#i don't know if i made him frilly enough but it works alright for now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pixie-cocaine · 4 years

Text

Down A Peg

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Businessman!Brat!Jinyoung × Dominatrix! Reader

Warnings: Pegging, slight mistress kink, dirty talk, Jinyoung cries lol, pretty harsh punishment (rough caning. don't worry tho, the after care makes up for it. Probably.), mentions of breaking skin from caning wounds and bruising 😬, slapping, hair-pulling, strapjob, fingering (m receiving), nipple play, degradation, just pure filth man 💀

Requested: months ago, but yes

Note: Jinyoung has a key at some point and it disappears, but you're not gonna say shit about it. Also it gets lazy near the end, excuse the grammar mistakes.

Word Count: 6.3K (pls don't let this flop, I am exhausted 🤩)

The last thing Jinyoung thought he’d be doing, was going to a professional Dominatrix session. If anyone had even dare mentioned the idea, say a month beforehand, he’d give them the nastiest grimace manageable and avoid them like the plague, not that he didn’t do that to anyone who tried to weasle their way into his private life anyways. It made even his own subconcious howl with laughter at the position Jinyoung had put himself in now.

So much for trying to s tay away, huh?

He didn’t even think something like this could happen. Hell, one minute he was filing more stacks of papers as his assistant talked his ear off, which he had vehemently told her not to do, and the next he found himself bored, and scrolling through a Domme website the night that followed.

But here he was; standing outside the neat black building with his phone in one hand, and a hand cupped in his pockets as he raised an eyebrow before going in. Past the glass doors, he found his surroundings consiting with soft shades of brown. A mahogony reception desk sat to the front of him against a wall, a long hallway next to the desk, and neutral white lights giving the atmosphere a professional look. His legs moved on their own accord while he focused on stabalizing his breathing, not used to the clamminess now making his palms sweat against his sides, and before he knew it, he was standing at the front of the office.

A woman in her early-to-mid twenties sat before him, smile sweet and chestnut brown hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her eyes were soft, almost inquisitive as they assessed Jinyoung’s appearance and outfit, which consisted of a beige turtleneck and black dress pants. She seemed pleased with the effort he put into his looks if her satisfied hum was anything to go by.

“Hello, are you here for an appointment?”

Her voice was cheery, like the chime of a bell, and her face beamed with a radiance that Jinyoung wouldn’t think someone who worked in her place of job would exude. He cleared his throat, “I am, yes.”

“Your name?”

“Park Jinyoung,” she nodded and typed something into the computer to her left.

“And your mistress for the night is Madame Black, correct?”

Jinyoung felt odd with how casual this was going. He’d expected.. something else? No, that was a lie一Jinyoung didn’t know what he expected. Maybe a bad experience, he guesses. He just wasn’t used to the way this was such an open transaction, as if he was going to the doctor’s for a checkup or something. It left him confused as he thought of a couple of his previous encounters with people he trusted on his sex life. The way they scrunched their faces in a disapproving frown when he said he wanted to try subbing, only to backpedal at his embarrasment. The rest just flat out didn't know what they were doing. It was almost laughable how little they knew. But this... This seemed like a whole new ballgame.

“Yeah,” He shook his head in confirmation, the sudden movement making him look like an overenthusiastic dog. The woman laughed at the new show of excitement and leant over the console so she could murmur to him despite the space being completely empty, save for both of them, of course.

“Third door down the hall, you’ll know it’s hers when just standing outside of it makes you wanna piss your pants. Don’t forget to change into one of the robes in the room just to your left. Oh! And just a heads up, Jinyoung,” She smiles with a mischevious glint in her eye and reaches out to drop a black key into his awaiting hand, “She may seem nice, but Madame is not one who tolerates brats. Do go in with the knowledge that she’s not afraid to bite.”

Jinyoung raises a brow at her tease, but smiles back at her nonetheless, "Who says I'm afraid of being bitten?"

