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cipheress-to-k-pop · 3 years

Note

Hi, I absolutely adore your writing and it’s quite inspiring and making my imagination go WEEWOO!

Could I request something for YJ With Dick? So like a headcanon or one shot (which ever you prefer queen) where the reader is quite reserved, snarky and can get angry real fast. They have feelings for Rob and they are especially snarky to him to hide their feelings, but they eventually start to open up more and during the events of episode 24 (you know, the one at haly’s circus), they open up to him and they confess? And he does the same?

Flower Language

Pairing: Dick Grayson as Robin x Reader

Warnings: Blood and injuries and plant death.

Word Count: 3.8k words

A/N: This is kind of my take on the Hanahaki disease, kind of. This was so much fun to write honestly, I didn't realize I like all this floral stuff so much. It also reminded me of another 'True Love's Kiss' trope I wrote for Dick Grayson as well. Also I changed the episode this was based on because I’ve already done something based on the episode with Haly’s circus @hanbedumbaf I really really really hope you enjoy it! Sorry it was so late, I finished it a month back but it was in my queue.

Adrenaline was a common feeling to you. A little too familiar. The life of a superhero puts you in peril more times than you would like but it was the only life you had known. You knew the familiar feeling of sweat forming on your skin and your heart pounding so loudly that you could hear it in every step you took.

However, when you heard the pounding, it was because there was a supervillain, usually hairy, chasing after you and determined to get your head on a stake.

Although, feeling your heart jump to your throat was becoming more familiar whenever you were around a certain someone. Robin annoyed you to no end, whenever he was around you couldn't help your face from growing warm and your lips from tingling to form a permanent smile on your face.

Having a crush was irritating, you couldn't think or even function without thinking of him. It was frankly humiliating, you were always so gung-ho about being bold and to the point and yet whenever you were around Boy Wonder, you couldn't help but bend your personality to something you felt like would appeal to him more.

Sometimes, you couldn't even stand yourself.

And so, as a pathetic act of rebellion, and maybe as a clear-cut sign that you had no idea how to handle emotions or anything similar to it, every time your heart got just a little soft, your tongue got a whole lot sharper. Probably not the best way to win a boy’s heart. But you weren't here for a romance story.

It was also a true sign that you had no idea how to flirt, thinking that borderline insulting witty banter was the way to go. Or perhaps it was a way of controlling your emotions, since being bitter and snarky was the thing that came easiest to you.

You seriously needed better tactics.

It was also your oblivious mistake thinking that Robin only saw what you wanted him to see. He was raised to be a detective, of course he was more observant than that. Papa (or let's be real, Alfred) didn't raise no fool.

You made the mistake of thinking Robin saw you as strong and independent and bold, just as the rest of them did. But he saw much more than that.

Robin was distressed by the number of crying faces around him, the kids were inconsolable which was understandable because of just how many things went wrong in the past couple of hours. To be quite frank, Robin was a couple seconds away from having a fit himself.

"Shh, little one," He heard distantly and his neck practically snapped. You were crouching in front of the few who were crying, with a small nurturing smile. It was the first time he had seen you out of uniform, usually referring to you as Antheia, named after the goddess of flowers, but this wasn't she.

"I know you're scared, my flowers, but I promise, we will find your parents." You soothed, gently wiping away their tears. They still looked up at you apprehensively and with uncertainty.

"I'll show you a magic trick." You began, grinning as the kids began to smile back at you. You pulled a seed out of your pocket and held it between closed hands, using a bit of your powers and felt it grow in your palms. When you revealed what you were holding, they collectively gasped.

A bud of a flower now rested in your hand. You smiled at their innocent eyes and held it to them, "Now I'm going to need your help for the next part. Everyone has to blow on the flower."

They nodded eagerly, crawling around you and on the count of three, everyone followed your instructions. And low and behold, the bud bloomed into a beautiful blossom right between your fingers.

One of the girls clamoured into your lap to hold the flower herself and you chuckled, wrapping your arms tightly around her, "You know what this flower means?"

They shook their heads, "It means faith, and hope. If you have faith and hope in us, then you'll get something beautiful in return."

For once, they look contemplatively and you chuckled, feeling pride at the fact that you managed to sow some wisdom in their minds. The girl that had been sitting in your lap turned in your grasp, with the flower in her hand and then reached up to tuck it behind your ear.

"For me?" She nodded happily and you smiled widely, kissing her cheek, "Thank you, petal."

Satisfied that you were able to calm them down, you gently placed the girl back on the floor before moving away from the group. Just as you were about to join the others, you ran into Robin. You didn't know he had just seen the whole thing.

Pulling the flower from behind your ear, you handed it to him, "You know in some cultures, this flower means to pick up the slack and stop looking like a confused chicken." You snapped.

Business as usual.

Robin looked back to the flower you had slipped into his hands, you had said it meant faith and hope, and you had given it to him. He looked back up to see you shuffling away from him quickly, a blush on your face. He smiled.

You were more nurturing and kinder than you let on, it was like it was programmed into your personality and yet you never showed it when you knew they were watching. That wasn't the only part of yourself that you were hesitant to show them.

And the more Robin observed you, the more he realized that you used flower language to depict a lot of your emotions. It was a silent way of letting them out, without having to tell other people what's really in your heart.

You thought you were sly about it, but nothing went under Robin's radar.

Everyone was watching a movie on the flat screen in the rec room. You hadn't realized you were so tired, the movie was boring, something that M'Gann had picked and you hadn't slept the night before, busy patrolling your city.

Your eyelids began to droop before you could even understand what was going on, your head lolling as you drifted in and out of consciousness.

Robin hadn't realized that he was napping through the movie until he felt a weight on his shoulder. He nearly jumped awake and glanced to his side to see you sound asleep, breathing gently. He nearly chuckled, was this what you looked like when you weren't scowling at everybody?

His heart skipped a beat, god, were you beautiful. The smell of flowers vaguely hit his nose and he noticed the red gardenia plant growing steadily in the corner of the room.

'Red Gardenias means a secret love,' Robin recalled from a book he had read, 'It's a secret way for someone to say I love you.'

He glanced back at you still sleeping peacefully, face completely relaxed and briefly wondered if your powers were taking the lead on your emotions and making gardenias grow around the cave. Or were you dreaming about something?

Something in his heart grew, here you were sleeping against his shoulder, making symbols of a secret love grow around the room. This had to be a sign of something, right?

Before he could contemplate it any further, you squirmed and then began to stir. Your eyes fluttered open, hazily taking in your surroundings before they landed on the boy beside you and widened in size, skin darkening with a blush.

"Why the fuck didn't you wake me up?" You snapped and turned on your heel to stomp out of the room without even waiting for a response from him. The others who noticed the way he was just staring at the place you were in surprise. You always do such a 180 when you're around him and conscious.

"Wow, sunshine's crabby in the morning." Wally commented from beside him. When he didn't get any response, he looked over to see Robin with a silly smile on his face.

Dick couldn't stop himself from grinning. The gardenias were still blooming.

***

"Antheia, do you think you will be able to stop the plants from growing any further?" Batman turned to face you, only to find you staring at him with a hazy, blank expression.

"Antheia?" Robin called but you didn't even flinch, your eyes were locked onto the holo-computer, seeing the thick vines that were twisting and turning. Their call was overwhelming, you could feel them grow even beneath your feet. It was like a siren was blearing through your head.

You couldn't tell what they were trying to say, it was like they were muffled. It was confused and lost, following Ivy and it was happy listening to her. And yet, it was feeling pain, the Justice League was busy pruning her as we speak. It was scared, crying out for someone to help them and you felt obligated to help. Your mind was getting heavy, throbbing with an oncoming migraine.

"(Y/N)!" Your eyes snapped open and focused onto the boy in front of you. Everyone was staring at you in concern and you blinked, suddenly not able to remember what the hell was going on. You were just trying to focus on something other than the screams and cries of the plant.

"......What?" You asked a little dumbly, noticing the concern on Robin's face. The plants were still crying. You couldn't get the painful sound of their screams out of your mind. You felt like curling up into a ball and crying.

"Batman asked if you would be able to stop the plants?"

"Oh, um, no." You answered in a distracted way that made his face pinch with worry. His hands were still grasping your shoulders tightly, keeping his face in close proximity to yours. You didn't even realize, too out of it to even notice.

Robin on the other hand felt his cheeks get uncomfortably hot the more you stared at him with those innocent, beautiful eyes of yours. If Batman hadn't been breathing down his neck, he was sure he would've kissed you in the moment.

Unfortunately for him, his dad always knew how to ruin the moment. And he would continue to for the rest of his life. Until death do them part. Even after the two of you grow up and live together, the Batman would find some way to interrupt your fun.

"Robin?"

"Huh?"

"The mission."

Oh. Right.

***

"Robin!" You screamed when one of Ivy's plants wrapped around his neck and slammed him against the trees. They didn't let up curling tighter around his throat. Fear struck you as he began choking from breath and you knew you had to do something.

Suddenly murderous intent took over you and you glared at Ivy who returned it with a smug smirk of her own. Oh, how you'd rip that smirk off her face.

"Okay Ivy, you wanna play? Let's play." You ground out, slamming your hands against the vine around Robin's neck and it began disintegrating beneath your fingers. He fell to the ground, gasping for breath and you tuned out the sound of the plant crying as it died beside him.

Ivy heard it just as loudly as you had, she screamed and more plants lunged towards the both of you.

"Go help the others! I'm about to snap this twig." You spat at Robin, using your powers to kill the roots as it reached you. It was working slowly, your powers weak to the pain of the plants around you. Even as every cell of your body told you not to, you clenched your fingers into fists and watched as the creeper feel to the marsh, dead.

You engaged in battle with Ivy. Plants were screaming for mercy all around you but you couldn't stop for even a second. Life around you was trembling but you had to keep fighting the villain in front of you because if you hesitated for even a second, many more would die.

Thorns scratched your skin, drawing blood and curled around Ivy, sinking barbs into her skin.

"Face it girlie! You're never going to overpower me!"

"Oh, I'm not trying to overpower you, just distract you long enough for Robin to get rid of the control system." You replied, just as smug as she had been at the start of the fight. Now you got to see her face melt into one of panic just as Robin jumped over her head and to your side with a grin identical to yours.

"Cover your ears!" He sang, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and ducking, covering your body with his own. You were grateful for it; you weren't sure you could even keep your body upright at the moment.

Then you heard the explosion and your heart stopped. Every single fibre of your body burned red hot fire as you heard screams and cries around you. Bile was crawling up your throat and your breathing got thin. They were sobbing a heart-broken wail and your eyes misted at the mere sound.

Without realizing it, you were gripping onto Robin's hand, brows furrowed together. The sound of the explosion cleared, the Injustice League was captured and he pulled you up to stand with the others.

It was silent for a moment. You had won.

And then the consequences of your actions hit you.

Everyone's necks snapped towards you when you let out a heart-wrenching sob. Robin, who was standing right next to you caught you just in time before your body hit the ground. Pain exploded in your chest as you began wailing against him.

"(Y/N)? (Y/N)! What's wrong?!" He panicked but you didn't respond, crying into his chest as you gripped his cape in an iron fist. Everything hurt and all you could feel was sorrow and guilt.

The other heroes crowded around you but your eyes were screwed shut, tears making your eyes sting. Robin held onto you tightly, pulling your body against his as you continued to cry.

"What's happening?" Artemis murmured, looking around to see the environment change before her eyes. Everyone else followed her lead to see how leaves began rotting, then the trees. The smell was pungent. Thorns and weeds were crawling up the dying trees, pulling them into the swamp.

"(Y/N) please, what's wrong?" Robin whispered in your ear but you couldn't hear him. The sounds of plants screaming and wailing was echoing through your mind. How they begged you to save them. How they begged you to stop.

And then it got hard to breathe, your chest constricted and you were wheezing. Robin had to watch in horror when petals and blood poured from your mouth. You were choking, throwing up and sobbing in his arms, and he was unable to do anything to help you.

"Flash get her to the Batcave." Batman said gruffly, he was shocked and worried for you but didn't say anything, not wanting to scare his son more, "Sending you the coordinates now."

"Alfred prepare the med-bay."

Dick watched with a sinking heart as he handed you into Flash's arms. It took him a few seconds for his mind to stop whirring, he was still kneeling in the swampy marsh when the team huddled around him.

"It's gonna be okay." Wally murmured, wrapping an arm around his shaking body.

"We just have to hope for the best."

***

When the others had gotten back to the Cave, you had just been moved there, after being looked over by Alfred. He joined you in the med-bay, wanting to keep an eye on you. But as of yet, you still had to wake up.

Dick wasn't supposed to be listening to the adult’s conversation, but he couldn't help himself, he had to know if you were going to be okay.

"The situation is undeterminable, sir. But as of now, the flowers that are clogging her respiratory system keep growing. If we don't find a cure for this, it's inevitable that she will suffocate and pass."

His heart stopped. Die? You couldn't die, not when he still had so many things to tell you. For so long, he hadn't told you of his feelings, wanting to keep the relationship between the two of you professional. But now more than anything, he wished he had said something.

There were so many things he didn't get to do with you yet. You had yet to give him a bouquet on your first date. He wanted to lay in bed with you, smelling fresh flowers as you told him what different plants symbolized. He had yet to see moments where you can't control your powers and make plants grow around the cave.

He hadn't even given you a flower yet.

"Rob listen, I did some research on this 'disease'." Wally said, falling into step with him, "It's called the Hanahaki disease."

"That's fiction Wal—"

"But that's the best we've got right now." Came his curt reply and Dick's heart clenched.

"Hanahaki disease is a fictional sickness that only occurs when someone is suffering from unrequited love. The victim will cough up flower petals that symbolize their love. This disease is only cured when the victim's feelings are romantically returned." Wally read off his phone before turning to Dick with a smile.

He raised a brow, "What?"

"You have to kiss (Y/N)!"

"What!?"

"Yep! You have to return her unrequired love!"

"Wally that's ridiculous, kissing someone doesn't cute anything."

"Well, it's the only thing we have. And for (Y/N), we need to try anything." He said, pushing him towards the med-bay. His voice was tight and tense, like he was holding onto his as his last hope and Dick prayed that it would work when the door of your room came into his sight.

You were asleep and if he hadn't known any better, he would've thought you were healthy. Wally closed the door behind him, leaving Dick alone with you. The only sound in was the beeping from your heart monitor and your light wheezing. It was getting harder to breathe.

Dick inched his way closer to you, watching as your eyelashes fluttered gently in your sleep. Leaning over the bed you were lying in; he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before moving his head in line with yours.

"God, please let this work." He whispered and your bottom lip was caught between his. It was feather-light but yet, electricity was buzzing through his veins and fireworks went off in his mind.

For a minute, nothing happened and his heart clenched in his chest before he kissed you a little harder. This had to work because they didn't have any other lead. Dick felt you exhale feebly against him and he almost gave up hope.

But then you took a deep breath, stealing the breath from his lungs and he pulled away quickly to see your eyelids fluttering open. The colour was returning to your cheeks and your eyes were sparkling up at him. You smiled gently and he blinked away tears of relief. Thank goodness.

'His eyes are blue' You thought, staring deeply into them. They were beautiful, alluring. You didn't know why but just looking into his eyes was addicting. Was this what it felt like to be so deep in love? That even his eyes were enough to captivate you?

"I'm so glad you're awake." He muttered, cupping your cheeks firmly and planting another kiss on your lips. You giggled lightly, heart overjoyed to find the boy you had been in love with for so long had returned your feelings and you responded to the kiss eagerly, placing your palms over his hands and leaning into him.

With your regaining strength, you felt a flower materialize in your hands. The stem between your fingers brought you comfort just as the scent of the flower brought you back life.

When Dick pulled away, you delicately slipped it into his hands and he turned his attention to it, blue eyes softening when he recognized this particular flower in his hands.

"It's an Aster." You whispered quietly, lips brushing against his and he chuckled. It was the only flower you thought of when he came to your mind, "Get it?"

Dick turned his eyes away from the blossom and looked at you again. Your heart jumped, noticing just how much love he held in them. Eyes you could swim in, overflowing with love for you. Suddenly you were overwhelmed, feeling adoration and attraction. You needed to be closer to him, even though he was pressed against you.

Your fingers curled into his collar and pulled him closer to you, slanting your lips over his in an open-mouthed kiss. Dick gasped against your lips, startled for no longer than a second before sinking against you and wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer.

Your lips moved gently against his, the blushing flower trapped between both your bodies. The smell of fresh flowers clouded Dick's mind with everything that was you. Your hair, your smile, your lips. If you kept kissing him like that, he was certain he'd forget his own name.

And then you pulled away and Dick noted that you were as beautiful as a fresh flower. Your skin was glowing with life and your tired eyes were twinkling. You smiled sleepily at him, eyes closing shut and he lowered you back to the bed. Immediately, you slipped back into slumber, exhausted from the day's events.

He watched for a couple seconds, making sure you were able to breathe without any problems before realizing he should tell the others that you were okay.

He slipped out of the room quietly, stealing a final glance of you sleeping peacefully in the bed and a huge smile grew on his face, "She's awake."

It was only then he noticed just how colourful the room had gotten in the few minutes he was with you.

The walls were covered with vines and roses of different colours, camelias and carnations of different shades. It littered the room, not leaving a single inch of the wall untouched and scattered petals all over the floor like confetti.

Different creepers hung from the ceiling, dusting all the superheroes with sparkling pollen and colourful petals. Not to mention there were stems crawling up the Justice League members, flowers hugging their ankles lovingly.

Batman looked a lot less intimidating with petals in his cape and a rose stuck behind his ear. Robin blushed at the sight of everyone giving him knowing smiles.

"We noticed."

Aster: This flower became a symbol of love when in Greek mythology it was placed on the altars for the gods. So now, when you send a bouquet featuring this vibrant bloom, the message of "Take Care Of Yourself For Me" is implied. It conveys deep emotional love and affection for someone.

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cruciology · 3 years

Text

Under the Table

Requested by anon: Ok i don’t know if this is too smutty but could I request a sandor x reader where they’re at a tavern or something and reader starts touching him under the table. No one notices but he has to stay serious and tries his best to hide it and as soon as they’re both alone she’s getting her reward.

a sequel to my fic, The Princess and the Dog

The chilly air of Winterfell gave you constant goosebumps. You supposed it was better than being on the King’s Road as you had been for a month, but you were still cold, even with the new fur cloak you had been gifted by your father. You had a feeling it meant he had bad news for you, he just hadn’t told you yet.

You wrapped the cloak tighter around your nightdress as you stepped out of your room and into the hall. Your little sister slept like the dead in the room next to yours. It was only your first night in Winterfell, but you had taken notice of where the guards were placed. It was easy enough to avoid them as you sneaked to the end of the hall, passed where Joffrey and Tommen slept, and rapped on the Hound’s door. After a moment, it cracked open just the slightest bit. When he saw it was you, the Hound quickly pulled you in before anyone could see.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He growled, shutting the door as quietly as he could. He had been in bed and wore only his pants, his hairy chest bare.

“I didn’t get caught, it’s alright,” you insisted. You were hoping he would be happier to see you. On the road, you were constantly surrounded by guards or your family. Besides a few squeezes of your hand in passing, you hadn’t felt his touch since you left the capitol. Your mother had kept her promise and hadn’t said anything after she had caught you with him in the library, but she kept a closer eye on you now. “I missed you,” you said softly.

His mouth was a hard line as he looked at you. Finally, he placed his hands on your hips, drawing you close to him. You pressed your face into his chest, almost crying at having him close again after all this time.

“It was stupid,” he said as he held you. You laughed.

“Don’t worry, I know you missed me too,” you said. He sat down on the wooden chair that stood by his window, pulling you by the hand until you sat on his lap. The cloak fell to the floor but you were warm enough when he wrapped his arms around you, his rough hands sliding over the silk of your nightdress.

Finally, you were able to press your lips to his. You kissed him gently first, as a lady should, but then you needed to show him just how much you missed him. Heat pooled between your thighs as you threaded your fingers through his hair, kissing him hungrily. He growled low in his throat as he kissed you back. His hand went under the hem of your nightdress, up your thigh, and you gasped softly as his finger entered you. You hadn’t even had enough space in the last month to touch yourself and his touch felt like magic as he stroked you from the inside.

He kissed your cheek, your jaw, then your neck, sending a chill down your spine that had nothing to do with the cold. “How does that feel, Princess?” He asked against the shell of your ear.

“So good,” You muttered back, eyes closed.

You felt him start to remove his hand and squeezed your thighs tight in an attempt to keep him going. He laughed slightly as he brought his hand to his face. He licked you off of his fingers, groaning softly and sending another surge of heat through your body.

He kissed you roughly, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. “You taste so fucking good,” He said against your mouth. He gathered you up in his arms with ease, moving to take you to the bed.

Someone pounded on the door with a heavy hand. In an instant, you were on the bed, the Hound quickly covering you with the thick blanket. Your heart pounded in your chest as you listened to the Hound open the door once again. It nearly froze when you heard your father’s voice in the hall.

“Didn’t wake you, did I, Clegane?” He laughed. He was drunk, it was clear from his slurred words. The welcome feast ended hours ago. He must have stayed up drinking with his old friends.

“Wasn’t sleeping, Your Grace,” The Hound spoke to your father with your taste still on his lips. “What can I do for you?”

“Put some clothes on, Hound, we’re going on a hunt,” The King said. You could hear him clap the Hound on the shoulder roughly.

“It’s well past midnight, Your Grace,” The Hound informed him.

“What are you, my wife?” Your father said. “I am your king!”

“Why don’t you retire to your chambers, I’ll get you more wine,” The Hound suggested. He knew your father well. He wouldn’t say no to more alcohol.

“Wine and a girl,” The King laughed. Your lip curled in disgust, but if it got him away from the Hound’s room without him seeing you in the bed, you didn’t care what your father did.

“Wine and a girl,” the Hound confirmed.

“Get one for yourself while you’re at it.” You heard your father stumble away. For a brief moment you wondered if you should worry about him, but there were dozens of other guards along the way who would help him back up to his room. He would most likely be asleep before the Hound could find him again.

You felt the blanket fly off of you as soon as the door was closed. “Go back to your room,” The Hound instructed. “Now.”

You stood up, not even coming to his shoulder. You reached up, touching the burnt side of his face, letting your fingers memorize the scar. His eyes closed just briefly. He put his hand over yours. You stood on your toes, kissing him gently before sneaking out again.

---

You never really drank. But after the news you had gotten, you decided now was as good a time as any. Your body wasn’t quite used to it, only having previously had a few sips here and there. As the residents of Winterfell were once again crammed into the dining hall, you nursed your third glass, feeling the warmth spread in your chest. Everyone was pleasantly drunk around you, save for the severe Ned Stark and his lady wife, so you didn’t feel left out despite sitting off on your own at a table near the exit.

You stared at the table where your newly announced betrothed sat. Robb Stark was handsome, strong, and kind. He had lands and a title. You would be the Lady of Winterfell. You had known this was coming, but it didn’t mean you had to like it. Your mother didn’t even try to hide the smug look on her face when your father broke the news to you earlier. You suspected it was directed at your guard who had been in the room as well, something you were sure she had planned. Your mother would get what she wanted after all.

“Princess,” You heard from behind you. Your heart lifted instantly.

“Sit,” You insisted, patting the seat next to you. The Hound’s eyes scanned the room and you rolled yours. “It’s not unheard of. You’re supposed to be guarding me, you can guard me from down here.”

“You’re drunk,” He noted as he sat next to you. You felt the bench creek under his large body. You wished that you were alone so he could pull you into his lap. You were so tired of not even being able to hold his hand.

“I might be,” you said.

“You are.” He grabbed a pint for himself, taking it halfway down with one solid gulp. “Celebrating your engagement, Princess?”

“Stop it,” you said with a tight jaw. “You know I’d rather-,”

“Be quiet about that,” The Hound said, his eyes darting around the room once again. A few eyes were on you, but they were passing glances, folks wondering why the Princess was off alone, but you knew they were not going to question your choice of company.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “But you can’t be upset with me, I can’t take that along with everything else. It’s not my fault.”

The Hound made a noise half way between a grunt and a sigh, but still didn’t look at you. “I know,” he said.

Your hand found his knee comfortingly under the table. It was probably the wine in your stomach that made you unafraid of any consequences. You were surprised he didn’t pull away, but he let you leave your hand there. You were feeling sad and stupid. You moved your hand up further, touching the inside of his thigh. The growl from his throat didn’t stop you. So long without touching him for fear of being caught and here you were now with your hand in his lap when the dining hall was full of eyes.

“Princess,” he said through clenched teeth. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He was trying not to draw attention. Just drunk enough not to care, you moved your hand even further. His breath came out as a hiss as you palmed the growing bulge in his pants. His massive hand clamped around your wrist.

“No one is even looking,” you said, not really caring if they were.

“Are you trying to lose me my head?” He asked. You noticed that he hadn’t moved your hand away from him. You squeezed him, making him groan. “Fucking hells,” he muttered, placing both hands on the table. He wasn’t going to stop you.

You made sure you weren’t looking directly at him as you stroked your hand up and down his length through his pants. You watched his hand on the table clench into a fist as he tried to keep a straight face. “It’s a lovely feast, isn’t it?” You asked, a wicked smirk playing at your lips. He merely grunted. The wine and the thrill of touching him once again made you forget for a moment the pressure you had felt since the news of your engagement.

“But I do think I have had a bit too much to drink,” You said, loudly enough for anyone at the tables near you to hear. Luckily, they were drunker than you. “Walk me back to my room, please.”

The Hound rose first, helping you balance yourself. You really did have a bit too much to drink. He let you go as soon as he thought you would be able to stand. You looked over your shoulder for just a moment, catching a glance at your mother. She sipped her wine next to your father, who was probably the drunkest one in the room. No one would say anything to the King about his drinking. Your mother caught your look but said nothing. She knew who your father would believe if you went to him with what you knew.

The Hound walked a few steps behind you as you walked out of the hall. The voices from the dining hall carried out into the corridor. As soon as you turned the corner, far enough away from the crowd, his hands were on you. You giggled drunkenly as he scooped you up.

“You’re going to get me in trouble, Princess,” he said into your neck, placing a sloppy kiss on the column of your throat. He shouldered the nearest door open. You should have been more worried about getting caught but the only thoughts swimming through the alcohol in your brain were about the Hound’s mouth.

The room was empty and almost pitch black, the only light coming from the full moon outside. The Hound sat you down on the plush loveseat pushed against the wall. You grabbed his belt, attempting to pull him towards you and finish what you had started in the dining hall but it appeared he had other plans. He pushed your hand away.

“Your turn, Princess.”

He lowered himself to his knees in front of you, giving you a breathless kiss, his massive hand cupping your cheek. Leaving your head spinning, he pulled away. He shoved your skirt up, gathering it at your thighs. He pulled you down to the edge of the seat, spreading your legs before him. He placed your legs over his broad shoulders, the metal of his armor cool on your flushed skin. From the wine or from him, you couldn’t be entirely sure.

He bit the inside of your thigh, placing a kiss over it just as quickly. You were just about to tell him not to tease you when you felt his tongue at your apex. Your hands went to his hair, your head going back against the love seat. It had been so long since he could have you like this, he lapped at your pussy hungrily, his fingers digging into your thighs in a way you knew would leave a bruise. That made it even sweeter.

“Sandor, please,” You begged, tugging at his hair, trying to pull him up to kiss you again. You weren’t sure how much time you had with him and you wanted to feel all of him before you had to part. Normally, he would tell you he was going to take his bloody time, but he was probably thinking the same as you.

The Hound wrapped his arm around your waist, moving you to lay with your head on the armrest of the loveseat, his body looming over you. He was always afraid to put his whole weight on you, but you liked feeling his presence. You helped him pull himself out of his pants and with one quick thrust, he was fully seated inside of you. He paused for a moment, his face in the crook of your neck. You guided his face back to yours, kissing him. You wrapped your legs around him, making sure he was as close as he could be to you. He rutted into you, each thrust punctuated with a grunt. He kissed your neck, your cheek, your collarbone, your mouth, any bit of you he could. His thumb found its way to your clit, finishing what his tongue had started. Your legs squeezed him tighter. You tried to stay quiet, but his free hand still went over your mouth, muffling the cry as you came, your legs tight around him.

He took his hand from your mouth, placing it on the loveseat next to you to brace himself. His other hand moved to the small of your back, pushing you closer to him as he fucked you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in to whisper in his ear, “Cum in me.”

The hand on your back moved to your outer thigh, squeezing tight as he shuddered, finishing into you with a final grunt. He hid his face in your neck, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine.

“Stupid, that was stupid,” The Hound muttered into your skin.

