#took a long break where I did a full render half body and a full render full body and maybe a doodle or two I forget | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

silversatoru · 3 years

Note

Ok ok- don’t judge me but get this- College AU, Where Ereh and his friends all go to a nearby maid cafe and turns out his s/o works there, and his s/o is wearing a EXTREMELY short maid outfit and she starts to flirt with Eren’s friends, and basically Eren had enough and dragged his s/o to a bathroom stall, and fucked them calling y/n their little slut, etc. and fucked them so hard they couldn’t work the rest of the day- BYE- 🏃🏻‍♀️ 💨 🚪

maid cafe

a/n: i would never judge you for this???? your mind is incredible and this idea has corrupted my brain for days,, please send more of your wonderful ideas to my inbox. and please let me know what u think bc i truly hope i did u proud

eren yeager x female maid cafe!reader

synopsis: eren and his friends go to a maid cafe and his new girlfriend is their waitress — so he drags her to the bathroom and makes sure she knows who she belongs to

tags/warnings: smut, dom/sub, degrading, mild humiliation, mirror sex, public sex, mentions of drug use

word count: 3.4k

“hey, we should check out that maid cafe downtown. i heard the waitresses are fine,” jean smirked as he proposed the idea, passing a blunt he’d just finished rolling over to eren.

eren graciously accepted the weed, but clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes at jean’s new idea for their friday night. a maid cafe wasn’t particularly up his alley -- he’d just started dating you a few weeks ago and didn’t have any interest in drooling over other women all night. but he was bored and if everyone else wanted to go, he supposed he’d tag along too.

“hell yeah, pretty girls in short skirts sounds good to me,” connie jived, a giddy smile on his face as he blew out some smoke from his own blunt.

“don’t you think that kind of place is a little disrespectful, guys? we shouldn’t view women as-”

“you’re too uptight armin, maybe we can find a nice girl to suck you off and loosen you up a little bit” jean laughed and cut him off as the blonde boy continued to give his immature friends a disapproving look.

“whatever i’m in, just let me finish this first,” eren held up his blunt and took another long drag, “i wont be able to stand you assholes all night if im not high”.

the four of them hung around their shared four-bedroom college apartment a little longer, finishing up their smoke sesh and flinging half-assed insults at one another. the sky was already getting dusky by the time they actually left and were walking through the small, bustling town surrounding their campus. the cafe wasn’t too far, maybe a thirty minute walk, but it was a beautiful spring night and shit, gas is expensive.

armin’s face was horribly flushed when they finally arrived and entered the front door, the poor boy completely unable to even make eye contact with the hostess standing in front of them. his shyness earned him a swift elbow from eren — his way of telling the blonde boy to relax a little bit.

the young hostess spoke to them in a sing-song tone, her hair perfectly curled to frame her face and her cheeks pink with blush. connie and jean completely ate up everything she was doing, gawking at her like a bunch of losers who hadn’t gotten laid in way too long — which is exactly what they were. eren was almost relieved when she finally sat them at a table and walked away, because he couldn’t stand to listen to jeans' horrendous attempt at flirting any longer.

everything on the menu had cute names that matched the theme of the cafe, and while eren and armin browsed the options, connie and jean continued to whisper about the different waitresses and which one they hoped they got.

as for you, it had been a pretty uneventful night, normal customers and nothing too crazy — that was until you walked up to the newest table you were assigned and saw your boyfriend and his friends sitting around the booth. eren and you hadn’t been dating all that long, a few weeks at most, and you hadn’t even met any of these friends yet. anxiety began to pool in your chest, but you tried your best to put on your best voice and greet them like they were any other table — after all, eren was staring so intently at the menu that he hadn't even noticed you yet.

“welcome home, masters! can i get any drinks for you?” you push your voice up to a high octave and make sure to draw out the word masters — it was the opening line that every waitress was required to use by the cafe.

two of the four boys are ogling at you so intensely that they might as well have drool hanging off their desperate lips. a third boy is keeping his eyes fixated on the table as if he doesn’t want to look at you — which is something you’re not quite used to. and eren is staring at you with his mouth gaping open, which he quickly shuts before any of his friends can notice.

he decided to sit back and watch, an amused look on his face as you continue to flaunt your extra-girly facade. he decides that now isn’t a great time for introductions to his bonehead friends — plus he knows you’re nothing like this in real life, so it’s entertaining to watch you act so out of character.

not to mention you look hot as fuck in your skimpy maid outfit — the tight corset-like top hugged your breasts perfectly and your skirt was so short he could practically see the base of your ass cheeks. he could definitely get used to seeing you like this.

but his amusement quickly started to fade as connie and jean shamelessly showered you in compliments and flirted with you like their lives depended on it. and what makes it worse is you’re playing along — he gets that it’s your job but still, can’t you just tell them to shut the fuck up?

he shoots the two idiots across from him a dirty look as soon as you walk away, “hey dumbasses, cut the girl a break”.

“hey man, i didn't hear you call dibs or anything,” connie raised an eyebrow at him.

“yeah dude, we’re just fucking around, chill,” jean added, a light laugh hanging off his last word.

eren couldn’t do anything but roll his eyes in response. he didn’t want to outright expose your relationship yet but he wouldn’t be able sit here and watch this all night either.

his blood was practically boiling when you returned with a tray full of their drinks. connie and jean turned their charms right back on for you, and fuck, if he had to hear you call them “master” one more time he was gonna lose his mind.

“armin get the fuck out of the booth,” he glared at the blonde boy, practically pushing him out of the booth so he could get to you.

armin yet out a small yelp, clambering out of his seat and letting eren climb out after him. the dark haired boy gave you the sweetest smile, but his eyes were lit up like flames.

“hey, mind showing me where the bathrooms are?”

you find yourself frozen in place for just a second, but quickly recover and give him a quick “of course master, follow me!”

the two of you walk to the bathroom in silence, but you can practically feel the heat radiating off of eren.

when you reached the restrooms you opened the door for him and bowed your head, but he grabbed your wrist and yanked you inside behind him, earning a small yelp from you. you noticed him snap the lock down behind him, and before you could even question his motives you were backed into a wall with his lips working roughly against yours.

“so this is what you do all day? walk around with your ass hanging out while calling people master?” he growled in your ear while moving down towards your neck and placing violent kisses along the sensitive skin.

“i- ah- if it bothers you-“ you breath out between gasps, your hands pressed defensively to his chest, “god, you reek of pot, eren”.

“no, it doesn't bother me, i love watching you flirt with other men. but let me remind you who you actually belong to now,” he murmured, voice dripping with sarcasm as he nibbled up to your ear and his hands fondled with the zipper at the back of your uniform.

“eren!” a strangled yelp leapt from your throat as he unzipped you and let your costume fall around your ankles.

for a second you thought about trying to stop him, but his hot lips against your cool skin was starting to win you over. your neck was undoubtedly covered in bruised love marks now, your skin aching in the most beautiful way.

“take it all off,” he mumbled into your ear as he snapped the strap of your bra against your skin.

“we’re in a bathroom eren, i don’t-“ you tried to reason with him, but any inkling of a rational thought was long gone from his mind.

“what’s with all the protests? you had no problem following orders when my friends were the ones giving them,” he cocked an eyebrow at you and lifted his loose shirt over his head in one swift motion.

you could have retorted or made a jab back at him, but your attention was caught up in the perfect lines of eren’s physique. between the sculpted curves of each of his muscles, his dark hair tied in a loose knot at the base of his neck, and the evil smirk across his lips, you were rendered indefensible. everything about eren was so intoxicating, and the idea of letting him have his way with you right now, in this bathroom, was starting to sound less and less like a bad idea. you weren’t sure how long you’d been staring and admiring when his lusty voice filled your ears again.

“did you forget how to use that pretty mouth of yours? i’m sure i can give you a little refresher,” he faked a frown and pointed to the floor with his index finger.

without a shred of reluctance you sunk to his feet. he had you in a state of utter compliance now, and all he had to do was mutter a few arrogant words and take off his shirt — you were almost ashamed, almost.

after a few smooth movements of his fingers against the drawstrings of his sweats, the tip of his member was hanging mere centimeters from your face. you glanced up at him with giant eyes as he stared down at you with his clouded ones. between his raging hunger for your body and the high that was still clouding his mind, there wasn't a single coherent thought in eren’s head other than the way your lips would feel wrapped around his cock.

“open up, princess. if you wanna act like a slut, i’ll treat you like one,” he grabbed the back of your head and forced it forward.

your lips parted without even thinking, and he thrusted his full length down your throat without any warning. you were left coughing and sputtering, the walls of your throat constricting against his cock and sending a few curses from his lips.

he slowed down slightly after that, but kept a steady pace as he mouth-fucked you until tears were leaking down your cheeks. you were gagging and coughing and your face was stained with salty saline but you loved every second of it. his head rolled back as raspy grunts fell from between his teeth, his fist tightening at your scalp.

after he thought you’d finally had enough he pulled back and released your hair from his steel grip. his cock was aching now, coated in a thick layer of your sticky saliva and yearning for more.

“get on the counter,” he ordered, and you scrambled to your feet in a way that was embarrassingly desperate.

you boosted yourself up onto the cool countertop, positioned perfectly between two sinks and leaning back against the mirror. eren placed a firm grip on each of your legs, shoving them open and snickering at the slick patch of fabric between your thighs.

“you like being treated like a whore, don’t you?” he clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth and reached down at your panties before yanking them off in one fell swoop.

he squatted down so his face was level with your cunt, sticking out his tongue and dragging it up to your clit with antagonizing slowness. he moved the warm muscle up and down, sliding it between your folds and in circles around your clit — but his tongue was just barely making contact. and every time you bucked your hips towards him, begging and yearning for just a little more he’d pull his head back and click his tongue at you.

you were aching, leaking, and so incredibly needy for him and he knew it. he’d transformed you into the crumpled mess laying before him in a matter of minutes, and he was very proud of it.

“i’d start begging if i were you, or i’ll leave you here like this — a stupid broken slut with no one to fuck her,” he stood up and cocked his head to the side before beginning to tease your entrance with a single finger.

“ah- eren, please! i’ll do whatever you want,” you whimpered at him, a pitiful look on your face.

“eren? you know you’re not supposed to call customers by their name here,” he shook his head, “you’ll have to do better than that”.

“please- master, use me however you want. just please fuck me already”.

that seemed to suffice for eren, because after that it didn’t take long for him to shealth himself inside you and have your sweaty back slamming into the glass mirror behind you. strangled moans and pitiful whimpers slipped from between your lips, your eyes rolling back into your head in complete bliss. he’d teased and tormented you for so long that the sudden intense stimulation was almost too much.

he fucked himself into you so hard you thought you might break — your legs ached and your back hurt from awkwardly leaning into the mirror. but those feelings were quickly pushed to the back of your head because the overwhelming pleasure was so forceful that you could barely focus on anything else. eren’s length was grinding deep into your aching caverns so good that it was completely clouding your brain.

you let out a stifled gasp when he abruptly pulled out, leaving you feeling empty and aching for more.

“why-,” your voice was so destitute and so, so desperate.

“shut up and stand in front of me,” he commanded, pulling you off the counter and twisting you so you were facing the bathroom mirror.

“look at yourself in the mirror and watch me fuck you,” he practically snarled, placing a palm on your back and pushing your chest down against the counter, “look at how much of a slut you are for me”.

the only response that came out of your mouth was a tiny whine of acceptance — it was pathetic.

a breathy moan fell from your lips as he slid back in, and your cheeks blushed a dark shade of red as you watched yourself get fucked from behind. it was embarrassing, humiliating even, having to see yourself like this, but what made it even worse was that you fucking liked it.

“look at yourself,” he nodded towards the mirror, picking up his pace and tightening his grip on your hips, “just a dumb whore who’s good for nothing but taking orders from other people”.

“only- you!” you let out a strangled yelp.

“what was that? i don’t think i heard you,” he thrusted hard, reaching deeper than he had the entire time and then leaning over your back so his head was positioned right next to yours.

“say it again,” he murmured, burning holes through your eyes with how intensely he was staring at you in the mirror.

“i’m a dumb whore, but only for- you,” you repeated, squirming and whining at the painful pleasure he was forcing into you.

“that’s right,” he flashed you a satisfied grin, standing back up and resuming his original pace.

the sudden shift had you clawing at the smooth countertops — desperately wishing you had a pillow or sheet to grasp onto for some kind of support. you flinched when you felt a couple of his cool fingertips find your clit, immediately rubbing hasty circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“i want you to come for me,” he locked eyes with you in the mirror again, “and i want you to think about how i’m the only one who will ever make you feel this good the entire time”.

his words were harsh but they sounded like honey when they flowed through your pathetically devoted ears. between his consistent thrusts and the pads of his fingers working their magic, you were a pitiful mess of whimpers and moans in a matter of minutes. your body twitching and legs shaking as you mumbled his name over and over — it was the only word your brain could comprehend right now.

seeing you like that nearly pushed eren over the edge himself, but he forced himself to last a little longer, wanting to milk your orgasm for everything that it was. he was genuine when he said no one else would ever make you feel the way he could — your head was spinning and your body was on a high that felt like it would never end.

only once your body finally fell limp and tired, signifying that your climax had ended, did he pull out and spray his seed all over your exposed back. you were a sticky, sweaty mess and your legs didn’t have the strength to stand even after eren was done coming down from his own high.

your face was buried in your arms when you felt a wet paper towel cleaning up the mess of semen off your back. eren tossed the towel into the garbage and wrapped his arms under your torso so he could help your pitiful self stand up. you let out a few pained whimpers, stumbling into his arms and wrapping your hands around his neck.

“that bad, huh? how are you gonna go back out there and work for all your masters? i’m sure they’re waiting,” he smirked at you, and there was no sympathy in his voice.

“i- i don’t think i can,” you whined, clinging to him as your legs continued to shake underneath you.

eren shook his head and clicked his tongue, helping you over to your clothes and assisting you with getting back into your uniform. even after getting dressed your legs refused to work — you were a shaky, stumbling mess. you sat in a pitiful heap against the tiled wall while you watched eren get his own clothes back on.

“i think you might need a new job,” he snickered, squatting down and lifting you onto his back once he was dressed.

you graciously climbed onto his back, arms wrapping around his neck and burying your face into his neck, “yeah, yeah i’ll get a new job”.

“good idea, because everyone’s about to see how pathetic you are as we walk through the cafe,” he wrapped his arms back under your backside to support your weight.

“there’s a back exit right down the hall, please take that one,” you begged, “please”.

“well. since you asked so nicely and did so well i guess you deserve that,” he complied, exiting the bathroom and following your directions to the back door.

but because you have the worst luck in the world, one of the cafe managers came walking right around the corner just as the two of you were about to leave. you buried your head deeper into eren’s neck, unbearable amounts of embarrassment and shame flooding your veins.

“hey man, she quits, sorry!” eren yelled and handled it for you, dashing out the back door before the manager could even comprehend what he’d just seen.

“thank you,” you mumbled into his shirt, and you were truly thankful that you didn’t have to speak for yourself in there.

“no problem, princess,” he adjusted one of his hands so he could squeeze your ass, making you jump against his back, “let’s head back to my house for round two, yeah?”

“r-round two?” you stuttered.

you could barely handle round one, and he was ready to go again? how!?

“i’m joking, relax. let’s go watch a movie or something,” he chuckled, hoisting you higher on his back and beginning your long walk back to his apartment.

you sighed and sunk into his back, that sounded nice. there was a huge difference in how eren acted earlier and how he was acting now, but you were a sucker for both personalities. you expected college to consist of classes and work and maybe a few new friends but meeting eren yeager was sure to make it a lot more interesting.

#attack on titan smut #aot smut #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyoujin smut #eren yeager #eren #eren yeager smut #eren smut #eren yeager x you #eren yeager x reader #eren x reader #eren x reader smut #smut #eren jeager smut #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager x you #attack on titan x reader

1K notes · View notes

donutloverxo · 4 years

Text

Riding

*not my gif*

Please do not steal or repost my works. Reblogs are welcome.

Part two to interruptions but can be read as a stand alone as well. My entry to our weekly challenge.

Summary - Steve's cock is too big. Will you be able to ride it?

Warnings - smut, light bondage, dom steve, sub reader, light anal stuff, mean daddy Steve

Pairing - Steve Rogers x brat!reader

Word count - 1.7k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

You waddled the whole way back to your room, cursing at Steve the entire time. Here you thought you could go to his office, flutter your eyelashes and be cute so you could get what you wanted from him: attention. You should've known better. Steve was soft most of the time, he could never resist, especially not when you call him your daddy and give him your puppy eyes, make him pity you and love you.

But he had no room for disobedience, he let you know that plenty of times. He had never , how ever not made you cum. He did fulfil your wish, you’d give him that, he fucked you senseless, both your pussy and your mouth, but he didn’t let you cum. That’s just preposterous. That man loved eating you out and prided himself on making you delirious with pleasure. What’s more is that he filled you up with his seed and made you walk all the way over to your apartment.

You laid on your side of the bed waiting for Steve. You felt his spend seep out of you. You could use it to play with yourself. Maybe break out your dildo, it had been a while since you’d used it. Would pissing Steve off some more work in your favor tonight? Probably not.

You sat up as you heard the knob to your bedroom door being twisted. You gulped at the sight of your man. His long jean clad legs made their way to you. You perked up in excitement as you saw him taking his Henley and undershirt off.

It was time to suck up some more. “Can I suck you off again daddy? Please?” You gave him a shy smile hoping he'd show you some mercy.

You moaned at the sight of him removing his jeans, the buckle of his belt clanking against the floor. “No” He grunted as he plopped down next to you “I’m pretty tired I’m going to sleep. Maybe tomorrow princess” He said but you could still make out the small smirk on his face.

“Oh then I should get comfortable too” You shrugged taking off your shorts and shirt, leaving you completely nude. Two can play at that game. You snuggled up to his side making sure to press up your breasts against him. “I can still feel you inside me daddy. It feels so warm and nice” you rubbed your thighs together “I’ll stain the sheets” You shook your head “That’s okay. You’ll help me change them tomorrow right?”

He hummed at that. You threw your leg over his hip smirking at the feel of his erection. “You wanna feel daddy? I think you’ll like it” you took his hand bringing it between your legs. You ran his fingers up and down your folds. Your slick mixed with his cum. You swore you heard him gulp beside you.

He growled climbing on top of you pining your hands above your head and pressing you into the mattress with his body. “Enough of your games” he released you hands digging into the drawers in your bedside table. “What are you doing?” You asked, desperately pushing your core up against his hard cock. Which was unfortunately covered by his black briefs. You stopped as soon as he gave you an angry look.

“You’re really testing my patience today” He warned pulling out the red silk ties he often liked to use on you. Whenever he felt you weren’t being good and didn’t deserve to touch him or just because he felt like it. You presented your wrists to him, to get in his good graces, so he could tie them up. You watched in awe as he wrapped the ties around your wrist tying it up in a complicated knot. He pressed your bound wrists above your head, into your pillow. “These stay here. Understood?”

You half heartedly nodded, disheartened at the fact that you wouldn’t be able to grab his ass or dig your nails into his back. He harshly slapped you on your thigh. “Yes! Yes daddy, I understand” You said quivering your lips, he only leaned back to take his briefs off. Dammit none of your tricks were working today. You whimpered at the sight of his hard cock, slapping against his abs. He pushed your thighs apart as he settled between your thighs.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of his cock. With the two veins running up from his base, his angry pink mushroom head dripping with your favorite creamy goodies. “Daddy, can I ride you?” You asked before you could think otherwise. You cursed yourself as soon as the words left your mouth.

You had never ridden Steve’s glorious cock. You tried once but he was too big for you and because he likes to take care of you. He liked being in control anyway. Any other day, he might’ve considered it. But with how mad he was right now, you seriously doubt it.

He chuckled at you “Fine princess. Why don’t you give it a shot” You frowned at his patronising tone. You’ll show him. Or at least try to. He settled on his back beside you, one hand under his head and another lazily stroking his cock. You got up and straddled his thighs. You put your bound wrists in front of him. Hoping he’d get the message and take them off, for now.

“What?” he sighed, his strokes becoming faster.

“Stop that! It’s my job” You whined pushing his hand away from his cock. You whimpered again as he laughed at your neediness. He put both his hands under his head smirking up at you. “Uh...daddy will you take it off” You requested.

“No” He smacked your ass. You yelped as you fell forward but balanced yourself with your bound wrists on his abdomen. “I’m waiting” He said Impatiently, stretching out under you.

“Mm” You were nervous but you could do it. You moved a bit forward so you could line him up with your pussy. You were already lubed up and turned on so he slid in pretty easy. Your moan turned into a whimpered as you completely sank down on his cock, sitting on his pelvis. You closed your eyes, feeling so filled up, so content and complete. It was as if a part of you was missing and he was finally back inside you, where he belonged. You moved your hips in slow languid circles, rubbing your clit against his pelvis.

“Ah!” You yelped again as he spanked your ass, the smack echoing in the room and leaving a delicious burn, You fell forward, putting your weight on your wrists which sat on his abdomen.

“Do it properly” He commanded. His tone leaving no room for negotiation. “You said you wanted to ride me. Think you can’t take it?” He quirked a brow at you.

You took a deep breathe raising your hips, whimpering as he slid out of you. Slowly and unsurely you sank back down on his cock, his tip hitting your cervix as you threw your head back. You looked at his lust blown eyes, his contorted face, pleading silently to help you out a bit. He pushed his hips up hitting your special spot as you screamed in pleasure which almost etched on pain.

“Come on baby you can do it” he cooed and you cried at his praise.

Soon you were bouncing up and down on him as he kept spuring you on “Such a good doll” He said one of his hands coming up to fondle your breasts, his thumb grazing your stiff nipple before he pinched it before his thumb and his finger. “You look so pretty fucking yourself on me princess” He wondered out loud.

You increased your pace, chasing your end, his cock hitting your spot should render you all worn out and useless, but right now you wanted to please him more than anything and show him how strong and capable you were. “I can –“ you couldn’t finish your thought distracted by his palm squeezing your ass, his thumb pressing into your pluckered hole and his other hand squeezing and playing with your titts.

“I think I like this” he smiled “I get to touch you anyway I like” you gasped as he pulled his thumb out of your bum and spanked you again “You can what sweetheart?” He asked looking into your hooded eyes, his hand which was playing with your titts coming up to caress your cheek.

“Nothing” You shook your head as you tried your best to keep sliding him in and out of you, suddenly feeling so exposed and vulnerable in front of him. He could see all of you, struggling so hard.

He said your name sternly holding onto your face and asking you again “You can what? Answer your daddy”

“I can feel you. So uh –“ you tried your best to contain your moan but it slipped out “so deep inside me” you said feeling yourself almost tipping over the edge. He groaned at your words, firmly holding onto your hips “Can I come daddy? Please?”

“Yeah you can come princess” He planted his legs hard on the mattress and he held onto the back of your neck. He drive up into you, hitting your spot relentlessly until he had you cumming and milking his cock. You couldn’t hold yourself up you collapsed on his chest as he kept fucking into you until he came, spilling his seed inside you, making you feel even more full.

You went into the cloudy state, the one where you always went after being fucked into oblivion, you called it your heaven. You whined as he pulled out of you. You had hoped he’d be inside you longer, so he could keep his cock and your insides warm. He put you back on your back as his fingers worked to undo the silk ties that held your wrists together. “Wh – what are you doing?” You stammered as you felt his hot tongue swipe a strip against your raw and overworked pussy.

“I’m cleaning you up” He sucked onto your clit drawing a groan out of you “So you don’t stain the sheets. Lay back princess” He pressed his palm on your stomach as he cleaned you up and made you cum some more to make up for his meanness.

Tags will be in the reblog! If you want in on the taglist click the link in the bio or leave me an ask!

3K notes · View notes

cheekygreenty · 3 years

Text

Little Witch - Part 9

The Darkling x Reader

🌶smut warning 🌶

He looked at you with such an intense stare of passion and longing it made you uncomfortable to be standing so far away from him. He stood and walked toward you, painfully slow, the dimness of the room highlighting his beautiful face. The tension in the room was electric, the smallest flint would set the space ablaze.

His hand reached around your throat, eyes still peering into your own, and slowly lead your back into the bookcase. He applied some pressure and leaned his head in by your ear.

'You really misbehaved today' He placed a gentle kiss behind your ear. You could do nothing but melt into his hot touch.

'I know' you whispered, seemingly out of breath.

His black eyes stared into yours and through to your soul. You were bare to him, all your anger and frustration and lust left exposed for him to see and fix. His grip on your throat tightened, heat pooled in your lower half, igniting your body alive.

'My guards think I'm a fool, a fool...whipped for a woman who dresses like a Queen' He nipped at your ear, then kissed the base of your throat.

You said nothing as his other hand found its way under your gown and lingered its fingers against your hips, then dipped into you. You let out a whimper.

'Maybe it's time I tell them it's their Deputy General, don't you think' He looked at you again, his fingers still in you, pleasuring you to the point of rendering you silent 'bar a moan here and there. You had no mind to process what he'd just said, there was only one thing on your mind.

You grabbed the sides of his face and pulled him to your lips.

The kiss was animalistic, both sides fighting the fight, your teeth clashed and tongues wrestled. His hold on your throat loosened as it traveled to grip the back of your neck instead.

Your own hands went to the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and over his head. You scratched at his back, a deep growl leaving his throat as he lifted you off the ground.

His hands snaked their way under your nightgown, kneading your thighs in his hands. Your thoughts were whirling with him, his scent, his touch, you lived for it.

You felt your back hit a comfortable bed, silk sheets. His lips never left yours but his hands did lift the only article of clothing separating you off of your body in one swift motion.

He pulled away to view you fully. He loved this sight. You were completely at his mercy. Your chest rapidly rising up and down with every breath you took, or the wetness he seen dripping down your thigh. It was because of him. He rid himself of his trousers and traced his hand up your thigh.

'Aleksander, please no teasing, not this time.'

Not this time.

He didn't hesitate. He locked his lips with you again, this time it was sweeter, more memorable. It was like old times. You both savored each second of it. You felt him rub your heat and moaned into his mouth. 'Please, I need you'

He did as you said, slowly slipping into you. It had been so long but it felt so natural. You two clicked right back into place. He held you to him tight as he let you adjust and with a sweet kiss, moved and let the bliss begin.

It felt heavenly; otherwordly. You forgot how good it felt. It went all night, one, two, three... you lost count. You were making up for all the lost time.

Once you were completely spent, you laid your hair on his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat. His fingers lazily tracing lines on your back.

'I love you, I never stopped'

You whipped your head up. Baghra's words echoed in your head 'He moved onto the next girl.'

Liar.