With a jerk of his head in what he hoped was a nod, he fought not to not scurry down the hall in his newfound anticipation, smirking to himself at the knowing face of the desk worker.

Jinyoung was jittery with each step that brung him closer to his destination, which now stand a couple feet from him, the deep ebony-shaded door looming with a question that made Jinyoung have second thoughts despite thinking it through for hours; ‘Can I handle what’s behind this door?’

Jinyoung rakes a shaky hand through his hair, trying to take deep breaths as he pushes the cold metal of the key into the lock, twisting it to the right until he hears the telltale Click! Of the latches unslotting while he turns the handle and pushes the inlet open, taking a moment to survey the room before him, then kicks the door closed after he steps inside. Of course he can. If the voice in the back of his head said anything, it probably wouldn’t even be a good experience much different to the other ‘dom’s’ he’s had sex with.

Almost immediately, the tart scent of lavender wafts into his nose. The room was spacious, dimly lit by the soft golden glow of candles occupying the corners which cast shadows across the silky wine carpet, and the delicate shades of a peachy pink had consisted of the walls surrounding him. A king-sized bed with fluffy red covers sat against the back wall, a plush pink chair facing it, and you perch right at the bottom of the bed. Jinyoung feels his heart shake at the sight of you.

Just the way you sit with your legs crossed over one another had his cock stirring behind the silk black robe that curtains his naked frame. You wear a gorgeous tan lingerie set, the top is a thin see-through camisole which stops just above the curve of your upper stomach, displaying the supple mounds of your breasts over a sheen of lace, and the bottoms are a simple high-arch panty, the same fabric and look of the top, but with a skirt-like covering which flutters around the curves of your hips whenever you move. The fact that the set shown your bare body in such a delicate show of wispy materials was what made Jinyoung even more worked up. Your position was relaxed as you sat, holding a glass of champagne, and you cocked your head to the side slightly upon Jinyoung’s arrival. You offer a smile.

“Why hello there!” You gleam, and at the sheer enthusiam which you eminate, Jinyoung finds himself mirroring the smile without his own accord. Something about you just dusts away all of Jinyoung’s previous nerves.

“Hey,” Jinyoung sifts through his head to find the right words, “Madame Black?”

You giggle at the way he says it, obviously giving away that he wasn’t fully aware of what he was about to get himself into, “Yes, that’s me. You must be Park Jinyoung, I’m assuming?”

A nod was your answer.

"Don't be shy, take a seat," you nod towards the chair before you, and Jinyoung obliges, smiling at you as he goes to sit himself down in front of you.

"First of all, I would like to discuss boundaries, even if I’ve already gone over the form you filled out," you begin with a wink, "what’s your opinion on rimming and ass-play in general?”

Jinyoung feels his eyes bug out slightly at the way you so seamlessly jump into it. Shameless, aren’t you? But he isn’t complaining.

He clears his throat and, suddenly unable to look you in the eye, settles his gaze on his lap as if it were the most interesting thing in the world, “I’ve dabbled in it by myself but never really experienced proper ass-play things with somebody else,” mustering up his courage to flick his eyes back to yours, he smirks, “I’d like to try it with you if possible.”

You nod, “how about being rough with you? Hair-pulling, slapping, throat-fucking, etcetera?”

He seems to strongly approve if the fast dipping of his head means anything, and if that weren’t enough to give you a gist to how much he liked the idea, he isn’t afraid to say so.

“Anything that will leave me sore, I’m completely into. I like seeing the after effects.”

“Cum-eating and degradation?”

“Very eager to try.”

“Alright, anything else you’d like to add into the mix?”

Jinyoung muses, then shakes his head, to which you hum at.

“Now, Jinyoung, I’m going to ask you a question, and you’re going to answer with a very well thought-out response,” you raise an eyebrow at the brunette, eyeing him down like the first meal you’d seen in days, “Are you sure you want to do this?

