed, sweet smiling, tongue pierced; if that’s all she’s marked with, whip wielding goddess.    

The sheer luck in finding her was thanks in part to a co-worker who recommended checking out the local Fairytail Club to help him unwind from their stressful job as firefighters.  His friend regularly visited a blue-haired woman that catered to his odd fascination with water and ice, that maybe developed because it was the very opposite element of what they deal with daily.  At first, he was hesitant, thinking that it was just an S&M club and he had no interest in being whipped and frankly assaulted; he dealt with enough pain from his day job.  So, he was thrilled to learn this club was different from the typical ‘sex’ clubs in that they focused on pandering to whatever the client required; within reason of course.  And this woman was adept at satisfying his desires without getting too rough.  

For the last three weeks, the sessions have taken a turn for the better, at least in his mind they have.  He knows that it might be hugging the line when it comes to not just the policies of the club, but even the original rules set forth by the woman of how much physical interaction was allowed.   The thing is, she was the one initiating these ‘changes’ and hell if he was going to stop her.  Last week he found out how soft her lips could be…

“Good evening Star…” his ear to ear grin giving away his excitement.  ‘Holy Fuck!’  Up till now, the woman’s outfits were black leather strapped or strapless bustier or corsets, tight mini-skirts with black fishnet stockings or leggings, sometimes studded or chained or otherwise adorned, with knee high stiletto boots; but always, always black in color.  Not tonight, no tonight she’s changed it up on him donning a scarlet red, strapless leather corset, a loose, black leather skirt that was so short, her firm little dairy-air peeked out from the bottom edge, and the end of her stunning stems, 5-inch high stiletto’s that really accentuated her calves.    

Lucy sashays up to the young man tapping her riding crop on her thigh and smiling.  His eyes following each swish of her hips with the hunger of a starving man, so much so, that he forgets himself and reaches out to grab them.  Poking his chest, “Tsk, Tsk…” she wiggles her finger and raps the back of one of his hands with the tool.  “You’re being naughty tonight and bad boys require punishment…  Now get on the bed and cuff one of your hands to it!”

“Y-yes ma’am…”  As soon as he turns to walk towards the bed, Lucy strikes his ass with the crop.  “Tss…” he winces slightly from the sting but continues to climb onto the bed and cuff his left hand.

“Oh, stop your simpering, I barely hit you.” she scolds while pushing him down onto his back.  After securing both ankles, she crawls over and straddles his hips, another new move on her part, while she leans forward to strap a collar and chain around his neck.  His breathing almost stops for a second when her ample breasts push down against his chest.  “But, I think I’ll be nice tonight and leave your right hand free… just in case.”  She pulls on the end of his leash, “Now what shall our game be today…”  

~~xx~~

The following Wednesday, Lucy readies herself in the mirror, last minute primping before her date arrives.  They had met online through a blog about her favorite anime about a month ago and tonight was their forth date.  It was a little uncanny how well they seemed to get along, it was almost as if they had been old friends that simply found each other again.  This firefighter was such a gentleman with her but very serious and well she wouldn’t call it controlling, just cautious.  She figured it had to do with his job, always having to be on alert and frankly she didn’t mind playing the damsel in distress sometimes.  

She hears the knock on her door and opens it.  “Hi Natsu.”

He holds out his hand to her, smiling.  “Hey Lucy, you ready to go?”

“Yeah,” she adjusts the strap of her purse and takes the offer.

“You look great tonight, Luce.” He beams at the gorgeous blonde on his arm, still in awe that he managed to land such a babe.

She bushes mildly as his twinkling green eyes pulls her into its spell, “You look very handsome yourself Natsu.”  

Dinner was a simple affair for the budding couple as they laugh and converse about their week, the anime that brought them together, or just anything that pops into their thoughts.  Afterwards they decide to get some drinks at a quiet little lounge, settling nicely into one of the intimately tucked, corner booths.  After a couple of hours and a few rounds of drinks in them, things are starting to grow steamier than either had expected.  Normally, Lucy waited until a couple of months to go any further than a good night kiss but there was just something about this guy that made the blonde wanna throw out the rule book and alcohol was making that decision much, much easier…

It didn’t take long before her dominating side revealed itself as she climbed half on his lap and his hand was riding high on her thigh in a full blown make out session.  As his digits travel further under her skirt she slaps his hand gently, “Behave Natsu, there’s plenty of time for that later…”  Her soft yet firm instructions evoke a spark of covetousness only his Saturday master has been able to pull out of him in recent months and he shudders at the idea that he’s found another perfect girl…

“Yes, Princess…”  he whispers back, cognizant of the fact they are in a public place.

