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writing-on-the-wahl · 3 years

Note

Okay, this one’s been done already by other blogs and I understand that not every writer wants to do the same prompt as another so if you’re not comfortable with this then absolutely stay in your comfy zone. I just think it’s fun to see different interpretations

But basically, Civilian is unknowingly dating Villain (as in, Civilian doesn’t know that villain is a criminal), and Villain is introduced to Civilian’s brother, Hero. Hero is terrified that Villain is going to hurt Civilian the entire time, but Villain just keeps on showing lots of sweet affection to Civilian (Hero and Villain recognize each other but Civilian is clueless of both their “jobs”). It’s up to you whether or not Villain actually loves Civilian or is just taunting/threatening Hero :)

Wow that was long my bad

Sorry this took me like twelve years to get to... @glowing-alpaca it won’t let me tag you... idk why🤷🏽‍♀️

Ok yes I’ve seen a few of these, so I took the general principle and made it Civilian’s POV eehehehe

hope you enjoy:)

*special thanks to @im-a-wonderling and @watercolorfreckles for the beta reads and all your amazing help on this one!!*

———————————————

Civilian shifted from foot to foot, rubbing her left wrist as she tried to focus on the conversation swirling around her. Her limbs felt lead-heavy and numb, deadweights that she wasn’t sure what to do with.

She clasped her hands together in front of her, then let them hang by her sides. Then clasped them in front of her again.

Her breathing felt loud in her ears, and a few of the patrons glanced in her direction. Could they hear her breathing?

Her eyes darted to the entrance for the hundredth time. Her brother was late. Hero had promised to be here early—he knew how she felt about crowds. And since he was the one who insisted her first art show be public, he’d reassured her he’d stay by her side the whole time.

The show had started over an hour ago.

“Well, Civilian?”

Her eyes snapped away from the door and back to the circle of patrons around her. Her stomach sloshed cold. They were all looking at her, their stares burning holes.

“Sorry? What was that?” Her stomach continued to twist and writhe. Now they all knew she’d been distracted.

Did they think she was ignoring them? Had she been rude?

She’d only glanced at the door for a moment…

An older man shook his head as his companion repeated her question about her choice to use different mediums to portray the same image.

She answered the best she could, gesturing to the wall beside her, which was filled with a dozen paintings and drawings of the cityscape—some created with ink, other with oil, acrylic, watercolor, or charcoal—she’d used them all.

She rubbed her wrist again as she tried to explain how she’d used the different mediums.

A few in the circle nodded their heads, but her heart was pounding and doubt nagged at her as she spoke. Was she talking too much? Not enough? Was what she was saying stupid?

She stumbled over her words, unease crawling beneath her skin.

She looked down, unable to complete her thought.

“I think it’s a marvelous technique.”

Hero looked up sharply as the deep voice continued, covering the awkward pause she’d created.

“...to get to look at a wall full of paintings, all capturing the same image but each conveying a different mood or emotion.”

Her rescuer was sharply dressed: his dark hair carefully styled, his suit perfectly tailored, and his gold watch designer. Combined with his confident posture, his appearance practically screamed “lawyer,” same as her brother. But while Hero was a public defense attorney, crusading against a flawed system, the man in front of her was probably what Hero would call a ‘leech,’ a rich defense lawyer catering to the criminal elite.

And while Civilian sympathized with Hero’s cause, she also had enough experience as a starving artist to appreciate the luxury of not having to worry about how much money she had to spend at the grocery store.

Plus, he’d been so kind to save her; how bad could he be?

Her rescuer was still speaking, his smooth words and confident tone confirming his profession.

“... the kind of art that needs to be seen and studied to be appreciated.”

At his hint, the crowd began to drift towards the gallery walls.

Her rescuer met her gaze through the crowd, and she offered him a small smile of gratitude as the people around her shifted away.

She turned towards the wall of cityscape paintings, breathing a sigh of relief before stopping to analyze one of the city in the rain. She eyed the brushstrokes, mentally smoothing a line here, adding a shadow there. She shook her head and turned away. Now was not the time.

But her rather abrupt turn sent her careening into a wall-like something that wasn’t a wall, but a certain tall lawyer in a thousand-dollar Armani suit. She jerked back, horrified at her lack of grace, but tripped on her blasted heels. Hands at her waist stopped her fall, long fingers tightening around her as she regained her balance. When she was finally steady, his hands slid away.

“Thanks.” Civilian forced herself to look up into the face of the man who had now rescued her twice, rather than looking around like she wanted to to check who else had noticed her embarrassing almost-fall.

He was smiling warmly, and for the first time all night, her heart wasn’t pounding at the thought of speaking with a stranger.

“I’m sorry for running into you.” She felt breathless, but it must have been from her almost-fall.

He waved her off. “I shouldn’t have been standing so close. I just wanted to compliment the way you’ve captured my favorite view of the city.” He gestured to the painting she’d just been critiquing.

“I painted it at the top of the—“

“Capitol building, yes I go there often.”

“Because you work there often?” Civilian flushed as she spoke across him, but her heart steadied as he didn’t seem to mind. His smile widened, and he leaned closer.

“What gave me away?” His voice was deep, and he looked at her as though they were sharing a secret.

Her cheeks grew warmer, and she looked away, heart racing for an entirely different reason.

“My brother is a lawyer, so I usually can just tell. He was supposed to be here actually…” a frown came to her face as she remembered her brother’s promise.

She shook herself out of her reverie. Her rescuer was looking at her warmly.

“I’m sorry! You rescued me back there, and I don’t even know your name…” She looked at him expectantly, and he offered a bright smile that made her stomach flutter.

“I’m Villain. Pleased to meet you.” His voice was practically a purr, sending tingles across her skin as he took her hand, gently raising it to his lips. She looked down as her cheeks heated at the old fashioned gesture.

“I’m Civilian,” she said as he released her hand, returning his bright smile with a shy one of her own. “Although you probably already knew that since my name is on the program...”

He nodded. “I have to say, I’m quite impressed by your—”

“Civilian!”

A blur in a tan suit darted around Villain and grabbed her arm, pulling her back.

“Hero, what?—” Her brother was a mess. His suit was wrinkled, tie coming undone, hair mussed.

He continued to pull her back, eyes on Villain. “Civilian I need to talk to you—it’s urgent!”

She glanced back at Villain as Hero tugged her away.

“Sorry!” She mouthed.

He just shook his head, an amused smile on his face, before mouthing something that looked suspiciously like, “I’ll see you later.”

Her heart warmed, and she was still grinning when Hero pulled her around the corner and flipped her around to face him.

“What are you—”

“Do you have any idea who that is?” Hero’s fingers gripped her shoulders. “What he is?”

“He said his name was Villain? And so what that he’s a lawyer, Hero. I don’t get why you are freaking out!”

Hero’s hands shook her shoulders. “He’s not just a lawyer, he—”

Civilian wrenched free and shoved Hero’s chest. “He what? Actually helped me? When YOU failed to show up like you promised.” Her last words slid into a growl.

Hero had the decency to look ashamed for a brief moment before his face hardened. He lifted a hand, gesturing with one arm back towards where they’d left Villain. “His people are the reason that I’m late!”

Anger sparked in her chest, and she rolled her eyes. “Sure,” she scoffed, “blame some random lawyer for your broken promise. That’s a pitiful excuse, Hero, even for you.”

She shoved past him, heading back into the gallery.

“Wait, Sis!” He grabbed her arm. She shook him off and stalked away.

But when she returned to the main room, Villain was gone.

#artist civilian #smooth villain #protective hero #villain x civilian #hero x villain #heroes and villains #my writing #snippet #write #writeblr #hero #villain

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ramp-it-up · 3 years

Text

Definitely Not

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x Reader

Warnings: MINORS DNI, 18 + Cursing, Angst, Jealousy, Smut, Graphic Depictions of Sex, Semi-public sex, oral sex (f receiving), established relationship.

Word Count: About 3K

Summary: Daveed tries to set you straight on set. Let’s see if it works.

A/N: This fic is an ask from a Nonnie who is Definitely Not Miranda in response to the pictures enclosed. So @einfachniemand, I’m not going to say: Here, my dear.

Very little editing, all errors my own. (The dress pic is not intended to convey skin tone or body type, just the dress).

It was the night of the SAG awards, which happened to fall right on the last night of your first three-week visit to set to see Daveed. You hated the distance and he knew that, so he arranged for you to see each other whenever possible.

You’d spent the first 10 days in quarantine with him, and that was fun, but these last 10 had been mostly sitting back and watching him work. Normally, you wouldn’t have minded it, but his work on this show had him in several sex scenes where he was intimate with another actress.

She was perfectly sweet, and nice, and very much in a relationship, but every time you watched a scene with them together, you got this twisting turning sensation in your belly.

Could it be jealousy, or something else?

You’d taken to avoiding set on those days, insisting you had work to do, and you stayed in the condo that production provided Daveed.

It didn’t help that you had gone from non-stop sex every day for 10 days, to long says of filming and occasional sex this last half of the trip.

But there was no need to worry. It was normal. D was exhausted and he was working. And your relationship was not just physical.

Was it?

All of this had your neurotic, anxiety riddled mind working. You began to think that maybe this was the test of your relationship. That maybe you and Daveed weren’t right for each other. That maybe this wasn’t even love.

Daveed knew you like the back of his hand. He knew what you were thinking, he could tell by your avoidance of his sex scenes and by the way you were in your head lately.

But tonight was special. When Daveed told you to bring a fancy dress, you thought it was for sexy time purposes, especially when he specified the short strapless belted Versace gold disco dress dress that you’d tried on when he was fitted for this suit, and that he’d surprised you with on Valentine’s Day.

It was almost destroyed that night, but it was flung across the room before Daveed had a chance to ruin it.

The fact that he was going to present at the SAG awards on the Night Car set not to mention that he was also nominated was a cause for celebration.

It had been a while since you two were able to go out on the town and you were a little nervous as you got ready alone in the condy while Daveed finished filming before the awards.

Your phone dinged with an instagram notification. Daveed’s co-star had posted them together, dressed for the awards. Her black dress complimented his suit nicely and they looked like a lovely couple.

Instead of throwing your phone across the room, you closed instagram and deleted it. You weren’t going to stress, and you weren’t going to let this harsh your mood.

At least that’s what you told yourself in the mirror before you left the condo.

But on the way to the set in the studio car, you were tripping.

Hard.

Were you a massive fool?

You had to pull yourself together. By the time you arrived, you looked the part of the excited and dutiful partner. Acting at it’s finest.

-------

Daveed was laughing with her when you got to set. He looked so delectable, that you just stood and stared at him from the side of the soundstage, feeling your throat gone dry and all the moisture traveling between your legs.

That beard. Damn, it had been a few days since you felt it between your legs.

The suit was even more magnificent with the fuller beard and the confidence of a man who was doing well and in his element.

The colors and patterns of the Versace jacket complimented the warm brown of his skin and the sequined effect of his balck shirt matched the mirror ball gold and silver dress you wore.

You knew that the shirt clung to every sculpted muscle under that jacket, that’s why you’d dropped to your knees so readily that night after the fitting.

Even though you knew it was just work, the fact that she had her hands on what was yours made you heated. You almost couldn’t contain yourself.

Your eyes went to his hand, where he clutched a whiskey glass with two fingers of amber liquid. You wondered if it was real, or a prop. You didn’t care, you just wished you were that glass, despite the emotions and hormones that swirled inside you.

When your eyes went back to his face, he was looking at you, jaw clenching. The one tell that you affected him. He appraised you from toe to head for a few seconds, then he went back to his conversation.

A new vexation filled you at his intentional indifference to you. Standing upright, you readied for battle.

-----

Damn, thought Daveed when he first saw you. He wanted to know who you were but then he remembered that you were his.

The thought made his cock stir and grow even more as he took in your whilte sandals and your legs that went allll the way up to the hem of your dress that was just a bit shorter than he’d like it to be in public. They continued up your gold and silver ensconced curves to the bustier of the strapless dress that you were not-quite-indecently almost falling out of.

Damn, he needed to bury his face in your tits as he fingered you into submission.

He gaze journeyed up your collarbone (he noticed that the marks he’d put there last week had faded) up your neck (those were gone too) to your adorable chin and big eyes.

The way that you looked at him, like a bunny trapped in a snare, made him want to take you down right there.

But he had to wait.

Daveed kept calm by ignoring you. He couldn’t lose his cool right here and if he went to greet you, he would drag you to the bathroom and stuff his cock in one of your holes. And he still had a job to do.

Not only was Daveed presenting, he was nominated. But already felt like a winner because the real prize was you.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you raise your chin in that way you had when you were angry, ready to cuss him out or fight. Or both.

He didn’t have to look to know that your eyes were flashing and that your fingers were probably trembling with emotion right now.

Daveed took a sip of his liquor as he continued his conversation and smiled. She thought he was smiling at her, but in reality, he was smiling at you. He had something for you.

He noted that you walked over and sat down on the chair with his name emblazoned upon it. As you crossed your legs to show off what you were working with, he knew exactly what you were doing.

Staking your claim.

What you didn’t realize was that he was always and forever yours.

It began with what he thought was a burning hatred for you but was really an all consuming passion.

And it started when he first laid eyes on you.

The tension was zapping across the room between you two, and the reckoning to come was inevitable the entire night.

----

“We’ll catch up with you later, we’re going to hop on a call home. Want to talk to the fam.”

Everyone bought the story and moved to the other soundstage, where a watch party was set up. Soon, you and D were alone on set.

“I hate you. Daniele.”

Daveed smiled that electric smile of his, looked down and shook his head. You used his middle name to piss him off. He wasn’t going to take the bait.

“You don’t mean that.” He moved to within one foot of you, but he didn’t touch you.

“Fuck. You.”

“Why do you hate me now?” He had a good idea, but he wanted to hear you say it.

“Because you’re fucking with her. Or making her believe it can happen. I saw how she looks at you. And you at her.” He moved even closer.

You wanted to move away from him, but you didn’t dare concede any ground to him.

He grabbed your hand and pulled it toward him.

“Do you feel this?” Your hand was now grasping his rock hard erection. “This isn’t for her, it’s all for you.”

You laughed in his face, challenging him with your eyes.

Daveed knew exactly what the real problem was.

He kissed down your neck and slid his hands down your torso to your waist, grasped it, and then hoisted you up on the bar, forcing himself between your legs.

His hands went to your knees and traveled up your moisturized thighs to the apex, finding nothing but the carefully manicured triangle there.

He looked at it for what seemed a long time and licked his lips. When he looked up, his eyes made you clench your thighs together.

“Can I?”

Fuck, you thought. You couldn’t deny it. This is what you wanted. You nodded quickly and licked your parched lips.

Daveed loved the feel, the taste, and the smell of you. He ran the pads of his thumb there, teasing the very tip of your clit, playing you almost like an instrument.

“This dress with no panties. Why did you choose violence Baby Girl?”

He twisted his wrist and was now three fingers and two knuckles deep inside you. The sloshing sound of your wetness was music to his ears.

“Damn, Daveed…” your breathless whisper and physical reaction told him everything he needed to know.

He slammed his fingers inside you and rubbed his palm against your cunt. He curled his fingers to hear you moan again, and then buried his head in between your tits to lick up your ribcage.

Your moan made him leak, and he pulled himself away from the delectable valley of your breasts to slide his hands down your body as he sank to his knees before you.

You leaned back on the bar and watched as he got down on his knees for you.

“Do you still think that there is anyone else above you?”

He grasped your foot, took off your sandal and kissed your instep, trailing his lips up your ankle to your calf.

He kept eye contact as you leaned back on your hands and watched as he licked a fat wet stripe up your thigh to the hem of your dress, and then paused to look at you.

Your anger was gone and now you were begging.

“Please…”

The reach of his long fingers nearing your pussy had you weak. He slowly rolled the hem up your dress up as he got closer and closer to the promised land. You dropped your head back and looked at the ceiling.

“Watch me, Baby Girl.”

His sweet tone made you snap your head back up, knowing that if you didn’t obey, he would make you pay. That was the only intelligent thought you had, as your mind was blank to anything else but what Daveed was doing to you.

He smiled down at your glistening pussy, and in one swift move, his mouth is on you and he lovingly licked your clit. He alternated between this and placing stripes with his tongue between your folds, causing you squirm in his clutches on the bartop.

“Hmmmmm. So delicious.” He looked up at you and grins mischievously.

You shuddered, biting your lip to keep from screaming. He held you fast in his grip as you started convulsing and almost hyperventilating at the pleasure he gave you as his rough tongue swiped over your clit again and again.

“Da-Da-Daveed.”

Daveed looked up, wiped his mouth on his sleeve and smiled that gorgeous smile at you.

“What did you call me?” His eye contact was unwavering, not allowing you to escape.

Your eyes got wide and you shut your mouth fast. Daveed just chuckled, in the mood to be soft.

“Nevermind. We’ll save that for another day.”

He kissed you, allowing you to sample yourself on his tongue. You incoherently grabbed for his belt, unbuckling the impediment to what was so important to you at this moment.

Daveed pulled away and undid his belt, unbuttons his pants and they drop to the floor.

You reached for and only got to hold and squeeze the large, heavy cock in your hand briefly before he pulled away again, lifting you off the bar and turning you around to lean against it.

He answered your whine with a shushing sound.

“Shhhh. As much as I love to see you wrap that mouth around my dick. I need inside you. Now.”

Daveed could hardly stand it. He’d wanted you for hours, since you walked into the room, days, since he last had energy to have you. He was finally going to have his heart’s desire.

He lifted your ass cheek and lined up at your dripping lips. He couldn’t look away as he watched you take all of him, the hiss that escapes his lips causing you to clench around him.

“Fuck. Such a good girl, taking me like this.”

Your mind was like a whirlwind as he thrusted inside you slowly, building up to a constant, merciless rhythm. His pelvis crashed into yours over and over, hands on your hips, surely leaving bruises at his ruthless grip.

