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houseofanticipation · 2 months

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It's impossible to count the number of times you've imagined this moment. Late at night, under the covers; in the bathtub, and the shower; on slow days at the bookstore, the summer before senior year; during Mr. Madrigal's long, droning lectures. You fantasized so vividly you could see each scene on the back of your eyelids, hear each sound between breaths. Many a time your hand migrated southward, almost of its own volition. If you were in public, you'd hold it against your crotch, pressing it into yourself with the force of your clenched thighs. In private, you'd be far less subtle.

In all those fantasies, you never imagined it would look quite like this.

The hallway smells like cigarettes and industrial cleaner. The haphazardly patterned carpet is coming up at the edges. The yellow tube light overhead might be attempting morse code, the way it flickers. Paint peels from the door in front of you, and one of the metal digits in the room number has been replaced with one that doesn't quite match: room 233. You raise your hand, your knuckles inches from the door, and then you pause. You're not sure if you can go through with this.

Before you can decide, the door opens anyway.

You started posting pictures in your first year of college. It was just your tits at first. You'd been quietly following those subreddits and tumblr blogs for a while, and you thought it would be a bit of fun, a little thrill. You didn't expect the response you got: dozens of people telling you how much they'd enjoyed it, asking for more. So you posted more, and the people asked for different things. Post your ass. Post your cunt. Post your fingers in your cunt. Post audio of you moaning as you came. The more you revealed of yourself, the more attention you got, and the more attention you got, the more you wanted to show. People wanted to send you tips, so you set up a Cash App address. You never got much, a few dollars here and there, but it was nice to get a free coffee now and then.

And somewhere along the way, apparently, you let slip that you were a virgin.

The message came late last semester, from a Cash App user whose name was just a string of numbers. It read, "I will buy your virginity for $100,000. So you know I'm serious, here is $7000 for you to keep, deal or no deal. Let me know if interested."

It was like one of those hypotheticals you talk about with your friends at the dinner table. Would you work nonstop for a year if it meant you never had to work again? Would you cut off your hand if it meant you never had to die? Would you let a stranger from the internet take your virginity for a hundred thousand dollars? You thought about it for weeks. The 7 thousand in itself was a windfall you never could have imagined. It was the new laptop you needed, four times over. It was a large iced coffee ever day for three and a half years. After graduation, if you were smart, it could be your living expenses for the better part of a year. But a hundred thousand might be a house, or a car, or a few years of freedom to pursue your goals. And when you asked how you could trust him to pay when he'd gotten what he wanted, he told you he'd be happy to pay up front.

So here you are, in a dingy hotel, face to face with the broad-shouldered, potbellied older man in front of you. "I saw you through the peephole," he says. There's something impish about him. Maybe it's the toothy grin, or the way his ears stick out from his head, or the obvious glee in his voice as he looks you up and down. "My, you're much better in person. Come in! You got the money then?"

You nod. You didn't leave the Lyft until it was there in your account.

"Good," he says, throwing the dead bolt. "Let's get to it then, shall we?"

"What should...I mean, how do you want to..." you feel yourself talking strangely. Breathing in the wrong places, words tumbling over each other. "Maybe we should...talk first? Get to know each other?"

"No need for that," says the man matter-of-factly, unbuttoning his shirt. His chest is smooth, his skin a mottled pink. He waves a hand at your body. "Go ahead and get those off."

Back in high school, one of your recurring fantasies involved Jason Meier having his way with you in the back of that beat up convertible he used to drive. That old thing used to get you so wet. It was a piece of junk, but something about the exposure of it...In the fantasy, he's driven you out to some secluded spot outside of town. Cicadas drone all around. The night sky shines bright with stars. He cups your face with one hand, strokes your cheek with his thumb, asks you if this is your first time. He kisses the side of your mouth, then your jaw, then below your ear, then down your neck. As his hands undo the top button of your blouse, he tells you he'll be gentle.

The man is watching you expectantly. With his shirt on, he looked like a portly old man. Without it you can see that every inch of that stocky build is hard muscle. That pink skin strains against his mass, muscle rippling beneath it as he moves. "What are you waiting for?"

Your legs tremble. Your knees feel like they're about to buckle. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears. Your body has never done this before. You didn't know you could feel this kind of fear, and yet there's nothing to fight, nowhere to flee. You agreed to this. You decided this was what you wanted. Slowly, you pull your shirt over head.

He groans in the back of his throat, a long, growly sound. His face is a mask of focus, the impish joviality gone, his eyes fixated on your breasts. "And the rest."

You kick off your shoes, pull off your socks. An inch at a time, you slide your shorts and panties over your ass, down your legs, past your trembling knees. You step out of them, and now you're completely exposed. You cross your arms over your chest, then lower them when he grunts disapproval. Almost urgently, he unbuttons his pants, pulls out a long, rigid cock, and begins to stroke himself.

You didn't discover internet porn until your senior year, and before then the only penises you'd seen were a few drawings in your health textbook. In the fantasy, you unbutton Jason Meier's pants and fig. 7.5, "The penis becomes engorged when in state of arousal," pops out of his underwear. You take it in your hands, feeling the weight of it, the girth, and look up into those beautiful brown eyes of his.

This cock is much...realer. It has bounce, texture, even a sound as his hand slides up and down its length. It's longer than the one in that old fantasy, too, and it leans slightly to the left. For years you've wondered what it would be like to see a cock in person, and now that you're here it terrifies you.

"Come here," says the man, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Get on your knees."

You falter. "You didn't...I mean, we didn't agree to that."

"I bought your virginity," says the man. "You ever suck cock before?"

You shake your head.

"Then your mouth is just as much a virgin as your cunt. Get down here."

It's almost a relief to get off your legs, the way they've been threatening to give out. Close up, you can see the purples and blues of the veins under his skin. The head of his cock pulses with anticipation as your lips part, your tongue extends...

You don't think you can do this.

Then his hand is on the back of your head.

You always imagined Jason Meier whimpering as you took him into your mouth. You were never quite able to picture what he would feel like between your lips, on your tongue; the movie camera of your imagination always panned up at that point, to focus on his face. He would let his head fall back in pleasure, eyebrows knit with sensation, lips slightly parted. Now, though, there's no camera to pan. You are here. This is real. And his powerful hand is pushing your mouth onto his cock.

A sound you can't control comes out of you. Your back arches, your hands flail, and then by pure instinct they're on his belly, pushing against him, away from him. Spit runs down your chin, and you wipe it away with the back of your hand. "I'm sorry," you say, looking anywhere but at his face. "I'm sorry, I can't, I thought I could do this but I can't."

There's a horrible darkness in his voice. "I already gave you the money."

"I know, I'll give it back, I'm sorry." The words trip over each other on the way out of your mouth. "I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have, I just, I thought I could..."

His hand is on the back of your head again, and this time his fingers are curled tight into your hair. He jerks your head back, forcing you to look at him, and his eyes are cold and predatory. "I'm not interested in returning what's already bought and paid for." He jams himself back into your mouth.

You always imagined yourself savoring it, taking your time to explore every inch of Jason's length with your tongue, but there's no time for that now. The veiny, throbbing thing in your mouth bypasses your tongue entirely, forcing past your uvula. You gag, then gag again. Your stomach churns and you convulse as your body tries to remove the foreign object, but the man just pushes harder. Your eyes water as he slides deeper, deeper, making your throat bulge, your limbs spasm. As his balls touch your chin, you close your eyes and try to relax your throat.

He holds you like that. You gag for a third time, and thick saliva explodes through the gaps around his cock, dripping down your chin and collecting in a long, dangling rope. Tears roll down your cheeks as you try to acclimatize to the feeling, try to convince your body that nothing is wrong. You think you've got it, and then he moves slightly, and you're gagging again. He groans, grips your head tighter, and in the back of your throat you feel his cock swell slightly. He likes it when you gag for him, says a voice in the back of your mind. The motion is pleasurable for him.

You've got another problem rearing its head. You can't breathe. It was fine at first, but the man shows no interest in freeing up your airways, and in all the gagging and crying, you haven't exactly been conserving your oxygen. You pat his leg, trying to signal to him, but all he does is clap you on the side of the head. Your ear rings, you gag again, and his cock throbs. Black walls are closing in on your vision. The effort of struggling against him becomes too much, and your arms fall to your sides. Your eyelids flutter. You're going to pass out. You're going to pass out, and then what will he do to you?

But just before the world fades to black, he pulls your head back again. You feel every inch of his cock as it slides out of your throat. He lifts your face, and your eyes struggle to focus on his as you take lungful after lungful of glorious air. Drool spills across your lips, but you don't care. You're alive.

The man slaps you hard, leaving a stinging impression of his palm on your cheek. You whimper. Two of his fingers are in your mouth, pushing on the back of your tongue. Not knowing exactly why, you close your lips around them and shut your eyes.

"That's better," he says.

The first time you saw a male sex toy in use was in an ad before a porn video you were watching. You were taken aback by the way the performer had pounded it over his cock, barely more than an extension of his hand. You're reminded of that image as he parts your lips again, and the rape of your throat begins in earnest.

You haven't thought about Jason Meier in years, but at this moment he's the only thing keeping you sane. As your face rams up and down, up and down, you retreat to that beat up convertible, and Jason's soft, thoughtful face. As the man tightens his grip, Jason runs his fingers through your hair. As the man grunts and growls with pleasure, Jason coos your name. With each stroke of his cock down your throat, each spasm of your body, you focus on a different part of Jason's body: his large hands, his long fingers, his shoulders, his jawline, his liquid brown eyes. By the time the man finally releases your hair, you can barely feel your body any more. The convertible is far more real than the squeaky motel bed. The hands on your body are Jason's, soft and tender.

He climbs over the center console straddling you. You lock lips, feel your tongues in each other's mouths, kiss so deeply that it feels as though you share the same breath. He pulls the lever to lay your seat back, and then he's over you, on top of you, lifting your skirt, pulling your panties to the side.

This is the part where, in the old days, you would have slipped a finger or two inside yourself. But this time you don't have to. This time you can feel him inside you, really feel him, and he fills you up like your fingers never could. There's some pain—they told you there'd be pain, didn't they, your first time—but it falls away to the thrill, the lust, the pleasure. Jason whimpers as he slides into you, deeper, deeper, and you moan into each other's mouths as his pelvis meets yours. You take a moment to savor it, breathing each other in, and then he begins to thrust.

You feel drunk. It's exactly like you always imagined it, and somehow better than you could ever have expected. Each movement of his hips brings another sensation: a spasm in the arches of your feet, a hitch in your breath, a churning, swirling need in the depths of your abdomen. Deeper you tell him, harder, and he obliges, pulling you into him, and him into you.

You can feel the orgasm building, but it isn't like any you've had before. Every time you've ever cum, you've been in control. This time, Jason is in control. Jason decides when you cum, how you cum. One hand supports his weight as he leans over you, and the other slides up your belly. You used to watch those hands obsessively. The way he held a pencil, the way he bit his knuckles when he was thinking. Now that hand slides up, caresses your breast. Now that thumb brushes your hair out of your face. Now those fingers close around your throat.

You know you're safe with Jason, but the pressure on your throat triggers some animal fear response in you. You try to squirm away, but his arm is strong, and his hand his firm. Your hands go to his wrist. "I don't like that, stop." He just smiles. It isn't his usual sweet smile, either. This one is cruel. Predatory.

Your face feels tight. Your eyes bulge. You're beginning to panic for real now. "Jason, seriously, stop!" You beat at his arm with your fists, but he easily takes both your wrists in one hand and pins them over your head. You try to kick at him, but he's already past your defenses, between your legs, pushing them uselessly apart. His grip tightens, his rhythm increases, his cock swells inside you. He's getting off on this.

All at once you're back in the hotel room. The man's sweaty red face is inches away from your own, and the lust in his eyes is obvious. His cock seems to push deeper with every thrust, and the horrible thing is that the orgasm is still coming. It's close now, you can feel it, and it's like he knows exactly how to bring it out. You feel floaty, tingly, and that awful pleasure is welling up inside you, a pot about to boil over...

"That's right," he says, his eyes locked on yours. "That's what I was waiting for. That perfect mix of...pleasure...and...fear." He punctuates each of these last three words with a long, deep thrust, and it's these that send the orgasm spilling over. A choked moan pushes itself out of you as your back arches, your toes curl, your legs wrap involuntarily around his waist, tears roll down your cheeks. That floaty feeling has combined with the orgasm to create something like how you imagine heroin must feel; a wave of mind numbing, soul deadening ecstasy. Your insides feel hot, and at first you think that must just be what it feels like when you cum from sex, but then you see the look on his face and realize that he's cumming too. His grip relaxes and he pounds away a few more times at your now-limp body. You stare at the ceiling as he moans, buries his face between your tits, pumps round after round of his warm, thick cum into your cunt, your womb. After one final push he collapses onto you, his cock still inside you, his bulk crushing you into the bed. You don't move.

He strokes your cheek. Fondles your nipple. Kisses your neck. Then he kisses your mouth, his tongue pushing your lips open, his breath like damp earth. You barely see him.

It must be almost ten minutes before he finally gets up, his limp cock sliding out of you at last. You can feel his cum dripping from your cunt as he puts on his underwear, then pants, then shirt, then shoes. "The room is paid for the night," he says with his hand on the door handle. "Thank you for struggling. Taking someone's virtue is so much better when you actually get to take it.

You don't respond.

You don't know how long you lie there, motionless, dripping cum. Oddly, the man who just raped you isn't the one burned onto your mind's eye. Try as you might to return to that sweet teenage fantasy, all you can see is Jason Meier as he held his hand to your throat, and that cruel, predatory smile on his face.

#CW im told this one is realer than usual so be warned #r@pe fantasy #cnc free use #cvmdump #cvmslvt #breeding toy #r@petoy #r@pe kink

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neopuppy · 1 year

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Take My Breath (M)

pairing. alpha Jeno x female omega reader

genre. trapped in an elevator AU, a/b/o, pwp, M/F

warnings. profanity, explicit smut.. filth, pre-heat, dubious at first(consent given), ‘stuck’(ridiculously unrealistic), slick, oral, unprotected sex, anal, multiple orgasms. minors DNI.

word count. 7000

“A coffee shop in the lobby? The fact that this place even has a lobby?” Your friend lets out a low whistle glancing around. “Not to mention the amount of unclaimed Alpha real estate around here. So many bare naked fingers. What God did you save from immortal death in a past life to snag this place?”

“I told you, I’ve been on the hunt for months. It was worth the wait.”

“A new place isn’t the only thing you’ve been hunting for months.” One of her well-kempt eyebrows bounces, nudging her chin toward the line that’s formed filled with Alphas dressed in various work attire. “There’s no way you won’t end up mated living here.”

“I’m not trying to mate anyone.” You say uninterested. It’s true, really, you could care less to have some Alpha prancing around your new place, making a mess of crumbs and leaving remnants of his scent behind to ruin your peaceful atmosphere.

“You can try to deny our nature all you want, but your Omega instincts will handle your stubborn attitude. You just wait and see.” She says with a wink, leading you to start up another discourse over how you have learned to control your Omega’s feral hormones. A call of your name from behind the coffee bar leaves your lips parted, holding up a finger before her face as you stand to pick up your drink.

“Hold that thought, I’m not done with you.”

“Yeah yeah. Go grab your coffee you grouch, you need it.” She laughs teasingly, making eyes at a few handsome Alphas in line.

“This isn’t my drink..” You say, turning the label on the cup to face you. “Jeno?”

“That would be me.” A firm chest grazes your arm, sliding into the space by your side as he reaches for the cup still lingering at the tips of your fingers. “I believe I grabbed yours by mistake.”

The Alphas scent swarms around you first, as rich and warm as a field full of lavender, calming enough to relax your tense muscles, loosen brain-aching invisible strings keeping your scalp tense, slowly stumbling back mindlessly.

“Oh my God!” The Alphas deep rumble reaches your ears faintly, gathering you with his scooped arms before you can hit the floor.

He’s strong, flexing under your waist as he sets you back to your feet and maneuvers you with speed to stay up. “Are you okay?!”

Concern softens his speech, stroking up and down your arms with wide large palms that shiver each nerve down to your fingertips. “Almost hit your head there.”

The Alphas cheeks bunch up, steadying you with his hands clasped on your shoulders. “Probably my fault for popping up by your side out of nowhere.”

“Is she okay??” Your friend interrupts, breathlessly as if she’d rushed over, patting the top of your back. “What happened?”

“Ah, I’m the one to blame.” The Alpha says apologetically, directing to your drinks sitting side by side. “I grabbed the wrong drink, think I bum rushed your friend here.”

“Oh, that’s okay Alpha, she can be such a klutz.” She replies flirtatiously, batting her eyelashes with no shame at the handsome man standing before you who barely gives her more than a second of eye contact.

“It was definitely my fault.” He nods to you, lifting one of his eyebrows inquisitively. “It’s not everyday you accidentally steal a pretty Omegas drink.. I’ll have to be more careful next time.”

“Any Omega could only wish to be lucky enough for you to be the one to make that mistake, Alpha.” Your friend says, raising her pitch higher to sound helpless, making your stomach churn full of nausea.

“Jeno.” He says, slowly taking in your facial features. “You can call me Jeno.”

Jeno grins, leaving a $20 dollar bill by your coffee that’s no doubt begun to lose its warmth. “Next drink on me, for making you wait, and nearly knocking you unconscious.”

He nods again, waving goodbye with a controlled smile to contain how endeared he feels watching your glazed eyes follow his every little move. “See you around.”

“Now that Alpha has ‘problem’ written all over him.” Your friend chimes, nudging an elbow into your side with a smirk. Snatching up the bill left behind to wave in front of your face. “Sexy, generous, sweet? and that scent? If you don’t fuck him...”

The rest of her sentence fades out, too deep in thought as you inhale the remnants of lavender and hints of crisp grass left behind. Morning dew, moist, steamy, trapping you in a sauna filled with little to no oxygen.

Jeno wasn’t going to be a problem, no not at all. You only wish he could be just a problem, because problems can be solved. A simple equation to figure out, nothing you couldn’t handle.

A problem wouldn’t have you chewing at your nails, rasping your fingers on any surface to distract away every thought of him. Long showers to numb your senses were out of the question, quickly rinsing off to skip using your favorite body washes, tickling at your nostrils with the small bit of lavender laced through the ingredients.

The Alpha had become quite a hassle for you over the next few weeks, the largest daily nuisance with a smile plastered on his face every time he caught you gawking at him, destroying your sleep schedule for a mere glimpse of his stupid long eyelashes and disappearing iris. Truly succumbing to your pathetic Omegan desires even as you berate yourself along the way.

His damn enticing scent left you breathless just from passing each other in the hallways, his ridiculous strangled raspy vocals greeting you a ‘Good Morning’; the worst most suffocating scent melting out of his pores like scolding lava after an AM workout. God you hated it, that’s what you kept repeating as you slapped your bedside table alarm at 5am.

Who wakes up at 5 in the morning? You, of course, to retrieve your mail that you could have easily grabbed the day before, but that would mean missing the Alpha strutting in panting for his life, pouring sweat down his chest as if he’d just finished a triathlon, and his damn addicting delicious scent. His holy mouth parting open when he throws back his head to inhale a bottle of water as he kicks his way through the lobby double doors, swallowing the sweet nectar down in the most obscene of ways.

The Alphas chest juts out, firm and defined by the hands of the Devil himself, you’re convinced, with the sole intent being to ruin you.

“Morning.” Jeno said, tipping his head, somedays adding a wink with his smile. Today he waves as he passes by, biting on his lower lip while you force a smile back and release something akin to a laugh, a dumbed down giggle.

It’s sick really, because you think you’re getting away with it. Dressed up in your cutest outfits at the crack of dawn, hair done, and a full face of makeup on playing a casual bit every morning just for one minute of bliss.

Ever the perfect Alpha, Jeno’s either clueless, and as dumb as he looks with a big goofy grin or smart enough to know exactly what you’re playing at. If he knows what you’re up to, he has the decency to check your mate and keep up the game, especially when he makes an effort to keep the elevator door open for you for an unnecessarily long amount of time as you debate with yourself to get on or not.

A tingle up your spine lifts your foot, hanging mid-air as your heartbeat reaches your ear. Pounding a way between your eyes similar to a warning to stay back, do not enter. Danger ahead.

Unfortunately, your Omegas always had a taste for danger, dropping your feet to skitter onto the lift and squeeze yourself into a corner with your chin tucked into your chest. “10th floor please.”

The Alpha sports his charming smile, pressing the 15th floor along with yours. He leans back on the railing, cleaning off droplets of sweat cascading from his forehead down to his chest with a small towel, nothing but a pair of snug running shorts covering his body, leaving too many inches of his creamy smooth skin visible.

“Off to work?” Jeno clears his throat first to break the silence between you as the elevator doors shut, slowly lifting off the lobby floor.

“Oh, I work from home.” You speak too abruptly, realizing coming up with a lie would have been a better choice and his lip tweaks upward at one corner, nodding, seemingly pleased by your answer.

“Same, usually I’m just hopping out of the shower when it’s time for my first Zoom meeting.” Jeno turns toward you, making no effort to hide his gaze taking in your figure from your shoes to your face. “I definitely never look as nice as you.”

“Oh..” nervously, you toy with the ends of your hair, reaching to push some behind your ear as you wearily glance at the red numbers above. 4th floor. “You always look good Alpha..”

The compliment comes out more whispered than planned, igniting heat to burn behind your cheeks. Gripping onto the railing behind your back to stabilize yourself. That damn lavender scent, that fucking scent you’ve desperately avoided. Stupidly beginning to regret entering such a confined space with the man driving you up a wall.

“You think so?” Jeno sways a bit, coughing to cover up inconspicuously wandering over your outfit of choice today; silently grateful you opted for a short skirt instead of those ludacris snug shorts that rode up your ass last week. “Every time you see me.. I’m rushing around covered in sweat..”

He sighs, the back of his head bumping against the wall softly. The elevator becomes more suffocating with every minuscule move Jeno makes, wafting his natural drug inducing aroma around the tight space. “I probably smell awful.”

He shows off a relaxed smile, neck arched back exposing the column of his throat, the girthy bob of his Adam’s apple. “I know how sensitive Omegas can get about an Alphas scent.. The whole purpose if us living on opposite floors. You would think they’d designate separate elevators for us to use too.”

Jeno’s gaze flickers up, darker and heavier than you’ve become used to, licking at the roof of his mouth as he watches you squirm and furiously glance toward the changing red numbers.

The Alphas nose twitches over and over again, you hear him sniffle, stifling the sound of his throat clearing again as he leans back with his palm gripped tighter onto the railing framing the elevator. Silently observing your intakes of air grow more shallow. “Is everything oka—“

You know he can smell it, even with your thighs tightly clenched together, even through the thin layer of cotton covering your crotch, your scent has consumed the air around you. Embarrassment flares your cheeks with fire, ducking your chin to your chest to avoid any chance of stealing a look in the Alphas direction. There’s no way to deny the leak of slick flowing from your core this time, no room to escape and scurry to your safe sanctuary away from your stupidly ridiculously hot neighbor.

Another raspy clear of his throat has you incoherently slamming your palm flat on any button to get off on the next floor. A tickle of dewy mucky air, lavender melting from dripping wax reaches your nostrils past the overbearing scent of your arousal, and fear darts up your spine; the first instinctual thought you have to run, get away, run as fast as you can despite your Omegas resistance.

“Wait!” His tone blares even deepr, strangled from a dry throat that’s been used up during his run; echoing out as your foot slams down to jump through the opening elevator door. Gliding much too slowly, painfully inching open, you push against the powerful mechanism with weak wrists urging it to open faster.

“F-Fuck!” Choking out a curse, your ribs crush between the opening, held in place by the space that’s halted from opening right as you’d begun to make your escape.

“Oh my God..” the Alpha sounds far away now with your upper half trapped on the outside of the elevator. The hallway around you is empty, dark, and not a floor you’ve ever stopped on before. “T—the door!” He stammers from behind you, audibly gulping what must be a thick wad of saliva to quench his throat. “It’s stuck!”

“Wh—what?!” You shriek, slapping your palm against the steel wall of the elevator, stinging your heated skin with the shrill chill radiating off of it.

“You’re..” The Alpha swallows again, the sound of his leather sneakers stepping forward. “You’re stuck.”

“What?! Open the door!” You scream now, anxiety increasing rapidly as you scatter to move only to let out a pitiful groan from the dig of metal pressing deeper against your ribcage. “Open this door right now!”

“It’s not opening! Why did you run out like that!” He sounds frantic now, followed by fingers slamming against a button repeatedly and an annoyed grunt. “I can’t believe this.”

“You can’t believe this? What about me! You can’t be serious right now! Quit fucking around and get me out of here!” A slam of your foot follows, kicking at the ground petulantly to emphasize your anger; only drawing up a string of curses from the typically well-mannered Alpha.

“Could you..” He sighs, moving away to a corner further off, sounding distant once again. “Could you not do that?”

“Do what?!” You bark, stomping once again, clueless to how your skirt flares up fanning your aroused scent right into Jeno’s face. The Alpha having to take another step back until he’s pressed flush against the wall.

“Please, I can’t..” He sounds anguished, slowly dropping down to his knees out of your sight. “Your..”

“What?? My what?!” A flush of heat itches up your chest, because you know what it is. As much as you want to lie to yourself that there’s no way the Alpha can tell already, you know the truth. A sad whimper breaks from your lips when you feel the heavy trickle of slick squishing out from your clamped together inner thighs.

Jeno’s next breath comes out choked, strained and thick, feeling trapped himself by your heated arousal filling up the small space. Unable to rip his gaze away from the sheen that’s rivered past your knee, forming a spot of wetness at the tops of your knee-high white socks.

“Alpha please..” you wheeze out, swallowing a lump down your throat from the swell of heat over-taking your limbs. The pressure against your sides more bearable than the coil of fire bursting it’s way up your insides. The mere humiliation of knowing the vulnerable position you’ve landed yourself in gushes more slick from your hole, pushing its way through the soaked through material of your white cotton underwear.

Jeno’s mouth feels empty of any moisture, swallowing over and over again with a rough drag of his tongue at every corner seeking saliva. He can’t fight it, dropping his head back with a roll of his eyes to savor every note of your heady scent. Every sweet lick of aroma fanning it’s way through his senses tastes delicious; sugary and succulent like some forbidden dessert he should never be allowed to take a bite of.

“Alpha..”

Jeno’s eyes snap open, his eyelids sticking together from humid sweat. The heat radiating from your flesh filling up the elevator similar to boiling sun on the hottest of summer days. “Help me, please.”

He thinks you sound near seductive.. purposely trying to wreck his brain, each call of his title more sinful than the last. Floating closer on his knees until trembling fingers reach out, just hovering near your ankles, he curses quietly, unable to pause the tremor of excitement and fear coursing through his veins.

“Help you..” Jeno’s dry throat cracks, breaking each syllable of his speech with a gritty rasp. A strong tone of lust behind his response as he timidly reaches to drag up the backs of your calves, electrified by how soft your cotton socks glide under the tips of his fingers.

“Alpha.. please… help me out of here.” Another tortured plead makes Jeno’s neck stand straight, tickled by the sound of slick bubbling out of your underwear. The seat of your panties directly before him, clinging the your heat for his hungry gaze to devour. Puffy and needy, so fucking needy already.

“How..” Jeno swallows, latching onto your flexed calves as he drags his thumbs to stroke the wet patches that have gathered between your knees. “How am I going to get you out of there?”

He can’t think clearly anymore, consumed by the pornographic vision before him. The devastating sounds of your whimpers and sighs; sighs of relief that follow each barely there second of skin on skin contact as his thumbs rub slick in circles on the insides of your knees.

“Smell so good..” Jeno continues, head dropping forward close enough to feel his breath hit the backs of your exposed thighs. Jerking and shivering when he takes a deep inhale from the lewd display of wet pouring it’s way out like a broken fountain between the small triangular gap at the top of your locked together thighs. “How can I help you..”

Jeno squeezes up your knees, switching to grip the fronts of your thighs. “You’re shaking so much.. Is Alpha making you nervous?”

“Alpha, please..” it's a natural survival instinct taking over at this point, unsure what you’re truly begging for anymore. For help? For help with what.

“I know, I know.” Jeno swears, pressing his cheek against the back of your thigh. He huffs, warm breath fanning where slicks has begun to cool between your legs, foggy-headed as he blinks roughly to straighten out his vision. “Alpha will help you, gonna do what I have to do..”

Jeno thinks he means that, he wants to believe he means that despite his palms staying glued to your smooth thighs. Despite his fingers digging into the soft sensitive fleshy meat squishing against his touch. “You have to relax for me..”

He swallows again, eyes rolling up, grateful for how unaware you are of his current state of misery. He’s trying, trying so hard to neglect his Alphas voice screaming at him to fuck, take, and claim the Omega presented before him.

“You have to listen to me.” His eyebrows furrow together, stuck on the amount of slick leaking from your hidden hole. It’s obscene, more than he’s ever seen even from the Omegas he’s taken care of during their heat. “We have to work together alright?”

“Okay Alpha..” pathetic, God you sound so pathetic. Jeno wants to take a deep breath but your arousal makes the walls feel as if they are closing in on him. Even so, his hold on you feels comforting, knowing an Alpha cares this much about your wellbeing, enough to reassure you that he’s willing to do whatever it takes to help you. Whatever it takes.

Jeno tries to think, forcing his gaze away from the elevator light bouncing off your shiny thighs. “Phone! Do you have your phone?”

He regrets asking when you let out the saddest broken whine, stomping your foot again. “I always leave it on my bed when I go grab the mail.”

Jeno does his best to not imagine the other helpless sounds you can make, he does his best to control the shake passing through his fidgety fingers, to ignore how sweaty his palms have become against your hot skin. “I’m thinking, just.. be patient with me.”

He hums, rolling his eyes to himself each time he pictures you bent over by the lines of mail boxes, because of course some genius coined a brilliant idea to have the Omegas on the bottom row. How convenient to leave you without a choice but to bend over, ass swaying in the air as you peep through your mailbox, a small task you always took your sweet time to do.

“Why don’t we try talking..” He suggests, sighing with the side of his head resting on your covered buttcheek. “Get your mind off of being stuck.”

“It’s kind of hard..”

“Just try.” He says, squeezing your thighs for reassurance. “I’ll start, when did you move in? I think that time I grabbed your drink was the first time I’d ever seen you around here.”

Jeno’s right, you think trying to do the math, fuzzy brain as you attempt to recall anything other than the Alphas brawny figure.

“Uhhh, I think..it’s been ab—about a month.” You stutter, growing more dizzy with the effort used to respond.

“Yeah, I thought so.” Jeno gulps, sighing for the hundredth time and he takes a purposeful deep breath to inhale your syrupy scent. He imagines this is what drowning in quicksand must be like, a futile attempt to free himself from the impending situation at hand. Arousal circles around him, catching small whiffs of hidden traces of his own scent laced between yours, and his expression turns worrisome.

“Maybe you’re right..” The Alpha groans, nestling his cheek against your bottom. “I don’t think I can do this.. you smell too good..”

“Do what??”

“This— I..” Jeno trails off, kneading your buttcheek as he continues to smother his face against the other. “I can help you relax another way.”

His hands work like instant magic, loosening the tight ridges up your spine, calloused fingers bury into plump flesh too aggressive to feel like a massage but good enough to lose the tension in your neck. “Jeno, this isn’t—“

“Shh, keep calling me Alpha..” his fingers sneak under the material of your underwear, pushing one side up to wedge between your bottom while puckered lips drag down the back of your thigh. “Helps me relax when you call for me like that, all pretty and vulnerable.”

“Alpha, I don’t think you should..” Jeno grunts, smearing his parted lips in slick. His rough hands grip onto your butt with a new ferocity, working the meaty flesh between his fingers furiously.

“It’s working, your muscles are unwinding.” He reaffirms, hanging his tongue out to catch the drip of slick leaving your covered hole. “Once I calm you down.. it’ll be easy to get you out of there. I promise.”

The reply you give him comes out more gargled, building up through your gut, erupting as more of a pleading whine. “So nice.”

Jeno cooes, sliding his hand into the small space between your thighs. The thick of your slick seeps through his digits, trickling down past his wrist. “You know..”

The Alphas raspy vocals vibrate down your limbs, bubbling saliva up your throat. He hums, continuing to massage between your thighs, making a bigger mess. “I think your Omegas been trying to send me a message. Somehow we ended up together like this, after weeks of this back and forth..”

Jeno sighs, cupping your core from behind to press against the bubble of slick in your panties until it pours out around him. “God, you’re so wet.”

“Alpha..” you say woozily, drifting in and out of heat trying to take over your last bits of semblance. “Don’t.. don’t do it.”

“No?” He sounds shattered, expression most likely fallen apart in despair. His palm digs into your heat harder, creating insufferable friction against your entrance. “Are you sure about that?”

The question hangs in the air, echoing in your head as if to taunt you. Are you sure about this? Not at all, but with your ankles crossed together and Jeno’s palm sticking to the seat of your underwear, you feel uncomfortable only because it’s stopped his ministrations; both of your breaths coming to a halt as the air around you pauses, breaking only after you let out a pitiful cry.

“We shouldn’t..” it hurts you to say out loud, more than you’re willing to admit. Fuck it hurts, and not in the way you wish it would.

“What’s stopping you?” Jeno whispers, gritty as if his teeth have started to grind together. Mouthing at your underwear hanging on for dear life to your ass, he bites at the cotton, teething it up to meet the other side that's been shoved into the crevice of your bottom. “Tell me what you need me to do, I’ll do it for you baby.”

He finishes with a searing hot kiss left on your exposed buttcheek, kitten licking the area after. An index finger pushes at your slit, gliding up and down through the fabric. “Eat your pussy so good, bet you’ve never had your ass ate, have you? A pretty Omega like you deserves to be worshiped and devoured.”

“Alpha!” You wheeze, choking on the saliva collecting in your throat. Jeno growls, sucking the fat of your ass between his lips while prodding your panties into your awaiting entrance. It’s torturous, kicking your crossed feet on the floor.

“You feel so good, pussy just begging for cock.”

Jeno pecks a few more kisses on your ass, pushing off the balls of his feet to stand, he grips your hips. “Don’t be nervous, Alphas gonna take care of you.”

Hips press flush to your backside, pushing his thick covered girth between your cheeks. The visual of it depraved, a hopeless Omega trapped like this, bent into a position presented for the right Alpha to make use of. To take what’s rightfully his, and Jeno can feel flames soar up his chest at the thought. Slowly beginning to roll a menacing circle of his hips against you.

“Tell me you don’t want this…” Jeno coughs, swallowing down a wad of dry air. “I’ll stop, I’ll stop if you say it again.”

For emphasis he draws back, burying his hard length between your buttcheeks, the width of it making your head spin.