Jinyoung can feel his heart thrum against his ribcage, like the hard beat of a drum, when he hears your words. You were definitely experienced in this, even someone with half a brain could tell. He could feel his lips stretch into a smile, an idea coming to mind as you gently set your champagne glass on the floor a couple steps away from your feet, then sit back up to cock your head to the side.

“If I’m being honest, Madame,” He scorns the name out, mocking your authority, “I don’t think you’ll be any better than the self-proclaimed ‘dom’s’ that I’ve been with.”

"Huh."

"I mean—look at what you're wearing—how am I supposed to believe that this is a dominatrix scene and not a sub session where I can easily just knock you around?"

Wow.

You can’t quite bite back the loud, boisterous peals of laughter that bubble up frrom your chest fast enough when you finally register his words after staring at him for a couple seconds, vacantly blinking at the brunette and trying to figure out if you heard him right. You wipe a tear from your eye, still tittering, “And what makes you think that just because I'm wearing delicate and frilly lingerie doesn't mean I can't fuck your guts out, Mr. Jinyoung the powerful CEO?”

Jinyoung frowns, “How do you know that I’m a CEO?”

God, this was getting more interesting by the moment.

Shaking your head, you rake your eyes up the sultry expose of his hardened calves and legs, slowly meeting his eyes once more, and grinning as you do so, “You must think I’m dumb. You act like that smug little face of yours isn’t plastered all over the city. Regardless..,” You lean forward, "Yes or no, Jinyoung? I promise, I'm well worth the money."

Jinyoung thinks for a moment, still in shock from the mention of his job, even if he already knows his answer before he says it. This was his chance to experience what he'd always wanted. Maybe. You already knew his kinks due to the form he had to fill out, as well as the little transaction, so he had no doubt that you knew which buttons to press, but he wanted to know if you could take him beyond his limits like he's always hoped for. If you knew how to press those buttons just right, or if you were just another let-down with a more professional look and platform. This was it, and he was going to make you work him over as much as you could.

"Yes, I'm sure I want to do this."

Jinyoung feels a shudder wrack his shoulders at how smoothly your facade transitioned to one of pure intimidation and stony expressions. The smile that once graced your seemingly sweet attributes was now wiped away and replaced with a carefully adept mask of indifference.

You keep his stare whilst you bend down to retrieve a big, black wooden box from beneath the bed, setting it beside you as you stand from your spot and lift the lid from the case to pull out a leather clasping, as well as a thick and textured blue dildo which was, admittedly, one of your biggest straps. You look to Jinyoung as you began attaching the proper clippings and belts in order to fasten it around your hips.

“On your knees.”

Taking his bottom lip between his teeth, Jinyoung slowly pushes himself away from the chair and sinks down to his knees, mouth watering at the authority in your tone of voice, and blood beginning to heat underneath his skin as you secure the harness and move to close the distance between the both of you. Deft fingers trace the sharp lining of Jinyoung’s jaw, trailing a line to the dip of his chin before taking it between your thumb and forefinger with a force that worries the bone slightly.

He's pretty, you think. One of the prettiest men that have ever occupied your time as a dominatrix, with full lips and features that would deem him model-worthy. You smile. You would have fun making a mess of him.

“Safeword?”

Jinyoung is taken aback for a moment, allegedly in a daze to the golden view from below you. “Hm... 'Promotion'?" He smiles at his own small joke.

You hum, grabbing the ribbed silicone that stare back at Jinyoung, and pressing the tip to the seam of his mouth with short, prodding impels.

“Open,” you murmur.

He obeys, albeit after frowning slightly; letting his lips part to engulf the width of your strap, wasting no time in stooping his head lower so he could stop midway on your cock, his throat constricting around the foreign object now lodged in his passage. You moan down at him with a hand raking through the soft tresses of his hair in appreciation at his eagerness.

“Suck.”

And he does.