“Gotdamn Daveed, no one else has ever made me feel this way,” you whispered, your voice not much more than the breaths you were trying to catch.

This information made Daveed pause and fall out of rhythm, and you heard his breath catch in his throat. His hips faltered after he heard what you had to say.

“Shit!”

The exclamation betrayed his emotion and you remembered how much he loved your words of praise.

The fact that he’d wanted you for so long and couldn’t have you and now you are really his blew his mind. Hearing that he could make you feel like none other made him weak.

“Tell me more.”

He sped up again, growing hot at the image of himself sinking deep inside you.

“No one else can make me feel as good as you do.”

“Fuck!” He moved feverishly, his release imminent.

“It’s not just that your dick is big and hits that spot that no one else has ever found...”

“Shit!”

Daveed reached around to your clit and worked it furiously with his fingers again, because he was going to come any second and he needed you to meet him there.

“It’s that you know m-m-mmmmmm.” You could hardly speak it’s so good.

“You know my bodyyyy… my body so fucking well Daveed.”

He grabbed your hand with his right one and brought it behind your back as his left worked, pinning your torso to the bar. You went up on your toes in your heels, calves tightening along with the rest of your body.

You arched your spine as your explosion started to arrive. Daveed thrust once more, deep inside you, making contact with that special spot and it was game over for both of you.

You cum, hard, and prayed that you don’t mess up his suit. Or your dress.

Daveed leaned on your back, panting, and you released your hand from between you and grabbed his curls, bending back to kiss him, as he softened inside you. He moaned in his throat, a sign that he was still sensitive.

He looked you in your eyes.

“I love you.”

You smile at him. “I love you too.”

He pecked your lips again and groaned as he slipped out of you, and moved to pull up his pants as you straightened your dress.

He went to the bathroom at stage right and is back out within five minutes, having washed his hands and fixed his hair.

He took you in his arms and gave you his serious look. Your stomach turned flips, as if you were in trouble. The thing is, you knew you weren’t. It was just the opposite.

“Let me go over this one more time…” you moved to speak and his look darkened. You shut your mouth quickly.

“Work. Is work. That’s all. I’m a professional. Just like you.”

He stared you down.

“You know a sex scene ain’t sexy. Plus I have that wig and make up on, there are hot lights, makeup. The closest thing to a turn off there is.”

“Stop being jealous just because I like my co-workers. You should be glad I like her, because remember the last co-star that I couldn’t stand?”

He looked at you with a glint in his eye.

You were mad.

“Yeah, you ended up boning her brains out because of the sexual tension.”

“Exactly. And I turned her out. She stalked me all the way up here to Vancouver.”

You were heated.

“Fuck you, Daveed! You sent me a ticket and ordered me to come, don’t try…”

Daveed silenced you with a kiss.

“Can you not be crazy for 10 minutes?”

You caught your breath as you glared at him. You stared each other down, the tension building again.

You pulled away from him.

“10 minutes is all you get. Because that was DEFINITELY NOT the right thing to say to me!!”

You turned on your heel and walked out of the soundstage ahead of him.

Daveed straightened his suit and smiled as he followed you out.

It was going to be a long night.

And he was looking forward to it.

--------

Let me know if you like it by liking, commenting, and reblogging!

Tags: @braidedchallah @einfachniemand @sillyteecup @ohsoverykeri @theselilwonders @theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @imatyoursurrvicesurr @riiyy @lonelydance @biafbunny @summerofsnowflakes @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @janthonystan @elocinnicole @anh1020

#Daveed Diggs #daveed diggs fanfiction #daveed diggs x reader #daveed diggs smut #daveed diggs imagine #daveed diggs angst #definitely not Miranda #daveed diggs x you

196 notes · View notes

divine-bangtan · 3 years

Text

- mirror, mirror on the wall | ksj (m)

⤏ vampire!seokjin, pwp, medieval!au

⤏ word count: 6.5k

⤏ Being a vampire prince, Seokjin is used to feeling everyone’s eyes on him. In fact, he’s come to expect it from his subjects. So when you won’t look at him of course he’s not happy. After all, didn’t anyone teach you it’s rude not to stare at him?

a/n: listen,,,this is unedited and overdue bc I am trash. Also for someone who doesn’t like humiliation and degrading sex I sure had way too much fun writing this I have nothing 2 say for myself okay enjoy. Happy birthday Seokjin!

⤏ vampire prince!seokjin, human servant!reader, exhibitionism, degration, nipple play, fingering, slight anal play, squirting, biting, blood drinking, orgasm denial, spanking, candlewax play, oral (m. receiving), face fucking, hair pulling, pussy slapping, seokjin is fucking hung and his precome is an aphrodisiac, bath sex, mirror sex, cockwarming, creampie, what even is aftercare lol.

One minute had already passed, your trembling hand still hovering in front of the door while you worked up the courage to knock. A single bead of sweat which had gathered at the nape of your neck dripped down your skin, and you swallowed hard in an attempt to quell your nerves. Your attempt at delaying this was inevitable, he was expecting you, had summoned you personally and he could likely tell how long you’d been standing there as well.

With that driving thought in mind, you chewed on your lower lip for another second and moved your hand to finally knock.

“You may enter,” came from within the room before your knuckles had even made contact with the wood. The deep voice was slightly muffled through the walls, but nonetheless it still made you shudder with its authority. Swallowing again, you leaned most of your weight on the solid wood to open the door. Something sinister hung in the air, and you stood rooted in the entrance of the prince’s private chambers, entire body thrumming with trepidation.

Glints of gold caught your gaze, coming from every corner of the space as the candles flickered and shadows seemed to grow and lurk where your stare didn’t quite reach. Everywhere your eyes landed screamed lavish riches. If it was not pure gold, the furniture was dripping in rich, red velvet. Curtains so thick they were easily able to block out the brightest sunlight cascaded down the walls, half concealing the intricate tapestries that adorned them. The entire space had a mysterious feel to it, with an underlying sense of danger that made your heart skip a beat.

The entrance room alone made your head spin, and an unknown force pulled you further into the labyrinth, your feet moved as if possessed, deeper and deeper into the lion’s den. A gust of wind made the curtains rustle, carrying whispers you couldn’t quite understand. You moved to look closer at the paintings on the wall on the other side of the hallway, to inspect the scenes of battle they seemed to depict. However, something stopped you dead in your tracks, a powerful presence behind you. It had you whirling around, staring through a lavish open doorway.

You gasped softly when you turned and your eyes landed on the bathtub in the centre of the room, so large it was almost taking up half the space. Wisps of steam floated from the surface of the water which gleamed iridescent in the candlelight, no doubt filled with expensive lotions and perfumes. What was more impressive, however, was the many flower petals which adorned the water.

Your eyes lifted to finally meet the eyes of your prince, Seokjin, who reclined against the edge of the tub with an air of relaxed ease. His arms stretched out either side of him, the slight bulge of muscle beneath his honeyed skin causing you to swallow extra hard. The position made his already broad shoulders look even larger, like they could block out the whole sky as he looked down at you. It suited him well. Regality, beauty, immortality. When he raised his dark eyes to pierce yours you felt as though you’d been lured right into the lion’s den, and he was about to devour you alive. A smirk tugged at his plush lips and his gaze burned a hole right through you, the carpet quickly became your solace.

“How may I serve you, your excellency?” You murmured, trying to keep your tone steady, yet you knew his supernatural senses would pick up the slightest tremble. There truly wasn’t anything you could hide from him.

A long silence came from his direction, filled only by the pounding of your heart. Warmth crept up your neck, heating up your cheeks under his intense scrutiny and you squirmed slightly, feeling the tops of your thighs already growing damp.

“Wet…” he softly noted with humour, your human ears barely picking up on it. Embarrassment caused your heart to practically halt in your chest, could he really tell so easily? “My drink.” He spoke again, much louder this time and you jumped as you snapped out of your stupor. That was until his words registered. Drink? He wanted to drink? From you?

“My wine, over there. Bring it to me,” he pointed lazily toward a table across the room before sinking into the water until he was completely submerged.

Oh. You couldn’t help the slight pang of disappointment that you felt at the fact that you weren’t going to experience a vampire bite. From what you’ve heard they were incredibly pleasurable, some even achieving climax untouched. But to be fed from by the prince himself, of course it was foolish of you to think something like that would ever happen to you. Blinking back frustrated tears you trudged over to the table, picking up the golden tray with the pitcher and goblets already placed on it.

Complete silence filled the room after you set everything down next to the tub, warily eyeing the dark surface of the water. However, you were unable to catch a sign of the prince and took it as your queue to leave, defeated at having gotten your hopes up. He likely knew what he was doing, bringing you here to torment you. It was obvious how painfully attracted you were to the prince, how much everyone was. Others were definitely not shy in their affection yet you were unable to even look at him for longer than a few moments.

A loud splash was all the warning you got before suddenly Seokjin broke from the surface of the water, standing to his full height in all his naked glory. Droplets of water clung to his golden skin, adorned by the occasional flower petal and it took every ounce of your restraint to not look down. One of his hands lifted up to sweep his wet hair back, exposing his forehead to your eyes and even that part of him was exquisite. The other reached to pick up his golden goblet, and he smirked in your direction before taking a sip of his wine. God, you truly did not know where to look, eyes raking over the expanse of his naked chest.

He smirked as you finally kept your eyes glued to his face, refusing to look even past his chest. Instead you paid particular attention to the rose petals which adorned his skin.

The two of you remained locked in a silent standoff, one that you knew you could not win. As if sensing your admittance to defeat, he sipped his wine, savouring the taste and you swallowed hard watching his thick, vascular neck move with each swallow. As if hypnotised by the depths of his rich pupils, you couldn’t seem to look away as he gazed so intently at you.

Leisurely he licked his lips, seemingly had enough wine, and the action caused your eyes to drop and watch his tongue swipe over the pillows of flesh, and for a microsecond his incisor could be seen. Hook. The leer returned when he knew he had you, and his grip on his goblet accidently slipped, causing the liquid to run in rivets down his chest. But you knew vampires did not do anything by accident. Line. No, there was always an ulterior motive with vampires, an intention. He tossed his golden goblet aside, a dull thud coming from across the room where it landed on the carpet. Sinker.

“Oh dear, I seem to have spilled my wine. Clean that up for me, won’t you? The flowers too, they do wonders for my complexion but getting them off me is so bothersome.”

You nodded silently, quickly glancing around the room to find a washcloth. Where, where did his other servants keep them? You’d never been in here before, being a lowly servant yourself you’d never even been to this part of the castle before.

“Here.” He quipped, breaking your panic, and cocking an eyebrow when you gaped at the cloth that seemed to have materialised in his hand. “Are you just going to stand there?”

“N-no! Of course your grace,” you spluttered, almost tripping in your haste.

“Good.”

Now closer than ever, were able to get a much better look at your prince. But in consequence, he was also able to get a much closer look at you. At this proximity, his aura was intense, the width of his shoulders blocking the rest of the room from your view. He had no shame in his nudity, as if it were a gift to your eyes.

Frankly, it was.

Palpitations fluttered in your chest as your eyes took in the chiselled planes of muscle across his chest and abdomen, stained slightly pink from the spilled red wine. As you moved the fabric down his chest you swallowed hard, realising how far down the spill actually travelled.

Part of you ached to even lick his skin clean, secretly wishing he would ask you to. Your own cheeks pinked at the thought, at how you’d get on your knees for him in an instant. It was well known that it was even an honour to merely be degraded by him, let alone other things.

When most of the spill on his upper half was cleaned, you began plucking away at the flowers that stuck to his skin. You reached for a rose petal on his pec when Seokjin grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

“Leave it. I’m cold now, and bored. It will wash off rather easily in the water I think,” he mused, quickly turning to step back into the tub.

“I can fetch your grace something that might entertain you?”

Perhaps that was all, he had merely brought you here to remind you of your place. A simple human, an ant under his foot. The thought of getting to leave the embarrassing situation had you feeling as though you could breathe easily again, until his next words came. “You will be my entertainment. Join me.”

“Your grace! I-I,” you spluttered, cheeks warming at his brash words.

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t sure you wanted this. But I can hear the way your little heartbeat quickens when I look at you, such a desperate little slut. How in that millisecond when I hold your gaze how excited you become, how much you squirm and look away. You know, it’s rude not to stare at me.” He growled. “Now strip, or I’ll come get you myself.”

With haste, you began to unbutton your dress as to not keep him waiting, although each felt like an eternity to unfasten with him watching your fingers slip several times. Your hands shook as you peeled your clothes from your warm skin, but it was only partly out of nervousness.

The cold air of the room immediately caused your nipples to harden as your undergarments dropped to the floor and you were left bare in front of him. Seokjin’s eyes were trained intensely on the swell of your breasts, and you could have sworn you saw his tongue dart out to wet his lips for a moment.

You lowered yourself into the warm water slowly, yet you shivered at his eyes on you. Only able to stand his ogling for a few seconds you sank the rest of the way into the warm water, feeling your bare skin engulfed in the opaque water. Once again Seokjin stretched out against the side of the tub, looking like a lion sunbathing, but even at ease they were ready to attack at a moment’s notice.

“Come here.”

The water swirled around you as you inched toward him, heart palpitating at the uncertainty of it all. The temptation of teasing him crossed your mind, a hesitation, keeping you just out of his reach. Clearly this did not please him, as he tutted and lurched forward to grab you by your elbow.

“Uh uh uh, I don’t think so. Here,” he suddenly growled as you were pulled toward him, and you felt his bare chest suddenly pressed against your back. “I want to watch you, watching me. Look,”

One of the largest mirrors you’d ever seen sat opposite the tub, trimmed with gold and illuminated by at least a hundred candles. The splendour of itself was enough to leave one breathless, but the vampire whose fingertips were creeping up your side was making it much more difficult.

You arched your back, thrusting forward your decolletage as an open invitation. Surprisingly, his touch was warm, and an involuntary gasp slipped from your lips as you finally felt him cup your breasts in his hands. You watched him knead the soft mounds of flesh, the water level stopped just below your chest. Seokjin’s dark eyes drank in the sight of you, and the feather light brush of his thumbs over your nipples had you squirming all the more.

Like pleasant torture he continued to torment you with the barest of touches, not quite exerting the pressure you wanted, the brute strength you knew he possessed. It would have to be tempted from him.

“You’re like the evil queen from that fairy tale,” you taunted as he continued to stare at your reflection in the mirror. Exactly as you had predicted, Seokjin was quick to chastise you with a harsh pinch to your sensitive nipples.

“I’d watch that pretty little tongue of yours, if you want to keep it.” What you hadn’t expected, however, was the way he was able to growl.

“Are you going to ask if you’re the fairest of them all?” Came your jaunt, rising to the challenge.

Quick as a flash his hand was closing around your throat, fingers pressing into the sides cutting off any blood flow and the room around you began to spin.

“Eyes on me, keep them open.” He rumbled, his breath warm at the shell of your ear. “I’m tired of you looking away, such disrespect to your royalty.” When you pried your eyes open again you saw something glinted in his eyes, and his fingers pressed a little tighter against your throat and you whined breathlessly. “Listen to your little pulse quicken, even when I hold your fleeting life in the palm of my hand you moan like a whore. I could kill you right now and you’d probably come.”

Right as you felt blackness creeping into the edges of your vision he let go and air rushed back into your lungs. The dizziness made you slump back against him, your eyes slipping shut as your surroundings were blurred. With a disappointed tut he pinched your breasts once more, drawing a whimper from you.

“Not so tough now, are we?”

Instead of answering him, you squirmed away from his ministrations, your behind effectively grinding against the length of him, hot and heavy under the water. Every second he went unanswered his displeasure grew, the fire in his eyes only burning hotter.

“Since you can’t seem to be an obedient little slut, I suppose some discipline is in order.” Swiftly you were reminded of his vampiric strength as he stood from the water, pulling you up into his arms as he sauntered over to a chair. He took his time, dropping you before he slumped into what looked like a velvet throne. Right in front of it sat another enormous mirror – how many could one person own?

Seokjin pulled you out of your thoughts and down onto his lap, manhandling you until you lay face down, ass up. You shivered at the ticklish feeling of his fingers running up the backs of your thighs, which had broken out in goosebumps from the cold air of the room. His fingernails brushed over your rump before he grabbed each of your cheeks in his hands, kneading them before spreading them.

The feeling of your glistening folds being exposed to the cold air had you gasping, involuntarily clenching and you knew he was watching intently. Seemingly pleased by what he saw, Seokjin blew on your pussy which had you squirming harder from the strange sensation. That, however, did not please him. Your hands which had been resting in front of you were twisted behind you, one of his hands circling your wrists like iron.

“Still.” He pressed his thumb against your clenched rim, and you paused at the unfamiliar feeling. “It’s tempting, to fuck your tight little asshole. Hmm, maybe I should.” The tip of his thumb ever so slightly dipped in, but then he withdrew it to land a hard slap on your rump. He gripped the flesh in his palm, massaging it to soothe the sting and parted your thighs more. “Tempting, but no. Your pussy looks far too appetising tonight, especially with how wet you're getting. Do you like being over my knee? So eager to become my little human fucktoy.”

Three more slaps landed on your ass, each one leaving a delicious sting in its wake and your breathing grew more jagged after you finished yelping. He continued to grip the globes of flesh as your aching cunt clenched, and he paused as you shivered.

“A little cold, hm?” Seokjin teased, knowing full well what it was that caused you to shudder. “Let’s warm you up then.”

Bracing yourself for another slap, a gasp of surprise left your lips when you felt little droplets of hot wax instead. Each one had you jolting, not able to move much due to him holding you down. But you were enjoying it, he knew you were enjoying it. Your back arched off his lap, the contrast of your cold skin mixed with the warm wax had you moaning louder with each droplet. The wax was almost too hot. Almost. But it cooled quickly, and if you were going to fuck with vampires you need to be able to enjoy pain with pleasure.

