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biteofcherry · 1 year

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Grain of Truth - part eight

*disclaimer: the picture used in the banner is no indication for how the Reader looks, it only serves the vibe of the story, it’s not a description

Soft!Dark Alpha Steve Rogers x Omega Reader

Summary: You’re content with your quiet, peaceful life, but it suddenly becomes dangrously intense when an alpha, Steve Rogers, forces himself into it. You never believed nor seeked out the old fairytales of true mates, but Steve will make you admit there’s a grain of truth in every fairytale.

Warnings for this chapter: heat (mating cycles); smut; unprotected sex; knotting; cum play; A/B/O dynamics; marking; bonding; dominance; Dom/sub undertones; soft!dark Steve;

word count: 4.1k

Main Masterlist

Grain of Truth previous parts:

Heat pleasure always felt heightened. A sort of an euphoric high that you rode, until your body gave out and your brain shut off into sleeping mode.

However, it was nothing compared to the intensity of going through it with Steve.

The need for your alpha was skyrocketing, consuming you whole; mindless and animalistic.

With any previous heat a few good orgasms from your fingers, or your toys, had you sated and smiling. The heat triggered by your alpha’s presence was like a fever that only grew each time he took you.

Wet and sticky, so full of him, so sore; and yet you mewled for him desperately when Steve forced you to take a break from his cock.

You scrunched up your nose, glaring at him indignantly as he fed you pieces of chocolate bars and brought a water bottle to your lips. Nutrition wasn’t something you ever cared for in your heat, usually forgetting about anything beside little sips now and then.

Maybe that’s what alphas were for during a heat - to satisfy your aching cunt and care for your wellbeing.

You definitely preferred the first part.

Which is why you tried to nibble on Steve’s fingers instead of the chocolate; why you rubbed yourself against his thigh like a needy bitch.

He had to pin you down a few times, growling at you to behave and eat more.

Honestly, Steve growling only made things worse.

As did his hand wrapped around your throat and the heavy weight of his body trapping you in.

It made you keen and leak, a fresh rush of your potent scent provoking Steve's raw attack.

Much later, when your determined to get wrecked brain switched off as your stomach grew taut with how much of his cum spilled past your cervix, Steve used your pliant body to sate his own never ceasing craving.

Still emitting faint heat hormones, just boneless and acquiescent, your body called to the alpha to claim you over and over.

Even without you actively trying to climb him, too fucked out to even beg for his knot, Steve followed the mating instinct that drove him nearly mad with the need to take you again. Fill you again. Bite you again.

A few times he’d gratuitously allowed you reprieve; stroked himself as he watched your spread body and reminisced on the things he’s done to you.

He came all over your belly and chest. A second time over your back and ass. Twice on your face, scooping splashes of thick, white cream and pushing them between your lips.

You suckled them clean so eagerly, your scent spiking again as the taste of his cum stirred the last flames of your heat from its lull; it made him painfully hard again.

And so he fucked your boneless body without remorse. Hooked his arms beneath your bent knees as he drove deep.

When his knot deflated and he slipped out of your fluttering pussy, Steve took a few deep, calming breaths. A short pause to let your body stop twitching from overstimulation.

Then he kneeled up and cradled the back of your head in his hand, holding it in place as he nudged your lips with the tip of his cock. You opened eagerly, big glossy eyes staring up at him as he slowly rocked into your hot mouth to get himself hard again.

Hard enough to move your body into a new position and thrust inside you. The way you cried Alpha each time he stretched you anew, was the most intoxicating feeling.

The primal side of Steve swelled in triumph and delight as he finished for the final time and looked at you - your broken body quivering beneath him, belly slightly bulged, the imprint of his teeth on your mating gland.

A new day was brightening outside. The third one, Steve calculated. Or maybe fourth?

What his frantic brain might’ve thought to be a few hours could in fact be close to twenty four. Not that he cared much. He could spend a week, or two, with you in the nest, if you asked him to. If you needed him.

Though he suspected you won’t like staying much longer on the completely soiled fabrics. Much less remaining sticky all over. For now, however, you were unable to move an inch to leave the nest and Steve had no desire to separate from you.

He dug between the layers of the nest and pulled out the least nasty blanket, draping it over you both as he settled on his side facing you.

He placed a hand on your hip and your body rolled closer. It was an instinct to be as close to your alpha even in your drowsy state.

Steve held you, arm loosely wrapped around you and his nose buried in your hair. He felt an indescribable, peaceful sensation spreading through him like a warm wave. A sense of joy and contentment. Of being in the right place.

Of belonging.

You slept for a few hours and Steve dozed off along with you. The moment your consciousness began reconnecting with reality, he woke up as well.

It wasn’t the bond, but the still heightened instinct to attend to your needs if the heat hasn’t fully subsided.

But you only hummed and stretched alongside him. You rolled onto your back, eyes closed. You felt the heavy arm across your body, an intimate and possessive act that brought a faint smile to your lips.

You placed your hand atop Steve’s forearm, caressing his skin with delicate brushes of your fingers. When you moved your legs, muscles in your thighs spasmed and the burn in them returned.

As if connected to the sensation, your core pulsed with soreness.

Oh! Your eyes fluttered open.

So many sensations tingled in your body. An ache which you suspected would only spread once you tried walking.

If you’d even be able to take a step, with the imprint of Steve’s cock and knot still fresh in your ruined pussy.

But you never felt this satisfied, this… delirious bliss.

You wanted to grin and laugh, and keep stretching even though each of your muscles would strain in reminder of the brutal tumble your body was subjected to for hours and hours.

You wanted to curl into a ball and hide in your alpha’s strong arms; have his heavy weight on you and his breath on your neck.

Your brain, still quite mushy from the post-orgasmic haze, suddenly pinged with alertness.

The mark over your mating gland was throbbing pleasantly, in tune with the joyous pulsing in your whole body.

With trembling fingertips, you touched the bitten spot, feeling the content warmth and pride swell in your heart. A heart that seemed to pound with strength unknown to it until now.

You turned your head to the side, staring at Steve bewildered. Then you forced your body to roll to your side, needing to face him fully. Needing him to hold you closer even as the itch to punch him grew.

“You bonded me,” you whispered, astonishment breaking into a betrayal.

A part of you knew that bonding would be something Steve insists on, but you thought of it as something to happen much later in your relationship.

Not only did it happen so soon, but he snapped it into place at your most vulnerable and submissive state.

“Yes.” Steve replied softly, as if it was the most natural and obvious thing.

He frowned, seeing your eyes well with tears. Your body was still pressed to his, your leg found its way over his thigh, but you tilted your head back from him.

At first he didn’t understand your reaction, then he remembered how new all of this was to you. How foreign the concept of true mates was to you.

For years you held onto your own presumptions, building lies on stereotypes to shield yourself from ever forming a relationship with any alpha.

You skipped some important truths in your need to rebel.

You had to enroll back to some classes, or maybe at least talk to Amita about the basic truths you chose to never learn. Otherwise the hurdles along your future path may lead to catastrophic outcomes.

“Hey,” Steve said your name in a soothing tone and moved one of his hands to cup the back of your head and make you look at him. “Can you take a deep breath for me and focus on what exactly you’re feeling on the bond spectrum?”

Instinct told you to struggle, but your body was too spent to put any real resistance. You sneered at Steve, but he only held you in place and asked you to focus once again.

So you did. With every intention of pouring your irritation into it so hard that Steve feels it like a punch over the mating bond.

However, the deeper you sank into what you were sensing inside of you, the calmer you were. There was a tiny hint of worry, but overall it was a calm certainty of feelings, a bloom of love and serenity.

And you knew they weren’t your emotions.

Yours were still a bit uncertain, chaotic, wonderfully in the whirlwind of slowly falling in love and considering running away.

You understood then that what you felt when you focused on the bond were Steve’s feelings. The heartbeat you thought was yours, only stronger, was Steve’s.

“I feel you.” You whispered, eyes going wide.

Steve traced a finger over your cheek and then down to your arm. He took your hand in his and put it over his sternum.

“That’s what I did.” He explained. “A mating bite is a gift, not a demand. I bit you, because I was ready to open to you. To give you access to my feelings.”

You frowned, not grasping the full meaning behind his words. Every scrap regarding a mating bond that ever reached your mind (though back then you didn’t even want to know it), described it as a brand an alpha puts on his omega to have her tied to him.

Steve’s explanation spoke of something completely opposite. Was he trying to veil the breach of trust and forcing you to bond with him with pretty fairy tales?

Steve sighed, noticing your confusion.

“You’re thinking of a mating bond as something that’s like a leash. Or a GPS tracker.” He rolled his eyes, suspecting where such ideas might come from.

Surely not from true stories, or even academic research, since you avoided any true mating topic like a plague.

It had to be based on deranged, exaggerated romance novels, or shitty TV shows glorifying miscommunication and abuse. No wonder you were so against mating and creating a bond.

“Some of the alpha romances really have it all wrong and the authors should be walloped for that.” Steve growled with irritation.

“In truth, the bond allows one to sense the distress of the partner and react quicker, but most of all it’s a final act of showing your commitment.” Steve tapped the back of your hand that rested above his heart. “And it’s the biting partner that opens up, not the one getting the bite.”

“That makes zero sense.” You blurted out.

“Oh, and the other way around makes more sense?” Steve chuckled. “Or are you just so used to seeing it your way that it’s hard to accept it’s the opposite?”

Steve rolled his body over you, trapping you beneath his massive form once again. And like it happened every time he did it, your body tingled with anticipation.

However, he didn’t part your legs, didn’t rut into you; didn’t even steer his touch to an intimate sphere.

“A bite over a mating gland is like giving a wedding ring.” He leaned down, rubbing the tip of his nose along yours. “Me giving it to you as a sign of my commitment. Of me trusting you with my heart and mind.”

You felt the truth behind his words inside you, felt it on that hook in your heart.

“You feel me. But I don’t feel you.”

There was an undertone of sadness in Steve’s voice, but it wasn’t a manipulation to force the right words out of you. And now you were certain of it, because you sensed it through the bond.

For the first time it seemed you were on even footing with Steve, being able to tell if he was honest or just wanted to trick you.

In the uneven power dynamic between an alpha and omega that provided you a power of your own.

“You don’t feel what I feel?” You asked, still hesitant. “You don’t know what I think?”

All the times he figured out there was something bothering you, or the way he so easily played your body as if he knew all the weak spots before discovering them. And he knew that without having the bond in place?

If Steve gained even more insight into you, as the two way bond guaranteed, you’d be powerless against him.

“No, not until you bite me.” Steve brushed his lips over yours. “When you bite my mating gland, only then can I truly sense you. Only then the actual true bond snaps into place.”

You opened your lips to accuse him of already having weird access to your thoughts, but Steve’s soft huff of laughter interrupted you.

“I’m good at reading people and you wear some of your emotions on your beautiful face.” He teased you.

“And your body has tells too…” one of his hands slid along your side, thumb brushing the underside of your breast.

Your nipple instantly hardened, your back arching upward so you could rub against Steve’s naked chest.

“You’re so very responsive.” Steve hummed appreciatively.

“You- you’re distracting from the main topic.” You scolded, but it sounded too breathy and helpless to impress anyone. Plus, your treacherous body preferred to follow the newly ignited spark of arousal.

“I’m distracting?” Steve’s hand traveled further south. “I’m not the one splayed so openly; so warm and wet, and smelling of me.”

“That’s also your fault,” you groaned when he nudged your legs apart and settled his weight between them. “You covered me in your cum almost head to toe.”

It was absolutely filthy, some of the things he did to you. Yet your body and the primitive hindbrain of yours shaked in ecstasy.

“Mhm, there are still some unsoiled nooks.” Steve’s voice lowered as his fingers dipped between your soaked folds and further down.

“Nu-uh,” you shook your head even as your body opened up to his ministrations, “I’m not taking it up the ass.”

Steve’s eyes darkened, a single digit circling your puckered hole.

“Not yet,” he whispered, moving his fingers back to your sopping entrance, “but not never.”

Deep in your belly you felt a shot of lust - dark and heady, and so possessive it couldn’t be yours. It punched the air out of your lungs as you realized it was Steve’s arousal spiking, spurred by your awaiting body and whatever filthy thought he had.

“Let’s stick to the Not part, for the moment.” You groaned at the gentle push of a single finger between your swollen walls.

There was already so much your body went through this heat - a summary of all your sexual encounters tripled wouldn’t match the number of times you came on Steve’s cock. Adding to it something far beyond your experience, surely would kill you.

You slid your arms around Steve's back, your touch hungry to feel each ripple of his muscles.

For all things you could complain about Steve, his body was a fucking wonder.

And it's all mine to enjoy, your own possessive inner beast purred proudly.

You squirmed, wincing slightly when Steve eased a second finger into you. He paused, digits buried deep, but unmoving.

“Sore?” His eyes took in every detail of your face; from the microgrimaces to the way your pupils dilated and your irises shined. “Think you can take me one more time?”

“Ugh,” if you listened to the reasonable part of your brain, you’d put a stop to it.

But it seemed Steve fucked out any reason from your brain, leaving only that raw, primal need to submit and subject to his demands.

“I want it.” Your hips rocked up into his hand; your nails needling the skin on his back.

“I want you, too.” Steve licked over your bottom lip, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy. “I want you to feel all of me.”

Breath turning erratic, tiny whimpers cracked your voice as you snorted - “I’m pretty sure there’s an imprint of your cock inside me.”

Steve’s soft chuckle tickled your chin. His blue eyes sparked, eyelashes fluttering against his flushed cheeks. He looked down at you, holding your gaze as he withdrew his fingers and replaced them with the head of his shaft.

“Sweet brat.” He crooned, pinning you in place as your body seized at the stretch.

“I mean that I want you to sense what I’m feeling when I’m fucking you.” He inched agonizingly slow inside.

Perhaps he thought it to be merciful, to do it slowly and gently. Or maybe the bastard thrived, knowing it was a maddening little suffering for you to feel him stretch wide your abused pussy.

“You’re more coherent now, you can focus on the bond. Feel how I want you.”

His hips pushed harder against you. Your legs fell wider apart, spread like a used ragdoll’s. With his weight and the force of his movement, Steve caused your hips to tilt upwards.

It made his cock sink even deeper.

The tip nestled against your cervix, yet he seemed to keep pushing and pushing, until all of him was sheathed within your stretched walls and his balls met your butt.

“Feel how I love you.” Steve murmured and kissed you.

Sensations burst inside you. Intense elation and overwhelming lust. Light and dark, an intoxicating combination of care and possessiveness. It rushed through your veins with rapture close in power to the peak of your heat.

You never knew how love feels for others. To be honest, while you experienced falling in love before you never felt true love yourself, not a type different from how you loved your family.

What you sensed through the bond was overpowering. Emotions that couldn’t be contained and which held determination to fight the world to keep their center protected - to keep you protected.

It nearly brought tears to your eyes.

You tightened your arms around Steve, clinging to him with all what was left of your strength.

Your head fell back on the mattress, neck strained, offering him the gland he already marked as his.

Your legs dangled limp, swaying with Steve’s each hard thrust.

“Oh- ohh! Steve!”

That you screamed his name when climaxing, not his designation, meant to him the world at that moment.

While the primal side of Steve wanted you to call him your alpha when he fucked you in full heat, now that he showed you what his bonding meant and that it came from him - Steve - he hoped you accepted it.

Accepted that he was offering you all of himself, not just hunting you down to be your alpha.

Steve shuddered above you as one of your hands slid up, your fingers weaving in his hair and you weakly pulled his head down to yours.

“You’re everywhere.” You muttered deliriously, eyes clenched shut and streaks of tears trailing down your temples. “I’m all filled with you.”

You undid him with those words, though you weren’t even aware of anything beside his hot cum spilling inside you and the wave of blinding tranquility pouring through the bond.

“Fucking love you.” Steve whispered into your hair as he gathered you in his arms, rolling to the side and pulling you along with him.

You came to your senses sooner this time, but instead of switching your attention to reality, you sank further into Steve’s embrace and the hues of deep, soft emotions pulsing through you with each beat of his heart.

It was impossible to comprehend the complexity of feelings which Steve bore for you. Could it be love? It certainly felt stronger than what even the most dramatic romances described.

You weren’t sure if you’ll be able to ever feel anything akin to it.

It crushed you to think how broken Steve would be, if your feelings for him never reached such height.

For now, you relished in his closeness. Maybe it was the subsiding heat and post-orgasmic tranquility, but for the first time you allowed yourself to fully submerge into this intimacy with Steve. And you realized how much you liked his proximity, how safe and at peace you felt with him.

Surprisingly, you also became aware that when he pulled on your pigtails and provoked certain bratty reactions from you, despite the annoyance and the need to rebel, his presence always made you feel secure.

You stirred when Steve’s hand, with which he was caressing your back, tugged on your hair. With a hum you craned your neck to peer up at him.

“Want to take a shower?” He asked, reminding you of the filthy state of your body.

Steve was pretty ruined too, but somehow it was you that surely painted a picture of disgusting debauchery. Though you left quite a few scratches all over his body, he wasn’t the one covered in bruises and cum.

“I really do, but-” heat burned under the skin of your face and you hid it in his chest again.

“But what?” Steve asked curiously.

“But I fear that if I stand up, not only will I leak buckets, but my legs will give out.” You blurted on a single breath, not looking up.

Steve laughed, his chest shaking with a purring rumble beneath your cheek. It only grew in resonance when you did lift your head to glare at him.

“Yeah, you’ll be leaking for days.” He said it with a smug smirk. “But I can help with the other part.”

Before you knew it, Steve was out of the nest - fast and agile, as if he didn’t just have a few-days-long sex marathon. He picked you up easily, one arm behind your back the other under your knees. Your breath hitched in your lungs when he did that.

As he carried you to the ensuite bathroom, you cast a glance at the mess of a nest on the huge bed. It didn’t look as perfect, or as comforting as it did when you built it. Worse, it bore crusted and fresh, shiny marks of intense coupling.

The nests you built for your heats when you spent them alone at home were never ruined like that. There was rarely an item out of place once you were done.

In the shower stall Steve had to keep your body up, since your legs really gave out when he put you down on your feet. You leaned against him, only slightly embarrassed as he cleaned your body.

Steve was gentle in the way he touched you. Focused on caring for you, cherishing you, not once trying to use the situation to arouse you. Though some parts of your body responded to his touch anyway.

You tried helping him wash, too, but your strained muscles made you less efficient. When Steve guided your soapy hand over the plains of his body, directing you in how to clean him, well… that worked you up more than his tender touching did.

Afterwards, he sat you up on the bathroom counter and patted you dry before toweling himself off. Slipping on a pair of simple, gray sweatpants, he helped you into a fresh t-shirt of his. It was big enough to cover most of your butt.

“Food or sleep?” Steve asked, lifting you up into his arms once again.

“Both.” You yawned into his shoulder.

“Feed you while you’re sleeping?” Steve snorted, carrying you out of the bathroom and out through the bedroom door. “That’s an interesting concept. How am I supposed to do that?”

“You’re the all knowing alpha. Figure something out.”