“Don’t..” You stammer, head drooping down with a cracked cry. “Don’t stop!”

Jeno’s throat nearly rips open from the growl he lets out next, angrily ramming his hips against you. “That’s right, Alphas gonna fuck you good baby. Fuck you so good, won’t ever want another dick inside of you again.”

Jeno can feel it, he’s gone, high as a kite off your crazed arousal placing him under an unbreakable spell. He can’t hold it back anymore, rutting into your ass painfully, he feels possessed, seeping his nails into your naked hips. The skin breaking under the roughness of his jagged freshly trimmed fingernails. The hurt from it unwavering when all you can focus on is how tantalizing his clothed cock feels just rubbing against you.

“Alpha, fuck..” A hiss passes from your lips after attempting to grind back, reminded of the ridiculous predicament you’re in. Jeno’s unrelenting grasp holding you still despite the aggression behind each snap of his hips.

“God, want me to cum just like this, don’t you?” He pants, head rolling side to side as he blearily glances up, blinded by the bright lights above. “Can’t imagine how good you’re gonna feel for Alpha.”

Jeno riles himself up, ranting to himself about how you’ve soaked through his shorts. Slick even reaching his midsection, dripping down the front of his thighs more with each slam of your lower halves. “Bet you’re so tight, such a good Omega. Ready to please.”

“Y-yes!” scratching down the door, you shriek, head shaking from the overwhelming amount of friction. The Alpha could say anything to you at this point, anything at all and you’d agree, ready to drop to your knees and fulfill his every command.

“Fuck.” Jeno spits out, jerking back quickly to free his size, a thick protrusion shoved between your inner thighs not a second later. “FUCK!”

Thrusts speed up, panting like a thirsty dog behind you as he chases an orgasm. “I’m— oh fuck, ah fuck.”

Jeno hunches forward, fisiting the stretched out material of your underwear in one hand as he pushes his length past it using the ruined cotton to rub against himself. He shouts through gritted teeth, coming to a stand still as hot spurts of cum pour out onto your lower back.

“Please, Alpha.. please!” You squeal, feeling even more congested and stuck. The tip of his nose buries into your spine, nodding slowly as he catches his breath, tracing the curves of your hips between his fingers.

“I know, baby.” He hums, nosing a trail down your back as he falls to his knees. “Such a greedy Alpha.. need to apologize.”

Jeno tugs your underwear off tediously, eyebrows twisting together the more he unveils your center. It was hard enough to deal with covered up, but the sight of your ripe hole convulsing nearly knocks the wind out of him.

“Fuck, I knew it.” The Alpha licks his lips, waist dipping in as he leans forward to drag his nose up and down your gleaming slit. The sweetest high coils a way up behind his eyes, blurring from the scent of lust. “Such a perfect Omega.”

Jeno’s eyes wrinkle shut, lapping a strip up your cunt, the width enough to cover the expanse of puffy flesh. He’s immediately animalistic, stretching his jaw wide to wolf down the entirety of your center as promised. His tongue darts out, licking at your clit with precision that sets your knees to fall weak, sliding lower in your stuck position.

The moans of anguish and desire you let out only push him to work faster, burying the end of his nose into your pulsing heat as his tongue works in rapid motion to flick and stimulate each nerve, pointing the tip to thrust against your clit with power and have your head snapping back with a shout.

If you could only see him, you know the Alphas face is covered in slick. Snorting your release up his nose like some drug, he’s filthy, down right disgusting and unashamed letting out the nastiest sounds of pleasure. Every strained vocal cord reverberates between your cunt, rolling tremors up your spine.

“Alpha..” fat tears roll down your cheeks, whining like a pitiful horny mess, unable to do anything besides cry harder and beg to cum.

“Gonna cum from fucking my mouth? wanna taste you pouring down my throat.” Jeno rumbles, sinking his long tongue deep inside your pussy with a rough wiggle. He grabs onto your ass, pulling you apart to run his face side to side with ease.

The sensation shoots chills up your thighs, wobbling up to the tips of your toes as you cum, clamping around Jeno’s tongue putting work in to make you lose your mind. Determined mouth forces a space for himself past your resisting hole, despite gagging from the amount of slick that breaks out of you. Hinging his jaw wide, he keeps at it, chasing after your heat when you drop lower landing on your knees painfully with a shout.

“Alpha! c-can’t!”

Jeno slaps your ass, resounding like a whip cracking on skin to accompany the ear shattering scream you let out. Lowering with his sweat covered stomach on the floor, he sends your spine rigged, laving your wrinkled rim between deep huffs of breath.

He pulls back only to circle your rim with two fingers, the pads of hard skin encouraging your ass to bounce and ripple the more he teases, swishing saliva around to slowly drip a wad of spit on your hole; the Alpha gasps for air, rolling his eyes back when your ass convulses under his digits grazing the tender skin.

“Bet you’re even tighter back here..” Jeno has to silently praise himself for taking time to please you, throbbing between his legs with the dirty mess of cum he’s ruined his shorts with, he growls again, biting up your buttcheeks, soft enough to leave small indents without breaking skin. Three digits bundled together swipe between your freshly used pussy, painting his fingers in the sea of slick to spread around your rim.

“Will you let Alpha fuck you back here sweetie?” Jeno cooes, always shifting to a gentle tone when asking the filthiest things of you. Lazily nodding against the ground, he notices how much you’ve relaxed, fully laid out flat upon the grimy floor. “All these holes for me right? Only for Alpha to use, turn you into my good cocksleeve.”

He sighs, sucking on the plump mound of your buttcheek as the pads of his fingers trace around your hole, watching you twitch for a minute. An experimental prod has your knees dragging off the ground, ass shoved out for the Alpha to have you spread apart fully. He groans, pushing two tips of his fingers inside.

“Fuck.” Jeno salivates, slowly inching in as he sucks and nibbles on your butt. “Slutty fuckhole taking my fingers so good baby.”

He squeezes another in making you scramble to grab onto anything, the sudden movement pushing you back through the door without realizing, too entranced by the fingers fucking into your ass, stuffing you full from every end.

“Yes yes yes Alpha, anything.”

Jeno could care less about what you’re spewing, hawking another glob of spit at your tight hole, he digs into the second knuckle spreading his fingers apart until your lively shriek arises again. “Can you cum like this for Alpha? I know a nasty pretty thing like you can do it.”

The Alphas teeth gnaw at your ass, fucking his fingers in and out with power until your hole finally gives and loosens. Even then he knows this won’t be enough for you to take his cock. “Tiny little hole can barely handle my fingers.”

He mutters, hazy from watching your rim clamp and pulse around his digits. “Cum for me, let me feel that asshole tighten up even more.”

Jeno’s lewd words bow your back, pushing down onto his digits as the build-up of release bursts out of you. The sound of slick raining down on the floor breaks your mind, plummeting down into an empty thoughtless space.

“See,” and suddenly Jeno’s hovering above you, able to slide you free from the trap you’d fallen into before moving you onto your back. “Always trust your Alpha to take care of you.”

Your Alpha.

Your Alpha who stayed true to his word, freeing you from the dangerous situation you’d put yourself in just to avoid the object of your wet dreams.

Jeno lets out a cute unsatisfied sound, wiping stains of tear tracks off your warm cheeks. “Such a pretty Omega, didn’t get to see your pretty face cumming for me.”

The Alpha cups your cheeks, refocusing your mind for a minute to take in the high blush on his cheeks covered in pools of slick. The smile stretching his face is much too endearing for what he just did to you and everything else he plans to do. Jeno shoves your cheeks together, setting your lips to form a pout for him to chew on. His perfect teeth dig into the fat, biting between heavenly kisses that have you seeking more; reaching to grab at his toned stomach, the tips of your fingers slotting into the hollows of muscle.

“Taste good everywhere don’t you?” Jeno preens, mauling your mouth with another ferocious kiss. He likes this game, the way you’ve become nothing but a dumb pile of putty in his hands to ruin time and time again, allowing him to remold you into the perfect Omega.

The Alpha nods your head for you, shifting between your legs as he wraps a palm around the base of his shaft, he points the tip, directing it to slide between your slick drenched walls. Jeno doesn’t bother with prepping your pussy, can’t be bothered to, not when your entrance sucks around his cockhead begging for him to fuck you full. Pressing his forehead to yours, he pushes through with a powerful thrust.

“Oh, that’s it.” Jeno nods, circling his hips to accommodate his size. The stretch rolls your eyes to the back of your skull leaving nothing but white behind, tongue hung loose with a silent scream like a damn animal, and he thinks you really are perfect. So fucking eager to take your Alphas cock, so willing and slutty.

“Always so pretty,” He huffs, hoisting up the back of your thigh to push against your chest. His gaze dragging down to watch the space where you connect, slowly grinding in and out, mesmerized by how wet you still feel after cumming twice. Amazed by how heavy the slick trickling down his balls feels; pouring down to make a sloppy mess between his ass. “You know how pretty you are, don’t you baby?”

The Alphas eyes lock with yours expectantly, thrusting shallowly with his neck tight, holding his breath in fear of his lungs giving out on him, collapsing from overuse. Growing more hoarse and ragged as time ticks away.

“N-no..” with shaking lips, you stutter, scratching pink and crimson lines along his sturdy broad shoulders. No doubt caking layers of skin and bits of blood beneath your nails.

“No???” Jeno’s eyes sharpen, the iris wide and coated in a sheen. “What do you mean no?”

His next thrust arches your back, shaking your head in reply as words evade you. The Alpha taking the opportunity to fuck you faster, smacking against your center at a brutal pace. “Wanna cum?” Jeno bites out, pushing your knee to your shoulder to grab your chin. He forces you to face him, blaring you with a gaze full of fire.

“Pleasepleaseplease!” Nodding rabidly you cough between wads of spit, half choking on the amount that's gathered around the insides of your mouth.

“Who’s my pretty girl?” Jeno’s expression turns serious, glaring straight into your eyes as he asks without slowing down, snapping into you at a punishing pace. “Are you my pretty baby? Come on, tell me.”

Between whimpers and cries full of anguish you nod, letting the Alpha use your body to get off. His hips beat down on you harder than ravenous ocean waves, landing with loud smacks of sweaty flesh on flesh. Each vein lining his cock pulsing against your insides louder than your own heartbeat. “Wanna hear you say it.” Jeno groans, reaching his other hand between your lower halves to rub figure-eights on your clit.

“Alpha, wa-wanna c—cum!” You plead, too desperate under the Alphas burly frame to have a coherent thought. “Please!”

Jeno stops, pressing down on your clit hard. “Only pretty girls get to cum, what are you? Hmm? Come on, tell me baby.”

Overwhelmed emotions shoot through your limbs, clenching your eyes shut as you repeat that you are Alphas pretty girl.

“I’m your pretty baby,” you whine, slapping at his shoulders with zero strength. “Please! I’m Alphas pretty Omega.”

“That’s right,” Jeno grunts, furiously fucking you with his two of his fingers squeezing inside of you nestled alongside his cock drilling in and out of you, thumb pressed down on your bundle of nerves dropping your jaw open in a silent scream.

The Alpha fucks you through it, stilling to keep his cock inside of you even as slick squirts out around his palm, pushing his fingers up against your insides until you thrash and push at his shoulders with tears covering your cheeks. He’s fast to maneuver you, cupping your hips and using all of his thigh power to lift you off the floor, quietly promising he’d get you cleaned up after this.

Jeno gets you up on the railing, ass half-hung off with one leg perched on his shoulder making use of your flexibility. Fisting his cock, he dips the tip back to your entrance, stopped by your palm smoothing down under his navel and a pained hiss. “Sensitive,” you let him know, ducking your chin in a bashful manner.

The Alpha nods, pressing closer to capture your lips with a comforting kiss. Stroking his length between your folds to gather a mixture of cum and slick, he scoots lower, circling your rim with his cockhead coated in the sticky mess you’ve created. Dragging his lips across yours, he mumbles what sounds like ‘Can I?’ nodding even if you’re not sure what he’s asking for, he pushes in slowly, the first few inches have you flailing, reaching around yourself for anything to grab onto to endure the initial pain.

“Hurts..” you whimper, stuffing your nose into the Alphas scent gland for more of his calming lavender, instantly easing the stinging pain as he buries in another inch.

Jeno nods, kissing the side of your forehead. “You can take it.”

To his credit he tries, he tries to keep a steady pace, thrusting in the rest of his length with harsh breaths as he stays still and lets you get used to it, but he’s too close to cumming already. Jeno wraps and arm around your waist, huffing out heavily falling into a jackhammering speed. Unrelenting ruthless thrusts clap against your thighs and ass, booming out the slap of your plump flesh colliding with his hip bones.

“Fuck, fucking shit it’s tight.” The Alphas chest caves, feeding your ass every inch of his fat length. Each thrust sloppier and messier than the previous the nearer he comes to reach release. Jeno picks up his brutal pace, oblivious to your cries growing louder the more he stretched your ass with an unforgiving breach.

“Cum for me one more time baby,” Jeno shouts between his clenched teeth, dropping from your waist to bury three fingers inside of your cunt, thrusting in at the same hard drilling pace as his cock; fast and so hard. He lets out a loud cry, cracking from his throat with another snap of his hips. Thumb rubbing at your clit pushing you over the edge with another expert flick of his wrist.

“Alpha! Oh God Alpha!”

Blinding heat slams your chest back to the wall, fucked by what feels like a beast as Jeno reaches his breaking point. Screaming out a roar when your ass locks around him and slick bursts out onto his stomach. He growls, pushing the entirety of his engorged length inside of you, thrumming as he fills you with a never-ending load of sticky white ropes.

A string of curses and what can only be recognized as gibberish spill from his mouth, latching onto your throat littering searing kisses up to your jaw. He nuzzles, nibbling up the bone to your ear. “My pretty Omega.”

The elevator door slams shut startling you both, lifting your heads up in a daze as if you’d just woke from a fever daydream.

“10th floor.” Jeno says, eyeballing the red lit up number as he sets you on your feet.

“Take me home Alpha?” You say weakly with your face hidden in his chest. Jeno smiles to himself, scooping you up with ease. The display of power doing nothing to quell your heat, but silently promising you that this isn’t over yet.

“Let’s get you home.”

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the-witch-of-one-piece · 11 months

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Terms and Agreement 18+

Ran Haitani x Fem Reader (unedited) WC: 7000+ * Participation for the sugar daddy collar w/ @sleepysnk ! Please feel free to look at the other amazing writers and artists right here!* TW: Daddy kink, pet names (baby girl, princess), unprotected sex, age gap by 9 years apart, dry humping, multiple orgasms, oral sex, vaginal penetration, cream pie, stripping, suggestive language, masturbation, breast play, a moment with Kakucho, sending nudes, a sexy moment in an elevator. MINORS DNI

The nightlife was something you were accustomed to for the past 3 years. Stripping wasn’t the first option for you at all, but it was the quickest way for you to leave your parents’ home. College wasn’t an option for you either but knowing you could make a pretty penny with sex appeal. You jumped from strip club to strip club each one having their own sleaze clients and freaks who would come out at all hours of the night. The most recent one you were recruited was by one of the girls. She told you many high rollers would come to the joint she was stripping as she was making more money than she could count in one night. Who doesn’t love more money?

Perfecting the sultry look that could make a man do whatever he wanted. Just the simple tease of you on the stage luring them in, leading to private dances. Those private dances lead to big bucks. Your first week at the club the money was piling in. You had many requests from men but you would only accept the highest bidder. But in the club, there was a strict policy of no fucking the clients. As much as they pleaded with you to go a little farther you declined them but still the bit of hip movement against their throbbing groin earned you that extra cash. The feeling of power you had over them the way you make them feel like they are on top of the world. They love this type of shit. You could give them that lustful moment.

The small dab of perfume on your neck and wrist. Adjusting the dainty straps on your thighs, the final look in the mirror you were just waiting for your name to be called to perform. The chatter among the girls from the back of some high rollers was going to come in today. “I have to make sure I perform very well today to get noticed by them.” hearing one of the girls speak. “_______ be ready in 2 babes” you heard the house mom speaking to you. She adjusted some of the straps on your outfit. “ People are already requesting you and placing their bids after your performance.”

“Why even perform.” you joked. “So word on the street we have some well-known high rollers coming in today?” “The Haitani brothers, they run the night club a few miles down” she leaned in “Apparently they are here due to a recommendation of someone. You must have given a very convincing dance to the person, I think the name was Kakucho?.” She raised her brow.

“I didn’t fuck the guy I promise the poor guy seemed to almost pass out when I was dancing. Even the slightest movement against him made him cum quicker than any of my other clients. But he did tip very well.” you assured her you were following the rules. "I swear I didn't"

Before she could speak you heard the announcer “Alright fellas I know half of you are drunk already but you don’t wanna miss this little number. One of our new sexy little thangs is making a name for herself. Give it up to our lovely little vixen, Vixy” Quickly getting into place, the sound of men hollering like they were banchis. the lights centered onto the stage. The curtain was drawn back slowly as you positioned your pose. One foot was slightly forward the shadow of the lights hitting nicely on your contoured frame. One hand rested on her hip while the other hand gave a wave with her fingers tilting her head slightly. As the center of the crowd, you could see the exclusive seating was taken already. Two men in nicely fitting suits. One with short lilac hair with the others was long and multicolored. Making eye contact with one and then the other. You began to walk slowly swaying her hip as the music began to play. Your goal was to snag either one or the other brother. You watch their eyes traveling down your body you could already see what they were thinking.

As got closer you reached for the metal pole that always felt the same no matter where she worked. You found yourself dipping to the beat of the music slowly bringing yourself back up, taking a step forward before reaching the pole that was behind you. Your free hands running through your hair give a seductive smile. You made direct eye contact with the brother with short hair. Seeing the smirk on his face as he took a sip of his drink. He was the target for you, there was no doubt he wouldn’t ask for a private dance with the eye fucking you were both doing. Rin could see the tension between you and his brother knowing his brother would have this fun this time. Ran made eye contact with the bid counter motioning him to his table. “ What is her bid right now?” He asks to bring his attention back to you on stage. “9k sir. She has been very popular among the gentlemen since she is new.” The bidder mentioned.

“Well now I have to see what the hype is all about then. I will double the offer. If someone tries to go over my bid let me know.” Money he had but a girl to catch his attention for this long he didn’t have. He was becoming bored with the women he had been encountering lately he needed something new a new toy perhaps. Discusses his boredom with women like it was a casual conversation with Kakucho. The piece of information Kakucho gave him about a strip club he recently visited, noticed a girl that grabbed his attention right away. He couldn’t explain how it happen. He was mesmerized by you. He wasn't the type either to place a bid for a private dance but this time he rolled the dice he decided to give it a try, it happen so suddenly when he won the bid only at that time he won the private session with you for 2k. You were giving him your undivided attention. Kakucho didn’t mention the part about him almost passing out but did mention how sweet and darling you were. Kakucho had the small card of the strip club's location and on the card, your photo was on the front. This caught Ran’s attention piquing his curiosity, you looked exactly like the photo. He was not disappointed one bit.

Rin looked at his brother rolling his eyes “Few hours of pleasure your soul must leave your body for that amount of money.” “We will see. She knows what she is doing. And she does it very well…I wanna see what else she can do behind closed doors.” “For money, you can get anyone to do anything. I bet if you tell her your favorite color it will be her favorite color too.” Rin leans back on the cushioned seat his arms resting on the back part of the couch. Still, his eyes focused on your body rather impressed with how flexible you were and the core/ muscle strength you had. “But remember the policy they mention before entering.”

Ran ignored what his brother was saying as you were the only thing he was paying attention to. He could feel himself becoming a bit turned on by the sultry number you were performing. He felt like it was just for him. The sinful thoughts of what he could do to you were becoming more exciting to him.

As the song ended to seal the deal you knew he was already interested in you already. Arching your brow as you lowered your eyes slightly, lightly bitting your lower lip. Slowly getting up to your feet still making eye contact. The smile was the seductive smile you turned around walking to the back your hips swaying from side to side. Ran noticed the bid keeper at another table the man that was interested in the obvious dance. Rin noticed the other table “Looks like someone maybe over placing a bid over yours.”

You noticed the bid keep coming towards his table once more “Sorry to bother you sir but your bid was out done.”

“Oh no, what a shame.” taking a drink as he sarcastically spoke “Well I guess add another 5k to the bid of that bidder…. Anyone wants to bet let them know the bids are close.” Ran looked at the man he could see a change in his voice and look “understood.” They did a dry swallow understanding what he meant. He nodded quickly ushering away.

20 mins had passed before one of the employees got Ran from his table. “Let's see if anyone of these sluts gets my attention I may join you up there if it gets too boring...,” Rin said as the next performance entered on the stage. “Just not in my room.” Ran smiled before walking off his hands in his pockets, he walked past the table outbid giving a cocky smirk knowing he couldn’t get this chance and Ran was getting his chance. Since being so high on the bid tonight you were all his. The complimentary drinks were brought up to his private dance room.

“You snagged one of the Haitani brothers babe.” your house mother spoke. “You have him all night.” You could feel the girl's eyes burning your back with the glares. Making your way up to the private room few of the doors were already shut with the dancers in them. Seeing one of the girls walking out of the room with her thumb cleaning the lipstick smudge on her lips. Finding room 9 one of the Haitani brothers was just on the other side. Opening the door the iridescent purple lights in the room, the soft beat music echoed in the room. In the middle of the couch was the violet-eyed man. Closing the door giving a smile “So it’s you handsome.”

Letting a chuckle out “Yes I’m the lucky man that has you all night.” Ran motioning you to come closer to him “Let me get a good look at cha.” Following his order you made your way towards him. Patting his lap wanting you to take a seat on him. Getting a whiff of the sweet perfume as you took a seat on his lap. A scent of YSL perfume filled his nostril. One of his favorite scents from the collection, he would buy this fragrance for the girls he was with. ‘Good taste as well.’ He thought to himself. “You are a pretty little thing now. Not disappointed one bit.” The tip of his finger under your chin. Worth every penny to get you alone with him.

“ I’m glad you think so.” Your hand sliding unbuttoning his suit jacket then sliding up his chest holding onto his tie . “ Let's get you more comfortable. We are going to get to know each other pretty well.” Loosening his tie as you, his large hand sliding up your thigh. Pushing on his chest lightly, having his lean back on the cushion. “Just enjoy yourself Mr. Haitani. I will take good care of you.” leaning in close as your lips were millimeters from his own. A new song began as the motion of your hips began to rock with the beat. The feeling of his hands lightly gripping your thighs as you rubbed against his caged beas tinside his pants. It was already semi-hardened by the time you took a seat on his lip. “Someone is a little excited.” leaning in cooing in his ear. “How flattering Mr. Haitani.”

“Having a pretty girl on their lap can do that to a man.” he spoke in a husky tone. “Please call me Ran.”

“Very well Ran~” you change your position as your back is against his chest. Feeling his lips graze the nape of your neck, the faint scent of the bourbon he was drinking was still lingering on his breath. His hands roaming your body groping your breast with his other hand squeezing your inner thigh. You felt his hand becoming a little more closer to your cunt than your other clients ever did. You made sure your other clients followed rules but with Ran, him being on of the best guys you ever danced for, you didn’t mind if he got a bit more friendlier. He spent all this money with you, why not a little bit of a taste?

He must have noticed you slightly tense up just a bit. “ Is this too far for you?” The pure lust in his voice made you quiver in the moment.

“Do you remember the rules, Ran?”

“The part of no fucking.” you could feel he had a smile on his face even though you couldn’t see him. “I know I know.. What a shame.” with a bit of sarcasm. “Lets say if you did fuck a client what would happen?” feeling his hand creeping a bit closer. “I lose this job. The amount of money I make here is too good to give up.” You were rather curious why he began to ask this question. You stopped for a moment turning your head looking at him. You knew the money you would get wouldn’t be the cleanest money your clients would come in with. Even the money Kakucho brought in, you knew there was another side to him, even when you made him cum you could see he had another side to him. Ran began to think for a moment, maybe even thinking of something more to his benefit. “Such a pity, a pretty little thing like you doing this for money. Men grab you all night long as they don’t understand the word no. Or are you luring them in with sweet promises of going further but you don’t? You're a very smart girl. I mean if I had a pretty little thing like you by my side I would make sure you never had to worry about money." He knew he caught your interest when he spoke the last part. “Has a man ever provided you anything?” “Other than a headache.. A girl like me can’t keep a boyfriend due to my line of work.”

It was true many failed relationships and false accusations of fucking clients when you were with one person. Not to mention them coming into the club and picking fights with people. You would have hookups but never the same guy twice.

“I’m assuming you are still young and haven’t dated a real man. I’m guessing you're in your early 20’s?” you felt his hand slide off your strap off your shoulder, his lips placing a light kiss.

“21 to be exact.” You felt like he was having the upper hand and this was a bit different to you when you had a client alone you were the one with the upper hand.

His eyes perked up “you are a young little thing. Barely old enough to drink now, by the way you dance on the pole you have been doing this for some years now. Such a shame you never experienced what it's like to be taken care of by a real man before.”

Titling your head slightly, your fingertips lightly touching his face “it is such a pity, but I take it as no real man can handle me.” “That can be fixed.” he smirked “But that can be all up to you now. If you're willing to give this up and just rely on me for support.” his finger drifted towards your cunt. The sweet charm of the lovely Ran Haitani was pulling you in more and more. This wouldn’t be his first sugar baby at all.. After ending things with his latest one , dates after dates of women who didn’t catch his eye. He thinks you would be his perfect little sugar baby. Letting out a low shallow breath. “All you have to do is agree to any of my requests then, you could have whatever you want.” he could feel the thin fabric becoming a bit moist. He was becoming a bit more excited as he saw you biting your lower lips. The obvious hues on your cheeks “What do you think princess?”

It was so tempting not to accept. You nodded in agreement to the lilac-hair-colored man. “Such a good girl, now tell me what is your name?” he asked “_______.” responding in a soft tone.

“Yesterday was the last night another man touching you. I’m going to be the only one to touch you from now on, understand?” you nodded in acknowledgement. “I want you to ride my lap till you cum. Could you do that for daddy?”

Without an answer you flipped around once more on his lap. He began to sink into the couch, his cock still engaged in his pants. You moisten panties rubbing against his cock. Grinding yourself against him one hand steady against his chest the other on the back gripping the back of his hair. His hand gripping your ass cheeks. Your breasts were eye level with his face. He couldn’t help but get a taste. His tongue runs across the top of your breast before his lips finding the perfect place to mark you.

A few months had passed since you agreed to the terms of the agreement. The nightlife was becoming more enjoyable instead of you working 6 days a week. The expensive dinners, lavish gifts, and allowances coming from him were more than enough to keep you happy. Within the first month, he gave you a spare key to his home. Just in case he wanted you there before he was home it would usually be when he has had a long day and needed to destress. He still wanted you to keep the sexy outfits and perform for only him. The more you were around him the more you knew what kinda business he was in. Met some of his ‘business partners, one being Kakucho. When he saw you walking in with Ran, he was a little tense his memories going back to the day you were on his lap. Clientele's privacy and wouldn’t let anyone know what happened to him when you had him alone. Still being sweet you would always greet him. Ran on the other hand made sure you never left his side a single moment. Making it a point to have you on his lap.

Rindou saw the hyper fixation of his brother's interest in you. Rindou used Rans's phone because his just died and the notifications for you popped up, peaking his curiosity and clicking on the notification he saw the explicit picture you were sending Ran at that very moment. “You weren’t supposed to see those.” Ran took his phone from his brother. “But what you saw, what do you think?” asked his brother he looked at the photos for himself. Saving each one of the photos. “You're hooked on your new toy.” shifting in his seat still having the images imprinted in his mind. “So when are you going to share your toy?” When Ran would get bored of the girl he was willing to share with, he didn’t want to share you with him or anyone. “ I don’t plan on sharing my girl this time. She is very obedient and does anything I say like a good girl.

“Send her my way when you finish her.” Rindou was serious, “you will eventually become bored of her you always do.” As more photos were coming in, Ran had to turn off his phone for a moment to relax before his erection would become more noticeable. “She must want something if she is sending this many photos. She will have to wait for a while before I respond.”

Back in your apartment, you saw he opened the photos. ‘He must be in a meeting or something.’ tossing your phone on the bed. You knew he would like the photos, It was a few days since you saw him in person. You Facetime him last night and the sweet talking about each other's day turned into something more sinful as the conversation went on. Your fingers were the only thing keeping your company.

The official first day you were his sugar baby was the day you fucked him. Was is the best dick you had? Yes, yes it was. But what really turned you on was the way he spoke to you when fucking your brains out. The praising and how good of a girl you were for him, it drove you crazy. You could tell he was possessive with you when around some of his colleagues and even his brother . You wanted to be on your best behavior when he was around. But there were moments you had to use your good girl tactic to get what you wanted. Hearing your phone ring. Grabbing the phone “Hello daddy~”

Ran walked to one of empty hallways leaning against the wall “My princess how are you?”

“Lonely, I miss you. I want to see you.” you had a bit of a pouty tone. . The corner of his mouth curled up “is that so? Well daddy is going to be free tonight. Do you wanna go out?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed, causing him to chuckle slightly. He looked at his watch. It was 2:30 in the afternoon.

“Very well why don’t you put on that pretty dress I bought you recently and I can pick you up around 7:30? I have to finish a few things before I can pick you up.” “sounds perfect!” Your eyes spotted the dress that was still wrapped in the bag it came in. “Did you want me to wear anything special underneath?”

“Surprise me. I will see you soon bye princess.”

“ bye daddy.” Hanging up the phone.

Ran hung up the phone going through his photos. Some of his favorite photos you wouldn’t have expected him to like. Thinking you always had to perform a sexy pose or something explicit. It would be the photos of you in your lounge clothing, your natural bare face, even your hair pinned up. He caught a glimpse when you answer on a video call. You felt embarrassed that you didn’t look done up. you always look presentable until that time. Just that one time he saw you he was stunned by your natural beauty. He thought you looked good with you all done up but he liked this more. He never saw one of his sugar babies not done up before you were his first. His night sessions where he would leave after the sex, he would end up staying the night with you. Some nights you spent with him and you had your makeup off, peacefully sleeping next to him. He couldn’t help but snag a few photos. He really felt something for you but didn’t want to pursue these feelings thinking they would just pass but it was taking longer than it usually does.

As the evening approached, you were putting the last earring on when you heard the luring voice “Is my baby girl ready?” He walked towards your room to see the gown he requested to be in you. “Stunning as always.”

Turning around you were greeted by the soft lilac haired man. Just a few steps he was in front of you. His lanky arm wrapped around your waist as the other titling your chin up at him. He leaned in as his lips pressed against yours making you quiver. Removing his lips from yours, and removing his hand from your chin, his hand began sliding down his arm before he held your hand. “I’m glad I get to see you.”

“Same here. I’ve been a little lonely not being able to see you. But our video chats are always so lovely to do so I can’t see my pretty girl daily.” He smiled and looked down at you “Hmm something is missing.”

Blinking a few times you checked your ears to make sure you put the earrings on right. “ I think I put everything on.”

“Not this.” Going into his breast coat pocket he pulled out a blue Tiffany box. This box was so iconic that every girl knows about it. Opening the box there was a dainty pendant that sparkled when the light hit it. “ You have been such a good girl for me and the photos sent today prove how much you missed me.” Ran smiled “I’d book us a suit for the night as well. You have some clothes I’d bought for you in the room.” he removed the necklace from the box walking behind you and placed it around your neck.

“It’s beautiful.” you looked at the wall mirror seeing the pendant around your neck. His chin resting on your shoulder.

“You made it look beautiful.” Ran smirked before kissing your cheek “ shall we?” he asked

The whole drive you both were catching up on small talk, his hand resting on your thigh where it remained until we arrived at the restaurant. Getting out of the car and handing his keys to the vale you stopped him “Wait really quick.” you said to him. He looked over at you with a questionable look. Your hand reached to straighten his tie. “There.” Ran had booked the best table in the restaurant. The ambient lighting sets the romantic mood. The small gestures wouldn’t go unnoticed by him. He noticed you made sure he kept up making a good impression. The way you held yourself with confidence and class if he would have seen you the first time in another event he wouldn’t have guessed you were a stripper. He wondered if you missed it being grabbed by people or being the attention of more than one guy “Do you miss dancing?” He asked as he swirled his wine glass.

“I don’t. The only reason for doing it was to get out of my parents’ home quickly after high school. When I first started, I wasn’t any good, it took me months to perfect what I could do now.” You chuckled and brought the glass of wine to your lips. The memory of the first time you were on stage you had so much anxiety and fumbled everywhere. That memory was one you could never forget. But also, the memory of when your parents found out still haunted you “When my parents found out that I was stripping they cut all ties with me. I haven’t spoken to them since my 19th birthday.” Just the mention of your parents bothered you while you looked out the window. You closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before turning back to Ran. “But life goes on. Dancing did give me confidence in myself” You gave a smile trying to hide the pain, you kept inside for so long. It wasn’t just the relationship with your parents but the men in your life that came and went.

The smile painted on your lips Ran could still see the hurt you had from that. “In the society we live in, we must do what we must do to survive. I don't find stripping to be all bad. If I must say seeing you on stage those few months back, I saw the confidence in you and a form of power. Seeing the crowd focusing on you, some men begging for you to look at them.” Ran would admit this possessiveness started even before you agreed to his terms of being his sugar baby. “I couldn’t let a pretty thing like you be snatched up by another man, I wouldn’t have allowed it.” reaching for your hand he placed a kiss on the back of it.

It did make you think he was so charming, how long would this last until he was through with you. You might have to go back to dancing once he stops giving you money. But the way he was with you seemed to change but not in a bad way, you couldn’t really explain it, but he was more caring about you. Just the way he looked at you made your heart skip a beat.

The rest of dinner you both enjoy with one another. Sharing laughs and flattering chats between one another. When you both entered the hotel your hand wrapped around his forearm as they greeted you both. Waiting for the elevator he kissed your temple, his hands comfortably around your waist. Whispering in your ear so sweetly in your ear. “I can’t wait to see what you have underneath that dress.” As the elevator opened up both of you entered. Once the elevator closed he turned towards you he placed his hand on each side of the wall pinning you under his towering figure. Looking down at you, his lower eyes express a seductive smile painted on his lip. He leaned down and kissed you, his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip “My baby girl, mine and mine only.” His lips grazed my neck sending chills down my spine.

“Ran~.” You slightly moaned his name.

“Save that pretty little voice until we get into the room babe.” He whispered he slightly nibbled on your neck. One hand sliding down your dress as you grasped your ass. “I’m never gonna let you go.” This caused your cheeks to become a bit red. Was he serious about his words right now? Or what is he just in the moment? He knew how to speak to you and thinking at this point he was just saying things you wanted to hear. You just imagined he meant what he said, turning you on. “I’m yours Ran Haitani~~.”

