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snowbellewells · 4 years

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Do as the Romans Do

A @captainswanmoviemarathon fic by @snowbellewells

((((I made a first attempt at creating my own fic art, but for whatever reason, I can’t get it to post in my story. It’s on my page, but for whatever reason, I can’t get them both in one!)))

Hello there! Welcome to my little Roman Holiday-inspired AU for the @captainswanmoviemarathon! There were some scenes from the original movie that I was simply too enamored with not to include, so those I am sure you’ll recognize those, but I’ve also let this version of Killian and Emma wander off on their own when they wish to change the script a bit. I’m envisioning this being about three parts - today’s shorter introduction to set the scene, a larger part two with the bulk of the plot, and then a shorter conclusion to wrap things up. We’ll see how it goes (or if it grows on me beyond that!) Please enjoy, and I’d love to hear what you think…

Part One

*Press Release*

From the Royal Italian Embassy this 4th of September, 1953, Princess Emma Ruth Nolan, Crown Princess of the small nation of Misthavia, only child of Queen Margaret Mary Blanchard-Nolan and King Consort David Nolan visits us here in Rome for a brief stop on her first solo goodwill tour.

Already, she has made stops in Copenhagen, Prague, Vienna, and Geneva, and will attend a state dinner, tour local businesses, preside over a medal ceremony, christen the children’s wing of a hospital, and hold a press conference in her three days here before heading on to Paris and London to complete her journey across Europe. Lucky indeed are those who have an invite to one of these events and will have a chance to meet the Princess in person!

The receiving line outside the embassy dining room had long since passed from lengthy to trying and on to interminable as Emma prayed her empty stomach would not begin to grumble aloud before she was finally able to find a seat at the head table and at last enjoy the hard-earned meal. As always seemed to be the case at these formal events, meeting “just a select few” somehow turned into glad-handing with a neverending line of people she would never remember or hope to keep straight from one another.

To think she had initially been excited about this particular event! At least she had thought there might be the chance for some entertainment and dancing after dinner. Now that she stood in one place for so long, she was regretting the posh new heels she had paired with her full-skirted ballgown for the occasion. If she ever got to move from her spot again, Emma was not at all sure that her feet would actually support forward motion any longer; they might well be broken inside the three-inch heels.

Hoping to do so without being noticed, Emma stealthily shifted most of her weight onto one foot, lifting the other slightly beneath her skirts and flexing her toes in the hope of bringing feeling back to the extremities. She bobbled a bit, but thankfully her press secretary, and closest friend since nursery school, child of palace staff or not, was standing beside her. Surreptitiously, Emma caught Ashley’s arm to steady herself. The other blonde made no comment, merely offered a reassuring sidelong glance and tiny smile without the disapproval that Emma knew she would have received from the Countess on her other side - a retired former nun who had been her main chaperone and minder of all the etiquette and behavior since Emma’s first official public appearance years go. The Princess could practically see the woman’s pinched disapproving mouth, admonishing eyes and warning tone - even in Mistress Blue’s absence.

The end of the receiving line was at last in sight, and Emma let out a breath that she hoped went unnoticed, trying as hard as she could not to let her eyes roll back in her head at the momentary relief she had gained for her aching feet. Intending to put the first one back into its pretty little torture device and flex the other similarly, she continued blindly offering her hand to the passing dignitaries, murmuring greetings and shifting to her other side gingerly.

Unfortunately, just as her foot returned to its shoe, a flashbulb went off unexpectedly and much closer than any had been so far. She blinked, momentarily blinded, and her balance wobbled; the hidden empty shoe tipped over on its side before she could slip her toes back into it. This made her dip unexpectedly to the left, and she felt herself falling, despite all her natural grace and her practiced poise. Cheeks already flushing, Emma’s tongue was too tangle to call out, knowing her one bare foot and her impatient lack of polish was about to be exposed before she even hit the floor. A gasp escaped Ashley on her other side as she realized too late what was happening and tried to catch Emma’s hand, but instead, what arrested her fall was the interception of two warm, firm hands at her elbows, halting the topple which had seemed inevitable only seconds ago.

Suddenly braced by the solid forearms in a lean, handsomely suited man standing there before her, Emma blinked, reorienting herself to the fact that he’d spared her a rather embarrassing incident, she wouldn’t be humiliated on all the gossip shows that evening.

“Th - Thank you, Sir,” she breathed tremulously, quickly fishing her toes into her shoe and righting it at last before straightening and looking up to meet her rescuer’s eyes.

Bright, crystal blue met her inquisitive green as she did so, a twinkling of mischief enlivened his expression even further against the heavy dark brows and the rather rakish appeal of his unshaven cheeks and jaw. For a moment, the breath nearly rushed from Princess Emma’s lungs again - for a completely different reason.

A gentle chuckle rumbled from this undeniably handsome stranger’s chest as he dipped his chin in the slightest of acknowledging bows. “Think nothing of it, your Majesty. I’m simply glad I was here.”

She nodded in mute agreement, wincing again at how she’d nearly made herself a laughingstock. It was one of the things she hated most about her life as a monarch - one silly mistake, unimportant in the grand scheme of things, could undo or overshadow so much good, so much hard work in a mere instant.

With a rather devilish wink, the man before her, bowed his head over her hand, now more delicately cradled in his own larger one and place and brazen kiss to the back of it, his whiskers prickling her skin and sending tingles all along her nerve endings. “After all, it isn’t every day one finds a princess in his debt,” he murmured silkily.

She blushed brighter, knowing they were beginning to hold up the line and draw curious attention now, but not wanting him to move on. “Is that so?” she replied with equally humored stealth.

“Indeed.” He sketched on more quick bow, then added, “Killian Jones, at your service, Princess. And if you are safely in your shoes once more, I suppose I must be going now.”