'You would be stupid to assume I did too' You kissed him again despite the tiredness looming over you.

'I love you Aleksander Morozova.' and with that, you dozed off, replaying the events of the night over and over again with a smile on your face, the rage and anger gone.

******

You woke up hours later, the room still dark and Aleksander staring at you. You focused your eyes, his shadows swirling all around you.

-Flashback-

The sun streamed into the room waking you up, much to your annoyance. You loudly groaned and felt the other side of the mattress for Aleksander but came up empty-handed. 'Aleksander?'

'Yes, love?' He chuckled as he walked out of the washroom, dressed to perfection in his black kefta. He walked over to you and kissed your temple. 'Good Morning' You caught a whiff of his signature scent; cedar and fresh pine.

'Does it have to be?' you complained and dug your head into your pillow.

'Whatever you wish'

His shadows quickly returned the room to a state of darkness, where the both of you felt most at peace.

'Thank you. I love you' You found his hand and gently kissed it, leaving a lingering feeling of warmth and home for him.

And that's how every morning went; stolen kisses and pleas of darkness. Until you disappeared.

Your eyes teared up at the simple gesture. Your old life was finally coming back to you after so many years of adversity.

'Thank you.' you sniffed and reached out for his touch but stopped yourself. You shut your eyes, trying to calm down the sudden feeling of hunger for what was his. You thought that spending the night in his bed would curb the feeling of hunger you had for his power. Guess not.

'Take it'

You found his eyes in the darkness. They were full of love and trust. He trusted you. He never stopped.

'You've gone so long without it. Take it back'

But you didn't want to. You didn't trust yourself anymore after yesterday's fiasco.

'Aleksander, I-I don't think I can'

'Yes you can. As much as I know you can defend yourself, I want to know that your as safe as you can be, this is my way of protecting you even when I'm not there. You're not leaving again.' He inched his hand closer.

'A lot of people don't know who you are, and when they find out what you're there to do, I doubt they'll be erecting alters in your name' He was referring to your job, Deputy General.

'Alek-'

'Please Y/N, for me'

You felt him softly setting his own hand in your palm, a warm feeling settling under it. You grasped onto the feeling and stretched it within yourself. It spread throughout your body, filling the emptiness you felt and hated. Your eyes shut on instinct, your head filling with darkness. Your hold on him tightened and the shadows around you died out, letting the morning light in.

'Y/N' he called out to you and you could hear him loud and clear, but your mind swirled with the images of black shadows. You glanced at your hand and let it out, a single sliver of shadow entangled in a flame danced around the room, this was new, you stared at it in awe. As did he.

You felt whole again. You had Aleksander by your side and a set of powers that would undoubtedly change Ravka.

His hand brushed a hair out of your face and he looked at you, breaking your concentration on the masterpiece you had created. The admiration was evident on his face and his eyes swirled with reverence, he worshipped you.

'You always find a way to amaze me.'

Part 10

Taglist

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204

Y/N and Aleksander are back bitches 🥰

#grisha #imagine #the darkling #shadow and bone #the darkling x reader #alexander #alexander morozova #fanfic #ben barnes #general kirigan x reader #black general #general kirigan #kefta #series #littlewitch

202 notes · View notes

lockefanfic · 3 years

Text

White Silk

Parts One, Two, and Three of this series of oneshots.

There were only few moments in your life when you truly cared about the weather.

Once when your much-anticipated camping trip was spent inside your tents hiding from a torrential downpour. Another time when your apartment’s air conditioning broke down during an unprecedented heat wave. A final time when icy roads brought you close to you wrapping your car around a tree.

This was another one of those moments. Outside, what seemed like the storm of the century battered the building relentlessly, turning the day into a dark, stormy mess.

Inside, however, Lee Jieun somehow still managed to shine.

She was utterly beautiful - no, beautiful seemed inadequate to describe the sight. She stands with her back half turned to you, her perfect silhouette framed by the window. And while it is dark and stormy outside, she somehow still manages to glow, her very presence seeming to battle against the gloom that pervaded the rest of the day, seeming to defy it, seeming to tell it “No, your rain and clouds will not dim my brightness.”

She turns when you enter the room - and time slows to a crawl. It was like one of those moments in the movies when the female lead meets the male lead for the first time. As she turns her head, her hair, unstyled and seemingly also unbrushed but somehow still flawless, whips carelessly over her bare shoulder, almost as if in slow motion - a shampoo commercial come to life.

Wrapped around her lithe, thin frame is a white silk dress. Made of the finest of materials and woven by the most talented of seamstresses, it is almost a work of art in and of itself - but without the young woman on whom it draped it is little more than a useless scrap of overpriced fabric. No, the woman made the dress, and not the other way around. It is she that makes the dress beautiful.

From the second you met her so many years ago you’d thought she was the most beautiful woman you’d ever met - but right now, as a bride on her wedding day, you knew she’d never been more beautiful. All women are beautiful - but on their wedding day they glow just a little brighter.

Jieun’s eyes meet yours. A glimpse of a surprised reaction - one she quickly hides. She opens her mouth to speak, and you expect some eloquent, powerful observation on the storm raging outside, and how it will not affect her spirits.

“I need some fucking alcohol,” she spits.

You smirk a little at her first words of the day to you. She looked like a princess, but sometimes she had the tongue of a sailor.

“Sorry,” you answer as you step towards her, “there’s no bar on the premises, unfortunately, although I hear the reception will have one. Cash bar, though, so best hit up an ATM before arriving.”

Jieun sighs and returns her attention to staring out the window. You feel the room get a little dimmer as she takes her attention away from you.

“Of course not. Nothing today can go right, apparently.”

You stand beside her, staring out the same window at the angry grey skies and the seemingly endless torrential downpour.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she says after a few shared seconds watching the raindrops trace random patterns on the glass.

“You’re not exactly kicking me out.”

Jieun scoffs. “Well everything else today is going horribly wrong so yeah, why the hell not have you show up?”

“What else is going wrong, exactly?”

“The photographer came down with a cold, so the best we can muster is my cousin and his fucking iPhone. The hair and makeup artist I hired is stuck in traffic on the other side of the city and probably won’t make it here on time, which is why I currently look like a fucking college student on the wrong end of a weed bender. The florist thought the wedding was tomorrow, so the only flowers we have are those sad looking almost-dead bouquets from the fucking gas station. Oh, and the reception hall had a goddamn double booking and neglected to tell us that the banquet hall won’t be available until 10pm, once the fucking high school math olympics has finished its awards ceremony!”

You frown. There wasn’t really much you could do to ameliorate the situation.

“Clusterfuck and a half,” you state.

“Clusterfuck and three quarters,” she counters, “coming real close to two full clusterfucks. Compared to all the bullshit that’s already gone down today, yeah, fuck it, you may as well be here, even when you very clearly shouldn’t be. I’m getting married today, if you didn’t notice.”

You glance over to her for the first time, and even though she is currently wearing a frown on her cute little features, you are nonetheless still struck by her beauty. Such a cheesy thing to admit to - being awestruck by a woman. It was something that surely only happened in books and movies and on Netflix; surely in real life no woman could ever be so beautiful as to render a man temporarily physically paralyzed.

But Lee Jieun had a way of doing that to you. She did it when she walked into the busy downtown Korean barbeque place that your mutual friend had dragged her to on that fateful day so many years ago. She did it when she just so happened to sit next to you, and again when she reached out her slim, pale hand and introduced herself with a cute handshake and a blinding smile.

And she did it every single day you’d met her since. Today was no different, even if it was one of the most important days of her life.

“I overheard one of the bridesmaids saying you weren’t doing so well,” you say. “I had to make sure you were going to make it up the aisle.”

“Well I feel nauseous as fuck at the moment so I might make it up there only to barf all over the goddamn groom when I get to the altar.”

“What a lucky guy.”

“Damn straight. He gets to spend his entire life boning this hot piece,” she says with an exaggerated flourish of her hand over her body that was more sarcastic than serious, a deadpan frown on her face.

“I’m jealous,” you say.

Jieun buries her face in her hands, where she lets out a long sigh.

“Are you sure you don’t have a shot of soju in your jacket or something?”

“No,” you say. “I do have these, though.”

“I swear to god if you’re referring to your balls I’m gonna punch-”

When she lifts her head from her hands, she finds you with your arms wide open and the cheesiest of smiles on your face.

It begins slowly - just a slight crack of an upward tilt at the corners of her mouth, like a small ray of light piercing dark clouds. Eventually her soft pink lips and cute cheeks follow suit, and soon the metaphorical clouds part, her face surrendering to the reluctant smile and short chuckle that she allows to escape her mouth along with an adorable little snort.

She steps forward into your embrace, and you wrap your arms tightly around each other.

“You’ve always been there for me,” she says, her words muffled by your chest.

“I always will be.”

“Even when I’m married?”

“Especially when you’re married. Married guys can be dicks.”

Jieun chuckles again, and the soft vibration of her laugh against your chest makes your heart sing. She presses herself closer against you, as though she were fleeing from the accumulating problems of the day and had just found a hiding spot in your arms.

“How much time do I have?” she asks, barely audible.

“About an hour or so, I’d say,” you reply. Only a few of the guests had arrived and the groomsmen and bridesmaids were occupied with putting out the myriad of little fires that came up during weddings. There was still some time to yourselves before the start of the show.

“Then kiss me,” she says, lifting her head from your chest.

Time slows again. Time moves slowly, almost incrementally slowly, as you bend your head to kiss her.

It felt so wrong, so dangerous - but it also felt so right, so perfect. You should not have been there, not on her wedding day, mere minutes before she was to walk down the aisle. You could have, and perhaps should have, been anywhere but here.

But Jieun had always had that hold over you. You didn’t think yourself whipped for any other woman in your life, but when Jieun called you answered - no questions asked. You hated yourself for it sometimes, hated that a woman could have such overwhelming control over you, could have you wrapped around her finger like she did.

But one smile - and sometimes, one kiss - was all it took to remind you why you did it: you were in love with her.

The kiss deepens, becoming something more passionate, more needy. Tongues begin to explore familiar mouths and find their counterparts willing and ready to touch and taste. Hands tighten around torsos. Hips press against hips. The bride tries to find solace from a day of ruined plans in the kiss and embrace of a man that meant so much to her.

You are happy to leave it there - merely seeing her was already probably a mistake - but Jieun was never one to stop things she had started. She breaks the kiss and pulls at the back of your head until your mouth is on her neck, and you begin devouring the sweet, pale flesh there with your hungry lips and tongue. She cranes her neck up and back, offering up more of herself to you.

Her hands slip between your bodies to work at your belt, which she quickly undoes.

“Here..?” you manage to gasp in between kisses. She was taking your breath away, again, although this time for another reason.

“Here,” she snaps, as though she were surprised you would even dare to ask, “Everything else is going wrong. I need this now. I need you now. Fuck me like you always do. One last time.”

Before you could say anything further she has you out of your boxers, her slim fingers suddenly cold and chilly around your quickly hardening shaft. Soon she has you at full stiffness. It doesn’t take you long. It never did. Especially not now, given the circumstances. Given the knowledge that the hand wrapped around your shaft and pumping it up and down would soon have a shiny diamond ring on it for the rest of her life.

You groan into her neck as the pleasure she is conjuring inside your body begins to overtake your senses. You feel her cheeks move against the side of your face - a wicked smile on an angel’s lips.

You are content to let her have her way with you, but you are reminded of her request - to fuck her the way you always did. And when you fucked, you were the one in control. Her innocent, girl-next-door exterior belied the fact that she loved to be taken, loved to be called names and used - and you weren’t one to disappoint her, even today, on this most important of days. You hated yourself sometimes for how much control she had over you in your day-to-day life; but you relished the fact that in your most intimate moments the roles were very much reversed.

You bring your hands to her shoulders and turn her around until she is facing the wall. She lets out a gasp of surprise - one that turns into a low moan as you press yourself, and your stiff shaft, against her. She braces herself against the glass, her forearms and palms flat against it.

Your hands, still on her shoulders, trace the top edge of the perfect white dress wrapped around her like a second skin. When they reach the front of her dress, you grasp the top edge and pull downward.

Jieun gasps as you pull the dress down to expose her breasts, and you grin devilishly over her shoulder as you watch her reflection in the glass as her small, perfect round mounds bounce free from their silk prison. Before she can react further your hands are already on them, squeezing them none too gently, enjoying the feel of her body molding itself into your hands, her already stiffened nipples poking between your fingers.

“You gonna let me fuck you on your wedding day, Jieun?” you hiss into her ear.

“Fuck yes,” she hisses, her breath a mist upon the glass, “I want you to fuck me right fucking now.”. She reaches down, pulling her long, flowing skirt up to bunch it around her waist. It takes her a while - her skirt is so long - but soon the pale, perfect round cheeks of her pert little ass are laid bare, your cock pressing impatiently against her lower back.

You smirk at the sight of her, the perfect little bride on her wedding day, now a wanton, needy little thing, begging for it, begging to be fucked in a dress that was supposed to symbolize her innocence with its pure color. She wasn’t even wearing underwear, as though she knew this would happen, was expecting to be fucked wearing this dress.

“Fuck me,” she snaps, as though every moment you kept her waiting was making her more and more upset. “Fuck me please. I’m so wet for you.”

“Such a slutty little bride,” you observe. ‘So wet and hot already, and I’ve barely touched you.” You pinch her nipples. She sighs. You grin at the sight of her in her pristine white dress, an angel engaged in an act that was not at all angelic.

“Fuck yes. I’m such a slut. Such a slutty little bride. Now fuck me!”

“You want to get fucked against this glass in your pretty little white wedding dress?”

“Mmmm!” Jieun gasps, every sound that leaves her throat dripping now with need, “Please, fuck me now. Fuck this bride’s tight little pussy until you cum in it.”

You let go of her breasts, but not before giving her stiff nubs one last pinch that elicits a sharp gasp from her throat. Your right hand drifts to your cock, you line up your tip with her entrance, and within moments you slip inside Lee Jieun’s body.

You’d had her plenty of times, but today is different - and you wonder if perhaps the circumstances and the sheer audacity of what you were doing somehow added to the way she felt around you. She was slick and hot and wet and so, so very tight. It almost drove you insane to be inside her. Judging by the way her fingers curled against the hard glass, seeking something to claw into as she is filled with your cock - Jieun felt the same.

“Fuck,” she hisses, the curse word leaving her mouth in a breathy sigh. You both take a moment to savor the sensations - hers of being filled, yours of her wet, hot body wrapping itself around your stiff, aching shaft.

You don’t waste any time. You had little to waste, nor did you have any desire to deny yourself the pleasure her body promised. When you withdraw your shaft from between her round cheeks to find it glistening with her juices, you quickly drive yourself back in - this time to the hilt.

Soon you are fucking Lee Jieun against the glass, her naked breasts pressed against it, stiff nipples crushed against the cold surface as she is taken roughly, your cock pumping in and out of her wet, slick pussy at a frantic pace.

If she had problems with the liberties you were taking on her body she was not showing it. Her reactions told you much the opposite - that she loved each thrust into her needy pussy, loved feeling you piston in and out of her at the quick, hard pace you had set for yourselves.

“Oh my… oh my fucking god,” she hisses, her face pressed now against the glass, a soft mist forming on it with each hot breath that leaves her lips. “Fuck me, fuck me like this.”

You are almost afraid to look down, almost afraid to watch your cock pump in and out of her needy body - but you eventually tear your eyes from her pleasure-stricken face to glance down between your torsos.

Her juices are flowing freely, lathering your stiff shaft with a thick sheen of her slick, glistening wetness. Her lips grip every inch of your shaft, parting softly to welcome it in with each thrust, grasping it tightly with each withdrawal as though not wanting to let it go. You reach down and squeeze her tight little ass with both hands, filling your hands with her cheeks, parting them slightly to give you a better view of each thrust of your cock into her slick, wet pussy.

“Oh… oh fuck!” she gasps as you reach a new depth, bottoming out your thrusts now as you fill her with every inch of you, filling the mewling young bride as deeply as you could with stiff cock.

“Fucking take my cock, Jieun,” you snap, bringing your hand up to her chin to tilt it toward you. “Fucking take it.”

“Y-yes! Fuck me… I’m yours. I’m yours!”

The filth of her words, of her submission to you, would have been pleasurable any other time. But now, mere minutes from her marriage - it meant something more, something more perverse - and something more deliciously sinful.

You reach around her torso to grasp a round breast with your free hand, finding her stiff nipple and teasing it at first before pinching and twisting the sensitive bud. You turn her face toward you with the hand on her chin, wanting to watch as every thrust into her body twisted her small, adorable face with little spasms of pleasure. For a few long, delicious minutes you fuck the mewling, squirming young bride against the glass, the pleasure you both found in each others’ bodies far outweighing the filthy wickedness of your act.

“Is your husband going to fuck you like this every single day? Fuck your needy, slutty little pussy whenever he wants?”

“Y-yes!” she manages to gasp, her words interrupted by each thrust of your cock into her juicy pussy, “Yes… whenever… wherever… however he wants!”

“And you want my cum dripping down your legs while you walk down the aisle? While you get married?”

“Yes! Oh fuck please I want it, I want your cum inside me, I want it dripping out of my pussy oh please oh fuck, cum inside me oh fuck cum inside me please, fill my pussy, fill me with cum, fuck me, fuck me, oh, oh I’m cumming, oh--!”

You always dreaded Jieun’s orgasm during sex, because it was so powerful, so overwhelming - not only for her, but for the both of you. And it usually meant that you came soon after.

Jieun turns into a mewling, quivering mess of flesh, held up against the glass only by your hands on her chin and breast - and the cock still pistoning in and out of her pulsating pussy. You fuck her through her orgasm even as you feel your own beckoning, concentrating on each thrust, pushing yourself as deep as you can inside the young bride before pulling out only far enough to thrust right back inside her.

The random pulsating of her slick pussy, the wordless cries of pleasure brought upon her by her orgasm, and the soft breast in your hand - it all combined to push you dangerously close to the edge. But the thought of it - of fucking this needy young woman mere moments before her wedding - and at her demand, no less - it pushed you right over it.

You push yourself as deep inside her as you can go before you finally allow your orgasm to overtake your senses. Your mind tunnels, becoming focused solely on your pulsating cock as it spurts hot, thick semen deep inside Jieun’s tightly gripping pussy. The bride gasps - a soft, lustful sound - with each rope of cum that splashes into her depths, each stream further adding to the mess you’d made inside her body.

You both spend a long minute trying your best to piece your realities back together after your respective orgasms have shattered it, both reduced to heavily breathing, barely standing masses of suddenly weak flesh. It was a quick little session - not more than a few minutes from her first kiss to your mutual orgasm - but it still left you both exhausted, chests heaving in an attempt to refill lungs drained of air.

You reach up, tilt her chin to yours once more, and you give her a kiss - one that was more affectionate than perhaps either of you were ready for, but one you find her returning willingly and passionately.

Slowly you draw your softening shaft out of her body, and Jieun tries her best to clean herself up and look presentable, doing her best to look as though she didn’t just have rough sex minutes before walking down the aisle.

There is a knock on the door. It opens just wide enough for the maid of honor to poke her head inside - and you are thankful that she didn’t decide to do so a few minutes earlier, lest she catch you fucking the bride against the glass. She gives you a quizzical look.

“Isn’t it bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding?” she asks.

“I think we’ve used up all our bad luck for today, Nayeon,” Jieun answers. “What’s a little more bullshit on top of the shit sundae that is our wedding plans?”

Nayeon frowns, confused by the bride’s nonchalance towards the day’s ruined plans. “Aish. Anyway, the makeup lady is here. And one of the groomsmen managed to track down a photographer. One of you should talk to him.”

“Thank you, Nayeon. We’ll just be a few minutes,” you reply.

The maid of honor gives you both a look before she closes the door behind her.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” Jieun says.

“Me neither.”

“I’ll see you up there. You’re walking down that aisle first. Try not to trip.”

“Try not to drip.”

Jieun gives you a punch in the arm, but her hand lingers there for a moment, before sliding down and grasping your hand in hers.

“I love you,” she says.

“And I, you,” you reply.

You kiss her, and the peck on the lips turns into a soft but passionate kiss. She gives one last look out the window and the cloudy, stormy weather that continued unabated outside, although it all seemed to matter a little less to the both of you.

“Let’s go get married,” she says, the smile on her lips all the sunshine you ever needed.

Author’s Note: Short but hopefully sweet. :) I had to sneak in an “I, you” (IU) reference in there somewhere lol.

So I felt kind of bad about the way Green Silk ended and wanted to have a similar twist but this time with a happy ending lol. Also lol at maid of honor Nayeon, I bet being IU’s maid of honor would be a dream come true for her haha.

#kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #male reader #pov smut #lee jieun #iu

424 notes · View notes

dreamii-yume · 3 years

Note

Did you say birthday crumbs? 😌😌😌

I saw the cradle in his bday card and immediately thought. Lilia likes babies. He wants babies. MC can give him a baby... Whether she likes to or not.

It's his birthday! Why don't she fulfill his wish, please?

Yume may be very late for Daddy Lilia’s birthday, but there are never truly a time where we can be “late” for hornii. (΄◉◞౪◟◉｀)

“You would be a great mother. I’m sure of it.”

Lilia had randomly told you that one day as what you initially thought as a strange way of breaking the silence. You didn’t think too much of it, there were more things that the old fae had said that left you speechless after all. You laughed at it and took it as a compliment instead, flattered even. He was truly a man full of surprises, you naively thought that day. You didn’t even notice that glint of mischief in his eyes, a sign that may or may not just be some childish intuition, but he was dead serious.

...You know, thinking back, you should’ve noticed all the signs while it was still there, harmless and tamed. You did not understand what he really meant by it, but you accepted it anyway, since you genuinely thought that he meant no ill will. It was most women’s dream to become a good mother after all and you just happen to be very good at taking care of kids. So, for this talent to be recognized by someone older and more experience than you in raising kids, it made you happy. But ever since that day, Lilia started acting strange towards you.

...For some reason, every time you meet up with him, coincidentally or not, it was always your stomach that he’s most especially delicate to. During one of his surprise acts of affection, his hands would always snake down across your tummy, caressing them through your shirt. Whenever he’ll take the opportunity of resting his head down on your lap, you’ll find him eyeing your stomach with a loving look in his eyes, almost as if he’s waiting for something. Even times when you’ll suddenly find him in your bed the next morning, leaning his ear on it like there’s even something to hear on the other side. When you get scratches and wounds just near your waist line, Lilia would freak out and patched you up as fast as possible, whispering something about how upset he is for something to damage your skin on this specific spot.

You weren’t one to judge people, Lilia was a man full of surprises after all. It wouldn’t be too strange if he has some kind of stomach fetish of some sort. Even though you knew that this man was a lot older than what you already thought, Lilia knows best on how to use his appearance as weapon and mean to get out of the situation. He’s so childish and mischievous, kinda like how a typical young boy would act, and to you, who’s weak against the affections of a child, it was a blade that cuts you deep. It bothered you for a bit, but eventually got used to it, letting him do what he wants.

“Eh? Lilia-senpai, you have kids?”

“You can call them that, but they’re not my own.”

Eventually, you started catching on his true intentions bit by bit and they were surprisingly very wholesome...At first, at the very least. He was very careful of not naming the identity of the children that he took care of, but being able to hear him fondly remembering his moments with them, you came to understand him a bit more. You didn’t want to assume to much to a life that you’re not very familiar with, but a simple thought came into your mind.

Perhaps, Lilia was simply...lonely.

He is fond of children, and had claimed to raise some until they could walk in their own out in the outside world. His bond and love for them was undoubtedly absolute, but as he said, his relation to them was not something that he could call his own. Perhaps Lilia was not interested in your abdominal region alone, but instead of the womb that can bare those children. Thinking that, you almost considered all his actions justified, not that you didn’t before, but at least you have some sort of context behind it. Lilia said that you were going to be a great mother someday, but with these thoughts in your head, you just can’t help but think that it’s a compliment that best suit him instead.

...That’s what you kept thinking as he one day grabbed you by the hand, leading you in the bounds of his room. His hands were so smooth, moving across your arms, legs, and back, giving you goosebumbs along the way. Of course, his last destination was on your stomach, going underneath your shirt and feeling warmness of it all. He nibbles on your neck like a little mouse, but with one wrong move, his fangs could absolutely pierce your flesh open. Charmed by his hypnotic touch, you reaction didn’t quite line in with your rationality as Lilia pulled you by your chin and slammed his lips against yours.

With his tongue playing inside your cavern, his saliva felt as if it was laced with natural aphrodisiac, rendering you immobile. You were surprised, but got you distracted enough to not be able to notice your clothes slowly being stripped away. Chuckling, Lilia couldn’t help but find yo oh-so adorable, having to completely wrap you around his fingers

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

“P...Please...I-I’m so full...” You sobbed as you covered your face in embarrassement, still in disbelief that something like this is happening to you. “Pull out...! Please, I c-can’t take any more...!”

Flinching as his fingers traced over the small bulge in your stomach, filled with the seed that can penetrate the depths of your flower so easily. “Not yet, Love. Just a little more.” He whispered, eyes half-lidded and seemingly drunk with both lust and pleasure. “We’ll have to make sure that you get the most of it in.”

A sharp, burning pain spread from your lower region as he pushed himself in your cunt deeper. “Aagh!” You squeaked as you instinctively grabbed the sheets and grit your teeth. Despite his best attempt of stuffing your hole with his own cock, his overwhelming cum had still managed to seep out through the gaps and stains the bed. Lilia hummed in disappointment, before scooping some in his fingers.

“Aw...What a waste.” He sighed, coming into terms that your human body just doesn’t have enough capacity to hold truck-load of a fae’s love juice. You also hoped that he had come to understand that yourbody is practically giving out on you. You’re exhausted, after being relentlessly fucked for hours, you just wanted to let your heavy eyelids fall but every time you do so, Lilia would use pain to wake you up. However, he took one look at the white substance sticking to his fingers and he proceeded to glance back at you, the look in his eye was not something you appreciated. Unfortunately, you were not given enough time to ponder over what went through his head as he suddenly shoved those cum-filled fingers inside your mouth.

He pinches you tongue, smearing the flavor of his love juice on your taste buds with a sadistic smirk on his face. “...Guess we’ll just have to improvise, yeah~?” He playfully said, as your mouth quavered whilst forcefully tasting his salty juices. You whined at his actions, but Lilia sighed heavenly from just your horrified and tearful expression combined. “Aah...What a good girl...I knew you were the perfect fit for me~!”

