#laid back with low eyes and lifting your night gown over you spread legs

[allkordelia]

Keep Me in Your Thought (31)

Daemon laid in bed with rhaelle resting on his nake chest, his fingertips brush up and down her expose back as he stare at the ceiling in thought. Rhaelle was half awake with her eyes closed, she lazily running her finger around daemon's scar on the side of his neck before stopping and resting her hand on his shoulder.

"Rhae," he called quietly into the darkness after a few minutes of silence, rhaelle hummed in response, "You awake?" He asked.

"Barely," she mumble as she rub her cheek against his chest before settling, "Why? You want to go another round." She smile faintly, she could the rumble in his chest as he chuckle.

"No, but I'm not oppose to the idea," He says, making her let a low giggle, she move her head so her ear could be over his heart, his heart beat was steady and calm.

"I just wanted you to know that...I love you very much and...I'm going to fix things between our families. I'm going to make everhthing right." Rhaelle brows pinch together at his words, she didn't know what he meant and she honestly didn't want to know. She didn't want to ruin this peace between them so she just hummed in response.

"Just wanted you to know that, my belove." He whisper before pressing a kiss to rhaelle's hairline.

"I know and I love you too, daemon." She whisper back feeling her eyelids get heavy and her eyes sting, "I trust you to do what you have to," she yawn softly moving a bit to snuggle into his chest.

Daemon's hand went into her hair using his nails to gentle scatch her scalp making her drift off to sleep, when daemon was sure she was asleep he move her to lay on her pillow but he still kept his arms around her. He lay on his side gazing at the woman he love.

"I promise...I'm going to make him regret every hurting you," he mumbles, daemon mind was made up, he knows he doesn't have the guts to kill his brother but he certainly going to make his brother feel the same pain that he caused rhaelle for the past nine years.

The next morning, rhaelle was on her stomach with her arms under the pillows as her face faced the open curtains of the window,  it took her a while to wake up feeling the sun on her face making her blink repeatedly before turning the other way. She spread out her arms and legs feeling the bones in every part of her body pop and crack with her movements, she move her hand to rub the empty space beside her making her open her eyes fully and lift her to look beside to find daemon gone.

She frown and use her hands to lift her up before she turn her body to sit on her bottom, she touch the space where her lover was suppose to be it to find cold very cold which means he been gone for a while. She shuffle to the edge of the bed planting her feet on the fur rug before bending down to get her discarded night gown from last night, when she lifted it up and over her head to put it on she looked on her side table to find a folded parchment with a silver ring on top of it.

She took the silver ring recognizing it as daemons', it was a small ring that he put on his pink that had the targaryen three headed dragon engraved in the center. He never goes anywhere without it, she move to the parchment and unfolded it to find cursive words in black.

Dear, my belove Rhae,

I am sorry I had to leave you. It pains me to think that you to had to wake up alone in bed, but do not fret I will not be gone long. That I promise, I am heading to King's Landing to tell my brother of our engagement. With or without the blessing of your husband or my brother, I will marry you and you can get that happily ever after that you truly deserve. All i ask in return is you have faith in me no matter what happens, know that I love you dearly and  I promise you I will return back home to you my sweet rhae.

Love, your daemon

Rhaelle folded the letter back and held it to her chest, she be lying if she says she wasn't a bit mad at daemon for leaving without a proper goodbye, but her love for him trumps all she suppose to feel right now. Even her worries. The sound of her door opening and the servants coming through didn't make rhaelle pay no mind to them as they busy themselves around her chamber, the memories of last night played in her mind making her smile to herself.

"My Queen." Rhaelle turn her head to look at the young servant girl, "Lord Banneth has called a council meeting this morning, do you wish me to bring you your breakfast in the tower?" She asked, rhaelle's stomach turn not in hunger but discomfort.

"No, juice will be fine," rhaelle says making the girl curtsy, before the young girl can turn away to get her queen her fresh juice she was stop by rhaelle, "oh and pomegranates if we have some," the young girl nod and left the room.

Rhaelle use the back of her hand to rub the sleepiness from her eyes, she stood up slowly feeling the affects of last night still between her legs. A bronze tub was brought in by two men before two sets of woman both carrying a large pot with steaming water comes in and start filling up the tub, she put the letter back on the side table before looking at the ring between her fingers. She took it and slide it on her pinky on right hand, she look at ot for a second and smile.

After her bath, she went to the North Tower and find it to be empty. She frown a little before walking to the head of the table where she pulled her chair out and  sat, she move to take out daemon's letter as she rereads it to pass the time waiting for the rest. As she reads his words carefully, she starts to worry more as he tells her to have faith in him no matter what, she fears he might do something that could upset or even embarrassed viserys.

She should go to King's Landing and stop him before he do anything that could get him in trouble or worse hurt, rhaelle chew on her bottom lip anxiously worried, but he said have faith which means he might not do something terribly bad like he would usually do.

Her thoughts were broken when the doors were opened, she looks up to see the men and woman of her council walk in. Along with her elder children as well, rhaelle frown her brows at their presents especially Corwyn.

"What is the meaning of this meeting, banneth?" Her eyes cast over at her hand as he sat beside her, the older man glance around the table before clearing his throat.

"There's been reports that prince daemon left on his dragon, Caraxes." He says hesitant, everyone in the room watch for her reaction.

"Yes, I know of this. What about it." She ask again with a raise brow, the people in the room look at each other with small frowns and surpise looks.

"Why did he leave?" Meleah asked.

"The real question is what did she do." Valaena ask before meleah look back at her friend with narrowing eyes, rhaelle let out a giggle as she shake her head.

"I did nothing he had some business to take care of back in King's Landing, that's all." Rhaelle remember the letter in her hand, as she about to show them, the door was open again.

The servant from earlier came in with a plate with a slice in half pomegranate and a cup, the young girl place plate down in front of rhaelle with her juice before taking a spoon from her apron to place it beside the plate.

"Is that all, my queen." Rhaelle looks up at the servant a smile and nod making her leave.

"What was I was about say..." she tap her finger against her chin before glancing down at her plate before looking at her hand, "Oh yes, he left me a letter." She says waving the letter in her hand.

"What does it say?" Aeron question curious as he watch his mother.

Rhaelle didn't reply as she took a scoop of the seeds inside and put the spoon in her mouth, a delightful hum came from rhaelle as the sweet fruit making valaena narrow her eyes at the her mother and the plate before her.

"Mother?" Aeron called making her look at him, "The letter." Her brow twitch.

"What about it." She asked making aeron roll his eyes.

"What does it say, did he explain what business he had to deal with in king's landing." Rhaelle made a noise as she scoop more seeds onto the spoon.

"I do not see why that is any of your concern, my son. The letter is address to me and not you or the council." She said putting the spoon in her mouth again and chewing.

"Aren't you worried?" Aeron says moving to stand near her.

"About?" She asked confuse looking at him while taking her cup and drinking from it.

"Him not coming back."

"He said he will." Aeron frown at his mother's words, why was she so calm, he thought, "Mother–"

"Aeron." She said back making him sigh.

"I am not trying to be rude, mother. But, what is going on with you?" Rhaelle tilt her head to the side looking at him, "Aren't you angry at him for leaving you without any explanation."

"No, because me and daemon talk about it last night. Am I happy he left? No. Do I know why he did it? Yes. That's all you need to know, my dear." Aeron frown again as Corwyn mutter something under his breathe making rhaelle look at him.

"What was that, corwyn?" The young prince had his arm crossed as he looks at rhaelle.

"I said, typical, have we not been through this once before rhaelle." Rhaelle's eyes slitted as she looks at her son," He leaves. You wait for him like a fool and then drink yourself into a stupor." Valaena and Aeron hiss at their brother as he look at rhaelle.

"Are we on speaking terms now, my son?" Rhaelle question leaning back against her chair making valaena and aeron look at each other.

"Gods no, I just wanted to tell you that I saw this coming." He gave a dry smile making rhaelle give a eyeroll, a sudden irritation form in her chest making her slide her chair out and fold thr letter and put it away.

"Always a pleasure speaking to you, my son. If you put as much effort in trying to hurt me into your studies maybe I will allow you to go on voyages," Corwyn scowl her as his brother chuckle under his breathe and his sister smile at the floor, rhaelle drain her cup and took the slice pomegranate off her plate before looking at banneth.

"Is there anything else, we must speak about?" She ask making the hand shake his head no, "Good. If anyone needs me I will be with my husband, good day." Rhaelle walks by her aeron giving a kiss in the head before the same for her daughter, corwyn lean away from her as she tries to touch is arm.

As she walks out of the door, marrio was the first to speak.

"Are we just gonna ignore the fact she's wearing daemon's ring?" He ask looking at the people around the table.

@watercolorskyy @cleverzonkwombatsludge @beggarsnotchoosey @spderm4nnnn @supermassiveblackhope @avidreader73 @green-lxght

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x black!reader #black reader #x black reader #black oc #blackoc #black!reader #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

By the king’s hand 🐍 VII

Warnings: warnings to be added as we progress but this series may contain non-consent, violence, death, and other triggers (this chapter, noncon, binding, nothing too extreme beyond my usual)

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You dread Loki’s return.

Note: Managed to get this out as I prepare for retail hell on Friday but y’all are wonderful! Thanks for reading and thanks for your patience.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

The chamber was eerie and silent as you awaited the king’s return. You didn’t long for it, only knew it was inevitable. 

You regretted your venture outside; reproached yourself for your curiosity and your lapse into impulse. You’d been pent up for days, weeks, truly. Even the road to Thunder Lodge had allowed you little adventure. You were continuously crushed under the thumb of the willful king.

You recalled the night before, how quickly Loki had grown irritated and how he’d smothered you in his wrath. Your throat tightened at the memory. You couldn’t imagine he’d been any less agitated after that day. Why did his brother always have to goad him so?

You stared up at the portrait of Odin, the former king. Thor bore more of a resemblance to his father but even in oil, there was a darkness that hung around the predecessor. Loki had inherited it. It followed him around like a cloud. Perhaps it had been fostered in him through the blatant preference for the elder prince. For all the indifference and resent held over him. Loki had just as much to dole out in kind. His reign would be his ultimate vengeance.

Or perhaps, he was just a spoiled little boy who grew to be a selfish asshole. Both, even.

You were drawn from your reverie by the low hum of voices in the corridor and the metallic chink of armor. Magnus’ deep tones seeped through the stone walls and under the broad door. You took a breath and stopped as you turned to face the carved wood. 

The king entered, still in his armor, his dark hair curled from sweat and dust. His green eyes were sharp above his long nose as he carried his helm beneath his arm. You flinched as he slammed the metal onto the table and the door snapped shut behind him. He rested his gauntleted hand on the wood and tapped his fingers, his back to you as he huffed.

He pushed his head back and slipped his mailed gloves from his hands. He unclothed himself of his armor a piece at a time and laid them each atop the table. He didn’t look at you or acknowledge your hovering presence as you watched him. You knew he hadn’t forgot you though. He never did.

He stretched his arms and curled his fingers with an exaggerated sigh. His hands went to his hips as he turned slowly. His tunic hung open down his chest, loose as his belt coiled on the tablet with the heap. His eyes traced the mortar between the stones of the floor then crawled deliberately up your body. You were tempted to shield yourself behind the sofa.

His mouth curved at one corner and his eyes shone with malice. He sniffed and puffed his chest as he considered you.

“Did you think you were unseen?” He asked.

Your brow wrinkled as your lips parted slightly. You shook your head, speechless. You glanced at the door and he snapped his fingers.

“Do not fret about my guard. I will deal with his negligence in turn.” He snarled. “I saw you…and I know you saw me, mouse.” He came closer and you resisted the urge to cower, “So, if I did spot you from my deficit, how many others do you suppose spied you among the rows?”

“I don’t-- They--”

“I do not ask you to speak!” He raised his voice as his eyes gleamed dangerously. “Still that tongue before I should wish to strangle the breath from you entirely and never hear your lies again.”

You reeled as the fear pumped in your heart. Your skin tingled with adrenaline as you watched the king boil over. Like a snake, he readied for a final strike and you could not guess where it would land.

“Unclothe yourself. You show yourself ungrateful to all the privilege I’ve allowed you.” He hissed. “Do it or I shall tear it from your body myself.”

You blanched and your lips twitched. There was nothing you could say but he took it as resistance. He was on you in a moment. Around the sofa, both hands at your throat as he wrenched you nearly off your feet.

“Do not think I cannot find another. There are many whores prettier and more tolerable,” his longer fingers tightened on your neck. “I will not wait on your insolence.”

He released you so that you staggered. You caught yourself on the arm of the sofa and bent your arm back to tug at the laces of your gown. He reached over them and snapped them, jolting your body as he did. The fabric slackened and he paced impatiently across the room.

You shimmied free of the gown and bent to slip your feet from the silk slippers. He offered little more than a sheath and you stood naked and scared. He went to the door and opened it an inch. He whispered an order to his guard and was met with acquiescence. He pushed the door shut and turned on you again.

“Get on your knees and stay thus until I say,” he bid and continued his restless steps around the room. 

He stopped by the table and drew the dagger from his disposed belt. He turned the blade and admired it in the light. A tap came at the door and he called for the guard to enter. You lowered your head before Magnus saw you though you did not miss the length of rope in his hands.

“Bind her,” Loki rasped, “Neck to hands. Like the animal she is.”

You winced as the heavy boots approached you. Magnus was gruff as he pushed your head up and he smiled tauntingly at you as he wounded the thick rope around your neck, from chin to collarbone. Your head was held up by the tight rope and he moved around you to trail the rope along your back. He bent your arms behind you and secured them tightly and painfully behind you. 

You struggled to keep your balance as he stepped away. The king nodded. “Take her to the bed chamber,” Loki sneered, “On the bed.”

He did not move as Magnus lifted you to your feet. He turned you and marched you across the room and into the next. He shoved you meanly so that you hit the bed and landed on your front. He snickered and bent over you. “I did warn you.”

“Get the fuck away from me,” you retorted.

“With pleasure,” he stood and marched from the room.

You heard the doors again and you were left to lay helplessly on the mattress. You listened to the still air as you waited, for what, you were too afraid to ask. The king took his time; you heard the clink of glass and his suppressed anger in his sighs. His shadow loomed over you as he appeared in the doorway. He neared like a spectre as you strained to look at him without leaning too heavily on your arm. You were stuck on your stomach as you wriggled helplessly.

“Be still,” he pressed the metal tip of the dagger to your thigh and his other hand spread across your ass. 

“Your majesty, please--”

“Another word and I’ll cut your tongue out. I tire of it.” He pushed the blade flat and dragged it along the curve of your flesh. “You peasants, you have your wives’ tales but we have more. We have history written in ink. We have the truth.” He said evenly as he teased your skin with the silver, “I once read, that in the early years of our kingdom, when drought and famine was common, even among the rich, that the kings kept more than one woman.”

He poked you but did not break the skin. “He had his wife; a queen, to stand by him, but if she could not provide him and heir, he had his consorts. There was one king, my own father’s namesake, who had a dozen such women and twice as many children…

“More intriguing, it was said the king would mark his women so that other men would know not to touch. So that the women would know that blood should be drawn if they stray.” He turned you over suddenly and you rested agonizingly on your bent arms, your chest thrust up. He climbed between your legs and held up the knife. He placed it above your left breast. “Perhaps you need another lesson in blood.”

He pierced your skin and you muffled a yelp. You jerked and his other hand spread over the rope at your neck. He held you down and tutted.

“Do not move or I might mangle you,” he pressed more firmly as he began to carve your flesh. You bared your teeth and whined. Your entire body tense as he sliced. Tears pricked as the hot blood rose.

He drew away at last and smiled at his work. You could not see as your head was kept up by the layers of rope. He backed off the bed and set the dagger aside. He kept his back to you as he lifted his tunic over your head, you could only see the blur of his silhouette as you remained prone on the bed. The rustle of clothing filled your ears as your body thrummed.

You tried to roll over and he caught you. He pushed you onto your arms again and you squeaked. He lifted your hips as your arms were strained further and bent his legs around you as he pulled yours atop them. He propped up your pelvis as you were splayed against him and he roughly pushed his thumb along your folds. He poked painfully inside and growled.

“I’ve been patient but I see that my grace does not but inspire your petulance.” His other hand stroked his member as it bobbed before him, “So let us be done with it.”

You squirmed as he angled his cock down and kept his other hand on your cunt. He curled his thumb inside you as he guided his head to your entranced. He pushed against his knuckle as you wriggled helplessly, only adding to the painful pressure as he continued to prod at you.

“Fuck,” he breathed as he slid his thumb out and pushed harder. You strained around him as he sought entrance. “You tight little bitch.”

Your struggle only added to your discomfort. His hand stretched over your lower stomach as he held you in place and he forced his tip inside you. Your mouth opened in a silent scream at the pain as it shot up your spine.

“Stop!” You gasped. “Stop! Ow…”

Your voice fizzled as he gripped your hip and urged himself deeper. Another inch felt like much more and you bit down to keep from shrieking. You closed your eyes and tried to breathe through the pain. He grabbed your chin and bent over you as he slid further in.

“Look at me,” he growled as he squeezed your jaw, “Look at your king.” He bit his lip and snapped his hips down and impaled you completely. You cried out as waves of pain radiated through you. “You’re mine. My pet.”

He slid his hand around your neck and pulled you up suddenly. He sat back on his heels with you in his lap. He sank even further into you and you hung weak in his grasp. Every inch of you screamed as your vision swam.

He kept a hand behind your neck as the other rocked your hips. He moved you slowly but steadily. As you slickened, your motion grew easier but not less agonizing. Your walls throbbed around him as you panted against the coil at your neck.

You saw a smear of red against his chest, it spread as he moved you. You realised it was your blood, still trickling from his assault. 

“Look at me, mouse,” he snarled as he squeezed your neck. “Look at me.”

His green eyes bore into yours as he bounced you atop. He lifted you and slammed you back down so sharply that you moaned. Your legs bent around him as you tried to ease the pressure as that warmth gathered in your loins at the friction of him against your bud. Your thighs clenched as you felt the magical rise and you nearly forgot all but that immeasurable pleasure in your core.

He stopped you suddenly. He breathed deeply and jostled you a top him. He shifted so that he sat with his legs straight and he dropped onto his back. Both his hands grasped your hips and he rocked you again. You straddled him precariously as he guided your body over his.

The muscles of his arms bulged as he gazed up at you in a lusty haze, driven by it as he moved your hips faster and faster, pulling you down harder each time. There was a dark bruise along his shoulder but you quickly forgot it. You tried to swallow the sudden ecstasy that washed over you, as your nerves flurried and bounced in a storm of delight.

Your eyes rolled back and he dug his nails into your flesh. “Look at me…” he rasped and you obeyed without thought. 

His cheek twitched and his body went rigid then began to quiver beneath you. He held your hips in place and thrust into you from below. He grunted and groaned and a flow of heat spilled into you. He spasmed and slowed until he was still. He let out a long breath and his hands slipped to your thighs.

You sat stunned, as every muscle in your body suddenly ached. He tickled you as he lifted his hands and groped your chest. He played with your tits lazily and watched his hands. He circled your nipples with his thumbs and hummed. You felt a twitch inside of you. He carefully moved his hips.

“You will know your sentence tonight, little mouse,” he purred, “And you will serve it for so long as I wish.”

🐍

You slept, uncomfortably. Little spurts of unconsciousness where the stiffness never truly left your neck and the tenderness lingered in your cunt. Loki snored beside you, content. Your elbows ached, still bent and often trapped beneath your weight.

You woke for the last time as the sun began to rise. Shortly after, a tap came at the bedchamber door. Loki did not stir at first and did so with a groggy call for the disturber to enter. You bent your legs up to try to hid yourself as Hal appeared in the soft morning light.

“Your majesty, your breakfast,” the boy said as Loki sat up and rubbed his eyes. His hair was knotted and wild.

“In a moment,” Loki grumbled, “Take this,” he reached over to the dagger, “Did you also put away my armor?”

“I did, your majesty,” Hal took the knife and you closed your eyes in shame. Loki had the cover of the blankets but you had nothing.

“Very well, return in an hour for my bath,” he bid. The boy left without more than his assent.

Loki snickered and you felt his hand on your arm. He laid back and turned onto his side. He draped his arm around you and tugged at the knot by your wrists. He loosened the rope and pulled it away until you were free. The skin beneath was raw and warm.

He drew back and touched the mark he’d left on your chest. You winced and looked down as you fell onto your back and straightened your arms. His symbol, two snakes intertwined, skillfully cut into your flesh. You closed your eyes in shame.

“You will never forget me, mouse,” he murmured, “And none will ever forget that you are mine.”

You said nothing. You felt like crying; like screaming. He moved closer and you felt his hard member against your leg. He slipped from beneath the covers and lifted himself over you. He forced a knee between your legs. 

You opened your eyes as he held himself over you and pushed against your entrance. You gulped as he slid inside. It still hurt very much.

You braced his shoulders as he impaled you. You breathed between your teeth and peaked down at your bodies. He was covered in black and blue splotches; bruised from his battle with his brother, from which armor couldn’t even protect him.

“Do you like how I look inside you?” He teased, “How I feel?”

You turned your head away and stared at the wall. He chuckled and nuzzled your temple.

“I don’t know how I should ever keep myself from you now,” his hot breath seared your skin and you shivered as another heat began to blossom.

🐍

The wardrobe was locked and you were allowed no clothing when Loki left you. Nor were you allowed to stray from the bedchamber. The receiving chamber was also closed and you were to linger in your cell. The last of the tournament would be marked with a feast and the claiming of prizes by the champions.

You kept a sheet around you. You felt grimy and used. The king had bathed after he ate but had forbidden you the same. You were to remain filthy; his touch lingered on you; inside of you.

You sat by the window but did not look out. You listened to the titter of birds and the distant crowd. You weren’t so curious as before. The nobles could keep their games.

You dozed in the slat of sunlight that leaked in between the curtains and didn’t wake for some hours. Despite your despair and the way your nerves never quite stopped, you were too exhausted to resist. Your body was stiff as you woke in the chair, sore from the abuse of the king.

You rose and paced for a time. You found the book Loki had left on the side table and flipped through the pages. You didn’t know the letters or what they said but you admired the colourful illuminations. You felt an urge to cry but did not. Could not. That would be his final victory and you would keep it from him or as long as you could.

The day wore on and evening shrouded the sky without. You wondered if Loki would return with the same fervour or be too fatigued from a day of gaiety. You distracted yourself by twists and knotting the rope which had formerly bound you. A single lantern burned as you grew restless.

Then you heard the door. More jarringly, you heard a voice that was not the king’s. The deep tone was cheery and was met with Loki’s cool timbre. You moved to the door and listened as you hugged the sheet around you.

“Brother, it is late, I have an early morning,” Loki bemoaned, “I haven’t time for another drink.”

“But you do require it. Your mood remains.” The visitor, Thor you could guess, returned. “Are you so quick to be away? You might stay for another day. My wife is most happy to host your court.”

“The very court you left behind,” Loki countered.

“I do miss you, brother,” a chair leg whined against the floor and Loki sighed. “One glass. For me. For father.”

“In spite of father,” Loki replied. Glass met the table and you heard a cork pop. “One glass.”

The brothers went on as such. Little japes and jabs. You still wondered why the elder had stepped aside but he did sound happier away from the royal parade. You listened passively, knowing that when Thor was gone, Loki would have no reason to delay.