He gave your ass another firm squeeze letting out a moan that was a bit louder than intended. He loved how you said his name. His eyes fixated on your lewd expression his hand could not feel any panties. “No panties, this is going to be fun.” ..The elevator stopped and he moved swiftly to the side of you, your cheeks burning slightly, your heart beating against your chest.. You were covering your mouth. Ran composed himself quickly with a smile not leaving his face. Opening the door to find some other guests wanting to enter the elevator. They saw you and Ran. They heard the moaning and the obvious expression they knew what was going to happen. His hand pressed against your lower back gesturing you to exit the elevator. Walking down the narrow hallway.

You were against the room door. Ran’s lips were against yours once more as his hand was against your cheek, the other on your waist sliding down to your ass once more. “Such a cheeky girl you are princess.” He said in a low voice as spoke, his tongue dragging across your bottom lip. His hands began to go into his pocket while his lips were still attached to yours. It took him a few tries to open the door, when he finally got the door open he held onto you as you were walking backward into the dark room and closed the door. His back pressed against the door you couldn’t contain yourself. Seeing his toned chest, your hands slide up bringing your lips closer to the chest. Ran watched your lips make contact with his chest. “That’s my girl.” he cooed. As you continue to pepper kiss his chest, your hands travel down to his pants undoing the buckle. Sliding off the belt tossing it to the side. Before you could lower yourself. “Let's have you undress first.” “Yes Daddy.” the alluring tone you spoke. Turning around as your back was to him. He found the zipper and began to undo the dress. The only thing you were wearing was the dress, no bra or panties. I Ran looking at your naked frame.

“Much better, proceed.” Ran

Obliging by his request you leaned your lips once again on his torso and started working your way down lower. Getting on your knees you were at eye level with his buckle. Your delicate fingers taking hold of his cock, you could feel it twitch as your hand was fully around it. Seeing the bit of pre-cum on the tip of his cock you licked your lips leaning in lightly licking the tip of his cock. “Just like this Ran~?” you playfully spoke in a tone while dragging your tongue from the base of his to the tip. Both of your eyes locked with one another as your lips wrapped around his cock. “Ssss aaaahhh~~~ You sure do look lovely with those pretty lips around my cock.” he let a low moan escape from his lips. The saliva began to coat his cock making it easier for your hands to slide up and down as you bobbed your head up and down. His hand resting on the back of your head, his finger getting entangled in your hair. The deeper you were taking in his cock the more it was getting harder for him to contain himself from cumming inside your mouth. “If you keep sucking my cock that way you are going to get a surprise in that pretty mouth of yours~~. ”

“mmmm” you wanted his special surprise.

The pressure from his hand pushing your head into his pelvis without warning, He was about to cum he couldn’t even say you heard the low dragging groan. You finally heard him say “Hold it~” he grunts, feeling his warm seed spilling down the back of your throat. “Fuck.” in a lower tone. “You must have wanted it,” he smirked, Ran still finding himself hard. “Be a good girl and go to the bedroom for Daddy. Get all nice and comfy” Rising from the floor you both made it to the bedroom of your suite. Dimming the lights to the bedroom, the large plush bed that could fit so many people in. You laid back on the topper of the mattress. It was eating at you as you wanted to ask him the question “Ran?” when you spoke you felt him climbing onto the bed his body was towering over yours. His violet eyes looking at you. “Yesss~~” responding when you called his name. His finger slid between the folds of your wet cunt sending chills down her spine. “I-I wanted” It was getting hard to ask the question when he was playing with you. You reached for his hand, stopping him from playing with you. “What you said back there…. About never letting me go ... .was it in the moment or the truth.” you looked up at him. He saw the desperation in your look as you asked the question to him. “If I didn’t mean it, why would I have said it?” he asked. “You must know by now if I didn’t want you anymore my brother would have had some fun with you already.” It was the truth about him with his brother when he was playing sugar daddy to another girl. He was to the point where there was no going around the bush with the question... “As you said your mind, was it the truth?” his hand broke from you as he found the folds of your wet lips.

Arching your back up slightly letting a low moan out “I meant it Ran.”

“I know you did. I just wanted to confirm” with a cocky smile. “You are the only person that will have all my cum, love, and money. Let me show you how well I can treat MY girl once more.” pressing his lips lightly against yours as the kisses began to trail down more. Leaning down lower and lower he settled between your thighs. He began to insert a finger once again slowly going in and out. He kissed your inner thighs slightly sucking on them leaving hickeys. Before he proceeded to lick between your slits.

“Nghh~~~” Your hands began to tug on his soft lilac hair. He began to look up at you making direct eye contact as his tongue flicked your clit. “Right there just like that Daddy ~~~!” pushing his head more into your throbbing cunt. His fingers began to pump into you quicker.. Your own core was on fire and full of sheer pleasure. “I’m going to cum.” exclaiming as the built-up orgasm was coming in. Your body tensed up and then felt this ecstasy between your legs. The room was spinning as you were trying to catch your breath as you were coming down from your high.

His fingers coated in your juices bringing his hand to his lips to get a taste of your sweet juices. “You deserve everything in this world. I’m willing to give it to you, as long as you are by my side.” he leaned as his forehead touched yours. “Just know I won’t ever let you go.”

The comforting words from him made your heart beat pound against your chest. You swore he could hear it by how loud it was pulsing. For so long you felt this emptiness and once it was filled you were just waiting for it to be empty, the fear of disappointment would settle in. You would be alone once more. Loneliness for a few years now made you suffer but now, having someone share mutual feelings for you had some hope. It was hard to believe just because Ran was so good with his words.

His long slender fingers grasping onto your thighs spread them a bit further apart. He reached for his throbbing cock as he brushed it against your wet cunt. Both of you let out a shallow breath and you felt your lower area move a bit more wanting him to proceed more. Slowly entering inside your wet cunt. His cock slid into her warm slick walls, his cock fit like a glove inside of you. He didn’t start rough thrusting as he wanted to savor the slow thrust. Bringing himself up he pushes down on each of your thighs watching his cock disappear into your cunt. You were becoming more aroused and you began to play with your own breast, pinching her nipples as they were getting hard.. Leaning your head up just a bit as seeing his cock enter you. Seeing the small bulge with each thrust in your lower pelvis. He stuck his fingers in his mouth once more bringing down your wet cunt. Finding your sensitive clit. Your legs were trembling from the smallest touch on your clit. “Ah~ Yeah just like that.” you managed to speak.

“This pretty pussy is mine now.” feeling the motion of his thrust becoming a bit quicker. “I wanna see you play with your clit now baby girl.” his hands gripping onto your thighs. Licking your bottom lip one of your hands began trailing down your body till it reached your aching cunt. Your index and middle finger began to rub your clit in a circular motion causing your body to feel the familiar tension once more. Your back began to arch up, your eyes closing as she savored the pure bliss of ecstasy she was feeling at that moment, his thrusting motion had made you a complete mess. The force behind each pound was sending your body over the edge and knocking the air out of your lungs. He was too busy watching your facial expressions change after each thrust. Your juices coated his girthy cock, leaving a ring around the base of it. Ran craved your lips leaning down he shoved his lips against yours; his teeth bit your bottom lip softly before bringing his head back “Look at me _____.”

You followed his command “nngggh……ahhhhh~~~~.” you were trying to catch your breath looking at his violet lustful eyes with your pleading wide eyes. You kept Repeating his name over and over. As if it was a music symphony to his ears. “Ngh~~~.” He grunted in pleasure as this turned him on more. The raging testosterone inside Ran was uncontrollable. Reaching for your legs he bent your knees to your chest, “I should just seal the deal now. You won’t ever leave me. I know my cum can fit so snug inside of you.” Ran slammed his cock deep inside of you.

Ran leaned forward for deeper penetration; his balls slapping against your swollen lips. You cried out loud, “What?!” panting a bit louder, the hues of pink still dusting your cheeks.

“You know what I mean princess. Like I said you will have my cum.” seeing the smirking smile on his face. “Ra-an no no you ca- can’t” you managed to speak out. He made sure he pulled out every single time before he came. “Scared of the outcome? Don’t be like I said you wouldn’t have to worry about anything. You know you want me to as well. Stop denying it, just accept it.” cooing the final words of his sentence. When his mind was made up on something he meant every single word of it. “Say you want me cum and I’ll give you every single drop of it.” he knew you were getting more turned on as he felt your pussy tightening up with just the mention of wanting to be filled up. Rams pushed the loose strands of his hair off his face.

You were a bit stunned, lost for words. This request was so different from what he usually wanted. “I-I want your cu-cum~~” You liked how that sounded and seeing the expression on his face, he wanted more, you were going to use this to your advantage wanting a bit of control at the moment.. “Please give me your cum Daddy.. I’ve been your good girl~~” The words spilling from your lips were turning you on, you keep picturing his hot load deep inside your cunt. You were squirming a bit more as your orgasm was slowly approaching.

“I want you to look at me as you cum ,” Ran thrusted deeper and faster inside your pussy. Your slick walls gripping onto his cock. This didn’t stop Ran’s pace, he continued his rapid pace. Multiple curse words came from his mouth. “You want my hot sticky cum inside you _____?” gritting his teeth, his eyes hyper focused on you.

“Yes I want you cum Ran~~~, please give it to me, give it to me~~!,” you whined out loud and felt the tingling sensation run all through your body as you climaxed. Ran called your name out loud before he came, pushing his cock fully inside of you. The amount of cum being forced into your cunt began to leak out as he thrust a few more times. He rests his forehead against yours trying to catch his breath. His body felt a bit weak but he didn’t want to come crashing on you. The panting coming from you and Ran as you both were coming down from your high was vehement. “I will always be your Ran.” softly pressing your lips against his, he brushing the strands of your hair out of your face.

“Likewise princess…” about a min or two passed before he removed his cock from inside your. The cum seeping from your cunt. Before you could get comfortable both of you went into the shower. The clothing he has brought you was an outfit for the following day and one of his shirts to sleep in. The oversize shirt fitting your small frame. Drying your hair he saw your face through the mirror. No makeup on just your bare face. You saw his eyes looking at you through the mirror giving a smile back at him. Both of you getting into bed, you both were in each other's arms the night as you both drifted to sleep. It was around 4 in the morning when Ran noticed you were on your side asleep. He wanted to feel the warmth of your body. Grabbing you by your outer thigh he pulled you closer to him, his arms wrapped around you. It did wake you by the movement of your body being pulled. Turning around to face him, your arms wrapping around him, your legs becoming tangled with his. “I meant what I said earlier, don’t ever get discouraged.” his voice was a bit groggy kissing your forehead.

Your eyes were still closed and a smile planted on your smile. “I won’t.”

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newtkive · 4 months

Text

pixels [ newt x reader - modern text au ]

ch. 2 - drama queen core

summary: minho's drama finally catches up with him, but newt becomes a hero.

warnings: strong language, mutual pining, none really.

➥ m.list

THE GLADE

[ 12:08 PM ]

y/n: gm pookies

newt: it’s the afternoon.

y/n: yeah well

ur east coast

newt: so are you y/n

y/n: FINE BAD MORNING THEN ARE U HAPPY?

minho: drama queen is awake

newt: you’re the drama queen min let’s be fr

minho: u want me to die be honest

newt: see .

tommy: hey guys :3 been waiting for you all

y/n: awwww tommy <3 gm

tommy: morning sweetums

minho: ew stop

newt: how did you sleep?

tommy: good! used my new heated pillow

newt: not you

minho: not you

tommy: wtf

WHO THEN?? THERES LIKE 7 OTHER PPL IN HERE

minho: he means y/n

and there’s 4 other people not including newt and y/n dumbass

y/n: oh

why just me????

newt: cuz you stayed up til 6 am

y/n: ..

how do you know that

newt: i saw you were active on discord

gally: doesn’t that mean you were awake too then

newt: ok and?

minho: thats crazy newt

newt: no it isn’t

i just casually saw it

y/n: hehe

im ok i need to sleep more. sims 4 was really consuming me

why were you awake??

newt: up for work

minho: you get on discord before work?

chronically online..

newt: can you choke and pass out and hit your head please

minho: THE WAY U WANT ME DEAD IS INSANE

y/n: he’s gotta check on his discord hoes before hitting the grind

newt: there are no discord hoes

unless you count thomas

and i don’t

tommy: well why not

newt: because you disgust me

tommy: love u too :3<3

minho: y’all about to kiss aren’t you

newt: never say that shit again im outside your door with a b*mb

minho: why censor it

just blow me up it’s my grandmas house anyway. u want to jump her that bad????

gally: blow that bitch up i say

y/n: HELLO???!,!!

gally: minho not grandma

she loves me cuz im so tall

minho: tall people always gotta remind you they’re tall 😒

like we get it bigfoot

gally: shut up tinkerbell

y/n: you’re somewhat tall minho

minho: any man under 6’0 is considered short

y/n: yeah but newt is 6 ft trapped in a 5’10 body so not totally true

newt: what does that even mean

minho: give me a break

i can tell you exactly what that means

she wanna hit

newt: stop

tommy: don’t get his hopes up

newt: dude

stfu

y/n: what newt said

gally: can we appreciate the only one actually over 6 ft here

minho: no.

tommy: im the same height as newt!!!!

y/n: yea but ur like 3 ft trapped in a 5’10 body tommy not the same

tommy: oh ..

minho: kind of real

newt: can someone kick gally i’m tired of seeing his fucking name on my phone

gally: then turn your phone off don’t you have old ladies to tend to at the library

newt: yeah and they all love me

y/n: so real

if i was old i’d go in there and imagine you’re my young boyfriend and cling to everything u say

tommy: true im the old ladies

y/n: LMAO

minho: write a fanfic y/n why don’t you

newt: yeah you both are old and not beating the dementia allegations

y/n: IM THE YOUNGEST HERE

ur just mad you’re old as dirt

tommy: youth has left you newt and it has turn you bitter in your old age.

minho: thomas knows big words who knew

newt: which word in that sentence was big??

y/n: shut up minho

minho: wtf did i do

y/n: idk but i imagine you sitting there typing on your little phone and i got pissed

minho: WHAT???!.‘wKWHFO

newt: LMAOOOOOOOOOOO

yeah chubby little fingers hitting the wrong letters on his iphone 8

minho: im leaving

tommy: dont leave i forgive you for what you said

minho: i don’t give a damn

y’all mad y’all are all fake im the realest i’ve been prophesizing and reading scriptures 7000 years before y’all fake asses were born be so for real right now

y/n: not reading that

congrats

or sorry for what happened idk

about to drink my coffee in a wine glass

tommy: just drink wine

newt: it’s noon tommy??

tommy: ok and?

newt: explains a lot

minho: no coffee for me this new year only water and pussy juice fr fr

[ newt removed minho from the group ]

tommy: woah

y/n: woah..

newt: i can’t take it anymore

alby: How did you get that access..?

newt: don’t worry about it

in times of need i have to step in like that

y/n: hi alby!

alby: Hey y/n!

tommy: you’re such a hero newt

gally: that was deserved

who wants to play minecraft rn

y/n: me!!

alby: I’ll play, I’m off work today.

y/n: let’s go to the desert i want a camel

gally: alright but then the caves after i wanna mine

newt: if you mine with her you gotta bring extra food and storage when she dies so you can pick up the fallen items

gally: i forget you’re her designated babysitter

y/n: oh please no he isn’t

and i’ll bring my own food

newt: you always say that and then leave it in the stove oven

y/n: WELL I WONT THIS TIME

newt: sure ok

i’ll get on after work

[ alby added minho to the group ]

minho: when i get you.

newt: why did you add him back alby

alby: He was harassing me.

newt: be a man and take it

gally: im leaving

[ gally left the group ]

minho: im going to throw up and die

newt: im staying out of this

minho: (guy who caused it) im staying out of this

y/n: why does gally alwyas leave 😔

newt: why question a gift from the heavens

tommy: get online y/n gally is attacking my dirt house w a pickaxe :((((

y/n: NO IM COMING

minho: im coming to your work newt

newt: okay im locking the door early then

minho: i’ll smash through the glass idc

newt: i’m leaving my shift is over at 1 today.

minho: i’ll use life360 on you

newt: i deleted that app

minho: i’ll stand in the middle of the street

newt: ok let me position my car in front of you

just come to my apartment and we can play w them on pc and xbox

minho: …. fine but i hate your guts

newt: fine

y/n: HURRY GALLY IS ATTACKING MY SHED NOOOOWWW

newt: i’ll just rebuild it

minho: i’ll set it on fire just wait

139 notes · View notes

sluttywoozi · 2 years

Text

Beautiful Day, Sunday Morning | sleepover fic #3

special thanks to my bestie @sluttywonwoo for this gorgeous banner!

Pairing: Joshua x fem!reader

Prompt: okay so sleeping it off didn't work. let me consult my list. hypnotism, no. meditation, certainly not. well something has to work because I simply cannot be in love with them + friends to lovers request

Rating: M (MINORS DNI I’LL SCREAM SO LOUD AND BLOCK YOU)

Word Count: ~7000 (im not well)

Warnings: food cooking and eating, alcohol drinking, hurt/comfort (just a tad its me lbr), presex communication, panty stuffing but not really (you’ll see), fingering, pussy eating, josh cums on you, joshua likes to look, mentions of marks/bruises, loving respectful manhandling, reader has a WAP, aftercare, none of these are in order, i wrote this for like 9 hours straight and haven’t edited it yet bc its four am soooooo sorry bout that, if i missed anything message or inbox me im nice i swear

half of this is just story with some suggestiveness, so if you're not into sex you can still enjoy! it's p obvious when the smut starts

Joshua sighs, finding himself laying awake in bed for the third night in a row.

He’s seriously starting to feel like he’s going crazy, and the sleep deprivation surely isn’t helping, but there’s just no way. He absolutely refuses to accept this.

He’s tried everything he could think of.

Sleeping it off didn’t work, obviously. He meditated with Hao for hours on end, with no result. He let Soonyoung try to hypnotize him but all he got from that was a headache and a bruise on the cheek where the stopwatch swung into his face.

Joshua won’t give up though, can’t give up, because this is life or death. Something has to work and Joshua is willing to try anything, well, almost anything, if it means what he fears will be proven false.

He simply cannot be in love with you. He just can’t.

Not when your friendship is the most valuable of them all, not when your presence is like a hot salted caramel mocha on a blisteringly cold morning, not when you’re the person he always looks forward to seeing, the person he dreads leaving for even a day.

Sure, he sometimes thinks about you late at night, when he’s alone in bed. Sure, he turns people down at bars his friends dragged him to for the sole purpose of getting him laid, just because he likes your voice and your face and your soul and your body better. Sure, he often dreams of you and wakes up feeling lonely, passing his hand over the empty side of the bed and wishing you were there. Sure, the side he leaves empty is coincidentally the same side he knows you sleep on, but that doesn’t mean-

Oh. Wait.

Joshua is totally in love with you.

Well, what the fuck is he supposed to do now?

He lets himself thrash in bed a bit, digging the back of his head into the pillow and tensing his jaw, then takes a deep breath, moving out of tantrum mode and into solution mode.

Okay.

Option 1: Joshua avoids you for a while and hopes the feelings go away on their own.

He shakes his head, knowing immediately that won’t work because if he doesn’t text you for a day, you’ll just text him, and if he doesn’t respond, you’ll call, and he’ll pick up, because it’s you.

And then he’ll hear your voice and you might sound sad that he didn’t text you back and then he’ll be sad, and guilty, and desperate to make it up to you. Which will lead to him making you dinner and probably pushing you up against the counter and kissing you until he forgets about the pasta on the stove and then it’ll boil over and just be a huge mess, and Joshua hates messes.

Option 2: Joshua doesn’t avoid you, and hopes the feelings go away on their own.

No, that won’t work either, because being around you is what gave him these feelings in the first place and being around you will just make them worse. He’ll be able to look at you and touch you and listen to you and you’ll smile at him and squeeze his hand like you always do, and marvel at the size of it compared to yours, and then Joshua will only be able to think about crawling on top of you on the couch and holding your hands down with his and they’ll look so small and you’ll-

Joshua clears his throat, shifting his legs in the sheets and willing his mind to settle down.

Option 3: Joshua doesn’t avoid you, and doesn’t hope the feelings go away.

This option is intriguing, because it means Joshua will still get to be around you and he won’t have to shove anything down, like he’s apparently been doing for… fuck, has he been in love with you this whole time? Has it been literal years??

Joshua shoots straight up in bed, bracing himself on his hands and blinking the drowsiness away. His brows furrow as he thinks over every moment he’s ever shared with you, every time he’s caught himself staring at your lips or holding your hand or getting jealous of a date or glaring at one of his friends for flirting with you. It’s been so obvious, and he had no clue.

Has it been this obvious to everyone?

Shit. Has it been this obvious to you?

Joshua needs a second opinion, and doesn’t think twice about grabbing his phone and calling for backup.

Jeonghan sounds irritated and exhausted when he picks up on the fifth ring, and Joshua sucks in a deep breath before starting, “Jeonghan, I need you to be honest with me, this is very important. Did you know I’m in love with y/n?”

“Yeah, Shua, we all knew.”

Joshua swears to himself, it’s just like he feared.

“And when you say ‘we all-’”

“No, y/n doesn’t know,” Jeonghan groans with exasperation, “but if you don’t say it soon, I will. It’s fucking annoying watching you guys moon over each other all the time. And don’t even get me started on-”

“Wait. Each other?” Joshua holds his breath as he waits for confirmation, “Jeonghan, I need clarification on the ‘each other’ part.”

Jeonghan heaves a sigh before answering, like he’s millimeters from hiring an assassin.

“Yes, Joshua, each other. I’m hanging up now.”

“Jeonghan wait-” Joshua tries to get out, but he hears the dial tone and checks his messages to see Jeonghan has put him on do not disturb. That was that then.

Okay, Joshua can deal with this. He can figure it out, Joshua is good at figuring things out.

He shakes his head and pushes a breath out before biting his lip to stop the smile.

Each other. He can work with that.

“Joshie!” You throw open the door, beaming and grabbing his hand to pull him inside you-r apartment! Inside your apartment.

Joshua dramatically rolls his eyes, hiding his grin behind a smirk, and sighs out, “Not this again…” as if he’s not giggling on the inside at the way you’re tugging him to the kitchen.

“Please, you love when I call you Joshie and we both know it,” you respond with playful eyes and your own smirk.

Fuck, he sucks in a breath, how did he deal with your teasing before figuring out he’s in love with you? Because now, it’s just making him ha-

“So, I was thinking we could try out a new pasta recipe I saw on Instagram, it has tomatoes and goat cheese and garlic, and I got a new puzzle!”

You sound so cute, so excited, that Josh has to clear his throat and try to blink away the hearts in his eyes before he can even think of what to say.

“That sounds great! I hope a red will go with it?” Josh holds up the wine bottle with a hand that shakes only a little, the other still caught in yours, and tries to stop his mind from going to the events of Option 1.

It’s difficult though, when he spots the exact pot he envisioned on the stove, already filled with salted water and waiting to be boiled.

You squeeze his hand before detaching to grab the bottle from him and throw it in the chiller, and Joshua respectfully (and frankly, for his own survival) looks away from how your jeans mold perfectly to the shape of your ass when you crouch down to find room.

He does well enough while you’re cooking together, moving around each other in a dance that evidences years of practice, getting distracted only when you lean up over his shoulder to monitor his garlic chopping. You’re very particular about how your garlic is cut, and it was only recently you began allowing him the responsibility.

Joshua can admit now how much it meant to him when you passed him the knife with a trusting smile and eyes that screamed, don’t fuck this up, just a few months ago.

Managing to finish the garlic preparation with relative ease, Joshua starts looking around for the recipe you were talking about. Normally, you print it out and put it up on your fridge but the stainless steel is empty, except for the magnetic photo of him and you he bought you last year. Well, him and you and all of your friends, not that he’s looking at any of them.

No, Joshua only has eyes for you, and they follow you as you flit around your kitchen, sunlight catching on your hair and cheekbones, your hips swaying softly to the music flowing from your sound bar.

He’s forgotten what he was looking for, and he’s forgotten to pretend he wasn’t drinking in your every move, because you turn around and stop short, eyes wide at finding him staring at you so intently.

“Do you need something?” You ask, brows tilting up in confusion.

Joshua breathes in deeply, catching your perfume on the air amidst the roasting tomatoes and fresh garlic, and he shakes his head with a soft smile.

“No, I have everything I need,” you start to look more bemused, like you’re trying to figure him out, and Joshua rushes to finish, “except the recipe! Where’d you put it?”

“Oh!” You jump, running to the couch to grab your phone and pull up Instagram, “It’s just a video, it seemed simple enough so I was doing it from memory but I should’ve sent it to you, my bad!”

Your brows furrow as you start typing in his new handle, and Joshua stills your fingers with his, deciding he can afford to be just a tad more bold.

“My phone’s almost dead, actually. Could we just share yours?” Joshua tries to ask innocently, masking his ulterior motive of getting to be closer to you.

“Yeah, of course! Do you wanna charge your phone? I can go plug it in,” you offer helpfully, gesturing over your shoulder to your bedroom, but Joshua shakes his head.

“Nah, the only person whose texts I care about is here,” he says smoothly, locking his eyes with yours and reminding himself that Jeonghan said each other.

You hold his gaze, something he doesn’t recognize flashing through your eyes and your mouth scrunching to the side, like it does when you’re… hurt. You visibly shake it off though, shake him off, pulling away and turning to set the pot of water to boil.

Joshua can’t fight the frown, feeling distance between you and him that normally isn’t there, but he lets you take your space and works on figuring out what he’s done wrong. He can barely hear the simmering of the tomatoes and goat cheese in the oven over the roaring in his ears, as he takes in your tense shoulders and stiff posture from the other side of the counter. When he sees your ribs expand and then hitch, like you were trying to gather yourself, he decides you’ve had enough space.

So Joshua crosses the kitchen, laying a gentle, warm hand on your shoulder, and tries peeking at your face. You’re not crying, thankfully, but he can see your teeth gnawing at your lip and the fragile set of your brows, and he pulls you into his chest, wrapping you up tight in his arms.

“What’s wrong?” He breathes into your hair, tucking your head into his neck with the softest push he can manage.

Joshua waits as patiently as he can, but when the water comes to a boil and you still haven’t answered, he pulls away to add the penne and then leans against the counter, staring at you.

“Baby, please tell me what just happened. Did I say something wrong?” Joshua has called you baby since he met you, it’s just instinct by now, but it felt different now that he knows he’s in love with you. It felt… right.

But it just makes you tense up more, and now Joshua is more confused than ever. You’ve never cared about him calling you baby, you went with it from the start, and even started calling him Joshie in return.

“Shua… I just-”

“Joshie,” He interrupts, feeling his heart leap into his throat at the change in nickname. All of your friends call him Shua, you’re the only one he allows to call him Joshie, and he can’t stand hearing the alternative from you.

Joshua can feel his own brows pinching together, his arms coming up to cross over his chest, like that could protect him somehow.

You mirror him, bracing yourself against the stove before he lets a hand down to tug you away from the steaming pot of water, and he uses that hand to pull you closer, finding that he can’t make himself let go.

You’re staring at him now, and you seem to be considering something. He can tell by the set of your shoulders that you’re weighing things, and hears Jeonghan’s voice say each other in his head. And somehow, he knows that you and him are on the precipice of something.

Something great, Joshua hopes.

So he takes in another breath and takes a few short steps to stand in front of you, delicately framing your face in his hands and leaning in close. He stops just short of your lips, feeling the catch in your breath this time, and exhales against you, “Tell me to stop. Tell me this isn’t what you want.”

You don’t say anything, just stare deeply into his eyes, like you’re searching for something. You must find it, because you close the distance to press your lips against his, and Joshua feels something unlock in his chest and make extra space for you.

Joshua’s mind doesn’t wander too far, not with your mouth on his and your body heat against him, and he slides one hand into your hair. The other moves down to mold to your neck, his thumb tracing the edge of your jaw before resting on your pulse. He can feel your heart racing, sprinting just like his, and he drinks you in, sipping from your lips like you’re the finest wine he’s ever had.

He gets carried away quickly, turning with you in his arms to push you against the counter, sliding his tongue along your bottom lip, practically begging you to open up for him.

You do, with a sigh, and Joshua slips his tongue into your mouth to glide against yours. You taste… like nothing he’s ever had and he’s desperate for more already, tugging your mouth open further with a thumb on your chin. He licks into you, brushing up against your hard palate, sucking your tongue into his mouth, his moan vibrating against your lips. You swallow it, responding with a whimper, and Joshua’s hips kick into yours. He can feel himself getting harder, feel the heat gathering in his gut, and the hand in your hair drifts down to take your hip in a firm grip, kneading at your plush skin.

Joshua’s about to bring his other hand down and lift you up onto the countertop, dreaming already of spreading your thighs and grinding against you, pulling your jeans down, spreading you with his fingers and licking you open before slipping his cock inside where he just knows you’re wet and hot and soft and perfect, but you pull away.

You pull away, and Joshua tries desperately to follow you, but you breathe a laugh against his lips and push him from you with a hand to his chest.

He can feel his eyebrows furrowing, knows he’s panting and probably looking slightly undignified, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is why you stopped kissing him and how to get you to start kissing him again.

“Too fast?” He asks nervously, hands squeezing at your hips without his permission, and he consciously loosens his grip so you can fully pull away if you so choose.

“No, Joshie, you’re perfect, it’s just-” you pause to catch your breath. “The pasta’s about to boil over and the timer’s been going off for like three minutes.”

His head whips around, seeing your microwave beeping and the water jumping out of the pot, penne far too close to the surface for comfort. He moves with you in tandem, you turning the burner down and shutting off the timer, Joshua grabbing a colander from the cabinet and draining the pasta in the sink. Turning to toss you oven mitts right before you open the oven, he remembers his prediction of Option 1 and can’t hold in the laugh.

The sizzling of the olive oil and roasted tomatoes covers the chuckle escaping him, and Joshua moves behind you to wrap his arms around your waist and set his chin on your shoulder, smooching the side of your head. Your skilled hands mash the mixture together and pour in a bit of the pasta water he’d remembered to reserve (thank God), the sauce coming together quickly. He detaches from you only when you ask him to bring over the pasta, and he carefully tilts the penne into the dutch oven as you stir, the scent of garlic and goat cheese and robust San Marzanos filling the air.

Joshua had been so wrapped up in you, he didn’t even notice he was hungry, but as he feels his stomach growl, he still can’t say he cares much about eating right now. Food, that is.

You’re adorably excited though, beaming at him with bright eyes and spinning on your toes to retrieve the wine he brought, so he turns and lifts your favorite bowls down from the cabinet, grabbing two sets of silverware along the way. You meet him at your dining table, grinning and setting down the fresh grated parm, and Joshua can feel his throat close a little as he imagines doing this with you each and every night.

The pasta was delicious, recipe bookmarked in your phone and already sent to Mingyu and Seokmin, and he washes dishes with you side by side. The cleaning goes quickly, barring the wine glasses you’re both still drinking from, but Joshua plucks yours from your hand just before you pour another glass and backs you up against the sink.

“Joshua, we always finish the wine,” your tone and the use of his full name betrays your befuddlement, but he won’t be swayed.

“Baby,” Joshua pauses to follow the shiver that runs down your spine with his hand, gaze tinted with want and fondness, before continuing, “If we finish the wine, you’ll get tipsy. There are a lot of things I want to do to you tonight, and I can’t do 75% of them if you’re out of it.”

Your eyes grow wide, lashes fluttering, and you nibble at the inside of your lip. It’s a bad habit of yours, and you’ve complained to him before of the sore spots that result sometimes, so he takes the opportunity to smooth his thumb over your lip and gently tug it free. Leaning in to slide his tongue along the seam of your mouth, Joshua breathes softly against you and waits.

You huff, and surge forward to capture his lips with yours, your hands flying up to curl around his neck and pull him closer. Joshua giggles into your kiss, squeezing his hands around yours before moving them to your hips to haul you up against him so you can feel how hard he is for you, already. You press back, and his giggles melt into a groan at the feeling of your body against his. He’s wondering if you’ll let him fuck you on your counter, but you cook a lot and you’ll probably think it’s unsanitary. Joshua considers the dining table next, but doubts it’s sturdy enough for all of his plans, and the couch is just unacceptable, there’s not nearly enough room.

You make the decision for him, pushing against his hips with your own and sliding your hands in his hair to physically pull his lips from yours. He pouts, letting you tug him away but also letting his cock press against you when the pull makes his hips buck.

“Let’s go, then,” you whine urgently, trying to move forward, but the pressure’s made Joshua’s brain fuzzy and he has no clue what you’re talking about.

“Go where?” Joshua asks, panting against you before shaking his head in an attempt to clear it.

“Go to bed, babe, let’s go to the bed,” you set your hands on his chest and push insistently, and Joshua’s nothing if not a gentleman, so it takes little thought to let you guide him to your bedroom.

What his lady wants, his lady gets.

Joshua can’t take his eyes off you as you whip your shirt over your head and toss it at the chair in the corner, but he gets his ass in gear when he sees your hands slide down your body to unbutton your jeans. He’s thought too much about undressing you to let you do it yourself, and his hands pull yours up to his abs, using the distraction to undo your jeans and start tugging them down.

He’s not as sneaky as he thought though, and blushes at your knowing smirk as he presses a kiss to your belly. But Joshua gets you back, with his fingers sliding under both sides of your panties to pull them up tight against you.

You’re wet already and Joshua’s vision tunnels as he stares at the damp spot between your legs, your folds outlined by the fabric with how taut he’s holding it. You squirm, but he’s not done looking, and he soothes you with fingers petting gently at the soft skin of your hips, taking you in for a few more seconds.

Joshua doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable though, figures you might need some time to get used to him in this setting, and he knows there’ll be plenty of nights (and mornings and afternoons) for him to look his fill. So tonight, he lets go of your panties and rises to take his shirt off, unbuckling his belt and dropping his pants to the floor. He can feel your eyes on him as he gathers up his clothes and your jeans, crossing the room to lay them on your chair before turning back to you with the corners of his lips quirked up.

He can sense your nervousness, and tries to figure out how to break the ice and remind you he’s your best friend. Smiling at you until his eyes squint, Joshua walks toward you slowly, then charges you when he’s a few feet away. You shriek and giggle when he leans down to wrap his arms around you and press the side of his face into your chest, tackling you onto your bed. Bouncing together, Joshua rolls until you’re sitting on him and he can feel your wet heat on his cock, seeping through his boxers and making his dick twitch. He swallows a groan, trying to maintain some semblance of composure, but he gives that up when you start rolling your hips against his.

“Baby,” Joshua moans out, pulling your hips harder against his. “Tell me what you like?”

He sets up a steady grind as you think, feeling you get wetter and wetter against his dick, but he can tell you’re getting distracted by the friction, and he needs to know what’s okay and what’s not okay before he takes you any further.

