#gown for farewell party | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

simphornies · 3 months

Text

A/N: The Alastor x Reader x Lucifer fic nobody asked for <3 I hope you all enjoy

Word count: 3.3k (3,360) Warnings: THIS IS LITERALLY SMUT AND SMUT AND SMUT. MINORS DNI.

Our Darling Angel - [ Alastor x F!Reader x Lucifer ]

You spent the day driving your boyfriends insane. There was no absolute reason for it besides one thing: the consequences for it.

Charlie had thrown a party, inviting everyone she could to from the seven rings to the hotel in hopes of recruiting new sinners. With Lucifer’s help, plenty of them came. Moreso for the alcohol but the sight of so many demons in the hotel filled Charlie with enough joy that she settled for it, enjoying the party to the fullest.

You donned a beautiful gown that hugged your curves perfectly and showed enough skin to rile up your partners. Alastor wasn’t allowed to kill anybody during the party but he definitely took note of who tried to push their advances on you. His eyes twitched from rage, his smile wide and almost menacingly tight. He kept watch from a distance, watching over you from the balcony on the second floor.

Lucifer, on the other hand, was the one on the floor with you to whisk you away from audacious demons that would try to dance with you. You noticed how they were both on the edge and a little idea popped into your head. You gave Lucifer a kiss on the cheek after telling him to go relax and have fun, wind down and grab some drinks from the bar.

“Hey, Y/N! Did you want anythin—” He turned to face where you were to see that you were gone. He looked around frantically and glanced up at where Alastor was, hoping you were beside him. All he saw was the irritation evident on his face. His ears pinned flat against his head. Alastor looked at Lucifer and tilted his head over to the direction you were in. When Lucifer got to look, you were on the dance floor, dancing away with some lowly sinner.

Lucifer, seething with jealousy at the sight of someone else’s hands on you, started to walk towards you but stopped in his tracks at the sight of your smile.

You loved to dance, often doing so with Alastor and Lucifer. He decided not to stop you and sighed in defeat. He grabbed two drinks before heading up to where Alastor was.

You felt their gazes on you the entire time, often sneaking a glance at them as you were spun around and passed onto another dance partner. They were jealous. Painfully and obviously jealous.

The music changed and both of your beloveds’ ears perked up. Alastor’s hair fluffed up in rage and Lucifer was doing his absolute best to maintain his composure. It was undoubtedly requested by Asmodeus. The music was sensual, usually intended for couples. You were in the middle of it all, thriving off of the spotlight.

They watched you intently, desperately wanting to whisk you away and take the place of whoever was your partner. Their claws were practically digging into whatever surface they were on, leaving behind scratch marks.

Everyone was in sync, so they somewhat understood that this is how the dance is supposed to go. But the way your hips were touched, the way you swayed them, the way you were spun and the way you bent backward onto the hand on your back, they couldn’t take it any longer.

Lucifer was the first to go, excusing himself to go to your shared bedroom. Alastor followed not too long after.

You had the time of your life, drinking and dancing the night away. You bid everyone farewell, giving the guests the little pamphlets Charlie made to advertise the hotel. Your feet were sore from moving in the heels and after wishing everyone a good night, you head up into your room.

“I’m here!” You announced as you walked into the room. Lucifer was on the bed, impatiently waiting for you. He practically ran over to you and hugged you like you almost died. “Luci—”

“I just…missed you.” He says as he looks up at you with the most heartwarming puppy dog eyes.

You smile sweetly, running your fingers through his golden locks. “I live with you.” You giggled.

“I can miss you even if you’re next to me all the time!” He huffed.

You laughed and pushed him away gently. “I have to go shower. Keep my side warm for me!” You ran to the bathroom to wash off the sweat and soothe your muscles. As soon as you got out and dried yourself off, you put on a silk robe that Alastor gifted you. You left the bathroom stretching your sore arms out. Lucifer glanced at you from the bed with a look in his eyes, you couldn’t quite catch it since he turned around too fast. “Where’s Ala—”

You felt hands grab you from behind, causing you to instinctively tense up. “Did you enjoy yourself, my dear?” Alastor asked, rubbing your shoulders gently.

“Alastor!” You grinned, “Yes I did. Did you see me killing it on the dance floor? If it was a competition, I think I would’ve won if I do say so myself.” You said, beaming with pride completely unaware of the lust filled looks you received from both of them as Alastor walked you to the bed.

“Oh we sure did see you, darling!” Alastor responds, jealousy evident in his voice. He leaned closer to your ear, whispering in his low and radio laced voice, “We sure watched you.”

His voice sent shivers down your spine. The moment you were on the bed, Lucifer gently turned your head with a soft hand. “You looked like you had fun, babe. Putting on a beautiful show like that.” He was dangerously close to your face, causing you to let out a gasp.

“I-I’m glad you enjoyed it—”

Before you could continue, Alastor grabs your face with his hand, turning it so you face him, “Enjoyed? What is there to enjoy after seeing filthy sinners touch you like that? So…provocatively.”

Your face warmed up and you were unsure if it was from the heat that radiated from them being so close or if it was from the instant arousal at the subtle growl in their voices.

“Don’t tell me you two are jealous?” You teased, pushing your luck. “If you two wanted to dance with me, you should’ve said so!”

In an instant, you were on your back with your head in Alastor’s lap as he held your wrists together with his shadows. Your hips held in place by Lucifer. It didn’t take long for you to see and feel the tightness in their pants.

“Darling. You are ours and ours alone, or have you forgotten?” Alastor questioned, his eyes darkened and his smile was menacing.

“I think she needs a reminder that she doesn’t need any other hands on her, Al.” Lucifer smirks at you.

You gulped and started to nervously laugh, “I-I know! I'll never forget that!”

“The way you allowed such filth to touch you in such a way, dance or not, tells us you’ve forgotten. I believe you need a reminder of who you truly belong to.”

You squeezed your thighs tightly together only for them to be pried open by Lucifer with ease. Lucifer unties your robe, exposing your whole self to them both. He chuckled as he saw how you dripped with delight.

“Did we excite you, sweetheart?” Lucifer asked, teasing your entrance with soft grazes. You gasped at the feeling of his cold fingers running up and down, passing by your clit without touching it.

“And no underwear, dear? My, you must have been expecting this!” Alastor exclaimed. “You’re not allowed to cum unless we say so, understood?”

You nodded and thrusted your hips to beg for more of Lucifer’s attention. “Ah ah, baby~” He tuts, “You don’t get to have a say on how tonight goes. Not after that display you put on.” He slides a finger inside of you slow enough for you to whine about it. He held your hips down, not allowing you to buck your hips for more.

“You can take this, can’t you darling?” Alastor teased, his hand caressing your cheek softly, “After all, this is your own doing.”

Lucifer pumped his finger in and out of you, curling it as soon as he’s fully inside to rub the spot he knew you loved the most. You let out a sinful moan as he does, wriggling underneath them both. Alastor’s hand travels from your cheek to your breasts, massaging them. His grins widen at the sounds you made underneath him.

Lucifer pulled his finger out of you, admiring the arousal that coated it. You let out a desperate whine at him, “Pl-please.” You whimpered, looking at him with lust filled eyes. “More please, Luci.”

Without a second’s notice he moved his head down to your entrance.He held your thighs open and ravaged your insides with his tongue. You shake underneath them, eyes looking up at Alastor. His eyes and ears were blessed with your audible pleasure. Lucifer didn’t stop at just using his tongue. His finger played with your clit, giving it undivided attention as he licked you up. The knot in your stomach tightened itself. You squirm, “Ah~ L-Luci!” You felt your climax inching closer and closer as well as Lucifer did. He felt your walls tighten around his busy tongue but that only sped him up.

He undressed himself, his cock springing out from his tight pants oozing with pre-cum.

“What are you begging for, Y/N?” Lucifer teased as Alastor traced your chin with his finger. “Speak up, my love.”

“Now now, you’re far too kind to her after that tantalizing show she put on for us.” Alastor hums, his hands wrapping your throat loosely, “Beg.”

“Please please fuck me Lucifer! Please!” You whined, prying your eyes from Alastor’s deep gaze. He hums at your pleading, eyeing you with a smirk on his face. He lined himself up but remained still at your entrance.

He leaned closer to the side of your head, whispering into your ear. “And why should I?” His voice was deeper than usual, a slight growl coated his words and his grip on your hips tightened.

“You seemed awfully comfortable with other hands on you, my dear!” Alastor’s grip on your throat tightened ever so slightly, “My…they might believe that anyone can touch what’s ours.”

“No! No. Never again. I won’t let it happen ag—” You gasped as Lucifer shoved himself into you. You threw your head back on Alastor’s lap and felt the tent in his lap. He let out a low growl when he felt your cheek graze it.

Lucifer thrusted into you no mercy, not giving you an opportunity to think. Alastor moved you off of him to undress. Your mind melted every time Lucifer moved in and out of you, his cock never missing your sweet spot. “Your body was made perfectly for this, baby.” His voice was shaky, losing himself in his own pleasure.

For a moment, you felt him pull out. Before you could whine from the emptiness you were flipped onto your knees, now on all fours. He slammed himself back inside of you, his cock hitting your cervix. Your walls tightened around him, screaming his name over and over

Alastor was on his knees in front of you, his own cock twitching for attention. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking it ever so slightly to make you look up at him. “Eyes on me, darling.” His eyes were dark, filled with lust as he gazed into yours. “I believe you know what to do.”

You nod and take him into your mouth practically drooling for it. Every thrust Lucifer did pushed you to take more of him in, hitting the back of your throat. Alastor grinned and stroked your hair, “Good girl.” Your focus was nonexistent but you tightened at his praise.

“Y-You’re going to milk me, baby. Fuck you’re so tight.” Lucifer growls into your ear, voice low and deep. Your muffled begging made him smirk, “You’re going to take it all in right? Every. Last. Drop?” He thrusted at every word. He slammed himself into you, burying himself to the hilt as you felt him shoot strings of warmth inside. You couldn’t hold yourself in any longer and came around him, moaning as Alastor’s cock was deep in your throat as your body shook in pleasure. The vibrations of your moan made him let out a low growl of pleasure. They both tutted in disapproval upon realizing what you had done.

“Oh my darling little doe…” Alastor caressed your cheek, his claw grazing it slightly. “You weren’t allowed to do that.” Without a warning he thrusted into you, fucking your mouth without mercy. His movements pushed you back and forth on Lucifer’s cock, still hard and raring to go like when he first started.

You were lost in the pleasure, no longer aware of anything they’re saying. Your eyes rolled back, surrendering your body to both demons with no regard for your physical state tomorrow. You felt Alastor twitch on your tongue and you immediately took it upon yourself to regain whatever strength you had to suck him as he went. He made sure your eyes stayed on him the whole time, admiring your submissiveness and the way you took him in. “So beautiful taking me in like that.” He wiped the tears that streamed down your cheek, “So gorgeous. I bet you’re hungry, starving even. I bet you’d love to take it all in your throat, wouldn’t you?” His horns got bigger as he got closer to his climax, he was fucking your mouth faster now. “Be a dear and swallow it all. It’d be a shame if you missed a drop.” His ears twitched with delight as he finally thrusted his entire length as deep as it can go. You felt him shoot into you and you held onto his legs, drinking it all up like you would die if you didn’t.

“What a good girl for us. Taking us all in.” Lucifer purred. They both slowly pulled out of you, Lucifer’s cum flowing out of your cunt. “What a sight.” He smirked. You pant in a desperate attempt to catch your breath. Your legs felt like jelly, your hips definitely bruised from the way Lucifer grabbed onto them. You couldn’t focus your vision but you could see them shift around on the bed, Alastor now behind you with Lucifer in front. His fingers run through your hair as he hums softly to you.

“Angel,” He says softly. You let out a weak sound to respond to him, looking up into his red eyes. His soft expression faded into a lust filled one. “You aren’t done quite yet.” He smirks.

Before your brain could process it, you feel yourself getting flipped on your back with Alastor now gripping your hips. His sudden thrust into you almost made you cum right there. You screamed out his name in Alastor, your attempts to muffle yourself into the sheets were futile. Lucifer placed your head on his thigh, “Let us hear your beautiful voice.”

Alastor’s smile twitched, “You’re being too nice, Lucifer.” He speaks, thrusting into you at a fast and steady pace, “If this little doll can’t hold herself back from cumming…” His grin grew wider, “Then she’s going to have to cum over and over until we’re done.”

You were a moaning, drooling mess. You were drunk off of the pleasure and praise you got from them. The more you moaned, the more you got praised and the wilder Alastor moved in and out of you. It wasn’t long until that familiar warmth in your stomach returned quicker than before.

“A-Alastor.” You gasped, “I c-can’t. Can I—Fuck—Can I please cum?” You begged, repeating yourself over and over. Lucifer caresses your cheek with such softness that it countered the roughness Alastor gave you.

“Sweet girl askin’ so nicely.” Lucifer purrs as he hovers over you with delight, “Look him in the eyes and ask properly, princess.” He moves your head, making you stare directly into Alastor’s hungry stare.

“Please, Alastor. Please. Please.” You pleaded, “Please let me cum, Alastor, please.” Tears were threatening to spill from your eyes once more from the unrelenting, nonstop pleasure Alastor blessed upon you.

He grinned widely, “Such a good girl.” He thrusts with reckless abandon. You shake underneath him, your release on the brink of exploding. “Wait.”

Waiting was torture. He didn’t allow you a moment to breathe or catch your thoughts. Your walls tightened around him, warning him of what’s to come which made him slow down to delay your release. You continued to beg between breaths while Lucifer smiled ever so sweetly at the sight of you getting fucked silly. In an attempt to distract yourself, you took him into your mouth making him gasp in surprise.

“Oh! Princess hasn’t had enough?” He teased, repositioning himself for you to suck him better. “Would you like another one, angel? Another load down that lovely throat of yours.”

You hummed in agreement, licking his shaft with the same hunger you gave Alastor earlier. He showered you with praise, gently thrusting himself in your mouth. He was the gentle half that balanced Alastor’s roughness. Though they both showered you with praise, his was sweeter.

Alastor tuts once he loses your attention. “Don’t hog her mind with your words, Lucifer.”

“Oh, but look how good she’s being.” He hums, “You’re the one hogging her mind. Look at the mess she’s become.”

He huffed and pounded into you wildly, making you scream against Lucifer’s cock. Your legs shook at the pleasure, your begging returned once more. “Be a good girl for me, baby.” Alastor purrs, leaning down to your ear. “Cum.” He whispers. Without hesitation, you came wildly around Alastor.

“Ah~” Lucifer moaned, “Your voice—Scream louder for us angel, make Hell remember our names once more.” His thrusts got wilder as he got closer to your own release. You worked hard to please him, using whatever strength you could muster to pump the base of his dick as you bobbed your head up and down to meet his thrusting.

“Thank you. Thank you!” You screamed, “Alastor! Lucifer! Thank you so much!”

Without warning, the two of them released deep into you, Alastor in your cunt and Lucifer in your throat. They pulled out of you once their spurts had stopped, panting from their release. No words needed to be shared for them to immediately care for you. Lucifer wiped you clean with a warm wet towel and Alastor did the same for your face. He cleaned up your face, working from your eyes to your mouth. As soon as the three of you weren’t as sticky as before, Lucifer crawled under the covers on your left, Alastor on your right after he gave you some water to soothe your throat from all the hard work.

You were gently squished in between them, your head on Alastor’s chest and Lucifer’s head on yours. You nuzzled into Alastor while Lucifer did the same to your soft tits. “You did so good, angel.” He spoke softly.

“Our good little girl.” Alastor hums, stroking your hair. You felt the sleep creep up on you, as it did to them. “Now, you’ll stay by our side during events, right?” He says as he plants a kiss on the top of your head.

“Mhhm.” You said softly, “Thank you.”

The three of you drifted off into sleep, cuddled up on each other. You had a feeling you’d mess with them a lot more if it led to nights like this.

“Charlie. We need to soundproof that fucking room.” Vaggie groaned, finally taking her hands off her ears. “I’m going to throw up.”

“I don’t know, it was pretty hot hearing fancy talk creepy voice and hell’s big dick going at it.” Angel winked, “Makes me feel all hot~” He says, leaning into a flustered Husk.

“Meet me in my room.” Husk grumbles, flying away with an excited Angel Dust trailing not too far behind him.

“I’m…Going out.” Charlie left, traumatized with Vaggie following after her.

#this is the best thing ive ever written #it took 3 days bc i kept giggling and kicking my feet #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor x reader x lucifer #smut #alastor x reader smut #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader smut #hazbin hotel

436 notes · View notes

colourstreakgryffin · 3 months

Note

Had a funky idea.. what about a Charlie x Pinkie Pie like! Reader? :)

Haha! Awwww! This is my first time ever trying out Charlie! For real, Charlie would absolutely love Pinkie Pie and we know it! I wanted to do romantic but for some reason, I can’t really get anything out unlike what I wanted so sorry, this is solely platonic!

Charlie Morningstar- Balloon Soul

Charlie is a sweetheart. She loves the concepts of positivity, sunshine, rainbows and cupcakes. Anything good has her one hundred percent attention. So when she meets you, the embodiment of joy and friendship growing, she automatically befriends you and learns about you

She doesn’t understand how you’re a Sinner. You’re beaming with hyperactivity and happiness. Yet, here you are. Instead of being a client, she hires you to work at her Hotel since you’re simply perfect at spreading redemption with your good-hearted but energetic character

Charlie will happily attend any party you throw; outside of the Hotel or inside the Hotel. She also relies on you to be the party planner and be the general activity planner since you’re really creative and capable at organising big events. Even better than her girlfriend, Vaggie. You become a valuable member of the Staff in no time!

Charlie also enjoys telling you her favourite sweet flavours because you’ll come in with cupcakes or a big cake, all for her! The fact you remember absolutely everything about her makes her heart flutter. She adores you, you’re basically another version of her… just a bit more talkative, jokey and loud but the personality you two share is why she likes you so much, you bond so well with people

Charlie is so close to you, you’re basically her right hand lady, that her girlfriend, Vaggie, gets jealous of you and she has to clear it up with Vaggie to ensure nothing goes back inbetween her best friend and her love

Charlie really appreciates how much of a sweetheart you are as well. You’re a very good friend, warm-hearted and sympathetic whilst working hard to make people smile so when she feels down, you’d make sure she is laughing and smiling again in no time. She loves this

Charlie is the first one there and the last one out of anything you arrange; farewell party, we succeeded party, birthday party, couple anniversary party, we redeemed sinners party! Anything, she’s dolling herself up to get your approval and she adores how cute your party-accessorised ball gown is

Charlie actually turns to you for emotional support. Believe it or not. You may be hyper and childish but you’re actually really emotionally well-adjusted and with your backstory of being a dull, miserable child that found happiness through colour. She looks to you for advice when she needs it inside a sad dark place

Charlie also leans on you heavily, you’re her right hand and she knows you won’t mock her in any fashion. Suspect her to rant to you about her problems with her relationship with Vaggie(rest easy Alastor) and there is very little times that she doesn’t take what you offer her

Charlie likes your hair… it makes no sense but she loves brushing and tying it up for you. It’s a big bubbly mess but it’s a beautiful bubbly mess. You two can trade doing hairstyles together early in the morning and it’s precious. Charlie feels more pretty when her best friend and her girlfriend say she is

Charlie is quite good at handling how talkative and upbeat you are. You talk as much as she does and therefore, she is really the only person in the Hotel that can tolerate how much of a high-spirit chatterbox you are. She enjoys it since you act like she is your younger sister, she is fine with you always chatting

Charlie likes how cute your Hellborn alligator friend is, Gummy. It’s a adorable fang-less baby alligator that is clamped on your hair and she’ll happily help you care for him when you can’t and she is getting use to the feeling of a small Hellborn alligator clung onto her ponytail by his tough gummy jaws… it’s not as uncomfortable as she thought

“Leitora! Leitora! Here! Here! Look at this balloon animal I made! It’s just like the one you made for me! Do you think Vaggie would like it? Do you like it? I like it! Are you proud of it?”

189 notes · View notes

rocksibblingsau · 22 days

Note

With Classical Branch there's obviously etiquette that needs to be established for formal gatherings like a ball out gala that requires formal dancing. With Branch being an etiquette teacher, he gets to teach his brothers how to properly do that.

My thought is, with him being smaller than his brothers and not all of them having "romantic" partners in a sense, he'd take the place of the female... I'd like to imagine he'd take the party with pride and actually wear a full gown, proper hair and makeup in order to show his brothers what it'll feel like dancing with someone in a full ball gown.