“I know you are still sour from our contest,” Thor intoned, “But know I did not mean to slight you.”

“A game. I know,” Loki assured him though he was less than convincing.

“You always did enjoy games.” Thor said, “You are adept at toying with others. It is why you will be a better king.”

There was a silence. A glass was set down.

“I know you did not come to praise me so, brother, so why is it you’ve chosen to hound my chambers this night?”

“Always so distrusting. I never looked at you as an adversary as you have me.” Thor replied. “Can’t we set this all behind us. You have the crown--”

“So why do you pace my chambers as if you have lost a precious ring?” Loki challenged.

“I have sat much today. I wish to stretch my legs.”

“You are a poor liar.” Loki sneered. “If you will not be forthright, you will leave me in peace.”

“Well, you know how it can be. How word travels quickly. How the slightest inconsistency does stir the servants to chatter and the ladies to repeat it.”

“As you said, brother, you aren’t so skilled at toying with others so what is it?”

“You are keeping a secret. From me. From your court.” Thor said staunchly, “You dress her in servant’s garb and keep her in your chamber but I do believe that boy with the dusty hair is your attendant.”

“What are you doing? Don’t--”

The door opened suddenly and you looked up as a large figure stood over you. You blinked and clutched the sheet as you got to your knees and backed away. Loki appeared beside his brother and wrenched him back.

“What does it matter if I seek relief?” Loki huffed, “You have your wife and it is no secret that her condition does see your eye astray.”

“Where did you get this creature?” Thor tried to pull away from his brother but Loki clung to him. 

“Never you mind. You’ve a staff of your own, an entire city of willing harlots beyond your gates.”

“I am only curious,” Thor shook off Loki and advanced on you again. You struggled to your feet and he raised his palms. “I will not hurt you, lady.”

You looked to Loki and he shook his head. As your eyes returned to Thor, his were on your chest, just above the sheet. You covered the incisions there. He smiled and spun back to his brother.

“Should you not marry before--”

“I have time to marry and I will find a princess to fill the crown,” Loki insisted, “You needn’t worry, brother. It is my throne now and I will tend to it.”

“And how should a princess feel when she is met with another in her spot? Even calling her a queen could not absolve her affront.”

“Why are you so concerned?” Loki spat.

“Merely… curious,” Thor neared his brother, “And surprised… perhaps she might ease that lance ever lodged up your--”

“Good night, brother,” Loki barked and strode to the door, “You’ve had your drink.”

“I understand your impatience,” Thor stopped by the door and looked back at you, “I understand it too well.”

“Just go.” Loki opened the door. “As I’ve said, I’ve an early morning.”

“Late night, as well,” Thor chuckled. “Good night, your majesty.”

With that, the elder Odinson left and the door was closed with venom. Loki spun and leaned against it with a growl. You watched through the door frame and his eyes met yours.

“I’m sorry--”

“Quiet,” Loki pushed himself away from the painted wood, “Come.”

He beckoned you forth and you reluctantly crossed the room. He met you halfway and tore the sheet away from your body. He pulled you close and ran his hands up and down your figure. He turned you and bent you over the table so that your hips met it with a pang.

He hastily untied his trousers and freed himself. He sheathed his cock in you without hesitation and you went rigid as you braced the table.

“You know what you’ve done?” He rutted into you as his words were harried by his breath. “My brother… he never let me have a toy of my own.” He crashed into you without relent. “Even the throne he did not hand over until he tired of it. Until he realised--” Loki groaned and sped up. “We must leave as soon as we can.”

#loki #loki x reader #dark loki #dark!loki #fic #king!loki #dark fic #dark!fic #series #by the king's hand #medieval au #au #medieval #medieval!au #mcu #marvel #thor

[jlalafics]

“Operator”-an Everlark Ficlet

For @mrspeetamellark, who wanted “Peeta’s dirty filthy sex talk”. Enjoy!

Katniss couldn’t believe she was doing this.

Delly had convinced her that this would broaden her horizons.

Apparently, that’s what she needed after a dumping such as hers.

Her year-long relationship with Cato had ended with a bitter fight and him telling her that she was bore in the bedroom. Then, he promptly informed her that he was moving out of their apartment to shack up with Clove, a little beast of a woman who had clawed her way up into Cato’s penis.

That was fine. The relationship had been going downhill months ago.

However, this was kind of a new low for her.

She went to the mirror in the corner of her bedroom, looking at her reflection and wondering if the black nightie was necessary.

Then, pouring a glass of wine from the bottle on her bedside table, Katniss pulled out a card with the scantily clad man on it and dialed the number.

It rang a twice.

She told herself she would hang up on the third, when someone suddenly picked up the line.

“Hello?” came a smooth, deep voice.

“Hi,” she croaked out nervously. “This is stupid.”

The man on the phone chuckled. “I hope not. It’s how I make a living.”

“Oh hell—I’m sorry!” Katniss slap her palm to her forehead. “I’ve never done this before, but my friend suggested it as a way to help me discover ‘my sexual goddess’—whatever the fuck that means.”

“Sounds like you’ve been going through something,” the man replied. “Want to tell me about it?”

“I’ve been living with my ex for a year and he just dumped me for a girl who will let him put it anywhere he wants.”

“Ouch. Sounds like a real charmer.”

“You bet,” she responded wryly. “I’m not too sad about it. I’m more insulted that he thought I was boring in bed. I mean, I would’ve let him put it anywhere, but some foreplay would’ve been nice. Also, being completely silent while I’m pulling out the big guns didn’t help.”

“Some guys expect women to just automatically go for anything,” the man said. “But I find that, in healthy sexual relationships, there has to be an equal amount of give and take.”

“Exactly!” Katniss took a sip from her glass and sat back against the pillows of her bed. “You seem like a decent person. Why are you working on a phone sex line?”

“Because I enjoy it,” he told her simply. “Also, this is just an evening job.”

“So, it’s like a stripper at night and paralegal by day kind of thing,” she replied.

The man chuckled. “Kind of. I have a pretty standard office job.”

“Me, too.” Katniss took another sip, her nerves beginning to relax. “So, how do we do this?”

“Let’s start with your name,” he told her.

“Katniss.”

“Katniss,” he repeated.

His voice tightened at the last bit of her name and she straightened at the change of tone.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No, it’s just a very different name,” the man said. “But very pretty. I think I’m going to like saying it into your ear as you come.”

Her nipples immediately tightened at his words. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes.” He laughed roughly. “What pretty little thing are you wearing for me?”

“I knew you were going to ask that, at some point.” Katniss fingered the strap of her nightie. “I’m wearing a black nightie with lace along the top.”

“Sounds lovely,” the man replied. “Tell me; do you feel uncomfortable taking instructions?”

“Depends.” She smiled into receiver. “What are you going to tell me to do?”

“Give me a name,” he told her. “A name that means something to you. A name that turns you on. But I don’t want you to say it until you come.”

“Alright,” she agreed.

There was only one name that Katniss wanted to say.

He, however, was unattainable.

“Close your eyes.” His voice was low, and the timbre instantly electrified her…down there. “I can tell that you’re analyzing every single part of this call…what I must be thinking about you…what I look like—am I right?”

Katniss giggled. “Exactly.” She sighed and closed her eyes. “I closed them.”

“I think that you’re a brave woman who’s taking control of her sexual life.” The man breathed against the receiver and Katniss shivered imagining his warm breath against her ear. “I’m blond, average height, with blue eyes. Imagine me in your mind.”

Katniss took a deep breath, the image of a man forming in her head. She saw him, undoing her favorite red tie, removing his black loafers, before lying next to her.

“I’m playing with the strap of your gown, Katniss…what were you doing before I came home?”

“Drinking wine…imagining what we would be doing once you got home,” she stuttered out. “I’m not good at this.”

“You were doing beautifully,” he assured her. “The tone of your voice…low…grounded…I bet you growl when you’re turned on…and I'd love to make you growl…”

Katniss felt the gush as her core pulsed at his words. She had foregone underwear and could see her arousal gleaming on her inner thighs.

“While you were waiting for me, did you touch yourself?”

Her fingers traced along the opening of her gown. “Yes…”

“Oh fuck—” He groaned into the receiver and the sound traveled straight to her cunt. “I’ve been thinking about you all day. Just thinking about coming home to you made me hard—” There was a grunt on her speaker, and she gasped at the image of him, cock straining through the zipper of his pants. “I had to close the door to my office and stroke myself to the thought of you…”

Katniss mewled into the phone, her hand traveling down between her legs as the other massaged her breast.

“God…”

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he rumbled on the line. “I’m kneeling in front of you, open your cunt for me—”

“What?”

“Take those pretty little fingers of yours and use them to spread your labia, Katniss. I want to see that lovely hole…the one that I’m going to stick my fingers…then my tongue…and finally my cock—”

Behind her eyes, Katniss imagined this mystery man kneeling before her and using her index and middle finger, spread her outer lips apart to his hungry eyes.

“Mmmm…more…” She groaned into the phone. “I want more…please…”

“I got you—” Katniss could hear shifting and wondered if she was actually turning this stranger on. “You’re so wet for me, Katniss. I bet you taste delicious...go on…taste yourself.”

Losing herself in his voice, she lifted her hand to her mouth and stuck her fingers in her mouth.

“I can hear you sucking on your fingers.” He sounded desperate. “What do you taste like?”

She moved her fingers from her lips. “Light…but musky…”

The man moaned into the receiver. “Do you want to fuck me?”

“Yes,” she growled. “I need you inside me.”

Her fingers went back to drenched core, moving along her inner lips, and dancing along her entrance.

“Undo my belt,” he commanded. “I can’t wait anymore, Katniss. I want you to pull out my cock. I want you to rub your cunt against my pants so every time I wear them, I can remember my dick ramming into that soaked hole of yours—fuck!”

Katniss took her fingers, plunging them straight into her core. “UH!” She lost herself in the motion, her hips jerking as she fucked herself—or in her mind, he fucked her—into oblivion. “I’m going to come…”

“Me too, baby,” he moaned. “Touch your clit, make yourself come for me, Katniss…”

Her hand went to her pearl, circling the peaked nerve, and she felt the crest of her climax in sight.

“Don’t forget…” he demanded. “Say my name…say my name when you come—”

Her whole body arched, tensing, before she crashed, and her hips bucked as the white-hot pleasure blinded her.

“FUCK—PEETA!”

She could hear his ragged breaths as her hips landed back on her mattress.

“Oh God…that was amazing.”

“You are amazing,” he breathed, almost tenderly.

“Thank you,” she whispered into the phone. “I thought that maybe my ex was right—that I was a horrible lay. But it wasn’t me. He just never inspired me…or made me want…you did.”

“Katniss?”

Her eyes opened slowly. “Yes?”

“It’s me—” He took a deep breath. “Peeta.”

She snorted. “Yeah, sure.”

“Today is your 25th birthday.” Katniss shot up at his words. “Your office gave you a cake—chocolate with strawberries on top and almonds sprinkled on the sides, along with a bottle of wine.” Her eyes went to the open bottle of pinot. “My office is right across from yours—and I’ve been in love with you since the moment I met you.”

“Peeta…” Her eyes filled. “Two years?”

“Two years,” he confirmed. “Delly told me that you and Cato broke up. I had to take a chance even if it was this.”

“Do you actually work as a phone sex operator?”

“No,” he replied. “Delly made that flier.”

“Damn her and her graphic skills,” she muttered.

“Do you hate me? For lying to you?” Peeta asked carefully. “If you ended up not calling, I was going to ask you out on Monday, but I understand if you never want to speak to me—”

“Peeta.” He stopped. “Would you really do all the things you said over the phone?”

“Fuck yes.”

Katniss laid back against her pillows. She didn’t want to wait till Monday to see him.

So, she told him her address.

FIN.

#Everlark #Everlark Fanfiction #Rated E #request #unedited

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Wedding Fluff

A/N: Got this request a while back and Tumblr was giving me a hard time with this. I’m so sorry for the delay anon! I’ve tweaked it a bit here and there. Hope you like it :)

Pairing: Thor Odinson x Reader

Word count: 1730

Warnings: 18+ stuff, NSFW, Tooth-rotting fluff and SMUT!!

…

Butterflies. You felt a thousand butterflies in your belly as you stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your dress for the hundredth time. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought about this day, and yet it was all a reality now.

It was almost time!

“You look lovely, Lady (Y/L/N).” you turned to see your maid of honour Lady Sif, emerging from her changing room to yours, carrying a bridal bouquet in hand. She walked behind you and fixed your veil while giving you a reassuring smile.

Exhaling a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, you smiled back and thanked her. She was describing Asgardian wedding traditions to you, to which you were half paying attention; most of your thoughts taken up by the fact that you were about to walk down the aisle in front of hundreds of people, to be married to the love of your life.

There was a loud knock on the door and your heart almost jumped out of your ribcage. Lady Sif went to answer it and kept whispering furiously to the person on the other side. You caught a ‘you cannot be here’ before the door was pushed wide open revealing the visitor.

Thor walked in leaving Lady Sif huffing as she closed the door behind her. He spotted you and he stopped in his tracks. Eyes roamed every inch of you as he stalked closer and closer, a look of wonder, love and disbelief donning his face.

“You’re not supposed to be in here Thor.” You adjusted your posture and turned to face the mirror once again, though you were blushing a little on the inside looking at his reaction.

He stopped right behind you, arms encircled your waist as he locked eyes with you in the reflection, “I can’t leave now. You look like an angel.”

“And you’re exaggerating.” blushing crimson at this point, you dismissed him, never knowing how to take a compliment.

“The groom cannot see the bride before the ceremony, it’s considered bad luck.” You explained.

“It is a silly Midgardian tradition. And I don’t care.” He placed soft kisses up your neck and behind your ear.

“But we are on Earth.” You argued, giggling as his scruff tickled. You closed your eyes and hummed as his kisses made your nerves melt away.

Technically, you were in New Asgard which was in Tønsberg, Norway. After the destruction of Thor’s home planet, their people had settled here. It wasn’t exactly a match for Asgard, as Thor had described it, but it was home now. So the wedding was going to be a beautiful amalgamation of both the traditions.

Your reverie was broken when Lady Sif opened the door harshly and stormed in, making you break away.

“Your ten minutes is up, Thor. They’re ready for you.” She said staring pointedly at him.

After placing another kiss to your cheek, he left you alone with Lady Sif and walked out.

“Ready?”

“Yes.” You smiled widely, taking a deep breath.

…

The ceremony took place on a cliff overlooking the majestic sea. The setting, food, drinks, even the weather was picture perfect beautiful. Albeit it wasn’t on Thor’s home planet, with golden palaces, royal gardens or all his loved ones all present to share this special day with you, it was nothing short of special yet spectacular.

The reception was being held under a magnificent looking canopy, it was abuzz with music and cheerful chatter as it filled the atmosphere as the wedding progressed to your first official dance as husband and wife. The whole ‘happiest day of your life’ cliché had come true and you were pretty sure your cheeks had started to ache from smiling so much. You couldn’t help it.

The band changed the song to a slow number as you wound your arms around Thor’s torso and rest your cheek against his steady beating heart, hugging him close as you swayed from side to side.

“We did it Mr. Odinson.” You murmured with your eyes closed.

A hearty chuckle reverberated from his chest making you grin, “We did it, Mrs. Odinson.”

You lifted your face to look up at him, seeing nothing but unadulterated happiness and love swimming in his mismatched yet still dreamy eyes.

“I like the sound of that.” You whispered as you reached up to capture his lips in a kiss.

After you parted, he pressed his lips to your ear and breathed, “I can’t wait to have you all by myself tonight, my love.” The words sent shivers down your spine as anticipation for what’s to come grew stronger inside you.

…

After the festivities had ended, you could feel the exhaustion of the day starting to set in. Saying your goodbyes you began walking hand-in-hand towards your house but Thor stopped you.

“I thought the cottage was this way.” You laughed, confused as to why your now husband was facing the other way.

“I have a small surprise for you. For us.” His blue eyes shining with excitement.

He revealed nothing as you both strolled along an unfamiliar path, passers-by congratulating and blessing you on your way there. The sun was just about setting leaving the surroundings in a tranquil, gorgeous orange glow.

Thor asked you to close your eyes as you turned around a narrower path to which you obliged, you had never seen him this ecstatic in a while.

“Alright, open your eyes.”

The sight before you left an audible gasp from your mouth. A rustic yet modern looking mini castle came into view. It looked like something that had appeared right out of a fairy-tale.

“Our new home, my love. Do you like it?” he asked, voice full of hope.

Smiling widely as you fought back tears you turned to face him, “Like it? It’s perfect Thor. Let’s see it from the inside, come on.” You grabbed his hand and went in eagerly.

…

“And finally this will be our bedroom.”

After the tour of your ‘palace’, Thor opened your bedroom door. It was a huge room complete with a four-poster bed with candles placed on the side tables and all around, making the room glow in soft yellow light. Stunning.

“I still don’t think any of this is real. I have no words, I really don’t. Thank you.” you were overcome with emotion at that point, thanking your lucky stars. Turning, you walked towards him and jumped in his open arms to kiss him.

“You don’t have to thank me. I would do anything for you, my love.” He said in between kisses. He slowly walked you back towards the bed, never breaking the kiss, and sat down.

You broke the kiss to undress yourself, as much as the dress was comfortable for a wedding gown, it was time to take it off now. As you slowly stripped, your husband’s eyes grew darker with lust and need, never breaking eye contact as he too got out of his tux.

Once down to your lacy wedding lingerie, you placed your knees on either side of the bed sitting in his lap. Grabbing his face you kissed him with every ounce of love, gratitude, and adoration you had for him. He responded by wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer to his body and kissing back with equal fervour.

He laid back on the soft mattress as it sunk down with his weight, taking you with him. A giggle escaped your mouth as the kiss turned desperate, he sloppily began ridding you of your underwear and you did the same.

Now fully naked, you sat back admiring the God underneath you as your fingers danced on the plains and dips of his broad chest. Reaching back, you grabbed his fully erect cock with your hand, biting your bottom lip as your thumb swiped over the tip, collecting pre-cum. Soft gasps and low, rough grunts coming from him made you feel powerful and proud, his wide eyes silently pleading you to quit teasing.

“What’s the rush now, darling? We got all night, don’t we?” Your voice came out surprisingly authoritative yet full of desire as your movements picked up the pace.

“And all night’s not enough.”

Suddenly he sat up, removed your hand from his cock, and grabbed your hips roughly, lifting you up and lowering your slick core over himself, making you groan in unison. He began guiding your hips into a steady pace as you held onto his shoulders.

The otherwise silent room soon filled with your collective groans and the sound of skin slapping against each other as he picked up the pace.

“I’m close.” You whispered into his shoulder as your body stiffened, feeling your orgasm approach.

“Cum for me (Y/N).” Thor encouraged as he pressed his thumb over your clit, toppling you over the edge.

You shuddered and winced at the loss of contact as he pulled out, only to lay you on the bed on your side. Taking hold of your leg and draping it over his, Thor drove into you once more, making you cry out in pleasure.

The new angle already pushing you towards your second release. Thor’s hands wandered over your body as he kept pounding into you, whispering praises in your ears. You reached your hand behind grabbing his hair and tugged on it as he littered your neck with hickeys.

He felt your walls clench and pulse around him as his hand went to rub circles on your clit once more. Writhing, you turned your head into the pillow and let out a muffled screamed as your orgasm washed over you for the second time that night.

You felt his hips falter as he grabbed you tighter and came with a loud grunt, spilling into you.

Both of you were still quivering with the after-effects of mind-blowing sex, as you managed to sit up to bring the sheets over your naked bodies. He hugged you close to his chest as your eyes began drooping, thoroughly exhausted.

After a few moments of drawing meaningless patterns on your back, Thor whispered,

“If you think I’m done with you, you’re mistaken.”

A lazy smile spread over your face as you supported yourself on your elbows to look up at him,

“Good. I’m not done with you either.”

With that, you captured his lips in a kiss once more.

…

#thor odinson x reader #thor smut #thor fluff #thor fanfiction #thor x you #thor x reader #wedding fluff #anon request #thank you anon #thor odinson smut #thor mcu #thor odinson imagine #thor odinson oneshot #thor odinson fluff #thor odinson fanfiction #mcu imagine #reader insert #smut fest #marvel fanfic idea #my writing #mostly marvel musings #reblogs are cool #feedback appreciated

[intubatedangel]

Out of Body: Chapter 3

Didn’t really feel like writing much of a resus scene after recent events, but I already had some stuff written so I worked it in where I could while expanding the story a bit more.

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

************

Jane The ambulance swung into the emergency bay of the major trauma centre, stopping a few feet beyond an assembled team of doctors and nurses. They were already in blue surgical gowns and with the coordination of professionalism and experience, they spread around the back doors and pulled them open, dragging the gurney out. Dave was still pumping the ambu bag while Jane, her sweat slicked fringe sticking to her forehead, handed over the IV bag and monitor to waiting hands before the team ran inside. “What have we got?” The trauma lead asked as he ran his eyes across Laura’s restrained body. His eyebrows raised slightly at the improvised chest tube. “Laura Beckett, 23. Involved in an RTC, sedan vs motorcycle. Fractured femur, query dislocated hip and knee. Fractured wrist as well. Multiple broken ribs and punctured lung, leading to severe haemothorax. Resulted in cardiac arrest, downtime of approximately 25 minutes, reversed after the pressure of the haemothorax was relieved. BPs still low and O2 sat’s barely over 80. Currently sinus tachy at 120.” “Beckett?” The doctor asked, not asking the question out loud. Jane simply nodded. “Ok, lets get her inside, fast beep radiology we need to get a full trauma series ASAP. Let’s get a proper chest tube in, get her on the vent and pack the rapid infuser with TXA, platelets and 2 units of O-neg.” “She’s A-positive.” Jane cut in. “Good, lets get 6 units of that up from the blood bank. Get in touch with cardiothoracics, orthopaedics and neuro for consults.” The rest of the team confirmed their orders as the gurney was pushed into the primary trauma room. After a 3 count Laura was lifted across onto the table, a flurry of action surrounding her as doctors and nurses perform the assigned tasks. The lead eased Jane back. “We’ve got it from here Jane.” She shook her head defiantly, but her voice came out in a whisper. “I’m not leaving her.” “You’ve done your job. And done it well, but you can’t help her in here. Go get cleaned up, you’ll be the first to hear when we have any news.” Jane lingered for a moment, gazing at her sisters body as nurses rapidly stripped away her clothes, discarding them into a bloody heap in one corner of the room. Then her shoulders slumped and her head bowed as she retreated from the trauma room, discarding her gloves into a bin. Dave tried to catch her attention, but she ignored him, heading towards the ladies restroom while pulling out her phone. Ashir Ashir sat at his desk, much of the room shrouded in the late-night darkness. The desk itself was lit by a powerful lamp that starkly highlighted thin tendrils of smoke as they were drawn into the small extraction unit mounted in the window. He peered through the microscope, gently applying more solder to the electronic circuit board he was working on. It wasn’t work that needed to be done right now, but he needed something to occupy his mind. He made a satisfied grunt and shifted the microscope out of the way. He leaned back, stretching and rubbing his eyes, while spinning on his chair. His gaze fell on the other desk in the room. Laura’s desk. It was cluttered, stacks of newspapers, photographs and journals were strewn about in a system that Ashir couldn’t recognise, but his journalist roommate seemed perfectly at home with the mess. The pin board hung on the wall behind the stacks was a different story. It was laid out like a true conspiracy theory board. Over a dozen profile pictures formed the centres of different sections and various colours of string linked articles and reports in a web that looked chaotic at first glance. Looking closer, and with only a small amount of guidance, it began to come together into a cohesive whole. Ashir sighed. He really hoped his roommate was wrong about all this. But even he had to admit the evidence was compelling when presented in the way she had laid it out. That was part of what worried him. She should have been back by now. Or at least have dropped him some form of message. At least she’d told him where she was going. He’d been able to get his own backups into place. She’d probably kill him if she knew about them. As that thought crossed his mind his phone began to ring. He let out a relieved sigh as he prepared to make his concern clear. That was when he saw the caller ID. His hand trembled as he answered. “Ash you were right. She’s in over her head.” Jane’s voice was tight. “What happened?” Ash was already on his feet looking for his keys. “She’s hurt Ash. She’s really hurt.” “I’m coming down there.” He pulled on his jacket then flicked off the light. “Hurry Ash.”