Jinyoung started out strong at first; bobbing his head as he craned his neck this way and that to really go in on you without hesitation, hollowing his cheeks and looking up at you with a determinbed look, but after a while of swallowing your cock like he had one chance to impress you, he makes a rasping sound in the back of his throat, vaguely like the creaking of bed springs, followed by a lewd slurping noise before he goes to pull away. You catch the back of his head with a hand, raising an eyebrow as you shove him back down to where he’d stopped previous.

Jinyoung gags, a beautiful, surprised chuck of sound that makes you sigh at the way he sought for purchase at your thighs, a poor attempt to steady himself when you were already pulling back to drive your cock back down his throat with a fist-full of his hair. A range of noises that originate from Jinyoung bounce off the walls of the room, mostly different variations of kecks and physical strains on his trachea, but some being choked-off whimpers and half-strangled gasps of which he could actually get in between you fucking into his face and withdrawing.

You finally slow your pace to more shallow strokes, and looking past the pretty shine of Jinyoung’s now tear-stained face, you can see the tent in the flap of his robe. You favor him with a devilish grin, one that he sadly can’t see due to staring down at where you had your cock in his mouth.

“Look at me, whore,” the stern demand comes out in a throaty growl as you use your hand, still laced within the damp tresses of his hair, to yank his head back and up at you, resulting in both a muffled yelp and the back of Jinyoung’s neck popping at the sudden movement.

The sight was immoral in every sense of the word. His swollen lips, which were wrapped around the pink cock strapped to your hips, were left hanging open with obvious smears of glistening drool, still seeping from the corners, his cheeks streaked over with it in some places and mixing the stream of drying tears falling from his wide eyes. You can hear him begin to gag around the strap, considering he is shoved down to the hilt, but you only push his head down and keep him there. Instead, staring in amusement at the way he sputters and coughs, wanting to savor how his face begins to turn a lovely shade of red. When you are certain he can’t breathe, you pull him off and let him drink in desperate gulps of much needed air, the soft peach color returning to his face when his lungs begin to relax.

Stunning, you think.

Jinyoung gasps when you force him up to his feet by his hair, practically stumbling when you turn the two of you around so you can then proceed to to shove him onto the bed, ignoring the groan of the springs due to the impact. His head is a mess from the influxion of air he experiences. Only the ache between his legs keeping Jinyoung tied to this world as he softly pants, laying on his forearms with glossy eyes locked on yours and how you follow suit; crawling onto the bed and taking place hovering right over him. Jinyoung moans lowly when you lean in to press open-mouthed kisses, hot and wet, against his jawline, your hand snaking down the expanse of his hidden body to pull at the tied robe sash, and you treat yourself with a peek down at how it falls open to reveal everything he had to offer. Smoothing your fingers along the breathtaking show of defined muscle and healthy flesh, you curse.

“Of course such a little brat would have a fantastic body...”

Jinyoung lets out a complacent laugh at your subtle annoyance. He knows he has a good body, and he knows he's attractive, which makes you all the more irritated, considering he is perfect in every way, and you have no doubt in your mind that he uses it to get what he wants.

“You sure are taking your time,” He gripes out, hoping to stir your anger.

You snicker at him, and without thinking too much of it, strike him across the face, not waiting for his head to fully turn to the left before you grab his cheeks, force him back to you, and slap him again.

Once. Twice. Three times.

You feel his cock twitch against your thigh, and his mouth parts in pleased shock as he breathes.

“Say it again, bitch"

"I said, you sure are taking your—Ah!"

He's momentarily shocked into silence when you immediately shove your hands under his waist to hoist Jinyoung's legs behind his head, essentially folding him in half and displaying his exposed bottom, which is just as gorgeous as everything else about him. That's saying something, because an asshole, dick, and balls shouldn't even be in the same sentence as 'gorgeous.'

Jinyoung doesn't have time to protest, because as soon as he opens his mouth to fuss, he feels a strong, harsh slap land right on his hole. He yelps, kicking his feet out the best he can until he cries out again upon registering the next three smacks that rain down on the same spot.