You pulled his face towards you, making sure his eyes met yours. “I love you,” you said firmly. His eyes darted away again. You had said it only once before to him. He never said it back, it wasn’t his way.

Instead, he kissed you and responded, “Aye.”

#I am so sorry I haven't posted in 5ever #I had a lot going on but here y'all go #the hound #the hound fanfiction #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #smut #fanfiction #sandor clegane #sandor clegane x reader #the hound x reader #sandor clegane fanfiction

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navegandoaciegas · 3 years

Text

Crybaby

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader (College AU)

Warnings: smut, ass fingering, orgasm denial, humiliation, lots of talks about panties.

Summary: You catch Bucky trying to steal your panties on laundry day.

A/N: this is partly @buckycuddlebuddy ‘s fault tbh. Enjoy some desperate, horny Bucky. Minors DNI.

The timer on the dryer unit you’d occupied went off, signaling that your weekly load of laundry was dry and ready. Bucky cast a nervous glance around the eerily empty room, fingers twitching in the front pocket of his hoodie.

He knew it was wrong, but his laundry was done too (just a coincidence, really, not like he’d wake up at 3 am on a Monday because he knew you did your washing around that time), and you weren’t there yet. You usually retrieved your load in the morning anyways.

Just a peek, he reasoned. Out of curiosity. You wouldn’t even realize they were missing, and if you did you’d chalk it up to the washing machine eating your clothes.

You’d show up to class on Tuesday and sit next to him while he’d be wearing your pretty lace panties and you’d be none the wiser.

Fuck, he was getting hard just thinking about it.

He dug in your laundry, sifting through mascara stained washcloths and an endless amount of oversized t-shirts, until he found what he’d been looking for.

Small, so tiny in fact that he wondered how your lips could fit in them. He groaned -the idea of your pussy hanging out of the material made his cock twitch, and brought the panties to his face, rubbing his nose all over the lace. He’d fantasized of burying his face between your legs all semester long, and this seemed close enough, the closest he could get to you anyways.

They seemed stretchy, and he hoped he could manage to stuff himself inside them.

“Didn’t peg you for a panty sniffer, Barnes.”

The world stilled around him, the ring in his ears so loud that he wondered if you could hear it too.

He was so engrossed in his creeping, that he hadn’t heard the door open and click shut, nor your steps as you walked behind him, or the slight groan that the washing machine behind him emitted when you settled on it, swinging your legs.

Slowly, he turned around, your lace panties still tightly clutched to his chest.

You almost chuckled at the sight of his bulging eyes and gaping mouth. Almost.

“That- it’s not- not how it looks like- I-”

“What, you were gonna fold my laundry for me? How considerate,” you sneered, but the look on your face was far from disgust.

Derision, sure, but not disgust. The mischievous interest in your eyes sent chills down his spine, not necessarily the good kind.

He felt dread settle in his stomach, anticipating whatever consequence his actions would have.

“You do this often?” you asked, tilting your head to the side, naked legs still swinging over the washing machine.

Bucky couldn’t find the words, and honestly the gall, to speak, so he just shook his head vehemently, shuffling on his feet.

“Hm, you like sniffing ‘em?”

He remained unmoving, too humiliated to do anything.

“Oh, I got it,” you beamed, pointing a finger at him and squinting your eyes, “You like touching yourself with pretty panties, hm? Like using them to fuck your dick, and cum all over ‘em?”

He wanted to answer, tell you to fuck off and sprint away to hide in his dorm for the rest of his life, but honestly he deserved this and so much worse. He almost considered dropping out of college entirely, but that glint in your eyes kept him anchored to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, keeping his gaze on his white sneakers, “I-, I promise, I never done it before, I don’t know why-, look I won’t do it again, I swear,” he pleaded, tears pooling in his crystal eyes and threatening to stream down his face.

You cooed, honest to God coeed, a mocking pout on your lips.

You should have left, and reported him, but those pretty tears of his, the tremble in his voice, the stuttered pleas, only served to spur you on, a familiar warmth building up in your core.

“I bet if word got out of this, no one would want to hang around the resident creep anymore. Good luck getting girls then. Although, well, I don’t think you get too many under normal circumstances, do you?” you snorted, “That would be embarrassing, hm? Wouldn’t want that, would you?”

He found himself shaking his head, trying to swallow the lump in his throat to avoid giving you any more reason to mock him.

“It’s your lucky day then, because I have no intention to tell anyone,” you announced, stepping down to lean against the machine, arms crossed over your stomach.

“You- you don’t?” he wondered.

The notion should have elated him, but he felt himself growing more uneasy and confused with the smirk on your face.

“Won’t tell anyone if you don’t. Cross my heart,” you laughed, making a show of placing a hand on your chest.

He eyed you suspiciously. “Why?”

“Where’s the fun in that, Barnes? I wouldn’t enjoy bullying you if I’m not the only one doing it,” you chirped, “That doesn’t mean that my forgiveness should come for free, tho.”

His breath hitched, and you followed his Adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down his throat.

You could feel the control in your grasp, panties getting wetter with each one of his tears.

“I’ll do anything,” he swore, and you almost wished he’d fall on his knees and beg.

“Anything you say, huh?” you paused, “Strip,” you commanded, leaning back against the washing machine.

Bucky furrowed his brows and looked up in confusion, then disbelief, finally embarrassment. “Wh- what? But, but what if someone sees, I-”

“Then you better hurry.”

“But I-”

“You fuckin’ heard me the first time.”

He was startled into action, hands hastily pulling at his hoodie and jeans until he was standing in nothing but socks and underwear.

“I’m not gonna repeat myself again.”

He gulped visibly, and hesitated before hooking his fingers around the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down his legs.

He blushed harder, ducking his head.

His cock sprung out of his boxers, and the mouthwatering sight of it had you reconsidering Bucky Barnes and all your life choices during this semester.

He was glistening in pre cum, painfully hard and veiny, and definitely thick enough that fitting it inside your cunt would be hard work on both parts. You imagined taking him in your mouth, how you would definitely choke around his girth, and your jaw would be sore for days.

Not today, though. Bad boys did not get that kind of privilege.

You bit your lips, and Bucky fought the impulse to squirm under your intense gaze.

“Something wrong?” he rasped out, praying for the ground to open up and swallow him whole in case you found him too small, too crooked, too hairy.

You snorted, eyebrows raised skeptically. “Yeah, babe, the fact that I haven’t seen you naked before. You been hiding all this,” you eyed his crotch suggestively, “from me all this time?”

“T- thanks,” he stuttered, offering you a small smile, eyes trained on the ground. He tried to ignore the way his heart fluttered when you called him an endearing term, reminding himself that this was all a game to you, a game that he was more than willing to play if it ended up with his cock buried deep inside you.

You sighed then, pondering your thoughts. He was not your usual type, but he was cute in a nerdy way, shy and quiet, and he was packing more than any other man you’d had before.

Plus, this was way too entertaining for you to pass up.

“Wear ‘em.”

Bucky’s head snapped up at the command, but this time he did not hesitate to follow your instructions, a bit too eager as he slid the panties up his thighs.

The shutter of your phone’s camera brought him out of his thoughts, and his eyes widened in horror when he saw you take pictures of him. He trusted you wouldn’t spread them around, but the thrill of danger had him leak more pre cum, wetting a patch on the lace.

“So that’s your deal? You like wearing panties? Didn’t even try to act like you didn’t want to,” you snickered, “What a whore.”

The situation couldn’t get more humiliating, and he couldn’t get more desperate for you.

“Be a good boy, Bucky. Fold the laundry for me, since that’s clearly what you meant to do,” you laughed scornfully, nodding to the basket at your feet.

He walked to you slowly, bending over to pick it up, and yelped when you slapped his ass harshly, the sound bouncing off the walls and shooting straight to his aching cock.

“Cute. Now go, you got something to do and I don’t have all night.”

He sighed, and got to work, unloading each item from the dryer, and folding it neatly.

You eyed the lines of his back, the round globes of his ass, the string of your thong dipping between his cheeks. You almost lost yourself imagining how pretty he would look all scratched and marked before you furrowed your brows, observing the way he folded on of your nicer shirts that you wore on interviews and internships.

“Can’t even fold laundry, look at you,” you tsked, shaking your head, “Try that again, I don’t want to spend more than necessary ironing it.”

He obeyed, without any protest, smoothing the creases he’d created, and continuing with your load, until the dryer was empty and you were satisfied.

“Good job, baby boy,” you praised, beckoning him over.

He got closer, close enough that you could feel the heat emanating from his body. He looked so pretty like that, all teary and obedient.

You wanted to make him yours and ruin him for everybody else.

“You’re a fuckin’ pervert, you know that? A creep and a pervert.”

You saw the way his cock twitched behind your lace at the words, and almost doubled over in laughter.

The night couldn’t get any better.

“Fuck, you really are a pervert. This what you get off to? You imagine me calling you names, degrading you like the bitch you are? You want to be humiliated, don’t you?”

A desperate, pathetic whine escaped his throat, and he felt his knees growing weak with need. He was naked in a public space where everyone could see him, being belittled and humiliated by the girl he’d been pining over, and he was hard as a rock, getting off every word that spilled out of your mouth.

“Well,” you purred, fisting the hair at the back of his neck and tugging harshly, “I think we can arrange that.”

“Yes, yes, please, I want it,” he whimpered, chest heaving, “I want you, I’m your slut, I-, you can do whatever you want to me.”

You almost moaned then, intoxicated by his burning desire.

“Good boy,” you hummed, releasing his hair to stroke his cheekbone, smiling at the way he leaned his head against your palm, letting his eyes flutter shut.

“Remember you can tell me to stop or slow down whenever you want, and I will. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” you added more serious, observing his face for any trace of anything but enthusiasm.

When you found none, and he nodded feverishly, you let your hand fall from his cheek to his shoulder, tracing the outlines of his lean muscle.

“Can- can you kiss me, please?” he asked, and he begged so prettily that you could do nothing but humor him, crashing your lips against his.

It was messy, rough. He was sloppy, and from the way he moved against you, you guessed he didn’t have too much experience.

Better, you reasoned. You’d teach him all he needed to know to please you, and you only.

You bit on his bottom lip, and Bucky yelped in surprise, parting his lips.

He tasted like mint on your tongue, and you sighed in content, letting your hands travel down his sides, barely grazing his skin, scratching the hair on his belly.

He shuddered under your touch, goosebumps erupting in your wake.

When you reached his lower stomach, you felt him tense, his breathing getting harder, his tongue more insistent.

He was drooling and crying, you realized, as he snapped his hips against your leg, humping you like a dog.

You broke away from the kiss, catching your breath.

“Look at you, you gettin’ real worked up and I barely even touched you. What are you, a fuckin’ virgin?” you chuckled, playing with the little bow on the front of your panties.

You’d expected him to laugh, or deny, but he just stood there awkwardly, avoiding your gaze,

“I’m not,” he grumbled, avoiding your gaze.

“Then why are you acting like one?” you prodded, but didn’t wait for him to answer, claiming his mouth in a searing kiss.

His hesitant hands groped your breasts, finally gaining the confidence to do more than linger awkwardly on your hips. He twirled your stiff nipples, rubbing his thumbs over them, movements getting more frenzied the closer he got to his release.

He crouched awkwardly to be at your chest level while still pressing his hips onto you, and tugged your loose tank top down, moaning at the sight of your tits.

“Go on baby, suck on my tits.”

He didn’t need any more encouragement to assault your nipples, latching his mouth onto one of them, and suckling. You wondered if he’d ever even touched a pair of boobs before, but his ministrations were working either way, making your walls clamp down on nothing.

You finally grasped him in your hand, his cock heavy and throbbing in your palm as you stroked him lazily, spurred on by his little whimpers.

His whole body quivered when you ran your thumb over his slit, and you marvelled at his sensitivity.

“You like it when I touch you like this, baby?” you moaned in his ear, “I bet you do, I bet you could cum already just from this. Just a handjob, like the pathetic little boy you are, hm?”

He released your tits with a wet pop, and rose to full height again, resting his forehead on yours.

“Yes, yes, please,” he sobbed, “please, princess, more.”

You complied, doubling your efforts. He inhaled sharply when you added your other hand and began twisting both your wrists in opposite directions.

“You want your princess to suck your dick, baby? Want me to get on my knees and take you in my mouth?”

He nodded against you, grinding his hard cock against your hand, desperate to chase his release.

“Or maybe you want your princess’ pretty pussy? You want to fill me with your fat cock and stuff me full of your filthy cum, don’t you?”

He began blabbering, breathing harder, sloppily snapping his hips. He had a look of pure bliss on his face, his eyes shut tightly, mouth hung open and a layer of sweat coating his forehead.

You could feel him grow and throb in your hand, and just before he was about to reach his high, you stopped your hands.

His eyes shot open and he opened and closed his mouth to protest, but you gave him no time, fisting his hair and slamming him against the washer, bending him over the cold surface.

“What, you thought I’d catch you stealing my panties and I’d let that go?” you tutted, bending over him, pressing your front to his back, whispering in his ear “Bad boys need to be punished, don’t you agree?”

A choking sound escaped his parted lips, and you giggled against his skin, licking a strip behind his neck.

You let your hands wander down the expanse of his back, settling on the waistband of your panties. You indulged yourself again, slapping his ass because you liked how it jiggled and how Bucky whined.

“You have a nice ass, you know,” you mused, slouching back to get a good vision of it, “You ever had anyone stick anything up there?”

“W-what?” he sputtered, crooning his head to look at you, “N-no, never.”

“Cute.”

He squirmed in embarrassment when you spread his cheeks, groaning when he felt your spit drip down on him. You massaged a finger around his rim, your hand coated in your spit and his pre cum.

“Relax, I’ll make you feel really good, promise.”

You gradually felt his muscles relax under your touch as you soothingly ran a hand down his back and kept whispering calming, sweet nothings in his ear.

Then, you dipped a finger past the rim.

“See, not that bad, huh?” you smiled, working your finger inside him, caressing his walls.

You nipped the skin of his back, peppering his muscles with fluttering kisses, grazing your teeth over his column.

You dipped another in, and Bucky hissed, wiggling his legs.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you shushed him, “You’re doing so good for me, baby.”

He preened under your praise, and you began scissoring your fingers inside his ass, working him open and looking for the spot you knew would make him beg for more.

The heat between your legs was almost unbearable, your pussy desperate to be stuffed full of his cock.

You loved how pliant Bucky was being, obedient and submissive in your grasp. You noticed the tears that hadn’t stopped streaming down his face, and huffed a laugh.

“A pervert, a slut, and a fuckin’ crybaby, aren’t you?” you mumbled, a genuine smile tugging at your lips.

“Fuck, oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, holding onto the washing machine for dear life, tongue lolling out of his mouth, drool dripping down his chin, making it known that you’d found what you’d been looking for.

“Yes, fuck, please princess, gimme more,” he begged, overwhelmed with a pleasure like he’d never experienced before.

He felt like a fire had been lit in his lower belly, and it was spreading to every limb, encompassing him whole.

You grasped his cock in one of your hands while your fingers kept pummeling into his ass, feeling the rim clench around you and his cock pulsate.

You thought you could cum from his beautiful sounds alone, and you kept going until you were sure he was on the verge of a mind shattering orgasm.

Then, you stopped again, and this time Bucky sobbed, blabbering and wailing, begging you.

“Please princess, I’ll do anything, just please let me cum, please, please,” he continued, shamelessly bucking his hips against nothing.

You released his cock and pulled your fingers out of his ass, cleaning the fluids against his panties.

“You’re so fuckin’ pathetic, begging like that,” you mocked him, retrieving your phone from the pocket of your shorts.

You snapped a couple of photos of him bent over the washing machine, pent up and debauched. His balls hung from the lace of your panties, and you made sure to zero on his tear stained face.

“So pretty, my pretty crybaby,” you cooed, helping him stand up again.

He fell on his knees, clutching the hem of your t-shirt.

“Please, you can’t leave me like this, I-, please,” he blabbered.

You committed the image to memory, knowing you’d see it again soon.

You could see it in his eyes how hooked he was to you.

“Baby, bad boys don’t get to cum, do they? You can’t go around stealing people’s laundry,” you tutted, lightly slapping his cheek, “You deserve some punishment, don’t you agree?”

He hesitantly nodded, slumping down on his shins. You grasped his chin, tilting his head up to meet his gaze.

“You got to bed now, no touching, and I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll know if you disobeyed, and trust me, you don’t want to know what’s gonna happen if you did.”

You smiled, and took a few steps back to retrieve your basket, leaving him to catch his breath on the floor.

“See you tomorrow at 4 pm, you know where my dorm is,” you chirped despite your own neglected arousal, sauntering to the door, “Get dressed before someone comes in, you wouldn’t want to see how much of a pervert you are, right?”

He shook his head, agreeing with you despite the sobs that silently shook through his body.

“Good boy,” you purred, hand twisting the knob. You paused, and threw him a look over yourself, “Oh, and thank you for the laundry.”

I hope you liked this! Please leave some feedback if you can! ❤️

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

Hungry Like The Wolf | soft!dark!Ari Levinson x reader

summary: when you need ari’s help for a secret mission with the CIA, he expects gratitude from you— and he wants a lot more than just a thank you card.

word count: nearly 6.5k

warnings: smut (dub con/coercion/sex as bartering tool), oral sex (f receiving) and vaginal sex, overstimulation, possessiveness/very very slight yandere vibes?, some violence and gun use, mentions of human trafficking/warfare, religious discussions and traditions but not particularly orthodox ones, vague discussions of sexism and misogyny with implied religious background, overall just lots of global politics and all that fun stuff

(a/n: I went ahead and wrote the hebrew and arabic in english lettering because tumblr doesn’t support right to left text so just a heads up. my arabic is very weak so I apologize if there are any errors.)

Taking a deep breath, you ran through your pitch in your head again. Sure, you’d had plenty of time to go over it on the plane, but one last recitation couldn’t hurt, right? Unable to stall any longer, you turned the knob and entered Ari Levinson’s office.

You’d heard he was good-looking but his appearance still surprised you; his long hair and thick beard made him look like he’d fit in with a rock band better than an intelligence agency, and his half-buttoned shirt put his Star of David necklace and muscled, hairy chest on display.

He must have caught your gaze trailing down because he smirked at you, making your cheeks feel a bit warm.

“Mr. Levinson,” you greeted as you looked up to his face again.

He greeted you as ‘Ms.’ instead of ‘Agent,’ but you let it slide since you were about to ask him for quite the favor. When he motioned for you to take a seat across from him, you did so with a nod and a quick smoothing of your skirt.

“So, what can I help you with?” he prompted.

This was the easy part; this was the part you’d rehearsed a thousand times. “There is a group of trafficked women and girls who have been rescued from all over— Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Kuwait— and gathered in Riyadh. We are working on a plan to move them to Cyprus and, eventually, Greece where they will be accepted into a camp there. Maybe they’ll end up in the States at some point, if we can swing it, but… Cyprus is step one.”

Ari nodded, listening to your story with more patience than anyone else had so far.

“As you can imagine, it would be a lot easier to move through Jordan and Israel and use your ports, rather than go around through Egypt or Syria…” He stared at you expectantly as you trailed off, and you cleared your throat before finishing: "The CIA would greatly appreciate Mossad's cooperation in the movement of these refugees."

"How much would they appreciate it?"

You paused, unsure what he meant. "Um, quite a lot, I'm sure…"

"I just mean that we have missions the CIA could be a useful assist for, too,” he clarified, interlacing his fingers and resting his hands on his lap. “You guys have a lot more resources than we do. If we help you out, is this going to be an allyship we can rely on?"

You swallowed dryly, pondering if there was a way to get out of this before you sighed and slumped down in your chair, leaning a little closer to him. "Alright, I have to be honest with you: it's not really the CIA that's asking for your help."

"Then who is?"

"Me. Just me. I'm the only one who believes in this mission; I'm the only one fighting for these people. The CIA won't help you because they won't even help me and I work for them."

He slumped his shoulders a little bit. "Then I'm not sure if I can afford to say yes to you."

"Please," you implored, "I know I can't offer you as much as they can, but I'll do whatever I can to make this work. Please," you repeated as you laid your hand over his, noticing the way his expression shifted a bit, "help me."

"I've been the one person fighting for a mission before," he remembered, voice a little softer. "I know how hard it is to go it alone."

You smiled gently at him.

"And, I know how far I would've gone to get my people to safety."

His hand flipped around suddenly and grabbed yours tightly, pulling you closer as you gasped.

"How far will you go?"

You shivered, the darkness in his eyes burning right through you even when you tried to look away. "Mr. Levinson, I—"

"Call me Ari," he instructed gruffly, grip tightening around your wrist until you yelped softly.

"Ari," you corrected, "I have money—"

"Don't want it."

"I can offer you my assistance in—"

"Don't need it."

"Tell me what you need,” you requested softly.

"I need to know you're gonna show me this 'great appreciation' you promised,” he answered quickly. “I need to know that if I take care of you, then you'll take care of me."

You gulped but nodded. "O-of course…"

"Good."

He released you from his grip and stood up, smiling at you like nothing had even happened.

"Pleasure doing business with you, madam."

You stood up and left his office in a haze, unsure if what had just happened was a dream or reality. But, sure enough, he showed up the next day where you’d told him to meet you, and brought some money and fake passports that you desperately needed. Frankly, just having a man around was going to make things smoother for you, even if it was a white man who didn’t exactly blend in by any stretch of the imagination. Seeing him again the next day only reminded you how big he was, tall but moreso heavy with muscle; he looked pretty cramped in his tiny coach seat on the plane to Dubai (your connecting stop where you’d spend the night before flying out to Riyadh).

“Bloody mary, please,” he requested from the stewardess with a gentle nod, turning to you.

“Uh, just water, thanks,” you ordered quickly with a tilted smile. You had brought a book to read, but Ari insisted on barraging you with personal questions about your job, your personal life, your favorite things— he seemed fascinated by the most mundane things, and disinterested in giving his own backstory.

Of course you considered that it wasn’t a great idea to tell him so much about yourself, let him in your head and under your skin. But then again, you’d put your trust in him enough for the mission, so you ought to trust him completely, right?

So why did his stare send shivers up your spine?

There was room for you and Ari at a CIA safehouse outside Dubai; it wasn’t exactly luxurious or anything, but at least you weren’t going to have to share a room… or a bed.

Normally staying in a safehouse meant sharing common areas with a random assortment of other agents, but it being a Friday night in Dubai meant they were all out enjoying the local nightlife while you two stayed in. Hoping to review a game plan for the mission with him, you found Ari’s door open, peeking around to see him on his knees on the floor, a candle burning before him, and his hands raised to cover his eyes and face.

“Shema Yisrael,” he sung to himself below his breath, “Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Ehad…”

He jumped a little when he uncovered and opened his eyes only to find you standing there. “Shabbat Shalom,” you greeted.

“Shabbat Shalom,” he nodded back.

“I’m sorry you’re forced to take your Shabbat alone,” you apologized, “and that there’s nobody other than me to appreciate your vocal chops.”

His cheeks tinged pink at that. “It’s all part of the sacrifices we make for our missions, eh?”

“Then I suppose you don’t mind that you’ll be doing plenty of work tomorrow,” you presumed.

“You probably realized by now that I’m not actually so traditional,” he chuckled, extinguishing the candle and standing up. “I work on the sabbath quite a lot.”

“I hear work is permitted if it is needed to save a life.”

He smiled, but he looked a little sad; maybe not sad, but tired. “With me, it always is.”

The silence was thick as you tried to reconcile that this was the same man that had grabbed and threatened you— was it a threat? You couldn’t even tell anymore. Apparently he wasn’t going to take whatever it was that he wanted until you’d finished the mission, and that should’ve made it easier to procrastinate your worry, but the extra time to ponder what it was actually going to be only brought further anxiety.

Of course, you had an idea of what he was going to ask of you, but the fact that nothing too untoward had happened in his office when you first met him was throwing you off. In that moment, you were just waiting for him to tell you to get on your knees and show him how bad you wanted these women rescued, but he didn’t. Wouldn’t have been the first time somebody tried to bribe you into sex; it would’ve been the first time, however, that you actually considered doing it.

Now, the anticipation just made it worse; you were working with him every day and he always acted normal, as if there wasn’t this looming threat of whatever favor he was going to ask from you in return.

Once you actually got to work the next day, it was easier not to think about that. You barely had any extra brainpower to think about anything except survival and extraction. Still, each time you looked at him only to find him already looking at you, your hands shook a little.

“You’ve been driving for 10 hours, you’re sure you don’t want me to take the wheel?” you offered, watching him blink a few times to clear his vision.

“Not worth getting arrested,” he frowned.

“We’ll only get arrested if we get caught.”

“Not worth the risk of getting caught. And I don’t know about you, but if I get arrested here, I’ll probably be killed, too.”

You chewed your lip as you appreciated that it was probably worth avoiding as much trouble as possible. It’s not like the CIA was popular in these parts, either, and for good reason.

“What’s that up ahead?” he asked, leaning further forward against the steering wheel and squinting.

“Um,” you stalled as you unfolded the paper map in your lap, “I’m… not sure.”

“Looks like a barricade,” he announced, and it did; a gate with two guards and barbed wire on either side.

“There isn’t supposed to be a stop here,” you reminded him as you frantically shuffled around the map, making sure you were where you thought you were and that there wasn’t a mark indicating a vehicle stop on the road.

“What do we do?” he asked, looking around as if he was considering veering off the path even though that would be equally dangerous.

“There isn’t supposed to be a stop here,” you repeated, more anxiously.

“Well, there is,” he replied, his own agitation clearly increasing, “so we’ll have to go through it.”

“They’re going to pull us over.”

“Probably,” he admitted.

“And they will search the back of the truck.”

“I’d be surprised if they didn’t. How well do you think they’re gonna take it when they see eighty-something women packed like sardines?”

You chuckled a little even though you were anything but amused. “Um, not good.”

As the men at the stop waved to signal your car to slow down, Ari sighed a little. "I'll ask once again: what do we do?"

"Act natural," you suggested quickly as you lifted the scarf draped around your head to cover your nose and mouth.

Ari slowed down to a stop, lowering the window to talk to the officer outside and putting on a fake English accent. “How can I help you, sir?”

“Identification please,” he requested sternly. Ari smiled as he grabbed his and your passports, handing them over through the window. It was a long, awkward moment as he flipped through the thick papers slowly, his partner leaning down to look through your window but never taking his hands off his gun. “What brings you out here?” the man finally asked.

“My wife and I operate a restaurant in Jordan, and we get most of our equipment here because the workmanship is better,” Ari explained. “Just passing through with our new stoves and oven hood.”

The officer glanced back over your truck, his expression mostly unreadable but overall not necessarily friendly-looking. “Could you step out of the vehicle please?”

“Hal hdha daruri?” you asked quickly; Is this necessary?

“Alsamt,” he replied in a hiss; Silence.

Ari looked around like he was thinking but nodded and reached for the handle to his door. You did the same, the second guard stepping out of your way so you could swing open the rusted metal and step out.

The men guided for you to circle the car with them, stopping at the back and staring at the metal sliding door that was latched shut.

Turning to address Ari, the guard’s face dropped completely as he got a bit more serious. “What am I going to find in your vehicle?”

“Kitchen supplies, like I said,” Ari insisted.

As the officer reached for the latch on the back of the truck, Ari shot you a wide-eyed look and you gave him a quick nod. He lunged at the second guard, wrestling him for his gun while you went after the first, who was much easier to take down with him being distracted by trying to unlock the back of the truck. Your CIA instincts told you to shoot him once you’d grabbed his weapon, but thankfully you knocked him out with the butt of it instead.

Loud pops of gunfire beside you made you fear the worst, but Ari had managed to push the gun toward the sky before pulling it out of the officer’s grasp, swinging it wildly until it made contact with his head and he fell to the ground.

Gun in hand and panting heavily, Ari looked back at you with a grin. “That wasn’t so bad.”

“You almost got shot,” you reminded him.

“A little more than almost,” he corrected, showing you a gash where a bullet had grazed arm.

“Shit, Ari!” you yelped, running over to him and inspecting the wound. The way he looked down at you as you clutched him made you sort of regret it, though.

“It’s fine,” he assured you, but he made no effort to push you away.

“I… should check on the girls,” you decided, a little bit distracted but making your way back to the truck to roll up the metal back and examine the women inside, who looked scared at first but relaxed when they saw you.

“Kli shay' ealaa ma yaram,” you assured them that everything was fine, “nahn taqribaan 'iilaa al'urduni, wasawf nasil 'iilaa alsafinat allaylat.” We're almost to Jordan and will arrive at the ship tonight.

They relaxed a bit and smiled at you, a few muttered ‘shukraan jazilaan’s (meaning ‘thank you’) echoing from inside. You hated to shut the back and plunge them into darkness again, but they had assured you before that they would brave any conditions for a chance at freedom. You hoped they meant it.