Laura

I heard the noises first. Alarms sounding. Orders being given. I opened my eyes, once again struck by seeing the world in that strange brightness. A nurse was above me, rocking backwards and forwards, her ponytail flicking to and fro with the motion, until she paused for a brief moment. I followed her arms, down to her hands that rested in the slight valley between my breasts.

“Still nothing, resume compressions.” Someone said. The nurses hands suddenly disappeared into my chest. CPR, I was getting CPR again. My heart had stopped once more. The way the nurses compressions passed through my ethereal form was still incredibly disconcerting, so I sat up and looked around. Doctors and nurses surrounded me, but there was a gap at my feet. I managed to scooch past them without passing through anyone, then turned to look my body.

I was naked on the table. And I didn’t look good. My chest was heavily bruised, with tubes sticking out of either side, Jane’s impromptu effort having been replaced by a proper chest tube, an identical one mirroring it. My broken arm and leg had both been splinted and bandaged, though the bandages were already stained through. A urinary catheter had been placed. I was slightly glad I hadn’t seen that happening, someone touching me in such an intimate place.

A large bore IV was in my leg, with other lines into my arms and another one near the base of my neck. Blood and saline were flowing into my body, though as I watched, a nurse pushed some drugs into the central line.

The ecg wires trailed across my chest, leading to a monitor that hug above the trauma table. The line on the monitor was flat. I looked down at my chest, seeing my lifeline still strong and thick. I also saw that my ghostly form was naked too. I instinctively tried to cover myself, despite no one being capable of seeing me.

I looked around for my clothes, shredded and discarded into one corner. I reached out to them, but of course my hand passed right through them. But there was something. A strange feeling, almost like a memory of sensation across my whole body. I reached out again, letting my hand linger within the bundle. The sensation became stronger, growing steadily, and it was almost like I could feel the clothes on me.

I took a deep breath, recalling the meditation techniques my therapist had taught me years ago. How visualising a result can help it happen. I had no idea if it would work, but I’d rather not walk around naked, even if no one could see me. I tried to hold on to the memory of my clothes as I pulled my hand out. I could still feel the clothes on me, and focused on that feeling, blocking out everything else. Slowly, I let out the breath and opened my eyes, looking down at myself. I was clothed. My dark grey t-shirt and similar coloured pants were whole, despite their real counterparts being little more than shreds before me. My black hoody was also on me, unstained by blood like the genuine article.

“We’ve got V-fib.” Someone shouted, dragging my attention back to my body. The alarm had changed, it was familiar enough that I knew what was going to happen next. A doctor, fully gowned and masked, held a pair of black paddles down against my chest. “Clear!” He said, a moment before my naked body jerked on the trauma table. I cringed at the way my legs spread slightly.

“No change. Let’s do another minute of compressions and shock her again.” A nurse immediately had her hands back on my chest, pressing it down, seemingly quite easily. Given how petite the nurse was, my ribs must be really soft.

It was almost enough to turn my stomach, and I instinctively took a few steps back. There was a momentary feeling of resistance, and suddenly I couldn’t see anything. I paused, realising that wasn’t quite right. I could see, there just wasn’t anything too see. Except the papery texture of the back of the plasterboard sheet in front of me, and the treated timbers that were the drywall studs. I was inside the wall. I took another step back, emerging into a corridor.

It was a quiet corridor, empty except for a cleaner at the far end. Yet I could still hear a voice. Quiet, but clear. It was counting. “15…16…17…18…” I grimaced slightly, then plunged back through the wall. The nurse was still pressing down on my chest, and she was mouthing the words, but more to herself. She wasn’t shouting by any stretch, in fact I would be surprised if her words would even carry to where I stood.

So, I can still hear what is happening to my body. Helpful. I glanced down, concentrating slightly to look at my lifeline. It was still strong and steady. How far can it stretch? I remembered Keith telling me to stay close, but the lifeline was thin then, insignificant compared to the almost cable thick line I could see before me now. I made up my mind. I strode across the room, towards the doors, unable to stop myself from hesitating just slightly before I walked through them. Again that slight resistance, more a reminder the wall was there, than something really stopping me, tugged as I passed through. And then I was in a different corridor, busier, but still quiet.

 I looked around, hoping to see Jane, but she was not there. I walked down the corridor, trying to figure out precisely where I was, or where I should go. I glanced at the signs, but most of them were mainly just numbers, hanging in front of cubicles or other offshoot corridors. Coloured lines were on the floor, branching out down the corridor behind me. Presumably, I thought, they must all come together at one starting point. I followed them back, dodging a nurse pushing a young man in a wheelchair, a large boot on his foot. Neither of them payed me even a sliver of attention.

 “Ok, that’s a minute. Let’s shock her again.” It was the voice of the doctor working on me. “Clear” he said a moment later. I stopped walking as I wondered if I was about to be wrenched back into my body. “Still no change. Load her up with epi, bicarb and amiodarone.” I considered going back, but my lifeline hadn’t changed. I was close enough to see the name plate on the nearby doors, ‘Reception’. Seemed like a sensible place to look for my sister.

I passed through the door and immediately sidestepped out of the way of a porter. It was much busier in here. I retreated to an out of the way corner and looked around for Jane. I couldn’t see her anywhere and was beginning to wonder if she had abandoned me and gone back to work when I saw a high-vis jacket come around the corner. It was her partner. Dave. I remembered. He held two coffee cups, putting them on a counter before reaching for his radio. I crossed the room, weaving around nurses and patients, cringing when a small girl ran through me.

Dave was already mid conversation. “…anks for sorting it. I’ll tell her then I‘ll run the rig back to base.”

“How’s she doing?” A voice said from the radio.

Dave blew out a breath between clenched teeth. “Honestly, not good.” He seemed to stare across at a pair of doors across the room. Toilets. “I mean, it is her sister after all, how many of us would be alright after seeing someone we love in that …” I left him behind as I crossed the room and plunged through the wall into the ladies restroom.

Jane stood there, leaning over a sink. Her high-vis jacket lay on the floor at her feet. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the edges of the sink. She was murmuring to herself, enough to earn a sideways glance from another woman who quickly scurried out.

“…stupid. Stubborn. Why couldn’t you just listen to me. I begged you. ‘Don’t go after him.’ But you didn’t listen. You never listen.” As I stepped closer, I could see her aura. There was a bubbling of red, but it was mostly that sickly green. As the door swung shut behind the fleeing woman, Jane let out a great shuddering sob, and tears began to fall from her face. I reached out, but my hand passed through her shoulder.

I could still hear the distant sounds of the attempt to resuscitate me. A third shock delivered. “Back in asystole. Ok, hang another round of blood products and chase up the surgical consult, if we don’t get anything back in two minutes we open her up down here.” That sounded just delightful. I glanced down at my lifeline, but it didn’t look like it had diminished.

That’s when I noticed the traces of red in the sink. Blood. My blood. As if to distract herself, Jane washed out the bowl of the sink, tears still dripping as she took deep steadying breaths. I’d seen her do it before. Fighting to assert an iron control over herself. It had always driven me crazy, especially after what had happened to Mum and Dad. But then, something happened that I had never seen before.

She lost.

Her whole body was wracked with sobs as she sank to the ground against the wall. Her hands covered her face and she drew her knees up tightly. I didn’t know what to do. So I sat down beside her. For just a moment I passed into the wall, but I grabbed that moment of resistance, held it my mind for a few seconds, and suddenly the wall felt solid. I leaned back against it, looking at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I whispered. As expected, she didn’t respond. She continued to sob, and I could see tears leaking out. I sighed. “It was him. If you can hear me at all, hear that. It was him. Patterson. I was right. He’s a murderer, and he tried to kill me. Just like he killed them.” I could feel the anger building. I turned to look at her, as she lowered her hand, her sobs easing. “It was never your fault Jane. It was always him. He had mum and dad killed.”  

#resus writing #resus #cpr #defib #out of body

[coffeecomicsgalore]

Unveiled Love

@smutember

Ao3

Chapter 15 – Naked Photo Shoot

“Fuck.” Adrien moaned out as he watched his fiance saunter towards him from the doorway. She wore a lacy gown, the fabric leaving nothing to the imagination, and Adrien knew he needed to save this image forever. He needed to document this momentous evening of becoming engaged to the love of his life with a photo of her beauty, and he would just save it in the secret photo album that he kept locked on his phone. Picking up the device, he turned on the camera app, pointing the lens towards her and took a picture.

“What are you doing, kitty?” Marinette called to him with a purr.

“They say a picture lasts longer, so I thought I would capture this moment forever.”

“You mean like this?” Marinette slowly turned around and bent down at the waist, the gown lifting ever so slightly over her plump ass. Adrien hummed at her smooth derriere and “accidentally” turned on the video recorder, taking a snapshot of her ass at the same time.

“Yeah, princess. Put on a show. I want to catch you in all your gorgeous glory.”

Marinette began to unhook her heels, but Adrien called out to her to keep them on. She then turned her head towards him, her blue gaze peering through partially lidded lashes. She slowly made her way back to a standing position, gliding her fingers along her legs and around her hips until she reached her navel. As she continued to make her way up her torso, she turned towards him, then continued to slide her hand up until she reached her breasts.  

Adrien bit his lip as he watched her seductive tease, letting out a low growl in anticipation. He laid there on the bed in only his black boxer briefs, spread eagle as he waited for her to reach him. He stretched his arm out and placed his phone on his leg to keep it steady, then quickly gazed at the screen to make sure it continued to record. Her smirk made the moment so much better.

As soon as she reached the edge of the bed, she pushed one strap over her shoulder, then looked to the other shoulder to do the same. She held up her gown with her arms underneath her breasts, then let out a cute whoops when she let the fabric go. Adrien watched as her gown fell to the floor, his gaze then following her athletic form back up as he took in the woman in front of him. There she stood in only a black lace thong, one that matched the gown perfectly. His eyes slid further up until he met hers, and then motioned for her to make her way towards him.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” He gasped out, his hand reaching out for her. When she straddled his thighs, she took his phone and switched the camera, then leaned it up against the lamp on the side table.

“I want you to capture this moment,” she crawled over him until her hips straddled his, the feeling of his hard cock rubbing against her core, “because I’m going to fuck you so hard, that you’re going to scream out my name.”

Adrien moaned as his head tilted back to the pillows, his eyes clenched tight as she began to grind against his dick. She placed kisses to his chest and made her way towards his jaw, nibbling and sucking on the skin until she reached his ear. He tilted his neck to grant her more access, and she happily obliged as she suckled on the perfectly tanned skin.

She placed one passionate kiss against his lips before she made her way back down to his thighs, sliding her fingers into the waistband of his boxers, and kissing the exposed skin on the v of his hips. He gasped at the contact and she quickly pulled the fabric off, watching his swollen cock spring from the confines of his underwear with a hungry gaze.

She kissed the tip and ran her hand along his length, feeling the warm member twitch in her palm. She ran her tongue against his length, then engulfed his cock with her warm mouth. She licked and sucked until her jaw grew tired, then swirled her tongue around his head to hear his response. Every moan and mewl that spilled from his lips only enticed her to play with him more, so she continued to lick and suck his cock while pumping him in between.

“Fuck.” Adrien moaned out as he reached out to grasp her hair, wrapping the strands around his palm. He cupped the back of her head until he helped her fuck his dick with her mouth, then moaned when she slid her tongue against his slit. She moaned as she tasted the precum that began to split, vibrating his cock as she did so.

His hand released her hair to grasp onto the duvet on the bed, and she took the opportunity to release his cock with a wet pop, placing one last kiss to the tip.

Adrien groaned as he felt the cool air tickle his wet cock, but it quickly warmed up again once she hovered over his body until she straddled his hips. She hastily removed her panties before making her way up, kissing the exposed skin on his torso in the process.

Focusing on his erect cock, and placing her hands on his shoulders, she slowly teased the tip with her wet entrance. He moaned as she continued to play, his eyes opening to give her a pleading gaze to just fuck him already. She gave in to his kitten eyes, kissing his lips with fervor as she helped his cock slide into her core. They both gasped at the sensation and Marinette tilted her head back in ecstasy. 

Adrien wrapped his hands around her waist, tightening his hold on her as she began to ride him. He loved the feeling of her pussy, the tender touches as she held onto his chest, and the sweet kisses as she kissed his lips and sucked on his pulse point.

Every so often, Marinette would lift herself off of his cock, only leaving the tip of it in her pussy, then would sway her hips to help in his pleasure. Adrien cried out, the deep coil beginning to form as she continued her rhythms.

“Mari. I don’t- I’m not- fuck. I’m going to cum.”

Marinette smiled as she could feel him swell, and increased her ministrations as she fucked him faster and harder until the feeling of his orgasm blinded him. 

Adrien grasped her cheeks and brought her down to his lips, kissing her as she sped up until he felt her clench up and gasp, and he knew that she had reached her climax too. They fell over the edge together; she continued to rock him until they fell back down to reality. Sweaty and panting, Marinette placed a slow kiss to his lips, then placed her forehead against his until their breathing leveled out.

She reached over and turned off the camera, smiling as the still image of her in the lace nightwear displayed on the screen. Adrien took the phone from her hands and placed it back down to the table, then wrapped her arms around her body to help his fiance lay on her side. That sat there in silence for a moment as they were gazed into each other’s eyes.

“Shit, Marinette.” He finally whispered. “That- that was amazing.”

Marinette smiled with a sleepy grin and kissed his shoulder before snuggling into his side. Adrien grabbed the blanket at the end of the bed and covered their naked forms, giving her one last kiss before drifting off to sleep for the night.

#Unveiled Love #smutember #smutember 2020 #adrienette #lemon #ml fanfiction

[chilling-seavey]

Anything But Mine (d.s.) - Chapter Twenty-Four

A/N just in time for real-life Daniel’s birthday... 

T/W birth complications

Thursday, July 30th, 2020

12:47pm

It was nearing 1am when Florence awoke to her pitch-black bedroom in her lonely apartment with an uncomfortable sting across her stomach. She had barely been asleep for two hours that night, not being able to fall asleep as easily since she reached her third trimester. With her previous pregnancy, Daniel stayed the night almost every night in her old room at the Clifford’s, his presence comforting her into deep slumbers each night; but now, spending each torturous night alone, Florence was left more than sleepless. She reached over to her bedside and switched on the table lamp, spreading warm streaks of light across her side of the bed. Not that anyone had claimed the other side. Florence shifted under the bedsheets, feeling like a ton of bricks were on her lungs and she pushed herself into a sitting position. She took a moment to take some deep breaths, feeling a wave of nausea wash over her. It had been a good few months that she had escaped the nausea but something about that night made her feel much less than okay. Florence winced as she tossed her legs over the side of the double bed and got to her feet.

More times than not, Florence found herself spending her sleepless nights on her balcony with a warm mug of tea, watching the near barren city streets below her. This night was no different, as she leaned against the kitchen island and watched the kettle boil, her hand rubbing small circles into the dip between her waist and where her belly had greatly projected over the months. Dizziness washed over her as she closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, the steady pain in her abdomen keeping her absolutely still. With the filled mug in hand, the twenty-year-old shuffled back to bed in need of someplace comfortable to sit. The small puddle of red that was stained into her cream bedsheets sent her heart to her throat and her hands to go clammy in an instant. That was not a good sign. Between the pain and the blood, she knew something wasn’t right.

Grayson answered after the second ring, his voice through the phone rough from being woken up at such an early hour.

Florence sat on the side of her bed, tears brimming in her eyes, “I’m sorry for waking you up but…I think something’s wrong and I know we agreed I’d call you to come get me and I…”

She didn’t even need to finish her anxious rambling before Grayson was out of his bed across the city, “I’ll be there in twenty minutes. I promise. Stay where you are.”

As assured, Grayson arrived twenty minutes later with Ethan quick behind him. Florence was still sat on the edge of her bed, her hands gripping her thighs through her pain, watching with hooded eyes as Grayson bent down in front of her. Her nausea was overpowering, blinking slowly to keep her eyes focussed on the beautiful brunette boy in front of her.

Grayson was a smart man and he knew just by looking at her that something was wrong. Her cheeks were flushed pink, her face pale, and her hands cold. The spotting of red on the sheets caught his eye and he directed Ethan to grab her a pair of shoes and a sweater. Florence leaned forward and held her face in her palms, her elbows on her knees.

“I really don’t feel good.” Florence mumbled into her hands.

“What’s hurting, angel?” Grayson asked as he took the clothes from Ethan and helped her into her Toronto baseball sweater and pushed a pair of Vans onto her socked feet.

“My stomach.” Florence whispered. “A lot.”

“Okay, where’s your wallet? We need your health card.”

“Purse.” Florence gestured to the red leather bag on her dresser. Grayson got up and pulled her wallet from it. The half-packed hospital bag was sitting on the floor next to it and Grayson slung it over his shoulder. He glanced at his brother who stood quietly in the doorway, eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed, concern apparent on his tired face.

“Grab Clementine, the diaper bag, and a few toys.” Grayson whispered to him.

Ethan nodded and turned for the hallway.

“Let’s get you to the hospital. Up you get.” Grayson wrapped an arm around the twenty-year-old’s waist, and she leaned on him tiredly as he almost carried her towards the foyer of her small apartment. Ethan met them there, sleeping Clementine in his arms, her cheek squished against his shoulder and her tiny arms around his neck. The grey diaper bag was over his other shoulder, a few too many toys shoved in his free arm and the car seat dangling from two fingers.

“Did you get her blanket and her stuffed giraffe?” Grayson asked him quietly.

“Bro, I took everything out of the crib. I got it.” Ethan retorted, hiking the toddler to a more comfortable position on his arm, a small book falling to the floor in the process.

The small group headed for the elevator, Florence holding tightly to Grayson’s arm. He watched her with nothing but concern etched into his features. The walk to the car was slow as Florence felt like she was going to pass out; the world almost spinning around her. They approached the two cars, Ethan’s white Jeep on the left and Grayson’s blue Porsche on the right. Clementine’s things were tossed in the passenger seat of the Jeep and Ethan ever so carefully buckled her into her car seat in the back. Grayson helped Florence to sit down and buckled her into the car before he took a shaking breath as he got into the drivers seat. He sent a quick goodbye to his brother through the window before he headed for the exit of the parking garage, ready to make the trip down to the hospital.

Florence leaned her head against the window, one hand resting on her belly and her other holding a tight grip on the seatbelt that was across her chest. Her eyes were shut tight and she simply focused on hoping and praying that everything was going to be okay. The pain in her abdomen hurt more than anything she had experienced before, and it was a dull throbbing pain that radiated up her spine. It made her feel nauseous and she kept herself as still as possible to prevent herself from throwing up in Grayson’s expensive car.

The suburban city streets at 1:30am were almost barren and Grayson was only glad there weren’t any police cars hidden down side alleys to catch him almost running every red light he approached. The hospital wasn’t far from the apartment and only a five minutes drive later – with Grayson definitely going at least twenty over the speed limit – they were pulling into the underground parking. Compared to the less than busy streets, the parking lot was quite packed and Grayson pulled his bottom lip between his teeth as he desperately looked up and down each aisle before finally finding an open space near the middle. He scrambled out of the car and opened the passenger side door, helping Florence to her feet. They walked in silence together to the elevator and up to the triage window where, after a quick inspection, they were sent to a private room.

Florence was laid down in a hospital gown, staring at the tiles on the ceiling with one hand wrapped around the bar framing her bed. Grayson folded her clothes and tucked them into her bag, keeping his worried glance on her from across the room. The heart monitor beeped quickly but steadily, Florence’s anxiety getting the better of her. Left alone with the simple instruction to “wait for the doctor” wasn’t an easy task for either of them. Grayson wanted to comfort her but he couldn’t find the words. Everything he wanted or knew he needed to say was swimming around in his mind and the stress of the situation made silence the best option.

Thankfully, the doctor and his assistant came into the room, breaking their silence with a, “Miss DiCaprio, let’s get you all hooked up and see what is going on. We’re just going to perform an ultrasound to make sure everything is okay.” The doctor explained, setting up the station in the corner of the room. Florence merely nodded in response. The doctor’s assistant rolled up the bottom of the sweater and t-shirt Florence wore and applied a small amount of cool gel. As the doctor prepared the wand, Florence looked over to Grayson, her weak gaze filled with nothing but fear as she reached her hand out for him, almost silently begging him to comfort her. Grayson took the few steps across the room and took her hand, his other holding onto the bar beside the bed. The few seconds after the doctor touched the wand to the young mother’s swollen stomach were filled with an indescribable tension. Finally, the steady rhythm of the baby’s heartbeat filled the room. Florence let out a relieved sob into her free hand, tears slipping down her pale cheeks from shut tight eyes, and Grayson’s soft sigh felt like a weight lifted from his shoulders.

“Alright,” The doctor said slowly, eyes glued to the small screen as he glided the want across the gel, “you’re thirty-five weeks, correct?”

“Thirty-six tomorrow.” Florence nodded.

“Ok, that’s good.” The doctor nodded, turning off the machine. “The baby is still stable, but the heartrate is quite low. We’re going to induce you and get him or her out as soon as possible.”

“Now?” Florence couldn’t hide the fear in her voice.

“It’s really our safest bet right now. I’ll give you a moment.” The doctor explained with a soft smile. He took the radio from his pocket and called another doctor on his way out. When the door closed, silence fell between them for a few moments.

“Gray?” Florence finally spoke, her voice quiet.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Did you call anyone yet?”

“Emilio and Callum.”

“And Daniel?”

“And Daniel.”

“Thank you.” Florence whispered. Grayson gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

To speed up the process, a manual induction was chosen over a medical one, meaning the process was almost agonizing. Florence bit down on the side of her finger to try and distract herself from the uncomfortable pain. Relief came when her water finally broke and the doctor cleaned her up.

“Contractions should start soon.” He said, pulling off his rubber gloves and checking the monitor beside her bed. “We’ll be keeping a close eye on you, but you can press the call button if you need anything.”

Florence thanked him quietly and the doctor walked out. Grayson held her one hand in both of his, offering her a gentle smile. He was being good, quiet, but comforting and Florence appreciated that. She was glad he was there with her, but she missed her usual birthing group. Michael and Luke and Callum and Aidan. And Daniel.

“Did Daniel answer yet?” Florence asked Grayson without thinking twice.

“No. Emilio’s on his way and Callum is flying out soon but nothing from Daniel.” He answered gently.

Florence nodded, silence falling between them for a moment. She looked back up at him, “And Clementine’s okay?”

“I’m sure she’s just fine.”

“Can you call Ethan to make sure?”