“Look at how nice and warmed up you are now, and how wet. You’re such a little slut for punishment. Is that why you purposefully provoked me into doing this? So I would have to punish this desperate little cunt of yours? Look at it,” he smirked, suddenly pulling you up and turning you so you sat with your back to his chest once more. He reached forward and yanked your thighs apart, so your soaked folds were on display in the candlelight.

You just love being handled like this, like a whore. Consider yourself lucky, for I could have anyone that I please on their knees for me. So, show me how grateful you are, on your knees.”

Not wanting to displease him you quickly obliged, grateful for the soft cushioning carpet. However, it only drew more attention to the aching throb between your thighs, and the faint warmth of your sore asscheeks. Looking up from admiring the thickness of his thighs, you gasped.

In front of your face was the largest cock you had ever seen, his size was truly inhuman. He was larger than any lover you’d ever had before, his length alone put every man in the kingdom to shame. You licked your lips in a rather unsubtle manner to which he tutted.

“If you’re so desperate for it, do something,” he practically purred, one hand twisting in your hair to drag you forward. He was in no way gentle you thought as your scalp ached, but the way it had your pussy clenching - the way he knew it turned you on - certainly didn’t have you complaining.

The tip of his cock brushed your cheek, smearing a few beads of sticky precome with it and you were quick to turn your head to the side and run the length of your tongue along the throbbing vein. You chased the little drops of precome that ran down the underside of the length, lapping all the way up to the mushroom head of his cock. You moaned at the taste of him as you gave little kitten licks to his slit. His grip in your hair only tightened and you looked up at him with hooded eyes, your sopping core clenching when you saw how dark his gaze had gotten.

It was unlikely you would be able to wrap your hand around his girth, and even less likely you would be able to fit him in your mouth. But still, you were eager to at least try. The tip of his cock slipped past your lips easily, and you suckled which drew a long moan from Seokjin. He pushed on the back of your head, and you pushed back in fear at the size of him.

“Don’t worry, it will fit. Vampire precome is a bit of an aphrodisiac, now open wide for your prince,” he told you with a glint in his eye. As if his words were compelling you, your jaw laxed and his shaft eased further past your lips. Eager to please him you released your grip only to steady your hands on his delectable thighs. He cocked an eyebrow at your action, but his steely expression broke when you opened your mouth ever wider and took him all the way in.

“Fuck!” Came from his plush lips and he threw his head back, hips rocking slightly.

Surprisingly, you felt no discomfort and your gag reflex seemed almost non-existent, and you began to bob your head back and forth.

“Fucking hell…mm. You're such a good little slut,” Seokjin grunted as he began to thrust harder, the way he began to look wrecked had your cheeks warming. You swallowed around his length and he almost snarled, his grip on your scalp tightening. His cock plunged into your throat over and over, his endless precome filling your mouth with sweetness each time he pulled out so the tip rested on your tongue.

“You’re going to make me come, little human. Such a perfect mouth for- ugh - me to fuck.” He pushed in once more, pulling on your hair until your nose touched his abdomen, and you could feel your cunt weeping uncomfortably from his praise. “Look at the way your throat is bulging. You’re enjoying this too much, making such a mess on the floor.”

A small puddle had gathered beneath you, your need growing more and more, and the suddenly need for relief hit you hard. One of your hands let go of his leg to snake down your abdomen to ease some of the ache.

“Absolutely not.” He snapped, shoving himself down your throat again. “You’ve been such a good girl, don’t misbehave now. You will wait until, mfph, after I’ve come, and you will swallow every drop. I’m close.”

His grip on your hair grew brutal yet it only drew more moans from you as you had a high pain threshold. It was a beautiful sight as his thrusts faltered, the way his pillowy lips parted, the thick column of his throat flexing and his body trembling as his orgasm washed over him. Not to mention the heavenly moans he let out.

Ropes of his warm, thick release spurted to the back of your throat. It was far from unpleasant, however, nothing like the salty, almost bitter taste of human cum. Just about everything about vampires was designed to lure you in, and you moaned a little while swallowing the thick white liquid.

“Good girl,” Seokjin cooed at you as you licked your lips.

“Please, your highness. I need to come. Please make me come, it hurts.” You begged, practically whimpering at his feet. In his post orgasm bliss, he gently cupped your cheek, even stroked your hair a little with the other hand while he looked at you tenderly.

“Come sit my sweet, let me ease your pain,” he cooed as he sunk back into his chair, easily tugging you around and catching you before you stumbled on wobbly legs. “Face the mirror.” A small whimper left you as you felt the length of him pressing into your lower back as you were brought flush against his chest.

“Hmm, let’s see. I wonder if I can make you squirt. Now wouldn’t that be fun,” he growled into your ear, grinning at the way you mewled and begged. “You’ve never squirted before, have you? That pathetic human boy I know you let fuck you behind the stables always left you unsatisfied.”

Your eyes widened, alarmed that he knew such a thing. “I’ve been watching you for some time, prey are always fun to stalk. Fuck whoever said you shouldn’t play with your food, they obviously don’t know how to have fun.”

Your whole body trembled as he gripped the flesh of your thighs, hands tugging them wide open so your swollen folds were on full display. They were glistening from how wet you had gotten, your engorged clitoris pulsing from your increasing heartbeat. It was almost painful, the throbbing in your nether regions. How your skin tingled and grew hot.

Each pound of your heart thundered in your ears like a drum, the aphrodisiac spreading through your bloodstream. It was like delicious poison, and you were dying a slow but beautiful death at the hands of a deadly predator. The only cure was to draw the poison from one’s body through release, through climax. Your cure was his body, his fingers, his cock, his bite.

“Look at that,” Seokjin teased, a single finger swiping through your lips to collect your sticky juices. With a feather light touch he teased the slicked digit over your clit and you clenched helplessly at the promise of stimulation. You snapped your legs shut, trapping his hand between your thighs to antagonise him. “Keep them open” he growled into your ear, supernatural strength tearing the apart again. His hand drew away, only to come back with a sharp slap on your poor pussy. Out of instinct your thighs tried closing again, but Seokjin was quick to reprimand you again with a succession of harsh slaps. Each one made you almost jump out of his lap, but you quickly learned to force your legs to stay apart. It took a few more slaps which left your thighs trembling, but you managed.

“Good girl,” he cooed when finally, you did as you were asked. Your chest rose and fell from your heavy breathing, and his flattened fingers rubbed over your sopping pussy lips. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You shook your head, unable to muster the words. However, a near scream came from you as two of his long fingers plunged into your wet heat, which was practically screaming for relief, crooking them and seeking out your most sensitive bundle of nerves nestled inside your cunt. You needed no preparation at all, the sheer amount of slick staining the insides of your thighs a testimony to that.

“Another time I’d very much like to do this with my cock buried deep into that tight little ass of yours, sluts like you always seem to squirt more when you fuck them there. What do you think?”

Before you even had a chance to answer, his hand wrapped itself around the column of your throat, fingers pressing into the blood flow and restricting your pulse. The action left you lost for an answer, all your other senses suddenly skyrocketing because of the light headedness. At that exact moment when the room began to spin, his fingers pumped ever fasted, and mixed with the aphrodisiac that had your entire body tingling with electricity you found yourself hurtling into your first orgasm.

However, it seemed the prince was intent on finding your breaking point. A wicked smirk spread across his face as you writhed in his lap despite being held firmly down, eyes rolling back as the room spun and you felt yourself gush around his fingers with a scream.

“That’s it! Good girl, soak my fingers, c’mon. I know you can come again for me.”

His assault on your most sensitive spot didn’t stop, and your thighs trembled as he relented his grip, air filling your lungs once more. You weren’t sure if your first high even finished before a sudden overwhelming feeling of pleasure gripped you, and your bones melted as you climaxed and squirted again.

Thankfully he showed some mercy, allowing you to grind yourself on his fingers at your own pace. The last waves of your orgasm ebbed away as you moaned softly, but you were far from satisfied. No, if anything you were just getting warmed up. While his fingers had felt nice, you needed the deep feeling of his cock or you felt like you might die.

“Please. I want you, I need you to fuck me. Nothing else matters right now,” the sound of your voice was pure desperation.

“Nothing else matters?” Seokjin drawled, pushing your hair to one shoulder. “I could do anything right now if it meant I gave you what you want?”

“Yes, anything. Anything!”

The first brush of his fangs against your throat had your racing heart stopping, but he was quick to pull away.

He lifted your body like you weighed nothing, manoeuvring you with his inhuman strength. The tip of his already erect again cock brushed against your entrance between your slick, swollen folds, and he began easing in. If you weren’t already so worked up the stretch would surely have been painful, but your cunt easily took him inch by inch. He hadn’t even bottomed out before you gripped him tightly, trying to rock for some friction but he held you still.

“Look at me,” he growled in your ear, and your gaze met his in the large mirror right as he bottomed out and the tip kissed your cervix. Despite his strength you still managed to squirm somewhat, whimpering at the pleasure his cock brought. He seemed to relax his hold on you a little, allowing you more freedom to move which you quickly took advantage of.

“Oh f-fuck, Seokjin,” came your breathy whine. His face twisted in pleasure and he seemed to give in, shifting his large hands down to your hips to aid you in your grinding. Back and forth you moved, panting heavily, skin glistening in the golden light as Seokjin watched the way your soft breasts moved and your belly bulged slightly.

“Sit forward,” he half grunted, half moaned as he slumped back in the chair. His words barely registered with you until he tugged on your hips, using his strength to begin fucking you harder on his length. With a yelp at the sudden change in pace, you grabbed onto his knees and your eyes rolled back in your head, helpless to do anything but allow him to do as he pleased. “You have such pretty tits, I love watching them bounce as you take my cock so well.”

His words of praise had your toes curling, that building pleasure in your abdomen growing tenfold, and it only made you want to please him more. “I love it, I love having you fuck me like this. You can have me whenever you want!”

“How delectable you are. I ought to punish you for keeping yourself away from me. For letting others whom are not worthy sample your sweet nectar. But alas, it was only a matter of time before you gave yourself to me,” he moaned, sitting forward so his mouth was right up against the shell of your ear. “Now, your reward for being such a good girl.”

As fast as you could blink, one hand snaked up under your chin to hold you in place. His pillowy lips brushed the flesh of your neck, seeking out right where your pulse was strongest. For half a second you felt a sharp prick, terror momentarily gripping you as the tips of his fangs found their mark. Seokjin bit down into your flesh like butter, the razor-sharp incisors burying deep. However, there was no pain, only a deep warmth that bled through your neck from where he bit you. Within seconds he began ever so gently moving his hips, his cock still buried inside you brushing against your g-spot. The warmth began spreading across your whole body, melting your bones and your cunt began throbbing, an orgasm building very quickly.

“Oh- Seokjin, I-” Before you could even finish the sentence it hit all over, making every muscle in your body quake with pleasure. Thankfully he was equipped with adequate strength to hold you in place, like the perfect predator he was.

It went on and on, your muscles quivering, your cunt quaking and your little pants and gasps filling the room as he swallowed mouthfuls of blood.

“So sweet,” he gasped as he pulled away, finally giving you reprieve. “Delectable.” His plush lips were stained pink from the little drops of blood that had escaped, some even dripping down your shoulder as you twitched from the aftershocks.

His hot tongue swiped over your skin, cleaning any spots of blood that had been left. A wave of sudden nausea washed over you and you slumped forward, luckily for Seokjin’s reflexes his arms wrapped around you before you fell.

“Do you want to stop?” He whispered with a sudden tender note, hands cradling you gently when you couldn’t hold yourself up.

“No! No...please. I just need a moment...m tired,” you mumbled, eyes drooping.

“It’s normal, don’t worry. I have something that will make you feel better, here.” Gently he began easing you off his lap, his length beginning to slip out but you whined in protest. “You have to let me move princess, don’t worry. I’ll fill you up again in a moment.”

Somewhat pacified by his promise, you allowed yourself to be lifted and before you could blink you were sinking into the soft cushions of the chair. Your eyes slipped shut after Seokjin had vanished suddenly, and you heard him rummage around the room behind you.

“Here,” he murmured, and you opened your eyes to see him kneeling in front of you. His hand tenderly cupped the back of your head as he pressed a glass to your lips.

The liquid was delightfully warm, tasting of plum and spices and you hummed happily as you swallowed it down. He whispered little encouragements to you, tipping the cup when you needed until it was empty.

“Good girl. It happens to all humans after feeding, you’ll be fine in a moment.” With that he disappeared, perhaps getting himself a drink while you recovered. The potion was fairly quick to take effect, filling your tired muscles with a thrum of newfound energy. One that had your libido coming straight back from the lingering aphrodisiac in your veins.

“I can keep going,” you told him, standing with an air of determination. Seokjin was quick to rush to your side again, steadying you when your legs wobbled a little. He arched a brow in question, not quite believing you. “Please, I don’t want you to stop.”

“If you say so.” He appeared behind you, drinking in every inch of your naked skin like he was ready to devour you all over again. Seokjin hooked his arm behind your elbows, pulling you flush to him and effectively pushing your chest forward.

“You’ll have to stay on your toes, do you think you can do that little human?” His teeth grazed your earlobe as he whispered into your ear. Eagerly you nodded, standing on the balls of your feet, entire being thrumming with a newfound energy as you felt the tip of his cock brushing through your folds.

Once again he sought out your entrance, easily sinking back into your warmth and you whimpered at how deep he reached from this new angle. Immediately he set a brutal pace, loud slaps echoing about the room along with your cries and his low grunts.

“Please, harder! I don’t want you to be gentle.” Came your cry, attempting to drop down to meet each move of his pelvis. Only a feral snarl came from the vampire behind you, fulfilling your wish by now slamming himself into you.

With each thrust his hip bones dug into your ass cheeks and your breasts bounced. The thickness of his cock had you moaning like a whore each time it split your walls open, his tip kissing your cervix. The angle of his hips was expert, he was obviously an experienced lover but you didn’t expect him to be this good.

“Look at me. Who’s fucking you like this? Who?” He growled into your ear.

“Seokjin!” You wailed as he once again speared you on his length. A sharp slap to your clit had you keening, rising to your tiptoes again from the sharp stab of pleasure. “Prince Seokjin!” You hastily corrected, his slight discipline also reminding you to keep your gaze on your reflexion.

“Good girl. Such an eager little slut, so ready to serve your prince.”

“Always. I’ll always be ready and willing for you to use me as you please. Oh! I’m gonna come again!”

“Good girl. Fuck, you can really take it. Come for your prince,” he growled, hand snaking down to rub circles on your clit.

Muscles tensing you shuddered, feeling the euphoric feeling wash over you once again as he fucked you through your high. If it weren’t for him holding you up, surely your legs would have given out from how much they shook. A sudden wave of tiredness washed over you, the potion’s effect exhausted and you slumped in Seokjin’s arms.

He pulled out and you moved suddenly with a whoosh of air, soft sheets underneath your stomach. Seokjin was on you again straight away, picking right back up where he left off and parting your thighs, you moaned at the sudden stretch as he buried his cock into your cunt once again.

“M-gonna, fill you uh- up, fuck!” He panted, thrusts growing sloppy as he panted loudly on top of you. Leaving no room between your sticky bodies, he draped across you entirely, barely keeping his weight off you. It was strangely comforting, making your toes curl pleasantly in your post orgasm bliss as Seokjin shuddered above you. Heavenly moans and profanities spilled from lips as he came, warmth spilling inside you with a few last thrusts. Lazily you reached beneath you, rubbing circles into your throbbing, blood fattened nub to ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Still panting, he leaned down to whisper something in your ear as you drifted off to sleep before disappearing like a shadow in the night. Spent and muscles aching, you laid on the soft sheets as the sun rose, his words finally sinking in.

“See you tomorrow night.”

#bts smut #seokjin smut #vampire seokjin #bts imagine #seokjin imagine #kim seokjin #kim seokjin smut

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stanknotstark · 3 years

Text

Nails ‘n Spa

So I have a REALLY hard time saying no to people. As I’ve grown I’ve gotten better about it but usually end up saying sorry profusely after I say no. Idk i’m very much a people pleaser so i have a hard time making my own decisions too. So this is where this came from :P

“Hey, would you like to go on a run with me?” Steve asked you.

“Uh....” You knew Steve woke at the ass crack of dawn and honestly you loved sleeping in but you really didn’t want to hurt his feelings and you don’t know how to say no, it’s just never been apart of your vocabulary since you’re a people pleaser. “Ya....I’d love to.” You smiled at Steve.

“Liar.” Loki said once Steve had left the kitchen and it was just you two.

You sighed and laid your head on your arms with a groan.

“I know, I don’t, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.”

“You need to learn to say no, your job isn’t to please everyone.” Loki frowned at you, sipping on his tea, walking up to you he hummed.

“Go get dressed, something comfortable, if you wear pants make sure the legs can be rolled up and wear a short sleeve shirt or tank top. Also wear flips flops or sandals where you toes will be out in the open.”