Things this lesson would include

- Fan Language(yes John, woman signal their mood through fans)

- proper hand placement when dancing

- proper eating etiquette

- greetings and farewells

- proper grammar

- etc

(and yes, all of this is done in a ball gown, there's just so much to teach and not enough time to change)

I could see that. It would add to the realism as well as give him the chance to berate them for ruining a dress.

"Very well done, John Dory, you have soiled the first chair violinist's mantua, embarrassing her at the gala."

"Bruce, your wife would be very displeased to see how carelessly you touched a young woman's left sleeve. By Classical standards you have committed adultery."

"No Clay, a chemise is not 'fancy funderdrawers'. Here is a pop quiz: what does it mean when I hit you with my fan with my right hand?"

"Floyd, commenting on my mascara by asking 'that looks crazy cry-proof, what brand is it' is a direct attack to my appearance by implying I am wearing makeup... Yes I am aware I am wearing makeup, but the polite thing to do is speak of me as if I am not."

#classical branch au #sibblings qna #trolls branch #brozone

42 notes · View notes

crvptidgf · 10 months

Text

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭

general kirigan x fem!reader

summary: the darkling arrives to your room late in the night, right after the winter fete

warnings/notes: making out, very slight sexual content 18+, heavily inspired by what could’ve happened with alina and aleksander the night of the fete, book descriptions of the Darkling (?)

requested?: sort of @loversmantra

————————

You had been waiting in your room all night long. Aleksander had been long gone from the fete, and you soon followed as you jumped at the first chance to leave the Grand Palace. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy your time - you really did. The performances were amazing, and you had been incredibly proud of Alina’s progress with her powers; you knew she could do it.

Yet the memory of being in the Queen’s sitting room, pushed up against the double doors as Aleksander’s hands inched up your thighs feverishly didn’t leave your mind the whole night. You clenched your thighs together for what felt like the millionth time that night. You desperately explained your excuse and bid your farewells to your friends before sneaking out of the Palace undetected.

“Can I visit you tonight?” he had asked. He looked around the corridor, holding the door open as he prepared to leave you, disheveled and needy in the Queen’s lounge area.

All you could muster was a nod, too embarrassed to speak under his intense gaze.

Now, you stood in your room with bated breath as you waited for his supposed arrival. Perhaps you were foolish for believing that he’d ever want you - need you.

But you wanted to believe. And so you did. As you waited, and waited, and waited, you began to lose hope. Of course it was too good to be true - maybe that was all you two were destined to be, a quick, silly make-out on the outskirts of a ravishing party.

You scolded yourself as you pulled off your skirts and slippers, unbuttoning your kefta and throwing them atop your dressing screen. Grabbing your white night gown, you fitted it over your head before making your way towards your bed.

Your mind wandered yet again as you reminisced on the night you just had.

His lips were pressed directly on your pulse - kissing, nipping, licking any inch of skin he could reach. Hands were pawing at your hips and waist, lifting your skirt to wrap one leg around his waist before he began massaging into you slowly, gently.

One hand kept you balanced against the door while the other roamed across your bare thigh, getting closer to where you needed him most.

Your collarbone was attacked by kisses as he dragged his teeth along the flesh, earning a satisfied gasp from you.

Suddenly, he stopped.

Voices could be heard down the hallway, footsteps getting tantalizingly close to the doorway you were currently pushed up against. Aleksander’s hand came to press against the door right next to your head.

You stalled your breathing, doing everything in your power to not lean into him, to not roll your hips against his.

You sighed as you wrapped your silk and fur covers around yourself, trying to subdue your disappointment. What did you honestly expect? He was The Darkling. He had things to do, and prettier girls fawning over him. Hell, he had the Sun Summoner at his fingertips.

Yet as you began to close your eyes to drift into an uneasy sleep, a low knock came at your door. It was so quiet that you almost thought you had imagined it.

Another knock sounded and you stuffed your feet into your fur lined slippers before walking to the door.

Unlocking it, you were immediately met with complete darkness, save for Aleksander’s icy eyes piercing through the blackness. He was here. Maybe you weren’t so stupid after all. His domineering aura made you shift in place as you stepped aside to let the leather clad man enter your room.

“You’re here,” you said blindly. What a stupid sentence. Of course he was here, he was unmistakably standing right in-front of you, his dark head of hair being ruffled by his hand as he ran his fingers through it.

“Did you ever doubt that I wouldn’t be?” he said as he raised an eyebrow at you.

Closing the door and locking it once again, you turned to face him. You wanted to lie, to cover up the fact that you were staying up all night waiting for him. Yet as you looked into his intense gray eyes, you just couldn’t.

“A little.”

He advanced towards you, and you suddenly felt very exposed in your night wear. His hand came to grab at yours, holding it tightly. A wave of confidence rushed through you, and you could practically feel your heart rate picking up times ten.

“I’m sorry for leaving so suddenly,” he said as his hand came to rest at the nape of your neck.

Stepping closer towards him, you responded. “You’re here now.”

And with that, you grabbed at his collar as you connected your lips to his, all the desperation from tonight melting into the kiss. Your patience was wearing thin, but knowing him, he wasn’t going to give in easily. Sasha had a knack for pushing people to the edge. His inhuman amount of patience annoyed you at times, but he always made it worth your time.

His hands were on you in an instant, gripping your nightgown, the back of your hair, everything. As his mouth hungrily chased down your neck, you were pushed against the door for the second time tonight.

Gently tugging his hair to unlatch him from the side of your neck, you pulled his lips back up to meet yours in a flurry mess of teeth and tongue clashing together.

You could feel his touch times ten now that you were rid of your kefta and extra outerwear. Everywhere he touched granted you a new set of goosebumps, and as his hand reached up to grasp at your hips, you leaned into him more. There was something so intoxicating about him.

This little midnight rendezvous filled you with excitement. Pulling away from you, he began to speak once again.

“It pained me to have to leave you in there alone, you know,” he muttered against your lips as he heaved you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist.

“Well then make it up to me.”

With your back pressed against the mattress, and his tall stature standing over you, you knew tonight would be a good night.

- - -

144 notes · View notes

pleasekitasan · 2 years

Text

untouchable

pairing: oikawa nii-chan x f!reader, MDNI!!!!!

word count: 5k

tags and warnings: incest, dub-con / reluctance, intoxication, manipulation, virginity loss ( it's a social construct, but tooru-nii wants yours 🥴 ), god complex, all characters are over 18!!, use of "cunt", creampie / unprotected sex, timeskip tooru. if any warnings are missing, please let me know!

a/n: this is my submission for @iwaasfairy's persephone collab! if you haven't checked out her work yet, god lord please do. i'm so honoured to even have my blog & fic on a post of hers!! hope you enjoy tooru-nii being a moral monster to the tune of monster by exo! 😇

i'll flip you over, break you down, and swallow you up

i'll steal you and indulge in you

i'm gonna mess you up

i'm engraved in your heart

so even if i die, i'll live forever

when your nii-chan told the family that he was moving to argentina, everyone ( including you ) was so happy for him. to be able to find your passion in high school and pursue it after isn't something that everyone has the luxury of doing.

on the week leading up to his departure, you would follow him around like a puppy, even going out with him and all his high school friends to drink ( nii-chan would sneak you cups of sake when workers weren't looking ) to make sure you didn't lose a single second with him. by the time you two arrived home, your parents would be asleep or just heading to bed, so it was more than easy to sneak into nii-chan's room and sleep curled up at his side, hands scrunching the front of his shirt as you held on to him, even in your dreams.

seeing him off at the airport was the first time you felt your heart break. he looked so happy and you were, too! just really, really deep inside. ever since you were born, it was tooru-nii that looked after you when your parents were away ( which was a lot ). it was tooru-nii that helped you with your homework after school. it was tooru-nii that put you on the volleyball team as his manager. it was tooru-nii you'd scream for during all his matches. he's your first love — not your mother or father: it was always nii-chan.

after he left, life became bleak. the house felt so much emptier and your days so much darker. the volleyball team was never the same without him, but you stayed as a manager until graduation came around. with nii-chan no longer around, you used your free time to study and got into the best schools in the country, but it still didn't feel like this was the right path or what you should do, even when tooru-nii called to congratulate you.

a year after his departure, it was your turn to wear the black cap and gown, throwing the former in the air with the remnants of a smile twitching at your lips. you aren't sure what you're free from, but you feel relieved and relaxed. the rest of the day was spent bidding your friends farewell, most of them staying in miyagi for college, whilst you accepted a scholarship in tokyo. by the time you get home, your cheeks are tear-stained from the amount of goodbyes you've had to express — you really are going to miss a lot of them, especially the volleyball teammates that supported you throughout tooru-nii's absence.

the dark house suddenly becomes blinding as the lights flicker on and you shield your squinting eyes as the sound of "surprise!" mixes in with "congratulations" ( your parents weren't the best with planning things in general ). laughter bubbles up in your chest and you take a deep bow where you are at the door for all the relatives that stopped by.

"thank you, everyone!" your aunts and uncles, baby cousins and grown ones, even your grandparents were there. they didn't come by for tooru's graduation ( he explicitly said he didn't want a party ), but they stopped by to give you gifts, money, and lots of awkward hugs.

only when the last of your mother's side is done hogging you does tooru steal your attention.

"happy graduation, my sweet little imouto-chan."

your eyes light up, filling with the joy you've been deprived of for the past year.

"nii-chan!" you jump into his open arms without another thought and nuzzles your face into his neck, lips spread into a wide grin. "what're ya doin' here? i thought you were busy with a game this week!"

"well... mom 'nd dad called me up about a month ago to tell me that you're finally graduating. had to make somethin' up so you'd feel surprised. did ya miss me?" his question seems like such a stupid one. isn't it painfully obvious with the way you're clinging to him, ignoring everyone's laughter as they murmur about how close you two must be?

"maybe," you hum teasingly, a giggle leaving your lips when you see tooru-nii's small frown. "of course i did, dummy."

reluctantly, you pull away so things don't look weird ( weirder? ), but tooru's fingers lace with yours as he leads you around the house to greet your father's side of the family, your older brother squeezing your palm when you seem to grow disinterested in the elders' nagging or advice. he's always looked out for you and tonight, you know that this will never change.

"nii-chan," you giggle as his hot breath tickles the curve of your ear.

with all the adults gone and your parents resting in their bedroom, it was up to you and a tipsy tooru-nii to clean up, but having the elder dropping items with his butterfingers over and over again made you both agree to leave a note on the fridge saying that you'll clean it up in the morning.

now he's crumbling on top of his bed and he takes you down with him just as you close the bedroom door.

"my imouto, my sweetheart," he slurs a bit, wrapping his arms tightly around you so you're resting on his chest.

there's a smile you can't bite back and you lean up to nuzzle your cheek against his, the proximity and warmth of your older brother after their absence makes the hole in your chest slowly heal, the emptiness filling up with the love you've missed out on.

tooru pulls back a bit and your lips twitch at the corners from the loss, but his palms are quick to engulf your cheeks, his thumbs tracing underneath your doe eyes. even with moonlight as the only light source, you look so breathtaking to him, like you're the only girl he'll ever see.

"love you, sweetheart," he whispers, the smell of alcohol faint, but noticeable. your nose scrunches a bit and you start to lean into one of his hands, nodding.

"love you too, nii-chan. with all my heart!"

"just your heart?" his words catch you off guard and the way you tilt your head with confusion only makes the heat in the pit of tooru's stomach grow. "you see, imouto-chan, i love you with my body, heart, and soul."

his words individually are digestible, but when put together, they only blind you even further, your brows meeting in the middle with your visible lack of understanding.

frustration lines his voice in a thin layer at the way you don't seem to really get what he's saying — how is this even possible after you've pined for him for almost two decades?

"don't you get it, sweetheart?" one of his large hands swallows yours and places your palm in between his legs where his cock is straining against his sweats and boxers ( two layers too many if you ask him ). "i want you in every realm possible."

slowly — painfully slow, you start to comprehend what he — tooru-nii, your brother, is telling you. knowledge flashes in your eyes with a deep frown and you try to pry your hand away from his too warm one, but he fights it, pressing down even harder and bucking his hips into the barely tangible warmth of your tiny palm.

"you can't run away, baby. you made this mess, so you have to be the one to clean it up. take care of me like i selflessly took care of you all these years, sweetheart."

the pressing urge to ask if this is all a joke bubbles in your mouth, but before you have the chance to let it out, he presses his lips to yours with an unmistakable moan. tooru's way past the guilt he's held on to for years and allows himself to indulge in the delectable taste of your mouth, the way you mould so easily against him, as if you were made for him — but you are, aren't you?

only when he notices that you haven't breathed in a while does he pull away, lewd lines of spit still connecting his lips to yours; he leaves them there to let the image burn itself into his mind.

"nii-chan," you choke out, "i-i don't think i can do this... it's weird. i don't love you like this."

there's heartbreak in his eyes, perhaps the very same look in yours as he left for south america one year ago, and you feel your chest clench. when his eyes gleam with moisture in the reflection of the moonlight, you gasp in panic and hurry your hands to cup his cheeks out of instinct. you'd do anything to assure that nii-chan feels better, even if it means breaking moral and ethical codes... right? you should, right? he raised you more than your parents did without asking for anything in return, except this. just one thing, one time. you can do that.

"just one time, nii-chan..." mischief returns to tooru's eyes and he nods with no intent of keeping his promise.

"i promise it'll feel good, sweetheart." his breath is hot on your mouth as his hands slide down your neck, collarbones, and your sides, groping every inch of you he can on the way. "say you love nii-chan."

when he reaches the hem of your dress, he scrunches it in his fists and lifts the fabric up, up, up until it bunches in your underarms. the playful lilt in his eyes turns predatory in a second; the way he looks over your body makes a shiver run down your spine and you rush to cover yourself with your hands, but he's much too quick. two strong hands grab your wrists and pin them down by your head as a deep chuckle rumbles in his chest.

"have you've been holding out on me all these years, imouto-chan?" gentle lips press against your cheek and you feel the curl of his smirk as he trails wet kisses down your neck, his fingers finally releasing you to lift your dress up and off your body, your bra easily undone and stripped off next. his guttural moan fills the room when his hands engulf your tits, fingers indulging as he squeezes your plentiful flesh. a glimmer of hope forms when your eyes water up and spill with tears — maybe he'll see just how unwilling you are, how much you aren't enjoying this, and stop in his tracks. the miniscule possibility is washed away like a grain of sand in a windy wave as you feel the throbbing of his cock through his clothes — the same throbbing feeling you'd experience when he'd sit you on his lap whenever you'd sob and tell him about how issei senpai didn't return your texts ( it was all his doing with his threats to fuck up during matches if issei so much as even texted a period back to you ). it's clear now that it wasn't just the tears that made him so excited, it was the lack of power you had as you slumped on top of him, like you are underneath him, too.

"i love you, sweet pea. do you love nii-chan, too?" he's more pressing than before, his fingers squeezing down on your tits to elicit a response, something, out of you. his expression remains attentive when he wraps his mouth around one of your nipples, flicking and sucking on the peak as the now free hand dips lower and lower, tracing calloused fingertips all the way to your slit where he can witness your body betraying you. his digits get coated with your slick in a matter of seconds from just teasing the petals and you can feel the vibrations of his smug chuckle against your sensitive bud.

your unskilled hands could never provide yourself with the pleasure that tooru-nii instills upon you with only a single digit and he has you moaning, back arching slightly above the sheets.

"oh, god." you want to shut up, to deny him the satisfaction of knowing that he's actually making you feel good while he defiles you, but you've never won against nii-chan in anything — this is no different. slowly, you unravel underneath him, your hands grabbing his shoulders as his lips curl up into a devlish smirk. "i love you too, tooru-nii," you murmur in response a bit belatedly.

hearing it just once is enough. his eyes light up as if you bought him a spot on the olympic team, his head lifting from your chest with a lewd smacking sound of his grinning lips, only for him to trail downwards again, his mouth hot and wet as he quickly dips into your belly button before replacing his finger at your swollen clit with his mouth instead.

instantly, you feel the difference between his fingertip and his tongue, the latter gentler, but quick as he flicks against the sensitive nub until you're whimpering so loud, your hand clamps over your mouth. tooru moves his finger to trace circles around your entrance instead, letting your juice cover the tip of it before he slides into your unpenetrated walls. when he's met with slight resistance at the end of the digit, he pulls away from you with his spit and your nectar stuck to his mouth and chin.

"don't tell me you've never touched yourself, sweetheart... iwa-chan didn't even try to fuck you?" his invasive words make your cheeks flush bright red and you shake your head vigorously in response. your nii-chan's best friend has tried endlessly to deflower you, but you'd always scare him off by saying that tooru-nii would find out and sabatoge matches in response. your threats were empty, but iwaizumi wasn't dumb enough to think that the chance of it happening was none — he's seen the way tooru hovered over you for years, always reluctant to let anyone else have your attention, the captain would've found out one way or another, though if iwa had your consent, it might've been less of a disaster.

"you've been saving yourself for nii-chan all these years, just how it should be. it's almost poetic, really." the smile on his features bring about a shudder from your frail shoulders and you start to close your legs together, but tooru pinches the inner expanse of your thigh as punishment. "don't try to hide from me, imouto-chan. let me see my present and really appreciate it the way a man should."

obedient and submissive, the way he wants you to be — the way you've always been for him — you lay there bare and embarrassed, legs spread as he starts to undress himself. the scarlet that flushed his cheeks and chest is entirely gone now, his hands no longer shaking as he tosses his shirt up and over his head, his words no longer slurring as he calls you a handful of degrading words. the alcohol is already flushed out of his system and the only thing intoxicating him now is you.

in the time he's been gone, the growth tooru has gone through is strikingly noticeable: his shoulders are wider, his arms bulging with twice as much muscle power, his chest puffier and his abs more defined, even in the dark. a hesitant hand reaches up to hold onto his bicep like you used to when you'd try to pry him off of you whilst wrestling, except this time, your fingers are stranded much farther away from each other than you're used to.

"you like how much bigger nii-chan is now, sweetie?" the cocky grin on his lips isn't visible, but it's thick in his voice. with you slightly distracted, he takes the opportunity to rid himself of his slacks and briefs, kicking them off his ankles when they pool there. his question goes verbally unanswered, but he can feel the way your small fingers are starting to run along the strong muscles that lay underneath them, as if silently worshipping.

the single chuckle that escapes his smirking mouth is enough to break you out of your trance, your hand falling from his limb so you can cover your chest with your palms. you're hyperaware of his lingering eyes and the fact that you're both naked in his bed, his gaze unlike that of a loving brother, someone that swore to protect you from other men doing this to you.

"you were made for me, sweetheart. i was the one that asked kaa-san and otou-san for you. without me, you wouldn't be here. don't you think i'm a little... underappreciated?" his words took a twist you weren't expecting and your brows furrow together as you try to process what he's trying to say — are you supposed to be at his disposal because he asked for a sibling as a kid? it doesn't take too long for him to answer your question. "personally, i think you should worship me. thank me for allowing you to be born."

if you weren't under pressure, perhaps you would've done the logical thing and shoved him off of you whilst laughing wildly. he's being ridiculous and his logic is so deeply flawed.

but that's not what you see in your head right now. right now, you see the way your parents praised tooru-nii for every achievement he's earned, no matter how small, while they had overlooked your 1st place spelling bee trophy and the full-ride scholarship you worked so hard for. you think of the leftover pieces of fruit you'd get only if tooru-nii didn't finish off the plate that your mother would meticulously cut for him, your allowance being pennies whilst tooru-nii had a trust fund. every time you'd feel dejected, it was your brother that would tell you "great job" or sit you on his lap as he fed you all your favourite fruits, even if it meant he'd get less of them. you learned to ask your nii-chan for money whenever you needed a new uniform or school supplies.

he was right. you didn't mean anything to your parents and it finally makes sense why you lived in his shadow your entire life, why you relied on him for everything: tooru-nii is your provider, your god.

as comprehension starts to light up in your eyes, your brows unfurrow and your orbs retain their usual doe shape. he sees a sense of recognition flash in them and his lips curl into a crooked smirk — you're his, like you were always meant to be.

"thank you, nii-chan," is the first thing you utter out, tears welling at your waterline again for different purposes this time. this time, you're grateful; you feel blessed to be underneath him. your pathetic whimpers reflect just how sorry you are for your resistance and you part your legs mindlessly to let him enter however he wants — and why shouldn't he? he's taken care of you like one would their most prized possession for almost two decades now.

"that's my girl." the praise rushes straight to your pussy, which just starts to leak with desire, and you moan just from his words. "i'm glad you finally understand, sweetheart. i knew you could do it." he sounds condescending, but the way his warm palm caresses your cheek and his eyes gleam as they bore into yours makes show that he meant his words in a thoughtful manner.