She grins while trailing her lips along his jawline, “I like that.  Will you be good for your Princess and do as she asks?”

“Uh-huh…”

Lucy giggles at the idea she’s found the perfect guy for her.  “That’s good, and if you behave… this Princess will reward you…”  And to accentuate that notion she runs her hand against the developing bulge of his pants.  “Now,” she moves his hand back to her ass, “you may hold but nothing more until I tell you.  Nod if you understand.”  He does.  

Doing a quick scan around the room to note there is no one nearby, the blonde untucks his shirt from his slacks and runs her hands under them, feeling around at the rock-hard muscles that flex beneath her gliding fingers, she traces lines and follows towards the cut of his pecs.  Natsu’s eyes roll back as she leans in to capture his mouth with her own and moans quietly at the delicious flavors hitting his taste buds.  When she pinches his hardening nipples that groan deepens.  “Shh…” she scolds him and bites his lip.  

“S-sorry, Princess.”

“Do you want me to stop?  Is this too much for you out in the open like this?”

“No…” his voice breathy and full of lust.  “I’ll try to be quiet.”

“Good…” nibbling his ear lobe, “Cause I find this very arousing.  Do you like it when I’m more excited?”

“Oh, yeah…”

Reaching into his pants she takes ahold of his throbbing member.  He bites down hard on his lip, gritting his teeth and tilting his head back as she strokes it with a gentle and steady rhythm.  “Such a big boy Natsu…” purring like silk in his ear, her whispers only meant for his listening pleasure, “I can just imagine him spreading me wide,” she moans, “sliding in and out of my pussy dripping with our sweet nectars…  so deep in my cave…” his cock trembles in her hand, “…hitting harder… and harder…” he squeezes her ass as those images flood his brain too…  “and your hands…  I want them groping every inch of my body.  I wanna tremble in your arms from all the wonton decadence of your touch upon my skin…” feeling precum leaking over her fingers, she moans against his neck, “can you imagine it…  the pressure building until you finally release all that pent-up essence…”  Groaning, “Mmm…” she licks along the edge of his ear, “would you like that Natsu?”  

“Oh, Fuck yes!” his breathing is ragged.  “But please,” begging, “Princess… if you keep going, I’m gonna cum right here!”

Lucy stops stroking and removes her hand, “We wouldn’t want that yet.  Shall we continue at my apartment?”  

“Yes.  Please Princess.”

“Very well.” Stroking his cheek, “You’ve been a good boy and I think you deserve your reward.”

They walk the few blocks back to her apartment.  Along the way, Natsu is still in shock at what just happened.  She turned him into putty in such a short period of time!  “Lucy, c-could I ask you something?”

“Sure Natsu.”

“How did you do that?  I mean, how did you figure out my triggers so quickly?”

She shrugs her shoulder, “Maybe because I observe and learn people’s personalities to help me in my writing.”  Of course, she wasn’t gonna tell him the truth about her weekend job, the idea of a sex club worker might scare him away and with their relationship going so well there was no way she wanted to risk that.

“Hmm, well you’re definitely… really, really good at it.”  

Squeezing his hand, “Thanks, I appreciate that.  Not too many guys like, you know, letting the girl control things.”

Grinning, “I’d let you control me anytime…”

The second they reach the sanctity of her third-floor apartment, Lucy pins Natsu against the wall rubbing her thigh against his groin and caressing his cheek.  “Be a good boy for me and wait on the couch…” she nibbles his ear, “I’m gonna change in the bedroom to something more comfortable…”

“Mmmm…” he groans, “Anything for you Princess.”

She taps his cheek and sashays out the room leaving the man to wonder what was gonna happen next.  As he sits fidgeting on her couch he looks around the apartment noting that it looks like a typical female’s abode though more on the trendier side.  Black leather sofa and love seat with an oval shaped glass coffee table and flat screen tv hooked to what seems to be a karaoke machine.  The room was separated from an average sized kitchen by an island with three high backed bar chairs, and there appeared to be an adjacent dining area that had been converted into more of an office space.  On a glass, L shaped desk was a pink laptop, printer and a couple of books sitting on it.  Next to the desk was a bookshelf containing several volumes and what appeared to be reams of papers, maybe her manuscripts, he wonders.  