"Rude, rude, boy. Has nobody ever taught you that you shouldn't speak back to your Mistress?" You growl, blowing cool air over his fluttering rim before patting his ass gently, "Stay like this or else I'm shoving an inflatable plug up your ass and stretching you until you rip."

Shaky and wanting, Jinyoung let's out a breath, doing as you say and hooking his hands into the back of his knees in order to press down and stay in said position. It unfortunately does put a strain on his lower back, but as much as he likes punishment, he's not betting on having his poor butt mercilessly torn open like you promised.

"What's your favorite color?"

The question half-startles him, "Red...?"

"Good choice," You chirp, and like that, you're holding his legs in place again; dangling a bottle of reddish-tinted lube over him as you happily squirt the cool gel onto his hole and two of your fingers. You tease him—gently running your hand up the soft skin of his left leg whilst you push the pad of your digit against his entrance, letting it breach slightly before pulling back to do it again.

"Tell me you want it."

He groans, "I want it..."

"Yeah?" You lie your cheek on his thigh, staring down at him with narrowed eyes. You love how exposed he is right now. Vulnerable to your gaze, and letting you touch him in such lewd ways. You always liked these parts of your sessions—where you could see the raw arousal in their faces. Letting your hand slide from Jinyoung's thigh to his cock, you begin simultaneously stroking him and, finally, pushing your fingers into his ass. He suddenly jerks upwards the best he really can with his legs behind his head, and you already know that both the sensations combined feel odd for him.

"Does it hurt?" You ask, half-wanting him to say it does so you can see the look on his face when you add another finger. But he doesn't, thankfully, and you whisk away the sadistic thoughts that you don't really want there. Instead, he shakes his head with a weak noise of slight discomfort.

"It doesn't hurt, but it feels... Weird?" Jinyoung doesn't seem so sure of himself when he actually says the words out loud. The confused frown knitting his eyebrows together mimes that of someone who was deciding on whether they liked something or not.

"Mm. Give it a minute."

And he does. He breathes heavily at the still-going stimulation to his cock, furrowing his brows everytime you move your fingers in a strange way as you try and find a pace, then, like clockwork as your digits graze upwards of his walls, he gasps, loud and surprised.

"Oh? Did I find it?" You grin, raising an eyebrow whilst continuing to abuse that spot inside of him. You revel in the way he moans. It's actually very melodical, everytime he reaches a high note it sounds like he's about to start singing, and it catches you off-guard when he keens before letting his lower body fall against the bed.

You tsk and shrug, "I was gonna be nice but it looks like you're just itching for punishment."

"Well what the hell did you expect when you put me in a painful position like-"

Thwap!

You give him another good slap to the face, then, almost too aggressively, force him to the edge of the bed so you can bend him over.

"Don't look at me, keep your eyes on the floor or I'll make it worse," you murmur, and with a mischievous smile, you walk over to the large black closet to the side of your bed. You can hear Jinyoung's heavy breathing reverberating throughout the room the entire time it takes to fetch your trusty cane and take position back behind Jinyoung.

The cane is long, about the height of a relatively high-standing desk, and decorated with accents of blood red while the rest is tinted a ravishing mulberry purple. It's thick at the top which makes it easy to hold onto, and it begins to slight as it reaches the the tip, which is skinny and carefully rounded.

"So, here's what we're gonna do," you begin, running your fingers up and down the polished rattan, "I am going to hit you with this cane as hard as I can, and you are going to count each and every stroke that I put on your thighs and backside. Do you hear me?"

Jinyoung sucks in a breath, but nods his head nonetheless.

"Come on, you know better. I need you to say it."

"Yes, I hear you."

"Hear you, what?" You lean forward to whisper into the shell of his ear, enjoying the way he lets out a small whimper and pushes his ass back against you.

"Yes, I hear you, Mistress..."

"Good Boy. Now, spread your legs a bit, and when you feel the cane, begin counting."