So, Joshua stills your hips with a firm grip and says your name with all the sternness he can muster when you’re practically soaking through his boxers.

You pout at him guiltily, petting his pecs in apology, “I like not being in charge. I like when you grab me like that, and I liked when you threw me on the bed.”

Joshua can feel the heat rush through him at your candor, rewards you with minute thrusts of his hips against yours, and confirms, “You want me to manhandle you a bit? Tell you what to do?”

You sigh at the thought, sagging against him and Joshua sits up against the headboard so you can brace yourself on his chest without having to lean down so far.

“Yeah, Joshie, I want that,” you breathe against his lips before pulling him into a kiss, and he can tell you’re trying to distract him to get out of talking more, but he can’t make himself care.

“We’ll talk more about this later, yeah?” Joshua asks, but you both know it’s not a question.

You nod into the kiss, sucking his tongue and starting to buck against him in a cute, needy way, and Joshua can’t hold off any longer.

He holds you gently by the back of your neck, wrapping the other arm around your waist, and you get the memo to stop moving just before he starts rising up on his knees. He spreads his thighs underneath yours, shifting up so you tilt backwards onto the bed until he can hold himself above you, unwinding his arm from your waist to hold your jaw in one hand. He presses one last kiss to your plush lips before pulling away to stare down at you.

Your eyes are hazy, your breasts heaving, and Joshua can see the strain in your thighs from how his knees are holding them open, putting the wet patch on your panties on full display. He smirks, smoothing one hand down your body to slide his thumb down your cunt, feeling your folds part further under the pressure.

You’re so wet, the fabric is practically translucent, and Josh is hypnotized by the glimpse of your cunt. He shuffles down to get a closer look, palm flat to your sternum when you try to follow him, and he can’t resist sinking his middle finger into you as deep as your panties allow. The fabric gives easily, stretching and following his finger inside to the first knuckle. You’re tight, even just with this, and Joshua knows he’ll have to open you up if you want his cock, revels in it.

Withdrawing his finger, he watches your cunt clench around the bit of fabric that remains inside, groaning out loud when he pulls and it comes out of you even wetter. He’ll have to buy you new panties, and maybe some bras, perhaps a set or two, and probably matching couples pajam-

You squirm, and Joshua looks up to check in, relaxing when he sees you’re just desperate for more. He decides he’s tortured you enough for one night, yanking your panties down, tossing them off the bed, and leaning in close to get his first look at your bare pussy.

You’re glistening, hips shifting against the sheets in anticipation, and Joshua’s already thrown one leg over his shoulder before he asks, “Can I eat you out?”

You nod before he’s finished talking, but you should know by now that you’ll have to tell him, so he just stares, flicking his eyes between yours and your pussy.

Your eyes roll skyward in embarrassment and agitation, the back of your head pushing into your pillow, and you force out, “Yes, you can, please do.”

“That’s all you had to say, baby,” Joshua responds, a touch condescendingly and more than a touch smug, lifting your other thigh onto his shoulder and smoothing his hands around your hips to hold your pelvis down.

His first taste has him opening his mouth wider, wishing he could swallow you whole, but for now he’ll content himself with pushing his tongue as far inside you as it can go. You’re soft, and so hot, and soaking wet, and immediately Joshua knows he’d do this every day, if you’d let him. Wake you up with his head between your thighs and put you to bed with his tongue inside you, if he could. Live and breathe and die in your pussy, if you’d allow it. He thinks you just might, with the way you’re trying to buck up against his hands, your eyes closed and breathy whines escaping your open mouth.

In the future, Joshua will make you keep your eyes on him, but for now, he couldn’t care less. All he cares about is getting as much of you in his mouth as he can and making you cum on his tongue as soon as you can take it. He’s relentless, sucking your clit into his mouth, laving over it, pinching it between his lips, getting you wetter and wetter until you’re drenching his face and the sheets. You’re still trying to grind against him, which is cute, honestly, but Joshua’s not letting you move, not unless you tell him to stop.

He shifts to band one arm across your stomach, digging his fingers into the fleshy part of your hip, anchoring you to the bed, and brings his hand to your cunt to slide one finger inside. You’re not as tight as before, and Joshua sighs against you in relief before starting to nudge another finger at your entrance, looking up at you and waiting for the breathy yes yes yes to sink it in next to the first. His fingers are big, much thicker and longer than yours, and you take a second to adjust. You’re already squeezing at them though, pussy trying to suck them in deeper, so he follows until his knuckles brush against you, and curls his fingers up when he bottoms out.

(He’s a bit too deep to get at your g-spot, but you enjoy the motion nonetheless and open your mouth to beg for more right when Joshua suctions his plush lips around your clit again and you’re almost almost almost-)

“Fuck, Joshie, please! Please, please, please I’m right there,” you whine, hands flying down to push his head into you, fingers tangling in his hair, and Joshua has to press his hips into the bed to get his cock to stop jumping. He knows he’s leaking precum, will have to change the sheets after he gets you in the bath, but you’re just so fucking hot, he can’t help it.

He does want to make you cum though, needs to, so he starts spreading his fingers, opening you up for a third, and sucks harder at your clit until you break, back arching, mouth open in a silent scream. He keeps going, fucking his fingers in and out of your sopping wet pussy and tonguing your clit in pulses, until you push his head again, away from you this time.

Joshua releases your clit from his mouth but keeps his fingers inside, spreading them wider against your throbbing walls, and asks, “Wanna go again?”

You stare at him with wet lashes, your breasts rising and falling with your breaths, and he’s almost distracted enough to move up your body and suck your nipples into his mouth, wonders if he can get both at once if he pushes your tits together enough, thinks about digging his fingers into the plushness, thinks about the bruises he could nip into them, but you respond and pull him from his thoughts.

“I think it might kill me, but yes,” you exhale, sounding tired but so needy still and Joshua loves you, he loves you so much, and he really hopes you don’t notice when he spells it on your clit with his tongue, followed by his name, then yours with Hong tacked onto the end. He doesn’t think you do, because you’re moaning, near crying with pleasure, and he hasn’t even started moving his fingers again yet.

Which he rectifies immediately, pushing them into you with more force this time, spreading you open and shoving his tongue inside to lick at your walls. The hand grasping your hip shifts, fingers moving to press down on your clit, rubbing small, quick circles. Your wetness is seeping out around his fingers, dripping into his mouth and down his chin onto the bed, and he knows he needs to make you cum soon if he doesn’t want to push you into the unpleasant kind of overstimulation.

He pulls his hand out slightly, and you cry out at the loss, trying to buck your hips up and get him deep again, until he finds your g-spot and grinds into it with the tips of his fingers. Hooking his digits inside of you, Joshua rubs incessantly at the rough patch, fucking into you and suctioning his lips around your clit until you clench so tight he doesn’t bother moving them, until you break apart with a wail. You gush, wetness flooding out and soaking the lower half of his face, and Joshua feels his eyes fluttering shut as he drinks you in.

Your thighs shake on his shoulders, your stomach trembling as you try to get air into your lungs, and his tongue laps at your clit until you push his head away again, for good this time. Joshua doesn’t go far, still breathing you in and feeling your cunt throb around his fingers.

Your hand pets at his head before it slips from his hair, flopping down onto the bed as your eyes close heavily. You’re not asleep, and you haven’t passed out (he thinks), so he just lets you catch your breath and wipes his face off with one hand, pulling the other from you slowly before shifting your thighs off his shoulders and sitting up on his knees between your splayed legs.

Joshua wants to put his hands on you, smooth them up your body to squeeze your tits then cradle your face, but he has other plans for the slickness leftover on his palms.

He tugs his boxers down with a pinky, cock bobbing out, and waits for your eyes to open before saying softly, “Baby, I’m not fucking you tonight,” you shoot him a sleepy frown, bottom lip pushing out just a bit before he continues. “But can I cum on your pussy? I’ll rinse you off and run a bath after.”

Your pupils get even bigger, nearly blocking out the color of your irises, and you smile serenely at him with bleary eyes, wrapping your hands underneath your thighs and pulling them up so you’re spread open for him.

Fuck, Joshua’s so fucking gone for you.

He can feel more precum seeping out of the head of his cock, feel how his boxers stick to his thighs from a combination of you and him, and he can feel the shudder roll all the way from his scalp to his toes at the first touch of his hand on his cock. His palm is slick, wet with you, and he stops himself from dipping back into your pussy for more, knowing you’re sensitive.

You’ve given Joshua more than enough to work with anyway, more than he used to get on those lonely nights where all he had was the thought of you, and as he takes in your still fluttering cunt, takes in the fuckdrunk look on your face, takes in the scent of your pussy on the air, he already knows he’s close.

His body doesn’t know yet, but it’s catching up quick. His stomach is tensing, his chest rapidly expanding with his panting, his balls tightening more and more the longer he gazes at you. Joshua can’t contain his sounds, lets the grunts and groans fall into the air, whining your name when he glides one palm over the head of his cock and squeezes down at the base with the other. He just needs a little bit more, just a li-

“Cum, Joshie, please cum, I wanna feel it,” you ask sweetly, urgently, and he swears, feeling his cock jump in his hands as hot cum spills out, painting your pussy white and dribbling down your folds. His hearing goes fuzzy, white noise filling his mind, and he clenches his eyes shut, cumming harder than he has in… years?

Joshua opens his eyes to see your entrance clench, tightening around nothing, and he barely resists the urge to drop back down onto his stomach and push his cum inside of you, fuck it into your cunt with his fingers and then fuck it deeper with his dick, stay buried in you until he’s hard and do it all over again.

But you’re tired, and he’s tired, and he catches your wince when you let your thighs down.

Joshua reaches over to snag a tissue from the box you keep next to your bed, and wipes his hands off before smoothing them up your thighs to knead at where your pelvis connects with your femurs. You had your legs open for a while, then up, and he doesn’t want you to be sore tomorrow, so he pulls back, lifting you into his arms and carrying you into the bathroom. He sets you down on the counter, starting the shower and wiping your pussy off gently with a damp washcloth before handing you a clip so you can get your hair out of the way.

“Can we take a bath tomorrow? I just wanna snuggle and go to bed,” you request, voice thick with sleep and raspy from the orgasms, and Joshua feels his heart swell. His teeth poke out of the smile he shines at you, and he gathers you up into a hug, rubbing your back and picking you up off the counter to walk you into the shower. He can feel your breath leave you in a contented sigh, and you lean your head against his chest as he spreads suds up your back, his hands drifting over your skin gently and massaging out any knots he finds.

You’re dozing against him when he drops to his knees to wash your lower half so he leans you against the shower wall, keeping one hand on your hip to make sure you don’t fall over. Making quick work of himself, Joshua shuts off the shower and wraps you up in a towel, patting his hands over your limbs to dry you off as much as he can. You’re a bit more awake now that you’re out of the heat of the water, and he dries himself off roughly before helping you tug your robe on and ushering your slightly shivering form into your bedroom. You’re walking fine, but Joshua keeps his hands on you anyway, doesn’t see a reason not to, and tries to pretend he’s not giddy at the thought of picking out your pajamas and falling asleep next to you.

He escorts you to the bench at the end of your bed, makes sure you’re sitting securely, and turns to your dresser to get something for you to sleep in.

“Just gimme your shirt,” you mumble, leaning back against your bed and pulling your knees to your chest, and Joshua short circuits for a second, imagining you in his clothes. It’s time to sleep, he chides himself, when he feels the blood rushing down to his dick, and speeds over to grab his tee from the chair. It’s huge on him, and he knows you’ll look adorable in it even before he tugs it over your head, and fuck, does he love being right.

He questions you about undies and follows your finger to the top drawer, pulling out the first pair his fingers touch so he doesn’t linger, and guides them up your legs. You stand and pull them the rest of the way on yourself, before climbing right up onto your bed and holding a hand out.

Joshua tries his best to keep his cool, but he’s just a little too excited to burrow under the covers with you, and your body rolls towards him when he hops into the bed. He pretends he planned it though, pretends he was continuing his bit from earlier, when he bodychecked you into the mattress, and he’s pretty sure he’s gotten away with it until you giggle and tap his nose.

He scoffs into the space between him and you, then pulls you closer until there’s none left, dropping a kiss on each of your cheeks, laying one on your forehead, and gently pressing his lips to yours as his final goodnight kiss.

“Oh!,” Joshua remembers, shifting up onto an elbow to stare down at you, “And in case it wasn’t obvious, I’m deeply, madly, embarrassingly in love with you.”

You blink up at him with exhausted eyes, smiling and placing a palm on his cheek to pull him down into one more kiss, before winking at him and whispering, “Same.”

You’re asleep before Joshua’s gotten over his disbelief, but he just grins, realizing it’s Saturday, and he’ll get to wake you up with his favorite song, crooned directly into your ear.

AN: im too sleepy to do a real an rn but whoever requested this ily so much and to all of my followers ily so much too and i'll see you tomorrow muah

tagging: @lenireads @confusedbansheee @junhui-recs @burningupp-replies @heeseung-lover686 @favehoshiposts @gyvswhore @jaysawake (unable to tag) @1004luvangel @bangchanbabygirlx @baldi-2 (unable to tag) @monamonay @dontyouthinkiknowwhoiam @just-here-to-read-01 @gaebestie

find my masterlist here

okay im gonna go to bed bye

#joshua smut #joshua x you #joshua x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen #✨emily writes✨#emily feels like she's going insane #emily is very tired #emily has hurt her own feelings #seventeen x you #✨emily's sleepover✨

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celosiaceo · 7 months

Text

“And Maybe, I’ll Say Maybe”

Leander x GN!Reader

Description: The leader of the Bloodhounds, a famously kind and generous man who would without as much as another give a newcomer a roof over their head, food on their plate and an oasis of normalcy to come back to after drowning in the insanity of Eridia. He’s been nothing but a hero to this newcomer, seeking to provide them with love comfort they couldn’t even dream of before. It almost feels too good to be true. So what happens to be lurking deep within, and what comes spilling out from beneath the flashy mask when the newcomer finds out something they shouldn’t have about their chivalrous saviour..?

Tags: blood, descriptions of sickness, descriptions of violence, descriptions of death

Word count: 7000

Eridia felt like an entirely different city beneath the veil of darkness. The barely lit streets and shrouded alleys felt like a maze cast in a layer of dust.

The dark stretches of houses failed to look any different from each other as I dashed past them, panting for air and taking random turns while praying for my escape.

Left.

Right.

Left

Right.

Left.

Right.

My heart jumped from my throat to my stomach and back up with every turn I made. My gasps for air muted out almost everything else. Everything, but him chasing after me.

My lungs burned for air, my throat irritated by the cold as whatever I breathed in had no time to heat up. The wind hit my dampening eyes, I kept blindly making turns, and yet I couldn’t lose him.

I felt as if I was going in circles, the streets refused to be different. Or I was just unable to even see where the hell I was going. All I knew is that he was still behind me. And not far at all.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Adrenaline pushed most of my body’s pain out while I kept running, terrified of even beginning to turn around. Afraid to see him being right at my heel.

My heart beat as if it was trying to run out of my body. The rate of my pulse matched the heart’s urge to rip itself out.

And yet, from him, I heard nothing but the fast clicking of his boots against the pavement. He was way stronger than me, and he knew it damn well himself.

I didn’t even dare think of when the adrenaline would run out, and what I would do then.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Left.

In the darkness of the increasingly less illuminated streets, I almost ran into a wall while making a turn. The space began to feel narrower and narrower. Perhaps because of the panic exploding in my head. Perhaps because I was getting myself that deep into the city. Perhaps because I was setting up my own trap.

It felt as if my airway was closing. My throat was beginning to get sore. Like I could suffocate from one wrong breath. The pain began to trickle back into me as the adrenaline seeped out. My heart pounded with pure terror, my brain scattering as if it were blasted with a hunting rifle.

Every step hurt and my legs felt as though infinite needles stabbed into every muscle. The left side of my stomach, just under the ribs, broke out in torturous pain. I barely bit back a pained cry. One arm clasping at my side, I forced myself to run.

His speed did not even falter.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Left.

At this point, I was gasping for air as if I were drowning. I knew I wasn’t running nearly as fast, yet he stayed at a distance. Was he indulging in this? Was he playing with his food? But… that isn’t like him, like many things I thought weren’t.

My fingers almost stabbed into my side to keep the excruciating pain at bay. I made the same turns, my mind turning into mush as it again began to feel like I was circling. Those narrow alleys did not stand out from each other, almost pitch black.

But then, the streets began to widen again. With newfound hope, I sprinted and clenched my jaw. Involuntary tears streamed down my cheeks. He began to catch up again.

The first triple crossroad. I began to try and twist and turn along the streets again, seeing this as a last chance to escape. This had to be it. This had to be my gate to freedom.

Left.

Right.

Ahead.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Ahead.

The clamped dustier air of the alleys was replaced with fresh cold air again. Hope had sprung the pain away a little. I ran like I never ran before, neglecting every screaming muscle in my legs and chest.

My pulse pounded heavily in my head. I thought it was a hallucination, but it sounded like he was falling behind. Another turn. Indeed. Yes. Oh Allmother yes.

I soared with glee. I found the energy to keep running despite my body self-disintegrating in a way. It felt so close, freedom felt so close.

Another turn. I snapped my head to the side. He wasn’t there. Oh Allmother. He wasn’t there. It’s so close to the end now. I sprinted. Another turn.

Shit.

A dead end.

My eyes darted.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Left.

My stomach dropped. The body was paralyzed as if frozen instantly in place. All of the pain suddenly erupted into the muscles. His steps were no longer heard. My breath sped up as all the energy sprung to my brain.

Think.

The dead end was full of litter, empty boxes, rotting planks, and reeking trash. A small balancing construction of planks in the left corner that leaned against the wall barely stood out from the clutter.

Without a second thought, I crawled in under it. My head almost nudged one of the planks. I quietly moved up a box to further hide myself from the right, curling up to be most obscured by it.

It was still dark on that street. Now for me, it was even darker, with only a small triangle above my head serving as my unobscured view.

The smell of rotting, decomposing wood surrounded me. My stomach churned. I clasped a hand over my mouth despite my lungs begging for more air. The pain in every muscle of my torso and legs made me feel like my fleshy carcass would crawl out from the skin and air itself out.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, and saliva overflowed in my previously dry mouth, almost making me choke. My heart was nowhere near calm either, craving more oxygen like the rest of my body, wanting me to gulp it like a thirsty human in a desert.

My hands went into a small tremor as I hugged my legs tighter to my chest and buried my face into my knees. I didn’t want to risk moving anything, Allmother forbid it falls loudly.

It was still quiet. Distant noises of a calm Eridian night began to settle. Barely audible crickets, someone’s window closing, echoing music from the Amaryllis district, a Soulless growling far away.

Despite my body wanting to writhe away from the stress, my mind began to calm down. It was futile, but I tried to calm my aching flesh down with small circular motions over my stomach. Perhaps he has lost sight of me after all.

I completely lost track of time. As far as I knew, an hour could’ve passed. Could’ve been a minute or less. I would be none the wiser. No approaching sound. Nothing. Soon, as my ears got used to the smaller sounds, everything began to fall dead silent.

There was only the sound of my breath hitting my hand, but that was no less unnerving. When could I come out? Has he gone back? Is he still looking for me? Would he still be looking for me after however much has passed? Everything felt like a haze.

The silence was simultaneously disturbing and soothing. Disturbing, because imagining a city like Eridia this quiet was unnerving. Yet there it was. Soothing, because no steps were approaching. No voices calling out into the darkness.

The anxiety and paranoia were nibbling at my sanity from the inside out. What should I do? There’s nothing I could possibly do to verify how much time has passed when I can consider myself safe. I felt antsy and uncomfortable. There wasn’t even room to squirm in fear of the planks falling.

Doubts began to creep into my mind. What if he just left? He could expect me to bump into him tomorrow, or soon enough anyway. Without him I barely had anything. No money, no food, no water, no roof over my head. It slowly started to settle just how much control he had over my life here in Eridia, the horrifying extent to which I was completely helpless in this strange place on my own. How desperate to stay away did he think I am? Because I didn’t know either.

Against a human, my hiding spot could work, but not against any Soulless, their heightened senses would definitely feel human flesh between some decomposed planks and a box.

A thought crossed my mind. I have no idea where I am. I was still in Eridia, that much I knew. The buildings weren’t the well-lit and flashy ones of the entertainment district, that much is certain. But the same applies to almost anywhere else. Everywhere in Lowtown looked similar, the streets barely differed between one another. Where do I even go for the night, or, actually, a couple of nights? I had to learn the hard way that no one here will stick their neck out for you unless they get something out of it too. Which is the opposite of my case. Why would anyone here hide someone the Bloodhounds would undoubtedly be on the lookout for? They’re local heroes, so I’d definitely be the villain to them if Leander were to say so. The realizations sunk in like stones into my stomach, weighing me down onto the ground one after another and making me wish I could fall through the cobblestone.

My train of thought stopped dead in its tracks, and my breathing hitched. My hand clasped tightly over my mouth. My fingernails stabbed into my cheek.

A quiet humming began to fade in, accompanied by a familiar clicking of boots. All too familiar.

No.

He kept approaching. His voice was but a quiet, smooth sound in the deadly silence. His humming chimed to the rhythm set by his slow steps. He knew I was nearby.

He kept walking. Getting closer, like death itself coming after a plagued animal.

Right.

Left.

He took the same turns. As I could tell from the sounds only coming nearer.

There was a ringing in my ears like a church bell ringing right next to me. Again, I was frozen. The faint sound of his voice, like the realization of my impending doom, had paralyzed me.

My eyes involuntarily bulged, threatening to pop out of their sockets. My heart raced. I almost wanted to rip it out, fearing he could hear it.

My lungs curled in on themselves, making me suffocate. But I couldn’t even gasp for air. The pathetic amount of air I could get through my hand wasn’t nearly enough.

Perhaps suffocating would be a better fate. I didn’t want to find out what would happen if he found me. My mind clawed at the inner side of my skull, screaming in an attempt to escape this.

But there was nowhere to go. I was caged between decomposing wood to my back and left, and two walls of stone to my right and front. Trapped. I was trapped. There was no way I could move the box away without making a sound or being seen. I couldn’t get out of a dead end without being noticed by him. Not when he was twenty steps or less away.

My insides churned and squirmed. They also wanted to escape this doomed fleshy shell and run. But, just like I, they were bound in place.

He kept humming something. As he got closer, I couldn’t recognize what it was. A lullaby? A ballad? I didn’t know. It barely mattered. My pulse thudded in my head and throughout my body was still louder.

He was here. Just ten steps away. Maybe even at the same exact spot where I froze, seeking a hiding spot.

A small green light stabbed through the little triangle of space just above my head. Of course. He’d want a good look around. Drag out the fun and commit it to memory for the best of indulgence.

My muscles couldn’t relax, as if a force of terror was keeping them painfully tense, wishing to run but having no escape. I squeezed my side against the wall, my free hand pressing my head down more. My eyes cast to the triangle, observing.

The green light didn’t rest over a single inch of my skin, at the cost of me feeling like some of my bones would snap in half. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. Maybe he’d spare me.

He just kept pacing the area in circles. Humming the same song. For a moment, he stopped. My heart skipped a beat. Did he find me?

No. Not yet. He cleared his throat. Then he began to walk even closer. To the piles of debris.

He began to sing.

A slow, painfully slow song. It felt as though a knife was being dragged over my neck, just shy of stabbing. He hummed the same slow tune, louder. Like he sang to someone. My heart dropped to my stomach. Time itself seemed to slow down.

He knew I was there. No doubt about it.

“Maybe… you’ll think of me”

“When you are all alone…”

His voice was low and rich. I never heard him sing before. His voice could even be calming, but all it did was make all color fade from my face.

His voice was like dark honey. Deep, sweet, flowing smoothly, and with an addictive drag to it. Had ambrosia been a sound, it would’ve been his voice. If it weren’t the source of my deathly horror, I’d want to drown in it. It had a pinch of sultriness, I didn’t know if it was to mock me or to tempt me.

While he sang, he kept walking through the small area, as if dragging out a high. As if letting me simmer in a feeling of doom.

“Maybe… the one who is waiting for you”

“Will prove untrue…”

By his steps, he seemed to dance along while walking forward. His trenchcoat rustled in the air when he made a turn. For a moment, his singing stopped.

The sounds of wood breaking and falling stabbed the ‘serenity’ of the moment. I could feel my pulse halt. He kicked down some of the debris. A thought involuntarily crept into my head: would my bones sound the same if he were to snap them broken?

“Then, what will you do..?”

He dragged out the note and chuckled after it faded off. He was aware of me listening. A solo performance for a one-person audience. The last feast. Meanwhile, I could barely breathe, like a hypnotized mouse before a serpent.

Another pile of mold-ridden wood was broken. I couldn’t help but shudder. Just how amusing was this to him?

I couldn’t see his face. I didn’t want to. Ever again. I would rather amputate my own arms with a blunt rock than face him. Silently, I prayed. Prayed that he would just stop this torment and turn around and go back the way he came from.

“Maybe you’ll sit and sigh…”

“Wishing that I were near…”

My eyes dampened. I realized I had not blinked in too long, staring into the triangle of green light as much as my eyes could shift to the side without me needing to move my head.

I couldn’t help a shiver breaking out all over my body. The wall was cold, and every neural ending was times more reactive to any stimulus. Every inch of my flesh was inflamed, squirming and writhing like worms.

Simultaneously the sensations of a scorching fever burned me from the inside and the sweat soaking my skin froze my flesh on the outside in abrupt waves. I felt sick from the torturous contrast, my body sending itself into a cycle of confusion and physically manifested panic.

All while, his steps kept resounding against the pavement, for a moment in what sounded like the rhythm of a waltz.

“Then…”

“Maybe… you’ll ask me… to come back again”

Yet again, he kicked something broken and I couldn’t help another shudder, almost expecting his gilded boot to collide with my side. It sounded like he broke a box. I felt nauseated, my mouth suddenly salivating out of control as if I had actually gotten sick. Almost inaudibly, I gulped.

“And maybe, I’ll say maybe…”

He savored every note and dragged it out, his voice and steps would’ve undoubtedly swept me from my feet, had this not been the situation. He hummed the slow melody as if he were serenading me.

Suddenly, an extremely bitter, burning sensation arose in my throat. I kept my hand glued to my mouth, gulping back the overflowing saliva. My stomach flipped dangerously. I wanted to vomit from the explosion of sheer panic, but I had to hold it back.

I felt sick to my core. And him? He continued waltzing along the dead street, his shadow occasionally dancing over the little triangle of view I had.

His alluring voice became just a deliberate bit more sultry like he was flirting. As if he couldn’t just bring on my very death. Cruel. He was cruel. And I was too late to see it.

My shivering stopped, and his steps began to get closer. I couldn’t look at the triangle anymore, my eyes squeezed shut.

“Maybe… you’ll think of me”

“When you are all alone…”

I could hear the familiar smile in his voice. There was not a single doubt in my mind that he felt my agony and thoroughly indulged in it like an aged fine wine. He was punishing me for running in the first place. Especially for running this long. For giving him a hard time.

Tears began to prick at my eyes again, my second hand clutching my stomach again. The circular motions were a futile attempt at stopping the twisting and writhing of my organs.

He only drew nearer. Once again he destroyed a piece of nearby junk. And, again, I flinched. A desperate part of my mind wanted to just be dead already. This act that he was drawing out was too much for both my sanity and my body.

I forced myself to glance at the triangle. The green light was becoming blocked by him. He was starting to come into view. I couldn’t see his face yet, all I knew was that I didn’t want to. Another futile prayer was made in my head. Of course, it didn’t stop him. It felt like not even the Allmother could.

“Maybe the one who is waiting for you…”

“Will prove untrue…”

The daunting spilling of his soft voice made my mind spiral into insanity. I felt neurotic, there was nothing I could do in my self-made trap. He knew it. He kept taunting me with precision, somehow knowing how to press all the buttons with seemingly so little.

Now I could slightly hear the dangling of his jewelry, the quiet rustling of his trench coat. I froze again, eyes squeezing shut almost as soon as I opened them. I wished I could be able to pretend like he’ll disappear if I kept my eyes closed.

He stopped a step away from me. My heart began to pick up pace again. My legs ached in near primal instinct to run. Except there was nowhere. Only right into his arms.

Stepping to the side, he kicked some debris right behind my trap into the wall. It all broke with a hopeless crack. I knew what was coming next. And he knew that. Perhaps I was playing right into his hand all along.

The next thing I knew, the large box concealing me from the right was destroyed into timbers against the wall I was facing.

“Then what will I do..?”

The box was demolished. A pitiful pile of sawdust and mold slumped against the wall. It took him barely any effort. My breath halted in my throat, almost making me choke on the air. At last, I was completely exposed. Nothing hid me from him anymore. I was just a cornered animal now. I could lift my head to see his face, but my body froze in place, almost like it was playing dead.

The green light hit me where his silhouette didn’t conceal me from it. There was truly no escape from him, which my stunned mind needed a reminder of. My stomach dangerously thrashed again, my eyes bulging wide open as they darted to his boots. I could taste the corrosive bitterness on the further end of my tongue and in my throat.

A deep dread was nailed tightly into my head as if slowly knocked deep into the brain with each step of his. I couldn’t move. My head started spinning, a blunt pain echoing through the rest of my body as I felt like I was on the brink of death. It took me my last bit of restraint not to vomit or lose consciousness.

“Maybe, you’ll sit and sigh”

“Wishing that I were near…”

He spun on his heel one last time while stretching out the soft note, letting it bleed out into the all-consuming silence. With it, the whole pinch of hope that my mind desperately held onto fell dead.

His singing paused. His earring jingled and he let out a quiet chuckle. All of this stopped being real. There is no way that this is happening to me. There is no way that I’m here, about to die in a pile of moody wood in the middle of the night. At the hand of someone I once considered my anchor. My savior, even. When did all of it go wrong? When was the point of no return?

He slowly crouched down to me, fully coming into view. Leander’s green eyes, soft before, now looked dead and empty. As they stared into my mortified expression, all I could see in his was a hardly veiled glow of sadistic glee. Leander was smiling. The same little smile as always. But this time it felt so sinister. Was it really different from how he smiled before, or did it take being cornered like this to see what Leander’s smile stood for all along?

“Then,”

“Maybe you’ll ask me to come back again…”

I couldn’t tell if Leander’s voice beckoned me like a siren’s call, or mocked my helplessness. Perhaps both. I felt small, crumpled into a futilely defensive position right before him. All while he sang. As if to sedate me in my last moments.

Leander’s eyes faintly crinkled when he tilted his head to the side, propping his cheek on his fist. He took in my vulnerability and how exposed I was. It was clearly intoxicating to him, Leander took it in like a good flush of alcohol straight to the heart. There was joy to it for Leander, his high-fazed smile felt so familiar, like all the times he smiled at me during the late nights at the Wick when he had quite a bit to drink. In that familiarity, for a moment Leander’s gaze appeared soft like it always did, but there was an unsettling darkness to it that surfaced, or only just became noticeable. Seeing it now broke me out of the trance, the illusion of tenderness that I saw moments prior was gone like a mirage. Leander observed me almost animalistically, I wanted to crawl out of my skin just to escape his eyes.

Tears involuntarily streamed down my cheeks. I couldn’t stop staring with terror right back at Leander, all while he observed with eerie amusement. My whole body broke out into a shiver, unable to stop itself from almost feverish tremors. Leander’s eyes, his smile, his voice, everything about him now was almost the same as always, but his presence made me feel like I was drowning in ice-cold waters that had no end.

In my last shred of hope, I almost wanted to deny all of this. This wasn’t Leander. Leander was someone who always offered a shoulder to cry on, someone who would go out of his way to keep everyone at peace and happy, someone who would smile along with everyone and be the soul of the company. Akin to a gentle giant.

This was someone else entirely. This was someone who gave a thoroughly long, outright draining chase, someone who held out a sense of false security and crushed it with deliberate cruelty, someone who took certain joy in feeling another’s torment at his hand and thoroughly savored it, indulged in it. Someone purely evil. Someone entirely malevolent.

Maybe it was there all along. Perhaps I was looking at a mask, a trap to lure desperate ones like me. Now it didn’t matter. It was too late. I was merely cattle waiting to be slaughtered. A lamb waiting to be sacrificed. Leander’s finger tapped against the side of his knee to the slow beat of the song. It was an almost tranquil scene. Nauseatingly so. Much akin to poison slowly seeping into the tissues of my body. I still couldn’t move, to Leander it all came with mocking ease.

“And maybe, I’ll say maybe…”

The last note went on and on, like the painfully sweet aftertaste of honey. Or like the bitterness of poison. Then it cut off. Everything fell into a suffocating silence once more. I wanted to stab it, gut it with a scream that was trying to scratch its way out of my lungs. But my body stayed still, save for the tremor, like it was turned to stone once Leander looked at me.

And Leander knew what he was doing all too well. Off-puttingly too well. It was cheap, even dirty of him, to do this to someone so much weaker than him. But that wouldn’t change the facts. I was pinned down under Leander’s gently menacing gaze like a new butterfly in a lepidopterist’s collection.

Once he took in the undoubtedly addicting silence, Leander offered another quiet laugh, his earring jiggling when he shook his head a little. Leander’s eyes were partly lidded, the lighting making the purple darkness around his eyelids seem deeper. His expression was mockingly comforting, making a visage of consolation that I would’ve fallen for even earlier today seem disturbing instead. Leander was almost pitying me, both of us knowing I was at his mercy.

I was undoubtedly cornered. There was nothing I could do in my exhausted and deteriorated state that could let me put up more than a second’s worth of a fight.

Leander didn’t need an intimidating face to instill the kind of horror I’d never felt before. His face could look however soft, but he knew at what moment to make others aware of his strength. And now I couldn’t think about anything else. Leander was way broader, stronger, way more powerful with magic, times more resilient, he knew the city way better. My eyes had never been veiled, so how have I not once noticed just how enormous he is? Not even a miracle could save me.

And, as if on cue with reading my thoughts, his smile slightly widened to reveal a dimple. Leander bit a glove off his hand and let it drop onto the pavement. My heart hammered painfully in my chest while his big smooth hand reached closer. My eyes hurt from crying, but hot tears wouldn’t stop flowing at all.

“Oh, what happened, sweetheart?” Leander cooed, brows lowering in staged concern. His hand enveloped the side of my face and held it firmly in place while his thumb wiped the tears off my cheek. I could feel the strength of his hand, he made it clear that he could crush my face at any moment, even if now he continued the gentle act for his entertainment.

Against the heat of Leander’s big hand, I could feel just how cold my face was, it was like that of a corpse. My lips trembled, I couldn’t assemble a single word, as if I forgot how to speak altogether. All that came out was a pathetic mumbly noise.