“Okay.” Grayson chuckled. Florence watched him walk out to the hallway, closing the door behind him. Now left alone, she glanced to the monitor beside her bed, watching the steady straight line start to rise with her first contraction. It was nothing she hadn’t experienced before but it didn’t make it nay easier. One hand gripping the bar beside her bed, Florence focussed out the window to the pitch-black sky, little lights from the city blinking through the darkness. The contraction tore on, Florence biting down on her bottom lip to keep herself quiet.

Just as the pain was dying down again, the door opened and she turned quickly to see Emilio. She sent him a soft smile to ease his concerned expression. He walked over to her bedside and pressed a hand to her cheek.

“How are you, mi amore?”

“I’m tired and hurting and scared but I’m okay.” Florence whispered.

“Do you need anything?”

Florence shook her head, although in her mind she wanted her brother or her best friend there with her. But in realty, she doubted Daniel would even show up.

Grayson came back into the room to assure her that both Ethan and Clementine were doing fine even though it was barely 4am and both were trying to sleep.

Grayson and Emilio both stayed by Florence’s side through the following contractions, taking turns holding her hand or pressing a cool cloth to her head. Time passed slowly, doctors coming in to check on her every now and then and various texts and updates being sent to family and friends. Emilio found himself bored, bouncing on the blue birthing ball while he scrolled through his phone across the room. Grayson sat in a chair at Florence’s bedside, watching the sun rise through the large paned windows. The girl was fading in and out of sleep, being woken up for each contraction to which Grayson was right there to help her through it. When she was resting though, he was on his phone, staring at the multiple unanswered texts to Daniel or the message from Callum saying the earliest flight was in eighteen hours. Florence didn’t know, of course, and Grayson didn’t want to worry her, so he kept it to himself and shared the screenshots to Emilio across the room. The two young men shared silent concerned glances.

#daniel seavey #daniel seavey fanfic #wdw #why dont we #why dont we fanfic #jonah marais #jack avery #corbyn besson #zach herron #emilio martinez #martinez twins #martinator #daniel seavey fic #college!wdw #limelight #not the dolan twins #writing #anything but mine

[madlori]

Unveiled - Chapter 3

You guys have been super encouraging today so...surprise! Here’s Chapter 3 early. And it’s kinda short, so. Might as well tack it right on.

Aaaaand chapter 4 will likely show up tomorrow sometime. I’M WEAK. 

BTW make sure you’ve read chapter 2, I posted it earlier today. Links are beneath the header image.

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Epilogue

by MadLori Word Count: 2000 Fandom: Men’s Hockey RPF Pairing: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin Rating: NC-17 (like, heed this, please) Tags: Arranged Marriage, Modern Royalty AU, Mpreg, Not Omegaverse, No Consent Issues, Veiled Sex, Weird Traditions, Don’t Think Too Hard, Handwavey Biology

Definitely sex in this one.

Read it on AO3

The Royal Bedchamber that his consort had mentioned in his message was not Zhenya’s bedroom, nor was it the Consort’s. Their respective rooms were almost next to each other, but not quite -- between them, and with a door leading to each, was the so-called Royal Bedchamber, which was used only during embargo for intimate relations. Once the Consort had conceived and the embargo was lifted, any intimacy they chose to engage in would take place in either of their own rooms.

Zhenya showered, scrubbing himself well. This was the first time he’d really be having relations with his husband -- the ritualized consummation during the wedding hardly counted. It was rare for sex between embargoed partners to reach the level of passionate lovemaking, but they could be more relaxed with each other, and enjoy a more personal experience, than they could do with a cleric standing over them.

The best part, though, was that even though Zhenya would still not see his husband’s face or even most of his body, he would definitely get to see his cock, and he was looking forward to it.

He suspected that his new husband was a man who appreciated punctuality, so he waited until precisely 3:00 pm, then opened the door into the bedchamber.

The consort was sitting on the large, low bed that was the main piece of furniture in the room. He’d changed out of the black drapings he’d been wearing earlier in the garden and into lighter, flesh-toned veils that still concealed him while being a little less forbidding. They covered him only to the middle of his chest and were entirely opaque; Zhenya wondered, not for the first time, how the consort could see through them. He straightened up as Zhenya entered. Sitting there on the bed with his legs folded under him, perked up at attention, the man looked like an eager schoolchild waiting to be called on. His consort had yet to speak a single word to him, but Zhenya was utterly charmed.

Zhenya shut the door behind him and lurked there for a moment, not quite sure how, exactly, to approach having sex with this man. Should he just climb aboard and go to it? Seemed so abrupt, and borderline rude. There was no need for pretense  -- they both knew why they were here -- but that didn’t seem like any reason to abandon all niceties, just because they couldn’t make small talk or kiss.

His consort seemed to sense his hesitation -- he took a breath, unfolded his legs, stretched out and...well, there was no other way to put it...displayed himself.

Zhenya’s breath caught. His husband -- it still felt new and strange to even think the word --  was toned and muscular, with magnificent thighs and a narrow waist, the V of his hips drawing Zhenya’s gaze to his impressive cock, sizable even in its flaccid state. Zhenya couldn’t see the man’s face, but he knew that the consort was watching him.

Zhenya slipped out of his dressing gown, revealing his own nudity. His cock was filling rapidly; his balls felt heavy beneath it, as if the task he was here to accomplish weighed upon them. He let his eyes roam up his consort’s strong legs and hips, and all at once he knew what he wanted.

He stepped to the foot of the bed and made a “turn over” motion with one hand. The consort rolled over, keeping his drapings carefully in place, and Zhenya’s cock plumped further at the sight of him. He knelt on the bed and slid his hands to his consort’s hips, urging him up to his knees. Free now to do so, he palmed the smooth, muscled globes, slipping his thumbs between them. The consort arched his back and pressed into Zhenya’s touch in a silent urge to keep going.

Zhenya parted his cheeks, exposing his hole, and then swiftly buried his face there, swiping his tongue up the center with a low growl. He’d wanted to eat this ass since he’d first laid eyes on it, and the reality was even better than his fantasy. The consort smelled clean and masculine, electric like the scent that rose from the earth after a thunderstorm, and Zhenya felt him jump and shudder at the sudden contact. He slipped off his hands where he’d braced on them and sank down to rest on his elbows, dipping his back lower and pressing his ass into Zhenya’s face.

Zhenya relished in the breathy gasps he was wringing from his mate as he worked him over with his mouth. The consort’s cock hung heavy and hard now between his thighs, dripping; Zhenya reached up and stroked it in time with the thrusts of his tongue. He could feel his consort’s pussy getting slick as well; he dipped his tongue lower to swipe across it, drawing a deeper shudder. His own arousal was cresting; he might come without even a hand to himself at this rate, and he had a job to do.

He left off his attentions and knelt up behind his husband, who read the change and moved to spread his thighs and present himself. Zhenya grasped his hips and mounted him quickly, not wanting to finish prematurely and cause an awkward delay while he worked back up to hardness. The consort met his thrusts eagerly, his erection still bobbing free; Zhenya wanted to hang on long enough to bring him to completion as well. He grasped his husband’s cock again and stroked him, keeping a rhythm he hoped would be pleasing; evidently it was, for after only a few strokes the consort stiffened and came over Zhenya’s hand, his passage pulsing and clenching and drawing Zhenya’s orgasm from him. He thrust deep and came hard into his husband’s body, visualizing again a successful conception.

As they both came down, breathing deeply in counterpoint, Zhenya withdrew and collapsed onto his back at the consort’s side. His mate stayed where he was for a moment, then he rolled to his back and tucked his legs close to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. Zhenya recognized this as a superstitious posture to maximize the chances of conception. He had his doubts about its effectiveness, but it wasn’t his place to judge his consort’s habits, or his superstitions. What was the harm? After a few minutes during which Zhenya looked his fill at his husband’s fine body while he was otherwise occupied, the consort uncurled himself and rose. He turned to face Zhenya, put his hand to his chest and gave him a little bow, then quickly left the room. Zhenya lingered for a moment, enjoying the lazy post-sex lassitude, before he began to feel self-conscious and retreated to his own chamber to clean up and dress before dinner.

------

Zhenya was restless that night. He hadn’t eaten much at dinner, so distracted had he been by thoughts of the surprisingly good sex he’d had with his new husband, not to mention everyone’s endless teasing about his newlywed status. His consort had not been present; it was nearly impossible for embargoed spouses to share meals given the drapings and veils required, not to mention the restriction on both of their speech, so consorts typically ate privately, in the company of their own guards and attendants where they would be allowed to remove their veils. In fact, Zhenya hadn’t seen his consort all evening, and would very likely not see him again until the next day’s 3:00 appointment.

He wondered how many of those appointments they would have. Their wedding would have been scheduled to coincide with his consort’s most receptive time, which would last for as long as a week, but after that the odds of conception were low. The usual custom was that relations took place only if both parties desired them to, until the next cycle of fertility came around. His consort had seemed to enjoy their appointment today, but would he wish to continue when his chances of conceiving dropped? Zhenya would leave that decision to him. 

Dammit. Now he was restless and hungry. He glanced at the clock -- after midnight. The kitchens would be deserted.

He rose and put on slippers and his dressing gown and snuck down the back staircase to the kitchen.

Which...was not deserted.

Sitting at the long stainless-steel prep table, holding a large bowl of ice cream and spoon frozen halfway to his mouth, staring at Zhenya with wide, surprised eyes, was one of his consort’s guards, the one he’d noticed earlier with the bow legs and the handsome face. As Zhenya watched, a dribble of ice cream slid from the corner of his mouth and fell to the spotless tabletop. He looked like a child, caught stealing sweets from the cupboard.

“Well, you’re caught,” Zhenya said. “Off to the gallows with you.”

The man seemed to remember himself. He dropped the bowl and spoon with a clatter and jumped to his feet, saluting smartly -- it looked odd on a man clad in a threadbare t--shirt and loose sleeping pants. “Your Royal Highness, my apologies. I…”

“At ease,” Zhenya said, flapping a hand. “I just came down for a late night snack myself. Looks like you had the same idea.” He went to the cabinet, in search of the graham cookies that were his favorite. “Ah ha,” he said, pulling out a tin. He poured some milk and joined his mystery guest at the island. The guard had resumed his ice cream binge. Zhenya peered over. “What flavor is that?”

The guard licked his lips. “Butter pecan.”

“Mmm. My favorite.”

“Mine, too.” He looked down at his bowl of ice cream, then cleared his throat. “Sir, I really do apologize. I’m…”

“Never mind. You don’t report to me, right? We’re...colleagues. If anything. Besides, I’d be a fool not to make friends with one of the men who guards my husband.”

The guard tilted his head to the side with a shrug, a “that’s a good point” sort of gesture. He thought for a moment, then stuck out his hand. “I’m Sidney,” he said.

Zhenya shook it. “Call me Zhenya.”

“Hoo, I don’t know if I can do that.”

“How about just here in the kitchen, and only after midnight?”

“I’ll try.”

Zhenya ate two cookies and washed them down with milk. “Have you been guarding His Highness for long?”

Sidney swallowed. “I’m new. Transferred into the Consort’s detail from the Prime Minister’s.”

“So you transfer in and immediately get stationed halfway across the world?”

This statement was met with a blank look. “That’s why I transferred. I wanted to come. See another place, experience a different kind of life. I’d never left New Scotland before, so when the Earl -- sorry, the Consort -- asked me if I’d like to join his guard, I said yes.”

Zhenya wondered if this new guard would be more amenable to divulging intelligence than his captain was. The consort might be dedicated to the integrity of the embargo, but Zhenya wasn’t above a little snooping. “So you don’t know the Consort very well yet?”

“No, I’ve known him since we were kids. I just never guarded him before.”

“He seems like a good man.”

“That’s not for me to judge.” He hesitated. “But that’s what’s said of him.”

“What does he look like?”

A smirk spread over Sidney’s mouth. “You know I’m not supposed to talk to you about him like that. The embargo and all.”

“Is he handsome? Tell me that much.”

Sidney flushed a little and looked away. Zhenya wondered why he’d find that question embarrassing. “He’s...often told that he is.”

“Hmm. Well, I hope I’ll get to see for myself.”

“I’m sure he does, too.”

“His mother said he had a lot of marriage proposals.”

Sidney snorted. “Yeah. Most of them boring as shit, or rich people who wanted a spouse with a title.”

“You knew who’d proposed to him?”

“Everyone talked about it. Heck, people were laying bets on who he’d accept.”

“What were my odds?”

Sidney grinned. “Even. Best odds in the pool. I told him he should bet on one of the long shots then pick him, take the money and run off to the country.”

“Not a bad plan.”

He shrugged. “He’s the one who has to marry the guy.” He blinked, hearing what he’d just said. “Sorry. That wasn’t...I didn’t mean to insult you. I’m glad he picked you.”

“No insult taken.” Zhenya ate another cookie. “I hope he’s glad, too.”

Sidney smiled. “Yeah. I think he is.”

Next Chapter

#unveiled #hockey rpf #sidgeno #sidgeno fic #my writing

[yesvaldemarharder]

Vulgora x Reader || A Mates Hormones

It’s shorter than I thought it was but oh well. Here ya go.

This is a little out there so I’ll be putting a warning.

Includes: Monster sex, breeding, slight choking, horn play, blood kink, monster penis, tentacles, biting, marking, cervix fucking, etc.

Enjoy!

-

“Don’t touch me.”

The Courtier growled rather harshly at her making her flinch pulling her hand back as if it had been slapped. A look of shock crossing her face before she huffed.

It was late, the moon shining over the estate as the forest gave soft whispers in the dark. Vulgora sat in the edge of the bed, far and tense as they bared their sharp teeth at the girl as she laid across the soft crimson layers, a gown laid over her over her hip showing some (s/c) skin.

She had only wanted them to stay the night like they usually did but she noticed how maybe once or twice a year they’d announce that they would be gone for a while and wouldn’t give her a chance to ask questions.

“Vulgora..”

She spoke softly a heavy shiver running down their back under the layer of loose night clothes, eyes slitting shining in the dark room like the creature they were. Their horns revealed showing the fiery red hair as she sat up. Their eyes following her every movement as she reached out for them again.

Vulgora started to stand but she grabbed their horn making them freeze completely, a burning heat like lava flooding their veins as they stared at her hunger in their eyes, dangerous and hot.

“Just..I want you like this. What lover would I be if I couldn’t handle your heat?”

She smiled lightly as they felt their mouth fall open a little. They hadn’t know she’d figured it out and that was probably due to their constant worrying of it approaching. Everything was quiet as she purred, hand gripping the horn a little tighter before jerking It grinning at the low growl that left their throat.

Vulgora gripped her wrist as carefully as they could before pushing it away. They were so close, so close to the animal in them taking over and she was the reason why. Hell, just looking at her was making it hard to focus. Her soft (lip/color) lips tilting up in the softest of smiles, and her smooth exposed neck.. not to mention those well rounded hips..

”V-Vulgora?”

The girl gave a surprised stutter when the other was on top of her in a second. Their clawed hands pinning hers down to the soft blankets as ragged breaths left through their lips. Eyes heated..they almost seemed angry. Their body scream feral and she whimpered biting her lip, her eyes starting to drift to avoid the heated gaze.

“Fucking. Look. At. Me.”

They growled so lowly she actually felt fear prick her senses. Vulgora could easily end her, tear out her throat and fuck her limp body until it was just a pile of flesh. However, they wouldn’t. She looked up at them again and a startled yip left her lips when they smashed their lips together.

Her eyes blown wide as a forked tongue pressed forcibly pass her lips and teeth sinking into her mouth. Their tongue thick and hot, it felt like a heated stone or fire even. She didn’t care either way as her mind started to swim, mouth opening wider as she let out cute little whimpers some drool dripping down the side of her mouth as they growled against her.

Vulgora bit down on her lip suddenly making her jump as the taste of blood flooded her mouth. As they pulled away she stared up at them before slyly sticking out her pink tongue to taste herself. The metallic taste making her pout for a second and the creature above her watched intently.

Vulgora pulled away, ripping off the fabrics that covered their scar covered chest and y/n perked at the view. Vulgora of course had a gorgeous physique, even with so many deep but heal scar tissue. They weren’t as skinny as Valdemar (who wasn’t bone they were simply thinner but with a toned body), they were a little thicker, a firm chest and tight ripples that would possibly worry any virgin. She slowly went from their chest to their lightly pudgy stomach resisting the coo that wanted to leave her lips to the baggy pants they wore on their rounded hips.

Her face started to heat up and the being above her purred, a low sound that sounded strangely like the ground breaking apart.. her eyes fixated on the bulge in their pants that squirmed and throbbed ready to be freed.

Vulgora leaned closer sticking their tongue out to lick her cheek before growling in her ear.

“Touch it, pull me out and rub me my little pet. I’ll give you a treat if you do a good job.”

And hell she believed every word. She whimpered lightly reaching forward between their legs happy to serve their lover before cupping the lifted area. Vulgora immediately let out an inhuman sound pressing their hips forward for more and y/n bit her lip fondling it.

It was heavy, like surprisingly so and she could already feel the heat of it. It wiggled and Vulgora breathes against her baring those sharp teeth as a warning for her to stick her hand in. Quickly she did so pressing her hand pass the rim and gripping the member inside, suctions immediately wrapping around her fingers pulling her closer tickling the flesh, one of her fingers grazed a soaking wet opening much like a pussy and Vulgora let out a loud roar bucking, that finger slipping inside surrounded by a hellish heat.

“There! Right fucking there pet!”

They yelled before gripping your neck squeezing it making her sputter for a second. Her own pussy wet by now before something probed her palm, firm and slimy and it slid against her hand large and fat and she couldn’t help but squeeze it which resulted and Vulgora smashing their lips together once more harsh sucking her bleeding lip before forcing their tongue in her mouth once more catching her moans.

Vulgora pulled away when she started to wiggle needing air in her lungs and they pushed her back on the bed releasing her throat that now held a rather large bruise. They pulled down their pants showing their cock. Small tentacles surrounded it, all red and wiggling in excitement leaking small drops of lubricant, their cock stood proudly from the cunt that held it, slick and ready to penetrate and Y/n bit her lip looking at it.

Vulgora was fucking big and she could already imagine them fucking her open, imagine the bulge that they could form in her. She wonder what their cum felt like and what they looked like when they came. She’d definitely pull on those horns too just to see them react.

Y/n whimpered pulling up her gown like a good slut presenting themselves to their master, her panties holding a wet slick spot that Vulgora immediately pressed a nail to, said nail poking her urethra making her gasp and shudder against the pillows. They purred rubbed it a couple times before pressing their thumb to her covered clit firmly pressing their other hand on her lower abdomen as she jumped letting out a loud cry.

“V-Vulgora!~ Master please!~”

She cooed and the creature grinned a wide toothy grin that would have scared anyone else off had it not been her. Their tentacles and cock throbbing and leaking impatience showing through such actions.

“Yes yes, my precious little breeding whore.”

They spoke, voice lower then it was a while ago. Voice husky and primal as their eyes glowed brightly, the hand closest to her heat moving before snatching her panties off listening to the gasp she let out as air ran over her leaking cunt and the shredded sound filled the room. They tossed them to the floor without a care before slapping their clit a couple times loving the way she jumped and whined at each strike.

“I’ll take care of you. Only I can do such a thing.”

They growled leaning closer, moving their hips as their tentacles immediately stick to her inner thighs kissing and bruising the flesh as their cock rocked between her folds.

“Only I am allowed to see that face you’re making. Those bloody fucking lips and those bright flushed cheeks.”

They murmured darkly and before she could reply they pulled their hips back before snapping them forward, their cock pushing threw her, spreading her pussy open, stretching it as their phallus pressed deep into her tickling the small entrance of her cervix.

Y/n jerked, legs jumping in the air only to be caught by them, their clawed hands cupping under her thighs holding her firmly, nails digging into her flesh as they pushed them up forcing her into positive as they looked over her. Their magic seeping from them... thick, hot and heavy tickling her flesh before her gown was torn open revealing her lace bra and stomach.

Her mind was hazy but she forced herself to look as Vulgora slowly licked a thick line from her clit to the middle of her breast feeling the tensing and quivering muscles under her layers of flesh. They kissed that spot leaving her arching against their mouth before pulling away a little to speak. Their golden eyes more of a silver now as they watched her breathless and sensitive reactions.

“Only I am allowed to give you this pleasure. Only I am allow to breed you like the slut you are. Me. Only me.”

They hissed, tongue flicking between their lips before slipping back into their mouth. They drew their hips back slowly before slamming in once more opening the entrance of her cervix in the process. Her body arched hotly, sweat dripping heavily off her body as her hands reached for them gripping their shoulders before dragging down their scarred chest leaving heavy red lines in their chest.

”V-Vulgora!~”

She cried out pushing weakly on their chest as they roughly rolled their hips against her milking her at this point, cervix open around the tip of their phallus as they bit down on her bra yanking their head back, ripping the offending garment off literally like a beast... spiting it out to the side of the bed not caring about it before they started a harsh pace kissing and sucking her nipples.

Their hips snapped back and fourth as her eyes were wide, tongue hanging out her mouth and drool slipping from the corners. Her body tingling all over as Vulgora became her everything. Became her mate, her obsession, her world.

She could only see them right now, tears leaking from her eyes cheeks a deep red as they bred her. Their thrust so powerful the bed slammed into the wall multiple times until something crumbled which she was pretty sure was the wall giving out.

Her hands in their hair tugging, yanking even before she gripped their horns and suddenly they froze.

Y/n was allowed to come down from her high, loosening her grip on the appendages worried she had just fucked up. Her ragged pants coming out strangled thanks to the fear. Vulgora had stopped, looking dead at her collarbone before slowly tilting their head up. Y/n’s eyes widened as they stared at each other.

Vulgora’s eyes were so slitted, they put a full feline to shame, eyes glowing and teeth sharp in the smile they gave. They chuckled lowly some of their magic twisting and shooting around the room and at this point it really was like fucking the devil. (Which of course wasn’t true. Vulgora in heat was one this, Valdemar was another but the actual devil? Don’t even play him..) Vulgora dug their nails deeper in her flesh watching as she gasped as she started to bleed, thighs quivering as her slick started to cover the blankets.

Fuck, she was scared..terrified even but oh so fucking wet.

Her pussy clenched hard on the cock as a couple tentacles slipped into her ass, spreading her open and playing with her already sensitive body watching as she withered and begged for that orgasm that was looming so close but drifting away at the same time. She wanted them and only them.

She refused to take anyone else in her and that was her final answer. She’d bind herself to Vulgora forever.

“V-Vulgora please! Breed me master please! Oh please!~”

She babbled loosing her mind as her hands reached and grabbed at their sides pulling desperately at them, clawing their already marked flesh wanting them again. Her own magic flooding the room mixing strangely with there’s.

A dance of true mates.

Vulgora shushed her rolling their hips as they shifted, clawed toes digging into the sheets as a low chuckle left them.

“Pull on them again.”

They purred and damn it she did and the result was a loud growl before their hips bucked. If it wasn’t for them holding her so tightly she would have launched away, her hands tightened, rubbed and squeezed those fucking horns as her orgasm started to flood her. Vulgora sucking and biting on every inch of flesh wanting to let others know who she belonged to. Who she worshipped and who she worked for. She was theirs and they were hers.

“G-Good girl~ cum...cum for you master.”