Her eyes widened even as her fingers released their grip, and he slipped on through the line, while she extended her hand to shake those of the last few people behind him. He had known what happened all the time! Why did that make her heart beat even faster than it had been already?

~~~*

That night, after a long bath, with her hair brushed, nightgown donned, and her legs tucked under the blankets, Princess Emma still felt her fingers tingling from the remembered grip of Jones’ hand, even as she listened to the Countess’ long list of the next day’s engagements. Emma tried not to shudder as she noticed that once again nearly every moment was spoken for, every word and action, and even thought, seemed already determined for her. That near-fall and the following encounter had been the most excitement she could remember in her meticulously programmed, rote, respectable, predictable life of duty.

What would it be like to simply walk out of such an event, as Jones and all the other attendees had done, and have it simply be over? To return to a normal life? To determine what one wanted to do for oneself, and have no watching eyes to judge or weight the following movements. She could hardly imagine such freedom.

When Emma was finally left alone for the night, she knew she needed to sleep. According to the schedule that had just been droned into her ear, she had an early morning before her. Yet, sleep felt the furthest thing from her mind. Eventually, she threw the covers off and hopped back out of bed, crossing the sumptuous room provided to her by her Roman hosts and gazing out the window to the River Tiber below in the distance. Music and lights reached out to her beguilingly despite the hour, and she wished she could be in the midst of whatever celebration was happening there, a part of the laughter and dancing and raucous joy she could only imagine from the echoes that reached her.

It was not an unprecedented longing, but one that struck her more acutely than ever this night. She was going to have this experience while she had the chance. Mind made up as abruptly as the moment presented itself, Emma flew from the window to her suitcase, quickly shedding her nightgown and putting on her most understated skirt, blouse, and espadrilles. With hardly a look back, shew as soon perched on the window ledge, preparing to climb down the fire escape of the old, sturdy building she was staying in without risk of alerting any of her numerous attendants and guardians.

‘Just one day to herself, to live as she chose,’ Emma vowed, closing her eyes for a moment and then surging forward. ‘Then it’s back to what’s expected, what I’ve always known will be my life…’

As she reached the ground and then slipped through the embassy gates out into the night air and the excitement of a foreign city, Princess Emma Ruth Nolan felt like someone else entirely. Like someone who could breath freely for the first time in her life.

Tagging: @captainswanmoviemarathon @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @whimsicallyenchantedrose @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @laschatzi @resident-of-storybrooke @darkcolinodonorgasm @stahlop @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @thislassishooked @shireness-says @thisonesatellite

#captainswanmoviemarathon #csmm #roman holiday au #cs ff #part one

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potatopossums · 3 years

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Insecurity and Boundaries: A Necessary Coexistence

Content Warning:

This post includes discussions / mentions of:

bodily insecurities, explicitly including dysmorphia, dysphoria, and implicitly including but not limited to eating disorders, weight

childhood trauma including shame, humiliation, fear

coping mechanisms, both healthy and unhealthy, including anxious avoidance, projection, masking, reflection

mentioned references to all of the above through lenses of morality, cis white feminism and sexualized body positivity

adhd

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Author's Note:

Written through the lens of adhd, anxiety, depression, queerness, transness, nonbinaryness, aromanticism, alterous attraction, and as always, questioning.

—

Ngl I've had the opportunity to date/"be with" (in whatever capacity) several quite attractive ppl, and the last couple have been great examples of something that actually kind of triggers me / turns me off.

I didn't really know what to make of it then, and I felt bad about it then too because I thought I was just being judgy. Not saying some of that isn't potentially still there, but i think i understand better now.

It honestly kind of scares me when I have the opportunity to have close relationships with people with bodily dysphoria/dysmorphia or strong insecurities. My brain has a really bad habit of being reflective when I'm feeling vulnerable. I just match people. It's a way of masking while relating to people. It's a defense mechanism. But it feels quite real in the moment and i often don't realize it's happening until it has already happened.

But as a nonbinary person who gets misgendered a lot at work, I've spent a lot of time now very acutely aware of my own body (as if i wasn't already). I don't tend to hate my body in a vacuum. I actually enjoy my body. I like how it looks in certain clothes; I like how I can trick the eye and make it look another way with other clothes, and then surprise, it's a different body underneath! I like how my body feels when i masturbate, i like how my body feels in the warm sun, i like how my body feels when i self-soothe. Even when I'm in pain, in some of those moment, i like that my body exists because I know something is happening inside me, something systematic and programmed, something beyond me that does it's evolutionary purpose, no matter how flawed. I've always had a curiosity about bodies in general (gender and sex completely aside). So when i say i love my body, i mean that.

Does it mean i don't struggle with dysphoria? Of course i struggle. And it makes me feel like shit.

Sure, I've got that Cis White Feminist Self-Loathing Intervention Voice in my head that says "all bodies are beautiful" (and she really means all women are beautiful but I'll co-opt her lines to fit my agenda). That voice is problematic because like. I like being beautiful, but why do I want to be beautiful, and what happens when I'm not beautiful? How do I guage whether I'm beautiful at any given moment? Isn't that largely subjective even with an overarching cultural & social standard? When I feel "ugly" — my cowlicks sticking up, teeth unbrushed, i feel too short, i feel i look too childish, I'm afraid my boobs are showing in a way i don't want to be seen, etc. — who's to say that someone else doesn't find some of those things attractive? So attractiveness is a poor method of confidence, despite how influential it still is on my brain and personality. That influence is fear based.

All that in mind, when I hear other people struggling with their bodies, especially in a Trans/Non-Binary/Dysphoric way, it really scares me. I mean, any bodily struggles scare me because I have my own insecurities to deal with. And when I'm in that state of really wanting to keep a connection because abandonment trauma + adhd, my vulnerable brain says that in order to impress someone, I must reflect relatably. So that has me digging back into my bodily insecurities. And I explore them as if I should be feeling them.

Let me unpack that. I'm avoidant with my anxieties. I don't talk about them, and I don't think about them much if I can help it, because when I think about them, that result can be largely painful, dramatic, and too emotionally volatile for me to handle. I always want to look put together, I want to feel secure enough to not need to ask for help, because those few times it went badly when I asked for help still stick with me (regardless of how long ago those moments were, and regardless of how many good times I've had where received actual help since). I remember the embarrassment and humiliation, the shame, the fear, the guilt. I remember wanting to make myself smaller, and how crushing that felt to do. I remember how little I understood of these wild and complex emotions, and all I knew was that I felt violated and disgusting. And I turned that inward. Because I had no external support.

So me saying that I explore my anxieties "as if I should be feeling them" is multi-pronged. It's Cis White Feminist Body Positivity, it's all those family members who modeled and normalized self-hatred for me from a young age, it's bodily dysphoria/dysmorphia at being misgendered, it's me trying to convince myself that my body truly is okay and that my negative inner voice doesn't know what it's talking about due to it's poor influences, and it's me ultimately not being able to reconcile all that on my own (or fast enough, thanks adhd) and resorting to anxious avoidance of my insecurities as if that solves them.

And then, when I hear someone I might kind of want to be intimate with start to talk about their insecurities, my brain panics. It says, "If you go in there, you will lose it. You will fall into the same hole they're in. You will have to suffer just as much for them, and for yourself. You will lose all your energy and you will start to hate yourself. They will treat your body the way they treat their body. You will be made to hate yourself."

And even though I know plenty of people with dysphoria/dysmorphia and other bodily struggles absolutely won't do those sorts of things, I also know that projection is a thing. And considering how poor I am at boundaries and how I tend to adopt unhealthy relationship dynamics due to my avoidance, I know that it would just start a bad cycle for me. Even with all the empathy and understanding in the world, I simply cannot root myself in a situation that would cause me to loathe myself.

And again, in case this wasn't clear: this is absolutely not a statement about people with bodily confidence issues as a whole. I am not trying to villainize or demonize or moralize their experiences. That is markedly the opposite of what I intend here.

But it took a long time for me to get to this point in my self-awareness. And i wanted to share it because i want other people to be able to reach an understanding of themselves too, whatever that understanding might entail. Yeah, it's a little cliche, but our projections and fears about others can have a lot to do with our fears about ourselves. It's important to be self-aware, even if that doesn't immediately solve the problem(s).

I tend to really like confident people because of this. That attraction has it's own roots in confidence issues, and its own potential flaws. And until I can change my own avoidant anxiety, I'm going to find new ways to project my avoidance and shame onto others, regardless of whether they are confident or unconfident, dysphoric or not.

But, just because I'm projecting doesn't mean that I'm unworthy of boundaries. Even if my behaviors are unhealthy, even if I do need to work to change those things (and even though I actively want to change those things), it is still healthy for me to know my limits. It's healthy to know what triggers me. It's good for me to realize these things and step back, even if the relationship I'm leaving/not starting is arguably "good." (And that assumption is a whole other topic for another post.)

So, along with whatever other epiphanies you might have received from this read, here's my major takeaway that I want to leave you with:

Your boundaries are okay. Even if they're based in anxiety, even if they're based in unhealthy coping mechanisms, even if you want to change your unhealthy behaviors/mindset. Your boundaries do not need to pass any social justice or morality tests in order to be valid. Your boundaries do not have to "make you grow." Your boundaries are not bad, even if you feel like they keep you from being the best version of yourself.

The only way you can actually grow is if you respect yourself enough to respect and enforce your boundaries. The only way you can feel comfortable and happy and healthy is if you respect your boundaries.

So please do that for yourself. Please respect your boundaries. I know it's very hard, especially for people-pleasers. I know it's hard for you avoidant types. I know it's hard for those of us who mask and reflect.

But please, just a little bit at a time, respect yourself. Even if that means disappointing or hurting others with a "no."

And please, please, please surround yourself with people who respect your boundaries and stand up for you. Of all the work I've tried to do alone, nothing compares to the effectiveness and growth I've experienced when I've been around radically affirming people — people who fought for my right to say no; people who defended my boundaries no matter what they entailed; people who stood up for my pronouns at work; people who validated my life experiences, labels, queerness, and questioning. It can be difficult to find people like that in real life, but please stay in the company of people who do that for you. Even if they're online. Stay near people who model self-respect for you. They will help you practice how to treat yourself.

—

#tw body insecurity #tw dysphoria #tw dysmorphia #tw eating disorder #adhd #masking #reflecting as a coping mechanism #trauma #relationships #alterous attraction #questioning aromantic #nonbinary #agender #queer

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unlockthelore · 4 years

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Reasons

While Jaken seeks his young lord in hopes of answers to his wandering, he finds himself berated with questions. From the series Affections Touching Across Time on AO3. For more updates, follow the affections touching across time tag on this blog.

A glorified nanny.

If anyone were to ask how Jaken sum up his position, it would be that. While he considered himself to be valuable to his illustrious lord and an asset in the formation of his empire — looking after the children his master sired was a lackluster use of his abilities.

Admittedly, his lord was an odd one.

Ever since his encounter with the human girl Rin, he’d been exhibiting strange behaviors toward beings he would normally disregard, going so far to marry a human, of all things, and to sire hanyō, which only added to his complexities.

Centuries before, his lord would have found such rabble unworthy of gracing the sole of his boots, but now they walked alongside him without a care in the world.

It was mind-boggling. Though Jaken had no desire to be clobbered or bludgeoned with a rock, so his opinions were kept and buried away. Jaken plodded along the winding dirt-trodden road patched with dewy grass, his grunts muffled by wet slapping footsteps as his feet sank into the soft and pulpy soil.

A small outline of a child’s foot caught his eye, and he sighed audibly. No matter how often he chided the children on proper attire, they refrained from wearing the footwear their father had tailored for them. It was a waste of his lord’s kindness, and there was so much they could hurt themselves with — gravel on the roads, shells left in the beach sands.

Blatant disregard for their well-being — he could hardly believe the flippancy.

Taking after their mother no doubt, he thought tiredly, staring up into the bright afternoon sky. Hopefully, she would return soon. With the rise in banditry and ne’er-do-wells, she was in even more danger away from those who could protect her. A worried groan vibrated in his throat as he shuffled beneath the boughs of a towering cedar, grateful for reprieve from the beaming sun.

The child’s footprints also stopped beneath it, somewhere near the roots where muddy footprints cooled then seemed to vanish.

Jaken wiped the sweat from his crown and leant against the tree — it’s bark, smooth and dry, was comfortable against his aching back. He felt as if he searched high and low for the young lord, but to no avail. Hours passing to where his presence was sorely missed. Neither his sisters nor his grandmother knew where he was, although Jaken highly doubted the latter. The Lady Mother seemed to take pleasure in his distress, and without A-Un to aid him in the search, he was forced to seek on foot. Leaving him with precious moments before his lord became aware of his son’s disappearance.

Jaken sighed raggedly, forlorn and defeated, sinking down to the grass with his legs stretched out before him.

Thankfully, Towa and Setsuna had outgrown their desire to make him fret with their games of hide and seek. They were nearing their twelfth spring and found better forms of entertainment than teasing him mercilessly.

Although, that wasn’t to say they didn’t do so when the mood struck them.

Mugen, barely past his fifth spring, enjoyed playing and exploring much like Rin when she was a child. Time and again, his play would come at the expense of Jaken’s well-being. Wandering off, climbing everything, getting into innocent mischief — the list was endless , let alone worrying, and Jaken’s half-hearted grievances to Rin concerning Mugen being her son often earned him a scathing glare from his lord accompanied by a knock over the head. Instinctively, Jaken rubbed the smooth curve of his scalp . The bushes amid the cedar copse and the meandering roads were barely used after rainfall due to the mud. Carts would be easily stuck, but a child on foot would find no end to their mirth.

The young lord could have been anywhere and with as many hiding places as there were — bushes, knotholes, nesting spots, dens — it would have been easy for him to become trapped if something were to go wrong.

“Oh…” Jaken crooned anxiously at the thought, grasping Nintōjō tightly as he hauled himself up, staggering forward on quivering legs. Surely, he hadn’t climbed one of the trees. What if he fell and broke his neck or worse?! If Mugen had injured himself, he would weep for days and Rin’s disappointment would never cease. She never showed apprehension with leaving her children in his care. But if one of them were to be injured due to his negligence —

Jaken shuddered at the thought of her kindly features shifting into contempt. Would she defend him from her husband’s wrath, or leave him to his fate? Wouldn’t he deserve it for allowing harm to come to their son?! No, Rin wasn’t cruel. She would surely spare him, but what if she were upset? Oh, it was too much to bear!

Concern sprang tears to Jaken’s bulbous eyes, glazing them over as he crowed loudly into the echoing woods. “Mugen-sama! Where did you go…?!”

His voice echoed off the trees with no reply. In his distress, he propped his staff against the tree to free his hands, settling the end of it between two large roots protruding from the ground.