A distinct sound of an opening door causes him to turn around in his seat.  Standing in the dimly lit frame is what he can only describe as that woman you’ll see in the pinup mags but will never actually meet in person.  He gulps at the sight of the black lace of her negligee, all the curves of her buxom figure easily seen through the sheer material, including the fact there was nothing beneath it.  Perky nipples poke through the fabric taunting his mouth, he starts to drool, his eyes zero in on something shiny near her midsection and widen as it drifts lower at the smooth skin of her sex, devoid of any hair…  ‘Damn’  She looks so virginal yet he knows, you can’t judge this book by its cover.  But something else creeps in to his mind, this woman’s profile looks a lot like someone else he knows, it couldn’t be…  In this city of over 100,000 residents, what was the likelihood or luck of running into her on the outside?  

Dangling a pair of handcuffs, she beckons with her finger and he follows her commands like a love-sick puppy as she leads him deeper into the chamber and points at the bed.  “Strip and get on big boy.”  Once he removes all his clothing she takes them and piles it on a chair but grabbing his scarf to use in her games.  Prompting him all the way to the head board, she cuffs his wrists and attaches it to a short tether and swivel ring he hadn’t noticed earlier in the headboard above his head.  

Splayed out in all his glory, Lucy can’t help but fawn over the sight of such a picture-perfect male specimen, though somewhere in the back of her mind swears she’s seen this image before but she tucks the information away.  Knowing that he’s a firefighter means he must stay in peak physical condition but still, this guy obviously pays attention to his appearance.  Well-developed but not overly bulky anywhere, his toned and solid muscle structures are simply beautiful to look at.  She licks her lips, “Mmmm, Natsu, I must say you are just too fucking good looking…”  Climbing over the prone man, Lucy takes his own scarf and blindfolds him.  “Can you see anything?”

“Uhhh.” His voice strains and shudders as she grazes her lips over his ear.  “No, Princess.”  She pulls the negligee off and settles over his hard cock, his moan communicating volumes from the skin to skin contact; and this is just the beginning of her torture.  He bites down hard on his lip as he resists the urge to buck his hips, intuition tells him to stay still or this woman is gonna punish him for it.  

Resuming her handiwork, Lucy leans over, purposely pushing her breasts against his chest while she teases his ears and neck with oral treatments.  Soft velvety kisses intermingled with rougher, more firmly placed pressure; sucking or biting, with pulses of her wet muscle against his skin.  She licks at a scar on his neck, the texture of her tongue over the sensitive skin elicits more trembling moans out of the man.  “How’d you get this scar Natsu…” she breathes out the words between her kisses.

“Huh?”  a little dazed from her spell.  “I um, got it from a fight with my best friend…”

“Fighting with your best friend…”  still teasing around his scar, “Such a naughty man you are…  Over what?”

“Dumb reason…  To see who was stronger…”

“Oh…” she moves her lip caresses to his chest, “So who won?”

When her caresses turn to bites on his nipples he loses his train of thought for a second.  “Um… Fuck…” moaning, “…he did.”

She bites his nipple a little harder, “My big, strong fireman lost?  That deserves punishment…”

“But it, I was only 10…” he groans from her nips that have moved to other areas of his chest.

“I see…” she purrs and scrapes her nails along his sides and scoots lower over his legs.  “What about this one?”  pulsing her tongue over a scar on his abdomen.

“Saving a woman when she was being mugged.”

“Aww, now that deserves a reward…”

“Rew… oh fuck!” he cries out as something wet glides over his throbbing cock.  The little metal ball he senses running over his shaft is a new sensation he’s never experienced before.  He doesn’t quite understand what to make of the licentious piece of jewelry until it catches on some loose folds and creates a new twist of resistance and friction.  “Wow… that’s… different…”  Sinking her mouth over the large appendage, Natsu moans and can barely control his bodies reaction of twisting under her control.  He jerks at the cuffs holding him at bay, gritting his teeth with each palpitating stroke of her tongue.  “Luce…” Bucking his hips when she swirls around the head and massages the shaft with her lips.

The blonde stops her efforts and digs her nails into his thigh hard, “Remember, you said you’d be a good boy for me…”

He winces from the pain, “S-sorry Princess…”

“Sorry isn’t good enough…  You need to make it up to me.”

“H-how?”  Already images of being punished or whipped or something along those lines pop in his mind.  He feels her shifting on the bed, depressions in the mattress getting closer as if someone is crawling along its edge.  “Lucy?”  A deeper sinking on the left and right sides of his head.  “What are you…”  and then he smells it above him.

Kneeling over his face and using the headboard as grips, she balances her moist entrance right over his mouth, “Taste me…” she commands.  