You looked up at Loki confused but said, “Yes, sir!”

~~~~

You and Loki were making your way down a street when he stopped in front of a nail salon, you walking so close to him you almost ran straight into him.

“We’re here.” He said, opening the door to the salon. You raised your eyebrows at him but went inside.

The minute Loki stepped inside all the women started talking to him.

“Mr. Loki! Mr. Loki, it’s so good to see you, how are you?” One Vietnamese woman said coming up to you both, her accent strong but not so strong you couldn’t tell what she was saying. Smiling, she shook Loki’s hand, then turned to look at you and shake your hand too. “This your girlfriend?”

“Something like that.” Loki said smiling at her too.

“I’ll get my usual, she would like a mani and pedi,” Loki looked down to you, “Go pick a color, sweetheart.”

You swallowed, you had a crush on the God but right now he was acting as if you were a couple and you were happy about it, of course, but at the same time you thought your heart was going to burst out and run away at all this...affection.

“Ya, ok.” You said making your way to the wall of polish. Finally, you decided on a shimmering gold and the lady that had welcomed you lead you to a massage chair next to Loki where you both rolled your pants up and stuck your feet into the warm water.

Luckily no one else was at the salon so you and Loki were able to talk more freely.

“Loki I appreciate this and all but why did you bring me to a nail salon?”

Loki smirked and turned to look at you from his chair.

“I think you’ll realize in due time, darling.”

You pouted but he didn’t say anything more so you shrugged and decided to enjoy yourself, it had been months since you had splurged on yourself like this anyways.

The Vietnamese woman came back with a laminated sheet and gave it to you.

“Would you like the Ice Dancer pedicure, it’s very nice, especially great for your legs and relaxing them?”

You looked at all the choices there were only 5 but the Ice Dancer was the most expensive. Thinking on it you hadn’t brought your wallet....

“Loki, I don’t have my wallet, and even if I did I don’t have the money to pay you back right now...”

“Don’t worry about that, I’ve got it covered.”

“No Lok-”

“I’ve got it, darling,” Loki frowned, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the massage chair, “Please.”

You swallowed and looked back down at the choices.

“I’ll take the regular.”

“No, she’ll take the Ice Dancer, Duyen.”

“I-”

Loki and the woman looked at you expectedly, Loki’s brow raised in question, a challenging look in his eye. You swallowed and looked at Duyen. “Ya, I’ll take the Ice Dancer.” You said looking down to your hands and fiddling with them to avoid looking at Loki. What you didn’t see was the disappointment on his face, luckily.

How were you gonna pay him back, you mani and pedi would surely cost over $100 and that would be a little over 25% of what you made bi-weekly. You assumed Loki could see the guilt chewing you up inside so he placed a hand on yours, causing you to look up at him.

“You could have said no.”

“I- Loki I can’t.”

“Yes you can, if you don’t want it say no.”

You bit your lip but nodded, not that you were going to say no though.

Both you and Loki sat back and enjoyed the pedicure the two Vietnamese women gave you, you both sharing small talk here and there but mostly enjoying the massage the women gave your legs. When it came to nail polish time, you saw Loki getting black. You smiled, it suited him.

“I like black on you. You know most men would never agree to doing this or getting a clear polish.” You said admiring how the black really brought his pale skin out.

“I am not most men.”

“That you are not.” You said, blushing when Loki smirked at you.

Next you were both seated at desks so they could do your manicure. It had started out great and then the woman handling your nails started trying to push choices on you. When she pulled out fake nails your eyes grew wide and you panicked. You REALLY didn’t like long nails, you played the violin and couldn’t play if you had fake nails on but you’d have to tell her no. Through all your panic you didn’t see Loki not outright staring at you but smirking at your internal turmoil.

“Uh!” The woman had placed the fake nail on yours but looked up at you, “I’m so so sorry I uh play violin I can’t have long nails, I’m really sorry!”

The woman smiled and nodded, pulling your hand up so you both could look at the nails.

“Square?” the woman asked.

Swallowing, you squirmed in your seat. You just wanted them to be plain, rounded. Looking to Loki for help he looked at you but didn’t say anything to help. Taking in a deep breath you looked at the woman again.

“Uh, no, could you make them round?” the fear going through your body finally relaxed as you got out your words. To be honest you really weren’t used to asking for what you wanted either, you were very much a people pleaser.

“Ok!” The woman said, then pulled out a bunch of supplies which you realized was meant for gel or shellac nails. Which of course you didn’t want. At this point you were gonna be in tears soon, you really hated saying no.

Thankfully, Loki stepped in, leaning over into your space he looked at what was going on and said, “I think she would prefer just the polish, no gel today.” Loki glanced at you and winked.

Suddenly it hit you like a freight train. Loki was forcing you to get comfortable saying no. While it was a sweet gesture it was very nerve wrecking so you promised you’d get him back somehow. For now you’d be happy about him caring though.

Thankfully the rest of the trip went without a hitch or you having to say no. Ready to get back to the tower you both walked out of the salon and headed towards the tower.

“Thanks.” You said looked down at the ground, counting the cracks in the sidewalk as you walked. Feeling something brush your hand, you watched as Loki took your hand in his, but when you looked up he was looking forward as if it wasn’t happening. After you had walked most of the way back Loki finally spoke.

“I don’t want you to get into a bad situation simply because you don’t want to hurt someone’s feelings by saying no.”

Reaching the edge of the tower you both stopped and looked at each other, people walking past you but ignoring you both,

“I-” You looked at your locked hands, “Unfortunately I’ve been in plenty of bad situations because of this but I’ll try harder for you.” You said, looking him in the eyes, determined. Loki looked at you, no emotion on his face, then gave a small smile.

“Good, I expect nothing less than your best.”

~~~~

“Kid! You wanna help Bruce and me blow up something?” Tony asked you excitedly. You looked at Loki who you sat next to on the couch and he raised an eyebrow at you. That sounded extremely dangerous so you looked back at Tony and smiled sadly, “No, Tony, I’m good.”

Tony shrugged, “Alright, have fun then love birds!” Tony yelled as he ran down the stairs towards his lab.

You felt Loki’s fingers grab your chin and make you look at him. His eyes on your lips.

“Good girl.”

Your heart fluttered, trying to focus on his eyes but you kept glancing at his lips. Finally, Loki kissed you. When he pulled back you still had your eyes closed and said, “I really need to say no more often.”

Loki chuckled then caught your lips again.

#loki x reader #how to say no #one shot #loki odinson #ive decided good loki is loki odinson #bad loki or angsty is loki laufeyson #tag wise that is #my writing #loki #fluff

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mordoriscalling · 3 years

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The Shrike and the Lark

Inspired by the Warlord AU by @inexplicifics and @greyduckgreygoose’s fic “the heart is a winged beast”. Jaskier and Renfri are disaster twins ruling Creyden. When the Warlord of the North knocks at their door, Queen Renfri and King Julian are at an advantage - they know him. As in, they know him.

Creyden, 1237

“I cannot wait to let him know that we know,” King Julian murmurs, “Just imagine the look on his face when he realises.”

Queen Renfri chuckles. It’s a sound both amused and sinister; those who stand near the two thrones on the dais shift nervously upon hearing it. This reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the people in the room. The court of Creyden has long learned to be attuned to the slightest changes in their Queen’s temper – her mood can switch dramatically in a blink of an eye, with formidable consequences.

Perceiving the possible threat, the subjects tense. The stifling air of the throneroom grows unbearable but the two monarchs do not give any indication of noticing it. Instead, they carry on with their hushed conversation.

“I doubt you’ll see much of his surprise,” Queen Renfri replies to her brother, “from what I remember, he’s a man very capable of keeping his composure.”

“I’ll say!” King Julian laughs.

The King’s laughter is a beautiful melody, like the twinkling of silver bells. It rings out in the great room, soothing the nervous atmosphere like a balm. For the courtiers, guards and advisors present, the good humour of the King is a heartening sign. Julian doesn’t show an ounce of fear – nor does Renfri, for that matter – as if he wasn’t at all affected by the fact that they are awaiting the Warlord of the North himself.

The fearsome White Wolf is to arrive within a few minutes. It’s a diplomatic visit; the Warlord expressed a wish to negotiate an agreement with the two rulers of Creyden. Creyden’s recent conquest of Kovir and Poviss enlarged the country's territory and the White Wolf, strangely enough, seems to want to settle the matter of Creyden’s further expansion in a peaceful fashion.

“You speak wisdom, my Queen,” King Julian agrees with an easy grin. “But alas, we made a mistake by not talking about it sooner. What a shame! Imagine how much we could’ve teased him!”

Renfri’s lips quirk up in a rare, gentle smile. “You’re not going to spare him this discomfort now, are you?” she asks, her tone brimming with amusement.

Julian beams and replies, “You’re as accurate in your judgement as ever.”

The Queen’s smile turns sharp. “You flatter me, my King,” she says, “What is the motive of such high praise?”

“Must there be a motive?” King Julian retorts, “Can’t a brother compliment his sister with nothing but familial affection on his mind?”

The moment Queen Renfri opens her mouth to answer, she’s interrupted by a swishing sound coming from the centre of the throne room. There, a portal is forming, which signals that the Warlord and his entourage are about to appear.

When the White Wolf steps out of the magical circle, there is no fanfare. Everyone goes dead silent as they behold the infamous witcher. His clearly powerful body, strong features and strange, golden eyes amount to a commanding presence.

The White Wolf is followed by a dozen more witchers. All of them appear similar to their lord in some ways – their frames scream strength, their scowls warn not to go near them. Just like their lord, they are dressed head to toe in armour, the two swords strapped to their backs.

A single woman joins the suite – a lady dressed in a beautiful gown, black and white. After she walks out of the portal, the gesture of her hand closes the magical circle behind her. The sorceress then takes a place at the White Wolf’s left, while a witcher with a scarred face stands at his right.

The whole group doesn’t move or speak. King Julian and Queen Renfri chose to get up from their thrones, their hands joined in a sign of unity.

Quite a sight they make, illuminated by the light of the sunset falling into the room through the tall windows. The royal twins, born under the Black Sun, are pleasant to look at, with their wide eyes, pouty lips and elegant noses. Their facial features are not greatly different, but the similarities seem to end there. Queen Renfri, dressed in reds and golds, is a severe, imperious figure, while King Julian, wearing blues and silvers, has an aura of cheerfulness and charm.

It’s a captivating opposition – the Shrike and the Lark, so alike and yet not similar at all. Two little birds, veiled in legend, notorious in their own specific ways.

King Julian leads Queen Renfri down the dais. Holding hands, the two monarchs approach the White Wolf and his pack until they stand face to face with the Warlord himself. The gesture speaks volumes of their amicable attitude, which raises eyebrows both among the Creyden people and the White Wolf’s entourage.

The Queen speaks first.

“Geralt of Rivia,” she greets, “welcome to Creyden.”

“Welcome, White Wolf,” King Julian adds with a smile, “and welcome, White Wolf’s people. We rejoice to host such fine guests!” The pleasure in his tone rings true. “Allow us to invite you all to a welcoming feast.”

The Warlord’s visage remains unchanged at this warm reception, his expression stern and watchful as he inclines his head. “My thanks,” he replies, the deep rumble of his voice reverberating through the quiet of the room. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Queen Renfri,” he goes on, “And you, King Julian.”

The statement is met with murmurs of confusion. The two rulers of Creyden pay it no mind.

“I’m glad to renew our acquaintance as well,” the King answers, in a way strangely playful, “It’s my hope that my sister and I will form even closer ties to you in the future.”

If that is not enough to deepen everyone’s surprise, the Queen declares, “It’s my wish too. A profitable alliance could be built on the foundation of the friendship that binds the three of us.”

The crowd breaks into furious whispers – it was not known that there exists such familiarity between Geralt of Rivia and Renfri and Julian of Creyden.

The Warlord does not seem pleased to have this fact revealed; he stares at Julian and Renfri, his eyes narrowed. The twins only smirk in identical manner, not perturbed by the dangerous glare in the slightest.

Finally, the White Wolf answers, “A promising thought.”

The growled out affirmation is perhaps the most unexpected of all. Even the King and the Queen appear taken aback by it, but only for a moment. When the Warlord steps away, the twins get ahold of themselves. King Julian takes Queen Renfri by the hand again and the two monarchs start heading out of the throne room, leading their subjects and guests towards the hall where the feast is to take place.

“Has my mind conjured it up,” King Julian whispers, for the ears of his sister only, “or did he just say yes to us propositioning him in front of everyone?”

“So it seems,” Queen Renfri replies, just as quietly.

Julian’s only answer is a noise of bemusement.

“Look at that,” Renfri drawls. “The clever Jaskier, a master bard, has been outwitted.”

“Hush, sweet Hiacynt,” Jaskier grits out, “I’m merely thinking –”

“How much does that hurt?”

In response to the Queen’s jest, the King tightens his grip on her hand until his knuckles are white. Queen Renfri shows her displeasure with this by stepping on his toes.

Soon, the twins are shoving each other, not quite like unruly schoolchildren but also not discreetly enough. One of their advisors trailing behind them has to clear her throat to make them stop.

Read the rest on AO3

#myfic #geraskier #the witcher fanfiction #the accidental warlord and his pack #renfri #renfri & jaskier are disaster twins

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justagost · 3 years

Text

Face him head on - A Narumitsu Fic

So I got into the AA fandom recently and... I love Bratworth??? And I like seeing Bratworth/Feenie content? So I wrote this:

Basically, Post SoJ Edgeworth and Wright get teleported (with some Magatama incident) in the years where they were young, aka Bratworth’s and Feenie’s (Pre-Dahlia) years, but, Wright appears in the courthouse with young Miles, and Edgeworth in Ivy University with young Phoenix. So, the old counterparts, to get back together, make their young selves meet again.

I know this sounds complicated af, but I swear it’s a LOT easier to understand if you just read it

Spoilers for: Most of AA: Trials and Tribulation and Turnabout goodbyes

Warning: Mention of blood, fluff, and a bit of horny Bratworth for Older Phoenix and his fancy suit. Nothing explicit

Words count: 3.700

Enjoy~

Edgeworth paced the tribunal’s hall, his shoes clicked on the smooth pavement, Von Karma was to arrive soon for a trial and he was sure the man was going to want to meet him for a regular check-up on victories and progress. Miles wasn’t really ecstatic about it, but he had no choice, so he used this time to prep-talk himself, that was until a voice from a man he had just surpassed stopped him, “Excuse me, um… what year are we in?”

How could you not know the current year? “What a foolish question, you should be out of this world to not know.” He turned around with his eyes close, “We are well in two-thousand and–” but as he opened his eyes, his words were cut off by the sight of a well-dressed man in multiple shades of blue.

The stranger’s eyes widened, “M-Miles?” he stuttered, and Edgeworth flinched at the use of his name, making him forget all about the suit, “H-How dare you call me by my first name?! It is highly inappropriate and unprofessional, especially from a stranger” the annoyance from his own situation with his mentor arose and he turned around to leave with a “Hmph!” as he was stopped again: “What do you mean ‘stranger’ Mi- Edgeworth? It’s me, Phoenix!”

He scanned his memory for that name, but only one person came to mind- and it definitely wasn’t them. They were part of his past and also the same age as Miles, so it was impossible.

The man shifted behind him, “Really Edgeworth? Does the name ‘Phoenix Wright’ not ring any bells?”

Wright?

His breath hitched.

With an expression full of surprise, he turned back to the man and stared: the spiky hair, the ocean-deep eyes… an attorney badge?!

No, it wasn’t the Wright, it couldn’t be.

He shook his head, “There is no logical way you are the Wright I’m thinking about-” a soft smile welcomed his confused gaze, “But I am- “ He fished for something in his pocket, “Here” and opened his hand to present it to him, Edgeworth accidentally gasped out loud: Signal blue, worn out and slightly faded.

“H-how?” he let out a shaky breath, clutching his arm with the one that wasn’t carrying his bag, “You are my same age- yet you look much more mature-” and hotter, “And what are you doing in a courthouse? Why do you have a defence pin- no” he stopped himself, “You are trying to fool me. You are not who you say you are”

A deep sigh came from the supposed Wright, “I know it’s hard to wrap your head around it- but it’s me, from the future”

His confusion disappeared in an instant, replaced with anger, “What nonsense are you spouting?!” He almost took his leave for the third time, “You want proof, Edgeworth?” his words stopped him once again, as Phoenix shoved his hands in his pocket again, “Then there is proof!” he fished out a device he had never seen before, he deduced it was a cellphone, but much more technological: it didn’t have a keypad and it lit up to show an image with various people in it, just for it to change. The man pressed the screen and there was a calendar which showed the same date but another year– so far away from the current one.

“See? This is almost twenty years ago for me, of course I look older, but it’s me” He placed a hand on his chest for emphasis, “Here- I’ll even show there is an older version of you!” he clicked the screen again and a cellphone contact with the name ‘Miles Edgeworth’ was there: the number was his.

He still couldn’t believe it, but the longer he stared at the man, the longer he could see Phoenix Wright, the kid with the biggest brightest smile he had ever seen, something in his chest was bubbling at the memories of his childhood friend.

“Edgeworth I know this is confusing and very sudden but– you need to help me find my Edgeworth” those words deepened that feeling, my Edgeworth…

“If I’m here with you, that probably means he’s with twenty years old me– you have your car already, yeah?” He stuttered out a reply, “Then please Edgeworth, help me find him” Phoenix grabbed both of his shoulders and stared at him with his glittery eyes.

His instinct was to say yes, but the fury of Von Karma about making him wait would be inevitable… but those eyes… his touch…he was so close…

“Yes…” he panted out, his breath missing from the closeness of his childhood crush, and the next second, he was being dragged down the hall: Phoenix was holding his hand.

His face lit up and the fire within him started to crackle louder: the man was well-toned, the blue suit was perfect for him- made for him, and that light blue vest… made him wild, it made his sculpted chest and thin waist even more obvious, the gold chain to his pocket and his shiny attorney badge complimented the look: Miles had to look away in shame for thinking such thoughts.

Without realizing it, Phoenix had dragged him all the way to the parking lot, like he was more than familiar with the courthouse layout… which he guess backed up his pin. “You already have the red sports car?” he looked at Edgeworth with a serious expression, which made him quiver a little, “Y-yes!”

He was dragged again until they arrived at the car, he managed to fish out his keys and unlock it, Wright stole them from his hand, his skin warm against his left a tingling sensation, “I need to drive, you don’t know where we’re heading. I know you don’t like that other people drive your car, sorry, but it’s an emergency” He flushed again as he entered the passenger seat, the question of how he knew such a thing was answered by the fact that Phoenix knew him in his… timeline? World? Either way, any type of complaint died in his tongue, too overwhelmed as the man started the car and Phoenix’s cologne filled the air: it was fresh and pleasant, it complimented his looks just as the suit did.