"want you, nii-chan," you mumble, desiring nothing more than to fulfil your life's purpose of giving tooru-nii everything he wants — you're lucky that he wants you right now.

"of course, darling," he responds dismissively, as if your words didn't make a drop of pre-cum fall from his sobbing tip. "just have to make sure you're ready is all." and he does so thoroughly, dipping his head as he lifts your legs up, up, and up until you're almosy folded in half, his own torso bent over so he can press a sloppy kiss against where he knows your clit is restlessly throbbing. he's wreckless as he spreads your slick folds with his pointer and middle finger from below, his chin almost touching the dip between his digits as he feasts on you. the textured surface of his tongue licks a thick stripe from the origin of your sweet nectar and up to your clit that he finds underneath the cloak of your puffy folds, the edge of his wet muscle roughly flicking as his mouth latches on to the surrounding skin so he can suck down.

oh, the noises you make as your hands grip his chestnut locks are almost as intoxicating as your taste, and if there's ever been a time when tooru was pussy-drunk, it was nothing compared to now: he was absolutely inebriated beyond return with you.

he repeats what he did before, tracing circles around your entrance before he slides a finger in only halfway, so as to keep the last remaining evidence of your purity intact, then another to stretch you out — to be the considerate brother he always is, of course.

your back slowly lifts and he feels your fingers curl tighter around his hair, so he doubles down, lapping at your clit with lewd smacks of his lips filling the room until he feels your body tense — and that's when he pulls away from you without pity, the desperate cry from your poor lips that've swelled from how hard your teeth dug into them making it his turn to moan.

you look debauched, but he knows that there's still an ounce of innocence left within you that he's intent on taking.

"sweet imouto-chan," he murmurs as he finally takes your aching legs, folding them so your calves rest on each of his toned shoulders, his knees a few inches from your ass that's almost lifted from the mattress. "won't you tell me you love your nii-chan one more time?" soft lips press along your calf and he noses gently as a show of affection, luring you into saying what he wants to hear again.

"love you, tooru-nii," you respond obediently, lust thick in your voice as you realise how sticky you are between your legs, how much your entrance is clenching on nothing when it should be him instead.

"that's my girl," he repeats, but you don't mind hearing the same sweet words over and over, the possessiveness behind them. from where he kneels, he gets the perfect view of your slit and how it glistens in the moonlight with as much craftsmanship as if you were a hand-painted masterpiece of art about to go up in the louvre.

his cock twitches and chest clenches when he realises that all of it is for him, and that's how it'll be from now on — he'll make sure of it. greedy palms skim down your legs and hips until he can grab at your tits, the perfect size to fit in his hold, using them as leverage as he starts to finally tease his leaking tip against your desperate hole. with skilled thumbs, he flicks your pebbled buds and leans down so he can watch as you become his.

"take it all like a good girl," is the last you hear before he pushes just the head of his cock in, but it's enough to make your eyes widen — this is nothing compared to the two fingers he used to prep you.

"i-it hur—" but he won't have any of that.

tooru pushes in deeper, harder, until he's halfway in and he can feel the resistance of your hymen disappear. but that's when your pain reaches a peak and your back arches off the bed, your tiny hands pushing at his shoulders to try and fight him. the training and growth from his time away from you was all for this moment, to make sure that he can continue going inside of you, despite how much you protest.

"good girl," he breathes out huskily, uncaring of your struggles and the tears that fall down the sides of your cheeks. you're so warm and tight and he wants you sheathed around him completely, so he does it, he takes what he wants. within seconds, tooru bottoms out until his tip is buried deep within your walls and his head lolls, unable to keep it up as pleasure pumps through his veins. "holy fuck," he groans.

your sobs have quieted by now and your body's too limp to do fight back any longer — not that it would've had any impact. selfishly, he doesn't care if you've adjusted or if you will, his hips vigorously bucking against yours so he can pump in and out of your sweltering walls. the sound of his body pounding against yours is only amplified by the liquid shame that covers your thighs and his own.

with watchful eyes, he commits the way your face contorts from pain, then morphs into one of pleasure to memory as he lifts a hand to your cheek, making his weight no longer crush down on your chest as much. he caresses your tear-stained face, feigning pity in his chestnut orbs, but the smirk on his lips is as twisted as his thoughts. god, he loves the sight of you getting fucked dumb, each and every thought leaving your head each time he plunges into your hot, wet walls, until he pushes against the spongy bundle buried deep in you — then your eyes are rolling to the back of your head.

"who's nii-chan's sweet whore?" he grits out through his teeth, trying his best to keep his head from throwing itself back so he can watch you; he doesn't want to miss a single second of this. with the way your mouth only parts to let out lewd whimpers and moans, he knows he won't get an answer, but that's alright.

your gummy walls have already tightened and pulsed around his cock over and over — no surprise when he was the first thing to ever penetrate you, let alone this deep. the hand on your chest drops to hold your hip, prompting you to arch your back as he lets the fingers on your chest find solace in between your slippery folds to draw rough circles around your throbbing clit, forcing relief on you.

"be a good little sister and cum nii-chan's cock while he fills you up," he murmurs in a saccharine voice, so sweet that his proposition doesn't ring any alarms in your head. all you do is nod pathetically and grip his biceps ( when did they get so hard to wrap your hands around again? ) as you brace yourself for another orgasm.

with the extra stimulation of his digits, you feel the coiling hot heat in your core far more than the previous times, your knuckles turning white as you try to contain the feeling, but to no avail with tooru-nii pushing harder and harder into you, drops of his sweat falling onto your tummy.

"n-nii-chan, wait—" you try. you really feel like it's too much, but you see that your cry falls on unhearing ears when tooru starts to moan louder and louder. he pulls his hand back to slap it down against your clit and that's the last thing you remember before you're screaming "nii-chan!" repeatedly in between sobs, finally letting go. your eyes clamp shut and your toes clench so hard, you might've twisted a muscle. the faint sound of "oh, fuck" in your brother's voice lingers when you feel the pressure building up inside of you become lifted, almost like relief. your fingers letting go of him one by one as the strength in your body depletes in the afterglow of your orgasm.

"cutie," his voice sounds almost... in disbelief. "fuck, you there?" his fingers give your aching clit a nudge, jolting you back to reality. "you...you squirted."

in an instant, your eyes fly wide open and you lift your head ( much to the protest of your already sore body ) to see the moisture that glistens on his torso and your thighs, a few drops falling down his legs, too.

"i'm so sorry," you blurt out, shame making your cheeks redden even further, but tooru-nii looks far from enraged or displeased. his smile only widens and he leans in to press a kiss to your wet forehead.

"and what would you have to apologise for, sweetheart?" he seems more pleased — a bit cocky, even — and he slowly slips out of you ( not without a groan ), paying no mind to the mess on his sheets as he lays down beside you, turning onto his side with an arm stretched out under his head, the other hand stroking your damp cheek with the backs of his fingers. "you've been nothing but perfect."

the sun in argentina seems so much more powerful than it is back home, your skin having grown just a shade darker despite all the sunscreen you've been using. it was inevitable with how much time you spend on the beach in a skimpy bikini each day after tooru-nii finishes practice with his team — he won't let your feet touch sand unless you're nude or only covering the absolute necessities.

after a few weeks, you've adjusted to tooru's schedule — wake up, go for a jog, eat, practice, beach, fuck, then sleep; rinse and repeat. he never asks if you miss home or if and when you want to go back. you gave up your scholarship and admission to the school you got into the second tooru-nii asked you to move to argentina with him.

the first time he introduced you to his teammates, you couldn't understand any of the conversation taking place above your head, but the catcalls and whistles that came during it made you squirm just a bit. one of them looked at your face, then nii-chan's repeatedly, asking something about siblings you're sure because he said it in english, and you paid enough attention in school to learn that word. but nii-chan just gave a friendly hit to the man's shoulder and shook his head. when you had asked tooru about it later, he gave you a confused look, head tilted.

"you're my sweetheart, darling. i might be your big brother, but i love you much more than that — we love each other more than that." his toned arms pulled you in for an embrace and you returned it with a tight smile, nodding as you lowered your head against his shoulder, a single tear escaping your wet eyes.

this was what you were made for: to serve tooru-nii, no matter where he is in the world. you're his sweet doll, his darling — his perfect imouto-chan.

#oikawa x you #oikawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #tooru x reader #tw.incest #tw.dubcon #oikawa

1K notes · View notes

house-strong · 2 years

Text

— THE HARVEST MOON ʾ ⋆

summary ; requested by anon.

“Masquerade ball with Jace?”

pairing ; jacaerys velaryon x reader

notes ; i remembered while watching got that highgarden hosts masquerade balls during the harvest moon and i had to write this,, :p

having the privilege to witness the autumn equinox befall over westeros was a wondrous spectacle that many lords and lady’s flocked to highgarden for. the reach, one of the realms prime food administrator, never failed to have a ball in honor of the event.

somehow at the castle of highgarden, the atmosphere was otherworldly. crickets sang melodies, fireflies danced in the air, and dragonfly’s raced across the manmade ponds within the open infrastructure of the castle. arrays of flowers, shrubbery, and bushes lined fences and decorated the empty spaces between each room. vines and flower-bound, wood lattices laid in open windows to offer some privacy. with fountains that provided decor and warm lanterns that lit pathways, highgarden was truly magnificent at night.

the sound of joyous music reaches your ears as you survey the grounds behind your eye mask. the lord and lady’s of the event are dressed extravagantly; long, flowy ball gowns adorn the body’s of the women, and the men wear fancy dressage under long coats. they all wear exotic masks; some embellished with jewelry or lace, others colored and lined with feathers. some line half the face and others line the eyes.

the harvest moon ball was the event of the year.

you bid your father a farewell, unlinking your arm from his and begin to wander the grounds by yourself. you offer a smile to any lord or lady that meets your eye, dipping your head in respect. you reach a table that houses platters of desserts, custards and cakes lining each plate. you cast a glance around you and peel a candied lemon off a lemon cake, plopping it into your mouth before moving down the table like nothing happened.

“i saw that.”

your blood runs cold and you feel yourself still at the words that come from behind. you swallow thickly, licking your lips to rid any glaze that may give you away. you turn around and are greeted by a man, not too much taller than you, wearing very fine leather. there was a difference in the sheen and material of fine and very fine, and he looked deliciously opulent.

who he was, you wondered. it couldn’t be too hard to figure out by the colors of his clothes. often, guests of the harvest ball wore faint fragmentations of their traditional house colors—even though it was a masquerade party and your identity was supposed to be a secret. his clothes were dark in color with black, blue, and red detailing. a piece of emblem catches your eye; a three headed dragon.

this was a prince.

“saw what?” you respond back casually, eyes slowly trailing back up to meet his gaze. he blinks receptively at you, almost ignoring the fact that you were practically ogling him.

“what you did there.” he motions with his head towards the table. you follow his eyesight to where the victimized lemon cake sat, its sides drooping with sadness at the absence of the lemon slice.

you straighten your back and raise your brows. despite the mask covering your face, it’s instinctive rather than forced.

“i don’t have the faintest clue what you’re alluding to.”

he tuts gently and sags his shoulders. soon, he removes the glove from his hand before doing exactly what you did before. he snags a lemon slice off the cake and dangles it over his mouth before letting it rest upon his tongue. he chews thoughtfully before swallowing, returning to meet your gaze. you swallow, tongue licking your own lips.

“did anyone tell you it’s rude to accuse a lady of something she didn’t do?” you ask, finger trailing along the edge of the table. you cast him a look, but his eyes are still on you, unwavering and interested.

“i didn’t know i was talking to a lady,” the prince quips, moving around you to cut you off by the table. he picks at candied berries and chews on them politely. “forgive me, i don’t see one in front of me.”

your mouth parts in surprise from the jest and you raise your hand, rapidly forgetting your place, before swatting his shoulder gently. you’ve heard stories about striking royalty; the hand someone used would fall off with agony. you look at your hand and it remains intact. you, however, were more surprised that he let you hit him.

“is that any way for a prince to be speaking to a lady of his court?” the prince before you stills, then he tries to come up with an excuse or any reason as to why he wasn’t a prince. perhaps he came here unaccompanied? maybe he wasn’t supposed to be here? “don’t worry, my prince, your secret is safe with me.”

besides the festival music that danced through the halls, there’s a silence that washes between you and the prince. he clears his throat, presumably to ask you how you figured it out. you’re quick to interrupt him and grab his hand.

“come dance with me.”

you think he utters words of protest, but you don’t care to stop or even understand what he’s actually saying. you tug him along instead, the sound of music slowly becoming more loud with each step. soon, with the mysterious prince in tow, you arrive at the marquee, weaving through the couples before finding an empty spot.

you turn and readjust your grip on his hand, your other free arm snaking around his neck. he places his free hand on your waist, his dark pupils observing your face. he tentatively follows your lead, glancing down every once in awhile to ensure that he doesn’t step on your feet.

you two dance in perfect rhythm and you’re almost in awe at how good of a dancer he is.

“how did you know i was a prince?” his voice cuts your thoughts in half, bringing you back to the present. although it’s loud enough to hear over the music, it’s still hushed to where only you would hear – letting others know he was royalty probably wouldn’t be the best.

you hum along to the beat, observing his outfit once more, “you’re wearing a targaryen pin, i assumed you were royalty from that.”

“what if i’m just a bannerman, or devoted to them?” he responds back, his tone laced as if it’s a matter-of-fact.

you tilt your head, “the leather you wear is a telltale.” the masked prince hums knowingly, releasing his hold on you and twirling you slowly. you oblige, letting the music guide your steps. “it’s too fine for an average lord to wear.”

the prince feels himself scrunch his nose in response. perhaps you were right and he shouldn’t have worn his nicest clothes. his mother always told him to be the best dressed at a function, though he supposed she didn’t mean ones that called for mystery identities. he begins to chew on his cheek.

“i’m jacaerys.” the eldest son of princess rhaenyra targaryen, how delightful.

you stifle a laugh, “the whole idea of a masquerade party is to conceal who you are.”

jacaerys is almost disappointed when you didn’t share your own name with him; he assumed he was being too hopeful about the notion. he wanted to know who you were and find out why he felt so drawn to your presence.

“what if i want to know who you are?”

you crinkle your nose. you didn’t feel extraordinary, so you were unsure as to why the prince wanted to know your name.

“you can’t, that defeats the purpose of this celebration,” you insist, dropping his hands from yours. your movements still and so does his, and now you two are staring each other down, almost defiant.

jacaerys feels annoyance brew, but he knows it shouldn’t be his place to be senseless this way. his nostrils flare and he gives a defiant exhale through his nose.

after a second, “what can i call you then?”

that’s the exact moment when it starts to feel like a game. you flash him a pretty smile, one that seems to smash through the barricade of tension between you. jacaerys almost swoons at the action.

“nothing.” you move past him, swerving through the crowd to get away from him. his mouth opens in surprise and he attempts to grab your arm as you move past. you’re too quick, already drowning within the sea of people. he huffs and tries to get through them like you did, but he struggles.

“wait!” unbecoming of the heir to the iron throne, jacaerys pushes through the crowd of people. he earns himself distasteful glares, but he doesn’t care. when he finally exits the mass, he frantically looks around and disappointment clouds his once content feeling as realization dawns upon him.

he can’t seem to find you anywhere.

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon fanfic #jacaerys velaryon fic #jacaerys velaryon imagine #jacaerys velaryon #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd fic #my writing

843 notes · View notes

partystoragechest · 12 days

Text

A story of romance, drama, and politics which neither Trevelyan nor Cullen wish to be in.

Canon divergent fic in which Josephine solves the matter of post-Wicked Hearts attention by inviting invites four noblewomen to compete for Cullen's affections. In this chapter, Trevelyan has someone she'd like to impress.

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Next entry. Words: 3,893. Rating: all audiences, bar a few swears.)

Chapter 42: The Ball

“Pre-senting..!”

The stage was set, the Great Hall adorned in its finest. A band played upon the dais, the floor before them awaiting its dancers. Every candle was lit, every banner unfurled—each one proudly displaying the sigil of the Inquisition.

This was their party. People of all ranks were in attendance. Advisors and dignitaries, to soldiers and mages. All, except for four.

The door thundered open. A chamberlain cried their names:

“Lady Erridge of West Coldon, Lady Samient of Samient, Baroness Touledy of Val Misrenne..!”

The Ladies strode in, none finer than they. Lady Erridge wore her pinkest, most ruffliest dress yet; Lady Samient wore her tightest, of dark, snakish leather; the Baroness wore her most glamorous, a gown in passionate red—with mahogany cane to match, of course.

“...and Lady Trevelyan, of Ostwick!”

Trevelyan emerged, last of all. The ballgown she wore? Unrecognisable.

The black brocade was gone, the lace ripped from its seams with wicked delight. All that remained was perfect canvas of purest navy, onto which it could be painted—with shining, silvery thread.

Her mother would’ve fumed at the very idea. But what good was learning embroidery, if one did not use it in defiance?

Each Lady had taken up a quadrant of her own, yet the stitches they sewed were all the same: dozens upon dozens of tiny, shimmering, stars.

Trevelyan sparkled with every step. Diamonds glittered around her neck, lent eagerly by the Baroness. Every candle’s flame glistened upon her.

Even the night sky could not compare.

Were it not for the band, the room would have been stunned to silence. Whispers of admiration made their circuit. Trevelyan joined the other Ladies, all of them frightfully pleased with their handiwork—and quite rightly, too.

“So this is what you were all up to yesterday?” asked the arriving Lady Orroat—herself in fine doublet and breeches—laying her eyes upon the dress for the very first time. “It’s beautiful!”

A look of panic came over Lady Erridge. “I did those ones!” she blurted, her pointing finger at some collection of stars.

The Baroness laughed at such a display. “Yes, Lady Erridge is indeed a fine seamstress.”

“Oh, certainly,” Orroat agreed, placing a kiss upon her seamstress’ hand, quelling her worry in an instant. “Always has been.”

Amused, Lady Samient whispered to Trevelyan: “Seems her Ladyship has reversed her position on your knowing Lady Orroat.”

Trevelyan giggled. “Good. For I could hardly say we should make such as handsome couple as they.”

The Ladies settled, the partygoers returned to business—yet the music that accompanied their conversation furrowed into quiet. Attention was drawn to the dais from whence it had come, as the ever-elegant Lady Montilyet took her place upon it.

“Friends of the Inquisition!” she called. “Thank you for coming. I do not wish to keep you from your pleasures, so this will not be long—but, if you shall indulge me, I would like to say a fond farewell, to some of our departing guests.”

She raised a glass in the direction of the Ladies, and sang their praises each.

Lady Erridge and Lady Orroat were wished all the best, for the wedding that was to come, and for the future of their Coldon, reunited by love. They took each other’s hands, met one another’s doting gaze, and held tight.

The Baroness was sent hope, for a swift victory in Val Misrenne—but also admiration. She had more than proven why she was capable of defying the Chantry so: a steadfast determination, that they should all aspire to. With a smile, the Baroness bowed.

Lady Samient’s message was subtle. A safe journey home, all she was promised—but those who knew, knew what that meant. Absent-minded, the Lady reached for and toyed with the pendant at her neck, a twisting halla’s horn.

“Of course,” Montilyet continued, “one of our guests is to remain. Gathered friends, may I please introduce to you our new Arcanist”—she held her glass high—“Lady Trevelyan of Ostwick!”

Applause went up, echoing off the walls, filling the room with joy. Trevelyan laughed in delight, and caught glimpses of her friends amongst the rabble. Varric’s arms flew up; somewhere, Dorian hollered; even Sera clapped—though none, it seemed, were as enthusiastic as Dagna herself!

“Tonight, we celebrate!” Montilyet declared. “So please, enjoy!”

The band launched into triumphant fanfare; good humour and good company were the orders of the evening. The Ladies, all aflutter, went about these goals with giddiness and verve.

“Won’t you come dance?” asked Lady Erridge, having already roped her fiancee into it.

Trevelyan smiled, but shook her head. “Later,” she told her. “There’s someone I wish to see, first.”

Lady Samient picked up her slack. “Come, Lady Erridge!” she offered, instead. “I’ll dance with you.”

Appeased, Lady Erridge escorted her away. Trevelyan was left to withdraw from the dancefloor, and wander towards the more stationary attendees. Her eyes flitted from person to person, searching for one in particular.

A hand caught her shoulder. The Baroness, apparently having already procured a drink, leant over, and tilted it forward.

“There,” she whispered.