“Yes, ma’am…” Natsu dives in with every inch of his tongue into her opening, consuming her folds and massaging her labia with his lips.  It’s frustrating not being able to see what he’d doing or use his hands but damn if her nectar wasn’t the sweetest fruit he’s ever tasted before!  Lucy’s nails dig into the wood and toes curl as his fondling intensifies, lavishing her sex with the most amorous and sensual caresses any man has performed on her.  She tries desperately to stay in the roll of the dominant position, but that resolve is crumbling, and moans leach out of her uncontrollably.  Knowing the affect, he is having on her, he can’t help but grin as he goes in for the kill, sucking the bud of her rose.

Her legs tremble and knees buckle, “Damn it!” she cries out from the voracity and pressure he creates against her sex.  Unable to support her weight, she crashes against his face and his tongue slips inside her once more, flicking and plunging against her frenulum, “No!” she wants to stop him, but her body refuses to move an inch as the throes of an orgasm hit, spilling her juices all over his face.  Natsu continues his fornications, riding her wave for as long as she’ll allow, which surprising to him, was several minutes.  He had been sure that at some point Lucy would pull away to stay in control but that never happened.  The blonde finally flops over, still twitching from such an intense session, skin vibrating from the slightest touch.  When his arm grazes her side the muscles in her abdomen contract and tense up.  “Don’t touch me…” she utters.

“Sorry Princess.”  Still licking up what he can around his mouth and lips.  “Is that what you wanted?  I hope it was pleasing to you.”  She can hear the grin in his tone.

“It wasn’t exactly part of my plan…  that you’d be so fucking good at that.”  It was amazing, no doubt about it, but it also irritated her that she lost her way.  Now the blonde must figure out how to take back control… or should she?  Sure, it was her preference to have ascendancy in bed but maybe with him, and direction, as he was so willing to take from her, she could let him have some leeway…

Pulling the scarf from over his eyes, she sees the burning need staring back from them.  “Is everything okay, Princess?”

She reaches up and unlocks the cuffs, freeing his wrists.  “I’ve decided, your job isn’t over yet.” He looks at her cautiously.  “I want you to fuck me Natsu.  I want you to pleasure my body and make me quiver under your touch.”  Lying on her back with a pillow under her arched waist. “Now get on top of me!”

‘Is she for real?’  The surprised young man hesitates before positioning himself over her length.  “B-but I thought you’d be…”

“I am, now will you follow my instructions?  Or shall I go back to punishing you in other ways?”

“No.  I’ll do whatever you ask of me Princess.”

Lucy wraps her legs around his hips and squeezes, “Then get on with it big boy…”  Natsu pushes in slow and steady through her magnificently tight canal, moaning all the way until he is seated as far he can go.  She hums in delight at his girth already savoring the ride she’s about to be given.  

He leans in, hovering over breasts, lips sweeping over her nipples, “May I?”

“You may…” she purrs

“Mmmm…” Natsu can’t help but whimper at finally being able to suckle the mountainous peaks this woman possesses.  Droning vibrations against her soft pliant breasts keep her cooing, and the unhurried rocking of his hips timed perfectly soothe her aching core at least for now.  His hands begin to wander, brushing along her sides, even playing with the Leo zodiac symbol dangling from her taunt belly; he’s relishing in the slight groans they bring forth from the blonde.  With no idea how long, he’ll be allowed to play on his own terms, he simply focuses on giving her as much pleasure as he can because ultimately satisfying Lucy is what he yearns to do.  

Bringing one of her legs up, he rests it over his shoulder to open her up even more.  “You feel amazing Princess…” kissing a trail from her bosoms to her neck, sucking and caressing along the ridge of her collar bone, his teeth lightly scraping the bone making the blonde tremble.  He nibbles at her bottom lip asking for and receiving entry into another warm and moist orifice.  “Yummy…” he sighs in her mouth as his tongue dances with hers and she sucks on the textured appendage adding to the plethora of flavors for his buds tantalized amusement.  Her tongue ring is another matter.  Curious, he swirls his around the barbell noting the coolness of the metal even in the hot environment it lives in and jolts a bit when it clacks against his teeth the first time.

She chuckles at his explorations, as it is amusing but goads him into moving on by simply squeezing the inner muscles around his dick to break his attention.  While lacing her fingers through his hair and dragging her nails across his scalp, she runs her tongue over his canines, then bites at his top lip, pulling it between her teeth and letting it grate over the sensitive inner lining before releasing it.  Just that little move elicits a shudder from the man and provokes a response.  She wants to push him to go harder but without saying so, instead using moves that will produce the same results.  

Gripping her hip to hold it still, Natsu escalates his thrusts to a medium pace, sliding out along the entire length of the shaft then pushing back in until he can go no further, lifting just a tad at the end.  Her rumbling coos of contentment echo through his brain, firing off instructions at him to just take off at a sprint, but he wants to relish in this heated exchange not end it quickly.  The fire burning in his loins are already threatening his work enough.  But then again, it’s all about what her desires are…  “Ugh…  Princess…  May I… go harder?”