To your dismay, he began to move again, motivated to ruin your body both inside and outside once more than it already is. He pulled his fingers out of you, before immediately cupping your cheeks obsessively. “Those eyes...Oh, how I love those eyes.” Lilia said and in an instinct, you closed them as a force of habit when he began to move his hips, dragging your battered walls along. “...The eventual eyes of a dedicated mother, a loving wife.”

“Even after all this time, your eyes haven’t died yet. How wonderful...” You cried as you felt the disruption straight into your womb, toes clenching as you weakly gripped onto him. “This is exactly why...”

“...You would be a great mother, Darling...” Lilia told you once again, reminiscent of his former words but now carries a heavy burden on you. His eyes glows red, learning closer to your lips to give you yet another painful, yet passionate kiss. “...And just the perfect, loving wife that I dreamt of.”

Since I was late, this doesn’t seem to have anything related to Lilia’s birthday at all (*´Д｀*) pls im sorry my head is long been drained but regardless, Yume’s still going to put this in the Birthday Crumbs watch me break my own rules lol

Yume’s Resolution is to get a driver’s license and be better at it, and write sinfics faster. (*´꒳`*) What’s yours, Darlings?

#twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere #lilia vanrouge #yandere lilia vanrouge #Birthday Crumbs

440 notes · View notes

laketaj24 · 4 years

Text

Marked II

Author’s Note: Hello, people! I hope all is well out there! Here is a second part of Marked! I hope that you enjoy it! Let me know what you think! My taglist, requests are open, but I’m slow with the writing here lately. I apologize!

Pairings: Alpha!Henry Cavill x Omega!Reader

Warnings: Dub!Con, Masturbation, Omegavers, Smut

Henry Cavill M A S T E R L I S T

The room smelled of fresh pine, maple syrup, and eggs, a delightful thing to wake up to in your own house and not a stranger’s. You shift beneath the red covers, sitting up in the bed and staring at the plate in front of you. Henry had cooked; there was no walk of shame when breakfast was involved. “About time, you woke up.” The groveled voice of Henry sent sensations down your body, last night still lingered down your body. The kisses on your thighs, the bite mark on your chest. Everything raged for him.

“I didn’t mean to stay the night.” But you were not going to apologize, the sheets were soft, the food was hot, and so the hell was he. The plate called your name, and you answered, picking up the white plate with a blue rim and the fork.

“I don’t mind, I called into work, had some other things I wanted to do.” Henry cocked his thick brow and smiled. “You seemed to sleep pretty well.”

“Yeah.” You started with the bacon, savoring the sweet and salty flavor before clearing your throat. There was no doubt something in you had changed in one night. “So, where do we start?”

“I’m sorry?” He looked confused, but you were not convinced.

“You bit me…” The oversized shirt hung from your shoulder, already making it easy for you to show him the bit mark mid-chest. “Called me… omega,” You swallowed the remaining bits of your bacon.

“That’s what you are, omega.” Henry was a well-toned type of animal, his muscles flexed with each move he made, and he was bulk. And now, for some reason, the only thing you could think when he was near you was how his weight would feel on top of you.

“I don’t know what that is, and nor do I want to hear about it. I want a formal apology for you biting me, and I want you to put on a damn shirt.”

“Am I bothering you?”

“Yes.” You started on the eggs, closing your eyes as you savored the first bite swirling with butter and just the right amount of seasonings. “Thanks for breakfast.”

“You’re welcome.” He shook his head. “Get some clothes on, pet.”

“Pet?”

“Yep.” He turned from the room and headed down the hallway that seemed narrow in comparison to him. “You have a few minutes to get dressed, and we are leaving.”

“To go?”

“Hurry up,” Henry added.

It was odd being across the street from your own home but dressing somewhere else. He had been nifty while you slept, using your keys to get clothes from you all the while hiding them from you so you could not go home. You hopped quickly in the shower, equipped with a glass door. It was evident that he was watching; you could not determine if you were pissed or happy to put on a show. The soaps appeared to be all-natural, the smell of the oils hitting your nose, adding a sense of calm to everything, even though you were anything but calm.

Henry had chosen another dress; you pandered between it being easy to access or the sight of your legs, being the reason why he chose them. Either way, you put on the ivory dress garnished with pink and yellow flowers with a smile, this dress made you think of home. There was no hope to comb your hair; he wouldn’t have known the right supplies anyhow. He waited stoically on the bed as you dressed, admiring you as a wolf would his prey, eyes narrowed and tongue sliding across his lips.

“See something you like.”

He chuckled. “That cocky attitude has to disappear before we head to the Den.”

“The Den.”

“You’ll see.” He stood from the bed, revealing the simple outfit he’d chosen for himself. A white t-shirt the clenched onto those muscles like a glove and dark denim jeans that perfectly hugged his ass. Damn if you weren’t near salivating yourself. “Come on.”

The Den, it was nowhere near the one-way street downtown, like everything else. It was ‘up the way,’ as he said three or four times when you asked Henry. He liked to sing, though every note was offkey; you wanted to watch him do it. He had not one care in the world other than you, and one day in or not, it was more than any of the other men you dated had to offer. The windows were down, and the woody smell only grew stronger the further you drove down the backroad.

“I shouldn’t trust you this much, you know?”

“And why not?” Henry glanced from the road to meet your eyes.

“You could be a killer.”

“I would have killed you already if I were a killer.”

“Some wolves like to play with their food.” You quipped.

“Touché.”

The Den appeared in your view; it was an ominous as you pictured. A cabin-like bar with people standing outside around fire pits. Country. You liked the aesthetic, wasn’t precisely sure if you wanted to be a part of it. He opened the door for you, taking your hand in his to help you step out of the truck.

“Henry.” The hulk of a man walked over to the two of you, burly and covered with hair.

“Jason.” He smiled.

“Omega.” He bit his lip, “She is nearly in heat.”

“I know,” Henry whispered as he walked towards the door, he left you standing alone while he started to converse with Jason.

Every free eye in the area was on you, and the whispers had started. “Scared?” The friendly voice startled you, but he was there to catch you, chocolate eyes met yours as soon as you found your balance.

“No, for what…” You shrugged. “I don’t know these people.”

“But they know you, omega.”

“Okay… what the fuck is an omega?”

“Well, you’ve been marked.” He pointed at the bite mark on your chest. “Your scenting too.”

“Get the fuck away from her.” Henry barked, and the guy scrambled away with his hands up. “Why didn’t you come with me?”

“You left me standing here!” You growled. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

They all looked as if you had broken the law, disgruntled and in awe, everyone but Henry. “You have a fucking cub’s mouth.”

“Cub? Look fucker and all of your equally fucked up friends…”

“She needs training.”

“Enough, Y/N.” Henry was in front of you in a few seconds, he pulled at your arm moving you up the steps and into The Den. And the inside appeared not to be what you thought, there wasn’t a dancefloor, a stage or even a full bar. There was a small bar, no dance floor, just a long hallway leading to a few different rooms.

“Henry.” You whispered.

“Shut up.” He answered once you were to the room. He pushed you inside, and there was nothing fancy about the place, just a bed.

“Why am I here?”

“Because,” he touched your neck. You’d started sweating. The drip was on his fingertips and took them in his mouth, closing his eyes and then growling. “You’re mine.”

“Bullshit excuse, and also no the fuck I’m not.”

“I marked you.” Henry touched your chest. “I made sure the entire pack knew to fuck off…”

“Pack? Omega.”

“Yeah, piece it together.” He moved towards you, shrouding you in his height, his presence in general. His eyes flickered amber, and those beautiful canines made their appearance. Henry had made the thing known; he took what he wanted. He delved his fingers under the line of your panties and groaned. Why the fuck did you go weak when he was around you? They pulled the delicate fabric, and his teeth nipped at your neck. His tongue swiped the sweat, and you felt him hard behind you, instinctively you pushed your ass on him, and to your surprise, he stepped back.

“Since you have no fucking manners, I’ll make you wait.”

The sunset after a few hours, the golden hue of the room faded into the dark, and the only thing that could genuinely be heard was the rustle of the leaves outside the window door along with the occasional bustle of laughter from the men outside. It was no light, or at least you could not find one, you even clapped twice with hopes it would trigger the lights to come on, but there was nothing, just darkness. There was an innate part of you that wanted to try to break down the door and run, but from the looks of the guys in the house, they would not have allowed that to pass unnoticed.

There was no service in the god forbidden place, any call you’d tried would not even ring. You’d given up two hours ago, but your phone had not been rendered useless yet. Music was your only comfort in the place.

The smell of honeysuckles was prominent, a scent that you hadn’t smelled in years. The sweet floral scent was soothing; you stretched out on the bed, parting your legs. Hunger. It had been a while since you truly valued yourself, took the time to give yourself pleasure. This was good as time as any. Your fingers start first exploring the smooth slope of your legs, the curves and dimples all accentuated by the slow pace you’d made for yourself. You’d enjoy yourself, even if he didn’t want to.

You were already wet, pushing your legs together for a moment, and you had drenched your panties and tossed them aside. Moments of last night flashed before your eyes, Henry had a way about him, that fucking muscled body over yours was the first. He had a way of commanding what he wanted, and he hadn’t said one fucking word. You traced over the sore areas of your thighs, the place he’d been anchored in for half the night, and then to your pussy. You were swollen at the thought, pulsing for him. You dipped your fingers into yourself, noticing how you dripped down the curve of your ass without even starting. Fuck.

The slim fingers plunged into you, and you moaned. Fuck, you should have been doing this from the start. The melodic sounds of the Summer Walker filled your ears; Girls Need Love fuck the words the song gave a feeling that was unmoved. Your nipples hardened against your bra, feeling fuller as you gripped them with your free hand and plunged back into your pussy with the other. Your walls were tighter, hungrier than you’d ever noticed. You slipped out, and you wasted no time pressing them upon your clit, rubbing in planned circles. If your clit was a safe, you knew the combination to get you where you needed to be.

Maybe you didn’t notice the door open because your eyes snapped shut, perhaps you didn’t give a fuck who saw you, but the bed dipped down as Henry sat at the edge of it. You couldn’t stop, him being around made it mandatory that you came. You rode your fingers, pushing them back into you, winding your waist before finding a rhythm that suited you.

You didn’t halt when you felt him in between your legs, the heat building as you worked harder, and then it boiled over when his long tongue met your clit. You came, the cum gushed out of you, and your head swirled. The bed was wet, but Henry didn’t seem to mind. He leaned closer, sucking at your clit and then lapping up the sweet slick that came from you. You knew now that the distinct earthy smell was him, as it intensified the closer he got.

His inhaled. “Making you mine was the easy part.” He said.

“You didn’t ask.” You said through labored breath before yelping again.

“An alpha doesn’t ask an omega. He claims her… is that not what you want?”

“I want to know more about you,” Your confession was drenched in lust, your fingers pulled at the curls in his head.

“You’re so sweet Y/N.” He sucked at your clit again, this time riling you to nearly cum again just from that, but he didn’t. You were wound tight, nerves tingled throughout your whole body, and all you wanted was to have him inside you again. Henry cupped your breasts, squeezing them to near pain and then releasing.

You sucked air through your teeth as he moved over the mark on your chest, and only moans can escape after. He tugged at your nipples, twisting, and edging the pain, then he would stop. Lap the juices from your pussy up again and laugh when you whimpered in defeat. He infuriated you.

“Don’t you want me to fuck you, Y/N.”

“Please.” Was it proper to beg, plead for this man to give you what you wanted? “Please, Henry. Fuck.”

In response, he hovers over you and plants a soft kiss to your lips. You could taste yourself; the sweetness resembles the same honeysuckles that had filled the air. What the fuck was going on? His mouth brushed down to your taut nipples, the beard tickling while he sucking at them for a moment, and then his teeth made an appearance biting until you squirmed away and then moving to the next. “I want to mark you again.” He whispered. “I want every fucking person in that room over there to know that this sweet pussy is mine.”

“Do it.” You moaned.

He grinned down at you; the sly smile was full of satisfaction and a carnal lust you’d never experienced. “I will, pet.” He pushed your legs further apart and found the spot that suits him well. He had on no pants, the heat of his heavy cock hung right on your thigh, there was no patience in you. You reached down, taking the weighted cock in your hand then lined him up to enter you, one hard stroke would be all it took to get there.

“Fuck me.” You begged. “Please.”

Henry obliged, thrusting into you so hard the headboard knocked back in response. The mewl that came from you only ignited him more. He slammed into you again and again. It was a moot point to beg for harder or faster because he knew when you wanted it. His pace was untamed, animalistic as he pinned your hands above your head and fucked you.

“Please, don’t stop.” You panted on the precipice of another orgasm. You’d lay beneath him all day and get fucked if it felt this exhilarating. “Please.”

Henry didn’t stop; he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to. Never had he been inside someone that fit him this perfectly. He wanted to mark you again, make you know he was serious when he said you were his. He flipped you on top of him, and he slipped out. You were so wet it was hard not to slip out. He didn’t mind. He liked it.

You didn’t pause the fucking, mounting him and placing your hands on his chest to anchor you. You bounced on him watching that perfect mouth form an O each time you sunk and took more of him than he thought you could make. He pushed the limits fucking you back, and all you could do was throw your head back and take it all.

His moans were louder now; he gripped your hips, guiding you over his cock, he wanted this to last longer, fuck you until you couldn’t stand was his goal since you could handle it. Your pussy clenched around him like a velvet glove, and a scream erupted from you. He was swelling; you loved it when he got bigger. You didn’t even think that it was fucking possible, and here he was fucking growing harder, longer, and bigger inside of you.

“You want this cum in you, pet?”

You shook your head vigorously riding the high of your climax, plus the way he felt inside of you when he came was unexplainable. “Please.”

Henry slammed up into you, knocking you forward so that you were on his chest. He loved to grip your ass to make you meet his strokes. He was fucking you faster, growling like the animal he had grown to be with you, and then it happened again. His cock swelled, he locked into you, and he came with a carnal noise that triggered you again. Fuck he was perfect if this was what it meant to be marked… then you wanted it every fucking day.

Henry Cavill Taglist: @oddsnendsfanfics @taytayize123 @my-rosegold-soul @titty-teetee @sparklemichele @imgoldielikehawn @therandomthoughtsofmsparker @therealcalicali @rhys108 @shut-up-broccoli@peculiar-monstar @sincerelysinister @xxpapasfritasxx @brexrif @sheismycherry @justgrits @angelic-kisses13 @ikeepforgettin @persephones24

@bitchwhytho @ryuzakiackerman1 @soapjay @szhead31 @sapphirescrolls @sprinklesandsugarcubes @superapplepie @ellaheart @greektragedyc @lovemindbodystuff @cass-the-mess @auroussss @earl-aive @rockme-fabulous @mary-ann84 @angelic-kisses13 @wondersofdreaming @two-unbeatable-beaters

@ieshaa96 @msmorganforever @magdelen69 @alwaysadreamingoptimist @zejess93 @singeramg @heelsamizayn @onmykneesforloki @scuzmunkie @laricebabe @queen-sands @minton131 @sciapod @a-really-bi-girl @kittyslove @kathhdd @only-isabell @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @mereka18

@queenmalhinewahine @sweetybuzz25 @xmother-mortemx @zoogrl05 @cap-barnes @itsmydreamlifethings @love-more122 @dearlybelovedluke @savismith @comfortingcreature @badassbaker @hell1129-blog @keiva1000 @la-meneur-louve @inthenameofrock @i-love-superhero @vivodinson @dealingwithit0214 @crowngold @violetidk @virgodmood @magic-dust @kittyatemytaco @aykanna @fcgrizi

@thewitcher-is-a-pandemic @tonictransistor @itsmydreamlifethings @lady-out-of-time @keiva1000 @this-is-serenaa @mis-lil-red @captainslasher @snatchedbylele @alyssaj23 @deep-in-my-thoughts13 @ohjules @s-ravenall @elixasays

@stars8melanin @maan24 @keiva1000 @readermia @sobbingmess @sissyscream @beautifullmelodyxx @msblkfire84 @masked-lost-girl

#henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x black reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fan fiction #laketa j writes #alpha!henry cavill x reader #alpha!henry cavill

1K notes · View notes

danhoemei · 3 years

Text

By unpopular demand of 1 (one) whole person @wkxs, who asked someone to write this scene of zzs playing a make-up artist for wkx’s evil eyeshadow™️, I went and made this, so aye have it *booing noises*

[also on ao3, cw mature]

--------

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

A clearly exasperated voice broke the silence of the otherwise quiet room. The sound was soon followed by a rustling of the robes when the only other person in the room turned around to glance at its source.

Zhou Zishu stood in the middle of the room with his arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. Morning sun, which peeked through a window nearby, lit the bottom of his robes and an area around him, adding an almost ethereal and imposing tinge to his look.

He stood there on purpose.

“I am not going to wait an hour or so until you deem your eyeshadow perfect.”

Wen Kexing sat on the edge of the bed, half turned from the nightstand and a mirror which now reflected the side of his head. His arms were still up, hovering near his face and revealing a palette full of different shades of red held in one hand, and a brush in the other.

They stared at each other without moving for a moment before the eye contact got broken by Wen Kexing shamelessly running his eyes across Zhou Zishu’s whole body. He turned around completely, relaxing his body from sitting upright to leaning askew on one arm which he put casually on the nightstand, still holding the half-closed palette in it.

“Well I am not going out without it,” he span the brush between the fingers of his free hand, leaving a subtle arch of red powder in the air.

“We’re just going shopping.”

“Where people are gonna see us,” the brush stopped abruptly, pointed at Zhou Zishu as if to make the point stronger.

Zhou Zishu stood still like a statue, only his head turned sightly to the side and his eyebrows moved up.

“We have a reputation to uphold,” Wen Kexing explained, answering to the unimpressed questioning gesture of his partner.

“What reputation,” the corner of Zhou Zishu’s lips twitched.

The nightstand creaked as Wen Kexing leaned more onto it and put his arm up to support his chin on the hand.

“Of being sexy,” he winked. The effect was slightly damaged by the palette still stubbornly - or purposefully - held in his hand, a wide messy box hanging next to his face.

Of all the reactions Zhou Zishu could have given, the one he did not expect himself to fall into was to burst out laughing. He threw his head back and let his shoulders shake to the rhythm of his laughter. Despite having closed his eyes, he still saw the ridiculous image of the half-dressed man winking with his half-painted eye, who looked more like a disheveled maiden who had just woken up and tried to hastily correct her make up rather than a flirtatious philanthropist.

His reaction must have been a surprise not only to himself but also to the other man, because as soon as he calmed down enough to look back at the source of his mirth, he was met with wide, slightly shining eyes, and an expression which he could describe as a mixture of stunned and transfixed.

The man seemed to finally start breathing again. He sat up straighter and licked his lips.

“Ah-Xu, you are so-”

“Ok.”

Wen Kexing blinked and halted in his movement again.

Before he reacted in any way, Zhou Zishu walked towards him and without any prelude pushed him back onto the bed. Wen Kexing fell back without any resistance, but Zhou Zishu could still feel a subtle twitch of the body beneath him as the man got trapped by the weight of a fully grown person straddling him. Wen Kexing obediently let the palette and brush be taken out of his hands.

Zhou Zishu hung just above Wen Kexing, satisfied with the quickness and the lack of fighting.

“I’m gonna do it quick and then we’re going. And no complains for how it’ll look.”

Wen Kexing stared up quietly with a content smile and twinkling eyes.

“Sure.”

Zhou Zishu’s eyes narrowed as the thought of this whole situation going exactly as the bastard planned crossed his mind. However, he quickly put the thought aside and moved his attention to the palette to choose the first shade.

The brush glided across the pale skin, leaving a trail of deep red which added a dangerous glint to the dark eyes below, staring intensely into his own without a break. Zhou Zishu could admit to himself that he did like when Wen Kexing had this sharp smudge of color on, which complemented his eyes and made others turn their heads to look at the man with either admiration or fear. He could admit it after all this time, but only to himself.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a feeling of a soft caress on his lips, which instantly brought him back to reality. He blinked a few times, trying to bring his attention back to the smiling eyes directly below his own, so close that it was almost hard to focus on them.

“You were smiling. I couldn’t resist.”

“I was not,” Zhou Zishu countered as if on reflex. Only now did he notice that a set of hands was put on his hips at some point and started rubbing small circles on them.

“Sure, whatever you say,” Wen Kexing tilted his head slightly back, his smile growing wider.

A loud clank echoed throughout the room as Zhou Zishu closed the palette in one quick move and energetically leaned back.

“Well, I’m finished, let’s go-”

He chocked on the last word as the world suddenly span around and darkened. A dark veil of hair soundlessly fell around him, blocking the light and cutting off his surroundings. All that was left was a pale face tinged with red, floating right in front of his eyes, connected to a slender neck which grew out of a strong chest peeking out of a loosely tied, slightly open robe. Zhou Zishu swallowed.

A strand of hair must have tingled his cheek, because of how itchy it felt.

A chuckle came from above, luring his eyes to dart up again.

“Like what you see?” the man’s voice dripped with satisfaction.

Before Zhou Zishu could answer, he heard a click of the palette being opened, and he realised that it got taken out of his hand at some point.

“Your turn now.”

At last, completely woken up from his daze, Zhou Zishu plastered an open hand on Wen Kexing’s face and pushed it back.

“Hell no.”

A cheerful, slightly muffled laughter resounded throughout the room, soon followed by the sounds of tossing and fighting.

The clash did not last as long as it often could, after all their encounters sometimes could extend to the whole day of running around and breaking unfortunate things which stood on the way. This time, however, it was one of the instances which gravitated towards a playful banter and lingering touches, those that gradually extended in time and frequency until both men rolled onto the bed again, kissing and grabbing at each other.

The temperature in the room seemed to have risen despite the coldness of the morning seeping through an open window.

Wen Kexing, who landed on top of Zhou Zishu and pinned him down with his weight, finally released his lips. He leaned back just a bit, still leaving their faces so close that their noses rubbed together.

“Say,” he breathed out. “What if we went tomorrow.”

Zhou Zishu’s dazed, half-lidded eyes were glued to Wen Kexing’s, his face hot and body warm. Even though he was asked a question, he was not given time to answer. He felt a shiver run across his skin after Wen Kexing dove down and left a wet kiss on his neck. Zhou Zishu opened his mouth.

A sudden knock rendered both man still and speechless.

“Shifu, shishu, I’m ready!” Zhang Chengling’s voice broke through the door and rang through the silence like a bell.

As sudden as the knock, Zhou Zishu threw Wen Kexing off and swiftly jumped off the bed. He fixed his clothes and put on his outer robe, tying it hard and smoothing out any wrinkles, all the while focusing on his breathing and the flow of his qi.

“Be ready in ten minutes or we’re leaving without you,” he threw over his shoulder, voice calm and collected, only glancing at the man who was still lying on the bed and looking with dark eyes in the direction of the door.

Zhou Zishu left the room, quickly closing the door behind him and blocking the sight of the insides from Zhang Chengling. It was not needed though, as the boy already stood several steps away. One could say that he was used to backing up as soon as he reported his readiness, either to make way for the men, or to keep away from the ever-so-loud room filled with unimaginable feats.

Zhou Zishu passed him by and stopped only after walking for a moment. Enjoying the morning chill on his skin, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath of refreshing air in. Zhang Chengling was just behind him, and as he stood by his teacher, he couldn’t help but keep glancing at him.

“Spit it,” Zhou Zishu finally couldn’t bear the fidgeting next to him.

“Shifu, you’re awfully red, are you sick? Should we postpone the trip after all?”

The last word transformed into a quiet yelp as the boy’s head got gently hit on the back, and he looked up with pitiful eyes at the back of Zhou Zishu’s turned head.

“Shut up, brat.”

#wenzhou #wen kexing #zhou zishu #tyk #faraway wanderers #or woh if you'd like. free to interpret #word of honor #shl #yzzwriting #fanfics #mine #should i tag cgl as well idk #zhang chengling #well he's there (to wkx's disappointment)#i already pasted this in a reblog but felt like making a dedicated post so here we are #anyway #requests #kinda??#sorry for tagging you again @wkxs I wanted to give you credit for inspiring me but let me know if u want me to delete the mention <3

46 notes · View notes

anastasiaskarsgard · 4 years

Text

My whore

Warning: cursing, sex, adult content 18+

I should edit this, but I will later maybe. Just busted this out at lunch for no fun

As she pulled her hood up even more, and briskly walked down the familiar street, she could hear her heart pounding in her chest. Her stomach did a somersault as soon as she she spotted the lone figure standing outside the dimly-lit liquor store. She knew better, she really did. You play with fire, you’re bound to get burnt eventually, but try as she might to practice self preservation, she just hadn’t a care when it came to him. It was a well-known fact that he was someone dangerous and she felt the most scandalous rush whenever she was near him.

She gracefully made her way to his side, briefly knitting her brows together in self-loathing for being unable to just walk on by or ignore him.

"What do you want?" The man moved closer watching her with a cold sneer on his handsome face as he studied her changing expressions. He was absolutely fascinated by how expressive her face was. The way she smirked and you could see the hint of a dimple, or how her eyes narrowed into slits when she tried to control herself from telling him off. How her full lips drew together in a bow when she was determined, or if she felt particularly brazen, she’d cock a single eyebrow and grin like a cat.

Being who he was, his facial expressions ranged from various levels of boredom, to every level of rage. Hatred and apathy was all he’d ever really felt, except when he was around this girl. As the corners of his mouth nearly twitched into a smile, he grabbed her hand, forcing her close to his body, chests touching, thrilling at the stunned look on her face.

"You know what I want princess?” His lips found her ear, fangs nipping at the lobe, hyper aware of her dainty hands clutching his shirt, her breathing growing more erratic by the second, and her icy blue eyes scanning his face, searching for his intent.

"Please Roman....." She pleaded.

His hands brushed over an area she never let anyone else touch, moaning in spite of herself. When his fingers took hold of a swollen nipple and tugged at it viciously, she had to bite her lip, to stop herself from screaming aloud. Her knees shook and she tightened her grip on his shirt, scared if she let go she’d fall. She cursed herself for always turning to silly putty in his hands so easily, but she couldn’t help it. He was intoxicating.

Roman scratched his nails down the taut flesh muffling her sweet mouth with his own. Inhumanly sensitive ears, and Jade green eyes became aware of a few of her friends moving their way, and before she noticed them, (or them her) he dragged her down a nearby alley, walking swiftly with purpose in hopes they hadn’t been discovered.

It was no surprise that her friends weren’t fans of his. He’d beaten up the males of the little posse, after they’d tried to confront him for filming himself fucking their girlfriends and posting it a snippet on his Instagram story when he was high. He hadn’t even remembered he’d done it, until they marched up and shoved a phone in his face, and he could understand why laughing and commenting on one of the girls o face, could be seen as a dick move. The rest of the girls in her circle of friends would drop to their knees and service him if he so much as glanced their way, but he had been far too distracted by the girl he was currently dragging behind him to care.