It would be grating to his sensitive ears, but if he could find him, that was all that mattered. Taking a deep breath, Jaken’s lungs swelled, and he held his hands around his mouth to bellow. “Mugen-sa—!”

“Jaken?”

“Gah!” Jaken shrieked, jumping backward as leaves fell from overhead, his head knocking against the tree trunk. He groaned low at the throbbing pain, sinking down to sit in the grass while batting the falling leaves away.

Wait, hadn’t that been...?

Jaken scrambled to his feet with a squawk, head swiveling as he tried to find the source of the call. “M-Mugen-sama? Where are you!?”

“Up here, Jaken.”

“Huh?”

Jaken’s heart leapt into his throat as he tipped his head back. His eyes widened comically , beak falling open at the sight of his young lord hanging upside down from one of the thicker branches. Silvery-white locks hung in a thick veil, disheveled and burdened with leaves. A pair of small floppy ears perked up at attention as Jaken’s gaze met a pair of bright golden eyes in a familiar, yet younger and friendlier, face.

“M-Mugen-sama!” Jaken cried, wiping at his eyes furiously with his sleeve. He sniffed harshly, choosing to ignore the boy’s pinched expression. “Jump down to me, milord! It isn’t safe for you up there!”

Much like his mother, Mugen seemed to scrutinize his words with open conflict. His gaze flicking up and down Jaken’s small form as he studied him. He shook his head. “You’re little, Jaken. I’ll flatten you.”

“Watch your tone! You’re not so big yourself, and if anything happens to you, your father w— aah!”

Without warning, the boy dropped from the daunting height, and Jaken’s heart ceased beating. Leaves shaken loose showered Mugen’s form as he met the ground in a low crouch. The pelt around his shoulders flapped on the breeze, slowly falling as he rose to his feet, thankfully unharmed but confused as Jaken hurried to him. Immediately looking him over, Jaken lifted his arms and circled him a few times to ensure there weren’t any bruises or lasting damage.

“Be more careful!” Jaken shouted, trying to calm his racing heart with the breathing exercises the old priestess taught him.

Mugen pressed his lips together and scowled, his gaze cutting. “I am careful, Jaken,” he said petulantly.

Jaken sighed. Though he wanted to argue the point, there was little reason to do so now that he was safe. He ambled over to unearth Nintōjō from the tree roots, grumbling all the while. “Why do you continuously run off, milord? Your father will have my head if something happens to —” He turned around, blinking slowly when he saw the boy was no longer standing beneath the cedar but wading through a bush, his orange hair ribbon swaying behind him. “M-Mugen-sama!”

At the call of his name, Mugen seemed to slow his steps enough for Jaken to catch up to him, panting and gasping.

“Tou-chan wouldn’t kill you, Jaken,” Mugen voiced, soft and well-meaning in his naïvety.

“That you know of…” Jaken breathed a haggard sigh.

If only the children knew what a terrifying yōkai their father could be, he thought, and they would if they listened to his stories instead of wandering off through the woods constantly .

“Watch your head, Jaken.”

Before he could ask, a low-hanging branch Mugen pulled back as he stepped past came hurtling at his face. A loud thwack echoed as Jaken staggered backward with a pained yelp, holding his beak as it throbbed. He murmured curses inwardly. His face growing hot with indignation and embarrassment while his eyes watered. Humiliation was an acutely familiar sensation among his lordship’s family, but he hardly ever felt on the verge of shedding tears in front of his charge.

“I told you to watch your head,” a gentle voice reproached. Jaken barely had time to voice a reply when his arm was tugged to one side. Mugen’s golden eyes flicked across Jaken’s face to assess the extent of the damage. His lips pulled to one side, and he sank down to his knees, fumbling in a pouch tethered to the belt around his waist .

“Here.”

When he found what he’d been searching for, he turned his knuckles upright and opened his hand, a cream-colored rigged shell sitting in the middle of his palm. Jaken blinked owlishly as Mugen opened it, revealing a vivid reddish-orange gel set inside with an oddly smelling spice that sent a burning sensation running through his nose. Claws dipped into the gel and, coating it over the pads of his fingers, Mugen held his hand out to Jaken who recoiled. The boy’s brows furrowed, and his eyes narrowed.

“It will hurt worse if you don’t use this, Jaken.”

Jaken huffed, covering his beak defiantly. “Where did you get that from?”

“Aneue,” Mugen huffed, batting away Jaken’s hands much to his displeasure. The gel was smeared over his beak in slow circles, throbbing and stinging pain beginning to burn dully. Jaken squeaked, but Mugen glared at him pointedly, continuing to rub the ointment. “Kaa-chan and Kohaku-ojichan made it with Sango-obachan’s help. It helps heal yōkai so they don’t have to use their yōki.”

Jaken dared not tweak his beak until Mugen finished, mesmerized as the gel glistened on his skin before gradually sinking into it. His yōki had been flowing towards the wounded area to heal it, but now the energy was shifting about in his body restlessly , righting itself slowly now that it was no longer needed. A handy trick made by humans.

Curiously, Jaken rubbed his fingers over his beak, but could find no trace of heat from the wound. Only the spicy scent strong enough to make his eyes water remained. He swiped at his eyes a few times but to no avail, screeching as a cool stream of water fell over the top of his head.

“Wh-What?!” Jaken sputtered, batting away the steady flow of water as he stumbled backward. Wiping the water from his face with drenched sleeves, he glared disdainfully at Mugen capping his water skin. “What was that for?!”

Mugen glanced at him, brow raised with a slight furrow. “Be careful next time,” he said curtly, tethering the waterskin to his hip aside the pouch then turning away. His pelt flourished and draped around him as he started off again.

Jaken gaped at his back for a moment then screeched. “There wouldn’t be a next time if you would only listen to me, milord!”

“I am listening, Jaken,” Mugen said with nary a backward glance, flexing his claws beneath the drape of his pelt and cutting through a few low-hanging branches, as though it were a hot knife through butter. The ends of the branches, now severed and burning with poison, were carefully taken in hand and set aside away from the mounds and burrows beneath the trees. “Up this way.”

Jaken quickly recovered from his stupor and mumbled under his breath. Like father, like son, though at least the latter had the decency to tell him where he was headed. Jaken puttered around to recover his staff then hurried after Mugen, hastening to keep the fluttering orange ribbon in sight. Branches and brambles cleared from the path led them further through the cedar grove to a small strip of grassland set before a stone wall.

Scraggly grass grew beside weeds, indicating that, with the sheer amount of unkemptness, the path must have been unused. Jaken could barely feel the packed earth beneath his feet, and every step brought the quiet swish-swish of tall grass brushing along his arms and Mugen’s stomach. As Mugen walked closer to the wall, Jaken peered up at it, squinting in the afternoon sunlight. A cool breeze swept through the clearing, carrying with it the brackish scent of the ocean. Distant echoes of rushing water caught his attention, and realization dawned on him. They were close to the falls near the cliffside by the palace.

“Mugen-sama, what are y— ah!”

Facing forward, Jaken noticed Mugen was nowhere in sight once again. Where had he gone so quickly?! Barely able to handle the shock, Jaken didn’t notice the rock sailing through the air until it knocked his hat from his head.

“Up here, Jaken!”

Jaken fumbled to straighten his hat and gawked at the height of the wall. Standing atop it, a rock tossed up and down in hand, was Mugen.

“How am I to climb up there?!”

Mugen’s face settled into a hard stare as he leant forward. “You’re right, your claws are brittle.”

“I beg your pardon?!” Jaken yelled, flailing backward when the boy leapt down. His staff dropped, arms opening to steady him when he nearly fell to his knees. “Be careful..”

Golden eyes blinked at him with a quick scrutinizing look, a small smile bending the severe scowl on the boy’s face. “Hang on, Jaken,” he said, giving little time for Jaken to question the reason. Mugen scooped him up in his arms, much to Jaken’s surprise and confusion. The air, hissing and crackling with a snapping pop as the boy crouched down. Something was coming, and Jaken fidgeted, unsure and nervous. He’d seen his lord use his abilities before. Hair floating, suspending from his energy and his eyes flickering red. In Mugen’s case, what was red was gold and burned blindingly bright, as if someone lit the sun behind his irises. Jaken screamed as the pressure building in the air snapped loose, and they shot into the air with one leaping bound.

He clung to Mugen’s shoulders, claws buried in his pelt and face hidden against his shoulder as the air rushed around them. Gravity bent to propel them downward, and he could only imagine how they would meet the ground. A harsh screaming filled his ears, and it wasn’t until he was jostled a few times that he realized it was coming from himself. Blinking away the tears beading at the corners of his eyes, he looked around in confusion. Past the beaches and few islands surfaced from the oceans was the expanse of the sea laid out before them. Although the wall they’d stood before earlier was dilapidated, around it were low parapets with the distant forms of guardsmen patrolling their lengths.

“Can you walk from here?”

Jaken startled from his thoughts and noticed Mugen for the first time. The boy’s unblinking gaze, seeming utterly unfazed from the heights from which he leapt, was reticent of his father, and Jaken sighed raggedly. These children would be the end of him before long.

“I-I may need a moment…” He admitted, tucking his head against Mugen’s shoulder.

A low hum was the only answer he received, and when Jaken regained his ability to stand, Mugen set him down, leapt off the wall, and returned with Nintōjō in hand shortly thereafter. Jaken sighed, careful not to step towards the edge of the wall. Without the parapets in place, it would be easy to fall to their deaths.

“We can see the gates from here just fine,” Mugen said, handing the staff to Jaken before sitting down cross-legged with his hands resting in his lap.

“The gates?”

“Mhm. Kaa-chan is coming back today, and I wanted to see her.”

“That can be done from the safety of the ground, can’t it?” Jaken huffed bitterly.

Mugen shot him a sideways glare, and Jaken flinched at the sharpness in his stare. “You didn’t have to come up with me,” he said with narrowed golden eyes. Then, he jutted his chin towards the right. “And there is a ladder.”

“W—” Jaken shuffled past him, careful not to tread too close to either end. Scurrying over, he leant over the edge to see that there was a ladder. Not far from where they made their jump either. Wheeling around, he glared at the boy. “Then why did you jump up here?!”

Mugen looked ahead for a long while then hiked his shoulders, sitting back on his hands.

Jaken blinked, then muttered under his breath. “You really are Rin’s son.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Jaken cautiously crept to Mugen’s side and sat. Dusk was falling around their ears and dyeing the horizon a peach-orange hue. Waters reflecting the sky, drifting lazily with foam lapping at the cliff sides , mist spraying against the walls. Jaken sighed, and he laid his staff horizontally across his lap.

“Your mother isn’t due back for a while yet.”

Mugen nodded slowly. “I’ll wait,” he said. After a brief stint in quiet, he added softly. “You don’t have to stay.”

Jaken scoffed haughtily, but his heart sank at the vague dismissal. “Hadn’t I already told you, your father will kill me if anything happens to you!”

The words rolled off Jaken’s tongue, and a familiar dread washed over him as Mugen’s eyes narrowed and his peaceful expression twisted into one of irritation.

“He wouldn’t kill you.”

“Hmph,” Jaken folded his arms tightly to hide his trembling. “You obviously haven’t been listening to the stories I’ve told you of your father’s deeds. He’s a boiling seething —”

“ — Terribly magnificent demon,” Mugen interjected with a blasé tone, dry and vaguely unamused. “I’ve been listening.”

Jaken felt his ears growing hot as the boy several centuries younger than him leveled him with a flat look.

“If he wanted you dead, wouldn’t you be?”

The words spoken with a cold snapping tone clamped ironclad around Jaken’s heart. He swallowed thickly, feeling himself shudder. Dedication to his lord had cost him everything. The title that would have had others falling at his feet, lands he could have governed; yet, despite his griping, he wouldn’t have taken those opportunities over the ones he had now. It was terrifying following him into battle as well as waiting on him with his strange temperament. Nonetheless, abandoning him wasn’t an option.

Mugen’s eyes, unrelenting and piercing, reminded Jaken far too much of his father.

“If you’re so scared of him, why do you follow him around?” Mugen demanded, barely contained curiosity and scorn seeping into his tone.

Jaken’s tongue flapped, but he couldn’t seem to gain control of it. His insides twisted and turned the longer he held the steely gaze. “I-I’m his loyal servant a—”

“Tou-chan said loyalty made by fear is betrayal waiting to happen,” the boy snapped.

Bristling at that, Jaken yelled. “Wh— how dare — I would never betray Lord Sesshomaru!”

Their voices echoed, and the silence between them was deafening. Mugen’s eyes narrowed, his brow furrowed with a slight wrinkle to his nose while Jaken trembled with rage. How dare this boy question his loyalty to his lord? Who did he think he was?

Traitorously, his mind reminded him. This was his lord’s son.

Oh no.

Unprecedented panic overwhelmed righteous anger, and Jaken paled. Oh no, his head would be on a platter for this. As his terror reached a boiling point, Mugen’s severe scowl eased into a genial look as he turned away.

“I know, Jaken.”

Rage diffused itself slowly, draining from Jaken’s body like water from the falls rushing into the ocean. The blatant disgust and contempt was gone, replaced by a self-assured look, one from which he could feel genuine joy and warmth. He wasn’t sure what to say to that, laying his hands in his lap. Mugen inhaled then sighed, turning his head to look at him with a soft smile.

“You’re part of our family,” he said. “And family doesn’t hurt each other, right?”

Family. Jaken’s mouth felt dry, and while he opened and closed it a few times, attempting to summon words was difficult. He swallowed and nodded his head in reply. Mugen gave a curt nod, and looked ahead again.

“I’m sure Tou-chan thinks of you as family too. Believe in him a little. Okay?”

He believed in him?

I need only you to serve me, Jaken.

He had said that, didn’t he? And if he didn’t want him around, wouldn’t he have dismissed him?

They’re our precious children. Look after them, Master Jaken.

Jaken sniffled and wiped at his misting eyes, clearing his throat. “... I-I suppose I’ll wait here as well, if it isn’t too much trouble, Mugen-sama.”

“If you want to, Jaken.”

As they sat beneath the sky, wispy clouds drifting listlessly overhead, Jaken couldn’t help but think of his place in life. Never did he think he would find himself in the service of an inu daiyōkai lord or enjoying an afternoon in the presence of his son. A hanyō, no less. No. That didn’t matter to him at all. He was concerned when Mugen ran off on his own or when he took needless risks. Youth and a feeling of invincibility provided him with a reckless amount of courage that served to complicate Jaken’s duties further. But Jaken was convinced he could guide him. Or at least, be at his heels to ensure he didn’t get in over his head.

“Mugen-sama?”

“Hm?”

“Grow into a strong yokai like your father.”

“I will.”

“It would be much easier if you drank your milk.”

“I don’t wanna.”

A sea-blown wind wrapped around them and rustled the orange ribbon in the boy’s hair, his unruly bangs and the fly-aways in his hair curled and whipped back from his face, casting shadows around golden eyes. The tint of sunlight against tanned skin gave him a slight glow, and Jaken wished for days like this to last. Days in which he stayed a child, unbothered by the nuances of the world and his place within it. For a moment, the kappa asked for time to slow.

A long shadow passed overhead, and Jaken shuddered, intense pressure bearing down upon his being. His skin pricked and crawled. Cold sweat broke against the crown of his head as he turned around, finding himself faced with white hakama, and upon glancing up, a pair of golden eyes that were far less friendly. Where he bowed his head in respect, Mugen scrambled to his feet with a delighted gasp.

“Tou-chan!”

Jaken peeked up in time to see the ghost of a smile on his lord’s lips as he greeted his son, extending a hand from his sleeve for Mugen to grasp. With a flourish, the boy was lifted in his father’s arms and hugging him tightly around his neck. From over his son’s shoulder, Sesshomaru looked down at Jaken and narrowed his eyes. The silent command to explain unneeded as he began to wheedle through events thus far that would not create cause to worry .

“W-We were just waiting for Rin, milord.”

To his relief, Mugen pulled back and captured his father’s attention, hands pressed to his jaw. “Tou-chan, tell Jaken.”

Jaken flinched as Sesshomaru hummed confusedly.

“Tell Jaken what?”

“That he’s family, like Kaa-chan said.”

Sesshomaru slowly shifted his head, looking away from his son to face Jaken, and the cold dread was replaced with anticipation. Would his lord really say the same? Was he truly part of this?

For a moment, Sesshomaru said nothing, and Jaken’s heart sank into the pits of his stomach. Perhaps he had raised his hopes for nothing. The idea of family in the eyes of a child was much different than in that of a yōkai centuries old.

Sesshomaru turned his head toward the horizon, easing his face free of his son’s hands. “Mugen.”

“Yes?” Mugen glanced between Sesshomaru and Jaken, an apology in his eyes, but the kappa brushed it off. It wasn’t his fault and this was within his father’s nature after all.

“Your mother is returning.”

Jaken tensed slightly, and Mugen twisted around to look behind him as Sesshomaru raised a hand, pointing a single finger toward the skyline .

“Look.”