My body felt like porcelain now, his hand feeling like a sledgehammer just shy of shattering me to pieces. Leander’s control of his strength slipped so rarely that now I feel like each time was deliberate. He tried so hard to seem gentle, but would sometimes grab my hand a little too hard, hold me a little too firmly. Just how much of what I knew about Leander’s persona was consistent veiled threats?

Leander kept caressing my face almost with care, his familiar smile again reminding me of all the warnings that I missed. “Can’t talk at all, hm? Speak to me, dear, don’t worry, everything’s alright now. You’re safe.” Leander reassured, squeezing my face while his free hand reached for my wrist. He was crouched on one knee now, empty green eyes not shifting from me at all.

I pulled my hand away from his like it was about to touch a flock of poison ivy. Again, I could barely muster anything. I gulped, and a quiet sob broke out past my lips. “Stop…” a barely audible plea managed to crawl out with great effort. His smile tugged a bit wider. A glimmer of the same glee shone brighter in his eyes.

“Your face is so cold, darling. You’ve been out here for too long. Don’t you know not to walk around at night? It’s cold and dangerous. Many have reminded you of that.” Leander mused, slightly tilting his head when he caught my wrist. His grip was strong, like a metal shackle. My whole arm kept trembling. Even trying to pull back would be devoid of purpose .

Leader’s eyes. I couldn’t stop staring into them. The same soft green eyes that were once synonymous with comfort and safety were now bottomless swamps. They were devoid of warmth or solace, pulling me endlessly deeper into their darkness and suffocating me, drowning me in their sickening venom. Cold, vacant of a soul, but still hypnotizing as all hell as if he were a hunting serpent and I was its prey. Absolutely unreadable and confusing like a hoard of slithering snakes. Alluring, but reflecting sheer cruelty and only a semblance of happiness from observing my suffering. Leander’s gaze was outright chilling. It was an imperceivable horror in itself, something almost cosmically vast and terrifying as a result. Nothing I’ve ever seen in anyone’s eyes until Leander. Hauntingly beautiful. Frightening, petrifying, and paralyzing, but fascinating in the most nauseating way. It felt like watching an asteroid crash a step away from me as it destroys everything in sight. Like the stomach-churning inability to look away from gory disaser while everything ends. If looks could kill, his eyes would grant me a merciless death of excruciating torment.

He began to tug at my wrist. My hands balled up into fists. I tensed as much as possible, not letting Leander move me from my place. Leander laughed under his breath and leaned in closer to me, his broad shoulders fully blocking out the pitiful space between this self-made cage and my freedom. With that same almost endearing little smile, he said “It’s so chilly right now, look at you shaking all over. Don’t you want to get back to the Wick? You know I can help you find your way back. I can always help you. I can always keep you safe. Just trust me.” His bangs fell over his eyes, concealing a good third of his face.

I still couldn’t say a word. I knew that any movement from my current place would pull me closer into my demise. But not moving would only make him angrier. Not even my curse could affect Leander, so any resistance of mine would be like trying to move a brick wall. All I did was stare at his face, at his faintly smug smile and void-like eyes. My eyes just kept watering because I kept forgetting to blink, subconsciously afraid of dying the second my eyes would close.

Leander’s grip tightened around my wrist, my hand began to feel even colder than it was as the blood circulation began to get cut off. His expression almost felt stuck in place, it felt increasingly off-putting and uncanny the more I looked at it.

“Please…just let me go… I… I won’t say anything… I swear…” I wheezed, my words crawling out barely louder than the crushing silence. My voice was broken, my tears cracking it at every other syllable. It felt futile, but it took me all my effort to beg for my life, to show that I didn’t give up just yet.

I could almost hear the bones in my wrist crack and squelch as Leander latched onto it so tight I almost screamed. My jaw clenched, I couldn’t help squirming. My other hand scratched at Leander’s wrist, but he didn’t move a muscle.

“Oh, my dear, it’s such an awful night for walks today! There’s never a rush to walk around, plus I can always help you find warmer clothes and keep you company, you don’t need a reminder of that, do you? I can’t help but wonder what made you get out of your warm and comfortable room to explore the freezing streets! I’d love to hear all about it while I guide you back, what do you say?” The same upbeat, cheerful tone as when he first held my hand and let me touch his face. He ignored my pleas as if I never opened my mouth at all. He didn’t even show a single sign of guilt, remorse, or doubt... Leander had something specific he wanted to hear, otherwise, I could as well stay silent and embrace my fate.

I had a suspicion I couldn’t say what he wanted me to. After what I saw… I knew I couldn’t. He silently demanded it from me, but he also knew there was a chance he wouldn’t get it out of me.

We stared into each other’s eyes. His greens held a demanding flame that was only spreading, scorching over every inch of my being with time. Leander gave me a chance to say what I needed to. But he made it clear without any words that his patience wasn’t infinite and was very much wearing thin.

Leander’s hand kept slowly crushing my wrist while the other moved from my face to the back of my head. It crept along my scalp, then slowly began to grab a fistful of my hair. Tightly. I hissed, hot tears bleeding out of my hurting eyes. Neither of us dared break eye contact. My time was ticking. Leander was still smiling.

I couldn’t. I knew I couldn’t. That thought just kept repeating infinitely in my head. Even if I lied, it would only give me so little to live. Leander’s Bloodhounds are loyal without question and would sniff me out from hell itself. Or he could always find me himself. Like today. I couldn’t be safe if I lied, and the fate that would befall me would be times worse than if I stayed silent now.

Leander began to pull my head backward by the hair, bending my neck out while my pulse began to hammer again. I couldn’t look away from him, my eyes still pleading and begging for any crumb of mercy while his kept demanding with newfound impatience, the curve of his lips wavering at the corner.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me, it’s okay though, you seem a bit unlike yourself right now. What do you say to me walking you back to the Wick?” Leander questioned as a last warning, this being the first time a drop of the threat spilled into his voice.

I cried and sobbed while tilting my head back. “Just let me go… please, please, please… I beg you, please… I can’t die like this…” I begged almost hysterically while my scalp burned with the pain from the tugging. It wasn’t what Leander wanted, and it looks like he saw he wasn’t getting it out of me.

Suddenly, Leander’s smile dropped. It fell so quickly, as if it hadn't been melted onto his face ever since I met him. My heart plummeted deep down to my stomach. I felt incredibly nauseated all over again. I coughed at the feeling that could only be described as my heart trying to crawl out through my mouth. My time was up.

No…

NO!!!!

My breathing and heartbeat raced, and I began to struggle and thrash against Leander’s only further clenching grip. He did not back down. Didn’t even move a muscle to suppress my pitiful attempt.

With a violent jerk that shook all my innards, Leander stood up and yanked me onto my feet by the hair and wrist, throwing me at the wall. I yelped as my scalp throbbed with pain, my insides almost bouncing back from the wall at the strength of the impact.

The yelp turned into a broken scream when an indescribably painful crack came from my hand as it was slammed into the freezing wall. My head hit the planks when this happened, they almost broke at the impact and toppled over with a thud. I felt pain spreading from the top and the side of my head, it didn’t take long for warm trickles of blood to follow.

From my hair, Leander’s hand moved to seize hold of my neck. My pulse thudded against his hand with a feverish rhythm, like a useless reminder of my vitality. If anything, my panic entertained him.

His grasp was stone firm and trapping, only slightly shutting down my ability to breathe. That quickly began to change. I stared at Leander with nothing but pure dread when he lifted me to my tiptoes by the neck and leaned in close to my face. Leander forced me to witness his true monstrosity, one that he somehow concealed from most eyes for this long.

I squirmed and choked for air, coughing violently while my free limbs flailed hopelessly like the fins of a fish in the sand. Everything began to slip away.

His hand only kept clenching around my neck while he lifted me from the ground entirely. I choked and scratched at his hand and tried to bite him and begged, but it was all futile. All useless. His entirely unphased cold expression didn’t shift when my vision began to darken and become hazy at the corners. My head began to spin, my oxygen-hungry brain feeling dizzy.

“It seems you started taking the comfort, the safety I provided you with, and my kindness entirely for granted. Let me help you. Let me take you back, remind you where the line is.” His voice was a low growl, and Leander’s bloodthirsty, fury-filled eyes almost stabbed through mine when his face was inches from mine.

Croaky coughing and mumbling were all that could pass through my constricted vocal cords, but Leander kept speaking. “It saddens me so badly, dear. It breaks my heart. I didn’t dare ask for money, I didn’t even ask to recruit you. And this is my ‘thanks’? That just won’t do, Bloodhound rates or not.”

I wheezed and heaved, my body convulsing and writhing like a ball of worms. My nails stabbed into Leander’s leather glove and tried to scratch open his arm, but even with narrow streaks of red gleaming on his skin, he didn’t budge.

My field of vision further shrank. Leander’s face went in and out of focus, blurring and becoming overwhelmingly focused. Only his almost glowing green eyes didn’t fade. Shapes appeared in front of my eyes, the corners of my eyesight turning into dark static. “P…plea…se…” I croaked, what could be the last tears streaming from my face. My hands and feet were going cold as blood stopped normally circulating in my body. I started to lose feeling in my limbs. All while he mercilessly watched life draining from my eyes. Unmoving, like a statue. My eyes squeezed shut.

Suddenly, a sharp pain seared through my stomach, pushing all the pitiful remains of air I had out of my lungs. A wet warmth spread on my clothes, accompanied by the pain scorching me from the inside out. Leander stabbed me in the stomach. My blood trickled down and soon began to drip onto the floor. Then it began vigorously gushing out once Leander harshly pulled the knife out.

The cold began to spread, and my heart’s slowing beats echoed through my head. I could barely see anything, everything around me turned into a darkening haze. Except for the green eyes, which stayed brightly gleaming with nothing while scrutinizing death overcoming mine. Like he was reading an alchemy book, not one emotion in his expression.

Leander dropped me onto the ground into the puddle of my own blood. For a little more, he watched me. Then came the last moment of clarity for my eyes, and I saw Leander smiling again. That same smile that was empty all along. A husk of comfort, like a theatrical mask.

Leander picked up his glove and began to turn away on his heel. “If you earn the miracle of waking up again, you’ll know to appreciate me, right, my dear?” He waited a moment more until my near-glassy eyes fell shut.

I could hear Leander’s slow steps and humming echo as the sounds became more and more obscured by the increasing distance and gentle ringing of Death’s embrace. His singing, soft like a rain cloud, coated my head in an almost soothing feeling while all senses faded. Leander’s siren’s call kept luring me away from life.

“Then,”

“Maybe you’ll ask me to come back again…”

“And maybe, I’ll say maybe…”

Until all my senses faded out like a wax-drowned candlelight. Until the world went dark and quiet.

BAD END

#leander #touchstarved leander #touchstarved fic #touchstarved game #touchstarvedgame #scary Leander agenda at long last!#my current masterpiece I feel #leander x mc #leander x reader

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fangsandfracturedhearts · 3 months

Text

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 9: Beneath the Veil

Summary: You helped Astarion complete the Rite of Profane Ascension and become the Vampire Ascendant. You agreed to become his spawn soon after. Once the Netherbrain was defeated, Astarion claimed the Szarr Palace, renaming it the Crimson Palace, for himself and set about his plans of domination.

Word Count: 6.5k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm. Mentions of in-game content. Completely fabricated camp events.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience}

He soars above the roofs, moving swiftly with every forceful downbeat of his veiny, membranous wings. The moon shines bright and full tonight, the sky encrusted with stars glinting like polished gems against the pitch black.

Elowyn and the revolting Drow kept him far too late tonight, requesting additional samples of his blood, trying to justify their incompetent failures. If those two whelps make him miss his chance at seeing her tonight, he will punish them. Severely. The thought fills him with sadistic glee, and the lips of his snout pull back to reveal rows of sharp, needle-pointed teeth, as close as a smile as he can manage in this form.

A hoarse voice pierces through his morbid contemplation like hot steel, “Where is he, spawn?”

For a fleeting moment, he looks around, thinking someone is talking to him. He will torture whoever dares call him a spawn. He will make their death drag on for days, weeks, months, perhaps. He is a pathetic spawn no longer. He is the Vampire Ascendent, and he will not be belittled.

“Did I stutter? I said I don’t fucking know!” Her voice, usually sweet like wind-chimes in a gentle summer breeze, is bristling and teeming with bitterness that nips his ears.

He angles his wings, drawing them close to his body and dives, rapid and sure. He swerves between obstacles, beady black eyes darting around. That overly sweet scent of powdered iron vine stirs unwelcome memories as it hits his nostrils and makes his eyes water.

Shit.

He pumps his wings hard, heading straight toward that sickly sweet scent. He can feel himself start sinking into the mire that has muddled his mind and held him hostage, but he cannot allow it to swallow him in its gaping maw this night. She needs him.

Astarion, he must remind himself of his name. He is not just the Vampire Ascendent; he is Astarion.

“Kill her. She either can’t or won’t give him up. She’s useless to us.”

No. No. No.

His newly beating heart arrests in his chest, immobilized all over again, as he sees the hunter and watches them draw the stake from their hip. She... Gods, she doesn’t do anything. She closes her beautiful eyes and accepts her fate without a fight.

What in the bloody Hells is she thinking?

Fight! He wants to scream but cannot as he shifts forms in a fraction of a second, hauling one of the Gur holding her steadfast into the treeline while drawing his dagger, twirling it into his grip with a flick of his wrist and plunging it into their chest. Pivoting with bared teeth, he does not even bother waiting to revel in their dying shudder.

He is liquid lightning made flesh, and he takes the next hunter in a flash, slashing his dagger across their jugular with a satisfying spray of blood that splashes against his ivory skin and glazes his silver hair with a rust-coloured tint. He discards them just as quickly.

He does not waste a second and spins on his heel, lunging forward, every muscle and tendon in his body buzzing with the energy of 7000 souls. He rips the last Gur away from her, slinging them into the air with no more effort than it would take him to lift a speck of dust.

He regards the flailing human through narrow eyes with brows pulled down in a scowl that darkens his face. He’s going to snap their neck like a matchstick for thinking they can kill his beloved dark consort.

No, he corrects himself - his spawn, his toy, his possession.

“Please, don’t,” she pleads.

Her voice snaps him out of his grisly ruminations, and his eyes meet hers. Those round moon eyes that used to burn vividly with the glow of her blazing spirit now appear almost matte, and his heart clinches in his chest. Where is the fire he’s used to seeing in those eyes?

The scent of blood lingers heavily in the air, his heart pounds with the exhilaration of battle, and the gurgling sputters of approaching death stroke his ears, enchanting him.

Does she truly expect him to spare this feeble sack of shit? He does not spare lives simply because she requests it.

Yet, he is considering it. Why?

He cocks his head, straining against the insurgence of the other presence that threatens to gain control of his body. Ripping himself from the savage chomping jaws of this monster within is painful.

Agony, worse than any torture Cazador ever inflicted upon him, flares through every sinew of his body as he thrusts the hunter against the wall.

His breaths come in ragged, quick succession, but he is back, he is present, he is Astarion.

She stares at him with shock and winces. Her brows furrow with confusion as her eyes cast down and his follow their path.

He had not been fast enough.

Her body trembles as panic channels through her. She grips the stake and rips it out. The sound makes him nauseous and sends bile rising into his throat.

“... Astarion?”

His ears twitch at his name. Her eyes flutter closed as her consciousness begins to slip. Reflexively, he dives forward, arms outstretched, and for the first time in what feels like lifetimes, her name tastes like honey on his tongue as he cries it.

He catches her before her limp body can hit the ground. Gods, she’s far too light and bony with gaunt, hollow cheeks and dark circles under her eyes. His mouth drops open, horrified. Squeezing his eyes closed, he grimaces and shakes his head slightly. He does not have time to dwell on this right now. He must get her help.

The Cleric.

He does not want to, but he can do nothing for her. He moves quickly toward that little house he has watched her return to time and time again.

He considers breaking the door down, but if he does that, the Cleric is likely to attack first and ask questions later. He slams the heel of his boot on the door with a loud thud.

“Astarion?” Shadowheart blinks the sleep from her eyes rapidly, bristles and lunges for her mace, “You should not have-”

“Shut up,” he spits harshly, pushing past her, “Put your distaste for me aside. She needs your help. If you wish to try and kill me after, I will gladly do away with you.”

The golden glow of Shadowheart’s magic recedes from her fingertips as she looks at her in his arms, mouth agape. Her eyes harden as they meet his, “Did you do this!?”

“Me?” He’s astonished at the accusation. Why would he do this? He would never, nay could never. How dare she accuse him of such barbarity!

“Yes, darling,” he drawls sarcastically through clenched teeth, “I thought it was a lovely little icebreaker. I stake my dearest spawn and then show up on your doorstep requesting your help.” He scoffs indignantly, clicking his tongue at her, “Do not be so stupid. I care not what you think of me, but this is not my doing. If I had wanted her dead, she would be dead, and I would not be here.”

“She is dead,” Shadowheart snarls, gripping the hilt of her mace so hard her knuckles strain white, “You already fucking killed her.”

“I-” He did, didn’t he? She is dead, and it was him that drained her of life. No. He pushes the thought away. He had given her the choice. She chose this, and he could not be blamed for her choices.

“Semantics,” he recovers quickly with a shrug, “I could argue them with you all bloody night. Will you assist, or would you prefer to continue glaring at me? I do love the attention, after all.”

Shadowheart scoffs, nose rising with a grimace, “Put her down and step away from her.”

“Absolutely not,” he snaps. He will not lose her again. He cannot. “You have a choice, my dear. Help her as she is, in my arms, or do not. Stop wasting my fucking time.”

“Gods, you’re still as insufferable as you ever were!” Shadowheart stomps her foot, balling her fist up at her sides and levelling the mace at him before discarding it.

“Thank you,” he grins victoriously.

Magic encompasses Shadowheart’s hand. She steps close but warily as if he might pounce on her, and he rolls his eyes with a dramatic huff. Shadowheart recites an incantation, lays a splayed hand on her, and the spell flows over her body. The bleeding slows but does not stop. Shadowheart tries again, stronger this time, the magic suffusing the dim living area with a light blue luminescence.

“Take her to her room and show yourself out, Astarion,” Shadowheart instructs and points toward a darkened staircase, “It’s at the top of the stairs, second door in the hall.”

He chuckles at the silly notion he would leave her in this condition. He’s finally got his hands on her again, and there is no way he is letting her go, “No. She’s coming to the palace with me tonight.”

Shadowheart shakes, trembling with rage, “No. I will not allow you to take her.”

“Try and stop me,” he sneers, his brows knitting together, “She needs more healing, of course. You are most welcome to join us at the Crimson Palace if you wish.”

She will heal, although he’s not sure how fast in the emaciated state she is in. He will take her home where he can watch over her. He will take her back where she belongs, with him, forever.

He shoves Shadowheart with his shoulder and heads for the door. He hears the crackle of her magic as it leaves her fingers and braces himself to absorb the attack. It hits his back, warming and prickling his skin.

He feels it again, the tug in his mind, demons creeping closer, trying to pull him into oblivion. He takes a deep breath, and his hands squeeze her more firmly, grounding himself.

Turning, he chuckles at Shadowheart as she stares at him, eyes wide in confusion but keen with determination, “That tickled, darling.” He taunts, “I will overlook this little altercation. After all, what’s a little quarrel between old friends? Now, I really must be getting home. You know where to find us should you come to your senses."

He wonders if Shadowheart will try again. She was a determined little spitfire, after all. He quickly slips out the door into the night and laughs when he hears Shadowheart’s livid scream.

“Fuck!”

It’s not long before Shadowheart jogs to his side, “What the Hells happened, Astarion?”

He’s surprised she did not come fully clad in her armour with every weapon she has. Surprised and rather disappointed. He thought she was more intelligent than to walk into the devil’s den defenceless.

“I’m so glad you decided to join us,” he says mirthlessly and shrugs, “She was attacked.”

“Yes, Astarion, I can see that.” Shadowheart scoffs at him, frowning and crossing her arms with a snort, but her expression softens when she looks at her, “Can she die from this? For good, I mean.”

He shakes his head, clenching his jaw, “I will not allow it.”

He walks quickly with long, ground-devouring strides. Shadowheart has to trot alongside him to keep pace.

She stirs in his arms now and then, trembles rippling through her muscles, fingers twitching, and he pulls her into him as close as he can get her. He wants to tell her it’s okay, to whisper that he’s got her and she is safe, but he bites his tongue.

The walk to the Crimson Palace is silent from there on out, and he’s thankful for it.

He lays her down on his bed as Shadowheart yanks scrolls and potions from her bag. He runs his fingers over her cheek when Shadowheart isn’t looking to let her know she’s not alone. He’s here. It’s been so long since he felt her skin. His heart feels like it palpates, skipping beats and is uncomfortably heavy in his chest. He cannot remember feeling anything similar in all his 200 years.

Shadowheart expends every scroll and every ounce of energy she has. Sweat rolls down her temples, and her magic dims and fizzles out on her fingers.

She pants, bracing herself against his bed, “I can do no more until I rest.” Shadowheart nudges him with an elbow to the ribs, “Get out. I need to clean and wrap her wounds.”

He narrows his eyes and quickly snatches the roll of bandages from Shadowheart’s hands, “Allow me.”

Shadowheart stares at him, teeming with hatred, “You will not. I need to undress her. Get out.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” he snickers, “Many times, might I add.”

Shadowheart snarls and digs her finger rigidly into his chest, “You would violate her like that for your sick pleasure?”

Violate her? He would never do such a thing. How sick does Shadowheart think he is?

“Pleasure? There is absolutely nothing pleasurable about this!” He howls, affronted at the accusation that he would somehow get satisfaction from such an act. He runs his fingers through his blood-stained hair, “If she wakes while you are at it, she will drain you dry. She will have no control and will not be able to stop herself.”

Truth but not the reason he is being so insistent. He could not care less if she drained the Cleric drier than the desert at noon. He would watch it happen with glee. The truth he is reluctant to admit even to himself is that he wants to be close to her.

Shadowheart’s eyes narrow at him, and she crosses her arms with a huff, “Fine, but I am not leaving you alone with her.”

“Fine by me,” he smiles amicably, with a shallow bow, “May I?”

Shadowheart watches him with the same intensity and mistrust she used to watch the Gith with, and he rolls his eyes at her.

His fingers nimbly undo the clasps and laces that hold her robe closed and peels it from her body, sticky with drying blood. He’s careful, keeping his movements slow and measured.

Good Gods, there is so much blood. It coats his hands, up his forearms, muddying his skin and getting under his fingernails.

“Fetch that, will you?” he points to the glass basin filled with clean water, “Cloths are below. Bring them all."

Shadowheart grumbles under her breath but obediently does as he asks. He cleans her with gentle strokes, discarding the rags as they become blood-soaked and spoiled.

Hells, she is thin beyond his wildest imagination. Her collar bones, hip bones, and ribs jut out from her sunken stomach. He could count every vertebra in her spine. She looks frail and sickly. It takes considerable effort for him to keep his facial expression impassive as if he doesn’t care, but her condition makes his bones ache. It reminds him of the time he spent the year sealed away, starving and alone in that old, dusty tome. Is he no better than Cazador? He buries the thought.

“I should have brought her a change of clothes,” Shadowheart cringes while discarding the robe, fabric soaked and heavy with blood.

“I have her clothing. I will fetch her something when we finish,” he concludes almost absentmindedly, his mind focused on wrapping her with the roll of bandages.

“You have her clothes?” Shadowheart gawks at him, eyes rounded with surprise, “Still?”

“Yes.”

He does not explain further. He still can’t recall why her bedroom was separate from his. Worse yet, it was down in the spawn quarters. Did he put her down there? Why?

“We can do no more for her tonight,” he murmurs as the backs of his fingers graze down her arm. He doesn’t even bother to look at Shadowheart. He points toward the door, “Guest bedrooms are in the west wing. Take your pick.”

Shadowheart crosses her arms and sniffs, “I will not be leaving her half-naked with the likes of you.”

He tires of this and these accusations that he will act indecently. Maybe he is a monster, but he is not as twisted as they all seem to believe he is. He does not have the energy or the restraint to participate in petulant arguments. If Shadowheart pushes him too far, which is an utter certainty, he will be Astarion no longer.

Astarion, he reminds himself again. I am Astarion.

He catches Shadowheart’s eyes and compels her, “You will go to the first guest bedroom you find, and you will sleep until dawn."

Shadowheart’s pupils dilate wide, and red tendrils trail around her as his compulsion roots into her mind.

“I will sleep until dawn,” Shadowheart repeats, absent and emotionless, getting up and leaving him alone.

He sighs with relief and drags a chair to the side of the bed. Dawn is an hour or two away, at best, but it is enough. He leans back, resting his elbow on the armrest and his forehead in his hand. This was his fault. He dragged her into this mess with the Gur. He knew they had been trying to track him, but he did not know they knew about her.

He will find where they are hiding and slaughter the lot of them for this. Why stop there? He will hunt every tribe of Gur to the ends of Faerûn and eradicate them from existence entirely. They will all pay in blood for what has occurred tonight.

She coughs and mutters indiscernibly. A voice inside his head wails that he should destroy her because she makes him feel, and that makes him weak. She makes him weak. He thrusts the thought down, frowning in disgust at himself for ever having it in the first place.

Gods below, what has he become? He’s spent months watching her from a distance. At first, he told himself he kept being dragged back to that terrible little hovel because he felt a foul sort of gratification in watching her suffer as she withered away to skin and bones or cried on the ground.

It made him feel good, powerful, but above all, needed. For a time, he savoured her misery as if he were sipping it like a fine wine.

He can’t remember exactly when it stopped being enjoyable.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles with a shaky breath, kissing her palm and interlocking his fingers with hers, “I’m so sorry. I will not fail you again.”

“It’s the wizard.”

He can hear emotion siphon from his voice, a sheet of ice crystallizing it. Her beautiful eyes are wide and round with fear, her mouth dropping open slightly. The tips of her fangs peek out of her full lips, disorienting him for a moment. Those fangs do not look like they belong in her mouth. Yet, he had put them there, didn’t he? She pulls the bedsheet up, grasping the silken linen in her fist and bringing it to her chest, shielding her body from him. He loathes the way she is looking at him. She is frightened of him. There was a time not too long ago when she trusted him beyond measure. He longs to see her look at him like that again.

But right now, the wizard is here to take her from him. He cannot lose her again. Gale cannot have her. She is his.

He takes a deep breath, trying to center himself. He can feel that unholy abomination within him start rampaging against its shackles. It pulls at the borders of his mind and whispers corruption in his thoughts, begging to be released.

“No. No, it can’t be. Gale doesn’t know where I am,” she stutters, panic taking flight and soaring into her voice, “You’re mistaken.”

If only he were.

He cocks his head, eyeing her warily and waves dismissively, “Shall we answer the door and find out?”

He tries to sit up. She relinquishes her linen shield and scrambles into his lap, squeezing him tightly between her thighs and straddling his waist. She plants her splayed hands on his chest and thrusts him down, grinding him into the bed with all the strength of her vampiric form.

She looks to the door, brows upturned, portraying her unease, and then looks back at him, “Ignore it.”

He lets her push him back and narrows his eyes in a challenging glower. Even with all her strength and weight behind her, he sits upright effortlessly in a slow advance. She forgets herself sometimes, forgets what he is, the power he possesses. He can feel her body trembling, her fingers digging into his chest, and he revels in the fear illustrated in the intricate details of her features.

He blinks hard and rids himself of that thought. It’s his ire forcing impulsive whispers through his head. If he wanted that, he could simply let himself slip away, and he would not even have to remember the savagery he dealt.

“Now, why ever would I ignore my old friend Gale?” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s another well-practiced veneer, just another mask, one of his many.

“Please, Astarion,” she takes his hand and begs, “Ignore it.”

“No,” he retorts, easing her off him gradually and sliding off the bed. He grabs his trousers and throws them on.

She clambers ungracefully, grabbing her clothes, “Astarion, listen to me. Please. At least stay in here while I talk to him.”

He whirls on her with a snarl before he even knows what he is doing, “I am the Vampire Ascendant!” He shouts at her cruelly, “I take orders from no one!”

His eyes start their restless shifting. He marshals his resolve and the muscles in his arms strain. His fingers twitch as unseen talons claw rifts into his consciousness, and he reels to keep himself tethered to reality.

He must not give in.

Her arresting eyes bore into him. She speaks to him softly, using that silver tongue in her most zephyr intonation, “Stay you, please.”

She watches, observing his every movement. Shooting pains cleave through him. It feels like he’s being torn apart from the inside out, and Gods, it hurts. If she were not looking at him like that, he might let himself be dragged away.

Astarion, he prompts himself; I am Astarion.

He jerks his eyes away from her while buttoning his chemise, “I’m trying,” he growls low, “Do not challenge me right now.”

A warning. He can feel himself sinking. All grace and fluidity have been depleted, and he moves stiff and rigidly. She picks up her shirt and stares at the tattered rag he tore from her body. He can still taste her pleasure sweet on his tongue, feel her dissolving around him, while his name rang like a prayer through these halls.

He told her he was going to make love to her, didn’t he? Why did he say that? He does not make love. A lapse in judgment in a moment of passion, surely. He does not dig deeper. He dares not follow the trail because he’s afraid of what he will disentomb.

He shifts his form and reappears by the door. Her footsteps descend the staircase so quickly he’s surprised she hasn’t sent herself tumbling. Perhaps he has managed to teach her something, after all.

He knows what awaits when he opens this door. Gale will try to take her from him again as he did before with his trivial illusions, sincere confessions and genuine love, but she belongs to him.

Astarion, Astarion, Astarion, he chants to himself as he takes a deep breath and opens the door.

Gale’s voice clamours through the halls as he pushes in, “Where is she, Astarion? What have you done to her!”

“That’s Lord Astarion to you, Gale.” His voice is tight, soaked in cordial falsity, “How lovely to see you. Welcome to our home.”

Gale scoffs at him, brows furrowed, “Lord Astarion? You cannot be serious?”

“Oh, I am dead serious.” He seethes through clenched teeth, brows pulled down in a menacing scowl, “In my home, you will show me the proper respect I am due.”

“Respect?” Gale shouts at him in a rage, arms gesturing wildly, “You lost any hope of respect as soon as you forced undeath on her.”

Forced undeath on her? Forced?! He did no such thing! He requested, and she accepted. Her undying loyalty for an eternity with him.

A simple transaction.

... Right?

The edges of his vision are starting to ripple and blacken, a sure sign he is losing.

She runs around the corner, almost tripping over her feet, and her words blunder out of her mouth briskly, “Gale, stop! You don’t understand what you’re doing. You’re putting us all in danger.”

“Yes, Gale,” he chimes cooly, “I am very dangerous.”

His memory flashes with images of himself standing, blood dripping from his hair, off his fingertips and chin. Mangled bodies are strewn haphazardly around him, open mouths lamenting silent screams as their milky eyes cast judgment on him. He does not recall dealing these deaths, only waking up in the aftermath of his primal sadism.

Gale ignores him and reaches toward her. He doesn’t even realize he’s moving until he’s twisted Gale’s arm behind his back. He fumes, “Do not touch her. She is mine.”

He considers breaking the wizard’s arm with a gleeful, ghoulish smile, tugging his lips up. He applies a little more force, and Gale cries out. The pained bawl is music to his ears, and he almost floats away on the bewitching hymn.

“Astarion, stop it.” Her cold hands clutch his heated cheeks, “Look at me. I’ve got you, but I need you to hold on.”

He focuses on those fascinating multicoloured doe-eyes through the storm clouding his vision. Gritting his teeth, he forces himself to release Gale with a grunt. His limbs feel numb - like they are not his and should not be attached to his body. He shudders and leans back against the wall, with such pressure that cracks begin extending across the wood panelling. Agony explodes behind his eyes. He’s sweating, perspiration rolling down his forehead and temples and the delicate black fabric of his chemise clings to his damp body.

She drags Gale out of the manor into the sunbathed street, trying to put as much distance between him and Gale as possible. She squeezes her eyes closed and grits her teeth as the radiant light spreads over her snowy skin.

I’ve got you. You’re safe with me. He wants to tell her, but he is no liar. She is safe with him, Astarion, but he cannot be sure of his actions if he is overtaken and subdued.

“What in the Hells is going on here?” Gale yells at her, “What are you thinking going back to him? He killed you and then left you to rot in the sewers! Do you remember how Shadowheart and I found you? You were out of your mind with hunger!”

Rot in the sewers? What the fuck was Gale talking about? He never left her in the sewers. Did he? His memories are fragmented and unreliable. He remembers defeating the Netherbrain, the searing pain in his head, standing on the docks, and little else. The first vivid thing he can recall is watching her walk out the palace door, tears gliding down her face, her eyes shimmering wet in the moonlight, and her voice trembling as she said goodbye.

He does not know what is happening to him, but he knows there is more to the Rite than the devil let on, and whatever ails him is slowly eating away at whatever is left of him.

“Yes,” she mewls, a hand coming to her forehead in an exasperated gesture, “I remember. It doesn’t matter now. You shouldn’t be here, Gale. Go home. I will come when night falls, and we can discuss this then.”

“Why are you putting yourself in harm’s way again, for him of all people.” Gale scolds her and makes those voices in his thoughts croon louder, promising the wizard’s death, telling him he won’t have to blame himself, “Is this some sort of compulsion? Has Astarion forced you to do this? You’ve always had a big heart, but you have never been stupid.”

Did he call her stupid? He will rip out Gale's fucking tongue for speaking to her in such a manner.

“Astarion hasn’t compelled me,” she retaliates in a cutting inflection, but he hears the unmistakable notes of uncertainty, “I am here of my own volition.”

“No, I do not believe that.” Gale decrees, sure and confident, “I think Astarion knows how to manipulate you, and he continues to do so, as he always has done.”

“Perhaps he is,” she sighs, “But perhaps he isn’t. It matters not. The choice is mine to make, and the consequences are mine to bear, whatever they may be.”

Gale’s voice loses its keen edge and drops low, “You fled from Astarion, from this life. Why return to it? Help me understand, my friend.”

Her fists clench at her sides, and she growls, frustrated with the inquisition. “Isn’t it obvious? I love him,” she shouts, squaring off with Gale, “I love him, and I will not, cannot, give up on him!”

He stares at her back, mouth dropping open and eyes rounded. He did not expect this. She is doing this because he promised her freedom, is she not? Another transaction.

“That man,” Gale spits, “No, that monster cannot love you. Not anymore. You’re coming home with me.”

Bitterness rises hot in his throat and coats the back of his tongue. He’s spent lifetimes having someone dictate what he can and cannot do, and he will stand for it no longer.

He does love-

He cuts the thought off abruptly as if it were a stray stitch unravelling from a grand tapestry. His blood solidifies, icy in his veins.