The crowd parted, as if by her will. True to her word, at the other end of the room, was stood precisely the man Trevelyan had been looking for.

Commander.

Maker, he had only become more handsome the longer she had known him. That rough-hewn jaw of his, a dishevelment of stubble upon it; the subtle waves in his hair, hints of his rebellious curls; those dimples upon his cheeks—the thumb-prints of the divine, left where the Maker’s scultping hand had gone astray.

And his weary eyes, whose gentle gaze found her, and drew her closer.

Trevelyan admired, as she approached, the coincidence of the navy blue doublet that Lady Montilyet had undoubtedly advised him to wear. Hm. She liked him better in red. Suited him more, perhaps.

Though truly, it mattered little. There was nothing that could dull the shine of him; true gold, after all, did never rust.

He straightened to greet her, a little smile pulling at his mouth. And he would have greeted her, perhaps warmly, perhaps sweetly—had a scout, uniformed and on duty, not appeared at his side.

Ah, fuck.

They whispered something to him, below the hubbub that came back into focus. Trevelyan crept nearer, but heard nothing of the Commander’s reply. Yet, when the he looked to her again, his smile was gone.

“Arcanist,” he said, with a bow. “I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me. Urgent business.”

Bloody typical.

“Of course,” she told him, magnanimously. “Duty calls.”

“At inconvenient times,” he added.

“No duty is ever convenient.”

That seemed to amuse him, at least. “True. I will try to return soon,” he told her. “I assure you.”

“Yes, Commander.”

She curtsied to him, and allowed him to depart. The scout had lingered by the rotunda door. The Commander followed them through.

Gone.

Trevelyan looked down at her pretty, sparkly skirt, and fluffed it up, pointlessly. Not quite the moment she’d been hoping for.

Oh, well. She would have plenty of time for moments with him in the coming days. If he didn’t get called away by something or other during those, too.

Stowing her frustration, Trevelyan returned to the party. There was plenty more to do, besides.

She watched the Ladies dance, and clapped along. She saw Dagna, who was endlessly excited for the things to come. She met with Lady Montilyet, and spoke of her new quarters (ready tomorrow)! And she found Dorian, who was, as always, terribly good conversation.

Yet still no Commander.

The noise of the band and the chatter and the stomps of the dancing were beginning to blur in her brain. Dorian noted her change in temperament, as she peered out of the door to the garden. No. Too many in attendance; the party had spilled out into it. It was no less busy out there than it was in here.

“Try up there,” Dorian suggested, indicating the mezzanine above. It seemed Sera had been banned from it today, as no there was no skulking to be seen. “It has a balcony, if you need some air.”

“Thank you,” said Trevelyan. She’d had little cause to ever stray up there before—but now seemed as good a reason as any. “I shall see you later.”

Dorian waved, off to see the Baroness. Trevelyan found her way around the dancefloor, and escaped up the stairs.

The moment she reached their peak, already was she calmer. Even mere feet above the maelstrom, the music came quieter, and the conversation mere ambience. Better.

Her attention turned to the mezzanine. It was furnished well for a somewhat hidden space, with a luxurious chaise and portraits of figures Trevelyan did not quite recognise. The candleabrum here were not lit, leaving all illumination to that of the moons, who trickled their glow through a pair of glass doors—beyond which, as promised, was a balcony.

But Trevelyan felt at ease enough to stay inside for now; and indeed, she found the view of the party below to be quite of interest. The dancers, from above, weaved such wonderful patterns. Outfits, in all colours, were arrayed like a painter’s palette. She could watch, as those she knew flitted from one group, to another. An enjoyable pict—

The rotunda door opened, drawing her eye. The Commander. He strode into the party with such determination, it was as if it did not even exist around him. Trevelyan followed his path, as it led him, direct, to the Baroness.

They moved to the side. He whispered something. Urgent business? Oh, no.

But the Baroness smiled. Wider and wider. She asked him something; he nodded. She placed a hand over her heart, and sighed. Trevelyan did the same.

She took a step back, from the barrier. If the news they shared was what she hoped, then she was rather glad she hadn’t kicked up a fuss at his departure. Because if it was what she hoped, then it would be well worth it.

She had to see the Baroness.

And she would have, if not for the feet hurrying up the stairs. The Baroness? No cane. Then—!

The Commander appeared at the landing, startling himself as much as he startled her. Determination abandoning him in an instant, he padded onto the mezzanine, and did his best to bow.

“Arcanist,” he said. “Forgive me, Dorian told me you were here.”

Crafty bastard. Still, she asked, “Is everything all right, Commander? Your urgent business?”

He smiled—such a relieving smile—and nodded. “Yes. The Inquisitor has reported in.” She could hardly believe his next words: “We have victory. Val Misrenne is safe.”

As she’d hoped. Better, even. Trevelyan brought a hand to her mouth, a beaming smile beneath it. She shook her head, out of sheer incredulity. By Andraste. She could not fathom how dear Touledy felt.

“Thank the Maker,” she breathed. “Or, I suppose—thank you, Commander.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I think it is the Inquisitor and the Baroness’ forces who should have the credit of it.”

“Very true. Though your involvement is still very much appreciated.”

Compliments did not seem to sit well within him; he kept his gaze askance, mouth struggling to form a reply. Awkwardness prevailed, ‘til his fortune changed, and his eyes chanced upon the balcony doors.

“Forgive me, I didn’t meant to disturb you—her Ladyship, the Baroness, thought you should know. You were… headed outside?”

Trevelyan followed his gaze. She smiled. “Preferably not alone.”

“Oh. I could—”

Trevelyan stepped for the doors; he followed. They opened—a portal—to the tranquil night beyond.

The stars shone in greeting. Trevelyan curtsied; an acknowledgement of their mutual beauty. She found relaxation upon the finely-carved stone of the balcony balustrade, and felt the Commander’s presence, a warmth in the absence of the sun, as he came to rest beside her.

“It’s... a nice night,” he said.

“Yes,” she replied, “and a lovely view.”

The entire courtyard was laid out before them, from the tavern—as lively as the party they’d left behind—to the stables—quiet, at this time of day. Moonlit stone, punctuated by glowing torchlight. Beautiful, truly.

Yet it seemed the Commander’s focus was elsewhere, for his hand fumbled within his jacket.

“I, ah, have something,” he told her, “that I believe is yours.”

At last, he seemed to locate it, and freed it from its concealment. White cloth, that flashed in the moonlight. Embroidered, with leaves Trevelyan recognised.

It was far cleaner than the last time she’d seen it.

Trevelyan smiled. The little napkin slipped pleasantly from his fingers, and into her own. She noted the warmth of his proximity, still lingering within the weave, and the sweet, earthy scent that had been left by his possession.

“Technically,” she teased, “I believe it is Lady Montilyet’s.”

“I hardly think she’ll miss it.”

“I certainly hope so.” She tucked it away—safe. “Thank you, Commander.”

“Thank you for the use of it,” he said. “Though, speaking of Lady Montilyet, I had hoped to say—you took the offer... to become Arcanist.”

“I did.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

The Commander stammered, “For you—I mean. I mean, I am glad. That—despite how you came to be here—you have found enough reason to stay.”

Trevelyan laughed a little. It seemed as though he had a mountain to climb whenever they spoke. She appreciated his attempt to scale the peak regardless.

“Plenty of reasons,” she told him. “I know that I ought to have left, and truly have started my life afresh… but that would have been dishonest, to what I truly want.”

“May I ask… what is it?”

“What?”

The Commander almost met her eye. “That you… want?”

She bit back the smile that threatened to betray her. The night air wasn’t cold, but she hid goose-bumps upon her skin. “Well… I suppose there is one thing—”

Feet clattered up the stairs. Trevelyan stopped herself, turning just in time to see, stumbling into the doorway, a giddy Lady Erridge.

“Lady Trevelyan!” she called. “Oh, Commander, there you are! I came to see if you wanted to dance!”

The Commander shook his head. “I’m… No, thank you. I don’t really dance.”

Erridge giggled. “I know! I wasn’t asking you, Commander! Come, Lady Trevelyan! The Commander shall have plenty of time to whisper with you when we are gone!”

Though the interruption was not exactly ideal, Trevelyan could not deny the sentiment. She curtsied to the Commander, somewhat apologetically.

“It seems I am summoned away. Urgent business, I believe they call it.”

The corner of his mouth tilted upward; it made her skin tingle. “Another time, then.”

“Of course.”

Trevelyan permitted Lady Erridge to take hold of her hand. The Lady threw a quick farewell to the Commander over her shoulder, and whisked Trevelyan away, tumbling down the stairs. They burst back onto the main floor of the hall, just as the band queued up another jig.

“Come on, come on!” Lady Erridge ordered, pulling Trevelyan into the congregating mass of dancers. Already amongst them were Lady Samient and Lady Orroat, left to partner up by the absent Erridge.

“Over here!” they called, of a little clearing beside them. Trevelyan and Erridge took position, all anticipation. They joined hands—properly now—and waited for the song to start.

And start it did! Strings and wind erupted into a prancing melody of alternating highs and lows. Trevelyan followed her Ladyship’s lead, bouncing around the floor, clapping her hands, kicking her legs into the air. Skirts clashed and flew, an explosion of fabric and colour.

It was a wonder how Lady Samient danced it so well, in a dress so constricting—but dance well she did! As hands parted and partners changed, Trevelyan found herself parading around in the arms of said Lady, each of them smiling up a storm.

As one song ended, so another began. She was to dance with Lady Orroat, too, of course—it was only fair—and then dear Erridge wanted another.

Eventually, quite exhausted, Trevelyan took the next song’s end, and made her exit.

Fortunately, she found the Baroness on the edges of the dancefloor, an audience to their frolicking. She greeted Trevelyan with a smile and an embrace—for which they both knew the reason.

“I am so glad for you,” Trevelyan said, as she recovered her breath. “Are you all right?”

The Baroness nodded. “Relieved. When I leave tomorrow, I know I will be returning to my town at peace. But—this has not come without loss. It is not over, not truly.”

“Of course.”

“But we could have lost so much more. That Val Misrenne and its people still stand is worth celebrating.”

“Absolutely.”

Trevelyan hugged her once more, yet the music’s sudden and effervescent return caused her to jump. With a laugh, she glanced back to the dancers.

“You know, I am surprised Lady Erridge has not called you up for a jig!”

The Baroness chuckled. “No, no, my leg is far too frail for that.”

“Really?” said Trevelyan, glancing to it. “I remember you saying you still dance, once.”

“I do.” She grinned. “But the leg is an excellent excuse.”

Trevelyan caught her meaning. “Lady Erridge’s enthusiasm is quite difficult to match.”

“Indeed. She has the stamina of a demon. Though I’m sure Lady Orroat could find some use for that.”

Trevelyan laughed. “Your Ladyship! Please, I feel so terrible teasing her!”

“Then you should not like to hear what we say about you and him.”

Confused by who ‘him’ was, Trevelyan followed the Baroness’ line of sight, to a nearby throng of guests. Weaving between them, was—she should’ve guessed it—the Commander.

“Oh, Maker…” Trevelyan groaned. “You all have far too—”

She turned back, and realised the Baroness’s mouth was half-open, her cane being raised in the air.

“No, no—!”

“Commander!”

He heard the call. His head whipped round. No stopping it now: he was headed in their direction.

“Baroness!” Trevelyan hissed.

Touledy smiled, gave a suggestive flick of her brow, and said nothing more. Though Trevelyan was almost glad of this—the Commander ought not hear anything she had to say right now.

“Ladies,” he greeted, upon arrival. “Is there something you require?”

“Why, yes,” said Touledy, all too confidently. What was she up to? “Lady Trevelyan here wishes another dance, but I am afraid I am unable to”—she flashed her cane—“would you be able to dance with her Ladyship, in my stead?”

“Oh.” The Commander softened. "Are you all right?”

Trevelyan noted, rather indignantly, that the Commander asked this question with the same sort of gentle voice that he often put on for her. This was a concept which, she suddenly discovered, she did not like. Why, oh why, did she have to make him befriend the other Ladies? Fool.

“Yes, thank you,” the Baroness answered. “But her Ladyship must have a dance.”

Trevelyan rolled her eyes. “But Baroness, the Commander does not like to dance.”

“I could try,” he said.

Trevelyan stared at him. There were a thousand questions she thought of in response to his saying this. But somehow, the only one she could quite manage was:

“What?”

He repeated the sentiment: “If you would like to.”

“Oh.” Well, there was little chance of her saying anything other than: “Yes.”

The Baroness smiled, clearly relishing in the success. “Go on, then,” she said, “enjoy.”

Easier said. At least Trevelyan had done enough jigs with Lady Erridge to know what she was to do with them, now. In her mind, as they walked to the floor, she went over the steps. Left, left, kick, clap. Switch. Then to the right? But—

The music grew in volume. Yet it sounded like no jig she’d ever heard. Trevelyan realised that the band had betrayed her. Not a jig. Not at all.

Sweet, slow strings floated across the hall. A… romantic melody, that had couples approaching the floor. Dear Maker fucking Andraste shitting Void.

People linked hands and put them on waists and Trevelyan realised that she was in the midst of it now, surrounded, and there was no escape, and she would have to do those things herself.

She faced the Commander. Maker, why did he have to look like that and be like this? This sort of thing was far simpler with unimportant suitors that one could so easily discard after, even if one did step on their toes.

He offered a hand. Trevelyan’s shook.

But still, they met.

Her fingers slid into his palm, felt the warmth that emanated beneath the leather of his glove. The feeling of his skin, however rugged or tender, was cruelly left to the imagination. She savoured it regardless.

Her other hand gathered up her skirts, like the rest of the dress-wearers were doing. Almost in position. There was simply one last thing to emulate—

The Commander’s hand moved for her waist, hesitant in its approach. The first touches of his fingertips—gentler even than that of cotton or down—caused her body to tense. She did not know how she was to bear his entire hand.

But his hand stopped short. It instead hovered over the fabric of her dress, as if afraid to press any further.

Disappointing.

Nevertheless—the music began in earnest. The dancers began to move. The Commander took a step, and Trevelyan followed. Her nerves hit a peak.

And then, began to fade.

Because dancing with him was unlike dancing with anyone she had danced with before. It felt different. Better. Warmer. Safer. It almost did not matter if she was dancing well or not. It was only him that mattered.

There was no need for extravagant moves, or flourishes of the hand. This was enough. Sweet, simple, swaying in one another’s arms. More than enough.

“You should dance more often,” she whispered to him. “You do it well.”

He smiled, soft, and simply said, “All right.”

Her words must have bolstered his resolve, for his shoulders relaxed, and his grip around her hand firmed and strengthened. Its pull drew her closer; his other slipped around her back, fitting perfectly into the mold of her body. The gap between them was more indistinct than ever.

Yet in that closeness was comfort. She could have stayed like that for an eternity.

But the music slowly, gradually, dulled away. Other dancers reappeared around them, the party audible once more. It was over.

They came to a standstill. Trevelyan’s hand fell reluctantly from his grasp; his trailed away from her waist. Yet still she smiled, for nothing could take it from her lips.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Of course,” he replied.

“I shan’t make you dance another.”

“That’s… all right.” He rubbed his neck. “Will you, ah, be stargazing tonight?”

She played with her dress. “Most likely.”

“Good.”

She curtsied, he bowed. He left, she stayed. Her feet still wobbled, a little.

But she would have to recover quickly. For she turned to her side, and saw complete what had, until now, been only a disruption in her periphery: the Ladies, gathered together, in keen observance.

Trevelyan shook her head, and, before they could open their mouths, told them firm:

“Not one word.”

#unwanted fic #unwanted #cullen rutherford #cullen x trevelyan #commander cullen #we're back in the tag baby!#hoping to have next chapter ready for tues-weds #and then the chapter after for fri-sat #this was the longest and hardest to edit of the three #when they take ages to edit i have to be able to step away for a while before i can enjoy the chapter as it is #because brain continues to be in editing mode #definitely one i feel like i'll come back to and be like 'wait no this slapped actually'#EDIT: 7/5 i've been continuing to tinker with this #CONT: i feel i may have released it a tad earlier than i should as it was good!! but it wasn't great #CONT: i have added some connective tissue and embellished some key moments that i felt were lacking

12 notes · View notes

esta-elavaris · 7 months

Text

Flufftober Day 14: "I hate it." "No you don't." - Cutler Beckett/OC [2,799 words]

My Flufftober '23 masterpost can be found here 💜✨

I was trying to figure out how the hell to write Beckett in a romantic setting and my brain gave me toxic power couple, enjoy. This is more hurt/comfort with eventual kinda-sorta fluff than anything else, but I did my best and so no one can judge me xoxo

It was the evening of her husband’s farewell party before he departed for the Caribbean, and Lady Clara Beckett was a woman on a mission. She had been ever since her dear husband had announced he would not be bringing her with him when he set sail, citing that it was too dangerous and that there was no real need for her to be there - wording that had earned him a look that said more than an earful ever might. But good reason had failed, her discussions with him had been for naught, and he had resolved not to listen. So now, there was only time left for dirty tactics.

He had no right to be too cross about that. It was something he often revelled in, and while she couldn’t give him the credit in saying she’d learned it from him, watching his actions certainly encouraged her. Clara suspected he found it charming at times – but she knew tonight would not be one of those times. She wasn’t even sure she wanted it to be one of those times, her annoyance at now being bloody well listened to warring with her fury at how calm and impassive he was as she’d argued her case. No, she couldn’t quite decide if her plan for the night was with the aim of ‘winning’, or just of royally annoying him.

Although with two goals, she was more likely to achieve at least one of them, was she not?

Her maid did not seem to think so, if the silence in which she dressed her was anything to go by. Clara cared little. It at least saved her from any inane conversation – focused instead on the overall effect. Straight from the court of Louis XV, the gown was red silk, simple and sophisticated without frills or lace. Primarily because none was needed, as the neckline spoke for itself, dipping so far down that it exposed the curve of the pale, smooth underside of her breasts. Were she more well-endowed, it would’ve appeared obscene. Thankfully, she was fairly certain she could just get away with it.

Rubies dangled from her ears, bringing out the warmth of her dark locks where they were piled artfully atop her head, but when the maid brought out the matching necklace, Clara waved her away. It would ruin the effect.

With the maid dismissed thereafter, she had a moment alone to steel herself for what lay ahead. Standing, she inspected her reflection one last time and found that she rather liked what she saw, her dark eyes staring cooly back at her. Then, she took in a deep breath – and found it was a good thing they were throwing a dinner party and not a ball, for the dress would never remain in place for something like dancing – and then made for the door.

A footman was striding down the corridor as she stepped out, and when he saw her, he froze, and then did his utmost to keep his eyes firmly glued upon her face. Clara took that as a good sign, but kept any indication of that to herself.

“Lord Beckett?” she asked.

“His…study, my lady. Seeing to a handful of letters before your guests arrive.”

“Very well, thank you,” she nodded, and made her way there – her shoulders squaring and her chin raising more and more with every step.

Her husband was indeed in his study, alone behind the great mahogany desk, his eyes fixed firmly on whatever it was he was writing now. She knew not why he would leave any correspondence so late, but no doubt there was a reason behind it – there was a reason behind everything he did. They had that in common.

Stepping inside without announcing herself, she swept her way towards the chair before the desk and sank casually into it, leaning back and watching him with great patience. He looked up, his quill stilled, and a great splotch of ink fell down atop the letter.

Clara smiled. Cutler did not.

“Absolutely not,” he said firmly.

Only once he’d managed to lift his gaze to her eyes.

“It’s from Paris,” she said, her tone light.

“Then the French can let their wives wear them. Change, Clara. Immediately.”

“Take me with you to Jamaica. Tomorrow.”

Realisation hit him then – visibly, his jaw clenching as he heaved a great sigh, leaning back in his chair as he considered her like she was some new great opponent. His head was already in whatever games lay ahead, then. Or perhaps he simply saw her as good practise. There was something flattering in that.

“No,” he said.

Clara shrugged.

“Then it appears we’re at an impasse.”

“So that’s your plan, then, is it? To flounce around showing me precisely what it is I’ll be missing, as if I’m not already well aware?”

His tone might’ve been scathing if not for the certain note of excitement threatening to slip through his annoyance. He did so enjoy their little games.

“You, and everybody else,” she smirked.

Annoyance prevailed then, for he seemed to like that notion even less than his first assumption. Much to her delight. It wasn’t so much, she knew, about the prospect of other men seeing and desiring what was his – for what good was a beautiful wife if not for that very purpose? So long as she never let them think they had a chance in hell (and they never did – infuriating as he was, she was rather fond of her husband), he liked that aspect of things. No, his reservations here would lie in what his leaving behind a woman such as her suggested about his wits. Which was exactly what she intended. She wanted everybody to look at him tonight, after looking at her for a good long while, and wonder if he’d lost his mind in deciding to let her out of his sight.