Surely enough, a dark splotch on the horizon was beginning to come into focus. The thick curling cloud of ash and smoke beneath A-Un’s paws dissipating as the dragon gave a loud cry. Mugen’s whooping laughter came in answer, and Jaken scrambled up to his feet. A-Un curved overhead, skimming across the waters before ascending through the air. His rider, laughter loud against the backdrop of roaring waters, waved to them with glee. Jaken could’ve chided her for letting go of the reins, but even if Rin fell, A-Un or Sesshomaru would dive to catch her. He would have leapt over the wall to come to her aid himself were it not for the duty with which she entrusted him.

And it was as A-Un leveled with the parapets, drifting closer to where they stood, that he saw the genuine mirth on her face.

Rin’s skirts ablaze in the setting sun, orange and fluttering as they fell along the sides of A-Un’s saddle. Her dark hair unbound and whipping on the breeze, messy much like her son’s, their smiles bright as they laid eyes on each other .

“Kaa-chan!” Mugen cried, wiggling free of his father’s hold to leap into his mother’s waiting arms. Jaken’s heart cinched as the boy grasped at the leathers bracers on Rin’s arms, and she swung him in an arc before gathering him close to her chest.

She squeezed him to her, peppering his forehead with kisses and tucking her nose in his hair. The floppy ears atop his head shooting up and wiggling as she hugged him to her. Sesshomaru stepped forward until he stood at the wall’s edge, Jaken inching closer to the side to give his lord a wide berth.

Once Mugen was situated in A-Un’s saddle and distracted by petting the dragon’s soft manes, Rin turned her attention to Sesshomaru with a serene smile. Her hand cupped the underside of his jaw, and Jaken turned his head away as they shared a kiss. Meaningful, wordless glances and calm kisses exchanged from his lord, but soft brushes of fingers from Rin. To his relief, they parted fairly quickly, and he wondered how his lord’s face could remain impassive after such a display.

“Master Jaken.”

Jaken turned. Rin’s smile was blissfully happy, making her eyes squint and her cheeks round . “I’m happy to see you,” she said. “Thank you for staying with Mugen.”

“Y- You don’t need to thank me for doing my duty,” Jaken huffed, folding his arms across his chest.

She laughed softly and looked forward, a teasing wink making him sputter. “I know that. Let’s go, A-Un,” she said, picking up the reins. Sesshomaru tipped his head up as A-Un began to circle them, allowing Rin enough time to press a kiss to his head before she tucked her arms around Mugen. “See you,” she said before they were gone, streaking across the sky with Mugen’s laughter carrying on the wind.

With them gone, the pounding of Jaken’s heart promptly returned, and he glanced up to Sesshomaru whose eyes trained on the retreating form of his family, a ghosted smile returning to his lips, gone as quick as it came when he straightened up.

“Jaken.”

“Y-Yes, milord?”

Sesshomaru looked down at him and for a moment, just a moment, Jaken could have sworn his eyes softened. He tipped his head upward to the sky, turning on his heel. “We fly.”

Jaken’s eyes watered, and he nodded, trailing after his lord.

#inuyasha fandom #sesshorin #sessrin #sesshomaru x rin #fanfiction #my fanfiction #sesshomaru #rin #jaken #mugen #affections touching across time

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ghostofviperwrites · 4 years

Text

Unexpected

Title: Unexpected

Pairing: Seth Rollins/DeanAmbrose/OFC (no slash)

Type: Smut

Due to a last minute change in plans on Raw, Seth Rollins, Dean Ambrose and Roman Reigns found themselves with an unexpected night off. As they were less than an hour from the home Seth shared with his longtime girlfriend the trio decided to head there to spend the night and head for the next town in the morning. Of course, Seth didn’t think to advise his girl of this change of plans, resulting in one very pissed off girlfriend.

“Jesus Seth! You about gave me a heart attack!” You yelled glaring at him and his two friends, all of whom looked entirely unrepentant. With a huff of frustration you turned your back on them storming off towards the master bedroom.

Seth followed you around the corner, eyes firmly planted on your ass showcased to perfection in the little spandex shorts you were sporting. Roman and Dean split off towards the kitchen, quite comfortable in what was practically their second home. With his strides much longer than yours, Seth overtook you just inside the bedroom door, grabbing you and pushing you against the wall next to the doorway.

“Knock it off Seth. I’m not in the mood for your shit.” You spat pushing against his chest with the palms of your hands.

“C’mon Y/N, why you being such a bitch?” he teased leaning forward to nip the side of your neck earning a growl of frustration from you. His hand snaked up to run his fingers along your silky hair making you yank your head away from his roaming fingers.

“What? You think you can just waltz in the house unannounced and scare the shit out of me and then just come rubbin’ up on me?” You asked sarcastically. Seth’s smirk said that was exactly what he thought leaning forward to capture your plump pink lips in a passionate kiss only to have his bottom lip caught by your sharp teeth. Pain rocketed through his lip as Seth pulled away from you with a snarl.

You quickly found yourself pinned to the wall with Seth’s hand wrapped tightly around your throat. Gone was the playful man of moments ago, a fierce fire burning in his almost black eyes as his lip turned up in a sneer.

“Is that how we’re going to play Y/N?” he asked, his voice low and gravely. You glared back at him meeting his fierce stare with your own. “I have a shit day at work and just want to come home and fuck my girl and I gotta get attitude?”

“How ‘bout a phone call Seth?” You said. “It’s not that hard. Send me a fucking text. Something.”

“It’s my fucking house I don’t have to announce when I’m coming home.” Seth snarled. “What’s the matter Y/N, expecting someone else? Am I interrupting your plans?” His hand tightened minutely on your throat. He didn’t believe his words for a second, he was just getting into the moment, fueling the fire between them.

“I should.” You gasped back with a smirk. “Find someone to fuck me properly.” Your grin widened when his fist again clenched involuntarily. You loved provoking these reactions from him.

“Aww poor baby. Are you not getting fucked good enough?” Seth murmured pulling you from the wall by the throat and tossing you haphazardly on the bed.

“Stop.” He commanded. “I didn’t say you could touch yourself.” You arched a taunting eyebrow as you slowly and deliberately slid your hand into the shorts, eyes closing as pleasure coursed through you. Before you could do much, your wrist’s progress was stopped by Seth’s vice like grip. Your eyes flew open meeting Seth’s furious gaze. You whimpered as he pulled your hand out and yanked hard, flipping you onto your stomach and wrenching the hand behind your back. You struggled making Seth press his knee into the small of your back to keep you still as he removed his leather belt from his pants. Despite your best efforts you soon found your hands bound behind your back by the belt. Seth tugged you up by the hips, keeping your face down on the mattress and ass up in the air.

“You know better than to push me Y/N.” Seth said kneeling down on the side of the bed to look you in the face. Seeing the fire still burning in your eyes he shook his head ruefully, a smirk turning up the corners of his lips.

“Fuck you Seth!” You spat managing to sound indignant even in your undignified position. Seth gave a disappointed shake of his head before rising to his feet. You tried to watch his moves as he moved to the foot of the bed. With one swift movement your shorts were stripped and tossed over his shoulder leaving your ass exposed to his view.

Smack! You yelped as his hand smacked your ass with a loud thwack. Seth paused expectantly for a second before landing another blow. Another whimper escaped you as Seth again paused before shaking his head in disappointment and issuing a third smack, the hardest yet.

“Did you forget how this works honey?” he asked snidely when he still received no response. “I spank you, you count and thank me.” You groaned in irritation for having forgotten that rule. You started to apologize, but your inner minx stopped you. You were in a mood tonight and were going to push Seth’s buttons as much as you could. See what he would do.

“Go to hell.” You bit out. You screamed as his hand slapped down brutally, almost making you collapse from the force. You missed the small grin that appeared on Seth’s face at her words. He loved it when she got feisty. This continued for a few more minutes, Seth continually swatting your behind as you refused to give him the satisfaction of the response he wanted.

“Hey man, you mind if…Shit! Man, sorry!” Dean said appearing in the doorway. He quickly covered his eyes after he got a full view of Ariana’s upturned ass and pussy. “I did not know your door was open.” You tensed at the man’s voice face heating up in embarrassment at what he must have seen. As you thought of Dean walking in and seeing your hand print covered ass you squeezed your thighs together as a rush of pleasure surged through you, a reaction Seth definitely noticed.

“Hold up Dean.” Seth called to his friend who was trying to make a quick exit. “Don’t worry about it. We don’t mind, do we Y/N?” he asked grabbing a handful of your ass and giving it a squeeze.

“No.. no.” You stuttered hesitantly. You weren’t adverse to Dean seeing you like this, but it was humiliating as hell. And Seth knew that was one of your biggest turn ons and had a feeling he was going to exploit that right now if he could get Dean to cooperate. You were nervous, but nowhere near the level of using your safe word. Being honest you were extremely curious where Seth was going with this.

“Don’t she look good Dean?” Seth asked smirking as his friend kept his eyes firmly covered. “You can look Dean. I swear I’m not going to be mad.” Dean slowly lowered his hand glancing at Seth for confirmation, needing to make sure his friend was really inviting him to check out his girlfriend. At Seth’s nod Dean turned his attention to you. He could honestly say he had never thought he would see you like this. Not that he didn’t want to, because the girl was gorgeous. He knew you and Seth were into some kinky shit, having been regaled with tales from Seth over the past few years.

“What do you think?” Seth asked moving to stand next to Dean as he ran his appraising glance over you.

“She looks fucking good.” Dean admitted feeling his dick hardening in his pants. “Real good.”

“Yeah she does.” Seth agreed. “She’s a fucking bitch though.”

Dean chuckled. “So you’ve said. Guess I better let you get back to setting her straight.” He said once again moving to leave.

“You can watch if you want.” Seth offered smirking as Dean froze in place. Seth’s eyes flickered to Y/N who shifted uncomfortably but didn’t offer any protest. He again noticed you squeezing your thighs together a telltale sign of your arousal.

“You sure?” Dean asked Seth, turning back into the room.

“Absolutely. Why don’t you take a seat in that chair over there?” Seth pointed. “It’ll give you a great view. Dean made himself comfortable in the chair situated in the corner of the room. He adjusted his growing erection taking in the view. The chair was positioned along the side of the bed so he was looking right at your flushed face pressed into the comforter.

“Now Y/N, you have an audience. Don’t embarrass me.” Seth said resuming his position at the foot of the bed. “Show Dean you know how to be a good girl.”

Seth released a solid slap onto her firm cheek, lips tightening minutely when you didn’t immediately count. Finally as he raised his hand to deliver another blow you spat out “One. Thank you, sir.”

The process continued, Seth growing irritated as you waited to the last second on every spank to count. With a huff of frustration Seth stepped back from the bed, quickly removing his pants and boxer shorts before moving to stand on the side of the bed opposite to where Dean was sitting.

“Turn to me.” Seth commanded. “Keep your ass up, give Dean a nice view of that pretty pussy of yours.” You struggled to get into the demanded position with your hands bound behind your back, acutely aware that Dean now had a direct view of your ass and pussy. He was surely going to be able to see just how wet you were. Seth grabbed a handful of hair holding your upper body in position as he placed his cock at your lips.

“Just the tip.” He told you. You obediently opened your lips, sucking his mushroom tip into your mouth and swirling your tongue along his slit. Seth tightened his grip in your hair as you hummed around him, the vibrations shooting down his shaft.

“Now all of it. Show Dean what a good little cocksucker you are.” Seth said glancing up to see his friend palming himself through his jeans. Seemed like Dean was enjoying the show. As you progressed to Seth roughly fucking your throat, the sounds of your gags filled the room as tears leaked out of your eyes as you struggled to get breath as Seth abused your throat. You couldn’t even steady yourself with your hands bound, leaving you completely at Seth’s mercy, of which he was showing you none.

Eventually Dean unzipped his pants, pulling his throbbing cock out and stroking it as he watched Seth violate his girlfriend. His eyes focused on your pussy as he stroked his length. Every time Seth pulled you lower on his dick your pussy spread open giving Dean a peek of the silver bar pierced through your clit. With a satisfied sigh Seth pulled out of your mouth with a grin.

“Now sweetheart, this is normally the part where I would bury my face in your sweet cunt and make you scream.” Seth said with a chuckle. “But since you decided to be such a bitch I don’t think I’m going to let you come.” You made a distressed sound of protest. You were already so damn worked up just from sucking Seth’s cock and knowing Dean was watching you.

Seth reached behind you, undoing the belt binding and you quickly moved her arms to the front shaking them out and rubbing your wrists before turning to Seth and pouting your lower lip out.

“Please Seth?” You tried making your eyes wide and pleading.

“No.” he said firmly. “You damn sure haven’t earned the right to an orgasm. You couldn’t even take your punishment properly.”

“You can’t stop me.” You said hotly before you thought better of it.

“The hell I can’t.” Seth responded. You shrunk back when he climbed onto the bed, stalking you until you crashed into the headboard.

“Where you gonna go now?” he taunted trapping you between his arms. You shrieked in surprise when he grabbed you by the thighs pulling you down to lay flat underneath him. Seth shoved his cock into you, gliding in easily as you were soaked. It didn’t take long for you to be gasping and pleading under him as he masterfully brought you to the brink of orgasm only to deny you. From his chair Dean watched the interplay stroking and twisting his dick coming with a grunt just before Seth came with a final thrust leaving you aching for more.

“Look what you did to Dean” Seth said to you as he glanced over, seeing his friend with his head back in the chair, eyes closed, his hand and cock covered with come. Dean opened his startling blue eyes and gave a lazy shrug, the corner of his lip turning up in a smirk. “What? That was hot as fuck.” He said. “You got a towel I can clean myself off with?” he asked.

Seth nodded absently his gaze finding you on the bed, body still flushed with arousal.

“I’ve got something better.” Seth suddenly said. “Y/N, go clean Dean up.” He ordered smiling as he heard your shocked gasp. Glancing at Dean he saw the man’s eyes were widened in surprise, but clear want was on his face.

“Wha…what?” You stuttered eyes darting to Dean and then back to Seth.

“You heard me. Dean made a mess because of you. You need to clean it up.” He repeated. “You have five seconds to be on your knees for him.” You darted across the bed as Seth began counting falling to your knees in between Dean’s legs. A pretty red blush spread across your face as you knelt, your pussy throbbing in arousal. You reached out hesitantly grabbing Deans wrist and pulling it towards your mouth, your eyes drawn to the thick come coating Dean’s fingers.

Your tongue darted out, swiping along Dean’s thumb to catch the liquid. At Dean’s encouraging moan you sucked his thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the digit ensuring you got every drop of come off of him.

“Eye contact Y/N.” Seth told you, taking a seat on the bed and idly stroking his cock as he watched. He was glad he didn’t feel an iota of jealousy at the sight of you pleasing Dean, something which surprised him. He usually hated men even flirting with you, but he was quite content to sit back and watch.

Your eyes raised to meet Dean’s gaze as you sucked his index finger into your mouth. Dean groaned as you twirled your tongue around before popping the finger out and giving it a long sensuous lick. Your tongue bathed his hand, stroking over his knuckles until every last trace of come was cleaned off. With a deep breath your eyes dropped from Dean’s face, darting to look at his semi hard cock, which was glistening with come.

“You gonna suck my cock clean for me doll?” Dean spoke his first words to you since this all started. “Wrap those pretty lips around my dick while your boyfriend watches.” The command in his voice strikes you right between the legs and you clench your thighs together in an effort to get the desired friction.

“You make Dean feel real good and I just might let you come after.” Seth spoke up, increasing the pressure of his strokes as he watched his girlfriend grip the dick of his best friend. With the added incentive you eagerly slid Dean’s thickness into your mouth. It felt strange at first. You hadn’t pleasured anyone else since you met Seth four years ago, but it didn’t take long to get into it and enjoy the differences between the two men. The fact that Seth sat behind them watching you please Dean added to your excitement.

“Come here.” Seth demanded when you were finished with Dean. You spun around to see Seth standing behind you, hurriedly stroking his cock. Recognizing the look on his face you opened your mouth, feeling the first spurts of cum the second his dick touched your tongue.

As you swallowed Seth turned to look at his friend who had tucked himself back into his jeans.

“You think she earned the right to come?” Seth asked, leaving it up to Dean.

“I think so.” He said to your relief, before a devilish smile graced his face. “But, I think she should have to do it herself. “

“No!” You protested. It just wasn’t the same as when Seth did it. Sure you could get off, but it was nowhere near as good as when Seth ate you out or used his fingers.