A cheeky smile spread on your lips as you leaned your cheek against Steve’s shoulder. Seemed you found another positive side of having an alpha as your partner - you could be carried around and spoiled a bit.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #alpha!steve rogers #alpha steve rogers x reader #alpha steve rogers x omega reader #a/b/o dynamics #steve rogers smut #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #chris evans smut #grain of truth #my writing

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pretty-toru · 10 months

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Prettyyyyy, have you got some (more?) Gojo nsfw hcs? Love ya lots <3

✧ ⎯⎯ 18+ minors dni. love you too nonnie 🤍 these particular ones have been consuming my mind for so long it's time i finally put them into words.

☁️ Satoru adores seeing you in lingerie. So much that he loves spending thousands of dollars on your collection, and enjoys the sensual confidence and playful attitude when you dress up for him. He'll check you out and appreciatively touch you, and instead of unwrapping his lovely present it stays on the entire time he's making love to you.

The embroidered mesh panties get pulled to the side as he teases you with shallow thrusts, your breasts spilling from the cups of the delicate bra when he gently tugs them down to pinch and roll your nipples. You're a delicious sight as you're sprawled beautifully under him that's begging to be worshiped and admired, especially when you're wearing his colors of baby blues and angelic whites.

☁️ He's a bit obsessed with seeing his thick, white cum anywhere on your body. As much as Satoru loves sharing many beautiful and intimate moments from climaxing deep inside you, he switches things up by pulling out and creating a mess on your pussy as he spills his contents along your folds and clit with the heavy drag of his tip to spread it. He thinks it's one of the hottest parts of sex, like a sense of ownership and marking his territory.

He also loves cumming in your mouth with the visual of your parted lips and seeing it shoot on your tongue while taking in your cute expression. Some other personal faves are on your lovely tits and your stomach because you do that thing where you'd collect a taste of him on your fingers just to lick them clean.

☁️ When Satoru upgraded the private automobile that Ijichi drove him around, the assistant manager wondered if his hard work had been recognized or there must be another reason for this gesture. He quickly received his answer when you were accompanying Satoru to a formal social gathering, and to make it more bearable for your lover (because he thinks these events are boring) he'd instruct Ijichi to raise the privacy screen out of respect for your comfort as you're placing gratuitous kisses along his neck.

Even though the view is obscured, there's no secret the clan leader is receiving a blowjob in the backseat of the car from the way his breathing picks up and expressive moans slipping past his lips and he's praising you for being his 'good girl' and to 'keep sucking just like that.' Satoru would have loved seeing you swallow, but he imagines the evening would be much more amusing knowing that his cum's slowly seeping out of you and onto your panties.

☁️ When you return home from a girls' night out, clearly still in an inebriated daze as Satoru makes his way to the front door at the sound of you stumbling in (and acts like he hadn't been waiting for you the entire time). He doesn't mind helping you out of your dress for his comfy t-shirt and getting you ready for bed by washing your makeup off and brushing your teeth for you as you loosely hug his torso because your mind feels like it's swaying back and forth.

Then comes the usual goodnight kisses after he tucks you in, but your lips are soft and lingering as there’s an ache between your legs that only Satoru can fulfill. You're grinding your heat on his thigh, feeling yourself become a little more whiny and needy and bratty when he doesn't immediately fuck you and makes you use your words to tell him exactly how he can help you. Teases you even, because he can't figure out between the two of you who is being taken advantage of tonight. But with you begging so sweetly, he can’t help but give his pretty baby what she wants.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru imagines #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo satoru #jjk imagines #jjk x reader

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jksprincess10 · 2 months

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me again! congrats again, hun <3

for your celebration, i request 🖤 + #4 with jack/agent whiskey

A/N: My love !! Thank you for making me write Jack for the first time.

CW: gratuitous objectifying of Agent Whiskey, lots of flirting, pet names (sugar, sweetheart, etc.), unprotected p in v, quickie, riding.

Participate in my 2.4K followers celebration!

It was your first mission with Agent Whiskey. Admiring the holograms was different than admiring the man himself. You didn't even know you liked cowboys. But he just stirred something in you.

Seeing him in a hotel room with you was also something else.

You gulped while you tried not to ogle him too much, but you couldn't help it. He had traded his usual suit for a skin-tight white t-shirt, dark jeans that showed his generous bulge and nice ass, a leather coat that struggled against his broad shoulders. But he still had his usual cowboy hat on.

He turned to you and caught you staring at him.

"Stop lookin' at me like that sugar, or my knees will not hold me any longer."

"Then get on your knees?" You suggested, sat on the side of the bed, your expression the epitome of innocence.

"Agent, I don't think it would be a smart thing to put myself in a vulnerable position."

"Don't you trust me?" You asked as you titled your head to the side.

Suddenly, he was on you, pushing you flat to the mattress as your bodies bounced together. He had taken off his sunglasses, and his deep brown irises under thick lashes were visible.

"Trust is somethin' you gain, sweetheart."

"How do I gain it, agent?" You licked your lips and looked down at his, plump and shadowed by his impressive mustache. He followed the path of your eyes, and he kissed you as he held your face in his rough palms. You parted your lips for him, letting his tongue find yours in a vulnerable kiss.

You were greedy, pulling the coat off his shoulders without breaking the kiss. Jack let you go to breathe and take off his shirt in one go. You followed suit. His lips found your cleavage, kissing and licking.

"I would love to take my time with you." He whispered, sending shivers through your whole body. "But we got work to do, sugar."

"Hmmm. Let's not waste our time, then." You hurriedly got rid of the rest of your clothes, and you eventually stole Jack's hat as you rolled over him, trapping the man under you.

"You're gonna have to trust me." You added as you looked down at him and put the hat on your head with a smile. You leaned down and gathered saliva In your mouth, before letting it fall on his cock that was standing proudly against his lower stomach. You spread it with your hand, wrapping your fingers around it to position it under your hole.

"Now hold on, cowgirl..."

You sank down on him slowly, and you watched his face closely as he hissed through his teeth.

"Fuck, that's a tight fit, baby."

"You'll lube me up better next time. We have no time." Your thighs flush with his, you looked down at him while you started moving at a comfortable pace, bouncing up and down. You let out noises of pure pleasure, your lips parted and your eyes half closed. His fingers grabbed your hips in a bruising hold after a few of your thrusts.

"Hold on and touch yourself, baby. Want you to come, yeah?"

You obeyed, fingers finding your clit as Agent Whiskey's hips met yours with force that kicked the breath out of your lungs. His tip kept hitting that spot inside of you, and your fingers put just the right pressure. White-hot pleasure built in your stomach and you unleashed around him, making his hips stutter. You were glad he followed so closely, because you were flirting with time.

#jksprincess10 celebration #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey smut #jack whiskey daniels x you #jack whiskey daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader

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writing-time-bitches · 4 months

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Onward! // Submas drabble

Based on this post by @critterbitter ! Go check it out. Now. 🔫😐

\\\

Zephyr loved his job. He loved being a subway conductor even if the workplace was at times subpar with its safety. Sure the rails needed to be redone, sure the AC sometimes shorted out, and sure people tended to battle on it a few too many times per day but by Arceus’ eighteen plates did he adore the Unovan subway.

The one thing that could possibly outdo his love for trains and railways are children. And there’s a certain trio of kids that come by every time, without fail, when his train comes to a stop in Nimbasa City. They loved the trains almost as much as Zephyr did, particularly the twins. The Sinnohan girl and her Blitzle were quiet, likely due to her language barrier, but they always seemed to be just as excitable.

It was commonplace by now for Zephyr and the kids to exchange greetings when they entered his train. And recently, the Sinnohan has been speaking more too! Zephyr would be lying if he said he didn’t feel like a proud father.

The kids, now with a new companion in the form of dwebble that relaxed in the blitzle’s bags, were seen commonly working on homework when the train was moving. School was starting up again since the summer has drawn to a close. The twins, especially Ingo, would often help their foreign friend with her Galarian and homework.

And today they seemed particularly determined though…

“Right on schedule, Mr. Zephyr!” Emmet and Ingo shouted in tandem, ending off with their hellos. Elesa waved with a grin and their pokemon did the same. Zephyr couldn’t help but let a smile slip through his stoic work facade as he tipped his gray hat at them. They hurriedly approached the subway doors exchanging friendly nods when they entered.

“Oh, by the way…” Zephyr rummaged through his coat pockets and produced four clear plastic bags that were tied with a cute yellow. Blitzle perked and brayed excitedly as he recognized one of the bags’ contents,”I remember you mentioning what treats your pokemon liked so my husband and I made some for you! I apologize if their not the best, I’m not exactly a baker… the sugar cubes are infused with lemon.” Zephyr mentioned, scratching at his growing stubble with an air sheepishness.

Elesa’s and Emmet’s grins grew wider and Ingo produced one of his signature odd Purloin-like smiles. Elesa bowed,”Arigatou! Thank you Mr. Zephyr!” Blitzle drew his lips back in an excited snarl as he sniffed at the bag of sugar, Elesa laughed and sat down in one of the seats close to the door he stood at. The twins were quick to follow her lead.

Zephyr loaded on more passengers, punching their tickets and all, requesting all pokemon larger 3ft be returned to their pokeballs unless they are medically trained. Once the last person was onboard he turned to the twins behind him, and as if they had used Foresight, they turned at the same time. Zephyr didn’t have to say anything they were already jumping to their feet.

Zephyr crouched down and turned on his radio,”Attention all passengers, Line 6 is now departing.” He held the black box towards the boys who screamed into the radio,”ALL ABOOOOAARD!”

All three of them snickered at the yelps and curses of surprises that echoed both within and outside the train. Elesa cackled at a group of teens who turned to glare daggers at Zephyr and the boys while holding their ears.

Emmet grinned with a mischievous triumph, foot tapping,”I am Emmet. I will never grow tired of that.” Ingo nodded in agreement,”Indeed, we owe a gratuitous debt for the times you’ve allowed us to send this train off.”

Zephyr gave a mere chuckle and stood up, straightening his coat,”Ah it’s no big deal. By the way,” he turned to his little passengers,”where are you headed off to this time?”

“Route 10.” Came the synchronized answer. Zephyr��s pale blue eyes widened before a worried frown found its place on his face,”Route 10? Are you sure? You know the cliffs are unstable there… and it right next to the League, plenty of powerful pokemon will be there.” All three nodded their heads, Ingo piped up seemingly having predicted the conductor’s hesitancy,”We are well aware of that. We plan to strictly stay on Boufallant herding trails and on designated hiking trails. And,” he spared a withering glance at his brother,”we will run and hide at the sight of any overly-strong pokemon.” Emmet shrunk at at the glare and exaggerated words,”I am Emmet. I prrrromise to follow the rules.”

Zephyr bite his lip, unconsciously running his hand through the thick brown curled locks of hair under his hat, a few strands fell into his eyes as he glanced between his young passengers,”Are you sure…? Are you going to tell your uncle where you’re going at least?”

Emmet and Elesa gave a shug while Ingo nodded,”That is the first thing we will do when we reach Opelucid. Right Emmet? Elesa?” Under the glare of the eldest twin the two electric-type enthusiasts were quick to nod. Satisfied with their compliance he turned to the other with complete self-assuredness and confidence.

Still, Zephyr couldn’t help but feel a little responsible.

“What if I came with you for part of the hike?” He offered. The trio blinked, apparently having not anticipated that response. Elesa was first to recover,”No need! We handle ourselves perfectly good!” She tried, her Sinnohan accent thick upon her clumsy tongue. Emmet nodded, with his little tynamo sparking,”I am Emmet! Thank you for the offer but no thank you.”

When Ingo hadn’t responded as well the two looked at him with a badly hidden pleas. Ingo, being the ever so responsible young man he was bite the side of cheek in consideration,”… I would not be opposed to the notion…” at that the litwick atop his hat started spewing words a mile-a-minute. Zephyr had no clue what she was saying but from Ingo’s grimace it seemed like something of a scolding. Ingo picked up his ghostly friend and muttered something in argument but the litwick was not hearing it.

Sighing in a dramatic defeat he looked up at the grown he had grown to trust sadly,”I must apologize, it would seem the party’s against a chaperone.” Elesa and Ememt and their pokemon gave a not-so-quiet cheer for independence while Ingo sat in remorseful silence. Zephyr sighed through his nose but gave an understanding smile,”It’s ok, I understand. You’re all growing up to be young adults now, it’s only expected you’d want to go off alone. But promise me one thing, you’ll call your uncle once you’ve reached Route 10’s entrance and when you get back to the city ok?” At that everyone nodded (Litwick gave a begrudging accepting nod and pouted; she will always crave independency and chaos) and Zephyr smiled.

“Good. I hope to see you soon when you’re done.”

Emmet tapped his foot nervously against the cold pavement of the station. Night was starting to fall and the Line 6 train has not arrived yet. Similarly Elesa had begun to pace around the small bench they were seated on, chewing on her already short nails.

Emmet leaned back and complained to his friend,”When is train gonna get heeeeerrrrugh.” He drawled, swinging his legs as he tilted his head to look at his brother who was busy trying to find out why their train was so late. Emmet didn’t like this. Line 6 was never late. Never. Zephyr would never let the subway be so late, especially when he and his friends were supposed to board. Litwick was unusually quiet too, she would definitely be complaining loudly by now but she was statue still as if her wax had cooled off and quiet as the stale wind in the tunnel they were in.

His and Ingo’s moms must be worrying. They should’ve been home by now…

Where the hell was Line 6?

A soft choked gasp erupted unbidden from his brother. Straightening with alarm he and Elesa turned to the eldest of the three,”Ingo? What’s wrong?” Ingo, face sucked pale as the snow that surrounded Iccirus City, turned to face his companions. Emmet felt the unease that was already bubbling in his stomach rise to just underneath his skin at the horrified and grief-stricken look on Ingo’s face. What happ—

“Line 6… had a derailment.”

Two days after the reported crash, the Nimbasan kids stood at the edge of a gathered group of mourners. Their pokemon were tucked in their pokeballs today.

The sun beat down on the group in an almost mockingly cheerful way. Elesa wished the scenery was like what it was in movies. Clouds should be covering the sun, the threat of rainfall thick in the air and congested with sombre music. Not the energetic chirping of pidoves, the yawns of sewaddles and swadloons or the cheerful floating of nearby whismsicott.

It should be depressing. Not single sound should be heard but the barely contained sniffles and sobs of the grieving.

Elesa glanced at the tombstone’s writing: Here lies Zephyr Harrison, loving son, brother and husband. 19xx - 19xx.

Elesa quickly has to look away, hands gripping each other tightly enough that she could feel her nails dig into her skin. She couldn’t bear to think about the kind train conductor who smiled at her proudly whenever she spoke a sentence in galarian, or the man who had given all of them tailor-made gray conductor hats that matched his. She couldn’t bear to think of the man who felt like a doting older brother or a second father.

Next to her Emmet was swaying a little too hard, almost tipping to fall on his face one too many times, and staring— no, glaring— at the earth beneath him like it had wronged him in some inexcusable way. His smile was no where to be seen, replaced by a tight, wobbly straight line instead. His eyes were misty with unshed tears.

Ingo wasn’t much better. His face was schooled into a mask of indifference as he stared distantly past the grave and stock still like a statue. The only thing that told you he was alive was the uneven and short breaths he was taking, as if trying to not burst into fat ugly tears.

To be honest, Elesa was trying to not do the same. She never noticed how constant Zephyr was in their lives until he was 6 feet in the ground. Her mind couldn’t stop replaying all the little moments she had shared with the older man, his fond smiles and the proud glimmer in his eyes, other tics the man had. Like adjusting his hat just before leaving to the control car, or carting his hand through his hair, or how his eye twitched every time he dealt with a Karen on his train. The slightly off-center quirked lips in his teethy grins.

Grief burrowed itself deeper in her heart when she realized she was never going to feel Zephyr’s hand ruffled her hair with unsaid affection.

Elesa was going to miss Zephyr.

The twins were going to miss Zephyr.

46 notes · View notes

blasphemecel · 1 year

Text

Matsuoka Rin — Priorities

PAIRING(S): Matsuoka Rin/Reader WORD COUNT: 4.7k TYPE: Light Angst, Making Up, Childhood friends WARNING(S): None I think? But lmk

“C’mon,” you whined, and the sound grated on Rin’s nerves. He’d spaced out and kind of missed out on what you were upset about now, but he’d known you for long enough to find your responses somewhat predictable. It was probably another race you wanted to have, or an arm wrestle, or something along those lines. You even swam with him sometimes, and to his chagrin you were decent at it.

There was a tug on his sleeve. Rin furrowed his eyebrows and frowned when he turned to look at you, only to see an irked expression on your face. “What?”

At his question, you backed away and crossed your arms, smirking before you pointed at a tree far away in the distance. “I said we should race there. You weren’t listening.”

“But we just walked all the way here from there,” he said, annoyed by your illogical whims.

“Oh, are you scared of losing? Are you a lil’ chicken?”

“I’m NOT a chicken!”

“Ok, ok, you don’t need to take it so seriously,” you said, amusement adding a sharp edge to your smile. Then you fidgeted with your pockets and tip-toed around him. “Besides, it could be our last race.”

“Why’s that?”

“I heard what you told those guys from the swim club earlier. That you’re going away to Australia…”

Rin, again, tried to gauge your reaction. Though he’d unfortunately known you since the dawn of time — being neighbors, his mom and your guardians often made it a habit to force you to hang out with him and Gou — and though he had a sixth sense for the words you said, he didn’t know how you felt most of the time. In that moment, you seemed unbothered, like his departure didn’t faze you at all.

“You weren’t going to tell me, right?”

“I so was!”

“Uh-huh.” Clearly, you didn’t believe him. “‘Cause telling people things is totally your style.”

“I’m not that bad,” he insisted with a huff, but before you could rebut his response, Rin turned heel and began sprinting towards the tree. Over his shoulder, he called out, “The loser’s gonna be a lil’ chicken!”

“Hey! CHEATER!”

You bolted after him, but with your late start, you lost. Still, you held your palm against the trunk of the tree and glared at Rin, who was leaning against it with a smug aura surrounding him. He got all up in your face and grinned. “Who’s a lil’ chicken now?!”

“You only won ‘cause you cheated. I demand a recount.”

“I don’t think that word means whatever you think it means.”

“RECOUNT!”

“No! You’re a chicken. Just accept it.”

“… Recount?”

“There’s nothing to count,” he said before he pulled down his eyelid and blew a raspberry at you. Your glare grew more evil.

On your way back, you spent most of your time pushing at each other and continuing your gratuitous argument, and your yelling had startled many bypassers on the street.

You kept track of your competitions, of course, and you were at a draw. That could’ve been enough to salvage your ego in different circumstances, but you thought Rin was the only one who ever won things of consequence between the two of you.

___

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

How’s Gou?

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW BRO I’M IN CLASS RN BRO WHY DON’T U ASK HER BRO SHE'S UR SISTER BRO NOT MINE BRO

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

What’s with you? Are you trying to be hip???

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

NOTHING DID A KOALA SHIT ON UR HEAD YET

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

Eww.

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

Are you gonna be home for New Year’s?

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

YEAH WHY

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

DUDE ANSWER

___

Deep down, you’d been excited when Rin’s mom called you over since he was visiting for the holidays. Texts between you were sparse and by god he was terrible at replying, though you often returned the favor out of pettiness.