“Please, let me drive, you’re injured,” you offered to Ari as he started to make his way toward the driver’s side door.

“It’s not even that bad, and we’ve had enough run-ins with the law today,” he dismissed.

“Then let me patch you up first, okay? Is that so terrible?”

He smiled a little. “No, I guess not.”

And that was how you ended up leaning on him in the passenger seat, supergluing his arm shut, trying not to think about how his bicep was probably bigger than your head.

“You’re a pretty good medic,” he observed, speaking quietly since you were so close.

“When you’re as clumsy as I am, you have to be,” you responded, sounding monotone due to focusing mostly on your work. “It shouldn’t scar too—”

You stopped when you looked up at him, because the way he was staring back down at you made you completely devoid of the ability to speak or even conjure words in your mind. You’d never seen him so close before and those piercing blue eyes made your head spin.

“What were you gonna say?” he asked softly,

“It… shouldn’t scar too bad,” you finished, “as long as you keep it clean and dry.”

“I generally aim to keep my entire body clean and dry,” Ari chuckled.

“Right, yeah, well— keep up the good work, then,” you stammered as you wrapped some gauze around his arm and rolled his sleeve back down over it.

“Let’s hit the road before we waste any more time,” he suggested, and with a nod you leaned back into your seat.

The radio blasting was the only thing keeping both of you awake as you drove through the dark. The border to Jordan was easy enough, and both of you sighed with relief as you crossed into Israel. It was by far the biggest blockade you’d seen so far, but of course, Ari got you in faster than you’d moved through anything else.

“Good to be home?” you asked when you saw Ari smiling as he looked around at the streetlights through the windshield.

“You could say that,” he answered. “Think we have time to stop for falafel before we get to the port?”

“Not unless you plan on buying for all your passengers,” you laughed, motioning toward the back. “If they have to wait until we reach the ship, so do we.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” he relented. “Besides, probably better to be seen by as few people as possible. Even if we’re in friendly territory, it’s still a covert operation and all.”

“Wow, so you do have some desire to play by the rules,” you gasped in faux shock. He smiled and shrugged a bit.

“More like the rules and my desires occasionally overlap.”

It was past midnight when you pulled into the port, surrounded by ships so big that you couldn’t see the tops of them from inside the car. A cargo ship was waiting for you, along with some Navy men who helped you escort the women onto the vessel.

Since it wasn’t meant to accommodate this many people, the refugees occupied extra crew space while you and Ari were given sleeping bags in an unused office; you were so tired, though, that it actually looked enticing.

As soon as you’d set your pack down and shut the door, you heard a distant horn and felt the ship begin to move. You let out a long sigh as you leaned against the desk, watching Ari take a seat in the chair and start laughing exhaustedly.

“We did it,” you smiled, “we fucking did it.”

“We’ve still got a long boat ride ahead of us,” Ari mitigated, “but yeah… we should be in the clear, and tomorrow afternoon we’ll be in sunny Cyprus.”

You were so elated from the high of a successful mission that you forgot to worry about Ari’s vague request all those weeks ago; it was probably the first time you hadn’t thought about it since then, truthfully. That changed when his smile fell as he looked up at you, eyes darkening a little and scanning your body.

“You’re a great agent,” he nodded slowly, “and an incredible woman. You saved a lot of people tonight.”

You shifted nervously under the weight of his stare, but tried to hide your discomfort. “I… couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I know,” he informed you coldly, standing up and approaching you. “I think I’ve gone above and beyond on my end of our deal.”

A pit formed in your stomach, growing with each step he took towards you. His eyes stayed trained on you except for when he glanced to the side to flip on the radio, American music suddenly piping through the speakers.

— discord and rhyme, I’m on the hunt, I’m after you…

You looked to the radio as well but his hand gently guided your jaw until you looked back at him; he was closer than ever, and you had to look up to meet his gaze, shivering as he ran his thumb over your bottom lip slowly.

“Are you good for your end of the deal?” he asked lowly.

And I’m hungry like the wolf…

You swallowed, hoping it would somehow ease the ache in your gut as you realized what was about to happen, before nodding meekly.

He smirked a little. “Good girl,” he praised, only a bit louder than a whisper, as his hand moved to cradle your face. “You want me, don’t you?”

Your brow furrowed as you tried to figure out how you were supposed to answer that. “I want to repay you, for all you’ve done for me.”

“No, not just that,” he disagreed, “you want me. I know you do. You don’t need to hide it, we’re alone…”

Hesitant but catching on to his desires, you nodded a little.

“Say it.”

“I want you, Ari,” you whispered.

It felt like forever waiting for him to kiss you as he leaned in slowly, eyes half-lidded and dark but never leaving you. As his lips brushed against yours, you finally let your eyes flutter shut and reciprocated his kiss. His hands felt especially big as one slipped behind your neck and the other rested on your waist; in fact, with the way you had to crane your head up to kiss him back, all of him felt big. Including the part you were pretty sure just bumped against the inside of your thigh.

His kiss was soft and patient but determined, slow but somehow still moving faster than you were ready for. You gingerly reached up and rested your hands on his shoulders; they were strong and warm beneath your touch, even through his shirt. You couldn’t think of the last time you’d been kissed like this, or held so tenderly like this, but then again, you were also sure that nobody had scared you like this in a long time, either. For a woman who always knew what to do in a dangerous situation, you couldn’t seem to get a read on Ari Levinson— mostly because you didn’t truly believe he was dangerous. But maybe you should.

When his hands reached up to start unbuttoning your blouse, you pushed him back a little.

"N-not here," you protested, "someone could hear, or walk in."

"There's nowhere else to go, and I'm not waiting 'til Cyprus. I need you now."

He kissed you again before you could respond, more forceful and desperate. You let him work open your shirt this time, his fingers dancing over your skin as he pulled it off your shoulders and tossed it aside. The feeling of him working your bra open made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, but his tongue slipping into your mouth distracted you and before you knew it, it was gone as well. Your nipples hardened in the cold air— or maybe they’d been that way already, for whatever reason— but they reacted even stronger to his thick fingers gently pinching them as his palms cupped your breasts.

You gasped against his mouth a bit, your breathing getting heavier as he moved his hands down to your trousers. The idea of being naked when he was still fully-dressed scared you, but you didn’t have time to think about that anymore when he pulled back to drop to his knees, taking your pants and underwear to the floor with him.

He looked back up at you with a mischievous grin as you cautiously stepped out of them. After guiding you to sit up on the table, neither of you stopping to consider how rude it was to put your bare ass on somebody’s desk in a borrowed ship, he slowly parted your legs. As he kissed a trail inside your thigh, you felt your hands clutch the edge of the table tightly with anticipation. You felt so exposed with his face right there, to the point that your cheeks were burning with embarrassment, and yet you couldn't manage to tear your eyes away from his as he leaned in to lick you teasingly with the tip of his tongue.

"Fuck," you shivered, feeling your inner walls quiver as he moved so delicately. You kept waiting for him to really get into it but he was determined to stay gentle and slow, circling your bud for one glorious moment before stopping again. "Ari, please," you whispered without even realizing you’d said it.

"What do you want, baby?" he asked darkly, his voice deep and gravelly as he ran his hands up the back of your legs.

Your begging whimper was so pathetic you could hardly believe you were hearing yourself. "More, please…"

He dove right in after that, suddenly latching onto your clit and letting his tongue explore every fold, every wrinkle, every sensitive spot with thick, wide licks. Your head fell back and your hands jumped to weave into his hair— that gorgeous fucking hair that had driven you halfway insane. It was soft between your fingers, and in this light you could see the touches of red, blonde, and maybe even grey scattered into the brunette. Better yet was the way he moaned against you when you accidentally pulled it, your hands clenching into fists against his scalp each time he sucked on your clit just right.

"Ari, baby, fuck," you groaned, feeling your hips shift a little as if to try to get more of yourself in his mouth.

Sensation was sparking under your skin faster than you knew what to do with it, faster than you had ever figured out on your own, and definitely faster than anybody else had ever managed. You felt your body shaking and couldn’t suppress it at all, every part of you (inside and out) quivering uncontrollably. It would’ve been embarrassing except that he seemed to be enjoying it quite a bit, egging you on with his tight grip on your thighs, and his deep moans that reverberated over your body, and the way his brow furrowed like it almost pained him to see you like this. Your back arched so dramatically that he had to hold onto your hips tight to keep you in his mouth, but he managed to maintain what he'd been doing— in fact, he didn't stop even when you started to whine and cry, feet digging into his back as you tried not to explode from the overstimulation on your sensitive clit.

"S-stop, s'too much, can't take it," you pleaded, looking down at him.

He looked back up at you with dark, dilated eyes that said 'you're gonna take it.' His tongue lapped at you with renewed vigor, sending you tumbling over the edge again and again and again.

Tears were streaming down your face when he finally relented, standing up slowly and staring you down as he wiped his face with the back of his hand; your arousal had coated his mouth and most of his beard, too. You bit down on your lip to stop it from shaking as he slotted himself between your legs again, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and smiling as he watched your gaze trail down every inch of newly-exposed skin.

You knew he was in good shape, because it was always obvious, but you still shivered a little when you were greeted with chiseled muscles, dusty-blonde hair, a few stray freckles and scars, and last but not least, the gauze wrapping on his arm where you’d patched him up before. It was nice to see a piece of your handiwork on something so flawless, like how it must feel to design the frame that holds a Monet. Your mouth was even watering as you followed the trail of hair down to where it was interrupted by his jeans, which were misshapen with the unmistakable outline of his neglected cock. Either you could actually hear it throbbing, or that was just your heartbeat in your ears as he made a show of undoing his buckle and fly slowly.

A breath caught in your throat as he slid the jeans down and kicked them off with his boots, his cock bouncing up against the bottom of his abs once he’d freed it. You hoped to hide your intimidation, but you must have failed from the way he smirked and licked his lips as he stepped forward and pressed it against your stomach; you felt a little dizzy seeing the head of it reach past your bellybutton. "That's how deep I'm gonna be in you, baby."

For all his delicacy and tenderness in everything before now, he must have had a change of heart; with a little growl, he pushed all the way into you with one brutal thrust, watching darkly as your head fell back in a choked scream. He didn’t stop for very long, either, setting up a pace that was slow but unyielding, his length filling every part of you and then some with each slam of his hips into yours.

He grabbed your hair tightly and suddenly, pulling your head back to expose your neck to him. He licked and sucked along your pulse until you were shaking against him, nails accidentally digging into his shoulders a little bit as you held onto him.

His lips trailed up to pull you into a frenzied, sloppy kiss, your mouth slack wide for him to explore however he wanted.

"Tell me how it feels," he growled against your lips.

It feels like my body is on fire but I like it. It feels like you're shaping my insides to fit you exactly how you want. It feels like you might split me in half before you're done with me, but if you stop now I'll fall apart even worse.

His grip on your hair tightened at your lack of response. "Gettin' fucked too good to answer me, huh? So full of my cock you can't even speak. Is that right, pretty baby?"

You nodded as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, your hoarse moans and sobs muffled by his skin.

"Aw, poor thing," he purred, wrapping his arms around your back. His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke to you in a deep mumble, the bass of his voice sending shivers down your spine with each word. "You don't have to tell me, I know how it feels… you're so wet that you're fucking dripping, your needy little pussy is clamping down on me like it's the end of the fucking world, and you're screaming for me so loud I bet half the ship can hear you. I know how it feels, baby; it feels so good that you're already about to come for me."

You gasped as he pushed you to lay back on the table, hoisting your legs up over his shoulders; you felt a bit whorish seeing your legs up in the air like that, especially when he leaned to the side to plant a wet kiss on your calf.

Soon he was letting your legs slip back down to his hips, leaning over you and caging you in with his thick arms, watching your face as he started to fuck you harder. His long hair was at risk of tickling you as it fell down beside your face, but it was that Star of David necklace that was dangling from his neck and swinging right in your face with every thrust. Slightly annoyed by it hitting your face from time to time, you stuck out your tongue to catch it, holding it between your teeth and finding that biting down on it helped you cope with the slight pain of him so deep inside you anyways.

"Baby," he moaned, inspired by the sight to grab your hips even tighter and slam into you even harder. "Fuck, I'm close," he hissed. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby, gonna ruin you for anybody else, huh?"

"Yes, Ari," you whimpered. "I'm close, too…"

"Go ahead, pretty girl, wanna feel how tight you get when you come— when I make you come."

Trying to hold it back only made it hit you harder, and as your moans grew louder and your body began to shake, you felt your walls flutter and flex intensely. He pulled his necklace out of your mouth and kissed you suddenly; it kept you grounded as you feared that the rest of you would float away, lost in pleasure so thoroughly that you'd never come back to reality. His moans mixed with yours as they moved between your tongues, and just when you thought you'd break into pieces if he didn't slow down, you felt his movements stutter and his cock pump inside you. You couldn't feel the warmth of it because you were already so hot all over, but the way his cock swelled as he came was unmistakable and overwhelmingly erotic.

He broke the kiss but didn't pull away, catching his breath while he stayed inside you, resting his forehead against yours.

After cooling off for a moment, he scooped your limp body into his arms and lifted you into his chest; you wrapped around him and let him carry you to the other side of the room where he set you down on the pallet sleeping bags and blankets. You whimpered as he pulled out, his softening cock still big enough to make you wince. The gush of warm, sticky come made your cheeks burn even if it also sent a dulled tingle of arousal up your spine. He was gentlemanly enough to wipe you off with a towel, mumbling something about how pretty you looked stuffed with his come, but you couldn't really focus on any of that because you were still waiting for sensation to return to your numbed extremities— brain included.

He turned his head and laid it on your chest, and you found yourself absent-mindedly scratching his scalp with your nails.

"That's nice," he whispered, but you could tell that already by the way his skin was erupting into goosebumps, and the way he held you tighter.

You must've laid like that for hours, or maybe it was just a few minutes, but it was one of those moments that felt like a piece of forever. He lifted his head to look up at you, pulling you down a bit so his face hovered over yours.

"What's next for you after you get these women to Greece?" he asked quietly.

You chewed your lip as you thought about that. "Back to DC, I figure, and then wherever they send me next. I hear they might want me undercover in Cuba or Russia…"

"How often do you end up in Jerusalem?"

You squirmed a little beneath him, but he slipped his arm under your neck and pulled you closer; how were you supposed to think with his bicep right by your face like that? "Uh, not often, but if I'm in town I'll give you a call—"

"Come with me," he requested softly. "Get to Cyprus, go to Greece, and then meet me in Tel Aviv."

"Ari, I can't—"

"Why not?"

You laughed a little, but he clearly wasn’t joking. "Because I have a job?"

"You won't need a job," he shrugged, "I make good money and you can just live with me."

Your throat went dry as you stammered, trying to figure out if he had seriously just asked you to quit your job and move in with him.

"You'll like Israel. You speak some Hebrew don't you?"

"Uhh, yeah but—"

"Then what's stopping you?"

You couldn't answer because you didn't even know where to start with all the things that were stopping you. Your mouth opened and closed silently like a fish out of water, and he laughed at you lightly.

"Just say yes," he encouraged gently, and your heart twisted as you wondered if this was part of the deal, if you needed to do everything he wanted to keep him on your side. You were on an Israeli ship, sailing international waters; if he changed his mind now, he could still sell you out and have these people arrested or worse. But he wouldn't do that, right?

Perhaps the more important question was not 'would he do that?' but rather 'are you willing to find out?'

"Yes," you heard yourself answer before you even realized you were considering it.

He grinned, hugging you tightly. He was already rambling about how great it was going to be and how he would spoil you all the time and maybe find a way to get you hired as a contractor at Mossad so he could bring you along on missions, but you couldn't hear it past the ringing in your ears. You desperately needed sleep, and his arms were warm and welcoming as you drifted off. He kissed your forehead before letting his eyes fall shut as well, joining you in unconsciousness.

The swaying of the ship was like being rocked to sleep, so much so that you slept for an uncharacteristically long time: you were just a few hours out from your destination when you awoke, in fact.

Instead of getting up and attempting to acquire some food, you laid there staring up at the ceiling as his heavy arm draped over your chest. Even in his sleep he had power over you, refused to let you go. You tried to remember how you'd ended up in this situation but instead you found yourself fantasizing about a chance at love. After running around the world for so long, there weren't many good men left to settle down with. And Ari was maybe not an entirely good man, but you believed him when he said he would treat you well. You'd shacked up with a lot worse in your time, when you were young and reckless and thought the worst thing you could be was alone. Still, a long-suppressed desire for companionship was awakening in your mind and you weren't going to swallow it back down this time. Smiling, you lifted his hand to your lips and kissed his knuckles. If what he wanted in exchange for his cooperation was your affection, you could do that.

#ari levinson x reader #dark!ari levinson x reader #ari levinson smut #chris evans x reader #ari levinson x you

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malebodysuittf · 3 years

Text

The Wrapping

In my last story, I wanted to write a dark thriller-ish story with a villainous protagonist, but I wanted this story to be a whole lot more wholesome (though still devious) for the holidays! It’s kind of silly and not as hot tbh, but hopefully it’s kind of fun for someone. It’s been one hell of a year, so here’s to a better 2021. Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays y’all! Stay safe, and make sure no one you’re close to is plotting to suitify you! ;)

edit: Oh crap, I totally forgot to post this yesterday! Here it is though, my message stays the same!

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I sighed as I listened to the mundane tapping of fingers on keyboards, nails hitting the desk, pens clicking. Over and over, my head rang with the same sounds throughout the morning. No one who was here wanted to be here. Except perhaps my boss. That piece of shit put us all to work instead of giving us the holidays off. Only reason he might be happy to be here is probably because, if his wife has been hearing any of the rumors regarding his interactions with the female employees of our company, I’m assuming their marriage is disastrous.

I thought I’d be able to relax at home, spend Christmas with my boyfriend, Craig. We’ve been together for a couple of years now, and this was our first year living together. Our first Christmas spent together. The last one, we had both flown home to see our parents, splitting up.

But of course, my piece of shit boss had called me up. Told me to come in and work...subtly threatened unemployment if I objected. I wanted to quit right then and there, but money was tight and I knew how much Craig and I could use the cash. I had to break the news to Craig, but he was understanding. He promised that we’d open up presents tonight, or we’d open them up tomorrow if I was too tired. It was heartwarming to hear the support loved one, but made the act of going to work the next day no less grueling.

“Hey Lance, you get that call from boss too?” I jumped at the sound of my name being called and turned to see my coworker and one of the few friends I’ve made in the office, Trevor. He was a good lookin’ guy, though he only had a frustrated face at the moment.

“Yeah. Fucking ridiculous.”

“Right? Sick of this fucking job. Frankly, I’m not even sure what I fucking do at this point,” he joked. A hint of a smile popped up on his face. He slapped me on the arm and got up, heading towards the bathroom. I closed my eyes and imagined what I’ll do with Craig. It was the only thing that could motivate me to keep up with my work.

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Hours later, the sun was setting and an orange hue painted the sky. It was a surprisingly beautiful sunset, considering it was Christmas. I finally finished my work. I watched the tired people around me cleaning up their desks, disgruntled and ready to go home. I glanced over at Trevor’s desk and noted he was still missing...weird. I hadn’t seen him the entire day ever since he left to go to the restroom. I guessed he had wisened up and just left. I sure as hell wish I could afford to...I know Trevor came from a pretty wealthy background. But at least I could finally find some respite with the end of the day approaching.

Until I saw the secretary walking to my desk.

She placed her hands on my desk and looked me in the eye, almost remorsefully.

“Mr. Campbell would like to speak to you.”

My heart sunk as I realized I’ll be spending more time in this shithole instead of celebrating the holidays with my boyfriend. I slumped in my chair and nodded to the secretary. She left me and I cleaned my act up. Surely it must be something quick, right? I couldn’t imagine him calling me in at the end like this for any reason.

Walking over to Mr. Campbell’s office, I opened the door and saw my dapper boss staring at me intimidatingly.

“Hello, Lance. I’m sure this little meeting may come as a surprise. Take a seat, won’t you?” He motioned towards a chair opposite from his desk, while seating himself in a larger one.

“I know you might be a little confused as to why I called you in. But let me assure it’s nothing bad.” He smiled at me, something I had never seen before on his face. He always looked menacing and unwelcoming. But right in this moment, something seemed different.

“I just wanted to give you this for being an outstanding part of this office. You’ve always been productive and loyal to this business. You deserve proper compensation. Especially for coming in on Christmas.”

From behind his desk, he pulled out a fairly large box, wrapped in a snowman-covered paper, perhaps the size of my torso, and slid it across the desk. I cautiously took the box, wondering what the catch was. There was no way he decided to just randomly give me this out of kindness or gratefulness. Not Mr. Campbell. This is the abusive boss who makes people work on Christmas, threaten their jobs and their records, and, allegedly, numerous women have quit and spoken up on him firing them if they did not oblige to sexual favors. On top of that, why the hell is he only giving this to me? Still, he was my boss for now, and I had to appeal to him.

“...Er, thanks, Mr. Campbell. I appreciate the gift. I’ll make sure-”

“Why don’t you open it?”

“Right here? Right now?”

“Yes. Open it. I want you to see it.”

Confused, I still obeyed and started to rip the wrapping paper off. I glanced up to give the boss an acknowledging smile as I lifted the lid up. I found a folded up suit and tie, along with pants.

“Clothing, Mr. Campbell?” I tried to feign gratitude with a hesitant smile.

“Keep going.”

I lifted the clothing and saw an ID on top of a peach colored object. On the ID, I saw a picture of...Trevor. A chill ran across my spine as I felt the peace colored object...it felt like skin. I pulled it out and lo and behold...it was Trevor in the form of a flimsy suit.

“Is this some kind of...costume?” The thing gave me the creeps, but I couldn’t defy my curiosity.

“You could say that.”

“Was that...you earlier then?”

A grim glare shot across Mr. Campbell’s face. “No.”

“Then...what did you do to Trevor?” My voice quivered as a ton of horrific scenes ran through my head.

“It was just an injection. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.” He pulled out what looked like pink stickers. “All you do is slap these magic tags on, and he’ll be restored within an hour. Sorry to alarm you.”

A sigh of relief escaped my mouth, until Mr. Campbell said, “Why don’t you put him on right now?”

“What? Right here? I don’t even know-”

“Take your clothes off. Stretch open the mouth. You can figure out the rest.”

Something told me I didn’t have a choice. I laid the suit on the floor and started to pull out of my clothing, tossing it over the chair. I grabbed the Trevor suit and dipped my toes into the mouth. Surprisingly, it was soft and comfortable. I slipped into the legs and did a few test jumps. Mr. Campbell observed closely as the suit matched my form. I squeezed my way into the rest of the suit before pulling the face over my own, before a painful ache rushed through my body. Suddenly, a lifetime of memories flooded my mind. I recalled feeling a prick in the neck before everything went black...I wasn’t exactly sure what to say to Mr. Campbell.

“Is there something you would like me to do with this?” Trevor’s voice escaped my throat! It was like I was him entirely. But why did Mr. Campbell want me in this suit? I was confused on what to do now. I stood there awkwardly, naked with an admittedly sexier body. Mr. Campbell walked around his desk and came up to me.

“Why don’t you unwrap your second present?” He grabbed my crotch, though I immediately relented and backed up.

“I’m sorry Mr. Campbell, but I’ve got a boyfriend, and frankly, this is a little weird...”

“Don’t you want to provide for him?” I gulped, knowing my job was on the line. Craig would understand, he always does.

I started to unbutton Mr. Campbell’s jacket and slid it off of him. The white button-up was already partially open, displaying the man’s hairy chest. Despite how awful my boss was, I confessed I considered him an attractive man. I pulled off the shirt and was down to his pants. I looked at him, unsure if he wanted me to go all the way. He nodded, urging me to take it all off. I unbuckled his belt and slid it out, the pants visibly loosened and slipped down with ease. I looked up for another nod of approval before removing his shoes and socks, smelling the subtle rankness of his feet. Finally, i slipped his underwear down, and a lengthy member dropped in front of me. I examined the man in front of me, up and down. Were these the kind of sexual favors my boss wanted? Was he interested in men?

“Why don’t you keep going?”

I raised an eyebrow at him, dumbfounded. “What?”

“Keep going.” He walked closer to me, sensually looking me in the eye.

I couldn’t quite grasp what he meant, until he tugged at his cheek, revealing something else inside. I rubbed Mr. Campbell’s face and he closed his eyes, groaning in pleasure. Slowly tracing down his face, I hooked my fingers under his lips and started to stretch the mouth open. I could feel the scruffy facial hair move under my fingers as I tugged at his face, the face distorting as a familiar face was revealed under Mr. Campbell’s face.

“Craig?” I was absolutely speechless as I slipped off the entire face of my boss. The upper half of the face landed in a heap behind him, while the chin lay across his chest. I backed up in shock at the spectacle before me!

Craig gave me a devious smile and started to rip the skin off of himself. Still using Mr. Campbell’s hands, he grabbed at the mouth around his neck and started to pull. As he did, the skin started to give, and he started to rip it off, like wrapping. Truly like a Christmas gift! The face split in half and he tugged towards his left arm. With a forceful motion, the arm sleeve ripped right off and he tossed it towards onto the desk, the fingers hanging over the side as they flopped around. He continued to rip the other side off as the suit seemingly got shredded. With the torso hanging over his hip, the torn up skinsuit hung onto the cock in pieces, the face hanging by the side while the right hand of the suit laying flatly on the ground. Craig heaved as he pulled the rest of it off violently, further shredding the skin until it lay as a mess on the floor. He picked up it and slung the mangled skinsuit onto the desk.

“Merry Christmas, babe!” He held me by my hips and kissed me.

“Craig, what the hell is this?”

“I bought us some of these serums, and figured they would make a nice gift. I didn’t originally plan to use it on these guys in specific, but when you got that call and told me about your shitty boss...I figured we could get a bit of revenge. Plus, you’ve told me about Trevor being hot. So I figured, why the hell not?”

“But what about Mr. Campbell? You ripped him up!”

“Don’t worry, trust me, some tape and those little sticker things he showed...he’ll be back. And he’ll be humbled.”

He went back behind the desk and pulled out a paper and slid it over to me. I skimmed through it...this was a document giving the company to me!

“Oh my God! What the fuck? This is...”

“Yep. I always said you’d make a great leader. And whenever your coworkers come by to hang out with us, you have no clue what they say about you. They’re gonna love you. And Mr. Campbell over here, signed the document. Hopefully, he takes the time off to reimagine himself as a better man. All you gotta do is sign it yourself.” He rolled a pen over and I held it within my hand. I scoured through Trevor’s thoughts, and he had said some of the sweetest things about me, and his conversations with our colleagues suggested that maybe I could be the one to make this shithole better. I brought the pen to the paper and voila, my signature was on it.

“You get to be the boss now, Lance.” Craig got up and came to embrace me. I was too stunned at everything happening to give him much of a response. “You can make this place so much better next year. But for now, why don’t we enjoy that sexy suit you’re in?” He started to kiss me, and I returned the favor. I pulled back for a second and looked Craig in the eyes.

“This is the best Christmas ever...Why don’t I give you my present now?” I gave him a suggestive look, rubbing up against against him. I pushed him down across the desk and whispered into his ear, “I love you, babe. Merry Christmas.”

#male skinsuit #male bodysuit #male transformation #christmas special #male tf #boss

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unloved-cadillac · 3 years

Text

Secrets of the Forest

Something I came up with since I started reading Beren and Lúthien.

After being injured on field, Levi wakes up in a comfy cottage deep in the forest. He has never heard of people living in there because of the threat of Titans. But to Levi’s surprise, it’s not people, but Elves.

As the Titan ran towards Levi’s horse, Levi activated his gear and slayed the nape of the beast. But being caught up, another Titan comes from behind and slams Levi into a tree. Gears broken and swords broken, Levi was convinced this was the end. As the hand of the Titan moved to grab him, something slayed it. Levi’s eyes started to close and he could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness but not until he saw a glimpse of h/c hair.

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

Levi’s eyes start to open but were quickly closed as the light shone too brightly in his face. Am I dead? He wondered. He could feel his stomach, covered in bandages and a sweet aroma around him. He forcefully opens his eyes and sees that he is in a cottage. Dried hay as a roof and few funiture. He sees his coat and shirt neatly folded on a chair which pleased him a bit. At least whoever lived here knew how to keep tidy. Levi wakes up,still in pain and looks outside. His eyes widen at the scene.

It was a little stream with some people and children playing. There were roses and daffodils in bloom, which were odd since this wasn’t the season for them, each growing in different parts of the year.