“Change your dress, Clara,” he ordered. “You have countless other very becoming ones. Choose one of them, and wear that instead.”

Flattery would get him nowhere. Downstairs, the sound of the servants admitting the first of their guests into the house echoed throughout, and her smiled shifted into a smirk as she rose to her feet.

“Would you look at that? I’m afraid it’s too late.”

Turning, she strode to the door of his office before pausing and turning back to him, drawing herself up to her full height as she posed with all the elegance she could muster. Which, as it was, happened to be rather a lot.

“You haven’t said what you think of the dress.”

He scowled at her. “I hate it.”

Clara grinned, seeing through the assertion immediately – rather helped by how, despite his protests, his eyes were glued to her figure.

“No you don’t,” she said.

Their guests were more people whom they were supposed to like rather than those they really held in any high regard. Then again, did anybody really like anybody in London? Neighbours, business associates, and not quite anybody who would be offended at the lack of an invite but instead those whose offense would actually matter, should it come to that.

Lady Clara Beckett greeted them all warmly, tittering appropriately over the origins of their silverware, or the sofa on which they sat as they waited for dinner to be served, or the year on the fine bottles of wine served – and, of course, the dress.

If Cutler was still cross with her (which she knew he was) he did it almost immaculately well, engaging in small-talk over his upcoming journey, talking in serious tones about the threat of the pirate problem, and humming with a great deal of false humility over what his chances may or may not have been at stamping it all out.

Of course, she said “almost” immaculately, for there was one sore spot. One of his good friends – or allies, rather – a fellow Lord, had seen fit to bring his son along with him. Said son was but a year older than Clara, and had presented a rather strong case for her hand way back when she’d still had to endure things like courting and what her potential prospects were. Alexander had never had a chance at “winning” her, but he didn’t seem to know that. Nor did he seem to have much care for his own wife – a boring little Blowsabella who scarcely seemed able to say three words without blushing, as though fearing they were the wrong ones, leaving Clara pitying the lobster that had to die to feed such a bore tonight. Instead, Alexander instead spent much of the evening all but glued to Clara instead, doing his utmost to be charming.

To his credit, he was rather good at it.

No doubt he smelled blood in the water, knowing her husband would soon depart and leave her alone for what could be years.

The evening was a roaring success, as all evenings she put together were. The conversation flowed nicely, dinner was impeccable, and the drinks that followed were so jolly that they were all very reluctant to leave thereafter. She had to suppress a smirk when Alexander’s father leaned in close to Cutler as he left, his face flushed with drink, saying in what he likely thought was a whisper.

“You must be out of your mind to leave a woman like that behind, my dear fellow. Out of your mind!”

His son looked very self-satisfied to hear it, shooting her a look that could only be described as scheming as he herded his wife out of the door. It closed behind them, and she knew her husband had caught the look thanks to how his hands curled into fists at his sides.

“That went rather well, I thought,” she said happily.

“I suppose you were particularly pleased with those parting comments at the end, there,” his tone was scathing.

It rather warmed her.

“If the opinions men hold over your decision to leave me behind bothers you so greatly, perhaps you might rethink those very actions in the first place. When has what others said ever bothered you when you knew the course of action you were taking was the right one?”

“Perhaps the opinions of others bother me when those opinions were cajoled by my wife behaving like a common whore! Perhaps it’s not my present decisions that concern me, but instead the decision I made not one full year ago when I chose such a woman over one who would know her place and do as she was damn well told!”

Silence hung in the air when he was finished. Clara was content to let it remain there, watching him without respond, allowing him to fully consider precisely what it was he’d just said to her. For the first time ever – in all the time that she’d known him – her husband looked alarmed, the fury slipping from his face like rain from a windowpane.

“Clara…darling…” he sighed.

Darling, was it? He only broke out the terms of endearment in truly dire circumstances. Her expression must have been thunderous, then.

“I wish you safe passage on your travels, husband. I’m rather tired, so I’m afraid I won’t be awake to see you off come morning. You may write, if you so wish,” her tone was clipped, and there was a finality to her words.

Although it would be a good long while before he got any response beyond what was entirely necessary – information as to the running of the household, and so on.

The only way she allowed her temper to shine through was in how she snatched her hand away when he reached for it, rising to her feet and leaving the room. The maid noted the curl of her lip and her silence well enough, dressing her for bed and binding her thick dark hair into a long plait behind her head with no attempt at chit-chat, finally leaving the room swiftly thereafter.

Once the door clicked shut behind her, Clara rested her elbows atop the vanity and sighed heavily. How dare he? More infuriatingly still, he’d left her feeling as though she had done something wrong. Not in her manner of dress – she would wear whatever she damn well pleased within the bounds of good taste and propriety. And what did men know of fashion, anyhow? No, what she was questioning was the goodbye she'd offered. Paltry. Cold, even, considering it would be at least a year before they saw one another again. More, conceivably.

But what else could a man expect, upon likening his wife to a whore? And as for his other assertion – the mere suggestion that he’d ever be content with some insipid little fool who simpered and smiled and did not know precisely who and what he was. It would have been hilarious, were it not so insulting.

She been lying in her bed, glaring at the canopy for some time when a knock sounded at her door. Instantly she knew it was him, despite the fact that he never knocked. So she rolled over and put her back to the door, just in time for it to open. Footsteps, muffled by the rug, drew near and then the bed behind her sank as he sat down.

“I’ve spoken to your maid. She believes she can have your belongings packed and ready to go come morning.”

Clara scoffed.

“To what end?”

“You are my wife. Your place is by my side.”

“Yes, well I’m sure there’ll be many bored ladies in Port Royal eager to warm your bed when you make port, so you shan’t miss me. You said it yourself, I do not know my place. I should hate to change that now.”

“You know that isn’t true. None of it.”

“An hour ago, I might’ve thought not. Then, however, you likened me to a whore and everything was made quite clear.”

“You’re coming with me to Jamaica. Would I decide that if I thought you a whore?”

“I suppose it depends on the hourly rate. I’m not going.”

“Clara.”

“I’m not. And I’m not just saying it so that you might convince me otherwise, I’m saying it because I know you changed your mind solely to stop me from being cross with you. I don’t want to win – not anymore. Not that way, in any case. I’ll get up in the morning and see you off if that’ll convince you that I mean it. But I will not go.”

The bed behind her rose, indicating he’d stood, and something within Clara seized up – devastation outweighing the relief that he’d finally listened to her. But then he rounded the bed instead, coming to sit before her. She could not roll onto her other side without the display bordering on the ridiculous, so she forced her face to remain stony as she regarded him. He’d undressed before coming here – now in a nightshirt and devoid of his wig. It was almost easy to forget who he was, and what he was capable, without all of the finery and the accoutrements that went into Lord Beckett being Lord Beckett, his dark hair sticking up here and there.

She would not allow herself to be charmed by it; for that was likely his intention.

“Come with me to Jamaica,” he said. “Please. Not because you’re cross, and not because it shall mean you have won, but because you are my wife, and I’ve little wish to spend the next year or more without you. Tonight has shown me that well enough.”

Clara stared, pushing herself up so that she was sitting upright. Because he never said please. He’d proposed with less heart than what he’d just shown now. Her eyes lowered, and she angrily urged herself to get a grip – a fire blazing in her gaze when she met his eye again.

“Never use that word to refer to me again,” she warned.

He weighed the response, nodding slowly and then finding her hand amidst the covers. “So long as you never grow predictable. So long as you never bore me.”

She could promise well enough that she’d never do that. Based on the rueful smirk on his face as she slid over to admit him into her bed, he knew that well enough.

Links: AO3 -- FF.net -- flufftober masterpost -- dividers by cafekitsune

#esta's flufftober '23 fills #flufftober 2023 #flufftober2023 #cutler beckett/oc #cutler beckett x oc #pirates of the caribbean fic #potc fic #pirates of the caribbean fanfic #pirates of the caribbean fanfiction

31 notes · View notes

mirandyficlists · 8 months

Note

Hello there, I was wondering if there are any fic where Miranda is hangover and Andrea takes care of her. Thank you :)

Hey Nonnie

The ones you want are in the middle section of this list...

Drunk, Morning After & High or Drug use Mirandy Fics

Drunk

2 a.m. by reconcile https://archiveofourown.org/works/48359401

A Mean Sleep by Politic X **angsty*** https://archiveofourown.org/works/12445407/chapters/28321845

A Royal Whoopsie-Daisy by Petrichoraflora https://archiveofourown.org/works/14621780

Addicted to the Thrill by Drippingwithsin https://archiveofourown.org/works/1945335

Aftermath by Frenchflotus https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4232661/1/Aftermath

Befuddled by Cerumir https://archiveofourown.org/works/43236015

Confessions on the Rocks by Teenybirdy https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12822478/1/Confessions-on-the-Rocks

Dirty Gin An Unlikely Christmas Story by Polgaria/wiserdachshund ***Warning Nigel/Miranda** https://dvlwears-prada.livejournal.com/1142193.html#cutid1

Disolving by Kyantid http://dvlwears-prada.livejournal.com/1091880.html#cutid1

Drunk Haze by hp_fem_lover https://dvlwears-prada.livejournal.com/1715134.html#cutid1

Drunk In Paris by Jassific https://archiveofourown.org/works/12565024/chapters/28618348

Drunken Confession by fictorium On her Tumblr Account

Duck Soup by The Raven http://www.ralst.com/storiesDWP.html

Farewell to the Flesh by Telanu ***Warning this is a Miranda/Nigel/Andy fic.*** http://archiveofourown.org/works/750398?view_adult=true

Good Morrow to Our Waking Souls by LazySunday 30 https://m.fanfiction.net/s/9542169/1/Good-Morrow-to-Our-Waking-Souls

Halfway by Surena13 https://archiveofourown.org/works/320331

I Love My Job by SLV1987 https://m.fanfiction.net/s/4823274/1/I-Love-My-Job

I’ll Let You Know (If you have to come and choose a name) by Fictorium ***Warning this is a Miranda/Nigel/Andy fic.*** https://dvlwears-prada.livejournal.com/2011/06/21/

Intoxicated by LiteraryAssassin https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12901341/1/Intoxicated

It Happened One Night by Canonball312 https://dvlwears-prada.livejournal.com/tag/title:%20it%20happened%20one%20night

Kissable Lips by Grdnofevrything https://grdnofevrythng.livejournal.com/184278.html

Make Me by Nemesisjk8 https://dvlwears-prada.livejournal.com/tag/user:%20nemesisjk8

Miranda You’re Drunk by Writtensword - Awesome fic no longer on line but I have it - ask me for it.

Miranda’s New Addiction Brithna/Ash_Mountain https://archiveofourown.org/works/1883352

Mixed Company by silentrevyrie https://dvlwears-prada.livejournal.com/506865.html#cutid1

Mood Improvers by Jassific https://archiveofourown.org/works/14229357

Not What She Ordered by silentrevyrie https://dvlwears-prada.livejournal.com/594256.html#cutid1

Officer Miranda by Sporkmetender Warning Triple XXX https://archiveofourown.org/works/1830331

One Fine Day by Canonball312 http://dvlwears-prada.livejournal.com/164575.html#cutid1

Parties, Ball Gowns and um Desks by archaicambiance http://archaicambience.livejournal.com/

Stranded by Redscribe http://ralst.com/Stranded.HTM

Tentative Offering by Minerva_ed ***Angst*** https://dvlwears-prada.livejournal.com/1543364.html#cutid1

Thank Dogg For Small Miracles by MissDMonsoon https://missdmonsoon.livejournal.com/5104.html#cutid1

The Ever Popular Staff Christmas Party by pinguissexy https://pinguissexy.livejournal.com/1077.html#cutid1

The Night Miranda Was Plastered iamfree2 journal purged

The Other End of the Line by Bellatrix’sWeightlessTears https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11221010/1/The-Other-End-of-the-Line-Just-Might-Be-Your-Dream-Come-True

Tipsy by Emeraldorchids https://archiveofourown.org/works/38989758

What Are You Doing New Years by Quiethearted https://m.fanfiction.net/s/5667058/1/What-Are-You-Doing-New-Year-s

While She was Sleeping by LadyOrlean https://lady-orlean.livejournal.com/5865.html

Morning After

Mix Up by Surena13 http://archiveofourown.org/works/320329

Naked With a Santa Hat by Punky96 https://archiveofourown.org/works/13189605

One Fine Day by Cannonball312 https://dvlwears-prada.livejournal.com/164575.html#cutid1

The Shoe That Broke the Devils Back by MirandaMeryl https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6337439/1/The_Shoe_That_Broke_The_Devils_Back

What’s in a Name by XVnot15 https://archiveofourown.org/works/924576

High

Blue Haze by Chillyflame https://archiveofourown.org/works/2673119

Hot Chocolate and Pillow Talk by Teenybirdy https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12799592/1/Hot-Chocolate-and-Pillow-Talk

Save Me by Millie https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4776759/1/Save_Me

Secret Stash by aTouchofheavenlyLight https://archiveofourown.org/works/15311277

When Aunt Mary Came to Visit by Zos https://archiveofourown.org/works/26219896

Happy reading

All the breast

XVNot15

#mirandy fic searches #mirandy fanfiction #mirandy

21 notes · View notes

november-rayne · 10 months

Text

Chapter Twenty-One: Fond Farewells - Part One

Summary: Sigyn learns of Thor's plans for Loki's bachelor party and wishes to give him a proper send-off.

Word Count: 4000

Rating: Explicit for smut

*This story is for mature audiences only.* 18+

*Minors DNI*

Tags: Oral sex (male receiving), mild degradation

Chapter Index

“Three days?! Three whole days!” Sigyn groaned and pushed her plate away.

“I am not thrilled about it either, but Thor has put a lot of effort into planning this event. You should have seen his face when he was telling me about it. I would hate to disappoint him.” Loki took her hands in his and rubbed her knuckles with his thumbs.

The dining hall was loud, with the usual noise of everyone enjoying their dinner and each other’s company. Loki and Sigyn were seated in their usual spot at the end of the table containing Thor and their friends: Sif, Fandral, Hogun, Volstagg, and his wife, as well as a handful of others in their age range.

Sigyn glanced at Thor at the center of the table. He was laughing with Volstagg and gesturing wildly with a turkey leg in his hand. Embellishing a story from the battlefield, most likely.

She returned her gaze to Loki, “I do understand. I should not be so greedy with your time. I am being selfish.”

“Oh, my sweet Sigyn.” He rubbed her arms, “We will be married in less than a week. Then you will never be rid of me.”

“Do you promise?”

“I do. I will only leave your side if the King demands my presence. You will be sick of my face before you know it.”

“Never!” She placed her hand on his cheek, “I love your face. It is my favorite thing.” Her eyes dropped to his lips. “I…I am going to miss seeing you. And being close to you.”

“I cherish our precious time together as well.” Loki picked up her hand and kissed it. “You are going to be my wife in a matter of days. Then we will have eons of uninterrupted time together.” He kissed her forehead, “Besides, this will give me a chance to spend more time with the King and your father to soak up all their wisdom on long and happy marriages.”

“True.” Her smile brightened, “Yes, I am glad you will get some male bonding time with your friends. And it was so kind of Thor to invite my father as well. I hope the two of you get a chance to get to know each other better. Although, I am going to worry like crazy. Hunting wild boars? It is so dangerous.” She placed her hand on his cheek.

“Only for the boars,” Loki grinned. He took her hand from his cheek and kissed her palm.

“Not true! I know of men back home who have returned to their wives missing vital organs. Including the one essential for making babies!” She pulled her hands from Loki’s and put them on his upper thigh. Her pinky finger grazed his cock through his trousers.

Loki pulled her hands into his again and rested them on the table, looking over his shoulder to ensure no one noticed. “Trust me, kitten; I know the beast’s viciousness. I will return with all my parts. Especially that one. It is my favorite.”

“You had better.” She licked her lips and leaned closer to his ear, “You should let me give you a proper farewell.” One of her hands made its way back to his thigh.

Loki slid closer to her on the bench. He brushed her hair off her shoulder and followed the column of her neck with his eyes. She was wearing another wide-neck gown this night. This one was a deep burgundy, almost black in the low light. The material was thicker than the wispy dresses she usually wore and was embroidered with delicate leaves in gold thread. Her jewelry was gold, and her hair was half up and half down.

Sigyn had realized that Loki’s eyes became extra hungry when she wore dresses that exposed her neck and the tops of her shoulders. She watched his face as he appreciated her with his eyes.

“What do you think? Can we go somewhere?” She moved her hand higher up his thigh. She circled her thumb over the head of his cock through his trousers. She felt a familiar heat start in her lower belly. She arched her back slightly to try and relieve some of the tension that was building there.

Looking at Loki with hooded eyes, she lowered her voice even further, “You will be gone three long days; leave me with something to get me through those long days. And those lonely nights. All alone in my bed. When I wake from my dreams of you, writhing in a naked sweat, I want to have a memory of you as my hands make their way over my body, trying to relieve the ache of your absence. I want to recall, in those hollow moments, the sweet sounds you make as you come undone by my mouth.”

Loki’s leg jerked so violently that his knee slammed into the bottom of the table, causing the flatware and plates to rattle loudly. Every head at the table turned toward the noise. Sigyn calmly folded her hands atop the table and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

“Are you all right, Brother?” Thor looked over, concerned.

“Leg cramp. Nothing to worry about. Just trained a little too hard yesterday.” Loki grimaced, “Just need to stretch my legs. Thanks for asking, Brother.” He gave the table a nod. Everyone slowly returned to their conversations.

“Sigyn, would you care to join me for a walk?”

“Can you walk, Your Highness?” She asked him slyly as she took his hand.

“Do not get cheeky, you little minx. I should turn you over my knee and tan your hide for that little stunt.” Loki was leading her swiftly from the table.

“Oooh, if only.”

Loki rounded on her so quickly that her breath caught in her throat. “Listen well, sweetling.” He purred into her ear, “You should be careful what you wish for. I know what you are doing. I will not take the bait.”

Sigyn smirked, “I think you will take what I give you,” she twined her fingers in his, “and then thank me profusely for the honor.”

Loki’s eyes twinkled with mischief, “You are in so much trouble, little kitten.”

“Good.” Her lips curled up at the corners. Loki felt his cock twitch. “Tell me all the ways I have misbehaved while your cock is buried deep in my-”

“Hush, kitten.”

Loki led her to where her father stood, trying to break away from a couple of dignitaries. The men bowed to Loki as he approached.

“Ah, Your Highness! Are you excited for our excursion tomorrow? I know I am. I have not been on a proper hunting trip in ages.” Lord Anderson placed a hand on Loki’s shoulder.

“I am as eager in this moment as ever.” Loki’s smile was broad.

“What a clever idea for a bachelor party. I remember my stag party quite fondly. We-” he stopped himself, remembering he was in his daughter's presence, “Well, I can tell you about it on our journey.”

“I am looking forward to it.”

“Well, I must get to bed. I promised Astrid I would not be much longer, and here I am, right where she left me.”

“My Lord, I hoped you would join us on a walk. I am not ready to say goodnight to Sigyn just yet. Seeing as how I will not be able to see her sweet face for three long days.”

“Yes, well, my beloved is waiting for me to join her. It would be best for me to stay in her good graces. If you bring Sigyn home before midnight, I do not have any issue with the two of you keeping company without me.” He raised one eyebrow at Sigyn, “Have you had any wine with dinner, pumpkin?”

“Just water, Papa.”

“Ah, very good. Okay, return to your friends and your fiancé, and enjoy the rest of your evening.” He hugged her, “We ride early in the morning.”

“I will be awake to see you off.” Sigyn smiled up at her father.

“That’s my girl. Good night, pumpkin.” He kissed her temple.

“Good night, Papa.”

“I will safely return her to your chambers before midnight, sir.”

“Very well,” Lord Anderson clapped him on his shoulder, “I will see you in the morning, Your Highness.” He bowed to Loki again before he made his way for the exit.

Sigyn turned to Loki, “How did you know he would not take you up on your offer to join us?”

“Do you really want to know the truth?”

“Of course I do.”

Loki grinned, “I watched your mother drink three glasses of wine with her dinner. I have a feeling that she is also looking forward to giving your father a proper goodbye. He was eager to return to his bed chamber and less concerned about what you were doing.”

Sigyn’s face scrunched up, “Norns, Loki!”

“You asked,” he laughed as he led her to the back of the hall.

“I am sorry I did.”