You didn’t have anything in mind for this afternoon and greeted Gou by ruffling her hair as usual, but Rin seemed cross and distant when you first caught a glimpse of him. Apparently your reunion didn’t move him too much.

You trailed behind him to his room where no one else could hear your conversation. “You ok?”

He shrugged and sat down on his old bed. His room was like a relic and as you scanned it, you found that everything was where he left it, or at least the things he didn’t take to Australia. There were some framed photos of you and him strewn about, but the one from the relay seemed to be missing. Something suspiciously bitter settled in your stomach, but you ignored it.

“Did something happen?”

“It’s just… I dunno, do you think swimming’s worth it?”

“Huh? Why not?” you asked, wondering what kind of stupid question that was. “Don’t you literally go to a swimming school now, abroad?”

“This is stupid,” Rin warned, since he knew you’d probably scold him for being a stupid pansy when you heard the rest of his statement. There was a distant sadness you recognized in his expression and that only confused you further while you waited for his explanation. “I keep losing. I don’t have a natural calling for it.”

“You’re comparing yourself to that guy,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him.

Rin blinked. “What guy?” he asked, even though it was obvious you were talking about Haru.

“Uh, what’s his name? Nanase?”

“You don’t understand! It’s not just him.”

“Whatever,” you said with a shake of your head. “Forget I said anything.”

It was unlike you to back down from a disagreement like this, but Rin was glad to leave it. Both of you were too young to understand. Maybe your hesitance to push came because this was much more serious than either of you realized.

___

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

Hey Have you seen Haru and the others around? How’re they doing?

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

U CORNY ASS FREAK ASK THEM YOURSELF

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

First of all, shut up, I’m NOT a cornball. Second of all, how am I supposed to ask? I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m on another continent. Tho it wouldn’t surprise me if you somehow missed out on that

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

WHAT, U DON’T EVEN HAVE THEM ON LINE OR SOMETHING? JEEZ MAN

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

Yeah, I don’t. Listen I don’t care or anything, I was just a little curious is all.

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

COOOOOOOOOORNY FREAK

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

Stop saying that

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

CORNY FREAKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

SERIOUSLY I’M SERIOUS.

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

IDC I KNOW UR A CORNY FREAK DEEP DOWN

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

I’M BLOCKING YOU

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

U WOULDN’T Message couldn’t be delivered. Tap to try again.

___

Rin scrolled through your messages for the nth time. He probably spent more time doing this — lamenting — than he did responding. When he thought of you, remembered the details of your face, he saw someone fundamentally different from himself. Someone who was self-sufficient.

If you were in his predicament, you wouldn’t sweat it. Loneliness didn’t bother you, and though he never asked, he knew you were doing just fine without him. It was how you were. You brushed off everything with ease, and he recalled the indifference he sensed from you when you first found out he was going away with great distaste.

Stupid you, he thought as he scrunched his nose like the abstract idea of you was now appalling. He swiped back up to the beginning of some dry, mundane conversation he had with you and reread it again.

___

The last few years, for you, had passed by in a blur. Nothing of note ever happened.

As you were a second year, there was nothing special about the first day of school. Actually, you never found the beginning of the school year remarkable, but it seemed even less interesting now that you’d gone through the first rodeo of high school. It signified that your stale vacation days would transition into a different type of monotony and nothing more.

When Gou weaseled her way inside your classroom during recess, you didn’t think much of it. She liked catching up with you from time to time, so her seeking out your presence wasn’t that unusual. You weren’t prepared for her to rub her neck and sheepishly ask, “Sorry to bother you… Has my brother talked to you recently?”

“I think we texted a few weeks back,” you said. “Why are you asking? Something going on?”

She blinked in realization since you seemed none the wiser to his return. “Um, no, I mean… I mean, yeah, he isn’t responding. And I’m a little worried about it. But have you seen him?”

“Uh, last time we saw him was this New Year’s,” you reminded, giving her a weird look. For a second you entertained the idea she was going crazy, but then she graced you with an off-put expression, too.

“Seriously? He didn’t tell you he came back either?” Her tone sounded incredulous when she realized that must be the case, but worry settled in her stomach. Why was her brother acting so strange? He hadn’t informed anyone, even you.

“What? He came back? Like, here in Japan?”

“Yeah! I was worried because I haven’t seen him since he’s going to Samezuka, and he’s not responding to my messages either… So I thought maybe you’d know if he’s doing alright.” There was an exasperated throw of her hands. Following her explanation, Gou frowned. “I guess not.”

Your lips pressed into a straight line while this information registered in your head, eyes absent when you looked away. “Yeah, I guess not.”

___

Rin was different.

You were the same.

That was what he thought when he saw you standing in front of his dorm room with your arms crossed and a smug smile on your face — that even if you looked older, even if your features were sharper and more grown-up, you were the same. Your bravado reminded him of when you’d challenge him to arbitrary contests and how you kept a tally of your wins and losses. He assumed you still did so when you sent him invites to compete in stupid mobile games, too.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, voice even. Maybe you had come to ask him to race against you again, and to rub it in his face if you won. You won a lot. Too much for someone who didn’t do proper competitive sports.

You kicked yourself off the wall and grinned. “Greetings, asshole.”

“Seriously? No welcome back hug? No ‘I missed you so much’? Just going straight to the name-calling?” Rin asked. He tried to sound humorous when he said it, but it still came out flat, like he wasn’t into it.

“Jerks who ignore their sisters don’t get hugs, no.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, does Gou tattle her troubles to you now? Have I been replaced?”

“You called her a crybaby the last time she whined to you.”

“I didn’t mean it.”

You stared at each other blankly.

“None of this explains why you’re creepily standing in front of my room, waiting to ambush me, though,” he said, after a while of uncomfortable silence.

“Breaking inside indoor pools isn’t really my style,” you said, waving your hands. As much as you tended not to pay attention to anything around you, word had traveled around after Haru, Makoto and Nagisa got scolded for visiting Samezuka late at night. All things considered, what you were doing was not that concerning. Campus security let you in and everything. “Like, I’m not that desperate, you know?”

His expression dimmed at your mention of last night’s incident when he both won and lost against Haru — not that you knew. You pursed your lips when you noticed his shift in demeanor before you continued,

“Besides, is it so wrong to wanna see my good ol’ buddy? Maybe it is, considering you didn’t tell me you were here and all.”

Rin at least had the decency to seem embarrassed, even if he didn’t rush to fall to his knees and grovel for your forgiveness.

“I… was meaning to tell you,” he settled on.

You leaned against the wall again like his answer exhausted you, hands sneaking back inside your pockets. It made him nostalgic to see you do your usual mannerisms, but just about anything made him long for the past those days. Even stupid things like this — like the way you fussed with your clothing.

“You didn’t,” you said.

“I didn’t, but you’re still here.”

There was a hint of displeasure in what he said. Maybe he didn’t like surprises, maybe he just didn’t want to see you. Your lips twitched as if you were about to frown, but the motion was short-lived. You stayed there with your usual stony expression, not amused, but certainly not angry or hurt.

You asked, “Why didn’t you?”

There were many ways to approach this question, so Rin didn’t.

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “Just didn’t get around to it.”

“You wanna go somewhere? Or do you have club activities or something?”

Rin wasn’t surprised to figure out you weren’t in a club. He’d asked a few times over text to distract you from your questions about swimming, but the answer was always no. Not your kind of thing, you’d say. That you weren’t a team player, you’d continue. You didn’t take the areas you were gifted in seriously.

“I’m not in a club either,” he said. “I was just about to sign up, actually.”

“You’re not already in the swimming club? Weird.”

“I wasn’t going to, but, well. Things happen.”

This seemed to confuse you even further, but some sort of recognition flashed across your face. Rin wondered what it was that you realized, but you didn’t comment on it. All you said was, “You better get to it now then, right?”

You raised your hands again in mock surrender and took a step forward like you were about to go. Rin almost gave into the urge to stop you from leaving because he could hang out with you and- and it’d be a good time, probably. Like when you’d come over near New Year’s when he was visiting and play board games with him, or when you were the only one to entertain him in stupid conversations over the phone for around four years. The usual.

He could easily sign up for the swim club tomorrow, but he let his arm flap back to his side. He didn’t want you to think he was pathetic and needy or whatever. And Rin wanted Haru to know he could beat him any day. You’d respect him more if he accomplished that, right? If he showed you he was alright on his own, all this time, then…

His gaze lingered on your retreating figure until you disappeared from sight.

___

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

Sorry, things were kinda bad between us last time. I think.

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

EHHHH WHATEVER

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

DOES THAT MEAN U’LL STOP IGNORING KOU?

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

I don’t ignore her

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

SHE’S WORRIED ABT U MAN

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

Well,

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

Didn’t mean to send that one. I just, you know, she doesn’t HAVE to be worried

___

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

I’ve got a swimming tournament coming up. Wanna swing by?

FROM: (You) TO: RIN

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

What.

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

I GUESS* SO UR NOT UNSURE ABT SWIMMING STUFF ANYMORE?

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

Well yeah. Didn’t know you remembered that. Anyway it’s not a big deal, I just have a score to settle in the prelims, so I was kind of hoping you’d be there.

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

R U DOING THAT RELAY THING?

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

No. Only the freestyle.

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

BUT U ALWAYS LIKED THE RELAY THE MOST

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

It’s not really up to me. Are you game or not?

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

HARU AND THEM STARTED A SWIMMING CLUB THIS SCHOOL YEAR IS THIS ABT THAT

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

GOU’S THEIR MANAGER SHE TELLS ME ABT THEM AND THEIR MUSCLES SOMETIMES

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

Is she doing alright? They’re not bothering her are they??? The boys in the swimming club

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

OH C'MON THEY’RE UR FRIENDS U KNOW DAMN WELL SHE'S OK AND THAT THEY’RE NOT BOTHERING HER

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

They’re not my friends.

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

IF THEY’RE NOT UR FRIENDS HOW COME UR SWIMMING FREESTYLE

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

Whatever that’s supposed to mean

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

U KNOW I’M NOT THAT DEMENETED OR IGNORANT NANASE-SAN ALWAYS OBSESSED OVER FREESTYLE SWIMMING. U TOLD ME ABOUT IT THIS IS ABOUT HIM AGAIN ISN’T IT

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

I don’t think you’re demented or ignorant.

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

YES U DO

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

Listen I asked you a pretty simple question which is do you wanna come watch me at the tournament in two days? If the answer’s no, say no. It’s quite literally THAT easy to answer.

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

OH U KNOW I’LL BE THERE STOP BEING EMO AND GIMME THE LOCATION???

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

I’M NOT EMO. Take that back.

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

NO :D

___

Your classmates were distracting. You stood upright on the other side of the stadium or… whatever it was, shifting around, adjusting your weight from your left hip to your right and then back to your left. Whispers and chatter got inside one ear and out the other, but you could still hear them, screaming something like ‘Go, Haru!’ or whatever.

However, you were here to watch Rin, not to cheer on your school. Your elbows dug into the railing, your palm imprinted on your cheek as you boredly assessed the scene in front of you. Rin didn’t see you in the crowd, or at least you assumed he didn’t. Couldn’t have — he was focused on Haru, who was next to him.

You wondered if he’d finally be satisfied after this. Probably not.

And Rin was good at swimming. You knew he had his gripes with it even though he never really told you anything of substance about whatever he was going through, but you watched him now, and he had the lead. He was even better than you’d expected. Sometimes he was flimsy when you two were younger, but you could tell that wasn’t the case anymore.

The race didn’t last long at all. It went by so fast, you had to wonder if anyone would ever come watch these for fun.

You saw him mouth something to Haru, then he walked off while the other boy was dazed by his loss. Again, you were confused since you knew Nanase-san didn’t really care about winning, but this was always more than that, wasn’t it?

You closed your eyes and contemplated the matter, then nodded sagely to yourself. Yes, of course, things were never that simple when corny freaks were involved.

Since you didn’t care about any of the Rin-less events, you took your leave and headed for the exit. There was a load of nothing you needed to do until the end of the day, after all.

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

CONGRATS WELL DONE

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

Thankssssss Are you coming tomorrow too?

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

OH YEA CUZ U ADVANCED

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

Did you leave? Nevermind. I’ll be swimming in the relay tomorrow, so wait around to see it.

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

YAY.

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

How the hell am I supposed to decipher this message

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

HAPPY FOR YOU.

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

Wtf why the sarcastic punctuation

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

NOTHING MAN I’M JUST PLAYING

FROM: Rin TO: (You)

Stop It’s weird that you know what a full stop is.

FROM: (You) TO: Rin

HAHAHAHAHAHA WHAT

___

As promised, you occupied the same spot you did the day before, watching. Waiting. Even before the whistle blew to announce the start of the race, you could tell Rin was in a bad mood. What was his deal again? The sigh you let out was almost involuntary.

Though you knew him to be moody, you didn’t think it’d impact his performance. He was dead last and he wasn’t moving in the water like he usually would. A frown pulled at your face, weighing your skin down. It was clear he wouldn’t place in number one, but at least there was still the other thing he told you he’d compete in.

He’d better not have invited you just to embarrass himself. You strolled toward the building where the swimmers headed. Maybe you’d try to talk it out with him? Not that your attempts at conversation ever amounted to much, especially when you tried to be serious.

You snuck your way in and bristled when Rin rammed into you, seemingly in a hurry. You blinked. “Where the hell are you going?”

“None of your business,” he said. Maybe out of habit.

“Huh? You invited me here.”

Rin shook his head, but halted, anyway.

“You’ve gotta do the relay,” you added. “Seriously, where are you going?”

His eyes went watery at your remark and you looked at him like he grew a second head. He was acting way more emotional than usual, and you didn’t get it at all.

You spoke again. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

“You won against Nanase-san yesterday,” you said.

He crossed his arms, but you could tell he was growing irritated with you. Or maybe it’d been stirring for a while, and now it boiled over. “Why does everything have to be about him?”

You glared at him. Okay, perhaps you were a little pissed at him, too. “I don’t know, you tell me. You’re-”

“I’m not his friend,” he insisted, knowing what you were about to say. “That was in the past.”

“Literally why are you doing this?”

“I don’t need anyone. I don’t need you. Just leave!”

“You asked me to stay yesterday! Hypocritical idiot.”

To prove your point, you pulled your phone out of your pocket to show him exactly what he had said, but Rin only groaned and gestured at you to stop, that there was no need to, his hands around yours. There was that aloof sadness in his expression again, but he quickly masked it with anger. “You don’t even like me. Why are you even here? Why do we still talk to each other?”

You pulled away from him, staring incredulously after the nonsense he’d just said. “What?”

“You don’t like anyone,” Rin said, pointing an accusatory finger in your face. He was scowling. You hadn’t really seen him act like this before Australia. Had he snapped at anyone else ever since he came back? “You don’t- need anyone. And I don’t…”

“Oh, shut up,” you said, raising your tone to match this. “Just shut up! You have so many friends who still care about you even though you’ve been acting like a tool lately.”

“Do you care?” Rin snapped.

It was like you were seeing him for the first time. Like the answer to that question was pertinent, some conviction lied underneath his aggression, but you didn’t question why that might be. Instead, you were offended.

You laughed. “Do I care? Do I care? I’m not always watching you chase after anyone else who isn’t me for you to ask me that.”

“I don’t chase-”

“Yeah, you don’t chase people, blah blah.”

“Be careful wording things like that,” he said, and out of nowhere, he tried to be playful. Rin was backtracking — you seemed angry with him now, which he hadn’t considered you might be when he first took to yelling at you. It was stupid, but he’d never managed to get under your skin before. Still, it wasn’t like you’d ever had such a huge fight before, either. “I might think you’re jealous.”

Your face went slack the way it tended to do. “You know what? Maybe I’m jealous.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“‘Cause you have all these friends, and all you care about is… insisting they’re not your friends? Or something? What’s your damage, man? I don’t have any other friends, just you. I admit it, I’m a loser. Ok? Yeah, I’m jealous of you. And I’m jealous Nanase-san’s always on your mind instead of me.”

You pushed him away with as much strength as you could muster. Rin’s mouth opened and you wondered if he was about to argue with you further or what. What more he had to say, you weren’t sure, but you didn’t stay around to hear it — just ran off, back to the stands.

The relay was last. You’d wasted a lot of time bad mouthing each other in the corridors, and you couldn’t believe you admitted to all that, but anyhow it wasn’t a while of waiting for it to come.

Deep down, you were a corny freak all along. The realization embarrassed you. You thought about leaving, about not watching, but didn’t have it in you. Truly, you were turning into somebody you didn’t recognize.

Rin was easy to pick out in a crowd. For you, anyway. So you had no idea what the hell he was doing in the same row as your classmates instead of the guys from his school. It seemed he was swimming in place of the nerdy one, and for a moment, he scanned the crowd until he saw you.

Were you the problem? His problem? He was smiling and laughing with Nanase-san and the others, but the moment your eyes met each other, he turned crestfallen again.

Your shoulders slumped.

And he was happy to swim with them again, as you thought he’d be. Seeing him like this reminded you of how he used to act before Australia.

And you’d never had that effect on him.

You didn’t care if they’d finish first or last or in the mediocre middle, you decided, as you left after all.

___

Sprawled over your couch, you fed yourself grapes and imagined yourself as some kind of ancient royalty, beloved by many subjects.

Were you in a crisis? You’d heard people did strange things when they were going through a midlife crisis, but you preferred to believe you weren’t middle-aged yet.

There was a knock on the door. You rose from your seat and slouched forward to look through the peephole in case it was a kidnapper, or worse, a salesperson, only to see Rin in front of you. With a practiced neutrality — what were the chances he’d forgotten those humiliating things you spewed at him? — you opened and leaned against the doorframe like a greaser from a shitty movie.

“‘Sup?”

“I’m such an asshole,” he blurted out.

You weren’t expecting that. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry, I just- This is so stupid. You’re always so… naturally tough, I guess, and sometimes I wanted to carry myself more like you. Especially since I was so lonely in Australia, and I thought you’d never let that get to you, and- I never even thought I could hurt your feelings and- I don’t know- I’m sorry. Maybe I was jealous of you, too.”

“Of course I’m not above getting in my feelings,” you said. “I’m not a robot.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he told you for the third time.

You looked to the side. “I didn’t mean to make it look like I don’t care about you, either.”

Should you let him inside? Did he even want to hang out with you now that you’ve both said your apologies? Or would that be too awkward? Or was the fact you were leaving him on your doorstep to stand there like a dirty unwanted dog the uncomfortable part?

As you pondered all these pressing topics, Rin reached out for you, reluctant. You wondered what he was doing until he wrapped his hesitant arms around you in an embrace. Your face twisted in a grimace like hugging was some alien gesture you didn’t understand the meaning of.

When you got used to it, you returned the gesture stiffly and patted him on the back with one of your hands.

It felt kind of nice, actually.

#rin matsuoka x reader #matsuoka rin x reader #free x reader #free! x reader #one shot

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coconutcordiale · 2 years

Text

tailspin pt one (what if you're the one, but i'm not?)

pairing- jake 'hangman' seresin x female bartender!reader (no use of y/n)

synopsis-

“Do you ever feel guilty?”