“You shouldn’t be up. Your wounds aren’t healed yet.” A beautiful voice tells him. Levi turns to the source and his eyes widen. She was...beautiful. Like, abnormally beautiful. Her h/c hair was put up with a few curls falling from it. But it seemed familiar. She was dressed in a green and yellow robe, very long. So long it dragged while she walked. She had a jug in her hands. “What am I doing here?”, Levi asked. “Well, you were going to be eaten by a Titan. Luckily I killed it before it did. But before I could call out to you, you lost consciousness.”,the mystery woman tells him as she pours water into a bowl. “Please. Come and lay back down. Your back wounds are still raw and would not heal yet. You shouldn’t be up.” She pleads with him. Levi was still unconvinced. “Who are you?” She smiles. What a pain she thought. “I’m Y/n Randar.” She answered sweetly. Levi nods his head and makes his way back to the bed. He laid down and Y/n tended to his wounds. Her touch, was gentle. It did not seem like warrior hands. “So if you killed the Titan, doesn’t that make you some kind of soldier?” Levi asks her as she wraps his hand. “Yes. But I’m still in training. Just some basic things, really.” She replies. Levi watches her intently. Y/n lifts her head to catch him watching her. “It’s not nice to stare.” She tells him. He quickly looks away and she chuckles. “It’s also rude to not tell your savior your name. Or should I just call you Mr Grumpy?”, she jokes. Levi looks at her and scoffs. “Tch. Name’s Levi. Levi Ackerman.” He answers. “That’s a beautiful name, Levi. As much as I love it, I love Mr Grumpy more.” She laughs at him. It sounded like music. Levi takes another look at her. As she tucks her hair behind her ear, he notices it. A pointed ear. “Why are your ears pointed? And why are you living in a forest infested with Titans?” Levi asks seriously. Y/n widens her eyes at his seriousness. She clears her throat and smiles. “I’m an Elf. We have been living here for years, protecting the forest.” “An elf?,” Levi starts to say,”I didn’t know they existed. Erwin spoke about them but I thought he was full of shit.” “Your friend Erwin sounds educated. You should listen to him more.” Y/n says. Tch. “Ok,Mr Grumpy, I’m going to make some healing tea for you. Don’t move around too much, okay?” “I’m not going to answer to that name” Levi pouts. “Hahahaha oh, Levi. I’m teasing. Okay, L e v i?” She drags his name at the end which earns a glare from said man. She laughs and goes outside. Elves? What the fuck is going on?

A few days have passed and Levi could finally walk outside the cottage. Putting on a robe that was left for him by Y/n, he opens the door and steps outside. It was warm. Like the middle of the day. Many children were playing by the stream and many were picking flowers. Levi looks around and his eyes land on the woman that saved his life. Y/n was currently sitting down with a child on her lap while she was manipulating the flowers to make a flower crown. In the sunlight, her skin glowed. Her smile was as radiant as the sun and her eyes, golden. Just like the rays. Levi feels himself smile a bit but stops as soon as she sees him. Y/n smiles at him and lift the child and walks towards him. “Hello Mr Grumpy. How are you feeling?”, Y/n asks him. “I thought I told you to stop calling me that, brat”, Levi says and looks away. “Brat”, the little child mimicks his words earning a laugh from Y/n. “Oh my heavens. Lux learnt a new word.”, she catches her breath. “Is he your kid?”, Levi asks curiously. “No. He is my little nephew. He loves the outdoors. But his power is starting to show. Hydrokinesis.” “What’s that?” “The power to manipulate water.”, Y/n answers him. Levi merly nods. Y/n puts Lux down and he walks to his mom. “You do know that nobody knows you exist outside this forest.” Levi tells her. She giggles. “Yes. I know. We have kept it a secret for a long time. But those Titans. Oh how many Elvish lives were taken by them. My father being one of them. But not by an ordinary one. It was hairy. Like some kind of...ape? I don’t know. But what I do know is that he took my father and ripped him into pieces. Right in front of my eyes.”, Y/n explains to Levi, as she recalls the memory,voice filled with rage but face devoid of any emotion. Levi’s breath hitches. Zeke. “I know of whom you speak of. He killed Erwin too.” Levi says, earning a shocked look from Y/n. She didn’t know Erwin was dead. Levi spoke so highly of him. How he was a commander that came once in a lifetime and how he rescued Levi and his friends from “the underground.” “Oh Levi. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”, she tells him. “Don’t be. How could you? I never told you.” He says looking at the sun. She frowns and looks away too. It’s quiet but then Levi breaks the silence. “I’m gonna kill him. For you and me. That’s a promise.”, Levi tells her. She smiles. She knew he meant it. But she couldn’t help her next comment. “You should heal up first, Mr grumpy.” “Tch. Seriously? Still with that name? Are you ever going to give it up?” He asks a bit annoyed. “Never.”

Almost a week had passed, and Y/n and Levi make their way to a tree by the lake. Y/n and Levi had grown very close since that day. When she showed him the tree and the lake, he moved in to kiss her. Luckily for him, she returned with a smile. He knew she felt the same way he did. Those lingering touches she gave when she changed his bandages and applied her ointment on his wounds and the way she looked at him. It’s wasn’t the doctor-patient look anymore. It was that lover look. It was also the way he would catch her staring as he sat down where the kids were playing with his hair and putting flowers in it. It was like they had a little family together. Now, the young couple were sitting underneath their tree, with Levi’s head resting on Y/n’s lap while holding her left hand while her right brushed through his hair. He sighed and closed his eyes. Her touch was really magical, especially since it was just her. No magic involved. “I’m gonna have to leave soon”, Levi says softly as he slowly opens his eyes to look at her. “I know”, Y/n whispers as she leaves a kiss on his forehead. “I know”. “But I don’t want to. I want to stay here. With you. I feel at peace here.” Levi explains, voice filled with hope. “Levi..I want you to stay too. But we both know you can’t. You gave a promise to humanity. To Erwin. To me. They need you.”, Yn softly explains while his eyes close in understanding. “Yeah...I know. But I can dream, right?” Levi asks. She smiles. “Yes. Yes you can” she replies. “Let’s just stay here. For a few more minutes. I want to remember what it’s like to not have the weight of the world on my shoulders for while. Can we do that?” He asks as he opens his eyes. She looks down at his face and nods. And so they laid there and until the morning sun rose.

Goodbyes were never the best. Today, Levi was planning to leave. But before he left, he wanted to tell Y/n that he loved her. She needed to know, in case he never made it back from the battlefield. Levi put on his shirt and cravat and looks for his jacket. Surprisingly he couldn’t find it. He swore he saw it there yesterday. Levi puts on his broken gear anyway and makes his way out of the cottage. He looks around to find Y/n and when his eyes land on her, there it was. His Scouting Corps jacket, with the Wings of Freedom jacket big on the back. She looked more like an angel than Elf to him. Y/n was showing the little elves and friends it and they looked in amazement. Lux saw Levi and ran to him, hugging his legs. “Pwease Wevi. Don’t weave.”, the little elf tells Levi. He could feel his heart squish in cuteness. He looks at Y/n and she smiles. But he knew it was a sad one, because that smile didn’t reach her eyes. Levi looks down at Lux. “Don’t worry, Lux. I’ll be back.”, Levi tells him. “Pwomise?” Lux asks. Levi eyes widen a bit. He knew he couldn’t make that promise. He couldn’t even promise Y/n he would make it back. He didn’t know what to say but luckily Y/n stepped in. “Okay Lux. Go to your mom.” Lux let’s go of Levi and runs to his mom. “Nice jacket”, Levi tells her. “Oh. I just wanted to use it. It seems comfy.”, Y/n chuckles. She was about to take it off when he stopped her. “Leave it on. I’ll take it when I leave. You said you wanted to give me something?”, he asks her. “Oh yes. Come with me.” She takes his hand and leads him. They walk together to the stables. There was Levi’s horse, eating hay happily. “Hey, boy. You saved him too?”, Levi asks Y/n. She nods. “Of course. When you got knocked out your horse was around you somewhere. He is lucky no Titan didn’t eat him. Like his rider.” She teases. Levi smirks. “Yeah. Come on, boy. Let’s go.” He puts on his horses harness and Y/n takes him to the exit of the village. “Levi, listen to me now.”, Y/n tells him as they make their way to the exit,”Once you leave here, you can’t come back without an Elf accompanying you. It will be like this place never existed. But just because it isn’t there doesn’t mean I can’t see you.”, she explains to him. All he does is nod. He doesn’t want to speak to her just yet. He might not leave. He might just say fuck it and stay with her. He knew that was impossible though. So before they could leave , Levi turns to Y/n. “Y/n. I never thanked you for saving me. You brought me here and showed me a new world. Thank you. For everything.”,Levi tells her. Y/n smiles. “Oh that reminds me. I have something for you.” She says as she takes out a necklace from her neck. Y/n takes it and puts it around his neck. “What’s this?” He asks her. “Protection.”, she tells he. Y/n takes his hand in hers and looks up to him. She just wanted to memorize his face for a while longer. She doesn’t know when she might see it again. She runs her hands along his cheek. His blue eyes that shone grey. His onyx hair and his stone face. His lips. Her hand runs along his jaw, down to his neck. He catches her looking at his lips and he closes the gap between them. They melt together, savoring each other. This wasn’t an ordinary kiss. It was a goodbye kiss. None of them wanted to say it, but it was reality. Levi had to save humanity.

After a few minutes, they pull apart, the need for oxygen becoming too great. Levi rests his forehead on hers as the breath into each other. Now he had to tell her. “Y/n, I-“, he starts. “No.”,Y/n stops him as she puts her finger on his lips,”No. Don’t say it. Not now. Not when we might never see each other again. Come back. Come back and tell me those three words I desperately want to hear. But come back to me. Don’t make me miss you more than I already am.”, she whispers, afraid that if she spoke louder her tears with come crashing down. It was falling already and Levi carefully cups her cheek and wipes them away. “I will come back to you.”, Levi says sternly. She sniffs and looks at him, smiling. “You better.”

And just like that, he left. He walked through that gate and when he looked back, he couldn’t see her. As he rode and he could smell her scent on his jacket. That chain that she gave him close to his heart. Levi rode as fast as he could and luckily for him, it was early morning so no Titans were here. Levi made it back to base and everyone was so happy and relived. Humanity’s Strongest was back. “Levi! Oh my god. I thought I lost you too!”, Hange exclaims and hugs him. He hugs back, a rare thing for everyone to see. Hange pulls away. “Where have you been? You look like you were reborn.” Hange jokes. “Don’t worry about it. Now, where’s Zeke?”

#levi ackerman #aot #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman x reader #aot fanfiction #captain levi #rivai ackerman #aot levi #aot x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi x reader #levi attack on titan

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staketheheart · 3 years

Text

Pranks

Tori came home from school tired and not looking forward to all the end of school exams plus the final projects. She dragged herself into the house, Trina darting in ahead of her and racing up the stairs. She was on her phone, yelling at someone. That wasn't knew. She rolled her eyes and set her bag down, plopping on the couch. She slumped into the couch until she was almost falling off the bottom. She closed her eyes and took a breath then opened them tiredly.

Instantly, she zeroed in on an overturned cup sitting in the middle of the coffee table. She recognized it as one of the paper cups from the new water cooler they had gotten. When the gang came over, they each had one, eager to try out the new appliance. Tori slowly sat back up and stood to retrieve it, planning to take it to the trash. She halted in her tracks when she got closer and saw something scribbled on it in sharpie.

Do not open unless you plan to kill it

Tori stared at the unique scrawl, knowing who had written it. She crossed her arms, frowning. Either Jade did something nice and caught some kind of bug but left it for Tori to deal with, or she was just pranking her and nothing was there. Tori leaned heavily toward the latter. She reached out to pick it up, but right as her fingers hovered over it, she stopped. Or, what if there really was something under there.

After all, this was Jade. She would probably catch something gruesome that was guaranteed to freak Tori out. That would definitely win out over a simple prank. Tori quickly pulled off her shoe and held it at the ready before reaching out for the cup again. She was just about to touch it when her phone went off, vibrating in her pocket. She jumped, letting out a yelp. She glared as she fished the device out of her pocket. She grumbled under her breath when she saw who had texted her.

Out of curiosity, have you seen what I left you?

I'm looking at it now.

Really? What a coincidence.

Is it really?

A smirking emoji with devil horns was the only reply. Tori fumed.

What the chiz, Jade?!

What?

Is there something in there or not?

I'll answer that when you lift the cup.

Tori stared at her phone then looked at the cup. She shook her head.

No. You're going to tell me before I lift that cup and die from a heart attack.

Fine, I'll tell you.

Tori let out a relieved sigh.

Although, I could be lying.

Jade!

Don't be a wuss, Vega. I promise that it won't be anything ugly, gross, or dangerous.

Any kind of bug is gross.

But not ugly?

Well, butterflies are pretty but they're a bug, so they still gross me out.

Then I promise it isn't dangerous.

Tori huffed in frustration, thumbs tapping a bit harder as she responded.

So there is something in there.

Sure, let's go with that.

Why the heck did you even do this?

To test you.

For what?

To see if you could make this entertaining. I'm happy to report that you succeeded.

Tori refrained from texting some choice words but merely squeezed her phone until her agitation abated. For now.

Did you open it yet?

No.

Well?

Tori dropped her phone on the couch and turned to face the ominous cup again. She readied her shoe, stepped forward, and snatched the cup. It took her a whole second to realize that there was nothing there. But Jade had said there was. Which meant it must have gotten out! With a squeal, Tori dropped the cup and jumped on the couch. She grabbed her phone before it could slide off on the floor.

Jade, I think it got out! There was nothing there when I lifted the cup! What do I do?!

…

Tori stared desperately at the bouncing dots, shaking her phone as if it would speed up Jade's response.

I couldn't answer right away. I laughed so hard I almost wazzed myself.

An emoji that was laughing so hard it was crying accompanied the text, confusing Tori. At first, she thought Jade was just being plain mean for laughing at her distress, but then it hit her.

There wasn't anything under it in the first place, was there?!

Nope.

Tori let out a loud cry of exasperation, phone clenched tightly in her hand.

I'm so gonna get you, Jade West.

Ooh, so scary.

I will!

I'd like to see you try.

Oh, Tori was going to try all right. She started typing quickly, rescinding cuddles, hugs, running her hands through Jade's hair, singing to her, nose brushes, and forehead kisses until she apologized for scaring the fudge out of her. She hit send and waited, a hand on her hip.

"Tori, why are you standing on the couch?" Trina asked, stopping at the foot of the stairs when she saw her sister.

"Jade let a gross bug loose in the house," she answered evenly. Trina visibly shuddered, eyes darting around, before running back up the stairs. As mad as she was at Jade's latest prank, it seemed she had learned a bit from her too. Her phone brought her attention back to the situation at hand. She smirked at the reply.

How about I admit that you were right, and I was less right, and call it done?

No, you need to apologize.

Tori!

Jade!

Fine! I'm sorry.

Tori could practically hear her grumbling and smiled.

Next time I'll be sure to actually have something in there, though. Fair warning.

Tori wasn't impressed with the threat. She knew Jade was only saying that because she had to apologize.

Sure you will.

I will.

Okay, going to do homework now. Love you, bye.

Tori pocketed her phone and gathered her things to go up to her room. She dropped her shoes by her bed and set her bag by her desk. She changed into something more comfortable then sat down at her desk to get out her homework. Roughly twenty minutes in she heard the door open and close downstairs. She didn't bother moving, recognizing the familiar heavy slam and stomping steps. Jade appeared at her door seconds later.

"I don't have time-" Tori began to say, but stopped when she glanced at Jade. She held her hands in front of her, cupped in a dome as if holding something.

"Guess what I have?" Jade taunted, smiling innocently. Tori jumped from her seat and stepped back.

"You better not," Tori warned, fighting at keeping her voice stern.

"What? I might not have anything, right?"

"Jade…"

"Or, maybe I do," Jade continued, advancing. Tori screamed and scrambled over her bed to the other side when Jade opened her hands to reveal something big and hairy.

"It's just Henry. I wanted a dorky name because he reminds me of you. He's a messy eater and is pretty clumsy for a spider. I would have named him Harry but it was a little on the nose," Jade explained fondly, letting the terrifying creature scuttle over her hands. Tori had heard of Jade's new pet, Henry. The way Jade spoke of him she never would have guessed that he was a tarantula.

"Ew, Jade, don't even think about coming near me! Get that out of here! And wash your hands! You can't touch me until you wash your hands!" Tori demanded, careful to keep the bed between them. Jade chuckled.

"He won't bite," she said, as if that was enough to change Tori's mind.

"That's not why I don't like him," Tori said with a shake of her head. She was looking rather pale. Jade stroked the creature and it shot forward so suddenly Tori jumped, startled. Jade caught him before he could escape. The thought alone caused Tori to tremble in fear of it getting loose in her room.

"Come on, Vega. Hold him and I won't involve another bug, imaginary or otherwise, in a prank again," Jade compromised. Tori stared at her like she was crazy, finally taking her eyes off the eight-legged menace in her hands since it showed up.

"You promise?" Tori muttered after a long silence full of contemplation. She was weighing the pros and cons, deciding that brief torture now meant no more bugs forever in the future.

"Promise."

Tori took a moment to steady herself then slowly moved around the bed. She was halfway there when Henry moved. She froze in place.

"Can you cover him until I get over there?"

"Sure," Jade agreed, tucking him away between her hands. Tori started moving forward again and stopped in front of Jade a safe distance away.

"Okay, I'll hold your gross insect and then I never want to again."

"Arachnid," Jade corrected.

"What?"

"He's classified as an arachnid. You know, two body segments, eight legs, and no wings or antennae," Jade explained.

"I don't care what he is! He's a creepy crawly bug and I just want to get this over with!" Tori exclaimed, throwing up her hands then bringing them down to mimic the way Jade had held hers.

"Just, don't drop him," Jade told her, removing her top hand. Tori shuddered at the sight of eight legs spreading out now that they had room again. Jade stepped closer and bridged the gap between their hands. She then gently tipped up. Henry skittered forward onto Tori's hands. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as if she would scream. Instead, she went rigid and stared at the hairy monstrosity idly resting in her hands. As long as he didn't move, she would be okay. She could do this.

"Can you believe he's one of the smaller species? Some can get as big as dinner plates," Jade commented, fascinated as ever. Tori grimaced.

"Please don't say those things right now. I don't think any bug should be this big. Especially spiders," she said, still as a statue. Even her voice was forced.

"He's harmless."

"Those fangs say otherwise."

Jade rolled her eyes and reached to take him back. Her sudden movement caused him to bolt, right up Tori's arm. She squealed but fought the urge to throw him off. She didn't have to though, because he charged right off the side of her arm. Reflexively, she caught him, caging him in her hands the way Jade had. Everything happened so quick. Jade had been in mid panic as soon as she saw that he had fallen, but relief flooded her when Tori caught him. Even Tori looked relieved, despite gritting her teeth against the movement of legs against her skin. A grateful smile pulled at Jade's lips, admiration in her eyes. She stepped close and leaned in to press a kiss to Tori's cheek.

"Thanks, Tori. I'll take him back now."

Tori nodded and opened her hand. Once again, she copied Jade. Henry moved over to his owner and settled in her palm as if he knew he was in familiar territory. Jade held him close.

"Gee, for hating him so much you didn't hesitate to save him," Jade lightly teased.

"Well, he may be gross, but you like him and he's a living creature. I couldn't let him fall to his death," Tori reasoned with a shrug. This time when Jade leaned in, she gave her a proper kiss. They pulled away with mirrored smiles.

"Walk me out to my car so I can put him away."

Tori nodded and together they headed downstairs. Luckily, they didn't encounter Trina. Even though Jade would have found it hilarious to scare her. She hated bugs more than Tori, but the youngest Vega's kind heart wouldn't allow them to be killed despite her fear of them. Trina held no such care. Which was why it was best to give Henry a break. Tori opened the car door and Jade set the large arachnid in his travel cage. He immediately ran under the piece of wood for shelter. Tori watched him, strangely not as bothered as before. Jade watched her watch him and smiled knowingly.

"Not so bad, right?"

Tori pulled her eyes away from Henry to look at Jade.

"I guess not," she admitted grudgingly. Jade's smile grew as she shut the door.

"Yeah, yeah," Tori dismissed, waving her away before she could rub it in her face. Jade laughed and caught her in an embrace, holding her close.

"I told you that you had to wash your hands first," Tori reminded her.

"You held him, too," Jade pointed out. Tori realized this and groaned.

"You win this round," she conceded, grumpy.

"I usually do," Jade remarked, breaking into another round of laughter at the look on Tori's face. She wrapped her arms around her waist and kissed her until she relaxed. She pulled back to see Tori smiling again, a light blush on her cheeks.

"I came here to prove a point but ended up making it harder for me to scare you," Jade said with an exaggerated sigh and a roll of her eyes. It was Tori's turn to laugh.

"I am not friends with bugs, but it will probably take more than seeing them to freak me out now," Tori agreed.

"Then I'll just have to come up with something else," Jade said with a sly smirk.

"I'd like to see you try," Tori challenged. No matter what Jade hid up her sleeve, competing with her never got old.

#victorious #jori #jade west #tori vega #jori fanfiction #victorious fanfiction #drabble #staketheheart

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missanthropicprinciple · 3 years

Note

10 for the NSFW Dialogue prompts for whichever ship youre currently obsessed with

Thanks! I wasn’t sure which prompt list you meant so I took 10 from both of the last two n/sfw prompt lists I reblogged (this one and this one). Current and eternal ship is Newmann.

10) for an argument to turn into sex + 10) “Christ, put some clothes on!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And what am I supposed to do?!” Hermann yelled at Newt as the smaller man rummaged through his drawers, forcefully throwing socks and underwear into his suitcase.

“Look, I thought you’d LOVE to get rid of me for a fuckin’ week, dude!”

“I do! But for God’s sake you didn’t even tell me you were going!”

“Why do you even care?! You only bitch at me when I am around,” Newt said, raising his voice and slamming a drawer shut.

“I care because - well, well for...I can’t handle everything on my own here!”

“Ok that’s just stupid! You handle everything without me around. All you ever tell me is how I’m under your feet and I destroy the lab and I take your pencils!”

“Because you do!”

“Yeah, so!?” Newt spluttered, pinching his nose bridge. “That’s! That’s what I’m saying! Why the fuck would you care if I make so much trouble?! I don’t even help you with anything. Pentecost likes you better anyway, he trusts your ideas. You can give him what he needs. I can’t. Sure, I’m off doing research but that’s it. He doesn’t trust me and neither do you.”

Hermann sighed in exasperation and rubbed his temple. Newt started stripping off to change as he had to get to the airport in the next hour.

“What are you doing?!”

“I gotta change! We can keep on arguing when I’m getting ready.”

Newt had gotten down to his boxers.

“Christ, put some clothes on!”

“Ok, but I tell you what, Doctor, you’re just gonna have to deal with me being gone. You can have the place to yourself. I’m sure nothing will come up.”

“You’re so bloody thick sometimes, Newton.”

“Am I supposed to read your mind?! Like, what the hell do you want from me, man?!”

Hermann swallowed thickly as he tried not to stare at Newt’s muscular, slightly hairy thighs.

“Wanna use me as a punching bag? Or something else?” Newt’s expression changed slightly and he lowered his voice. “Oh, I know what it is.”

Hermann looked almost frightened.

“You don’t want to admit that you actually need me around here. Despite all the crap you give me about me and my work, you actually need me.”

Hermann exhaled, somewhat in relief and somewhat in frustration.

“I do...yes, alright, I do need you but...good lord this is not easy for me to say.”

Newt stood painfully still, half naked before his lab mate and rival, his tattoos splashed across his body and his nipples hard.

“I...I am attracted to you, you, you, infuriating man!”

“Well, that changes the conversation real quick,” Newt said, staring wide-eyed at the taller man. “Ok, well I’m still pissed at you.”

“And I’m still angry with you!”

Newt looked at his watch.

“Ok, lets make this quick.” Newt closed the door and put his hands on Hermann’s chest. The latter blushes.

“What?”

“Come on, let’s have sex real quick. I gotta go the airport. And then we can finish this when I get back.”

“Newton, I...”

“You don’t have to, but...” Newt swallowed, suddenly a bit nervous.

Neither remembered the moment their lips touched but they remember the passion of their first embraced for the rest of their days - the breathlessness, the desperate touches. Hermann’s fingers were in Newt’s hair. Newton started pulling his lab mate’s clothing off. Hermann dared to slip his fingers in the band of Newton’s boxers, slipping them off and feeling Newt’s soft, warm bum. With shaking breath he felt Newt leading him to the bed.

“What do you like? What can I do?”

“I don’t think you’ve ever asked me that before,” Hermann said, looking into the biologist’s eyes.

“Maybe we can change that.”

Newt gently pulled Hermann onto the bed with him.

“You have to ask me,” Newt whispered.

“May I...may I..”

“Say it.”

“May I fuck you?” Hermann said this so softly.

“Hell yeah. Condom’s in the drawer.”

Hermann scrambled for the nightstand and got out a cracklesome square, gently opened it and got to work.

“Oh my God, you are so efficient dude. Also very hard.”

“Been a while.”

“I got you.”

Newt sucked the man’s fingers sloppily and guided Hermann to his entrance.

“This is gonna make me so chill for the flight, dude,” Newt said, laughing in a daze as Hermann fucked him with his long, bony fingers, swirling and scissoring in a way that did not make it seem like it had “been a while.” Newt touched himself and groaned. “I’m ready.”

Hermann positioned himself, leaned on his forearms, getting close to Newton’s face. He closed his eyes and pushed in. Newt’s soft, hairy thighs brushed up against Hermann’s thin, silky waist and Hermann felt the man beneath him squeeze. Newt spurred him on at every stroke, willing him to fuck him fast and strong. He rubbed his back, squeezed his ass, gave him plenty of tongue. Hermann pounded hard, grunting. Newt’s cries became more shrill and intense. He wanted to tell the man how close he was but he didn’t want to jinx it or throw him off so he just kept on keening. Hermann responded to the mildly filthy and sensuous sounds, saying Newt’s name low in his throat like a rumbling growl. Newt met his thrusts like crashing waves, wanking himself mindlessly.

“Oh, Newt!!” Hermann fairly shouted and came, his head thrown back in such intense ecstasy that the sight of it finished Newt off. Newt spilled out in beautiful ribbons and collapsed on the mattress. They panted audibly for some minutes when Newt suddenly moved.

“Shit! I gotta get dressed!” Newt hastily cleaned them up and Hermann sat up gingerly, slowly getting dressed. Hermann heard the man washing up before emerging from the bathroom still naked. Newt threw on fresh boxers and pulled on his tight jeans, and a fresh t-shirt.

“Newton,” Hermann said softly. “This won’t make things awkward will it? I mean...”

Newt slung his bag over his shoulder and looked at him softly.

“It’ll be fine. Now we have something to do in our down time.”

“I do hope it’s more than that.”

“You bet it is. I’ll phone you when I get where I’m going.”

Newt smooched him goodbye.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Hermann gave him the ghost of a smile. He slept in Newt’s room that night.

#newmann #fan fiction #my fan fiction #my writing #prompt #Anonymous #not sfw #newton geiszler #hermann gottlieb

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itsmydreamlifethings · 4 years

Photo

YOUR FIRST TIME WITH HENRY.

Super nervous to post this here. First time Tumblr user, and first time posting this type of work. But, I just had to...lol...for all of you thirsty Henry Cavill fans. Have you ever thought about your first time with Henry? Well, here’s how I imagine it... Porn, complete smut without plot, with graphic sex scenes. LONG but HOT read. Enjoy! <3

His lips crushed mine. Hard, fast, and unable to hold back any longer. His tongue curled inside my mouth, taking in every inch of it. I relished the feeling of his tongue exploring mine, and then his teeth tugging at my bottom lip with a low, little grunt. His hands cradled my hips tightly, bringing me close against his rock hard body.

My heart drummed so fast I thought it might explode out of my chest. Through his thin shirt, I could feel his ripped abdomen. His muscles flowed from one tendon to another, bulging and stretching as his hungry kiss rocked him more and more against me.

Without thinking, I let out a little moan, his perfect body and his heavenly lips sending a wave of bliss over me. Apparently, my little wail sent a jolt of pleasure through him because next thing I knew, he was hard against my thigh. Even though his jeans I could feel his dick swelling and my face felt hot and red as I tried to imagine exactly how big he was. While lost in this thought, he wrapped his arms under my ass and lifted me up to him.