They grunted and she did, her back arching so hard they feared that she’d snap it. Her legs crossing over their back pulling them closer as they bit down on her flooding her insides with molten hot cum making her gasp in shock as a second orgasm crashed over them, their creams gushing out onto the ruined bed before she went boneless.

Hee body collapsing on the bed as she panting, sweat all over her as she lowered her hands.

A weak smile found her lips before she petted their cheek giggling softly at that purr that came once more knowing that later if she brought it up that they’d only deny making such a noise. She was exhausted and it showed. Vulgora had calmed down as well, purring as they pulled their nails from her, coated in blood as they cupped her hand nuzzling it before kissing the palm, then bending it to kiss carefully along her knuckles.

She watched in fascination not minding the warm blood dripping from her, it was rare to see Vulgora so soft and sweet. Extremely so. They could be passionate yes but not like this, this was different.

When they looked up at her their eyes had still been glowing and silver, slowly changing back to their golden hue as they carefully pulled out, tentacles soft now and phallus going back into their mysterious pussy. For a second she blushed again, she wondered if they’d ever allow her to eat them out. Maybe not though...

They kissed her softly this time, her eyes fluttering shut as they gently rubbed any spots that would probably become sore soon. There was a swelling in them, no one had ever been able to handle their heat...either running away or dying immediately as it begun yet this woman took them so...eagerly. So happily, so willingly.

It shocked them in a sense but it made them. Happy? Relieved even that they found such a mate.

“I love you, my dear little mortal.”

They spoke softly against her lips humming lightly when she gave a tired giggle, sleep starting to take over her. They’d take care of any injuries then. Her voice was a whisper but they still heard it clearly and sighed softly as it floated in their head.

“I love you too, Vulgora. My love.”

#the arcane game #arcana game #vulgora x apprentice #vulgora x reader #vulgora #x reader #reader insert #smut #nsfw. #my kinks

[sableunstable]

Drunk

Inspired by a request from @curiouselfqueen. Enjoy!

...

"Go home, Harry, you're drunk."

You know, I really don't think I am.

The world was spinning rather chaotically, in his opinion. Leaning against the back of a wooden chair that seemed to want to do the bloody can-can, Harry peered blearily up at the owner of the voice, a trickle of sweat running down the side of his neck. He felt like utter shite. The low murmur of talking and laughter, the band playing an endless cycle of Christmas music, the garish red and green decorations, it pressed down at him from all sides, emphasizing the horrible pounding in his temples.

His brain felt like a cauldron full of bubbling mush, and like it was hollering at him at the speed of sound, all at the same time. And he wasn't entirely sure why.

How strong was that firewhiskey anyway?

"You realise you've got a game tomorrow, don't you? Drinking in excess this evening really wasn't a good idea."

"You sound like my bloody mother," Harry mumbled, lifting a shaky hand to wipe the spit off his chin. There was a buzzing in his chest that seemed to have taken on a life of its own. Like he'd swallowed a handful of bees.

Had he swallowed a handful of bees?

"Now, now, no need to be nasty. I'm just making an observation."

Observation, my arse.

"And a very nice arse it is, too, love."

"Fuck you," Harry muttered again, pushing away from the chair and taking a step away from the annoying twat who seemed to have developed his mind reading skills rather rapidly, only to stop when the floor seemed to swoop and slur around him, imitating the contents of his suddenly burning stomach. When did the lights get so bloody bright? Couldn't they turn those down or something? "I don't need t'do anything you say."

"You are right, you don't. But I'm sure your coach and team would appreciate it if you did, however."

Harry shook his head. The bees in his chest had begun to grow tentacle-like horns, the buzzing spreading up into his throat and down into his lower body. It hurt. Why did it hurt? They were snapping out and stinging him, a swell of buzzy, sharper-than-pin-prick tingles that were both confusing and distressing. The pounding in his head had taking on a somewhat floaty edge, as if his thoughts were being consumed by bubbles made of concrete. Harry let out a quiet laugh.

Bubbles weren't made of concrete. Were they?

Had he had too much champagne?

He'd only had one drink.

Hadn't he?

Just one. He'd committed to just one.

The only one.

Concrete-bubble thoughts were very strange. Harry laughed again and blinked the sweat out of his eyes before taking another step.

His legs were trembling. Were his legs trembling?

Why?

He'd had one drink!

"Harry? All right, love, you really don't look good. I think we should call it a night, hmm?"

A hand grasped his arm, voice gentle, breath warm against his ear. Harry tried to lift his head, to move his mouth; to nod; to push the hand away; to do something, but found whatever it was going to be impossible. The buzzing was deafening now, screeching with knives that scraped at his insides. Jellifying his thoughts.

Jellifying his lungs.

He couldn't breathe.

He'd had one drink!

Ah, fuck me.

"Harry? Harry!"

Nope, really not drunk, was Harry's last sighing thought as his legs gave way under him, his consciousness fleeing suddenly and violently under the force of the drug he'd taken without his knowledge coursing through his system. Really not drunk at all.

~0~

"You're incredibly pretty, you know."

It was said almost conversationally. The corner of Draco's mouth twitched, his cheeks taking on a tinge of heat.

Bloody charmer.

"Shut it, Potter, you're drunk."

"Am not," Potter replied, his voice coming out mulish. The quill in Draco's hand paused for just a second before continuing. The scratching of the tip on the parchment was loud in the otherwise quiet room.

Stale. The room was stale. Draco frowned down at the notes he was updating. Bloody Healers didn't know what they were on about.

That wouldn't do.

"You're acting like you are."

"It's the drug, not me!"

"And now you're whining," Draco said calmly, setting the notes back down in their slot at the end of the bed and removing his wand, his robes swishing around his ankles as he moved around the room to freshen things up, every once in a while revealing a glimpse of his dragonhide boots. "Whining is incredibly unbecoming, you know. Not very attractive at all."

"I could make you come if you'd let me."

Stopping as if he'd ran smack into an invisible wall, Draco's head snapped around so quickly, his neck protested. Potter was sitting up in the hospital bed, his cheeks a ruddy, ruby red. He was looking at Draco with half-cast eyes, lids low. Draco scowled and snapped his wand back into its holster.

His heart was beating much too fast.

Fucking drug.

"I'd advise you to watch your mouth, scarhead," he said, walking back over to the bed and reaching a hand out to grip Potter’s chin. Those hot, half-cast eyes had spidery yellow veins stretching out from the emerald green irises.

Yip, still high as a bleeding kite. Draco's scowl deepened

"You're in a public place. It wouldn't do to be overheard."

"I really don't care if the entire Ministry overhears me. You're bloody pretty and I'd really like to make you come. Or just touch you. Either's good, although I'm sure you'd enjoy the first a lot more than the second."

Bloody hell. Hot eyes indeed. Draco's heart slamming in his chest, he went to release Potter's chin and step back, away from the drugged, horny toad coming on to him, only to find he couldn't. Potter's hand was wrapped around his wrist.

No way to escape.

Did he even want to?

"Draco."

"Don't." The word whiplashed out, making Harry flinch. Draco's fingers tightened on his chin to the point of pain. "Don't you dare speak. You don't know what you're saying."

"Yes I do," Harry answered hurriedly, hot eyes now suddenly pleading. "I do. I'm sorry. Don't be angry with me. Please don't be angry with me. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be angry with you? Don't be angry with you?! You let yourself get fucking drugged!" Draco exploded, ripping his wrist out of Harry's grip and storming away from the bed, the anger, the helplessness, the fear, bubbling up inside his gut until he couldn't contain it anymore. "You know there are still factions out there that want you dead, people that'll do anything to stop you playing, yet you accepted a drink from a stranger at a party hosted by someone we don’t know personally and you didn't fucking check it! All because you were angry with me! How could you be so bloody careless?!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking!"

"Of course you weren't fucking thinking, you daft dunderhead! If you had've been, I wouldn't have just been correcting the antidote dosage those bloody incompetent healers have given you! Bloody shitting hell, I could strangle you!"

"Wanna fuck me instead?"

Swinging around and springing forward, Draco planted his hands on the bed, teeth bared. "Those buffoons you call teammates are rubbing off on you far too much," he snarled, almost vibrating with anger. "Check that inappropriate humour coping mechanism, Potter, before I bite off the bloody head you seem to be thinking with!"

"Oooh, kinky. Yes please? Okay, okay, sorry!" Harry said hurriedly, holding up his hands when Draco growled low and clenched the sheets like he wanted to tear them in two. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Um. My head's still muddy and you really are exceptionally beautiful when you're pissed. Your eyes are just… ahem. Anyway. I'm really fucking sorry, okay? God, you've no clue how sorry I am. It shouldn't've happened. It won't happen again. I swear it won't."

"You're fucking right, it won't."

"No, it won't," Harry agreed rapidly, words tripping over themselves in their hurry to get out. "It won't because you won't let it, yeah?" His palm was hot as he leant forward and laid it against Draco's cheek, spiderly, slowly clearing eyes both panicky and earnest. "I've a Head Healer who loves me, don't I? He'll be all annoyingly suspicious and overprotective from now on, I guarantee it."

His heart was slamming its way into his throat. Draco swallowed heavily and pushed back from the bed to rub his wet eyes with fingers that shook.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Screw you, Potter. I swear, if you do something that ridiculously stupid again, I will poison you so slowly and painfully you'll beg me to end it. You know I can do it. I'm the bloody best Healer St Mungo's has."

"Draco."

The single word broke through the quivering steel holding his spine straight. It felt almost as if his body was beyond his control as he turned back and hurled himself towards the bed, the formal robes he'd worn to the public party he and Harry had attended that evening at the Minister’s urging billowing out over him and his husband when he wrapped himself up in Harry's outspread arms. His grip tight enough to hurt, he hugged the man he'd almost lost to his chest, all because of a stupid argument they'd had over Harry committing them to attending Christmas at the Burrow for the umpteenth time without discussing it with Draco first. Long hours and exhaustion, stress on both sides, and no 'us time' had contributed to everything getting blown out of proportion.

It won't happen again.

"We're taking a holiday for Christmas," he muttered into Harry's neck, eyes still hot and damp. He could feel the bumps of Harry's spine underneath the cold starchiness of his unflattering hospital gown. "Somewhere hot. Just us. Molly'll understand that, yes? We need some just us time. Can we do that please?"

"Yes, yes, of course we can. Just us." Harry's reply was muffled by the collar of Draco's rapidly getting wet robes. He continued to mutter bumbling words of reassurance, his hands moving from Draco's hair, to under his robes, to Draco's face and back again, fingertips gentle on skin chilled by terror. They clung to each other like a lifeline, for how long neither were entirely sure.

The words had slowly run out, both of them silent in each other's arms, when Harry spoke again.

"So. How do you feel about us ending the evening with me sucking you off until your brain explodes?"

Draco's rather shocked snort rang through the no longer stale room. "Sweet Salazar, Harry!" he said, coughing on the air he'd swallowed as he pulled back. "You're in a hospital bed, for Merlin’s sake!"

"So?" Harry sent him a winning smile and sidled a little closer. "We're all alone and the door's lockable. What d'ya say?"

"I say you're barmy, is what I say!"

"Nah, just feeling the aftereffects of a drug and its antidote, a combination that's probably not supposed to make me horny. But hey, you're here and you're bloody stunning, and I really, really want to touch you. Just touch you. Draco? Please?"

It took a moment, but Draco's smile grew. "Whining won't get you anywhere, but manners certainly will," he murmured, letting out a low chuckle when Harry released an excited, almost puppy-like yip and threw himself back into his husband's welcoming arms.

It took three of Draco's colleagues almost an hour to break his reinforced locking charm. Neither of the room's rather busy occupants noticed.

#Drarry #Draco/Harry #Please forgive any awkwardness in the writing #I haven't written in a very long time

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Numb

Sequel to Breach, The Cell, Corrupt, Surrender, Seed, and Broken Protocol

Warnings: non/dubcon sex, mention of blood, self-harming thoughts.

This is dark!Winter Soldier/Bucky and explicit. 18+ only.

Note: We’re back to our reader so this happens at the same time as the last chapter but obviously it’s all her thoughts with a little extra plot mixed in. Hope you enjoy because this is all I’ve been able to write for three days and it sucks.

Please let me know what you think and reblog if you can :D It would really help as I move forward with the series. Thank you all again for being amazing and here’s your helping of angst. 

-

The loneliness was most agonizing. At first, it had been Ilyich. His visits had made you anxious. You dreaded his presence more than the Asset. He’d use his machine to look inside you and prick your finger for a dab of your blood. Then the other tests; physical tasks which grew harder as you got bigger. Maybe that was worse than the isolation. Your rounding stomach made life even more uncomfortable. Even more desperate. Hopeless.

This child inside of you had no future beyond these walls. Like you. Like him. They had let him visit less since discovering your pregnancy. Whether his missions had grown less often or they were more concerned with the child, you couldn’t decide. Perhaps he had grown less interested. Whatever force drove him to you had dwindled. You suspected Hydra would follow suit. When you delivered their true experiment, the one hidden in your stomach, you didn’t expect a continued presence. Here or anywhere.

Most tragic was that you would die alone. Without your mother. Without a friend. The doctors and nurses came and went without warmth. The Asset was silent. Inhuman. He couldn’t understand much. He was under their control. He wasn’t really his own person. Your only companion would be torn from you soon enough. The one you tried so much not to grow attached to. The one you couldn’t help but love. 

You rubbed your stomach as you thought. Your legs splayed out on the bed as you leaned against the headboard. You wished you could protect them. To think you were to bring another into this misery. Sentence them to a lifetime of this torture. You thought of it often. Of how they would curse you for your part in their fate. It kept you up at night. Dragged you down during the day. You groaned and closed your eyes, your hand soothing as you drew circles on your bump.

When you heard it, you opened your eyes but made no effort to sit up. There was a small knock. You were tired. You must be imagining things. No one knocked before they entered. The lock clicked then cracked; the knob fell loose and the door swung open.The soldier’s gaze fell to her and he unballed his fists.

His eyes went to your hand. It stopped and you held your stomach as you moved across the bed. Your night gown had grown tighter. It barely covered your thighs and left you entirely exposed. These days, you waddled more than walked. You touched your lower back where the muscles knotted. He reached back and closed the door as you approached him. You weren’t afraid anymore. Not of him.

He surprised you nonetheless. He lowered himself to his knees as you watched. He reached up to shed his black mask and grimy gloves. He tossed them to the floor. He lifted the hem of your nightgown and his hand felt your stomach. Not the metal one, the real one. Next he pressed his lips above your belly button and you shivered. He leaned his head against your stomach and you tentatively brushed your fingers through his hair. It was stiff with dried sweat and dirt. You couldn’t help the tremble in your hands.

His hand slipped from your stomach and tickled along the line of your pelvis and then your legs. You shuddered and he delved deeper. You grabbed onto his shoulders as you welcomed his touch. The only comfort in your endless solitary. His lips were on your hipbone as his fingers found the bud hidden between our folds. You clung to him tighter.

You watched as his head moved, his lips traced along you pelvis until they met his fingers. You gasped as his tongue found your clit. You leaned into him, your stomach against his head. He had never touched you like this before. He wasn’t always rough but he had only ever seemed curious. Clinical. As if he was testing your body. This time was different.

He shifted your leg so that it draped over his shoulder. You moaned as you planted your other foot to keep your balance. You spread your hand over his metal hand and his tongue explored your folds. Warm, tender, diligent. You rocked your pelvis against his mouth.You missed his touch even if you denied it. He had been distant the last time he came. Paced and watched. Nothing more.

You came with a cry. It both surprised and thrilled you. His tongue continued to work as he tasted you. You panted and wavered as he slowly slipped your leg from his shoulder. He stood and your night gown fell over your stomach. He scooped you up in his arms before you could react and carried you to the bed. You let him remove the night shirt as you lifted your arms. His blue eyes roved you, his head tilted, and his lips parted. He caressed your stomach and a low hum rose from him.

You wanted more. Needed more. You weren’t ready to be alone again. You reached over and grabbed his jacket and fumbled with the straps across the front. You undid them clumsily as he watched. You focused on each. Don’t think about what would happen, think of now. You chewed your lip as the words forced themselves to the surface as you pushed his jacket down his arms.

“A few more months,” You said, “Not long.” He nodded as his coat fell over the edge of the bed. “I’m…” You looked down and suppressed the words.

You pulled at his tank top. You could smell his sweat as you removed the layers. You rolled the shirt up his torso and he spoke. “Afraid?” A question. You had only heard him say a few words and that was a new one. You raised your head and nodded. You were more than afraid.

He stood and you unbuckled his belt next. You grew more frantic. You needed the distraction if only for a few minutes. This very act had formed the child inside of you but you could not resist another error. Even if he couldn’t feel as you did, you wanted it. If you could not talk to him, you would touch him. 

He pushed his pants down and he left his boots inside of them. You took his wrists and guided him to the bed. He laid on his back and you threw your leg over him. You straddled him as you took his cock in your hand. You stroked him and rubbed him against your pussy before you sank down. As he filled you, you sighed and let yourself enjoy the ripple it sent through you.

He cradled your stomach with both hands and you looked down at him. You tried to smile but your lips trembled at the gesture. “Ours,” He said. You nodded and repeated it. “Ours.” You began to move atop him. Ours, the word echoed in your head. Not theirs…

You rocked atop him slowly, his hands on your hips as he led your motion. You tried not to think of the fire burning in your mind alongside the flames licking at your pelvis. Never theirs...but you had no choice. They had kept you, you couldn’t keep them from your child. It was your child. And his. You couldn’t change that. They couldn’t change that.

You moved quicker as your walls began to buzz. Your bud rubbed against his pelvis and you moaned loudly. His voice mingled with yours in the air. You felt your wetness as it spread along his skin, your thighs shook, and you threw your head back. You breast were heavy as they bounced over your stomach.

You came with a whine and leaned forward, hands on his shoulders as you rode out your climax. You fought to catch your breath as your walls twitched around him. He grunted as his warmth filled you. Your arms shook and the tears frightened you as they tickled your nose. You hadn’t felt them at the corner of your eyes, only as they streaked down your cheeks.

You raised your head and sniffed. You slowly released his shoulder and he let go of your hips. His hands trailed gently along your stomach and chest. A gesture almost loving. He used his thumbs to wipe away your tears but it only made you sniffle again. He held your face between his hands and you were forced to look at him.

“Sorry,” He pronounced the syllables with effort.

You gulped and searched for a response. Anything. It hurt too much. You lifted yourself from atop him and lowered yourself beside him. You laid on your side and held your stomach as it all returned to you. You could feel him watching you. Just watching. Why wouldn’t he do anything? Even if you asked him, he couldn’t save you. He was their soldier; their tool.

He reached out to you and you rolled away from him. You kept your back to him as you curled up and hid your face behind your hand. With him or against him, you were going to keep this child safe from them. Even if it killed you. You’d rather die trying than lay down and swallow your doom like the pills they forced down your throat.

-

Your mother had warned you that pregnancy would be uncomfortable but there were some changes you could not explain. The way your hair stood on end right before Ilyich and one of his cronies entered. The unusual strength that bent a fork in your hand. The flashes of unquenchable rage. Those came when you thought of the baby. When you thought of the looming deadline. You suspected these were the symptoms they were checking for so often. 

Today Ilyich had come for his usual tests. Strength, reflexes, cognitive. Then the usual look at the baby. His nurse took her notes and set the folder aside. When they observed you, you observed them. You noted the subtle looks between them, the whispers they thought you couldn’t hear, the tics of intrigue as they scratched the nib to paper.

You stood and wiped away the gel on your stomach with a towel. Ilyich checked his watch as he strode to the door. He had been peeking at his wrist for most of the appointment. He was late for something. Some other sick experiment, no doubt. Like Hydra, he was a beast with many heads.

“Give her the supplements. The doses we discussed. And blood from her. Three vials today.” He turned the handle and paused halfway into the corridor. “I trust you to pack up when you are done.”

The nurse went about her work wordlessly. Supplements taken, blood drawn, then pack up the odd machine. You edged around her as you eyed the folder she had set down on the table. You glanced between her and the manilla. The cord of the wand was tangled and she was trying to unknot it without unplugging it.

You touched your stomach and turned. Your other hand hovered above the folder as you peeked again. Your fingers slipped beneath the cover as you listened to her frustrated whispers. You pushed the first paper from the folder. Quietly, carefully along the table. It slipped down to the chair with a subtle flutter. You sat on it before it could draw her attention.

“Ugh,” You grunted to cover your deceit, “My back.”

The nurse glanced over but said nothing. She wrapped the cord around the wand and tucked it away on the cart. You leaned one elbow on the table and she sighed as she took the folder and added it to the cart with your samples and the rest of her tools. You held your chin in your hand as she left you. The door clicked as it always did.

You waited a few moments before you stood. The paper stuck to your thighs and you caught it before it could fall to the floor. The dull font of the typewriter embedded the header at the top and the tight scribble of the nurse and Ilyich filled in the rest. You turned your back to the door and read in an effort to hide it from those who had just left.

Project Zhibog - Eight Months Observed - Seven Months Impregnated

Subject is exhibiting side effects typical to serum without direct exposure. Signs that child will inherit characteristics of serum. Otherwise healthy.

Supplements given to balance hormonal and nutritional levels. Single tablet to prevent possible negative effects of serum.

Ultrasound reveals child is bigger than average at this stage in pregnancy. Gestational period uncertain at moment. Operation if required. Survival of child is necessity; progenitor expendable.

The breath rushed from your lungs and your head spun. You braced yourself on the chair and stared at the document. Your death warrant. You shook your head and crumpled the paper between your hands. If they found it here, you suspected it would not enhance your status to necessity. You passed into the bathroom and tossed the paper in the bowl. You watched the paper swirl down the tube but pulled the chain three times to make sure it was truly gone.

You backed out of the room and returned to the chair. Your hips and back ached terribly. You ran your hands over your stomach and watched your fingers gloss over the fabric of your night gown. “They won’t get me,” You whispered as you cradled your stomach, “Or you. I promise...” You closed your eyes and sighed. “I’ll find a way. I have to find a way.

+

tags will be added in a reblog

#dark!winter soldier #dark!bucky barnes #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #dark winter soldier #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky x reader #bucky barnes #fic #series #au #mcu #marvel #dark fic #dark!fic #darkverse #dark!verse #breach #the cell #corrupt #surrender #seed #broken protocol #winter soldier #captain america

[doedreamss]

The First Night of Many

Thanks to the wonderful, amazing minds that are @robwiethoff​ and @vonschweetz​, here’s a little fic drabble about marrying hangman page and the wedding night to follow.

Ship: Hangman Adam Page x (Female) Reader 

Summary: The wedding has come and gone, but Adam still has one surprise left for his new bride...

Rating: Explicit (once again, there is a very descriptive smut scene)

Length: 4,571 words

Available below the cut or on AO3 HERE

The day stretched to night, from the faint fading of the sun dipping below the horizon to when the moon was plenty high, and stars twinkled in a blanket above the country sky. Laughter still blossomed throughout the banquet hall, rising in increments before calmly dying back down. It had been a wonderful day.  The best day.

“Hey babe,” his voice was beckoning and soft as he slipped into the chair beside you, immediately spreading one large arm around your back, fingers easing up and down your bare arm. When you turned to meet his eyes, his smile lifted a little higher into his cheeks, and made his eyes squint.  “My beautiful wife.”  He whispered it, as if treasuring and savoring that word he was so proud to be able to say, all while looking directly at you.

Butterflies in your stomach again.