“About what?”

You look at him like he’s a moron, because he must be. “About what we’re doing.”

He shrugs, noncommittal. “Little late for that, don’t you think?"

warnings- 18+ ONLY, explicit cheating (I'm so serious y'all this is not an I didn't know he was married fic), dom/sub themes, authority kink, dom!Hangman, dirty talk, praise kink somewhere in there I think, prob slight degradation kink, oral (m receiving), this is going to come out of the gates filthy so beware, the plot will be later because idk I am who I am, also 2nd person omniscient isn’t really a thing but let’s just pretend it is so switching perspectives with no warning, gratuitous use of nicknames because y/n throws me off, all the commas and run on sentences, lots of morally shitty areas, can't really promise a happy ending this is mostly angst

length- 2.3k ish words

an- lil info on the background for this story on the series masterlist if you’re interested

this is set an unspecified amount of time after the events of tgm, has no plot lines from tgm and is slightly canon divergent in that in order for hangman’s daughter to be the age she's implied to be he’d probably had to have been married and had her during tgm. a lot of the emotional turmoil is very near and dear to my heart and has been dying to come out for years, anyways long winded way to say I'm really nervous to post this

ok goodbye I'm sorry my rant is over enjoy some filth

Now.

Jake Seresin is barely through the front door of your apartment when he says the three words that make you crumble.

“On your knees.”

You hardly have the wherewithal to set down the things in your hands before you’re kneeling in front of him in your living room, face to face with the growing bulge in his service khakis.

His mouth is set in a hard line, but you swear you see a smile hidden in his green eyes as he looks down. You bite your lip as you look up at him, feeling a little shy at how readily you comply with his commands. You’re almost embarrassed, but that little inkling of shame is quickly being washed away by the heat coursing through your veins.

Obeying Jake comes more naturally to you than anything else.

Your mouth waters as he tilts your head back, sliding his thumb between your parted lips. It always feels so possessive, when his long fingers hold your jaw and press down on your tongue, like he owns you. You moan around his finger, already lit up with anticipation.

Reaching up to unbutton his uniform, you slip your hands underneath his white undershirt, dying to get all that sun kissed skin beneath your fingertips. Tracing the planes of his stomach, you love the way the ridges of his abs jump at your touch. He may play at unaffected, but you know better.

Meeting his eyes with a silent question, you wait for his nod before making quick work of his belt and pulling him out, biting back a pathetic whine when you see he’s already rock hard for you.

He gently pulls his thumb from you and goes to finish the buttons of his shirt you couldn’t quite reach from your position on the floor, letting out a low, mocking chuckle at the eager way you’re transfixed on his cock.

You both know in a battle of patience and self-control he would definitely win, but your chest still swells with pride when you look up again to see his green eyes dark with lust.

Settling your hands on his muscled quads, you lick a stripe from base to tip before wrapping your lips around the head and swiping your tongue along the slit that’s already leaking precum.

Jake groans, head falling back, exposing the long line of his neck, eyes fluttering closed.

“Fuck.”

He only lets you control the pace for a few moments before his hands fly to the back of your head, holding you in place as he starts to fuck your mouth. He hits the back of your throat and you tense your hands on his thighs for a moment, before relaxing and focusing on opening your throat, taking all of him.

“That’s my girl,” you hear from somewhere in the air above and you know you must be preening at his praise, proud as a peacock, spine tingling as your shoulders roll back unconsciously, sitting up a little straighter.

Even though you can barely breathe, even though distantly you can feel your legs aching where they rest against the carpet, you still manage a moan around him as his words shoot a wave of heat straight to your cunt.

Jake’s fingers clench in your hair and you relish the little panting noises that he probably thinks you can’t hear coming from his mouth, breathing uneven. You could stay like this forever, only purpose to make him feel good, to be good for him.

One of your hands leaves his thigh to slide under your dress and across your now ruined panties, aching for some sort of friction.

He notices, of course, because he notices everything.

“Goddamn, sweetheart, sucking my cock always gets you dripping wet, doesn’t it?”

He’s a little breathless as he says it, but somewhere in the back of your mind you still want to flip him off for the teasing lilt in his voice. That thought goes out the window just as quickly as it came in, as you get distracted by the heavy weight of him on your tongue, the stretch of your jaw.

He pulls himself out with a pop, hand going to your chin and forcing you to look up at him. Your mouth stays parted, pleading whines leaving of their own volition at the emptiness.

Taking pity on your needy noises, his thumb presses at your mouth again, and you immediately wrap your lips around it, working your tongue like you just were on him. You sigh, contentedly, pathetically.

Jake smirks, head clearing somewhat without your mouth on him, but at this point you’re too far gone to care.

“I want you to come on your fingers,” he says, almost casually.

He pulls his thumb out and returns his hand to your hair, bringing your lips to the tip of him, but holding you back from going down as he looks down at you expectantly, clearly waiting for an answer.

“Yes, sir,” you reply, forcing yourself to make direct eye contact with his intense gaze no matter how much you want to look away.

He may have you on your knees, but you both know who’s really in charge here.

Seemingly satisfied with your response he lets you take him in again, grunting as you go all the way down immediately, and you look up at him through your lashes.

You should’ve known, however, the fire in your eyes wouldn’t go unnoticed. “Come riding your hand with my cock in your fucking mouth or you don’t get to come at all.”

Those filthy words tingle your skin all the way from your fingertips to your toes. Hands tangling in your hair, tugging just hard enough to make you moan, he sets the pace, unrelenting, and your eyes nearly roll back in your head as you work your fingers over your clit, senses all overwhelmed with nothing but him, so full of him you can barely breathe.

Distantly you hear him groaning a litany of praises, having lost the steely edge to his tone as he gets closer, “Fuck, sweetheart, gorgeous with my cock in your pretty mouth, so good for me...”

Your head feels heavy and your jaw hurts, but you feel that familiar tingling as you’re on the precipice, starting at your overworked button and spreading through every nerve ending, somehow both slowly and all at once.

This is the best you’ve ever felt, not a thought your mind, except yes Jake, please Jake on an endless loop.

And then snap, you're falling off that cliff and shuddering with pleasure. And just for a moment, your brain is finally, blissfully quiet.

Two, three, four more thrusts and he comes down your throat, head thrown back and moaning obscenities like a chant while you’re still whimpering around his cock. “That’s my girl, fuck, take it all, my good fucking girl—”

Jake shakes as you keep your mouth on him, swallowing every drop and continuing to suck as he gets oversensitive.

When it becomes too much, he pulls you up to your feet. Before you have a moment to catch your balance, or more likely, fall because your legs are suddenly made of jelly, he’s lifting and tugging you to the couch, falling back with you right on top of him. You don’t even have time to laugh at how disheveled you are, clothes hanging haphazardly off you both.

“Thank you, doll,” he murmurs, arms wrapped around you octopus-style, sweet like honey and sharply contrasting the authoritative air he marched through your front door with. “I needed you today.”

You kiss him hard in answer, trying to shove away the part of you that lights up at his gratefulness. He needs you.

You’re terrified, at the way you respond to his words. Rationally, you’ve grasped that there’s no way this can last forever, but you’re terrified to let it go. And if you’re being truly honest with yourself, you’re even more terrified that it will let you go first.

•••

Hangman is buttoning up his service khakis, nonchalant as ever, honey having long melted away.

Your stomach is in knots, nausea rising. “Do you ever feel guilty?”

“About what?”

You look at him like he’s a moron, because he must be. “About what we’re doing.”

He shrugs, noncommittal. “Little late for that, don’t you think?"

Your fingers clench, fighting the urge punch him for being so callous. You hate when he acts like this with you. You don’t want to talk to Hangman right now, with his carefully curated everything rolls off my back attitude, you want to talk to Jake.

Despite the cliff he’s just taken you over, your body is rife with tension, buzzing with irritation. This rollercoaster of emotions takes off every time you see him lately. Maybe the months you’ve spent making a mockery of his marriage, of his commitment to his family, are finally catching up to you.

“What do you want me to say?” Hangman asks blankly after assessing the look on your face, and you loathe the way his tone, his eyes, his chiseled cheekbones are devoid of any emotion.

He’s always like this when faced with confrontation he hasn’t started himself, with things he thinks are easier to ignore. When he can’t manage to blow something off with a joke he shuts down and says a whole lot of fucking nothing, acting like he’s running for a goddamn senator of Texas and you hate it so much it makes your hands shake.

And if there’s anything Hangman would rather ignore, it’s this.

Because when he thinks too hard about what he’s doing he can’t make excuses for it. Katelyn is an incredible mother, dedicated to their family. They haven’t been in love for a long time, but they are partners. It sounds insane, given the way he disrespects his marriage vows every time he so much as thinks of you, but he can’t bear the thought of leaving Katelyn to parent alone, without the partner he promised her he would be.

He’s pretty sure he wants to be a good man, but he doesn’t know how to.

It’s unnervingly silent as you gape at him, air thick with tension, the space between you and Hangman straining with anger and threatening to boil over at any moment. You must look murderous because you swear he’s starting to look a little scared of you and fucking good, he should be, since you’re about five seconds away from stomping outside and keying his stupid truck. You’re just barely resisting the urge to scream and yell at him, and even then, it’s only because somewhere the logical part of your brain knows that won’t get him to talk either.

You’ve been quiet for so long he’s starting to shift, almost like he’s nervous, probably is, with you staring at him like an insane person.

It strikes you that he looks so young when he starts getting restless, long fingers fidgeting, like maybe once upon a time Jake was an awkward and gangly teenager before he became the ever-charming fighter pilot he is today. Like this fidgety creature in front of you is the man behind the Hangman curtain.

With that thought, as suddenly as all your anger came rushing into you it’s exhaled just as quickly in your next breath. And all that's left is soul-crushing, bone wrenching, defeat.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you hear yourself say, far away like you’re not in your body anymore, floating above you and Jake in your tiny living room, drifting away from the ache in your chest.

The words that have been on the tip of your tongue for weeks have finally left your mouth before you even give them permission to. Now, instead of letting Jake believe you could murder him with just a curl of your lips, you’re fighting to keep the tears at bay.

It doesn’t work.

That changes his mood so quickly you dimly wonder if you should get checked for whiplash, as he wraps you up in his arms again, kissing your forehead. “Shh, sweetheart, it’s okay. Don’t cry. I’ve got you.”

You look up at Jake, even though you know for the sake of your sanity you shouldn’t. Through your tears you see the careful blankness washed off, grief plain on his face, and it sends another sharp ache through your chest that feels eerily like a fracture in your rib cage.

This man is the one you couldn’t help but fall for. With everyone else he’s all cocky grins that border on arrogance. Somewhere along the line, little by little, soft smiles and vulnerable emotions painted themselves on his handsome features, only for you to see.

You’re no stranger to putting up fronts. Bartending at the Hard Deck, a place dominated by military bravado, requires you to be a little rough around the edges. You can hold your own with those men and women, no problem, but Jake has always had this uncanny ability to smooth out that jagged exterior.

No one has ever made you feel like he does, being yourself with him as easy as breathing. You spent so long hiding that neither of you realized how electrifying it would be to have someone you could be raw, and real with. Now that you have it, it seems impossible to give up.

Yet here you are, walking away from it. It feels like a mistake as you do it, extinguishing the flame of the first thing that’s ever set you on fire.

“I’m serious, Jake.”

“I know,” he says, arms winding tighter, tucking his face in your hair and taking a deep breath in. Like he’s trying to memorize the way you feel, the way you smell.

What if you’re the one, but I’m not?

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luminitewrites · 2 years

Text

Gratis

Here with yet another silly drabble inspired by @naffeclipse's Sleuth Jesters series 🔍

Honestly, this idea has been rattling around in my brain for a solid month now, and as soon as I heard that Breathe Bubbles Below has drowning in it (which I still have yet to read *sobs*), I figured I needed to finally get this idea out of my head and onto virtual paper. Shorter drabble this time around! This was extremely hastily edited, so please forgive any errors! Rating: T Word Count: ~6K Content Warnings: Attempted murder, near-drowning, shootout, death, possessive/obsessive behavior, probably a gratuitous amount of ooc-ness

Set sometime before No Small Favor, but if we're to take into account this lovely drabble by Naff, then this is set not terribly long after it. Enjoy!

As far as most Friday nights go, this is not what you’d had in mind. In fact, you are in a bit of a pickle, and the situation is only getting bleaker.

The springtime air has done little to wash away the chill left by winter, and you tremble uncontrollably in the dark twilight. The river that often shines with a peaceful glow now offers a more sinister beauty. You stand in the middle of the stone bridge that connects the city over the river, and your current company has left you significantly wanting.

Your pins are almost all but gone save for the three stashed in the waistline of your pants. But reaching them is becoming a growing problem as the chains clasped around your wrists and ankles prevent little if any movement. The metal at your ankles links to a pair of shiny new cement shoes—concrete blocks on either side of your feet. You think you might be whittling down your chances of survival this time.

“Fellas,” you say with a chuckle that matches your weak grin. You twist your wrists as much as you can in your bonds behind your back, trying to stretch your fingers just far enough so that you can reach a pin. “This seems a little excessive for a nighttime swim, don’t you think?”

The gangsters gripping your arms spare you not a word, but their glares dig into your bones. You huff and sigh at the lack of a response.

Leonard, or Lead Lenny, as the mob boss prefers much to your hysterical amusement, stares you down with the high beams of a car shining behind him and a few of his cronies standing on either side. There’s more of them behind you, as if to make sure you don’t make a run for it—again.

Considering this is their attempt to send you on your merry way to your demise, you’re flattered. They even brought out the big guns.

“And really, did you go to all this trouble just for me? That’s so sweet,” you coo.

Lenny sneers at you, his lips curling up in a terrible slope that bares his teeth. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his pants like this is just another casual evening. It’s a stark contrast to the tense positions his men take, and you feel the ones grabbing you twist your arms just a little harder. You stifle a wince but grit your teeth.

“This is where it ends, vigilante,” Lenny drones. “No more tricks. No more funny business. Just you and a nice little date… with the city’s finest water source.” He tips his head at the river.

You follow his gaze to the gently flowing water that is anything but fine or drinkable. Assuming an unimpressed frown, you turn back to him. The lack of a reaction makes the mob boss’ crooked smile dissolve into a snarl.

Sighing, you shake your head. The bells in your ponytail chime tauntingly. “I do appreciate the effort,” you commend sagely. “The whole ‘swimming with the fishes’ fits your modus operandi perfectly. But I have to say I’d imagined that I’d at least be worth a gunfight. Maybe some knife to knife action. This is a little disappointing.”

Lenny regards you frostily. You can sense the prickling anxiousness in his gang the longer this drags on. Clearly, you’ve made enemies of quite a few of them. The ones surrounding the mob boss flirt with the triggers on their guns like they’re just dying to take a crack at you. Maybe if you rile them up enough, you can spin this in your favor after all.

But it’s not looking like things are going your way when Lenny sighs dramatically and tilts his head up at the night sky. “You don’t get it, vigilante. I’m not willing to waste my breath on you. Doesn’t matter how many pretty words you say or how many wanted posters are put up for your head.” His chin tips back down, his fedora casting his face in shadow, and the feeling of uncertain dread crawls its way up your spine. “I’m not playing any more games. You messed with the wrong crowd, honey, and this time, I ain’t keen on letting you go.”

“Sounds like a bad case of separation anxiety,” you quip while scanning for some way to get yourself out of this mess.

You really should have told the detectives where you were going. But if they’d been in the know, they would have absolutely done everything to stop you from terrorizing another one of the city’s pesky mobs, and you just can’t abide by that.

Time is up now. Lenny doesn’t bother continuing the conversation. Turns out he is someone who sticks to his word, and like a deadly promise, he nods in a way that is a universal sign for tossing someone over. You do your best to drop your full weight and make it harder to lift your body, to the point that it takes more than the two goons already holding you to lift both you and the heavy cement blocks you’re chained to. You thrash as you’re carried over to the bridge’s edge. You land a solid kick in the cheek of one gangster, but another is quick to wrestle the limb back into submission.

Your resistance, while furious and as stubborn as the rest of you, leads to nowhere you want to go. It takes no time at all for them to hoist you up until you’re hanging precariously over the edge, the water far below, and your eyes wildly dart around for some escape. Anything to keep you from falling to a terrible fate.

And like a blessing in disguise, that's when you hear it. A tinny whine that's been drifting in the distance but steadily increasing in volume. Your head whips to the side as it grows tenfold until with a ferocious cacophony of lights and sound, tires of multiple black cars squeal into swift arrival. From either end of the bridge, they cut off entry and escape. A rush of humans and animatronics alike burst forth, guns drawn. They appear from nowhere, scampering about and forming an impenetrable series of lines that all pinpoint Lenny’s gang as targets.

“Put your weapons down!” demands a voice from the makeshift blockade.

As you watch in muted wonder and bewilderment, you quickly notice one common factor in the newcomers. Every single one of them—from those nearest Lenny’s gang to the ones even further back with submachine guns—wears similar monochromatic attire. A dark shock of crimson that is as blatant as a neon sign in tying them all to one specific mob.

You nearly slump in place. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. This is not what you’d imagined when you’d been banking on some kind of rescue—earthly or otherwise. And this is definitely on a steep slope toward something hellish.

Lenny and his gang are frozen in place, shocked by the new arrivals that vastly outnumber their own. They’re completely surrounded.

“What is the meaning of this?” Lenny barks. “Who are you?”

A warning shot is fired in the air. The crooks still holding your life in the balance flinch, and you suck air in through your teeth. This is not helping you in any way at all. You sorely hope that if Eclipse ends up playing an unintentional role in your death, he’ll recognize just how poorly his plan failed. While small, it’d be some consolation to ease you into your passing.

“Last chance!” the voice of the threatening mobster shouts. “Drop your weapons or you’ll taste lead!”

Oh, how cute. Taste lead. Lead Lenny. Funny. Hilarious. Sounds like someone is missing their calling to do stand-up. You’re going to strangle them if you ever get the chance. The grip on you is slipping, and the others’ arms are trembling from the immense weight tied to you. Clock’s ticking.

Lenny, it seems, has no sense of self-preservation. He keeps his gun leveled at those behind the nearest car but doesn’t shoot yet. Furious, he shouts back, “I’m calling the shots here! Now answer me! Who do you work for?”

Not too far away, you hear the slam of a car door.

“Don’t kick the hive, Leonard,” you call out quietly but loud enough for the mob boss to hear you. His glare shifts to you and then to those of his gang preventing you from falling.

Oh. Your face blanches.

Before Lenny can give the order however, someone beats him to the punch.

“Drop them!” another desperado from the blockade yells, much to your total gobsmacked horror.

The gangsters holding you exchange a glance. Behind them, you can hear Lenny don an amused smirk through just a single word.

“Okay.”

You gasp. “No, don’t—“

Too late. You’re let go from the only hands securing you to safety, and with a breathless yelp, you’re hurtling sharply to the river below.