My legs wrapped around him, barely able to circle him as he was so thick. He carried me over to the bedroom, and my pulse raced at the speed of light. This was it. There was no going back. I wanted him and he wanted me. This was happening. He dropped me onto the bed and then straddled me. His mouth returned to my face. He nuzzled and lightly licked my jawline before plunging his tongue deep inside my mouth again. Kissing him was like drinking a tall glass of ice-cold water after wandering the desert for weeks. I starved for the smooth texture of his tongue, the softness of his lips, and the small, guttural noises he made as he kissed me hard.

I let out another soft moan when his muscular body pressed down on mine. He should have crushed me, even hurt me. But his weight was a pressure my body could take. He pulled his lips back, giving me a much-needed break for air. His right hand caressed my cheek as he resumed giving me little kisses. Then his hand trailed down my neck, slowly. Painfully slowly. His eyes lingered on the flesh he touched, as if wanting to study every inch and every pore. His fingers softly dropped down to my chest, then to the expose mound of flesh that made up my breast.

His breath quickened and I could tell he was trying to restrain himself. My tank top hid what he wanted and for a moment I wondered if he’d rip it off me or simply move on.He reached for the tank top strand and slowly brought it down until the front of my shirt fell and exposed the black bra. He grunted in approval and he blinked fast. Giving me a glance, he licked his lips, preparing us both for what would come next. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready. His mere presence was too much to bear, and now, this close to me, I worried I wasn’t perfect enough for him. I sucked in a breath, trying to give myself some confidence. His hand cupped my breast, and his thumb made circles around the nipple area, which hid timidly behind the bra. I closed my eyes, my body heating up.

That’s when I felt him pull down my bra, exposing my bare breast. He groaned in satisfaction and my eyes opened. He looked at my breast while his hand slowly caressed it. His thumb hovered my nipple, which now stood at attention.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered.

I hunted for a hint of dishonesty in his words but could find none. The way he looked at my nakedness told me he really meant it. His breath was labored and he shook with nerves. He played with my nipple for a few minutes, soft and barely caressing it at first, then pinching the rosy knob. Just when I thought I could cum from that alone, he decided to use his mouth. He wrapped his lips around my nipple and began sucking lightly. I released a moan. Pride be damned. This felt good and I couldn’t hold back anymore. Henry seemed to enjoy my feedback because as I released a few more whimpers of pleasure, he met them with harder pressure as he sucked on my breast. He pulled back only for air and to steal glances of my body.

He returned his lips to my skin, kissing my breast, then using the tip of his tongue to explore its flesh. His hand decided it was time to keep exploring too. So he trailed down my stomach, making me gasp. He softly caressed my belly button and then looked up at me. His bright blue eyes stared deep into my soul. We locked gazes, both of our breathing hiccuping in our chest. I tried to look away, the intensity of his gaze igniting flames all over my body. But he refused to let me look elsewhere, and moved his face closer to mine until it was a mere inch away. He continued to look deeply into my eyes as his hand headed down to the promised land. He let his middle finger slip inside my panties, hovering over the panty line for a few moments.**

**I gasped and moaned, the anticipation of what his fingers would feel like against my pussy too much to take. I didn’t have to wait long. His middle finger lingered at my clit, softly rubbing as if he needed to explore each curve carefully. No doubt he noticed the wetness between my legs because the moment the pad of his finger pressed inward slightly, he groaned with agony. I wondered if I should have warned him that I got wet, really wet, easily. Was it too much? Did he like it or was it inappropriate? And the real question, how much wetter could he possibly get me if only a kiss and some breast fondling got me so aroused? I was about to find out. He slipped his middle finger inside, slowly, and my body arched against him. His finger was thick and as he entered through my folds and slid in all the way to the knuckle, I whimpered. He released a deep-throated gasp, apparently satisfied with the way I greeted his touch.

He pulled his finger back, only to thrust it back inside my pussy, this time a bit harder. He fingered me for a few long minutes, my breathing becoming erratic and my pussy starting to throb with unbelievable pleasure. His mouth returned to mine. His breath was hot and intoxicating as he crushed my lips. His finger was relentless and I found my legs spreading a bit wider for him. While still kissing me, he began inserting one more finger. I cried out, feeling the pressure of two fingers thrusting me. My sensitive walls stretched slowly, shocked at the penetration. My wetness allowed his fingers passage, even as my pussy was too timid to open wide for him. His second finger barely disappeared inside me halfway when he pulled his hand back.

“Fuck,” he grunted, his breathing heavy as he looked down at my lips.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, worry filling me. Had I done something wrong? Did I feel...wrong down there?

“You are so fucking tight,” he whispered. His voice was laced with both euphoria and frustration.

“Oh,” I mumbled. “Is that...bad?”

He smirked, then sighed an apologetic breath. “No, that’s fantastic. It’s just...I...I don’t want to hurt you. You’re really small.”

I stared into his eyes, processing his words. He thought he would hurt me. I should have been scared and honestly, I should have been worried about his massive body hurting me too. Instead, his nerves and concern for me only made me wetter.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I said with a smile. “It’s okay.”

I laced a hand through the back of thick, dark hair. He plunged his mouth against mine again, and now that his fingers had left the tenderness of my insides, I ached for them to return. I wrapped my arms around him, meeting flesh and thick muscles that engulfed me with excitement.

Spreading my knees a bit wider, I wrapped my legs around him, forcing his weight to anchor me down deeper into the mattress.His hands went to work on my tank top, removing it completely. He yanked me up to him as he fell back into a sitting position, and then raced a hand to unclasp my bra. With both of my breasts freed, he moaned his approval of what he saw. Without wasting any time, he hungrily kissed them. I moaned as his lips, tongue and teeth nibbled, sucked, and licked my nipples raw for endless minutes. He couldn’t get enough of them. I wondered if I’d be able to wear a bra or even a tight shirt over them for the next few days. He never let his hunger get out of control, but the way he bit and suckled on me promised my nipples would be incredibly sensitive for days. It was time to remove his clothes too. I yanked his shirt off, peeling it over his head.

I could only gasp at the wall of muscles standing inches away from me. His chest was hairy and I ached to kiss every inch of his flesh. My eyes and hands trailed to his happy trail. It spread down from his six-pack and disappeared into the boxers peeking above the jeans. I unbuttoned him and unzipped him, wanting to see all of him. He grunted as I pulled his jeans down a bit, and then he fell down on top of my body again. His weight pinned me to the mattress and promised to capture me and make me completely his. We spent the next few minutes kissing and fondling each other, all the while the bulge in his crotch growing to an astonishing size.

He was hard, so fucking hard, the tip of his cock starting to emerge from inside of his boxers and graze my thigh. He slipped both hands around my panties and with one quick movement, he slipped them down to my knees. I cried out softly, the air hitting my pussy sending a small wave of tingles onto my delicate folds. He pulled back to slip them down further, trailing them to my ankles and then off of me. He looked at me, my entire nakedness before him, for a long moment. He breathed heavily. Hungrily. His eyes explored every inch of me and suddenly I felt vulnerable.

Instinctively, I began closing my legs, but he stopped me. He kept my legs open by spreading them apart with his massive thighs. I struggled a bit but enjoyed the resistance he met me with.“You are too perfect,” he moaned, his eyes glued to my breasts then down to my throbbing pussy. His thighs bore down some more, forcing me to open wider. Heat rushed to my face as I was so vulnerable, so exposed to him. I hiccuped on my breath, forcing my adrenaline to slow down before this man gave me a heart attack. I offered a little smile, feeling embarrassed. I didn’t think of myself as perfect. Pretty, yes, I could admit that. I knew that men wanted to fuck me. But perfect? No. He continued to look over my body, then brought a hand between my legs. I writhed in ecstasy at his mere touch. His finger made circles on my clit, then softly spread the parting, the pad of his finger feeling the pink flesh at the opening. He inserted the tip of his finger inside me, coaxing a cry and a dribble of my wetness to pour down. He pushed his finger in another half-inch, slowly.

Then he pulled back and penetrated me again, ensuring not to bury the entire length of his finger.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said again, no doubt thinking back to his fingers pumping inside me minutes ago. His face twisted in frustration and worry and for a moment his body tensed back as if just being close to me would break me. With my heart racing, my skin on fire, and wetness dripping down my legs, I had enough of his overreaction.

I wanted him to fuck me. I needed him inside me. I was tight, yes, but not a virgin, and I knew I could take it. I knew I liked it hard and fast. I knew I was capable of enduring--and enjoying--rough sex. And now he would know it too.

I pulled him down to me, my eyes burying into his. “You’re being silly. Stop it.” My words were determined and demanding and after a brief hesitation, a moment in which he contemplated if he should restrain himself and avoid inflicting me any pain, or let go to his animalistic need to pound the shit out of me. The second instinct won the battle and releasing a flood of pent up frustration he decided to fuck me senseless.

He started by pulling his boxers down. I peeked at his organ, now fully erect. I gasped. He was huge. Thick and veiny, with a beautiful head half the size of my fist, I simply stared in awe. Okay, so that thing inside of me might hurt just a smidge. But it was too late to question logistics. I had already given him the green light to have me, and honestly, pain be damned. It would be worth having his strapping cock inside me, even if I might not be able to walk for a couple of days. He lowered himself between my legs, the tip of his dick penetrating me. I moaned embarrassingly loud as he ripped through slowly.

Thank God I was so wet to drown us both. It made his penetration so much easier, even as his hard cock slowly pried me open more and more. I felt every inch of him. Every fucking inch slipping inside, deeper and deeper, forcing me to tear open for him. I cried in ecstasy and mild pain. It did hurt, but it was normal with a first thrust. I had to warm up to him and even though his pressure split me open at the seams, sending throbs of pain up and down my pussy, I also liked the feeling of it.

In fact, I loved it. It was hard to explain, and maybe sadistic, but I loved Henry’s huge cock probing me, spreading me, and violating me. He inserted his cock inside me until it disappeared entirely. The small bundle of nerves and muscles lining my cervix screamed in agony and ecstasy. The pressure was insane, and as he lingered there for a long moment, pressing down and deep, I moaned and cried. Hot tears filled my eyes and then rolled down my face.

He slowly began pulling back, the pressure that released feeling like heaven. But before slipping his cock out, just as his throbbing head lingered at my opening, he unleashed his desire. He buried himself inside me with one quick thrust. I cried, his shaft forcing itself deep until it reached the hilt. He pulled back and then pumped incessantly, over and over again. He began fucking me hard, each thrust becoming stronger and more aggressive. If moments ago I needed my pussy to warm up to him, by now I tore wide open for him. I had no choice. His cock throbbed and swelled so much that it tore through me a wrecking ball.

My hands trailed his back, nails digging into his flesh. He groaned louder from the piercing pain and paid me back by giving me a few hard thrusts, enough to send my head dangerously close to crashing through the headboard. His shaft stabbed me deeply, so deeply I felt his cock’s head damn near my stomach, hitting my walls, inflicting me with delicious pain. He thrust, I moaned. He pumped over and over again, and I cried. His entire weight bore down into me as his cock plunged mercilessly, and I sank into the mattress. His swollen head bounced against my pussy muscles, and I convulsed. His hands pinned down my wrists over my head as he claimed me, marking me and branding me with his cock as he tore into my little cunt. He stretched me, opened me, and forced himself in as his thighs pinned my legs obscenely wide open. As I cried and moaned, I watched his body bounce up and then bury deep inside me again, gaining speed with each thrust. His eyes were glazed with animalistic need, the grunts escaping his chest proving he was not going to stop anytime soon.

And he didn’t. Even as I convulsed and writhed under his pumping, a rush of pleasure stabbing my insides until it exploded into a massive orgasm, he continued his merciless pounding. For an hour. Two orgasms later, and he still hadn’t cum. He remained huge and thick, precum spilling from his head and dribbling down my legs, merging with my own cum.

Until he needed to release himself and blow. I felt the beginning of his orgasm as his hands wrapped in my hair. He kissed me hard, then feasted on my breasts some more, tugging at my nipples all the while his dick pumped me without a break. I kept moaning and moaning, the intense feeling sending shock waves through me. Just when I thought he couldn’t go any harder or faster, his need to orgasm gave him the extra push he needed.

He slipped his arms under me and his hand clenched my shoulders. This allowed him to thrust me down deeper onto his shaft. I screamed. His penetration became a furious pump, tearing, slicing, burying himself so deep I thought I would pass out from the pleasure. And then, like a volcano erupting, he spewed. His cock throbbed violently as he cummed inside me. His orgasm lasted a long minute, the cock throbbing and convulsing so much that it aroused me as well. So I cummed...again. My third orgasm exploded at the same time his erupted and we both panted and moaned as we reached complete bliss and release.

He remained hard inside me even after his pumping had ended. His dead weight on top of me crushed me down but I didn’t mind. I loved feeling him on top of me...and inside of me.

When he started to soften a bit, he pulled out and rolled off me. With labored breaths and soaked from sweat--and each other’s cum--we lay next to each other silently. Only the echo of our heavy breathing echoed in the room.

Finally, he spoke. “Did I hurt you?” His hand caressed my face then stroked my hair. I looked into his eyes as he gazed at me adoringly.

I shook my head, my eyes growing heavy. My body was exhausted. “No, that was amazing.”

Before I knew it I fell asleep, Henry’s body curled against mine and his hand tangled in my hair.

#henry cavill #sexyhenrycavill #henrycavillsmut

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nataliedanovelist · 4 years

Text

GF - Where the Crop Circles Grow ch.2

Summary: When things get out of hand at the Pines’ family farm, Ford asks an old college buddy to assist investigating anomalies and Stan hires a farmhand. Who knew asking for help would actually get you somewhere?

For @lemonfodrizzleart. Part of her Farmer AU and featuring her OC, Jackie Asante.

Ao3 link here.

