#but it feels deeply violating for someone else to slap their name on it

[vampkillr]

Beginning — Marc Spector

m! insomniac! reader — 1k words — i wouldn't call it fluff but it's not angst — pre-established relationship with steven — requests are open for moon knight and dc

Steven's bed was much softer than mine. And yet I was still completely restless, staring at the moon that peeked through his open curtains as if I were some nocturnal animal. It cast a luminous glow over the floor, pale blue and brushing so slightly along the end of the bed. A sigh escaped my lips as I looked at Steven, he looked so peaceful and yet an urge itched at me to wake him. I just wanted someone to talk to, something to fill my thoughts or to pass the time. I yearned so deeply for company on the nights sleep escaped me. The only presence that seemed to stay with me was the man on the moon— and even he would leave me some nights. I laid back down into bed, covering myself up and relaxing my body as my thoughts consumed me. There was nothing I could do about not being able to fall asleep tonight. I left my medicine at my house, so I'd just have to suffer through it with nothing to occupy my boredom. My best bet was to just lay here and close my eyes so they'd stop burning, but Steven seemed to stir awake. I sat up again to check on him, but as his eyes met mine they were dull.

Something was different. There was a distance to him. Almost as if he was disappointed to see me. "God dammit." The curse under his breath didn't go unnoticed, and neither did the change in accent. My brows furrowed. "You really don't sleep, do you?" He felt unfamiliar. The air that surrounded him wasn't the same type of comfort I felt in the presence of the normal Steven.

"No." I answered plainly, still trying to wrap my aching head around the situation. He was less.... him. Everything about him just wasn't right. The man staring back at me couldn't have been the man I fell in love with. A worry festered in the pit of my stomach at the idea that it wasn't Steven I was looking at.

"Well, If I go are you going to tell on me?" It finally clicked. Everything that Steven had talked about. Every time he went days without talking to me, every time he was confused about the day, every time he told me how he woke up in some different country. The chain, the sand— all of it made sense now. I was right. This man wasn't Steven, and with that thought, I slapped him.

"Do you know how scared of himself Steven is? All because of you?" Anger infected me. I didn't have to wrap my head around the exact situation to understand how Steven felt. I didn't doubt his stories purely because I had to watch his life crumble from beneath him because of the issue. "Have you no regard for him at all? None at all? Even though you share his body?" He sighed, uncovering himself and undoing the shackle on his ankle— completely unbothered that he was naked in the bed and so was I.

"What I do doesn't concern him." He walked over the circle of sand and opened the closet, throwing me some clothes to cover myself and getting dressed himself. "This is my body. Mine." I slipped on the shirt he gave me and didn't bother with the underwear, not caring much about the subtle glances he was taking.

"What do you mean?" He turned to me, putting pants on and sighing at my question. "Who are you, anyways?"

"My name is Marc Spector. And this was my body before it was Steven's." My stomach dropped. If Steven wasn't the original owner of his body, then did I have any right at all to be dating him? And, if Steven had his own life outside of Marc— his own boyfriend..... Did that mean Marc did, too? I rested my face in my hands at the idea, the reality of being in love with a man I don't really know finally creeping up on me. I could feel the bed dip beside me, Marc resting his hand on my back. "You okay?"

"You..... I—" I didn't know how to verbalize how I felt. Not only had I completely taken part in practically violating Marc, but I was also trying to stomach the idea that there was someone else in Marc's life that I helped him cheat on. "If I'm dating Steven, and you're the owner of the body I'm dating, but we've never met before— does that mean as soon as you become yourself again, we're not dating?" His hand slid down my spine and slipped up my shirt. A touch so familiar to me that it had become something to expect from Steven.

"Sometimes I'm in my body with him, I can't really say anything, but I'm there. And if I try hard enough, I can move the body with him." So those small touches I've fallen in love with were from him. "I've seen so much of you, I fell for you just like he did. I love you like he does. I just haven't been able to say it." Although my nerves were eased at the confession, guilt webbed itself through my train of thought. In a weird way, this felt like I was cheating— and I suppose I was, but how exactly was I supposed to get Steven on the same page?

"What do you do?" Marc's hand stayed on my back as he soothed the tension in my muscles. The warmth enticed me to lean into him, but I stayed put. "I mean why..... Why do you go for so long?" He sighed and began to undress himself, muttering to something beside him, asking whatever it was to let him speak to me tonight.

"I don't think you want to know." He crawled back into bed, not bothering to put the shackle back on and patting himself on the chest. I took the invitation, removing my own shirt and crawling on top of him. I could feel the way his heart sped up as I leaned my head on his chest.

"I want this to work," I looked up at him. "with both of you. And in order to do that, you need to tell me these things." He sighed, but it wasn't a sigh of irritation— just defeat. He knew very well that I'd have to know who he was to truly fall for him.

“Then I guess we should start at the beginning.”

hello i would like to say that i read up a lot on DID/OSDD before considering to write this and if you're a system please feel free to give me criticism or explain your own experience as well. i value your input and will do my absolute best to portray him accurately <3

#ao3 #fanfic #x male reader #reader insert #writing #marvel x male reader #moon knight #marc spector x male reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight x male reader #moon knight x reader

[refriedweeb]

AND WHEN YOU’RE GONE I’M GODLESS (HAWKS + READER)

AN: refriedweeb here! this is a continuation of this oneshot that I did (so if you didn’t read the first one go and read it now!), as requested by @roseanddaggerlarry  ! I’ve had the idea of this spewing around in my head and wanted to get as close to canon!Hawks as possible! So here you go! If you want a part three/to make this a series, lmk!

Tags: angst, fluff, general feelings

word count: 3,443

A side effect of your quirk was that you dreamt the nightmares of those that you used it on. While your quirk was something that was magnificent in its own right, being known as nightmare often became a literal translation for you. It didn’t matter how short of a period you kept someone trapped in their reality-made nightmare, or how severe it was. You dreamt what they saw. And the worst part was that they didn’t go away after just one dream. You’d see them time and time again, blended into the reel of dreams from every person you’d ever fought or used it on. It was an awful feeling, not being able to dream your own dreams, see visions of happiness that everyone else got to when you closed your eyes. All you ever saw was nightmares. All you ever saw behind sleeping eyes was horror. 

The world around you might have been black, in various stages of coming and going consciousness, but there was one thing that stayed the same. It was the nightmare you’d brought out of Keigo Takami’s mind the minute you’d snapped on your promise to never use it against him. It ran through your mind like a child with reckless abandon, a constant loop that you couldn't shake from your mind no matter how much you strained to jump into someone else’s dreams that had taken residence in your mind. It was a violation of Hawks’ trust in you, even if he had been the one to attack you, skewer you with a feather and leave you no other choice. You had known that Hawks’ childhood was anything but normal. The Hero Commission that you both worked for raising him, if it could even be called ‘raising’. Trained as a weapon that was expendable, that served no purpose if it couldn’t deliver results. Wholly different from what you’d had growing up, you hadn't realized how deeply embedded in trauma his entire life was, even when you’d been hooking up. 

Trapped in the nightmare, the first thing you saw was Keigo Takami as nothing but a child. Avian eyes still too large for his head, sunrise colored eyes looking around the blank walls with innocence, curiosity, and the hint of fear. A head full of hair that even in youth had an unruly characteristic to it. Red wings that would become his calling card sitting politely, folded against his back. He was a child that had deserved better, so much better, than what he’d been given. There’d been so much that Keigo had suffered through just for the sake of being a hero, that it would have made sense if nightmare solely revolved around what the Hero Commission had robbed him of with his childhood. 

What you weren’t expecting to see was your place in it. 

You were stood not far off from where Keigo’s tot form was, mirroring that same age yourself. Young, with a skinned knee and gapped smile from the baby teeth you’d lost. Hair in high pigtails and eyes wide with the same emotions sprinting through Keigo’s veins. The tinier version of yourself turned around, and trotted over to him, holding out a sticky hand that had no doubt been dug into a sweet of some kind at one point.

“Hi! I’m (Y/N)!” Came your excitable voice, young and full of life. “Your wings are pretty cool, can I touch them?” Before Keigo’s small, timid voice could even answer, there was a sharp tug on your arm. It caught you by surprise, and Keigo was helpless as a man dressed in a black suit started pulling you away from him. And though you were reliving Keigo’s nightmare, you were experiencing it through both yours and his perspective. “Wait, that’s my friend!” Came your cry, tossing a distressed look over your shoulder as you were both helpless Keigo and the scared child version of yourself.

“Wait...” finally came the small voice, shocking you how sad it sounded for a boy so young. You watched from the omniscient view as the handler that had come for you turned into something vile. With a grin too large and mines of pointed teeth that would have made a shark’s mouth look dainty. “Don’t...” Keigo’s childlike voice was a little louder, but still helpless. “Don’t take her!”

Defiance nestled in Keigo’s throat as he charged forward with his cry, running after you, seeing something only he could see while you were more than content to wander alongside a monster. His hand was outstretched towards you. A smile started to stretch across your features, glad to have this new friend coming with you, and reached a hand out in return. Only to have it sharply slapped away by the handler. You gave a cry of pain as you cradled your hand to your chest, about to cry when you heard Keigo’s boyish yelp of pain. He had been hit in the face, and harder than you judging by the welt of a hand print blooming against his cheek.

“Keigo...” you whispered, though your voice sounded further off, far from where you and your childhood presence were.

Young Keigo looked up at you from the ground, tears running down his cheeks. There was an indescribable pain there, and it ran deeper than anything you could identify with. For such a young child to have felt so much pain... “Kei...go...” you whispered again, extending a hand despite what happened, to cradle his head.

It was then that the scene changed, like the fast forwarding of a movie. The scenery swept past you in an unmarked blur until you settled into a new scene. There you were, a couple of years older and strapped into a chair. What looked like doctors were around you, a large needle filled with a substance of dreamy purple colors in it. They were whispering around you, a background of white noise you couldn’t decipher. Still from that omniscient point of view, you could feel your fear. The unease that gnawed it’s way through your belly running rampant. And there was anger, but you couldn’t detect the source. “Just think...if we can train her to turn her nightmares lethal, the commission would have a trained killer. Trapping someone in their nightmares to the point of heart failure...of fear...” came there trickling sound of one voice. “She could be the best hero the commission has ever produced...a weapon...” was another. “Alright then...inject her.”

Fear rippled our against your skin on goosebumps, and you start to fight the restraints as the syringe draws closer to you. “No!” You screeched, though it comes from the same far off place from before. You’re helpless as you snapped, kicked, and pulled as best as you could. “Don’t do this!” At the very same moment, you heard the overlapping sound of boots hitting the ground in a sprint, replacing the rapid sound of your heartbeat. While being both in that room and not in it at the same time, you saw an older Keigo bursting down the hall, the sound of boots belonging to him. His eyes are narrowed into predator-like focus, his breathing heavy as his wings extended out taking up the rest of the hall. His mouth moved, though he is silent.

“Keigo!” You scream this time, though still too far off for anything to register. His eyebrows narrowed over his eyes and he pushed himself harder. Pain erupted as the needle broke skin, the purple swirl of serum sinking into your skin. It sent a blur of blind pain coursing through your system, but all you could do is scream. Your voice feels raw, but there’s no noise coming out of it. The taste of blood is in the back of your throat, but you don’t feel any. Something collided with the window of the room you were trapped in, and through the overcoming haze you saw that it was Hawks. Anger etched into his face, beating his hands against the glass so hard you swore it shook. You screamed his name again, that same echo off in the distance vibrating through your ears. He screamed yours back, the sound a canon of noise as he continued to beat on the glass. There were tears in his eyes, a righteous fury that took your breath away. He was the source of anger, the need for rejection. You strained against your restraints, doing what you could to fight the wave of darkness that was threatening to overcome you, wanting nothing more than to reach out and take Keigo’s hand.

The world around faded once more, the next scene opening up to you like the beginning credits of a movie. Once the camera focused in you see...Keigo dressed in his hero uniform, cradling something...no, someone. Your heart clutched as it zoomed in closer and closer until you recognize the design of your own hero costume. Keigo wasn’t cradling just anyone, he was cradling you. Through your omniscient point of view, you come to stand just in front of the two bodies, Keigo with his head bowed over you and you...limp. Your head is slumped over his forearm, though your expression is one embedded into your mind immediately. Gone are the pupils of your eyes, the entire eye filled with a black and white continuous swirl, like something a hypnotist would use. And from your tear ducts..there’s blood. It ran from your duct to your hairline. The look in your expression is vacant. The sound of Keigo’s sniffles, the soft sobs, it confirmed what you had desperately wanted to ignore. In this nightmare, you’re dead. And it didn’t take long for you to put two and two together.

Keigo Takami’s worst nightmare wasn’t what happened to him growing up in the Hero Commission, though the elements were there and you didn’t doubt that there would be more glimpses of this nightmare for the rest of your life that you hadn’t seen. Keigo’s worst nightmare was someone he loved, you, going through the same thing that he had been put through. Though it won’t do anything, as it’s a dream, you reach out a fragmented hand to touch him. Just as you went to do so, he looks up. He looked directly at you, wet eyes and broken expression. “Wake up.” His words sounded like they were coming from right behind your ear, and you blinked. “(Y/N), wake up.”

You snapped open your eyes and sat up in bed. Immediately, you’re aware of the pain in your stomach, in your arm from where Keigo had impaled you with one of his feathers. The room is spinning, and the air you choked down in order to get some focus on your world isn’t helping. Nightmare. Keigo. Where’s Keigo? Wait, why did that matter? He was a villain, he’d attacked you. The air in the room felt suffocating and you didn’t think you could possibly get enough of it. Your fingers wrapped around the blanket that had been on top of you, only to pause as you looked down at it. This was Keigo’s blanket. As the world stopped rotating at a disastrous pace, you realize that this is Keigo’s bedroom. A place you hadn’t been in for months, if not longer. 

You felt like you were going to be sick.

“You’re awake.” You looked to the sound of the voice, already knowing who it belonged to. But hearing the somber, tentative tone doesn’t change your reaction as you scampered out of bed. The sheets were wrapped up in your legs, and you’ve tumbled out of bed in an attempt to be graceful. The fall to the ground landed you on your injured arm, crying out in pain as you crawled. You’re still in your hero uniform, which means it couldn’t have been long. Right? Right? Keigo said your name, and you heard the flex of feathers as he moved. “(Y/N), stop, you’re injured. Sto-(Y/N).”

You’d grabbed the nearest thing to you and flung it at him. A pillow that had likely hit the ground when you had. It’s easy enough for Keigo to grab, and he dropped it to the side as he looked at you with a stern look. “You’re a traitor,” you spat. The strained tone from your arm is evident, and Keigo sighs. “You tried to kill me! You attacked me!” By this point you’ve kicked your legs free from the sheets. 

“Kid,” Keigo says, his tone one of warning. “Listen to me.”

You’re on your feet, injured arm clutched in your hand. There’s fresh blood, but you don’t pay it any mind. “Why should I? So I let my guard down long enough for you to finish the job? Go off with your best friends in the League?” Keigo took a step forward. You shook your head. “If you take one step closer I’ll do it again.”

The reaction of pain that registered in his eyes before quickly falling away, lets you know that at least for now, the distance between you is on your side. You didn’t care that you were shaking, or that the images of Keigo as a child, wobbly and teary-eyed were burned into your mind. As far as you were concerned in that moment, Keigo Takami was your enemy. “It’s not what you think.”

“You kicked me into a wall and then had the nerve to stab me in the arm.” You grit your teeth. “How else is it supposed to look, Keigo?”

Keigo looked to the side, avoiding your glance. Out of fear of you using your quirk again or because he actually felt shame over what he’d done, you didn’t know. Told yourself you didn’t care. But that image of that broken little boy...it haunted you. Keigo ran his hands through the windswept mess of his hair, and sighs. “I can’t...I can’t tell you.” His mouth hung open and he closed it before talking again. “There are things I can’t...I have to keep private.”

“If you think for one second, I’m not going to tell the Hero Commission that you’ve switched sides-” You started, but Keigo cut you off.

“They know.” It’s your turn to be breathless. Keigo looked back to you, the miserable and lonely look back in his eye. There must have been a question in your eyes, because he repeated himself. “They know. They asked me to do this. To be a double agent.”

“You attacked me like it was real.”

Keigo’s eyes dropped to your arm, and on instinct you tried to hide the fresh spot of blood that had appeared. “I had to.”

“Keigo I almost died because you were trying to kill me.”

“I would have never let yo-” Keigo stopped short, his tone full of anger at the idea that you thought he would ever let anything happen to you like that, taking a draw of breath in. You feel his fear, and your mouth hung open just slightly. “I wasn't expecting you to use your quirk on me. You promised you wouldn’t.”