While they were speeding somewhere, the car was silent: mostly because Edgeworth was overwhelmed with... Phoenix, everything about him was too much to process.

How the little boy in his memory became this handsome man, why he was a defence attorney, how he came from the future… how the butterflies in his stomach hadn’t stopped since his name was brought up.

Yes, Miles had a bit of a childhood crush on Phoenix, but he had to stuff away his feelings since Von Karma had subtly introduced him to daughters of powerful friends of his multiple times, and had expressed how ‘He could choose between marrying a proper woman or dedicate his life to his job’.

But seeing a mature, sexy version of Phoenix had reawakened that old fire he thought he had extinguished.

The man driving fumbled with that device again and then placed it on his lap, the beeping made him realize he was calling someone.

“Phoenix? Are you alright?” a voice that sounded awfully like his own replied, Wright picked up the device, “Miles! I’m on my way!” So this was the older him! And they used their first names! This meant they were friends!

A wave of happiness washed over him knowing they reunited after all this time.

“On your way?! Phoenix how do you know where I am?!”, Wright turned left using only one hand to steer, which was… hot…

Edgeworth looked away and realized how much the sight had affected him… he could feel his pants become a little tighter... “I awoke at the courthouse, not too far away from twenty years old you, I presume you must be at Ivy university with twenty years old me”

“Yes…” They accelerated a little as the confirm came in, “I’m glad I caught him as he was leaving class… I swear I saw… Her… in the distance” Wright’s grip on the wheel tightened, his face winced like he was in pain: Who was… her?

“I should be there in five minutes or so, bring young me with you at the entrance: visitors aren’t allowed inside” an okay arrived from the device, “I’m… not wearing the sweater… am I?” The question was so weird Edgeworth snapped his head towards Wright in confusion, why what he was wearing matter?

A sight came from the other line, “No, fortunately you aren’t… I think you haven’t started da-” he stopped his older version of him on the phone, “Don’t Miles…” the man driving the car looked at him for a brief2 second, “You’re on speaker”.

A mortified “Oh” came from the other line, “I’ll see it for myself, bye” he placed the device on his lap again, not before a concerned, “Drive safe Phoenix” came as a goodbye.

Silence fell again, and it stayed that way for a while, Edgeworth was becoming restless, Phoenix could tell by how hards he was grabbing his arm, so he talked, “Say… you had your first trial already, yeah?” He winced at the memory of that man falling backwards, with blood spilling from his mouth… that girl smirking…

He shivered and nodded, a hand softly settled on his shoulder, “I’m sorry to bring back the bad memory, but I need to find out at what time both you and young me are living in right now” he nodded and dared a peek at Wright.

His brows were furrowed in concentration: he was thinking: “How do I ask this…” he mumbled, “Um.. Did you make it on the news?” The question threw him off, “Uh… Y-yes… an article about me was released not too long ago” Phoenix nodded, “Alright, so young me is aware of you”

A confused “Huh?” slipped past his lips. Phoenix shook his head, “Young me saw that article, that’s how…” he paused.

Wright had seen the article? A chill went down his spine… they didn’t talk too well about him on there… it mentioned all sorts of bad rumours. Did Phoenix hate him now?

“No, I can’t say more than this, you’ll see for yourself once we arrive”

It struck him that he was about to see Wright, well, the Wright he spent that blissful year of school with… his Wright.

“Hey… don’t overthink this, I can assure you everything will be fine” A comforting smile came from the man, Edgeworth nodded.

Now that he had seen older him, he couldn’t think how twenty-year-old Phoenix would look.

_______________

Phoenix parked and scrambled out of young Edgeworth’s car, the man was walking so fast he had no time to register where they were, thank god for the massive sign saying “Ivy university”. So this is where Phoenix ended up huh.

They approached the entrance by the big stairs, and once on top of them, there they were: The older version of himself reminded him too much of his father, the glasses were– as best as he could remember – the same model. He was wearing a long jacket a shade slightly different than his, the cravat was at its usual place and the black vest, he realized, matched with Phoenix’s, different colour, but it looked like the same model.

A smaller boy was standing almost behind him, gripping the sketchbook to his chest, a red scarf hid his reddened face: he was looking directly towards him. His stomach dropped: that was Wright.

“Phoenix!” His counterpart ran into adult Wright’s arm, embracing him for a few seconds before pulling away and cupping his cheeks, “Are you ok? Is everything all right?” the man with the spiky hair smiled, “Yes Miles I’m ok”.

After a sigh of relief, his old self looked right at him and scooted away from Phoenix, a little blush lit his cheeks. An awkward silence fell in the middle of the chaos of students leaving school.

“So… how do we go back?” Wright asked, adult him looked down in thoughts, “I’m not sure… but Maya shoved the magatama on me as soon as it started to lit up” He grabbed the side of his jacket and pulled a shaped rock out of it, “I presume we’ll have to use this… although you’re much handier with it than I am” He gave it to adult Wright and then looked back at him, he looked away: he looked so much like his father it hurt.

“M-miles…?” A broken voice called his first name, both Edgeworths looked at the young boy with the spiky hair. He was about to say how childish it was to call him by his first name, but his heart dropped as he realized: Phoenix was crying, subtly sobbing in the scarf, “Why didn’t you reply to my letters?” Edgeworth gripped his arm, “Why did you suddenly disappear?” he cringed, “Why are you a prosecutor?” he choked out the final question, Miles internally cursed von Karma and that damned earthquake.

“I..-” he attempted to reply, but Phoenix threw himself at him, making his briefcase drop: “I MISSED YOU SO MUCH!”

The boy gripped him desperately, his first instinct was to shove him away, yell at him to stay back and disappear. Wright was part of his painful cursed past.

But the warmth of another body surrounding him… the closeness of his friend made him realized that he was the cause of his sadness: he had hurt Phoenix.

His brain screamed at him to free himself, but every inch of his body, touch-starved for years… and his instinct to protect him… they held his negative thoughts back from becoming true.

Adult Wright was holding that greenstone, absorbed in thoughts, but older him stared at his soul, smiling. Phoenix was a sobbing and shuttering mess, his suit was going to be ruined after this, but as if older Edgeworth read his mind, like this was a situation he’d been before, he whispered softly enough for only him to hear: “Don’t run, face it head-on”

After a few seconds of confusion, he almost physically recoiled as he realized what older him was saying: his suit getting stained, his pride being hurt, what von Karma taught him… they were all excuses to run away from an uncomfortable situation: this situation.

Face it head on… Phoenix’s feelings, all of the memories he reminded him of, the mistakes he had made, his hurtful past… He had to face them head-on.

But his feelings for Phoenix! The butterflies he got when a nine-year-old Phoenix smiled at him or grabbed his hand… the insecurity of preferring boys over girls that had started with the man in his arms-

Older him sighed and held out a hand in Wright’s direction, “Hm? Yes Mile- Hmf!” and grabbed older Phoenix’s tie, pulling him to… kiss him.

Miles’s eyes widened as he observed how Wright’s surprised expression melted into the kiss, his eyes closed and a hand crept up onto older Edgeworth for support: Edgeworth had told Wright his feelings, and he reciprocated them.

Every ounce of logic flew right out of the window and Miles hugged the still sobbing Phoenix tight, pushing him against his chest. He stiffened as a small gasp came out of the boy in his arms, he was just waiting for Phoenix to shove him away, to say that he hated him, to see his angry face… but Phoenix never moved away, actually, he whispered: “I missed you so so much…”

The gentle voice hit him straight in his heart, so he replied, “... I… missed you too…” and closed his eye as tears threatened to spill out.

___________________

They broke the kiss before it became too heated, panting, Phoenix, after recovering, asked, “What was that fo-” but he was cut off again as Miles took his chin and turned it to their younger versions directions, hugged as both of them cried. His husband smiled at the sight.

Edgeworth remembered how Wright told him, (when pretty drunk once after Edgeworth’s trial, and again, after Phoenix had almost died due to the bridge) how when he saw the ‘Demon prosecutor’ article, all he wanted was to hug Miles and ask him what happened.

Of course, Edgeworth knew that even if they had met back at that time, his phobia of the past and his repressed feelings toward men and Phoenix (because yes, they were two separate things), wouldn’t have allowed it, ever. Especially with all of von Karma’s hate for romantic relationships with ‘normal people’ in general, planted in his head.

He never told Phoenix what he wished would have been impossible, it wouldn’t have been nice. But as soon as he saw twenty years old Phoenix threw himself at twenty years old him, he knew exactly what thoughts were going on in his head. Denying young Phoenix of the hug would have hurt both older and younger Wright… and of course, his younger self too.

So, he thought to himself, that a little encouragement and reassurance wasn’t going to hurt. In fact, it was all worth it when his husband flashed that big soft smile of his at the sight.

After he stopped staring at the two young adults, he turned towards Miles, “I’m pretty sure I know how to go back: all we need to do is hold the magatama in our hands and think to walk back to Kurain village” he whispered, Miles nodded, “Thank god I caught it when Maya threw it at me” he replied, earning another smile from Phoenix.

They waited another minute before their younger selves untangled out of the embrace: Miles guessed their habit of long hugs was something that had always been there from the start.

After wiping their tears aways, Phoenix spoke first, “Alright, we are ready to return in our year-” Miles placed a hand on his husband’s shoulder, “Before we go, I’d like to speak to my young self… privately” Young Edgeworth looked away while older Wright nodded, “Ok… just, don’t say anything… risky” Miles flashed a smirk, “I have no intention to”. With that said, he walked towards twenty years old Edgeworth, “May I have a word with you?”, young him stuttered out a yes, and followed him a bit away from the Wrights.

__________________

“von Karma is going to be furious when you show up late, so say confidently that you were stuck in traffic. Don’t say that there was an incident unless you run into one on your way back, he will probably check” Young him recoiled by how detailed the plan was, “O-ok…” he gripped his jacket, older him smiled, “Keep Phoenix close, no matter what the consequences” he placed both hands on young Miles shoulders, “You like him, don’t you?” After a pause and a cringy expression, he slowly nodded, “Don’t be ashamed of it, he won’t judge you. Phoenix will be there for you if you ever need anything” The wide-eyes stare he received made him smile, “You simply have to allow him in, and trust me: you’ll never regret it”

Edgeworth realized that his wedding ring was in full display, and maybe the news wouldn’t ease his younger self’s nerves, so he shoved his left hand in his pocket, and spoke right after to cover up the perhaps too rushed action, “At first, it may hurt to explain your situation to Phoenix, but it will only be at the start. Again: if you allow him in, he’ll only be of help and support. You just have to face him head-on”

Young Edgeworth was still a little confused, but as he took a quick glance behind his older self (probably to look at Wright) he nodded, “I… I’m scared…”

Of course he was, hell, he himself was scared when Phoenix came crashing into his life, shuttering everything he had built up until then.

“I know, your first instinct is to run, but unless you want to hurt him, it’s better that you explain your situation first thing first”

After letting young Miles elaborate a little more, they went back to the Wrights, and each Edgeworth took their rightful place next to them.

“Well, I guess it’s time we head back” Older Wright broke once again the silence, “I hope you too keep in touch from now on” they looked at their younger version look at each other and gaze away as a flush crept onto their cheeks, “T-thank you for bringing him to me… me” Young Phoenix bowed, as young Edgeworth’s blush deepened.

“Let’s go or we’ll worry Maya and Pearl” Miles waved at the two and grabbed Phoenix’s hand, leading him away. After they climbed down the stairs, they disappeared.

Wright and Edgeworth were left standing next to the other, “So… that really really just happened, huh…” the boy with the spiky hair huffed, turning to face his silver-haired friend: “So uhh… sorry for–” “I’m sorry Phoenix but I have to go, now” he cut him off, startling the boy, Miles dug into his briefcase and pulled out his business card, the one von Karma had him make before he even became officially a prosecutor, “We have a lot to catch up on but– there is a very inpatient person waiting for me and I’m already–” a soft hand crept on his shoulder, pulling him out of the small panic he had gotten into when he intterrupted the other boy, “I understand” Phoenix took the card and brought it to his chest, “I’ll text you and we can see each other with less rush” he smiled, and that made Miles relax, “Just- promise me something… “ a small hint of pain in his eyes made him look like a lost puppy, cute, “Please answer me this time”.

Edgeworth realized that not answering his letters might have hurt Phoenix more than he thought, but he nodded, “I will, I promise” and after a quiet goodbye, he rushed to his car, speeding carefully along the road.

von Karma, as his older self anticipated, bought the excuse, not after a little scolding, of course.

He was thankful that they were walking while talking, and he didn’t have to pay actual attention to the conversation, because Miles’s mind drifted off to how sexy Wright looked with that blue suit, and how cute Phoenix was with the red scarf.

Yes, the childhood friend was going to be a constant thought from now on, distracting him from his work, but as older him said: he wasn’t going to run away, he wanted Phoenix back into his life, and no von Karma or murder case was going to deny him that wish.

#writing #fanfiction #ace attorney #ace attorney fanfiction #miles edgeworth #phoenix wright #bratworth #feenie #fluff #wrightworth #narumitsu #wrightworth fanfiction #narumitsu fanfiction #phoenix x miles #phoenix x edgeworth #phoenix wright x miles edgeworth #bratworth x feenie

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slippinmickeys · 3 years

Text

The Annapolis Grant, part 3/?

Despite being in first class and further away from the engine noise at the wings, the throttle up when the engines went to full on the runway never failed to wig her out. She gripped the armrests and closed her eyes, willing her pulse to go down. She repeated safety statistics silently in an attempt to remind herself that flying was still the safest way to travel, but it did little to assuage what she fully admitted was an irrational fear.

“Are you a nervous flyer?” Mulder’s voice rumbled at her shoulder. She opened her eyes to look at him, and he was leaning toward her, a look of concern in his eyes. She wanted to ease her grip on the armrests and give him a reassuring smile, but found she couldn’t. She nodded at him, pulling her lips into her mouth on a breath.

“Would it help to hold my hand?” he asked, rather sweetly holding out the palm of his hand toward her. She was about to refuse when the plane tilted sharply left. They’d opted to fly out of National rather than Dulles, which meant the aircraft had to bank more steeply at takeoff to avoid the no-fly airspace of the Capitol. Before it had even leveled out, Scully found she was gripping Mulder’s hand tightly, which he squeezed and pulled to rest gently on his knee.

His hand was warm, dry and soft, and he twisted it to interlace their fingers, his own long and elegant. Piano-playing fingers, her mother would call them.

“I’m not sure how much of a touchy-feely person you are,” he said after a couple of minutes, “but this is probably good.” He nodded toward their interlaced fingers. “How much public affection are you comfortable with?”

“Honestly?” Scully said, “Not much. But… I think I need to get over that for the purposes of this week. If we’re going to pull this off, we need to be convincing.” Mulder nodded and squeezed her fingers. “I’m not saying we need to lay it on thick,” she went on, “but, you should feel free to put your arm around me or hold my hand, or…” her voice trailed off as her thoughts spun.

“I’ll follow your lead,” he said, then lifted her hand and placed a soft kiss on it.

She felt her stomach dip. What was going on with her?

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself,” he said, “and I’ll do the same.”

“Good idea,” she said, and leaned back in the plush comfort of the first class seat, telling him everything she could think of about herself, starting at the beginning of her life and going onward. He was attentive, occasionally asking questions, and several times made comments that made her outright laugh. “And that’s… me.” She finished, “I work long hours, I practically live in my lab-”

“-and you recently acquired a devoted and loving fiance,” he finished for her.

She chuckled. “Yes,” she said, “and that.”

She looked down at their laced fingers, realizing that somewhere along the way, she’d forgotten to be scared of flying.

“So what about you?” she asked him. “What should I know about you for this week? What will we tell McKay?”

“I’m going to pivot a bit here,” he said, “go with it?”

“Okay...” she was curious.

“Do you have a ring?” he asked her. “An engagement ring?”

“You know, I’d thought about that,” she said. She remembered the first thing McKay had done when she’d mentioned a fiancé, was glance at her ring finger. “I told McKay that the engagement was new and that we were having the ring sized. I went to a couple pawn shops and an antique store this weekend, but I couldn’t find anything that would really work.”

“I may be able to help with that,” he said, letting go of her hand so that he could reach into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet pouch. He set it on the tray table in front of her.

She reached forward and pulled open the drawstring, shaking out its contents onto her palm. She gasped quietly. The ring was gold with an aged patina, a large diamond solitaire sat in the middle, flanked by two emerald cut sapphires.

“Mulder…” she said, looking up at him.

“It was my grandmother’s,” he said. “I find in these… situations, that sticking as closely to the truth as possible can help, well… sell the story. I’ll obviously need the ring back at the end of our arrangement, but little details might help this McKay to…”

“Believe the lie?” Scully offered.

“If you like,” Mulder said kindly.

Scully slipped the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly.

“Good fit,” he said.

She smiled at him and met his eye. “So stick as closely to the truth as possible?”

“Whenever you can,” he said, tucking the empty pouch back into the inner pocket of his linen suit. “So. I’m going to tell you about myself -- things you should be comfortable sharing with McKay -- that way we won’t talk ourselves into any corners.”

“That sounds sensible,” she said, “one thing though.” He raised his eyebrows inquiringly. “What should we tell him you… do. For a living.”

He shrugged. “The truth.” It was her turn to raise eyebrows. “I’m pursuing my PhD,” he clarified. Her eyebrows went up even higher. “I was midway through my degree when my parents were killed in an accident. My sister was badly injured. She was in the hospital for months. I had to sell my parents house, move back… It cost a lot of money to get her where she is today. I do this job to finance my degree and to take care of her.”

Scully��s heart went out to him. Whatever she’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that.

“Is she okay, your sister?” she asked him.

“Samantha,” he said. “She has good days and bad. We’re getting through it.”

For the first time he seemed to clam up and his openness closed off a bit. She wouldn’t pry.

“What degree are you pursuing?” she asked him.