“I think that sounds about right.” Seth agreed ignoring your protest. “You go ahead and get yourself off.” He said walking out of the room with Dean. Passing by the living room they saw Roman fast asleep on the couch, just as Dean had left him so long ago.

#dean ambrose fanfic #seth rollins fanfic #wwe fanfic #wrestling fanfic #mywriting #ghostofviperwrites

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bi-outta-cordonia · 5 years

Text

A Courtesan of Rome is ending, albeit hurriedly, but here’s the thing:

Xanthe was a waste.

We are given a book that is ultimately historical fiction, allows us to travel back in time to one of the most infamous moments of all time and, along the way, we play as a lone woman in a historical context who is given the power to change the world.

Along the way we meet a plethora of people, each of which plays a role in the story one way or another, with the exception of one.

Xanthe was sold to Lena as a little girl. She’s been trained to become a courtesan since she was a child. We are introduced to her as being a vapid and jealous woman, one who takes pride in her craft nonetheless but is in danger of being pushed out of the comfortable position she’s made for herself in Rome.

Think for a second about the implications behind Xanthe being trained to be a courtesan since she was a little girl. Sabina was married to Legate Aquila when she was between ten and twelve years old. There was an acute sense of horror that players were expected to feel for Sabina because, well, she was forced to become a child bride for the sake of her father needing to advance his political station. Her father used her as a tool, as something he could bargain with rather than love her like a parent would love their child. We felt bad for Sabina, we sympathized with Sabina,

So now think of a child being trained to please men. She has no family, no one to protect her, no one to fall back on if she messes up because she’s truly all alone. Her routine is entirely of her learning to become sexually appealing to men and, if she is not successful in doing that, she will be thrown out onto the streets and forced to fend for herself from others that would have no qualms with using her for their own gain.

She is a child when she’s forced to do this, she grows into a woman that then becomes exceptionally skilled at her craft. She learns the ins and outs of the types that frequently seek her out. She learns who the most powerful patrons are and learns how to charm them with but a smile and a few words. She has been training to do this since she was a girl, sold to the people who trained her as a slave meant to serve them and bring them money. She is forced to do this because she has no other choice.

Perhaps she grows into the role. Grows into the idea of having independence and a reputation better than most of the senators’ wives have. She is her own woman, allowed to purchase her own things, allowed to move freely within particular social circles, and all this is due to the fact that she successfully learned how to play the game and win. She’s thriving and it’s what she needs for the moment.

But then, here comes some other girl. She’s older by the time she arrives but the girl’s new owners are already fawning over her. They are providing the girl with every advantage, giving her the most powerful patrons. The girl is new, has only been training for a few years at most, but she’s receiving some of the better paying patrons who are supplying her with a lifestyle she was not raised to know.

This puts the child who grew into the woman in a dangerous position--by losing the wealthier patrons, she loses a good chunk of her income--she becomes useless to the owners and risks being cast away from a position she’s held for years.

This has been the core of Xanthe’s actual problem with us, not jealousy but fear, and I can’t honestly blame her for feeling that. We were a newcomer, someone who cared not for Rome or any of its trappings. Someone who didn’t care about wealth and power. We came to the scholae already outright rejecting Roman customs but Xanthe was forced to embody them as a child in order to survive.

Every thing she had been through, all that she had to become in order to simply live in Rome was something she endured as a child. Given that this is her history, it begs the question: why wasn’t she allowed the complexity and depth to be a voice for those that have long since found themselves voiceless?

She was a courtesan in Rome, a woman with no past, sold to Lena as a child, and she never gets a chance to interrogate the systems that bred her or the institution that used her in such egregious ways. She never got to ask “why did this happen to me,” never got to curl her lip in disgust as another senator palmed her dress, never got to seethe as another batch of young girls shuffled through the scholae in tatters with tears in their eyes as Lena explained what their new life would entail.

The idea that we had Xanthe here to be a complex character that let us see through the lens of history and realize that a lot of what people think of Rome as a civilization is just seen through rose tinted glasses. Rome had brutality of a variety--with Syphax we see the broken justice system, with Antony we see how easily and willingly those who had power would abuse it without hesitation, and with us as the MC we see how brutal and violent the campaigns were for those who were not Roman.

Xanthe could’ve been another voice, another look into the world of women and the society of Rome. We could’ve had the potential to open up to her and get her side of things.

We could’ve learned that she knew her parents. We could’ve cried when she described the first time she tended to a patron. We could’ve seethed with anger when she voiced her concerns for the other girls who got dragged into our mess after Legate Aquila ransacked the scholae. We could’ve helped distract a particularly difficult patron so she could breathe for a moment or pushed off a more powerful patron to her as a gesture of kindness.

We could’ve sat down with her and explained what Caesar did to our family, did to our homeland. We could’ve explained that we are not here because we choose to be, but because we had those choices taken from us by the Romans and their constant thirst for power. We could’ve been the lens from which she finally understood that absolute power corrupts and casts despair upon those who are not strong enough to deflect it. We could’ve seen her breakdown and throw amphoras, break mirrors, shred her clothes as she ranted about Rome, fucking Rome, Rome and its constant need to conquer the shiniest and prettiest new things.

We could’ve still had angry, vengeful Xanthe but instead of having her be a vapid airhead, she could’ve been so hurt and so distraught after we explained that Legate Aquila almost forced us to have sex with him had it not been for his wife who finally found the courage to stand up to him.

We could’ve had angry, vengeful Xanthe who told us that she would not forgive us for what happened to the other girls or to Syphax, but she would sooner risk death by spitting on the Legate for attempting to force us to do what we had been given the choice not to do with patrons.

We could’ve had angry, vengeful Xanthe who would tell us that we are insane for thinking we could possibly bring down a Legate but who would also go on to provide bits of useful information she gleaned from other senators in regards to Aquila’s movements.

We could’ve had angry, vengeful Xanthe who would butt heads with Lena and teach girls unconventional lessons that the older woman would never teach them; lessons that Xanthe would then teach MC in a few exclusive scenes once she finds out that Antony intends to give her as a gift.

We could’ve had angry, vengeful Xanthe who would still call us a fool knowing we plan to make good on killing Caesar and who would subtly stir unrest amongst her own patrons for the sake of taking vengeance on not just Caesar, but on Rome--for robbing her and other girls like her of their families, of their lives, of their personhood for the sake of building a utopia they never wanted to be a part of.

We could’ve had angry, vengeful Xanthe who still didn’t like us but respected us for having the courage to refute Rome at every step--for being able to grow up our own woman.

Instead, Xanthe remained vapid and useless, only meant to be the jealous and bitter rival who, in the grand scheme of things, did not really matter. Xanthe who was villainized at every step and Xanthe who we so boldly claimed we could’ve been friends with even though, at no point throughout the entire story, did we ever get an option to actually be nice to her.

But sure, we’ll let Madeleine have a redemption arc even though she spent all of The Royal Romance belittling us for being less wealthy than her, after she humiliated our closest friends, after she made us go pick up the wedding ring the man we loved was likely gonna slip onto her finger, and after she offered no apology to us for her past behavior whatsoever.

We’ll let Penelope just sweep the fact that she helped orchestrate a literal sexual assault on us so that we would be photographed in a compromising position and was absolutely rewarded for her efforts, a thing she did without a shred of guilt until after we put two and two together and confronted her about.

We’ll let Sebastian have a redemption arc after he literally stole money from the university he attended, money that could’ve helped pay for scholarships and other resources that different educational programs needed, which of course came before he tried to cut all scholarships that weren’t purely academic just to spite a few people he didn’t like, and of course again after he sabotaged the boiler in our house and could’ve seriously injured someone.

We’ll let Landry have a redemption arc after he gave the most superficial reasoning for why he decided to throw our friendship under the bus and did so by way of endangering actual patient lives by turning off our pager, taking our patients’ charts, and just flat out telling lies about us to the nurses which seriously damaged our ability to do our fucking job.

We’ll let all these people slide with the proper consideration to the plethora of conditions that give us a complex look at why they did what they did--Madeleine because she was byproduct of a loveless marriage and has never understood that people are driven by empathy rather than practicality, Penelope because she had anxiety and could never have survived in the court without a serious edge over her peers, Sebastian because he had a fucked up childhood, and Landry I guess because he’s not used to losing,

But we don’t have any room or sympathy in our hearts for the woman who was taken from her family as a child, sold into slavery, and forced to learn young how to shut her mouth and be pretty or else she’d be cast into destitution for the rest of her life? How sway?

#playchoices #choices #acor #a courtesan of rome #xanthe

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crossroads-consoul · 5 years

Text

Just Go With It

The first part of a Sabriel oneshot

Sam Winchester was in the middle of getting blatantly stood up, and it was largely his fault.

Why he’d agreed in the first place to meet Jess was a complete mystery. Considering all the shit he'd gone through in his relationship with her, he should've known that she would've done something like this to get back at him one more time. How many times had she humiliated or tried to hurt him out of pettiness when they'd been dating? How many times had she been late to dates back when they had been together?

The Winchester shifted uncomfortably in his seat, acutely aware of the knowing, apologetic eyes of the other patrons on him. He'd been waiting for over a half hour now at a clear table for two, and the seat opposite him was glaringly empty. The waiter had already been by twice to see if he wanted to order and had begun to sound pitying the second time. The third time around would probably involve some embarrassing inquiry, and Sam would probably have to skulk out with his tail between his legs.

He bit his lip before picking up his phone, which he'd set on the table in an attempt to stop fiddling with it. He'd already texted Jess and been left on read, which was a pretty clear indicator that she wasn't showing. The fact that she hadn't even bothered to respond after practically begging him for 'one final chance' said it all, and man did it sting. She was probably laughing it up with her friends now at how seamlessly her clever little plan had played out.

Dean's warning words to him when he'd been getting ready earlier came back to him as he stared at the condensation slowly collecting on his water glass.

"Just let her go already, Sam. This is obviously some ploy to embarrass you, and you're falling for it hook, line, and fucking sinker!"

Sam eyed his older brother through the mirror. Dean was angry, standing with his burly arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against his bedroom door. He had come straight from the shower when he'd heard what Sam was getting ready to do, and despite the visible suds in his dripping hair and skin, he was still intimidating with his glaring green gaze.

"It'll be fine," Sam said dismissively instead of caving to the older Winchester, "Is a tie too much?"

“A tie-Sammy, for the love of God, what are you thinking?” Dean asked incredulously.

“She just wants to talk,” Sam said defensively, holding up his two tie options and eyeing them critically. His brother made a rather high-pitched sound of disbelief behind him.

“Yeah, talk,” he said snidely, clearing his throat as Sam arched an eyebrow, “Sam, you shouldn’t even have her number, let alone be going to talk to her!”

“It’ll be fine.”

Dean scoffed at his proclamation before shaking his head, anger turning to something more along the lines of disappointment.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," he responded ominously, tugging his slipping towel a little higher as he pointed a finger at him, "Even I know this-this thing you and Jess have is toxic, and that's coming from me!"

Sam pressed his lips together and stood a little taller, deigning not to respond as he made a show of fiddling with his shirt buttons. His brother had quickly grown disenchanted with Jess soon after their relationship problems had begun, but Sam was convinced most of it just stemmed from Dean being an overprotective jackass.

Behind him, Dean sighed, tsking and shaking his head one more time.

"I'll have some beer waiting when you get back," he said gruffly before turning on his heel and departing, leaving a sizeable puddle and his disappointment in his wake.

Sam sighed before tapping his phone against the table. He'd been played for a fool just like Dean had said, and the worst part was that he had only himself to blame. Dean was right; he shouldn't have even had her number in the first place! He should've just deleted it (and maybe received a new one of his own for good measure) and moved on with his life. Instead, he’d kept it, and Jess had wormed her way back into his mind like a parasite.

He knew the whole thing was bad; really, he did. They had had a fairytale start to their relationship, originally bonding over their shared hometown of Lawrence, Kansas. Differing majors in college hadn’t kept them apart, and she’d been such a sweetheart that Sam couldn’t help but get to know her. Everything had seemed perfect until about six months in when her true colors began to show.

She became demanding and more than a little jealous; always asking him where he was and accusing him of cheating when he was just hanging out with Dean or some friends. Sweet quickly turned sour, and their relationship deteriorated so quickly it still had Sam's head spinning. By what was supposed to have been their one-year anniversary, they had broken up or were supposed to have been at least. Jess liked to string him along over text, or sometimes he’d hear along the grapevine that she wanted him back. She was always there in some way, never really leaving his life.

Sam couldn’t help it though. Whenever he thought of Jess, he couldn’t help but remember the good times they’d had, and how sweet and lovely she’d been in those early months. It was hard for him to mesh that image of her with the ‘manipulative shrew’ (Dean’s words, not his) that kept trying to wreak havoc in his life.

After eyeing the empty seat opposite him and then glancing around at the restaurant (and all the whispering, watchful patrons), Sam decided that enough was enough. He wasn’t going to keep waiting for Jess like an idiot, and he most certainly wasn’t going to let her know how long he had waited for her. The next time the waiter showed up, he'd ask for a check and skedaddle with as much of his dented pride as he could. If he left soon, he might be able to persuade Dean to pull out some stronger liquor tonight and maybe fry up some of his comfort burgers.

And then I’ll finally listen to Dean and change my number tomorrow, so there’s no possible way Jess can reach me.

Just as the waiter began to make his rounds and Sam had scrounged up what remained of his dignity (he was surprised he had any left), a man dressed in what looked like a black silk shirt covered in gold baroque strolled up through the aisle. He was shorter in stature and on the stockier side, with slicked back hair that was either blonde or brown. Sam couldn't tell in the muted, yellow lighting of the restaurant, but if he had to take a guess, it was probably some shade in between.

The shirt was what caught Sam's eye, as it was easily the most striking item in the austere restaurant. In the sea of conservative, normal colors and patterns, the man stood out like a beacon, and as his eyes traveled further, Sam realized his shirt wasn't the only thing that made him stick out.

Maybe it was just the lighting or the gold shimmering on his shirt, but the man's eyes were a captivating shade of amber that, in that instant, looked very bright and yellow.

"I am so, so sorry honey," the golden-eyed stranger said loudly, drawing the attention of the closest patrons as he slid into the seat opposite him. Up close, Sam could spot a very expensive looking gold watch on his wrist and the gleam of a thin, matching chain around his neck, "Traffic was ridiculous today, and you know how panicked the employees get on Saturdays when I leave them. Honestly, they can’t even fend for themselves."

Sam blinked as the man leaned in and grasped his hand, lowering his voice as the waiter approached.

"Whoever stood you up is a fucking cunt kiddo. Just go with it, alright?"

The words were accompanied by a wink and reassuring smile before the man leaned back casually and turned to face the waiter.

“Your best merlot to start us off, if you would. Oh, and there’s no rush; we have some catching up to do anyway.”