"Where are we - what are we doing?" The breathless girl inquired, as he continued forward like he knew where this lead. Her eyesight needed time to adjust, so she was still practically blind.

"Why do you sound so scared princess? You came and found me." He came to a small alcove and He pushed her firmly against the wall, hands going to her waist, lips finding their way to her neck.

"I had to twist your arm too." She whispered sarcastically, feeling his hands slip under her shirt rubbing, caressing and fondling her breasts. She bit her swollen bottom lip, silencing the moan which threatened to escape. Her own hands seeking out his skin, desperate for the closeness and intimacy found with skin on skin contact. She shuddered with anticipation as she raked her fingernails down his chest, feeling his muscles jerk under her touch. She moaned wantonly as her shirt was pushed up, exposing her to the night air, before her nipple was engulfed by a warm, wet mouth and she gripped his head pressing him closer to her.

Her sudden intake of air, made him look Out of the corner of his eye to be sure the immediate area was free of any sudden movements. Finding none, Roman smirked allowing his eyes to wander back to the half naked beauty before him. Pushing her skirt up, he pulled her panties to the side, sinking two fingers into her aroused body, driving then in a series of quick, hard movements, mouth covering hers when her sounds rose in pitch. Feeling an almost desperate need to be inside her, he Freed himself from his slacks, pressed up against her body, lifting her legs to straddle his waist and pushed his length deep inside of her core. He couldn’t get over how tight her sheath was every time, even though he had worked her over several times with his impressive manhood. Doesn’t mean he ever went easy on her, if anything it made him pound into her that much harder. He wanted to ruin her for any other man. The thought of someone else inside his princess made him see red.

Just the thought of someone else tasting her had His mouth possessively taking hers, in a wild, untamed passion rendering the girl practically breathless. All she could do was hang on, as he fucked her senseless like a man possessed or a demon. She felt fire course through her veins, igniting suppressed emotions, spiralling her to a pleasurable Eutopia of her own creation. Coherent, logical thoughts were lost and she surrendered her mind to the unlikely possibility that this was all there was. Her and him forever.

Just when she thought he couldn’t possibly fuck her any harder, he grabbed her by the shoulders and fucked up into her savagely, almost bruising as he delved deeper. She didn’t know why his rough animalistic behavior aroused her beyond anything so violent ever should, but it quickly brought her to climax, engulfing her in flames, limbs locking around him as she bit into his shoulder, sending a tingle of ecstasy down her spine, as she felt him spill inside of her, stuttering his hips to a stop. He pressed his forehead to hers and opened his eyes to stare into hers, before closing them and kissing her passionately.

"Roman,” She murmured, as they paused for air, dragging them both back into reality. Finally regaining the strength she had lost in their frenzied sexual escapades, attempted to push her partner away. He hesitantly relented, giving her enough space to stand. Legs trembling slightly, she adjusted her clothes, back bracing against the wall and head still dizzy from his presense. Muscular arms wound around her waist and she stood perfectly still as he pulled her close again, and his breath feathered across her cheek.

"Eager to escape me princess?" He purred, mockery making it's way into his voice and she damned him for so damn attractive. Not that he wasn’t gorgeous to look at, but it went beyond his heart throb, movie star looks or tall statuesque form. He had a Raw, primitive sexuality that cant be described in words, but was painfully obvious, that made him beyond desirable.

"I don’t know why I let you do this to me. I’ve got your cum running down my leg and I'm supposed to meet my friends fifteen minutes ago."

"Don't lie to me." He hissed, turning her to face him, thumb and forefinger capturing her defiant chin increasing the pressure when she tried to look away. "Tell me you enjoyed what we just did."

"I didn't." She bit out defiantly, the fire in her eyes growing stronger, fed by his arrogant attitude. "In fact I hated it."

His amused laughter infuriated her even further, and she had to use every ounce of willpower not to scream in frustration.

"That's what I like about you,” His green eyes gleaming darkly. "Always resisting me. It makes complete and total possession of your body that much more sweet."

"A possession? Is that what I am to you?" She shrieked, striking him in the chest, trying to break free of his embrace. This only made him bring her body closer, pressing his renewed arousal against her in an unmistakable way. Lips skimming her cheek, and throat, hands touching her everywhere as she squirmed in his grasp.

"Does this bother you?" He whispered eyes locking with hers, mouths so close they could feel each others breath.

"Yes." She whispered, willing herself the strength to resist him.

"You sure seemed like you liked it when I fucked you, out in the open, in a dirty alleyway like a fucking whore.” His words pierced her heart like a dagger had been laced with them, and in a burst of strength, she threw him off of her, and she stormed down the alleyway. Certain this was how Roman Godfrey, discarded his toys, she let out a yelp when she was grabbed from behind and spun around. Aggressively seizing her in his hold as she thrashed, he bent and whispered in her ear, “I love how you fight me...” before claiming her mouth with his own. The kiss sent a shiver down her spine, causing her traitorous body to move closer to him, practically begging and pleading for more contact. Her long-fingers raked through his chestnut hair gripping the strands firmly, tugging in a confused attempt to hurt and arouse.

A wanton moan was heard and she found herself pinned against the wall again. Their movements desperate and uncharacteristically sloppy. Emotions running wild, not wanting to acknowledge they were already in over their heads. That this was more than just sex, there were true emotions underneath it all, and it was terrifying. No one in their right mind loved a man like him, and no girl could possibly love him ran through their chaotic thoughts as the alarms went off, but neither heeded the call. Pleasure that could be described as unimaginable pain flowed through them, pushing all their insecurities down and finding them lost in each other once again. Their ragged breathing was the only sounds heard and they kissed sweat drenched faces absentmindedly. His low chuckle garnered her attention and she looked at him curiously.

Feeling his member once again free, and pressing deliciously close to her entrance again, she shifted to make access easier.

"Tell me you enjoy this. Tell me you like us." He smirked, eyes betraying a hint of vulnerability that was gone so quick, she wasn’t sure she saw it.

“Or what? You won’t fuck me again?” She asked cocking her eyebrow, and grinning up at him.

“You love it.”

"What if in fact I hated it?"

"You didn't." He proclaimed confidently.

She wished with all her might that he was wrong, but he was right. She loved their fucked up little arrangement. “I don’t love being called a whore.”

“How about just my whore? Only my whore? Hmmm?” He asked, eyes flashing darkly.

“You’re such an asshole.”

“But I’m your asshole.”

“My asshole.” She giggled.

“My whore.” He growled as he thrust up inside of her.

#bill skarsgard smut #roman godfrey smut #roman godfrey #bill skarsgard drabble #bill skarsgard #my writing

397 notes · View notes

nautiscarader · 3 years

Note

Marichat 1

Smutember day 1 - Strip Poker, Marichat (ML)

(Ao3)

With apologies to anyone, who knows how to play poker.

Also I hope you will apprciate all the ice puns. You will soon see why.

What killed the dinosaurs? THE ICE AGE

===========

At this point, Marinette thought she'd be used to having a boyfriend with a slightly unusual method of dropping by. She heard the scratching on the trapdoor, and when she opened it, she was welcomed with an upside-down face of her feline companion.

With his trademark agility he indeed dropped in, landing on all fours and jumped back up, his tail coiling around her waist to bring her into his arms.

- Quite a bold move, kitty. - she smiled. - Well, you know me. - How did you know I'd be free tonight, though? College is forcing me to stay a lot in the libraries, even in the evening... I was about to hit the hay... - she pointed to her rather skimpy clothing. - I guess it was a bluff.

His hands slid up and down her thighs, while her legs gently parted his. It was true, her university did embark a toll on her private life, giving the two way less time to spend together.

And as the two were about to kiss, a word from him gave Marinette an idea.

- How about strip poker? - Marinette asked, raising her eyebrow - If you think your bluff game is so strong... - Sounds like a slightly more complicated way of getting you out your clothes, princess... - Chat replied cockily.

Marinette gave him a gentle kiss and jumped onto her back. She straightened the sheets, took the deck, shuffled it, and shot Chat with a smile.

- I assume an alley cat like you-you know how to play poker? - she added with just a tinge of hesitation. - Ah, of course - he replied with a similar moment of worry - Were you thinking of some other, simpler game? - Well...

Marinette began, and she lost control of her deck, temporarily scattering cards all over her laps.

- There-there is this card mini game in this, uh, app game called Mister... - Penguino! - Chat finished, and coughed, sounding a bit too excited - I heard, I mean. We can, uh play that simplified version, just to humour you. - Yeah, I mean, even pros need a break once in a while.

The two shared a long, silent connection, as Marinette shuffled and dealt the cards. She hid her face behind them, wishing she could have seen the tooltips that automatically suggested the desired highest combo...

She sneaked a quick look at Chat, but she was used to him hiding his thoughts, and it seemed for once he might have an upper hand, or claw...

She repositioned a few cards, and with a firm move, she put two of them down, sending her opponent a faint smile.

- I've got... one pair of snowshoes! - and she proudly uncovered two queens. Chat smiled back. - Guess I've invited you to ice-skate ring for a date.

And revealed four cards from his hand.

- Two pairs.

Marinette's smile faded, and knowing he wouldn't look away, she undid her ponytails, tossing away her hair ties.

- Come on, that barely counts as clothing. - Chat protested. - Be glad I undid them both at the time. - she smiled and took more cards.

This time, the pause did not last as long, as Marinette didn't even wait for Chat.

- Four of a kindle! - Eh, pass.

And with that, Marinette watched as he ditched his gloves. After a few ties, her winning streak returned, as she got a regular Strait, followed by Icy Strait, much to Chat's surprise.

- In hindsight, I should have thought this through, wearing one-piece outfit isn't the best strategy...

Marinette just nodded, watching as he lost his shoes and Chat Noir-themed socks. And she had to restrain herself from giggling when she looked at her next hand.

- Full Igloo! in your face!

Chat Noir swallowed, and knowing that she will watch every move of his slowly pulled down the golden bell, revealing his lean, but muscular chest, and, as he let his costume fell to the floor, Marinette's eyes fixated on his...

- Boxers!? - Marinette protested - What? - they were bundled with socks - And he pointed to his pawprints his boxers were dotted with.

Marinette grumbled. It seemed her luck has ran out temporarily. Two Snowmen and one Ho-Ho later, she found herself without her jacket and pants. She suddenly found herself wished she had worn socks...

But then, with a triumphant smile, she laid down five cards down.

- Slushy Strait.

She spoke, looking at four cards Chat put down that were nowhere close to topping hers.

And with a faint smile, Chat stood up and reached to his boxers, where a faint trace of his erection was visible. Marinette bit her lip, and watched as the dark material slides down, until his biology performed an admirable jolt, when his cock sprung to life once he was freed.

- Well, looks like you've won. - Chat sat down, and was about to shuffle the cards back when Marinette stopped him. - Not yet. You still have your mask.

Adrien swallowed loudly, as Marinette's smile widened to an almost Cheshire-cat length.

- My... My princess... - Deal the cards. - she cut him off quickly, trying not to have her mind clouded with the image of his cock.

But the smile faded away equally quickly. Next turn forced Marinette to take her top, and in two more, she found herself whether to choose her bra, or her panties, which have revealed her readiness already. And knowing that, she opted for them, hoping the sight of her sex would throw her opponent off.

Chat smiled, watching as Marinette lifted her legs into the air and undid her panties, pretending to hide her puffy lips from him, when in reality she made sure that her night lamp would show a few droplets of her arousal.

The two stared at each other and reached for more cards. This time, her face remained frozen and motionless, and she put down five cards.

Chat Noir, with equally stoic demeanour, did the same.

At the same time, they both revealed them.

- Icy Slushy Strait! - Marinette howled - Finally, I will know the identity of my boyfriend... - Five of a kindle. - What?!

Marinette watched, as Chat flipped each card, one ace at a time, finishing with a comedic depiction of a medieval jester.

She looked up, unable to believe his luck. Instead of any explanation, she just saw a glimmer in his green eyes.

She reached her hand behind her back and undid her bra, rendering her completely naked, while Chat licked his lips at the sight of her breasts.

- Can we stop pretending? - Yeah, I guess.

Marinette grumbled, and she welcomed the feeling of his lips on hers, as he jumped onto her, pinning her naked body to her comfy bed.

But he wasn't interested in immobilising her, as Chat was clearly drawn to her sex, now positively glistening with her juices, and a single lick of his made Marinette howl, as her legs flailed around his head.

Chat drove her insane for a couple of minutes, knowing she wasn't even trying to hide her oncoming climax. The feeling of his fingers, instead of claws brought a much needed comfort and tenderness to his foreplay, especially when he traced her clit.

And just as with the final hand, this one brought Marinette to her loss. She buried her face in a pillow, while she soaked her lover with her arousal, thrashing around him, much yo his pleasure.

Adrien thought she would remain like that for long, but her shaking arms were soon around his neck, as she brought him onto her.

She let out a moan under his pleasant, heavenly weight, but when his aggressive behaviour drove him between her legs, she had to stop him.

- Ah, ah, ah - Marinette spoke, as Chat looked at her, stumped - Forgot about something?

She reached to her nightstand, and to his surprise, she produced a condom in a black package depicting a handsome man with green eyes and cat ears, clearly from the same set as his underwear.

- I feel I should file for copyright claim. - They make ones with Ladybug as well... - Marinette added with a mixture of annoyance and odd bit of pride in her voice - I know we were stripping down, but this will suit you.

She let out a giggle when his cock twitched in her hand, as she coiled her fingers around him and slid the condom on, feeing each of his vein under her fingertips.

- Sorry kitty, but I'm not ready for your kittens yet... maybe next month...

She joked and gasped, as Chat positioned himself between her legs, feeling his tip brushed her wet opening.

Spoiled by his delicate treatment before, it was time for Chat to utilise his pent-up energy, as he slid inside her with ease, earning another languorous moan from his lover, as she dug her nails into his back.

With each thrust, she spilled his name into his ear, feeling his cock spreading and tearing her in half, as buried himself deeper and deeper.

- Chat... Chat... Chaton!

She knew he was on the edge of his climax too, brought by their shared taunting, and though she preferred long, slow love-making, she would gladly welcome another "little death", as it was called in her language.

She listened to his guttural, low groans, and when his back arched, so did hers, almost as if to give him chance to reach her depths, while he filled his condom with seed, and her ears with her name.

The two joined bodies pulsed and shuddered, as Chat delivered his potency into the rubber, her body milking him for more in a futile attempts at executive the biological imperative Marinette protected herself from.

Their groans and moans subsided, as their lips met, and with that, the gentle creaking of the bed stopped as well, replaced by smacking sound of their hungry mouths.

- Well, looks like I won, Chat huffed, lifting himself from his position, marvelling at the sight of Marinette's slightly sweaty body and her ruffled hair. - Are-are you sure?

Marinette's lips curled in a cocky smile and she showed him her hand, holding four aces and a joker she must have picked up when they were basking in their shared afterglow.

- But... - But what kitty? Look, my sleeves are empty - she raised her arms to mock him further - My princess, that's cheating! - All's fair in love and war - she spoke without missing a beat - Your mask, Chaton

Cold sweat rushed down his spine, strengthened by her piercing gaze and a sly smile. For quite a while neither of them spoke, each fixated at their partner's face.

- Although, I can accept this as alternative.

Marinette spoke and grabbed his cock, sliding underneath it, until it hovered over her face. Her fingers pinched the tip of the condom, filed with his seed and she stuck her tongue out, waiting for her reward as she slid it from his length.

Inch by inch, as Marinette disrobed her lover, globs of his potent spunk landed in her mouth, guided by her skilled tongue that traced his undercock, causing him to shudder and twitch.

And even after the condom was off, Marinette squeezed it to ensure that none of his hard and tasty work would be wasted, letting out loud and unabashed sounds of satisfaction as she tasted her salty treat, making sure to not look away from Chat's enamoured face.

Despite being disrobed, Marinette won, proudly wearing a smile and his cum on her face.

- That... that was quite a move, Marinette. - Chat admitted and bowed gently, sneaking a kiss to her ankle, as he helped her collect her clothes. - Always pleasure to win with someone, who knows how to lose. - she giggled in return. - Next time you will be the one begging for mercy. - Oh, I sure hope so.

Marinette raised her arms and put her wrists next to the headboard of her bed, as if she was tied. She watched, as his cock twitched again through his latex clothes.

- Oh, and by the way... I'd still win. - he said as he climber up - I still had my tail.

He closed the door, and only after a while Marinette let out a gasp when she realised how his tail could have been attached to his naked body once he got out of his suit...

#marichat #smutember #day 1 #miraculust #lemon #mlnsfw #nautiscaraderfics #smutember 2021 #smutember2021

24 notes · View notes

trashmenofmarvel · 3 years

Text

Always Will Be - Ch 3

Pairing: Loki x TVA Agent!Reader

Series Warnings (18+ Only): Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Violence, Time Shenanigans, Enemies to Friends to Lovers

Chapter Summary: Laufeyson begins to test his boundaries.

AO3

You stood in the waiting room and sipped tentatively at your hot coffee. It stung your lips and you frowned, almost a pout at the unfortunate temperature. At least it wasn’t lukewarm. The drinks at the TVA had that unfortunate effect.

Glancing down at your wristwatch, you blew on the scalding liquid and counted down the seconds.

3… 2… 1…

“—aaaah!!”

There was a crash and a thud from behind you.

You took a sip of your coffee, pleased to find it was just short of too hot to cause damage to your tongue, and turned around.

The Loki variant was just rising to his knees from where he’d fallen from the TVA portal, which had appeared and vanished 8 feet off the ground.

“There you are. Right on time.”

He dusted himself off, giving you a scowl.

“Do you have any idea what I just went through!” He gestured angrily at the ceiling. “I had to stand in an empty queue that lasted days, I went through a machine that measured every part of me—and I mean every part—and I had to read through a stack of papers and sign for every word I’ve ever spoken!”

You sipped your coffee again.

“Well?” He snapped. “Say something.”

“You weren’t gone for days,” you responded evenly. “You were gone for thirty minutes.”

He blinked rapidly, bared teeth turning into a confused frown.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I just got back from my lunch.” You gave a shrug. “I did tell you, time works differently in the TVA. Would you like to go for a walk?”

His anger was further deflated, his mouth ajar as if he didn’t know what to say.

“Coffee?” you asked, tilting your cup toward him. Laufeyson looked at it like it might be filled with poison.

“No.”

You shrugged and walked away, sliding open the door to the waiting room.

“Coming?”

You felt more than heard him join you by your side. The demigod moved like a cat. Maybe you should hook a bell around his collar.

“Where are we going?” he asked as you led him down a long, narrow hallway, the suspicion back in his voice. Did he really think you’d go through the trouble of killing him at this point?

Looking at his history, yes, there was a good chance that’s what he believed. You could count on one finger the number of people Loki had truly trusted his entire life.

“As I said, on a walk.”

“If you think for one moment that I believe we’re just going to—“

You pushed open the door at the end of the hallway, and Laufeyson stopped speaking, raising a hand to shield his eyes. The light coming through the viewports wasn’t especially bright, but it took a few seconds for one’s eyes to adjust to the grand sight of the space city.

You couldn’t help the small, satisfied smile at Laufeyson’s wide eyes and slack jaw. The view from this side of the station was especially stunning, and even though you had nothing to do with it, you were quite proud of the reaction it garnered from the variant.

“I told you, Mister Laufeyson. I don’t lie.”

You stepped forward, expecting him to follow, and he did, trailing after you as he kept his gaze on the long viewports along the corridors.

“Where are we?” he finally asked. His voice was quiet, soft, and you had to do a double take just to make sure this was the variant who had yelled at you only a half hour ago.

“Nowhere you can chart on a map or reach by starship. That tends to happen when you build between two collapsing stars.”

“The equidistant point between two gravitational singularities,” he said in that same soft voice.

It was so strange to hear him so subdued, almost reverent as he stared out the window, the faded browns and yellows and whites of the city reflecting in his eyes.

You looked away, taking another drink of your coffee. It had gone lukewarm.

You frowned.

“What?”

Laufeyson stared at you, brows furrowed. You ignored the disappointment of your stale coffee.

“Most variants don’t know what gravitational anomalies are, let alone understand how they work.”

“And how many variants have you spoken to?”

You blinked.

“That’s not important.”

The sly glint was back in his eyes, the toothy grin making a return.

“I’m the first, aren’t I?”

You ignored the unnecessary question and made a beeline for the trashcan at the far side of the room, quite far away on the other side of the open area.

Laufeyson was so close on your heels that his clothing brushed against your jacket.

“This is superb,” he said with a cheeriness that dripped insincerity at every word. “I’m on trial for crimes against the very fabric of reality, and they handed off my case to an intern. How very bureaucratic of them.”

“I’m not an intern.” You resented the accusation and your defensive denial of it. You cleared your throat and walked a little faster. “And nothing was handed to me. I asked for your case.”

“Well, that’s even worse,” he proclaimed, moving up so he was now at your side. “You honestly believe this was all your idea, but I’m sure no one else was jumping at the opportunity to represent me. You know why, don’t you? You seem like a smart woman.”

Ignoring his mockery, you made to throw in your half-empty coffee cup into the bin.

Laufeyson snatched your arm, his fingers curling around your wrist. His voice was low and menacing in your ear, so close it sent an unpleasant jolt up your spine. The sharp sense of unease grew worse when he pressed against your back.

“I’m too dangerous. Too unpredictable to be controlled.” His words were a soft murmur, but razors at the edges. “They decided my fate as soon as I set foot in this place. And who do you think will take the fall for my lack of cooperation?”

His lips brushed against your ear.

“When I’m condemned,” he growled, “you’re condemned with me.”

You dropped the coffee cup, extended your fingers, and the remote dropped from its hidden holster into your palm.

You pressed the button.

The shock of electricity stung your wrist before Laufeyson released you, but it was nothing compared to the voltage that coursed through his body as he hit the ground, convulsing.

You released the button quickly, not realizing you were panting for breath or that your heart was pounding in your ears. You’d never shocked anyone before.

Laufeyson seemed just as surprised as you were, though it curled into anger and bared teeth when a group of five Minutemen flooded the room, batons drawn.

“Stand down,” you snapped. “I have him under control.”

The words felt like a lie. Your fingers trembled as you slipped the remote back up your sleeve, but at least your voice was steady. Deceptively so.

Why were they even here? The point of the Time Twister was for a single person to be able to handle the variant on their own.

“Do you confirm you have the Loki Variant L1130 rendered harmless, Agent?”

You glanced at the demigod in question. He, too, was trying to catch his breath, and remained on the floor even as he propped himself up on his elbows. He raised his brows at you as if to say, Well? Have you rendered me harmless?

“Yes.” You dragged your gaze away from him and addressed the Hunter that had spoken. You vaguely recognized him from Mobius’ field investigations. “You may go now.”

The Minutemen disengaged their weapons and filed out of the room. The other clerks and administrators who had stopped to watch the scene immediately continued on their way, even as they gossiped to each other in whispers.

“Still don’t believe me?”

You took a steadying breath. The humor was back in his voice as he rose to his feet, brushing himself off as if he’d done nothing more than tripped.

“Certainly shows a lack of trust on their part, sending their goons at the slightest sign of trouble. It’s almost as if they don’t think you can do the job.”

Working your jaw for a moment, you approached and came to a stop just in front of the variant, so close his smile faded.

“Never touch me again.”

You said it slowly, clearly, with perfect enunciation.

Laufeyson studied your face and raised an elegant brow.

“Do I have your understanding?” you pressed him. You wanted a verbal answer that grabbing your arm was unacceptable and could never happen again—

“For how long?”

You frowned.

“What?”

“You said to never touch you again, but for how long?”

“…Do you not know what the word never means?”

“What if I had your permission?”

The question was given seriously, but the light in his eyes said otherwise.

“Permission?” you hissed, followed by a glance around the common area to ensure no one was listening to the conversation. Fortunately, no one was paying either of you any attention. “Why would I ever give you permission to touch me?”

And there was the smile again, returned with full, pearly-white brilliance.

“Stranger things have been known to happen.”

You pointed a finger at his smarmy grin.

“I will shock you again.”

“Ooo.” He winced with playful exaggeration. “Promises.”

Despite the fact you had shocked him moments before, something in the air shifted. The tension vanished, and a more comfortable atmosphere settled between you. Even the smile that lingered on his lips seemed more genuine than the usual fare.

All you did was continue to stare.

“So.” Laufeyson smoothed the ruffled collar of his jumpsuit, breaking the strange moment. “Where off to next?”

You glanced down at your wristwatch, surprised to find the hands had moved farther than you’d thought.

“I suppose we should start walking now,” you said, and did just that, heading in the direction of the appropriate elevator banks. “It’s nearly time.”

His longer legs allowed him to easily catch up to you.

“Time for what?”

You didn’t meet his eye until after you pressed the button to call the elevator. And even then, you did so with reluctance.

“Your trial.”

Next Chapter

#loki x reader #loki x tva!reader #loki fanfiction #loki series #loki #always will be #my writing #my fanfiction

43 notes · View notes

duskandstarlight · 3 years

Text

Embers & Light (Chapter 24)

Notes: Chapter 24 - can you guys believe it?! I have brought you a lot of angst in the last few chapters, but there is a lil fluffy moment in this chapter which I hope you enjoy. Plus protective Cassian (one of my personal favourites).

As ACOSF draws nearer, I wanted to ask you guys a question. I initially was hoping to finish this fic before it came out, but I just don't think it's going to happen. So if you would still read E&L after ACOSF comes out, could you let me know? It will help me to make a decision on whether I need to start wrapping this all up sharpish, or whether I can continue to move along at my current pace.

Enjoy :) And I hope you all are having a lovely festive period.

p.s I’ve been having issues with tagging blogs lately. Let me know if you get a notification?

Chapter 24 Nesta

Nesta was drowning.

Drowning in the dark; in the unfathomable cold that bit at her ankles and dragged her down by invisible, insistent hands and sharp, pointed claws. Down, down, down Nesta went, into the inky blackness that sung of ancient horror, fighting for a breath that she could not take.

Inside her head, Nesta was screaming; the sound an echo, as if she were detached from her body and she were listening to someone else. It was a scream of rage and unmeasurable pain as her body was torn apart and rearranged: her bones cracking and reforming into solid steel; her ears stretching into points; her limbs elongating. And with that fire a burning cold that was deeper than the gap between stars. Nesta screamed from the agony of it, but cold water rushed into her lungs and stifled the sound. Pain licked at her skin like the flames of a fire, until her blood was bubbling with rage and a thirst for revenge that ran so deep it became woven into the very fabric of who she was — of who she was being moulded into.