“My handsome husband,” you murmured just as quiet, leaning in as he tipped your chin up with his finger and laid a gentle, loving kiss against your lips.  

He’d looked so good standing at the altar in his crisp, black suit jacket, black button-up shirt, fitted black Wrangler jeans, black boots with silver thread in a design up the sides, polished, shining silver belt-buckle and bolo tie.  

Cowboy Romeo.  

For as handsome as he’d looked, there was nothing that compared to the expression across his face when he saw you for the first time, in your fitted, beautiful white wedding gown.  The awe that lit up his face, and the soft vulnerability of pure, unadulterated love that tipped his low brows in and made him stare at you, lips held open and breath clearly held in his broad chest, had made you blush and bite down on your smile. Your heart had been racing a hundred miles a minute and when you reached the altar, he’d exhaled a low, slow breath. He’d leaned in, brushed his lips against your ear and whispered, “God damn… you’re beautiful.”

Now, hours later, you were leaning on him, feeling his warmth soak through his clothes and into you, smiling at the sight of your wedding party winding down.  The soft, warm twinkling of fairy-lights crisscrossed over the wood beams of the barn offered comfortable, cozy lighting.

“I love you,” he said, and it wasn’t the first time, and it wasn’t the last, but your heart felt as if it swelled in your chest and you smiled and tilted your head back to chase your eyes up to his handsome face.  He was looking down at you and matched your smile when your eyes met.

“I love you too.”

“Was it everything you wanted?”  Even though he knew the answer would be an absolute yes, you could see the edge of concern lying in his blue eyes, in the way they jumped over your face and searched it for truth.  He wanted everything to be perfect for you.

“And then some.”  You said and stretched up for another kiss as the hint of tenseness in his shoulders subsided.

“Mmm,” he murmured as you broke away from the kiss, his tongue sweeping inside his lips as if needing to spread the taste of you.  Despite the gentility and warmth to his touch and affections, you could see the hunger settling in his eyes, in the way his pupils dilated as he watched you while tasting you on his tongue.  Excitement pushed adrenaline into your veins.  The night might be winding down for the wedding party, but not for the two of you.

Adam glanced away from you quickly, just long enough to survey the room, and was back on your face in a heartbeat.  “Let’s say we go spend our first night together as Mr. and Mrs. Hangman?”

He shifted his body, encouraging you to sit up, and ran his hand smooth down your spine, fingers just pushing along the curve of your ass that he could touch, that wasn’t seated in the chair.  You knew from experience your newlywed husband couldn’t wait to have his hands full of it. The way your smile grew told him all he needed to know, and he was matching it with one of his own as he popped up and offered a hand to you, then tucked you in quick to his side.  He couldn’t keep his hands off you.

The slightly cooler night air was a welcome reprieve from the inside as you left the barn.  A gleaming chestnut quarter horse stood tethered to a hitching post, saddled and waiting.  At the sight of you his ears flicked, and he snorted softly, rumbling a gentle whicker as he bobbed his head as if saying, “What took you guys so long?”

“Hey boy,” Adam said gentle, moving away from you only long enough to untether the leather reins and lead him back toward you.  His wide palm patted the gelding’s neck before he let the reins lay slack around the saddle horn and turned toward you.  The weight of his hands was on your hips before he braced, lifting you with ease that proved his strength as he slid you into the seat.

One hand gripped the saddle horn, the other braced itself on the gelding’s haunches, and with a firm boot in the stirrup your cowboy mounted up behind you with grace, ease, and familiarity.  His strong arms framed you as he gathered up the reins and urged the gelding into a walk along the moonlit, dirt path leading further from the main ranch and into the rolling acres of country property which surrounded it.  For a moment it was quiet, just your body rocking into his warmth as the horse lumbered pleasingly, listening to the crickets in the tall grass and the gentle breeze sweep through the trees mingling with the steady clip-clop of the gelding’s easy gait.

“It’s not far,” he promised, and kept his voice low, as if he too recognized the peace you were both steeped in, feeling as if you were the only two people in the world the further from civilization you got.

Adam hadn’t told you where you were going to spend your first night as a married couple.  You’d begged and pleaded and teased and pretended as if you were going to withhold pleasurable things until he told you, but you both knew you couldn’t resist his charms and he was too happy to keep it a secret for you to really press it out of him.  Adam was a romantic at heart, pouring the entirety of his affections into his actions and any time he could sweep you off your feet, he did so.

“I don’t mind,” you said truthfully, enjoying being held in his arms, with every inhale the smell of him, the polished leather of the tack, and the sweet musk of the horse tangled with the open, fresh country night air.  If they could somehow catch this exact scent and put it into a candle, you knew you’d go bankrupt trying to buy them all.  “I’m enjoying the ride.”

“Me too,” he admitted, but you felt him chuckle gently, “but I’m antsy as hell to get there and get you out of this dress.”

“I thought you liked my dress,” you teased.

“Hell yeah I do,” his tone was adamant, and he flexed his fingers on the reins, “I just so happen to like what’s underneath it a hell of a lot more.”

You laughed and tilted your head back, grin staying wide as he smiled down at you.  The pale light of the moon lit a halo around his fluffy, thick blond curls, and you reached to gently brush one out of his face, tucking it behind his ear.  Your hand slid down his cheek, feeling the soft tickling scratch of his beard against your palm, and settled on his chest.  You decided you rather liked sitting like this even better, curled into him and using his bicep to support your back as you did so.

“If you don’t stop touching me, we aren’t going to make it much further,” he said, arching one brow and giving you a pointed look.  “I’ll pull the reins back and have you right here in this field.”

Your heart started racing, and you wondered if he could hear it, given how close the pair of you were.

“Not that it looks like you’d complain too much if I did.”  It was his turn to tease.  A tight, low curl twisted in your lower abdomen, and you sucked back a sharp, excited breath at the thought of it.  He stared at you and seemed to be contemplating it, then sucked at his teeth in frustration and growled low, “You better hang on.”

It was the only warning he gave you before he snapped the leather reins against the chestnut’s neck and urged him to transition his gait quickly into a gallop.  The ride was certainly less romantic and less comfortable, jarring with each firm hoof the horse landed, but the countryside flew by and you knew the reward waiting for you was worth it.  You’d turned forward again and wrapped your hands around the saddle-horn, using it and the way he boxed you in, framing your legs with his thick, firm thighs to keep yourself in the saddle.  A laugh tore out of your mouth as the wind whipped your hair back, out of its fancy style it’d been in for the wedding.  Adam whooped and hollered behind you, snapping the reins again to urge the gelding faster.

The dirt road curved into a cropping of oak trees, and he pulled the reins and sat back heavy in the saddle to slow the horse down as you approached a small cabin tucked away and hidden from everything.  Warm light spilled from the windows inside, just barely reaching through the semi-sheer white curtains that hung over them.

The horse stopped by the steps leading up the porch, and Adam swung himself out of the saddle and reached to gingerly help you down to your feet.  Before questions could be asked or things explained, his fingers tightened the hold on your hand and he tugged you in hard, crashing your body against his before smearing his mouth across yours.  His beard scratched and tickled at your skin as he turned his head and pushed his wide tongue inside your mouth, running and wrapping it hungrily around yours before he pulled back with a smack.  The eyes looking down at you were nearly black, he was so eager to ravish you.

“Go on inside,” he said, voice tight with want.  His jaw clenched, the muscle jumped there beneath his blond beard, and he swallowed back. “I’ll be in as soon as I’ve got the horse taken care of.”  He ushered you inside, and you glanced around the interior as you stepped in.

The smell of the pinewood was fresh, and the furniture looked newly bought, the colors your favorite to decorate with.  It was comfortable, and homey.  There was a small kitchenette, a little dining area with a hand-crafted, polished wood table and two beautiful chairs, a long couch in the living space and two armchairs beside a bookshelf filled with books.  You walked idly toward it, and as your finger ran along the spines, you read all your favorite titles, and favorite authors.  The opposite side of the room had a cozy little wood stove, already burning logs to make the interior a cheerful warmth and a reprieve from the cool night outside.  There was a door closed to a room toward the back, and you decided it must be the bedroom.

Walking around the couch your eyes caught sight of something out of place on the ground and, looking down, you noticed a deep, beautiful red rose petal.  Glancing up, you noticed a gentle trail of them leading toward that closed door.  You walked slowly closer, and closer, heart climbing in your throat.  The doorknob turned and you pushed it open, gasping immediately.

The room was bathed in the yellow glow of candlelight, with enough candles lit along shelves and the dresser to surely be a fire hazard.  Red rose petals decorated the floor and had rained down, scattered over the soft, white down comforter over what looked to be a promisingly comfortable bed.  You were staring, wide-eyed at the room when the door to the cabin opened and closed with a click.  When you turned, you had to blink tears out of your eyes to clear your vision and see him properly, standing at the door with a lop-sided, hopeful smile on his face.

“I built this for us,” he explained, moving slowly closer to you, “I picked all your favorite things,” which explained the colors, and the books, “I wanted it to be a special place for just you and me.  Somewhere we can always get away, and it’ll just be us.  No one else.”  His hands slid around your hips and he pulled you firmly in.  “It’s my wedding gift for the most perfect wife.  For the woman who makes me feel whole.  For the woman who inspires me every day I get out of bed to be the best man I can be for her.”  His voice had tightened with emotion, and his grip on you had too.  It was as if holding you tight was just another way for him to say how badly he needed and wanted you.  “Do you like it?”

“I love it.”  You said, your own voice shaking, touched to your very core.  “You’re so good to me, Adam.”

“It’s easy to be good to a woman who inspires me to be nothing but,” he murmured, and lowered down to kiss your lips, but didn’t stop there.  His kisses rained down your jaw, over the hollow dip of your neck, your collarbones, and the top of the cleavage he could reach while your dress was still on. His beard tickled your skin before he lifted his head up to look at you.  His hands roamed too, as restless and needy as his mouth, and his hands rolled and pinched whatever curves of your body he wanted to touch before sinking down to the plush curve of your ass.  His fingers scooped beneath the fat and pinched, hard, before he pulled back and delivered a light spank just enough to make you jump and moan.  You knew it’d feel better without clothes in the way.

“Unzip my dress,” you asked with breathless need, and he was all too happy to oblige.

Before he could continue to decide the narrative, you took a step back away from him, and another, deeper into that room of candlelight and rose petals.  The light danced over your body, throwing shadows across your curves as it flickered and you slowly peeled the white fabric from your skin, letting it fall to a soft puddle at your feet.  You stepped out of it, and the pretty boots you’d worn.  Adam watched from the doorway, consumed by you, eyes hungry and watching.  You knew he was waiting for the signal to descend but enjoyed drawing it out and putting on a little show for him.  The way every newly bared inch of your skin drove him further into madness made you feel wanted like you never had before.

Your fingers pinched and rolled the white, lacy bra strap at your back and popped it open.  You shrugged out, baring your breasts, and watched as his eyes dropped from your face, to them.  His tongue ran across his lips and his fingers curled to tight fists at his side.  Still, you didn’t relieve him of his pain.  You held your hand out, and let the bra drop gently to the floor between you. Fingers pinching the elastic of your panties, you peeled them off your body and stepped out, completely nude.

From there you walked toward him, the soft, velvet petals on the floor squishing against your feet, and their romantic smell wafting upward, mixing with the faint vanilla-honey of the candles.  You watched him sway, just slightly, as you drew close enough to touch.  You were magic, and you’d cast a spell over him.  He wanted to reach out and grab you, but he was held prisoner by your eyes.  You pressed your fingers against his suit jacket and stripped it off his shoulders and arms, letting it fall behind him.  When you fell to wrap around his belt buckle, he grunted, clenching his jaw and breathing through flared nostrils.

“You torture me, woman.” He barely managed to get the words out.

Your smile made him glower with utmost need.

You tugged the belt buckle, popping the clasp free and slipping to undo the button of his jeans. The sound of the zipper seemed loud in your ears, and the way he breathed a sigh of relief told you what you were already sure of – he’d been uncomfortably hard, cock trapped in those tight, fitted Wranglers.  You slipped your hand inside his boxer-briefs and held the weight of his shaft in your palm, gently stroking up, rolling over the head sticky with leaking precum, and down again.

“Fuck,” strained, he whispered and struggled as he fought to keep his eyes from rolling back at how good your touch felt.

You pulled your hand free from his pants and worked quick to pop the buttons up his dress shirt, fingers running greedy up his stomach and chest as you went.  The small scattering of blond hair on his chest was appreciated as you raked your nails gently over his pecs and smiled as he groaned under his breath.  A quick loosening of the silver and turquoise clasp of the bolo tie made it easy to pull off, and Adam, too impatient, began tugging himself out of the clothing you’d undone until he stood just as nude as you.  His hard cock grazed your stomach as he crowded in, hands coming up to slip hard into your hair and tangle around the strands.  He dipped down and kissed you, all the pent-up energy you’d built in him pouring out with desperation.  He didn’t stop kissing you, robbing you both of air as he began to bully your body back toward the bed.

He became wild then. Unrestrained and unable to hold himself back if he tried.  You welcomed it.

His beard scratched your skin as he dipped to taste your breasts, lips latched around your nipple, suckling and rolling it between his teeth, pinching just enough to inspire a sound that started as a squeak of pain and melted into a low moan of pleasure. He moved to the other, and did the same, sure to leave little bruises on your skin for how much he suckled and licked and enjoyed the taste of you.  He’d pushed you back on the bed and crawled over you, knee between your thighs to spread them apart.  While one hand roamed your body, mapping every curve he’d already memorized but seemed to be devoting time to learn new, the other pressed between your legs.  The tips of his fingers trailed up your inner thighs, reaching, before his thumb found your clit and he circled, teasing it into a tight, red peak.

You moaned, arching toward him, eyes reaching down to see the top of his blond curls as he feasted on your body.  “Oh, Adam,” you moaned soft, and his fingers jerked more wildly, making you squirm and clench your thighs around his arm, that tight feeling curling promisingly in your lower abdomen again.  More moans spilled out of you, filling the room and spilling out the open doorway into the living area.  He sank two thick fingers inside you and stroked the inside walls of your wet muscles, thumb still rubbing circles on your clit, adding pressure every time he made you moan. His fingers pulled out and pushed deeper in, making your hips buck with desperation against his hand.

“Fuck!”  You closed your eyes, couldn’t help but to, and your brow knitted inward as pleasure swiftly mounted.  Then, before you could see stars, he slipped his fingers out and leaned back on his calves, sitting between your open legs.  You opened your eyes and glanced down your naked, ravished body, at the sight of him glowing like a god in the warm amber of candlelight. He lifted his fingers and pulled them slowly apart, showing you how wet you’d been for him, and slowly put them in his mouth, sucking the taste of you off his skin.  All the while those blue eyes, so dark they looked black, were locked on yours.

He gently pushed at your leg, spreading you wider before he climbed over the top of you.  His cock skimmed the inside of your thigh and settled with purposeful weight against your pussy lips.  His hips dipped, lower, and his head glided smooth until it pressed where you were warmest and wettest for him.

“Fuck,” he moaned, and whispered your name before he pushed his hips forward and sank himself inside.

“Adam!”  Your cry was loud enough to echo around the cabin, and you moaned at the sensation of his cock stretching you.  He rolled his hips forward, pressed his palms on the bed at either side of your head and lifted his upper body so he could watch you as he pushed the rest of himself inside.  He seemed satisfied for a few strokes, pulling out until the head of his cock was just spreading you, and then sinking in until he was as far as he could go without causing undue pain.  For a moment your bodies rocked together in sync, sweat making you both glisten, rose petals falling and sticking to your skin.

Then, Adam pulled completely out.

He didn’t wait long, hands on your body to turn you over, and a greedy palm swept down hard across your ass.  The crack of contact followed by your yelp and the sting in your ass cheek made you melt into a moan.  He smacked your ass again.  Again. Again. Tingles spread down between your thighs and made you whine and moan and cry with every hungry hit he laid into your skin.  Then his hands were on your hips, pulling you back into him, and his cock was pushing up and inside you again.  

He held your hips, pulling you back into his body as he wildly pumped in and out, able to reach deeper this way.  Your fingers curled tight into the blankets as each passionate thrust of his cock pushed a moan, a prayer of his name, and a cry out from your hung-open, kiss-swollen lips.  He moaned behind you and fucked harder, faster, driving the head of his cock up against that special little spot deep inside.  His hands slipped from your hips.  One grabbed at your breasts, calloused palm rolling the fat.  The other dipped down between your bodies so his fingers could find and tease your clit again, all while he kept fucking you.

You felt yourself clench tighter around him, able to feel every inch of his throbbing, raw cock pushing inside you.  Your wet was already spread around your thighs, and the top of his, making each clash of your hips come away sticky.

“Adam!”  You cried, knowing it was coming quickly.

“Yeah,” he grunted, “cum on your husband’s cock,” his hard, pleasure-tense voice demanded.

It was all you needed. Stars burst behind your eyes as your thighs trembled and clapped against his.  He thrust deep inside you and grunted, syncing the thrust of his hips to every wave of your orgasm, drawing it out longer.  The muscles of your cunt milked his thick cock, pulling and coaxing him to cum inside you. But he didn’t.  Not yet.

When you caught your breath, he stilled his thrusts and slowly slipped his still-hard cock out of you. It was wet with your cum.  He pushed a hand back at his hair, keeping it out of his face as he gently fell onto his back on the bed beside you, and reached for your arm, guiding you on top.  You spread your thighs over his – you’d always loved how large his thighs were – and he slowly sank you down on his red, throbbing, erection.  His jaw clenched and he grunted as you sank down until you were completely on him.

For the first few motions he guided your hips up and down with his palms, but then ran them down your legs and let you pull and push down on him.  You put your hands at either side of his head, breasts in his face, and slid up and down his cock, enjoying listening to him moan and whisper your name with such desperation beneath you.  His eyes were desperate on you any time you looked at him, and he reached up suddenly, fingers hard in your hair, and forced your mouth down on his into a hard kiss.  At the same time his greedy hips pushed up and buried himself fast up inside you. Your moan was lost on his tongue as he thrust it into your mouth.

You kept fucking as he kissed, and soon he ripped his mouth away, only because you both needed the breath. Your foreheads pressed together, noses touching.

“Fuck, I’m…”  He couldn’t say it, but his entire body was tensing, the muscle defined beneath the fat.

You rode him harder, pulling the sensation to the highest caliber, rubbing your clit against him from this angle.  Fuck… you were already building to a second orgasm and chasing the sensation made you ride him faster.  Adam moaned, messy blond curls pressed into the pillows as he jutted his chin forward, Adam’s apple a hard line in his throat.  “AgghfuckI’mgoing…”  His eyes rolled back, and you pushed hard down on top of him at the same time he thrust up, pushing you both over the edge at the exact same time.  While you moaned and trembled and came for a second time on top of him, Adam became stone beneath you before his body shook, and you felt the heat of his cum inside.

The come down was slow, but neither of you minded, even sticky with sweat and warm as you were. Your breaths were hot and mingled with each other’s.  Slowly his face melted into a smile, and yours did too.  You were able to open your eyes, and he gently eased you off him, but kept you close as you tucked into his side and his arm wrapped around your shoulders.  He plucked a rose petal off your arm and smiled, rolling it between his fingers before he let it fall back onto the bed.

There were no words for a while.  You both simply enjoyed the aftermath, and he leaned to place a tender kiss on your head.

“I could get used to this,” you murmured, the excitement of the day and sex making you feel lazy with gratification.  You nestled your cheek against his chest, and he squeezed his hand around your shoulder, tucking you in closer.  His chest rumbled gently with a breathy laugh he exhaled over the top of your head.

“Good,” his voice was happy and tired too, “because this is just the first night of many, Mrs. Hangman.”

#hangman page #ahskjsdkdfs #me: not everything has to be smut #darker me: smut! smut! smut! #hapedit

[timelordthirteen]

Returning

Rumplestiltskin/Belle French, Explicit

Summary: Dearest Persephone, do not fear, for you are queen and mistress here. A Rumbelle Hades/Persephone AU.

Notes: In case there was any doubt, Persephone!Belle absolutely tops Hades!Rumple. I mean... ;) For the Writer's Month prompt #19: mythology.

[AO3]

Belle stood in the Great Hall of her father’s castle, waiting.

Beside her were two large trunks filled with her belongings, and behind her, her father, the Lord of Avonlea, his guards, and the curious nobility who wanted to catch a glimpse of darkness. She fidgeted with the cuffs of her cloak, running her fingers through the soft fur. It was too warm and heavy for the late summer day, but where she was going, she would need the extra layers of wool.

The doors to the hall shuddered and then swung open, gasps rippling through the crowd, and she squared her shoulders. Her father stepped up and put a hand on her shoulder, and she gave him what she hoped was a brave, reassuring smile.

The man who walked in was dressed all in black from head to toe, his dragon hide coat with its high collar shadowing part of his face. He was an imposing figure despite being shorter than some of the soldiers, and no one dared to speak as he approached. Belle felt his dark eyes looking her up and down, shining with a hunger that made her shiver.

He stopped in front of her, throwing a casual, dismissive glance at her father. The corner of his mouth curved in a sly half smile as he inclined his head.

“Wife.”

She bowed slightly. “My Lord.”

There were hushed whispers worming their way through the gathering as rumors were confirmed or denied.

“Please, Dark One, let her stay. Spare my daughter,” Belle’s father begged, but the man shook his head slowly.

“We have a deal,” the Dark One replied. Then his lips curled, barring his slightly crooked teeth. “Signed in blood.”

Her father recoiled at that, and there were even more murmurs from the audience. They knew what that meant, what she had sacrificed to the Lord of the Underworld for the prosperity and safety their kingdom enjoyed.

“It’s for our people, Papa,” Belle said, taking her father’s hand. “It’s only until the spring.”

Her father swallowed hard. “It’s too long, my girl.”

Her head tilted and she gave him a smile before pushing up on her toes to kiss his cheek.

The Dark One stepped up beside her, and, with a hand at the small of her back, lead her away. A moment later, her belongings disappeared in a plume of purple smoke.

As soon as they stepped through the large double doors of the Great Hall, a portal appeared, swirling with darkness. There was no hesitation in either of them as they crossed through it, coming out on the other side in another large hall. The stone was dark, almost black, and shimmering in the glow from the large fireplace and candles that lit the space.

The Dark One lead her towards two gilded chairs that sat on a dais. Dutifully, she turned and sat in the one on the right, and he took the one to the left. His elbow resting on the arm, he held out his hand. She tugged the sleeve of her cloak up and laid her palm over his. In an instant a tall, pale man in a long dark robe appeared, holding several scrolls.

“There are new souls, my Lord.”

The Dark One waved his hand. “My wife has returned. Let her do the honors.”

Belle shifted in her chair, the thick velvet and stiff, straight back strange to her after so many months away. She held out her other hand, and the man came to stand in front of her, bowing low before he gave over the scrolls.

The first was an old woman who had lived a hard life with a weary heart. She seemed entirely unafraid, almost resigned, as if this was better than the alternative of being alive. Belle gave her a small smile, which seemed to surprise the woman, and then nodded to her husband.

He waved his hand. “You are in luck, old woman, my wife has taken pity on your. May your eternity be the peace you did not know on earth.”

The next was clearly a soldier, a broad man with jet black hair and a square jaw that Belle was sure turned some heads while he was alive. He attempted to look unafraid, but nervous energy and fear radiated from him. She scanned the scroll, her eyes narrowing as she took in the list of the man’s deeds, good and bad.