Jinyoung does as told easily enough; widening the space between his feet until his legs stand out in a small 'v' shape, and waiting in anticipation for you to begin the punishment. He can hear the blood rush in his ears.

Shwoop- thwack!

The pain that surges in a line against both cheeks is nothing short of winding. He thought it'd sting a bit at most but fuck, he had trouble keeping his legs from wobbling.

"One!" He shrills.

Shwoop- thwack!

"Two!"

Shwoop- thwack!

"T-Three!"

It feels like it goes on for forever if he's being honest. It's the same pain, but it gets worse with each swing and cut. It doesn't help that your cane had broken skin and drawn blood every couple strokes to both the backs of his thighs and cheeks, and you kept on hitting the same wounds.

"Twenty... twenty-one.."

"My good boy.. you did so, so well," You all but coo, dropping the cane to the floor with a thud as you lean forward to drape yourself over his back, careful not to make contact with his injuries whilst you trail your fingers between his legs so you can continue stroking his cock, grip loose and barely touching him with each swipe over his shaft.

"It hurts...!" Jinyoung's voice wavers, and you can finally hear the submission in his tone. You like hearing him like this; on the edge of breaking down, sobbing out his pain and pleasure, and all for you.

You smile, tightening your fist around his tip and holding it there just to savor the way he cries out and reaches down to try and stop your administrations, "But you like when it hurts, don't you? You like seeing how bad of a boy you'd been, and you like feeling those repercussions wear off even more, no?"

"N-no..."

"Mistress doesn't like liars, baby. Say you're sorry and maybe I'll make the pain feel better," You hum, only the slightest of touches ghosting against Jinyoung's nipples, butterfly kisses on the back of his ear.

"I'm sorry.. I-I'm sorry..!"

"Move up the bed. Hands and knees, still."

He's crying as he carries out your command, you realise. Tears, shiny, like the first drops of rain, run in flexuous tracks down his cheeks, and a blush dusts the ball of his nose. He makes no noise, but you can see the stutter of his chest and the way his breath hitches everytime he tries to take in a full inhale.

"See what happens when you don't listen to your Mistress? She has to hurt you, and she doesn't quite like hurting you to the point of drawing blood," you sigh and can't help but frown at the marks left on his body, especially the way you can identify the blooming bruises, which range from pretty shades of red to slowly darkening purples. Not to mention the many long cuts that litter just above the bruises.

"I-I'm sorr-sorry," Jinyoung involuntarily hiccups, and the way he reaches back and out for your top, tugging at the hem to get you to come closer, undoubtedly makes your mask slip a bit.

"Don't-.. don't look at me like that.."

But he keeps doing it. He keeps looking at you with those eyes. Those eyes that plead and beg in only the ways that make your body light aflame with desire to see him break completely under your touch.

"Fuck me... Please fuck me," He whispers, still looking at you from over his shoulder and holding onto your camisole.

"I bet you do. You've had that look in your eyes ever since you walked through the door. Don't worry, though. I'll fuck you. I'll fuck you hard enough to make your mind go blank, and I'll fuck you good enough that everytime you touch yourself, you'll wish it was my hands instead of yours," you crawl onto the mattress and keep direct eye contact as you do so. You want him to take in the fire in your eyes, and know that you mean everything you say.

And from the way he whines upon your hand encasing his throat when you take place behind him, lining yourself up with his entrance with your breath hot on the back of his neck, he gets the memo.

"Have you ever had a cock inside you, Jinyoung?"

"Only finger-ers," He gasps out, still catching his breath to make coherent sentences as his crying dies down.

You nod into his shoulder, "We're gonna take this part slow, then, okay? Deep breaths.. I'm pushing inside, now."