The weight around your ankles means you enter the icy water feet first, which at least saves you from a nasty impact on your back or head. But all too soon, any relief is gone as you sink like a stone straight to the bottom. The river isn’t terribly deep, but it’s enough that the surface dangles terribly about ten feet over your head. The temperature is so cold that your body is thrown into shock instantaneously. Working through that robs you of fleeting seconds you can’t spare, but you force your steel limbs to move and turn your attention to the chains securing your hands behind your back as fast as you can.

Your chest already is starting to ache as panic and lack of air create a frantic urgency to get free of your bonds. Distantly, you hear what sounds like gunfire, but it could just be the roar in your ears as the need for oxygen soars.

Your fingers slip along the cuffs, trying to find purchase to no avail. There’s no give, nothing to suggest you can tug yourself free. It’s impossible to move even an inch while the concrete is stuck to the chains securing your feet. Your ankles burn as they scrape against the metal, finding no slack there either.

You fumble for a pin at the hem of your pants, and it drops from your fingers while you’re tugging it free. Internally, you give a vicious curse but reach for another pin. This one you manage to slip into one of the cuffs on your wrist, but you just can’t get the angle right. Within seconds, it also flies from your grip.

A burst of bubbles spills from your mouth, and you fiercely seal your lips shut again to try to preserve the precious air. Your eyes burn as a heavy darkness loops around you, circling in. Your movements turn even sloppier, and when your last pin snaps in half in your fervor, crushing despair descends on you.

You have no way out. There’s nothing you can do.

The water whirls around your freezing skin abruptly as something jumps in, but the source of the disturbance is behind you. You give a final struggle against the chains with the same results.

A metal hand suddenly seizes your shoulder and with great strength, it yanks you back. The violent motion tears at your muscles, and you scream as you are merely dragged a few feet, the concrete mercilessly digging into the riverbed. Immediately, water rushes into your mouth, and you gag and sputter, but it invades your lungs, stealing the last dregs of air.

The hand on your shoulder releases you, and you sink once more. But mere moments later, you feel that same hand grab your ankles. There’s a sharp pain as metal and concrete are torn apart, scratching your skin. Then, your arms are grabbed, and you’re sped upward by powerful kicks, the cement shoes stripped away.

As soon as you breach the surface, you inhale only to be cut off right away by sharp hacking as your lungs burn with the water inside. You cough and gag and try to find air that simply won’t come in. All the while, the hands gripping you don’t let go, and you feel yourself dragged over until you reach the muddy riverbank.

An arm winds under your stomach as tight as a snake, bending you over, and then another hand begins to slap your back. You expel a mouthful of river water right away, and it falls onto the soggy grass, only to be joined by another bout. The rough hits to your back force you to eject everything blocking your airways, and when the last of it is finally out, you shudder and take your first relieving gasp.

“Breathe,” comes the stern command above you, and you obey unquestionably.

It feels wonderful and terrible all at once. Your chest feels like it’s on fire, and while the life-giving oxygen restores your weakened body, it also heightens the awful sting in your throat. You take in shaky, uneven breaths that make you tremble all over. Or maybe that’s the chill of the river still clinging to your skin. You don’t really care because you feel oddly hot all over and your head is lighter than a feather.

At least the harsh beating against your spine has stopped. You think you might have some bruises to look forward to later.

Your rescuer places two cold fingers to your neck, lingering there for a long minute in the aftermath. You’re not sure why they bother because you’re clearly breathing now, but maybe it’s just the reassurance they need.

Apparently satisfied with the state of your heart, they then reach for the cuffs around your wrists. You’re confused because surely the keys couldn’t have been found that quickly. But to your bright burst of surprise, they pinch the metal between their fingers until it abruptly snaps, freeing your hands.

You’re reeling from it, from everything that’s unfolded, and your hands fly in front of you as if afraid you’ll fall. The arm around your waist doesn’t let go in the slightest. Uncomfortable, you squirm in the hold, and you’re clutched even closer for a brief second. A sort of whispery exhale sings behind you, riddled with emotion.

You grow still as you get an uneasy suspicion of who your rescuer is.

A large hand slides up the side of your head, messing your drenched hair further, and then presses your skull back against the cold sheen of metal teeth. You’re very still aside from your shivering, and you glance around for an exit strategy.

Releasing another uncomfortably heady, electric breath as if he was the one drowning, Eclipse at last relinquishes his harsh grip just enough to twist you around to face him. You stand on trembling legs while he kneels in the mud. The second you brush his hands off you, your knees buckle without the support. Eclipse is quick to catch you, and the black pits of his optics flash like a gunshot.

While he assesses your form resembling a soaking mess, you do the same to him.

It’s odd to see the mafia boss without his long coat. Water runs freely from his indigo and purple sun rays down to his chest. His maroon shirt clings to him like wet paper, making his slender arms even thinner, his sleeves a wrinkled mess. His collar wraps around his neck like a cinch, and as you stare, Eclipse reaches up and undoes the first three buttons.

You hastily look away, not at all interested in watching him expose even more of his chassis. It’s already unusual enough seeing him unkempt like this. He looks like he jumped right into the water without a second thought.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you consider a scary prospect. With Eclipse pulling you free from a rather unpleasant end, you are now in his debt.

The thought chills you far worse than the river.

Standing before him like this, you have nothing you can hide, everything exposed. You tug at your shirt for modesty’s sake, but there’s little to be had of it with your clothes thoroughly ruined. Your white shirt won’t ever get the questionable stains out of it now.

“Look at me,” Eclipse murmurs, breaking the unsettling quiet.

Mulish, you peruse the river instead. Rescued or not, you do not answer to Eclipse, and you aren’t his pet who can be ordered around.

That doesn’t seem to agree with him, however, because a growl emits from his voice box, and icy fingers clench around your jaw. He forces you to turn back to him, squeezing just enough to be on the verge of uncomfortable. As soon as you’re unwillingly meeting his gaze again, his thumb shifts from your face to your throat, where it rests against your pulse once more. You don’t like how vulnerable that makes you feel.

Eclipse is in no hurry to move, it seems. He studies you like he’s not entirely sure you’re there. Words pose a greater challenge than normal. Before you can try to sweet-talk your way out of this one, a rather brutal shiver wrenches your whole body. You become aware of your chattering teeth. Your knees feel like they could go out at any second again. It’s a miracle they haven’t already, even with the additional support.

Maybe that’s what sets the mob boss into action. Without turning to his henchmen, he calls out, “Bring me a hand towel, as well as my coat.”

You watch a couple of goons spring into action. They disappear into one of the cars parked further away and then return with the items Eclipse demanded. The one with the towel passes it to him, but he briefly holds up a hand to the other carrying his coat, shooting them a short glance.

“Thank you, Marta, Perry. Wait there.”

You snort at the exaggerated politeness. The goons glower at you, but Eclipse pays them no more mind. He lifts the hand towel, which looks incredibly small between his fingers, and in a flash winds it behind your head.

You startle sharply, but your hands fly up to fight back. You hiss as Eclipse begins to rub the plush fabric vigorously along your dripping hair and skull. Your hands catch on his shirt cuffs as you blindly retaliate, but all that garners is an amused chuff.

“Stop resisting,” he rumbles, swiftly wiping your face. As if that is a perfectly okay thing for him to do.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you snap back once you’re in no danger of getting a mouthful of towel.

Eclipse’s grasp returns to your hair as he twists and rings it. You silently gasp at a particularly harsh yank. Eyes watering, you instinctively reach up to shake off the offending grip, but you might as well be fighting a wall.

“Your body is in shock,” the crime lord says calmly in complete conflict with his coarse treatment. “And you are wearing sodden clothes in forty-degree weather. You need to keep your head warm.”

You’re seething, a piping hot, angry mess, and you think you hear some other nearby chortling as well. Images of putting a bullet in his head flash through your thoughts, and you deeply wish your gun hadn’t been lost to Lenny’s gang. You probably won’t be getting that back, wherever they ditched it, and it wasn’t your favorite, but what you wouldn’t give to have it in your hand now. Your fingers twitch and dig into Eclipse’s wrists. The metal proves to be resilient and doesn’t so much as creak under your bruising hands.

Since there is no other readily available option, you resign yourself to enduring the rough treatment upon your head. Your hair pulls at and stings your scalp. The bells continue to furiously ring with the way Eclipse assaults your hair, but luckily, they don’t fall out. After another drawn-out minute of torture, the coarse handling finally comes to a stop. You blink and brush away loose strands of hair as the hand towel is pulled free. Your smile is nothing short of enraged, teeth clenched tight enough to make your jaw ache.

Eclipse’s optics change to yellow, and his black pupils dance with mirth.

“There you are,” he croons.

You would slap him if it’d actually hurt him and not you.

His golden eyes flare with satisfaction, but his attention focuses on your hair, and you hasten to fix the rat’s nest he no doubt made of your ponytail. The snickering in the background increases a notch.

“Getting rather handsy early on, aren’t you?” you simper through your tight grin.

Eclipse does not hold back a chuckle, but he does offer you the towel, to your befuddlement. As you pat down your knotted hair, you frown, distrustful and confused.

The fine points of his teeth gleam in the moonlight. “If you prefer, I can dry the rest of you off in the same way.”

Scowling, you snatch it from him. You waver a bit from not holding onto him, but Eclipse’s hands find purchase on your hips, much to your chagrin. Trying to hide just how much discomfort it causes, you begin to pat yourself dry. The towel soaks some of the water that’s seeped into your clothes, but it doesn’t remove the dampness. You feel awkward under such heavy scrutiny, and you don’t even bother drying your lower half. You’re not in the mood to put on a show for Eclipse’s ravenous leer.

Once you’re done, you cock an eyebrow impatiently. Eclipse calls to one of the awaiting mobsters, and she steps forward, fingers outstretched to take back the towel. You stare at her calmly, reach out your arm to the side, and drop the towel in the mud. The woman openly chokes down her ire as she stomps over and picks up the dirtied fabric, but your small act of defiance doesn’t irritate the animatronic like you’d been hoping. His eyes flash at the challenge. When he holds out a hand, still maintaining eye contact with you as his other hand continues to span your hip and much of your waist, the gangster clutching Eclipse’s coat sets it in his palm.

You look from the coat to Eclipse. His intent glints in his anticipatory grin.

“I’m not wearing that,” you say, deadpan.

Eclipse’s rays tilt to one side. “Sweetheart, you know I adore this spitfire side of yours. But do you really believe now is a good time to resist me?”

His tone is light, but you can read between the lines. The patience he offers on your behalf is rare, but not never-ending. If you keep pushing, you will eventually find his limit. And though the idea does give you satisfaction—to see him fracture under his inability to control you—the reality is you are outnumbered. In fact, as you cast a quick scan over the bridge, you can see only members of Eclipse’s gang standing at the ready. Lenny and his gang did not survive the night, it appears.

You hate this. This feeling of not having a choice, of being trapped. Of being incapacitated while the effects of almost losing your life are still fresh and eating away at your health. You feel feverish, burning up and freezing cold at the same time. Your eyes fall back to Eclipse’s coat and then to him. The reflection of your anger is visible in his glowing optics.

With the speed born of your bloody past, your hand snaps forward to grab the coat. You manage to grasp a fistful of the material before a much larger hand snatches your wrist. Tossing on a hastily concocted blank mask, you hide your reaction to the needle-like pain. Eclipse leans in.

“Allow me.”

He’s not asking.

You blow out a very steady breath through your nose. The pressure doesn’t intensify, but Eclipse doesn’t let go either. He waits for you to make your choice.

You think of your detectives. You imagine they’re probably settling in for the night to enjoy their day off tomorrow. They might even be sparing you a passing thought, wondering what you’re up to tonight. If you’re staying out of trouble.

You should pay them a visit. But you won’t be able to do that while Eclipse’s full attention is on you, daring you to give him a reason to steal you away.

Slowly, reluctantly, you let go of the coat. Eclipse holds you a moment more, but his optics stay that same yellow, pinpricks of ink steadfast on your every move. He’s pleased. Significantly so.

As soon as he releases your wrist, you tug your arm back to your side. You don’t rub at the ache there, but your fingers curl until your nails stab into your palms. Smug is a terrible look for the mob boss, and you’d love to punch him hard enough to make his faceplate spin. If you ever get your way, you’ll make sure he gets a nice introduction to your fist.

Satisfied by your silent acceptance, Eclipse shakes out his coat. He then reaches around and, with disturbing gentleness, drapes the bulky material over your shoulders.

The way it hangs off of you is outrageously laughable. The lapels bunch up under your chin, and the empty sleeves dangle all the way down to calves. It’s so long that nearly half of the coat folds over itself on the ground behind you like a cape. Though you feel nothing like royalty wearing this. The insides are lined with the softest silk, and you can’t deny just how warm you turn within seconds. Your body latches onto the heat, and before you can even think, your hands have already clasped the edges of the coat and tugged it closed.

It’s for survival, you necessarily tell yourself. A means to an end. You can’t get out of here if you’re also fighting off your own bodily needs.

Eclipse’s broad hands adjust the collar to better frame your neck. He tucks your damp hair inside and pushes up the collar high enough to firmly bracket the back of your skull. His long fingers brush against your skin in what is no accident, but you bite your tongue. You’ll find a way to beat him at this game. You just need to bide your time.

He takes an unmerited minute to appraise you and your new attire. His rays draw the moon’s gaze as they cut rapidly to the left. You resist a shudder unrelated to the cold under the rings of black that flick up and down your form.

Disgust festers in your gut. Curling your lip in disdain, you say, “If this is your way of making me indebted to you, you have another thing coming, angel eyes.”

Fabric strains under his hands and tightens around your throat. You hold your breath, anxious if this is his tipping point. Eclipse’s bright optics change to dark pits that match the night sky. You’re pressing your luck, but regardless of whether it’s unfortunate for you or him, you’ve never known when to stop.

Something changes in his expression. You’re not sure what it is, but it sends warnings bells blaring in your head.

“Consider this a simple signing bonus for accepting my offer,” he says. Incrementally, his hands loosen around the material, and he smoothes it back in place.

You can’t help but let out a dry, sarcastic laugh at that, which quickly turns into an actual cough, your aggravated lungs not liking the sensation. You tilt your head and expel any germs and river bacteria right into his expensive coat. If he’s going to make you wear it, you might as well use it like intended—just to make sure he knows what exactly you think of his “kindness.”

When your chest is done trying to become concave, you breathe deeply and smile.

“Sorry,” you croak, “but I don’t think I care all too much for agreeing to any deals tonight. So I guess you’ll be wanting this back.”

In response, Eclipse drawls your name, bordering on sweet and saturated with impatience. Your coyness garners a sharpness to his faceplate that hides in the edges of his teeth.

“You just had a close call, so I will excuse your insubordination as a lingering effect of that.” His glowing optics promise retribution. “For now.”

You scoff. “Appreciate the gesture, but I can still think perfectly fine, thanks.”

Eclipse grins thinly at that. He considers you for another unpleasant beat, no doubt noting your dwindling shivers and the quietened chatter of your teeth. He examines you like how one might look at a fascinating piece of artwork or a car crash. Mildly entertained.

“You’re welcome,” he murmurs, and you know he’s not just referring to what you said.

Unwillingly, you glance at the river that appears so gentle from here. Just out of sight are the cement blocks that would have spelled your death tonight. The scratches around your ankles respond with a flare of pain, as does the still throbbing muscles in your shoulder where you were grabbed.

A single finger presses to your jaw and tilts your head back to him.

“Keep it,” he says, giving you a drawn-out, suggestive once-over that plainly relishes the sight of you in his coat. “As a reminder. I won’t hold tonight over you if you abide by my very simple and generous terms.”

He leans in closer, his height still towering over you despite him kneeling in the mud. His grin glistens hungrily. “Consider this charitable act directly swayed by how good you look in my clothes. But don’t think I won’t be paying you another visit.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” you fire back, rage in your eyes and voice. “I think you’ll look much better staring down the barrel of my pistol.”

Eclipse’s smile is not pretty. It reminds you of the deadly quiet before a storm. The single match before a roaring flame. Just like last time, he is letting you go on his own terms.

In a smooth motion, he rises to his feet. His pants from his knees to his ankles are caked in grass and mud. Besides a minor dusting off, he doesn’t seem concerned with fixing the mess. You have to wonder if he considers it worth it for you.

Yet another point toward his unnerving obsession. You’re not sure what to make of it or what you’ve done to deserve his unholy, transfixed attention.

“I’m afraid this is where we’ll have to part ways,” Eclipse says, watching you keenly as he unbuttons the wet cuffs of his shirt and folds back the sleeves. “I would invite you to share a lovely glass of wine and some conversation with me. However, your runaround with Lead Lenny’s mafia caught me at a rather unfortunate time in the middle of my business. Try to stay out of further trouble tonight, won’t you? I’d hate for you to catch a cold.”

“Why, angel eyes,” you lilt, voice cutting like a serrated blade, “you make it sound like you have any control over me at all. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that I do not and will not ever work under you.”

Eclipse’s hands snag the front of his coat wrapped around you, and you stiffen as he slips a cold, metal appendage inside. You grab his arm in staggering alarm, but all he does is slip his fingers into one of the inside pockets and remove its contents. When he pulls his hand back out, you see a glint of a gold cigar case and a lighter. You shove his arm back, but you get the impression he is only letting you, his grin smarmy and making you feel dirtier than the river water still dripping down your back. The mob boss removes the cigar and lights it. His eyes burn like the glowing ember as he slips the case and lighter into his pants pocket.

“Think about my offer,” he murmurs.

You glare hatefully at his back as he walks away, leaving you on the riverbank. He signals to his gang, and they all file back into their cars, guns withdrawn. In the distance, police sirens wail. The corpses of Lenny’s gang litter the bridge, and you know you won’t want to be present when the cops decide to arrive, late as usual.

Blacks cars peel away into the night. The crime lord himself stops at his car door, turning to capture you with a last lascivious glance. You heavily consider throwing his coat into the river right then, but you wouldn’t put it past Eclipse to use that as an excuse to place you in his debt and forfeit his supposed charity.

His grin stretches to his eyes. Black pupils shine malevolently.

Then he disappears into his car, the door slamming shut behind him, and the vehicle vanishes under the cover of darkness as the driver speeds away. The stillness of night descends once more, pierced only by the approaching sirens. The police will arrive at a gruesome scene with you long gone as you at last take your leave and hurry down a nearby alley.

Eclipse’s coat weighs on you even heavier than the concrete blocks had. You bite your aching desire to wrench it off your body for the time being. It’s slowing you down, but it is also fighting back the sheets of cold that still threaten to freeze your paling skin.

Get closer to a safe house first. Then you can rid yourself of his touch and the suffocating smell of cigar smoke.

Hurrying down the streets of the city, you narrowly dodge zooming cop cars and suspicious suits loitering about in the late hour. Your chests constricts with each icy breath, and your throat ignites with a dryness that steals what little air you swallow. You will be incredibly lucky if you don’t happen to get sick from this, borrowed coat or not. There’s no telling how much of the river you inhaled, but you’ve got the impression that letting even the tiniest bit get in your lungs isn’t good.

An idea comes to mind. You cozying up on the couch in the apartment of your favorite detectives while maybe enjoying the company of one or both if you’re lucky. They’d warm you right up, no questions asked.