“You died in battle?” she asked, knowing full well that wasn’t true. The scrolls exposed all, but she tested them anyway.

The man startled at that. “Uh, no, no, my Lady. It was, uh...”

Her eyebrows lifted. “It was what?”

“A duel.” He shifted from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable with her stare. “A man objected to me bedding his wife.”

The Dark One snorted, and Belle frowned, looking down at the scroll. “It says here you raped her.”

The man tried to stammer a response, but Belle just looked to her husband and gave a slight shake of her head, turning it left and then right.

“My wife disapproves,” the Dark One said, gleefully. “Your torment will fit your crimes.”

He waved his hand and the man disappeared, and Belle set the scrolls aside. “Is this all?”

The pale man appeared once more and bowed. “Yes, my Lady.”

The Dark One let go of her hand and stood up, stepping down off the dais. “We will retire for the evening. My wife needs rest.”

Belle followed him out of the hall and down a long corridor to a set of large doors, which opened as they approached. Inside, she let out a long sigh and crossed to a large vanity, while the Dark One reclined on a velvet lounge.

He watched her while she removed her delicate pearl jewelry, setting them in a carved wooden box. Then she lifted a large necklace and fastened it behind her neck. It was made of dark red gems that looked nearly black, connected with fine chains in a dark silver, and spread over her neck and upper chest. She breathed out and rolled her head from one side to the other, feeling the heat from the gems as they warmed against her skin. Next, she undid the clasps at the front of her cloak and let it fall.

Behind her, her husband let out a soft gasp. She was wearing a sheer gold gown that clung to her curves and left little to the imagination save for some well placed lace that barely protected her modesty. He had given it to her on her first night in the Underworld, and she had worn it on her return every year since.

Turning, she smiled at him and cross the space slowly, letting her hips sway just a little bit more than usual. His eyes darkened even more and he licked his lips. The gown was split in the front, covering her breasts but leaving the center of her chest bare to her navel. From there it covered her waist and hips, and then opened over her legs.

She pushed the fabric to the side and climbed onto the lounge, kneeling up and straddling the Dark One’s lap. “I missed you, husband.”

He smiled up at her and raised a hand, sliding it up over the smooth, soft skin of her chest to her neck, pulling her down for a heated kiss. Roaming hands reacquainted themselves with each other’s bodies as they traded moans and soft sounds between their mouths. It was always too long for both of them, the months of spring and summer and early autumn. She had a duty to two worlds, but her heart only truly lay with one.

“And I you,” he said as they parted, and she grinned down at him.

She took his hand, moving it off of her hip and slipping it inside the front of her gown to cup her heated cunt. He pressed his palm against her, and her lips parted on a gasp, his fingers finding her already wet and ready just from the days of anticipating their reunion.

“Rumple,” she moaned as he pushed one finger inside her aching core. She rose up on her knees to give him more room as he started to thrust in and out, her eyes locked on his as her pleasure quickly built to a fever pitch. “Let me see you. The real you.”

He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment as the air around him shimmered. She groaned, and when he opened his eyes she was looking down at him with such adoration he felt his heart might burst. She was the only one he allowed to see him this way, and he stilled his hand as her hands caressed his face.

Belle pressed delicate kisses to his scaly cheeks and forehead, smiling as she met his strange golden eyes. She liked the glamor he wore fine enough, with its dark hair and eyes, and lightly tanned skin, but this was the true face of the Lord of the Underworld, the Dark One, Rumplestiltskin. Her husband.

She bit her lip and caught his wrist, pulling it away from her as she slid off the lounge. Her fingers tugged at the ribbons that held her gown closed as she walked backwards towards a large canopied bed. Overhead, the ceiling shined and blurred before seemingly disappearing entirely, exposing an endless dark sky.

He would have looked up and taken in the stunning image, but there was something far more wondrous and beautiful demanding his attention. She stopped at the foot of the bed and let her gown part, exposing her perfect breasts and glistening sex, and crooked a finger at him. A strangled noise wrenched itself from his throat and he shrugged off his heavy coat as he dropped from the lounge to his knees.

He shuffled across the hard floor, the bit of the stone against his knees a welcome pain as she watched him. At her feet, he stopped and looked up, watching her face as he brought his hands up to her legs. She parted them easily, licking her lips as he dipped his head and breathed in her scent.

“Wife,” he whispered, touching his lips to the inside of one thigh. “Queen.” Another kiss, this time to the other side, her muscles twitching in anticipation. “Mistress.”

She moaned and slipped her hand in his hair, digging her nails in and using the soft, wavy strands to wrench his head back. He let out a grunt as heat flared in his belly, his leather breeches far too tight for his hardening cock.

She pulled him forward, stopping with his face an inch from her dripping pussy. His tongue flicked out as he strained to taste her, and she felt a low, pulsing ache. He made a pleading, desperate sound, and she tightened her fingers, pulling harder until his eyes closed in pain. Then she relaxed her grip and let her fingers slid through his hair, over and over.

“My love,” she said before drawing him to her once more. “Show me how much you missed me.”

Rumplestiltksin began to lick at her, and she let herself sag back against the bed, using it to support her weight as she shook and moaned with pleasure. Around them the room changed, the stone turning lighter, the minerals inside sparkling in the firelight, and the sky brightening as tiny stars twinkled into existence. A vase of long decayed flowers on her vanity crept to life, the stems straightening, the blooms unfurling to reveal a deep purple and blood red, while at home, outside the castle and the great hall where she’d left her father, a cold wind blew, and the first flakes of snow began to fall.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #belle x rumplestiltskin #mythology au #hades x persephone au #my rumbelle fic #fic #returning #lemon fic

[running-on-fanfiction]

Tom Hiddleston - Woodland Books Part Two

Part One

By the time you had gotten out of the edge of the woods, your legs felt like they were going to fall off. You could already see the outline of your step mother pacing back and forth on the porch. 

“Y/N!” You heard your name being called out from all sides of the house and it wasn’t friendly. 

Deep down you knew that just walking back up like nothing happened, wasn’t going to happen. You watched the window, trying to find out where everyone was.   

Step-mother was on the porch, both step sisters was...in the right side of the house. Had to be the living room, you thought. You double checked around you before running towards the back of the house. Ducking every once in a while, when your step mother came closer. As you made it to the back, you could still hear your name being yelled. 

Making sure that the shadows of your step-sister were still in the living room, you began to climb the climb up to the bathroom window. It was on the second floor, but with the drain pipes, you could easily get to the window.

Of course at one time it wasn’t so easy. It took a year before you could learn the ropes and understand how to step on the right spots. With a small thud you fell on the ground. You could hear the sound of your step family stop before mumbling. The sounds of their feet hitting the floor. 

“Y/N!” Your step mother yelled outside the door. “Where have you bee-” She stopped as she saw you in your cleaning apron, cleaning the bathroom floor. She raised an eye brow, before turning to leave.

“You missed a spot.” She huffed before leaving. 

Once the door was closed, you let a deep breath out. That was a close one. You really needed to keep better track of time next time. 

That night you went to bed thinking of Tom. Thinking of how life would be so much better if you just left. Left they evil step family, left the sadness of your father, life the old life you once had. 

*

It had been about three day’s since you went back into the woods. The girls were going into town for the rest of the day, and didn’t plan on being back until the next morning. 

You made your way to your spot, only to find a letter, nailed to your spot. Your name written on the front. 

Y/N,

I hope you are okay. I also hope that, I didn’t get you into trouble. I’ve came back to our spot three times, and haven’t seen you. So, I thought this note would be just as good. I have two tickets to this play in town and I wondered if you wanted to come with me. 

- Tom

A smile spread across your face. It’s been a long time since you felt the need to smile. It was nice to be treated like a human, and not a slave. 

“I was worried about you.” Tom’s voice spoken from behind you. You turned to greet him. He looked you over, hoping that you didn’t have any bruise or welts or anything. 

“I lost track of time, last time. I made it inside without getting in trouble.” You smiled, holding the letter up. “So tell me more about this play.” 

Tom, smiled as he began to walk side by side with you. You two talked about the play, and about what had happened the last three days. Once you two made you way back to the spot you met at the sun began to set. 

“So, should I pick you up at your place?” Tom smiled as he shoved his hands in his pockets. 

Panic filled you with the thought that someone would see you two if he came to your place. He didn’t really know where your place was, and you weren’t okay with telling him, in case he got hurt. You weren’t sure what your step mother was able to do. Nor did you want to find out. 

“As much as I love that, I don’t think it would be wise.” You frowned bowing your head, in shame. Tom, walked closer to you, and lifted your head back up with his finger. 

“It’s okay love, we can meet back here.” He smiled. “Say around seven.” 

You smiled back at him, then nodded. 

You two said your goodbyes, before going back to your homes. You were beyond excited. At least until you got home. That’s when you realized that you didn’t have anything nice to wear. You couldn’t  just go to a nice place wearing an old pair of ripped jeans and one of your dad’s old sports team tees.

That’s when the doorbell rang. You weren’t sure who it could be, but you slowly made yourself over towards the door. 

“Hello?” You said confused.

“Hello! Are you Y/N?” The smiling stranger asked.

“I am.” You looked around. 

“This is for you.” She smiled handed you and long rectangle box, then walked way. 

“Wait! Don’t I have to pay you?” 

“Already paid for. Have a good day!” 

You watched the lady travel back down the driver way in her white truck, before closing the door. You took the box to your room. You laid it on your bed, then closed the door. Taking the top off the box, you found a small note. 

I hope it fit’s.

-Tom

Confused as to how he knew your adress, you placed the note on the bed. You pushed the tissues paper back, to show a dark green ball gown. Your mouth hung low as you looked over the fabric. Placing the dress on your felt like tonight was going to be the end of your bad life.  

-Julianne

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston imagin #tom hiddleston imagines #tom hiddleston imagine

[lastbuckshot]

Kinky-days Day 1: Josh (The Divide)/Reader [NSFW]

Kinks: Slave/Master | Humiliation | Begging Words: 8.2k Fandom: The Divide Rating: Explicit Title: Cleansed

It was quiet down here.

Every day bleeding together. No light to reveal whether it was day or night. So long, so much time, so many passing hours and days. Had it been weeks down here, or months? Had you crossed the threshold into years?

The sense of sameness and stagnation was suffocating. Mentally and physically stuck in the same place, surrounded by the same gray concrete walls, staring at the same boarded off steel door, praying one day for salvation that may never come. Memories of the outside word began to fade; the texture of grass crunching beneath the soles of your shoes, the warmth of sunlight on your skin, the tickle of raindrops dripping down your face. All taken for granted in the moment. All ripped away in one explosion. All so close to being forgotten.

Decorations hung from the walls and ceilings in a poor attempt to keep up with the seasons. The bunker had grown colder day by day, pushing you to wrap yourself in ratty blankets during the hours in which you slept. Many a night (or what you assumed to be night) had passed with Josh’s body pressed up against yours, his arms wrapped around you in a conflicted warmth and comfort.

And so, emboldened by cooler temperatures and the inevitable passage of time, Josh had allowed some Christmas spirit to permeate the otherwise stagnant air.

A whole day, three or four periods of sleep before now, had been dedicated to decoration. Staring up at the decorations now took you back to that day, standing atop chairs in a dirtied gown, feeling Josh’s watchful eye track you from one side of the room to the other, as you taped, pinned, and hung makeshift decorative items to his liking. When all was said and done, his hands anxiously squeezing your thighs several times throughout, you were gratefully rewarded, laid on your back, and filled with what could only be called Christmas spirit.

Your life was here now, in a rank bunker that you could only call home. Sitting on the cold concrete floor, legs crossed, facing the wall on the opposite side of the room. A set of fingers stroking your scalp from above. The smell of iron, the sight of red spots on the floor in front of you. A thumb stroking your temple, a finger stroking your cheek, blood smeared and drying against your skin.

“It’s a shame that Eva had to die,” a voice spoke behind you. “And right before Christmas, too. I thought she was fucking around with that gun to her head. But all that blood… those tiny pieces of brain everywhere. The shards of skull. That was all real shit.”

An uncomfortable pause separated his past words from his next, leaving your skin to jump at the sensation of his fingertips trailing up the back of your neck.

“I cleaned her up for you. I hope you enjoyed the show. There’s nothing quite like the sound of an axe splitting bone. It’ll take a while to burn all those pieces. But I’ll get it all out of the way. Just for you. You better be fucking grateful.”

The images in your head twisted your stomach into knots. Pools of blood that seemed to never end. No matter how many times you soaked your sponge, it was all red, everything was red, the palms of your hands, the fronts of your knees, red dripping down your arms and caking beneath your nails—

The tug of leather around your neck snapped you back to your immediate surroundings. Back to towering walls of concrete, dirt, and grime. The belt leashed around your neck wrapped around Josh’s palm on the loose end, and the buckle sat just beneath your chin on the other. He tugged the strap back suddenly and peered downward, resuming his petting of your head and scalp.

“You’re not ignoring me, are you?”

You answered without moving.

“No, sir.”

Josh rubbed his hand between your shoulders, then began to pet the skin behind your ear.

“That’s a girl. That’s why I like you. Why I chose you. You know your place. You know I’m the reason you’re still alive down here. The reason why we’ll get out of here someday. Run off together. Make a new life. Just you and I.”

He paused to reach his hand town toward your breasts, squeezing one, teasing the nipple, squeezing the other, and teasing again.

“Lucky for you, you’re a good fuck.”

Moments passed with no other words; only the tingle of Josh’s fingers grazing over your scalp. Eventually, with your eyes remaining fixated on the walls and doorway in front of you, you heard and felt his body lean forward, then back. The crackle of plastic, the friction of a top coming unscrewed, the sloshing of liquid. The swallows in Josh’s throat were deep and audible, with several long, satisfied gulps. A sigh of contentment and the screwing of a top signaled that he’d had his fill, and seconds later, his arm reached over your head and down to the floor, setting the half-drunk water bottle in front of you, within arm’s reach.

Staring into the plastic, the water swaying back and forth before easing still, made you acutely aware of a dryness in the back of your throat. You refrained from moving, unsure of Josh’s next move. You waited for any sudden movement of his body, any reach of his arm to take back his bottle, any tug of his hand to snap you back into place, any verbal warning not to touch what was rightfully his. But, no matter how anxiously you waited, there was nothing. On a gamble, you took his silence as an open invitation.

Arms outstretched to reach for the bottle, plastic just barely brushing your fingers—the sudden jerk of leather tightening around your throat, air abruptly trapped in your lungs, your head and neck snapped backwards, crashing into Josh’s knee. With your head tilted back far enough to bring Josh’s face into view, you were able to see his face, his dead eyes, and his bloodied face, contorted to make his displeasure apparent.

“Very bad girl,” he scorned. “You know my rules. You want something, you ask for it. Isn’t that right, baby?”

You swallowed.

“Yes, sir.”

With Josh’s hand petting your forehead, his grip on your leash still firm, he continued.

“Good girl. Ask me, then.”

“May I please have some water, sir?”

Josh smirked, still petting your forehead, searching your face, sensing your fear and discomfort.

“You don’t have to be scared of me. And don’t be so uptight. I stopped being a sir a long time ago. It wouldn’t be so bad if you called me baby. Or your love. You owe me your life, and I know you love me for it. Don’t be afraid to show me. I know you don’t like all the things I’ve had to do to keep us safe in here. But it was all for you. One day, we’ll be together, out of this place. And you’ll see. I’ll make sure you see. Okay?”

You could hear and feel the thump of your heartbeat in your ears, your throat tightening around each breath.

“Okay.”

Josh leaned in closer toward your face, and you closed your eyes. His lips met with your forehead, where they stayed for several long seconds, with his hands cupping around your cheeks. When he pulled his lips away, he smirked for only a moment longer before that very smirk disappeared into a serious and focused frown. Grabbing the water bottle and dangling it over your head, Josh spoke in a low, growling whisper.

“Now beg.”

The vice grip of Josh’s hand around the back of neck triggered a sharp gasp as he pushed you forward, sending you tumbling to your hands and knees on the floor. You turned to face him like a sad and wounded dog, and feebly attempted to eke out several words.

“Please, can I have some w—”

Josh’s body snaps abruptly forward, his hand covering your mouth, as he brings his face a hair’s breadth away from your nose.

“Not with your words,” he says. “Show me how bad you want it.”

Josh slowly pulls his hand away from your mouth, leaning back in his chair, legs spread apart. He’d fashioned his chair with cushions and a deep red blanket, and always sat in it like royalty. As he leaned back, staring, and eagerly, you couldn’t help but feel pushed to comply.

You start with his boots, kissing them, licking them, closing your eyes to avoid registering the taste that now coated the front of your tongue. You kissed up his leg through his tattered black jeans, running your hand up the length of his calves and thighs. While one hand rubbed and stroked against his length, you teased his crotch with your mouth, swirling your tongue against his jeans, leaving trails of wetness to seep through the cloth. You gazed up and Josh for his reaction, and saw him with his head tilted back, eyes closed. His chest rose and fell with his heavy breath, his hips bucking gently all the while. His hand squeezes the back of your neck, pushing you closer into him, holding your head in place. Abruptly, he pushes your head away with enough force to send you tumbling backward.

You nurse your right wrist and watch Josh’s next moves intently. Josh reaches for the water bottle that had now fallen over on the floor, untwisting the cap and sliding off of his throne to the floor. He inches forward on his knees closer toward you, taking a final drink from the bottle himself. He lifts your chin with his finger, then tilts the bottle into your mouth. The first rush of cool water into your mouth was instantaneous relief. Gulps of water down your throat, with a stream of water running down your chin, dripping all on your chest and gown. All too soon, the bottle was finished.

“Messy girl,” Josh teased, looking over the drops of water that had fallen on your chin and chest, “Look at what you did. I can’t let all that go to waste, can I?”

His tongue was warm and wet against your skin, collecting cool drops of water as it trailed up your chest. He lapped at your chin, stopping just below your bottom lip. You couldn’t help but gasp when he slid his tongue inside of your mouth, hands wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. Your own hands snaked up his stomach, your thumb stroking over his belly button. Each of Josh’s kisses were long and desperate as he hungrily tugged your body closer to his own. His stomach was warm to the touch, which tacky half-dried spots of blood sticking to your palms. The sudden grasp of Josh’s hand around your jaw pulled you out of the kiss, and was swiftly followed by a stiff push backwards. Once again you found yourself thrown to the floor, at the mercy of the only other human you knew to be alive. Josh wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, the other hand not visible aside from the long strokes just behind his zipper. Standing to his feet, he spoke.

“You want it bad. I can smell it all over you. And I’ll give this to you soon enough,” he said, gesturing between his legs. “But right now, clean this fucking room. It looks like a pig pen.”

Josh’s fingers worked quickly, unbuckling the belt that had remained around your neck for days. The leather left behind long, parallel indentations, sensitive to Josh’s touch. He traced the reddened lines just above and below your throat. His wettened tongue tugged your skin in a way that could only be described as intoxicating; a subtle sting of pain that left your face flush. With your leash wrapped around his palm, and his thumb exploring the now-fading indentations on your neck, he leaned forward to speak softly into your ear.

“I just want you to remember,” he started, “That these little scars are a small price to pay to still be alive.”

Josh kissed your neck, pushing you to the floor in the same manner with which you had become all too familiar. He drew the doorway curtain closed behind him as he exited, leaving you alone with your task.

In the corner of the room, a mop rested against the wall. Beside it, a rusting metal bucket, filled with murky brown water. A trusty and well-worn sponge in hand, your knees pressed firmly into concrete, you began to scrub the floor. Blood and dirt lifted from the coarse, gray floor in a weak, watery froth. Traversing the room, scrubbing, rinsing, repeating, alleviating some of the grime that had made the air so stagnant and suffocating.

Sitting against a far wall was a dresser drawer, formerly belonging to Mickey, and now a centerpiece, a memory, perhaps a trophy in Josh’s little kingdom. Your sponge scrubbed away yet more blood and dust from the dresser’s front, which you followed with a ragged and now-damp towel that had touched every other wettened surface in the room. With the outside of the dresser as clean as one could manage with the tools available, you stretched your arm beneath the dresser to wipe up, finally, the last spot worth cleaning. Your arm swung from right to left, and from the left side of the dresser, something foreign flew out and skidded across the floor. You grasp it (whatever “it” was_ in your fingertips, and only needed to bring it an inch closer toward your face to realize what you’d touched.

Browning, rotting, human flesh. Severed and covered in its own drying, decaying blood. You threw the appendage away from yourself sooner than you could catch your breath. You sat back on your palms, gulping down saliva, your eyes unwavering from the horrid sight before you on that lifeless, concrete floor. Worse than your soiled hands, worse than the mere sight of dying flesh, worse than the smell or the twisting of your stomach, was not knowing to which one of the many who’d died alongside you this severed finger belonged to.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

You scrambled to sit up on your knees and turn around towards Josh, who was standing in the center of the room. Gray underwear hugged his thinning hips, and a tattered blanket draped over his shoulders, clasp by his hand at either end.

“Stand up.”

You set your sponge down beside you on the floor, raising steadily to your feet with a fixated gaze on Josh. Your muscles tense and your throat begins to close as he walks closer, bending down to pick up the rotting finger from the floor. He examines it, standing just inches away from you, turning it over several times between his fingertips to stare at the nail and severed base.

“You know what’s funny?” he starts, his eyes still locked on the appendage in his hand. “Between, Mickey, Eva, Marilyn, Sam, and all the other dumb fucks who managed to die down here, I can’t even tell whose finger this is. We’ve just chopped up so many together, haven’t we, baby?”

Josh trailed the severed finger along your jawline, cold and dry, dragging sluggishly across your skin. He brought the fingertip up to your lips and tried to press it between them before your head instinctively jerked backwards. Josh grinned with delight, continuing to tease the finger in front of your face, dangling it in front of your nose and just shy of your lips.

“C’mon, lighten up,” he said. “Let’s try and figure out whose ugly fucking finger this is. Does it look like a manly finger? Or does it look like it belongs to a bitch?”

He tried again to push the finger between your lips, and you couldn’t stop yourself from shoving his hand away from your face, sending his arm, and the finger, flying in the opposite direction. You said nothing, but felt your heart sink into your stomach after realizing what you’d done. Josh’s face contorted with anger, staring at you, then at his arm, then at the finger that had fallen to the ground. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, exhaled deeply, then, inexplicably, cracked a smile. He tucked the finger into the hem of his underwear and stepped forward to cradle your head in his hands. You stood up straight and stiffened your neck, fully expecting him to, at any given moment to snap your neck to either side, sending you among the ranks of the many dead in this cellar.

“You didn’t like that game,” he whispered. “That’s okay. We can play a different one, can’t we?”

Josh removed one hand from your cheek, sliding it down his stomach and into his underwear. You didn’t look down, but could just barely see the groping motions in your periphery. After a few seconds, he pulled something from his boxer briefs, and dangled it over both of your heads.

Looking up, you saw a dingy white shoestring tied around the remains of a long-dead flower, decaying petals, brown, crunchy leaves. Josh traced your bottom lip with his thumb and leaned forward for a kiss. His lips were wet and his pace was voracious, his free hand wandering freely down past your waist to grab a handful of your ass, pulling you closer toward his body. Your hands gripped around his ribs and drifted slowly toward his stomach. Between both of you, you could feel his cock steadily growing in length, becoming stiffer against your stomach with each passing second. You reached your hand between the two of you to grab his length, but were stopped sharply by the tight grip of Josh’s hand around your wrist, pulling your hand up and away.