With these words, the man intertwined their fingers pointedly, and the alert waiter took the subtle hint as he nodded and backed away without a word.

Sam blinked down at the smaller, tanner hand he was now holding before looking up at the man. His confusion must have been very evident because the man chuckled and patted his hand with his free one before letting go.

“Gabriel Milton, at your service,” he said with a grand sweep of his arms. The mischievous and almost roguish smirk that graced his face seemed to be a trademark of his, as Sam didn’t think he’d ever see someone make a smirk look quite like that, “It seems like I’m your date tonight, Mr.…”

It took Sam an embarrassingly long moment to realize he was supposed to fill in the blank.

“Oh, uh, Sam. Winchester,” he said with a faint flush, “Sam Winchester.”

Gabriel waggled his eyebrows, eyes lighting up as he folded his hands together and tucked them under his chin.

“Sam, huh?” he said, practically purring his name.

Sam shifted under the sudden intensity of his golden stare, suddenly feeling a bit warm as Gabriel smiled a smile that looked very different from his smirk, but no less dangerous.

“I can work with that.”

Those five words definitely had Sam feeling warm, though he wasn’t sure why. Yes, there was a flirty tone to it, but he’d never been attracted to men before. Hell, he could count the amount of one night stands he’d had on one hand, and he hadn’t been on a date since he’d broken up with Jess.

Those gold eyes were pulling him in though, and Sam found that he didn’t really mind. Gabriel had saved him a lot of humiliation, and who was he to deny help given so freely? The man had put himself out on the line in an attempt to help him, so it was only right that Sam went along with their little charade. After all, things could be far worse.

So, with that, Sam decided to make this as enjoyable of an experience as possible and offered his own edged smile as he responded with, “I’m sure you will.”

Gabriel looked taken aback for a second before he beamed.

“I’m liking you more and more, Sam Winchester,” he said, biting his lip for a second before suddenly grabbing his hand, “Waiter’s coming up.”

They sipped on some wine while Gabriel played with his hand. Sam found that he didn’t mind the touch as much as he thought he should’ve. Maybe if it had been coming from someone less charismatic and charming as Gabriel, but it wasn’t, so Sam couldn’t find a reason to say anything against it. Gabriel’s hand was warm and his fingers deft as they traced idle patterns against his skin and sought out his pulse. It was intimate in a strange sort of way, but also remarkably innocent.

"How old are you, exactly?" Sam asked out of the blue when their wine glasses were emptying. He promptly blushed afterward at his abruptness, but Gabriel only laughed.

“Take a guess kiddo.”

Sam squinted slightly at the man, studying his face properly for the first time since Gabriel had sat down.

He was older than him, that was for sure. He had faint crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes; enough to show that he smiled a lot and nothing more. The most predominant physical quality he had was gold: amber eyes, naturally tanned skin, golden hair. All of it made for a striking appearance and gave him a more youthful edge that was only accentuated by the baroque on his shirt. Baroque was flashy though, and while Gabriel pulled it off well, Sam didn’t think it was a fashion staple of older men.

“Late 20s,” Sam mused, trailing his fingers along the stem of his wine glass, “26 or 27?”

Gabriel hummed, a content smile gracing his face, “28. Well done Sam-a-lam.”

Sam arched a questioning eyebrow at the nickname, but the man only smiled wider and sipped his wine.

“You, on the other hand, are probably not a day over 21,” Gabriel remarked, gesturing to the Winchester with his wine glass, “Couldn’t be any younger since we’re drinking, but if I hadn’t known that I would’ve said you were 18 or 19. Are you still in school?”

“I start my last year of law school in the fall,” Sam confirmed, and Gabriel sat up in interest.

“Oh really? How did you choose to be a lawyer of all things?”

Now feeling much more secure with the situation (it helped that he wasn't being given pitying gazes by the patrons and staff anymore), Sam told all over wine and appetizers. However, instead of keeping it to his usual ‘I wanted to help people' explanation, he began with his childhood of all things, telling Gabriel his original desire to prove he could be something more than just a ‘Winchester' when he was younger, and that a lawyer seemed like the best way to go at it.

“A ‘Winchester’?” the golden-eyed man asked curiously with air quotes, and Sam shrugged.

“Winchesters aren’t lawyers, that’s for sure,” he replied wryly, and Gabriel hummed before gesturing for him to continue.

Tracing his original, half-cocked idea of becoming a lawyer to the ambition that eventually led him to Stanford, Sam told all. It wasn't the wine making him; no, he was barely feeling a buzz from the alcohol. He wasn't really sure what it was, but he thought it was maybe the man sitting across from him listening without a single look of judgment or scorn. If anything, Gabriel seemed engaged and interested, almost as if he were treating this like a real date.

“What a story kiddo!” he exclaimed before Sam could continue down that thought path, “Makes me want to get my life together, and I think I have it pretty neat and tidy. Does your story inspire everyone when you tell it?”

“Well, I usually don’t tell it like that,” Sam admitted, tugging at his shirt cuff, “I think you’re the first person I’ve ever told that much detail to.”

Gabriel looked pleasantly surprised, but before he could say anything, the waiter arrived with their menus.

“I’ll cover it, darling,” the older man said as Sam flipped through the menu.

The Winchester looked up sharply, and Gabriel pinned him with a pointed look before smiling sweetly.

“This was my idea to begin with, and I was late to boot,” he remarked before turning to the waiter and loud whispering, “If I don’t cover the check, he’ll make me sleep on the couch.”

The waiter smiled politely as Sam scowled, blushing fiercely as he placed an order for a chicken and pasta dish.

“Not my fault you can’t bother to be on time, dear,” he grumbled, playing on with the charade as Gabriel ordered some medium rare steak.

He could feel Gabriel’s eyes on him but kept his gaze on the menu as he sniffed haughtily. Two could play at this game.

“On second thought, I think you should leave the bottle,” Gabriel quipped with a sigh, “It seems I’m in the doghouse already.”

Someone at a neighboring table snickered, and the waiter refilled their wine glasses before collecting their menus.

“Who really stood you up, Sammy?” Gabriel asked as he leaned in, so they wouldn’t be overheard. With him came the smell of the merlot they were drinking and the subtle scent of spicy cologne, and Sam found himself leaning just a fraction to match instead of protesting the second (or third?) nickname he’d been given.

“It’s…a long story, Gabriel,” he muttered, watching as the man’s amber irises flicked down to his lips. Was the man really interested in him?

Gabriel propped his chin in one hand before reaching out with the other to sweep of strand off his cheek, warm fingers brushing along his skin in a faint caress that ended just as soon as it was started.

“I have plenty of time,” he responded, his breath fanning across his face in a warm and sweet arc, “And call me Gabe.”

Sam stared at him for a moment, debating whether or not he should tell Gabriel-Gabe, about the mess he’d gotten himself into with Jess. The man’s hand drifted down to his shirt collar, smoothing what Sam knew didn’t need to be smoothed out.

What’s the harm in telling him? He hasn’t judged you at all at any point in this little charade of ours, so why would he now?

“All right, Gabe,” Sam said with a bit of a smirk before pulling away (close proximity to Gabe was a very bad idea), “Jess is the ‘fucking cunt’ that stood me up, but this hasn’t been my first rodeo run with her.”

“Why do I get the sense I’m going to hate this Jess character even more than I already do?”

“You probably will. My brother despises her,” Sam remarked before scratching his neck, “I know this is all going to sound really bad and make me look pathetic, but in the beginning, everything was good…”

Telling Gabriel about Jess was…less awkward then he’d expected. There were moments where Sam stumbled over his words because there were points where he really wasn’t sure how to explain to Gabe the tumultuous relationship he’d had with her without making himself look like a dumbass, but the further he progressed and talked things through, he realized two things.

Exhibit A: He had been a dumbass when he came to Jess. Sure, their relationship falling apart wasn’t on him, but everything after what was supposed to be a clean break up was. He'd let himself get caught up in her antics when in reality he should've stayed well away from her. There was no way to sugarcoat it.

Exhibit B: Gabe wasn’t judging him for being a dumbass. There was definitely disappointment at how he handled recent things with Jess (texting her post-breakup had earned him an aggrieved sigh), but Gabe didn’t seem disgusted or frustrated with his relationship idiocy.

“…and that’s how I got here, sitting at this table like a moron.” He finished, sighing as he slumped back in this seat, “You know, putting it out there like that made me really realize how dumb I’ve been.”

“Talking things out tends to do that,” Gabe said sagely before his eyes slid over to some point behind him and he smiled, “But now the lady taking pictures of us from the bar makes a lot more sense.”

Sam stiffened, and the older man tutted before grabbing his hand, his seemingly innocent looking grip masking the real strength he was gripping him with.

“Ah, ah, we can’t let her know she’s been caught out,” he murmured, “I have the beginnings of a plan brewing, but it all depends on if you want revenge against Jess or not.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, and Gabe pinned him with a searching look.

“You’re a good kid, with a big heart,” he said bluntly, a small smile gracing his face, “And there’s nothing wrong with that, but you might not want to get revenge against your ex because of it.”

His face was different; more serious and harder. Gone was the joking, extroverted stranger that had put him at ease with his winks and listening ear. Sam was catching a glimpse of what he thought was a very important facet of Gabe’s personality, and while it was intimidating as hell to see the pint-sized guy look so dead set on dishing out karma, it wasn’t scary. If anything, it just made Sam curious to see what the man was capable of. He was well aware that throughout the course of the evening Gabe had revealed next to nothing about himself, and maybe this was an opportunity to learn something about him.

Why Sam wanted to know so bad, he didn't know, but it wasn't every day that something like this happened to him, and for once Sam just wanted to see where the chips fell. Besides, tonight had been the last straw when it came to Jess, and he wasn’t feeling too charitable towards her anymore. She deserved some comeuppance.

“Don’t let me stop you from having a good time,” Sam replied, and Gabe arched an eyebrow before smirking devilishly, eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” he said, sounding truly eager, “Now, do you happen to know any leggy redheads?”

Sam bit his lip, frowning momentarily before scoffing in disbelief and pulling out his phone, quickly opening his Instagram and pulling up a picture.

“This her?” he asked, showing him the picture, and Gabe nodded.

“Yup. She’s wearing a LBD with some obnoxiously scuffed up pumps at the bar, and she’s taking pictures with her phone.”

"Then we're dealing with Anna, one of Jess' close friends," Sam said distastefully as he sipped some wine, "She comes off as holier than thou, but she doesn't get her roughed up knees from praying, that's for sure."

Gabe roared with laughter, the hearty sound drawing the attention of several patrons as he just laughed. It startled Sam enough that he nearly dropped his wineglass before he processed what he’d just said and blushed slightly, ducking his head to hide behind his hair as Gabe reached for the wine bottle.

“You’re a little spitfire, aren’t you?” he asked as he poured himself a healthy serving of wine, “God, this evening just keeps getting better and better.”

Sam blushed harder as Gabe grinned and toasted him with his glass.

He’s kind of hot when he grins like that.

Luckily the waiter showed up with their meals before Sam could embarrass himself any further, and the two men tucked into their meals with an appetite reserved for those with an eagerness for the activities to come after the meal.

“So, before you explain your ingenious plan to get back at my ex,” the Winchester began, pointedly using the term ‘ex’ instead of ‘Jess’ (it was a start at least), “Do you mind if I learned a little more about you besides your name and the fact that you like gold?”

Gabe looked up from his steak before shrugging and gesturing with his silverware for him to continue.

“Ask whatever you want. This is a date after all.”

Sam ignored the man’s flirtatious smile in lieu of asking the questions that he’d been meaning to ask ever since Gabe had sat down.

“What’s your career? You’re dressed pretty flamboyantly, but it suits you so don’t take offense,” Sam added hurriedly, “And why are you snickering at me now?”

Gabe was trying to hide his laughter behind his wineglass, but the man quickly gave up pretenses, waving a hand as he took a deep breath.

“Oh, I’m sorry kiddo, it’s just that I don’t think I’ve met someone that hasn’t had an inkling of what I do.”

“Wait-are you famous or something?” Sam hissed furtively as he leaned in, his mind racing with the possibilities. What was Gabe even famous for, and if he was, would they end up in the tabloids or something? This could throw a major wrench in their revenge plans; Sam just wanted to get back at Jess, not end up entangled in some sordid celebrity news!

Me, wining and dining with a celebrity? It’s the end of the world!

Gabe shrugged lackadaisically, “Something like that. Ever heard of a nightclub called the Fallen Angel?”

Sam’s eyes widened, “No way. Do you-“

“I do,” Gabe confirmed, “Say hello to the owner of the most exclusive nightclub in the city.”

If Sam was a less intelligent person, he would’ve let his jaw drop to hit the table. He was incredibly tempted to gape like an idiot but managed to control himself as he scrambled for something to say.

“What-wait, you’re the Trickster?”

“In the flesh,” Gabe said with a winsome smile, and Sam stared before grabbing his water glass and chugging it.

“I’ve had too much wine, and I’m imagining things,” he muttered, feeling himself going into a state of shock just considering the idea that he was sitting across from the infamous Trickster.

The Trickster was a celebrity infamous for putting Lawrence on the map. His nightclub had drawn in so much business that people didn’t really care that it had been a nightclub that had breathed life back into the city. Despite his social media and constant presence in the Fallen Angel, little was actually known about him. There were so many rumors surrounding him that it was hard to separate the grandiose myth from the actual man.

“Nope, I’m very real,” Gabe, no, the Trickster, quipped, “If you want, after we exact revenge, we can go back to the Fallen Angel?”

"No, I can't-wait, for real?" Sam asked in disbelief, "That place is like-like the playground for the gods or something. I’d have to kill someone just to be able to stand in line to get in!”

“Well, tonight’s your lucky night,” Gabe said cheekily, “But enough about boring little me. Let’s delve into how we’re going to get back at your bitch of an ex!”

Sam thought ‘boring’ was the absolute wrong adjective to describe Gabe but continued on reluctantly.

“What are we going to do?” he asked suspiciously.

"Well, take things up a notch if it's ok with you," Gabe responded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "There are two things we can do here. Plan A is we can continue to act lovey-dovey before we head back to the Fallen Angel, where I will make a tell-all Instagram post exposing you as my ‘secret lover'. Plan B is that we leave, but confront Anna outside, because I’m pretty sure she’s not taking pictures for just Jess to look at.”

At the second part, Gabe seemed truly sympathetic as he looked at him with soft eyes, and Sam froze as he processed the implications.

“You don’t think…actually no, I wouldn’t put it past her,” he said with a bitter laugh. Gabe probably got hounded by paparazzi and fake people all the time, so who better to speak on the subject than him? “Can you pull up Instagram? I have her blocked.”

Gabe handed over his phone without a word, but Sam could see him glaring over in Anna’s direction as he pulled up Instagram and quickly searched up Jess.

The most recent post was a picture of him posted about half an hour ago of him talking to the waiter. The caption was short and to the point, but it still turned Sam’s stomach as he read it.

Set up my ex for laughs @ The Jewel. Like I’d ever get back with his boring ass rofl.

There was one comment beneath the picture, and Sam pulled it up automatically, dreading what it said.

He recognized the username immediately and chuckled incredulously as he read the comment.

“You ok Sam?” Gabe asked in concern, and the Winchester shook his head, unable to vocalize what he was feeling at the moment.

“It’s just Charlie. One of my brother’s friend isn’t very pleased with Jess,” he said, handing Gabe back his phone to let him read what Charlie had written.

@blondiejess: You just crossed a line. How can you be so cruel? Dean's going to come for your ass, but not before I do!

Gabe chuckled before looking at the post, where his face instantly darkened. It was a jarring shift, and Sam suddenly felt uneasy as the man’s smooth, unreadable face took in the post.

“Who’s Dean?” he asked, his forced attempt at a pleasant tone only adding to the sudden nervousness Sam felt.

“Uh, my older brother. He hates Jess,” he replied, and Gabe hummed noncommittally.

“Then he’s a smart guy,” he said distractedly, “Sam, I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to, but right now I’d really, really like to go with Plan A and give the bitch a taste of her own medicine.”

Jess had genuinely pissed him off; Sam could tell by Gabe’s tone of voice and the tenseness in his jaw, and he didn’t blame him. Sam himself was pretty pissed off (and a little hurt too) over how cruel she’d been, but what he didn’t understand was why Gabe was taking it so personally. They had only met an hour ago for Christ’s sake!