If he admits this, it becomes real, and she alone has the power to destroy him, wreck him beyond all hope of repair.

Yet, despite his best efforts, whatever he retains of his soul weakly whispers on, ruing against his restraint.

I love you too.

He groans and leans forward, hands on his knees, trying to keep himself upright. His brain feels like it’s twisting in his skull. Oblivion is edging closer, vines made of shadow reaching out to him and twisting around his limbs.

“No, Gale. Stop,” she screams, her feet dragging across the paved stone street, “You are going to get us both killed!”

“I am not afraid of Astarion,” Gale says, resolute.

He’s heard enough, “You should be, Gale.” he hisses as he emerges from the doorway, “Leave. Now. She has made her choice.”

The sun is bright in his eyes, much too bright and hot on his already feverish skin. He forces himself to stand straight, though he wants to double over.

Gale scowls at him, brows pulled down, “You did this, didn’t you? You compelled her, exerted your will over her and forced her into this servitude!”

Gale would want to believe that, wouldn’t he? Blame him for being the puppet master, because then Gale would not have to face the truth.

Despite it being the objectively stupid thing to do, she loves him.

“Gale, go home,” she screams, anger thrusting into her voice, “I will explain everything, but you must go before it’s too late. You have no idea what you’re doing.”

His body does not feel like it’s under his control, and movement feels wrong. Gripping her arm, his fingers dig into her flesh, and he hauls her backward toward the manor with so much force that he wrenches her off her feet and into the air. An anguished cry chokes from her throat. It breaks him from the daze. He did not mean to hurt her.

“I didn’t mean to-”

He doesn’t get to finish before he’s pushed back and off balance by a sudden, strong gust of wind, far too powerful to be anything natural.

He rights himself quickly, whirls, and watches in horror as a radiant beam of pure sunlight careens toward her. It washes over her before he can move, and a shrill, soul-shattering scream wrests from her throat.

The demon bursts from its prison with pain so torturous it fractures his psyche, liquefying his brain matter.

He’s dragged down, down, down, where everything is quiet and dark.

Sunbeam spills over you in an upsurge. Your skin sears, your eyes sizzle in their sockets, and white-hot pain swarms your vision. Falling to your hands and knees, a cry so shrill tearing from your throat, it feels like it rips your vocal cords to tatters.

“Are you pleased, wizard?” Astarion drawls, “Look what you’ve done to my most precious treasure.”

Astarion’s voice is distant and emotionless, and you don’t have to look at him to know he’s lost the fight with himself. If you do not do something quickly, Gale’s blood will soak these streets, and it will be on your hands. Astarion told you those who provoke him rarely survive. Gale will be no exception.

Gritting your teeth, you push through the pain, making your nerves sing and blink to clear your vision. Astarion stalks toward Gale, laughing as if deranged while he nimbly dodges every one of Gale’s attacks, a predator playing with their prey like a cat with a mouse.

From the ground, you cast Hold Person, halting Astarion. He wars against his restraints. You will not be able to hold him long.

“Gale,” you sputter as you feel your concentration breaking, splintering at the seams like an overstuffed doll, “I cannot hold him long. Run to the waypoint and get home.”

Gale shakes his head, “I won’t leave-”

You trample over him, “If you don’t, we are both dead. Go! Now!”

Seconds that feel like hours pass before Gale turns and disappears down the street. You hold Astarion for as long as possible, vying to give Gale enough time to get to the waypoint. You can only hope Astarion does not decide you’re too broken and no longer fun to toy with.

Astarion rallies against your impediment and Hold Person breaks and shatters as your concentration is pushed beyond its limits.

Trembling, you try to push yourself to your feet, but you can’t get your limbs and muscles to obey orders. You don’t hear Astarion’s footsteps as they approach, but his proximity is betrayed by his beating heart.

Astarion’s hand curls into your hair, pulling you to your feet with an unforgiving yank, “You should not have intervened in my fun.”

“Astarion-”

His hand slams into the bottom of your chin, making your teeth clash with so much force you’re sure they will buckle and disintegrate in your mouth.

“Don’t “Astarion” me. It will not work this time,” he growls with a taunting edge, “Astarion is gone. I am the Vampire Ascendant! I am a God, and I will not be caged! Do you hear me? You are nothing, and you cannot save him.”

He talks about himself as if they’re two different people.

Astarion looks around, and a menacing smile slinks across his lips, “Perhaps I should simply let you burn and put an end to this once and for all.”

Panic forces your hand. Whoever this person is, he is not Astarion, and he may very well let you burn. You press your palm against his chest and let liquid fire, hot as the fires in Phlegethos, explode against him. The instant you feel his clutch release, you throw yourself back into the safety of the manor.

Crawling further inside, you push yourself up with the aid of a wall as your knees quake under your weight. You look up just in time to see Astarion’s hand as it slams into your throat, and he lifts you off your feet. His grip is stringent and unforgiving, and bruises instantly varnish your pallid skin, narrating abuse with dark hues of blue, purple and red. You kick against the air hopelessly, feet trying to find purchase.

You pull at his wrist and hand, digging your nails into him, blemishing his ashen skin with bloodied, jagged lacerations. You try to speak, but he increases the pressure on your throat, and nothing can make it out of your compressed esophagus.

You keep your eyes away from Astarion’s; you cannot look into those ruby-red eyes and see him look at you like you are nothing. Not after he has been looking at you like you’re everything.

Astarion’s head rears back, and his fangs plunge like icepicks into your neck. He shakes his head side to side like an animal trying to tear your throat out. You try to cry out, and your fingernails claw at his arms and face. He draws blood in erratic, unrestrained gulps and swallows it greedily. It spills from his mouth, running down your neck in a tributary, soaking into your shirt.

You oppose his hold on you, but it’s no use. Astarion is too strong, and you’re far too depleted. Astarion is going to drain you dry once again, and you stop fighting it. He cannot kill you like this, but what he does with your unconscious body afterwards is another story entirely. You dare not think about it.

Your limbs are the first to start feeling the effects of blood loss with tingles spreading to your fingertips. Even though it’s not possible, you still feel the sensation of paling further and growing colder as you begin to feel faint. Your body goes limp in his clutch as it numbs to the point where not even your fingers have the energy to twitch. Your eyelashes flutter as your eyes spurn your effort to keep them open. A quiet, pathetic whimper escapes your parted lips.

Suddenly, Astarion rips his fangs from your neck, rough and painful. The agony snaps you back into your body. You fall to the ground in a shuddering heap. Blood continues to flow freely from your neck and spreads sanguine streams in the cracks between the wooden plank flooring, overflowing and pooling around your face and shoulders.

You watch Astarion stagger backward. Violent spasms wrack his body, and he falls to his hands and knees. He convulses, body writhing and twisting, and his fingernails make deep, long gouges into the floor, bloodying his fingertips.

You’ve seen him fight himself before, but it’s never looked like this. Good Gods, this is pure, undiluted suffering, and tears well up in your eyes.

I did this to him. This is my fault.

You try to speak, but the pain in your throat is unbearable. Your fingers splash in bloody puddles as you flex them. It takes every ounce of energy you have left, but you reach out and place your hand over Astarion’s as it claws the ground. His surprised eyes dart to you at the contact.

You keep your eyes focused on the beautiful red of his, in case it’s the last time you see them, as your world fades to black.

Big thank you for everyone who takes the time to read/reblog/comment, and all the other magnificent things. As always, I hope you enjoy this, darlings!

AO3 [Crossposted]

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

Small Notes:

So we did backtrack quite a bit in this chapter, but I thought it was important to learn why Astarion was even around for the Gur attack, and also to get a good look into what's going on in his head.

Trying something new with Astarion's POV. Let me know if it works or not, and I might keep switching perspectives.

Also, the new patches additional kisses - be still my beating heart.

#ascended astarion #astarion fanfic #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x you #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion smut #fangs and fractured hearts

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luvmmarner · 9 months

Text

ANDREI SVECHNIKOV - HATE HATE HATE

This was written for @comphy-and-cozy apart of the summer fic exchange! I know it’s really short the next few chapters will have over 7000 words. I was rushing to get everything mapped out and I changed and rechanged so much shit! I restarted 5 times and I restarted like a week ago because nothing made sense, but now I have a whole plot mapped out and everything! There will be 10 chapters so no need to worry! This is more like a prologue! I promise! I decided to make it a readers pov however I’ll post many other povs in the behind the scenes readers name and stuff like that. Hopefully that makes sense! (It’s 1AM help me deal lord)

A big thank you for @wyattjohnston for letting me be apart of this and I’m so so sorry for delaying this for so much days. Holy crap! I promise I’ll get all the chapters out as soon as possible.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

Word count: 1K

TW: reader gets drugged (that’s it nothing bad)

It was immediately obvious that you detested him after you had your first encounter with him. You felt frustrated by his arrogant and excessively confident demeanour. You were unable to comprehend how your brother Sebastian Aho initially connected with him. Both of them were interested in different things, with the exception of the fact that they were both on the Carolina Hurricanes and loved to play hockey.

You hated him or did you?

enemies to lovers + brothers best friend

If it wasn’t the sunlight waking you up it was your brother and his loud obnoxious friends over. Today was the same as every other day since their shouts were so loud that they resonated throughout the walls, and the buzzing of your alarm clock didn't help matters either.

“Wake up and come downstairs sleeping beauty” you heard your brother Sebastian call from all the way downstairs. All you could do was groan at the request. You didn't want to get out of bed, nor did you feel like getting out of it. Even if you didn't have to work today, all you intended to do was relax and take it easy.

You decided to listen to the voices downstairs and suddenly recognized a voice that you had never heard before. The voice had an accent that was anything but typical of someone from North America. It was abundantly evident that whoever it was, they were from Europe.

When you had been considering whether or not you should go downstairs, you heard some movement coming up the stairs.You believed it was your brother at first, but when a hand caressed your back, you were taken aback.

The voice asked, "What are you doing in the middle of the hallway, young one," as his touch was still lingering before it finally moved away from you.

"First of all, I'm not young, and second of all, who are you?" You shot back your response using the most condescending tone you were capable of producing.

"My name is Andrei. And yours? Actually you don’t need to say I already know it and regardless I’m just going to call you young one." When he had finally turned around to face you, he inquired.

There was no denying the fact that he had a stunning appearance. It was obvious that he was much taller than you, and his perfume smelled like a combination of apple cider and pumpkins. His accent did not help matters either; it just added to the hotness of him.

“Don’t call me that ever again." You responded back, clearly irritated by the way he called you young one. You weren’t young by any means and just because you lived with your brother doesn’t mean you were.

“Cool well I could careless what you have to say by the way your brother asked for you to come downstairs. I'll see you down there once you decide to stop staring at me.” Andrei said in a cocky voice which just made you even more irritated and mad. Who does he think he is calling you out like that.

“I wasn’t staring” You told him as he chuckled and turn away down the stairs. You heard him say “Sure sure sure.” Before his voice disappeared alongside many other voices in the house.

Your brother yelled at you as you made your way downstairs, telling you to come sit down and introduce yourself to the others.

“Come here and introduce yourself, these are my friends I train with.” It was said by your brother Sebastian.

You responded to the request by rolling your eyes.

You sat down on the sofa immediately crossing your legs and staring at the guy in front of you. The guy I you just had an interaction with the guy who called you “young one”

She shouldn't be sitting with us, she can't be more than 5 or something," Andrei said. Inquiring while casting a sideways glance at your brother, Sebastian then joined the others in what appeared to be a simultaneous fit of laughter.

You had no choice but to hurry back to your room because there was nothing else you could do. You weren’t going to sit there as he kept making fun of you/ if one thing wasn’t obvious is that you had a strong dislike for him.

It was unlike any other typical day that had come before. You happened to be invited to join the girls as they headed out to the club to celebrate Brianna's engagement.

You and your friends came to the conclusion that the best way to celebrate would be to first go to a pub and then go home.

You had a difficult time choosing between the dresses, but in the end, you went with the glittering silver dress that was covered with beads all over it and was only slightly shorter than the others.

You didn't give a second thought to whether or not it would be a good idea to wear it, particularly given the fact that you were a female in the company of a large number of other females; nonetheless, since you didn't even give it a second thought, you simply slipped it on and joined the girls in the car.

As soon as you arrived at the club and were able to enter, you made your way straight to the bar and placed an order with the bartender for several alcoholic beverages. You acknowledged their kindness and then turned to look for your friends, but on the way, you were unlucky enough to run into someone.

Their hands grasped your waist to prevent you from falling to the ground. Once you made it to your feet their hand didn’t leave yours.

“Woah watch where you're going young one.” The voice said. You didn’t even need to think twice who it was. You knew it was Andrei. The cocky European voice was a clear indicator.

“Are you following me or something? Are you obsessed?” You said as irritation ran through your veins. You detested his arrogant grin as well as how he spoke with utmost cockiness you’ve ever heard before.

He paid you no mind, instead emitting nothing more than a muffled murmur as he drank from his glass. You made the decision that you weren't going to let that dampen your spirits, and instead you were going to have the best night it was even possible for you to have. You set your drink down and proceeded straight to the dance floor after doing so.

You danced for a few minutes, then went back to your drink to have a few more sips of it before joining your friends for some more dancing.

You were immediately overcome with feelings of lightheadedness and dizziness upon dancing for quite some time, it was to the point where you found it difficult to stand. Your vision suddenly went black and you were sure that someone had caught you before it became completely dark.

…

#nhl hockey #hockey #nhl imagine #fluff #nhl #hockey imagine #nhl smut #hockey fluff #hockey smut #andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov fic #carolina hurricanes #sebastian aho #enemies to lovers #brothers best friend #the summer fic exchange 2k23

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dreamwritesimagines · 2 years

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Enamored [45] - On the Edge

A.N: Last 3 chapters!❤ I hope you’ll like this one my loves, and please let me know what you think, thank you! ❤ And as always, thank you @theskytraveler for helping me with the chapter and the story❤

Summary: Gossip can be used as a weapon.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, mentions of sex, some gender specific language and terms.

Word Count: 7000

Series Masterlist

You had to admit, pretending to hate your husband when both of you were in love with each other was a bit more difficult than you had thought but for the plan to work, you had to appear very convincing.

Thankfully, you had been very successful so far. In the last couple of days both of you had tricked everyone into thinking you were miserable in this marriage; having arguments each time you were within someone’s earshot, making cynical comments during dinner where staff was present, and you had even pretended to walk away from each other in a haste the moment you stepped into the park for a stroll the other day, aware of the whispers that would follow.

You were sneaking around the way you had before your wedding, and it was almost entertaining with one small exception;

You could no longer wake up in the same bed, nor could you be seen going to the same room at night. Granted you shared a door that allowed you to go to his room and vice versa after everyone in the house was asleep, but now you had to be much quieter and more careful than earlier, and leave before the staff woke up. Anthony was especially grumpy about this aspect of the deception, and you shared that sentiment but at least now that you two weren’t ‘distracting’ each other during the day, you could focus on the ball you were supposed to throw before the social season came to an end.

You scribbled some ideas about the ball on the small notebook you had with you on the breakfast table just so that you could stop yourself from smiling at Anthony who seemed like he was attempting to do the same by reading his newspaper on the other side of the long table. Esther filled your cup with tea and you shot her a small smile.

“Thank you,” you said before turning back to the notebook and felt Anthony’s eyes over his newspaper before he lowered it and cleared his throat.

Pretense time.

“My lady?”

“My lord,” you said with as much disinterest as one could possess in their tone, without lifting your head from the notebook and he heaved a sigh.

“May I ask what’s so important about that notebook to bring to the breakfast table?”

“I’m taking some notes on the ideas I have for our upcoming ball, my lord.”

“I thought you were jesting about that.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the maids in the room exchanging glances and you raised your head to look at him, reminding yourself not to smile.

“And why would I jest about it?”

He rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance. “I still think we can throw that ball next season.”

“Well I wish it to be this season.”

“You wish for too many things nowadays,” he commented and Esther shifted her weight while you narrowed your eyes at him.

“As you might know, it’s customary for a newly married couple to throw a ball to…” you gritted your teeth and scoffed. “Celebrate their happiness.”

Anthony clicked his tongue.

“Wonderful,” he deadpanned. “Make sure to give me the guest list before you send the invitations then.”

You tilted your head.

“Why?” you asked. “Do you want to make sure a specific person is invited?”

“Don’t start that again…”

“I’ll start whatever I want,” you growled. “Especially when my husband prefers the company of—”

“I’ve had it up here,” he cut you off, his voice on edge and if you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought he was actually angry. “With this silly jealousy of yours.”

“What a coincidence, I’ve had it up here with you disrespecting me.”

Anthony gritted his teeth and turned to the maids in the room.

“Leave us, close the door.”

The maids rushed out of the room and Esther gave you a sympathetic smile as if she was trying to console you before she closed the door behind her, leaving you and Anthony alone. You bit down a smile and Anthony looked around, then grinned and motioned at you to come closer as he stood up. You all but ran into his arms, trying to stop the giggle before anyone could hear.

“Good morning my love.”

“Good morning mon amour,” you whispered back as he pressed a kiss on top of your head, then tilted your chin up to brush his lips against yours. “How are you on this fine day?”

He heaved a dramatic sigh. “I missed waking up next to my wife.”

“And I missed waking up next to my husband,” you said with a smile and Anthony buried his nose into your hair for a moment before he pulled back.

“This is nearly torture.”

“It will be over soon,” you reminded him. “Frederick already talked to you more than once, he believes the rumors. And after today, it will be even more convincing.”

“I know, I know…” he mumbled and cleared his throat. “Ready?”

You nodded your head and listened to the footsteps and whispers coming from outside, then walked a couple of steps away from him and grabbed a glass off the table. “This one?”

“No no, the plate,” Anthony whispered. “Will make more of a noise.”

“Good idea,” you said and put the glass down, then took the plate into your hand, “Three, two, one…”

You threw the plate at the wall next to you, the sound of it shattering into pieces echoing through the dining room.

“I will not stand here and let you treat me like this!” you shouted and Anthony leaned back to the table, crossing his arms.

“Like what, exactly?” he raised his voice so that it would reach outside and you tried not to laugh.

“I saw how you looked at her!” you yelled back. “The other day at the park, I saw it!”

He winked at you, making you purse your lips to stop your smile and you shot him an almost reprimanding look.

“You saw something that doesn’t exist and are somehow dragging me into your own insecurities.”

“You came home in the middle of the night last night and you still wish to lie to me?”

“I came home in the middle of the night last night because I can find no peace here!”

“Why would I offer you peace when all you’ve done is make me miserable?” you asked back. “For your own—your own entertainment, as if I don’t know where you were!”

“I would thread very carefully if I were you.”

“Is that a threat?”

“That’s a warning!” he snapped as you both saw a shadow move from under the gap between the door and the floor. Anthony pushed himself off of the table he was leaning against. “One you should heed, for once in your life before you accuse me of things again.”

“Or what?” you asked, your voice no doubt reaching outside and Anthony strode to you, making you tilt your head.

“What are you doing?” you whispered and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I promised you that you wouldn’t hear that word from me,” he reminded you. “I’m intending to keep that promise.”

Ah.

You had both decided he would mention divorce in this fight where the staff would no doubt be listening, and apparently Anthony would let them hear that but not you. You tried not to giggle as his hands covered your ears, —reminding you of the time when you and he were in your mother’s room, hiding from Elias and Cece— and said something quite loudly but it was muffled because of his palms over your ears. He lowered his hands and it was at that moment that someone dropped a tray outside the room, making you both grin.

“There it is,” he murmured. “I should probably storm out.”

“Probably,” you whispered but grasped at his wrist as soon as he moved. “But mon amour, you— you still love me, do you not?”

He smiled slightly, then pecked you on the lips.

“The one and only conquerer of my heart,” he said. “Of course I do. And you?”

“You’re the love of my life,” you whispered back, standing up on your tiptoes to press a hasty kiss on his lips, then stepped back. “Go.”

He heaved a sigh and threw his shoulders back as you leaned your palms on the breakfast table, as if you were too upset to stand straight. He pulled the door open and out of the corner of your eye, you could see the members of the staff scattered along the hallway, all pretending to not hear anything, but you knew better than to believe that.

“Don’t wait for me,” Anthony said gruffly as he stormed out of the breakfast room and you heard his footsteps growing distant until he walked out of the house. You stood frozen, still leaning against the table and Lucie rushed into the room and closed the door, then reached to touch your arm.

“My lady, are you alright?”

You raised your head and took a deep breath.

“I am,” you said, nodding your head. “I am.”

“I couldn’t help but overhear…”

“Let’s not talk of it,” you cut her off. “I’m alright Lucie, really. I’m too busy with planning this ball, I don’t really have the time to dwell over a silly fight.”

Lucie wetted her lips, as if considering insisting on you talking about it but in the end she decided otherwise and smiled at you.

“Of course,” she said. “Would you like my help?”

“That would be lovely,” you said, smiling back. “Thank you.”

Of course it hit Whistledown in the following days and though you hadn’t been outside so far, you could almost hear the buzz of the whole ton upon these news. You were quite certain this was the scandal of the season, and that it was impossible for Frederick to miss it.

At least you didn’t have to worry about the invitation list to your upcoming ball, with such gossip you were sure everyone would want to attend and see you and Anthony in your own first ball, only to get a glimpse of what was actually happening between you two.

Scandal attracted the ton like flies to honey after all.

In the meantime, the whole ton was running wild with their rumors, as you could see from Whistledown’s columns. Some said Anthony had a mistress, some said you were packing up to leave for Paris, and some even said he was seen leaving a brothel on Sunday morning –which was impossible because Anthony was home the whole Sunday but Saturday night he had made sure to be seen on the street where that house resided as he had told you that very night;

“I entered and crossed the whole street in a straight line and left from the other side,” he had said. “Didn’t even stop once, but that should still be enough for the people to talk about it.”

It wasn’t as if you could complain about it, you were the one who had accepted this plan first. The moment Cece talked of it, it sounded like the perfect plan, which you were still sure that it was, yet the discomfort and doubts grew bigger and bigger each day, especially now that Lady Whistledown had finally mentioned the divorce rumors.

“My lady?” Lucie said and you lifted your head from Whistledown’s latest issue, your stomach doing an unpleasant flip. You knew this was exactly what you and Anthony wanted, and it was necessary to lure Frederick but you would have been lying if you said you were ready to face the ton and their whispers.

“Yes Lucie?”

“Your gown for the Rolleston ball is ready, but it seems that tonight will be a bit colder than today, which coat will you be wearing?”

You thought for a moment.

“I actually placed an order, it was supposed to be delivered yesterday with some of the gowns but I seem to have missed checking it,” you said. “Could you ask Mrs. Burchett whether it was delivered or not? I’d like to wear that tonight.”

“Of course,” she said and walked out of the room. You turned to skim the lines again, heaving a sigh as you nibbled on your lip; you were so lost in your own world that you didn’t even notice the footsteps coming closer until a pair of arm sneaked around your waist to pull you back, the familiar pleasant scent filling your lungs. You squealed and turned around, batting his hands away.

“Anthony!” you whispered as he grinned and stole a kiss from you. “Mon amour, if anyone saw you—”

“No one is in the hallway, I checked,” he said with a grin and he nodded at the paper in your hand. “I take it you’ve seen it?”

You took a deep breath and nodded.

“It’s good, is it not?” you asked, trying to convince yourself. “That’s what we were trying for, and now Frederick will surely approach you on the matter.”

“He already thinks I regret it, we talked of it the other day,” he said. “He is convinced he can see right through me, and now that the divorce rumor is finally out there, all I’ll have to do is to mention I should buy a land while pretending I’m trying to keep it a secret.”

You tried to smile. “Wonderful.”

He tilted his head, “Is everything alright my love?”

“...Yes,” you said after a beat, and nodded your head again, trying to appear enthusiastic. “Yes of course. I think I’m sort of worried about tonight’s ball, everyone will be there and…”

He sighed, his hand cupping your cheek and you wrapped your fingers around his wrist, squeezing it slightly.

“I’ll be there with you.”

“Not in the way I want you to,” you couldn’t help but point out, and he offered you a small smile.

“I don’t like this any more than you do.”

“I know,” you said quickly. “I know, don’t mind me.”

He caressed your cheekbone with his thumb and thought for a moment, then raised his brows.

“What if we had a sign?”

“A sign?” you asked. “What do you mean?”

“Even if we cannot talk to each other in the ballroom, or anywhere where the ton is watching,” he said. “If I…If I twist my ring, it means I love you.”

A small giggle escaped from your lips, his words making you feel all warm inside.

“I like that,” you said. “And if I play with my necklace, it means I love you too.”

“Deal,” he said as he pecked you on the lips, but before he could even deepen the kiss you pulled back and took a step back, smiling up at him.

“We cannot mon amour, you know that,” you said, clasping your hands behind you and he threw his head back, as if reminding himself of the same fact.

“Yeah,” he said. “I actually came to ask if you’re free for the rest of the day.”

“I will just plan our ball, and then I will get ready for the Rolleston ball tonight,” you said, “Why?”

Anthony reached into his pocket and pulled out what seemed to be a small note.

“I just got it,” he said, holding it up. “My mother invites us for tea, urgently.”

You raised your brows. “She has read Whistledown.”

“Mm hm.”

“And now she wants to talk to us both.”

“I’m surprised she waited until the afternoon, and I’m willing to bet the whole family is there,” Anthony said and paused. “Would she disown me, do you think?”

“Anthony, she’s your mother.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“You will be alright I’m sure,” you said. “But I—I don’t like lying to her, she’s been so nice to me.”

“Would you stop Eloise if she attacked me?”

“I would try,” you deadpanned. “I doubt I’d be successful though.”

Anthony nodded slowly. “Well, I’ve had a good life.”

“Anthony!”

“It’s a good thing I rewrote my will when we got married; you get everything Ben doesn’t get by the way, just don’t forget me when I’m gone.”

“I don’t like you joking about that!” you protested. “Besides, if you honestly think—”

“My lady, your coat was delivered yesterday—” Lucie’s voice reached you and she stepped inside before she stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes falling on you and Anthony in your room.

God damn it.

Thankfully you weren’t even touching each other or doing anything that would make her think you were in better terms, but you still had to come up with an excuse to be in the same room, seeing that you had been pretending to dislike each other’s presence lately. Anthony was the first to get over the surprise and he frowned.

“As I’ve said, this is completely unacceptable,” he said, as if Lucie’s presence hadn’t even bothered him and even you could tell he had no idea what exactly was unacceptable. You strained your mind and turned to Lucie, trying to earn some time.

“Thank you Lucie,” you said as the thought hit you and you turned back to Anthony. “Do forgive me my lord, but I cannot understand how our expenses for our upcoming ball are so unacceptable.”

Anthony’s head shot up and he suppressed a small smile before he frowned.

“You’ve just changed everything in the ballroom for our engagement ball, now you want to change them again?”

“Not everything, but for it to fit the theme, certain stage setting and scenery alterations are required,” you shot back. “Surely you want the ton to be impressed?”

“I couldn’t care less about what the ton thinks,” he said. “Or whether they will like pearl or porcelain invitation envelopes more.”

Oh he was doing it on purpose, teasing you right in front of Lucie when he knew you couldn’t laugh.

“Only a blind person couldn’t see the difference between pearl and porcelain invitation envelopes,” you said. “One of them is light white, the other one is dark white.”

He held your gaze in his and shook his head, feigning annoyance as he bit inside his cheek to keep himself from laughing.

“Are you coming with me then?” he asked. “My mother invited both of us.”

“Of course, if you’ll be as kind to leave me to get ready, my lord.”

Anthony bowed his head and stormed out of the room, and Lucie shifted her weight.

“…Your coat was delivered yesterday,” she squeaked out and you shot her a tiny smile.

“That’s wonderful, I’ll wear that tonight.”

“Are you going outside?”

“To Number Five, Lady Bridgerton invited us for tea,” you said. “Could you pick me a dress please?”

“Of course,” she said and walked to your wardrobe to pull out a pale blue dress. “How about this?”

“Perfect.”

Lady Bridgerton’s new house Number Five was such a lovely place that when you first visited there, you had almost forgotten it wasn’t always the family’s house. Bridgertons had a way of making every house feel like a home, and Number Five was no exception. The familiar chaos, warmth and happiness would always surround you and you would always welcome it, but when you and Anthony arrived there, you had a feeling that for the first time, it would be quite tense.

Simon, Benedict and Colin had all but dragged Anthony to the yard as soon as you stepped out of the carriage while you had gone upstairs to join Lady Bridgerton, Daphne and Eloise in the drawing room.

Needless to say, guilt was eating you alive. There was the family, all worried about you and your marriage, and both you and Anthony had to trick them so that it would be believable to the rest of the ton. Even your father knowing about the plan was the exception, a mere whisper could ruin this whole pretense and make Frederick pull away before you got the chance to get the proof of his misdeeds.

“Daphne, Simon said you didn’t feel good when you traveled by carriage the other day,” you said, eyeing her swollen belly and she tilted her head to shoot you a look.

“I’ll be fine,” she said with a wave of her hand, “Augie makes me run after him as fast as a carriage anyway.”

“Y/N,” Lady Bridgerton said, reaching out to squeeze at your hand in a comforting manner. “I’ve read Whistledown just like the rest of the ton this morning and…”

Oh dear God, you really didn’t want to upset any of them.

“It is idle gossip, is it not?” Lady Bridgerton said. “I mean I know you two have been having certain disagreements since that snake Woodhall came back to the city but surely it’s because of that only?”

You pursed your lips, trying to find a way to assure them while not giving anything away. You had to make them believe your marriage was going bad, at least until it was time for Frederick to be taken away but it didn’t mean it was easy on your conscience.

You stole a look at Eloise who was watching you with her arms crossed, a sullen expression on her face before you turned to Lady Bridgerton.

“We um…” you said, clearing your throat. “We have been having certain disagreements on all sorts of topics, Lady Bridgerton.”

“Disagreements are absolutely natural within marriage,” Lady Bridgerton said quickly. “Especially when you’re newly married, in a way you’re both getting to know each other. Differences can cause small arguments sometimes.”

“As long as they’re small arguments,” Daphne said. “But Whistledown wrote…”

“You can say it,” you said with a small smile. “The term is not extremely foreign to me Daphne, you know that.”

“Of course you will not get a divorce!” Lady Bridgerton said. “That’s out of question, not to mention—I’ve seen you two together. You’re both completely in love with each other!”

“He did not suggest that, did he?” Daphne insisted and you paused a moment, then shrugged your shoulders. Lady Bridgerton covered her mouth with a gasp, and Daphne pulled back slightly, a look of shock dawning on you.

“No,” Lady Bridgerton said, shaking her head. “No. That will not happen Y/N, you can keep your heart at ease. There is no way that will even be discussed, his father and I raised him better than that, and I will not—” she paused for a moment. “Cassie would never forgive me if I let that happen to you.”

You could feel your throat tightening.

“I had to watch her go through that hell,” Lady Bridgerton said. “All that divorce talk, all those rumors… You’re family now, it’s our job to protect you from all that.”

A small smile pulled at your lips.

“Anthony is your family too, Lady Bridgerton.”

Eloise scoffed, tapping her foot as if she was trying her hardest to sit still on the couch.

“Let’s not pretend Anthony would not walk away unharmed if that were to take place,” she spat. “It’s not a fair fight, you know it better than everyone else in this room.”

“I can’t even understand how it—” Daphne paused before she exchanged glances with Lady Bridgerton, then she turned to Eloise.

“Eloise, would you excuse us?”

“No,” Eloise said, making Lady Bridgerton heave a sigh.

“Eloise my dear…”

“I’m not leaving mama. She was my friend even before she married Anthony.”

Daphne cleared her throat and sat up straight.

“I hate to ask this, I really do,” she said. “But is it…is it in any way related to what happened at the opera?”

There.

That was the very reason why you sometimes still had nightmares. That doubt was still in some corner of your mind, and even though you knew that Anthony would never do that to you, even though you trusted him, it didn’t make that small voice in your head stop.

Anthony did have a point when you two talked about it before you got married. It wasn’t going to happen overnight, and you were beginning to think it would take you some time to actually remember the opera without feeling like all the air in the room had disappeared.

But apparently, that wasn’t going to be today.

You could feel your heartbeat getting faster and you shook your head before you jumped on your feet.

“I’m sorry, I think I need some fresh air,” you said and walked out of the room in a haste, then made your way downstairs to step outside to the backyard. You could hear Eloise rushing after you and she caught up with you as you sat down on a bench, keeping your eyes on the beautiful flowers that was blooming among the green. She sat down beside you, uncharacteristically quiet but you were way too lost in your thoughts.

Of course these doubts were nonsense. What happened at the opera would never happen again, Anthony had promised you, he was in love with you and you knew that. Even if you deep down feared you and Anthony would end up like your parents, all this fighting was a pretense, you just needed to remember that.

“You’re awfully quiet today,” you said after a minute, turning to look at Eloise and she rolled her eyes, crossing her arms.

“I’m just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About…” she trailed off. “You and Anthony have been married for a month, give or take. If the wedding wasn’t so rushed, you would be getting married around this time.”

Oh.

That was true actually. You had wanted around seven weeks of preparing, Anthony had wanted much less than that so you two had decided on three and a half weeks and you had to admit, this plan to take Frederick down wouldn’t have worked at all if you were still betrothed.

“I suppose you’re right.”

A silence fell upon you and she licked her lips, then sat up straighter.

“Y/N,” she said. “What would happen if you two got a divorce?”

You paused for a moment, even the idea of being away from him, being heartbroken by him was heavy on your heart, as unreal as this whole thing was. You couldn’t even bring yourself to dwell too much on it, so you took a deep breath and shrugged your shoulders.

“You’re not going to try to console me then?” you tried to joke. “We’re thinking of the worst case scenario?”

“It’s not the worst case scenario,” Eloise said. “I think the worst case scenario would be you being in a marriage you do not want. So what would happen, really?”

“If I got a divorce?”

“Yes.”

You clicked your tongue.

“I would…hypothetically speaking, I would be in a better situation than my mother was,” you admitted. “Which I suppose is the point. She always said she wanted me to have a much better life than her, and considering my marriage settlement, and my father and my brother…”

“Your own money, your own house?”

“All of that yes,” you said. “Scandal aside of course. The ton would never stop talking about it until I’m dead and perhaps afterwards; just like what they’ve been doing with my mother.”

“Would you stay?” she asked. “Or would you go back to France?”

“I don’t know,” you muttered. “I really don’t. I used to think I’d go back to France to get away from everything in here, the ton, the whispers, the scandal, all of it. But now I have—I have people here, you know?”

She offered you a small smile.

“I meant what I said,” she said. “He is my brother yes, but you’re my friend. I think you should do whatever will make you happy, even if it’s divorce. Your mother went through all that so that you could have the ability to choose for yourself, I think she’d want you to be happy. Married or not.”