ch.1 - ch.3

~~~~~~~~~~

A loud scream Jackie wasn’t prepared for disturbed her slumber and made her jump, lying on her stomach and propping the upper-half of her body up with her hands pushing against the mattress. She calmed down as she became used to the crowing of the rooster… or an opera singer dying… one of the two. Jackie relaxed and fell back on the bed. So that’s what Stan had meant yesterday.

Looking forward to her first day, Jackie hopped out of bed and started to get dressed in blue jeans and a white t-shirt with boots. No sense taking a shower now since she would get sweaty and gross later; she’d treat herself to a bath after dinner, like she did yesterday. After a quick brush through her jet-black hair, she took in a deep breath and gazed around her bedroom.

Stan said it was a guest bedroom, not that they ever had any guests, but Ma had this part of the house built in with the idea of visiting grandchildren. So Jackie was granted a small bedroom with a comfortable bed with an old quilt, a dresser, a nightstand, and a Jack and Jill bathroom with the opposite bedroom promised to be Fiddleford’s when he came up here from Tennessee. Jackie, who didn’t come here with much, was comfortable and anything she couldn’t fit in the nightstand and dresser she kept in boxes under the bed.

Jackie finally emerged from her bedroom and peered up and down the short hallway. She listened and could hear the shower running. As she journeyed to the kitchen her nose picked up the beautiful aroma of coffee and she instantly saw the pot filling up and heard the boiling water when she entered the empty kitchen. Whoever was in the shower must have started the coffee so it would be ready by the time they were done. Seeing no indication that breakfast was going to be made and given what she learned yesterday (that the boys couldn’t cook to save their lives), Jackie rubbed her hands together and started to hunt for ingredients to make biscuits.

About fifteen minutes later, Stan came out of the bathroom with a puff of water vapor behind him, shaking his mullet dry with a towel, his maroon robe wrapped loosely around him. He hummed to himself drowsily as he strode to the kitchen, but his not-so-keen senses heightened as he swore he could smell something cooking. Bacon? His mouth watering, Stan picked up the pace a bit without running and saw Jackie working hard in the kitchen. Holy Moses, who knew he had hired the best cook in Oregon?

“‘Mornin’.” He greeted casually.

Jackie glanced at him and her face dropped in shock. His toned, hairy chest was half-exposed, his legs bare below his knees apart from his slippers, and he had a smile on his face alongside those nice pair of brown eyes, the kind of smile you naturally mimic. It’s more contagious than the flu. Jackie caught it and returned it. “G’mornin’. Slept well?”

Stan shrugged. “Yeah, pretty good. You? Bed okay?”

“Yeah, it’s real comfortable.” Jackie replied. “Fix your coffee and sit down, biscuits are almost ready.”

Stan threw his towel onto the back of his chair and went to the cupboard above the coffee machine for a mug. Standing right next to Jackie and the stove, he saw a skillet full of sausage gravy being cooked, a pan sizzling with bacon, and she was currently cracking eggs into a bowl while another pan heated up. Stan marveled at how one person can keep an eye on so many things at once.

“You like your eggs scrambled?” Jackie asked.

Stan shrugged. “Sure.” His favorite way to eat eggs was over-easy, but hey food is food. The farmer can force anything down his gullet if needed. He watched as Jackie whisked six eggs in a big bowl and added previously shredded cheese, some chopped basil, and a small splosh of milk. Stan raised an eyebrow at that. “Why add milk?”

“Makes the eggs fluffier.” Jackie explained as she threw in some salt and pepper, whisked some more, and then poured the eggs into the small pan. The little hand-timer dinged and Jackie slipped on some oven mitts to pull out the pan of biscuits. Stan’s jaw dropped as the new farm-woman had a tray of twelve beautiful, fluffy, golden biscuits. She carried the tray to the table, where a dishcloth was folded to protect the wood, and she sat the tray down and used a little brush to paint melted butter on top. Stan licked his lips and reached to grab one, but Jackie smacked his hand and said, “Wait, mister, if you eat ‘em now you’ll burn yourself.”

Stan snorted as she turned back to the oven to flip the eggs with a rubber spatula and Stan sat with his mug of black coffee. Ford entered the room, yawning, but fully dressed. He had a rolled-up newspaper under his arm and he dozily threw it to Stan, who caught it one-handed like it was a baseball and opened it. “‘Mornin’, Sixer.”

Ford grunted as he grabbed a mug like a drunk man, poured some coffee, sweetened it with some sugar and milk, and gulped it down. Jackie watched him with a raised eyebrow as she moved the bacon onto a plate. Some people simply could not function in the morning. Ford poured a second cup, sweetened it, and sighed after a few sips, and then sat in his chair to breathe and obtain his necessary caffeine.

“How long before he can talk again?” Jackie asked as she sat the bacon down and quickly moved to the eggs.

“I’d say two full cups for half-baked sentences n’ a full pot for him to function like a normal human bein’.” Stan sneered playfully as he read the headline.

“Har, har.” Ford said sarcastically. He then blinked a few times at the realization of another feast before him. Jackie set the big bowl of cheesy scrambled eggs down and began to move the gravy to another bowl. “Holy Moses, Jackie, you didn’t have to…”

“What else am I payin’ her for?” Stan asked but took the time to throw her a wink so she knew he was joking.

Jackie snorted and sat the bowl of sausage gravy down and made herself a mug of coffee. “Since none of you know how to cook and I don’t wanna eat brown meat, I figured I’d make breakfast.”

“Hey, I can make some mean pancakes.” Stan corrected. “Sure they got a bit of hair in them, but…”

Ford and Jackie laughed and the young scientist reached for a biscuits and was pleased to find it didn’t burn his fingertips. He bit straight into it to give it a try and it was like his brain had exploded. He had never thought he would ever know what it was like to eat a cloud, but here he was. He hummed and took another huge bite, too happy for words.

Jackie’s cheeks suddenly felt a little warmer and she smiled as she spooned herself some eggs.

While Ford happily fixed himself some biscuits n’ gravy, Stan bit into a biscuit as he read his paper and he froze like a statue. Angles were suddenly dancing on his tongue. He moved his eyes to Jackie and muttered, “I’d have to marry you if you always cook this good.”

Jackie rolled her eyes. “Oh, c’mon, your mother never cooked?”

“She always cooked,” Stan explained. “N’ she was good at it, too, but you’re… you’re really, really good!” And he engulfed the rest of the biscuit in his mouth.

“What Stanley is trying to say,” Ford said firmly and smiled at the dark-skinned woman. “Is that we’re extremely grateful you’re here.”

Jackie returned the smile. “Thanks. I’m grateful to be here. What made you decide y’all needed help?”

“Well,” Ford sipped his coffee again and began to explain in detail why exactly the twins decided to hire extra help on their farm. “You see we can handle it for the most part by ourselves, with Stanley handling the sheep and chickens and with me supervising the crops and sales, but recently something has caught my attention and… erm, kept me away from the farm, and it’s too much for one man to do on his own.”

“What’s been keeping you out of the farm?” Jackie asked, not at all judgmental as to why this man wasn’t helping his brother, but curious as to what caught his attention.

“Recently some strange things have been occurring.” Ford added. “I don’t know if it’s because I went away to college and saw what was considered normal and not normal or what, but there have always been weird happenings in this town. The deeper you go into the woods, the more natural anomalies there seem to be.”

“Which means stay outta the woods.” Stan said firmly.

“Which means, since we live on the outskirts of Gravity Falls, we’re safe.” Ford corrected. “But I plan to further investigate what’s going on, and I wish to spend all of my time doing so to quickly get to the bottom of it. I also need some help, and Stanley is too busy and it wouldn’t be fair to ask him to be at my beck and call, so I’ve asked my old college buddy to come down to help me investigate the strange findings in this town.”

“I get it, okay,” Jackie said with a nod, it all making sense now. “But what kind of weird stuff have you been noticing?”

Ford grinned excitedly. “You’ll see in time.”

Jackie blew a raspberry at this guy deciding to be “cool” and mysterious, making him laugh and resume his breakfast. “So, what kind of stuff we’ll you have me do?” Jackie asked Stan.

“Well,” Stan closed his newspaper. “Since it’s your first day I’ll walk you through everything. Some stuff you’ll do every day, some stuff only on certain days. The chickens need to be fed, the sheep need to be let out, the cow’s gotta be milked, n’ the crops gotta stay healthy n’ weed-free.” And he left the table to get dressed in a red button-up and jeans.

Stan made Ford do the dishes, claiming they were behind on work and it would take longer to get everything done since Jackie was learning. Right by the kitchen door, next to two big pairs of rain boots, was a huge bag of chicken feed. “We gotta keep it here or the hens get into it.” Stan explained and opened the bag, showing a big measuring cup inside. “One cup’s enough, just spread it out n’ don’t pour it all at once. If they’re still hungry there’s plenty of bugs.”

Jackie nodded, taking mental notes, and watched as Stan scooped out some food and opened the back door. Jackie had seen the farm yesterday, but to see the sun rising on the barns and crops made the whole thing sparkle gorgeously. She grinned at the little chicken coop by the house and watched Stan sprinkle out the feed as he whistled. A dozen or so hens scurried out of the coop with one big rooster standing as king on top of the small structure, and he fluttered his wings and floated down for food.

“That’s our rooster, Clock.” Stan explained as he put the cup back inside the bag, grabbed a woven basket, and closed the kitchen door behind them so no chickens would run into the house. “Here, get in the coop n’ collect eggs. We don’t need a whole lot, so don’t freak out if the hens aren’t makin’ that much.

“Any chance they’ll have chicks inside?” Jackie asked, eyeing the loud and proud rooster.

“Nope. Clock’s an old boy.” Stan explained. “That’s why he sounds so bad. We haven’t had a chick from him in years. Hey, he always does his job, though.”

Jackie chuckled and ducked into the chicken coop. Some nests had no eggs but some had one or two. Jackie carefully collected them and knew they would be great for baking and breakfast. When she emerged, Stan tossed a metal bucket to her. “Sheep need water. There’s a well out that way, just make sure they won’t get thirsty after you put the eggs in the kitchen. I’ve already got ‘em out in the field. If you need me I’ll be in that barn over there.” And he pointed to the smaller one of the two.

Jackie nodded and headed in the direction he pointed toward when talking about the well. As she walked, she took in her surroundings and was free to acknowledge how big his farm was. There was a lot of land, with the woods acting as the border. On one side of the land it was full of crops like a big cornfield, rows of carrots, tomatoes, cucumbers, squash, watermelons, and pumpkins, and closer to the house strawberries, blackberries, blueberries, and raspberries blossomed. Jackie also noticed a little herb garden growing in a basket on the back porch, not too far from the kitchen door.

On the opposite end of the crops was the two barns and a huge patch of clear land for the sheep. Jackie awed at the thirty-something sheep that “bah”ed quietly and gnawed on grass, their coats a bit short, telling Jackie that they had been trimmed not too long ago. Somewhat between the crops and the fields for animals was an old well that might have once been the primary source of water here, but thanks to modern plumbing now it was only used for the livestock. Jackie saw another bucket tied by a rope with the pulley system and she was clever enough to figure it all out on her own.

Mustering up her strength and hardly breaking a sweat, Jackie filled her own bucket with water and carried it to where the sheep dwelt. By the fence that kept them away from the crops, there was a trough, so Jackie poured the water in it and the sheep came flocking, craving water. She chuckled and noticed the trough wasn’t full, so she walked back to the well, refilled her bucket, and poured it out again, this time sploshing some sheep a little, but they didn’t mind. In fact, they started licking each other’s faces for more water, making Jackie laugh and she petted a nearby sheep and admired the soft wool.

As she petted the sheep, she caught something out the corner of her eye and looked over at the smaller of the two barns. Stan was emerging with a beautiful gray and black horse and then gently slapped his behind so the horse would know he’s free to wander. The horse galloped for a bit and then slowed, lapping up some water at his own trough. Jackie wondered if she needed to fill that one, too, but Stan made his way to the well with his own bucket and watered the horse. Jackie smiled and walked to Stan, ready for her next chore.

“That there Truffles.” Stan explained, pointing to the horse as the woman approached. “Stubborn. It’d be best if you let me handle him. He doesn’t like people much, even gives Ford a hard time.”

Jackie nodded. “Gotcha.”

“Watered the sheep? Good. Ever milked a cow? Well today you’re gonna learn.” Stan said and motioned for her to follow him into the smaller of the two barns. Inside were two stalls and equipment for a horse and a cow. Jackie could even see a horse-drawn sled collecting cobwebs in the back corner. “Luna’s okay, as long as you’re quiet. Doesn’t like noise much. She’s got a soft spot for Ford.”

Stan opened one of the stalls and Jackie got a full view of a white cow with only one big black spot over her right eye. She mooed at the visitors and licked Stan’s outstretched hand. Jackie couldn’t help but notice how gentle he petted her neck and talked to her. Despite having a voice made of gravel, his talk was as soft as silk. “Hey mama, good to see you, good to see you. Try to be nice for me, girl, okay. Alright, c’mere, Jackie.”

Stan pulled a short stool over and motioned for her to sit. He knelt beside the cow and placed the bucket below the utters. “It’s really simple, just squeeze n’ pull n’ squeeze n’ pull.”

“Okay,” The woman sat on the stool, held the bucket between her boots, and carefully grabbed an utter. It was soft and squishy and she could feel the milk, and she did as she was told and smiled to see delicious warm milk fall into the bucket.

“Not bad, not bad at all.” Stan commented with a smile. “Here, you can squeeze harder, you won’t hurt her. Like this.” He gently covered Jackie’s hand with her own and showed her just how tightly to squeeze and pull. Jackie followed, her eyes darting up to Luna, but the cow only happily chewed on some hay. She didn’t even twitch her tail with uncomfortably. Jackie smiled at Stan, thanking him for his help, and he returned the smile and let her go to milk. She milked just as well as Ford or Stan could, and when Stan checked to make sure Luna was empty, there was no milk left to obtain.

“Good job.” Stan praised and stood up. “Take the milk in the house n’ Ford can pan it. He’s got a knack for dairy n’ makin’ butter. He can teach you if you want.”

“Sounds great.” Jackie hoisted the bucket up and let it hang in front of her. “What after that?”

“Well, nothing’s ready to harvest yet.” Stan answered. “We’ll check for weeds n’ make sure the gardens are healthy, then I think we’ll be okay until the afternoon. Usually around noon is when we go into town, do laundry, chop wood, or whatever else needs to get done aside from mornin’ n’ afternoon chores.”

“Well what are the afternoon chores?” Jackie asked.

“Basically reverse of what we just did. I’ll put up Truffles n’ I’ll show you how to drive in the sheep. Then you’ll water ‘em n’ milk Luna again, or you can make Ford do it so you can cook.”

Jackie snorted. “I think I’ll do that.”

“Good. Then we’ll have your afternoon chores only be to drive in the sheep.”

“Anything needs to get done today?” Jackie asked.

“I can’t think of anything.” Stan said with a shrug. “Ma used to have a little jingle… Scrub on Monday, Laundry on Tuesday, Knit on Wednesday, Prep on Thursday, Bake on Friday, Rest on Saturday, Clean on Sunday. O’course, you can do whatever you want, s’long as work’s gettin’ done. I’m sure I can find you something to do.” He hinted at and winked.

Jackie rolled her eyes. “I like it. Your mom was really smart… What’s today? Wednesday? Well, I don’t feel like knitting or sewing, so I guess I’ll try to clean the house for when Ford’s friend gets here. Hey, what did your mom mean by scrub on Monday?”

Stan shrugged. “Usually that meant the kitchen n’ bathrooms. You know, the tubs, sinks, toilets, the oven, the stoves…”

“Ah, gotcha.” Jackie wandered out of the barn with Stan and said, “Well, after I check the crops I’ll scrub.”

“Have fun.” Stan teased and headed for the corn to check for crows and other pests.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Great, so we’ll see you on Tuesday?” Ford clarified. “Thank you so much, buddy. I owe you. No, of course we don’t mind. We’ve got plenty of room. You’re welcome, goodbye.”

Ford hung up the phone and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had been foolish to think Fiddleford could simply drop everything and move across the country just to assist him. Foolish and selfish. What stung most was how worried Fiddleford had sounded over the phone when he began making his request.

There was no good in stalling and not telling Stan, he had to tell him that the plan had changed. Ford stood and exited the parlor to try to find his brother, probably out in the fields by now. He knew if he did he would get tangled into trying to help, which was fine for today, so Ford mentally prepared himself for hoeing and pulling weeds as he entered the kitchen and found Jackie entering the room with a bucket of milk. “Oh, thank you, ma’am.” He said politely. “I’ll pan it later, we’re low on butter. Right now I need to have a word with Stanley.”

“He’s out at the cornfield.” Jackie assisted.

“Thank you.”

Ford found Stan right where Jackie said he would. The younger twin emerged from the field, satisfied with the state of the corn, and raised an eyebrow when the older twin said, “Stanley, we have to talk.”

“What’s the word, Sixer?” Stan asked as they started to walk alongside the edge of the field.

“Fiddleford will be here on Tuesday…”

“Great!”

“... and he’s bringing his son.”

They kept walking as Stan gave Ford a surprised and confused look.

“Tate. His four-year-old.”

“I know who the boy is, Poindexter!” Stan snapped, irritated that that was what Ford thought he was confused about. “That’s fine, we’ve got room for him, but why in Moses’ name is he brinin’ Tate? I thought your friend was only visitin’ for a few weeks.”

Ford sighed and ran a six-fingered hand through his fluffy hard-to-maintain hair. “Fiddleford is getting a divorce.”

Stan winced. He may not have known the nerd as well as Ford did, but from what he gathered he had been over the moon for his gal.

“She doesn’t want anything to do with Tater, either.” Ford added. “Says he’s too much like Fiddleford. He thinks this is a good way to start a new life, you know? Move here and help me, then maybe find their own place.”

“Or we can build a smaller second house.” Stan threw in. “More houses means more hands to work the farm, which means more money n’ more land.”

Ford rolled his eyes. “Perhaps. For now I was thinking Fiddleford could have the guest bedroom and Tate could have the Jack and Jill bedroom.”

“Sure, I bet Jackie won’t mind.” Stan predicted.

“And you’re okay with Tate coming to live with us, too?” Ford double-checked.

“You kiddin’ me, I love kids!” Stan punched Ford’s shoulder and stood still with his arms cross over his chest. “It’ll be great, you wait n’ see! There’s plenty of stuff here to Tate to do until he’s old enough for school n’ nobody’s gonna get claustrophobic here. Not that Santa Claus is real.”

Ford groaned and pinched at his eyes under his glasses. “That was bad, even for you.” But the young investigator smiled at his twin and returned the punch on the shoulder. “Well, thank you. I know it’s a lot to take in in such a small amount of time…”

“You know something, Sixer?” Stan interrupted and gave him a slightly-more serious look. “It’s been too quiet here lately.”

Ford raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure what your definition of quiet is, but…”

“You know what I meant.” Stan said firmly and resumed what he was trying to say. “I ain’t got a problem with it just bein’ the two of us - you know I don’t - but it’s been way too quiet here. I miss it bein’ crowded n’ busy n’ loud. So I say the more the merrier; n’ the sooner I can’t hear my own thoughts (though few there may be), the better.”

Ford smiled softly at his brother. It was true. The quiet had been appreciated at first, but now it wasn’t as appreciated as the noise that comes with good company. Ever since Ma and Pa had died and Shermie had gone back to California, it had just been the twins on this big farm. What Stan said was true, it was fine, and with Ford gone for four years while he earned as many PhDs as he had fingers, it was nice to reconcile and catch up. But now it was high-time the Pines family grew bigger and louder and weirder, the way it was supposed to be.

“Well, guess we should tell Jackie she’ll be sharing her bathroom, then.” Ford suggested and led the way away from the cornfield with his twin by his side.

#GF #gravity falls #fanfiction #farmer au #ford pines #stan pine #jackie asante #gift #thank you so much for reading!#please leave a comment on what you thought #I'd love to read them!

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midnightartemis · 3 years

Text

Chapter Two

On A03

TW: Attempted Assault, Abuse, Language

The Past, Time Uncertain

There were two things that I remember about passing through time. The first was the feeling of falling, though I could see nothing around me to signify my fall, just black, murky darkness. The second was the sound, muffled language that passed quickly by me, too fast for me to comprehend what was being said or sung. It was as if I was hearing every snippet of conversation spoken to the rocks since they were first placed there to stand as silent guardians.

My fall was ended suddenly as I hit the ground, dazed and confused. Had I passed out? The sky above me was now dark violet and filled with stars. There was nothing that I could remember that would have caused me to faint, so did someone hit me with something? Had I been robbed? I looked down at my finger to see that my simple wedding band was still there. Where there was once a small diamond, it was now missing. I sat up suddenly and scrambled my fingers through the grass searching for it desperately. The small band with the tiny diamond had been all that Henry could afford on a soldier’s pension. He had always promised to replace it with a bigger, better ring, but I had refused. It was our wedding ring. I didn’t care how much it cost or what it looked like as long as it meant that him and me became a we. But now the diamond was gone.

Did I lose it on the hike up the hill? Or worse, somewhere along the road? Even in the bright light of the full moon, it was hopeless trying to find it. We would have to come back tomorrow and search for it, even if it was so tiny that we would never be able to find it. I had to try. We had to try.

I hurried down the gravelly path, desperately trying to get back to my motorcycle and back home. I didn’t really know what time it was, though if I stopped to stare at the sky, I could probably figure it out. Navigating by the stars had become like second nature to me during the war.

If I hadn’t been so eager to get back home, perhaps I would have noticed that where there once was a fence for the pasture, there was now nothing. And the path that I traveled on was less worn down and muddier than before.

Maybe I would have gone back to the circle to see if I had gone the wrong way. Maybe I would have kept searching for my diamond. Maybe I would have touched the stone once more, and my time trespassing into a different life would have been brief and unnoticed.

My feet raced down the path until it ended suddenly and my confusion began. The road should have been there. My motorcycle should have been not two meters away. I turned around trying to orient myself again. Had I gone down the wrong path? Taken a turn that I hadn’t seen before on my way up?

A gunshot ripped through the air and the ground beside me exploded. My next reactions were ones that had been ingrained in me nearly every day for the last four years. Run. Hide. Cover. No time for thinking. Thinking means death.

My eyes search the skies for bomber planes as I race towards the closest available cover, the thick trees of a heavily wooded area. Had I been in my right mindset, I may have noticed that these trees were much older and thicker than the modern forests of Scotland. But it was hard to think when all I heard were the muffled sounds of gunshots and men’s yells that echoed through the forest. I kept running, kept moving, until the land descended to a stream bathed in moonlight, but otherwise hidden by large juts of rough, mossy stone.

I pressed myself against the rock and tried to calm my breathing. I could still hear the gunshots and yells, but they sounded more like pistols than machine guns. One shot at a time, long pauses between. But the war is done. The war is over. My brain tried to think rationally. I knew that the Scots didn’t really like the English, but much of the tension was between the Irish and the English. And who would call for infighting so soon after the end of the Great War?

None of that much mattered when they were shooting at me. It didn’t matter why if I was just going to get shot anyway and die.

See? Think later. Run. Hide. Cover. I was about to make my move to skirt through the forest and around the edge of Craigh na dun to find my bike and get the hell out of here when I heard the undeniable click of a hammer being pulled back.

“Turn. Slowly.” The voice is rough but oddly familiar.

I slowly raise my hands and turn to face my attacker. The moonlight is faint, but my eyes have adjusted well enough to see the man standing in front of me holding a gun to my head. “Henry? Henry, what the hell?”

He was dressed very strangely in what seemed to be an old British uniform, though this one seemed brand new. His eyes were hard and furious. “What’s an English woman like you doing in the middle of the woods?”

“What do you mean? Henry, what are you playing at? This isn’t funny.”

“Henry? There’s no Henry here. Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in with those Scottish scum,” he eyes me with a leering eye and I slowly take a step back. “Though you are half-naked in strange clothes. Don’t you miss a British man? Refined? Less hairy? Or maybe you prefer wild savagery.”

“Henry, please stop, you’re scaring me.”

“My name is Captain Johnathan Snoke.”

My heart stops completely and my feet turn to run, but he’s on me before I can take a step. He throws me against the ground, and I scrape at the dirt to get away but he’s on top of me and tearing at the top of my pants and there’s a hand on my mouth to keep me from screaming so I scream on the inside. “Prancing around the Queen’s countryside pretending to be a man won't keep you-“

A loud crack above me cuts off his words, and his weight is lifted from me. I don’t have a second to think or breathe before I’m hauled to my feet by a different hand and dragged through the dark forest. I desperately try to pull away from my rescuer, but his hand remains firm around my arm. He’s a giant beside me, nearly seven feet tall, all bushy hair and wild-looking in the dark. He’s not wearing the British uniform, but something darker and more rugged.

“Stop yer fussing if ye don’t want a bullet to your head or a cock in your cunt.”

I freeze, but this only prompts the man to tug me harder along with him. “I’ll scream.”

“Do that and I'll leave ye here for the dogs. Ye come with me quietly and I can at least keep ye safe 'til morning.”

More gunshots ring out in the distance and it takes me an instant to realize that if I am to survive the night and wake up from this nightmare, then I should comply with this beast of a man. I let him lead me through the dark woods which he seems to know like the back of his hand and it isn’t long until we come to a small dark cottage. He opens the door and throws me inside, and I’m suddenly basked in candlelight. A dozen eyes focus on me.

“Who’s this.”

“British lass. Caught her being attacked by none other than Captain Jack.”

“I hope ye sliced his throat for me.”

“No chance.”

My mind is racing to take in the information that is surrounding me. There’s nothing but a group of men, but they’re unlike any men I had ever seen. They seemed to be playing dress-up, wearing knives and swords and pistols and clothes that looked like they were pulled out of a history book and dragged through the mud.

“She could be a spy.” There’s a short, dark-haired man leaning against the wall of the small stone house. He moves in a way that tells me he’s the leader of this lot.

“I’m not a spy,” I say and the reaction in the room tells me that they’re surprised I can even speak. “Did no one tell you that the war is over and it wasn’t against the British?”

A hearty chuckle goes around the room and I’m beginning to move beyond scared and into pissed.

“The war is just beginning, lassie.” Another man chimes in.

The leader of the group sends him a look that could kill and the man immediately shuts up and turns his eyes down. The leader takes a sip of something that I don’t think is water. “Would ye tell us what a young English woman like yourself is doing dressed as a man in the middle of the woods at night in times like these? Speaking to Captain Jack of all people?”

“I wasn’t speaking to him. ” I spit out.

The man’s eyes narrow. “That dinna answer my question, lass.”

“I was at Craigh na dun. I took a wrong path down the hill and before I could trace my steps back, I was shot at. So I ran.”

“Nearest town is more than a fair walk away.”

“I rode.”

“Where’s your horse?”

“My horse? No- I rode a-“

A sharp cry of pain interrupts me and I stop to look at its source. There’s a figure by the fire doubled over in seemingly grand amounts of pain. I watch as the leader goes over to him and touches the figure’s shoulder. The figure winces. In the light, I can see now why he’s in so much pain. Dislocated shoulder.

“Let’s put that back where it belongs.” The leader takes the man’s arm and he groans in pain. He’s doing it wrong. He’s going to-

“Stop!” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. All eyes in the room turn to me, including the man at the fire. His eyes are dark and intense, wet with the pain he’s holding back. “You’re going to injure the tendons and muscles even more. Let me.”

I step forward and am met with a wall of heavily armed men about ready to place their blades in my side. I stop and eye the leader, completely unsure as to why I’m even bothering to help my now kidnappers. “I’ve been trained in first aid. I know how to reset his arm correctly.”

The leader eyes me for a moment then nods. I slowly inch forward until my hands are on the injured man's arm. He groans as I slowly maneuver his arm into the correct position. “I’m going to need you to resist me. Push when I push, okay? I’m not strong enough to do it on my own. And it’s going to hurt. A lot.”

The man says nothing, just quietly nods. I take a deep breath and still myself. “On three. One… two… three…”

I push with all my might and he pushes back, groaning as the joint slips back into place. His dark eyes are watching my every move. “Is there a long bit of cloth for a sling?”

Someone hands me a bit of dirty cloth and I suppose it’s the best we’ve got right now. I fashion him a sling. “Rest your arm for a few days. No strenuous activity or you’ll hurt it further.”

“We’ve best be going. Won’t be long until those bloody bastards find us again.” The leader says and all the men begin to move. I head toward the door ready to make my way through the night and back to the stones to find my bike and get very, very far away from here.

“Where do you think you’re going?” A hand grabs my arm and I yank away. I was getting very tired of strange men grabbing me whenever they pleased.

“Back to Craigh na dun and far away from you lot.”

His eyes narrow and I can tell he doesn’t like my answer. “I think you’re coming with us, lass.”

“Like hell I am.” I spit at his feet and this time blades are actually drawn. The leader of the group just laughs.

“Yer a feisty one,” he chuckles. “Until I get the truth of who ye are and whether or not yer a spy for the British, yer not going anywhere.”

“And what if I chose to go somewhere?”

“Then ye will be forcibly readjusted to the correct course.”

My heart pounds as I stare at the wild men before me. None of this made any sense. My head rebelled at the possible conclusions to this mess that I had already drawn. If that truly was Captain Johnathan Snoke back in those woods and not a horrible prank by my husband, then that meant that I was no longer in the safe hands of 1945. That somehow I had been transported through time to the mid-1700s.

Impossible.

It was all impossible.

My mind clung to the last possible sane explanation, that this was all a strange dream. And soon I would wake up in the too small, too squeaky bed of our bed and breakfast. I would roll over and tell Henry about the strangest dream I just had.

And then I remember that I hadn’t gone back to the bed and breakfast. That this couldn’t be a dream. That this all felt very, very, terrifyingly real.

#reylo #reylo fanfiction #kylo x rey #rey x ben #reylo fanfic #reylo ao3

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bluejayblueskies · 4 years

Text

marionette

Part 5 of Whumptober 2020

Fandom: The Magnus Archives Characters: Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood, Basira Hussain, Annabelle Cane, Georgie Barker, Melanie King Tags: Whump, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Gun Violence, Manipulation, Spiders

Read on Ao3

“For the record, I hate this plan.”

“Yeah, well, if you can think of anything better, I’m all ears.”

Martin waits. When Basira doesn’t respond, he sighs and says, “Yeah. This is it, then. So, are we good? Because I really don’t want to wait any longer.” Something twists, deep in his stomach. “I… I’m afraid we might already be too late.”

Basira’s hand travels, briefly, to the gun strapped to her hip. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re good.”

Martin feels a bit nauseous. “Good.” He steels himself, then turns to face the house that had once been Hilltop Road. “Then let’s go.”

Jon thinks he sees an opportunity, when Annabelle Cane leaves the house. “Be back in a flash,” she says with a Cheshire cat smile, and then she’s gone.

The webs are sticky and tightly wound around Jon’s wrists and ankles, pinning him neatly in place against the wall like a mounted butterfly. But he twists, and struggles, and screams, and manages to rip an arm free. Then a leg. And then he’s collapsing onto the floor, his muscles screaming from disuse, his chest heaving in equal parts exhaustion and agony.

It takes him too long to get to his feet and stagger toward the door. That was his mistake, he thinks distantly, as he’s woven back into place in the webs that crisscross the house. He was too slow. He’d only been able to take a single, euphoric step over the threshold, a single breath of tantalizingly fresh air, before a pair of spindly black legs wrapped around him quick as lighting and pulled him back, his scream cut off by the slam of the door. The Spider was quick, and he should have been quicker.

He’s caught, a fly in a web, and it won’t be long before he’s consumed.

The door won’t open.

“Banner start, Martin,” Basira whispers. “It’s not like we go in through the front door was ever a good plan to begin with.”

“Yeah, well, it’s the Web—trying to outsmart it is kind of off the table,” Martin hisses, pulling his attention away from the door for a moment.

When he looks back, the door is ajar.

They stare at it for a few seconds. “Great,” Basira says finally. “Because that’s not suspicious as hell. Martin, don’t—”

Martin pushes the door open and steps through.

“Welcome,” Annabelle says, and the plastic smile on her face reminds Martin unsettlingly of a ventriloquist’s doll. “We’ve been expecting you.”

There’s a moment of unsettling silence. Then, quietly, Basira says, “We?”

There are spiders in his throat.

There are spiders in his veins.

There are spiders in his eyes.

All of his eyes.

But Jon can still see. He can see segmented legs, and hairy abdomens, and fangs that puncture skin and sclera. He can see the threads that wrap in and around him, knitting themselves in line with his muscles and pulling him taught. He can see the web, knotted around him in a pattern far too intricate to be anything other than the product of years of subtle stiches.

He can see the Spider, and the Spider can see him.

The Spider lays its final thread, and pulls it tight.

It’s Jon, but it’s not. Martin tells himself that, as a hundred threads pull and twist and walk Jon’s body across the floor in a series of not-quite-human motions, too angular in their design to be natural. The not is apparent in the way that Martin sobs at the sight, or in the way that Basira instinctively draws her gun, snapping a quick, “What the hell are you playing at?” at Annabelle where she smiles benignly from the corner of the kitchen. It’s apparent in the way that the thing that’s not Jon sits at the table and says, in a voice so horribly familiar yet so gratingly wrong, “Why don’t you sit, Martin? We have much to discuss.” It’s apparent in the way that Martin unthinkingly takes a seat at the table, without willing his body to move.

The Jon is apparent in the desperate, pleading look Martin can see when he looks into Jon’s eyes. And that’s all Martin needs to have hope.

“Fine, then,” Martin says tightly. He won’t look at Annabelle, but he can feel her eyes like weights on the back of his neck. “I’ll listen. But not until you give Jon back.”

Annabelle laughs lightly, and Jon mirrors the motion perfectly. “I’m afraid that’s not my decision to make. But you will listen, Martin Blackwood. Of that, I am certain.”