“Psychology,” he answered.

“Where?”

“Oxford, until the accident,” he said, “now Georgetown.”

Scully looked at him. He was absolutely full of surprises. She looked down at the ring on her finger. It was exactly the kind of thing she would have picked out for herself.

“I’m… I was not expecting…” she started to say before she was aware she’d even opened her mouth, she stopped herself before she insulted him, “this level of service,” she finished lamely.

Mulder stared at her baldly. “We’re a full-service boutique, Dr. Scully,” he said.

Scully felt her face flush.

The flight attendant came by then with hot towels, and Mulder turned from her to politely thank the attendant.

“Mind the prongs on the sapphires,” he said as Scully shook a little heat out of her own before using it, “they have a tendency to catch on sweaters and towels.” She looked over at him and he gave her a quiet smile.

They were the first off the plane, out of the jetway and snaking into the masses -- LAX was absolutely packed, filled with travelers either coming or going for the Independence Day holiday. As they passed a gate that was about to board, a man wearing a huge backpack turned around, not paying attention to the added bulk strapped to his shoulders and bumped roughly into Scully, who stumbled. Mulder smoothly grabbed her elbow, righting her. From that point on, he led her gently through the busy terminal, one hand resting on the small of her back and the other held out to keep people out of her space.

He collected their luggage as it came off of the carousel, taking her suitcase and his own garment bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He then nodded toward an area near the exit doors.

“Come on,” he said, taking her hand, “I think that’s our driver.” There was an impeccably liveried older gentleman standing with a sign reading “SCULLY.” When she looked up at him, his eyes were bright and focused on her.

It was odd. She'd dated men who'd been sweet and conscientious. She'd had boyfriends that made her feel safe and taken care of. She'd met men (and a few women) who made her feel wanted -- who looked at her with a hunger that made her skin feel tight around her bones. But she'd never experienced all of those things at once, all from the same person. An odd feeling that crept up her spine, but she shook it off, following the driver McKay had sent to their waiting limousine.

XxX

She had forgotten about the traffic in LA. Despite the fact that the airport was very near where McKay’s yacht was docked in Marina del Rey, it still took forty five minutes to get to the marina, enough time for Scully to have second thoughts. And third. And fourth. By the time the limo crawled to a stop in a narrow parking lot adjacent to the docks, Scully was as tense as a tightrope, ready to snap.

The driver opened the door nearest Mulder, who rose confidently onto the hot asphalt and held out a hand to help her out.

“This way, please,” the driver said, turning on his heel to lead them toward the docks. Scully turned back to the car to inquire about their luggage, but there were already two -- what Scully assumed to be dockhands or porters, pulling their baggage out of the trunk -- they were dressed alike, each in navy shorts with a walkie talkie clipped to their waist, and a crisp white polo shirt with the name “Dominus” embroidered on the front.

When the driver led them to the plank leading to the boat, she heard Mulder’s small intake of breath. She was bowled over, herself. She’d expected it to be big, but the Dominus was massive. She could see various crew members darting about on the various decks, and there, standing at the top of the teak and chrome boarding plank was Alexander McKay himself. She took a deep, steadying breath.

A man and woman dressed in the crew uniform met them at the bottom of the plank.

“Hello,” the man said, extending a hand. “I’m Greg, I’m the head steward for the Dominus. This is Krista,” he gestured to the woman, who smiled at them warmly, “she’ll be your personal steward. Anything at all you need, find one of us. We’ll be sure your baggage gets to your stateroom. Welcome aboard.” He gestured them toward the ship.

Mulder and Scully both gave them their thanks and then turned to… well, to walk the plank, thought Scully. Into the depths we go.

Just as she was about to take a step, Mulder put a hand on her shoulder and leaned down to place a kiss into her hairline. She looked up to see McKay watching, a smile she couldn’t read playing about his lips.

With Mulder close behind her, she stepped aboard.

#fanfic #msr #my fic #the x-files #au #prompts #don’t get used to daily updates #😅

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shadowworks · 3 years

Text

Resolutions

Pairing: Hawks X Reader

Warnings: Fluffy, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol (consumed at a party!) mentions of height difference, Feels. There’s feels.

Word Count: 1.4k

Song suggestion: New Years Day by Taylor Swift

A/N: A group of us decided to do Secret Santa, and my pick was sweet, @redflannel! I really hope you like it, and you’ll be excited for the new year! 🥺

Thank you @some-kindofgnome for helping brainstorm ideas and reading over everything! Honestly, you’ve been through it all. 🤍 Also, thank you @hisoknen, @present-mel & @pleasantanathema for reading it over towards the end. 🤍

Red, this one’s for you!

New Years Eve.

There’s glitter on the floor when you walk through the party. You hear the muted cheers of laughter from the rooftop, all colleagues from Hawks’ agency watching fireworks bloom across a dark sky. A couple girls walk by, holding pretty shoes by their straps and both lost in their conversation. Your interests are elsewhere. On someone, actually.

The hall trails to a corner office on the right, the door's closed but that doesn’t make you turn around. A soft knock, and a turn of the knob follows right before you step inside. The room is mostly dark, save for a dim desk lamp turned on near the city windows.

“Hawks?” You call out in the dark. Tousled locks of gold tip in your direction, and you’re met with honey eyes staring wide from the high rise window. It’s a surprise, though it looks like you’re welcomed.

“Hey,” he offers gently. His low voice isn't as strong as usual. It’s quiet and solemn...not like him at all.

“Hey,” you greet back, closing the door behind you, “What are you doing in here, babe?”

Hawks made his appearance earlier in the night. He poured himself a glass of champagne, and he wandered between conversations through the crowds like a smooth talker. And yet, when it came to the clock reaching nearly midnight, you noticed his vibrant presence wasn’t among the hazy and drunk crowds.

In truth he likes to go off on his own. You've come to find this out through your months working together, but still. This is different.

“Ah well, gotta catch up on paperwork, you know how it is.” He manages, glimpsing back to the glass. You did. But you know he submitted his paperwork days prior...To prove this, the desk’s clean without a single shred of paper on top, and his computer screen is blank, idle, a dull light painting the keyboard.

You take your time approaching the desk, capturing him in the soft light. He’s in a three piece suit, holes cut in the back for his plush crimson wings. Lovely posture, and he holds a half empty glass of champagne in hand, the other tucked in the pocket of his trousers, and so...effortlessly beautiful. It’s hard not to stare.

“Did I submit the reports wrong the first time?” You ask.

“What?—No! That’s not—” you catch him off guard. It’s not something that happens often, but maybe because it’s you he’s affected more as he stares back startled. But his words bubble in his throat, and he turns shamefully to shield his face, with shoulders hitched slightly.

You tilt your head, attempting a peek at his flustered features and you quietly circle around the lengthy wooden desk. “You sure this isn’t for something else?”

That’s not enough. He still doesn’t answer, instead he holds his stare to the flutter of fallen snow pouring down onto the city.

“Hey, look at me,” you tell him. This time you draw close to his form, extending an arm and taking his champagne glass. He lets it slip from his fingers as you set it down for him on the desk. You glance up, hands finding his cheeks lightly dusted in a blush. You cup them softly, guiding his head to face yours, “What’s going on with you?”

His handsomely marked eyes fall lidded. They search your own, intensely looking for something...The heat between your fingers is soothing, and you feel his calloused hands reach upward to lay across your fingers, stroking your knuckles in a gentle manner with his thumb.

“Shoulda taken it easy on the champagne.”

“We both know that was your first glass.”

You feel Hawks slide your hands from his cheeks, his stubble grazing your skin, only to cradle you around the waist and pull you into his chest at once. You instinctively find your arms wrapping around him. He buries his head into your shoulder, breathing deep, holding you tightly in his arms.

Something you’ve noticed about Hawks is he doesn’t always give you the answer right away. Sometimes it takes patience, and the way he is right now? This is something that’ll have to wait until the morning, when the new year has finally begun. And that’s okay.

“Hawks,” you say, craning your head toward his thickly swept hairs. When he doesn’t move from the embrace, you pause for a moment, just before your voice falls to a whisper.

“Keigo.”

His head slowly lifts, looking back at you longing, with all the love in the gleam of his eyes. He gave you his name some time ago, but the conditions are to keep it a secret. You couldn’t say it in the workplace, or around mixed company. But this is an exception.

The world is looking toward the sparks in the sky, while you’re looking at the sparks in his eyes. The sound of muted shouts come from above again; the countdown ringing from drunken voices.

Ten

Nine

Eight

“How about I take you home?” You gently soothe. You watch his features soften.

Seven

Six

Five

“Only if you stay with me,” Keigo breathes back, amber cologne brushing your nose as he flutters his lips against yours.

Four

Three

Two

“I always will.”

One

Your lips press together and fireworks burst from beyond the glass window, shading you two in a blend of blues, greens, and reds. Your eyes are closed, lost in a tender touch.

Happy New Year!

When you both pull apart, it’s slow and you two are lingering. Peeling your eyes open, you glance at each other through the long, boisterous cheers of celebration.

It’s Hawks who moves first, collecting your hand in his as he leads you out the door of his office. He knows how to leave a party in private, he’s good with fast departures, after all. Only a couple people catch the two of you collecting your winter coats, and he flashes a coy smile with a charming flare.

A little too quickly you feel the crisp air bite your skin as you depart into the harsh cold. You’re grateful Keigo draws you toward him, letting the soft plush of his wings veil you from the oncoming wind. The city is alive with continuous noise poppers, and cheering sounds in the distance. But it’s Keigo’s voice which catches your attention.

“You know,” he starts, his tone smoother than before. But there’s a hint of nerves you can detect, just a little as he goes on, “I’ve been thinking a lot about next year.”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Guess we could call it a New Years Resolution or something, heh, been leading up to it, but…”

“Babe.”

Finally turning towards you face to face, he leans into you, holding you in another tight embrace and dipping his lips down by your nipped ear, “I’m not just asking you to stay the night...I want you to stay with me in the long run. Stay and live with me.”

Your nerves ignite in a tingling shock. It’s not as though the thought hasn’t crossed your mind before. You’ve been together long enough. A few mentions here and there. Still. Still...Your sight begins to blur. You can’t stop the hot streaks of tears wetting your cheeks, and a smile pulls to the corners of your mouth.

“Hawks are you,” you can’t form the words, not at first, straining for a moment to keep your voice steady, “Are you serious?”

“I’m as serious as can be,” his coughing laugh breaks in between, “I know that’s hard to believe, but I can have my moments….So, what do you say?”

You nod your head, hiding your face in the warmth of his pro-hero coat, trimmed in fluffs of white.

Another soft laugh vibrates from his chest, gloved hands gently running up and down your shoulder. “Can’t hear you under there, little dove, you’ll have to speak louder.”

With another nod you manage to lift your head, smiling wider, “I’d like that.”

“We’ll work out the details later. Right now…” Keigo smiles back. Lovingly, softly, “Let’s go home.”

It ended up being the fastest resolution made.

***

I was listening to New Years Day on repeat, and yes it did inspire a few ideas for the fic. Thanks for reading! Happy New Years 💙🎊

#hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #takami keigo x reader #hawks #keigo takami #bnha fanfiction #boku no hero academia fanfics #my hero academia fanfiction #fluff fanfic #roommates au #shadow tales

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writinglizards · 3 years

Note

someone wanted us to kiss for a picture and i thought you were gonna stage kiss me w/ your thumbs in the middle buT NO OH MY GOD THATS……………..THATS A REAL KISS WOW OK au -- another writing prompt I lost the link to 💖

Okay, so this got WAY out of hand, but here you go! <3

Title: A Portrait of the Artist in Love

Summary: Jaskier's senior exhibition requires he present a sequence of cohesive photos representing a theme of his choosing. Geralt, after seeing the photos in person, notices one's missing.

Read on Ao3

"So what's the matter?" Geralt finally asks when Jaskier stomps through the living room for the third time in under twenty minutes, his eyes still firmly trained on the tv set. He can't look like he cares too much or Jaskier will shut down on him, he knows.

"What's the matter is I've got my senior exhibition in two months and I still haven't settled on a fucking theme, that's the matter," he bites out, back to the sofa and hands threaded firmly through his hair, tugging hard.

Geralt sighs. All of Jaskier's problems seem to circle back to his senior exhibition. "I thought you had some photos?"

"I did," he says, tone venomous, "and then Valdo decided he was going to do a series on music and I refuse to compete with that pompous arse." Geralt bites his tongue against the 'why does what Valdo's doing matter?' He knows better.

"So? What are your ideas?" Jaskier shifts as if to speak, "and don't tell me you don't have any, I know you do." He clicks the tv off and shifts around to face Jaskier's back as he sighs, shoulders going slack.

"I want to do something personal," he says, and Geralt can hear the frustration in his voice, "something important. Not--" he can picture the way his face is scrunched up just from his tone, "--not something predictable, something trite. I want to do something meaningful."

"Okay. So make it personal. What's important to you, Jaskier?" he asks, voice soft, and watches as Jaskier's shoulders gradually go taunt again.

"Oh. Oh I could--" he cuts off, whirls around, and the nearly manic light in his eyes makes Geralt smile.

"There you go," he says, and Jaskier beams. The look on his face steals Geralt’s breath, tightens his chest. Jaskier crosses the room, headed for his bedroom slash photo studio and presumably his camera, but he pauses at the couch to squeeze Geralt's shoulder tightly.

"Thank you, darling." Geralt just rolls his eyes and clicks the tv back on.

* * * *

Jaskier never does share what idea he settled on, even after Geralt had asked, a few days later. He'd ducked his head, blushing, and told Geralt not to worry about it, it was fine, he'd get to see when it was done, and Geralt had let it go. Jaskier tends to hold his projects close to his chest until he's done with them anyway. It’s not personal.

They're seated at a cafe waiting for Yen to drop off Ciri for their afternoon trip to the zoo and Jaskier is, predicably, fiddling with his camera.

"Do you have to bring that everywhere?" he asks, tone light and teasing, and Jaskier only sticks his tongue out at him.

"Yes, you oaf, I do. I'm working," he snips, and then he lifts the camera and in a quick movement snaps a picture of Geralt's face.

"Jaskier."

"Just a test photo, love," he grins, not at all apologetic. Before Geralt can pitch anything close to a fit about Jaskier taking more photos of him (and out in public, no less), Yen and Ciri are stepping through the door. Ciri gives a delighted little shriek the way only children under five seem to do and throws herself at her father. Geralt catches her around the waist and hauls her into his lap, both of them laughing, and the photo is promptly forgotten about after that.

* * * *

"Can I come with you?"

"Why?" Geralt asks again, frowning at Jaskier where he stands next to their couch, shifting nervously with his camera clutched to his chest, "you don't like the barn."

"No, but I like Roach," he insists, "and I want to get some pictures of her. I haven't in a while." Geralt narrows his eyes.

"Is this about your project?" he asks, and the way Jaskier splutters is answer enough.

"Can't I just want to take nice photos of my best friend's lovely horse? Come on Geralt, I don't always have a reason." The color high on his cheeks says otherwise.

"Hm." He hefts his supply bag over his shoulder, "come on, then."

Jaskier practically beams the entire trip to the barn, even after he nearly slips in a spot of mud when they get there. His pure, simple joy is infectious, leaves Geralt grinning right alongside him. And if Jaskier takes pictures of him the entire time? Well, he's always taking pictures anyway.

* * * *

"Jask, my guy, must you always bring that stupid camera?" Lambert asks, "it's beer night," he says, as if beer should preclude Jaskier taking pictures.

"Yes, and? Your point?" He raises the camera to snap a blatant picture of Lambert. Aiden leans over to throw up a pair of bunny ears behind his boyfriend as if they're primary schoolers. Eskel laughs.

"Jaskier's exhibition's coming up, leave off," Geralt growls, reprimanding, and Jaskier grins all the brighter.

"Yes, thank you, darling!"

"Doesn't mean he needs to take pictures of us," Lambert grouches, but Aiden wraps his arm around his neck and pulls him into a gentle headlock.

"Be nice," Aiden admonishes, and Lambert grumbles, but subsides. After enough alcohol, no one really thinks about Jaskier's pictures.

* * * *

Catching Jaskier around their apartment snapping photos isn't strictly unusual. It's not even strictly unusual for Jaskier to be snapping photos of him, but--

"Must you take pictures while I'm trying to meditate?"

"Yeah," Jaskier answers, sunny and quick. Geralt gives a huff. The camera clicks again. "Just pretend I'm not here." Geralt hums an affirmative even though he knows it's an impossible task. He could never forget Jaskier was in a room with him.

* * * *

"Didn't know you were picking me up today," Geralt says, wandering over from his post by the medieval art exhibit to where Jaskier stands near the circulation desk, fiddling with his camera.

"Oh, well, you know," he grins brightly up at him, cheeks a little pink--maybe he's getting sick, "I was in the area and thought we could walk home together. I know you’ve got a little still but I can swing by Starbucks; I'll get you that fruity tea you like."

"Hm."

When he gets off his shift forty-five minutes later, Jaskier's waiting for him out front with the Starbucks already in hand, a radiant smile on his face, and Geralt’s chest clenches just looking at him.

* * * *

"Hey, so I know you're busy--" Jaskier starts over dinner one night, eyes focused down on his pasta, "and I don't know if you wanted to come or not, but the exhibition's next week and I--" he sneaks a glance up at Geralt from under his eyelashes, ducks his head, "--I'd like for you to be there."

Geralt can't help the smile that tugs at his lips, can't help the way affection swells in his chest. "Of course I'll go, Jask." It really is as simple as that.

* * * *

Geralt arrives in the midst of the opening hubbub. He knows Jaskier has to linger around his exhibit for at least the first hour or so and from what he understands it's tucked away somewhere toward the back, so Geralt takes a leisurely path in that general direction, stopping to look at the work Jaskier's classmates have done as he goes.