Nesta should have passed out from the pain but instead she fought to remain conscious; wholly awake and wholly a witness as she tore at the edges of the blasted Cauldron. The sides were made of nothing but canvas, Nesta’s nails ripping through it as the Cauldron bucked and shrieked, like an animal caught beneath her paw.

Bright light poured through the gaping holes, blinding her new born eyes that had not yet seen.

She felt the power of it, the piece she carved out for herself in fury and with revenge singing in her blood. She made it hers, let that power sink into her bones, her skin, as they snapped and cracked and reshaped themselves…

The Cauldron continued to thrash and struggle. The water took on a thicker quality like tar, but Nesta did not relent. She ravaged that power until it was a part of her; stolen and consumed. Impossible to take back.

And then Nesta was no longer drowning but falling.

The pocket of air hit her with such force that Nesta found herself with the irony that she could not breathe, even though it was what she needed more than anything in the world. But then her lungs were spluttering, her stomach lurching, and inky blackness — ancient death — was regurgitated onto crystalline rock. Nesta heaved until her stomach had no more and she was gasping for breath — cold, bracing fresh air that tasted like freedom — before she rolled onto her back, her hair plastered to her face.

She shivered from the cold and the unquenchable fury that would not see her yield.

Above her was midnight black, the stillness of what Nesta wanted to believe was sky but she knew was only an illusion. It brought her comfort even though she wanted to hate it; wanted to sob and scream until she was so exhausted that she couldn’t muster any more strength.

And she should have been terrified but she also felt deathly calm, even as a voice spoke out of the darkness. It was a voice that was ancient; old and superlunary with a strength that whispered of unimaginable power for better or worse. “I have been waiting for you, Nesta Archeron.”

Words like ice fire. Of steel and reserve. Of power beyond Nesta’s wildest reckoning.

It hurt to move but Nesta scrambled to her feet, slipping on loose rock and craggy stone. The sound that beat in her ears was an insistent, terrified rhythm, and it took Nesta a moment to piece together that it was her heart, throwing itself with a repetitive boom against strips of bone — a flimsy cage for something so fierce.

Whirling around, Nesta tried to source the voice but found only that endless stretch of deep velvet, and in the near distance, a towering shadow that rose up, up, up into the darkness until it blended into the canvas, like something disappearing into the clouds.

Nesta made herself take stock. Made herself stand still. To dampen the terror and focus on that spiky, deep-set anger that still consumed her. Her back stiffened, her chin rose, and when she spoke for the first time with her new lungs, Nesta did not let her voice shake.

She clenched her fists until her new nails bit into the meat of her palms. “Where am I?”

A sensual laugh as smooth as marble echoed around her — perfectly rendered. “Do you hear the wind? It moans your name, Nesta Archeron. Your twin can hear it. They’ve always been able to hear it. Your history written into the night sky where you only need join the dots. So easy to ignore until now.” A pause and Nesta felt that being move. Her head snapped around as the voice mused from behind her, “And your destiny: a sacrifice and a gift in the same moment.”

Nesta tightened her fists in an effort to ground herself and willed herself to lean back into that odd sense of being rather than the fear that was making her heart race. She felt her nails break through her skin with a pop. She scented blood; metallic and salt. She was so cold she wanted to shake until her teeth chattered, but Nesta would not show weakness. She would not break down.

So Nesta rose up tall and made her voice ice cold; strong rather than brittle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Another long, sensual laugh. A caress akin to a brush stroking the softest of bristles over her skin. “No, you don’t,” the voice agreed. “Not yet. But you will.”

A moment in time stretched out, the pause pregnant and awesome. Then a soft light in the darkness above, growing in size: a fleck, a star, a luminescent ball of light…

“What do you want, Nesta Archeron?”

“I want revenge,” Nesta replied, her voice full of a sudden vigour as vengeance lashed out on a forked tongue.

Again, more soft laughter that licked over Nesta’s body in a shiver. “You have already got that, have you not? Do you not feel that deathly power in your veins? That hum of primitive power that you have stolen, that has been woven into who you now are.”

“I will end him. I will end everyone who has caused my sister harm.”

“Of that, I have no doubt. But what will that take from you?”

Hysterical laughter wanted to burst forth from Nesta’s lungs, as if she could only feel the sharpest of emotion and everything else were muted.

“Everything has already been taken from me,” Nesta spat, balling her hands into harder fists, her nails digging into her crescent shaped wounds.

Pain flared, fresh and sharp but Nesta paid it no heed. She was no stranger to pain and she would rally. Every. Damn. Time.

The light above Nesta continued to grow until it became distinct; a fiery palm emerging out of the dark. Nesta did not flinch. Did not scream or back away. Did not bow or yield or grovel. She only let pearlescent fingers close around Nesta’s own, the touch like a near-scalding bath that settled only when your blood thrummed beneath raw, pink skin.

“So much sacrifice,” the voice pondered, turning Nesta’s hand. Nesta’s fingers unfurled from her palm without her willing it, until her palm lay open, the half-crescent moons bloody tears in her otherwise new skin. “But what about a gift?” the voice asked. “A gift for the girl who lives with such anger and guilt. The girl who sees the world in all its terrible glory and feels too much. What do you say to that?”

“I only want revenge,” Nesta repeated, her mind assaulting her with images of Elain as she was pushed under the inky water, as she emerged drowning and wholly new — wrong.

No laughter this time. Only that hand rising, fingers coming together until they were pointed and pinching something out of the dark.

A pearl of pure light hovered millimetres from those shining fingers, as if it were attached by an invisible string. It sung with such radiant brilliance that Nesta wanted to look away: it was the pure, unfathomable brightness of a midnight star. A melody that sung of promise and hope.

“What is revenge worth if it does not emerge from the desire to protect?” the voice asked, letting go of that drop of light. It did not fall like water; it floated down slowly, until it nestled in the crook of Nesta’s palm like a pearl that shimmered as it caught the light.

Nesta remained deathly still, staring at the drop of possibility in her palm.

“Revenge is choice, Nesta Archeron. It can be a wish for death and pain or to protect and defend.”

“Both,” Nesta said fiercely. “It can be both.”

“Multi-faceted and complex, as all decisions are,” the voice agreed. “And there are so many strands in you, aren’t there? Already you have felt one of them, although I do not think you have truly placed the puzzle pieces together. But here is another choice; something to cherish and use wisely on those who are worthy. Everything is cyclical. Day and night, birth and death, love and sacrifice…”

The luminescent hand closed Nesta’s palm, but rather than the drop of light bring dampened by shadow, it sank into Nesta’s skin, until it too became a part of her.

“I don’t want a gift.”

But even as Nesta spoke she knew she did not truly mean it.

She also knew it was too late. She felt her blood spike and thrum as that light channeled into her, twining around that deathly power that she had already stolen and forced into her remaking.

A low hum vibrated the ground beneath Nesta’s feet. “Don’t want it or do not deserve it?”

And then Nesta was drowning again with such startling speed that she hadn’t the time to take a deep breath. Terror gripped her, and with it power sung in her blood, the sensation like boiling water, as if her very skin were bubbling with it even though that dark water bit with a cold akin to the fiercest frostbite.

As if fear had summoned it, silver fire began to glow at Nesta’s palms. Water rushed into Nesta’s lungs and with it, that power surged.

Up, up, up Nesta went, like an arrow unsheathed from a bow until the inky black was no longer concrete and colour swam on the surface.

Everything tilted as the Cauldron tipped, jerking the water and Nesta out onto the cold flagstones of reality.

Nesta took a desperate, ragged breath through the gag that was suddenly back around her mouth, and cast a look around the room: to Cassian who was sprawled unconscious on the ground, his arm outstretched and his wings in tatters; to Feyre who was kneeling in her own vomit tucked into Rhysand’s side...

And on her sister’s face, Nesta could see what she was: ravaging, deadly, awesome. A face and figure to stop males and females in their tracks. A face and figure that would make humans and fae alike think twice.

But that was nothing of the forged steel in Nesta’s bones, in her blood, as she scrabbled across the floor to Elain on her long, unnatural limbs and tore the gag from her mouth.

It was a steel that no-one could see but that they could all sense as Nesta locked eyes with the King of Hybern, that promise of death still swimming in those mercury eyes that moved.

She would have her revenge. Of that, she was sure.

***

Nesta gasped.

Her hands flailed, her body screamed with agony, her lungs were hoarse and raw, her abdomen set with a pain that went so deep she knew something was gravely wrong.

And through her veins… no whisper of her magic. Not a drop.

It was that which made her thrash, her lungs suddenly unable to breathe from the agony that wrangled through her body.

She heard her name. Again and again; the high-pitched desperation of a female. Feyre. But then something much lower. A caress. A rumble that quelled her fear and kicked the breath back into her with a force that had her gasping.

Nesta’s hand found a rough, calloused palm across the mattress. Fingers curled unbelievably gently around hers. She heard the rustle of wings. Smelt pine and musk and the bracing fresh air of the Illyrian skies.

“Nesta. You need to take your medicine. The morphine has worn off.”

Cassian.

Even with her eyes submerged in the dark, Nesta knew that Cassian had turned his head to murmur something in low tones to her sister — her senses heightened in the wake of the fear that was still bitter on her tongue.

Then light retreating footsteps. The click of a closed door. A large hand on her temple. A wet rag against her lips. Nesta opened her mouth despite the foul tasting tincture which burned her throat and flooded her tastebuds; swallowing it down, begging it to soothe over the pain which she could not describe for its wrongness, even though she had been told that she would heal.

Frawley had come to visit her the last time Nesta had resurfaced. Had explained why she was there and what had happened. That Nesta had the gift of healing. That she had over-healed Mas's traumatic injuries and moved on to older ones. That she had sacrificed her wellness for someone else’s. That she would have died had Cassian not got her to stop.

Another power Nesta needed to train. As if she didn’t have enough to wrangle under control.

Nesta did not remember much after dropping to her knees at the widows camp. She remembered the click of a lock inside of her; the way her power had flipped from silver to startling, brilliant white. That she had known what to do as she lifted her hands over Mas and started to use her magic for something wholly good.

“What did you feel for your power came to the surface?” Frawley had asked before she took leave.

Nesta had bitten back a whimper of agony as she shifted uncomfortably on the mattress. She had been swamped in heavy blankets and consumed in Cassian’s scent. His bed not hers. But the scent of him… it comforted her. She was too tired to rally against it. Had woken knowing that she was immeasurably safe even though memory tried to persuade her that she was not.

Eventually, when she realised that Frawley’s second eye had come to rest on her along with ice blue, Nesta had supplied, “I felt grief.”

“And what else?” Frawley had urged, her ice blue eye glowing with intensity.

Nesta had been too tired to answer. Her eyelids heavy from the sedative she had been given, despite the energising tea Frawley had administered to attempt to speed up the act of replenishing her magic. To fight the fatigue one felt when they had been drained of power.

And now she was waking again and Frawley was gone.

Braving the light, Nesta cracked open an eye. Her head throbbed, as if her brain were growing in her skull and it was pressing against bone.

Cassian was hovering over her, a crumpled frown twisting his brow as he dripped the medicine past her lips. He caught her eyes opening a fraction too late and she catalogued worry slide into relief before it was pushed back and a light was forced into those dark irises. When he smiled at her, it was too tight and anguished to ring true. She must have been in a bad way — very bad — for him to lose sight of his tendency to arrange his expression into that casual playfulness. For her sister to still be here, hovering by her bedside unsure how to act or how to behave. For her mate to be in the room next door, his star-blessed magic permeating Cassian’s bedroom even through stone and plaster and wood. She could even sense Azriel’s shadows moving like an agitated fog.

No Amren. No Mor.

Something to be thankful for.

“Mas?” she asked. Her throat was dry despite the tincture and the word came out scratchy and raw.

Cassian pressed a glass of water to her lips.

She drank.

“Mas has left to help relocate the widows and orphans,” Cassian told her. “I had her checked over by Madja and Frawley. She is perfectly fine. Roksana too,” he added when Nesta frowned. “Mas hasn’t flown yet,” he continued. “She wanted you to witness it.”

Something tightened around Nesta’s throat. It was not panic but… deep twisting affection for the housekeeper. It must be agony for Mas not to launch straight into the skies. Yet… Nesta was touched beyond imagining that she would wait for Nesta to witness something so precious. A moment in history that was not tainted in blood and death but joy.

Cassian had paused as if he were checking himself. He had moved away from her, to the dark dresser to the left of the bed. There was a clink of glass which Nesta supposed was him stoppering the medicine. “I know you do not like it here and I understand that. You were given no choice and Illyria is…” he trailed off, as if he were searching for the right word. “It’s brutal, in both harsh reality and its beauty. But the widows and orphans… they will not forget what you have done for them — how you fought for them. Mas has been shackled in so many ways throughout her life, but her wings… You have given her freedom, Nesta. She will never forget that ,and neither will those females who witnessed you healing her.”

When Cassian turned back to look at Nesta, his eyes were glowing with such intensity she did not know what to say. He seemed to understand that, breaking their gaze to stare out of the window.

It was snowing again. The scent of it was in the air and on Cassian’s clothes, from where Nesta imagined he’d been in the throng of it all, establishing order where there was chaos. She imagined that was why his family was here.

“Azriel has some information about the kerits,” Cassian said. He remained staring out of the window, his gaze fixed on the snow falling from the thin sheets of grey cloud strung in the sky. “About where we think they came from. We would like you to be a part of the discussion.” A pause. “If you would like to be, that is.”

Nesta held back a snort partly because she knew it would hurt too much. “I don’t think your High Lord wants me to be a part of any discussion.”

“Rhys specifically asked me to fetch you before we began,” Cassian replied, not flinching at her ice-sharp words. Nesta supposed he had become immune. “You are integral to the conversation.”

Noise caught in the back of Nesta’s throat. “I thought I was just a stain you all wished you could rid yourself of.”

No, not immune. Cassian flinched as if he had been burned, his wings spreading instinctively before he could catch them. He retracted them back in with a slow huff of anger. It was not a disparaging or exasperated sigh, more… defeated, as if it were a remark that brought him pain.

Still he did not turn to her. If anything, his focus became more intent on the scenery outside. At the bustle of Illyrians as they fought against the flurry of snow that promised to kiss everything white at the worst possible time.

Cassian’s jaw feathered. “If I remember correctly, it was always you trying to rid yourself of me.”

Nesta blinked at the coarse words that held no lightness, no mockery, no teasing. That were honest and unhappy. Twisted with a rejection which hit her to the bone.

You rejected me first, Nesta wanted to say, as she watched the taut muscles in Cassian’s back. They were vibrating with an energy that usually told Nesta that he needed to fight with his fists until his body was sated.

“We believe the attacks might be orchestrated,” Cassian continued. “Azriel went to scout the perimeter to see if there was any evidence. He has only just arrived back.” Finally, those amber eyes rested back on her. They were burning with a rage that had been purposefully dialled back, but Nesta knew how much Cassian cared about his people. “Will you come?” he asked.

Shock wound through Nesta at the confession. At the brutality of what Cassian was suggesting. Anger spiked through the exhaustion with such ferocity her magic should have been roaring, but it only remained quiet. Yet… a determination solidified in her mind. She did want to be a part of the conversation. Not just to be useful, but because Nesta cared about the widows and orphans. She longed to hold Roksana close and see Mas fly. To lay the dead to rest, to check in on the injured. To see if she could use her healing magic to mend their wounds. To show that she was not an observer but a fighter - a protector. That she would lay her life on the line to protect the females who had nothing and were helpless against every threat, just as she had once been.

She did not say all that. Instead, she just said, “Fine.”

A short nod as if Cassian understood. “We can do it in here or out there.” Cassian jerked his chin to the living room. “Frawley said you are not to move if it can be helped, but something tells me you’d sooner have died than be crowded on your sick bed.”

There. A small lace of lightness that had not been there before. Forced, maybe, but there all the same.

Nesta scowled. “You thought rightly.”

“It will hurt,” Cassian warned her. “For me to lift you.”

“Then do it gently.”

A soft snicker as he moved off the many, many blankets, and then strong, corded arms slid beneath her body.

Cassian’s voice was rough in her ear. “You’re the most stubborn female I’ve ever met.”

Gritting her teeth, Nesta tried to overcome the sharp, deep-set pain that made her want to cry out.

The way Cassian gathered her to him was pain-achingly careful but it was still too much, her wounds too fresh and Nesta gasped a high-pitched cry, digging her fingers so hard into his tunic that she knew they must have bitten into the skin of his shoulders. Cassian did not indicate that she had hurt him, he only cradled her closer to the hard planes of his body, his huge wing curving around her as if he could partition off the pain and keep her safe.

The glow of the membrane was not unlike that of rusty, glowing embers. Beautiful.

Cassian remained stock still, waiting for the pain to ebb and then, slowly, as if he were hesitant to do it, his forehead came to rest on the top of her head; a bowing gesture that was almost like a confession, folding her into a protective cocoon that smelt of pine resin and warmth.

If Nesta could move without crying out, she would have traced a finger down his wing, following the spider webs of his capillaries. She had never had the opportunity to study them this close up. They were as mesmerising as fire flames as they danced their way up into the sky; as captivating as woodsmoke as it were tossed about on a breeze.

“I thought you were going to die.”

Cassian’s voice was a low, deep rumble that she felt in the pit of her stomach. In her bones. In her heart.

“Not yet,” she replied drily, but the hoarse words were muffled by the embrace.

She knew what he was trying to say. Had felt it before. The way in which history had tied the two of them together. Had made them terrified not just of dying, but without the other. An immeasurable panic that clawed at her throat and tore at her lungs.

To end up on death’s door without her lying over him was unimaginable. They had vowed to go together and even now, when they were separate rather than entwined, she would still lay her body over his broken one and refuse to live.

“Don’t say that,” Cassian clipped, his voice suddenly sharp. Broken.

Even though it hurt to move, Nesta rolled her head to press against his chest, shifting his forehead so it was lower, his lips almost brushing her skin. Nesta could not bring it in herself to care. Cassian smelt just as his sheets had — pine, musk and untamed air. Comforting.

Hesitantly, as if she had surprised him, Cassian’s large hand came to cup her head.

For a moment, they stayed like that, until the burning question that had hung in the back of her mind became too much. “Why am I in your room?” she asked.

“I had to put Mas in your bed,” Cassian confessed. She felt him smile small against her — a promise of mischief. “It’s not the way I imagined I’d first have you beneath my sheets, but I guess I should just be thankful you’re alive.”

A quiet snarl from Nesta had Cassian lifting his head to laugh. The sound was a low rasp which did not hold its usual vigour.

He was still worried. She could feel it. The sensation was relentless as a crashing tide.

“Reign in your worry,” Nesta snapped weakly. “I can feel it and it’s making me nauseous.”

Another laugh, stronger this time, and then Cassian’s emotion vanished, as if it had been carried away on a sea-kissed breeze.

“I’m going to move now,” he informed her. “Best brace yourself for the pain, sweetheart.”

It was agony. The pain so awfully deep that Nesta could hardly breathe, even as Cassian moved as smoothly as possible. She wanted to cry out, to whimper, but she would not show weakness in front of her sister’s mate.

By the time she was settled on the couch, Nesta had broken that vow; distressed sounds escaping through gritted teeth as she panted desperately for breath. With a click of Rhys's fingers, the nest of blankets that Nesta had been swaddled in appeared on the couch, just in time for Cassian to lower her onto the cushions.

Nesta did not have it in herself to be angered that Rhys had helped.

At the sound of her sister's stifled shouts, Feyre rushed out of the kitchen. She was holding a steaming mug in her hands, which Cassian plucked from his High Lady and planted straight into Nesta��s palms.

Feyre allowed him to do it without a word of protest, anxiously wringing her hands as she studied what Nesta imagined to be her too pale face, the sweat that had broken out on her forehead…

They had not spoken properly since the attack, but Feyre had been there, hovering on the periphery; anxious and sick with worry that she did not know assaulted Nesta until she too became nauseous with it. Nesta’s icy guard had been down since she had dropped to her knees beside Mas, and she hadn’t the power to stack it back up. Not when she was as exhausted as she was, her power utterly diminished and her body focussing on healing.

Finally casting a glance around the room, Nesta saw that the flames in the log burner were raging mute. She wondered who had magicked them to become silent. She hoped it was Frawley rather than Rhysand.

Rhys was positioned to the right of the fireplace, and when Nesta’s gaze purposefully passed over him as if he were little more than part of the furniture, she felt his violet eyes flick to her, his expression no doubt hard and unyielding. But Nesta was too tired to battle today.

Cassian was watching her too, glaring with such intensity at her hands that Nesta was surprised they hadn’t moved involuntarily to raise the mug to her lips. Wanting him to stop, Nesta took a slow sip of tea even though it hurt to swallow. It didn’t work; those hazel eyes remaining unwaveringly fixated. He was standing right by her head, scrutinising everything she did, his wings spread as if he were contemplating launching into flight.

Nesta wanted to hiss at him, but then Feyre sat close beside her, and that made her want to hiss more.

At his place to the left of the hearth, Azriel’s lips twitched. He had been standing as still as a statue, like marble carved out of the finest stone, his shadows stolid, but now he shifted to face her.

Nesta guessed the shadowsinger could sense her emotions with her guard down completely.

She supposed there had to be a first.

When Nesta took the last sip of her drink, Cassian’s hands were immediately there, taking it from her, his siphons winking in the firelight. Nesta barely noticed. She only felt an overwhelming sense of relief at the first whisper of silver and brilliant white that twisted through her veins like two coiled serpents; intertwined yet separate.

Easing backwards with the intention of settling into the cushions, Nesta tried to ignore the pain that suddenly stabbed through her as her stomach muscles tensed. A sharp gasp escaped her, her breath knocked out of her lungs, but then cool, shadowed hands gripped Nesta’s shoulders. They took the weight off of her abdomen, slowly lowering her backwards until she was resting comfortably.

Behind her, Nesta heard Cassian’s wings snap in and out, clearly agitated at her pain.

When Nesta turned her head to Azriel, he dipped his head to her in acknowledgement. Black tendrils of shadow whispered back to him, curling around his arms and face, waiting patiently to be bent again to their master's will.

Then the shadowsinger turned to Rhys, as if seeking the order to begin.

“Thank you for joining us, Nesta,” Rhys said tightly. “Especially given the circumstances.”

Nesta did not reply, could not find it in herself to do it, but she finally stared at their High Lord with unflinching determination.

As always, Rhys was irritatingly immaculate, leaning against the hearth as if he owned it. Already Nesta felt like he was tainting her space — her sanctuary — and although she wanted to spit at him to leave and not come back, she only gave a stiff nod.

It would appear both of them were going to be forced today. Circumstances that were greater than their feud were at work, and neither of them was going to be petty enough to undermine that.

“Feyre allowed me to view her memory of the kerits attack,” Rhys said. “Three males flew over the mountain minutes before it happened. They can’t have been a part of the usual patrol as they weren’t doing the scheduled circuit. Instead, they flew straight over the mountain pass. Do you remember that?”

Nesta frowned, reaching back into the far depths of her memory… The three dots that coursed across the sky, the winking flash of silver from steel.

Sharply, Nesta craned her head to look at Cassian, not thinking of her injuries. She gasped. The movement had twisted her abdomen in a way she was not ready for.

Cassian’s large hands fell briefly to her shoulders before he moved to perch on the left of the U-shaped couch, close to the corner where he had lain her down.

“Ragar—” she started.

But Cassian only shook his head, leaning forward so his elbows were resting on his broad thighs. His wings were held in high and tight to his spine. “Accounted for,” he told her. “And his friends. They were in the sparring rings with Devlon and countless other witnesses.”

His smile was grim. “It’s one of the first thing I checked,” he confessed. “But it made us start to wonder if perhaps the attacks have been orchestrated. One attack can be passed off as a freak accident, but three attacks across three different camps is suspicious, especially given that kerits do not venture into populated areas.”

Nesta’s expression sharpened. “You think somebody purposefully led those beasts to the widows camp?”

Rhys’s nodded. “We think it’s a possibility.” He pinned his brother with those violet eyes. “What did you find scouring the perimeter, Az?”

The shadowsinger’s expression did not physically change, but Nesta felt his shadows chill. “Carrion,” he said coldly. “A trail of it leading to the mountain pass. Morsels of it. Not enough to feed a starving pack, but deliberate enough to tempt them out of the depths of the mountains.”

“This winter has been especially punishing,” Cassian interjected. “I bet food supply has been scarce. They struggle to survive as it is. The sounds they made as they hunted probably alerted other packs who joined the hunt.”

Feyre sat forward so she was hovering on the edge of the couch. “That would be why they were so vicious. They knew they were competing with other packs for food.”

Nesta’s stomach turned as she thought of how the widows and orphans had been seen as as a meal. How they had huddled to the Eastern point of the camp with nowhere to go and no means of defending themselves.

“The carrion was well hidden,” Azriel continued with a nod, his voice as smooth as cold marble. “Frawley examined the remains. They weren’t killed with siphon magic and there were no visible wounds to the bodies. We also found boot prints in the mud; different prints ranging in size in two separate locations within a miles range of the camp. They were fresh.”

Everyone’s expression tightened.

Nesta didn’t ask if the carrion was human or animal. She didn’t want to know.

“Frawley has taken samples to analyse them,” Azriel added. “She said she will show her sisters, as well. To see if they can sense an insignia.”

“So that means the attack was orchestrated,” Feyre said. “Someone deliberately led those beasts to the camp?”

Rhys nodded. “The attack was certainly pre-meditated,” he replied, pinning Cassian with a look. “The real question is who would arrange an attack on three separate camps.”

Cassian snorted. “You know what the lords are going to say. What all of the Illyrian’s at Windhaven are going to say.”

“That it’s an attack from another war camp,” Azriel supplied, his voice chilled midnight.

“War lords usually have no issue in taking responsibility if they played a part in an attack,” Rhys countered.

“I know that,” Cassian interjected, impatience lining his voice. “So will the lords when they stop to see sense, but the moment we tell them that we suspect wrong doing, all hell will break loose. We can’t afford to lose any more lives to petty feuds. We’re still reeling from the loss of males since the war and the Rite is already looming over the camp.”

Rhys nodded to show he had heard. Nesta wondered if he mourned the loss of lives like Cassian did. The High Lord looked tired, as if he had been torn away from his mate for too long. Yet nobody looked as ravaged as Cassian did. Nesta did not know if his brothers knew of his recurring nightmares, but she hoped they learnt of them. Sometimes Cassian looked so exhausted that Nesta vibrated with a concern she could not shake. In the past, she had bitten her lip one too many times to prevent herself from ordering him to go to bed.