You really wanted to assure her that you were happy but you had to keep your mouth shut so you bit inside your cheek and smiled at her back, pulling her into a hug.

“Eloise Bridgerton has a heart,” you teased her as you pulled back. “Who could’ve known?”

“Mm, don’t tell anyone.”

“My lips are sealed,” you said with a small giggle but before she could retort, Benedict approached you and cleared his throat.

“Eloise,” he said. “Y/N.”

“Hello Benedict.”

“I thought you were with Anthony?”

“Mother wanted to talk to him,” Benedict answered Eloise. “Do you not want to join that to give him a piece of your mind?”

Eloise hummed. “That’s a good idea actually,” she said and turned to you. “Will you be alright?”

“Absolutely,” you said and she stood up from the bench, then made her way to the house. Benedict motioned at the spot beside you.

“May I?”

“Of course,” you said and he sat beside you with a sigh, then leaned back on the bench with his arms crossed, making himself comfortable.

“I sure hope you two know what you’re doing.”

You pulled your brows together. “Hm?”

“This whole act. I hope you actually have a plan.”

Your head shot up, your heartbeat getting faster and he gave you a soft smile.

“Oh come on now,” he said. “He’s my brother, I grew up with him. I do admit you are doing a good job in making people believe this…whatever this is, and so is he, but it’s quite easy to tell when one actually pays attention.”

“I have no idea what you speak of.”

He heaved a sigh.

“Right, so I am to believe that my brother, who’s utterly in love with you woke up one day and decided to pick fights with you, even to the point of mentioning divorce?” he asked, biting back a smile. “Simon and Colin have been so busy trying to talk sense into him that they miss it, but his eyes almost shine whenever someone so much as mentions your name.”

You stared at him, “Benedict…”

“I mean yes, he and Elias are on terrible terms for the whole ton to see, and you two are having fights all the time, ignoring each other in public, feeding even more rumors but you know what’s so interesting? I’ve heard you when you’re angry before, when you were yelling at Elias, even Anthony that one time we saw you leaving the study. And the other day, when I came to your house to get Anthony you two were arguing quite loudly, and the whole staff heard but…” he said. “Your accent didn’t shift. It does when you’re angry, but even while you were yelling, it didn’t this time.”

Oh God damn it.

Anthony was right. Benedict was a great artist, and one of the keys to that was him being such a good observer.

You swallowed thickly, keeping your eyes on him.

“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything to anyone,” he said. “I’m glad you are still in love as ever, but you better know what you’re doing, because both of you are playing with fire.”

You bit inside your cheek and he stood up, but as soon as he took a step, you cleared your throat.

“Ben?”

He turned around to look at you better. “Yes?”

You paused only for a moment before you looked him dead in the eye. “Not one word.”

A small, almost mischievous smile curled his lips and he bowed his head slightly.

“As you wish, Viscountess Bridgerton,” he teased you before walking away from you to the house and you heaved a sigh, then threw your head back.

“Wonderful,” you murmured. “The accent. Noted.”

In all honesty you did not want to attend this ball, not really. You knew you had to be really convincing especially since the whole ton would be watching your smallest move, and so far it was exactly what they had done. You and Anthony had walked away from each other the moment you stepped into the ballroom, and ever since then, both of you were under every guest’s hawk-like glances.

No matter how much you tried, it was nearly impossible to miss all those whispers and glares. You had danced with Hugh and then Kenneth, and though Cece and Elias didn’t leave you alone not even once, you could almost feel everyone’s eyes burning a hole on your head.

Not to mention, you missed being close to Anthony already. He was with some other gentlemen in the business room and you desperately wished you could at least talk to him but you knew it was impossible which put you in quite the sour mood. In order to get your mind off the urge to go to him, you made your way to the refreshments table and grabbed yourself a glass of lemonade, then turned to watch the couples dancing.

“It didn’t take long, did it?”

Your grip around the glass tightened but you refused to look at her.

“Miriam.”

“Y/N,” she greeted you back as she stepped to stand beside you, pretending to watch the dancing couples as well. “I just came to see whether you’re doing well.”

“Mm, I’m sure.”

“Is it true then?” she asked. “Does he want to divorce you?”

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your drink and she clicked her tongue.

“Wow,” she said. “I mean it was obvious to everyone but you that he’d find another, but for him to want to divorce you?”

You gritted your teeth and caught the sight of Cece and Elias dancing, seeming to be having a lot of fun.

“You must’ve not satisfied him at all,” Miriam’s voice was almost silky. “I cannot imagine the disappointment he felt. All that effort for this?”

A bitter taste appeared at the back of your throat as you swallowed thickly, commanding yourself to keep your expression calm.

It was all a pretense. You two were happy and in love, and Miriam could think whatever she wanted, she was wrong.

“Well I’d better go back to my husband,” Miriam said with a small smile. “Enjoy your night Y/N.”

With that, she walked away from you and you bit on your tongue hard enough to hurt, taking a huge sip of your drink. You were almost restless and you desperately wanted to walk away and just go home, but you were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard your name being said, and you turned your head.

“Lady Danbury,” you dropped a curtsy. “Good evening.”

“Y/N,” she said, a solemn look on her face. “A word?”

“Of course,” you said and followed her out of the ballroom to the balcony. The fresh air that hit your face helped a little with the burning and you closed your eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply before you opened your eyes again.

“I will not beat around the bush,” she said. “I’ve read Whistledown today. Please tell me this silly fight of yours did not reach the point of you two making a terrible mistake?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You really didn’t want to lie to Lady Danbury, you respected her a lot and especially after everything she had done for you and Anthony, you were going to be in her debt forever. She was one of the very few people who had shown you love even before your father had claimed you as his daughter, and though you wanted to assure her, you knew you couldn’t.

“Things between Lord Bridgerton and I are quite complicated I’m afraid, Lady Danbury.”

She stared at you, then ran a hand over her face.

“Are you serious?” she asked. “Have you two—has he gone insane?”

You shook your head. “No.”

“You are in love with each other,” Lady Danbury said. “And to even think—unbelievable. Have you talked to Violet?”

You nodded. “Yes Lady Danbury. Today.”

“Has he?”

“I think so, yes.”

She heaved a sigh, pursing her lips. “Where is that husband of yours?”

“He’s with other gentlemen in the business room,” you said. “I heard Lord Rolleston invite him there with some other friends of theirs.”

“I will talk to you after I talk to him to understand what on earth is happening,” she told you and walked away from you back to the ballroom. Even though you knew you were supposed to go back, you couldn’t help but linger, the cool air almost soothing the discomfort you felt inside.

It was overwhelming, all of this. You knew you were supposed to be used to this, the ton hadn’t really bothered hiding their rumors when you first arrived in London either but now it was as if everything was much more…

Intense. And on edge.

You heard the door open and close, but you didn’t even turn around, thinking that it was another guest that wanted to get some fresh air, but as soon as you heard the voice, your blood ran cold.

“Hello, Viscountess.”

Your jaw clenched and you looked over your shoulder, then turned around.

“Lord Woodhall,” you said. “Are you attending yet another ball you’re not invited to?”

Frederick clasped his hands behind him in a fake gentlemanly manner before taking a step closer to you.

“I was in fact invited to this one,” he said. “Though I must admit, I was under the impression that you wouldn’t be in the mood to attend any balls, considering what’s being said about you and your husband.”

This was good.

This was a really good sign.

You narrowed your eyes. “I’m sure I have no idea what you speak of.”

He tilted his head to shoot you a nearly reprimanding glare.

“Oh come on now Y/N,” he said. “Everyone talks about it, no need to play the fool.”

“Yet here you are, playing it.”

“You know, I’ve had the chance to talk to your husband in these last couple of days,” he said, as if trying to see how you would react and you pulled back slightly, making sure to adapt a look of intimidation on your face before you raised your chin and threw your shoulders back, glaring back at him.

You knew.

Of course you knew, Anthony had made sure to tell you everything about it. All he had to do was to whine about you –he was nearly apologetic when he mentioned that to you— and your marriage, and Frederick had more or less jumped on the opportunity to give him some ��advice’, which had apparently led to a very long conversation between them.

Anthony was almost too tense when he got home, and after everyone had gone to bed and he had sneaked into your room, it had taken him almost an hour to calm down, holding you in his arms, his nose buried into your hair.

“I want to kill him,” he had whispered. “For talking about you that way, disrespecting you that way.”

“Ah,” Frederick said, a small smirk playing on his lips. “He forgot to mention that I see.”

You let out a breath, feigning anger as you clenched your hands.

“Stay away from me,” you said. “My husband, and my marriage.”

“Oh I’m not doing anything really,” he said, his smirk growing bigger. “Other than…showing him some solutions for his troubles.”

“And what are those troubles?” you asked back. “Me?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows?”

“What are you trying to do?” you asked and he scoffed a small laugh.

“Oh don’t worry Y/N,” he said. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

Hook, line and sinker.

Well, as it turned out, you and Anthony had been very convincing.

Even though you wanted to smile, you took a shaky breath and blinked a couple of times as if you were trying to stop the tears on their way and he stared at you for a moment, then shook your head.

“Dear God, you really look like her,” he muttered before he pulled himself together. “Do give my best to your father, will you? Have a good night, Y/N.”

He walked away from you to the ballroom and you stood there in the balcony for a moment, trying to make sure nothing you felt could be seen on your face.

Cece’s plan was working exactly the way you wanted it to.

You bit down on your lip, then made your way back to the ballroom, the chatter greeting you immediately. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Frederick approaching Anthony who had apparently came back to the ballroom with his friends before he muttered something into his ear. Anthony nodded and Frederick clasped at Anthony’s shoulder almost in a friendly manner before he walked out of the ballroom.

“Hey,” Elias touched your arm. “Where were you?”

“The balcony,” you said as Anthony’s eyes searched through the crowd before they fell on you, obviously not paying attention to anything his friend was saying.

“And?”

“He talked to me.”

Elias heaved a sigh before he dropped his voice to a whisper. “I still don’t like this plan.”

Anthony held your gaze in his for a moment before he twisted his ring around his finger and you tried your hardest to stop the smile threatening to warm your lips before you reached up to tug at your necklace, playing with it almost absentmindedly but both of you knew what the other meant.

I love you.

“I mean honestly Chérie, are you sure you’re alright?”

You blinked a couple of times, then forced yourself to drag your gaze from Anthony before you looked up at Elias.

“Elias,” you said, your voice barely audible to you let alone anyone else. “It’s working.”

Elias raised his brows. “Wait, really?”

You nodded, biting back a smile and Elias cleared his throat.

“Remember, we’re both sad and angry,” he reminded you and you nodded.

“Yes,” you said. “Of course. Sad and angry.”

“That being said,” he said, holding out his hand. “One can dance when they’re sad and angry, no?”

“Mm hm, I suppose.”

“A dance, then?”

You smiled softly and took his hand, stealing one last look at Anthony before turning to Elias.

“I’d love to,” you said. “Let’s dance.”

Chapter 46

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #regency fic

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cdragons · 6 months

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Procesión de la Muerte (Procession of the Dead) - Druig x Hecate!Eternal Reader Halloween Oneshot

Pairings: Druig x Hecate!Eternal Reader, Druig x Kaetlyn Word Count: over 4.0k Summary: How a wife's love for her emo-pacifist mind-controller husband accidentally created a centuries old legend of the Amazon Rainforest, ended up bringing to light one of the most sacred and honored celebrated traditions in South and Central America. Warning(s): Words that are bold and italisized indicate spoken in another language bc I can't speak nor write Spanish & don't want to offend anyone by using Google Translate, Angst, mention of death & genocide & war (fun stuff y'all), mentions of depression and PTSD, slight mention of blood, necromancy practices, probably really inaccurate descriptions of magic and magical practices, Kaet is seriously so gone for Druig (i fucking love these two dorks), Cerberus is the goodest boi,

Notes: Yes, I know that Halloween has technically passed, but I had midterms and projects during the time so I'm using the rest of the season as a Free Fall fics pass until December. So this oneshot was beta read by the ever-so lovely @ethereal-athalia, who has so graciously sacrificed herself agreed to beta read all of my fics for the upcoming future while my usual beta reader @valeskafics, is currently really busy with law school until the foreseeable future! Even so, please go visit her blog because she is one of the best writers on Tumblr, especially if you are a fan of Ewan Mitchell, and the HOTD/GOT universe! If you have read any of my past works, you know that my girl @ethereal-athalia is pretty much the co-parent of this Eternals AU idea, and I absolutely love sharing ideas with her, and making connections to make these fics more interesting. Anyway, please be kind and enjoy!

There was an energy that encompassed the autumnal season’s high holiday that made its ancient magic so enchanting and powerful. It was a time known across practitioners of the mystic arts of any field that autumn was a season known more than for its abundance and harvest. It was a time of transformation, of when summer’s green fertility gave way to winter’s bleak barrenness. It was when the veil between the physical and spiritual planes was at its thinnest. A time in which both magic practitioners and mundane were able to catch the slightest glimpse to the other side. This was the time where magic was at its peak, and it was all because of you- his love; his wife; his angel of shadow & death who was also his harbinger of light & life.

Although the environment of his home rarely changes throughout the year, Druig still felt the unmistakable chills that danced on his bare skin that came with transition from summer to autumn, and from there approached winter’s foreshadowing. Despite the abandonment of summer’s warmth, the mind-controller Eternal was often teased by you for being considered an avid enthusiast for the unforgiving seasons by the standards of their family. However, it was Samhain that made your husband greet the year’s end with such glee. Furthermore, it was a day that would forever be etched into the bareness of his being by the testaments of your love and devotion towards him. Each act from you followed from an event that harrowed him.

But the only way to best understand was by starting at the beginning.

It was no secret that you worked best at night with the only witnesses to your work being the moon and stars. Although you adored the bustling livelihood that thrived in the village you and your husband created, there was something about the darkness and solitude of the night that made Kaetlyn feel more connected to her magic than the garish light of day could ever dream to accomplish. It was common for Kaetlyn would burn the midnight oil conducting experiments and immerse herself in research to secrets that still remained a mystery to her – even after 7000 years of existence.

Meanwhile, Druig would fall into a deep state that vaguely resembled a still corpse if it were not for the subtle rising and falling of his chest in tandem with his breathing. When the lily-pale mind-controller fell asleep, there was little that could get him up from his slumber. Too many times Ajak had lectured him for how late he would sleep into the day – not to mention the staggering occurrences in which he would accidentally sleep through a natural catastrophe. It became commonplace for their former leader to ask his lover to awaken him in the most compromising acts. It was inconvenient, but it got the job done.

But since the couple separated from their family as a result of witnessing the fall and horrific genocide of the once glorious Aztec civilization centered around Tenochtitlan from the Spanish Conquistadors, there would be nights where Druig would be unable to fall asleep. It did not matter what he would do in attempt to tire him, his memory of fire and screams plagued his mind in an endless cycle of misery and devastation. It did not matter that he prevented further bloodshed by taking over the minds of the humans; it mattered even less when he and his angel led the horde of mortals south from the ruins to the land that they now call home. Sleep always evaded the somber Eternal, and whatever sleep he managed to get would be afflicted by memories turned nightmares of the horrors he had been forced to witness as a bystander to humanity’s cruelty by orders of their former leader.

The sight of your dearest in such agony tore your heart in the most brutal manner. Although you had also been long tormented by watching 7000 years of destruction, your heart had been hardened as a consequence to the multitude of deaths that you had to personally oversaw as a physician and a fighter. While you still carried hope for mankind, most of the naïve idealist dreams expired with time. However, this was not the case for Druig. You knew more than anyone that the strength of your lover’s will was overshadowed by the tenderness in his heart for those weaker than him and his family. It was that persisting quality of the beautiful mind-controller that drew the impulsive shadow wielder into his orbit, and eventually what caused such enduring steadfastness from your part.

It was not without tremendous effort from his wife’s part to get the immortal insomniac to get some rest. But all of your efforts were wasted on her part. Every night you would lead Druig to your shared bed, and whisper sweet words of comfort, as well as voicing your desperate pleas for him to finally rest. You would carefully stroke the firm lines of his frame with the tender touch of her fingertips, quickly finding areas of taut muscle to knead away any knots with your skillful hands. You had created countless versions of sleeping draughts that would calm his mind, and thousands of potions that would prevent him from dreams. But memories held more power than dreams, and so all of your efforts were met with the continued grief of your beloved.

Not being able to bear the sight of Druig’s turmoil, you decided to take further action. With your talents in the arcane, you designed a complex ritual that could only be completed at a grand scale- one that would take over an entire continent. It involved a form of magic that took up so much power and energy, it was only to be used as a last resort in any form of situation- necromancy. A magic that was only possible in theory, its crudest form was born before the outermost Walls of Babylon had yet to be constructed. You were approached by a shaman that was outcasted by her tribe when her husband discovered that she had been sacrificing their livestock to Ereshikigal, the Mesopotamian Queen of the Dead that ruled the Underworld. The woman had thought the Eternal to be the goddess herself, and begged you to allow the woman to see her late son that died in a raid.

Replying with only that her son was in peace in the higher dome in the heavens, you advised the shaman to return to her husband and perform a cleansing ritual to purify their home from the anger of the murdered animals. However, the shaman only pressed further, blurting out that the spirit of her son had been calling out to her in dreams. She revealed that she would stop until her son was at peace in the arms of Anu in An. Against you better judgement, you allowed yourself to be swayed by the mother’s grief, telling her that she would try her best to guide her son to the heavens so that he may rest in peace, but there would be no guarantee of success. After the woman gave her thanks by kneeling to the ground in a deep bow, you set off to work.

The Eternal spent months scouring over texts that theorized the use of magic manifestation, and detailed dreams of the dead rising. You recruited Makkari to search for more artifacts and texts in efforts to make the poor woman’s request a reality, a favor the silent speedster was more than happy to fulfill. It was only when winter was soon to be upon them that you were able to summon enough energy to prepare the ritual. Tracing a circle into the earth to serve as a temporary portal to the spiritual realm, the Eternal carved in the symbols that would allow you to put greater focus into directing the energy in the circle to attract the spirit’s energies before trapping it within its boundaries. From there, you would use the symbols that you painted on your skin to allow the magic around you to deconstruct the spirit’s current form into unbound electromagnetic particles, before reconstructing the matter into a more visible form. This flow of energy and change in the state of matter could only be achieved by physically placing your hands in the center of the circle. Using a mixture of your blood and the mother’s as a medium for the spirit to bind to so that there would not be such a large gap in the energy needed to activate the spell, it was finally complete.

It should have not have come as a surprise to her when she lost consciousness towards the end of the ritual. The raw power that connected her body to the earth felt as if liquid fire was coursing through her veins. The painted symbols became carvings as they dug into her body with searing pain as blood poured from the wounds. And though her body collapsed and she was too exhausted to keep her eyes open, Kaet knew that she was successful. As she laid on the ground, two words belonged to a young man’s voice echoed in her ear.

“Thank you.”

And from a budding magical practitioner’s too soft heart, came forth the rawest and crudest form of one of the most innately unstable and powerful fields of magic- necromancy.

From that day, the symbols took permanent residence on your skin, along with the ability to see the dead that were tied to the physical world, unable to move on for whatever reason. And although you adored your newfound power, Druig made you promise to never commit such acts on your own ever again. The ancient witch was met with screams of panic from Sersi when she and Sephia ventured out in search for you after seeing that you had not been in your room that morning. The site of you lying in a pool of your own blood with unfamiliar symbols etched into your skin was haunting to say the least.

The risk of your husband staring at you with glaring disappointment and furious worry was one worth taking if it meant that he could finally allow himself to rest. It took years of careful preparation; painfully precise attention to detail and timing; and endless travels across the globe to scour for masters in various fields of magic that specialized in divination, transformation, and theology. After nearly 10 years, when the veils between the two worlds finally overlapped for magic to reach its peak- along with the aid provided by the appearance in the hare moon’s rarity (when the earth was in perfect alignment with the Sun and Moon)- you knew that there was no time better than now.

That night, you sent out your shadows to search for any souls from the same genocide that haunted her beloved, and if they were in a state of unrest. You handed the village’s Head Weaver a small leather bag filled with ebony wood beads strung together and red string. While you hated to keep secrets from Druig, you knew that he would be able to sense the shift in the energies that surrounded them if you were successful. When the preparations were finally completed and your oldest shadow informed you of the location of the ritual, you left the bracelet that the Weaver finished – enchanted with spell that would be activated the same time of the ritual – on your pillow of their bed as you laid a tender kiss on his brow before setting off with only Cerberus by your side.

When Druig rose from his slumber – still wrought with gunpowder and fire – he instinctually reached for his wife, only for his fingers to feel a smooth, rounded texture. Opening his eyes, he noticed that your pillow was cold, but showed signs being slept in from the previous night. While such a sight would cause a much more panicked reaction from the man, he was comforted by the small note that laid carefully next to his gift. Picking up the parchment, a sense of calm washed over Druig as he took in the notes of jasmine and myrrh that come from your natural parfum.

Contents of Letter Below it:

My dearest Beloved,

I am sure that my absence from our bed must have been a rather awful shock to you. Please know that I am more than well, and have only been informed of unusual occurrences full of malicious whispers and daunting sights. And as much as I adore our home and your company, you know more than anyone of how my curiosity cannot be satisfied with only rumors and tales. No, I decided that it would be best to see it with my very own eyes. And although it would bring me nothing but joy to have you by my side, I could not bear wake you from your slumber. Rest suits my love, and it has been decades since you have slept so fitfully. Your dreams have been a constant source of your misery, and I do believe that this area may hold some promise to show me of how to ease your mind.

Rest assured my darling that I have travelled alone in my endeavors, I would never be so careless as to travel so far from you without the company of our sweet boy. Do not dare tell another soul of this, but I believe that the trek will do our boy some good. He has grown very lazy as a result of your spoiling. Yes, your spoiling, Druig- all coddling of Cerbie has been solely enacted by you, and none whatsoever committed by me. Do not dare attempt to argue this matter with me, for I would deny it till my final breath (and you know how stubborn I can be).

What did you think of my gift? During one of my many wanderings in the woods surrounding our home, I spied a dying tree with jet-black lumber. It stood in solitude from its thicket, but that only made its splendor even more enchanting, so much so that it reminded me of you. I used one of its branches to make some wooden beads, and asked for some leather to bind them. Please make sure that you wear them at all times, as they’ll reveal a little secret that will be revealed to you on the night of the full moon that will be arriving soon.

All of my love for you and your heart,

Kaetlyn

Despite the overall lack of sleep over the years, all of Druig’s anxiety seemed to wash away at your thoughtfulness. The bracelet was very elegant in its simplicity, but he could tell that it was made to last for lifetimes. Placing it on his wrist, a blanket of subtle warmth washed over him as he admired the little symbols carved into the wood. Tracing his finger over the design, he certified them to match that were etched into his angel’s lovely form. He would recognize the markings anywhere; it would be shameful if he didn’t after spending hours tracing their outline with his tongue. The knowledge that the full moon’s rising would begin tomorrow, and last for around 2-3 days. Relieved that he would not be without the company of his love for very long, Druig prepared himself for another day in protecting the compound and the humans that reside within its boundaries.

After you managed to track down the location of the largest gathering of souls, you set off preparations for the ritual immediately. A ceremony of this magnitude would shift the energies between the two worlds for the rest of eternity, so it was imperative that there would be no mistakes. Sephia already had instructions of ensuring that pathways that followed the ley lines in her journey would remain clear of any natural obstacles. It seemed too perfect that the fall of such a grand civilization that met its end with war and genocide would be at the center of such innate hidden supernatural energy. Tracing the circle around the entire city, you sat at the top of the very same temple where she and Druig had last seen the others. As the time of the moon’s rising grew shorter, you could feel the power felt only like a whisper gradually grow into a rumbling growl. You could hear the spirits that surrounded her being pulled toward inside the circle.

Wrath

Grief

Betrayal

Woe

Pain- so much pain

But they would all be at peace in the end.

Before long, twilight passed and dusk had come and the stars glittered in the endless expanse of the darkness. But all had paled in comparison to the illustrious light of the moon. Every month during the full moon, you and your husband would spend the nights locked in each other’s embrace, frozen in their admiration of its ivory glow and taking in their heightened emotional energies.

You wondered it was natural to feel so much pleasure from the power that came from being bathed in the blood red rays that came from the rare eclipse. Cerberus watched in silent obedience, not daring to move in fear of disrupting his mother’s spell, and thus ruining all of her work.

As the moon’s shadow hit the circle, the outermost boundary began to glow. As the celestial body inched across the sky, the faint howls echoed until it ascended into a deafening roar. When the moon reached it apex – directly in the center of the circle – the symbols engraved to her skin glowed while the ground beneath her feet rumbled and sang as her body collapsed from the overwhelming pressure. You could faintly hear your beloved hound’s frantic barking in the distance, trying to scare away all and any threat that came to his mother and savior. But soon they lessened into panicked whimpers at the sight of the millions of forms that were appearing before his very eyes.

In a village far away, a certain brunette’s enchanted bracelet’s beads with identical scores began to hum and glow against the lily-petal pallor on his wrist.

Before the power could tear you apart, the moon passed the circle’s boundaries, and it borders and symbols no longer sang and glowed. And when you lifted yourself with as much strength she had, you couldn’t stop the smile that took over her your as tears streamed from your eyes from the overwhelming joy that flooded your heart.

“I’m sorry for the pain you’ve had to endure for so long, but I’m happy to tell you that it will not be for much longer.”

While normally Druig wouldn’t need to be so intensely involved in matters of the village, it allowed his mind distracted him from missing his wife enough to just through the day. In any case, the earthquake from last night frightened the residents of the compound with how close they were to winter. The days were getting shorter, and this meant that they needed to prepare for the harshness that would come for their crops, their families, and eventually their way of life. Multiple people came up to Druig to ask if last night’s earthquake was a sign of larger disaster brought by the gods. While he did his best to placate their concerns, the patience he had was wearing thin. Luckily Sephia managed to intercept their line of questioning before he would lose his temper, and he was able to take a short rest.

It wasn’t until he heard a familiar barking in the distance that immediately caught his attention. Dashing out the hut he shared with you, he saw Cerberus sitting on his hind legs as his little tail wagged in glee and the little taps echoed in his ears.

“Cerberus,” he exclaimed in joy as he gathered the black Doberman in his arms, “where have you been? Where’s your mum?”

At the mention of his Mum, Cerberus immediately began tugging on his Da’s dark blue robe. While it wasn’t enough to cause any tear or inspire any panic, it did tell the man enough information to know that something or someone was coming- and it would be best that Druig gave his entire attention over it. Following his wife’s hound over to commune’s outermost edge, he was only met with the familiar chirps and song of the forest. A few minutes passed by and Cerberus remained still, as if he were just waiting for something great.

Suddenly, the fine hairs across Druig’s body stood up straight as an overwhelming presence of otherworldly beings began to approach close to where he and Cerberus stood. Sensing that they were no longer alone, the hound starting howling to the moon that hung above them. Running toward the strange energy, Druig watched in awed rapture at the figure that stood front center with familiar designs that glowed gold down their arms, leading the army of apparitions with a singular torch. Recognizing the haunting designs, Druig was engulfed in frozen wonder at the army that you managed to summon, and the control and strain your body had to endure to stage such a feat.

When the two ancient lovers reached one another, with only pockets of space between their bodies, Druig launched himself to embrace his angel. Gladly reciprocating the act, you made sure that the torch you were holding remained in the air as you let yourself be enveloped in the security of your husband’s arms while taking in the sweet smell of his sweat.

“I should have known that little rumble was from you,” he whispered while laying small and frequent kisses across her neck, “nothin’ you do can ever be done halfway, can it?”

“Never,” she whispered back, “are you ready for my surprise?”

You stepped aside so that her husband could truly understood what you had done. Although Druig was initially upset by the loss of warmth that came from you leaving his embrace, he stopped and stared at the sight ahead of him.

Hundreds of thousands of specters that held a pearly blue glow that went as far out as his eyes could take him. But instead of fear, Druig felt…warm, and strangely…at peace. Taking a step closer, he slowly reached out his hand as a way to ask for permission. The nearest spirit was that of a child, going no higher than his knee, eagerly taking his hand before a wide smile overtook his face.

“Hello Mister Druig, it has been so long.”

Eyes wide in shock, Druig turned his head to stare at his wife in disbelief.

It couldn’t be…it shouldn’t be possible. Then again, you always took the label “impossible” as just a simple label.

As Druig turned back to stare at vision before him, familiar faces that he thought were forever gone flooded his sight.

Before him were all the souls that were lost so young at the fall of Tenochtitlan over 10 years ago.

You did this…you brought them all back. As his body failed to support him in shock, all Druig could do was openly weep in joy at the knowledge that his love- his wonderful, incredible, truly magnificent marvel of a woman- risked everything so that these people could have just the slightest chance of closure and peace.

Taking your husband’s frame in your arms, you softly turned him until he could face you.

“Do you think there might be some space in our home for our guests, my dearest?” You asked with bright eyes and youthful mirth as you knew full-well his answer.

Druig could only let out a wet laugh – his tears hadn’t stopped, but he never felt so at peace and happy for so long.

“Kaet my darling,” he started, “nothing would give me more pleasure.”

500 Years Later

‘The Procession of the Dead had been a tale that has been passed down by the many indigenous tribes located in the Amazonian Rainforest for over twenty generations. They say that the first procession began as an act of mercy from Mictecacihuatl, who was known as the “lady of the dead.” Legends state that it was Mictecacihuatl who summoned the spirits of tormented souls, and led them on a journey across the Amazon rainforest so that the souls may find fulfillment and peace in order to move on to the afterlife. The earliest record of the procession stated that the procession began with a ritual of a cursed city, followed by a powerful earthquake. But it was granted by the Guardians of the Forest, as the trees and rocks cleared the path in order to make the journey easier for the merciful goddess. Although there have been multiple cases of alleged sightings of the legend even now, many of the tribes that still reside in the forest celebrate October 31st as the day where the dead would find peace in the physical world, before finally finding peace in their next life. It is for that reason that multiple towns in countries of South America will build a straw monument of Mictecacihuatl holding a burning torch, so that the spirits of the lost was make the journey for peace.’

A small boy with large aquamarine eyes and patiently sat in front of a large easel in his art room, gleefully listening to his favorite educational podcast. He loved to listen to the origins of how his birthday started out, even if he wasn’t there when it started.

“Hamish,” he heard his Da call out, “you wanna get ready so that we can make it to your Tio Phastos’ house in Chicago to meet with everyone! It’s rude for the birthday boy to arrive last!”

Making the finishing touches to the canvas, Hamish silently grabbed his Mimikyu costume from his bedpost before racing down the stairs. He couldn’t wait to show his Mami his painting when they got back tomorrow, she was going to love it!

I hope you enjoyed reading this fic! Please drop a like if you did enjoy it, and also a reblog or comment if you look forward to reading more!

Tagging: @valeskafics, @ethereal-athalia, @aphroditesmoon, @its-actually-minicika, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @asa-do-your-thing, @3vergr3en, @themeanestlittlewitch, @sunphyre, @karimac, @hypnoticmistake, @tacorice, @angelnyx, @heliosphere8, @deanthomaswhore, @vikingqueen28, @getawaycardotmp3, @spacetalbot, @siempre-bucky, @diaryofapillowprincess, @littledoveofchaos, @snowprincesa1, @prettyvintageafternoon

Let me know in the comments if you would like to be tagged!

#marvel eternals #marvel x reader #druig x reader #eternals x reader #druig imagine #divider #druig x oc #druig x eternal!reader #druig x female reader #druig x y/n #druig fanfiction #halloween #halloween is a lifestyle #at least until december #halloween fic #fall fic

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project-shereshoy · 1 year

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Numbers

What's 6 in Mando'a? What about 501st? How do you say "execute order 66"? In this blog post, we'll cover the Mando'a cardinal and ordinal number system, how to make any number from 0-9,999 and other words useful when discussing number and math. Sources are indicated with symbols (^ *) and listed at the bottom.

Numerals

Mando'a uses a base-5 numbering system supplemented with base-10 suffixes. This means 1-5 are unique words along with 0, 10, 100, and 1000. All other numbers are a combination of those words. As it stands, KT Mando’a allows us to count up to 9,999. Here are the counting numbers:

0 - naas^ (literally "nothing") 1 - solus (prefix: sol) 2 - t'ad (prefix: ad) 3 - ehn (prefix: ehn) 4 - cuir (prefix: cur) 5 - rayshe'a (prefix: she) 6 - resol (prefix: rol) 7 - e'tad (prefix: tad) 8 - she'ehn (prefix: shen) 9 - she'cu (prefix: shek)

For the tens place numerals (20, 30, 40, etc), add the “tens” suffix -’eta to the prefixes above above. 0 and 1 do not act as prefixes for counting purposes. 10 is a unique number (ta+raysh aka "two fives").

10 - ta'raysh 20 - ad'eta* 30 - ehn'eta* 40 - cur'eta* 50 - she'eta* 60 - rol'eta* 70 - tad'eta* 80 - shehn'eta* 90 - shek'eta*

For the hundreds place numerals, the principle is the same. Add the “hundreds” suffix -’olan to the original numbers. Like 10, 100 is a unique number.

100 - olan* 200 - ad'olan^ 300 - ehn'olan^ 400 - cur'olan^ 500 - raysh'olan* 600 - rol'olan^ 700 - tad'olan^ 800 - shen'olan^ 900 - shek'olan^

For the thousands place numerals, the pattern continues. The suffix for “thousands” is a conjunction between the suffixes for “ten” and “hundreds”, -’eta’olan. This makes it literally “tens of hundred”. 1000 is an exception to the rule and is instead “ten hundred”.

1000 - ta’raysh’olan* 2000 - ad’eta’olan^ 3000 - ehn’eta’olan^ 4000 - cur’eta’olan^ 5000 - she’eta’olan* 6000 - rol’eta’olan^ 7000 - tad’eta’olan^ 8000 - shen’eta’olan^ 9000 - shek’eta’olan^

More Numbers

To fill the gaps in the above list, simply write out each place with a space between. Eleven (11) is ta'raysh solus*. Two hundred-sixty-three (263) in English is ad’olan rol’eta ehn^ in Mando’a. "Execute order sixty-six" becomes "Ke narir haar’ke’gyce rol’eta resol".

Ordinals

To turn a numeral into an ordinal (1 to 1st or 10 to 10th), add the descriptor suffix -yc. Theoretically this should also work with the suffix -la, but -yc is the one explicitly acknowledged in the KT dictionary. The last (singles) place numeral receives the descriptor suffix. E.g. she’olan sol'yc (501st) or cur’etayc (40th)

Other Useful Words

Soletar, verb, "to count" Sosol ti, phrase, "equal to" Majycir, verb, "to add" Te'habir, verb "to remove or take out" aka subtract

There's no ready answer for "multiply" or "divide", though creative use of tatugir "to repeat" could work in some cases. Fractions might be verbally represented as solus be ta'raysh "1 of 10" or some other prepositional combo that can also represent division. "Mathematics" also doesn't have a dedicated word, but "to calculate" is mirdir.