And Jon begins to speak. And Martin begins to listen.

Jon’s screaming, but no one can hear him. He’s crying, but no tears spill down his cheeks. He wants to wrap his arms around Martin, and hold him tight, and press kisses to his forehead and nose and lips, but instead he sits at a table and smiles and tells Martin that everything’s going to be okay. That the Mother of Puppets has a plan, and it’s ultimately to the benefit of the world, so Martin need not worry about the Spider as he does the Eye. That once the Spider is done with Jon, it will give him back.

At this, he wants to laugh, to scream, to cry, because the lie is hot and sticky on his tongue, and it tastes of poison. But instead, he places a hand on Martin’s cheek and says, so sweetly, “I do keep my promises, don’t I, Martin?”

The threads that wrap around Martin’s body guide him into a nod, and Jon wants nothing more than to be able to cut them. But his are thicker, more consuming, and much, much older, so much so that he thinks that, were they removed, he may cease to exist entirely.

“Lovely,” Jon says with a smile. “I trust you know where the door is.”

“Fuck this,” Basira says, and pulls the trigger.

Moment One:

Annabelle Cane smiles, unharmed. “You forget,” she says, glassy-eyed, calm, “that this place does not answer to you.”

Moment Two:

Blood begins to blossom, scarlet and thick, against a dark coat.

Moment Three:

“Oh,” Jon says, in a voice all his own.

Moment Four:

“Oh,” Annabelle Cane says, in a voice that has perhaps never been her own.

Moment Five:

The strings are cut, and Jon collapses.

dark; cold; blind.

“—Christ, what were you thinking, Basira? God, look at him, he—Jon? Jon! Jon, can you hear—?”

dark; cold; blind

“—think we’re losing him. Jon, you have to wake up.”

“Why isn’t he healing? He- he should be healing. Why isn’t he—?”

dark; cold; blind

Silence, but for the sound of quiet, shaking sobs.

Jon tries, desperately, to hold on.

Jon wakes up to a splitting pain in his chest, an even more splitting pain in his head, and a cat sitting on his feet.

The groan Jon lets out when he tries to sit up must have been loud enough to hear from the other room, because it’s less than five seconds before the door’s flung open and Martin rushes in, startling the Admiral so badly that he leaps off the bed and runs through the door into the other room.

“You scared the Admiral,” Jon croaks, and god, his throat hurts. What had he been—?

Oh.

Jon remembers the legs, scurrying along the sides of his bones, and is immediately sick, managing to lean over the side of the bed before regurgitating the meagre contents of his stomach. In less than a second, there’s a warm hand on his back and a voice saying, “Jon! Are- are you okay? God, no, of course not, you were shot, but I meant- Christ, you know what I meant.”

Jon coughs and immediately regrets it as it sends a fresh wave of pain throughout his abdomen. It’s a moment before he has enough breath to say, shakily, “Oh, god. The- the house, Annabelle, I- what happened?”

Martin helps Jon lean back in bed, and he continues to rub soothing circles into Jon’s shoulder as he says, “I don’t know about Hilltop Road, or- or Annabelle. We- um, Basira, she- I don’t know how much you remember, but she, uh, shot you, and that seemed to break through whatever the Web was doing to you. But only because, um. You died for a bit? Which I, hah, didn’t think could happen anymore, but then you stopped breathing, and I- I just kept seeing you lying in that hospital bed.”

Jon reaches, despite the pain, and lays a careful hand on Martin’s cheek. It’s wet with tears. “Oh, Martin. I’m sorry.”

Martin smiles and reaches up to cup Jon’s hand with his own. “It- it’s fine. You’re back. I suppose it- it was like back then, in a way.”

Quietly, Jon says, “They Eye didn’t want to let me go.”

“Yeah, well, for once I agree with it on something.”

Jon smiles softly. “You know there’s really no it to agree with, Martin. The Eye is—”

“Yes, yes, it’s unfathomable, closer to a thought than a person or an object, like a color comprised of fear, I know. But it’s also staring at us right now from the sky, so I think I’m entitled to refer to it as an it.”

“I… I suppose.”

“Back from the dead again, then?” Georgie says, coming in through the door and leaning against the wall. Melanie and Basira are close behind; Melanie has the Admiral cradled in her arms, and her fingers are slowly carding through his fur.

Jon gives her a weak, tentative smile. “It appears so.”

Melanie sighs. “Well, that’s one ‘will-this-fix-the-world?’ option taken off the list, I guess. What’s that, number 20 out of, uh, infinity?”

“We’ll get there,” Basira says curtly. “For now, we should regroup—figure out our next move. We’re not safe here, but it’s better than where we were before, so we have some time, but not much.”

Jon shifts, and he can’t quite suppress a wince. “Enough time for a nap?” he says with a wry smile. “I still feel a bit like I’ve been- well, like I’ve been shot.”

“Technically, I saved your life,” Basira says, but she pushes off the wall and heads toward the door. “Like I said, we don’t have much time. Just… just come out when you’re ready.”

Georgie and Melanie follow her out, and then it’s just Jon and Martin again. They’d shifted after Georgie had come in to slot their hands together, fingers interlocking, and now, Martin rubs small circles with his thumb on the back of Jon’s hand.

“Do you think it’s still possible?” Martin asks quietly, staring at the door like it’ll somehow give him all the answers. “To fix the world? The Web, Annabelle, Hilltop Road… that had been our biggest lead, after the Panopticon, and it almost got you killed.”

Jon squeezes Martin’s hand gently. “I don’t know.” It’s true, and it feels good to have genuine ignorance. “But what else is there to hope for?”

“Yeah.” Martin lifts Jon’s hand, presses a soft kiss to the back of it. “Yeah.”

In the corner, a spider scuttles through a crack in the wall, disappearing from sight.

#whumptober2020 #no.5 #failed escape #rescue #the magnus archives #fic #manipulation tw #spiders tw #guns tw

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kirk-spock-in-the-impala · 4 years

Text

Between You and the World (2 of 6)

Chapter 2: Sound, Summer, Year 1252

CW: Geralt's headspace, mentions of blood, prejudice and xenophobia.

Link to AO3

Approx. 5600 words under the cut

Story summary: Geralt's senses are extraordinarily acute, allowing him to perceive far more than average. As necessary as those senses are for his profession, they can become overwhelming.

Five times Jaskier helps Geralt through sensory overload

II. SOUND – Summer, Year 1252

It was mid-summer and Geralt and Jaskier were winding their way slowly northward through Kaedwen, keeping close to the Kestrel Mountains. The oppressive heat was eased by the cool breezes meandering down off the snowy peaks high above them. The warm, long days lent an air of relaxation to their trek and Geralt settled into a languid rhythm, long legs easily covering the trail as he breathed deeply of the warm, pleasantly scented air and tilted his face up to catch the warm rays of the noon sun high above.

As they walked along narrow trails through meadows buzzing with insects and full of the bounty of summer flowers, of which Roach frequently availed herself, Jaskier trailed several paces behind, focusing intently on his lute as he practiced, perfected, and practiced again his newest set of songs.

They were headed to the Kaedwen Regional Bardic Competition, a qualifying event for the Continental Finals that winter in Novigrad. When Geralt had gone to the Alderman to turn in his last contract, Jaskier had caught sight of the notice posted for the Regional Competition on the village board.

With only five leagues and three days between their current location and the Regional Competition, and no pending contract to give them their next heading, Geralt had agreed to travel with Jaskier to the competition, held in a small town in Northern Kaedwen at the base of the Kestrel Mountains. That close to dragon territory, Geralt would likely find a profitable contract on some type of draconid, Jaskier had argued. Geralt could see how much the competition meant to Jaskier and could not bring himself to refuse.

So, they set off, Jaskier taking the long hours spent walking as ample opportunity to fine-tune and practice the new ballads he’d written based on their adventures together that past Spring. Apparently, old material “simply wouldn’t do, Geralt!” Or so Jaskier had insisted. Geralt was unsure of the difference, given they’d yet to travel this far North, so it was unlikely anyone here had heard Jaskier’s ballads, and certainty not yet from the source, but he held his tongue, unwilling to risk dimming his dearest (his only) friend’s enthusiasm. If it made them some extra coin or put him in range of a profitable contract, all the better.

At their current rate, they would arrive at the Competition by late afternoon. As Jaskier explained it, preliminaries would be held the following morning, with each bard given a private meeting with the Judges. The winners of the preliminary phase would then hold a public competition in the evening at the local inn, with each bard running through a set of three songs on which they would be judged. The top three bards would receive a certificate granting them entrance to the Continental Finals, along with a monetary prize.

And so, they walked, Geralt and Roach leading the way through the sun-drenched meadows accompanied by Jaskier’s lilting melodies. Geralt had thought all his life that he preferred silence, but this, perhaps, might be even better.

________________________________________

By that evening, Jaskier and Geralt were settled into the last available room at the local inn and Roach was comfortably bedded down in a large stall with a thick blanket of straw and fresh-smelling oats.

On the way in to town, Geralt had taken a contract from the village’s notice board for a wyvern that had recently taken a liking for mutton. As this village relied largely on sheep farming for their trade and subsistence, the wyvern needed to be eliminated.

As Geralt buckled on his armor in preparation to meet the Alderman, having removed it in the day’s heat, Jaskier was annotating his sheet music for the competition ahead, picking out a few notes on his lute here and there as he went along.

Geralt strapped his swords across his back and said, “I’m going to meet the Alderman.”

“Wait!” Jaskier jumped up, sheets of parchment fluttering to the floor. “I’m coming with you.”

Geralt held up a hand. “No need, it’s too late to start the hunt now. I just need to speak to him about the details. At most, I’ll perhaps scout the location the wyvern has been seen stealing sheep.”

Jaskier moved to disagree, but Geralt insisted. “Stay. Finish your preparations.”

Jaskier moved as if to follow, then stepped back with a huff. “All right. But if you change your plan, promise you’ll come back and tell me. If you get hurt, I can’t find you unless I know where you are.”

Geralt tilted his head and stared at Jaskier, confused. “Why would you need to come find me?”

“Because, dear one, if you get hurt and can’t easily make it back, I don’t want you stuck in the woods for hours bleeding out!”

Geralt shrugged. “I’d make it back once I healed enough.”

Jaskier threw up his hands. “Not the point! I don’t want you to suffer needlessly.”

Geralt couldn’t understand the cause of Jaskier’s sudden upset. He’d always taken care of himself, patched himself up after hunts. Sure, it was nice when Jaskier was there to help with the hard to reach spots, but he would survive without assistance. He always had, and he would again when Jaskier decided he’d had enough of travelling with a witcher.

Jaskier expression faded from exasperation into consternation? Sadness? Geralt wasn’t sure, it was an odd sort of expression. Jaskier shook his head and gently, sadly, smiled at Geralt. “Go on, talk to the Alderman. We’ll talk about your appalling lack of self-care later.” He sat back on the bed and took up his notes.

Geralt didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing, and walked out the door.

_____________________________________________

The following afternoon, Geralt hauled himself back into the inn after a successful hunt. Contrary to the Alderman’s description, it was not a solitary juvenile wyvern, but a mated pair with a clutch of eggs. They'd given Geralt a good chase, covering close to a league over several hours, and a hairy fight once Geralt had finally caught up, but he was able to subdue both in the end. He kicked the eggs over the edge of the cliffside nest to ensure they had no chance of viability, removed the two heads as trophies, and started the trek back to the village, dripping blood, a mix of his own and the wyverns’, along behind him.

Given that horse was definitely on a wyvern’s menu, Geralt had left Roach safely back at the inn’s stables, a decision he was equally glad about and regretting as the large heads pulled on his already sore and tired shoulders.

It was fortunate he’d insisted Jaskier stay behind. The hunt had taken much longer than planned and Jaskier would have missed his morning preliminary slot with the judges had he accompanied Geralt as usual, something Geralt had been unwilling to risk. He had given Jaskier a detailed description of where he was heading, at Jaskier’s insistence, and they planned to meet up that afternoon at the inn so Jaskier could be sure of Geralt’s continued survival.

As Geralt stalked through the throng of people awaiting the results of the morning’s preliminary competition, they parted easily around him, many turning to spit and curse at him as he passed. Geralt was used to such a reaction and tuned it out. Just because he took care of their monsters didn’t mean he was different enough from his quarry that normal people wanted to associate with him without cause.

He reached the Alderman, pushing open the door with his foot before dropping the two, bloody heads on the waiting burlap sack. The Alderman started at the sight of him, coated in entrails and blood, dark shadows under his wild eyes.

Geralt sharply indicated the two heads. “Wasn’t a juvenile, but a mated pair. Think we need to renegotiate payment.”

The Alderman frowned, color rising in his cheeks. “Now, see here, you took the contract based on the information I gave you, information you knew was not that given by an expert. It’s your risk that the situation might be different than you expect.”

Geralt’s expression turned murderous. “Alderman, you contracted me for a single wyvern, not a pair. Would you rather I had left the second one alone?”

“How dare you!” The Alderman spat, “you’d leave innocent people to suffer for your greed? You truly are no better than the monsters!”

Geralt took a measured breath in through his nose, attempting to control his anger. This pushback was not an uncommon occurrence, and it would do him no good to snap. “I wouldn’t leave it and I didn’t. The remaining wyvern would have rampaged over the death of his mate, and I would not prompt a slaughter. I’m simply asking that you compensate me for the additional kill.” Despite his best efforts, Geralt’s voice grew louder as he went on, drawing attention from the crowd outside.

“What’s this now?” A large man, a farmer by the look of him, red faced and sweating, stepped across the threshold and into Geralt’s space. “You threatening our Alderman here, freak?”

“No,” Geralt ground out, well aware of how quickly this could turn into him getting run out of town without any pay, or worse, by a stoning. “I’m explaining to him that the contract price was based on one wyvern, but there were two. A payment adjustment is therefore required.” His tone was carefully measured.

The large man stepped back to stand next to the Alderman, facing the curious onlookers outside. His lip curled, contempt dripping off his words, “I think you’d best take what was agreed and move on, Witcher.” The way he spat out the title made his true feelings clear. This was a man who, like many, saw little difference between a witcher and a monster.

Geralt scanned the crowd outside, seeing largely aggressive faces looking back, itching for a bloodletting and sighed heavily, the fight draining out of him. What was one more unfair payment? He couldn’t risk getting run out of the village and ruining Jaskier’s chances in the competition.

“Fine. Give me the coin and I’ll go.”

The Alderman flung the bag at Geralt’s chest. Geralt caught it before it could hit him, tucked it into the pocket of his pants, and left, the crowd at the door parting for him, but just barely. He felt their stares on his back until he turned the corner toward the inn, more than ready to scrub himself down. He would need to be careful until they could leave again, a crowd like that was only too happy to turn into a mob.

____________________________________________

As Geralt was brushing Roach, murmuring the details of the morning’s hunt to her as he worked the soft bristles over her gleaming coat, Jaskier burst into the stable.

“Geralt! I got into the final!” He bounced on the balls of his feet, beaming.

“Hmm.” Geralt gave him a small smile, looking up at him over Roach’s withers. “Well done.”

Jaskier bounded into the stall to Geralt’s side, passing a juicy red apple to Roach and scratching her favorite spot on her forehead.

“The final competition is this evening at the inn! There are six bards in the final, and I go third in line. I’m to choose a set of three songs, one ballad, one jig, and one of my choice.” Jaskier smiled at Geralt, hands waving in his excitement. “I’m going to be able to play all the new ones I’ve been working on! For my largest crowd yet!”

“Hmm.” Geralt smiled as he listened, eyes crinkling as his hands continued to brush down Roach.

“You’ll come, won’t you?” Jaskier said, a hint of nerves dampening his excitement.

Geralt caught his eye briefly before returning his attention to Roach. “Of course.”

Jaskier’s smile rivaled the sun and he grasped Geralt’s shoulder in a firm hand, gripping once before releasing him, sliding his hand down Geralt’s arm. Geralt jumped at the contact, but relaxed immediately, warmth spreading from the spot Jaskier touched.

“So,” Jaskier said, leaning back against the stall door, “how was the hunt? I see you survived.”

“Fine. They’re dead.”

“Descriptive as usual.” Jaskier rolled his eyes before straightening. “Wait, ‘they’re’ dead? I thought you said it was one juvenile?” Jaskier asked.

“That’s what the contract said, but it was a mated pair.” Geralt explained, eyes firmly training on Roach.

Jaskier’s tone sharpened with concern as he pushed away from the stall door. “A mated pair? Geralt, are you hurt? That can’t have been an easy fight.”

“Just a few bumps and scratches, nothing serious.” Geralt reassured him, mostly honestly. The deeper contusions and cuts would heal in time, none serious enough to warrant a healer. Geralt knew if he mentioned the injuries, Jaskier would insist on a full treatment, and Geralt would never forgive himself if he distracted Jaskier from his successful completion of the competition.

Jaskier frowned, staring Geralt down looking for any trace of falsehood. Satisfied, he relaxed again. “All right, but I hope you were appropriately paid for the extra trouble.”

Geralt winced, glad his expression was mostly hidden by Roach. “I collected my pay from the Alderman before returning.” It wasn’t a lie. He wouldn’t lie, not to Jaskier, but neither would he rile him up over nothing before his performance. It was expected that people wouldn’t pay him for unexpected additions to the contract. He was used to it. He couldn’t even keep his temper this time when his request for a pay adjustment was refused, so he deserved to be docked for his lack of control.

Jaskier sensed there was more to the story, but knew it wasn’t the time to push. Geralt might be persuaded to tell him when they were comfortable and alone, but not here in a public stable with the crowd outside. “All right, good.”

Geralt’s shoulders relaxed and Jaskier knew he’d made the right decision to leave it for now. He continued, “I asked the innkeep to reserve the corner table by the stairs for us this evening. I know you won’t want to be in the middle of things, but you should be able to see and hear everything from there.”

Geralt turned to look at Jaskier, frowning at the thought of Jaskier taking time away from his competition for something so insignificant as Geralt’s comfort. “You didn’t need to do that. I would have managed to find a place to watch.”

Jaskier smiled softly at him. “I know, but I wanted to be sure you were as comfortable as possible. I know you don’t enjoy crowded spaces.”

Geralt was surprised Jaskier had noticed. They didn’t often visit large gatherings, and Geralt preferred to avoid cities. There was little chance in their travels for the issue to come up. Regardless, the consideration made something lighten in his chest, something he’d rarely felt before. It felt like gratitude, like affection. Like something of which he never believed, would never believe, he could be worthy. But he wouldn’t upset his friend by refusing the considerate gesture. “Thank you.” He said quietly.

Jaskier gave him a jaunty salute before turning to leave. “The competition starts at last light, but your table will be ready for you starting at dinnertime. I am told I must eat with the other finalists to avoid any chance of impropriety, so I will see you at the competition.” Jaskier flashed one more, bright smile over his shoulder before heading back out to rejoin the other competitors.

Geralt smiled down at Roach, the warmth of Jaskier’s presence, of his unlikely, extraordinary friendship with one such as Geralt, easing the bitter exhaustion caused by the morning’s events. He didn’t deserve Jaskier, but he would enjoy whatever Jaskier deigned to offer and hope that, maybe one day, he could offer something back.

______________________________________________

Geralt sat at his corner table, alone, back to wall, with a large tankard of ale held in a loose fist. The competition was about to kick off and the inn was bursting with people visiting from across the region for the famous competition. The chatter of near a hundred souls crammed into the modest room bounced against the low ceiling, coupling with the sounds of tankards hitting tables, chairs scraping the floor, and the barkeep’s yelled orders to render a deafening din.

Geralt took a slow breath, thankful, for once, that he was given a wide berth in human settlements. His ears already rang, but at least he wasn’t crowded. The exhaustion from the day, the fights with both the wyverns and the Alderman, weighing heavily on him, making every sound seem that much louder.

He heard the inn’s large front door bang open and watched as Jaskier filed in with the other finalists, the judges leading the way. The six bards lined up on the impromptu stage set in the center of the inn’s main room. One by one, the three judges introduced the six bards in the order they would perform, each bard prompting cheers from their fans that rattled the windows and sent spikes of pain through Geralt’s temples.

When Jaskier was introduced, he flourished a bow at the crowd, catching Geralt’s eye with smile and a wink. Geralt saluted him with his tankard, careful to keep any trace of his discomfort from his expression.

As the first bard took the stage, a lithe woman from the southwest, the audience pounded their tankards on the table and stomped their feet, cheering her on. Geralt barely contained a flinch as the noise level rose, fingers tightening on the pewter tankard almost hard enough to dent the metal.

The other five bards, Jaskier included, sat in a line behind the performer. The judges, all three in elaborate black robes with hood liners made from various colors of crushed velvet, sat in front of the stage with the performer’s submitted sheet music in hand, quills ready to take notes.

The woman launched into her first song, an upbeat jig that well matched her strong alto, stomping her feet to the beat as her fingers flew across the neck of her lute. The crowd responded, clapping, stomping, and singing along to the chorus in a variety of discordant keys. Clearly, unlike Jaskier, this bard had chosen a well-known favorite.

The wave of sound felt like a physical blow, slamming into Geralt from all sides as the walls and low ceiling caused the noise to ricochet. His fingers crushed into the pewter tankard, leaving obvious dents and causing warm ale to spill over his hand. The feel of the liquid jolted him back to attention and he deliberately unclenched his fingers, glad the angle of view prevented Jaskier from seeing him from where he sat in line.

Geralt clasped his hands together and rested them on the table in front of him, mentally running through his alchemy recipes as a distraction from the noise in the room. It wasn’t Jaskier’s turn yet, and he was sequestered in the darkened corner, so he could safely turn a portion of his attention inward to bolster his flagging control. The memory of a small, coastal fishing village abruptly came to mind and he forced down the memory of (the longing for) the comfort Jaskier had provided. He would not be that weak again. It may have been forgiven then, but interrupting Jaskier’s competition would be completely unacceptable. Running away and missing it would be equally so. Even Jaskier might not forgive him for that.

So, Geralt clenched his hands together, ground his teeth, and ran through his alchemy recipes as the first bard gave way to the second, who drew an equally loud series of cheers and stomps, and, finally, thankfully, to Jaskier.

Jaskier jumped lightly up onto the stage, Filavandrel’s lute in hand, and bowed gracefully to the judges and to the crowd. He caught Geralt’s eye, a frown of concern darting across his face as he saw the tension in Geralt’s jaw, but it was gone as soon as he turned back to the judges to begin his set.

As he launched into the first song, a powerful ballad about the White Wolf’s fight that past spring against a fearsome Bruxa, he caught Geralt’s eye and indicted the stairs with his chin, giving him permission to leave.

Geralt caught the gesture and froze. He couldn’t leave, not while Jaskier was performing. How would that look? If the judges noticed the person who left mid-song was none other than its subject? The risk was unacceptable. No, Geralt would stay and support Jaskier. He could control himself. He was trained for control, mutated for control. He wouldn’t shame his friend by failing again.

Geralt closed his eyes and focused his acute hearing entirely on Jaskier’s voice, on the melodies drawn out of the lute by his skilled fingers. He discreetly sniffed the air, catching the comforting scent of Jaskier’s rosin and honey. He forced his attention to stay on Jaskier and Jaskier alone, trusting that no great harm would come to him while under Jaskier’s eye. The familiar voice, even if the melody and lyrics were new, soothed his frayed nerves and some of the pressure in Geralt’s head eased.

As Jaskier finished his set to the most raucous applause yet, he ran his eyes over Geralt again, pleased to see he looked more relaxed than earlier, but still concerned. Geralt wouldn’t thank him for drawing attention to his discomfort, but Jaskier planned to get Geralt out of there as soon as he was released from the stage for the judges’ deliberations. He sent Geralt a reassuring smile before returning to his seat and losing sight of him behind a large pillar.

Geralt tried desperately to cling to the calm brought about by Jaskier’s performance, but the fourth and fifth bards each belted out loud, fast, tunes replete with banging chords and stomps, riling the large, increasingly drunken audience up more and more.

By the time the sixth bard, an older man with an aristocratic air, took the stage, Geralt was nearly at his limit. The clapping echoed in his skull, the stomping rattled his bones, and the singing sent piercing pain through his temples.

The volume increased as the end of the performance neared, audience members losing all control of their voices as the ale took firm hold. When the sixth bard struck his final note and bowed, the crowd exploded, jumping to their feet and screaming out the names of their favorites.

The windows rattled in their frames from the noise. In the wall of sound, the sudden, sharp scrape of a chair shoved backwards against the wood floor close to his right side made Geralt flinch violently into the left-hand wall, cracking his head on a wooden beam. He felt his breathing rapidly increase, his heart pounding in his chest, as his body interpreted the aural assault and the sudden pain from the strike to his left temple as an attack.

Alchemy recipes were no longer a distraction. The pain in his head, the pain in his jaw, from where his nails dug into his clenched fists, none of it was sufficient to overcome the overwhelming assault on his senses. Geralt felt his control slipping away and hated himself for it, for failing again to restrain his reactions. He felt panic rise, the corner suddenly feeling less like a reassuring embrace and more like a prison, trapping him between the immovable walls and the relentless, painfully loud noise of the crowd.

Suddenly, there was a presence on his right side. A hand landed gently on his right forearm and Geralt flinched, baring his teeth and spinning to face the intruder.

Jaskier took in the tension in his friend’s frame, the bruise blossoming over his left eye, and the wild, unfocused expression. He instantly remembered the coast, how painful the overwhelming smell had been for his friend and how long he had fought against the pain before finally succumbing. His heart dropped. Geralt had been pushed past his limits yet again and he knew the public nature of the breakdown would make it that much worse.

Jaskier spoke softly, gently rubbing his thumb over Geralt’s forearm. “Geralt? It’s Jaskier. It’s past dark and you’re in the inn for the bardic competition. Can you look at me, please?” This was the first time Jaskier was grateful people did not stray too close to his Witcher. In the dark corner, Geralt was largely hidden from the eyes of others and people were unlikely to disturb them.

Geralt’s eyes darted around room, tracking spikes in sound, before slowly focusing on Jaskier, the familiar voice and grounding words breaking through the panic. Geralt couldn’t speak, couldn’t respond, his words stolen away, overwhelmed by the assault on his sensitive ears. Geralt felt unable to escape the storm of noise causing his distress but looked to Jaskier for a port of calm.

“There you are.” Jaskier smiled, keeping his voice light and cheerful. “The judges are deliberating, so I think it’s time for us to head upstairs. I could use a rest, and they’ll be a while.” Jaskier knew focusing on his own needs, rather than Geralt’s would be more likely to prod Geralt into motion. Jaskier desperately wanted to soothe his friend, to ease his tension, to embrace him, but knew Geralt would not, could not, relax in public and would be deeply shamed by displaying anything he perceived as weakness where others could see.

Geralt frowned, eyes focusing more as concern for Jaskier penetrated his overwhelmed mind. He nodded and rose from the bench, letting Jaskier lead him toward the stairs. As they ascended, one of the local bards not in the competition struck up a lively tune to keep the waiting crowd entertained. As the noise level suddenly rose again, this time at his open back, Geralt flinched away, a whine caught in his throat, hands raising as if to cover his ears before he forcibly stopped himself, digging his hands into his thighs.

Jaskier reached back and took Geralt’s hand, drawing him quickly up the stairs and into their room – thankfully at the back of the inn – and shutting the heavy wooden door.

As the noise suddenly diminished to a dull background hum, Geralt stopped in the middle of the room, panting with relief. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, eyes darting around before landing on Jaskier with a silent plea. Geralt didn’t know what he needed, just that he needed, and he was still unbalanced enough to forget himself and ask for help, albeit without words.

Jaskier answered immediately, stepping into Geralt’s space and guiding him over to sit on the bed, gently directing him until he was lying down, head in Jaskier’s lap. Jaskier covered Geralt’s ears with his hands and rubbed soothing circles across his temples and jaw. Geralt’s eyes closed, trusting Jaskier to keep him safe.

Slowly, slowly the tension left Geralt’s face. He heaved a sigh and his eyes opened. Jaskier could see the moment he fully returned to himself, as Geralt’s expression shifted quickly from soft relief into deep shame. Geralt moved to sit up and Jaskier stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“Easy, just lie back.” Jaskier instructed, calm and authoritative. “You need to let your body recover.”

Geralt briefly pressed up against the restraining hand before giving in, eyes flicking up and away from Jaskier’s, shame coloring his cheeks and warming the tips of his ears.

Geralt took a breath, opening his mouth to speak several times before it took. “Forgive me. Again. My lack of control is inexcusable.”

Jaskier’s lips pressed into a thin line, heart aching for his friend, for the impossible standards to which he held himself. For the lack of care, of comfort, in his long lifetime that had led him to believe such things were unwarranted when applied to him.

“There’s nothing to forgive.” Jaskier said gently, firmly, echoing their earlier conversation on the coast. “I only ask one thing.”

Geralt looked up, eager to hear how he could fix this, how he could please his friend, repay him for having to coddle him through yet another breakdown.

“Tell me next time so I can help you before it gets to this point. Or, if you can't, just leave, give yourself some distance from whatever is hurting you.” Jaskier was almost begging, pleading with his friend to take even this modicum of care for his own needs.

Geralt blanched. “I wouldn’t leave you.” He said, an almost frantic note in his normally measured tone.

Jaskier rubbed a hand across Geralt’s forehead, smoothing back his hair before pressing a kiss between his eyes. “I know, and I wouldn’t leave you either. I just want you to go far enough that it’s not too loud, or too stinky, or too whatever for you. I couldn’t abide it if I were the cause of your distress because you felt you needed to stay somewhere for me. If you need to leave, I will understand, and I will find you again in that safer place.”

Geralt blinked at the kiss, shocked. No one had ever done that to him before. It was unexpected. Nice? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t know how to respond. But Jaskier had done it, so it must be all right.

He heard the words, saw how important this was to Jaskier. “I will try.” He said finally. He couldn’t promise more. Wouldn’t leave if Jaskier could get hurt. Or disappointed. That wasn’t worth it. But maybe if there was no harm, he could give himself a little break when things got to be too much. He should be able to control himself, to let the overstimulation wash off his back, but if his control failed, if he were already shamed, maybe a little relief wouldn’t hurt? He’d consider it.

A sudden shout cut through the hum from below. Not loud, not startling, just enough for Geralt to make out that results would be announced shortly.

“We should go down.” He said to Jaskier, “results are about to be announced.” He sat up and straightened his clothes, taking a fortifying breath as if he were about to head into a battle. In a way, he was.

Jaskier wanted to stay, wanted to keep Geralt here in this quiet room, wanted to protect his friend, to sooth the furrows and lines of tension and shame from his face. But he knew that wouldn’t help now. Geralt would blame himself for Jaskier missing the announcement, and that would overpower any relief staying in the quiet could provide.

Jaskier sighed and smiled up at his impossible, selfless, stubborn friend. “All right, but let me do something for you before we go.” He held up an admonishing finger when he saw Geralt about to protest. “No arguments.”

Jaskier stretched across the bed and grabbed the strap of his bag, pulling it over and digging around inside. Triumphantly, he brandished the linen handkerchief he’d found before tearing off two strips of the cloth and forming them into tight balls.

“Come here,” Jaskier directed, patting the bed. Geralt sat. “Now, face me, please.”

Jaskier reached up and placed a ball of linen in each of Geralt’s ears, gently positioning them to fully block the ear canal without forcing them in far enough to hurt.

Geralt scrunched up his face at the tickling sensation. As Jaskier settled the balls of linen into place, the noise around him was muffled by half. His eyes widened.

Jaskier smiled at him. “Better?” Geralt nodded. “Good. We can go now.” He said, standing and holding out a hand to Geralt.

Geralt took his hand and stood. Just before placing his hand on the doorknob, Jaskier turned back and pointed a finger at Geralt, saying firmly, “if it gets too loud, you’re to come back up here right away, you hear?”

Geralt frowned. “I can handle it, especially with these sound blockers you’ve made.”

Jaskier poked his finger into Geralt’s chest, emphasizing his words. “Not the point. I don’t want you to suffer. If it’s too loud, if it hurts, come up.” Jaskier softened his tone, flattening his palm to Geralt’s chest. “Please.”

Geralt’s shoulders loosened, hearing the honest plea. “I promise.” If it would make Jaskier happy, he would do it.

Jaskier beamed at him and they walked back down the stairs, hand in hand.

Jaskier positioned Geralt at the base of the stairs, leaving him with a clear route of escape. With the linen in his ears, the sound was greatly diminished. Still loud, but not loud enough that Geralt would need to leave or risk breaking his word.

As Jaskier joined the other five finalists on stage, the crowd hushed. The judges announced their winners. In third place, the first bard, the lithe southwestern woman, in second, the aristocratic uncle.

The crowd held its breath.

“And, in first place,” the announcing judge took a dramatic pause, “Master Jaskier!”

Jaskier face lit up and he immediately caught Geralt’s eye. The ensuing cheers were loud, but not painfully so, and Geralt allowed a fond, proud smile to form, nodding at Jaskier warmly.

Jaskier beamed at him before turning to accept his prize.

If allowing Jaskier to help made him this happy, if it allowed him to witness Jaskier’s triumphs, maybe it would be all right to accept the help.

As Geralt watched Jaskier accept the adulation of the crowd, gaining the recognition he fully deserved as the cheers flowed around Geralt without assaulting his sensitive ears, protected as they were by Jaskier’s invention, Geralt's chest filled with an unfamiliar warmth. It felt suspiciously like joy.