Nesta knew how awful it was to force someone to do something they desperately wanted but were too fearful to surrender themselves to.

“We will manage the lords,” Rhys assured Cassian. “We can decide how we are going to play that consul, but for now, we need to get to the bottom of how the kerits managed to get past Windhaven’s patrols. You and I both know how meticulous Devlon is when it comes to security around the camp. Those males shouldn't have been able to pass over the camp without being stopped by the warriors on patrol.”

“Whoever they were, they must have known that Cassian wasn't going to be in the camp today,” Azriel offered, the spymaster in him coming to the forefront. “The only good news is that they clearly had no idea that both Feyre and Nesta would be at the top of the mountain and able to fight. And," he added after a beat of consideration, "they certainly underestimated Nesta’s ability to slay the pack if she had been alone today.”

If Nesta hadn’t been white from pain, she would have had to freeze the blush that dared to grace her cheeks at the shadowsinger’s compliment.

An abrupt snort came from Cassian. When he spoke, his voice was brimming with anger, “Of course they underestimated Nesta. Even though they have witnessed her fire daily and sensed the enormity of her magic, they still can't fathom that a female could be more powerful than them. It has to be Illyrian’s at the root of it. Only they would be chauvinistic enough to fail to see what is right in front of them.”

“Which,” Rhys interjected, “has worked unwittingly in our favour. Rather than fuel hatred towards the Night Court and cement the growing opinion that we do not protect the Illyrian community, we had two High Fae slaughtering the pack well before any warriors arrived on the scene. And then Nesta brought Masak back to life — someone who the Illyrian males in this camp do not see as worthy to live amongst them.”

Through the exhaustion, anger heated Nesta’s blood. She felt her magic whisper. If Nesta looked inward, she could see the two strands. Could now sense the promise of healing magic in her veins amongst her silver fire. As if she had been granted the key in the face of Mas’s death and she had turned it over in the lock, setting that power free.

Yet, even as Nesta grazed that healing power, it was her silver fire that promised to roar.

“I didn’t do it to stop a Civil War. I did it to protect the females who cannot protect themselves,” Nesta snapped weakly. She was too tired to muster enough vigour into her words, but she was annoyed at the false implication behind her actions. That she had not done it out of love for the housekeeper, but because of politics.

“That may be,” Rhys said, his voice forcibly light, “and what you did was honourable, but we cannot ignore how the Illyrian’s might interpret the action.”

“What Rhys is trying to say,” Azriel interjected smoothly as Nesta’s nostrils flared, “is that the females already respect you. The way you defended them today will not strengthen the dissent, only highlight that there are fae outside of the Illyrian communities who have their best interests at heart. You, for example.”

“You know they like you,” Cassian said quietly. He did not look at Nesta. Instead, he remained fixated at the hands that were clasped tightly in front of him, his elbows resting on his broad knees. “You know they have accepted you since you defended them against the males.”

“I protect them because nobody else seems to bother,” Nesta said coldly. “How many innocent females died because of the cruel intentions of males today? How many were injured?”

“Thirteen dead, thirty plus injured,” Cassian told Nesta quietly. “It would have been many more if you and Feyre not been there. You moved so quickly you managed to slay the majority of the packs before they reached the females.”

Nesta’s expression hardened as she thought of the trailing guts that had glistened in the grey light of day; the way Roksana’s hands had slipped in Mas’s wet, sticky blood, and how she had croaked for help. Her first word aloud since Nesta had met her.

“That is still too many,” Nesta insisted, her voice betraying her — shaking with the anger and horror of it all. “Why would they target the widows first? Why not lead the kerits down the other side of the mountain pass where they would could reach the main camp and weaken Windhaven’s forces?”

“Perhaps the kerits were never intended to weaken Windhaven’s ranks at all,” Rhys mused. “Perhaps they were intended to prove a point.”

A shocked, prolonged pause.

“Are you saying,” Nesta said, her voice shaking, “that you think the rebellion could have orchestrated the attacks. That they might have specifically targeted the defenceless females because widows are seen as disposable, but their deaths would be enough to fuel dissent amongst the camps?”

Rhys stared at Nesta for a moment. His head tilted slightly to the side, in the same way that Cassian’s did when he was trying to puzzle her out. But Nesta barely saw it. All she saw was the twisted body of the kind cook who had fed Nesta every morning… Of lovely Durkhanai, with her beautiful curly hair and bright green eyes. A female who had been dealt the harshest of fates. She had not deserved her end. None of the females had.

Feyre’s hand crept over the blankets to Nesta’s. Her sister’s slim fingers wrapped around her own. “Surely they wouldn’t kill their own race?” Feyre said, her voice shaking. Nesta wondered if she, too, was thinking of the discarded limbs and pools of blood. “There were children in that camp. The females didn’t even have weapons…”

But her sister did not understand just how harsh the camps were. Unlike Nesta, Feyre had not lived amongst the widows for months. She did not know just how willing the Illyrian’s might be to offer the widows camp as a sacrifice for the sake of politics.

“I would not put it past Illyrian’s to see widows as a necessary sacrifice,” Rhys admitted eventually after a long, pregnant pause. His violet eyes had softened with grief. “If this is orchestrated by the rebellion, I suspect that by targeting the widows camps Kallon was hoping to fuel the anger amongst the Illyrian’s that they are not protected. That the Night Court does not care for Illyrian’s and offers them no protection. The widows would have been seen as a necessary sacrifice. They are outcasts in Illyrian society with no families to mourn their deaths.”

A ringing sounded in Nesta’s ears. The noise tuned out the room around her. It took her a while to realise that it was fury. It burned. It was not hot, but cold - enough to give her frostbite - as if her magic was not replenished enough to fly but was trying its best to rally itself. Inside of her chest, something cracked. It sounded like bone. With it, came creeping fingers of light, reaching towards her...

With all her strength, Nesta clamped down... until shadows ate away the approaching light and the room righted itself.

When she came to, Cassian was growling low in warning, his wings stretching as far as they could without hitting her square in the face. At who, Nesta did not know. Did not care for his territorial display when there were bigger matters to discuss.

“And why isn’t there protection?” she asked.

Nesta’s words were as cold as the chill in her veins. Rhys stilled, and with it, his magic trembled. The growl was still rumbling from low in Cassian’s chest — deeper even — and he sat forward, bracing his weight onto his thighs as if he were getting ready to launch himself at… someone. Nesta wasn’t sure who.

Feyre was still gripping Nesta’s hand tight, her grip firm enough to hurt. If Nesta had cast a look to her sister’s face, she would have seen that tell-tale glaze over Feyre’s eyes. It was the kind of far off look which told Nesta that her sister was speaking to her mate mind-to-mind. Or trying to, at least.

“Why was there no protection around each of the Illyrian camps given that there had already been two kerit attacks?” Nesta continued, ignoring the rumbling sound that had her heart wanting to beat that little bit faster. “I have seen the protective shields the fae used in war — around your City of Starlight. Why is that courtesy not extended to the Illyrian communities?”

A long, drawn out silence of star-kissed eternal and a whisper of ancient silver.

“I have offered protection numerous times to each of the war lords,” Rhys replied eventually, his voice too measured to be casual. “Each of them have turned it down. They see it as a criticism on their duty as warriors to protect and defend.”

Nesta’s snort was harsh but the hard quality to her eyes did not change. “They are stubborn Illyrian bats. Get them to change their minds. Or are you not their High Lord?”

A flicker of amusement passed across Azriel’s face, his shadows lightening the sharp, beautiful angles of his face. “Nesta is right,” he said, causing everyone to turn. “The war lords don’t have the luxury of turning down our help when it looks as if there will be more kerit attacks. There shouldn’t have been a gap in today’s patrol. Windhaven has always prided itself on its security — all the camps do. Have we found the soldiers who should have been patrolling the perimeter? I think it wise to consider that they may have been compromised by whoever tempted the kerits to the camps. Recruited, even. They could well be the males that flew over the mountain pass.”

“Nobody can find them,” Cassian growled. “We have males out looking for them as we speak. As soon as they are found we will interrogate them.”

“Cassian and I will interrogate,” Rhys told Azriel as a rare flicker of surprise fell across the shadowsinger's expression. “I need you to visit your most trusted contacts in the camps and tell them that we believe the attacks might not be random. We need all eyes and ears to the ground to find out as much as we can, not least to anticipate where the next attack might be.”

A tense nod, but Azriel folded into shadow and disappeared.

Cassian’s fists curled into fists on the tops of his thighs. “We need evidence. We cannot assume this is the rebellion without it.”

“Of course not,” Rhys admitted smoothly. “Which is why we need you to try and snuff out as much information as you can when you and Nesta go to the Solstice luncheon next week. Accept the offer to stay overnight.”

Nesta hadn’t thought Cassian’s expression could turn any stonier, but it did. “No.”

“The more time you spend at Ironcrest, the longer Nesta has to pick up any untoward emotion, especially surrounding conversation about the camps. It gives Frawley time to look and identify the origin of the sword, and it gives you and Lorrian time to pry out any information. Insist on you and Lorrian overseeing the aerial and ground units that next morning, it will ease away any suspicion. A trip there is long overdue but it is time to act on this rather than gathering information, which we have been doing up until now.”

Cassian blew out a long, steadying breath. Then he conceded, “With the Rite meeting been moved forward to that afternoon, it shouldn’t be hard to extend our stay."

Rhys nodded. “Good.” Then his violet eyes rested on Nesta. “You are willing to go with Cassian?”

A raised chin. Defiant. Strong. Despite the pain and exhaustion that wanted to pull her down, down, down. “Yes.”

“Then we have a plan,” Rhys said with another nod. “Azriel will continue to train you. If he is not available, I will travel to the camps and train you myself .”

At the edge of her periphery, Nesta saw Feyre’s eyes widen. In her stomach, Nesta felt Cassian’s surprise, a sensation which grew as Rhys said, “Welcome to the Court of Dreams, Nesta Archeron.”

***

By the time the meeting was over, Nesta was drained; her eyelids unbelievably heavy, her limbs aching. She desperately wanted to sleep, so she took the tincture Feyre brought her without comment and didn’t protest when Cassian carried her back to his bed rather than hers; agony fogged the rational part of her brain.

She was practically asleep as Cassian lay her onto his mattress. She felt his fingers coax hers away from where they were clutching his leathers. Blankets were pulled over her, the weight a comfort. A sedative was dripped into her mouth.

And then she slipped under.

When Nesta next woke, the taste was still bitter in her mouth but the room was dark; the light having receded even from the gap between the curtains.

In the armchair beside her bed was Feyre, her feet curled up beneath her and her freckled nose buried in Love in Velaris. A bobbing faelight hung overhead, willed by her sister’s magic. It illuminated the pages.

From the dent Feyre had made in the book, Nesta guessed she had been asleep for hours. Beyond the room, the bungalow sat still — the way it did when Cassian was not home — as if it too were sleeping, waiting for its owner to come back and breathe life into the rooms with his presence.

A few seconds passed until Feyre noticed that Nesta was awake. It gave Nesta enough time to catalogue the concern etched on her sister’s pale face; the tight expression which made Feyre’s sharp cheekbones even more prominent.

Nesta did not usually see the similarities between them, but now, as Feyre’s serious steel-blue eyes snapped up at the rustle of blankets, Nesta knew why others had said they looked alike.

“You’re awake.” Feyre spoke slowly — unsure — as she unfurled her long, lithe legs. When Nesta winced as she tried to get into a more comfortable position, Feyre jumped up and moved to the dresser. “Here,” she said, pouring some tincture onto a silver spoon.

Nesta hated the way she needed assistance to lift her head, but she allowed Feyre to do it in a rush of pear and lilac. Nesta was not proud enough to deny that she needed the tincture to smooth away the pain. And whilst the pain wasn’t as agonising as hours prior, it was deep-set enough for Nesta to consider whether she could persuade Feyre to allow her to swallow down the whole damn bottle.

After some water to chase down the foul taste, Feyre stepped back. “How are you feeling? Frawley seemed to think she could speed up the healing Madja did, but you were so sick…” Her sister trailed off, setting back to examine Nesta’s face. “You look a little less pale...”

“I’m fine,” Nesta said hoarsely.

Feyre opened her mouth and then closed it again, as if she were contemplating what best to say. The action annoyed Nesta. She wanted to be alone and quiet. To fall back asleep and wake when the pain was gone and she no longer felt helpless.

“Don’t you have duties to attend to?” Nesta asked tiredly, turning her face to bury it into one of the pillows. It was a few seconds reprieve to calm the irritation that had started to hum through her.

Slowly, Nesta breathed in the scent of pine, musk and air that was so fierce Nesta felt as if she were almost a part of it. She had no doubt this was the pillow Cassian rested his head on. The scent soothed her, smoothing over that spiky, dangerous anger of hers to leave bone-lead weariness in its place.

“I wanted to be here,” Feyre told her. There was a subtle stubborn lift to her chin that Nesta knew Feyre had copied from her at a young age so many times that it had now become a part of who she was. “I wanted to look after you. To make sure that you were healing.”

“Well, I don’t need you to take care of me. You heard it yourself, I should be out of bed tomorrow. I just need to sleep.”

Nesta had intended to say it icily, but she was not well enough to muster the strength.

Feyre’s expression tightened, and for a moment, Nesta thought she might snap. But then she just straightened with determination; her tall, lean body rising to a height that called for attention. “Then let me say what I want to say and I will leave you alone.”

A long, stony silence and a blank, impenetrable mask that Nesta hoped with desperation conveyed the message she wanted to snap: Go away.

Instead, Feyre seated herself on the armchair and reached for Nesta’s ice-cold hand. “Nesta,” she started, the word practically a plea. “I know you and I - I know that our relationship has always been rocky. And you are right, there are many things that I hadn’t considered, not least when I sent you here. But… you almost died today and it’s made me realise what is important: I love you. I don’t think I’ve told you that before, but I always have. Even when we were younger and we were both so angry and bitter at our lot in life and we spent our days fighting. And I know you love me, too. Hiring someone to take you to the wall to find me told me that…”

Feyre let out a long, shaky breath and when she next spoke, her voice turned softer, dropping into a confession, “I forgave you and Elain a long time ago for when we were starving, Nesta. I want you to know that. I don’t — we were children. It was father that failed us, not you. I never saw it as your job to care for me and… I’m sorry that you were there when mother asked me to take care of you…. That must have been a horrible thing to overhear and… well, I would have felt resentment towards me, too, if I were you.”

More silence. Nesta would not allow herself to speak for the barbed words she knew would spill forth. About her sister’s mate and how whilst Nesta had tried to make amends, Rhysand’s obvious dislike of her had not disappeared with Feyre’s supposed forgiveness.

“I also want you to know that what you did in the war — you saved hundreds of lives. I know you witnessed unimaginable death and horror, but fae and humans are walking on Prythian because you struck down the male that promised to wreak havoc on our world. You did all of that and I never thought to thank you. And then I was so swept away by my duties as High Lady and recovering from Rhys’s near death that I did not give you the time I should have-”

Such careful tiptoeing around their father’s death. How Nesta had watched the life bleed out of his eyes, until they were nothing but glassy and wholly unconscious.

It was that which made Nesta cut her sister off. Even now, she had no desire to discuss his death. “I am not a burden you need to add to your list of priorities. I didn’t want your help. I explicitly told you to go away and instead you continued to force me to socialise when all I wanted was to be alone.”

Feyre let go of Nesta’s hand. Something akin to loss flashed through Nesta, piercing through the exhaustion and the pain in her abdomen.

“I think communication has always been an issue for us,” Feyre admitted, not backing down from the conversation. “I have spent time thinking over what you have said and you are right, I have not truly listened to you. But I was so scared for your safety I adopted drastic measures—”

“It is not your place to decide what is best for me,” Nesta said coldly. “I am not yours to command. And,” she continued with as much iciness as she could muster, “I do not think that an Illyrian camp is a place of safety.”

A deliberate pause to highlight how she were in bed suffering from major injuries.

“I thought if you were with Cassian that you would be protected,” Feyre said, her expression anguished. “I thought if anyone were to hold their own in an Illyrian camp it would be you. You are so strong, Nesta—”

“You thought a fae male could protect me when the protection I was promised by males has failed over and over again?” Nesta countered. “He is not even here all of the time. Sometimes he is away for days on end and I am left alone. You banished me to this awful place in front of an audience with no care for my feelings.”

But as Nesta spoke, something scrabbled in the back of her mind. Because it wasn’t fair to criticise Cassian for both leaving her and crowding her. Because Cassian had given her space and yet he had also been there, on the periphery if not right in front of her. Taunting her and encouraging her, but with so much space to grow. He had not made her train with him, dragging her spitting and screaming into the sparring ring. He had not thrown her out into the camp each morning and forced her to work or make friends. He had given her choices that she had more often than not denied over and over. And when she had done that, he had bought her more books or figured out the foods she liked to make the days a little less boring.

Cassian had not just protected her but allowed her to grow stronger. Had given her the space to decide for once in her life what she wanted to do and what she wanted to be. True, she might have been stuck in Windhaven, but she had never felt truly trapped. The skies made her feel unencumbered. The mud beneath her feet rendered her a part of nature rather than apart from it. The craggy mountains were a physical depiction of how Nesta was starting to see herself; sharp and angry but resilient and strong.

Outside the bungalow, Nesta heard the unmistakable crunch of boots in the snow. The low murmur of male voices floated through the bedroom window, which had been cracked open to circulate the stale air.

Feyre’s face crumpled in sudden irritation, and Nesta guessed that her mate had tried to speak mind-to-mind with her mid-conversation. From the way Feyre’s expression quickly cleared, Nesta got the impression she had banished Rhys completely or told him to go away.

The click of the magical lock from the front door rang through the bungalow, but Feyre’s attention was only on her. “Adjusting to the role of High Lady has been… a struggle,” her sister admitted. “Cassian, Rhys, Amren and Mor are my friends as well as my trusted advisors. But you are right, I spoke to you as a High Lady not as a sister when I told you to come here. I thought that using my new status would make you listen because my role as a sister had failed. It was a last resort and I knew… I knew that Cassian would look after you.”

Feyre stared up at the ceiling, as if the memory caused her pain. “As soon as you left I knew the way I had summoned you was wrong.” Feyre looked back to Nesta and sincerity swam in her eyes. “I did not consider that I had imprisoned you. I was selfishly only thinking of forcing you to be well.”

More silence.

Feyre got to her feet, her expression pained.

She waved a hand to the window, gesturing to the scenery outside. To the craggy mountains that stretched for miles and the sea beyond it. To the world that existed beyond Illyria. Beyond Prythian. “When you are healed, if you wish to leave Illyria you can. I don’t want you to feel imprisoned any longer.”

There was a finality to the words that rang true. Her sister meant them, even if it was obvious they caused her pain. Yet… Nesta did not want to leave. Not now, not when she had promised to attend the Solstice luncheon to see what they could discover about the sword and the kerit attacks. Not when the females here were so vulnerable. Now when they needed help rebuilding their community — to mourn for the losses that Nesta had vowed would not go unnoticed.

“I said I’d help, didn’t I?”

Feyre halted at the door.

“And your help is invaluable,” Feyre said slowly, “but you are not obligated to do it. So if you wish to leave, you can. Just… please tell someone before you do and let us know where you are going.”

Feyre looked weary and Nesta wondered if she had even bathed since everything that had happened. Her body was clean like Nesta’s… but her leathers were crumpled and her hair dishevelled. Nesta’s own body felt like it was covered in a film of oil and invisible dirt. Her skin itched at the thought and she longed for a bath, even though she knew she would not be able to manage it without more rest.

When Nesta closed her eyes, Feyre’s blood-streaked face swam into view. She remembered how Feyre had gripped her hand in the midst of battle and told Nesta to lead the way to the Eastern side of the camp, even though they were in the thick of danger. Her sister had not hesitated or balked. She had only been fierce and unwaveringly brave, ready to put her life on the line for those who needed protection.

For all of their problems, when the two of them had been fighting side by side, it was the first time that Nesta felt as if she truly belonged with her sister. For a brief moment in time, their issues and past mistakes had bled away, as if they were inconsequential.

“I’d love for us to start afresh,” Feyre continued quietly from her place at the door. “We have both made errors, but I do not care about yours. I hope that with time you might be able to forgive me, and if you do, I’d like to start over, you and I, with a blank slate.”

Tags:

@arin1030 @superspiritfestival @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @mylittlebigplanet @biggestwingspan-az @bellsqueen @ekaterinakostrova @bookstantrash @prophecyerised @rainbowcheetah512 @awesomelena555 @wannawriteyouabook @iammissstark @hatemecozuaintme @lovelynesta @melphss @nestalytical @nestable @darkshadowqueensrule @laylaameer01 @a-trifling-matter @grouchycritic7794 @thalia-2-rose @champanheandluxxury @swankii-art-teacher @princessconsuela02 @lavendergoomsltd @little-diyosa @princessofmerchants-reads @sjm-things

#nessian #nessian angst #nessianfic #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #nestafic #cassianfic #cassian #acosf #acofas #acowar #acomaf #acotar #embersandlightfic

114 notes · View notes

mythicamagic · 3 years

Note

“Would you just shut up and listen to me for two goddamn seconds?!”

AN: ...yeah so I'll post part five in a few hours and THAT will be the ending to this Ex Sesshoumaru saga. Smh. I wrote too much of this. Read the other chapters - here.

----

She can't recall how it started.

It wasn't as though either of them had woken up one day and decided to pursue something. They'd become 'companions' of sorts- not quite friends, not casual acquaintances either. Kagome spoke with him while sitting on the grassy hillside, wearing full miko garb and explaining about future technologies.

Talking turned into meeting up regularly. Meetups turned into secret rendezvous.

Kagome wagered she'd been a source of intrigue for the demon lord. A window into the future. He listened with rapt attention and intelligent, sharp eyes. His questions were short and to the point- humour dark and smirking. Kagome found him endearing, in an irritatingly proud kind of way.

She learned about demon culture and his shining, unblemished heritage. How his ancestors had created magnificent weapons that could cut through stormy skies and block out the sun.

Kagome really couldn't say how it started.

He still hadn't been keen on humans, deeming them weak. A few were the exception to the rule. Kagome had figured that was enough. To be counted amongst those few meant she was 'special.'

She felt special, kissing him. Being loved by him made Kagome glow golden, radiating power and contentment. He encouraged her to train, to build up her reiki to new heights so that she might shock and amaze like no other miko before her. To go beyond the title of 'Shikon Miko.'

But centuries of bigotry didn't just 'go away' overnight, nor was it cured by love. He still thought of humans as beneath him. He loved her despite her humanity, not because of it.

In hindsight, Kagome shouldn't have been surprised by his reaction to her hypothetical question.

"If we ever have kids, do you think they'll be recognised as heirs?"

"What?"

Kagome shifted atop a pillow within his room at the Western Stronghold, setting down her book. "I'm just saying, I know your court is still pretty old school with how they feel about Hanyous. Think it'll impact our kids being able to take over the Western Lands?"

What a naive question. She'd been so wrapped up in how he made her feel- Kagome hadn't stopped to consider the possibility that he hadn't changed enough. Not enough for such a question. She'd asked hoping to be assured. That he'd comfort her with the knowledge that any children they had would be respected.

They wouldn't end up like Inuyasha. Ignored. Cast out.

Sesshoumaru had looked at her with such a perplexed, complicated expression. He spoke slowly, as though breaking the news to a child.

"A Hanyou will never rule the Western lands."

The surprise had set in- like she recognised the handle of the knife buried into her gut, but the pain hadn't registered yet. She'd questioned him, of course. His explanation wasn't any more encouraging.

"Hanyous only live a few centuries. I cannot entrust something as important as the longevity of these lands to one, nor can I guarantee they would mate a demon to extend their lifespan."

"Why don't you just say what you mean?" she uttered coldly, betrayal simmering in her blood as she stood. "You don't want one. You don't want an imperfect kid with me."

"That is not what I-"

"You don't have to say it," Kagome glared. "It's there, behind every word you just said. When were you gonna clue me in on this, huh? And what the hell is your plan?- because if you intended to keep me as a fucking mistress all this time while you play happy families with a pure-blooded bitch then-"

"No-" he snarled, terrible and thundering. Sesshoumaru got in her face, large hands curling in her hair, thumbs stroking the shells of her ears, trying to soothe. "I would not have you be Izayoi. You would be my mate. I would make you my Lady. We may have pups."

"That's very considerate of you," she sneered, flashing blunt teeth. "And where's this pure-blooded youkai kid coming from, hm? Because I sure as hell can't give you one."

Golden eyes slid away. It was as though a part of him knew, recognised that his duty would put him at odds with what they'd created together. He looked young, suddenly.

"I will create an heir with an inconsequential demoness."

"Inconsequential?" Kagome stared, hysteria bubbling up inside her. She broke away from him, his touch feeling unwanted, cold. "You'd use some poor woman just for that?"

"You are attributing human emotion to this," Sesshoumaru uttered, gaze flicking back to her. "She would be honoured by it. Her family would want for nothing-"

"Would you just shut up and listen to me for two goddamn seconds?!" Kagome burst, tears blurring her vision. "Can't you hear yourself? You'd still have to sleep with her, with a stranger. She'd carry your child for months, only to be torn away from them? Or would she live here? Would I have to see her every damn day and know- be reminded that I and my child weren't enough for you?!" her voice broke, a wave of emotion slamming her in the gut, only just registering and truly feeling the implications of her words.

His expression cracked, eyes widening, recognising he'd hurt her. Long claws unfurled.

"Kagome-"

"No! No, I'm done," Kagome backed away.

Years of sadness and mistrust loomed over their relationship suddenly, where before there had only been lazy mornings or evenings spent resting her head on his thigh, listening to long claws plucking the strings of a koto and inhaling rich, spicy scents of smoke from an ornate pipe.

"Don't talk to me. Don't even look at me," blue eyes swimming with tears glared. "Thank you for clarifying everything, Lord Sesshoumaru. I just wish you'd told me this two years ago."

He tried to touch her again- only for the miko to slap his attempt away with a crackling hiss of holy energy. Sesshoumaru was forced back, his hand steaming, narrowly avoiding being burned as Kagome backed away.

She'd never seen the look of pure, unadulterated surprise and distress contort his regal features before. But Sesshoumaru was proud. Sesshoumaru was a being carved from stone, who could not be moved by the words of a mere mortal.

He let her go.

Kagome didn't so much as grab her bag. She hitched a ride on Ah Un and made for Kaede's village. It wasn't long before she'd said her goodbyes, propelled by distress and anger into a hasty decision.

She jumped through the well, never to return.

It was a terrible, disappointing end to her feudal fairytale.