Keigo dropped his eyes. He wanted to know what it was you’d seen, though he couldn’t bring himself to ask. You’d told him about the nightmares that replayed after you used it in the past. The last thing he wanted was for you to look at him with pity because you’d seen his nightmares. Keigo never talked about his emotions, too numb to them because of the things he’d done. The lack of love he’d felt throughout his entire life ever since he’d been whisked into the Hero Commission. For so long he’d been seen as a weapon, a tool to use. He hadn’t been seen as a human being in so long, and then there’d been you. Dropping into his life at some silly hero convention with a mischievous look and it’d been a face he hadn’t seen in years.

A face that he hadn't been able to save all those years ago.

He’d been shocked that you hadn't remembered anything, or rather, wouldn’t. But seeing you...not knowing that you didn’t remember...it made Keigo want to get close to you all over again. To protect you a second time around where he’d failed the first. If you had even a notion that his nightmares were more than just nightmares...Keigo didn’t want to be responsible for the meltdown, it was more guilt and weight on his shoulders that he didn’t think he could handle.

“I thought you were going to kill me!” Your voice was raspy from the hands he’d put around your neck, and you don’t doubt it’s bruised. Your mind wandered to a much darker thought than you wanted to acknowledge. If he’d been willing to go toe to toe with you like that, how many other heroes had he fought? Were any hero deaths related to him?

“I could...” Keigo rasped. “I could never do that to you. I tried to warn you, kid. I told you to stay out of it.”

“I can’t do that, you know that. We’re...I’m a hero, Keigo. I can’t let villains escape.”

“It had to be me. Dabi..Shigaraki...Toga...they would have killed you, you wouldn’t have stood...it would have been bad, (Y/N).”

You took a step back, feeling as if you’d been slapped. “You don’t think I could have done my job, is what you’re saying? So you toyed with me instead. To protect your mission when they’re running around reckless and hurting others! Killing us!” He dropped his gaze, his hands clenched. “This is why you cut me out, isn’t it? Because the Hero Commission set you up for this. Because Keigo Takami is the only one who can do any of the complicated jobs and he just can’t ask for help.” You didn’t now when you got so emotional, whether it was from the pain wracked in your body or because of the escalating situation with Keigo. 

“I can’t let anyone help me. Someone...” you “Could get hurt.”

“Fuck you, Keigo.” You needed out of his place. There’s too many reminders of everything Keigo Takami in that space. Of nights in that same bed. How he’d told you he wanted nothing more than that right there. And now to hear the fact that he was a double agent, that he couldn’t have even shared that intimate of a detail with you. It was because he didn’t trust you. It was because he didn't think you were capable. “For your information, I can take care of myself. I have always been able to take care of myself.” Your body protested as you moved, energized with the anger from feeling so demented by someone you cared about. Keigo gingerly raised an arm as you made your way towards him, perhaps in an attempt to stop you. To continue the conversation. But as far as you were concerned, it was over. “Don’t you dare touch me.” Your voice shook, not even caring that your vision was blurred from the tears you were doing your best not to let fall. You stomped over to the door, grabbing onto the handle of a place you’d always thought was incredibly lonely.

At least now you understood why. 

“You know what, Keigo...I get that you went through some awful things growing up. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. But I trusted you, I loved you, and I thought there wasn't anything too high for you to reach.” You scoffed, feeling one tear roll down your cheek. “Apparently there isn’t anything too low for you to go after, either.” With that you wrenched the door open and slammed it shut behind you. For a moment, you leaned in against that door, the heels of your palms pressed into your eyes as the weight of emotions and pain and the awful reality that was both sank in. You couldn’t stay there for long, you knew that. You wiped the wetness at your eyes and pulled yourself together as best as you could, and left.

On the other side of that door, Keigo stood where your words had rooted him. His hand still raised, he stared down at his palm. There’d been so much he had wanted to try to say, to explain. But your anger had always been enough to plow down a city. Yellow eyes that usually burned so bright, were flattened down to a stormy sunrise. Keigo felt that guilt in his heart. That loneliness that he had only began to feel erased once he had you back in his life. How did he begin to tell you about what the Hero Commission had made him do in becoming a double agent when he couldn’t even tell you the truth about you? He would have denied any chin wobble as he looked down at his open palm, felt the overwhelming emptiness in his place start to settle in on his shoulders as it always did when he came home to it empty. “See you around, kid.” he breathed.

The knot in his stomach told him it wouldn’t be the last time he saw you. 

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[starkerintheparker]

starker reclist - PWP

What better way to celebrate RDJ’s bday than spreading some pwp love, amirite :D I decided to just share these without the usual commentary because there are only so many ways to praise hot smut and I’m not that well versed in English lol. Some fics are plottier, some are porn with feels, others are unapologetic filth. Suffice to say they are all sublime and top notch wanking material, 10/10 recommend. Please mind the tags and stay safe. Happy meals! 😈

Last updated: April 25th, 2020. All new additions will be marked with ***

• a little bit scandalous by @paspleurer (3k, completed)

Summary: “What do you think about dessert? I’m thinking the creme brulee, but—”

“You could eat my ass,” says Peter. "After you've already come inside of it."

Tony sets the menu down on the table with jarring force.

• A Special Love by @darker-soft-starker (completed) 

Summary: “You know - the thing where I tell you that I’m too old to be kissed on the lips,” Peter answers, reaching out linking their hands together over the gearstick. "Where I tell you none of the other fathers kiss their sons like we do and isn’t it weird?”

Author’s warning: Incest roleplay (no actual incest), semi-public sex, exhibitionism, public foreplay, armour kink, slight incidental daddy kink, nff. 

• Babysitter (AU) by @readysetstarker (5.4k, completed)

Summary: Tony was desperate. Ten minutes before he was supposed to leave for work, brushing his daughter’s hair in the bathroom and promising her a fun day at the zoo with her babysitter (he had already paid for the tickets online, the receipt for them sitting on the counter), he had gotten the call that she wouldn’t be showing up. He needed to be at work to negotiate a deal with investors, they needed him there, but she had been adamant about not showing up and hung up on him mid-plea.

• Ballerina!Peter and Construction worker!Tony (AU) by @starkerforlife6969 (completed) Part 2 is winterironspider

Author’s warnings: mild dub con (super mild, Peter turns out to be a mega-slut and we love it), innocent peter, feminisation, multiple orgasms, rimming, mild cock warming, mild cock-slapping. 

• Berries and Cream by @stfustucky (5k, completed)

Summary: There's no way in hell they're going to fit all the Avengers into two cars, not unless Peter sits on Tony's lap. And there's no way in hell Tony is going to survive the ride all the way back to the tower unless Peter stops squirming like that. Unfortunately for Tony, Peter doesn't seem inclined to sit very still tonight. Whoops.

• Breaking Character (AU) by @cagestark (8k, completed)

Summary: Tony Stark, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and spy for SHIELD. Working with another SHIELD spy, the infamous Spider, he will take down an infamous human trafficking ring in New York. But the act they have to put on will demand more from Tony than he ever thought he'd have to give. Not that he minds.

• Bruisable and Sweet by @bloomblood (completed)

Summary: Tony has a meal in Peter’s humble, college dormitory bed.

• Captured (AU) by @areluctantsblog (1k, completed)

Summary: In another a universe, reluctant as he may be, Peter Parker has to find out that being Spider-Man inevitably means being a celebrity, too. As far as he’s concerned, the only good thing resulting from this is that from time to time he gets the chance to lay eyes on the fashion industry’s most handsome face, that of photographer Tony Stark’s. When one day Peter is sent on a photo-shoot with the living legend, things take an interesting turn.

• Coming Untouched by @starker-stories (4k, completed)

Summary: 

“So, is it true?”

“Which thing? I presume you stood there, outside the door, eavesdropping on our entire conversation,” Peter said, miffed.

“That you can make yourself come without touching yourself even once during your… session?”’

• Context Clues (A/B/O) by Anonymous (8k, completed) 

Summary: Peter is crying. Those had been FRIDAY's exact words, and the reason Tony had run upstairs and bypassed the privacy lock on the kid's door. Context is kind of everything.

• Desperado (AU) by @starkercrossedlovers (completed) 

Summary:  Desperado Tony come to town and takes Peter with him when he goes.

• Drabbles by @starkerforlife6969 (290k, ongoing)

Summary: These are all starkerforlife6969’s tumblr drabbles/stories in one collection, aside from the Mafia Boss One. Mostly starker, but there will be winterspider and spidershield and spiderstrange.

• Eight Stops (to make you mine) (A/B/O) by @starkerkeyz and @the-mad-starker (9k, completed) 

Summary: He clutches onto the alpha's forearm and gives Tony another nip, harsher with his spiked up desires. "Eight stops," he tells the alpha, "that's all the time we got. Think that's enough…?" They can only have a quickie but Peter thinks it just might be the best sex he's ever going to get. He gives the alpha's cock another squeeze, trying to convince him to say yes. "Plenty." Tony unbuckles Peter's pants one handed, smirking against pale skin. He rubs his stubble into the omega's lightly bitten scent gland just to rile him up.

• From Across the Bar by @readysetstarker (3k, completed)

Summary: Tony took a slow sip and listened to a pair of new broadcasters talk about upcoming sports games and a player’s most recent scandal about steroid use. He couldn’t have cared less, personally, but there was nothing else on and he wasn’t really here to watch television. Not if the cute brunette trying to scope him out without being noticed had anything to say about it. 

• From Thy Bounty by @ibby-writes and feyrelay (30k, completed)

Summary: Tony’s eyes are always dark, but now there's almost no iris left. He looks hollowed out. There’s something terribly hungry there, despite the feast they've filled themselves on.

• Further Assistance by @learned-foot (4k, completed)

Summary: Besides, it would be unethical not to tell Peter what he saw, right? He’s pretty sure that would violate some sort of boundary. And if the kid wants to go down the path of creative experimentation, it’s kind of Tony’s duty to make sure he does it safely. He basically has to help.

• half doomed and you’re semi sweet by noctiphany (2k, completed) underage

Summary: “Peter,” Tony says, his tone flat, and Peter shudders. “Peter,” Tony says again, impatient and with a hint of threat. “I’m waiting.

• Heal Me by Mezzymet (7k, completed)

Summary: His love for the man probably bordered on hero worship but....you could love someone and not be in love with them. Obviously.

• I could be your whore, Mr. Stark by @stfustucky (10k, completed)

Summary: Peter needs a cover story for his shady behavior as Spidey, and half the school thinks he's an escort anyways, so Peter just leans into the rumors. Tony, being the good friend and teammate that he is, agrees to corroborate the cover story by letting everyone think Peter is his own personal slut. 

• Indulge Me by @learned-foot (370 words, completed)

Summary: Peter likes it best when Mr. Stark is rough and taking. Read it together with Under Someone Else.

• Jealousy is Ugly (Except When It's Not) by @yadds (4k, completed) 

Summary: Peter has a boyfriend. Tony can't stand it. 

• Kinktober 2019 by @readysetstarker (38k, completed)

The whole list is amazing, my personal favorites are the glorious upskirt/semi public sex (ch 6). the  breathtaking mirror sex (ch 7) and the sweet praise kink (ch 9).

• Just a little bit, just enough by @bitter-lemon-water (25k, completed)

Summary: So somewhere in between devastation, uncertainty, fear and disconcertment—Peter settles. Alternatively: Tony pulls. (Peter lets him.) (Peter wants him to.)

• Just Listen to Me by LeafyGreenQueen773 (3k, completed)

Summary: After the spider bite, Peter's senses are “dialed to eleven”. That includes in bed. Peter talks Tony through what feels best to him. 

• Later for later by @unsettledink (15k, completed) sex pollen, top!Peter 

Summary: “You,” Peter says, again, mouthing at Tony's skin. “I want you. I trust you. This is a terrible, terrible idea, Tony knows. The worst. And yeah he's normally all for terrible ideas, but this is… no. (The one where Peter gets hit with a sex drug, and Tony is not prepared for this shit.)

• Me, You & A Tattoo by @starkeristheendgame (4k, completed)

Summary: Peter gets Tony's name tattooed on his ass after a not-bet with MJ. Really, it was just a matter of time before Tony found out.

• Morning (A/B/O) by @starkerstarkerstarker (completed)

Summary: Peter’s breath hitches, eyes on him like he expected him to do more, but when he doesn’t, when all he does is lift a brow, he frowns, his bottom lip pushing out. “If you want something, princess, go ahead.”

• No Control by @paspleurer (500 words, completed)

Summary: Mr. Stark’s conditions are simple— no touching himself, and no talking. And Peter wants to be good, he really does— but his senses make it so hard.

• Paint my Body Gold by @spidey-stuff (14 k, completed)

Summary: Tony is desperate to rid himself of his inappropriate attraction before the last barrier holding him back crumbles as Peter's 18th birthday rapidly approaches.

• Perfect by @learned-foot (639 words, completed)

Summary: There are a lot of things that should make Peter embarrassed right now, starting with the fact that the first time Mr. Stark kissed him—about half an hour ago, though it feels like another world—he came in his pants within seconds.

• Peter in Heat (A/B/O) by @starkerforlife6969 (completed)

Summary:  Peter’s presenting and Tony knows exactly how to take care of him.

• Red Light District series (AU) by @starker-stories (17k, ongoing)

Summary: Everyone knows that Tony Stark is a playboy who has dozens of women passing through his life and through his bed. What everyone doesn't know is that Tony Stark is deeply closeted, longing for something he can't ever have -- a life and a love with another man.

• Reversal by @learned-foot (4k, completed)

Summary: Sometimes, Tony is the one who needs to be praised.

• Still Use Work by @learned-foot (6.5k, completed)

Summary: Peter has a problem. Tony attempts to solve it. To be helpful, obviously. That’s the only reason.

• Sweet for me, my Honeybee by garbagesinboy (10k, completed)

Summary: Peter's got a sweet tooth, and Tony's got a problem. In which Peter Parker consumes way more sugar than the average human ever should, and Tony Stark suffers many many boners.

• Tremolo by @lilsoshie and @marvlouse (4k, completed)

Summary: “You’re gonna ride me,” Tony decides, easing his fingers free and cherishing the unhappy whine the move inspires. “Up, come on.” 

“Tony,” Peter says, a complaint, an exhausted plea.

• The Third Idea by @cagestark (12k, completed)

Summary: Tony walks in on Peter jerking off twice in one week, and realizes that his lover needs a little more from him. So he gives him less; a week without cumming should do it.

• This fire is out of control by feyrelay (2k, completed) sex pollen

Summary: There's really not enough room in their hiding spot to fuck, but Peter's temperature is rising from whatever they've been given, and Tony-Well, Tony's determined.

• Once Upon a Time, there was a Sloshed Bunny and a Guilty Man by @starkerchemistry (completed) 

Summary: drunk!Peter dirty talks Tony on the phone. 

• Up to Eleven by TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG (15k, completed)

Summary: He watches those five minutes. Watches them again, and again. Tries to tell himself that he’s seeing something other than what FRIDAY is showing him.

• wasn’t built in a day by orphan_account (7k, completed) dubcon

Summary: Peter files “massive hard-on for Tony Stark” under “things I can’t tell Aunt May.” It’s tied at the top of the list with “I’m Spider-Man” and “I’m responsible for Uncle Ben’s death.”

• Weird by tuesday (2k, completed)

Summary: It wasn't weird, okay? A lot of people wanted to have sex with the Iron Man armor. A lot. There were entire forums and Instagram and Twitter accounts dedicated to it. There had been internet wars fought solely over which Mark was the sexiest. There was endless speculation over whether Tony Stark was among their number and whether and how he actually had outfitted one of the armors with the ability to make good on all that sleek, sexy promise.

It wasn't weird.

"It's a little weird," Tony said.

• what’s the point of a clear raincoat with no hood? by CarnivalGoldfish (7k, completed) 

Summary: Tony buys Peter clothes because he likes Peter wearing what he bought him. Peter realizes this is not normal.

*** when the world has dealt its cards by thisismydesignn (3k, completed) underage

Summary: Tony Stark has never claimed to be a role model, let alone a good influence. Case in point...

• You Learn Something New Every Day by @sbiderslut (4k, completed)

Summary: This man looks right at them and remarks, happily unaware of the kiloliter can of worms he just RPG-ed wide open, “The bond between you and Mr. Parker is truly remarkable, Tony. You could practically be father and son.”

• Your Eyes Only by tuesday (4k, completed)

Summary: It was an accident. Tony did not, as a rule, check up on Peter these days, and while he had kept the monitoring programs, they were there in case of emergency.