#kirk-spock-in-the-impala writes #yeah this is six chapters now #this is getting out of control #between you and the world #the witcher #witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #dandilion #gerlion #geraskier #geralt/jaskier #soft!geralt #soft!jaskier #protective!jaskier #thesunshinemanman

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slashiest-slasher · 4 years

Text

For @slashthedice‘s Frisky February!

Day 4: Spanking

Brahms Heelshire x male s/o

"What the hell?"

This is it, your breaking point with Brahms. There's a lot of shit you could take from him, but you are at your limit, and if you didn't have a stronger resolve you'd walk out of the house right this instant.

Your cellphone, smashed to bits. Years and years of emotional turmoil written down into a journal, gone for a week only to show up in the foyer ripped to little pieces and scattered like snow. And the icing on the cake was your all the pills, from your previously full bottle, floating in the toilet.

And Brahms just stands there in the middle of his bedroom, arms behind his back, and looking at the floor. Fully prepared for a scolding and a slap on the wrist. You always did, so matter how badly he acted, so why would that change now?

But your voice isn't hot and seething like it normally is, it's cold and level, and it makes his guts twists with guilt worse than anything he's felt before.

"Do you know how bad what you did was, Brahms?" you ask him, arms crossed. When he doesn't say anything, but shifts between his feet, you speak up, louder. "Well?"

"I took your stuff without asking," he says. "And I wasn't happy with it and destroyed it. But it was your stuff, and I shouldn't have."

"That's it? That's all you have to say?" Venom drips from your voice. There's no way in hell you're letting him off easy for this, not in the slightest. He's trying to be cutesy, but you have other ideas in mind.

“I was very bad, even though I promised I would be good. Those things were very personal and I shouldn't have gotten mad and destroyed them. I'm sorry." He twirls from side to side, trying to sway you in his favor.

"Yes, you were very bad. But do you know why I'm so mad about the pills in particular?"

Brahms finally looks you in the eyes, head tilted to the side. "Why?" he asks with genuine curiosity.

"Because I need those pills to function, and I can't just stop taking them all of sudden. Did you know if I didn't have an extra bottle hidden, I could've been hurt badly? I could’ve gotten very sick, and I would have died a very painful and slow death, Brahms."

Even though he still has his mask on, you know his eyebrows shoot up underneath. He rushes forward and grips your shoulders tightly. "I didn't know," he says frantically, eyes wet. "I just didn't like how they make your head fuzzy. Please, I'm sorry."

You pull back from him, and sit down on the edge of the bed. "I need to punish you, you know that right? Now, you're going to be a good boy and take off your trousers and pants, lay across my lap, and take everything I give you. If you don't, I'll be very cross, and I'm going to leave for and stay with Malcolm for a few months until I'm not."

His eyes bug out at the mere mention of Malcolm, and you think he's going to get angry again, but he doesn't. He obediently gets out of the required clothes, hurriedly, and climbs into your lap. His ass is hairy just like the rest of him, and normally you'd think it gross, but on Brahms, it's sort of fitting.

You take a moment to grip his ass cheeks, nice and firm, which make a whine form in his throat. "I want you to count out each spank you get. I'm going to start with 20, and each time you mess up, I'm starting over. Understood?"

His hair bounces as he nods. "One." You start off easy on him at first, as if you were swatting at a bug, but slowly ramp up the intensity.

Brahms squirms in your lap, and you can feel his cock twitching and slowly hardening against your thigh after each spank. He desperately tries to keep his moans and whines quiet, but he can't and each high pitched noise he makes it utterly endearing. "N-nine, ten- ah!" He jolts and gasp as you hit him with a particularly hard strike. And then another. "Twel- no eleven! I meant eleven!"

You shake your head when he looks back at you with big eyes. "You know the rules, now I have to start over."

"No, please! I didn't mean to!" he goes to gets up, but must have remembered what you said you would do if he didn't take the punishment.

You wait no time in hitting him hard and relentlessly. He wails out each number, sobbing out the last few until you're back up to ten. You stop for a good few minutes to rub at the rosy skin, soothing away the red marks. "Do you like this Brahmsy?" you ask him in a low voice, hitting him again.

His erection is incessant poking your thigh, and you can feel him leaking pre-cum all over your trousers. "Eleven." He shakes his head, entire body trembling, and at that, you bring your hand down full force in three rapid successions. "Twelve, thirteen, four-teen!" he manages out in sobs. Tears were rolling down his mask and dripping down onto the blankets.

"Good boys don't lie. If you lie to me again, I'll add on 10 more spanks on top of everything else. Now, do you like this Brahms?" You rub his ass again, waiting for him to respond.

He clutches the blankets, trying to hide his already masked face. He mutters out something, but you can't quite make it out. You don't need to say anything, only press your hand firmly to his bruised ass. "Y-yes," he manages. "It hurts so much, but I like it... I don't know why." The tears don't stop pouring down his face.

And fuck, that's hot. The anger in you has melted away slightly, and now you just want this over with. The last six aren't as hard as some of the others, sans the last one. And thankfully, Brahms doesn't mess them up.

By the last spank, he's fully crying again, face completely hidden in the blanket. He sucks in shuddering breaths trying to gain control of himself, but he can't stop the sobs.

You slip a hand underneath his shirt and rub his making, making soothing noises at him. "You took that so well Brahmsy. Such a good boy, a good, handsome boy," you assure him in a low voice.

Brahms sniffles, and lifts his face from the bed. "Really? You're not mad anymore?"

Oh, you're still pissed at him for that, but you smile, and run your fingers through his hair. "No. You did so well that you deserve a treat." You get the little bottle of lube from your trouser pockets, and trickle it between Brahms' cheeks.

He hisses out at the sting, but that quickly turns into a shaky moan when you slip a finger, and then two, into his entrance. You seek out and fuck his prostate relentlessly, leaving him shaking and mewling.

He curls his toes, and tries to hide his face again in the bed. "Ah ah ah, I want to hear you Brahmsy," you tease, fucking him harder. He lifts his face up, letting out a loud, uncontrolled moan. You only wish he would take the mask off so you could see how red his cheeks are.

He cums not long after that, spending all over your lap as he tenses up and chokes on a silent moan. Under any normal circumstance you would've asked for at least a blowjob in return, but Brahms is dead weight on top of your lap right now.

You get out from under him, change into clean trousers, and grab the arnica ointment from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. When you get back to his room, he's clutching his pillow and hiding his face in it. You sit down on the bed next to him, and gingerly rub the ointment all over the red and bruised skin on his ass.

Brahms hisses and groans at it, but stops when you remove his mask and press a kiss to his lips. "You take a nap, Brahmsy. I'll wake you up when dinner is ready, alright? I'll make whatever you want. Does that sound good?"

He nods shyly. "Homemade tomato soup and rarebit, please?" he asks.

You nod in return, and give him another kiss before leaving. You pause to turn off the lights, leave the bedroom door slightly ajar, and turn on the hallway lamps.

#brahms heelshire #brahms heelshire x reader #brahms x reader #lemon #frisky february #brahms hc #another one done fellas #actually proud of this one lmao

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eviesmyspiritanimal · 4 years

Text

Problematic Parental Pow-Wow

Summary: Adam and Belle want to talk with their Ben’s new girlfriend alone. So naturally, Mal enlists Evie’s help to assist her in what will most assuredly be a horribly awkward situation. Some Bal, slight Core Four feels, and mostly Mal and Evie friendship feels.

Mal stormed into her and Evie’s dorm, groaning deeply. Evie looked up from her position reading a book on the bed as Mal hurried over to her. Evie just stayed silent, watching the girl as Mal flopped down beside Evie face-first.

Mal groaned again as she closed her eyes, burying her face in the mattress. Before she knew it, Evie’s fingers were combing through her hair gently, and she felt Evie’s presence much closer than it was just a moment ago.

Currently, Mal was having a horrible, no good, very bad day. And it was all thanks to Belle and Adam. Since Ben and Mal had begun to start dating, they wanted to have an opportunity to talk with Mal about her and her relationship with Ben.

So, as a result, Mal was scared, irritated, and in an overall very nervous mood.

They were quiet for a long time before Evie spoke up finally.

“What happened?” Evie questioned, and Mal just grumbled something that even Mal herself didn’t expect to make sense. Mal could hear Evie’s slight sigh.

“Can I possibly hear that in English?” Evie asked patiently, and Mal turned her face to the side, moving her face so that her nose was now crunched against the side of Evie’s leg.

“It’s horrible,” Mal told her, and Evie’s fingers stroked the skin along the side of Mal’s head before they retreated back into Mal’s hair.

“What’s horrible?”

“Beast-Man and Ring-My-Bell want to see me,” Mal informed Evie, and Evie snorted at Mal’s names. Of course, they weren’t new. Mal had been referring to Ben’s parents that way since they moved to Auradon. It was definitely not something she said in front of Ben, but when it was just her and one of the Core Four, she let loose.

“Any idea why?” Evie questioned, and Mal squirmed closer to Evie, writhing about until her head was on Evie’s lap and she was looking up into Evie’s face upside-down. Evie’s eyebrow was raised, and the smallest hint of a smile was pulling at the corners of her lips.

“They’ve invited me to a grilling session at this restaurant,” Mal started, and Evie nodded easily as she considered the words.

“An appropriate place to do it,” Evie acknowledged, and Mal allowed herself a laugh.

“Yeah, tell me about it. But they want to find out if I’m worthy to date Ben, E!” Mal proclaimed, exposing the ultimate issue that she was experiencing with this entire ordeal. Evie’s smile disappeared as her warm, loving brown eyes locked with Mal’s green ones.

“Did they say it like that?” Evie questioned worriedly, all hints of joking gone, and Mal shook her head with a sigh, enjoying the way Evie was stroking her head.

“No, but that was the implication. Y’know, since they wanted to talk to me alone,” Mal emphasized the last word, and Evie just smiled lovingly at Mal as her eyes glowed with adoration.

“Of course you’re worthy to date Ben, M. He’s the one that’s not worthy to date you,” Evie told Mal cutely with a wink but also with plenty of seriousness in the undertones of her voice.

“I know that, but they don’t seem to see things that way,” Mal expressed, and Evie just smiled gently.

“Especially Beast-Man. That dude’s like the worst! I don’t think he fully transformed from Beast mode or something because he’s a serious hard nose,” Mal complained and Evie laughed at the girl.

“I don’t think he’s quite that bad…”

“Oh, Beast-Man’s terrible! He’s big like a beast, ugly like a beast, mean like a beast, and he’s even hairy like a beast, which is seriously gross, by the way,” Mal insulted, and Evie couldn’t help but crack up laughing at Mal’s description.

“Maybe so, but please remember not to call him Beast-Man when you go, okay?” Evie instructed with only a hint of worry in her voice.

“Oh, please, E. I’ll be fine. Although, I slipped up and almost called him that in front of Ben the other day, which would’ve been a bit bad,” Mal admitted, and Evie rolled her eyes at the girl.

“In front of Ben’s a bit bad, but in front of Beast himself would be a nightmare,” Evie expressed, and Mal shrugged noncommittally, closing her eyes as she enjoyed Evie’s hand stroking her head.

“So, what are you going to do?” Evie asked after a moment, and Mal

“Well,” Mal held out the “l” in the word as she studied Evie carefully. Evie furrowed her brow, tilting her head as she looked at Mal inquisitively.

“I was thinking that maybe you could come with me,” Mal told Evie, and Evie shook her head sympathetically.

“Mal, I can’t possibly go with you. That’d be weird.”

“It wouldn’t! You’re my best friend and my family, so it wouldn’t be weird at all!” Mal assured her, grabbing Evie’s wrist in her hand gently as she stopped Evie’s hand from moving. Evie huffed fondly.

“I know that, silly, but I meant weird because they want to talk to you alone,” Evie informed her, and Mal groaned.

“But I need you, E… I don’t have a clue what to say. I won’t have a clue what to say. And you’re so good at this stuff!” Mal whined a bit, squeezing Evie’s wrist affectionately. Evie pursed her lips in thought as she considered Mal’s plight.

After several long moments, Evie suddenly looked as if she had a lightbulb moment. Mal gazed at her hopefully, knowing her best friend would be able to help.

“I think I’ve got an idea…”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It was the next day, and Mal was currently leaning against the wall of the outside part of the restaurant as she waited on Evie to tell her it was alright to come in. Mal was just trying to keep herself together, and she was sort of panicking at this moment.

“Hey, I’m in position, and you’re good to go,” Evie spoke into Mal’s ear, and Mal jumped a little bit as she communicated through the earpiece. Mal brought her hand up to the technology, adjusting it a bit as she listened to Evie.

Evie’s idea had involved getting Carlos to lend them two earpieces so they could communicate with one another. That way, Evie could tell Mal everything that she needed to say without Belle and Adam being any the wiser to it.

“Alright… Are you sure we couldn’t just not go and say we did?” Mal questioned hopefully and Evie huffed in affectionate exasperation.

“M, you’ll be fine. I promise. I’m here for you every step of the way.”

“Are you sure?”

“C’mon, M. Do you know me at all?” Evie questioned playfully, and Mal chuckled a bit as she headed into the restaurant. She immediately spotted the hulking form of Adam and the slightest hint of yellow on the other side of him that easily showed her that Belle was right there with him.

“Wish me luck,” Mal spoke lowly as she shut the door behind her. She swiftly caught sight of Evie sitting in a booth across from the two parents. To her happiness, Evie was looking at her with a loving smile.

“You won’t need luck. You’ve got me in your ear,” Evie assured her warmly, and Mal nodded slightly, swallowing hard as she tried to gather every bit of confidence that she possessed.

She then walked over to the couple.

As soon as she was nearby, Adam seemed to catch sight of her and he visibly hardened as he looked at her, forcing something that was more like a grimace than anything onto his face. Belle leaned around him and smiled at Mal.

“Hello, Mal!” Belle welcomed her, and Mal forced a smile.

“Hi,” Mal awkwardly greeted the two there before her, and waving at them somewhat stiffly.

She knew she had just got there, but she almost wanted to make some excuse like she had to go to the bathroom, and that’d be when she just subtly escaped from the place.

But Mal knew she had to do this. At least for the temporary, she knew she wanted to date Ben, despite the fact that she hadn’t known him for very long. And this was one of the steps that it was going to take to get to being able to date him.

But it was truly one of the most awkward situations that she had ever been in.

“I couldn’t hear anything they just said, M. But don’t worry, I’m really good at lip-reading,” Evie’s voice came over the earpiece, and Mal sighed deeply, mentally slapping her forehead as she questioned how good Evie actually was at the skill.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Belle offered, and Mal nodded, following the instructions quickly as she sat down in the chair across from Ben’s parents. Mal sat down, and she could hear Evie’s gentle, quiet humming in her ear. Mal almost wanted to smile, feeling some of her fear dissipate at the calming sound of Evie’s naturally deeper voice. Evie must have been able to sense Mal’s fear.

“So, how do you do?” Belle asked, ever the peaceable sort, and Mal nodded easily, about to answer the one thing in this conversation that she was one hundred percent sure that she would actually be able to answer.

“Did she just say how do you poo?! That’s disturbing and rude!” Evie questioned in surprise, and Mal almost snorted, knowing that definitely wasn’t what Belle had said. Evie was obviously not good at lip-reading in the least.

“I’m doing well,” Mal replied to her somewhat stiffly, trying to keep her nervous laughter inside since she knew that likely wouldn’t look good.

“Ask them how they are,” Evie told her, obviously picking up on the real question that had been asked.

“How are you guys?” Mal questioned, and Belle seemed pleasantly surprised by the question.

“Oh, well, we’re doing quite fine,” Belle replied with a smile, and Mal grinned a bit in reply as an awkward pause fell upon them.

For a moment, they just sat there in silence, the entire meeting not going as swimmingly as they could’ve hoped. And they had only gotten through less than five minutes of the ordeal.

“Alright, enough small talk. Let’s discuss the important things,” Adam interrupted, and looked at Belle, cuing her to ask the first question. Belle sighed deeply, seeming as if she’d honestly rather do anything else than begin what would likely be a serious grilling.

“So, Mal, how do you feel about our son?” Belle questioned after a moment, offering that stiff yet kind smile that somehow reminded Mal of Ben. Ben was just a bit looser than his mother. Of course, that was not saying much considering how painfully proper the entire royal family was.

“Um… How do I feel about your son? Well,” Mal started, waiting on Evie to tell her what to say.

“Tell them I like it, but he’s going to need to make it a little cheaper,” Evie spoke, her voice a little distant, but Mal copied her words perfectly.

“I like it, but he’s going to need to make it a little cheaper,” Mal spoke, but froze as she realized precisely what she repeated. Both Adam and Belle gaped at her in horror.

“Don’t you mean him?” Belle started, and Adam lowered his glasses, his mouth agape.

“Cheaper?” he questioned. Mal’s eyes widened, and she happened to realize that she had a menu there before her. She grabbed it quickly and saw a section of it called “Chef’s Specials.”

“Oh, no, I meant the Chef’s specials here. They want a ridiculous amount for some spaghetti that I could probably make at home,” Mal expressed, laughing a bit as she tried to cover her mistake. They seemed immediately less weirded out, but they were still a little on-guard if their expression were anything to go by.

“So, what are they saying? Or can you talk right now?” Evie questioned, and Mal held the menu up, hiding her face behind it as she pretended to read the options before her. She immediately began telling her tale to her sister.

“I just said that I like it--- not even the proper pronoun ‘him’---”

“Ooh, look who’s been paying attention in ELA,” Evie spoke, sounding very pleased indeed, and Mal rolled her eyes as she continued explaining her predicament.

“And then I said he’s going to have to make it a little cheaper!” Mal told Evie, and Evie gasped in horror.

“Oh, my gosh, that’s terrible! Why would you say that?!”

“Because you said it!”

“Oh… I was talking about the spaghetti on the Chef’s specials menu!” Evie told her, and Mal rolled her eyes, unable to help feeling some fondness in the midst of her intense irritation. It was sometimes purely uncanny just how similarly her and Evie occasionally thought.

“So?” Belle asked after a few moments, and Mal looked up from behind her convenient hiding place, coming back into focus as she paid attention to the two before her.

“Huh?”

“How do you feel about our son?” Adam asked, pressing the question as he gazed at Mal. There was not a single hint of mercifulness in his features and seemed just as intimidating, stoic, and frightening as usual.

There was a point in time that Mal would have easily been ready to punch him in the face for even remotely looking at her that way. But that was the Isle version of Mal. Now that they were all in Auradon, Mal had to watch herself carefully and make sure she didn’t screw things up and send her most treasured people back to the hole that they had finally managed to emerge from.

“Oh, yes! How do I feel about your son? Well, he’s,” Mal trailed off, pretending that she was off in thought and trying to think of how to describe it when she was really cluing Evie in on the question. She mentally begged Evie to hurry up with the right words to say because Mal truthfully felt as if she were quite close to the two just quitting the meeting altogether.

“Tell them that you love him,” Evie instructed, and Mal’s eyes almost went wide before she gained greater control over herself. Under her breath, she made a negating noise.

“Tell them, M,” Evie commanded somewhat firmly from the earpiece.

“Uh-uh,” Mal lowly expressed as she tried to look deep in thought to disguise the fact that she was actually secretly communicating with Evie.

“Mal, butter them up! It’s the best way to go!” Evie informed her, and Mal held back the impending groan as she shaped up, offering a wide and completely fake smile as she finally met the pair’s eyes again.

“I really like---”

“Love!” Evie corrected.

“Love your son!” Mal somewhat too breezily expressed, and she could hear Evie’s groan.

“With more feeling!” Evie instructed.

“I really do love your son,” Mal added to her previous statement, and remarkably, they weren’t looking at her like she was nuts and were rather looking at her curiously, obviously wondering what she’d say next.

“You’re certainly not going to win any Oscars any time soon,” Evie muttered to herself, and Mal growled under her breath as she listened to Evie. However, she didn’t have time to dwell on Evie’s subtle sass.

“Your son… He’s,” Mal started, sincerely hoping that Evie would catch onto the need for words. Evie immediately caught onto Mal’s cue, and Evie started.

“Okay, M, his smile’s like a warm summer’s day!”

“His smile’s like a warm summer’s day…”

“And his heart has the greatest of glows!” Evie added, her mouth sounding just the slightest bit full before she made a muffled spitting sound.

“His heart has the greatest of glows,” Mal continued, making a mental note to tease Evie about her ridiculously large amount of silly meaningless prose.

“And, man, is that some hot sauce!” Evie suddenly proclaimed before gulping what sounded like water very quickly.

“And, man, is that some hot sauce,” Mal mindlessly repeated before her eyes widened, realizing precisely the horrible implications of that statement. Adam was gaping at her, those hardened eyes completely shocked at her words, and Belle almost looked ready to faint as she clutched at her husband’s bicep.

“Y’know, that stuff they use here, of course!” Mal piped up, grabbing the container of sauce as she held it up for them to see. Both of their stares homed in on the sauce in Mal’s hand and Mal knew she was quickly going to have to change the subject. She laughed a bit, looking around awkwardly before sitting the sauce down at the table.

“Whoo! Oh, gosh, my mouth’s burning!” Evie proclaimed as she kept guzzling water, and Mal sighed under her breath as she tried to keep from either laughing at Evie’s emphatic announcements or out of her horrible embarrassment.

Mal risked a glanced behind her, and she swiftly spotted Evie behind them all and fanning her mouth while gulping down ridiculously large amounts of water. Mal then returned her gaze to Ben’s parents, swallowing as she tried to look as casual as possible.

“Well, we’re glad that you care so much about our son… Umm,” Belle trailed off, trying to keep positive and think of good things to continue this already horrendously awkward conversation. Mal cleared her throat, truly feeling the older woman’s pain in the situation.

“You have a very interesting way of expressing your feelings toward him,” Adam commented, and Mal swallowed, knowing that she had so far only made a huge mess of things. Mal just nodded in reply and didn’t really have any idea of what to say in reply to him.

“But anyway. Tell us about yourself, Mal,” Adam spoke up, and Mal felt almost as if she were being threatened as his voice took an authoritative tone. Mal’s expression must have reflected this because Belle shot him a disapproving glance. He never even looked at his wife once, keeping his eyes focused on Mal instead.

“Oh… About me… Well, I’m,” Mal started, and quietly listened for Evie’s soothing voice sounding off in her ear. But to her shock, Evie didn’t say a word. In fact, there was dead silence in her ear. Not even the previous background sound that had been droning along.

Mal once again looked back at Evie, and Evie was gesturing furiously between the earpiece and her glass of water. Mal couldn��t help it as her eyes went wide, almost completely panicking.

Mal was by herself. Evie was no longer able to help her through this.

Belle and Adam furrowed their brows and craned their necks, trying to figure out who or what that Mal was staring at, and Mal started to speak. She had to throw them off track so they wouldn’t find out that Evie was there.

“But what I am! I’m,” Mal tried desperately to think of something impressive to say, and she found that she was completely drawing a blank on fanciful, made-up things to say.

So as she found that she was completely out of places to turn, facts to fabricate, and ideas to use, Mal realized that she was going to have to tell the truth.

Mal sighed deeply.

“I’m a sixteen-year-old girl,” Mal swallowed, trying to think of something else to say. They were looking at her now, their eyes solely focused upon her, and she very much felt put on the spot. She knew that she needed to think of something fast. She sighed deeply and she continued.

“One of my many hobbies is art. I love to paint, draw, you name it. Just ask Evie. I’ve covered our whole dorm in stuff I’ve painted,” Mal chuckled a bit, both attempting to relieve the tension and thinking of Evie’s shock at the time that the bluenette woke up with Mal balancing on Evie’s bed in an attempt to reach the ceiling.

“Umm… I like to study history in school. It’s my favorite subject besides art… I guess it’s just… I guess it’s because I like to know where we’ve been to know where we’re all coming from,” Mal explained herself, worried that she wouldn’t make any sense. However, Adam’s gaze was unreadable while Belle seemed much more softened. Mal could feel the prickling of sweat at her neck as she tried to keep her nerve under this unbearable pressure.

“And I… I really care about my family. Evie, Carlos, and Jay. They’re the reason I’m here today. They’ve saved me in so many ways,” Mal admitted, feeling exceedingly raw and naked by saying it, but also feeling a surge of power within herself as she considered all the things she had been through with her three most treasured people.

However, they were still very much staring at her, and Mal was very worried. She knew she was going to have to bring this to a close since she didn’t know what else to talk about. She had no idea what to do, but she went to the last topic that she could possibly think to cover.

“And I really like your son. He’s… the best guy I’ve ever known besides my brothers,” Mal confessed to them, trying to say what she felt about Ben despite the fact that she almost felt like puking as a result of her overwhelming nervousness.

They just looked at her quietly for a long moment, and Mal cleared her throat, her gaze shifting around before settling back on them again.

“Uh… And I guess that’s about it?” Mal finished, her statement sounding more like a question as she uncertainly finished her monologue.

There were several long moments of silence, and Mal averted her eyes to the menu on the table before her. Mal knew she had officially blown whatever opportunity she had to keep her friends in Auradon and keep Ben as her boyfriend.

They sat there quietly, before Mal was suddenly assaulted with the smell of Evie’s perfume, and she immediately knew her best friend was close by. To her complete shock, there was suddenly a girl with hair pulled back in a tight bun and wearing one of the waitress’ hats on her head, her face caked in a ridiculously large amount of makeup with an exceedingly pale face.

Mal could easily tell it was Evie, but only because Mal recognized Evie’s every little mannerism so well that she didn’t even have to see her face to know who it was.

“Hello, hello! Are we doing alright over here?!” the girl spoke in a horrible British accent, and Mal immediately realized that Evie had obviously went into disguise mode. Mal really wanted to facepalm at Evie’s ridiculousness, but she controlled the urge.

“Yes… Umm… do I know you? I think I’ve seen you before,” Adam questioned, furrowing his brow as he studied Evie. Evie laughed, and Mal couldn’t help but note it sounded quite silly.

“Oh, no! Of course not! Not unless you know an Elizabeth, your majesty! Because I’m Elizabeth,” Evie introduced, and Mal just watched the girl curiously with a raised brow.

“So how are you doing? You need anything? Oh, and who is this adorable little muffin?!” Evie questioned as she bent down, looking at Mal and booping her on the nose.

“Perhaps a future daughter-in-law?” Evie questioned hopefully, and Mal pinched Evie’s leg underneath the table, signaling her to stop trying so hard to help. Evie made a little squeak before shooting a glance in Mal’s direction. However, she quickly recovered, flashing the largest of smiles.

Belle just sort of laughed in response to “Elizabeth,” and largely just looked exceedingly weirded out. Mal looked up at Evie and she sighed slightly.

“Because I believe you two have a son, if I may be so bold?” Evie questioned respectfully, that British accent affecting her every word.

“Yes, that’s correct,” Adam replied stiffly, uncertain where the girl was going with this, and Evie laughed as she placed a hand on her chest.

“Oh, how wonderful! I was wondering who that young teen was that always hangs out with you two. It’s good to hear that’s your son. You see, I am quite new here. I just immigrated from Britain-ville,” Evie spoke, and Mal sighed deeply as she closed her eyes in humiliation for Evie.

“But anyways! You’re Mal, right?” Mal nodded in reply, playing along, and Evie gasped. “Oh, my goodness, you’re even more beautiful in real life! And you have the most stunning best friend! Her name’s Evie, right? She’s absolutely the best designer ever, and a practical fashion genius!” Evie gushed, and Mal raised an eyebrow.

“She’s a wonderful designer, alright. A little conceited sometimes, but a wonderful designer,” Mal replied, and Evie shot Mal a glance that was somewhere between appreciative and offended.

“But anyways! You should definitely consider this girl as a match for your baby boy! She looks so trustworthy, so kind, so funny! And just look at the chubby cheeks!” Evie cooed as she grabbed Mal’s cheeks in her fingers.

Mal held back the groan, allowing Evie to do as she wished with Mal’s face.

“If you don’t mind me asking, just how do you know this?” Belle questioned politely, and Evie giggled as she patted Mal’s cheek.

“I’m usually a good judge of character,” Evie assured them with a smile. However, the grin quickly faded as she spotted the manager with a waitress that didn’t have a hat that was pointing at Evie. Evie looked at Mal, Adam, and Belle as she waved and started to walk off.

“Umm… Nice talking to all of you, but I’ve got to go! You know! Nature calls!” Evie told them before doing that signature hurry-walk for which she was so infamous. Mal could immediately see that Evie needed help, and she looked at Adam and Belle sweetly.

“If you’ll excuse me… I’ve got to go. I think Elizabeth needs help, and I’m going to go see if she needs help getting home. She looks a bit intoxicated,” Mal told them, trying to cover up Evie’s weirdness as simply being under the influence of alcohol as she started to get up, gathering her things. “I’m so sorry to leave on such short notice…”

“Oh, we understand. You go and help… our new friend,” Belle spoke kindly. Mal nodded with a smile before hurrying over to Evie. She grabbed the girl’s hand before she could do anything and she took the hat off Evie’s head, throwing it at the manager and the waitress before hurrying Evie out the door.

“Did I help?” Evie questioned in a whisper, still speaking in that British accent, and Mal rolled her eyes as she leaned against Evie, locking arms with her.

“Well, you got me out of having to stay and eat with them, so I think you certainly helped in one way or another,” Mal assured her. Evie furrowed her brow as she looked at Mal.

“But did I help with impressing them?” Evie questioned, her voice still affected.

“Not really. And stop talking like that,” Mal commanded as she looked behind her, making sure no one was following them.

“I rather like talking like this,” Evie assured Mal in her British accent, and Mal sighed as she released a bit of the tension in her shoulders as they had fully escaped the restaurant. Mal just looked at Evie fondly as she allowed herself to relax. She leaned her head against Evie’s shoulder as they walked along.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin things for you,” Evie expressed, her normal voice returning, as she tightened her grip around Mal’s arm and Mal shook her head.

“No, you didn’t ruin things, E. The whole thing was just a giant screwup that was all my fault. So don’t worry. I really appreciated your help,” Mal expressed, and Evie nodded somewhat sadly, resting her head against Mal’s as she slipped her arm from Mal’s to instead wrap around Mal’s waist.

It had been a disaster, but at least Mal still had Evie. That was the most important thing.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Do you think everything will be alright, E?” Mal questioned as she hurried down the hall, talking to Evie via her smartphone as she made her way to the library where Belle and Adam had wanted to meet her and Ben. Ben had texted her and told her that he was there already.

They hadn’t offered her any details outside of the fact that it was about the time they had spent together in the restaurant the other day, and that idea alone scared Mal senseless. After all, she had done a lot of fumbling on that outing.

“I’m sure so, M. But if it isn’t, that’ll be okay, too. You’ve got me, Jay, and Carlos,” Evie assured her, and Mal couldn’t help but smile a bit.

“I know. And that means the world to me. I just… I kind of hoped to have both you guys and date Ben, too, I guess,” Mal expressed, and she could almost see Evie’s sympathetic expression.

“It’s okay. It’ll be alright. You call me back as soon as you get the news, and come straight home, okay? I’ll be sitting here waiting with open arms,” Evie expressed, and Mal smiled at her sister, feeling her heart swell with Evie’s words.

But it was soon replaced with cold fear and a firm knot in her stomach as she came to the library door. She swallowed hard.

“I’m here. I love you, Evie,” Mal told her, and Evie made a kiss noise somewhat playfully, and Mal chuckled lightly.

“I love you, too, Mal. Remember what I said, alright?” Evie replied, and Mal hummed in response before they exchanged goodbyes and hung up the phone.

Mal took a deep breath, letting it out before opening the door and coming in. Ben was laughing with his father, but as soon as Mal entered, the room lost its levity in favor of a more somber atmosphere.

Ben offered his hand to her, and she wasted no time in taking it, coming to his side as she looked at the two adults before them.

Belle and Adam shared a glance before Adam nodded resolutely and returned his stare to Mal and Ben.

“We called you here to talk to both of you,” Adam began, and Mal held her breath, very worried about the outcome of their apparent assessment of her. Ben’s warm arm was around her reassuringly, and Mal sighed deeply as she let the breath she was holding go, deciding that it ultimately did not matter that much. Whatever the outcome was, she’d be perfectly fine.

“You’re certainly… unconventional, Mal,” Adam told her, and Mal sighed, expecting this fully and not saying anything in defense of herself. Ben furrowed his brow, and Mal felt him stiffen a bit as he automatically came to Mal’s defense.

“Wait a minute, Dad. You just have to give her a chance to---”

“But with that being said, we appreciated your honesty with us, Mal. And I personally think that Ben’s made a wonderful choice in girlfriends,” Belle complimented Mal, her voice filled with warmth. Mal looked up at the woman in shock, and to her utter surprise, Belle was actually smiling at her softly. Ben immediately shut his mouth, looking at his parents incredulously.

Mal returned the grin tentatively before very slowly and hesitantly looking at Adam. His face was still very much guarded and hardened, but there was the smallest release in his posture that told Mal her words had somewhat loosened his iron feelings toward her.

“You two can see each other,” he permitted, and Mal grinned widely as she looked at Ben who was standing there next to her. His arm tightened around her waist, and she couldn’t help but giggle gleefully.

She immediately thought of Evie and how the bluenette had thought that they were calling her to get rejected, and she knew that she needed to share the news with Evie.

“Thank you both so much, and I appreciate it so much,” Mal expressed happily as she shook her head in disbelief and joy. “I’ve got to go and tell Evie! I’ll see you later, Ben,” Mal kissed the boy’s cheek and then hurried toward the door.

“Oh, and tell her that the next time we see her, we expect to hear that impressive British accent,” Adam expressed, and Mal froze quickly as she looked back at the three behind her. Adam offered her a somewhat sly smile, and Mal grinned a bit in return before stepping out into the hall and running to go find Evie.

Ol’ Beast-Man wasn’t quite as bad as Mal thought, after all.

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