Well, you quickly amend, maybe some questions. Actually a lot of questions, given their inquisitive nature and disapproval of any shenanigans you get up to. At least this time you could honestly say this wasn’t a situation you went looking for. Lenny’s gang dug themselves up and were the ones to upset your evening. Admittedly, this was right after you’d shot up the warehouse they were meeting in, but those are two completely unrelated factors. Next time, you’ll just make sure to bring more ammo when you infiltrate a mob’s shady dealings.

As you round the corner of another alley, a mere few streets from your safe house near the capital, you spy a metal waste bin alight with a fire. You peer inside and find garbage being incinerated, likely in preparation for the ashes to be carted off by the city’s waste management system.

You grin to yourself. Perfect.

Hastily, you shed Eclipse’s thick coat. With one grand flourish, you set it inside the bin, right along with the rest of the garbage. Exactly where it belongs.

You see it slowly catch fire and watch in satisfaction as orange and gold flames lick at the expensive material. You’re under no false impression that Eclipse doesn’t have another coat readily available to replace this one, but at least this way, you can ruin one thing of his. One small act of defiance at a time. You’d like to see him react to your use of his gift.

A snort slips past you. If he thinks giving you this will in any way lure you into accepting his deal, he has a mighty fine surprise heading his way in the form of a bullet to his chassis. Every criminal has a weakness. You’ll unearth Eclipse’s and take down his gang too.

In the meantime, you take a few private moments to enjoy the simple warmth of his coat succumbing to the flames and then continue on your way. You’re shivering again with nothing to prevent your damp clothes from attracting the cold. But this time, you have a smile on your face and a small spring in your step. You know whose gang you’ll focus your attention on next. And you’ll make Eclipse wish he’d left you at the bottom of the river instead of saving your life and giving you the one driving force you need to pursue his own demise.