#starker #reclist #peter parker x tony stark

[wordynerdygurl]

Maybe

Author’s Note:  Hi All, so this was flagged as violating guidelines after I first posted... and I think the gif I used was too hot for tv.  Anyway, I accidentally deleted the first one in bed at 2:30 ET... So, here we go again, like Dolly Parton would say! This story was requested by an anonymous friend.  Loki, living his best life as your master. Pairing:  Loki x Female Reader Summary:  You were always curious about being someone’s plaything.  When you meet Loki maybe those fantasies can come true. Warnings:  SMUT, D/s relationship dynamics, language, spanking

Maybe it had always been there.  A feeling, a thought, something that you could never quite give a name to.  When you were a chubby teenager, flipping through the magazines your forgetful father left in the bathroom, the photos of pretty women with their wrists in cuffs made your skin tingle.  As you grew up, the internet provided you with words and phrases that matched your fantasies.  But actually having a dominant lover?  Being the person in bonds, forced to enjoy the delicious torture of your master, that was never going to be real. So you dated here and there.  Men… boys, really, who wanted you to give them pleasure.  And blow jobs.  And hand jobs.  And unenthusiastic sex. In the dark of night, though, when no one else was around, you thought about it and your betraying body responded.  Leather restraints on your wrists and ankles, spreading your sex wide, showing your imaginary partner every inch of your skin.  Rough ropes winding over your torso, across your back, around your hips, keeping you compact and tightly wound for your paramour.  

You could almost feel the sting of a hairbrush on your ass.  The heat that would spread from a firm smack to your bottom.  How your core would clench under the abuse of a well used paddle.  Living in your fantasies made the mundane acts of everyday life more tolerable.

Acts like pouring coffee for rich jerks on demand. 

Having rolled your eyes for the thousandth time that day, you were unprepared for the delicious man in the black suit who looked at you like the last cake pop in the shop.  He was, well, sexy as hell.  And when he ordered his venti iced caramel latte with almond milk in a voice that wove a spell around you, you were certain he could tell that your knees buckled.  “Uh… name?” Leaning into the counter, intimately, the customer crooned, “Loki… and you are?”

“Yours.”

Maybe it would have ended there if your first date hadn’t gone so well but this Loki character had pulled out all the stops.  Dinner at a great diner where the french fries were amazing and the cocktails were hand-crafted.  Nice but not too fancy, exactly your speed.  Next a walk through the city where the conversation flowed smartly and sweetly, never lagging, never hitting a wall of awkward silence.

At some point in the evening, Loki had taken your hand and you had let him.  It felt natural, normal, to have his fingers twined with yours.  Guiding you, directing you to a place that he needed you to go, and you following him there willingly.

On your porch stoop, tense with wondering about a goodnight kiss, Loki trailed you up the stairs.  At your door, Loki, in the most gentlemanly way possible had brushed your hair behind your ear.  Pulling it just a little, directing you to where he wanted you most, his sweet lips pressed against your own.  Teasing you and tasting you until you’d given in to his talented tongue, parting your mouth for his invasion, Loki kept you tangled tightly to him.

You offered no resistance.  Why would you?  The part of you that imagined begging for release loved being handled so roughly at Loki's expert hands. 

The stinging of your scalp sent shivers shooting to your stomach.  Loki's tongue, swiping over your teeth, twisted against your own. Lapping at your particular taste over and over again as if the flavor could be memorized.  

His hands slid down your neck, over your shoulders, crushing you into the hard wood of your door.  Scalded by his marauding mouth, you were panting deeply when he pulled away.  “Look at you… I think you like my kisses, don’t you?”

“Hmm… yes sir.”  You couldn’t say exactly what made you do it, just that it was right. “Sir?  I like that.  Say it again, pet.” “Yes sir.”

“I think you shall have to call me sir from now on.  Do you like that idea?” “Yes sir.”

Maybe that’s where it all started.  Maybe not.

“Hmm… this, this succulent thigh.  This is mine.”  Loki made this declaration before sweeping his tongue over the smooth skin there, lapping closer and closer to your curl covered core.  

Swallowing thickly, "Yes sir." “I am so glad you concur.  And this… this full, happy breast… this is mine, too.”  Squeezing your heavy globe in his nimble hand, Loki sucked your tightening nipple between his lips, teeth grazing your sensitive skin.

"Ah!  Loki!"  "No, kitten.  Not Loki.  You know the rules."  You did.  There were two appropriate titles for your God and you hadn't used either one.  

Casting your eyes downward, ashamed to meet his gaze, you knew there would be punishment.  A price had to be paid for your mistake.

"On your knees, position two.  NOW!"

Scrambling, you moved to the end of the bed.  Position two was one of your favorites.  Loki knew just how to manipulate your body when you were on your hands and knees.  Lifting your rump as high as possible, knees wide so that your dripping cleft was on display, you were exposed in every possible way.

"Hmm… kitten.  Sometimes I think you do it on purpose."  Cupping your bottom, Loki stroked up your back, using the cut of your hips as a handle to hoist you closer to the edge of your mattress.

You wiggled.  Loki saw.  He saw everything.  You were always so eager, something that pleased him greatly. 

Coming around to face you, "Do you, little one?  Do you make these mistakes intentionally?  Do you want your master to punish you?"

Having grabbed your chin roughly, Loki turned your head to his, the force of it making your hair swing.  His thick thumb forced itself into your parted mouth.  You wrapped your sweet tongue around it, sucking the digit deeper, reveling in its texture.

Pushing firmly, Loki used his thumb to leverage your jaws apart.  Opening your mouth wider, saliva starting to pool, "I could just slam my cock down your throat right now.  Slide myself so deep that your nose would be at my navel.  And you're such a slut that you'd love that, wouldn't you?  Wouldn't you?"

Loki's words turned your insides liquid.  A gush of female fluid left your inner thighs slick.  Your wail was wanton, wanting and whining.

"I think six should remind you of who you are dealing with, kitten.  You will count and you will thank your benevolent master for the opportunity to correct yourself."

His first open hand slap makes you rock, breasts bouncing, at the strength of it.  Balling the sheet in your fists, gasping, "One… thank you, master."

Rubbing softly over your warmed skin, Loki traced the curve of your round cheeks, teasing your silken slit.  Oh how you wanted to push back against him, feel him from the inside, stretching you around his invasive digits.  But you didn't dare.  

"Tell me, pet.  Who do you belong to?"

"You, sir!"  Loki chose that moment to smack your ass hard.

"AH!  TWO!  Two!  Thank you, master!"  

Without pause, Loki swung again, his hard palm connecting with your yielding bum in a searing slap.  "THREE!  Thank you, master!  Thank you!"  

Tears clouded your vision.  Sore from supporting you, straining to keep yourself in place like Loki commanded, your elbows threatened to buckle.  Your voice was raw, hoarse from calling out, breathless at the relentless pace your master had set for you.

And there were three more strikes to come.

Loki tangled your hair in his iron grip, forcing your back to bend, exposing your neck.  "I wish you could see yourself, pet."

His tone was haughty.  High and mighty, like he was looking down his elegant nose at you and your depravity.  It made you wet.  It made you crave Loki, his rules, his discipline.  Maybe it's what made you such a perfect fit for each other.

Forcing his tongue into your waiting mouth, Loki thrust himself deeper, driving into you with the same intensity you imagined he would use later with his cock.  Just the idea of having Loki sheathed inside you caused a convulsion of your core.  Was it possible to cum like this?  

Rising, Loki massaged your tense shoulders, his hands warm on your chilled skin.  Taking his place behind you once more, his chest curving into your back, "Ready kitten?"

Nodding, you husked, "Yes, master."

Your bottom was hot after you thanked Loki for the sixth and final time.  Still denied your pleasure, the need for release was a pulsing energy in your body.  How Loki could hold out so long was just another nod to his other worldliness.  You, after all, were merely human.

"Please sir?  Please?"

"What is it you want, my darling little kitten?"  After all his harsh treatment, Loki was extremely sweet, petting your hair like the good kitten he knew you could be.

Gulping, embarrassment flashing through you, "Please make me cum."

Smirking at you, knowing too well that he was in complete control of you, "I thought you'd never ask."

Rolling you onto your back effortlessly, Loki took the time to plant kisses along your jawline, your collarbone.  Skilled fingers plucked at your overly sensitive nipples, rolling and stretching them in turn, making you mewl.  Without touching your straining bud, Loki parted your lower lips, earning a gasp of surprise in response. Settling between your widely spread thighs, stroking his stiffened spear just to torment you, “What’s rule number three, pet?” “I am not allowed to cum until you give me permission, sir.” “Correct.  And number four?”  Mesmerized, you couldn’t take your eyes off of Loki’s hand, or the way it was sliding over his satin steel. Whimpering with want, “Um… Four?  I… I have to ask your permission to cum.” Choosing that moment, you felt Loki toying with your entrance, giving you just an inch of his turgid length.  “Indeed, you do.”  Grunting, Loki filled you in one thrust.  

It took everything in you to not break the rules you had just recited.  Loki groaned as your velvet vice gripped him.  “You’re so tight kitten.  So tight.  I don’t think I can hold back.” “Don’t… please!  Please, let me cum with you… please sir!”  Begging was something that you were getting used to, but right now you’d do that and more to release the tension that Loki had built up inside of you.  His pelvis ground into your own.  Wrapping your legs over his hips, Loki snapped into you savagely, sending your spiral of desire sky high.  Bringing his hand up, caressing your cheek, Loki’s blue eyes captured your lust filled gaze.

“Do you want to climax, little one?  Do you want to feel my release too?” “Yes, Master!  Yes!  Please!”

“You have been a good girl.  Go on, let me feel you, darling.  Let yourself go!” With permission granted your body unraveled spectacularly.  Loki captured your lips in a kiss, swallowing your passionate pleas, pumping the last of his pleasure into your willing body.  Holding you close, your body molded to his, you laid locked together through the aftershocks of your intense love making. After your breathing had steadied and Loki had you wrapped up in his strong arms, you wiggled closer, savoring the strength of your bond with the God of Mischief.  

Maybe you loved being bossed around by Loki.  Maybe you loved being held at his side.  Maybe… just maybe, you were lucky enough to have a man that could both. @iamverity @brokenthelovely @nonsensicalobsessions @jessiejunebug @alexakeyloveloki @rorybutnotgilmore @vodka-and-some-sass @mizfit2 @jamielea81 @archy3001 @lots-of-loki @thefallenbibliophilequote​

#500 followers #loki x reader #loki x you #loki smut #hot loki #mcu smut #marvel smut

[sexvimpulse]

Damien: [Instructs the pages to take her to the groomers and feed her before tying her back up. He enters his apartments once more, having other slaves give him a bath in front of her. He still doesn’t acknowledge her as they wash his body and dry him off]

Esmeralda: [Doesn’t speak to anyone as she’s being taken care of and fed, but she takes in her surroundings when she can—feeling as if she’s in a completely different world. Tied up all over again, her frustration and anger rises as he treats her like she doesn’t exist. Chest rises and falls as she watches the slaves bathing him in complete servitude and obedience. She despises the jealousy she feels, trying to overcome her possessive side but it’s difficult to do so as continues to torment her] Em.. [Stops and corrects herself as she remembers that Emile doesn’t exist] Prince Damien.. please. [Softens her tone to hide the desperation and heartache, absolutely hating how he ignores her]

Damien: [He sends the slaves away, his ears perking as he hears her begging] Oh, I forgot you were there. [Says coldly] What do you want to say, Slave? [Cocks a brow as he sits at the foot of his bed opposite from her]

Esmeralda: [Heat rushes through her body as he finally acknowledges her. Drawing in a breath to calm herself as he doesn’t even address her by her name] If you want someone else, then let me go. [Speaks softly, not understanding why she feels so conflicted about her words while trying to blockout the image of him giving another woman his cock] But.. if you still want me, Prince Damien, then please.. do not put me through this torment.. [Bites her lower lip to stop herself from whimpering]

Damien: And why should I want a slave that rejects the Crown Prince? [Blinks in mock curiosity. His hands grip at the duvet as he clenches his jaw] I should have let them hang you. [Snarls the cruel words] You’re ungrateful and you don’t have an ounce of humility. [Shakes his head] It’s been more of a nuisance than a pleasure— your presence. [Feels bitter and angry at her for not submitting to him after their history] Perhaps I shall send you to the village for the filthy louts to play with and punish. [Glares at her]

Esmeralda: [Starts to wish that he should’ve done that as well, as being sentenced to die would’ve been more bearable than his cruel words. She resists the urge to cry even as her tears threaten to fall] Prince.. [Parts her lips as panic sweeps in as he mentions the village. Her head shakes and her desperation overpowers her resentment] Please don’t.. I beg of you, Prince Damien. [Starts to cry as she can barely keep up the facade] Don’t send me to the village. [Her lower lip trembles as she hides her face behind her hair, not wanting him to see how distraught she is] Please don’t be cruel to me..

Damien: [Laughs at her reaction to mentioning the Village. He rolls his eyes] You manipulative little gypsy bitch. [Smiles wryly as she only cares for self preservation] Maybe I should have trusted the people’s judgment of you. [Hollows his cheeks as she still displeases him] Is it not what you fucking deserve? You ungrateful little cunt. [Spits the words hatefully] I saved your life but maybe it truly fucking is worthless. [Shifts his jaw and crosses his arms] After all the kindness I truly showed you, you’re just a gypsy whore.

Esmeralda: [Lifts her gaze as his tone is bitter to her ears. She feels her heart crumbling as he sides with the others who waste no time with belittling and degrading her each time she leaves his apartment] Then why did you save me? To own me as you once said you wished to do? [Asks before his hateful words silences her. She can take it from the others, but hearing it from him makes her ache inside. She looks away as he appears so angry, tears streaming down her cheeks and breaking her down into nothingness] Forgive me, Prince Damien.. I did not mean to displease your grace.

Damien: [Remembers their conversation briefly and he averts her eyes] Perhaps. But you’ve clearly shown me it was a mistake. [Blinks] If you were dead, you wouldn’t have had a chance to ruin the lovely memories of our trysts. What was once so pleasant now fills me with rage. You deceived me and I stood for your lies. [Sees her crying now and he feels no sympathy for her] I do not forgive you. You have disappointed me. [Stares at her] I don’t even wish to look at you, but I will give you the punishment of watching me— the Prince you hate so much. [Summons a page to gag her as he crawls into bed] I should have never entered that fucking caravan. [Mutters to himself as he covers himself in the duvet]

Esmeralda: [Reflects on their memories, seeing it so vividly she can still taste him on her tongue. As he says how she lied, she becomes passionately angry with him] My lies..?! I am the one who was deceived, /Emile./ [Speaks his name in the same hateful tone before twisting and turning her head to avoid the page before the gag fills her mouth. She groans as it’s tightened at the back, making it uncomfortable for her. Her cries are muffled by the gag as she has no choice but to watch his every move—feeling maddened by the torture he’s putting her through]

Damien: [Hisses as she speaks disrespectfully. He gets up harshly and grabs a paddle, slamming it hard against the back of her thighs] My name /is/ Emile! [Cracks the paddle against her flesh again] I told you I was of high birth! [Hits her hard again] But you! You pretended to be such a submissive, perfect lover. [Snarls into her crying face] But you are an untrained fucking animal! You have no respect, no humility. [Scoffs] And maybe I shall treat you like that? Maybe I shall get amusement that way.. [The idea crosses his mind as he has the pages take her down finally] Yes. I’ll beat you and rape you for my own amusement whether you submit or not. [Glares hard as he grips her hair and throws her against the bed, bending her over its edge and forcing her face into the mattress, smothering her as he used his hand to slap her ass raggedly] You stupid little gypsy cunt. [Can’t hold back any longer as he shoves down his trousers and forces his cock into her soaked and throbbing cunt] Mngh! [Crushes her throat with his hands as he forces her head into the mattress. He allows her head to come up and removes the gag] Your Prince commands to you tell him that you are his raped gypsy whore. [Speaks between his moans as he thrusts violently into her] Say it! [Pulls at her hair and slaps her face]