They went out of the back exit of the hall, down a corridor, and through a small archway. Loki pushed the door open to a storage room. “Wait here, sweetling. I will just be a moment.”

She did as she was told as Loki disappeared into the dark room. He returned a few minutes later with several dusty bottles of wine in his arms. “I am afraid that you might not enjoy this next part,” he told her as he started handing her the bottles.

“What are you going to do?”

“I need to cast an illusion over you. Until we reach my chambers, you will have to try and walk like you are a big lumbering oaf.” Loki waved his hands over Sigyn’s body. A green light shimmered from the top of her head to her feet as she took on the image of Thor.

Sigyn looked down at her body and could not believe her eyes. “Loki, what the Hel?!” He took a few of the bottles from her. “I cannot pass as the prince! Is this treason? Oh, my Gods, Loki!”

“Shh. Settle down. It is just a visual illusion, not a transformation. Your beautiful body is still intact. Think of it as a costume. Follow me.” Loki started walking swiftly back to the main corridor. “You are doing so well, sweetling. We will be there before you know it. Remember, you are a prince. Just nod to anyone we pass.”

“Okay.”

“Try to take longer strides, darling. And quit swinging your hips.” Loki internally laughed at the image of Thor moving so femininely.

Sigyn’s heart was in her throat. She internally cringed whenever they passed someone. But she followed Loki’s lead.

“Not much longer now.”

Sigyn nodded to the guards as they entered the residential section of the palace. Loki took the stairs two at a time. Unfortunately for Sigyn, she was still wearing a long dress under her illusion. She had to take the stairs a lot more carefully. “Loki, slow down. I need to hold my skirts.”

He waited for her at the landing and took a bottle from her hand. “Sorry, my love. I did not think about that encumbrance.”

“I bet not.”

Sigyn made it to the third floor without tripping. Loki handed her bottle back and reminded her, “Remember, you are my brother. Do not look at me with doe eyes. Smile and nod to the guards. Are you okay?”

“Yes, I can do this.”

“Good girl. You are doing so well. We are almost there.”

They walked down the long hall passing servants and guards as they went. After a left turn, they finally arrived at the front doors of Loki’s chambers.

Loki and Sigyn nodded to the two guards as they entered. He shut and locked the door behind them, set the bottles he was carrying down, and waved his hand in front of the door. A green light shimmered along the wall.

“A soundproofing charm,” he told her. He picked up the wine and motioned for her to follow him.

Sigyn was looking around his apartment with interest. It was large but more modest than she had imagined it would be. The furniture was made from rich buttery leather, and the cushions and throw pillows were not overstuffed but soft. The rugs were not ornate but plush. It looked comfortable and lived in. The dining area looked more formal, with a large table, wine cabinet, sideboard, and buffet.

In the back of the main room, under the windows, sat Loki’s desk next to a wide bookshelf. The area was tidy but contained many scrolls, ledgers, and folders full of parchment. Organized just the way he liked it, no doubt. His desk chair was large and plush. She assumed he spent a lot of time there. The rug under the desk was worn from Loki’s boots.

Sigyn followed Loki to the dining area, where he was offloading his bottles into the wine cabinet.

“Why so many bottles?” she asked as she passed him her bottles one at a time.

“Psychology. People are less likely to stop someone to talk if they are carrying something in their arms.” He smiled at her, “Plus, I needed to restock.”

“Ah, brilliant.”

He looked at her and laughed, “Let us put you back to yourself.”

“Yes, please!”

With a wave of his hand, the illusion disappeared. “There is my naughty girl.”

Sigyn blushed, despite herself. “You love me.”

Loki brushed her lips with his, “Very much.” He held a bottle, “Can I offer you a glass, My Lady?”

“Yes, please. That was stressful. Thank you, My Prince.”

Loki poured two glasses of red and handed one to her. “To covert operations.” He raised his glass to her.

“To not getting caught.” She winked at him as they clinked their glasses.

He sipped his wine as he watched her do the same. “Would you honor me with a dance?” Loki snapped his fingers, and slow, instrumental music started playing softly throughout the room.

Sigyn smiled and took a long, slow drink from her glass. She licked her lips, then answered, “I would love to.”

Loki set their glasses on the table next to the open bottle. He led her to the open space between the dining and sitting rooms. She kissed his cheek as he pulled her into a waltz. They twirled and danced alone in his chamber together for quite some time. They were both silently enjoying each other’s company.

Slowly, the pretense of dancing faded until they simply swayed in each other’s arms, Sigyn’s hands on the back of Loki’s neck. His hands moved from her waist to her hips to her bottom and back again.

Sigyn started placing slow, open mouth kisses down the column of his neck until she reached his collar. She ran her hands down his chest and grabbed the hem of his tunic with both hands. He helped her pull it up and over his head. She tossed it over the back of the sofa and then planted her kisses over his shoulders, on his biceps, and across his chest before returning to his neck.

Loki’s eyes were closed; his hands returned to her hips. She placed a feather-light kiss on his lips and started walking him backward until he felt his favorite leather chair on the back of his knees.

“Sit, Your Highness,” Sigyn commanded.

Loki grinned as he sat. His legs spread wide as he sprawled in his chair.

Sigyn picked up a throw pillow from the sofa and dropped it between his feet. She smirked at him in a way that made his cock twitch as she slowly lowered to her knees in front of him. He was running the side of his index finger back and forth across his lips as he watched her. She pushed up and kissed the side of his neck, ran her hands over his pecs, and kissed down his chest. She gave his nipple a little nip with her teeth, then quickly sucked it between her lips, causing it to peak as she ran tight circles around it with her tongue. She traced the other nipple lightly with her fingertip.

Loki’s breaths were coming quicker. He shifted in his seat, the tightness of his trousers becoming more uncomfortable. His bulge straining the material was impossible not to notice, but Sigyn took her time. This was as much for her as it was for him, so she savored it. She was breathing in the scent of his skin as she kissed his torso, relishing the feel of his body as she touched him, running her fingers through the modicum of hair that decorated his chest. She smiled against his skin when he flinched as she ran her fingers down his side, accidentally tickling him.

Loki was patient, enjoying watching her as she appreciated his body. As much as he wanted to touch her back, he kept his arms on the chair to not disturb her. By the time she had made her way to his belt, her mouth had covered every inch of his neck, chest, and belly.

She pressed her palm over his hard length and raised again so her mouth was close to his ear. “May I suck on your cock now, My Prince?”

Loki growled, and his hips bucked involuntarily. His cock was throbbing, threatening to unload. His fingers twined in Sigyn’s hair, and he pulled her face close to his. He took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes, trying to regain control of himself. He kissed her deeply, his tongue thrusting into her mouth roughly before pushing her away.

“The would-be princess is cock starved?”

Sigyn’s mischief came alive in her eyes, “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Remove your Prince’s boots.” She removed each boot obediently and placed them on the side of his chair neatly. “Get off your knees and stand over by the sofa.” She rose slowly, took a few steps, and waited.

Loki stood and slowly, without taking his eyes off Sigyn, unbuckled his belt and unfastened his trousers. His cock sprang free, and he gave it a couple of slow strokes with his hand.

“Remove your dress.” Her lips curled at the corners as she reached behind her back and unlaced her gown. She slid her arms out of her sleeves and let the dress glide to the floor before stepping out. Loki stared at her, standing there next to the glow of the fireplace in just her black lace panties and a matching strapless brassiere.

“Norns…” Loki whispered, his cock weeping at the tip.

Sigyn raised an eyebrow at him, “Will you honor my request now, Your Highness?”

Loki pretended to ponder for a moment, “I suppose.” He removed his trousers the rest of the way and threw them aside. Sigyn bit her lip as she drank in the sight of him, naked as the day he was born. She quickly closed the distance between them and pushed him forcefully back into his chair.

She sank to her knees on the pillow and circled the base of him with one hand. She used the index finger of her other hand to swipe the pre-come from his tip. She closed her eyes and moaned as she sucked her finger into her mouth, tasting the prince at last. Loki’s breath hitched as he watched her. She locked eyes with him as she slowly withdrew her finger from her mouth. “You are delicious. I think I just found my new favorite snack.”

Loki’s nails dug into the leather of the chair. He was ready to burst. “Enough of your filthy words. Put your mouth to better use.” His voice was gruff.

Sigyn grinned at him, “As you wish, My Prince.” She watched his face as she licked the underside of his cock from base to tip with a wide tongue. His eyes fluttered closed, and his head fell back. As much as he wanted to watch her work, he could not. He was not going to last long as it was.

Sigyn flicked the tip a few times with her tongue before wrapping her lips around the head. She sucked the rest of his pre-come off his tip before relaxing her jaw and gliding down his length.

“Ahh.” Loki peeked one eye open and watched briefly as Sigyn took him into her throat. Her lips almost made it to the base of him, but not quite. “Fuck!” He squeezed his eyes closed and dug his fingers into the leather chair.

Loki gathered her hair up in a ponytail and held it gently in one hand as she continued. His other hand stroked the side of her face, neck, shoulder, and arm. Anywhere he could reach without disrupting her. He lavished praise on her, moaned when she made him feel good, and grunted when she made him feel great.

She sucked his cock and pumped the base of him with one hand. Her other hand traveled from his balls to his thigh to his side until the pressure in her belly became too much to bear. She switched hands at the base of his cock to run her dominant hand down her stomach to her panties. She slipped her hand inside and stroked her swollen bud.

She moaned deeply, sending an electric vibration down Loki’s cock and up his spine. “Ahh, fuck, Sigyn…” He looked down at her. It took him a few seconds to realize what he was watching. His hips bucked upwards, and he could hold out no longer. Watching her pleasure herself while sucking his cock sent him to the edge. “S-S-Sigyn… I’m… coming.”

She did not pull away. She locked eyes with him as he emptied himself in her throat. Loki’s toes curled into the plush rug. The sound that broke from his throat was nothing short of primal. His hips hovered off the chair as his back arched. His orgasm ricocheted through his entire body. Even his scalp was tingling.

Sigyn kept gliding over him as he fell back heavily into his chair. “Damn, woman…” he shuddered, aftershocks radiating through his body again and again.

He closed his eyes and shook his head, “Fuck, darling. Are you trying to kill me?” She licked him clean and gave his head a few more deep sucks before she sat back on her heels.

“Give me a moment. I might have died for a few seconds there at the end.” Loki was breathing heavily, his heart racing and a thin sweat covering his upper body. “Fuck...” He opened his eyes.

Sigyn was running her hands over her hair, trying to tame it. “Did I please My Prince?” she asked sweetly.

She looked every inch a vision. Her lips were plump and swollen, her cheeks were flushed, her hair was wild, and her eyes danced with mischief.

“You,” Loki leaned forward in his chair, “you have just ruined me.” He gently placed his hands on her neck and pulled her towards him. He kissed her sweetly. She put her hands on his thighs and kissed him back.

“I love you, Loki. Thank you for giving me such a wonderful memory to think about while you are away. I will never forget the sounds of your pleasure for as long as I live.”

“I love you, my precious Sigyn. Stand up, sweetling.” She stood, and Loki tossed the pillow back onto the couch. He pulled her into a warm embrace. She ran her hands down his back to his bare ass and squeezed him. Loki chuckled as he scooped her up bridal style.

“Hey! Put me down,” she protested.

“No way in Hel,” he grinned as he walked them over to the dining room table. “Do me a favor and grab the wine.” Sigyn grabbed the bottle by the neck and held it close to her chest.

“What are you doing?”

Loki motioned with his head to the clock on the mantel. “We still have two hours together, and…fair is fair.” He grinned devilishly and started walking them toward his bedroom.

“Oh, my stars…” Sigyn took a few big gulps of wine straight from the bottle before Loki tossed her onto the middle of his bed.

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Please let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the tags. Thanks!

XOXO - Rayne 💚

Tag List: @gigglingtiggerv2 @chantsdemarins @superficialdomina @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @smolvenger @trickster-maiden @simone818283 @gruftiela @huntress-artemiss

#a gift for loki #loki fanfic #loki fandom #loki #loki x sigyn #loki smut #loki smut and fluff #loki fluff #logyn fan fic #loki fanficiton #loki fan fiction #loki fan fic #loki odinson #logyn #loki god of mischief #sas stories #god of mischief

33 notes · View notes

thedepthsoffandomminds · 7 months

Text

All paths lead here. Part 3

Master list.

"Milady, the modeste is here to fit you for your gala dress." Your handmaid Mila announced. You had been dreading the Gala for weeks. The Chancellor's idea, to show solidarity with the smaller nations of the republic. He would be in attendance along with fifty other senators. Luckily, your old friend Padme would be one of them and had made the journey three days early.

"Thank you Mila, you may send her in." You say.

"Oh it is exciting, there hasn't been a good party for some time." Padme leaned back in her chair sipping at the tea in her hands. There had been tension between she and the Jedi when she first arrived. An atmosphere you could have sliced through. Anakin had become distant, refusing to even eat dinner with you.

"What happened? I thought they were helping you?" You ask. Of course you knew how Anakin had lost his arm and the fight on Geonosis.

"Anakin and I have known each other since I was queen. We had a difference in opinions. We both have our duties and I refused anything more."

You understood by the way her fingers fidgeted with the porcelain cup that it had been a matter of emotions.

"I imagine it was difficult." You say standing on the pedestal the modeste had brought in. The new gown was trapped over your body.

"Don't get me wrong, I love Anakin, but not in the way he hoped I did. I feel for him, how you might feel for a brother or dearest friend."

You nod.

"I can see how easily it would be to become fond of him, and Obi-Wan." You give her a sad smile.

"Which will you have beside you tomorrow?" Padme asks.

"Obi-Wan is very observant and works well with the staff, I want him working in the room. I'll have Anakin beside me." You quietly admit to yourself that you wanted him close by you. Wanted to keep him from her, from any person who may look at him with lustful eyes.

"That's a good idea. Anakin is good at reading ill intent."

With the dress perfected you bid the modeste farewell and climb back into your simple day clothes. The day draws on peacefully with your friend. The two of you take a swim in the lake by your palace. You slow your speed to match hers and enjoy the time to be yourself and young. At twenty one years old you felt too often that you had to be old.

On a balcony Anakin watched you both. His eyes moved between the two of you, unsure who enjoyed watching the most. Padme was of course the angel that haunted his dreams, yet, you. The way you moved so effortlessly through the water, the way your skin shone below the afternoon sun like a crystal. He was reminded of his trip to Florium to find his kyber crystal. The way it glowed and called to him. He felt the same tingle in the force whenever you smiled at him.

"We will not need to be here much longer, Anakin." Obi-Wan announced behind him. "The military here is doing extremely well, and the staff are loyal. Senator y/n will be well protected and we can return to our actual jobs."

Anakin dropped his shoulders, "yes master."

"You'll be glad, we are both being given our own commands. A garrison of clone troopers each." The elder handed the younger a datapad.

"I am not a fan of the party idea." He grumbled.

"Neither am I, but it is nice to see Padme again so soon." Obi-Wan grinned. Anakin did not.

"At least you get to do something. Y/n wants me to just stand behind her all night." He huffed, folding his arms over his chest.

"She feels safe with you, Anakin. It is a great compliment." Obi-Wan grin, raising his eyebrows momentarily. Anakin rolled his eyes and laughed at his master.

"Cultivate the friendship, it may lead to many things in the future."

"I know Master."

"The Chancellor will be arriving any moment. Would you meet him? I will gather the ladies." Obi-Wan stood from his chair, moving toward the edge of the balcony. For a moment he simply watched you and Padme swimming. He wandered how it would feel to be so free, to play as they did. Jedi children rarely have time to simply play.

"Master Kenobi, have you come to join us?" You ask playfully. Obi-Wan grinned.

"The Chancellor will be arriving within the hour, I need you both to come and prepare." He spoke with authority but you had a different idea.

"Come play with us for a moment, you look too warm in all those robes. Doesn't he Padme?" You giggle. Padme laughs.

"Oh Master Kenobi is far too business to have a swim." She smiles.

Obi-Wan crouches down closer to the water, holding his hand out toward Padme. You glance at her before lowering yourself completely under the water. Your body moves as if it is meant to be there and you position yourself below the Jedi master. Using the power of your legs against the water you push upward, grabbed Obi-Wan's hand and pulled him. He whips away from you and pushes himself back to the surface. Laughing along with you and Padme. He shook his head as water sprayed off at you.

"Maybe the Jedi should have tomorrow night off and come to the gala for fun." You lift yourself easily out of the water, feeling the cool grass below you. Padme and Obi-Wan copy your movements.

"Perhaps another time, when the threat is less, my lady." He held his hand out to you, helping you to your feet.

By the time you had both dressed in more.formal outfits and Obi-Wan had changed into dry robes, the Chancellor's ship had already landed. You ran into the hangar skidding up behind Anakin, holding his arm. Instinctively he flexes and holds onto you, keeping you from falling down.

"Thank you." You whisper to him.

The Chancellor walked down the landing ramp and you stepped forward.

"We are honoured, Chancellor." You say as Palpatine takes your hands In his own.

"I am overjoyed to be here for such a joyous occasion. The attempts on your life have been a great fear for us all. I am pleased to see you have the very finest of the Jedi order here with you." He nods to Obi-Wan and Anakin before moving over to Padme. The pair shared a familiar greeting due to both being from Naboo.

This began your evening. An elegant formal meal, with stale conversation with the older man. At times you were able to drift into your imagination whilst Padme and Palpatine discussed their home planet. Your eyes would slide to Anakin standing by the door. You wondered what he would do if you'd pulled him into the water and not his Master. Would he choose to swim with you? Perhaps you'd ask before he leaves. Wait, is he looking back at you? His eyes are so blue. Can he hear what you're thinking? You could think of something naughty. Him coming to your room late at night, sliding below your sheets, his chest bare.

You see a drop of sweat drip down his temple as his eyes narrow on you.

"Y/n? Did you hear me?" Padme's voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

"Sorry, I was -"

"We were just wondering if the Senator of Bilado will be attending?" Padme repeats her question.

"Oh, um…I believe an invite went out to him."

"Good, good." Palpatine took a sip from his wine glass, "Marques is a handsome young man is he not? And still unwed."

"I suppose." You look down at your plate.

Anakin looks at you, feeling the change in your demeanour.

"I am sorry, um, chancellor I am very pleased to have you here this evening but if you don't mind, I…I-"

"Senator y/n needs to attend a meeting, last minute security preparations for tomorrow." Anakin steps in. Palpatine nods in your direction and agrees that he and Padme would be just fine.

Anakin has to rush to keep up with you and you don't stop walking until you are in your room.

"What happened?" He asked you, closing the door.

"Nothing, it's fine. I'm fine." You lie, "thank you for your help." Your breath comes out jagged. Anakin searches your face before pulling you into a hug. His chest is hard against your face and grounds you somewhat as your breathing slows.

"You'll be with me tomorrow won't you?" You ask.

"Of course my lady. If you at any point need me to end a conversation, tap your right shoulder. It may be hard for me to read your emotions in the crowd." One of his hands is holding the bottom of your neck. "You should get some rest."

Your mind flashes back to your previous thoughts at dinner and you feel Anakin stiffen.

"You shouldn't think like that." There is a pain in his voice you can't determine.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." You pull away from him, folding your arms around yourself.

"It's against the Jedi code, I couldn't-" he cut himself off with a sigh.

"It's okay, I know. I was being childish at dinner, and this was a um, I'm sorry. I think I should go to sleep." You turn away from him, trying to hide your embarrassment. Anakin said nothing more, simply turned and left the room. He walked confused by his own feelings, unsure of where he was heading until he arrived. The pavilion was quiet except for one person. Padme sat beside a small fire.

"Good evening." She started to smile at him but it faltered when she saw the frown on his own face. "What is it?"

Anakin dropped into the chair opposite her and rubbed his face with his hand.

"I'm confused." He admitted. "I told you not too long ago that I ached for you, that it was torture to be close to you and I meant every word."

"Anakin," he stopped her.

"No, I understand why you…Padme at dinner, y/n was," he took a breath, "she was thinking about me and her, but then when you asked about the Senator from Balado her signature changed. It was like fear, pure fear. It was such a conflict to how y/n has been this whole time." His eyes had glued themselves to the flames.

"Y/n is a very strong woman. She has no family left. Marques, we all thought they were heading for marriage. Both planets' monarchies had given blessings and celebrations were arranged but then she stopped it all. No reasons for it. She would not even tell me why." She studies her friend's face. "Anakin, if he is here tomorrow y/n will need you. She'll need us both."