Spite.

~~~

Gratis Behind the Scenes:

Goon #042: Sir, the vigilante was seen being held at gunpoint and carried away by a different mob. Eclipse: gdi, not again

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Lenny: Throw the vigilante into the river! Lenny two seconds later: Why do I hear boss music playing

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Y/N: My vigilante senses are tingling Y/N after being rescued by Eclipse: Oh please no, anyone but you

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What Eclipse told Y/N: Your runaround with Lead Lenny’s mafia caught me at a rather unfortunate time in the middle of my business What Eclipse actually meant: I left in the middle of a high-stakes poker game to come get you and I’m feeling a little unloved and unappreciated rn :/

#eclipse x reader #daycare attendant x reader #sleuth jesters fanfic #sleuth jesters au #detective au #fnaf sb #im back on my bullshit #not me side-eyeing this drabble and immediately thinking about a sick fic follow-up #i thought it would be funny if eclipse said he was being charitable here #and then in No Small Favor he's like #'actually i've changed my mind and that's character development'#writing tag

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coffeeangelinabox · 3 months

Text

Febuwhump #19: Please, don't

My first veeerrrryyyyy slight cheat. I'm doing 18 and 19 the alternate way round for the simple reason that I have a good idea for this and it's Sunday so I have time to do it properly.

All the warnings. This is extremely non consensual and gratuitously so.

None of them are the type to back down. Forcibly portkey'd to Malfoy Manor, bound with a nasty set of incarcerous jinxes and staring down a visibly delighted Lucius Malfoy, Sirius still looks around the dining room with completely unfeigned disinterest.

"You've had the place done up," he comments idly. The drawl he spent years exorcising from his voice creeps back in.

If they had hoped Malfoy would be distracted by bantering back and forth until James and Peter could effect a rescue, they were out of luck. Instead, his smirk merely widens and he continues to stare.

Sirius tilts his chin, gritting his teeth and angles himself fractionally forward. He's humiliatingly unscathed. Knocked out from behind before he'd known they were there. They'd barely arrived. This was supposed to be simple reconnaissance, three teams of three, in and out of a set of suspected Death Eater meeting points. It was not supposed to be a social call to the heart of obviously hostile territory.

Lily has a cut across her cheek and her wrists are bruised. She'd fought like a wild thing, and would have been able to make a break for it...if it had ever been in Lily Potter to leave people behind. She will not sacrifice people for the greater good, and even now she doesn't regret her choice.

Remus was the only one of them who had surrendered, though, in his defence, the wand held to Lily's head hadn't given him much choice. It hadn''t stopped the bruises and rough treatment. He isn't sure what they know about him, though it's obvious there's a traitor deep inside their inner circle. No one outside of the nine of them had known their exact locations and timings. Dumbledore maybe. Or Moody. But to Remus' knowledge, James and Gideon Prewitt had planned this one. It narrows the suspect list down to nine people. Eight. He bares his teeth in a snarl he wishes it were the right time of the moon to make more lethal.

"Now," Malfoy finally breaks the silence. He steps closer and runs the tip of his wand over Sirius' face. Sirius arches back with a sound of disgust. Malfoy simply follows his movement, it isn't like he can go far. "As uninvited guests, I do hope you are going to be entertaining."

"Oh, of course," Sirius says. His tone is still light, but Remus has known him too well and too long not to see the tension thrumming beneath his skin. "I know some good jokes. What's the difference between a Slytherin and an idiot?"

Malfoy raises his hand and Sirius doesn't so much as flinch, then he lowers it with a chuckle. "No. I wouldn't sully myself by touching any of you."

For a second Remus almost relaxes.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Lily demands. "None of us are going to tell you anything. It's a lot of trouble to have us dragged here just to kill us."

Malfoy smiles. "As I said, Mudblood. Entertainment."

And just like that, it's not relaxing at all.

A few waves of Malfoy's wand later and Lily has been moved over to the table, fixed down, spread eagled. A few well placed diffindos remove her clothes and cut thin lines into her skin. She glares up at Malfoy, there are tears in her eyes, but she doesn't let them fall. "Go on then," she snarls. "Only way you can get a woman anyway, to force her."

Sirius lunges forward with a snarl, but finds he can't move his feet, Remus strangely can, but Sirius' protective positioning of earlier puts the other man in his way and he can't get to Lily and they can't make him watch this-

Malfoy holds up a hand. "I won't touch her."

They both look at him, distrust an almost tangible thing.

"If you do exactly as I say."

Remus hisses out breath between his teeth. Lily doesn't look at them, and the mere fact that she doesn't immediately tell them not to worry about her, not to give up anything curls something cold around his heart.

"What do you want?" Sirius says after a moment, voice low.

Malfoy's sneer widens. "You both pleasure the filthy little Mudblood. The one who makes her cum wins a blowjob from their failure of a friend."

"Then you'll let us all go, I suppose."

"Exactly."

"We all know that's a lie."

Malfoy shrugs. "Why would it be? When the Dark Lord wins, you will all be valued soldiers in his army. I wouldn't spill magical blood so cheaply."

"Even-?"

"Even hers. Why make an enemy of you, Black? Or of Potter."

"And if we refuse?" Remus asks quietly.

"Oh, my point about not spilling magical blood unnecessarily stands. You two can still walk out of here, unscathed. After, of course, you watch as many men as I can find willing to risk catching whatever a Mudblood little slut is carrying fuck her raw. Then I'll cut her guts out. You can take whatever's left with you."

Lily's breath hitches. Remus watches a single treacherous tear run the the wrong way down her face and into her hairline. Sirius must see it too because before Malfoy can notice the weakness he's pressing himself forward, arching sinuously.

"Waste of having the Black heir really owe you a favour, Malfoy. Wouldn't you rather have my," he pauses and gives Malfoy the bedroom eyes Remus had watched him use for years to charm various Hufflepuffs off to Greenhouse Three after dark. "gratitude?"

"No." Malfoy says bluntly, not moved at all. "I want you to realise that following orders is your best, your only choice. It'll help you later."

The seduction falls away, nothing more than a thin veneer and for a moment, Remus is certain that Sirius will start screaming and swearing. And that will do none of them the slightest bit of good. "Padfoot," he says quietly. Then, to their tormentor. "Alright. We'll do it."

Malfoy moves out of their way and gestures with a flourish towards Lily. Their hands are still bound, but they can suddenly move. Remus, for the first time, looks at her properly. He feels his ears redden with embarrassment. His own and what is radiating from her.

She is undeniably beautiful. Creamy skin and tumbling red hair in a fiery wave. Her emerald eyes are gleaming. The faint dusting of freckles across her nose is repeated on shoulders and inner thighs. Her breasts are round and full and high and the pinked nubs of her nipples are tight from cold and fear. Spread as she is, he can see every part of her, and Merlin help him, but the way she closes her eyes as he looks, flush spreading from cheekbones down her throat and chest makes something hot and primal inside him want to claim her.

She's his best friend's wife. He can't imagine that James would want him to make a different choice, but, frankly, he'd rather take his chances with a cruciatus.

Sirius drops down to his knees between Lily's legs. "It's okay," he says, a soothing rumble in his voice that tells Remus he's said these exact words before. "This is fine, Evans."

A noise creeps out of her. "Potter," she corrects in a thread of a whisper.

"Lils...I can't call you Potter while I do this."

"At the moment," Malfoy says waspishly, "you're not doing anything."

All three of them flinch and Remus too steps closer. He doesn't kneel down, opting instead to lean over her, shielding as much of her body from Malfoy's gaze as he can. "We'll make this good," he promises against her lips and then kisses her gently, chastely.

Her eyes flicker open and there's real violence in their depths. Remus nods in silent, mutual agreement. As soon as they have opportunity, they'll take Malfoy apart. Bloodily. Unpleasantly. From the feet first so that Remus can hear him scream.

Then she tenses with a moan as Sirius abruptly gets started.

Remus feels slightly put out for a moment. He hadn't known they were ready to start, and he hastens to catch up, mouth fixing quickly over one of those hard pink nubs and he begins to torment her with tongue and teeth, laving over her chest, seeking out every bit of salt from the fear-sweat that has been slicking her body for the past twenty minutes.

He lets himself fall into the rhythm, both of pleasuring a beautiful woman and competing with Sirius Black. Sirius is their most likely traitor. Remus will not willingly suck his dick. He will not. So he has to win this. It's as simple as that.

Sirius is undoubtedly the more experienced lover of the two of them, but he's appalling selfish and he rushes. Remus can't expect him to be different in bed, and he has a number of advantages, even fully human his senses are fractionally better than average. He can hear Lily's heartrate increase, smell not just her arousal, but her blood as it pumps through her. He can discern the tiny differences in her moans and whimpers.

He kneels besides Sirius, and puts his tongue to work.

Sirius has his mouth fixed over Lily's clit, sucking, pulling her pleasure from her by sheer brute force. Letting them live is stupidity, it can only be because the traitor is in the room with them. His fury at Remus for doing this to him, to Lily and James, translates into the ferocity of his movements. When Remus' head pushes up besides his, he cedes the clit to him and pushes back against her hole. He allows the very barest of transformation to padfoot and pushes his now much longer and wetter tongue into her, swirling hard within and Lily lets out a shattered mewl.

He dares to feel pleased with himself for a second as she stutters out a syllable that can only be part of his name. She's becoming helplessly aroused as he stabs his tongue in and out of her, fucking her with it. He wishes he had his hands free to knead her ass, her breasts. She arcs almost off the table with another cry and another gush of wetness.

"Siriu- ohhhhhhhhh, 'Mus. Like that, like that-"

James is like a brother to him. Harry is practically his son. Lily...Lily should never be this. But Sirius cannot deny that her desperate groans are spurring him on just as much as his desire to protect and his fury at the situation, and he feels his own cock rise in his pants.

"I don't," she twists on the wood. "Don't, please..."

Sirius pulls back. She knows they have to, knows the consequences of not following this instruction will be worse, but he echoes her anyway. "Malfoy. Please. Don't- don't make us do this. Anything else."

Remus has always been more ruthless.

As Sirius moves, he chases the spasms of her pussy with his tongue, drinking her down and with a groan Lily falls over the edge moaning and whimpering and writhing.

Malfoy claps his hands like he's at the theatre. His eyes spear Sirius. "Anything else, Black? Very well. You don't have to touch her again. Just blow your friend and we can all be on our way."

Sirius stomach sinks in a completely different way. He hates losing, all four of them were always competitive with one another.

I thought you said you could play chess, Padfoot.

My grandmother is better at gobstones than that.

Only four Os? I got five!

And worse. Remus is the reason they are here. Remus violated Lily. Remus forced her to a climax she didn't want. Remus is the reason so many of Sirius' friends have been lost in this war.

Remus unfolds himself and stands. Sirius doesn't look up at him.

If he refuses now, it will likely be Lily that pays for his habitual insolence. She is worth nothing to Malfoy and everything and then some to Sirius' only family. He shuffles forward and grins up at Remus with a few too many teeth.

"Let's see how long you last, Moony." His voice sounds wrong, but probably (hopefully) that will be put down to the stress of the situation and later he will force Prongs to see that they can't trust Moony. And that Moony knows exactly how to break him. He'll make him see that they have to rethink the Fidelius Charm plan.

He leans forward and, thank Merlin, Remus is wearing robes, not some awful muggle trousers. It's easy enough to get at him, to use his tongue in the slit of his boxers and lick a stripe up his cock.

To Sirius' eternal shame, Remus is not the slightest bit turned on. His small cock, flacid and curled, fits easily on his tongue. Maybe he deserves this anyway. Traitor Moony might be, but he's the monster that enjoyed what they did to Lily.

Remus however, doesn't manage to maintain his disinterest in the face of Sirius' concerted attention. It doesn't take long until he's reduced to an incoherent, dripping mess. Sirius' actions are almost violent. Remus has come to blows with Sirius and felt less attacked than how he feels right now as Sirius slurps at his dick as though he'll die without it. As though wishing he could punish Remus for something. He swallows against pleas. Trust Sirius to use seemingly losing as a new way to attack.

Lily is crying properly, her reserves totally eroded, and Remus realises that he is too. Malfoy is smirking at all three of them. Remus supposes that whether or not Sirius is technically on his team the Malfoy-Black rivalry has enough layers that he can still enjoy Sirius brought low in this way. Thinking of who - what - Sirius has given his allegiance to, Remus instinctively pulls back. Just as Sirius does something with his tongue, flattening it against the vein on the underside and tightening his lips to produce an almost painful sense of suction. He cums as he pulls out, splattering his seed all over Sirius' face.

He's the enemy. This is his fault, but Remus can't help the stab of guilt as his friend looks up at him, betrayal naked for all to see. If Malfoy wasn't still watching and laughing, he'd beg him to stop looking at him like that - please, Padfoot. Don't. I didn't mean-

Instead, he looks away.

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angelasscribbles · 2 years

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The King's Punishment Part 2: A Bad Romance Three-Shot

Mini Series: The King's Punishment

Original Series: Bad Romance

Bad Romance One-Shots

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for series: Riley x Liam, Liam x Max, Riley x Max, Riley x Drake, Riley x Rashad

Paring this chapter: Riley x Drake x Siobhan (F!OC)

Rating: NSFW 🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋

Warnings for this chapter: Purely gratuitous sex

Word Count: 3,218

My other stuff: Master List.

Drake opened the door and his eyes widened in surprise, “What are you doing here? Is everything ok?”

His gaze dropped to the overnight bag in her hand as she pushed her way past him. He stepped to the side to let her by.

“Spending the night with you tonight.” She informed him, tossing the bag onto the couch.

“I'm not complaining, at all, but… why?”

“Liam and Max are in trouble.”

“What the hell did those two do now?”

“Do you really want to know? Because it's sexual in nature.”

“Oh, hell no!” He placed his hands over his ears as he shook his head. His eyes went to the overnight bag again, now laying where she had tossed it on the couch, “I'm confused by the overnight bag though.”

“What confuses you about it?”

“What's it for? You have clothes here. You’ve always kept clothes here.” She did, in fact, have both a dresser and her own closet in Drake’s quarters, both of which were well and fully stocked with all the basic clothing items like panties, bras, socks, t-shirts, tank tops, shorts, sweatpants, and pajamas. She had clothes in both Drake and Liam’s suite’s as well as in the room she kept for herself at the palace, her bedrooms at Valtoria, Ramsford and her rooms at Applewood and every other royal residence across Cordonia as well as abroad. It saved a lot of time on packing.

“Oh, that,” She waved her hand in the air dismissively, “I packed like eight pair of underwear, four t-shirts and no pants. The bag was for dramatic effect.”

“Dramatic effect, huh?”

“It worked.” She told him, “Liam almost shit his pants.”

Drake couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of him at the image that painted. “Good. I’m sure he deserved it for whatever he did, which I still don’t want to know.”

Riley smirked, “Yeah, he did.”

“Have you eaten? Would you like some dinner?” He asked her.

Riley considered him for a moment, then pulled out her phone, her fingers flying over the keyboard. “Dinner can wait.”

“What are you doing?”

She gave him a wicked grin, “I’m about to give you an extra special treat. Besides, I was promised a threesome tonight and goddamn it, I’m getting one!”

“Uh….what?”

“Not like that. Don’t worry. I know you don’t swing that way. I’m ordering another woman.”

“Just like that? Like having room service sent up?”

“Yes, Drake. I have booty calls on speed dial, don’t look so surprised.”

“I’m not surprised that people want you, Riley. That’s kind of your superpower. I just….you really want….”

“Drake.” She stepped into his personal space and ran a hand down his chest, “Ever since you found out about me and Hana, you’ve been making jokes about wanting to watch me with another woman. Or was that all just talk?”

He felt his dick twitch at the mental image she provoked, “Yeah, no. I most definitely do want to see that!”

“Then tonight’s your lucky night. Now stop questioning it and kiss me.”

Fire flared through his eyes, deepening from his usual brightness to a darker, hammered copper shade, the subtle gold flecks standing out a little sharper. He wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her into his body so that he could comply with her demand. Her head was already tipped up to him, waiting, her full, lush lips parted in invitation. He licked her bottom lip, grazing it with his tongue before pulling it between his teeth. She moaned into his mouth as their tongues collided.

Riley pulled away and shoved him backwards, “Sit.” She ordered as he fell back onto the couch. His hands reached for her greedily as she straddled him. He surged upwards, capturing her lips again as his hands slid under her shirt.

He groaned as his hips thrust up and his hands rolled across her breasts, their mouths still locked on each other. Riley quickly unbuttoned her top, exposing her bare chest to him. She pulled away from his kiss. He jerked upwards trying to recapture her lips, but she tipped her head away and laughed, instead, using her hands to guide his head into her chest. He set to work sucking and licking at her tits with vigor. They spent several long minutes exploring each other with hands, fingers, tongues, and lips.

“Goddamn, just let me inside you right now.” He breathed.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” She teased.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Riley pulled away with a seductive grin. “There’s the threesome I ordered.”

“Don’t leave.” Drake groaned, reaching for her. His hands grabbed only empty air as she vacated his lap.

“Trust me, you’re going to enjoy this. Now be a good boy and go wait in the bedroom. I have something in that overnight bag I want to change into.”

Drake stood and reached for her again, “You could just come naked.”

She danced out of his reach with a smirk, “Bedroom. Now.”

“Fine.” He grumbled as he made his way to his room to wait, but he couldn’t deny the arousal and anticipation swirling through him. He pulled off his shoes and socks, untucked his shirt, pulled a dark blue, contoured wingchair next to the bed and sat down to wait.

Riley entered the room a few minutes later with another woman in tow. She looked vaguely familiar. Obviously she worked and/or lived at the palace because she’d gotten to his room so quickly, so he’d probably seen her before. But it was the sight of Riley that knocked the breath from his body. He inhaled sharply as he took her in.

“Are you nervous?” She asked in amusement as she took a quick selfie and sent it off in a text to Liam, to make sure he knew what he was missing.

Drake swallowed thickly. “No…yes.” His eyes traced her movements as she sashayed around the bed in the stupidly short negligee that left very little to the imagination. It was clingy where it should be, flaring out at the bottom, the neckline plunging almost to her navel. It was a patchwork of red lace and silk, revealing tantalizing glimpses of smooth, glowing skin.

“You said you wanted to watch.”

He licked his lips and nodded, eyes still locked on her.

“Drake, this is Siobhan. Siobhan, Drake.”

His eyes flicked over to the other woman standing in his bedroom. She was shorter than Riley, her hair was dark, like Liam’s, long like Riley’s, but straight, smooth, glossy. She was pretty. Not as pretty as Riley, but she had pouty, kissable lips and curves in all the right places. He couldn’t deny that Riley managed to pull hot women. Her ability to attract whatever attention she wanted apparently didn’t apply just to men.

He only wanted Riley. But he couldn’t deny that the thought of this woman’s lips wrapped around him made his dick throb a little. His eyes must have lingered there too long, Riley noticed.

“You like her mouth?” She asked, grabbing and pinching the other woman’s cheeks, “It is a very pretty mouth.”

Riley wound a length of hair around her hand as she brought her mouth to Siobhan’s and ran her tongue across the woman’s bottom lip. Siobhan shuddered; her eyes trained on Riley like she was the only thing in the world that mattered. Like she would drown in her desire for her. Drake recognized the look, and the feeling. He watched while Riley bit into Siobhan’s bottom lip, then sucked it between her own lips. Riley pushed her tongue into Siobhan’s mouth, still holding her hair with one hand, while the other hand squeezed one of her very ample breasts.

“Fuck me.” Drake groaned, his pants suddenly too tight.

Riley stepped back with a seductive grin, “Oh, we’ll get to that alright. But first, some ground rules. You don’t touch her, unless I tell you too, got it?”

He lunged out of the chair, arms shooting out to encircle her, jerking her forward with a growl, “You’re the only one I want to touch. I just want to watch!” He lowered his head and started nipping at the side of her neck.

“Perfect.” She smiled as she pushed him away, “Now stand there and be a good boy. Siobhan, help me undress him.”

“With pleasure, my queen!”

Riley had given up on trying to convince Siobhan that she didn’t have to call her that, mostly because she’d come to like it. The way she said it made it sound so sexual, just like Liam did when they were alone.

Siobhan moved to Drake’s side; quickly reaching to shove his shirt from his shoulders. Riley’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, bending her arm back a little. Not enough to really hurt, but enough to get her attention, “The same rule goes for you. You touch him only when, where and how I tell you. Understood?”

Siobhan nodded, frozen, eyes locked on Riley, awaiting further instructions.

Riley released her arm as a slow, satisfied grin spread across her face, “That’s my good girl. Now take his shirt off.”

As Siobhan worked his shirt off, Riley pulled his belt off, unbuttoned his pants and slid the zipper down. She pushed the top of his pants and boxer briefs down, until they tangled around his ankles. His erection sprang free, rock hard and glistening with precum.

“Drake, step out of those pants and sit down in that chair.” Riley ordered. “Siobhan, don’t let him touch me.”

“Yes, my queen.” Siobhan moved behind Drake, grabbing both his wrists and pinning them behind him. Before he realized what she was doing, he found his hands restrained with a pair of handcuffs.

Riley shoved his legs apart as she got down on her knees in front of him. Making direct eye contact she placed the flat of her tongue at his base and licked all the way up the shaft. A primal sound issued from the back of his throat as he watched her, “Fuck, Riley!”

She smiled up at him then ran her tongue lightly around the tip until he was trembling with the strain of not being able to touch her. His entire body arched toward her, silently begging for her to take him all the way into her mouth and to stop being gentle. She lapped the precum off his tip with a flick of her tongue then moved away.

“Please!” He gasped out.

“Siobhan, your turn.” She grabbed the other woman by the hair and kissed her, hard, then whispered, “Don’t let him cum yet. If you make him cum, you won’t, not tonight. Do I make myself clear?”

Siobhan nodded as she sank to her knees in front of him. He was filled with equal parts anticipation, desire and fear. Before he could look at Riley to make sure she was ok with it, Siobhan had him in her mouth. He watched as she took him all the way in, moving her mouth slowly up and down.

“Drake.” At the sound of Riley’s voice, his eyes snapped up to her. She slid the negligee down her body and stepped out of it. His eyes stayed glued to her as she poured some massage oil into the palm of her hand, rubbed her hands together then began to massage her own breasts. She played with them, pinching the nipples, rolling them between her fingers, lifting one tit as she lowered her head, her tongue darting out to lap around her own nipple.

“Jesus, Riley!” His body lurched forward, but his momentum was stopped by the fact that his hands were restrained behind the chairback.

“Siobhan, get up and come here.” Riley commanded.

The other woman rose immediately from her knees and went eagerly into Riley’s arms.

“I want to taste him on you.” Riley told her before running her tongue across Siobhan’s lips then kissing her deeply.

Drake watched Riley basically lick him off Siobhan’s lips and suck him from her mouth. His head fell back, as he struggled against the cuffs, “Oh Jesus fucking Christ!”

Drake was ready to explode, and he couldn’t even stroke himself. He watched as Riley walked toward him with a sway in her hips. His eyes devoured her, tension coiled tight inside him, ready to pounce if given a chance.

Riley sank to her knees in front of him once again, only instead of using her mouth, she leaned into him, pressing his cock between her tits and sliding herself up and down his length. Sounds escaped him that he’d never made before and sweat beaded on his brow as he pushed his body off the chair, moving himself frantically between her breasts. Just when he thought he was about to erupt, she stopped. She moved away as he continued to strain toward her, helpless, high-pitched grunts spilling from him.

“Riley….please….”

“Oh, no, babe. You wanted to watch. You haven’t watched yet. Siobhan, come here.” Riley threw herself onto the bed and crooked a finger at her companion.

Siobhan bounced onto the bed then stopped, asking permission first, “Can I taste you, my queen?”

“You may.”

Siobhan crawled up Riley’s body, kissing her bare skin as she went. She took her time, delighting in every swipe of her tongue on Riley’s soft, supple flesh. She worked her way slowly up, kissing and licking her trembling stomach, smoothing her tongue over her breasts, lapping her way up Riley’s neck until she made it to her lips. Their lips clashed together as primordial, guttural sounds issued from Drake’s throat.

Siobhan reversed directions, her lips gliding down again. When she positioned herself between Riley’s legs and looked up at her queen for approval, Riley moved her fingers in a spinning motion and Siobhan complied by swinging her body around so that her mouth was over Riley’s pussy, and her pussy was hovering over Riley’s.

Drake felt like he was in a fever dream as he watched, unable to touch her, unable to touch himself, as the two women pleasured each other.

Siobhan came first, pausing her own ministrations as she cried out her orgasm. Then she swung herself around to attack the soft flesh between Riley’s legs with renewed vigor. When Riley screamed, arching her back off the mattress, Drake thought he was going to cum right then. His dick was harder than it had ever been in his life, and it was throbbing almost painfully.

“Riley…baby….”

“Yes, Drake?” She asked innocently.

“I want to touch you so bad….please….”

“Siobhan, uncuff the man. It’s your turn to watch.”

“May I touch myself while I watch my queen?”

“Yes, you’ve been a very good girl.” Riley responded.

The moment Drake was free of the cuffs, he dove for the bed, grabbing her legs and yanking her forcefully down with a deep, throaty growl. His release had been denied for so long that he was on a razors edge between pleasure and pain. He’d thought that all he wanted was to bury himself in her, but despite the overwhelmingly erotic pleasure he’d derived from watching the two women together, he felt a deeper, more primal need to reclaim her, to possess her, to make her scream out his name. To reassert his dominance, to prove that, no matter what Siobhan had done to her, no matter how much Riley had enjoyed it, no matter how often Riley allowed Siobhan into her bed, no matter what, she was still his and no one could make her feel as good as he could.

He pushed her legs apart, pressing them both down into the bed as his fingers dug into her thighs, his mouth attacking the naked skin of her inner thigh. He sucked hard enough to bruise, needing to mark her, to lay claim to her, to brand her as his. He didn’t stop until he’d left bruises up and down the inside of both of her legs, from just above the knees to the crook where the legs attach to the pelvis.

He pulled back and surveyed his handiwork with satisfaction before running his tongue along her crevice. He plunged one finger, then two, inside her as his tongue worked at her clit. He set a relentless pace as she writhed and bucked beneath him. Her hands sank into his hair, the tell tale feel of her grip tightening as she pulled harder at his hair telling him she was almost there. He picked up the pace even more as he crooked his fingers inside her and suddenly she was thrashing against him, crying out his name as hot liquid coated his fingers. He withdrew them and used his tongue to lap it up.

“Drake-“

Before she could say another word, he backed off the bed onto his feet, pulled her down, flipped her over and entered her from behind.

“Oh God, yes! Fuck me harder!” Riley cried out, her hands fisting the sheets as she pushed back against him.

Drake’s thrusts were already frantic as he rushed towards the climax that he’d been denied for so long. But this time he was in control. From the chair he’d vacated, he heard Siobhan cry out as she pushed herself over the edge. He never took his eyes off Riley though, her perfect, plump ass in the air just for him, her body rocking back and forth as he hammered into her. Her soft moans and whimpers turning into loud groans and gasps as she rammed herself back into him.

“Fuck, Drake, I’m going to cum again!” Her whines increased in pitch and length until he felt her clenching around him.

That was it, all he could take. He slammed into her one more time, hard, the force of it sending them both crashing to the bed, her pinned between him and the mattress. He lay on top her, his sweat mingling with hers as he pulsed into her, wave after wave of ecstasy washing over him. The orgasm denial had built the tension higher and higher so that when the thread of his restraint finally snapped, a flood of endorphin laced euphoria crashed through him, shocking in its intensity. “Fuck, Riley….” He breathed into her neck.

“Mmmm.” Was all she managed in way of an answer, marinating in her own post orgasmic bliss.

When he could finally move again, he rolled off of her and climbed further into the bed to collapse on his back, chest heaving as he looked up at the ceiling. “Jesus. That was….fuck.”

“You’re welcome.” Riley giggled as she crawled up next to him. She looked over at Siobhan and motioned to her, “Come on, you too.”

Siobhan smiled as she clambered into the bed and snuggled happily up under Riley’s outstretched arm, resting her head on her queen’s chest.

Riley’s other hand reached down to entwine her fingers through Drake’s. She sighed in contentment as she turned her head to gaze up at him. She was satisfied that she’d made his fantasy come true and thoroughly enjoyed herself in the process. The night had turned out pretty damn good for her after all.

That didn’t mean that Liam and Max were off the hook though. Not by a long shot.

#the kings punishment #bad romance #angelasscribbles #drake walker #riley brooks #drake x riley #trr poly #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #the royal romance fanfic #drake x mc #Riley x Siobhan #trr #choices #the royal romance #choices stories you play

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louiloeve · 1 year

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Whether by Fate or Necessity

First chapter of my fic ready to read on AO3 about my sweet, sweet boy, Baldur, as he painstakingly loses his sodding marbles!!! The story (in full) will offer gratuitous smut and a lil' fluff, a little brotherly bickering, more smut, loooots of angst and a bunch of gory and obscene self-harm that I REALLY enjoyed writing - dunno wtf is wrong with me in that department. Please mind the tags in AO3 though. Link's above, the beginning's below - come on in, settle down and get comfy, second chap will be up SOON. CHAPTER 1: THE LIGHT

Sometimes you gotta live in darkness You gotta feel a little pain Just to know that you are still living Kellermensch, The Light, 2022

Baldur woke up abruptly to the rays of the sun in late winter creeping across the woodwork. His skin was clammy and his thoughts obscure and grim, like they were reluctantly letting go of an unsettling dream. As his eyes focused on his surroundings, he felt disoriented as well: This wasn’t his room at The Great Lodge in Asgard. The next second, he blinked and sat bolt upright, tense and wary, pulling along the furs that had been covering him.

A soft sigh next to him fully jolted him back to reality: He wasn’t at home, of course, but had spent the night with Eike in her small house, staying the night for the first time. He gazed down at her, a soft expression on his face as he studied her sleeping and restful features, as well as appreciating how his pull on the furs had exposed some of her body to the morning chill. He reached over and traced a finger over her skin, from her throat, over the top of her chest and down the side of a breast, smiling slightly at the goose bumps he raised. He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her collarbone before covering her back up. He gave her a last lingering look, then got up and began to dress himself.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” She wore a lazy and contented smile as she eyed him.

His blue eyes met her brown ones, and he smiled crookedly at her. “I’ve got to go,” Baldur said, but the work of tying his linen sashes and broad leather belt slowed noticeably. Eike’s eyes glittered and she pursed her lips knowingly as she threw the furs back in an invitation. He grinned appreciatively at the naked sight of her but forced himself to turn away, head shaking slightly to bolster his resolution. Although he wouldn’t exactly say that he feared the All-Father, he was aware of a certain (high) degree of apprehension he felt in regards to him, and as a rule it was better to not provoke him unnecessarily.

“The All-Father has work for me,” he said, trying to put resolve into his voice as he tightened and wound his belt properly.

In a few short steps, Eike was up and standing behind him, trailing her deft fingers down over his back and digging under his sash to pull his linen shirttail out. He sighed in mock-exasperation, but couldn’t help but close his eyes at the sensation of her hands, now directly on his skin, as they possessively stroked the length of his back, upwards and then down again, before wrapping around his middle beneath the shirt. Baldur placed his hands over her arms on his stomach as she rested her head against him and hugged him from behind, and for a few moments they stood like that before Baldur turned in her arms.

She was such a small thing compared to him, but then all Midgardians were small compared to the Aesir. She was all rounded curves over strong limbs; round breasts, round stomach, round ass, and a pair of amazing round thighs that were great for wrapping themselves around him, or straddling, or—

“Hey, back to reality, there,” Eike teased as she draped her arms around his neck, having to stand on tip-toes to reach. She was plaintively arching up against him, trying to tempt him with her nakedness, and, if the flare in his eyes was anything to go by, it seemed to be working. Baldur bent his head to capture her lips in a slow kiss, which she was eager to deepen as her fingers snaked into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Mmh, let me say goodbye to you properly. Give you a good start to the day…” [...] Read the rest here, please and thank you ;)

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vix-fics · 9 months

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Oh Dear...

The Boov are known for showing a few select emotions, but they are far from displaying every HUMAN emotion there is. For a human, there's a whole rainbow - could Tip's friend be right? Could Oh really only show just a few of those human emotions?

Chapter 1: I Propose an Experiment

It's been a few years and Gratuity Tucci is finally at the beautiful age of sixteen. With school still being a struggle, her friend "Oh" still his normal Boovi self, things were pretty much settled. Until...her friend had the most interesting idea.

"Oh, come on, Tip," she said to her friend, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. They were on their way home from school when her friend spoke up about it. "Not a whole lot of us know the Boov. The least you can do is introduce us!"

Tip gave her friend a look. "I know exactly what you're asking for, and no means no. You'll only embarrass both him and me, and you might even hurt him."

Her friend was a science genius – she wasn't going to lie. The girl had a knack for discovering things and her latest idea was sure to land her some sort of prize winnings. The girl proposed that Boov could not feel but a select few emotions, but Gratuity immediately shot down that idea. She was pretty sure that Boov had the capability of feeling every emotion.

"Then how about this," her friend proposed, "you do the experiments, and I'll sit back and watch."

"No," was Gratuity's firm answer. "Look, you and the others don't even like the Boov. I don't understand why you're pressuring me into doing this for you. My friend isn't here to play games with, and I'm not going to betray him simply because you're curious."

Her friend frowned but let the subject drop. "So, are you stopping by the lab tomorrow?" Gratuity shook her head.

"No," she replied, "I promised Oh that I'd show him around some of my favorite arcade places."

The girl shrugged and waved goodbye, "Suit yourself! I'll catch ya' later, Tip. Say hello to your Boov friends for me." Tip rolled her eyes. She knew for a fact that her friends all teased her behind her back about being friends with a Boov.

The Boov really integrated themselves with the public. Sadly, not every human being was willing to accept the idea of them living there, especially considering the fact that they pretty much abducted every human on the planet and forced them all to live in Australia. She was pretty sure that there were still a lot of others out there who just didn't quite agree with them living on the planet. In fact, there were small riots here and there – places where the Boov honestly couldn't step foot in simply because of their species.

Tip sighed as she hung her coat on rack next to the front door. "I'm home!" She called, but no one answered. Instead, her cat, Pig, came running out from a corner and happily greeted her in the kitchen. "Hey, Pig, have you seen Mom today?"

She happened to take a glance at the fridge – there was a note hanging there. Lately, that seemed like that's all there ever was…notes. She knew her mother was busy with work as well as with her new boyfriend, but she always got the feeling that her mother just simply didn't have much time for her anymore.

She pulled out the communicator that Oh had given her and tapped on the transparent glass screen. It made an interesting little ringing noise that sounded like popping bubbles before it showed a miniature holograph of Oh. "Hey, Oh!" She said with a big smile on her face.

"Gratuity Tucci!" He cried, "You are the home now, right?"

"Yup," she said with a nod of her head, "you know you can call me Tip, right?"

"Oh, uh, yes! Oh is just so use to Gratuity Tucci, it is odd not calling her Tip," his speech was still a little funny to her, but he was slowly growing accustomed to their ways. "What be for this graph call?"

It pleased her to know that Oh seemed to be rather enthusiastic about her calling him. She reached into the fridge to grab some cold pizza before she thought better of it. "You wanna' come over?" She asked. "My mom will be working late tonight, so I'm gonna' be a little lonely."

"Oh yes!" He cried with happiness, turning a rather slight shade of pink. "Oh will be coming by way now!" And so he hung up. She really had to get him to work on his "phone" skills.

For a moment, she paused. What if her friend was right and Oh really could only feel a select number of emotions. It seemed to her that Oh could only feel one emotion at a time, too. There were times were he changed a whole assortment of colors, but really, she had no way of knowing.

Out of curiosity, she decided to go ahead and try experiment number one. What could be the harm? Chapter 2 - Experiment 1.

#ohdearch1 #fanfiction #fanfics #incomplete #fanfiction.net #oh #Gratuitous Tuchi #Gratuitous T.#Tip #Gratuitous T./Tip #Home Movie #Home Fanfiction #Home Fanfics #Aliens #Creative Writing #Writing

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5sosfanfictioncatalogue · 9 months

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Friends with Benefits (2) Masterlist

part one

ain’t it funny how the night moves? (ao3) - soulmatism Michael/Luke E, 6k

Summary: “That summer wasn’t... love,” he whispers before Michael has the chance to talk first. He doesn’t mean to, just like he doesn’t mean to do a lot of things, but it’s true. Michael’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he doesn’t look hurt.

“I know,” Michael says softly. “I think it is now, though.”

Or, Luke really shouldn’t still be thinking about the summer he spent hooking up with his best friend when he was nineteen.

are we something to each other (or are we just blowing smoke?) (ao3) - bellawritess Michael/Ashton, Luke/Calum T, 10k

Summary: A startled laugh escapes Michael, and he gently pushes against Ashton’s chest, though his hand lingers as if for a moment he considers holding Ashton in place instead. “You’re lame. And you’re not kissing me like that in front of your friends. I’m a respectable fake boyfriend, I don’t believe in gratuitous PDA.”

Blossom (ao3) - FayeHunter Michael/Luke E, 9k

Summary: Luke's been hooking up with his friend, Michael for a bit now. Too bad he's just a little in love with Michael. Too bad Luke doesn't know how to tell Michael or if Michael feels the same.

cut it with a knife (ao3) - beckywritesthings Luke/Ashton, Michael/Calum M, 17k

Summary: “What about you and Ashton?”

Ah fuck, Luke should have known better than to assume he would have gotten out of this conversation scot-free. “What about me and Ash?” He shoots Michael a look that says please shut up, but of course, he doesn’t listen.

“Isn’t it the same situation with you and him? You guys are fucking too – don’t you even try and say you’re not – but you want it to be more.”

Hearing it said out loud is like an arrow through his heart: aim so true it’s impossible for it to do anything but hurt. He takes a deep shuddering breath, pressing down the lid tight on the box of emotions he’s labeled Property of Ashton Irwin: Do Not Touch.

“It’s just sex.” The words taste like sawdust coming off his tongue, but Luke can’t– isn’t ready to handle it yet. “That’s it.”

or, a story where Luke models, Ashton sings, and neither of them talk like they should.

Foreplay - @ashtcnirwin (elivigar) Calum/Ashton E, 9k

Summary: Ashton always initiates it, Calum is always far too happy to play along, and they always get each other off using their hands while pressed as closely together as physically possible. Then Calum will laugh a little, Ashton will grin, and they’ll use whatever they can find to wipe themselves off before pulling their pants back up, making sure the coast is clear on the other side of the door, and go hit the showers.

That’s how it goes. That’s how it’s always gone. That’s probably how it will always go.

i don't mind you under my skin (ao3) - galacticsugar Luke/Calum E, 26k

Summary: With a tiny smile, Luke says, “I like it when you look at me like that.” He’s probably going to regret this in the morning, but right now, he feels weightless. Nothing matters, he can say anything and do anything and he never feels this way and it’s fucking amazing.

“Like what?” Calum asks. He tips his head in closer to Luke’s, forehead wrinkled curiously, and Luke realizes he’s not sure if Calum is drunk or not. He has no fucking clue. Does it matter? Yes, it probably matters, at least as far as Luke’s ego is concerned. It trips him up.

“You know,” he says, tongue stumbling over the simple words. “Like you like me.”

Lacuna - @ashtcnirwin (elivigar) Luke/Calum, side Michael/Ashton E, 27k

Summary: In which Luke needs a place to live, Calum needs a roommate, and they don't exactly dislike each other but they don't exactly like each other either.

making the most of the night (ao3) - galacticsugar Luke/Calum E, 27k

Summary: “Cal! Have you met Luke?” Ashton has one arm around a tall blonde guy wearing a sheepish smile and a barely buttoned shirt, and he wraps his other around Calum, pulling him in close. “You should talk. You’ve got a lot in common. Shit exes, for example.”

Calum looks over this Luke person he apparently has a lot in common with, and he does seem a little familiar. Maybe Calum has met him before. But that doesn’t seem right either, because he thinks he’d remember meeting someone so…bright. Noticeable. Luke doesn’t exactly blend into a crowd. Calum’s not certain, though — he could’ve met Luke while he was super drunk or super tired or super distracted by his ex-boyfriend.

“Sure, yeah,” Calum agrees, dodging the question. “Luke, would you like to spend a fun evening talking about our shit exes and feeling sad about it?”

new shapes (ao3) - galacticsugar Luke/Calum E, 23k

Summary: “Anyway,” Calum says, “I’ve been thinking about it, and I wanted to talk to you about it, because I kinda think it would be a really good idea for us to fuck each other.”

Luke chokes on his water.

Calum slaps him on the back a few times, even though Luke has told him over and over that doesn’t do anything to help.

over and under (ao3) - kaleidoscopeminds Luke/Calum E, 10k

Summary: “We really need to stop doing this.”

“I know.”

Luke says he won’t do this again.

They both agree they won’t do this again when they’re dressed, in Luke’s living room and not his bedroom, when Calum’s about to leave to see his other friends and Luke’s going to the studio to write.

It’s easy to agree not to do it again when Calum’s not touching him.

since we can’t hook up tonight (ao3) - lifewasradical Luke/Ashton E, 5k

Summary: As much as he may nearly count down the hours until he gets to speak to Luke again, that doesn’t mean that Luke is doing the same for him. Now that Luke is off touring and seeing new people and amazing sights, maybe he’s forgetting about the people waiting at home for him.

Maybe he’s forgetting Ashton is waiting at home for him.

But Ashton just reminds himself again that just because he’s a hopeless fool for Luke doesn’t mean that Luke feels the same about him. Quite the opposite, honestly, because he knows that Luke doesn’t feel the same about him, or they wouldn’t be in this position right now, friends with benefits instead of more.

something (ao3) - lifewasradical Luke/Ashton E, 6k

Summary: Luke brings his hand up to rest against the swell of Ashton’s right thigh, fingertips pressing lightly into the skin through the thin layer of cotton between them. There’s no heat or want in his touch, simply seeking out the ease of an interaction so casual, kneading his flesh like a pleased cat. It’s a familiar interaction, with Luke always wanting to be as close to another person as possible, but always seeming to find his spot against Ashton’s legs when he can.

Yet there’s just a little bit of something more there, something in the way that Luke’s fingers press down and his cheeks round out from his smile and his eyes flutter shut. Something.

summer nights (ao3) - kaleidoscopeminds Luke/Calum M, 14k

Summary: Luke was waiting for romance. He was waiting for the guy that sweeps him off his feet, that wants him for everything he is and isn’t afraid to show it.

He used to be sure that guy was out there. Now he’s pretty sure he’s not.

talk to me, baby (ao3) - kaleidoscopeminds Luke/Calum E, 17k

Summary: “Is that why you’ve been looking at me all night?” Luke asks, reaching out and brushing a finger over one of the rips in Calum’s jersey. “Trying to get me alone to sell your services?”

Calum looks delighted that Luke has called him out and it makes Luke smile again.

“Not at all,” Calum says, taking a swig from his drink. “But I was trying to get you alone to offer some other services for free. Interested?”

Luke laughs. “Is that an innuendo?”

“Absolutely, but I can be less subtle.” Calum sips his beer, eyeing Luke. “Wanna fuck?”

Tie That Binds - @ashtcnirwin (elivigar) Luke/Ashton E, 98k

Summary: In which Luke wants to explore miscellaneous kinks and Ashton strikes him as a good candidate to do said exploring with with.

touch (ao3) - lifewasradical Luke/Ashton E, 6k

Summary: Everyone who’s seen Ashton knows how large his hands are. They’re massive, with palms nearly as big as the entirety of his face and slender, long fingers all dressed in cuts and blisters from drumming with all his might. Even in their teenage years, Ashton’s hands have always been mesmerizing to Luke, especially comparing the size difference between their hands. Ashton’s has always dwarfed Luke’s in a way that no one else’s ever has before and probably never will again.

One thought that has somehow never plagued his mind is how absolutely devastatingly large Ashton’s hand looks on his thigh.

Wildest Dreams (ao3) - no_clue_who Luke/Ashton E, 16k

Summary: “Come with me? Two weeks away from the city and the noise,” Ashton said, “Just us for two weeks far away from everything.”

“What?”

“Come on, some fun time away.” Ashton says, grabbing his keys, “We can just have some fun.”

Some fun to Ashton probably means fucking for hours on end, eating food for days and not thinking about their responsibilities past waking up and eating. Luke knows its dumb to agree to this, doing mildy domestic with Ashton is always going to end with him hurt. Luke knows he dumb to agree but at the same time what does he have to lose?

you are the reason I never think twice (ao3) - lifewasradical Luke/Ashton E, 15k

Summary: Luke was lucky to be able to stick in Ashton’s orbit through his first year. So how was he supposed to say no when the object of his affection tossed him the idea of being friends with benefits in his second?

”We’re both single, we know we’re compatible as friends, what harm could it do? Just a way to blow off steam,” Ashton had said one late night in his room with Luke sitting comfortably in his bed at the beginning of the fall semester.

If it’s the only way that Luke would ever be able to have Ashton, then so be it.

#5sosfanfictioncatalogue #5sos fanfic #5sos #5 seconds of summer #smut #sex tw #fwb #fwb masterlist #masterlists

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inquisimer · 2 years

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Dalish Week: Prayer

Day three! Took some liberties with this one - it’s a bit more about Dalish religion on the whole, rather than prayer specifically.

This is another scene set during Neria’s time with Clan Lavellan - she and the Keeper discuss some of Neria’s doubts about Dalish beliefs + gratuitous descriptions of magic headcanons

@dalish-appreciation-week