"Oh, Geralt!" Valdo's grinning as he waves him over and reluctantly he lets himself be lured in. "Good to see you here, my man. Jaskier's been a basketcase all day," he winks. Geralt rolls his eyes.

"I'm sure. Your work's good," he says, nodding back towards the row of photos behind them, all different instruments either alone or being played, the close up of hands on strings and keys.

"Don't let Jask hear you say that," he laughs, even as he preens at the praise. "And don't let him catch you over here, either. He'll be accusing infidelity in a heartbeat." Valdo winks again. Geralt doesn't even go to the effort of correcting the fact they're not together. Valdo never seems to remember anyway.

"Yeah. Have a good night, Valdo," he says before ducking out of the way of a shorter blonde woman who throws herself past him and into Valdo's arms, proclaiming her love for him and his photography. Another blonde follows behind her friend, smiling. Geralt hurries away before Priscilla and Essi can realize who Valdo had been talking to and rope him back into the conversation.

It's not that he dislikes Jaskier's friends it's just...they seem to assume things about the two of them. Yes, Geralt loves Jaskier, but Jaskier…he doesn’t know what Jaskier feels for him beyond a deep friendship.

He wanders a bit while he tries not to think about that, stopping to look at some of the other photos--landscapes, pets, significant others, children--until he spots Jaskier, all done up in the suit he'd picked out for the occasion months ago, the gold tie that Geralt had done for him this morning a beautiful contrast to the baby blue of his suit. And the pictures--

Geralt's breath catches. They're all of him; a photo of Geralt and Ciri from the zoo, Ciri seated on his shoulders, one tiny fist in his hair as she gestures wildly at the monkeys. Geralt astride Roach as he puts her through her paces at the barn, and later, Roach out in the pasture, Geralt leading her in a gentle cool down, the both of them in profile. Geralt and his brothers over beers, Geralt grinning, Eskel telling a story, hands spread wide, Lambert and Aiden leaning on each other across the table, smiles indulgent. Geralt meditating in their living room, the ghost of a smile on his face. Geralt at the museum, explaining the history of medieval art to a gaggle of tourists.

They're all him.

"Oh, thank fuck, Geralt, I--" Jaskier breaks off as he gets closer, takes in Geralt's expression, "Geralt?"

His mouth is dry and he has to clear his throat twice before he can get any words to work. "They're all of...me?" Jaskier flushes immediately.

"Well I mean--yes? I wanted it to be something important and personal and, uh, what's more personal than everything my best friend loves?" he explains rapidly, as if he's worried Geralt will cut him off, not let him explain.

"Oh," he says, because it's the only thing he can get out. And then as it dawns on him, "wait, if this is about--" he has to clear his throat again, uncharacteristically embarrassed, "--about what I love...why aren't you in any of them?"

"What, I--" Jaskier chokes off, that flush going a little darker, "I, I didn't--we weren't allowed to be the subjects of our own photos," he lies, and Geralt just raises a brow. He's seen his classmate's work--he knows it's a bullshit answer and Jaskier knows he knows.

"I didn't want to presume," he mumbles, then, a little firmer, "and it would have had to been staged. "I don't--staged photos are terrible, Geralt, you know how I feel about that." He does, but it doesn't change the fact Jaskier's collection is incomplete without him.

"Hm."

* * * *

He thinks about it for the rest of the exhibition and once he starts, it's like he can't stop. Jaskier has a collection of photos of things Geralt loves, and Jaskier's not in any of them.

It takes him almost a week to set it right.

"Geralt," Jaskier calls as the front door clicks open, Jaskier home from class. "Geralt darling, I'm famished, what--" he cuts off abruptly when he steps into the living room, gaze catching on the camera set on the tripod set up on the coffee table. Geralt stands in front of the lens, between the camera and the large bay window overlooking the distant park.

"Jaskier." Geralt's a little bit of a nervous wreck about it, but it's fine. Probably. After all, Jaskier spent months taking photos of Geralt and the things he loved. What's one more?

"Geralt, what--"

"Come here." Jaskier swallows roughly, adams apple bobbing, before he puts his bag down and steps up beside him. "Check the camera," Geralt says softly, "make sure I did it right."

Jaskier does, quick. "It's set on the ten second timer. Should I--?"

"Yeah," he says, stomach clenching in some horrible mix of fear and anticipation, "and come here."

"Geralt, if you'd wanted to take a picture together, I could have--" he says, setting the camera and starting over. He cuts off abruptly when Geralt loops an arm around his waist and tugs him in close until they're chest to chest, his other hand at Jaskier's jaw, thumb sweeping back and forth across his cheek.

"I know," he says, voice pitched low, "but you're missing a picture." And then he dips his head and kisses him.

Jaskier makes a small, wounded noise and then his arms are around Geralt's neck, fingers tight in his hair as he presses up into Geralt's grip, surges against him. Geralt cups his jaw and nips at his lower lip, revels in the quiet gasp that leaves Jaskier open for him to lick into his mouth, deepen the kiss. Distantly he's aware of the camera going off, but it's inconsequential to the way Jaskier feels in his arms.

The kiss only breaks when Jaskier pulls away to hide his face in Geralt's throat, gasping for air. Geralt chuckles, a little breathless.

"Now I'm not complaining," Jaskier says, sounding a little dazed, "but what did I do to deserve that? Because I'd like to keep doing it. Repeatedly, if possible." Geralt laughs.

"You were missing a picture," Geralt says again, and the look on Jaskier's face when he pulls back is so confused it makes his chest constrict. "The things I love," Geralt reminds, and Jaskier flushes bright red.

"Geralt--" he stammers out, flustered, before he returns to hiding his face in Geralt's shoulder. "Melitele help me," He presses his lips to the fabric of Geralt's shirt, a warm, fleeting pressure, "you really are going to be the death of me."

"Don't see how," he hums, tips his head to rest his cheek against Jaskier's head.

"Thought you wanted a friendly picture and then you just--! You just wrapped your arm around my waist like you've done it a hundred times before and I thought, oh, he's going to pretend to kiss me, for the photo, because of course you would and you, you just--" he makes a tiny, outraged noise. Geralt chuckles again. "Don't laugh at me, Geralt, I almost died."

"Mmhm," he rubs his cheek where it rests, mussing Jaskier's hair. Jaskier just huffs. "How'd the picture come out?"

Reluctantly, Jaskier peels himself away to check the photo, and Geralt can already tell from the face he's making it didn't come out well. "You moved," Jaskier admonishes, eyes glued to the tiny viewer. He fiddles with a few settings before putting it back down on the tripod. "Alright," he presses his way back into Geralt's arms, "we'll just have to try again."

"Yeah," Geralt grins, and he kisses him again.

#witcher #witcher fic #geraskier #lizard writes #rating: teen #reader reviews #Anonymous

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witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 3 years

Text

Good as Gold pt.25

[part twenty-four] [prostitute!jaskier masterpost]

This is it, my lovelies, the moment I’ve been dreading for months. I can’t believe all of this started with a little headcanon and you were all so enthusiastic that it wound up with 25 chapters. Thank you all for your love and support (and patience!!) through the entire process of writing this, it would definitely not have gotten this far without you. Thank you so much for sticking with me and with this fic, I love you all so much 💖

When Geralt arrives at the brothel, there's some sort of commotion going on and he's glad for it, relieved to have something to think about other than the anxious pit in his stomach. Even his legs are shaking as he steps through the door and he holds his breath as he passes the madame, but she's obviously too riled up about something else to even notice him. As Geralt slips past and up the stairs, he briefly hears the word Julian hissed under her breath and it takes everything in him not to laugh. It almost distracts him from what he's actually here for.

He has been trained to have control in life-threatening situations and somehow a human man has gotten under his skin enough that he's almost shaking. He's glad for the distraction.

Geralt climbs the stairs and knocks on Jaskier's door and he can hear him muttering to himself as he comes to open the door. Whatever happened downstairs, Jaskier thinks they're overreacting about it. He's not looking when he opens the door but when he tips his head up, he beams and flings his arms around Geralt's neck.

"Geralt," he hums, burying his face in his neck, "you have no idea how happy I am to see you." He draws back as Geralt's arms wind around his waist and kisses him deeply.

Geralt sinks into it, forgetting about everything else but the warmth of Jaskier's body and his mouth against his own. It feels like an eternity that they stand there in the doorway, but when Jaskier draws back it feels like it’s only been seconds. Jaskier's smiling and he runs his hands up Geralt's chest, sighing softly.

"What have you done that's upset them?" Geralt smirks.

"I turned away an important customer this morning," Jaskier shrugs, slipping his hands under Geralt's jacket to haul him close again. "I didn't want to see him." Jaskier's eyes flick up and he smiles softly as he shuts them. "I wanted to see you. And here you are."

Jaskier's lips brush his own and something hot and possessive rises in Geralt's chest. As fingers tangle in his hair, he surges forward, pinning Jaskier between the wall and his own body. It's only been a couple of weeks since he was here last, but it feels like forever. Something has changed irrevocably between them and rather than be afraid of it, Geralt is elated.

He presses forward as Jaskier's hand falls to his waist and it's not until he's crouched down, pulling Jaskier up into his arms, that he remembers the bundle at the bottom of his bag. With his heart suddenly pounding in his chest, Geralt carries him across the room, though he's given a rightfully confused look when he plops Jaskier down on the dresser, rather than the bed.

"Mm, darling as much as I love trying new things with you, I don't know if this old thing will hold up."

"I have something for you," Geralt blurts and the smirk on Jaskier's face morphs into confused interest. "I picked it up in Skellige," Geralt mumbles, ducking away to grab his bag from the floor. "It's... well," he shrugs awkwardly, producing the small bundle and crossing back toward Jaskier.

He slips between Jaskier’s knees, resting one hand on his thigh, more to steady himself than anything, and holds the bundle out to him. Jaskier takes it with a gentle hand, eyes still on Geralt's face.

Geralt holds his breath as Jaskier pulls back the layers of silk wrapping. He freezes as soon as the handle is revealed and Geralt swallows hard, desperate to know what he's thinking.

"I thought it suited you better than a sword or-" Geralt shrugs. He's only talking to fill the silence, he doesn't even really know what he's saying.

Jaskier uncovers the dagger with shaking fingers and Geralt aches to cover his hands with his own, to twine their fingers together and pull Jaskier close again. The few inches between them feel like a chasm and time seems to stretch on as Jaskier stares at the blade in his hands.

"Is this-" he starts, "Geralt do you- are you asking me to come with you?" he barely catches the words, so softly spoken and drowned out by the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

"If that's still what you want."

Jaskier blinks at him as if trying to decipher his meaning then all at once his bottom lip quivers and he reaches out to him. Geralt presses a soft hand to his chest, sliding it up to the side of his neck when Jaskier stills.

"You asked me once who I think of when everything seems hopeless. I think of you." Jaskier lets out a soft little laugh and he shakes as he swats at Geralt.

"You can't just say that to a person, Geralt." Jaskier huffs, but his voice is uneven, his eyes glossy and when Geralt makes to lean forward, Jaskier reaches out first, wrapping his arms around his neck and kissing him.

He's trembling, even as Geralt pulls him forward and holds him close and if it wasn't for the overwhelming scent of affection pouring off of him, Geralt might think he'd made a mistake. But he knows better than that now, knows that this isn't the one-sided thing he feared it was for so long.

When he draws back, Jaskier chokes on a sob, but he's smiling as he looks up at Geralt.

"Of course I want to, my beautiful, wonderful Witcher." He runs his thumb over Geralt's cheekbone, still grinning madly even as he draws him back into another kiss.

Jaskier doesn't draw back again until he's breathless, staring up at Geralt with flushed cheeks. "I love you," he whispers.

Geralt freezes and his chest tightens. He knows. Logically, he knows Jaskier loves him, but to hear it... He doesn't quite know what to do with himself. Before he even realizes what he's doing, he's leaning in, pulling Jaskier closer and kissing him. His fingers dig into Jaskier's skin, slipping under his robe as Jaskier's legs wrap around his waist. Gods it feels good to have him here again and this time, Geralt knows he won't be leaving alone.

In a rush of emotion, he hauls Jaskier into his arms, and deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue between Jaskier's lips. Jaskier moans against him, tangling his hands in Geralt's hair and tugging gently.

The wave of scent that wafts off Jaskier is overwhelming, a combination of love and lust and all-consuming want. Geralt is dizzy with it. He holds Jaskier against him, sliding one hand up Jaskier's back to keep him steady as they remain like that for some time. But as Jaskier shifts, Geralt can feel the press of his cock, swelling within his trousers, and he hoists him up to get a better grip and crosses to the bed.

He gets Jaskier laid out on his back and crawls up over him, kissing his lips, his jaw, down his neck. Jaskier is soft and pliable, content to slip his fingers through Geralt's hair and down his arms. Geralt takes advantage of it, trailing soft kisses down Jaskier's chest and stomach, pausing just above the hem of his trousers. Jaskier whines softly but makes no attempt to stop him or take control, so Geralt proceeds.

His fingers fumble with the fastenings, but he puts it down to eagerness and the lingering anxiety of Jaskier's response and pushes through. When he gets them open, Jaskier lifts his hips, eager to assist in their removal and Geralt huffs a soft laugh against his skin. He presses his nose into Jaskier's hip, inhaling the scent of his skin as he tugs the trousers down and shoves them away off the bed. Above him, Jaskier mumbles softly, tangling his fingers in Geralt's hair as Geralt noses as his cock.

He tugs as little as Geralt's lips wrap around the head and his hips give a twitch, pushing up into his mouth. Geralt lets him, sinks down on him as Jaskier groans, and takes him deep. He knows how Jaskier likes to fuck his mouth and Geralt wants to give him everything, wants to prove that he's worth giving all of this up for. His own cock aches under him and he shifts against the bed, moaning around Jaskier.

As he pulls up, he wraps his tongue around the head, paying special attention to the underside. It gets a positive response, so Geralt doubles down, slipping off the head to suck at that spot. Jaskier's knees draw up immediately, pressing in on either side of Geralt's head and he whines as he arches off the bed. He groans and pleads and Geralt gives in to every whim, humming against his skin even as Jaskier tugs at his hair. Pre-come pools at the head and Geralt is quick to lick it away, dragging his tongue along the slit. Before he can take him down again, Jaskier pushes himself up, tugging Geralt up to meet him and kissing him urgently.

It's sloppy and rushed but Geralt gives in to it immediately, letting Jaskier gain control over him. Jaskier goes immediately for his shirt, undoing the buttons blindly with practiced fingers and tugging until the shit comes untucked. He yanks it over Geralt's head and it's forgotten about, but Jaskier's lips don't leave his once, not until he tries to shrug out of the robe and Geralt pulls away.

"Leave it on?" he breathes and Jaskier beams, surging forward to kiss him again.

"Anything for you, my love." He grins as he shoves Geralt back against the bed and keeps his eyes on him as he nuzzles against his thigh.

Geralt is already visibly aroused, but he feels himself swell under Jaskier's touch. Shivers run up his spine as Jaskier makes his way up and mouths at him through his trousers. But his patience runs thin and he quickly unbuttons Geralt's trousers and tugs them down his legs. Geralt groans as he pulls away, but as soon as his trousers have been removed and tossed aside, Jaskier's mouth is back on his skin.

He works his way up slowly, nipping at the inside of his ankle. By the time Jaskier reaches his thighs, Geralt is squirming under the touch and the little nips Jaskier gives him aren't helping. He knows they have time, that they don't have to rush, but he wants. And when Jaskier sucks at his skin, it sends jolts of pleasure straight through to his cock. Geralt rolls his hips encouragingly, but Jaskier is more concerned with his thighs and making sure everyone who might see him knows Geralt belongs to someone. And that thought does nothing to quell the rising need within him. And Jaskier knows. Geralt can feel it in the way his hand slips up just shy of his cock, and the way he sucks harder the more Geralt squirms. And then, just as he thinks Jaskier is about to relent, Geralt is rolled onto his stomach.

His thighs are nudged apart and Jaskier settles between them, pushing his hands up the backs of his thighs. He squeezes his ass and leans down to press a kiss to his lower back.

"Do you have any idea how happy you make me?" he breathes and Geralt whines. He can't imagine it, can't possibly consider that he makes Jaskier anywhere near as happy as Jaskier makes him. "Gods, Geralt."

Jaskier hums against his skin, hands framing Geralt's hips and as he moves down, Geralt shuts his eyes, focusing on the press of Jaskier's lips. He moves lower, nosing at the swell of Geralt's ass before pressing between his cheeks. His breath is hot and Geralt shudders against it, pressing his hips up.

"That's it, beautiful."

The first press of Jaskier's tongue has him squirming again, but then Jaskier's fingers press into his skin and he settles. Jaskier has a wickedly talented tongue and he's never been afraid to prove it. He runs his tongue over him and Geralt buries his face in the sheets, fingers tangling in the smooth fabric. He groans as Jaskier works his tongue into him and pushes his hips back off the bed.

His cock hangs heavy beneath him, but Jsskier takes advantage of the new position, slipping a hand under his hip to hold him up as he pushes deeper, thrusts quicker. Jaskier's free hand brushes up Geralt's thigh and then his fingers press in next to his tongue, slipping around his rim.

Jaskier draws away for a moment, but Geralt doesn't even have a chance to catch his breath before he's back, sliding slicked-up fingertips against his hole. He teases around the edge before pressing against him and Geralt only barely holds back from pushing back onto him. He knows Jaskier will make him feel good and he folds his arms under his head, giving Jask full control.

"Okay?" Jask asks and Geralt just nods. "Sure, love?"

"Yeah," he breathes, "Jask, please." Immediately, Jaskier's finger slips into him and Geralt groans, tugging the bunched sheets under his face.

"I've missed it too, love. Let me take care of you."

Geralt huffs and slumps against the bed, whining as his cock drags against the sheets. Jaskier gets a second finger into him, spreading him open and thrusting in deeply. He shifts so he's straddling Geralt's thigh, his cock slick and hot pressing into his skin. He rocks gently in time with his fingers and by the time he adds a third, there's a smear of pre-come just below the swell of his ass.