(All feedback welcome)

Tag list

@nyenye @tahliac11 @gr-rm @pureluna @harsimrit-k

#anakin x reader #anakin fanfic #star wars anakin #anakin and ahsoka #obi wan kenobi #star wars

16 notes · View notes

heykoonsy · 7 months

Text

Word Count: 6.4k+

Pairing: OC x Jake, OC x Danny

Summary: Charlotte’s stay at the Somerset Sapiens Farm was short-lived, her intelligence quickly astounding the owner; Henry Somerset himself. Hoping to become a client, Charlotte is gifted to an eccentric vampire known for supplying the wealthy elite with high quality humans for their gatherings. Charlotte, however, intends to use this vampire’s power and connections another way.

Content Warnings: 18+ for sexual content

Chapter 8: The Thread

Charlotte found herself watching the clouds roll by in the bright moonlight. Another full moon came and went, marking yet another month in the city. She felt the chilling metal fence beneath her hands and removed them quickly. She rubbed them together, hoping friction would help her warm up. Charlotte turned her back to the overlook and towards the remnants of the party inside. She noted that all of the gentlemen were wearing cream, and the ladies, pink. Charlotte looked down at her own gown–the A-line neckline dipping low into her chest, the pink-satin skirt falling just short of the floor.

It was just a matter of time before all of the guests left and Charlotte could leave this party. She assumed that Quincy was taking up the helm of wishing the guests well at the door as they left. He would likely give her hell for it later, but right now, all Charlotte wanted was to be alone. It had been a while since she was left with her thoughts–and the more she was, she realized why she was so desperate to avoid it in the first place.

Every thought she had would immediately be interrupted by him.

It had been three months and Charlotte had lost hope that Jake would make an appearance. She could count on one hand how often anyone spoke of him. It was like he only existed in her memories.

“Charlotte,” Julio called from the entrance of the terrace.

Charlotte sighed and stepped away from the balcony. It was time to head back home.

Charlotte took care to say her farewells to the hosts of the party and thank them for a tremendous evening. Both of them were polite, and gave hearty thanks in return. She smiled, and in moments, she and Julio were walking towards the car.

Julio stopped in front of her, making Charlotte slow down.

“What is it?” She asked curiously.

“I don’t want to blindside you,” Julio said, keeping his back turned.

Charlotte came up to him and placed a hand on his back–she felt his warmth through his gray suit jacket. “What is it?”

Julio faced forward, “I’ve been meeting with him.”

Charlotte looked at him for a moment, and then pulled Julio around to face her. “I was wondering what you’ve been preoccupied with,” she said, more to herself than to Julio. “I don’t mind. Why he’d want to talk to you is beyond me, though.”

She admitted to herself that her words came out harsher than she wanted them to. Charlotte walked past him and towards the car just the same.

“He’s going to meet with you.”

Charlotte chuckled. “Yeah, right.” Charlotte opened the car door and placed one of her heeled feet into the vehicle. She was stopped when she heard Julio say something behind her.

“Charlotte,” Julio said, his voice not above a whisper.

She looked behind her, at how Julio’s brows were lowered, his eyes narrowed and his shoulders tense. Oh, she thought, he wasn’t joking.

Charlotte stayed quiet, knowing that if she said something in this moment, she would regret it. Julio didn’t deserve her misdirected anger.

“He’ll be here in a moment. I’ll stay with you until then.”

Charlotte watched as Julio had the driver pull away and move to a discreet location. In a few seconds, he moved to his usual place right beside her, hands in his pockets.

“I had some of your things moved so you would be comfortable.”

“You really planned this,” Charlotte said, absentmindedly–almost to herself entirely.

Charlotte wondered if she should feel betrayed–that Julio’s secret meetings with Jake to plan this rendezvous was malicious. But in her heart she knew that that would never be the case. He was the one most surprised by Jake’s inaction. After announcing that she was no longer going to ask James to investigate Jake, perhaps he’d been bothered enough to look into him on his own. What was so important that he couldn’t see her? She imagined Julio thinking.

But now–Jake did want to see her. Despite the hope she felt welling in her chest, she knew that it was likely due to Julio’s pressure. Afterall, Charlotte was the one that abandoned Jake, it was only natural that he did the same. In the interim, she decided that it was best to get something resembling closure.

Charlotte watched as a vehicle started coming towards them, a black sedan. It appeared that Julio recognized the vehicle because he began slowly walking towards his own. He muttered something resembling a goodbye and then he was gone. Charlotte stood alone on the sidewalk, watching as the car slowed down to a stop in front of her.

In all of her imaginations–ones good and bad–she hadn’t thought up a reunion like this one. She’d thought of nearly every scenario, and yet this path was completely untraversed. She realized, after a few moments, that she had no idea what she was going to say. In her daydreams, she’d been earnestly awaiting his presence–longing for it with every breath she took.

And here she was, mere moments from the actual meeting–and she was at a loss for words.

Charlotte watched as dark hair began to get out of the driver’s seat. She watched as a long-sleeved button down crossed the front of the vehicle. She lowered her eyes to the hem of his jeans and followed them to his black boots. It was him, she thought. She knew him down to the flyaways of his hair. The shape of his shoulders. The sound of his footsteps.

Her eyes settled on his face, their eyes meeting for the first time in years. His features were dulled in the low-light of the street, but a lamp illuminated his face well enough for her to make out the color of his familiar eyes. Charlotte’s mouth fell open slightly, like every sentence she ever uttered to him in her dreams would spill out.

But nothing did, because despite what her heart wanted to tell him, her brain was fighting for her to remain rational. Charlotte watched as he stopped in front of her, mere feet away–the closest they’d been in years. He looked her over, and his mouth settled into a familiar line.

He smiled.

Charlotte couldn’t stand there another second. She immediately turned around and started walking away. She felt her dress sway behind her, pulling against her legs in the wind.

“Charcoal,” he called after her.

How dare he call her that?

Charlotte glanced behind her and quickly took off her heels so that she could walk faster.

“Will you stop?”

Charlotte continued forward, desperate to be away from him. The only thing she could think of, as he chased after her down the street just before daybreak, was how much she missed him. Despite her anger and her loneliness–despite reconnecting with Sam, Josh and Danny–all she wanted was him. She felt his absence in her bed–where he’d never been. She felt his absence in her food–which he never tasted. She missed him in the slowness of the morning–where she never once saw him. But she knew her feelings had to be one-sided for one reason alone.

He had to be convinced to see her.

Charlotte looked behind her, where Jake’s footsteps were noticeably absent. She saw nothing but an empty sidewalk. Charlotte hesitated for a moment, but as she turned to look forward, she hit someone.

Jake had ducked into an alleyway and cut her off, she’d realized far too late. She felt his hands touch her exposed arms delicately–just like he had all those years ago. Charlotte could hear his heartbeat, could feel his breath against her forehead. She could smell the scent of whatever cologne had been absent from him all those years ago in the woods.

“I’m sorry,” Jake said, looking down, trying to catch a glimpse of her face.

Charlotte hid herself in his chest, not wanting to admit that her eyes were welling with tears. She tried to stave them off as best she could, but his apology rang in her ears. Charlotte pushed him away, her shoes clattering to the concrete below.

“You’re sorry?” Charlotte repeated, her tone rising in tandem with her anger. “For refusing to see me, or for having to be convinced?”

“What are you talking about?”

Charlotte scoffed and then began to walk away again. “You and your secret meetings with Velasquez, obviously.” She punctuated her sentence with extra venom.

“Charcoal, wait,” he said, following after her.

Charlotte turned around and threw her heel on the ground in front of him, “Don’t call me that!” She yelled, tears streaming down her face.

“I wanted to see you,” Jake said, his voice wavering. “I wanted to see you every day.”

Charlotte looked at him through blurred vision. He dropped to pick up her shoe.

“I wanted to tell you how much I missed you.” Jake brushed any visible dirt and gravel off her heel. “I wanted to whisper every thought I’d ever had while we were apart.”

Charlotte sniffed, her hands grasping her other heel tightly as he stepped closer.

“But I knew wanting to see you was selfish,” Jake said, offering Charlotte her heel back.

“What?” Charlotte blinked her tears away.

Jake looked at her. “You don’t love me,” he said. “Not in the way that I love you.”

Charlotte opened her mouth in shock.

“I stayed away because why would you want to see the guy–” Jake started, but was soon accompanied.

“–the girl from the woods?” Charlotte finished with him.

Jake looked at her, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he realized the gravity of their misunderstanding. Jake was no doubt watching as the realization struck her as well. Charlotte watched as Jake closed the distance between them, eyes fixed on her, mouth pressed in a tight line.

He stopped in front of her, looking at her through his lashes. His nose was pointed downwards, towards Charlotte as he lifted her chin up. He was close, so close.

“I want you to say it,” Jake whispered to her, voice thick with emotion. “Right now.”

Charlotte wiped at her eyes with her right hand, her heel in her left. She took a deep breath and looked up at him–in each of his eyes.

“I love you,” Charlotte said, her voice quivering. More tears spilled onto her cheeks. “Jake, I love you so much.”

Jake swiped the tears away with his thumb, and in one quick movement, he lowered his head to hers. He kissed her deeply, their mouths meeting like they were made to do so. Charlotte dropped her shoe to rest her arms against his chest. Jake followed suit, dropping her heel at his feet and pulling her into him by the waist.

When they separated, Charlotte kept her eyes on Jake. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest. For a moment, she was worried that it wouldn’t stop. He was here, right here. He was thinking all the same things she was–worrying about being hated, or disregarded. Every emotion he’d had she took solace knowing that she had it with him.

“Jake,” Charlotte gestured towards the sky, where there was a slight change in the dark blue color. “Daybreak.”

“I have plans for us,” Jake said with a soft smile, “if you’d like to stay with me.”

Charlotte looked at him, “you thought that I would leave you?”

Jake chuckled, “I was hoping that you wouldn’t.”

Charlotte arrived at Jake’s apartment, which was a few miles away from her’s. She stood outside of it for a moment, taking in yet another door that she was on the outside of. When Jake moved past her and began unlocking the door, she took comfort in knowing that it was going to be the last.

“I cleaned, but it doesn’t look like it,” Jake said, awkwardly moving out of her way so that she could come in.

Charlotte moved past the door frame, taking a look at the living room as he illuminated it with a light. She saw a stiff, old couch and a small TV. Picture frames scattered throughout the room were covered with dust. To her left, she saw a small kitchen and a table with only two mismatched chairs. The carpet beneath her feet was rough, even without feeling it with her skin.

She wondered just what kept him from this place, but the thought was immediately interrupted when she looked down and remembered that she was still in a ballgown.

“Julio said some of my things had been moved?” Charlotte asked, turning to him with a quiet smile.

Jake snapped to attention. “Ah, my bedroom,” he said and started walking towards the hallway in between the kitchen and living room.

Charlotte followed quickly behind him and there on his bed, was a suitcase.

“Geez Julio, I’m not movin’ in,” Charlotte remarked to herself.

Jake chuckled behind her. “I’ll let you get changed, I’ll be making dinner tonight.”

“Raccoon or opossum?”

“Fresh out, you’ll have to settle for chicken.”

Charlotte smiled as he left the room, closing the door softly. She made quick work of opening her suitcase. She waded through what he’d packed, muttering to herself that he had just about packed every outfit she owned in this thing. She sighed, pulling out a blue t-shirt and jeans and throwing her dress into her suitcase. After she was dressed, she poked her head out of Jake’s bedroom. Directly across from it was the bathroom, which he’d left open.

Charlotte looked down the hallway, hearing faint clattering in the kitchen. She turned back towards the bedroom, giving herself a moment to look around. His sheets were clean–in fact, they smelled nice and fresh. Charlotte moved her luggage off the bed and took a moment to sit down. She looked at the end table to her right, where Jake had a lamp with no shade sat atop it.

Instead of dwelling on what Jake’s life had been while they were separated, Charlotte stood up and made her way to the kitchen.

Charlotte watched from the hallway as Jake stood at the stove, his hands working quickly to chop some tomatoes. He swiped his knife across the cutting board, letting them all fall into the hot pan.

“Can I help?” Charlotte asked.

Jake turned to look at her, a smile touching his lips before gesturing towards the table. She stood there for a moment before Jake gave her the cutting board and the knife.

“Slice me up two cloves,” he said, handing her some garlic.

Charlotte made quick work of the skin, peeling it off and cutting it up finely. “Do you like to cook?”

Jake looked over at her. “When I get the chance,” he admitted.

Charlotte smiled, bringing over the chopped garlic and dumping it into the pan, “too busy?”

“Work,” he replied, stirring the garlic in with the tomatoes.

“The last picture I saw of you, you looked a little worse for wear.”

“Oh?” Jake said, wondering just what picture she’d seen of him. Then it clicked.

“So you have my ID, then.”

“I obtained it,” Charlotte said, suddenly embarrassed.

Jake smiled to himself, jostling the pan on the stove.

It was after dinner–Charlotte and Jake moved from the table to the living room couch. Despite its age, she realized that she was rather harsh in its description now. Despite the cushions being a bit stiff and damaged by regular wear and tear, she was elated to be sitting on it. Because while it may be shabby, it was here that she was able to rekindle whatever she and Jake had in those woods.

At the moment, she was hanging on to every word he spoke. She watched as his lips moved and his tongue danced with every syllable. Charlotte watched as he tucked his hair behind his ear, desperate to put it back in place after his animated gestures moved it. She smiled, taking him in.

“I worked just about every job I could these last five years. Three summers ago, I learned that recipe from the owner of a restaurant I worked at.”

“It was delicious,” Charlotte said. “What have you been doing these days?”

Jake mulled the question over in his head. “This and that. The ID you have is my most recent job.”

Charlotte remembered the logo, how it puzzled James. “James couldn’t find the company you worked for.”

“That’s to be expected,” Jake said after a minute. “It’s not exactly above-board.”

Charlotte leaned her head to one side, indicating her confusion to him.

Jake took a sip of his water and let his eyes drift over to her again. “I’ll say this–there are a lot of things in this world that humans left behind, and some of it is very rare.”

Charlotte tried to understand what he’d meant by that. From what she’d seen of the world, vampires invented so much beyond what humans had during their rule.

Jake admired her for a moment, he placed a hand to his chest. “We might have made advancements, but it was humans that created the initial design.” He paused, trying to find the right words. “I think everything we changed was just to assert ourselves as superior.”

Jake was quiet for a moment, looking at his hands. “There was a time I thought little of your kind, but it's different now. I’m different now.”

Charlotte felt her heart swell. He certainly was. She felt a change in her, something like pride washed over her.

Jake noticed the gentle expression spread across her face and came closer. Charlotte looked down at her lap, suddenly embarrassed. She watched as Jake’s hand went to her knee and slowly crept towards where her hands were clasped together. She watched as his hand curled around hers, picking it up and interlocking their fingers. Charlotte looked up, feeling her cheeks flush.

“I didn’t mean to stare,” she said, awkwardly meeting his eyes.

“I want you to.”

Charlotte let out a small laugh.

Jake pulled on Charlotte’s hand, moving her closer to him. “This is our time,” Jake whispered, his lips mere centimeters away from her skin.

“Our time?” Charlotte repeated, the skin on her shoulders breaking out in goosebumps.

Jake brushed his mouth against her cheek, and she felt his lips move towards her ear. “I want to show you how much I love you.”

Charlotte felt the words against her skin, branding themselves to her with their heat. For a moment, she could swear they were moving–but it was Jake’s lips placing delicate kisses along her neck. Charlotte felt a shiver run down her spine. She closed her eyes, drinking in the pleasure of his mouth pressed against her once again. In an instant, she felt all of her worries and awkwardness melt away, revealing a passion she hadn’t felt in years.

Charlotte used her free hand to capture Jake’s face. When she did, she brought their lips together quickly. There was tenderness in her kiss–but also neediness. A fervent ache that she hoped would be dispelled if she kissed him hard. When the ache got worse, she broke away.

“I want to show you too,” Charlotte said breathlessly.

Without warning, Jake stood, taking Charlotte with him as their hands were still interlocked. Jake pulled her along, his back towards the hallway–keeping his eyes trained on her. When they came to the door of the bedroom, Charlotte pressed their bodies together in the doorway. She kissed him deeply, eyes falling closed as he led her to the bed.

Charlotte let Jake sit on the bed, his hands pulling her up onto his lap. She straddled him, letting her bare feet hang over the edge. Charlotte felt his lips falter on hers, moving slowly downward and making contact with her neck again. Her body broke out in goosebumps again, and the hair at her nape lifted up at the small pleasure. She sighed into Jake, his touch echoing familiarity.

She felt his hands travel up and underneath her shirt, feeling every inch of skin that he could. Charlotte felt the heat of his fingertips, the length of his nails as he traced the lines of her body with them gently. Charlotte lowered her head to Jake’s neck, planting kisses on him just like he did her. He happily accepted, moving his head out of the way so she could get a better angle.

Charlotte nipped at the exposed flesh at the base of his neck, towards his shoulder. When she had had enough of the cloth getting in her way, she reached for the hem of Jake’s shirt. Jake released her long enough to dispel with it, the fabric falling on the floor behind her. Charlotte looked below her, where Jake’s chest was now exposed.

She ran her finger down his chest, feeling his warmth as she did so. When she placed her hand on his shoulder, she moved her lips to his again. Jake resumed his position, his hands wandering up her shirt. One was planted on her back, and another had moved to her front, capturing her left breast. Jake broke their kiss, his mouth moving to kiss Charlotte’s breast over her t-shirt.

It didn’t take long for Charlotte to remove it and toss it behind them.

Jake captured her nipple in his mouth, sucking gently on it before moving to the other. Charlotte felt her heart race as his tongue flicked her nipple. She moaned, arching her back slightly in his grasp. Jake let her nipple fall out of his mouth, and wrapped his right hand around her leg. He picked her up effortlessly and placed her gently on the bed. He rested himself between her legs, his mouth immediately finding her lips.

While they kissed, Charlotte could feel him messing with her pants’ button. Charlotte found his hands below and assisted him. He stepped back, letting her kick free of her jeans and panties quickly. Charlotte sat up, eager to pull Jake down on top of her again. She felt him follow her lead and watched as he rested a knee between her bare thighs. His left hand fell beside her head, and his right rested on her cheek. He captured her mouth again and Charlotte felt him pepper kisses onto her chin…then her collar bone..all the way to her breasts.

Charlotte felt Jake move further downward, his lips pressing against her stomach, then each of her hips. His hands were busy as well, tracing the contours of her body. She could feel his lips as they brushed against her inner thighs. Her stomach dropped when she felt his hot breath against her sex.

Charlotte jolted upright, her eyes meeting Jake’s. She felt the burning of her cheeks and embarrassment well in her chest.

“Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed,” Jake smirked up at her. “I’ve seen it all before.”

Charlotte bit her bottom lip, eyebrows furrowing as she fought against the urge to close her legs. She collapsed back onto the bed, her hands going to cover her face.

Jake chuckled lightly, following Charlotte up on the bed. He propped himself up on his side, hand weaving through his hair as he looked down at her. Jake dropped low to kiss Charlotte’s hairline–the only part of her face left exposed.

“Do you remember what I did back then?” Jake whispered into her hair.

Charlotte nodded, her hands moving with her as she answered.

“Do you remember what you felt?”

Charlotte nodded again.

Jake moved to her ear, his nose bumping at her lobe softly. “How about you take the lead?”

Charlotte snuck a peak at him, her head moving to the right and catching a glimpse of his arm. She saw his hand in front of her face, waiting patiently for her to grasp it. Charlotte removed one palm from her burning flesh and grabbed his hand. She held it for a moment before she settled it on the skin of her belly. She took a deep breath as she slid his hand–his fingers–downwards. Charlotte felt his rough fingertips graze the skin above her pussy and she paused.

She knew without a doubt that she was beet red. Her heart was going a mile a minute. Her palms were sweating, the moisture no doubt collecting on the top of Jake’s hand. And yet, still, Charlotte knew that Jake didn’t care about any of it. Not her need to go slowly, not her sweaty hand–none of it mattered, because this was their time.

Charlotte ignored all of her embarrassment and pushed his hand lower, leading him between her legs. Once Charlotte had led him where she wanted him, she immediately placed both hands back onto her face.

Jake took note of her hiding her face, peppering her hands with kisses and he began moving his fingers below.

Charlotte felt his middle and ring fingers play with her folds for a moment, moving up and down as they caressed her. He slid them upwards and Charlotte felt a delicious pressure against her clit. Just light enough to leave her wanting more.

“Do you feel good?” Jake asked, his mouth still tickling at the skin of her ear.

Charlotte nodded quickly, her hands faltering slightly.

Jake took a moment to separate Charlotte’s folds, letting his fingers delve between them. Charlotte felt how slick his fingers became as they continued to rub at her flesh. She heard the filthy, wet sounds as he collected more moisture.