"But do Mandalorian space-barbarians really need to know math--" Yes. Ballistics. Logistics. Counting pay. Math is everywhere, it is inescapable. Inevitable. Evil Essential.

Sources

Words without source symbols are from officially published works by Karen Traviss, namely the Republic Commando novels. Reference this index to see the book & page number.

Asterik* words are from the lexicon Karen Traviss published digitally, which is hosted as-is on Mandoa.org without alterations (or corrections).

Carat^ words are derivations from the canon words' established patterns. As such, if you want to go with a different interpretation, have fun! These are suggestions and I ain't a cop. We'll answer follow-up questions on how they're derived, but we're not interested in arguing merits of one interpretation over another.

#mando'a #mandoa #conlang #star wars #mandalorians #numbers #counting #fucking MATH can't believe yall brought me outta retirement for MATH #language #linguistics #the mandalorian #legends canon #extended universe canon

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owls-spice-cabinet · 7 months

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Daybreak

Posting this was so weird bc I didn't want to post it on Ao3 but there was already Part 1 on Ao3 so HERE WE ARE i guess idk it's out there floating in the void somewhere without my name on it bc I couldn't figure out how to post anonymously on Ao3 and it's too late to reclaim my orphan now :) but here's the Ao3 link

ANYWAY. This is a continuation of a previous fic of mine called Dawning. Ao3 link there for everyone. @worldseer @cod-dump @midnight193 anyone not 18 years of age, get the fuck out for legal reasons thanks byyyyee

Words: ~7000 Content: blow jobs, cum swallowing, outrageous flirting, idk it's not that spicy Ship: implied eventual nikpricegraves; it's mostly just nik/graves and price/graves

Phillip had been in London a few times now, mostly either stopping over between flights or meeting up with a new client from somewhere even farther away. He had a few places he liked to frequent when he had some time to himself, although that wasn’t common. Typically, he’d follow his Shadows around like their namesake to various restaurants and bars—sorry pubs. Right now, however, he’d let the more outgoing of them go off while he and the others stayed at their hotel. It was a new place, not one he’d stayed in before with or without his troops, but he’d also never brought this number of troops through London before. When he’d asked Laswell for recommendations, he’d taken her seriously.

For the price, the place was surprisingly accommodating, which probably put it towards the top of Laswell’s list in the first place. It was far from the city center, leaving plenty of buffer room between his forces and the rest of the public. He wasn’t paranoid, he was experienced, and experience told him cordoning off a whole floor of one hotel with armed guards—armed American soldiers—might have raised too many questions surrounded by an entire city of international travelers. Granted, that meant the rooms were a little smaller than some others he'd stayed in, but the management clearly had some experience in putting up soldiers for a few nights.

It did have a nice bar, too. It was backed up against the hotel’s in-house restaurant, so they could share supplies without having the bar as the main focal point to the foot traffic outside. There were numerous tables throughout the space, and a collection of booths set up against the back wall and one of the sides. A large rectangular window ran the length of the wall opposite the bar, and there were two doors out of the room: one exited to the street behind the hotel, and the other went to the rest of the building and the rooms upstairs.

Phillip sat in a booth against the side wall, enjoying the chance to quietly wind down after a more informative mission than he’d counted on. It had been slightly awkward at times, after he’d worked up to returning Nik’s advances where other people might notice it. He hadn’t been making a show of it, just… hadn’t been hiding. It hadn’t been awkward doing it—actually that had been so stupidly easy, it had felt like breathing. Answering very carefully worded questions from his officers had been the awkward part, mostly for them. Especially for Jackson, who’d followed him out of the Marines and had stayed at his right hand for almost a decade now.

Fortunately, no one had been an ass about it. Granted, that was probably a perk of being your own boss. If anyone was dumb enough to be an ass where he could prove it, he could fire them. But honestly, aside from the odd conversations and the usual frustrations that came with dealing with Russians, the mission had wrapped up neatly. Not entirely successful, but certainly far from failure.

Phillip got up and walked over to the bar. One of the bartenders, a woman with dark red hair and glasses whose nametag read Shelly, took notice and put a smile on as he came within conversational distance.

“Is everything alright, sir?” she asked.

“Just fine, thank you,” he answered politely. He set his half-finished whiskey on the rocks down on a coaster. “If I ask you to keep an eye on that while I go use the restroom, would you do that?” He figured it wasn’t much to ask, considering there were all of twenty people in the room, and all but three were his Shadows—his quieter Shadows.

Sue him, he was a little paranoid. He was military, he’d just pissed off some Russians, and he wasn’t at his home base. He was allowed.

Shelly smiled and nodded. “Absolutely, sir. I’ll put it over here for you,” she said, picking it up and setting it behind the bar near her station. “Just ask when you’re back.”

“Much obliged,” he said, taking note of where it had ended up. Then he left.

-scene break-

When he returned, he heard the hum of chatter in the room was about the same as he’d left it. Nothing much had changed. It was still only barely 21:45, so no one was in a hurry to get to bed—not even his Shadows, who’d had a long flight today. Phillip eyed his Shadows, scattered at various booths and tables throughout the room. They seemed to be exactly as he’d left them as well, gathered in their groups of three to five and talking quietly amongst themselves.

The doorway that led down to the restrooms was on the far end of the room from the bar. He’d emerged behind most of the other people in the room, giving him plenty of time to survey the room. He looked around to where he’d been sitting earlier, and stopped.

Now that was fascinating.

Laswell had recommended this hotel, he recalled. She knew it had the capabilities to keep him and his soldiers safe and happy for the time they had to be here. Except, Kate Laswell was not an officer of any military force. She had no troops to command, and rarely traveled in groups who needed such accommodations. Why might she have known about this little place, then?

Phillip smiled to himself, recognizing the back of Nikolai’s head and shoulders at one of the tables near the rows of booths against the back wall. Looking around, he saw John Price standing at the bar, making small talk with the other bartender whose name Phillip didn’t know. He almost did a double-take, then stared, trying to figure out what about John’s person had suddenly made it almost impossible to look away from him.

He figured it out as he walked silently up behind Nik’s chair. Nik, John, and Sergeant Garrick had all had to leave before the mission in Urzikstan had officially resolved, so he hadn’t been there in person for Phillip to share all the amusement he found in putting a few puzzle pieces together about himself. For example, he’d figured out, after those three had left, why he had felt so differently towards Nik when John had clearly been flirting with him over roughly the same amount of time, and Phillip had been just as clueless.

The answer was surprisingly simple. Surprising to him, at least. Again, he had been clueless.

See, Nik had started out as something resembling a friend. If John hadn’t been in the picture, Nik was someone Phillip would have asked out on a date, held hands with, watch a movie with—all those horribly romantic things he’d always felt weird about before.

John? Not quite the same thing.

He’d finally figured out he wanted John to absolutely ruin him, even though he wasn’t entirely sure what that would entail.

And while the dark blue collared shirt and grey jeans John wore now were nothing particularly special on their own, it was the first time Phillip had seen him out of field uniforms and a tac vest. The outfit was nothing if not encouraging.

When he reached Nik’s chair, he put one hand on the back of it, careful not to touch Nik more than brushing his shirt with the back of his knuckles. He knew sneaking up on people with combat training was a gamble already.

“John oughta be more careful,” he said in a low voice, “leaving such a handsome man like you unattended in a bar at night.”

Nik had tensed initially upon realizing someone had snuck up on him. But he had long since recognized Phillip’s voice. He hummed, giving no verbal answer, his shoulders relaxing.

Phillip leaned over, placing his other hand on the tabletop so he was hovering beside Nik’s head. “But then again, with an ass like that, maybe he doesn’t need to be careful,” he said, tilting his head slightly in John’s direction with a small smile.

Nik’s own smile turned a bit devious as he followed the indicated line of sight to John’s ridiculously attractive backside. Then he looked back to Phillip. “Are you suggesting I only stay with him for his looks?”

Phillip turned his head to meet his gaze. “I wouldn’t dream of such an insinuation, Nikolai. I have it on very good authority that you have excellent taste in men.”

That made him laugh softly, his dark eyes crinkling. Phillip had missed the heady, fluttery feeling he got seeing it. The whiskey he’d been drinking earlier couldn’t compare. Nik lifted a hand to place under the far side of Phillip’s jaw, turning his head just a bit more until he could lean in to kiss him.

Phillip gave a silent sigh, leaning into him in return. Yeah, he had missed this too. When Nik released him, he checked the bar and found John hadn’t moved.

“How long are you here?” Nik asked him.

“Just tonight and tomorrow night,” he answered, a little distantly. He was thinking.

“Don’t stare too hard, you’ll burn a hole in those very hard-working jeans,” Nik said with a smile.

Phillip ducked his head and smiled. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and glanced back up at the bar before looking at Nik again. “He was flirting with me half the mission.”

“He was, very badly. It was funny when you did it back, though,” Nik said, reaching up to trace the underside of Phillip’s jaw with a fingertip.

He nodded his agreement. He’d only managed it once or twice before John and the rest had left, but the effect had been priceless. The look of shock all over his face right before he’d muttered something like “fuck off” and stalked away had entertained Phillip for days the first time.

“I don’t want to interrupt your evening, but I also feel like you’ll understand perfectly if I tell you this,” he said, keeping his voice low at Nik’s ear.

Nik’s hand remained tucked under his jaw. “I am listening, Лучик,” he murmured.

Phillip was glad the light in the room was low enough to help disguise whatever blush was creeping up the back of his neck. Just because he’d admitted it to himself didn’t mean he knew how to admit it to other people. He’d meant it when he’d said Nik would understand—he was counting on it, actually. “I have been wanting that man to fuck me into oblivion for weeks.”

The smile on Nik’s face widened, gaining a sharp edge. His dark eyes glittered when they turned to him. “I don’t think I would mind such an interruption at all,” he said in that low tone that made Phillip’s knees wobble a bit. “I have it on good authority that he is very good at such things.”

Phillip could practically feel the blood in his body draining south—a fairly novel sensation, he might point out. He hadn’t realized what proper sexual arousal felt like outside of physical stimulation until about a month ago, and that had been almost as groundbreaking as realizing he hadn’t actually been romantically invested in any of his previous relationships.

Nik wasn’t finished speaking, however. “I do have two conditions,” he said. “One, you are doing the work of seducing him, because I want to see that. Two, I will allow the interruption tonight, if I am allowed to have you to myself tomorrow night?” He accentuated the last phrase by taking hold of Phillip’s jaw, turning his face to him, and gently running his thumb across his bottom lip.

This man would be the death of him, Phillip was sure. He grinned, barely resisting the urge to lick his bottom lip. “You got yourself a deal, handsome,” he said. He lifted his hand from the back of Nik’s chair, setting it on his shoulders instead. Before he stood up, Nik pulled him in for a peck on the lips. He squeezed his shoulder in return as he straightened up from where he’d been leaning on the table.

Nik and John must have come here before, he was starting to suspect. John had been standing at the bar, chatting with the other bartender for a while now. Even the most complicated cocktails on the menu here didn’t take that long to make, so there must be some history there. Plus, Phillip remembered he still had to retrieve his own drink from Shelly. He did that first, walking up to her with a polite smile.

“I’ve kept it safe for you sir,” she said, setting it in front of him.

“Thank you very much,” he said, picking the glass up and taking a drink from it. Then he turned to face down the bar towards John. “So why don’t you ever wear jeans in the field, John?”

John stared at him, blue eyes dark and impassive. The bartender he’d been talking to took note and set about actually making drinks. John was silent for a long pause, like he was waiting or looking for something. “Thought those lot might be military,” he said gruffly, gesturing to the nearest table of Shadows.

They weren’t in uniform exactly, but it wasn’t far from it. A few of them wore the company-issued sweaters or jackets. Hell, Phillip himself was wearing a black collared shirt with the Shadow Co. insignia stitched small over the left breast. He was allowed to wear his own merch, he’d founded the damn thing.

“Yeah, we’re stopping over for a couple nights on our way back across the pond,” Phillip explained, stepping closer. “Laswell recommended this place, actually. Guess I know why now, seeing as you’re both lookin’ pretty cozy around here,” he went on, tipping his head towards Nik watching from his table.

John grunted, accepting a pint from the man behind the bar. “Yeah, funny thing,” he muttered, taking a sip, then licking foam from his mustache.

“Gonna answer my question?” Phillip prompted, leaning an elbow on the bar. “Saw plenty of the guys wearin’ jeans in Mexico. Never seen ‘em on you ‘til now.”

It was clear John didn’t quite grasp what he was doing here yet, but was still valiantly trying to figure it out. “We have dress codes for a reason,” he answered, holding his gaze. “They work for job.”

Phillip nodded like he’d actually cared about the reason why. He hadn’t, not truly. “Well, I guess I’m grateful you follow dress codes, then,” he said, raising his glass a little.

He got another outwardly impassive look in response, only briefly interrupted by the bartender placing a second drink near him, presumably for Nik since Phillip had seen vodka go into the mix. “Do I want to know why?” John asked, sounding the slightest bit genuine.

With a slow grin, he leaned in. “’Cause I would’ve been dead six different ways if you’d had these on out there,” he said, helpfully casting his gaze down John’s person to make his point. “’Specially considering you like to lead up front—” He sucked air through his teeth, quirking his eyebrows a hair higher. “Distracting.”

John caught on, finally, rolling his eyes and turning back to his pint. “Fuckin’ Christ,” he muttered, taking another, bigger, drink from it.

“Oh, you can dish it out, but you’re not taking it?” Phillip asked.

“I was not—!” He cut himself off sharply when he caught the smirk on Phillip’s face.

He raised an eyebrow at him. “You weren’t what?” he asked. “When you were watching me check over my weapons and you made me do it twice because you wanted to see how I handled the equipment, and then said I had good handling skills for an American, you weren’t doing what, exactly?” He was being nice enough to keep his voice down, but it did mean he had to get a little closer than a usual conversation.

He would admit, he did enjoy the stern glare he was getting out of this. After a few confusing weeks at the mercy of Nik’s very purposeful flirting and John’s only sometimes purposeful flirting, it was nice to be on the same page for this exchange.

“None of your boys is here, no need to worry about a reputation,” he added quietly. “I’m certainly not.” He wasn’t worried about his reputation, no, but there were plenty of aspects of this conversation he was largely bluffing through. But what else was new for him?

John rolled his eyes minutely. “You’re fuckin’ insufferable since you figured yourself out.”

“I was insufferable before, too. But even then, I couldn’t manage to get under your skin the way I can now, so what does that tell you?”

“Fuck all.”

Phillip smiled again. “Does it bother you that you’re no longer automatically controlling the conversation now that I know what you’re doing?” In his periphery, he saw John’s hand flex and tighten around his pint glass. “I wouldn’t be too concerned. I mean, you’ve still got plenty of experience in other areas that I don’t, so I’d probably let you push me around a bit if you wanted.” Never mind the fact that, like Nik, John’s arms were incredible, and he probably wouldn’t have minded in the first place if either of them wanted to push him around at all.

Huh. Go figure.

For the first time since Phillip had walked over here, John’s eyes weren’t carefully unreadable. Something about his expression had darkened almost imperceptibly, and Phillip couldn’t decide how he felt about the shudder that it sent down his spine.

This time John leaned in a little. “Don’t make an offer you’re not willing to follow up,” he said.

“When have I ever backed out of a good deal, John?” he replied, keeping an easy smile on his face despite his heartrate ticking up just from the tone of John’s voice.

“A deal?”

“I get what I want, you get what you want. Mutually beneficial arrangement.”

A small smile appeared on John’s face as he moved his pint glass a little farther from the edge of the bar. He leaned an elbow on the wooden surface, mirroring Phillip’s position. “You know what you want, just like that?” he asked, his tone finally picking up some of the playful tone Phillip had been using.

Phillip answered truthfully, because it didn’t seem like a good idea to bluff this one. “I’m open to negotiations, if you’ve got ideas all of a sudden.”

It looked like John hadn’t been expecting that answer. That was fair, since Phillip wasn’t particularly known for his abounding sense of humility without ulterior motive. John looked at him silently for a second, then turned back to his pint on the bar. “Damn you,” he muttered as he took another drink.

This was fun. Phillip grinned again, turning his back to the bar and taking up his own drink at last. It was almost gone by now, and he had no desire to stick around to order another one. He found Nik still sitting at his table, watching them both from across the room. He caught Phillip’s grin and smiled.

“He put you up to this?” John asked. When Phillip glanced at him, he added, “Nik, I mean.”

Ah, right. “Nope. Not his idea, just his blessing.” He drank the last of his whiskey and set his glass down on the bar. “Tell you what,” he said, pulling his hotel keycards out of his back pocket (because they always gave you two even when you were clearly one person). He slid one out of the little paper envelope with the room number scrawled on it, and put it back into his pocket. “I will leave you with options,” he said quietly, reaching over to slide the extra keycard with its little envelope into the breast pocket of John’s shirt.

John let him do it, following his every move carefully, but remaining still.

Then he walked away, down the bar to Shelly to pay for his drink before he left. It took great effort not to glance sideways at John still standing at the other end of the bar. He almost broke when he had to look back up at Shelly with a polite smile and wish her a nice evening, but he held his ground. He put his wallet back in his pocket and left the bar.

-scene break-

Just over ten minutes after Phillip had arrived back in his hotel room, he heard the small beep and click of someone using a keycard to open his door. His initial reaction was one of relief, because the past ten minutes or so had been some of the most uncomfortable in his life for many reasons—not least of which was he couldn’t recall a time in recent memory he’d literally been so horny he couldn’t think straight.

No, the comedy of that phrase was not lost on him.

He closed his laptop, pushing his chair away from the desk where he’d been using his emails as a distraction. John closed the door behind him and came forward to stand in the doorway where the main room met the little entryway. He folded his arms and leaned against one wall, crossing one leg over the other as he did. Phillip didn’t try to disguise the fact that he was staring.

“You still open to negotiations?” he asked.

Phillip leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out and setting one stocking foot over the other. “Yep. Get any inspiration on your way up here?”

He supposed in any other situation, the look in John’s eyes would have set him on edge the same way a raid siren might. It was a dark, intelligent, dare he say hungry expression, and all it did now was make a low heat ignite in his gut and his dick twitch in his pants. John pushed off the wall, unfolding his arms as he walked over to Phillip’s chair. He set the keycard down on the desk, then grabbed an arm of the chair to turn it so they were facing each other.

“I’m going to ask you some questions and I would like honest answers to them,” he said, now leaning over him with a hand on each of the chair’s arms. “Think you can manage that, Phillip?”

Phillip’s mouth went unexpectedly dry. He nodded, running his tongue over his bottom lip. “Doesn’t sound too difficult, no.”

John gave a small smile, but his eyes still held that focused, almost predatory expression. “Good. Am I allowed to kiss you?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t kiss him immediately, which might have fried something in the back of Phillip’s brain out of sheer anticipation. Unfair. “Good,” he went on instead. “Downstairs, you’d said I could push you around a bit. Did you mean that literally? Am I allowed to pull you around a bit?”

Fuck, of course he’d remembered that. It took a considerable amount of willpower not to curl in on himself under John’s gaze, but he didn’t. He gave another nod while his tongue caught up with his brain. “Yeah, I meant that literally,” he breathed, feeling like a bug pinned to a board. Only, he’d crawled onto the board himself and stayed put while the pin came down.

John nodded once. “You understand that if I say or do something you don’t like, you will say something, and vice versa, yes?”

Phillip gave him a flat stare. “John, I’ve had sex before. I know how consent works.”

“Fine then,” he said. He grabbed both of Phillip’s wrists, one in each hand, and hauled him bodily upright out of the chair.

Phillip made note of two things. One, the show of strength had been undeniably hot and had flooded his brain with another wave of arousal that quickly drained right to his dick. Two, John was still in his shoes whereas Phillip stood in socks, which made their height difference that much more noticeable. All told, he felt almost… small. Before he could think further into how he felt about that, John’s mouth had found his, and thinking was no longer important.

Admittedly, he’d thought about what it would feel like to kiss John. He’d never kissed anyone with facial hair, after all, because Nik preferred a clean face, and it had obviously never come up in his previous relationships. Turned out, Phillip didn’t really care. Yes, he could feel it tickling his face, and yes, it required a bit of maneuvering sometimes, but he didn’t care. Possibly he didn’t care because he’d been dying to get his hands on this man for weeks; possibly because he was harder than he’d been in recent memory and the prospect of relief was overshadowing a lot of other things at the moment; and possibly because John had just shoved him up onto the desk he’d been sitting at, and keeping his balance took the rest of his brain power.

“Fucking shit,” he hissed, once again aware of how achingly uncomfortable his jeans were becoming. He’d never been pushed around like this—he’d been the one doing any manhandling, usually because the lady had asked very nicely. But fuck, he could understand the appeal.

“Good?” John asked. He’d long since let go of Phillip’s wrists, now gripping his hips instead.

Phillip didn’t bother answering such a stupid question. He hooked his left arm around his neck and grabbed his collar with the right hand, pulling him back in to keep kissing him. John lurched forward with the usual grace of someone caught off guard, inadvertently pressing one of his thighs (his large, muscled, and horrendously attractive thighs) directly into Phillip’s groin.

Phillip moaned into his mouth, his hips involuntarily pressing forward against the pressure. He broke away to breathe, to try to clear his head that felt like it was swimming with want. He barely got a breath in when John’s hands pulled his hips back against his leg, and the rush of pleasure forced half the air from his lungs anyway. He growled, catching a glimpse of the smug smile on John’s face right before he kissed it, perhaps a bit more forcefully than was strictly necessary. Judging by the noise it got from John, though, neither of them cared.

He felt John’s tongue press against the seam of his lips with clear intent at the same time he felt the man’s hands tugging his shirt out of his waistband. He let both happen, groaning softly when John’s warm palms fit snugly around his ribs and his tongue slid into his mouth. Again, it was something Phillip had never understood to be particularly pleasant, let alone attractive, but he was discovering a lot of things made more sense when he was actually attracted to the person in question. John’s leg ground up against him again, drawing a quiet groan from him as he tried desperately to hold onto his composure.

It wasn’t easy. The warmth from John’s hands was making goose bumps erupt in their wake along his sides, across his lower back, and slowly trailing higher. The movement of his leg against the bulge in Phillip’s jeans turned slow and repetitive, pulling small noises from his throat even as he tried to hold them back. He could feel his body heating up as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him, until he realized the situation was heading towards a conclusion far faster than he’d wanted.

He reached up with the arm still looped around John’s neck, weaving fingers into John’s hair and holding him there when he broke away from the kiss. “Will you cut that out,” he said, breathing hard, “and do something more constructive?”

The smug little smile was back on John’s face. He squeezed Phillip’s ribs and leaned in until their foreheads were pressed together. “You were making such pretty noises for me, though,” he murmured.

Phillip turned his head away, blushing deeply. That only gave John the opportunity to duck his head and start covering his jaw and ear and neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses. Without really thinking, Phillip tilted his head back, allowing him more room.

He gave a small gasp when John began sucking a mark below his ear. “Fucking Christ, John,” he whined, dragging his fingernails through the short hairs on the back of John’s head. “Please—shit, John—"

John made a low noise in his throat, detaching from his neck and licking over his handiwork once or twice. “God, if I had the fucking time,” he said into his ear, sliding his hands back down to rest on Phillip’s hips and squeezing, “I would keep you here for hours with just my fingers until you couldn’t remember your own name and just begged me to fuck you properly.”

A shudder ran down Phillip’s spine, making his stomach clench and his hips twitch forward of their own accord. Evidently, he wouldn’t mind that at all. Great. Not currently helpful, however. He closed his eyes as John once again mouthed at the underside of his jaw, struggling to put together a sentence that made sense. “Yeah, okay. But since it sounds—hah, fuck—like you don’t have the time, what—mm—what are we doing now?”

John pulled back to look at him with the same infuriating self-satisfied expression. “Impatient—”

“Yes.”

That made his eyebrows lift slightly. “Fine. Can I suck you off?”

Finally. “Yes, you can absolutely—” Phillip never finished the sentence.

As soon as the first word was out of his mouth, John pulled him off the desk, turned him around, and pushed him onto the foot of the nearest bed. He only managed to stay upright by grabbing onto one of John’s biceps. It didn’t really matter, though, because the second his ass hit the bedspread, John’s mouth found his again, and he felt himself being eased slowly and very deliberately onto his back. John licked into his mouth again, and his hand not currently supporting his weight snaked up and into Phillip’s hair, gently pulling his head back slightly. Fuck, did it feel good, too. If his eyes weren’t already closed, they probably would have crossed.

John pulled away, his hand sliding down along Phillip’s face to his collar, resting on the first button. “Still good?”

Phillip tried to answer, but the words “what” and “yeah” both wanted to come out of his mouth at the same time. It ended up as an unintelligible noise half-way between both words. He blinked, a little confused as to why that hadn’t made sense, and then John burst into poorly restrained but genuine, honest-to-God giggles. Phillip covered his face, a blush searing his ears and cheeks as John buried his face in his chest to laugh.

After a couple seconds, he lifted it to say, “How’re you already fucked dumb when I haven’t even touched you?” He was still smiling fit to burst.

Phillip hit his shoulder. “Oh, shut up!”

“I’m not making fun of you,” John said, leaning down and starting to press kisses across his cheeks and jaw.

Phillip let him, because it felt good. “Yeah, sure.” But it didn’t feel good enough to let it continue indefinitely. He reached up and grabbed John’s chin, forcing eye contact. “Did your mother never teach you not to play with your food?” he asked pointedly. “I thought you asked to suck my dick, and my belt buckle has yet to be undone.” He raised his eyebrows a hair and tilted his head in lieu of asking John if he could see what the problem was.

There were still traces of amusement all over John’s face, but all he did was peck him on the lips before pushing himself up a bit. “Undo your shirt,” he said. He watched as Phillip did so, waiting until he was more than halfway through the buttons before he reached to undo Phillip’s belt, the button and fly following quickly afterwards.

Phillip sighed to himself when at least some of the pressure was taken off his erection, then yelped when John dragged his jeans off with enough force to pull him to the edge of the bed. He pushed himself up on his elbows to ask what the fuck, but the words stopped short of his mouth when John’s hand slid over the tent in his underwear, squeezing him gently. Whatever he’d been about to say melted into a moan as his head lolled back. The sound was loud enough to surprise himself, and he reflexively put a hand to his mouth.

John clicked his tongue, leaning over him again to take his hand from his mouth. His other hand moved slowly, slipping under the waistband of his shorts. “None of that now,” he said in a low voice. “Told you already what pretty sounds you make.” He bent down closer. “I wanna hear ‘em, Phillip. Yes?”

Phillip nodded wordlessly, mostly too preoccupied with the trajectory of John’s other hand to really protest.

“Good man,” John told him. He ran his thumb over his bottom lip before ducking down to press his mouth to Phillip’s neck. He trailed lower, dipping his tongue into the hollow of his throat and then moving to suck another mark just below his collarbone.

Phillip watched him, feeling like someone had lit fire to a trail of gasoline in the wake of John’s mouth on his skin. Beneath the obvious buzz of desire, there was a more subtle feeling building, and it was sort of familiar. John was making him feel wanted, like Nik did any chance he got, it seemed. When John reached his stomach as he kissed his way down his body, he let out a sharp breath at the tingly, giddy feeling that washed over him. John lifted his head to look at him and smiled, which finally made Phillip realize he’d had a small smile stuck on his face for a while now.

He might actually like John. That was interesting.

John finished decorating Phillip’s front with kisses and finally slid Phillip’s underwear off, sinking to his knees as he did, and letting them fall in a pile with his jeans near the bed. The sudden freedom made Phillip groan in the back of his throat. His dick was almost painfully hard, the head a clear shade of red and beading precum already. Phillip watched, still propped up on his elbows, as John made himself comfortable between his legs. The dark, almost hungry expression was back in his eyes, and as much as it made a blush rise to his cheeks and ears to be this exposed to its intensity, he couldn’t find it in himself to look away. John wrapped his right arm under Phillip’s thigh and hoisted his leg over his shoulder, all while still focused on his main goal.

He wrapped his other hand around the base of Phillip’s dick, making him hiss at the contact. John smirked. “Could get used to a view like this if I’m not careful.”

Before Phillip could respond with some remark in return, John flattened his tongue and licked up the shaft from his hand, finally taking the tip into his mouth and running his tongue over the slit.

Phillip’s shirt slipped off one of his shoulders and he didn’t even notice. “Holy shit,” he breathed, his voice sounding higher than it usually did.

He watched John take more of him into his mouth, then slowly pull back, pressing his tongue against the underside of the shaft and squeezing his hand lightly. Phillip’s leg twitched, trying to close on his head, but the arm John had wrapped around it held it in place firmly. He let out a shaky breath, like he’d just remembered to breathe in that moment, which was fairly accurate. He watched, utterly fixated, as John’s movements got longer, taking in more of him, and occasionally felt his dick twitch against the roof of his mouth or against his tongue. God, it felt fucking incredible. John’s mouth was hot and smooth sliding over him, bobbing up and down, steadily picking up a little speed as he swallowed him inch by inch and his hand covered less and less of him.

Phillip’s hips gave an aborted thrust without him meaning to as a rush of arousal shot through him at the sight. John made a noise that sounded more surprised than anything else, and he didn’t take his mouth of Phillip’s dick. Still— “Fuck, sorry—” Phillip started to say, and never finished.

John looked up at him sharply, then gave a harsh suck as he drew back, effectively negating any speaking ability Phillip might have had in the moment.

His head fell back with a loud moan he didn’t have the wherewithal to even try to cover up. “Jesus Christ,” he wheezed, his heart pounding in his ears. “Point taken, holy fuck.” He let his head hang back with his eyes closed as his mind went somewhat dizzy with pleasure.

John didn’t let up, however. If anything, he got more insistent now that he knew how to get a reaction out of him. This wasn’t the first blow job he’d ever had, but it was certainly the best by leaps and bounds. Granted, that made sense, given the whole “Not Figuring Out His Sexuality Until a Month Ago” thing. Phillip’s brain was so overwhelmed, he had little idea of the specifics outside of it being John’s mouth around his dick, and it feeling fucking wonderful. Too wonderful—he could already feel his climax threatening on the edge of his senses. Although… that was sort of the whole point here, wasn’t it?

It felt like his head weighed a hundred pounds trying to pull it back to its usual position, but he finally did focus back on John’s slightly tousled brown hair. He made a low noise just taking in the sight again, struggling to keep coherency in his thoughts as he watched. “Fuck me,” he breathed, his hips once again trying to buck up deeper into John’s beautiful, talented mouth. It drew a groan from John, sending vibrations up the length of Phillip’s dick still in his mouth. One of his hands reached out in a flash, grabbing onto John’s hair. “Holy—God fucking—John!”

John’s eyes flicked up, meeting his gaze as he drew back, his cheeks hollowed as he sucked and his lips shining with spit.

Phillip loosened his hold on his hair, taking a breath shaky with the effort of not coming just yet despite John’s concerted efforts. “’M not gonna last—shit,” he started to say, but was derailed yet again by watching his dick disappear into John’s mouth. He watched, his hand never moving from John’s hair, as John’s nose came to rest in the light brown hairs surrounding the base of his dick.

He felt his dick jump in John’s throat—in his throat, holy fucking shit, first of all. It drew another low groan from him, sending more vibrations through Phillip’s body and pushing him closer and closer towards the edge. Phillip watched John’s blue eyes flutter closed briefly in utter satisfaction, and felt his fingers dig into the soft skin on his inner thigh. It was as beautiful as it was obscenely hot.

“Jesus fucking Christ, John, I’m close,” he managed, his voice tight. “Where—”

John’s eyes snapped to his, and the arm wrapped around his leg tightened its hold. He swallowed.

Phillip’s mouth dropped open silently, and he only barely resisted rolling his hips up into John’s mouth as his orgasm hit him with all the grace of a baseball bat to the head. He came down John’s throat with a punched-out gasp that faded into a low whine, one hand still buried in his hair, the other gripping the bedspread while his vision swam. He felt John swallow around him again, the muscles in his neck squeezing his cock perfectly while he enjoyed the sheer force and magnitude of pleasure currently making his toes curl and his head feel fuzzy in a way he couldn’t remember experiencing previously.

When the high eventually eased, Phillip finally untangled his fingers from John’s hair and didn’t quite collapse onto the bed, but it was a near thing. His limbs sort of felt like jello, and his brain was only a little better than that. He felt John pull off of him, then felt the edge of the bed dip when he used it to stand up. Fuck, he needed to do things. He wasn’t exactly sure which things, given this was a vastly different scenario than previous encounters. But he’d feel like an asshole later if he didn’t at least try.

He sat up in time to see John disappear into the adjoining bathroom, and he was too tired to overthink why. Instead, he reached down to grab his underwear back from the floor, only to stop when he found them on the bed within reach. That was definitely not where he’d seen John drop them. Okay. He put them on, finally just ditching his shirt, figuring he’d be getting into pajamas not too long after this anyway.

John returned, carrying the two plastic cups the hotel had supplied in the room. One was empty, the other was full, and he offered the latter to Phillip. “Drink, if you want.”

“Thanks,” he said, accepting the cup more for something to do than for a need for water. But he took a couple sips before reaching out to put on the desk near the foot of the bed.

John reached a hand out as he was settling back onto the bed, carefully combing calloused fingers through his hair. Phillip had no doubt it was sticking up at odd angles. John seemed to have fixed his hair, which was only slightly disappointing, because he’d wanted to see what he’d done to it. He leaned into the touch. John’s hand left his hair, skimming the side of his face until it was under his chin, tilting his face up towards John.

“Enjoyed that, did you?” he asked.

Phillip hummed. “Funny thing. Sex is a lot more fun when you’re genuinely attracted to someone.” John rolled his eyes, letting his hand drop to his side. Phillip went on. “Speaking of which, you want a hand there?” It was kind of hard to miss, considering he was roughly eye-level with the noticeable bulge at the front of John’s jeans. “Or is that something Nik gets to deal with later?”

John paused and half-sat on the edge of the desk with a small grimace of discomfort, appearing to consider his options. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table, then at the door back out to the rest of the hotel. Finally, he looked back over at Phillip for a few seconds before he shrugged and stood up, putting his empty cup down on the desk. “Fine. Get up.” Phillip stood up. John grabbed his chin carefully and kissed him firmly. “Let’s see if your handling skills are any good, for an American.”

#i write things sometimes #cod smut #pricegraves #nikgraves #nikpricegraves #phillip graves #captain john price #cod nikolai #cod mw22 #cod mwii #modern warfare ii

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