Esmeralda: [Chest heaves frantically as he storms towards her direction. Her eyes widen before she screams harshly against the gag as he the paddle crashes onto her flesh one and after another. Her legs nearly give out as the shock runs through her veins before looking at him in confusion as he suddenly has her released. Hearing him, she starts to back away before wincing as he grabs her by the hair and handles her roughly on the bed] St.. stop! [The sound is barely coherent against the gag as she twists from under him to get him off of her. Fighting against him, he easily overpowers her and elicits a harsh scream as his thick cock violates her cunt without any permission. Not having had him for a while, the pain feels fresh and stings her inside] Aghhh! Mmngh..! [Her cries are buried into the mattress as every inch of his cock tears into her tight walls—forcing her to take the pain of it as he increases his pace. Tears run heavily down her cheeks as she doesn’t know if she is in a state of blinding pleasure or absolute pain. Placing her hands on his abs to limit his thrusts, she looks down to see her bright pink cunt as he abuses her sex] Damien! [Arches her lower back as the fresh sting of his slap spreads across her cheek. She doesn’t want to say, but she’s too consumed by lust to fight against her pride] I’m.. I’m his raped gypsy whore.. [Tries to say it as quietly as she can but his relentless thrusts only draws it even louder out of her mouth] I’m the Prince’s raped gypsy whore! [Moans loudly, but not loud enough to hide the wet noises coming from her pussy as her body betrays her and starts to grind into his hips]

Damien: [Pounds into her, his head falling back as she’s so wet. He pushes her hands off of him as he grips her sore and welt-covered mounds] Fuck! [Shivers with pleasure as she gives into him] Good girl, Esme.. [Cradles her sore, bruised little throat] I’m going to use you as my rape whore every night. [Pounds into her as he fists her hair] Mngh.. kiss me. [Turns her head roughly to kiss her harshly] I think you love this.. your cunt is swelling around my cock. [Laughs darkly] I want to rape all of your holes, Slave. [Pulls harshly out of her cunt and forces his thickness into her tight ass, wanting her to scream for him] Mm.. I loved making you bleed for me in that caravan.. [Slaps her sore little ass as he spreads the cheeks apart and spits on her asshole as his cock assaults her]

Esmeralda: [Her mind tells her to stop, to fight harder against him but as he thrusts in and out of her cunt, as he viciously owns her cunt as if she were made to be used by him, she finds herself slowly slipping into her submissive ways] Unghhh.. Please, Prince Damien..! [Gasps as his grip tightens around her throat, heightening her sensitivity as her blood runs hotter and her pussy becomes so plump with need] Mmm! [Resists his kiss at first before his tongue slices between her lips. She moans deeply as she tastes him, sucking and chasing his tongue desperately as she can’t get enough] Stop.. [Groans as he pulls out, suddenly becoming aware and ashamed as she sees how her wetness drips from his cock] Don’t, Damien.. [Sees that darkened look in his eyes as she becomes unwilling to go further] Oh.. God! Mnghhh! [Her strangled cries fill the room as his member pushes into her very tight opening. She struggles to adjust to him as it causes so much pain—their position making it even tighter for him to fit] My Prince.. please, it hurts.. [Shivers as she hears his sinful words. Lifting her ass just slightly, she attempts to push him back but he ends up going even deeper] My god! Mmm! [Grips the sheets as she succumbs to the assault—her tears, sweat, and wetness stains the perfect sheets as he pounds into her thick flesh] No more, I’ll be have.. [Looks at him over her shoulder before watching as his length disappears in and out of her ass—seeing a hint of blood on him as he tears her up]

Damien: [Is driven mad as her body begins to soften and melt for him. He groans as he pounds into her, seeing her bleed for him] Fuck.. you’re going to be so full of my seed every night. [Snarls before he continues his painful thrust and empties his cock into her] Mm.. [Pulls out and grabs her hair. He forces her on her knees and shoves his cock in her mouth] Clean it. [Slaps her cheek]

Esmeralda: [Desperation makes her body ache and writhe beneath him as she lifts her ass as if offering herself to him and welcoming the pain] Please, please..! [Begs and cries as she tries to bounce her thick ass against him, wanting to stimulate her cunt as much as he can as he rapes her tight hole] Ughhh! [Trembles all over as he buries his warm cum inside of her. His release is so passionate that she feels it seeping out] Prince Damien.. [Whimpers as he pulls out, tears stinging her eyes as the pain settles. She feels satisfied yet wanting more all at once] Yes.. [Gives into him as she finds his taste irresistible—having been deprived of it and having had to watch someone else have it. She wastes no time as she guides him into her mouth, sucking him deeply as if she’s so desperate] Mhmm.. [Eyes roll back as she tastes their sexes on his flesh, her tongue swirling all over before moving to the tip. She lets her tongue delve into the small opening to swallow more of his delicious seed] I don’t want to stop.. [Whispers without thinking as she sucks him hungrily and sloppily before angling her head to the side so that his throbbing head pushes against the inside of her cheek as she strokes his length]

Damien: [Loves as she eagerly follows his commands, he groans as she lavishes his sensitive flesh with her tongue] Mngh.. don’t stop then.. [Falls into a rhythm as she hardens his cock with her stroking and sucking] Fuck... [Looks down at her and watches the submissive girl he remembers peak through] Mngh.. [pulls out of her mouth and roughly throws her on the bed. He climbs atop her and shoves his cock into her cunt to reward her] Fuck.. [Grips her face as he rolls against her aching pussy, letting her feel the pleasure] You may only cum when I say you can. [Rocks his hips and hits her core, knowing she’s struggling]

Esmeralda: [Squeezes more drops of cum out of him, milking him into her eager mouth before smearing it all over her lips until she sucks it off] Prince Damien.. [Her chest rises and falls as gazes at him heatedly, desperately craving more from him as he has awakened her dormant desires. Spreading her legs, she smears his cum and her arousal all over her cunt before pushing it inside of her already soaked pussy—wanting his cock to be drenched in their sex] Please..! Mmhmm! [Arches her back and hitches her leg against his hip as his perfect cock tears away her frustrations with each thrust] I need this.. Your gypsy whore aches for this.. [Gazes into his piercing eyes as he holds her face. Her eyes roll back as his movements stimulates her swollen clot—she’s so sensitive that she can’t prevent her tears from falling] Damien.. Please.. [Her voice waves as her brows furrow, looking tormented as she rolls her hips against his in a desperate rhythm. Her toes curl as she tries to hold back but the pressure builds more and more as his cock reaches deep inside of her] May I cum? Please, let me cum.. [Begs as she digs her nails into his back, holding off for him as much as she can as he drives her mad with lust]

Damien: [Her submissive words make his cock throb as he kisses her harshly] Mm.. I know this is the best cock you’ve ever had. [Smiles as he spits and lets it drip down into her mouth. He loves as she begs to cum and nods] Oui.. you may cum. [Glances between her face and her cunt as he picks up his pace, waiting to see the pleasure descend upon her]

Esmeralda: [Wraps her slick, swollen pink walls around his throbbing dick before moaning into his mouth as he fills all of her senses] Yes.. Yours is the best.. [Speaks truthfully out of her desperation to find pleasure and release. Instinctively, she catches his spit in her mouth before lifting her head to swipe more of his taste from his tongue] Please.. I need it! Mmm! [Breasts shake as his cock hits her core in a perfect rhythm. She stop fighting against herself as she loses herself to him, gripping his hair and wrapping her legs around him until she feels the knots inside of her tearing apart] Unghhh! Oh god, don’t stop! [Completely shatters beneath him, thrashing her hips as she nearly pushes him off while juices squirt out of violently pulsing cunt] Damien! [Cries out his name before catching his lips as she kisses him to stop moaning while her body shakes and juices continue to flow out of her]

Damien: [Watches gleefully as she unravels for him, his blue eyes bright with wonder. He moans as she kisses him, stealing her pleasure before he cums again inside her. He kisses her hungrily and with passion he’s withheld as he crushes her in his arms beneath him] Mine. [Growls as he pulls out of her but keeps her against him. He pulls the covers over them and doesn’t let her free of his hold]

Esmeralda: [Her breathing is ragged and uneven, too sensitive to handle anything else. As he cums inside of her, she moans out as his warm makes her squirt even more for him] Prince Damien.. It’s too much.. Too good.. [Whines as her walls are pulsing and clenching rapidly, feeling beyond used and owned by him that she’s incapable of forming any thoughts. She says nothing as he claims her, only knowing that in that moment she belongs to him] Mnghhh.. [Her head feels lightheaded as sensitivity roams all over her body. She breathes in his scent to calm herself, squeezing her cunt to keep his cum inside of her. Lifting her head to kiss him, she slips her tongue back into his mouth—moaning from his taste but it’s not enough as she reaches between her legs to collect their arousal and licks it off her fingers] /This/ is mine.

Damien: [Melts from her kisses and he returns them] Mngh.. [He makes her look at him as she doesn’t answer] Say that you’re mine. [Clenches his jaw as he glares while she eats up their cum. He keeps her pressed against him, barely allowing her to move]

Esmeralda: [Gazes at him with her emerald irises as she sucks her digits clean before he demands an answer from her. She feels his heart beating against his chest and has her so close to him, loving how his heat blankets over her] I am yours, Prince Damien. [Whispers softly as she becomes lost in his gaze, ignoring her thoughts as her submissive side gives in] Even if you are not mine..

Damien: [Smiles at her words. He tilts his head] I am yours, though.. your master, your trainer, your prince. [Says softly as he covers her flesh in kisses] This isn’t some trick is it? [Pouts] For I shall have to punish you harshly for it..

Esmeralda: [Stares at him deeply, remembering his face perfectly yet there’s still a change between them] Mmm.. [Moans as she showers her with kisses, unable to deny how desperately she has missed him] A trick? [Shakes her head before leaning to kiss his pout as it tempts her] I am a gypsy but I am not what your people believe us to be.. [She bites her lower lip as he talks about punishing her, feeling her sore pussy and tight hole still aching from his punishment] I don’t belong here.. I am not a princess or close to nobility. [Searches his eyes for answers]

Damien: [Narrows his eyes as he searches her face for deception] You are mine and you belong here if I say you do. [Clenches his jaw]

Esmeralda: [Loses her train of thought as he gives her that look and becomes more possessive with his words] Do not become angry, Prince Damien.. [Whispers as she leans in to kiss the crease between his brows, knowing she wouldn’t be able to handle any more punishments] You were once just my lover.. and now a Prince.. [Takes his hand as she looks at his palm, reading the lines on it before thinking about how hard he spanks her with it]

Damien: Will this be easier to accept when you realize that you are the woman my palm told you about? [Stares at her]

Esmeralda: [Pauses as she hears his words, pulling back slightly before searching his eyes again] That cannot be.. [Thinks about that reading as realization slowly dawns on her with each second that passes]

Damien: [Stares at her] Unless you made it all up? [Tilts his head as he lets her look at his palm again]

Esmeralda: [Her heart races as she feels as though she sealed her own fate. She avoids looking at his palm at first before finally giving in. She traces the lines with her fingertips, reading it as clearly as she had before] It could be any girl..

Damien: [Lets the realization sweep over her like it did him and he waits] I did reading after I met you.. on Gypsies. [Says softly] Its rumored that you all are terribly afraid of offending the fates. [Gazes at her] Will you really tempt it? [His chest rises and falls] You have awakened in me something no one in this kingdom has.. you are mine. Through and through. [Purses his lips] I was called to your caravan, Esme.

Esmeralda: [Pursing her lips and hollowing her cheeks, she begins to feel incredibly foolish for failing to see it the first time. Meeting his eyes, she parts her lips as he tests her. She contemplates on going against their entwined fates but her fear of it prevents her from doing so] Damien.. [Swallows as she doesn’t know what to think or feel as she’s still processing the truth. As she hears his deep rooted words, she feels that passionate flame burning inside of her—the same one that matches his and was ignited once he asked her for his fortune] I cannot.. I.. [At a loss for words, she feels defeated as she lowers her eyes from his] I am unlike the other slaves, Damien.. You can wish to have someone who may never bend to your will? [Gazes at him deeply, refusing to read her own palm but knows in her heart of hearts that this was destined to be] I am but a gypsy..

Damien: It was because of that your life was spared.. our fates are intertwined. Admit it. [Snatches her hand and glances at the life line she taught him] There is an interruption here. [Stares at her palm] You could have died. [Looks at her] But it continues. [Pulls her tighter against him] Admit it, Esme. I am not only your lover. I am your destiny.

Esmeralda: [Breathes in sharply as he takes her hand and reads the lines on her palm. She sees it as clear as day as he reads it perfectly, almost seduced by the sound of his deep voice—the truth unavoidable at this point] Damien.. [Swallows as her pride breaks down, making her feel vulnerable as she has no choice but to follow what fate as designed for her. She gazes into his eyes, seeing the passion behind it as she weakens] And what will I be to you..? If you are my destiny.. where will this lead me? [Looks to him for answers as she can’t seem to trust herself anymore. Her eyes fall to his lips as the temptation stirs inside of her, wanting her savior yet afraid to trust or give herself to him]

Damien: [Strokes her hair as he kisses her slowly] My love. My love slave. [Shrugs] Everything that gives me joy and pleasure. [Stares at her] You were always meant to be mine.

Esmeralda: [Forgets her thoughts for a moment as she tastes his lips on hers. She searches for his tongue to deepen the kiss before strangely melting at the term he uses] Will you hurt me? [Runs her fingers down his chest like she used to do while playing with his hair with her other hand]

Damien: If you’re disobedient.. [Answers her honestly. He melts at her touch, wishing they could have stayed in her caravan forever]

Esmeralda: [Hollows her cheeks but doesn’t stop touching him as she ends up moving closer] Will you do what you did the other night? [Doesnt want to say the words as she stares into his eyes]

Damien: What did I do? [Tilts his head as he feigns innocence. He moves down and nuzzles her breasts before sucking and kissing at them]

Esmeralda: [Starts to narrow her eyes as he doesn’t answer her right away] You know what you did.. [Her chest aches as the memory pains and angers her, making her feel possessive but she doesn’t want to be that way again. She tries to move him off her full breasts before moaning as he has with way with her] Is this all that will become of me, Prince Damien? [Moans under her breath, pulling his hair as she uses her other hand to rub her nipple against his lips]

Damien: Hm.. I don’t recall. [Shakes his head and sucks at her nipple as she teases him with it. He spits on her breasts and smears it all over to mark his territory] You mustn’t worry about things like that, Esme. [Pouts up at her] If you just give yourself over to me then life will be simple.

Esmeralda: [Hollows her cheeks as she pulls him off her breasts] You paraded yourself with another girl in front of me. You put me through agony. [Speaks lowly as she holds back her emotions before moaning sharply as he spits on her. She watches as her flesh glistens from his spit before parting her lips to have a taste] It is not easy, Damien.. I don’t belong to this world of yours. [Pouts back at him yet her submissive side is curious and yearns to please]

Damien: [Loves the way she grips at his hair and he looks up at her darkly] You told me you didn’t want me. What do you know of agony? [Scoffs as he doesn’t meet her eyes— completely diverting the situation] You belong with me. [Says simply] Will you at least try?

Esmeralda: Your treatment. [Remains silent as she has learned so much about agony since arriving here, her eyes staring in disbelief] It was cruel.. [Pouts her lips before his confident tone makes her want to trust what he’s saying, not wanting to admit that she believes it. She leans in and kisses him in response] How long will this be? [Doesn’t look at her palm for the answer]

Damien: As were you. Hmph. [Crosses his arms as he pulls them away from her. He softens at her kiss] Nevermind how long! [Hisses as snatches her wrist so she can’t check] You are mine as long as I say you are. [Hollows his cheeks, knowing his intent is to prove her the best and most perfect slave so that she will capture his mother’s heart and he will be allowed to marry her] So you will try? For me?

Esmeralda: I was cruel? [Furrows her brows in confusion before whimpering as he stops her from reading the lines on her palm. He solves her with his words, seeing a look of determination behind his eyes as he seems to have more in store for her. She doesn’t like the uncertainty of not knowing when he’ll tire of her but she cannot resist him in that moment] Yes.. Only if it pleases you, Prince Damien. [Uses the words that she heard from the other girl as she gazes into his eyes]

Damien: When you said you didn’t want me! [Huffs as he sulks at her. His expression changes as he hears her words, feeling hopeful that she’ll be able to do it] Good girl! Very good. [Pounces on her and covers her face in kisses]

Esmeralda: [Tests the words out on her tongue, letting it settle before he appears very pleased with her response. She looks at him with curiosity and pleasure before melting under his sweet kisses, unable to detect any cruelty in him] Does that please you, Prince Damien? [Gazes up at him as her desire makes her chase after his lips before exposing her neck as she yearns for his lips on more of her flesh]

Damien: [His heart races as she may actually be allowed to be his wife and not a mere mistress] Oui.. it pleases me greatly. [Coos as he rewards her with all of the kisses she wants. He pulls back to gaze down at her] I promise you.. if you do my bidding.. you will be so greatly rewarded.. [Sighs as he rests atop her and nuzzles her neck] My love slave..