“Jake,” Charlotte breathed, finally through with his teasing.

“Yes?”

Charlotte whimpered, suddenly losing all of her confidence.

“Do you want more?”

Charlotte felt her heart drop once more. “Yes,” she said through her hands.

Jake took his time as he slid off the bed, his fingers working in lazy motions circling Charlotte’s clit but never resting on it. Charlotte felt his hot breath between her legs again, and she struggled to keep them open.

“It will be just like with my fingers,” Jake said and for a moment, Charlotte believed him.

But the moment Charlotte felt Jake’s hot tongue press against her folds, she knew he was a liar. Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat as Jake’s lips gathered her sex in his mouth. She felt him collect her wetness, his tongue lapping up every ounce as he licked her. Charlotte’s hands left her face and began gripping at the soft sheets below her.

Charlotte felt Jake’s arms wrap around her thighs and she moaned as he continued the onslaught. Charlotte moved her hands to the top of his head, her fingers threading through his hair. She felt the firmness of his tongue against her clit, swiping over it with its delicious pressure. She had been so absorbed in the pleasure, she was completely forgetting to breathe.

Charlotte let out the breath she was holding and a string of curses came with it. Her legs were shaking with the urge to close, but she faltered, not wanting to smush Jake between her thighs. But, as she struggled, she felt the pressure building low in her stomach. She gasped for air between moans and then…

Charlotte felt a wave of pleasure wash over her, sending her legs in a spasm that rocked her to the core. She felt Jake ride out her orgasm with her, his mouth never separating from her as she gyrated against his chin.

Charlotte breathed deeply as her body came to a rest. Her legs slumped on either side of Jake’s shoulders and he pulled himself up off the floor. He rested himself next to her, wiping his mouth off. Charlotte watched as he rested a hand on her side, feeling her lungs rise and fall as she came down from her high.

“Don’t get tired of me now, Charcoal. You’re all mine today.”

“I’m yours,” Charlotte said breathlessly.

Jake grinned and placed a kiss on her forehead.

Charlotte reached up, pulling his face closer and kissing him deeply. Charlotte rose from her position on the bed, pressing against Jake with her hands so that he would lean back. Jake did as he was ordered and propped himself up on his elbows. Charlotte straddled him again, giving him another kiss as she rotated her hips back and forth on his swelling cock below.

Jake bit his lip at the friction.

Charlotte moved to his neck again, kissing a trail downwards just like he had before. When she got to his belly, she made a show of running her hands along the legs of his pants. Charlotte looked up towards Jake, where he was watching very closely. She made quick work of his pants’ button and began shimmying off Jake’s pants. Jake assisted and watched as his pants and boxers were reunited with Charlotte’s garments on the floor.

Charlotte put her hand around Jake’s length, running her hand along it from base to tip gently. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was keeping within, and the warm tickle seemed to catch Jake off guard. She felt him jump in her hand.

Wasting no time, Charlotte lowered her lips and placed the head of Jake’s cock in her mouth. She released him quickly, but this time when enveloping him, she went lower–taking in more of him. He went rigid beneath her, as she continued until she had just about his entire length covered in her saliva. Charlotte held him firmly at the base and began again, starting at the tip and working her way downwards.

When it seemed that Jake had enough of the teasing, she began rotating her hand slightly at the base–turning it in a screw-like motion. While she did this, she kept attention on the head of his cock, dipping low onto the shaft when her hand lowered towards the base. Then she heard it–in the still of the quiet room–Jake moaned.

Charlotte was ecstatic. Thrilled. Elated.

And then he did it again.

“Fuck,” Jake said between groans.

Charlotte heartily continued, taking extra care and going slowly so as to not nick him with her teeth. Charlotte couldn’t help but feel pride, making a small noise with her throat. She felt Jake squirm beneath her. For a moment, she hesitated–then, she hummed again. Jake let out a small moan in reply. Noted.

Charlotte took more of Jake into her mouth, removing her hand all together from his base. She bobbed her head up and down on his length, getting a feel for it quickly. Then, with little warning, Charlotte moaned–the vibration sending tremors along Jake’s cock and giving him a jolt of pleasure. Charlotte felt his hand come to her shoulder as he moaned again–this time it was hoarse.

“Charcoal, I want you,” he said helplessly.

Charlotte released Jake’s cock and straddled him once more. Once she was close enough, he captured her lips fervently and held onto her for dear life. One of his hands went to the small of her back, keeping her close to him–the other wandered into the hair at the nape of her neck. When they parted, his breath was ragged with need.

“I want to be inside you,” Jake said, eyes half-lidded and his voice a thick rumble.

Charlotte raised herself on her knees and found Jake’s cock lying stiffly against his stomach. She didn’t waste any time, positioning his cock below her pussy. Charlotte slowly lowered her hips, Jake’s cock slowly inching its way inside her.

Jake kept his eyes on her as it slipped in, both of them struck dumb by the sensations. Charlotte felt every inch of him inside her–the irresistible pulsing of his cock all she could feel at the moment. She rocked her hips, the two of them immediately feeling a rush of pleasure. Charlotte steadied herself by placing both of her hands on Jake’s sturdy shoulders. She looked down, catching a glimpse of Jake in the throes of pleasure.

His eyebrows were furrowed, his eyes nearly closed and fixed on Charlotte’s face. His cheeks were flushed a rosy pink. His mouth was open, his fangs peeking out slightly as he breathed in her scent. She felt small puffs of air on her neck, where he was trying to even himself out. Charlotte moved her hips continuously, coaxing several moans from herself and Jake. Charlotte lowered her head, meeting him halfway and leaving a peck on his cheek, right beside his lips.

Jake turned his head, hoping for another, and Charlotte obliged, pressing her mouth against his. Charlotte felt Jake rock his hips in time with her, and she moaned against his lips. Jake licked her bottom lip, and continued their kiss despite the interruption.

Charlotte could feel her hips move erratically as she became desperate for more friction. Using Jake’s shoulders to hold herself into place, Charlotte began riding Jake faster, feeling his cock slide in and out of her, playing with her entrance before finally finding its way back inside her. She realized that she was close again.

“Jake,” Charlotte moaned. “Jake, I’m–

“I’m right here, Charcoal,” Jake said, his voice all but a growl. “I want to feel you come on my cock.”

Charlotte felt her fingers curl, her nails biting into Jake’s shoulders as she came. She gyrated her hips wildly, desperate for more contact. She felt her muscles clamp down on his cock, sending more pleasure to them both. When Charlotte was able to still herself, she breathed deeply. She looked down at Jake, eyes finding him quickly as he was staring up at her.

“I will never get tired of that,” Jake said, his voice dripping with lust and need.

Charlotte hummed in response and kissed him. She kicked her legs out, wrapping them around Jake’s waist. Jake moved his lips down to her shoulder and inhaled her scent deeply. Then, he wrapped one arm around her back, securing her chest to him. The other grabbed her leg as he rotated them both on the bed. Charlotte held on as Jake lowered her onto the bed, her head falling softly on the pillows lying there.

Charlotte released her legs, letting them fall on either side of his. She reached for his face, kissing him again. He separated them, pulling his body up and getting a good look at Charlotte below him. Her hair was everywhere, small wisps no doubt sticking to her forehead. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips were worn red. Her breasts were exposed, with her nipples a perfect pink color. Then, Jake’s eyes met with her pretty pussy, all plump and pink from overuse.

Jake lowered himself again, his tongue immediately going to swipe at the moisture left behind by their activities. Charlotte gasped, feeling her cooling skin suddenly warmed instantly by his breath and lips. She moaned at the small nudge she felt on her clit from Jake’s nose. She felt her hands ball into fists, eager for the tickling to stop–but praying that it didn’t.

“Jake, I want you inside me,” Charlotte begged after a few short minutes beneath Jake’s dutiful mouth.

“Tired of me already?”

Charlotte looked down between her legs, where Jake’s face was pressed right against her pussy. His eyes were focused on her as he lapped at her folds, sampling everything she had to offer.

Charlotte moaned, feeling that familiar desire well up inside her. Charlotte opened her legs wider, letting Jake have full access. He continued to suckle, lick and tease every piece of her. She grabbed her breasts in her hands, massaging them as he gave her aching pussy some attention.

“Jake,” Charlotte said, her voice ragged from moaning so much. “Jake, I’m close.”

“Come for me, Charcoal.”

Charlotte did her best to keep her legs still, to feel every swipe of Jake’s tongue on her clit before she was coming. She felt her torso curl upwards as she came, her eyes locking on Jake as he took care of her once more.

After a few moments, Jake raised himself from the bottom of the bed. He moved closer to her, placing her thighs over his. He looked down at Charlotte, lining his cock up with her pussy.

“Are you ready for my cock?” He asked, running the head over her swollen folds.

Charlotte breathed a reply, unsure if she could actually continue. Her clit was burning with overstimulation, her pussy was drenched with his saliva and her own juices. Her legs were tired from their many different positions. But still–Charlotte wanted more. She needed more.

Charlotte pulled Jake down so that they could share another kiss.

“I want you, now.” Charlotte said, her eyes trained on him.

Jake did as he was told, thrusting his cock into her once more. Charlotte moved her hips along with Jake, keeping perfect time with him. She felt his cock move in and out, the pace sending butterflies to her stomach. She moaned with each thrust, and he did the same. Charlotte looked up at him, where his eyes seemed to burn her with their recognition.

It was like he was memorizing every detail of her face, every sound she and her body were making. Committing every little thing he could to memory.

She did the same.

She brushed his hair out of his face and kept her hand near. She pulled him down, her lips meeting with his with an eagerness she couldn’t describe. Charlotte pulled her legs up and wrapped them around his back, keeping them locked together.

“I love you,” Jake breathed, moaning with nearly every breath he took.

Charlotte kissed him everywhere she could, feeling as his thrusts became more erratic. “I love you, too.”

Charlotte didn’t think it was possible, but before she knew it, she felt her pussy clamp down on Jake’s cock as she came again. Each pulsation causing Jake to quiver above her and make him lose himself further. Charlotte watched as he clenched his teeth, his sharp incisors poking out.

Charlotte felt him come closer, and she held onto him for dear life as he peppered her neckline with kisses.

“I love you so much, Charcoal.”

Charlotte didn’t have the opportunity to reply as Jake had slipped out of her and come spilled onto the sheets beside her. After a few moments, Charlotte pulled him close to her and the two of them lay on the bed.

Charlotte let his head rest on her heart and she played with his hair. Meanwhile, Jake was busy running his hand along Charlotte’s smooth skin. After a few minutes, Jake looked up at her. It was but a few seconds before he pressed their mouths together again.

Then, Jake looked down at her with a wide smile. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving,” Charlotte said back.

#A Home for Jake #A Home for Charlie sequel #Jake Kiszka #Vampire!AU #Horror/Dystopia #gvf #greta van fleet fanfiction

4 notes · View notes

canonicallyanxious · 1 year

Text

"be that as it may."

Dimension 20: A Court of Fey and Flowers | Rue/Hob | 1.9k words

i've been holding onto this take on a ruehob arranged marriage au for a while now with grand (and perhaps misguided lol) ambitions of turning it into a proper fic with, like, a plot or something. idk if they will ever come to fruition, probably not tbqh skdjfnskdfnsd but even if I'm not able to continue with this idea I like this first scene well enough that i wanted to share! The thought process behind this is an arranged marriage au that takes place pre-canon (so well before the Bloom and well before they have the opportunity to meet the other PCs), bringing Captain Hob to the Court of Wonder for at least part of the duration of their engagement. Pls enjoy!

On a beautiful summer evening in a land where it was always summer, the endless sky veiled with sunset-kissed blue and fireflies already dancing high and bright in the gossamer air, you stood in a garden with a half-full wine glass in one hand and your composure tucked carefully in the other. A light breeze rustled through your diaphanous skirts and the distant music settled easily above the rolling chatter, all deeply familiar stimuli to your keenly tuned senses. If you closed your eyes for but a moment, it was almost easy to forget the party sprawled in front of you was ostensibly being held in your honor.

Well. Half in your honor, if you wanted to be pedantic. And a night like this one made you uncharacteristically inclined to it.

Not that you could ever truly forget a thing like that. It settled over your skin like an ill-fitting gown, the vague itch of something that didn’t feel quite right - people’s eyes that lingered on you rather than sliding away, perhaps, or the cool weight of the glass in your hand when usually you were perfectly content to let others enjoy the fruits of the night themselves. Working day and night to pull together an occasion for the ages and stepping deftly to the fringes of it to watch it all unfold, effortless-seeming as a flower in bloom - that was how things usually were, and you liked it that way. Had, in fact, worked very hard for a very long time to make it so.

But there would be no lingering on the fringes tonight. This was true regardless of the things that lived in your little heart. And when it came to living with truths you wouldn’t choose for yourself, you’d had more than a lifetime of practice.

The Blue Fairy glided to a stop in front of you, a crown of tiny stars twinkling merrily on her brow. “My warmest congratulations to you for such a lovely night, Mx. Rue,” she said with a polite incline of her head. “It has been many a moon since the Court has celebrated such a… singular engagement.”

You answered with a practiced smile, and if it was a little stiff, well, no one would blame you after the week you’d had, would they? “Thank you, your Grace,” you said dutifully, and you were careful to keep your expression in place even at how quickly she stepped away after murmuring a brief farewell, just polite enough to scrape by the barest minimum standards of respectability.

Such an interaction probably served as a fair indication of how the rest of the evening might play out. You took a perfunctory sip of your wine, barely tasting it as it went down. The night was young, practically newborn, and a faint headache was already unfurling treacherously between your temples.

From across the lavishly appointed garden Wuvvy caught your eye, and smiled. It was brief, her eyes already darting away toward whatever fire she was probably having to put out in your stead, but she’d always seemed to have a near preternatural sense for the kind of reassurance you needed, and this moment was no exception. A reminder that this, all of this, was not something you would have to bear alone - that was all it took to steady your stance, tension rolling easily off your shoulders. You took another sip of your wine, long and deliberate, and this time it was sweetly fortifying in the back of your throat.

A few more hours, for propriety’s sake. You could do a few more hours. In the grand scheme of an immortal life, a few hours were practically nothing. And then tomorrow - tomorrow, the real work could begin.

There. Standing close to the flowering archway that led to the rest of the gardens, surrounded by a small throng of courtesans he towered easily over and looking loathe to relinquish access to the exit at his back, was the other fey this evening owed its honor to.

He’d been rather studiously avoiding your gaze for the better part of the evening. You didn’t take it personally. If you were the one who’d been swiftly and unceremoniously spirited away to a court far from your home for the sole purpose of saving face, you would probably feel some type of way about it, too. Especially if such a move was accompanied by an engagement you had never asked for to a person you had never met.

But if this whole farce was in service of appearances, it would not do to be seen apart from your betrothed for long, would it?

He didn’t seem particularly surprised when a moment later you moved to his side, nor when you didn’t take his arm. “The Captain must be regaling you with tales of his thrilling exploits,” you said smoothly to the crowd of tittering fairies he’d gathered, careful not to skip a beat, even more so to make it seem effortless. “I can tell from how impressed you all look, as is only right.”

“Not as such,” Captain Hob said, gruff in his countenance. “Hardly thrilling, in any case.”

“Oh, nonsense,” you said warmly, and then to the courtesans: “they don’t hand out medals of courage for just any old act of service, you know. This one was for saving a whole village from near-certain ruin - at great risk to his own life, mind you.”

A chorus of appropriately awed ooh’s and ah’s floated into the night as you pointed at the gleaming badge pinned just above his left breastbone. A minute shift in his stance caused you to glance up, and you were surprised to find his eyes already on you. Your gazes met, for a heartbeat. He looked - taken aback, almost. He blinked.

And then, turning back to his rapt audience with an easy grace that nearly caught you off guard, the moment over so quickly you wondered if you’d imagined the expression on his face -

“Village is overselling it, honestly,” Captain Hob said, lowering his voice in a theatrically confiding whisper. “Everyone knows it was more of a large hamlet.”

After the giggles subsided, you smiled indulgently. “If I may have a word with my fiance,” you said, and deftly drew him away.

One might expect someone of his station to relax at least a bit once out from under the harsh glare of the limelight, but if anything he stood a little straighter now that you were relatively alone, arms folding neatly behind his back as if on instinct.

“Mx. Rue,” he said, low and deep in a way that would have made you lean in to catch the words if you didn’t know any better.

You inclined your head. “Captain.”

He regarded you for a moment. In your line of work, being able to intuit others’ feelings and desires was a skill you’d painstakingly developed over long centuries, at first out of necessity and then out of sheer habit. But it was one that required scrupulous practice, and his was a face you had only first seen a matter of days ago. You could not - should not - begin to guess at the things it might hide.

“You must forgive me my clumsiness, Mx. Rue,” he said, after another beat of silence. His ears twitched. “I’m afraid I do not possess even half your social graces.”

“On the contrary, Captain,” you said lightly. “You clearly didn’t need my help in keeping our guests enthralled. They were already practically speechless by the time I came on the scene, and you must understand how difficult a feat like that is to accomplish in a court such as this.”

There was a low and rumbling sound; you recognized it a second too late as laughter. “Be that as it may,” he said. “Any help willingly given on your part is gladly and wholeheartedly accepted on mine.”

You might have rolled your eyes - subtly, of course - had the words, so formal in their cadence, come from someone else. From him, his voice as even and steadfast as it had been since you’d first appeared at his side, they sounded entirely genuine.

Which was - not something you frequently encountered. Not in a court such as this.

“Of course,” you said, trying for your usual lilting tone of voice. And if it came out a touch softer than you’d anticipated, such a thing was hardly worthy of notice from yourself or anyone else.

“If I may,” he began, and as he trailed off seemed to falter in his resolve, as if in another moment he might attempt to change the subject.

You had never been the kind of fey who let go of things so easily, for better or for worse. “Yes, Captain?”

“How did you know about Muckwurst’s Bluff?” he said, quietly.

His eyes on your eyes, now. New eyes in a new face. And he was from a court you had never stepped foot in, entrenched in a culture you had no familiarity with. You shouldn’t be quick to draw conclusions.

And yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was no mystery to be found in that warm, golden gaze. Still as ancient amber.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you said. “You deserve to be known for it.”

You hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Not like that, anyway. As if he was someone you knew, or someone you wanted to know. As if he was a friend - or even someone who could be.

“Ah,” he said.

“Anyway,” you said, pulling your gaze away, “I like to do my research, Captain.”

If you couldn’t see his face, there was no point in reading anything into his silence. You didn’t bother trying.

“Of course,” he said. “I would hate to imply anything but your utmost attention to detail, Mx. Rue.”

Something in his tone made your heart skip a beat, which made the back of your neck prickle almost indignantly. Impossible to say what. It was an unexpected instinct, and perhaps unfair, given the circumstances. Or perhaps not.

Abruptly you decided you were done with this conversation. In a restless fit of impulse, you brought your glass to your mouth and downed the last of your wine. Thankfully there wasn’t much of it left.

“Care for another drink, Captain?” You tilted your empty glass in his direction. “It seems I’m due for a refill of my own.”

Captain Hob wasn’t holding a glass. Stupid, embarrassingly amateurish on your part, really; regardless of what he’d claimed about his social graces the opening you’d left was so appallingly wide that anyone with half a working brain cell would be at full liberty to take offense if they wished to.

And yet. He lowered his eyes, the perfect image of humility, and bowed his head graciously. “Please, don’t feel obligated to linger on my account, Mx. Rue,” he said. “I have no doubt that there are many libations and revelries ahead of us yet.”

There was nothing for it, then, but to take your leave as you’d so desired just a moment prior. “Captain,” you murmured, and turned away.

You had expected - hoped, really - that moving away from him would help you find your balance, return you to your usual level-headed form. But as it turned out, the mere thought of the crowd neatly swallowing him up behind you had rather the opposite effect. Your heart was beating fast and hard, irritatingly enough. Not that that was any cause for real concern. It had been some time since you’d last imbibed fey spirits in earnest. Yes, that must be it.

And maybe that would also explain why your headache was nearly gone. Or maybe it wouldn’t. What did it really matter, in the end?

The night would be over soon enough.

#dimension 20 #a court of fey and flowers #acofaf #ruehob #sarah does writing #phew baby it's been a hot minute since i shared fic #would be nice to get back into the habit. idk if i will be able to get back into it but it would be nice.#actually in the process of revisiting/editing this i think i finally figured out how to make this work story-wise #so we shall see!#writing's been really challenging for the past year or so i won't lie but i do miss it something fierce

10 notes · View notes