“You really want to help me get back at her?” he asked, and Gabe nodded gravely.

Sam looked into the man’s anger darkened eyes, only seeing genuine anticipation over what decision he’d make, and a strange amount of concern.

He really cares about this. And maybe a little about me too.

“Then we’re going Plan A all the way,” he proclaimed, his anger fueling his determination.

Gabe smiled wolfishly before grasping his hand and planting a cheeky kiss of triumph on the back of it. His lips were warm and soft, eyes alight with mischief and glee at Sam’s choice.

“Plan A it is,” he said as Sam blushed, “Your ex won’t know what hit her.”

Since this oneshot ended up being just shy of 15K, the whole thing won’t be going up here, so here’s the first part! Check out the links in my profile if you want to read the whole story.

#supernatural #fanfiction #oneshot #sabriel #Sam Winchester #gabriel #SPN #fake date #excerpt from my writing #fanfiction.net #ao3 #au

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iluvsexyvoltageguys · 6 years

Text

Earn The Right To Cum

Zyglavis x Reader x Scorpio

@justjen523 here’s part of your Christmas present 🎁 😈

“Jesus Zyglavis! You about gave me a heart attack!” You yelled glaring at him and the other two Punishment gods, all of whom looked entirely unrepentant. They had appeared unexpectedly in your apartment. With a huff of frustration you turned your back on them storming off towards the bedroom. Zyglavis followed you around the corner, eyes firmly planted on your ass showcased to perfection in the yoga pants you were sporting. Scorpio and Dui split off towards the kitchen, quite comfortable in what was practically their second home. With his strides much longer than yours, Zyglavis overtook you just inside the bedroom door, grabbing you and pushing you against the wall next to the doorway.

“Knock it off Zyglavis. I’m not in the mood for your shit.” You spat pushing against his chest with the palms of your hands. “Come on, ______, why are you being such a bitch?” He teased, leaning forward to nip the side of your neck earning a growl of frustration from you. His hand snaked up to run his fingers thru your silky hair making you yank your head away from his roaming fingers. “What? You think you can just waltz in here unannounced and scare the shit out of me and then just come rubbin’ up on me?” You asked sarcastically. Zyglavis’ smirk said that was exactly what he thought leaning forward to capture your plump pink lips in a passionate kiss only to have his bottom lip caught by your sharp teeth. Pain rocketed through his lip as he pulled away from you with a snarl.

You quickly found yourself pinned to the wall with Zyglavis’ hand wrapped tightly around your throat. Gone was the playful man of moments ago, a fierce fire burning in his almost black eyes as his lip turned up in a sneer. “Is that how we’re going to play?” he asked, his voice low and gravely. You glared back at him meeting his fierce stare with your own. “I had a long day at work and I just wanted to come home and see my goddess and I get attitude?” He questioned. “How about a headsup?” You said. “It’s not that hard. Send me a message. Something.” You snapped back at him. “It’s my house, too. I do not have to announce when I’m coming home.” Zyglavis reminded you. His eyes searched yours, “What’s the matter, ______, expecting someone else? Am I interrupting your plans?” His hand tightened on your throat. He didn’t believe his words for a second, he was just getting into the moment, fueling the fire between the both of you. “I should.” You gasped back with a smirk. “Find someone to fuck me properly.” Your grin widened when his fist again clenched involuntarily. You loved provoking these reactions from him. “Aww..Are you not getting fucked good enough?” Zyglavis murmured pulling you from the wall by the throat and tossing you haphazardly on the bed.

“Why don’t you go play with your friends?” You said sitting up and stroking your hands down your body. “I’ve got more than enough experience in taking care of myself. I’m very good at it.” Zyglavis’ eyes darkened as he followed the path of your hands as they skimmed over your breasts, teasing your nipples through the sports bra you wore and down your stomach, coming to a rest between your legs, index finger stroking along the noticeably wet patch on your leggings. “Stop.” He commanded. “I didn’t say you could touch yourself.” You arched a taunting eyebrow as you slowly and deliberately slid your hand into your pants, eyes closing as pleasure coursed through you. Before you could do much, your wrist’s progress was stopped by Zyglavis’ vice like grip. Your eyes flew open meeting his furious gaze. You whimpered as he pulled your hand out and yanked hard, flipping you onto your stomach and wrenching the hand behind your back. You struggled making Zyglavis press his knee into the small of your back to keep you still as he removed his belt from his pants. Despite your best efforts you soon found your hands bound behind your back by his belt. Zyglavis tugged you up by the hips, keeping you face down on the mattress and ass up in the air.

“You know better than to push me,______.” Zyglavis said kneeling down on the side of the bed to look you in the face. Seeing the fire still burning in your eyes he shook his head ruefully, a smirk turning up the corners of his lips. “Fuck you Zyglavis!” You glared at him managing to sound indignant even in your undignified position. Zyglavis gave a disappointed shake of his head before rising to his feet. You tried to watch his moves as he moved to the foot of the bed. With one swift movement your leggings were stripped and tossed over his shoulder leaving your ass exposed to his view.

Smack! You yelped as his hand smacked your ass with a loud thwack. Zyglavis paused expectantly for a second before landing another blow. Another whimper escaped you as he again paused before shaking his head in disappointment and issuing a third smack, the hardest yet. “Did you forget how this works, ____?” he asked snidely when he still received no response. “I spank you, you count and thank me.” He said, glaring at you. You groaned in irritation for having forgotten that rule. You started to apologize, but your inner minx stopped you. You were in a mood tonight and you were going to push his buttons as much as you could. See what he would do. “Go to hell.” You bit out. You screamed as his hand slapped down brutally, almost making you collapse from the force. You missed the small grin that appeared on Zyglavis’ face at your words. He loved it when you got feisty. This continued for a few more minutes, Zyglavis continually swatting your behind as you refused to give him the satisfaction of the response he wanted.

Scorpio suddenly appeared in the doorway only to quickly cover his eyes after he got a full view of your upturned ass and pussy. “I didn’t know your fuckin’ door was open.” You tensed at the man’s voice, face heating up in embarrassment at what he must have seen. As you thought of Scorpio walking in and seeing your hand print covered ass you squeezed your thighs together as a rush of pleasure surged through you, a reaction Zyglavis definitely noticed. “Hold up Scorpio.” Zyglavis called to his vice minister who was trying to make a quick exit. “Don’t worry about it. We don’t mind, do we, _____?” Zyglavis asked, grabbing a handful of your ass and giving it a squeeze. “No.. no.” You stuttered hesitantly. You weren’t adverse to Scorpio seeing you like this, but it was humiliating as hell. And Zyglavis knew that was one of your biggest turn ons and you had a feeling he was going to exploit that right now if he could get Scorpio to cooperate. You were nervous, but nowhere near the level of using your safe word. Being honest you were extremely curious where Zyglavis was going with this.

“Doesn’t she look good, Scorpio?” Zyglavis asked smirking as Scorpio kept his eyes firmly covered. “You can look Scorpio. I swear I’m not going to be mad.” Scorpio slowly lowered his hand glancing at Zyglavis for confirmation, needing to make sure his superior was really inviting him to check out his girlfriend. At Zyglavis’ nod Scorpio turned his attention to you. He could honestly say he had never thought he would see you like this. Not that he didn’t want to, because you were gorgeous. He knew you and Zyglavis were into some kinky shit.

“What do you think?” Zyglavis asked moving to stand next to Scorpio as he ran his appraising glance over you. “She, uh...looks fuckin’ good...I guess” Scorpio admitted, the blush on his cheeks getting deeper and he felt his dick hardening in his pants, “Real good.” He said and looked away. “Yes she does.” Zyglavis agreed, “She can be a fucking bitch though.” Zyglavis added. Scorpio chuckled, “So you’ve said...Guess I better let you get back to settin’ her straight.” He said, once again moving to leave. “You can watch.” Zyglavis offered, smirking as Scorpio froze in place. Zyglavis’ eyes flickered to you and you shifted uncomfortably but didn’t offer any protest. He again noticed you squeezing your thighs together a telltale sign of your arousal.

“W-What?” Scorpio asked Zyglavis, turning back into the room. “Why don’t you take a seat in that chair over there?” Zyglavis pointed. “It’ll give you a great view.” He grabbed a protesting Scorpio by the arm and pulled him to the chair situated in the corner of the room. Scorpio has no choice but to sit and watch. He adjusted his growing erection taking in the view. The chair was positioned along the side of the bed so he was looking right at your flushed face pressed into the comforter. “Now, _____, you have an audience. Do not embarrass me.” Zyglavis said resuming his position at the foot of the bed. “Show Scorpio you know how to be a good girl.” Zyglavis released a solid slap onto your firm cheek, lips tightening when you didn’t immediately count. Finally as he raised his hand to deliver another blow you spat out “One. Thank you, sir.”

The process continued, Zyglavis growing irritated as you waited til the last second on every spank to count. With a huff of frustration Zyglavis stepped back from the bed, quickly removing his pants and boxers before moving to stand on the side of the bed opposite to where Scorpio was sitting. “Turn to me.” Zyglavis commanded. “Keep your ass up, give Scorpio a nice view of that pretty pussy of yours.” You struggled to get into the demanded position with your hands bound behind your back, acutely aware that Scorpio now had a direct view of your ass and pussy. He was surely going to be able to see just how wet you were. Zyglavis grabbed a handful of your hair holding your upper body in position as he placed his cock at your lips.

“Just the tip.” He told you. You obediently opened your lips, sucking his tip into your mouth and swirling your tongue along his slit. Zyglavis tightened his grip in your hair as you hummed around him, the vibrations shooting down his shaft. “Now all of it. Show Scorpio what a good little cocksucker you are.” Zyglavis said glancing up to see Scorpio palming himself through his pants. Seemed like he was enjoying the show. As you progressed to Zyglavis roughly fucking your mouth, the sounds of your gags filled the room as tears leaked out of your eyes as you struggled to get breath as he abused your throat. You couldn’t even steady yourself with your hands bound, leaving you completely at his mercy, of which he was showing you none.

Eventually Scorpio unzipped his pants, pulling his throbbing cock out and stroking it as he watched Zyglavis violate you. His eyes focused on your pussy as he stroked his length. Every time Zyglavis pulled you lower on his dick your pussy spread open giving Scorpio a peek inside. With a satisfied sigh Zyglavis pulled out of your mouth with a grin. “Now this is normally the part where I would bury my face in your sweet cunt and make you scream.” Zyglavis said with a chuckle. “But since you decided to be a bitch I don’t think I’m going to let you cum.” You made a distressed sound of protest. You were already so damn worked up just from sucking his cock and knowing Scorpio was watching you.

Zyglavis reached behind you, undoing the belt binding your hands and you quickly moved your arms to the front shaking them out and rubbing your wrists before turning to Zyglavis and pouting your lower lip out. “Please Zig?” You tried making your eyes wide and pleading. “No.” he said firmly, “You damn sure haven’t earned the right to an orgasm. You couldn’t even take your punishment properly.” You glared at him, “You can’t stop me.” You said hotly before you thought better of it. “The hell I can’t.” Zyglavis responded. You shrunk back when he climbed onto the bed, stalking you until you crashed into the headboard. “Where are you going to go now?” he taunted trapping you between his arms. You shrieked in surprise when he grabbed you by the thighs pulling you down to lay flat underneath him. Zyglavis shoved his cock into you, gliding in easily as you were soaked. It didn’t take long for you to be gasping and pleading under him as he masterfully brought you to the brink of orgasm only to deny you. From his chair Scorpio watched the interplay, stroking and twisting his dick, coming with a grunt just before Zyglavis came with a final thrust leaving you aching for more.

“Look what you did to Scorpio.” Zyglavis said to you as he glanced over his shoulder, seeing him with his head back in the chair, eyes closed, his hand and cock covered with cum. Scorpio opened his eyes and gave a lazy shrug, the corner of his lip turning up in a smirk. “What? That was hot as fuck.” He said. “You got a towel I can clean myself off with?” he asked. Zyglavis nodded absently his gaze finding you on the bed, body still flushed with arousal. “I’ve got something better.” Zyglavis suddenly said. “_____, go clean Scorpio up.” He ordered smiling as he heard your shocked gasp. Glancing at Scorpio he saw the man’s eyes were widened in surprise, but clear want was on his face. “Wha…what?” You stuttered eyes darting to Scorpio and then back to Zyglavis.

“You heard me. Scorpio made a mess because of you. You need to clean it up.” He repeated. “You have five seconds to be on your knees for him.” You darted across the bed as Zyglavis began counting, falling to your knees in between Scorpio’s legs. A red blush spread across his face as you knelt, your pussy throbbing in arousal. You reached out hesitantly grabbing Scorpio’s wrist and pulling it towards your mouth, your eyes drawn to the thick cum coating his fingers. Your tongue darted out, swiping along Scorpio’s thumb to catch the liquid. At Scorpio’s encouraging moan you sucked his thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the digit ensuring you got every drop of cum off of him. “Eye contact, _____.” Zyglavis told you, taking a seat on the bed and idly stroking his cock as he watched. He was glad he didn’t feel an ounce of jealousy at the sight of you pleasing Scorpio, something which surprised him. He usually hated men even looking at you much less flirting with you, but he was quite content to sit back and watch.

Your eyes raised to meet Scorpio’s gaze as you sucked his index finger into your mouth. Scorpio groaned as you twirled your tongue around before popping the finger out and giving it a long sensuous lick. Your tongue bathed his hand, stroking over his knuckles until every last trace of cum was cleaned off. With a deep breath your eyes dropped from Scorpio’s face, darting to look at his semi hard cock, which was glistening with cum. “You gonna suck my cock clean for me?” Scorpio spoke his first words to you since this all started. “Wrap those pretty lips around my dick while your boyfriend watches.” The command in his voice strikes you right between the legs and you clench your thighs together in an effort to get the desired friction.

“Make Scorpio feel real good and I just might let you cum after.” Zyglavis spoke up, increasing the pressure of his strokes as he watched you grip the dick of his friend. With the added incentive you eagerly slid Scorpio’s thickness into your mouth. It felt strange at first. You hadn’t pleasured anyone else since you met Zyglavis, but it didn’t take long to get into it and enjoy the differences between the two men. The fact that Zyglavis sat behind you watching you please Scorpio added to your excitement.

“Come here.” Zyglavis demanded when you were finished with Scorpio. You spun around to see Zyglavis standing behind you, hurriedly stroking his cock. Recognizing the look on his face you opened your mouth, feeling the first spurts of cum the second his dick touched your tongue. As you swallowed, Zyglavis turned to look at Scorpio who had tucked himself back into his pants. “Do you think she earned the right to cum?” Zyglavis asked, leaving it up to Scorpio. “I think so.” He said to your relief, before a devilish smile graced his face. “But, I think she should have to do it herself.“ Your eyes widened, “No!” You protested. It just wasn’t the same as when Zyglavis did it. Sure you could get off, but it was nowhere near as good as when Zyglavis ate you out or used his fingers. “I think that sounds fitting.” Zyglavis agreed ignoring your protest. “You can go ahead and get yourself off.” He said walking out of the room with Scorpio. Passing by the kitchen they saw Dui eating cherry pie, just as Scorpio had left him so long ago.

#scm smut #star crossed myth smut #zyglavis smut #scorpio smut #voltage inc fanfiction #voltage inc smut #scm #star crossed myth #zyglavis #scorpio

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speckledspout · 7 years

Text

Sam could practically feel the music thrumming through the house, even from where he stood outside on the sidewalk, looking up at the house that he would never belong in. Dean’s standing right next to him and for the first time that Sam has ever seen, he actually looked nervous.

He was chewing at the corner of his lip, his shoulders most certainly curving inward as if he was trying to make himself seem smaller. Dean never tried to make himself seem smaller. But dad’s jacket was hanging off of him and there was a spark behind his eyes and while he was nervous, there seemed to be more life in him than what Sam had seen in a while.

Sam jumped as Dean turned to him, grabbing his shoulder making sure that Sam had his undivided attention. “Listen... tonight... we’re not brothers. Alright.” Dean’s voice was tight and Sam felt something twist in his stomach. “In there...” Dean pointed towards the house. “We are not related. We don’t know each other. Just two guys who happened to show up at the same time.”

Not brothers. That’s what Dean wanted and that hurt because Sam defined himself as being Dean’s brother. People knew him as Dean’s brother and now Dean was just asking for...