“You’re such a nasty girl,” he cooed. “You already want it so bad. That’s why I chose you.”

With one hand still gripped around your wrist, Josh wrapped the other around your throat. He walked briskly forward until your back slammed against cold concrete, his firm grip on your wrist unwavering.

“No one in the world wants to fuck you the way I want to right now. I could see it right now. Me bending you over, giving you the best you’ve ever had in any one of those dirty fucking holes. But who owns who down here? Hm? Who’s providing, and who’s protecting? Who’s been keeping your sorry ass alive down here?”

You stood motionless for several seconds, but were snapped out of your silence when Josh tightened his grip around your throat, yelling as loud as his voice could carry.

“ANSWER ME.”

“You,” you managed to struggle out of your trembling throat. “You own me.”

Silence made the air thick, stifling, and suffocating. He stared into your eyes with his hand wrapped around your throat, leaving the world frozen in time.

“That’s right, baby girl,” he cooed. “I own you. From the top of your head, to the tips of your toes. From your mouth, to your tits, to your pussy, to your ass, everything belongs to me. So know your fucking place, and stop fucking teasing me.”

You swallowed, Josh’s shaven brows furrowed, his nose close enough to brush against yours. He heaved several breaths out of his nose, which you could feel against your lips, before he pulled away and smiled.

“I’m fucking with you, baby,” he said with a laugh that caused your body to tense, “I’m not that fucking stupid. You can come to me and touch little Josh anytime. He’s always so excited to see you. See? Look.”

Josh led the hand that he’d had pinned against the wall toward the hem of his underwear. He slipped it inside, guiding your hand to cup around his balls, then to stroke his shaft. He didn’t break eye contact, but moaned softly to your touch, sometimes closing his eyes and tilting his head back toward the ceiling. Your fingertips trailed up the length of his cock as he pulled your hand away, and just at the tip, you felt the wet stickiness of precum as it rubbed off onto your skin.

“See? He likes you. And I think you like him, too.”

Both you and Josh gasped as his hand lifted your gown and crept inside of your panties. His middle finger teased between your lips, his eyes tracked each squirm, and his ears savored each whimper. His finger became wet and slick in short order, and your body jolted when his finger brought that wetness up toward your clit. He stroked it several times, smirking before he went in for a kiss or two along your neck, and removed his hand soon thereafter. He brought his finger to his mouth, licking off the taste of you, stroking himself through his underwear as he coated his tongue in every last drop.

“Before I give you what I know you want,” he jeered, “I have a surprise for you. Follow me.”

He picked up his gray blanket, which had fallen to the floor, and draped it again over his shoulders. You followed closely behind out of the throne room door into what could only be called a living space. Just in front of you both sat a barrel, supported by four cinderblocks, with a fire sputtering inside, and a wire grate sitting over the opening of the barrel. On it was a pot full of some boiling brown liquid, ever so slightly viscous, with unidentifiable chunks floating inside. The sight made your stomach turn a little, but the smell wasn’t quite as egregious.

“What is that?” you asked, pointing toward the pot.

Josh pulled you by the arm to sit down on one of the chairs he’d situated on either side of the barrel, and stood behind you, with one hand massaging your shoulder.

“Stop asking so many fucking questions,” he warned. “I said it was a surprise, didn’t I?”

He brought his finger up to your lips, and cooed a gentle “shhhh,” into your ear. His finger was cold and dry, and crossing your eyes to look at it against your lips, unusually dark. Realizing what he’d done, you jerked your head backward and ducked it out of the way and the decaying finger he’d taken from you earlier. As you wiped your lips with the back of your arm in a feeble attempt to wick off the disgusting feeling of rotting flesh so close to your mouth, Josh laughed heartily, walking up from behind you to toss the finger into the fire through a hole in the grate.

“You’re cute,” he joked, picking up a mug from the floor on his side of the barrel. “All the shit we’ve seen down here. Dead bodies, severed heads, guts and blood spilling everywhere. Literal shit, too. And after all that, a little finger still makes you jump. How sweet, baby girl.”

He used his blanket to grasp the burning hot handle of the pot. The brown, chunky liquid sloshed into the mug, and once the cup was nearly full to the brim, Josh extended his arm to pass it to you.

Taking it and sniffing it hesitantly, you couldn’t pin down what smell was emanating from the cup, and swirling the contents around, you were still rendered unable to tell what ingredients the drink was composed of. Josh picked up a second mug as you examined your drink, pouring some for himself, and staring at you as you hesitated.

“Are you gonna drink it, or just fucking play with it? I’m not telling you what it is. So open your mouth, get the cup in there, and be fucking grateful for once.”

Looking into the nondescript pieces of god-knew-what inside of the cup, swirling past each other out of sync, made you sick. The color of the elixir was reminiscent of the mop bucket in the throne room, which only did more to agitate your gut. Nevertheless, you brought the mug to your lips, sucking the drink into your mouth, and forcing yourself not to retch when the chunks hit your lip. The mental and visual roadblocks stayed firmly in place, but the taste itself wasn’t nearly as horrid as the look. It tasted like sugar water, and vaguely of chocolate, with some other flavors lingering on the back of your tongue. You went in for another sip, both curiously and because of your water-deprived thirst, and found it tolerable enough to continue to drink. As you drank, Josh lifted one of the four cinderblocks encircling the barrel, and pulled out a large handful of candy wrappers. M&M’s, 3 Musketeers, Butterfingers, Snickers. Seeing the wrappers made the drink suddenly taste and look more familiar; chunks of half-melted peanut butter and nougat, whole peanuts, all floating in a washed-out chocolate color.

“It’s hot chocolate,” Josh said, seemingly proud of his creation, of which he took a large gulp. “Merry Christmas. Or whatever fucking day it is down here.”

The two of you continued to drink in front of the fire, sharing sporadic glances as you twiddled your thumbs, and as he adjusted his blanket. Abruptly, Josh gulped down the rest of his drink, tilting his head back and letting a stream of brown liquid run down either side of his mouth. He chewed the chunks of nougat and peanut that had sank to the bottom and stood, walking back toward his throne room without a word. You watched him, gripping your mug with both hands, as his body disappeared behind the doorframe. Once he was out of sight, your attention drifted back to the fire, the wispy glow of flames crawling up and down the sides of the barrel. You peered in closer, and could see the charring remnants of the finger Josh had thrown in earlier.

Watching it burn was mesmerizing in a horrifying way. You knew deep down that that finger belonged to someone you watched die down here. Someone you once called a friend. Someone that Josh disposed of when it was time. And you helped.

But somehow, right now, you were able to move that to the back of your mind. You only saw an experiment in real time. Human flesh yielding to a burning fire. How long would it hold its shape? How long would it take to burn to ash? How long until the last piece of someone was erased from what was left of the world?

While you were lost in your thoughts, staring into the fire and sipping your hot chocolate, you felt a cold gush of liquid run down your back, chest, and shoulders. You gasped and jumped up from your seat, sending your mug and what as left in it crashing to the floor. With your feet surrounded by shards of ceramic, you had time to register the familiar and foul stench of the liquid you were covered in.

Bucket water.

The stench of dirt and grime with a tinge of iron from the blood. The scent of your gown, and even your own skin, gave you the urge to gag. Before you were able to register what happened, you felt leather wrapping around your throat from behind, and the sound of a buckle opening and clasping shut. Josh’s hand grabbed your shoulder and swung you around to face him, looking first at the mess on the floor below, then up toward your soiled gown and face.

“You’re such a dirty little thing,” he whispered, gripping your leash in his hand. When your eyes drifted downward, your heart skipped a beat at the sight of a silver pocketknife in his palm.

“Look at the mess you made. Apologize.”

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered. “I’m sorry for making a mess. I didn’t mean to, baby, I promise, I—”

Before you could finish, Josh jerked your body forward, placing the blade of his knife just a hair’s breadth from your throat. You closed your eyes and winced, afraid to even swallow. Josh said nothing, holding the knife firmly in front of your throat, before he shoved you to the floor, sending you directly on top of a puddle of hot chocolate and sharp ceramic. One shard in particular cut straight through the skin of your palm, oozing blood when you pulled the shard out of the wound. Josh knelt down in front of you as you nursed your hand, watching curiously as you bled. He picked up the bloodied shard you’d just extracted, looking it over, before tossing it to the ground himself.

“Let me see.”

You kept your hand pulled closely into your chest, scared to be on the receiving end of further damage. Josh sighed, twirling his pocket knife in his hands before pressing it against your throat.

“You didn’t forget our little conversation from earlier, did you? I own you, you dumb bitch. Now give me your fucking hand.”

You could see your own hand trembling as you extended it toward Josh, who snatched it toward him to examine your palm. He poked and prodded at the wound, watching it bleed and slowly begin to clot. After a few short seconds, he dragged his tongue over the wound, catching a pool of blood in his tongue, and lapping it into his mouth.

“It’s not that bad,” he said, standing. “You’ll be fine. Do you want some clean clothes?”

Still sitting on the floor, you nodded.

“Good,” he said, pulling up a chair to sit in front of you. “Then beg for it.”

Still favoring your right palm, you crawled toward him on hands and knees.

“Please, can I have some clean clothes?”

“More.”

“Please, baby, can I please have clean clothes? You own me and everything I do, I’m dirty, and nasty, and soaking wet, and I wanna be clean.”

Josh smirked, leaning down to grab the end of your leash. He tugged upward to get you to stand, and let go of your leash to lean back in his chair.

“Good girl. Take off those dirty clothes for me, then. Nice and slow.”

Starting with your gown, you pushed the straps off of either shoulder. The garment began to slink down your body, falling past your shoulder blades and down your arms, further still past your chest. Wearing no bra, the sensation of air against your nipples made them almost instantaneously stiff. As he watched you strip, Josh’s hand crept down his underwear, his hand stroking and massaging just out of sight. The gown had fallen down around your feet, leaving you exposed aside from your underwear.

You worked your fingers around the lacy hem and began to pull downward. Once they were off, you covered your breasts with on arm and below your waist with the other hand, fully exposed and at Josh’s mercy.

“Come here,” he said, motioning with his finger. “Kneel. Right in front of me.”

Obeying his orders, you sat on your knees before him, right between his legs, and waited for his next command.

He took his hand back out of his underwear and reached down beside the chair he sat in. He untwisted the cap on an unopened water bottle, and took a sip. Then, without warning, he tilted the bottle over to send a cool waterfall cascading over your body. His hand wiped away what dried grime had been left behind from the mop water, leaving your body clean and glistening, backlit by the orange of the fire behind you both.

Josh lifted your chin with his finger, pulling you up into a kiss. His hands caressed either side of your waist, gliding along your curves, slick with water and warm with his body heat. The heat wicking off of the fire behind you set tingles up your spine as Josh’s tongue laps in and out of your mouth, growls of pleasure rising from his throat.

Cupping a breast in either hand, he leaned forward in his seat to kiss down your neck, toward your shoulders. As he kissed, he freed one hand to begin pulling down his boxer briefs, slowly down his thighs and past his knees, until they fell to the floor at his feet. Now satisfied, he leaned back in his chair, his legs spread apart, and your leash wrapped around his hand. From the floor beside him, he picked up yet another water bottle, twisted the cap, and threw it aside; but this time, he handed the bottle to you.

“It’s my turn,” he grinned, leaning back in his chair and thrusting his hips toward you. “Clean me.”

Tilting the water bottle over, you allowed streams of water to roll down Josh’s chest and abs. Each stream took a slightly different direction; some dripped over his sides and onto his chair, some streams stopped and pooled around his belly button, and others rolled down each ab, and past the v-lines along his hips, to leave his cock and balls wet and glistening.

Running your hands over his skin removed dirt and grime from his body in much the same way it did with yours. The friction cleaned his skin where you hadn’t realized it was soiled, until his chest and stomach were clean enough to reflect the orange glow of the fire.

You cleaned his arms, stiff and muscular, but thinner than how you’d first remembered them. You cleaned each of his fingers and under each fingernail, ran your hands up and down each of his thighs, and cleansed his calves, until all of the filth that had once clung to his skin sat in a pool at his feet.

Working back towards his torso, you cleaned around his waist and belly button, and down his happy trail, until you reached the shaft of his cock. Gently, you tilted the water bottle over, allowing a single stream of water to trickle down the shaft of Josh’s cock. You caught him tense his thighs and groan under his breath as you cupped your hand beneath his balls, massaging and rinsing them off with care. Your fingers eased upwards towards his shaft, stroking away what dirt was left, until you reached the tip of his cock, clean and pink, with a small bead of precum just beginning to emerge.

Just before you were able to use the last of what was left in the bottle to clean Josh’s body, he held your hand and stopped you. He said nothing, but pried your mouth open with his jaw, pouring all of what was left into your mouth.

“Don’t swallow,” he warned. “I want you to spit all of that water back onto my cock. And I want you to clean me with your mouth. My taint. My balls. And every inch of this cock. Do you understand me?”

Your mouth full with water, you simply nodded.

“Good girl. Spit it out slow.”

You opened your mouth only slightly, allowing water to dribble from your lips and onto Josh’s crotch. You lifted his balls to drip water onto his taint, lifted your head to drip more onto his balls, and used the last of the water and saliva in your mouth to coat the length of his shaft. With an empty mouth, you started with the work you had been assigned.

Lifting his balls up and out of the way, and leaving them suspended with the tip and bridge of your nose, your tongue worked in circles around his taint. He throbbed against your lips at first contact, leaning his head back against his chair. The longer your wet tongue dragged along his taint and just below his balls, the tighter his grip on your leash became. A couple soft moans even caught your ear as the minutes passed.

Leaving a single kiss on his skin once Josh seemed content with the work you’d done around his taint, you moved upward to his balls. You first took the right one into your mouth, sucking it down toward the back of your throat and pushing it back forward between your lips with a slow, easy rhythm. Your fingernails dug into Josh’s thighs on either side, and Josh’s stomach jittered up and down with his shaking, moaning breaths. Moving on to his left, Josh again pulled tighter on your leash, holding both you and your mouth in place. As you sucked and licked, his cock rested against your nose and forehead, throbbing subtly every now and again each time his thighs tensed in your grip. Several more minutes passed, massaging him in your mouth, until again, you moved on.

Once your head was above his shaft, his cock in full view, you could see that what was once a small bead of precum was now a steady drip down his cock. As your tongue dragged upwards toward the tip of his cock, a pool of sticky precum collected into your mouth. Before you had the chance to swallow, Josh pulled you up to your knees by the leash. With his lips pressed into yours, his precum coated both of your tongues in a wet, sticky kiss.

The kiss ended with a long string of spit and precum connecting your lips to his, and your lips wrapped around the head of his cock in short order. With no time wasted, the tip of his cock tickled the back of your throat as you tried to take all of his length. The suction of your lips, the crackle of the fire behind you, and Josh’s long, moaning sighs all hit your ears steadily. The flicker of oranges, yellows, and reds reflected off of Josh’s still-damp skin, moving in waves as his stomach rose and fell with each breath. His hand crawled up the back of your neck to force your head down until your nose was nestled firmly against a sparse outgrowth of pubic hair.

Holding your breath caused a dull ache and discomfort to rise in your chest. You closed your eyes, your nails digging into Josh’s thighs, your mind wandering to take your mind off of the urge to gag. You lasted for what felt like years before you wretched. You tried to lift your head, expecting Josh’s hand to lift with it, but were only forced further downward. Several more seconds passed, with another wretch forcing its way from your stomach and out of your mouth. Your stomach was in an apparent state of unrest, and saliva flooded from your mouth, pooling on Josh’s chair.

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” he growled, his fingers pulling tighter around your neck. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

The words had barely left your ears before your body reared back for another wretch. Again, your head shot upwards, but this time, Josh lifted your hand. From your mouth spewed a small dribble of vomit, which more or less seemed to be hot chocolate, untouched. Josh smirked, watching your eyes pool with tears and your nose begin to run as you sat on the floor. His smirk turned to laughter as he stood, dragging you by the leash, away from the puddle of your own vomit, and toward the wall nearby.

In one swift motion, Josh shoved your head against the cold, concrete wall, your head turned toward the right, and your back facing him. You couldn’t see what he was doing, but felt his length rub between your thighs, slowly, up and down, as his breath tickled the outside of your ear. The rubbing soon ceased, and you felt the breath from his mouth drop lower. The heat dropped from your ear, down your neck, further still down your back, until you felt his breath just inches away from the backs of your thighs.

No warning preceded the gliding of his tongue between your cheeks. His muffled moans were reminiscent of growls as his touch stretched to cover the length of your taint, only to trail upwards again toward your hole. He teased and prodded his tongue inside, savoring the taste, and reveling in watching you squirm. Your body’s temperature rose a degree with each passing second until, abruptly, Josh pulled his head away and stood, walking out of view. You could only tell that his voice was somewhere behind you when he called out—

“Don’t move. Stay right where you are, and don’t fucking look at me.”

Your face remained pointed toward the wall, and you felt Josh’s gaze fixated on your back. You knew, somehow, that he’d catch any sign of disobedience. So there you stood, stock still, staring at gray concrete until you were given your next order. You could hear the clang of metal every now and again, and the shuffling of his feet along the floor, but otherwise were met only with silence. You had no way of knowing what exactly he was doing, until his heavy footsteps came closer, and you felt his hand pull taught on your leash.

He spun you around, and no sooner than you locked eyes did you feel a searing pain in your stomach. You screamed, but your objection was swiftly muffled by Josh’s hand. Looking down, you could see a metal can pressed into both of your stomachs, and could smell the familiar burning of flesh. While your eyes filled with tears and you yelped and squirmed in pain, Josh’s face was nothing short of emotionless. He stared at you, his flesh being seared just the same, but showed no signs of pain or fear. Just before you felt your body begin to sink, on the edge of passing out to your own pain, Josh backed away, allowing the can to fall to the ground. With what little energy you now had, you looked down at your stomach, into which a circle had now been branded, perfectly centered around your belly button. Josh’s brand was similarly placed, his skin bright red and blistering. He traced his finger along his own brand, then traced yours, the pain of which causing a nearly immediate yelp. He pulled his hand back, but smiled.

“There,” he said, his voice nearly in a whisper. “We’re connected now. We can be together for as long as we want.”

Your body shivered, and yet, you did nothing to stop him as his mouth traveled down your stomach. He stopped at your nearly created brand to kiss around it, which still caused a stinging pain that made you jump. The pain worsened when he licked it, but pain turned to pleasure once his mouth found its way between your legs. He lifted one of your legs up onto his shoulder as he worked his tongue inside of you. Looking down, you saw your brand, dark and blistering, and below that, the view of Josh’s shaven head bucking rhythmically between your thighs. Hesitant of reprimand, you placed your hand on the back of Josh’s head as he licked between every fold of your pussy, tasting you, cleaning you with your mouth as you’d done to him so eagerly before. Josh paused when he felt your hand, looking up into your eyes as you looked down into his, but he continued nonetheless.

Licking, sucking, swirling his tongue around your clit; pushing his fingers inside of you, feeling how warm and wet you were. Everything he did felt like you were feeling it for the first time again. Sensations you’d been deprived of with every day you spent in this basement, sensations that began anew each time Josh was generous enough to give you what your body ached for. You moaned, feeling his stubbly bald head in your palm, pressing your foot into his back for leverage. Each moan from your mouth began to turn into sharp gasps the closer you came to climax, but before you could reach it, with Josh’s fingers still inside of you, he pulled his mouth away.

“You don’t get to do that today, baby. Maybe next time.”

Josh stood. His lips brushed against your nose, and with your arms wrapped behind his beck, you pleaded.

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please let me cum.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You nodded.

With Josh’s lips touching yours, and the tip of his cock pushing past the lips of your pussy, he replied.

“I bet you would. Too fucking bad for you, then.”

His cock slid inside of you with no resistance, coated thoroughly in your own wetness. Josh picked up both of your legs, hooking them around his arms, leaving you suspended in the air and pinned against the wall. The pleasure of feeling him inside of you wasn’t enough to mask the pain of your brand, still fresh and burning with pain, but it was a distraction. Both of your hands caressed his head as he thrusted, easing up the back of his neck, past the top of his head and to his forehead. You cupped your hands around the sides of his head, rubbing your thumbs over the bare skin where his eyebrows had been weeks prior.

He moaned into your mouth, bouncing your body up and down along the length of your shaft, digging what was left of his nails into your thighs. You tried to deny yourself the reality of how good it felt; you knew it was wrong, that he was wrong, that everything he did to you was wrong. But in the moment, so deprived of attention and desperate for any sign of affection, all you could feel was euphoric. Two warm bodies locked together in a gray, drab basement, warmed only by a weak fire that was just beginning to die down. Looking into Josh’s eyes, dull and green, you could just barely see the reflection of your own face, mouth ajar, moaning like a slave to his touch.

The pace of his thrusts grew gradually faster as time went on. You had no concept of the time that had passed, how long he’d been inside of you with his lips hungrily nipping at your neck and chin. All you knew was that the room had begun to dim, the fire in the barrel behind you both turning to hot, smoking embers. Your moans and Josh’s got lost in each other, and your toes curled, your legs wrapped tightly around Josh’s waist. A warmth in your stomach began to build, and soon your body was overcome by an intense heat. Out of you gushed a small fountain that splattered in a puddle onto the floor, prompting Josh to stop thrusting for several moments.

“I told you not tonight.”

Still attempting to catch your breath, you responded.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed. “I didn’t mean to. It just happened.”

Josh remained silent, staring at you in your exhausted splendor. Your moment of peace was cut short by the searing pain of fingernails digging into your still-fresh brand. You yelped in pain, and Josh pulled his hand away, repositioning himself between your legs.

“Stop fucking testing me. If your pussy was anything less than what it is, I would’ve snapped your fucking neck.”

Josh’s threat was followed promptly by the sensation of his cock pushing back inside of you. He picked up his pace like it had never been interrupted, and your body again fell prisoner to his touch. Each thrust was deep and sparked a fire deep inside you, and each of his depraved kisses was like gasoline. The longer it went on, the more you craved him. You’d forgotten all over again all the wrongs he’d committed against you, and were focused on reaching the euphoria of climax. His climax.

His pace escalated again, faster and harder, with the slap of skin against skin echoing off the basement’s empty walls. Josh’s moans turned into groans, and his kisses into bites, until finally, a warm gush filled the inside of your body. Josh slowed his thrusts into shallow pumps as the cum oozed out of his cock and inside of you, only to be pulled down by gravity, dripping down his cock and onto the floor. He held you in place against the wall, easing you down toward the floor, until he released his grip entirely, sending you crashing into a pool of his cum and your own mess.

Josh pulled on your leash to bring you again up to your knees, his cock still stiff, and coated in his own cum.

“Clean it.”

No sooner than the words left his mouth were your lips wrapped around his length, sucking cum, his and yours, off of his shaft. You licked and sucked until no white remained, and guided your tongue around his balls, where several stray streams of cum had rolled. As you cleaned him, you felt his cock begin to soften in your mouth, until finally he was clean, glistening only with your spit. He was clean, the embers in the once-raging fire had died, and here you sat, in a puddle of filth, satisfied and eager to please.

Josh reached out his hand to pet your cheek, stroking with his thumb as his fingers rested under your chin. When he was finished, he removed your leash and wrapped it around his hand. With a departing, stinging belt lash against your lower back, he began to walk back toward his throne room.

“Merry Christmas. You did good today. Now clean this fucking mess.”

#bri's writing