---

Rising slowly, Kagome blinked tired lids open, coming to a silent conclusion in the cold light of day. Picking up the phone, she called Natsuki and scheduled a meetup.

Promptly breaking up with him.

He didn't seem terribly shocked by the news.

"So… are you going to him after this?" He asked point-blank.

"What?"

"That silver inuyoukai I sensed on you last week. Figured you had something else going on."

Stiffness rendered her shoulders tense. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, "for making you feel that way. I'm not going to him, but I have been thinking about him."

"Heh, you've been thinking about him but not going? Sounds difficult."

"It is," she smiled, reaching over the table and squeezing his fingers. "Goodbye, Natsuki."

The way he'd eyed her hand, just for a moment- warily- as though wondering for half a second if she'd taken her pills, only strengthened Kagome's resolve.

She knew what she wanted now.

---

Dressing up that night, she wore her best things. The nicest pair of earrings, shoes, right down to her dress and underwear. She did everything to allow herself to relax, soaking in a tub with candles littered around the edge beforehand.

Glancing at her pills on the nightstand, Kagome grabbed her purse before leaving, having not taken them all day. The effects should've worn off by now. Walking down the stairs, she experimented with a light flex- pink static racing over her skin in a faint crackle.

Dark hair fanned out, soon settling about her shoulders. Kagome took a long, indrawn breath. Life flowed through her veins. Her heart pumped, alive, healthy. Too long had she soaked herself in misery and settled for any half-decent demon cock willing to tolerate her power. Her species.

No more.

Kagome headed straight for the youkai bar.

She slipped in, a known regular by now. Unlike usual though, after grabbing a drink she didn't content herself by sitting at the bar until a tall dark and handsome stranger approached her. Kagome downed it to ignite a fire in her throat, hissing quietly and setting down her glass before easing around grinding bodies on the dance floor.

Standing in the centre, with speakers booming, vibrations thrumming through her- multicoloured lights flashing overhead in the much too dark room, with sweat and youki plastering to the air like heady vapour, Kagome took a breath. Beefy hands met her waist, intending to 'dance' with her - before she let reiki flow.

Younger demons immediately backed off, spooked by the mere suggestion of power. The hands left her body as she met their gazes. If they wanted to touch her, they'd have to reach her.

Dark eyes turned to the miko, intrigued. Some started to approach, but she gradually turned the facet of her holy powers higher. Bigger, more arrogant males kept moving closer. They could match her, tame her. She was just a priestess, after all. They hadn't been anything substantial in centuries.

Kagome held her head high on the half-empty dance floor, pink energy now static and visible, racing over her body like a live wire. And still more poured into her aura, seeping out like a huge barrier. She wasn't done. Not by a long shot.

Even the bravest stopped, all demons now pressed back against far walls, snarling at her, some evacuating the bar.

Kagome's heart shuddered. Her shoulders fell. All that, and she still hadn't let everything out. Maybe she was supposed to make herself smaller. Maintain the air of an unassuming priestess by a big strong demon's side. Settle. Accept it. What had she been expecting?

Feeling foolish and a little selfish for spoiling everyone's night, Kagome stepped back with the intent of recalling her energy.

A palm met the pink barrier, a sharp sound ringing out like the crack of lightning. Youki -familiar, dominating, unique- crashed against her aura, creating a plume of sweeping mists. Through the pink haze, Sesshoumaru stepped forward.

Unlike his usual modern look, the glamour was absent this time.

Kagome's eyes widened, oxygen briefly freezing inside her lungs. His markings were on full display. Seeing him again, really seeing him, awakened a strange feeling inside her.

Kagome grit blunt teeth, refusing to soften. She allowed another wave of her reiki out, creating a blazing inferno that licked along the wooden floors and sent every other demon fleeing.

Golden eyes narrowed slightly, but Sesshoumaru kept his palm raised, long hair whipping around him.

As reiki slid through the gaps of his fingers, he took a step closer. Followed by another. Red youki buffered its natural opposite, creating sparks and wafts of charged steam. He walked around the room, slowly tightening the circle around her like a predator closing in, though not without effort.

Kagome had never felt anything like it. She'd never let so much loose before. She could even keep going, she could-

Sesshoumaru's hand closed over her wrist, eyes hazed red. He panted, face lingering close. "Enough. I can withstand you, dear one," he said in a rush, light burns dotting his cheek and forehead. "But those outside cannot. You could obliterate every demon within a 5-mile radius if you wished, but I know you do not want that."

Kagome blinked, shaken. Catching her breath suddenly, she trembled, holding onto him.

His presence stabilised something, allowing Kagome to slowly begin reeling blistering power back. Her body weakened, forehead finding his shoulder as pink power receded back inside. Wild youki died down not long after.

And that was how Kagome Higurashi was barred from the only youkai establishment in the city.

#Sesskag #Sesshoumaru x Kagome #asks

36 notes · View notes

royallyprincesslilly · 4 years

Text

Title: F*@k The Chef {One Shot}***

Ransom Drysdale x Family Chef Reader

Warning: NSFW, SMUUUUUT, Cursing, Hard Dub-Con, DARK Creepy Ransom, ALL STARS ON NSFW METER

***DO NOT READ AT WORK!!! TAKE THE WARNINGS SERIOUSLY***

Words: 4k

Summary: HA! Nope.

Note: So, my first attempt at Ransom and more importantly Dub-Con. I don’t know about you, but Ransom does not scream anything but dubiousness. That means consent is given but by dubious means. I hope this is even a fraction of good. Was this dark? Thank you guys for reading!!

Also, this was not written to offend anyone.

**Loosely Edited/Proofread**

***Gif Not My Own***

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you got the call that you’d been chosen for an in-home chef position, you were happy. You’d hit bottom when you’d tapped out all of your savings trying to help your mother when she got her diagnosis. Cancer—stage three Cancer. It was a death sentence, your mother said. She was hell-bent on not fighting it, but you wouldn’t hear a thing about it. She’d birthed you a fighter, and you’d go down as a fighter. The cancer didn’t waste any time progressing. Before long, she went from no symptoms to every symptom in the book. She said she’d made her peace with death, but you weren’t ready to face a world without her.

You drained your bank account with her meds, her care, and funding the portion of treatment her insurance refused to. After six months, you were broke. The call that you’d be chosen for a live-in position automatically garnered a refusal. You couldn’t leave your mother. Then the offer got even better, not only were you requested but the salary was better than any personal chef had ever seen. There was no way you wouldn’t take the job.

When you rolled up to the address, your jaw dropped when you realized where you were—the Thrombey estate. You weren’t an idiot, you’d heard about the Thrombey Dynasty, everyone had heard the rumors. They’re the wealthiest family, they controlled serious portions of the business world and even that the family was seriously weird. You’d even heard the torrid tale of the black sheep of the family, Ransom Drysdale. You’d heard about his arrest. The release of information was interesting. The whispers said he’d killed his grandfather and the family housekeeper, but the official story said the family was a victim of insufficient evidence that pinned the murders on Ransom. It was safe to say the family had secrets, and though you’d never met Ransom, he looked dangerous.

You couldn’t believe your luck. Upon speaking with Linda Drysdale about the position, you knew this would be an interesting position. Linda told you what you needed to know to do your job accordingly, and you took detailed notes. It was clear that everyone in the household and the family had particular tastes that had to be paid attention to.

Six months into the position, you’d learned a lot and developed on the job skills it took to survive working for the Thrombeys as well as living with them. You considered yourself an expert now. That was until you walked into your kitchen one day and saw a set of shoulders that looked ripe for the touching. He was bent inside the fridge, and it gave you a good view of his backside. It looked nice—toned. You got lost looking over the muscles you knew were underneath the brown sweater they wore that you didn’t even realize when they looked over their shoulder right to you.

“Holy Shit,” you gasped.

Ransom Drysdale stood a few feet away. His body straightened and came to full height. He was huge, or bigger than you. You were clearly the omega, and he looked every bit the vicious alpha.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” His mouth remained relaxed, but there was a playful but dangerous glint in his eyes. “Or maybe you do entirely different things with a mouth as pretty as that.”

Unexpectedly, butterflies filled your belly. You usually were immune to pick up lines like that, but that was a blatant pickup line, one that was dark but for some reason, affected you. As he sauntered toward you, you caught dangerous vibes coming off of him. You backed up with every advance he made. When your heel hit the threshold of the kitchen entrance, panic set in. You were alone with a man who’d quite possibly killed two people, one of whom was his own grandfather. He stopped mere inches from touching you and smirked. Goosebumps flooded your skin.

“Yeah, you do entirely different things with that mouth. Care to share?”

You were stunned silent; his eyes were an intense shade of blue you couldn’t help but admire. That, coupled with his perfectly coiffed dark hair and chiseled jawline, it would have been an honest assessment to call him beautiful. When you didn’t answer, his smirk widened and sent chills down your spine. Leaning forward to your ear Ransom took a deep inhale then groaned.

“One day.” With that, he walked off, leaving you dazed and slightly shaking. You didn’t know what it was you were shaking from fear or excitement.

You thought to render your resignation after that encounter, but you couldn’t convince yourself to pass up on the clearly over-generous salary, not when your mother was still in treatment. After an all-night debate with your door securely locked and bolted with a chair underneath the knob, you decided to keep the job but tread carefully, especially when it came to a one Ransom Drysdale.

For the next four months, you put up with a lot more than an average family chef would have had to. You stomached the catcalls, the whistles, and the demeaning sounds Ransom made every time he saw you or was close to you. You just steeled your spine and pretended you’d heard nothing at all. Every time you were left alone in a room, you made an excuse to leave. When you had to bring his dinner to his room because he hated his family so much that he refused to eat with them at the dinner table, you kept it simple. Rather than go into the lion’s den, you left it on the floor in front of the door, knocked, and made a mad dash to get away before he opened the door. You skated by for four months.

As time went on, his advances became more and more blatant. What started as catcalls or whistling turned into sly comments about your uniform and how it should be shorter and how the fit did wonders for your waist and breasts. That escalated to outward attempts at getting to you. On the off chance your eyes met, he’d bite his lips, lick them obnoxiously and wink at you. When that had no effect, he found ways to touch you slyly. He’d squeeze past you sliding his body against yours, take plates or other items from you while ensuring his hand grazed yours. A few times, he’d even grabbed your waist. Each time it produced a loud yelp that could be heard throughout the house.

After months of you not reciprocating or opening up to his advances, his delivery became even crasser. It was a little strange to you. You knew from the sounds that came from his bedroom that he had no shortage of women that would do whatever, whenever he wanted. You didn’t know why he had this fixation with you. Part of you said it was the draw of breaking someone—something. He possibly wanted to break those around him that were put together, and you were just the closest target. Whatever it was, you didn’t want to provoke him.

One night, Ransom must have been lying in wait for you. When you approached his door with the tray of food, he swung open his door, startling you half to death. He smiled like the Cheshire cat if the Cheshire cat was a convicted murderer.

“Funny meeting you here,” Ransom said, leaning one brawny shoulder on the threshold.

“I—I have your dinner.”

“You have my dinner who?” Clenching your jaw, you swallowed the smart comeback that nearly slipped from you. As if sensing it, Ransom smiled as his eyes darkened. He tilted his head to the side, quietly reminding you he was waiting.

“Sir,” you filled in.

He nodded and breathed out. You saw his eyes lazily travel over your body. He wasn’t even being coy about it; he was doing it outright like he wanted you to know what he was doing. Doing your best to ignore it and not say something reckless you’d regret in the trunk of his car as he took you to some abandoned part of the estate to kill you.

“Bring it inside,” Ransom ordered. You hesitated. Going inside was a stupid idea, anyone with half a brain knew that. You also thought what other option did you have? He didn’t even bother repeating it. It was as if his privilege told him you’d obey.

Cursing to yourself, you slowly stepped into his room and looked for a place to put the dinner tray. As you walked across to the small table up a few steps on the other side of the room, you did your best to slow your breathing and calm your nerves. Once you placed it down, you began walking back to the door. Before you got near it, Ransom shut it and leaned against it. Your stomach fell.

“Uh—what’re you—what’re you doing?”

“Whatever the hell I want,” he gruffly said. His eyes didn’t look clear tonight. He’d taken something. In your time working there, you’d learned a few things about Ransom. He liked women, alcohol, good food—rich food, and drugs. You suspected he did them all, but you knew for a fact he liked weed and molly, otherwise known as ecstasy. He must have taken one tonight, you though.

Ransom rubbed his nose and sniffled as he did it and zeroed in on you. “Come here.”

Instead of listening, you backed away, trying to create distance between you. “Come—here!” It was said more loudly. He meant business. Panic set in and a feeling of dread. Before he moved, he growled then pounced. You yelped and got ready to scream, but Ransom’s hand clasped over your mouth before he pushed you against the wall on the other side of his room.

“Let’s not go doing something stupid, sweetheart,” he drawled his voice dripping with wickedness and sin.

“Tell me—sweetheart,” Ransom began with his face just inches from yours. “What would you do to keep your job?” You felt his finger trail your throat. It inched lower and lower until it was at the rise of your breast. “One word from me, and you’ll be out on your ass faster than you can say Cancer treatment.”

With those words, your eyes widened. He knew about your mother. When he saw you realized it, he smiled sinisterly.

“That’s right, sweetheart. I know you need this job. The question is, what will you do to keep it?”

Moments passed where he kept his hand clamped over your mouth. Only when he was sure you weren’t going to scream did he remove it.

“The next words out of your mouth better be anything, sweetheart,” Ransom warned. Glaring at him, you hoped to convey all the hatred you had for him at this moment. Ransom didn’t look like he cared, his smile said it didn’t faze him one bit.

“Haven’t you heard the rumors? Hate turns me on. I’d be careful how you look at me, Y/N. I just might bend you over that table and have my real dinner.” Your eyes bugged with his threat, but your belly did cartwheels. What the hell was wrong with you, you wondered.

“So—again, what will you do—to keep your job?” He said it in a sing-song voice this time. He was enjoying this. The sick fuck was enjoying this.

“What do you want?”

As if he’d been waiting for you to ask him that. He smiled and got so close his nose touched yours. You tried to press your back even further onto the wall hoping it would suck you in. That didn’t happen though; instead, ransom’s hand tightened on your hip and pulled you to him. Your body was now crushed flush against his. Even dressed in the teal-colored wool sweater, you could still feel every muscle underneath. He was athletically built.

“You.”

As if for emphasis as soon as the word left his mouth, you felt his erection poking against you. Again, your belly did backflips as you were filled with strange feelings; fear was the least of them.

“I’m tired of waiting for you to throw yourself at me so I can take what I offer. You are the only one who has resisted this long. Why resist? Just give in. Give me what I want,” Ransom spoke through clenched jaws as he ground his crotch into you. A small moan escaped your lips, one you instantly regretted. His lips touched your ear before he spoke.

“You want me. Give it, or I will take it.” Ransom then bit your earlobe, but it wasn’t gentle. It was forceful. His teeth relinquished their hold before he bit your neck. He wanted to mark you.

Suddenly a loud knock broke the heady aura in the room.

“What!”

“Where is Y/N! She’s needed now. Have you seen her?” It was Linda. You’d never been happier to hear her voice.

Ransom’s anger was evident, and it grew when he saw relief in your eyes. He looked like he was thinking of all the things he wanted to do to you, and none of them ended with you clothed and unmarked. Ransom then begrudgingly scoffed and went back to your ear. “Soon.”

After he spoke, he released you. Quickly you scurried to the door and out. You didn’t even bother to shut it behind you. You just ran.

For days you looked over your shoulder. For days you lived on edge. You kept your door locked with the chair underneath and even pushed one of the nightstands against it in case he was strong enough to barge in. Night after night, nothing happened. Day after day, Ransom was on his best broody behavior. The catcalls stopped, the whistles were a thing of the past, the touches nonexistent. He’d gone one hundred to zero overnight, and it confused you.

You were relieved the first few weeks, but that relief turned to doubt. You were convinced he was working some twisted angle. You were sure he would sneak out from every corner and push you over whatever furniture was nearby and have at it. It was a constant worry. After four weeks and nothing, you began to relax, especially when you found little things lying around at your door either early in the morning when you rose to get breakfast ready or late at night when your day was done. The items weren’t huge things; they were things such as your favorite flower, or your favorite dessert. There was one time you found a diamond necklace in your favorite color. You knew who it was from. You didn’t acknowledge them, though. That must have been encouragement, every so often you’d find pieces of jewelry, earrings, bracelets, rings, all items that looked like they cost more than an average weekly paycheck. You didn’t wear them, you kept them in a drawer and tried not to think about them.

His behavior was erratic and confusing. You couldn’t figure him out. One morning ransom was waiting in the kitchen for you. You nearly tripped over your own two feet. You couldn’t walk away because he’d already seen you. Cautiously you walked into the room, taking the path that left enough breadth between you and him. You wanted to get to the fridge, but the action meant your back was turned to him. You didn’t want to turn your back on him.

“Don’t bother. There is no one here today—no need to make breakfast,” Ransom informed.

“Uh—what—

“I have breakfast already.” He nodded to the pink box sitting on the island. Your eyed dropped to it and caught the aroma of pastries. You recognized the box.

“I made coffee,” Ransom informed. Shock filled you.

“You?” He scoffed, got up, and walked to the fancy espresso machine. He then poured the dark liquid into a mug and approached you. The scent of the exotic coffee beans teased your nostrils. He stopped a few feet from you and held out the mug. It was the mug that read “my house, my rules, my coffee.” You couldn’t help but think of the stories you’d heard of Marta. Marta who was now strangely gone without a trace.

“Take it. I promise I didn’t do anything to it.” You slowly reached out and took the mug and sniffed it hoping to be able to smell if he poisoned or drugged it.

“I didn’t poison or drug it. You have entirely the wrong idea about me, Y/N.” He chuckled and walked back to the espresso machine to get his own mug. He then came back to you and leaned on the island while facing you.

“I want to apologize,” Ransom began. You almost dropped your mug.

“Apolo—huh?”

“I know, it is not a concept I’m familiar with, but neither is forcing myself on the help. I don’t have to force anyone to fuck me,” Ransom crassly explained.

“Nice. Lucky you.”

“Meh. I didn’t mean to—I was high. I didn’t have full control.”

You studied him trying to assess if he were being sincere or if this was yet another ploy.

“Come, I got your favorites.” Ransom walked away to the stool and sat then opened the pink pastry box.

It was filled with your favorites, madeleines. It was a box of an assortment of them, and they smelled delicious. Ransom waited for you to approach. When you did, it was a slow stride, and you took the stool that was farthest from him. The two of you ate and drank in silence. You could feel his eyes on you the entire time, though. You tried to keep your nervous ticks to a minimum, but it was difficult. The longer you sat across from him, smelling his cologne, the more you felt temptation. It was confusing. Though you hated him, you were strangely intrigued by him, inexplicably attracted to him. It was one of those things that you felt ashamed of. When the last madeleine was eaten, Ransom stood and walked out of the kitchen without a word. Your head was spinning from this three-sixty.

That wasn’t the end of Ransom’s peculiar behavior. It all continued as did the wayward glances. At times they were soft, and other times they were hard and intense. You were convinced the man had bipolar disorder or even multiple personalities. Several more weeks passed with him giving you the hot and cold treatment, the psychopath and sane citizen act. Though you tried to talk yourself out of it, you found yourself with mixed feelings for him.

You were minding your own business preparing the lunch for the household. You’d just finished putting a freshly kneaded loaf of bread in the oven and checked on your pot of stew on the stove slow-simmering when heard the clink of metal. Your curiosity won out, making you look behind you to the nook in the kitchen, and there stood Ransom. He was dressed in his favorite white cable knit sweater and dark pants. Your eyes immediately dropped to those pants to see his belt undone, and him slowly zipping down his pants. You were frozen in place. The slowness of his moves was like torture. You knew you should have looked away, but you were interested in knowing just what had countless women compromising their morals. When his cock flopped out of his pants, you gasped and placed your hand at your throat. He was long and thick and completely ready.

You heard a growl from him, and in seconds, he was across the kitchen and in front of you, pressing you against the fridge.

“Looks like soon is today. When we first met, you showed me a glimmer of how dirty your mouth was. That was just a fraction though Y/N. Get on your knees and show me more,” Ransom demanded. His eyes were again dark similar to the way they’d looked the night in his room.

“Ransom pl—” Ransom grabbed your throat, but he didn’t squeeze.

“What did you call me?”

“S—sir,” you replaced. His top lip rose in a devious smirk.

“On your knees. Or we can call this your last day working here.”

You knew he was serious. Linda was wrapped around his finger, and she didn’t even know it. All he had to do was say he hated your food, and you’d be out on your ass, and your mother would suffer for it. After quick calculation of your options and the fall out from them, you slowly dropped to your knees. Ransom’s thick cock was right in front of your face. The violent veins were protruding to give you an idea of just how engorged he was.

“I’ve dreamed of this for months. Open your pretty mouth, sweetheart.”

You opened your mouth, and without warning, Ransom thrusted forward, sending his cock down your throat. You gagged, but Ransom kept it nestled in the tight confines of your throat. You groaned, hoping to relay your panic from your lack of oxygen intake, but either Ransom didn’t understand, or he didn’t care. You were sure it was the lather. He pulled his hips back, allowing you to chough and gasp for it. The reprieve was only momentary. In seconds, he shoved his cock back into your mouth and held the back of your head where he wanted it as he fucked your face.

You did your best to remain conscious. With every thrust, Ransom shoved his cock further and further down your throat, suffocating you in the process. Soon slobber and thick globs of mucus dribbled from your chin and down to your flour-covered uniform. Ransom didn’t slow his actions or take heed to not break your throat with his cock. He fucked your face viciously. His only concern was his pleasure. When his thrusts became so fast you couldn’t keep up; you gagged with every forward thrust. Your struggle must have been a turn on for him because the sounds coming from him were animalistic but also vulnerable.

“That’s it; sweetheart suck my cock. You take me so fucking well. swallow me!” His hands loosened their grip from behind your head, and he caressed your cheek with the back of his hand. It was out of character.

“Use your hands!” you wrapped both your hands around his shaft and worked his length as he continued to fuck your mouth. Ransom dropped his head back and groaned loudly.

“Yes, that’s it, sweetheart, swallow this cock! show me how bad you fucking want it!”

When you moaned on his length, you were shocked. You couldn’t believe this; you were turned on. Ransom must have known it too because it was then he plowed into your mouth with reckless abandonment. The moment before he came, you saw his intention. When you felt the hot splash of his cum shoot against your tonsils and down your throat, Ransom clasped his hands behind your head again and held you in place so not one drop escaped your mouth. His grunts were loud and forceful. From the look of him he was in ecstasy.

“Swallow every drop!” It wasn’t a suggestion. You struggled swallowing and attempting to breathe. It felt like his cum was coming through your nose. You began to feel lightheaded and woozy as Ransom swished his cock around your throat, nudging it against the walls. The sensation fiercely triggered your gag but thanks to his cock in your mouth, there was nowhere for anything to go. Gulping, you swallowed what he deposited, and that action had your eyes rolling to the back of your head. It was then Ransom pulled himself from your mouth, finally allowing you to chough and gasp for air.

After a few moments, Ransom stooped down before you, his cock still out and slowly coming back to life. Your eyes met, and he had a smile on his face.

“There, there sweetheart. You did good.” Ransom used a dish towel to dab at the corners of your mouth before he wiped your messy chin. “Could be better, but don’t worry, I’ll train you proper tonight.” He leaned to your ear and whispered. “Let the big bad wolf in Y/N. I promise I’ll fuck you right.”

When he said it, he stood and walked out of the kitchen, leaving you on the floor in complete shock at what just happened and the fact that you liked it—a lot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#fuck the chef one shot #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #angst fanfic #ransom drysdale smut #ransom x reader #ransom x you #ransom x black reader #dark!ransom drysdale #knives out fanfic #dark!fanfiction

621 notes · View notes

lunarliza · 4 years

Text

JJ Maybank Must Die | Chapter 1: Popsicles

fuckboy!JJ x Reader

series masterlist

JJ Maybank is the island’s most infamous fuckboy- not that you ever cared. But when a group of tourist girls come to your surf shop crying to you about him, you agree to help them plot revenge. Sabotage is all fun and games, until you find that the playboy you were sworn to ruin happens to be falling head over heels for you.

Yes, this is based on John Tucker Must Die lol

note: so this is my second JJ fic! I’m so excited for ya’ll to read it. it’ll be more light-hearted and shorter than DLS :)

“Come on... come on! This one right here let’s go!” you yelped. The crowd behind you was practically chattering on their fingernails.

The seven year old boy in the water paddled as hard as his lanky arms could take him towards the daunting wave.

“Now Gavin now! Stand up!” you shrieked as the boy hurriedly went through your instructed steps, tucking his knee, and thrusting upwards as the wave got close. Then, before he even realized, he glided rigidly along the wave as the board carried him across the water.

“Hooray! Awesome job Gavin!” The flock cheered and rushed to pat the boy on the back, his dad lifting him up in his arms.

The child scuttled towards you and threw his arms around your neck. You chuckled delightedly. “Alright everyone! That’s it for our surf lesson today. Be sure to check out the gift shop on your way out!”

You waved bye to the guests as they made way to return their boards to the hut, some handing you rolled up cash, with thankful smiles.

Once the coast was clear, you jogged back to the hut only to find Sophia, your best friend and lazy co-worker, lounging with her legs stretched on the checkout counter of the tiny surf shack. She hung a lollipop in her mouth while her eyes glued to her phone screen.

“You know, when you asked me to find you a job, I actually thought you meant one where you actually work.”

Sophia popped out the sucker and threw you a glare. “I did work! See!” she pointed her hand at the sign hanging beside the door that read ‘OBX Surf and Sports’, “I put that sign up this morning.”

“It’s crooked.”

“Bleh, bleh, bleh,” she mocked, “Nothing I ever do is good enough.” You chuckled and shook your head at her.

You peered out the giant window at the front of the store, surveying the empty beach. This was going to be the rest of your summer. At sixteen years old, you were one of the Outer Banks’ surfing all-stars and spent your days working as an instructor for the second year in a row.

Customers loved you and your ability to work with all ages rendering you the title of ‘Top Instructor’ at the shack- which didn’t mean much seeing as 90% of the employees were amateur teenagers.

Nevertheless, you were determined to keep that title, as whoever brought in the most satisfied customers by the end of the summer wins a $5,000 scholarship. And you needed that money bad in order to attend your dream school: UVA.

Along the beach, you caught a glimpse of your competition, Cody, and instinctly groaned.

On any other occasion, you really didn’t care about what people did with their lives, but something about your arrogant, sleazy, five-foot-seven co-worker grinded your gears.