Dean must have read something on Sam’s face because his shoulders hunched forward a little more and Dean turned his body even more so that he was now standing directly in front of Sam.

“Listen Sam... it’s just... just pretend, alright? For me? Just for tonight. I mean...” He rubbed the back of his neck, taking a small step away from Sam, a sign that he was uncomfortable. Maybe it was better if Sam had just stayed back in the motel room. Why did he have to beg for Dean to take him along? He didn’t want to go in the first place. “I haven’t been invited to a party before and I don’t want...”

“To be seen with your dorky little brother.” Sam finished so Dean wouldn’t have to and Dean shot his head up, looking at Sam, eyes wide. He opened him mouth as if he was going to say something else but Sam beat him before he could. “It’s okay, Dean. I understand. I don’t know you. We’re not related and you’re not dragging along your little brother.”

And with that, Sam marched inside before Dean could say anything else to make things worse.

There weren’t many people inside or at least not as many people as he thought that there would be. No one even questioned why he was there, they handed him a red solo cup full of something that smelled so insanely sweet mixed with the bitter smell of alcohol. He wasn’t going to drink of it.

It was easy to forget about Dean or at least it was easy to shove him in the back of his mind and not think about the fact that in public, surrounded by their peers, he didn’t want to be seen as Sam’s brother. Sam was just a weight, something that he was forced to care for, an obligation that he rather ignore.

He listened to the music that was blasting around him, took a couple of sips of the drink that was in his hand (because lets be honest, he was going to leave the party at least a little buzzed) and a pretty little blonde managed to get him off the walls and got him to dance or what she considered dancing which was her more or less grinding up against Sam, smelling heavily of booze and cheap perfume.

He was able to forget about Dean up until the moment that the girl grabbed him by the hand and pulled him outside to the back patio where there was a handful of people, all sitting cross legged in a circle, a bottle in the middle of them and very suddenly Sam wanted to run.

There was a boy sitting across from Sam, an easy smile on his lips as a leather jacket hung from his broad shoulders. He had one leg extending out in front of him, the other bent while his arm rested limply on top of it. Every once in a while he would lean over and whisper into the ear of the redhead that was sitting next to him and she would giggle and blush as she looked at the spinning bottle, watching it fall on the next victim.

Sam was lucky or at least he consider himself lucky because never once did the bottle point towards him. He didn’t have to stand in the middle of the circle, feeling the eyes of the boy wearing the leather watch him as he kissed someone he didn’t even know.

That was until all the fates decided that they were going to pack up Sam’s misfortune all in one go.

He spun the bottle, wishing and praying to every being that he could think of that the end of the bottle wouldn’t land on the boy that was sitting in front of him and for a moment, it looked like it wasn’t going to. Sam was going to be spared the embarrassment of stumbling over himself to stand in the middle of the circle, pressed close to that boy but slowly it came to a stop just like Sam’s heart did.

Sam stared at the bottle, not daring to look up. He could already feel his face heating up at what was about to happen.

He was going to kiss this boy, his brother and it was going to be in front of all these people and they would be none the wiser because no on knew that they were related but Sam would know and it would stay with him for the rest of his life.

That the only reason why Dean would actually kiss him is because they were playing some stupid game where everyone was drunk or at least buzzed and Sam was the only sober one to realize just how stupid of a game this was.

However, Dean seemed completely unfazed by it. He stood up, coming to stop in the middle of everyone and he looked down at Sam who was still refusing to look up, his bangs hanging in his eyes.

“Come on, Sam.” Someone hissed.

They knew his name. How did they know his name? Did he tell them when he first sat down? He couldn’t remember and he couldn’t even think to remember with the blood rushing past his ears.

“Just kiss him already.” Someone else joined it, sounding annoyed that Sam was drawing this out. He was making this awkward and even Dean, with his plastered on confidence was started to get second thoughts about this, with everyone fucking watch them like that, their interest surely peaked at the fact that Sam doesn’t want to kiss him.

“Yeah, Sam. You’re making this weird. Alex and Johnathon have already kissed. Don’t try to make this a big deal.” There was a murmur of agreement from the group and Sam swallowed around a lump in his throat.

He always hated speaking in front of the class in school. He hated the way that all eyes would be trained on him, each and every student slowly analyzing and picking him apart as he stumbled through an explanation of something that he knew if only he could say the words. It was the public humiliation that he couldn’t take, his peers coming to the conclusion that Sam was just another kid with a drifter dad who didn’t know anything.

However, this was worse. Way worse because not only did he have the eyes of everyone in the group on him but he had the eyes of the one person who he simultaneously wished would look at him and also look at everything but him.

Sam ran his hands down the front of his jeans, trying to dry his already sweating palms but it didn’t work.

Dean had a smile on his face, one that was supposed to be comforting and reassuring but it only amplified the butterflies in Sam’s stomach.

Somehow Sam made it to the center of the circle, standing inches away from Dean, nearly looking at him in the eye because he’s recently reached a growth spurt. Both dad and Bobby say that Sam’s gonna be tall, taller than Dean but Sam doesn’t see how that’s going to be possible because he’s Dean’s little brother. Dean is always supposed to be the bigger one.

Despite the fact that it was Sam’s turn to kiss someone, it’s Dean who takes the initiative to close the distance and kiss Sam because he knows his brother too damn well and he knows that Sam would never really commit to this. Not really.

Sam doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, how exactly to slot their lips together, how to kiss Dean back and he’s completely pliant underneath Dean’s hold.

Oh and to make matters worse, this would be his first official kiss. There’s been a couple of times, at other schools, at different times where he came close but he was always too this or too that or something would always interrupt him before he could actually kiss the girl and they would break away. Of course, he would leave town before the opportunity ever really arose to kiss the girl again so this was his first.

Finally when Sam realized that this was actually happening, that Dean was kissing him, actually fucking kissing him and Sam was doing absolutely nothing other than just stand there like the dork that he was, he started to kiss Dean back.

The moment that Dean felt Sam respond under his hands, Dean moved his head, slotting them together to where they fit right up against each other. Sam had one hand balled in the front of Dean’s shirt and the other was wrapped around his shoulder, to pull him closer? To push him away? Sam wasn’t really sure but Dean was pulling Sam up towards him and kissing him in a way that he’s only see in those movies that Dean pretends to not watch.

When they pull away, only because it was starting to get even more awkward because they were clinging to each other now, Sam took a step back and stared up at Dean only to see things in Dean’s eyes that he wasn’t supposed to see.

And he was acutely aware of how everyone was staring at him, their mouths agape or in some sort of awe and it felt like Sam’s skin was burning. He could feel tears prickling at the corner of his eyes and it was never supposed to happen like this.

Hell, it wasn’t supposed to happen point blank.

So Sam pressed his hands flat against Dean’s chest and pushed him, hard before running from that circle leaving Dean trying to catch his balance while trying to figure out what exactly he did wrong to make Sam run like this.

After all, he had finally given Sam what he desperately wanted.

32/365

#wincest #weecest #so y'all figure out why sam ran #i have a couple of ideas roaming around in my head as to way #*why #come talk to me about it #but i'm happy with this one #i'z really like it #mywincest #32/365 #365 #365 days of wincest

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nobodyliveforever · 4 years

Text

Punishment 2015

Source: https://bdsmcafe.com/bdsm-story-punishment-2015/

[...] She stood with her legs astride and her hands upon her hips. Her well formed legs forming her skirt into and A shape.“Right here we go again. Strip… put your clothes in the basket and your personal items in the locker.” She spoke in a tired fashion, putting her flattened hand out towards me in a gesture similar to a traffic cop stopping a car at a junction.“Not another word. Go to it… Strip.”I looked at her and then feeling utterly foolish began to stake my jacket off. I folded it and put it in the basket. Slowly and feeling utterly humiliated and ashamed, I undressed, occasionally glancing at the glass patrician, only to see that the receptionist was still looking at me without a trace of surprise or embarrassment on her face.“Come on Sugar… I haven’t got all day.”The sergeant glanced at her watch before looking back at me.I hurried my undressing until I had placed my shoes, with socks inside, on top of the pile of clothes and my watch, phone and wallet in the locker. I felt utterly foolish as I stood before her in just my underpants.“I said strip… that includes the pants.”She stood looking at me with her hands resting on the belt at her waist. I felt the heat from the redness in my cheeks as my body shivered with acute embarrassment..“I could not help looking at her. My voice pleading as I stammered through my embarrassment.“Pleeease er… miss… er sergeant… not with..” I glanced at the counter. “Not… erm my underwear… please not erm here.”I watched as her hands went towards the nightstick and then suddenly she seemed to decide… and I think gave me the benefit of her benevolence.“Look sweetie… this day is going to be tough enough as it is. That is why I made you repeat the rule. Now without this gets more unpleasant for you… take your pants down and put them in the basket.” The kindness and sincerity in her voice made me stop and consider my position. Only two hours ago I had been full of remorse and now I was whinging about the punishment.I felt my face blush and another shiver run through me as turned away from her and hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my under shorts. Feeling utterly stupid and humiliated, I pushed them down my legs, acutely aware of the obvious prurient interest of girl behind the counter.I held my under shorts against my body, making sure that they were covering my genitals, before clasping my bare hands to my groin as I quickly put them on top of the pile of clothes, covering myself again with both hands.I stood crouching over, my knees pressed together and my hands clasped firmly over my penis and testicles as I looked at her through a mist of humiliation.“O.K. now I have some questions to ask you. So pay attention, you got that?” I nodded feeling utterly foolish at my nakedness in front of her. Unconcerned at my embarrassment she read from the clipboard.“Ever suffered from heart problems?”“Er… no.” I answered.“Do you have a pacemaker?”I answered to the negative.“Ever suffered with a hernia?” I shook my head.“Rheumatic fever?”Again I shook my head as she carried on with a whole serious of questions related to my health. Eventually she finished the list and looked at me straight in the eye. I could not help my blush of embarrassment at her close scrutiny of my naked body.“O.K., now turn around and face the window.” Her instruction caused me to blush once more. Ashamedly I faced the window. Looking out towards the street, I had never felt so naked. I tried to convince myself that I could not be seen by passers-by and yet the view of the young girls walking in the street, going about their business just a few feet from my nakedness, seemed to accent my peculiar and humiliating situation.I heard her move to stand behind me, as I crouched forward trying to retain my modesty from the front. I knew that she, and the girl behind the counter, would have a perfect view of my naked bottom.Suddenly it happened… a blinding pain shot through my left buttock. I instantly fell forward, my left leg immediately became completely numb, failing to support my weight.. I tried to break my fall, at the same time trying to clasp a hand to my buttock which felt as if it were on fire. The terrible pain seemed to envelope the whole left side of my body. I felt dizzy and sick as I felt myself falling to the floor, writhing in agony. I looked up feeling hurt and full of anguish and indignity. I could see the pretty sergeant casually replace the cattle prod device back into her belt. I had forgotten my modesty in the shock and hurt of the moment. I was writhing upon the floor, my penis and testicles flopping lewdly from side to side as I tried to rid myself of the pain.The sergeant stood over me, her eyes betraying no surprise at my anguish as I writhed uncontrollably. I rubbed my buttocks hard against the course material of the carpet in absolute torment at the pain which cut through my body like a knife. Eventually I managed to clasp my hands over my penis and testicles, aware, even through the haze of pain, of high ridiculous I must have looked to her.It was several moments before I could get to my knees and then eventually… stand shakily in front of the pretty young sergeant.She looked me up and down, her expression not unkindly. “It hits some guys harder than others, but the effects don’t last long. Don’t think I am picking on you… everybody gets it.”Her voice became softer as she saw the tears well up in my eyes. “Look sweetie, you need to know what this thing does.” She patted the device hanging from her belt. “That was on number two; this thing goes to number ten! Get the picture, you don’t disobey… and you don’t hesitate… get it?”I could not help the tears that rolled down my cheeks as I looked at her. Whether it was the kindness in her voice or the pain and humiliation of the violent electric shock, I could not tell.“Let me tell you something else. You are wondering… or you certainly will do soon, why I didn’t give you number one as a demonstration. Number one is for your balls,” She looked at my groin as she spoke. I could not help looking down myself, my eyes involuntarily following hers to my hands which were still firmly clasped over my genitals.“A prod in those little plums of yours is a pain you would remember for the rest of your life. So you had better look lively when you are given an order. Do you understand now?”“Yes er miss… It is just the shock and erm… embarrassing erm being undressed like this” I could not help further tears from running down my cheeks as I spoke.She looked at me, this time her face showed real concern. She moved towards me and put her hand on to my shoulder. Her fingers were gentle and cool against my fevered skin. Somehow I felt real warmth and affection from her, in spite of the pain she had made me endure.“Look sweetie.” Her face moved closer to mine and she whispered softly to me.“Forget your embarrassment; embarrassment doesn’t hurt like the stunner does. You are here for your punishment, the law requires it… so try and take it easy and do what you are told. It won’t be easy… but it is better than adding to it, alright sweetie?” Her lips were almost touching my cheek as I listened to her. For some reason I wished right then, that she would put her arms around me and kiss me tenderly. I could not stop my tears from flowing down my cheeks or my body trembling with emotion.“Right give me you left hand.”I looked at her with a worried expression upon my face.“Don’t worry I an not going to zap you again… unless of course you disobey.”My concern was not just that she was going too hurt me that I would have to take my hand away from my genitals. Fumbling to cover my penis and testicles with one hand, I raised my arm out in front of me. Gently she took my wrist and placed the plastic tag around it. She took a small stapler type device from her pocket and sealed the strap.“Just so that we don’t forget who you are.” she smiled.She stood back and looked at me. “O.K. Stephen, let’s get on with it. Go and stand in front of that door.” She indicated the door marked PRIVATE through which she had entered.I crouched in my position of knees pressed together and hands clasped to my groin and shuffled rather than walked to stand in front of the door. I could feel my shoulders shaking with my sobs… and yet could do nothing about my distress.I heard her turn the shopping cart around, so that she could pull it- rather than push it, before she moved forward to stand behind me. Suddenly I felt the coolness of her delicate fingers stroke over my buttocks and heard her voice speak gently to me.“Poor baby… such a sensitive soul aren’t you.”I shivered and tried to stifle a sob as the electronic lock released its mechanism and the door opened to reveal an empty corridor. There was a notice upon the wall. It read: ‘Foul or abusive language WILL result in further punishment.’ She waited, making sure I had read the notice.I heard her voice; again it was soft and caring.“Walk forward and stop in front of the second door on the right. Don’t ask questions, don’t hesitate, don’t disobey and you’ll get through this… so come along sweetie let’s get moving.”As I stood in front of the unmarked door, I felt the sergeant brush past me and knock. She resumed her position behind me and putting her soft hands upon my hips, whispered in my ear. “O.K. sweetie, remember, don’t resist and don’t question.” I felt sure that it was her lips that touched my neck as she let go of my waist.The door opened to reveal two tall female warders. Their bodies were breathtakingly beautiful, bodies with the height and physique that one imagines Amazonian women would have. Each wore a white shirt and black tie. Their navy skirts were knee length and did little to hide the superb proportions of their hips and legs. Hanging from each of their belts were a set of handcuff and a cattle prod. [...]

The whole story is in the link at the top.

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