Esmeralda: [Closes her eyes and moans from the affection that he gives her before draping her arms over his shoulders] What reward will that be, Prince Damien? [Wonders if it means that he will release her, but the thought doesn’t sit well with her. She moans as she starts to feel somewhat accepting of the term] My Prince. [Allows herself to claim him just this once as she kisses his shoulder and the crook of his neck, too addicted to let go and too afraid to leave this moment behind]

Damien: I can’t say.. the knowledge will taint your efforts. [Says quietly as he melts from her kisses] Oui.. ton prince.. [Inhales her scent, smelling the perfumed oil on her flesh from the grooms] I’m so happy that fate has kept us together.

Esmeralda: [Looks at him curiously and searching eyes for any traces of deceit. She keeps herself wrapped against him before nodding at his words, knowing she wanted to be with him but not expecting it to be in this manner] Will I only belong to you, my prince? Or.. will others take me? [Asks as she has seen different slaves with different trainers outside of his apartment]

Damien: [Pulls back at her words] Do you /want/ others to take you? [Glares at her as he hollows her cheeks] You are mine. And only mine. [Clenches his jaw as he wraps his arms tightly around her]

Esmeralda: [Shakes her head at him before pulling back to her as she kisses him all over his face] Not unless it should please you, Prince Damien. [Whispers as she doesn’t want to be touched by anyone else unless it’s by him or a groom. She loves his possessive words as she nods] Yes, my Prince. [Sucks his neck before licking his flesh as she takes as much as she can, afraid that he’ll deprive her down the line]

Damien: [Beams at her words, knowing she is starting to understand but knows that the obedience must be pure and genuine] Ma esclave d’amour.. [Coos as he nuzzles her flesh] We will sleep together from now on when you’re a good girl.. [Makes himself comfortable and lets her rest in his chest] Bonne nuit, amour.. get your rest. You will need it tomorrow.

Esmeralda: [Yearns for him as it feels like how they were when he would visit her caravan. She kisses every bit of him that she can before placing her lips upon his chest as has her against him] Then I shall do my best to be good.. [Murmurs as this is the closest she has been to have a decent rest. She lets out a sigh as her sore little body relaxes before parting her lips at his comment] Yes, my Prince. Dream sweetly. [Kisses him softly, silently praying that they will be how they once were in the morning]

#c: an animal to ruin #type: smut #type: tension #type: non con #v: fortune and filth

[ineffablecolors]

The Wife [11/?]

The Wife || Ch 11 ~ 5k || Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6 Ch7 Ch8 Ch9 Ch10 || FF.NET&AO3

Summary: No one knows all that Emma has been through and certainly no one knows all that Killian has been through and being husband and wife doesn’t make them any less unknown to each other. And really, how can you help someone heal when you don’t even know how hurt they are?

A/N: 1. Very slight mentions of Killian/Milah and Killian/Eloise 2. Mentions of drug use. 3. Once again there is a possible trigger in this chapter - nothing graphic, only vague mentions - that is also a bit of a spoiler, so you can check the notes at the end, if you wanna be prepared. Otherwise, this is a definite E for extreme emotions.

He wakes slowly with dulled senses and the knowledge that he indulged too much the night before. Nothing will get done today, it is the price he has been paying for these short and sporadic benders for years. It’s probably for the best. If his body could stand it, he would’ve been much too tempted to push it to its limits when Alice wasn’t around.

Killian swallows on a dry throat and grimaces at the taste in his mouth. Some strong tea to face the day, perhaps some coffee, if they had it. It takes half a dozen blinks for his eyes to open completely and he faces the morning light with indifference. It’s later than he has woken in months – ever since Alice came home – but Alice isn’t home anymore. He closes his eyes again and shakes his head. Emma is, however, and it is still early enough that she might just be going down to—

The movement on his left makes his heart seize in his chest, his head swivels to the side despite the heaviness and nausea, his vision blurring for a moment before he focuses on the form beside him. With a sharp intake his whole body wakes up and he feels the ache in his head and the ache in his left arm and the ache in his chest and the light weight of her small hand on his stomach. In the next second, he is on his feet, stumbling out of the tangle of blankets and almost falling on his ass, blinking wildly at the sleeping woman in his bed.

He doesn’t know how she found herself here. Again. He is not even clear on how he got here. Again. The world blurs a little at the edges and Killian tries to cling to the here and now. But the here and now is not all that reassuring.

It’s Emma, he repeats in his mind. Her golden waves are unmistakable, as is the curve of her cheek visible under them, somehow even the almost foreign touch of her hand felt unmistakable. It’s Emma, it’s Emma, it’s Emma.

Emma would never.

Yet, she is in his bed, where he does not remember bringing her, she is in his room, where he has never invited her, and she is in her nightgown and—

He looks down and he would probably sigh in relief at his rumpled but fully dressed state – he would, if there was space for a sigh between the unceasing breaths his chest seems to be consuming at an alarming speed. As grateful as he is for the clothes on his back, he wants little more than to tear them off along with his burning skin. He needs to breathe, he needs to get out of this room that he cannot remember entering, that he cannot remember ever seeing Emma inside.

Why would she—

“Killian?”

*****

If she didn’t still marvel at these moment of all-encompassing warmth, she would feel almost stifled under the blankets. As it is, she pays them little mind when her half-opened eyes notice and try to focus on the figure standing beside the bed. Her mind is foggy with sleep but her heart is waking up rested and content and she feels her lips start to pull up in a pleased little smile as he turns to face her.

And then she is wide awake in seconds, her heart coming to a sudden halt – immediately on edge as to what might have caused the horror on its beloved’s face. It takes him stepping back, his eyes glued to her as if he is seeing her for the first time, his fist clenching and unclenching at his side, his stance rigid and defensive, and his eyes still fixed on her – it takes all that for Emma’s heart to realize that it’s her.

She put that look on his face.

“Killian, I—“ she rises to a sitting position, bringing the blanket with her though she is hardly indecent under it and he has seen her so before. “I’m sorry, I—“

The door is left wide open after him, his bare feet slapping against the hallway floor. The burst of cold air makes her shiver and the single wet trail cools on her cheek.

*****

Killian stumbles down the stairs and turns into his study, hoping beyond hope that he doesn’t run into anyone before he gets inside. He digs out the change of clothes he keeps there, fumbling with his socks and shoes and tearing his shirt off, cursing like the sailor he used to be.

His lip curls a little as he puts his thumb against one of the jarred scars on his left side. He runs it down – armpit to hip and encounters five more along the way. The skin around the straps of his brace is an angry pink and the end of his forearm aches worse than it did after his last journey but he is still grateful that he kept it on during the night, if she spent it with him.

She did. Emma slept in his bed, whether he remembers it or not. It’s the non-remembering that makes his eyes sting and his teeth grind against each other and, against all logic, he pulls the buckles tighter around his damaged arm.

His eyes fall on the bottle and glass on the small table before the fireplace, grey with the ashes of the night before. The sound of glass against brick is not satisfying, it makes him flinch and Killian curses his shot nerves and throbbing head and every other part of him.

He picks up the clear decanter but it has less than two mouthfuls of water inside and he resigns himself to the fact that he will have to venture into the kitchen, if he doesn’t wish to suffer from dehydration on top of everything else battling for the right to torture him.

*****

The bed goes cold laughably fast once he is gone, her body seemingly not enough to retain any of the warmth that was trapped inside. She should get up. She should get up and get out and never set foot inside this room again but she is not yet sure her legs will obey her, if she attempts it.

Eventually, when Killian’s door has been gaping open for half an hour, Emma manages to slip her legs onto the cold floor and then into the slippers she finds at the end of the bed. She takes her shawl and shuffles into her own bed chamber.

She doesn’t want to be here. She wants to find out where he is, she wants to explain, to apologize, to do whatever she has to to make sure Killian never looks at her like that again. The way she might have looked at him, if he was someone else – if he was a man who bought himself a pretty wife to show off at dinners and balls, if he was a man who bought himself a used wife to abuse any way he liked, if he was a man who dragged his wife in his bed without carrying whether she wanted to be there or not. She was prepared for that before she knew Killian, before she found out that she has choices and freedom.

She supposes he was not prepared for someone to violate his and it makes her feel even more wretched.

So, like she has done for the last half hour – like she should have done last night – she ignores what she wants and gives him the only things she can beside apologies and excuses – time and space. She dresses slowly and methodically, choosing a simple grey dress without ornaments and brushing her hair carefully, letting it flow down her back. When she is done, she sits in front of her mirror a little longer, making sure she can control the trembling of her chin and the twitching of her eyebrows and the tears that seem to lie in wait in the corners of her eyes.

If she believed in anything or anyone, she might have prayed now. Prayed that she hasn’t destroyed her happiness the way no one else ever could.

*****

He knows it’s her. His second order of business, after drinking half a jug of water and pouring the other half over his head, was to tell Peter to take Granny and Ruby to town and have the day to themselves.

So he watches the door open slowly and he breathes deeply and tells himself to sit where he is and try to smile at her – nod, if he can’t – and apologize and wave it all off – cite a nightmare or the effects of drink, and tell her all was fine and he does not wish to talk about it.

He tells himself all that and then some but the moment he sees her face it all slips out of his sole hand. Her effort is admirable but he can still see all under her fragile mask – the anxiety and the regret and the guilt and the questions.

It makes him jump to his feet and walk out into the biting autumn air before she can even finish uttering his name and if he feels like the biggest fool for fleeing from a woman – from his wife, then it is just one more thing for him to feel like a fool about.

*****

She thinks she would have let him go. If it wasn’t for the fact that she’s given him all the time she can find it in herself to stay away. If it wasn’t for the flash of guilt on his face that has no place there. If it wasn’t for the fact that he stalked outside in his damn shirt sleeves.

*****

It doesn’t take her long to find him. Truly, if he wanted to run, he should have mounted Roger an hour ago. But there is no point in running from Emma – not when he knows he doesn’t really want to stay away and has almost accepted that she does not want him to stay away either. He knows now that he has to tell her and that it will never be any easier to do so, it will never be the right time and, if anything, after all she has entrusted him with, he should have done it already. Come what may.

What comes is her step crunching the leaves that have already yellowed and fallen to the ground. She drags her feet, making more noise than her light built usually will, and he snorts and smiles mirthlessly. It’s the way one approaches a scared, wounded animal and, considering the situation, he can’t blame her for the caution.

The stone bench is cold under him and he almost regrets purposefully avoiding the swing in the back but it felt much too poetic to go there for this. So the coat that appears in his line of vision before she does is a welcome sight, if a surprising one.

He follows the elegant curve of her arm and passes the hair curling over her shoulder to find an entreating expression. In the pale sunshine, among the dying greenery, with profound sadness and tenderness he cannot deny in her eyes, she looks like the daughter of the sun and moon herself – made of equal parts blazing light and soft shadows.

“Please.”

She urges the coat toward him, bringing him out of his daze, and he is grieved to see that she thinks he might refuse it just because she is the one offering. So he takes it, carefully avoiding her white fingers, and shrugs into it with a slight wince, the pain in his arm not quite numbed from the cold.

She stands there as if she has come before a court and he has no words of reassurance and he hates it. He is trying to convince his right hand to release its tight grip on the hard stone under him and reach for her when she moves forward. There is enough space for her on the bench and he steels himself for the nearness of her, focuses on calming his galloping heart so intently that he almost misses her knees bending and settling over the dried leaves. His eyes widen as she sits back on her heels and lifts her gaze to meet his own – more penitent than she has any reason to be, her hand fluttering close to his knee and his hand before she seems to think better of it and lets it drop in her lap.

“Killian, forgive me, I didn’t mean— I never should have—“

It’s the hitch in her breathing, the way she struggles to take air in for a moment, that breaks through all the rest. He only ever wanted to spare this woman anguish, never to be the cause of it.

He slips forward and lowers his own knees to the ground, holding her gaze until they are on the same lever. The grass and foliage are slightly damp, no cooler than the stone he was sitting on, though certainly cool enough to chill Emma, and he reaches to pull her woolen shawl tighter around her almost on instinct.

This time she doesn’t hesitate and her hand grabs onto his and clutches it almost painfully, as if she is trying to physically pass the truth of her words into him.

“It’s alright,” he hears himself saying and her eyes widen, her head moving back and forth almost frantically.

“It’s not. God, it’s not. I shouldn’t have—“

“Perhaps not. But this had nothing to do with you, Emma. I don’t… I didn’t think you… I just… Bloody hell,” he hangs his head, then tosses it back angrily.

The sky above them is grey. Not the grey of coming rain or the grey of late day but the grey of a world that is shedding its life and preparing for winter. It brings him little peace and no hope so he looks back into her green eyes – bright and alive, and then he looks back at the sky because he is a coward and doesn’t want to see the emotions in them transform with his words.

“When you go to war with someone… people say they become like brothers to you but that’s not… I’ve never loved a single one of the men I served with like I love my brother. It’s not that. They don’t become someone loved, they become you. Their blood mixes with your blood – sometimes literally,” he chances a glance at her to make sure he is not going too far but her face is open and unflinching and he feels the responsibility of choosing his words carefully even more acutely because not one will pass by her unnoticed. “They become a part of you. So – much like yourself – you don’t love them purely and without judgement, but you cannot deny them.”

“And Arthur never failed to ask when he knew he wouldn’t be refused,” he shakes his head and chuckles darkly – he hasn’t seen the man in near 20 years and yet Arthur was probably one of the people who determined how Killian spent those very years. “His first wife ran away with his childhood friend and, after that, I don’t think he really knew how to recognize affection or— no, I think he purposefully didn’t look for it. But pomp – pomp he liked, and entertainment. And so did his second wife, perhaps even more than he did. Their parties were—“

He cuts off and looks to the side and he can almost see all the bodies – ladies wearing as much jewels as their thin necks could support, the gentlemen trying to balance two glasses and two cigars between their ten fingers – five, if one hand was already around a woman’s waist, he can smell those overstuffed and unaired rooms, the wine and whiskey that you could almost taste without drinking it, the clouds of smoke that made it hard to know who you were talking to for a second. Society’s jungle, full to the brim.

Killian almost flinches from the light touch to his cheek. Her hand is cold and her eyes fill with regret as she goes to withdraw it, but she is still holding his right hand and he doesn’t have another with which to show her that her touch was like always – not unwanted, just unexpected.

“They were popular. Within a certain set. I wasn’t… I wasn’t truly part of it. Not that I’m trying to...” he grits his teeth and moves on. “Arthur’s wife loved making matches and she had plenty to match – a whole group of women that I knew nothing about at the time. I suppose they knew enough about me for one of them to take a fancy to me.”

He looks down and recalls the little thrill of manly pride he felt a lifetime ago whenever a woman would seek his acquaintance and favour – whether he sought hers or not.

“But I was already… I’d made promises to Milah and I was—“

His jaw works until he feels her hand applying some pressure against his. He doesn’t know if he can tell her. He has barely begun and he—

“You don’t have to.”

His eyes fly to Emma’s and the look on her face makes him want to just drop his head to her lap and hide from this, from everything.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“I do, Emma. You deserve—“

“No,” she shakes her head and shuffles closer, her knees fitting between his, trapping the dampness between her skirts and his pants. “I didn’t tell you about my past because you deserved to know, even though you did. I told you when I felt that I could and I—“

She lowers her eyes and he marvels at her, at how she can be both so soft and iron strong in her convictions and her every little action.

“I want to know everything there is to know about you, but I don’t want you to—“

“I do trust you, love. I do feel like I can and I… I need you to know.”

“Even after… after today?”

He takes a deep breath and leans forward, pressing his lips above her brow before he drops his forehead to hers and nudges her to look at him again.

“Especially after today,” he takes a moment to gather himself before he goes on. “I’d pledged myself to Milah and I wanted to be faithful to her. I was there on the invitation of a friend, not to meet women. I’d chosen the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.”

Something flashes in Emma’s eyes but he is too damn apprehensive of what he might find, if he observes her too closely, to think about it.

“The booze and the cigars, and the less than gentlemanly conversation I partook in, but the women and opiates I refused.”

Her innocent shock puts the first tiny bit of amusement on his face but it doesn’t last for long, his eyes straying to the side again.

“I didn’t know a lot of things back then. Some I learnt from Arthur later, some I learnt... in stride. Arthur’s wife and the woman that became my wife – Eloise Gardner, and their friends were the closest thing to experts Storybrooke and the county had seen in the ways of opiates and the like. When I— When I woke up beside her, I couldn’t recall doing more than talking to her over a stiff drink. I wasn’t sure… I couldn’t rightly accuse a woman I’d obviously… bedded of—”

He swallows roughly and focuses his gaze on her skirt. He can see the green stain the damp grass has left on the dull grey and he pulls his hand away to rub at it as he continues, suppressing the urge to look up and gauge her reaction – the fact that she hasn’t scoffed or laughed or left is enough for now.