He was always man-splaining to you and the other girls at the shack or kissing ass to your boss. And you knew well he was after the scholarship too- your scholarship.

“Look at him,” you sneered to Sophia as she joined you at the window to death-glare the boy. He was prepping his group on the sand for their session and looked absolutely despicable in his shorts that were inches away from exposing his little one. Emphasis on the little.

“Ugh, he’s making them do jumping jacks again,” Sophia pointed out, crinkling her nose, “God that poor old lady. Can he be any more extra?”

“I need to look away, I think I might vomit if he ever flashed me.”

Your best friend snickered at your hatred as you waxed down your board for your next lesson. “Did the group of girls check in yet?” you asked.

“Yeah, they’re sitting and waiting at Eye Sickles,” she informed, referring to the popsicle food-truck next door. “I can’t believe they really signed up for the month-long surfing program. I didn’t know people actually paid for that.”

“You’d be surprised. These tourists will buy into anything, trust me,” you said before heading out the door.

You walked up to three tourist girls lounging on the fold-out tables and chairs at the food-truck. They were mindlessly typing away on their phones, looking as bored as ever.

“Alright, do I have Annalise, Maia, and Arabella?” you announced with your work-smile on. They peered up from their phones and nodded with blank faces.

“Awesome,” you continued, trying to maintain your enthusiasm, “I’m y/n, I’ll be your instructor! I see you guys signed up for the month-long pro-boarding program which is great. Have you guys ever surfed before?”

“Nope,” a blonde girl replied, “Our parents found this online and said it’d be good for us to learn while we’re here. We’re from Richmond, Virginia.”

“Oh cool!” you jeered, the fake zeal was oozing at that point. “Well, I’m happy to be spending the summer with you guys. I’m going to have you guys grab a board and we’ll head down to the sand to go over the basic motions.”

The trio followed you into the hut and picked out a board from the beginners section. You noticed the blonde one giggling with Sophia at the stand for a bit before joining you on the sand. She had a leader-like quality to her while the two other remained quiet but friendly.

“Alright so, just for formalities, who’s who? That way I can identify you better,” you asked as the girls situated their boards along the shore.

Not shockingly, the blonde extended her hand to you first. “I’m Annalise,” she greeted a little sullenly. You shrugged off her attitude, attributing it to her being a bougie tourist.

“I’m Maia,” a tall, jet-black haired girl said next. She had a very athletic body and came off as the quietest one of the group.

“And I’m Arabella,” the last one chimed in. Her hair was a fiery orange and she had piercings run along her ears and nose.

“Alright cool! So now, we’ll start off with the movements you’ll go through once you hit the water. You want to start off flat on your stomach and paddle towards the waves. Make sure you have full control of your board at all times,” you began as the girls copied your demonstration on their own boards.

You heard sniffles come from the group, but ignored it to continue your spiel. You could hardly read any of their expressions through their giant, bug-eyed sunglasses.

Just as you were about to explain the importance of balance- you favorite part of the lesson- you saw the blonde sit up on her board in irritation and start sobbing through her glasses.

“Annalise come on, it’s not worth it,” the tall one, Maia, reasoned as the Annalise shook her head furiously.

“I can’t do this right now,” she cried before bolting back towards the shack.

You watched her in utter confusion. “Was it something I said?” you asked the remaining two.

The orange one shook her head and gave you a sincere look through her glasses. “No, she’s just really upset about this guy,” she turned to her friend, “Come on, let’s go check on her.”

At that point, you had no choice but to follow the group towards their distressed friend. This was definitely coming out of their session time.

The three of you plowed up the sand to find the girl, Annalise, sprawled on Sophia’s shoulder at the tables as she cooed her like a baby. You wanted to cringe.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. He’s a piece of shit anyways! Trust me, he did the same to me too,” your best friend comforted and petted the stranger’s yellow hair.

“What’s going on?” you questioned at the scene. Sophia glanced up at you with a pleading look.

“It’s JJ.”

Oh brother. This dude again. JJ Maybank was the Outer Bank’s most infamous fuck boy. Him and his friends threw parties all the time at the Boneyard- ones you have yet to attend- and he effortlessly earned his reputation by sleeping with any girl he could get his grubby hands on.

By this point, he’s broken half the hearts on the island with girls moaning and groaning about him left and right- Sophia included. You remembered her wailing the day he ghosted her after they did the nasty. It wasn’t a pretty day... or week for the matter.

You didn’t understand what the big deal was with the guy. You’d gone to school with him since the first grade and he’d always been that guy that rolls in the mud during playtime in elementary school. And he still was that guy to this day.

You heard all the cringey lines he’d pull on girls at school that would get them swooning and you swore he was running a voodoo business because no one in their right mind could fall for that.

But everyone did. Except for you.

“What? Did he ghost you too?” you gestured towards the wrecked weeping girl.

She nodded and blew her boogers into the tissues Sophia brought out.

“I-I, well, we met him at a party this weekend and he took me to this little hideout on the beach. He told me that he never met anyone like me before and said all this other shit. Then we had sex there, which I never do in public, and he said he couldn’t wait to see me again. And he never called me after!”

Though you thought her public display was a little too... public, you did feel sorry for her. The guy was a tool, and these tourist girls, especially, didn’t know any better.

“Don’t worry,” Sophia assured, resting a hand atop hers, “he did it to me and everyone at school. We all fell for the trap.”

Maia and Arabella joined the sitting girls in a piled group hug as the ones in the center sputtered in tears together. You couldn’t bear to watch, but for Sophia, you awkwardly joined in anyways.

The rest of the surfing session consisted of the girls pulling up their own chairs and bad-mouthing JJ, along with all other men, as everyone licked their popsicles.

You sucked on your mango one, not minding the little break as it was the easiest $150 you ever made. The girls weren’t as hoity-toity as you first thought. They apologized for wasting your time and promised to leave five-star reviews about you. Even better.

As evening rolled in, you found yourself laughing and joking around with your new-found friends. They told you wild stories of their private school shenanigans back in Richmond while you and Sophia filled them in on life at the OBX.

“This day was incredible,” Annalise beamed, dazed after her fourth popsicle. “Can’t believe we all bonded like this over a guy,” she chuckled, “I just... gah, I wish we could get him back somehow. Make him feel how we feel!”

“You should,” you agreed, “Why don’t one of you guys go to the parties and try to seduce him and then leave him hanging? The trick with men is to withhold sex from them and they’ll be helpless.”

Everyone’s face lit up in excitement at your idea. “No, totally! We could definitely do that!” Sophia exclaimed with wide eyes. “So who will it be? Who’s our hamster?”

“Not me,” Maia objected almost instantly, “I have a boyfriend back home so no seducing will be done on my part.”

“Arabella then,” Annalise suggested, nudging the girl beside her.

“Alright...” she agreed, fiddling with the string of her bathing suit, “I guess I could take one for the team.”

“There we go!” you cheered, “You just march straight into that party, grind on him a bit to leave him hanging, then proceed to embarrass the shit out of him! Problem solved!”

-----------------------------

note: do not worry! more drama to come

chapter 2

#outerbanks #outer banks #outer banks imagine #rafe outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #john b obx #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #obx #jj obx #jj x y/n #jj x reader #jj maybank #jj #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n

573 notes · View notes

themadlostgirl · 3 years

Text

Abandoned (6)

*I had two months to do requests and this story and I waited until the week before classes start again to make some significant headway. You may hate me but I hate myself more.*

~~~

It was always strange looking through the items I had kept from my previous life. The books were nice to read, and some of the knicknacks I kept, but something I never really thought of were my clothes. Most of the clothes that I wore for everyday use had been altered in some shape or form after many years of roughing it on the island. It was a distinctly different style to what the Lost Boys usually wore but no one could say I didn’t fit in because of it.

There was one garment I had not let be touched by the island. A dress. One meant to look pretty and be admired. It was nothing too grand. A deep royal blue of soft velvet, puffed sleeves, a tiny bit of white lace along the neck and cuffs, and deep maroon flowers embroidered along the hem. There were a matching pair of blue slippers to go with it. The chemise to be worn underneath had been long ago torn apart to use as bandages.

Sometimes when I was alone I’d try it on and try to picture an event where I would have ever worn it. There must have been a time I did. Gliding along a polished floor dancing under the candlelight.

I stood on the beach in the dead of the night, wearing my pretty dress and imagining the scene that played out in my head. If I closed my eyes I could almost hear music.

“Da da da da dum dum dum,” I hummed as I swayed across the sand, “Da da da da dum da dum,”

“She does dance,” I stopped immediately and turned towards the voice. Peter stood at the edge of the jungle watching me with an amused smile. “All these years and I have never seen you dance once. Not even when I asked.”

“What are you doing out here? You’re never awake this late,” I suddenly felt self conscious at the knowledge that he saw me dancing by myself in my dress.

“Couldn’t sleep, wondered if you were awake yet,” He came closer, scanning me from head to toe. “I almost didn’t recognize you. Since when do you have something like this?”

“It’s from before,” I tried to subtly pull up the neckline, “I just wanted to try it on.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to look pretty, precious.” His hand reached out and rubbed the fabric of my sleeve between his fingers. “It suits you.”

“Thanks, but it is very late and I should be getting some rest now,” I tried to rush past him. He grabbed hold of my arm and pulled me back in front of him with a spin. I almost tripped at the sudden motion and went tumbling into his arms. My face buried in his chest.

His laugh rumbled softly against my cheek. I stood up ramrod straight, eyes wide and nervous. Peter hummed happily once more and took a step back. He bent forward at the waist in a deep bow with his hand outstretched towards me. “May I have this dance, my lady?”

“What?” I kept my arms crossed close to my chest, “You’re being ridiculous. Stand up. There’s not even any music you loon.”

“You didn’t need any before,” He gazed up at me, “Come on, indulge me for once.”

I scanned the trees, paranoid even now that someone would come upon us, “Only if you promise not to tell any of the boys you saw me in this. I don’t think I’d be able to win their respect back if they knew I liked playing dress up.”

“I do not think there is anything in this world that could do such a thing but on my honor I won’t tell them. Besides, I rather like having this little secret of yours all to myself.” He stood to his full height and placed one hand on my waist while the other took my hand. “Now how did that song you were singing go? Da da da da dum dum dum,”

“Da da da da dum da dum,” I sung back quietly as we started to twirl in the sand. “Dum dum da dum da dum dum dum,”

For a few blessed moments it was just us on that beach dancing along the shore. Peter humming in my ear. Bodies pressed flushed together. Far closer than we needed to be. It was a game we played. Cheeky touches and flirtatious comments. I can’t remember when it started. I think it may have been around the time I started referring to him as Peter instead of Pan. How many years ago was that now?

This was not the first time we had ever been this close but it felt much more intimate than those times he did it to embarrass me in front of the boys. There was no one but us here and he gazed at me in such a way that rendered my tongue useless.

Our grand sweeping steps and spins dissolved away until it was just the two of us holding each other close. My head resting on his shoulder as we swayed slowly to the sound of the waves. Peter’s voice was right in my ear, hushed and low. Like a secret being shared.

“You dance beautifully, and here I thought you never did because you couldn’t.” Peter said, “Why stay so still?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered back, “Never felt right.”

Echoes of another time doing something like this floated to my mind. So faint that I half thought I imagined them entirely. But if it was just my imagination then why did they make me so angry? Why did my heart break when they came to me? The memories were far different from this personal and quiet moment Peter and I shared. The memory clawing to the surface...it was anything but relaxing.

“I see that,” Peter brushed away a stray tear I hadn’t realized escaped, “Something from before?”

“I think there was a man,” I whispered as we came to a stop, “They had red hair, the room was spinning and someone was laughing. Everything was entirely too warm...”

“Are you alright?” Peter asked, “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Something like that,” I stepped away from him. I kept my eyes down on the ground, my face hot with an embarrassment. “I am going to turn in now.”

“But--”

“I don’t want to talk about it!” I snapped, “I don’t even remember him.”

“Him who? Your father?”

“Someone else,” I shook my head, banishing the memories that were trying to become more coherent, “No! No one! I don’t remember anything! I don’t want to remember anything or anyone!”

“Precious,” Peter followed me, wrapping his arms around me from behind. “We don’t have to remember anything. I’m sorry. Come, let’s finish that dance.”

“I don’t feel like dancing anymore.” I pushed his arms off me, “I really am tired though, please leave.”

Peter sighed and stepped away from me, his posture now rigid and guarded. Such a cold change from the boy that danced with me and spoke so sweetly to me a moment ago. “Of course, sorry to keep you. I won’t intrude again.”

My heart sunk into my stomach. “Peter--”

He disappeared. “Damn it.” I went about wrestling the dress off my figure and changing back into my normal clothes. I had half a mind to toss the infernal dress onto the fire or rip it in two but I folded it and neatly stored it away for another day. It wasn’t the dress’s fault I couldn’t keep my shit together.

It wasn’t Peter’s fault that I kept pulling away from him. I’ve been fighting against being close to him ever since I came to Neverland. I’ve come a long way since then but even when I wanted to be near him I was pushing him away. Being that close to someone again was terrifying. If I keep my heart closed then no one can hurt it.

The days went by since that night and Peter wasn’t coming by to visit me like he used to. Where before I could count on him coming by twice to three times a day I barely got to see him at his own camp. We still talked and laughed but there was a wall up between us that hadn’t been there before. It was there and I didn’t know how to take it back down.

That’s when she came to the island.

A girl with curly blonde hair, big innocent eyes, and a white nightgown touched down on Neverland’s shores. Right next to my camp as it were. I don’t know why Peter’s shadow left her there but she was here and I couldn’t very well ignore her with her right in front of me.

“Hello,” her voice was as sweet as her face, “I’m Wendy Darling. Who are you?”

I told her my name. She nodded sweetly and sat down in the sand next to me with a wide smile. She gazed around her in wonder. “So this is really Neverland? The place where children never grow up and can have fun forever?”

“Something like that, yes.” I answered. She was as innocent as a lamb but it was that innocence that made me uneasy. She was so perfect. Too perfect. I wanted to ruin her. Stain that pretty little lace nightgown or scar that cute face. Something to make her less appealing.

“Good evening,” Relief flooded my body as I turned to see Peter approaching. The smile on my face slowly faded as he walked past me and stood before Wendy Darling. “You must be the new person the shadow brought. I’m Peter Pan.”

“Very nice to meet you, Peter Pan.” Wendy shook his outstretched hand.

“Please, call me Peter.”

For a few moments my mouth hung open as Peter and Wendy exchanged a few pleasantries. Wendy giggled. Peter laughed. He was smiling. My Peter was smiling softly for this girl he had just met.

No. Not my Peter. How could I ever try to claim him as mine? He’s the ruler of Neverland and the Leader of the Lost Boys. My leader. Nothing more. I made sure of that, didn’t I?

Peter and Wendy stood up, Peter gallantly offering up his arm for Wendy to take as they started walking towards the jungle. Go. Just go already! Take your damn happiness and perfection and get out of my sight!

They left without another glance back at me.

All this time I kept Peter at arm’s length because I couldn’t handle the loss of someone I cared about leaving me again. Yet, without meaning to by keeping him at arm’s length I was letting him slip from my grasp altogether. I don’t want to lose Peter. I can’t lose someone else.

But what was there to do now? He obviously didn’t care one way or another. It wasn’t like I was one of his Lost Boys. I was a Lost Girl. An outlier. The only reason I was here was because my father abandoned me and joining up with Peter was the only option left to me. If I stayed out on my own I would have died. Now? What was I to do now if Peter didn’t care about me anymore? I wasn’t exactly close to any of the Lost Boys. I guess I still had Tinkerbell but I see here even more rarely than I talk to the Lost Boys.

I’m exactly where I was all those years ago. A scared and confused girl sitting on a beach with no one to care for but myself.

I didn’t follow them back to camp. The next day when I was checking my traps for small game and spotted Peter walking with Wendy I didn’t listen to what they said. When I heard music playing in the jungle I didn’t follow it.

It had been a couple of days since Wendy had come to the island. Every time I ventured into the jungle on my daily routine Peter was always there with her, with Wendy Darling. It was uncomfortable at first but I was soon getting annoyed by it. He knows this is where I go, he’s accompanied me enough times, can’t he give me the decency to ignore me in places where I am not?

In an effort to avoid this I grabbed my bag and hiked my way to the top of Dead Man’s Peak to spend the day. When I reached for my whetstone to sharpen my blades though I found it missing. Strange since I always kept it in my bag. Perhaps I had forgotten it at my camp? Heavens forbid it fell out somewhere on my way up this mountain. I’d never find it again.

Fine. I’ll just hope that I forgot my whetstone at my camp and sharpen my sword and dagger later. I fished around in my bag for some food as I watched the landscape below. The waves rolling in on the shore, the trees swaying in the breeze, the sound of the spring babbling behind me. It was relaxing. I should come up here more often.

The sound of crunching gravel ruined my moment of peace. Of course someone would be coming up here as I was relaxing. They were probably here to collect some dreamshade and would be gone just as quick. I scooted over so I wasn’t in the way and dug into my lunch.

“I know it is a bit of a journey but the view is well worth it.” The voice of one of my intruders said.

Please. No. Not here too.

“You’re right, Neverland looks amazing from up here,” Wendy said, her face bright with perspiration and glee. Her eyes landed on me and she smiled wider, “Apparently we are not the only ones who thought so. Hello again.”

“Hello indeed, Lost Girl,” Peter smirked, “Strange to find you all the way up here at this time of day.”

“Well I live to disappoint.” I stuffed my lunch back in my bag. “I’ll be going now.”

“Oh please stay!” Wendy caught my arm as I tried to walk past them, “I’ve been having so much fun I haven’t had a chance to come visit with you again. I’m curious to know more about the pirate turned Lost Girl the boys have been telling me about. Did you go on many adventures?”

“Sorry to say but I barely remember anything from those days.” I pried her hand off me, “And I don’t want to.”

“Come now, Lady Jones, I know you remember some things.” Peter said, “Indulge our new Lost Girl.”

I grabbed Peter by the throat. He didn’t seem concerned but Wendy leapt away with a yelp. “I told you never to call me that again.” I snarled.

“Now, now, spitfire, no need to make a scene. You’re scaring our guest.” Peter said calmly.

I let go of him and readjusted my bag on my shoulder. There was a gleam in his eye that I knew far too well. A game. This was all a game to him. I should have known from the start. It couldn’t be by accident that he kept turning up where I was with Wendy at his side. For whatever reason he did it I knew not, nor did I care. I was through playing his games.

Without another word I turned and made my journey back down the mountain. I got back to my camp as the sun was setting and I searched through my things looking for my whetstone but it was still missing. Guess I’ll have to borrow one from the boy’s camp.

The sky had almost gone completely dark by the time I reached the camp. I approached one of the boys and asked for a whetstone. They disappeared to find one and I stood by waiting. Several minutes passed and the boy had yet to come back. What was taking him so long?

In the light of the bonfire a group of Lost Boys were dancing. That was nothing new. What everyone had stopped to admire though was not the boys. It was Wendy Darling, jumping and twirling around the fire. Her golden locks like spirals of flame in the firelight, a wide and happy smile adorned her perfectly porcelain face, and she was dressed in a blue velvet dress that spun gracefully around her.

I stepped closer. All rational thought had left and I focused solely on the perfectly happy girl in front of me. She spotted me and leapt away from the ring of dancing to approach me. “You’re here! I’m sorry if my request earlier was rude. I had no idea that you didn’t--”

“Where did you get that dress?” I asked, heart thudding dully in my chest.

“Isn’t it beautiful? I feel just like a princess,” She giggled, “Peter gave it to me. He said it was an apology for causing a scene in front of me earlier. Of course I thought it much to grand and nice for a simple apology but he insisted. It hadn’t fit quite right when I put it on so he waved his hand and magically made it to my exact adjustments. Do you like it?”

“It’s mine...that’s my dress.”

“Oh,” She smoothed her hands down the skirt, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. Peter had said--”

“Yes, he says a lot of things.” My hands clenched at my sides.

“I’ll give it back. Just let me go change.” Wendy said.

“No.” I snapped, “Don’t bother. It suits you better anyway.”

I turned to leave. The reason I had come here forgotten as the ache that had taken root in my chest days earlier burst into a pain that consumed me from head to toe. Ignore me. Fine. Mock me. I don’t care. Give away the one thing I used to remind myself I was a woman? The one piece of finery I let myself have? The one thing that made me feel pretty?

My hands were shaking. Bitter tears were trying to escape but I wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction. He could take my peace, my dress and even my heart but he would not have my tears!

I stopped. The air around me growing cold. My heart? When did I ever let Peter lay claim to that? Surely I was not so dumb as to let someone as horrible as him sneak his way under my skin. There was no way I could have possibly fallen for the codfish! Not after he’s snubbed me all this time! Not after he gave away my possessions to what is essentially a total stranger!

Then I remembered us dancing on the beach. My head on his shoulder as he hummed quietly in my ear. I remembered us flying together. Holding tightly to him as he flew us high into the clouds where we sat overlooking the island. The first time I had called him Peter. The first time we started flirting. The ridiculous little bows he would do when asking me to walk with him and the equally silly kisses to my hand when he left.

I remembered when we were dueling and I cut him deeper than I meant to across his shoulder. He said it was no big deal but I had felt bad and bandaged it. It wasn’t until I had gone through the whole process that he reminded me he had magic to make it better. Not wanting to look like an idiot I had claimed I had magic to and gave the spot a kiss. I faintly remembered a woman long ago kissing my scraped knee to make it better. Just like magic. After that moment any time he got even the tiniest cut he came to me asking to kiss it better. I figured he was teasing me but I relented every time.

Nights sitting together on the beach looking up at the stars. Days filled with laughter as we lazed about the island. Quiet mornings slumped against each other as we watched the sunrise.

Peter had never taken my heart. I had given it to him long ago and I never even noticed. I liked him. I liked him and yet I wanted to hate him. He got to me and then he hurt me. He hurt me just like father had!

No. I would not mourn a betrayal like this again. I will not. I turned around and charged right back into camp, sword drawn. The boys parted before me. My eyes lit with fury that permeated with every step back into camp.

I saw him. Standing just at the corner of the shadows. Wendy Darling was with him. Dressed in her nightgown again and holding a pile of fabric out to him. As if sensing me Peter looked directly at me. His bored expression shifting into a smirk before falling as I prowled closer. He pushed Wendy aside and faced me.

“Spitfire, what is it--” I cut him off with a quick swipe of my sword. He jumped back out of range.

“You slimy, underhanded, unfeeling, and traitorous codfish!” I yelled as I kept taking swings at him. He was dodging all my attacks and it only made me angrier. I wanted to skewer him. I wanted to run this foolish bastard through and watch his blood paint my blade.

He got his hands on a sword and started blocking my attacks. “What is wrong with you?” He asked as he started regaining his footing.

“You are what is wrong with me!” I screamed as I tried to hit him again. “You lying, worthless sack of fish guts!”

“Spitfire, please, let me--” he tried to say but I increased. My attacks getting faster as I tried to overtake him again. My vision flooded red.

“Enough!” He disarmed me, leaving a long, shallow cut along my hand as he did. The boys surrounding us grabbed me and held me so I couldn’t get away. Peter was breathing heavily and stabbed the sword into the dirt. He collected mine from the ground.

“Now,” he said, “If I tell them to let you go are you going to try to decapitate me again.”

“You’d deserve it.” I snarled. “Lying little imp!”

“I am many things, swordfish, but a liar is not one of them.” A shadow passed over his face. “Let her go.”

The boys released me and Peter grabbed hold of my wrist. He pulled me away from camp and wouldn’t let go until we were back at my camp on the beach. The fight inside me had ebbed away leaving soul crushing sorrow in its place. I didn’t dare say a word, convinced that I would turn into a blubbering mess if I did.

When we got back to my camp Peter let go of me. I figured he would drop me off and leave but instead he grabbed a few logs I had kept near my fire ring and tossed them in before lighting it. He sat down and pulled me down with him. He inspected the cut on my hand without a word and took a rag from his pocket to bandage it. Why was he doing this?

“Sorry I had to do that,” He said, quietly, “You weren’t giving me much other option.”

He tied off the bandage and brought my hand closer to his face. I expected he was checking to see it wouldn’t bleed through when he gently pressed his lips to it in a darting kiss. Then I started crying.

I couldn’t stop it. The tears I had tried to hold back for so long came spilling out without mercy or an end in sight.

“Precious girl,” Peter sighed, pulling me into his arms. “I didn’t know I hurt you this bad.”

“Well you did.” I gasped out. My hands fisted in his shirt. I wanted to push him away and pull him in closer at the same time. “You mocked me.”

“I did.”

“You gave away my dress.”

“I did.”

“You ignored me!”

He took a deep breath, holding me closer. “I did.”

“Why?” I pounded my fists on his chest, “Why!”

“I thought it was a good idea at the time. I thought that it would make you admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“That you…” he trailed off. His clear green eyes searched mine. A secret laid just beyond them that he would not voice. “You and I have been playing this back and forth for years, Lost Girl. The other night when we were dancing I thought you were finally opening up to me and then you pushed me away again. I was sick of it. I thought that maybe if I could make you jealous then you’d realize what it was that you truly felt. You started me more though and I got desperate. I never meant to hurt you though. Never wanted to ignore you.”

“It’s not as simple as you want it to be, Peter.” I shoved him off, “It is not that easy for me to admit such things.”

“And you think it is at all easy for me? You think that I have ever felt this way about someone before? I haven’t! Not until you. Only if it’s you.” He said, “What makes it so hard for you?”

“Why do you think? I don’t want to let someone into my heart just for them to abandon me again. I can’t let myself trust someone like that again. They only end up hurting me.” I sobbed. “Just like papa did...just like you did.”

“My precious pearl,” Peter whispered, wiping the tears from my eyes with a tenderness that I craved, “Do you not remember what I promised you so long ago? I promised that you would never be alone again. I am not in the business of breaking my promises. If you were to have me, you would never lose me. Do you understand?”

“How can I be sure?”

“Because you are my Lost Girl.” He held tight to my uninjured hand, “From the moment I first saw you when you were only a pirate’s daughter, I vowed that you would be mine. Anyone or anything that tries to say otherwise will now have to get through me.”

“Yours?” A hope bubbled inside me. Peter smiled.

“Mine.” He closed the distance between us and kissed me. It sent a bolt of lightning straight up my spine. I touched a hand to his face and he held it there against his cheek. “Yours.”

“Mine.” I whispered with a smile as I kissed him once more. A promise passing between us that molded some of my shattered pieces back together. Never alone again.

---

(Previous) (Next)

#peter pan is bad at feelings #peter pan ouat #ouat peter pan #ouat #neverland #peter pan imagine #peter pan x reader

79 notes · View notes