She pulls his face down and nibbles sharply on his bottom lip and rolls her hips into his next thrust; he got the response loud and clear; permission granted.  

Sitting back on his haunches and using that amazing upper body strength possessed by many a firefighter, Natsu lifts her by her torso and places her directly in his lap, impaling her core.  With his hands holding her rear securely.  Lucy is taken aback at the ease of this effortless move, at how he lifted her up like she weighed nothing at all!  Her eyes widen at the realization that she was about to lose any domination she once held over this man.  Should she call an end to this before he can go any further or should she just give in?  

Noticing the rattled expression in her face, “Did I take it too far Princess?  Do you want me to stop?”

“N-no, I was just surprised at how strong you are.”

He can’t help the grin rising to the surface from her compliment.  “We train to lift a 200lb man and still carry them down several flights of stairs; you are a pleasure to pick up compared to that.  Shall I continue…”

“MmmHmm…” she rumbles, biting her lip in anticipation and gripping to his shoulders for dear life.  Staring at the flexing musculature of his arms as he boosts her up, it is a powerful reminder of what’s to come as he spears her against his shaft repeating the motion over and over, slamming so deeply into her, she can feel the reverberations against her organs; she cries out with each jab to her core.  Her eyes slam shut, and nails dig deep into his flesh, threatening to draw blood at any moment as her shrieks increase in pitch and duration.  Never, has this blonde been ravaged in such a way to leave her utterly speechless, but not just wordless, no, aching.  She’d always been the one dishing out the pain, not receiving it.  Unable to bear the brunt any longer, Lucy cries out for mercy in the only way she’s conditioned to do it in.  “Dragon!”  But as soon as the word dies on her lips, panic sets in and her eyes glue shut.

In an instant, Natsu halts his actions and almost drops her.  “Did you just say Dragon?!”

Cringing at what just came out of her mouth.  ‘What if he thinks I was fantasizing about another guy?!  Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that!  Shit!  Shit!  Shit!’  She peeks with one eye, terrified that what she’ll see is anger, but to her surprise the look on the man’s, now pale face is shock.  She opens both eyes.  “Natsu, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that…”

“Star?”

Now it’s her turn to be stunned.  Stammering, “Are you….  Oh my God….  You are my Saturday client!  I-I, don’t know what to…”  She scrambles off his lap and huddles against the headboard.  “I’ll understand if you wanna leave now…”

“Lucy…”

Covering her face with her hands, the blonde is too embarrassed.  She really liked this guy and it was breaking her heart at the thought of him possibly leaving.  “I know it could be a little weird to date someone who works in that kind of field…  I mean it’s just a side hobby for me but still…”

“Luce,” he crawls over to her and pulls her hands away from her face as tears stream down her cheeks, but her lids stay sealed.  “Lucy…  Please look at me…” Softening his tone as he wipes the moisture away.  

She shakes her head, “I don’t wanna watch when you walk away.”

“But…I’m not going anywhere.”

Opening her eyes in disbelief, “You’re not?”

He cradles her face in his hands, “Why would you think I’d leave just because of that?”

“Because, what I do is not normal.”

His smile softens, “Well then it’s a good thing I had a crush on both you and Star, huh?”  Lifting her chin, “How lucky for me they turned out to be the same girl.”

Tears trickle down once more but this time from happiness and a sparkle returns to her eyes.  She’d heard so many stories from co-workers how often relationships ended the moment they found out where they worked and while clients developing crushes was nothing new, here was a guy who liked both the fantasy persona ‘Star’ and the real Lucy.  “Really?” her eyes search his expressions for any possibility his words were not truly genuine, “I-I could quit that place, it’s not like I need the money.”

“I’ll be honest, I’d prefer not to think about my girlfriend servicing other guys, even though I know the rules you follow;” exhale, “but if it makes you happy, Luce, I wouldn’t make you quit.”

The sincere admission and consternation of his tone pull at her heartstrings.  He really was turning into everything she had ever hoped to find some day.  She sits up straight and puts her arms around his neck, “But if I have you now, I won’t need to get my fix from anywhere else.”

Grinning when he sees that spark he fell in love with returning, “Well, when you put it like that…” pulling Lucy gently down on her side, he leads her into a new make out session.  

“Natsu?”

“Yeah…” murmuring between the kisses.

“Could we go, slower for the rest of the night?”

He stops and smiles down at her, “Whatever your heart desires, my Princess…”

#bonus day #piercing prompt #nalu fanfiction #nalu #lemon