“Later Arthur revealed that… it was their practice to offer opiates to men they’d set their sights on and, if they were to refuse – which they rarely did I was told, they found other ways to give them the stuff anyway. As you can imagine, no self-respected gentleman, let alone military man, thought to… take an issue with being…”

He exhales on a bitter laugh and slumps back against the bench, feeling as exhausted as if he’d been riding all day to a destination he didn’t actually want to reach.

“She told me she was with child a month later,” he continues matter-of-factly, his voice cold and detached even to his own ears. “My relationship with Milah was already— It had already taken a toll but I still… I thought I could just pay her off and take the child. She obviously had no means and no desire to raise it. But…”

Selfishly, he takes comfort in the fact that Emma’s fingers have woven their way back between his own and he runs his thumb over her soft skin experimentally, testing to see if the motion will bring her back to the present and make her pull away. She doesn’t.

“But?” she prompts and he nods, agreeing to tell her as much as he has strength for.

“But I’d heard enough about her by then. I knew she couldn’t be trusted, if left to carry the child on her own. I had to… I had to take care of her, if I wanted to take care of my child. It was the only time I kept her away from her friends and took away all her toys – her vials and powders and god knows what that she would have given my daughter if—“

Killian is as shocked as he is horrified by the sound that comes from his throat and only slightly less so at the one he makes when Emma reaches for him, her arms winding around his shoulders and his forehead falling heavily right under her collarbone as he sheds a weight he has been carrying around for half his life.

She smells like lavender and the cold air and her dress is almost as soft as her hand running through his hair and he realizes with unexpected clarity and startling calmness that she will hold his fealty and gratitude in that same hand for the rest of his life.

*****

Emma thought she knew what it was like to hate someone. When she was young enough to hold onto every grudge, she thought she hated Regina. When she lay shivering in her empty bed, feeling emptier still, she was certain she hated Neal Cassidy.

Now she knows she has never hated anyone other than Eloise Gardner. She has never wanted to bring someone back from the beyond, just to hurt them with her own hands. But she tries to will the rage and bile away, tries to focus on the man in her arms – the man who is hers now and will never be Eloise’s ever again.

She wants to tell him how sorry she is all of this happened to him, how sorry she is that all his plans, his love was derailed, that he had to make all the decisions and sacrifices for his child alone, that he had to marry, to live with that horrid woman. Selfishly, most of all, she wants to tell him how sorry she is her own actions made him relive all of that.

And all her apologies get stuck in her throat – inadequate and useless, so she just tries to hold him even closer, tries to tell him without telling him.

“I’m sorry.”

And she thinks the words must have snuck past her lips all the same until she realizes that they came from him and she pulls back as far as she can without letting him go.

“Why would you— Killian, I’m sorry I made you think—“

“You didn’t.”

She feels his arm run tentatively up and down her back and she is torn between the comfort of it and the horror at the thought that he is the one trying to comfort her right now.

“No man should react that way to finding his beautiful, young wife in his bed—“

“That you did not invite me into.”

He shakes his head.

“You are my wife. You shouldn’t need at invitation—“

“And yet you have never even entered my room without one.”

Killian looks torn between his attempts to excuse her and the irrefutable truth of her statement and Emma smiles sadly as she slips her arms off his shoulders and drops her hands to his knees – unable to sever all contact.

“I can’t take it back but I swear to you I’ll never do anything against your will.“

“I know,” he says and she takes comfort in the fact that he is the one who takes her hand now. “Emma, I trust you. I want you here. I’m just not sure I can give you everything I should.”

*****

That’s a lie. He knows he can’t give her everything he should. Some of it she can surely see for herself – the parts he lacks on the outside, others she can only begin to guess – the intimate parts – his bed and his heart that he hasn’t really let a woman in since he said goodbye to Milah.

He feels like an utter fool for not predicting this but he could never imagine that she would actually want to touch those parts of him. He barely believes it even now as he stares into her eyes and feels her hand in his, as she remains before him after all he has revealed to her.

“I don’t need anything else. Just—“

She swallows and looks down, slipping each of her fingers between his own as her right hand takes his left one as well.

It’s those things – those things she says and does, that make Killian think there are yet other parts of him – unknown, undiscovered, ones only Emma Jones might be capable of uncovering.

*****

“I never meant for us to be…”

He shakes his head and she hunches forward instinctively, trying to curl her ribs around her heart for protection, pointless as it might prove.

“And now… now you mean so much.”

Her eyes widen – tentatively hopeful, cautiously happy, and she leans forward, questioning, glancing at his lips but not daring to take that little leap so soon after stumbling so hard, not willing to push for more than—

But Killian’s smile is finally free of bitterness and anguish, it is knowing and almost teasing and his hand releases hers to slip along her back and Emma can swear he is about to pull her into him, when she feels a shiver pass through her whole body.

He tugs lightly on the ends of her hair and then urges her up, their knees knocking into each other as they get to their feet. Killian’s jaw clenches and he lets her go to rub his knuckles over his left arm, her hand instinctively following his example – emboldened when he looks up with surprise but doesn’t immediately pull away.

“Perhaps we should have these conversations before a fire and with some tea in the future.”

She hums and nods and runs her palm up and down his arm one more time before she turns toward the house, knowing that – as much as she wants to get inside – she can’t fully hide her disappointment at the interrupted moment.

“Emma.”

She turns around and has only a moment to realizes how close he is before she feels his hand cradling the back of her neck and his mouth is on hers.

This is different than tentative kisses in the glow of the fire. This is as clear as the crisp air around them, as solid as the ground they sat way too long on. His lips wet and warm hers as his hand burns at her neck and she feels her fingers flex in the rough fabric of his coat as she tries to pull him closer. Her exhale turns into a little gasp when she feels the gentle slide of his tongue over her bottom lip and she is only slightly ashamed of the way she chases and tries to capture it. He indulges her and, for a moment that feels frustratingly short, she explores the possibilities of his open mouth and willing tongue. Then he pulls away before coming back once and then again, his lips barely brushing hers until she thinks she might growl at him and bite at his lip to keep him in place.

“Come,” he says and leads her toward the back door, his twinkling eyes telling her that he probably knows exactly what she is thinking. “As master of the house, I made the extremely foolish decision of releasing our staff for the day, so I’m taking it upon myself to draw you a bath and you should be so kind as to not tell me, if I do it poorly.”

Emma just shakes her head and looks at him, trying to keep her lips from twitching and failing spectacularly.

“What?”

She swallows the first sentence that comes to her lips and smiles tenderly.

“You are a very nice man, Killian Jones.”

He opens his mouth and then shuts it abruptly, leaning his head to the side as if he is weighing her statement or judging the sincerity on her face.

“I try,” he concedes and Emma feels rather proud of herself for making him do so.

Now just to convince him to take a bath as well and then ransack the pantry with her.

A/N: Vague mentions of non-consensual sex. 

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#captain swan #cs ff #cs fanfics #cs crew #the wife

[fyeahfantasticfour]

What did you mean by "Sue is already a rape survivor"? Did someone else tried to rape her in the past?

Sadly, there was no “tried” to rape her. The Psycho Man DID rape Sue. It happened way back in the 1980s during the infamous Malice arc in Byrne’s run and is one of the many reasons why I despise that story so intensely. Sue did not deserve anything that happens to her in that story. I am not exaggerating when I say that there are few stories in comics that I loathe more than this one.

So, for people who don’t know, in this story, which takes place in Fantastic Four v1 #280-284 (no, I don’t recommend reading it), Sue is turned against her will into Malice, a supervillain, by the Psycho Man. It all starts when she’s separated from the rest of the team and captured by the Psycho Man, who reaches into her soul without her consent (i.e., violates her soul the way a body would be violated during a physical rape) and inverts all of her emotions, thus creating the Malice persona. You have probably seen people who don’t really understand (or, I dunno, maybe they don’t care) that the Malice persona is Sue actively in the process of being raped posting panels of her in this costume to make fun of it:

But, really, costume choices aside, there is nothing funny about what’s going on here. For Sue, it was, I’m sure, the most traumatizing moment of her life, and that is saying something.

Further discussion of rape, coercion, and violence against women beneath the cut.

Malice, I should probably explain, is the inversion of all of Sue’s thoughts and feelings – so Sue’s deep love for Reed, for instance, is turned into Malice’s equally intense hatred of him, Sue’s desire to protect Johnny becomes Malice’s desire to harm him, Sue’s kindness becomes Malice’s cruelty, Sue’s knowledge that Johnny and Reed both respect her greatly becomes Malice’s conviction that they don’t, etc. The Psycho Man takes advantage of Malice’s hatred for Sue’s family and turns her loose on them, ordering her to kill them all: 

Sue nearly does, too. Remember that she, as Reed brings up in this same issue, is more powerful than the rest of the team put together. This is what she does to Reed when she finds him alone on the roof of Avengers Mansion:

And then when Johnny shows up, realizes what’s happening, and tries to snap Sue out of it by appealing to her love for him, he gets swatted aside like a fly by Malice and knocked unconscious:

Reed very reluctantly realizes what he has to do in order to snap her out of it: deliberately make Sue hate him so that Malice, the inversion, will love him, thus causing all of Sue’s emotions to return to normal. Every time Reed or Johnny were kind to Malice, Sue felt love, which caused Malice to feel hatred. The only way to snap her out of it, Reed realizes, is to make Sue hate him so that Malice will love him. You have probably seen panels of that too (I am…not posting them) – Reed intentionally says misogynistic things to Malice, specifically because he knows Sue dislikes being spoken to that way and thus it will make her angry, and also because he knows that his life, Johnny’s, Matt’s, and Franklin’s (who was just beneath them in Avengers Mansion) and Sue’s salvation all depend on making Sue “really hate” him:

And, yes, this is also when he slaps her. But I want to emphasize that Malice really had EVERY intention of murdering Sue’s entire family while she was under the Psycho Man’s control, and there is nothing Matt and Reed could have done to stop her if Reed had failed. Reed, Johnny, and Matt alone could not have taken Sue in a fight, and the city was burning, the Avengers away on a mission. There was no one to help them. I also…don’t know if I buy that even a full Avengers team could take Sue in a fight if she didn’t care at all about not killing them. If they need to breathe and/or blood to pump through their veins, she could kill them all in less than a minute. And I do mean that she could easily murder an entire Avengers team in less than sixty seconds – she’s neutralized two before. 616 is extremely lucky that Sue’s not evil, is all I’m saying, because there aren’t many people who could take her down. So Reed, Johnny, and Matt all certainly would have died. Johnny was already unconscious and out of the fight by the time Reed (very desperately) tried this final gambit, knowing the whole time that if he failed, they were all dead. 

So Reed was coerced into doing what he did – if someone puts a gun to your head and says, “Make your wife hate you or I will make HER kill you, your brother-in-law, your friend, and your son and also keep raping her until I’m through with her and then I’ll probably kill her too”…that is coercion, and that is what the Psycho Man did to Reed. This is why people who like to take the panel where Reed slaps Sue out of context and call him a misogynist over it make me mad. It’s unfair to say that. He was coerced. He didn’t have a choice. He did not slap her of his own free will. It was either that or do nothing, and just let Sue kill him and the rest of their family (including their 4yo son) and allow Sue to continue being raped until the Psycho Man decided he was done with her. He had no other choice. He did the only thing the story allowed him to do, and I blame Byrne for putting Reed in that position in the first place, not Reed for being in it. 

And, for the record, Reed’s plan does work:

Sue, once she’s free of the Psycho Man’s control, is angry and resentful because Reed, not understanding the full severity of what the Psycho Man did to her, decides that the Beyonder (a cosmic-level threat) takes priority over chasing down the Psycho Man. Which would have been a good call…if the Psycho Man hadn’t raped Sue. But he did. So when Reed asks her what’s going on, she tells him it’s because the Psycho Man raped her. She explicitly calls what the Psycho Man did to her – reaching into her soul without her consent – rape. She even compares it to bodily rape. Sue feels intensely violated, down to the depths of her soul. From Fantastic Four v1 #282: 

Reed believes Sue instantly, is completely supportive of her, and agrees that finding the Psycho Man of course is more important than the Beyonder (who literally was powerful enough to destroy the universe, by the way, but for Reed, his wife comes first – this is what I keep saying. Reed always chooses his family’s wellbeing over the greater good). And then the second half of the story turns into a standard rape-revenge story as she hunts down the Psycho Man to punish him for having raped her:

Which she does, once she catches up to him, by increasing his levels of negative emotions to an unbearable level:

Which we find out much later, in Fantastic Four Unlimited v1 #8, led to the collapse of his autonomic nervous system and left him a paraplegic, wholly dependent on life support to survive. 

After she’s succeeded in getting her revenge, she changes her name to the Invisible Woman because she feels that any youthful innocence she had left was ripped away from her by the Psycho Man when he raped her, and she is a woman now. No longer a girl. 

Yes, Sue changed her name to the Invisible Woman because she was raped, which sends the disturbing message that true womanhood is achieved only when women have passed through the gauntlet of male violence and thus achieved a hard-earned understanding of themselves. To put it bluntly, this story is tasteless and DEEPLY misogynistic. The whole story takes a disconcerting sort of glee in having men violently force women back into their “rightful” places, and fuck Byrne for writing this at all. 

This is also why writers should handle appearances by the Psycho Man and/or Malice tactfully, but few ever do. Most writers, to be fair, don’t seem to really see the story Byrne wrote for what it is. The number of people who think that Malice is the one who voices Sue’s real thoughts – when really in the actual story she’s the total inversion of everything the real Sue thinks and feels – is disconcerting. And most people don’t seem to get that Sue was raped and that’s why she reacts the way she does. Or that Malice is the living embodiment of Sue’s rape.

But, yes. Johnny and Sue are both rape survivors, for the record. Johnny was raped repeatedly over the course of several years. Johnny and Sue also both have been sexually assaulted repeatedly, as has Reed. (I can’t remember Ben ever having been, so. That’s one, at least.) Sharon Ventura, aka a former Ms. Marvel and current She-Thing, was abducted and gang-raped repeatedly over the course of several weeks. Medusa was also raped multiple times. A truly disturbingly high number of FF team members (mostly women) have been raped or sexually assaulted, and I would like it if Marvel stopped doing that, thanks.

#asks #mod: lamujerarana #rape cw #long post #vooorex

[keelywolfe]

Summary:  Edge wasn't sure when he became the diplomatic one but he did know that mistakes had been made.

Notes:  This is set after they've gotten to the surface, maybe a couple years after?

The building itself was unremarkable. Plain brick with odd, narrow windows and in front of the building near a set of flagpoles was an engraved sign declaring it the Ebott County Police Station.

Edge took a moment to note the different entrances and exits, an old habit that he had no inclination to break. Several police cars were parked out front and from the distance he could see humans walking in and out of the building, some in uniform and others not. He closed his sockets for a moment, breathing evenly, readying himself. For a brief moment, he missed his usual clothing. The human sense of fashion wasn't unappealing, per se, but Edge simply could not feel as threatening in a suit and tie.

Then he got out of his car, carrying a small leather briefcase, and walked to the front entrance.

There were a few glances his way, curious or wary, he wasn't sure. Interpreting Human expressions hadn't come easy to him, although he'd learned 'angry' and 'afraid' quickly enough. To be fair, 'happy' hadn't been difficult to puzzle through, either.

A bored looking man in a uniform waved him through a metal detector and Edge stepped through readily. He hardly needed to carry a weapon when he was one. It was likely not an observation that would go over well if he pointed it out but it was hardly his fault if humans were too ridiculous to take such things into account.

He followed the appropriate signs with their helpful arrows to a reception desk, where another officer, this one a woman, was working. She looked up at his approach and her smile only faltered briefly.

"Hello, can I help you?" she asked, politely.

Edge stepped up to the desk, setting his case on the ledge. "I’ve been informed that there is a monster in holding here."

"A monster?" She turned to a computer, hands posed over the keyboard. "Name?"

"Papyrus."

She hummed faintly. "Last name?"

Edge sighed inwardly. "We don’t have last names. I suppose if he was being a smart ass, which is likely, he used Font."

Another hum, this one perplexed, "I don’t have anything under that."

Edge took a long, slow breath, already weary of this idiocy. Bureaucracy was never going to agree with him; he should have taken Blue up on his offer to come along, he was always better at tolerating the Human's stupid insistence on their endless variety of paperwork. But no, his nerves would never have allowed him to bring a Sans into this place; bad enough that Stretch--

"Is it possible that somehow you have a second monster in holding with the name Papyrus?" Edge asked coolly.