~~~

A line ran through every forest, invisible, but clearly present, delineating the furthest points shems would dare from where the forest grew wild proper. One of the first lessons the Keeper taught Neria was how to recognize that line—and how travel along the safer side.

They followed a river east; while natural barriers did not necessarily indicate the line, they were always worth a pause. Shems were nothing if not reluctant to get their stockings wet.

In contrast, Neria reveled when the clay-like mud and spongy moss pressed between her toes. The Dalish footwraps were both softer and more serviceable than the threadbare slippers or clunky boots she’d worn before. Every step gripped the ground, readying Neria for fight or flight or anything in between.

It was silly, perhaps, but she felt more properly Elven, as if slightly exposed toes were her ticket to acceptance amongst the Dalish. She did wonder what they wore in the colder months, though—comfortable as they were, the footwraps would do nothing against a blizzard or a frozen pond.

They’d shared a handful of these lessons now, primarily focused on nature magic: spells and methods preserved in secret and passed through Dalish memories since the fall of Arlathan. The method and the intuition behind the Keeper’s magic differed starkly from anything Neria learned at the Circle or in her wanderings. Deshanna wove the four disparate schools into one seamless tapestry and flavored it with something Neria couldn’t quite label. The resulting magic tugged at strings in her heart she surely wasn’t ready to identify.

Some of the techniques were familiar; not identical to Merrill’s style, but adjacent, as if they shared a common ancestor. So though no one explicitly laid it out for her, it was hardly a stretch for Neria to surmise: these were the lessons a Keeper traditionally gave their First.

Which muddled her head considerably. She was meant to be using this walk to clear her mind and review the spells Deshanna introduced at their last session. Instead her thoughts chased laps around her doubt and uncertainty, the dust in their wake clouding any attempt at focus.

“Relax, da’len. If your mind churns any harder we will pull butter from your ears.”

“Ir abel—“

“Telabelas.” Deshanna cut her off mid-apology. She paused just under a low-hanging oak branch but didn’t turn around. “Where is the line?”

Neria closed her eyes and pressed her awareness outward. It had been among her first lessons as well, one of the hardest to understand, and one she still hadn’t mastered. The Circle rewarded apprentices who were particularly skilled at condensing their magic and holding it within themselves, invisible except when convenient.

This directly countered that.

Her latent mana seeped across the ferns and roots that carpeted the forest floor. It swept down the gurgling river and felt where it widened and crashed over a cliff, a spot that would be good for bathing and filling their skins. Several yards beyond their line of sight, a handful of deer scavenged with their fawns, and a fennec chased a squirrel up a trunk.

“Just there.” Neria gestured to the south. “A break in the growth pattern—the trees there are younger, bark exposed to flame. It has been some time, but humans came that far, at least once.”

The Keeper nodded once and continued along the riverbank. “Very good.”

They never ventured too far from the campsite, both for the clan’s safety and their own, but Deshanna guided them to a different clearing than they’d used before. A sliver of earth parted the river like an eye and the trees thinned just enough that Neria could lay tip-to-toe three times over before they touched. Deshanna settled herself in the grass, back to the running water, and gestured for Neria to mirror her.

“We cannot proceed until your mind is clear.” Her kind words held no judgment, but Neria cringed internally anyhow. “What troubles you, da’len?”

“I—“ Neria swallowed. Her fingers curled around a loose patch of moss and she fidgeted with it, pieces falling on her leggings like flakes of green snow.

“Several things,” she finally admitted. “But all rooted in…uncertainty, about my place here. With the Dalish, with your clan.”

“Rosha and I have spoken extensively about your beliefs, your pantheon. She told me the tales and lessons of the Creators and the method and meaning behind the vallaslin. It is all so much more than I ever heard in shadowy whispers and far-fetched rumors, and it speaks deeply to your culture.”

She hesitated.

“But it does not speak to you,” murmured Deshanna. Neria hung her head.

“No. I have tried—truly. If desire were the measure of belief, I would already be converted. But it—just…doesn’t resonate. I wish it did, but—“

“Why?”

“—I can’t—what?”

“Why do you wish it resonated?”

“I—well—“ Neria stuttered, tripped up by the answer she’d thought obviously implied. “I want to fit with the clan. I want to stay.”

“And you believe that outcome hinges on our beliefs?”

“Well—I suppose I just assumed.” Neria sheepishly tugged the end of her braid. “Ir abelas, Amelan.”

“Telabelas,” the Keeper reminded her with a gentle smile. “You are not the first newcomer to make such an assumption about the Dalish and I doubt you will be the last. In truth, some clans would turn you away for this. But we are more liberal in our practices. Tell me, has Rosha taught you of Vir Tanadhal?”

Neria nodded. “Andruil’s code. Vir Assan—to fly straight and never waver, Vir Bor’assan—to bend but never break, and Vir Adahlen—together we are stronger than one.”

“It is a mantra of sorts,” Deshanna said. “Andruil guides us to resilience and strength, teaching us kindness and respect through the hunt. Valuable lessons that connect with both our past and the world as it is around us. Most Dalish never need faith beyond Vir Tanadhal.”

“It is a good philosophy. I don’t question the choice to follow it.” Neria sighed. “My issues stem from my personal experience with religion. Kinloch Hold is firmly under the thumb of the Southern Chantry; all mages there are raised Andrastian, regardless of their thoughts on the matter. To voice any objection is to invite discipline.”

“It grates, spending years upon years hearing magic exists to serve man and steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked—and knowing that those who chant believe they are preaching to the very wicked and corrupt of which they speak.”

“I was neutral about Andrastianism for…a long time. It was just part of my routine, another box to be checked so life could go on like normal. But eventually the rhetoric got to me. I grew tired of words, tired of being told how to repent and then told it would never be enough with the very next breath. Somewhere in the cracks of their teaching, I decided that actions meant more to me than any prayer. If the Maker wanted my devotion, if I truly had inherent worth as one of His creations, He could step up and show me.”

“I’m afraid it really soured me on any structured religion, as none are wont to be so tangible,” she finished wryly. Her fingers twisted in her lap and she couldn’t meet Deshanna’s eyes. She could practically see her packed bags and the closed aravels that surely waited beyond this conversation.

“A very reasonable course, and understandable, given the circumstances.” The Keeper covered Neria’s knotted fingers with one hand and stilled their fidgeting. “Peace, da’len. We do not force beliefs on those who do not want them, we simply offer them to those who search.”

A breath parted Neria’s lips and some of the tightness in her chest eased.

“I would expound on Rosha’s teaching, though, if you’ll indulge me?”

Neria nodded her assent.

“I said that most Dalish never need faith beyond Vir Tanadhal, but that is not the case for all. For some, the ways of the hunter hold no meaning from the start; for others, something happens to sever their connection to the code. Depending on the nature of the break, they may seek either Vir Banal’ras or Vir Atishan.”

Neria’s mind attempted to wrap around the unfamiliar elven. Vir—way of, of course. But the ways of what? Her practice with Lani hadn’t progressed far enough for her to parse the words, so she waited for the Keeper to continue.

“Vir Banal’ras—the way of shadow. Generally a temporary path, assumed by followers of Vir Tanadhal who experience a loss that demands a blood debt.” Deshanna’s mouth twisted as though she’d swallowed a lemon. “Personally, I discourage this path. In my experience, vengeance doesn’t bring the closure those who follow Vir Banal’ras seek. But it is a tradition and as I would not force it on the unwilling, I would not withhold it from the informed willing either.”

“And Vir Atishan—the way of peace. It is less common than Vir Tanadhal, because the number of threats the Dalish face today is far greater than it once was, but that does not lessen its intrinsic value. It is Sylaise’s code, but where those on Andruil’s paths must put their faith in the Creators, their gifts, and their guidance, those on Vir Atishan focus on healing—a tangible skill that they dedicate to those in need.”

“Healing can be interpreted broadly, as well. Physical healing, yes, but is it not also healing to ease a troubled mind, or prune the weeds that choke the sapling? These are the questions Vir Atishan asks, and more.”

“The Dalish I’ve known who follow Vir Atishan choose to believe that Sylaise calls them to the path. But” —she offered Neria a small, knowing smile, as if she could see the spark of hope flickering where Neria’s teeth dug into her lower lip— “it is also believable that others might be called by altruism or a desire for peace based on their past.”

“In fact, I think it is more than feasible to follow Vir Atishan without any religious connotation at all, should one choose.”

Neria’s breath caught, and that spark shot twenty feet high in a roaring inferno. Possibilities she’d thought barred away suddenly stretched before her and her heart was galloping through them like a stallion on the open plains.

“That—that sounds—“ she stumbled over her response, cleared her throat and blinked rapidly. “That sounds, at the very least, adjacent to what guides me now.”

“At the very least.” Deshanna’s eyes twinkled, and Neria was left with the sneaking suspicion that she’d been expecting this conversation in some form, if not today, then someday soon.

“Dalish beliefs may fall under one canopy, but they diverge in many places, even within clans.” The Keeper’s expression grew wistful. “It is a side effect of patchwork cultural preservation and varying interpretation amongst the elders. But it is not” —she gestured toward Neria— “necessarily a bad thing.”

Neria’s mind was spinning again, twice as hard as it had been on the walk out but spiraling upward, rather than down to the depths of the void. What did this mean—for her, for the clan? For…her clan?

A sharp snap cracked right in front of Neria’s face and she jerked to attention.

“It is food for thought, da’len.” Deshanna pulled her student to her feet. “Think on it—but later. I believe at this point we’ve burned enough daylight for one philosophical discussion.”

She tied her hair into a knot at the base of her neck and Neria blinked these revelations to the back burner, finding focus far easier with an unburdened mind.

“Now, let’s see if you can conjure vines as well as when we ended last time, yes?”

#dalish week #dalish week 2022 #my writing #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #oc: neria surana lavellan #clan lavellan #keeper deshanna #i'm just a big fan of describing the mechanics of magic don't come for me #surana lavellan au #neria is agnostic bc Thedas Catholicism numbed her to religion #but she wants to belonggggggg

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