Jaskier moves again, settling back between his thighs. He presses his cock between Geralt's cheeks, sliding against him before pressing in and he slides a hand down Geralt's back, tangling in his hair. He tugs lightly as he rocks forward, giving a couple of thrusts before letting go and pulling out.

Gently, he rolls Geralt onto his back again, pressing his knees under his thighs and leaning up over him. He kisses Geralt's jaw as he pushes back in and Geralt wraps his legs around him, pulling him in close. The laugh he gets in response tickles and he squirms as Jaskier nuzzles against his neck.

When Jaskier pulls back, he pauses to look at him, hips still rocking forward steadily, and Geralt is at a loss. He never thought he'd find someone to love him, never even considered it and Jaskier just came into his life and didn't let go. Now he's here and he's his and Geralt never has to worry about letting him go again.

Without thinking, he leans up and wraps his arms around him, drawing Jaskier back down with him. He kisses him deeply, brushing his fingers through his hair and when he pulls away, he's breathless.

"I love you," he whispers and the little whimper Jaskier lets out almost undoes him.

"Oh, Geralt," he breathes, "I love you so much."

He tucks his head into Geralt's neck, kissing under his jaw and mumbling softly. Geralt tips his head back for him, relishing in the press of Jaskier's lips and the weight of his body against him.

When Geralt comes, it's almost as an afterthought, so wrapped up in Jaskier's touch and his mouth against his own that he doesn't notice it creeping up on him. Jaskier works him through it, following shortly with his face pressed into Geralt's shoulder.

He laughs as he catches his breath, slipping out and dropping to the side to curl around Geralt.

"You're amazing," he whispers and it's Geralt's turn to huff a laugh.

"You don't have to keep praising me," he hums, tipping his head to kiss Jaskier's temple. "You've already got me. I'm already yours." Jaskier lets out a happy sigh and stretches up to kiss him.

"I know that, my darling. But you know I've always been honest with you, darling. I've never once exaggerated my feelings for you, you were different right from the beginning."

"Okay," Geralt agrees. He settles, wrapping one arm around Jaskier's shoulder to run his fingers through his hair.

"How was your trip?"

"Long. And once I read your letter I couldn't wait to get back here." Jaskier hums, self-satisfied. "I have to say it wasn't what I was expecting."

"I wrote it over the winter." Jaskier twines their fingers together, holding their joined hands to inspect them. "I couldn't stop thinking about you."

"You thought about fucking me all winter? Locals not keeping you busy enough?" Geralt smirks. He's expecting a snarky response, but instead, Jaskier falls silent, running his thumb up the side of Geralt's index finger.

"There's another letter. I... wasn't sure how you'd react to that one, so I didn't mention it before."

"Could I read it?"

"If you promise not to take back what you said about me coming with you."

Geralt wraps his hand around Jaskier's, pulling it down between them as he rolls onto his side. "I'm sure I'll regret it later," he grins, "but nothing could make me change my mind."

Jaskier swats at him but smiles as he disentangles himself and slips off the bed. He crosses to the dresser, pulling the top drawer open and reaching beneath the rest of the contents. He pulls out a letter in an envelope, turning it over in his hands before shutting the drawer again and returning to the bed. He sits near the end and passes the envelope to Geralt, folding his hands in his lap and looking up at him expectantly.

"I wasn't expecting you to read it when I wrote it, so it might be a bit... much."

Geralt's suddenly overwhelmed by nervous anticipation. He puts it down to Jaskier's own nervousness rubbing off on him. He opens the envelope and unfolds the letter inside and at first glance, it's almost identical to the one he read on Skellige, but when he reads the first lines, his breath catches.

Geralt,

I miss you. I don't know how else to say it. I thought you'd be back, that last time was just a bad day or something, but the more days pass the more I realize you're not coming. I knew from that first day that I should have stayed away, but I couldn't. Everyone told me you'd be bad for me, but I didn't listen. I didn't care. I went ahead and fell in love with you anyway. Viv and Anise are sympathetic in their own way but I know they're only one wrong word away from I told you so at any moment. I didn't listen.

There's a break in the letter and it's obvious the next part was written later on. The print is thicker, messier and it makes Geralt feel something he doesn't want to look too closely at. He knows he hurt Jaskier and he doesn't want to think about that again.

The worst part is that most days I just miss your voice. I don't want your money, I don't even want to fuck you. I just want to listen to you talking, the low light of the evening spilling in through the window. And I want to hold you, to run my fingers through your hair while you sleep. To not have to give you up every time you return.

The letter goes on, but Geralt can't focus. He re-reads the same line four times before setting the letter to the side and rising up to his knees. He reaches out wordlessly, pulling Jaskier up into his lap and leaning back against the wall.

"I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything, love." Geralt kisses him again and Jaskier grins against his lips, arching forward into him.

It's with great reluctance that Geralt leaves the brothel that afternoon. His heart aches, but he knows it won't be long before he sees Jaskier again, that this ending is rather the beginning of something new. But he'd grown attached to this room, to the brothel itself, and even this shitty little town he once wouldn’t think twice about.

Jaskier sees him off on the front porch and Geralt can feel his eyes on him long after he turns away. He doesn't dare look back because he knows he wouldn't be able to resist asking Jaskier to come with him now. But Jaskier needs time. Time to get his things together. Time to say goodbye. The thought leaves an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he reminds himself that Jaskier wants this. He's said it again and again and Geralt is still hesitant to take him away from his life here.

When he asks for a room at the inn, the innkeeper seems surprised to see him. It makes sense; Geralt used to be a frequent customer (although he rarely returned to his room other than to collect his things), but he doesn't stay often anymore. He'd rather spend his nights with Jaskier and if Jaskier's willing to have him there, there's not any reason to leave.

It's an upstairs room for him tonight, one he's stayed in before, though he's stayed in most of them - if not all - at this point. Geralt lays his things out like he normally would, but this time he takes inventory, making a mental list of everything he needs to buy before they head out. Because now he has someone to look after.

He checks and double-checks and grinds herbs and checks his armour, but he still doesn't feel prepared. This is what he wants, this is what they both want, but it doesn't stop him from being terrified.

Halfway through sharpening his swords, there's a knock on the door and Geralt nearly jumps out of his skin. He's too distracted, not focused enough on his surroundings. He'll have to get back in the habit if he's going to take Jaskier out on the Path with him.

Taking a deep breath, Geralt sets his sword down next to the chair and pushes himself to his feet. He doesn't have time for any problems tonight, nor for anyone wanting to catch a glimpse of a Witcher, but when he opens the door, it's neither.

Jaskier is standing before him in trousers and a fancy doublet. Geralt's eyes follow the embroidery all the way down and he huffs a soft laugh as he catches a glimpse of a cloak that could only be described as decorative. Perhaps it will warm his shoulders, but not much more. He smiles to himself as he meets Jaskier's eyes again. This is going to be a phenomenal disaster, but gods does he love this man.

"That's awfully fancy for travelling clothes," he hums, reaching out to run a hand down the front of the doublet. Perhaps not ideal travelling garb, but he does like the feeling of it. Jask reaches up and for a second Geralt thinks he's going to stop him, but his fingers settle on the delicate buttons, undoing them one at a time until the doublet falls open, revealing a lacy undershirt beneath.

"Better?" Jaskier asks, "or should I take it off altogether?"

It's a joke, Geralt knows, but the way Jaskier's eyes sparkle makes him want to take him up on the offer. And if he loses a couple of extra layers at the same time, well? no one else is around to worry about that.

"Come in," he says and Jask beams up at him, already pulling his lute case from his back as he passes.

Geralt just watches silently as Jaskier piles his things in the corner and crosses to sit on the bed.

"Can I stay tonight?" he asks and Geralt lifts an eyebrow at him. "Only I told Lorelei I wasn't coming back and she didn't seem too pleased with me when I told her why."

He flashes a grin up at him and Geralt crosses to stand between his knees, cupping Jaskier's face in his hands. He kisses him, soft and sweet and Jaskier hums like he's been waiting for months for this. He winds his arms around Geralt's neck, trying to pull him down and Geralt wants to let him, but there is so much left to do.

Unfortunately, with Jaskier around him constantly, very little actually gets done. Because Geralt has him now. He can just touch him whenever he wants, kiss him whenever he wants. And it's hard to do much else with that kind of temptation.

Inevitably, he gives in and after putting his swords away, he tugs off his boots and flops onto the bed behind Jaskier. Wrapping an arm around his waist, he tugs him down next to him. Jaskier shrugs out of his doublet and kicks off his own boots, shuffling closer to kiss him.

There's something odd about the way Jaskier fits against him, the same and yet somehow different. Better. Like he might actually belong there now. Geralt swallows back a lump in his throat and presses his nose into Jaskier's hair, inhaling the scent of him. It's calming, familiar, and he shut his eyes and holds him a little closer.

Geralt drifts off to the sound of Jaskier's breath, the soft huff of it against his neck. He thinks vaguely that bringing Jaskier with him is a terrible decision, but he can't imagine making a different one.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #prostitute!jaskier #good as gold #the witcher #rex writes #the end #excuse me while i sit and cry for a while

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lorelylantana · 3 years

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A Blindsided Engagement Chapter 2: Engagement

Chapter 1

Chapter Rating: G Overall Rating: G

Ava Vanguard was surprised to see Link return to Hateno a full month ahead of schedule. She was a bit disappointed when she read that her husband and son would assist in clearing the damage of Calamity and it would be some time before she could see her family again, but the relief that they survived was enough to keep her content. News that her family still stood was all she could ask for as a military wife and mother. She was just sitting down to lunch when none other than her son walked through the door.

Link seemed well, better than she’d ever seen him, in fact. He was dressed smartly in boots she recognized as standard issue for the Royal Guard and the Champion’s tunic he was so fond of. Ava was a bit perplexed at the circlet gleaming on his forehead, but shrugged it off. After slaying Calamity, her son no doubt received gifts of all kinds. Link carried a garment bag in his hands, which he hung on the hook by the door before hugging her tight.

“Hi, Ma.”

“Let me look at you,” she said, taking his face in her hands. She was glad to see a quiet joy in his eyes that she hadn’t seen since he drew the sword that hung over his shoulder. It made her happy to see bits of the son return to her after he walled himself off. “Tell me everything.”

Link managed to explain the story of Calamity’s downfall between bites of their split lunch, which is how Ava knew he was nervous. Now that Calamity was soundly defeated, there were very few things that Ava could think of that would cause such reticence.

Did her son find a significant other? Had he come to ask for permission to bring someone home?

“You're earlier than expected,” she prompted, gauging her son’s reaction, “Is there anything you wanted to tell me?”

Link cleared his throat, hand coming up to the back of his head.

“I’m engaged.”

Well, she wasn’t that far off.

Ava gasped, “I had no idea you found someone special! You should have written!”

“It was really sudden,” he admitted, “Honestly, I’m still shocked she said yes.”

Ava laughed, made euphoric by relief. She was aware of and lost countless night’s sleep over the walls her boy had put around himself. Her heart broke to see that forced apathy in his eyes. Yet here he stood, joy written in every line of his face, no sign of restraint in sight.

It was a shame she couldn’t stop to admire it, as not a moment later her son straightened.

“I have to go, the wedding planning’s been keeping me busy. I thought I would invite you to the engagement feast personally, but I have to be getting back,” he nodded toward the garment bag, “I thought you could wear that to the banquet. A tailor in the castle can alter it if it doesn’t fit.”

With a hug and a kiss to his forehead, Link was gone. Vanished out the door, and once again she was alone.

For a moment, a bittersweet moment, she was still. Her little boy had grown up, and she didn’t get to see it. Still, the melancholy thought was drowned out with the elation that came with the knowledge that her son, amid the chaos, found a safe harbor to bare his soul to.

Ava shook her head and moved to the garment bag. She had a nice dress, so she didn’t know why he gave her a new one.

At least, that’s what she thought before she opened the bag.

She had never touched a fabric so fine. Her fingers glided over deep velvet and silk, gazing in awe at the gold detailing along the sleeves. A dress fit for royalty.

Ava smiled to herself. Her son was always such a sweet boy, though perhaps she should scold him. There was no need to spend so much money on her.

It’s not like she could wear such nice clothes very often.

Captain James Vanguard wasn’t really surprised when he received an invitation to a banquet and instructions to wear his dress uniform. He’d been expecting it. His son was the Hero of Hyrule, of course he’d be invited to the victory celebration. He was taken a bit off guard when the footman informed him that said celebration would be held that very evening, but James Vanguard was a soldier through and through. It took him a quick thirty minutes to change out of his armor, scrub the day’s grime from his body, and slip into the red and blue suit that had been issued upon his knighthood and he was ready for the grand occasion.

Despite his quick response time, the party was already in full swing when James entered the Sanctum, lit up by blue flame, giving the ancient hall an ethereal glow that was at once new and old. For a moment he was silent, letting the fact that they were at peace sink in at long last. Perhaps now he could retire without the guilt of letting his country down. Spend his days holding his wife instead of just thinking of her.

The King’s approach snapped him out of his reverie. James bowed, “Your Majesty.”

“Good evening, Captain! Are you enjoying the festivities?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, I can’t imagine a better way to celebrate the occasion. More than I expected, to be frank.”

The King threw his head back and laughed, “I can imagine. You must be proud of your boy, hm?”

“Of course. He’s exceeded every hope I had for him. That said, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t worried for him.”

James had lost many nights’ sleep thinking of how his little boy seemed to curl under the weight of his destiny. In his more fanciful thoughts, he’d believe that the burden would be lifted, but his years as a soldier had taught him that it wouldn’t be so simple.

He knew that the physical scars were the easiest to overcome.

King Rhoam hummed, “I can imagine, but I’m sure our children will pull through. We’ll be there to advise them after all.”

And with that, the King was gone, off to speak with the other guests. James shook his head. This was a happy time, and he was told Ava was here. His energy should be spent towards finding his wife.

Ava looked around, completely unprepared for the grand scale of the celebration before her. She was told her husband would be in attendance as well, so she searched for him, feeling like a fish out of water.

“Mrs. Vanguard, it’s so lovely to finally meet you!”

Ava turned to see none other than Princess Zelda herself, walking towards her in a fluttering violet gown the exact same shade of the coat her son now wore. The Champions likely coordinated their attire. Ava hurried to curtsy the best she could, but the Princess merely waved a hand.

“Oh there’s no need for that, please. I’ve been eager to finally speak with you. You must be so proud of Link, I certainly am.

Ava blinked, pleasantly surprised that the Princess held her son in such high regard. Eager as she was to finally discover who her son’s bride was, Ava wasn’t about to refuse a request from the Golden Princess, so she talked for hours about her favorite moments of Link’s childhood.

“You must tell me what Link was like as a child, and spare no details!”

Ava wasn’t about to deny a chance to relay some of her fondest memories, especially at the princess’ request. They talked for what seemed like hours. She wasted no time telling the Princess about Link’s childhood escapades. She was just about to explain how five year old Link rode a bear through the village street in nothing but shorts when Princess Zelda was called away for a speech.

Ava sighed, alone once again. Perhaps she could spot her son in the crowd?

“Ava!”

She turned, a smile growing on her face and her husband’s arms wrapped around her. She kissed him, alight with affection and relief at seeing James and feeling his beating heart against her chest.

The war really was over.

“I missed you,”

“I missed you too.”

As blissful as the moment was, it was cut short by the King addressing the crowd.

“I hope all of you are enjoying the evening. I can’t think of a better way to mark the end of the Calamity’s reign than with an engagement, and so we gather to-”

Confused, James leaned into his wife’s ear.

“Who’s getting married? Anyone we know?”

Ava turned to look at him with that expression she wore whenever he said something stupid, which he thought was unwarranted for once given the situation.

“It’s Link, James.”

“What?”

“What did you think this party was for? It’s to celebrate Link’s engagement!”

“His what?”

“Our son is getting married,” Ava said, “Since he’s one of the Champions, the royal family was kind enough to celebrate with him.”

Vanguard was reeling, “Who’s he getting married to?”

Ava tutted, “He didn’t mention her name, I was going to ask him tonight, but Princess Zelda wanted to talk and I’ve been sidetracked all evening. She really is such a lovely girl.”

Before he could ponder this revelation further, King Rhoam commanded the room’s attention.

“I would like to thank you all for celebrating this wonderful occasion with us. After such dark times, it gives me great joy to hold this feast in anticipation of a union I have no doubt has the support of all Hyrule-”

As the king spoke, the Captain scanned the Sanctum, trying to spot his son’s mystery bride. Could it be Mipha, they had spent some time together as children, and he wouldn’t be surprised if it grew to something more. James thought better of it as soon as he spotted the Zora in question. She was beautiful, dressed in her Champion blue, but there was an air of melancholy about her that was impossible to ignore. Captain Vanguard hoped his future daughter in law wouldn’t look so forlorn at the engagement party.

“-and now, without further ado, I ask that you all join in as we celebrate the upcoming nuptials of my dear daughter, Zelda Lana Hyrule, and her loyal Champion, Link Vanguard!”

Wait a minute.

His son’s name was Link Vanguard.

Captain Vanguard blinked as the room erupted with applause, looking up to the man standing beside the Princess and king.

Well, there he was, standing where the Princess’ fiance was supposed to be with his arm linked with. Before he could process the implications of these observations, a butler came by to guide James and his wife to a private banquet hall. They sat down next to each other and were told to wait. It was strange, to be sitting at a table he’d spent countless hours guarding. James shifted in his seat.

“To clarify,” James began, “Our son’s going to marry Princess Zelda?”

Ava nodded, “I think so,”

Link and Zelda walked smiling through the door, and the room descended into chaos.

#Zelink #zelda #botw zelda #aoc zelink #botw link #botw zelink #fanfic #A Blindsided Engagement #LantanaLore

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