"Well, I…no," she faltered, clearing her throat, and visibly rallying her courage. Lovely. "But I need to find the name in the computer for you to post bail."

"Then please, allow me to interrupt you," Edge told her calmly. He opened his case and took out a stack of papers. "You don’t need to worry about me posting bail because that isn't why I’m here. He doesn’t have bail because he’s no longer under arrest."

"Sir…" she began, clearly flustered, as he began laying papers down on the desk.

"This is my identification, which you may note lists me as an official Liaison for Monsterkind," Edge slapped down his ID and peeled the first sheaf of papers from the pile. "This is from the Secretary of State confirming Papyrus's release conditions. Please note the notary seal. This is a statement of a civil suit we are filing against your department for violating his rights by arresting and holding a monster without contacting the embassy. Unfortunately for you, your department decided to arrest a monster who is part of the King's court. He has diplomatic immunity. Which it clearly states on his ID, exactly as it does on mine."

He set his hands on the counter, deliberately looming over her as she shrank back. "What you should have done was immediately contact the embassy and hold him in a private room. What you did was arrest him and allowed him one text, which he sent to me."

A text that had been a particular delight to receive, Edge thought sourly.

in jail. help. bring snacks

At least he'd included a map link to the station.

He took one last thing out of his case before closing it with a decisive snap. "And here’s a business card for you to put right by your phone, so next time you can call before you people do something else to cause a diplomatic incident."

He held it out to her between two fingers, deliberately forcing her to lean forward to take it. The poor woman looked close to tears. It wasn’t her fault, he reminded himself, it wasn't.

The reminder did nothing to soothe his anger.

"Now, will someone please take me to Papyrus?"

Another officer took him downstairs, this one a man, and from his surly silence, Edge gathered that bad news traveled quickly. He was led down a flight of stairs into a corridor lined with cells, most of them with people in them.

"…so then i told him…"

Through the cluster of noise and the sounds of people moving within the cells, Edge clearly picked out one distinctive voice. He could have picked it out of any crowd, that well-abused, whisky-sweet voice.

"…if this is my thermometer, then where's my pen!"

A roar of laughter overshadowed the dull cacophony of a dozen conversations and Edge closed his eyes, pained. The officer led him to a cell at the end of the corridor and Edge could already see him, the glaring orange of his hoodie better than a neon sign.

The low burn of anger he'd felt since he'd gotten that text flared hotter and it took considerable effort to keep a scorching glow of magic from illuminating his eye. Stretch was sitting at the back of a cell. A cell that contained several other humans and considering that they were in a jail cell, it wasn't likely they were of high moral character. Edge swallowed back the acid burn of anger and nausea. If any had had ill intent, if even one...

Stretch saw him before he could say a word, a lazy smile brightening his face, "hey, see, guys, didn’t i tell you a handsome prince was coming to rescue me?" He raised a hand in a wave that would have done justice to a prom queen. "hey, handsome, slay any dragons on your way in?"

"Only paper ones," Edge said. He could hear the roughness in his own voice, knew that Stretch had heard it. His smile didn't so much as falter but his eye lights flicked down the floor for the briefest second, then back up to meet his.

"welp, i’m short of hair to let down for you so you’ll have to let me out the door," Stretch said cheekily. "but i gotta tell you, prince charming, i’m not leaving without my friend andy here."

He slung an arm around the human closest to him, a young man with messy brown hair and what looked like the beginnings of a spectacularly colorful black eye.

"I keep telling you, it’s Jeff," the human, Andy/Jeff, said. He sounded long-suffering but amused. Edge could relate.

"i know you keep telling me but hear me out! andy is so much better. you can go by handy andy and be helpful and vulgar at the same time. jeff doesn’t rhyme with anything and jeffry sounds like a brand of peanut butter. Go with andy, you won’t regret it."

The human grinned and shook his head. "Thanks but I think I’ll stick with Jeff, I wouldn’t be able to stand all the paperwork."

"spoilsport."

"Excuse me, is he leaving or not," the officer said impatiently.

"He's leaving right now," Edge gritted out, glaring at Stretch. Who looked ready to continue his earnest protest, although whether it was about if he was staying or his ongoing pursuit of the name Andy, Edge couldn't be sure. "The attorney for your friend is enroute right now; he should be here any time now."

"who did you get?" Stretch asked. His smile, his posture, were lazy and relaxed, fingers drumming lightly on the top of Andy/Jeff's head. His eye lights were razor-sharp, assessing.

"Who else?" Edge snorted. "Antwan."

Stretch closed his sockets briefly. "good. good, he's…he'll take care of you, andy."

"Jeff," he correctly amicably.

"okay, kid, I get the feeling if i don't leave, prince charming is going to morph into the evil queen and none of us want that visual." Stretch shuddered. "he's got great legs but that dress does no one any favors. you gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine." Andy/Jeff gave Stretch a shove in the direction of the door and gentle as it was, Edge tensed, a faint shower of crimson sparks dancing at his fingertips. He curled his hands into fists, struggling for control.

"take care, kid. i got your twitter handle, we'll get together for lunch and chaos again some time, yeah?"

"Less chaos and more lunch next time?" Jeff/Andy said wryly and Stretch laughed.

"no promises, but it sounds good. laterz!"

He stepped through the door, hands in pockets, and followed the officer and Edge upstairs to the reception desk. The young woman seemed to have decided to let someone else handle their departure and in her place was an older woman, her graying hair pulled back into a bun. She was briskly efficient, a large manila envelope in her hands.

"Here's your personal effects," she said, evenly, and Edge put out a hand, forcing Stretch to keep two paces back. Out of reach.

"Open it," Edge said curtly. Her nostrils flared, whitening with annoyance but she did as he said, naming each item as she set it out. A wallet, with identification and twenty-seven dollars inside. A handful of change, American, monster gold and for some reason, a Canadian loonie. A cell phone. A pack of cigarettes with a lighter.

The latter Stretch leaned in over Edge's arm to scoop up, fishing a cigarette out of the crumpled pack. He flicked the lighter with practiced ease, inhaling deeply.

"Sir," the woman said it like an epithet, glaring at him, "this is a nonsmoking building."

There. The first dregs of anger, a flare of orange in his left socket before it guttered out. Stretch took a long drag, exhaling a cloud of smoke, and met her glare with a sharp-edged grin. "arrest me again for smoking," he said, biting off each word with bitter precision. "please. i’m begging you."

A tense silence fell over the room. No one moved.

Edge reached out and gently rested a hand between his shoulder blades, smoothing it down his back. "Calm down," he murmured. He could feel Stretch trembling.

"we aren't leaving until antwan gets here," Stretch muttered back and Edge nodded. He took Stretch's wallet and cell phone, gently stuffing them into the pocket of his hoodie. Antwan was one of the first humans they'd met when they'd come to the surface. Young and fiercely intelligent, he was also one of the few humans they both trusted. He'd done his time in the courtrooms to earn that trust, helping Monsters secure a place in this world. He couldn’t think of a better person to help Andy/Jeff with what would surely be a frustrating and expensive legal battle.

Price was not going to be an issue for that young human. He'd helped a monster and put himself in the way of bodily harm doing it. Andy/Jeff had no idea of the debt that Edge owed him and likely never would. Edge was never going to forget it.

Stretch smoked his cigarette, the tremble in his hands easing and no one protested when he lit another. He was halfway through it when Antwan walked in, neatly dressed in a suit and his sunglasses still perched on his nose. He was shaking his head before he even got to them.

"Stretch, this is a nonsmoking building." Did everyone sound like that when they talked to Stretch? Resigned and yet amused, Antwan grinned at them both.

"eh, so it is," Stretch shrugged, "my mistake." He pinched it out with his fingertips and stuck the butt into his pocket. "you gonna help out my new best friend?"

"Always leaving me with the problems," Antwan said, shaking his head. He proved he was far more adept at reading Monster's behavioral cues than Edge was at human ones because he kept his hands to himself, only holding out a fist for Stretch to tap. "Don't worry, I got this. Edge, get this fucker out of here before someone else takes a swing at him."

Edge nodded curtly. He kept a hand at the base of Stretch's spine, guiding him like a lost, bony little sheep, herding him out the door and to the car.

Stretch was silent on the ride home, his sockets closed and his head leaning against the window. Not really pretending to be asleep and Edge only turned on the radio, keeping the music low. The embassy was downtown but he and Stretch lived just outside of the city in the community that monsters had formed at the base of the mountain. Fenced and guarded, Humans didn't often try to cause trouble in New New Home. It was safe, safer, even living amongst Fell monsters.

Stretch didn't speak as Edge pulled up in front of their house. Not a joke or a word or a pun as they walked up the sidewalk, not a single snide remark or a hint of sarcasm. Edge held open the door for him and Stretch walked inside, Edge at his heels.

The moment the door shut, Stretch shoved him against it. Hard enough to knock the breath from him, his fists clenched in the fine pressed cotton of his shirt. His teeth were hard against Edge's, rough and fierce and Edge let him, parted his teeth to let Stretch's frantic tongue tangle with his own.

"please," Stretch whispered, thin and reedy. He was shaking, hard enough that Edge could hear the rattle of his bones. "please, tell me if you want me to stop…if you don't…"

"Shut up," Edge breathed it into him, "and just take it. Anything you want, anything you need."

The sound Stretch made was guttural and lost, "fuck, don’t write me a blank check like that."

He pulled Edge away from the door, pulled him staggering through their living room to the sofa and shoved him down on it, straddling his lap. His slight weight was always a faint surprise; he looked solid, sturdy beneath his hoodie and baggie shorts. Instead, beneath them he was delicate, clean bones, tall and slight, and his HP so painfully low.

Stretch pulled at Edge's shirt, fumbling with the buttons and Edge only held his wrists in a loose grip and let him, let him take whatever he wanted, whatever he needed, fuck, he loved this idiot so much, he loved him and--

A drop of wetness fell. They both looked at it, a droplet of watery orange on Edge's white shirt.

More tears fell, Stretch's shoulders quivering as he struggled to hold them back, fought against the sobs that were trying to escape even as he kept trying to kiss Edge, tried to open his belt with shaking hands.

Edge took him by the shoulders, gently. "Stop."

"no," Stretch said stubbornly as tears streaked their way down his cheekbones. "i want...i just…"

"I’m here," Edge told him, softly, pulling him down despite his struggles, pressing Stretch's face into the curve between his neck and his shoulder. "I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere."

Stretch tried to resist even as he faltered, sagging into Edge. Who only held him as he shuddered and wept, abruptly burying himself into Edge's shoulder, hiding his face in clean cotton, wetting it with his tears.

"Shhh, it's all right," Edge crooned to him. His soul ached, throbbing in time to those hoarse, wracking sobs. His lover was hurting and there was nothing he could do but hold him and ache with love and overwhelming sorrow, "You're home, you're safe. It's all right."

He shifted on the sofa until he was lying down, tugging Stretch down to curl against him. "Come on, come down here."

"why?" Stretch's voice was thick with darkly bitter amusement, "so you can see how weak i am?"

"Sweetheart—"

"don’t," his voice cracked, "don’t be kind to me, please."

Edge pressed a gentle kiss to his temple. "Why wouldn’t I be kind to you?"

A raw chuckle, "to begin with i'm pretty sure i ruined your shirt."

"Fuck the shirt," Edge growled. He traced his fingertips down Stretch's skull, across his cranial sutures. "What happened today?"

Stretch shifted against him in a strange combination of discomfort and yearning. "you know what happened."

"I read the police report, yes. Now I want to hear it from you."

Stretch was silent for a long time. Edge waited.

"…i was taking the bus." So softly.

Taking the bus because he didn’t drive and hated harassing others for a ride. There was a bus stop just outside New New Home and buses stopped every twenty minutes to take Monsters into Ebott. For work, for shopping, for whatever simple reason a monster might simply need to go into the city. When he was in a good mood, Stretch frequented coffee shops and old books stores like a ridiculous hipster and he was an easy friend to make, on the surface-level at least. He had several thousand followers on Twitter and if he'd actually been the amiable monster he appeared, the King would have hooked him into public relations.

That idea had been quashed when the amount of swearing in his Twitter had nearly given the former Queen an aneurysm.

"You were taking the bus," Edge prompted.

Stretch shrugged, his bony shoulder rubbing painfully against Edge's clavicle. "this guy��this human. he didn’t like my face, i guess, i’ve always thought i was handsome kinda fella in an evil dead sort of way but—"

"Papyrus."

He felt Stretch swallow, felt him curl a little harder into himself. "he took a swing at me and i…i could have teleported and i didn’t. i couldn’t believe...i didn’t want to...he could have killed me and i couldn't—andy stepped in and…"

"Jeff."

"jeffry stepped in, they shared a few fists, and we all ended up in jail," Stretch finished roughly. "the end."

"He was in that cell with you?" Cold fear tightened around his soul and he was going to gut that police station, he could taste his own anger, bitter-sharp and clear, and he was going to--

"nah, they weren’t that stupid. no idea what they did with him."

His anger didn't ease and Edge breathed through it, wrapping his arms around Stretch and holding him tightly, moving to tangle their legs together. Stretch only pushed harder into him, molding his lean body against Edge. Skeletons weren't particularly designed for cuddling, all hard angles and edges. They made it work.

Edge pressed a kiss against the top of Stretch's skull. I can't lose you, he didn't say, I couldn't bear it.

Stretch didn't reply, i know. i know, i'm sorry, i'm so sorry

In the end, Stretch did manage a grumbling, "you know, if you crack any bones, you get to fix them."

"Shut up and cuddle," Edge muttered back.

"Whenever you want, lover," Stretch sighed, burying his face into the damp ruin of Edge's shirt. He drowsed, his breathing going slow and even, while Edge stroked his skull, staying awake and keeping watch.

-finis-

Read The Next One

#spicyhoney #papcest #uf!papyrus #us!papyrus #keelywolfe #A little hurt/comfort for the soul #by any other name

[freerebelmentality]

For the love of music 2nd version

AN: This version is the same in the beginning just like the other one. This one has a different scenario and ending. This one is all SOA

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Word Count: 2,784

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For days you have been exploring the little town of Charming. Since moving you have made a great deal of friends who lived in your neighbourhood and whom you work with. It was a weekend and you wanted to check out the little cafe that had a patio out front.

“What can I get you to drink?” The cashier asks putting on a fake smile.

You already knew she was having a bag day and didnt want to complicate your order. Luckily the place wasnt that busy either which is a good thing for the both of you. She looked as though she wanted to get away from the till and you just wanted a nice quiet place to read.

“I’ll have the medium roast” You reply while she gives you a genuine smile and places the order for you.

You hand her the money and something extra while she mouths her thanks. You see an empty arm chair by the window and seat yourself as you pull out your book. The cashier turns on the music and thankfully its classical music. Something you have always loved. Its a favourite by Mozart.

“I got to stop here and pick up some coffee. Ran out this morning” Chibs says to his VP while the others follow Jax back to the club after doing some business.

As soon he parked his bike and turned it off is when he saw you sitting in front of him really. He walked into the cafe, his eyes still locked on you while he makes his way to the counter.

“Hey Chibs” The cashier greets the man that comes into the cafe.

You look up from your book and see him. He looked like the type your father told you to stay away from, like the authors depicted as the bad boy or even at times. The villain. Aside from that there was something about him that got your attention, it wasnt the kutte he was wearing or the tattoos that were visible to you but something special.

“Aye Lass. How is yer day” He asks before making his order

“Not so great, a few customers being complete douche bags and after that just been messing up orders all day” The cashier tells him

“The day is almost over. Ye come across pricks again just add in salt in their coffees, they wont know a difference” He says while making the cashier smile and laugh.

You liked the fact he made someone feel better about the day.

“Thanks, the usual?” She asks while getting the cup ready.

“Aye and my special blend” He says while taking his wallet out but the cashier waves it off.

“If I cant pay then I will tip” He says while smiling to her.

You melted at the sound of his voice, his accent, his charm and wondered what else could be unveiled.

“Whose the lass by the window?” He asks leaning on the counter whispering into the cashiers ear.

“I have no idea, she seems nice and she tipped me too” She says with a shrug and a smile.

“I better get going. See ye love” He says to her and looks to you toasting to coffee while you nod.

For the past few weeks Chibs has been seeing you all over town. From the cafe to the grocery store, book store and out of a music store. He got curious in what type of music you listened to, what types of books you read, and he got curious about the sound of your voice.

It wasnt like he was stalking you, he just happen to be at the places you are already at. He liked seeing you around though and how you interacted with people and always leaving them smiling or you always leave a building smiling.

You were walking out of the bank and down the street to go back to work. You noticed a group of guys blocking the walk way. You try excusing yourself but they wouldnt listen or even move.

“Excuse me” You say a little to shakey and they notice

“Whats your rush sweet heart” One guy says while he tries to comb his hands through your hair but you move quickly to try walking forward.

“I just need to get to work” You tell him in a hushed tone wrapping your arms around yourself.

“I dont think you are going any where sweet heart. Come party with us” Another says blocking your way.

Your heart begins to pick up pace and getting incredibly scared they were going to pick you up and force you some where.

“Dont be rude, he asked nicely” Another said

Chibs, Jax and Tig are driving up the street while Chibs notices you in a crowd of guys looking incredibly uncomfortable. He stops while the others stop as well.

“Whats wrong?” Jax asks looking to him

He points with his head to the group of guys and Jax sees a woman being harassed by the men and something boiled in his blood. Tig looks over and hated seeing guys hovering over a woman like that when clearly she is feeling uncomfortable.

“We can show you a good time” The other says as he grabs you by the arm and twirls you around and pulls you towards him. You try to escape from his grasp but he held on tight while licking the side of your face.

You managed to get your arm free and slapped him. His friends grabbed you by both of your arms and held you there. He nodded to him one friend, he came to you and about to tare away at your clothes when you started to scream for help. He managed to tare your shirt open, revealing your bra and tried to hide yourself but the others were holding your arms.

They marvelled at your body with perversion in their eyes while you are feeling completely helpless and violated. Finally you heard motorcycles come driving in and thats when you got more afraid because you thought it was more of their friends coming to help them with you. You begin to cry while you closed your eyes.

Tig drove by with his leg out and tripped at least three guys, Jax stopped his bike and turned it off while Chibs did the same thing and ran to you right away.

“Get the fuck away from the lady and I wont empty this round into your heads” Jax says as he points his gun to the attackers.

“Same along with an extra” Tig says while drawing out two guns.

“Bitch wasnt worth it anyway” One guy says as he walks away along with everyone else

“Just another biker whore” The other guy says

That pissed off Chibs, he got and went running to the guy who said that. He turned towards him quickly and begin to punch him. Once he fell to the ground is when he kicked him repeatedly. You hear all the commotion and open your eyes to see the people who have saved. Still trying to hide yourself, you peak your head over to see the same guy from the cafe. Tig sees you and he goes to Chibs bike to grab a sweater from the compact case.

“You alright doll?” He asks slowly approaching you.

“Im not gonna hurt ya, I just want to give ya this sweater” He says while you startle and he raises his hands in surrender.

“Thank you” You say in a hushed tone taking the sweater from him and immediately putting it on.

The smell of the sweater made you calm down from the anxiety attack thats lurking at the core of your chest. The sweater smells of cologne, cigarette smoke, weed and hint of motor oil.

“Ye alright love?” The man asks with the accent you grew to love, even the sounds of his voice made you feel better

“Im just trying to calm myself down” Is all you say while looking between the three men who have saved you.

“Im Filip but you can call me Chibs. This is Jax and thats Tig” He says while introducing himself and the other two.

“Filip, Jax and Tig. Im y/n” You introduce yourself as well.

“Well thats a pretty name for a pretty face” Tig says while trying to make you feel better

“I think Im far from feeling better” You honestly tell them while they look to you in confusion

“Im on the verge of having an anxiety attack” You tell them while wrapping your arms around yourself. Covering yourself from the vulnerability that has been caused by the group of guys.

“Close your eyes, inhale deeply and hold it for a few seconds. Exhale slowly while naming five things that ye sense” Filip says while standing right in front of you.

You do just as you are told. Inhaling and exhaling out slowly.

“I can smell cigarettes, cologne, weed, motor oil. And I can hear on going traffic” You reply while opening your eyes and the handsome Scottish man is standing right in front of you.

“I think ye just described my sweater” He says with a smile forming

“Is there any where we can take you y/n?” Jax asks while looking to you

“Home” Is all you say while Filip leads you to his bike. You give him the address.

He pulls into the drive way, kicks the stand into place and turns off his bike. You get off the bike and give him the helmet.

“Ye live with someone to keep an eye on ye?” He asks while looking to you and your house you are renting.

“No, its just me. I’ll be fine” You tell him while looking for the keys in your purse

“If anything happens just give me a call, here is my number” He says while writing it down for you

“Thanks” You grab the piece of paper from him.

“Thanks for everything” You add while walking to the front door and unlocking it.

You turn the knob, push the door open while he starts his bike once more and you walk in to get one last look to the man who saved you from something horrible.

Over the next few days have been skittish for you, work wasnt easy as well and your boss along with your co workers begin to notice. You havent said anything about the attack to anyone. There were times when you wanted to call Filip but always changing your mind.

Chibs had found out where you worked and he always stopped by during your break, picked you up for lunch and even picked you up after work. You thought he was only doing that because he felt bad for you.

“Im doing the cooking. Ye head up stairs, get into some comfy clothes and relax” He says from behind you as he places his hands on your hips and leads you away from the kitchen.

When you came back down, Chibs had already set the table, two wine glasses and he was about done with dinner.

“Smells good and table is set up nicely” You tell him while leaning against the counter beside the stove

“Dinner is done, sit while I serve you a plate” He says while taking the pan with him

“Before we eat, there is something I want to say” He adds while pouring the wine into your glasses.

“Are you breaking up with me?” You ask sarcastically while he gives you puzzled expression then changes to a slight chuckle.

“The first time I saw ye at the cafe, sitting in the arm chair and reading a book. I thought ye were one of heavens most beautiful creatures” He says while placing his hand on yours.

“I couldnt stop thinking about ye after that. Once I saw ye around town coming out of the music shop and book store is when I knew how incredibly beautifully smart ye are” He adds while rubbing his thumb over your knuckles

“I wanted to know what captured your attention from the books, what caught your attention while listening to music because I wanted to know what was in that beautiful mind of yours” He continues while looking deep into your eyes.

“When I saw you being harassed by those bastards, thats when something deep inside me threw me into a heat of rage because a woman like ye shouldnt have to endure that. Ye are the type who has a big heart and that was shattered that day. Ye had this notion on your face that ye couldnt feel safe anymore and thats what broke my heart” He says while trying to hold it together but the tears arent helping

“Of all this time spent together, day after, day and I knew that I couldnt stay away. I knew that I was falling for ye, I knew I wanted to be the one ye call when everything crumbles and I wanted to be the one to pick up the pieces for ye and try to make things better again. Y/n I love ye and I dont see myself with anyone else. I want to know if ye would do me the honours and be my old lady?” He finishes while lifting your hands together and gently places a kiss on your hand.

“Wow, I didnt think when I moved here that I would meet someone such as yourself” You say while looking into tear filled eyes.

“When I saw you at the cafe is when I liked the fact you made the cashier feel better about her day when she wasnt having such a great day. You did and thats what I liked” You tell him with a smile on your face

“After a while when I kept seeing you around town as well, coming out of the grocery store, hardware store and a charity benefit building. Is when I knew that I wanted to be apart of your every day routine because there arent many people who would enter a charity benefit building and drop off donations or volunteer for the sake of their heart” You continue while forming tears as well

“You have this stoic, strong, stubborn yet kind, trustworthy and loyal persona you have. I wanted to feel how it felt like to have someone like you because there arent that many men in the world like you. You arent afraid to show vulnerability at the times you feel the need to and arent afraid to express those feelings either” You add while trying to contain the sob that wants to escape from your mouth.

“I fell for you as well and I have loved you for sometime now. I felt happy, safe and excited knowing you would be there to bring me coffee, lunch and would be there to pick me up from work just so you know I would be coming home safely. I loved you the minute you came to my rescue and I do love you. I would be happy to be your old lady and I would have been disappointed if you didnt ask sooner” You finish while he reaches over to give you a kiss that he has been dying to do for a while now.

The both of you are happy to the extent that everything else came naturally. There was no awkward moments when he started to move in with you. There was always that feeling of being right at home with each other, and when spending as much needed quality time together is when neither of you asked about what to do.

Fridays would be having dinner together or at Gemma’s house. Saturdays would be spent in your music/library room together while he read the morning news paper in his chair and you would be in yours reading a book. In between sat a table that held a lamp and both of your coffees while the piano notes of Strauss played on the turn table. Sundays were spent in bed all day and not wanting to get out because of how loving it was to be in each others arms.

Filip always loved spending his weekends with you and he always made sure he had those weekends off from the club. They didnt mind since they knew how much he couldnt stay away from you and you wouldnt want to spend the weekends alone. He loved how everything was and he wouldnt want to trade this for anything in the world. You wouldnt want this to end anytime soon because its all you have ever wanted and you loved every single moment of it.

#chibs #chibs x reader #reader insert #jax teller #tig #tig trager #chibs telford #soa fic #sons of anarchy fic #filip chibs telford #alex tig trager #soa #sons of anarchy

[tellytantra]

Good bye, baby. His baritone voice reaches her from far, far away, drifting like an exotic butterfly in the haze of summer. Perhaps she's dreaming, she thinks and buries herself further into the covers and takes in the scents of oak moss and cedar and hints of peppermint with long, deep breaths. Her own personal narcotic. Her eyes blink open to search for the handsome features of her husband but find nothing. A momentary panic seizes her before a sleepy memory chases the fear away. He had left for the United States yesterday. With a sigh, she closes her eyes against nightmarish reality and wills herself to allow the dreams of being in his strong arms to fill her head. She nuzzles into the pillow, his pillow and let's her hand slide between her thighs as she feels the sweet lull of sleep taking over her, mixed with fond memories... Was it possible to hate someone so much that she felt she was going to catch on fire? Because Prerna was feeling exactly like that as she followed her husband into his mansion. "Mr. Bajaj..." she bit out. He showed no signs of stopping or turning back and continued up the stairs two at a time. "Stop, Mr. Bajaj!" Grinding her teeth together, she ran after him and pushed herself into his bedroom before he could close the door on her face. "You can't run from me." "Not now, Prerna." The words were a low growl in his throat, like a wolf warning off a rival from his territory. Lucky then that she was feeling a lot reckless that day. "I've told you time and again to leave them alone. Why did you insult Kakababu... Ow!" His hands encircled her upper arms and he dragged her towards the door. Realising what he intended, Prerna dug her heels to prevent his action. "No.. No. You can't throw me out." His face was impassive, devoid of any kind of emotion. Until his eyes met hers. Obsidian eyes. She wasn't sure if she had ever seen eyes like his. A true black. So black that it was impossible to tell where the irises ended and the pupils began. Presently, they were glinting with barely suppressed rage. Caught in them, she felt terrified. And completely alive. "I don't want to talk to you right now." He spat the words, pressing her to the door. The danger he was exuding and her hatred for him was making every nerve in her body sizzle with fire. She didn't understand what this feeling was but she wanted more. "But I want to talk," she said with a confidence that she was really not feeling. "You have no right. Absolutely no right to hurt the people I care about.." "Look at you." The disappointment on his face bothered her as much as the disdain in his voice. "You're pathetic." "And you're disgusting. You don't have the right to insult Anurag. You'll always be a gutter rat compared to him." The words were chosen with the intention to inflict the maximum hurt. She could barely suppress her crow of triumph when she saw the words find their mark. The glint had turned into full-fledged fire in the depth of his eyes. His hand tightened around her arms, almost to the point of pain. "Prerna." And his voice was calm. Like the lull before the storm. "You don't want to find out what happens when you play with fire." But she did. Desperately so. "Why don't you show me?" Her cl*toris is throbbing between her slick fingers. The memory of their first kiss plays in her head. The tangle of their tongues, the graze of his teeth against her lips and the yearning for something unknown. She had devoured him with the same urgency before she came to her senses, or had lost it and she had ended up slapping him soundly across his face.  She's so close. So damn close...  A loud knock on the door startles her. She feels like a bucket full of ice has been upended on her. "Go away," she snaps. "Madam, Maasi needs you to come downstairs instantly," Chandu says, his tone apologetic. Bloodsucking bitch. He hasn't called her. Not even once in the entire day. And now she refuses to call him on principle. That doesn't stop her from directing alternate glances of longing and annoyance at her mobile phone as she gets ready for bed. The force of her glare then turns to the empty space on the bed where he would have slept if he was here with her. "Heartless bast*rd," she says out loud. "Money-minded jerk." Prerna storms to their shared wardrobe and throws the doors open. As she is looking for her nightgown, her eyes find his wine coloured shirt and refuse to budge. In a fit of whimsy, she pulls the shirt out and presses it to her face, breathing in deeply. She is reminded of the days she had spent in the confused agony of his absence after their first kiss. She had yearned for one glimpse of him, one word from him. But in vain. Instead, for close to a month she had been left in the company of his family members and the silence of his house. Until she found out from Chandu that he had returned. She stood in the doorway, partly hidden from view as she watched him padding around barefooted in a pair of dark trousers and a white shirt which he was in the process of discarding. Her plans of announcing her presence with a discreet cough scattered like dandelion petals on a breeze as he dropped the garment on the bed and walked to his wardrobe. Prerna was aware that he was a handsome man. In a purely objective way of course. She'd have to be blind to not notice that much. But with his shirt off, Mr. Bajaj was a different specimen of male beauty altogether. The ripple of the muscles on his back as he pulled out and replaced garments was riveting to say the least. Prerna stamped down on the mad urge to go and examine his tattoos from close proximity. To touch his bare skin. "Why are you hiding in the shadows?" he asked as he put his arms through the sleeves of his shirt. She was so startled that she hit her hand on the doorknob. "Sh*t." He left the shirt unbuttoned as he turned towards her. With a wave of his first two fingers, he gestured her to come closer. Like how a bloody colonist would summon a native servant. It should be beneath her but the look in his eyes made not obeying him impossible. "You're bleeding," he observed. Prerna became aware of  the pain in her fingers. "Oh." His hand encircled her wrist and he lifted her hand to his lips. He lapped the blood off her index finger like an exotic elixir. The warmth of his mouth around her finger resonated in the depths of her stomach. "Rishabh," she moans his name, just as she had moaned it then. But this time, his groan doesn't follow. Prerna wears the shirt to bed, instead of her nightgown. She was in bed with the devil himself. She should've known her husband didn't possess a single iota of mercy in his body. But she begged nevertheless. "Please... Please let me come." The rythmn of his fingers inside her slowed instead of hastening. Dark eyes pinned her down with their javelin-like weight. The curve of his mouth was unbearable cruel. "Not yet." Once again, her org*sm receded, leaving her quivering under him. Her hands fluttered down to his shoulders out of their own violation and moved down his back, raking his skin with her nails. "Prerna..." Her name left his lips in a strange mixture of need and warning. "Keep your hands where you were told to keep. Else..." She didn't need to be told twice. She fisted the sheets beside her head. Her readiness to obey was awarded by a swipe of his thumb against her sensitive nub. The motion he found that time was just the right amount of stimulation to make her gasp in pleasure. "Yes... Yes!" But he stopped once more. Although this time it was because of her phone ringing than any desire to torture her further. The name flashing on the screen, caused a scowl to appear on his face. Anurag Prerna hastily disconnected the call and turned to cradle the face of her husband in her hands. But before she could say anything, the phone started ringing again. "Take it," he said, disentangling himself from her. As she began to shake her head, he repeated himself but in a hard tone that made her obey him instantly. "What is it?" Prerna spoke into the cellular device. Before she could catch a reply though, before she could disconnect, her husband had her pinned under his weight. His fingers were replaced by his cock in one smooth glide and he set a punishing rythmn, drilling her into the bed. "Beg for it, Prerna," he growled. "You beg so prettily" "Please, please... Rishabh please." Prerna can hear the phone ringing and jolts awake. Snatching it from the bedside table, she sees her husband's name on the screen. It's Mr. Mehra's voice, however, that greets her ears. "Ma'am, Bajaj sir is asking you to look for a file." Prerna's eyes find the clock in the room. 03:21, it reads. "Tell your sir to go to hell." His warm breath grazes the shell of her ear. Prerna buries her head into his shoulder and presses her whimpers of need against the skin of his throat. The shudders that wrack his frame wakes her from her sleep. He's looking down at her with tenderness and unabashed want. "Did you miss me, baby?" Prerna nods empathetically, the ire she'd been feeling throughout the week, melting under his smile. His hand moved under the covers. On realising that she's been wearing his shirts to bed, his smile becomes a grin. "Distance has made your heart grow foolish, my love." Their lips meet in a hungry kiss as Prerna's hands deftly divest him of his tie and jacket. "Foolish wife, indeed," he whispers as he slips under the sheets. Aryapdane

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