The stretch is slow and, admittedly, overwhelming; the way your strap's textured shaft tenses his walls around the thickness of it's outer layers has him clutching and the sheets and making all sorts of noises, from groans to whimpers, from low-tones to high-notes, then finally, you bottom out. Your hips meet the plush skin of his ass, which he yelps at, and you take a moment to massage the column of his neck, trying to get him to relax as much as possible. It is his first time with a dick up his ass, after all, and he'd just taken a brutal punishment with, from the looks of it, painful consequences.

"What's the traffic light say, Jinyoung?"

He knows what it means, and when he's actually asked the question, it sparks a sort of satisfaction in him. He means wow, someone who actually checks in with him during sex and doesn't just do whatever they want without making sure he's ok with it.

"Green. Just go slow, please? It still hurts a bit."

He's surprised when you actually listen to him, and begin pacing yourself slower; careful movements of your hips, barely even registered as thrusts, and soft brushes over the hardness of his nipples once again as a distraction from any lingering uncomfort.

"Is it ok to go faster?"

He nods, and turns his face to the side so he can look at you properly. He looks so good like this; watery eyes and a needy expression painted on his face like glass.

It's then that you find yourself kissing him.

It catches him off-guard, obviously, but he leans into it nonetheless, and damn did you know how to kiss. Your lips were sweet against his, mouth moving in tune with his own and it was quite easy for you to take control of things. One squeeze to his throat and he was putty.

You don't even notice that you're thrusting into him too fast until he grabs at your hip from behind and whines into your mouth, which makes you want to go all the more faster, but you don't. You groan, nibbling his lip before you pull away with a grin, and weave your hand into his hair so you can gently push his face into the covers. His arch is gorgeous. Just like the rest of him, you think.

"Jesus, you're a sight.. you know that?"

From the neat curtain of bangs, you can faintly see Jinyoung smile, "Do you like it?"

"Baby you know I like it," You curse as you smooth a hand down the sultry slope of his back, all muscled and strong yet delicate in a way that you find hard to explain.

He moans, loud and clear for you, "Then show me, mistress. Please?"

'Showing him' would be an understatement of what you did. It was like you were possessed; one moment he was on his hands and knees, looking back at you with that fucking face, and the next, you had him flipped over on his back, drilling into him like your life depends on it. You don't know how long you fuck him, but you know that you were in a daze as you snap back to the present.

It's brutal, the way you pound into him. Rough, animalistic, and downright cruel. He's trying his best to stay tethered to this world, but you make it extremely hard with the way you bull his knees into his own chest and stare at him, long and heavy, with each other's foreheads touching and a hand jerking him off at a rapid speed. He wails and cries out every couple seconds, his voice now strained in his throat and wearing thin like the threads of an old spiderweb.

"Is this what you fucking wanted? Huh? Well here it is so fucking take it, bitch. Take it all and don't you dare waste it or else I swear you'll regret it," You growl, your teeth clenched hard enough to put pressure on your gums as you unhook your arm from under his left knee and instead use it to choke him. He struggles at the lack of blood going to his brain, but nods regardless.

"I-I'm c—oh my god please—I'm cumming! I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna-"

"Then fucking cum, you filthy whore. Do it, all over your stomach. Make Mistress proud, hm? Make her proud of her good little fuck doll, I know you can do it, baby."

Letting go of Jinyoung's throat has more of an effect than you anticipated. The influx of air and blood, paired with his approaching orgasm, quite literally throws him headfirst into his climax. His mouth falls open in a silent scream as he writhes and twitches, spilling white on his lower abdomen, and one shot even glances him on the collarbones.

It's silent for a moment as he catches his breath, still shaking, and that's when you make the decision of discarding your strap-on into the basket near your closet with a single toss. Jinyoung, on the other hand, is on cloud 9. He feels like he's floating in a golden sea of bliss, which clouds of cotton candy hanging overhead, and he barely registers it when he feels your fingers on his body once again.

He looks down, "Hm..?"

"Pfft holy shit, look at you," You bring your palm to your mouth as you giggle at the man's euphoria, "Yeah.. Oh yeah, you're definitely feeling it, huh? Told you I was worth the money."

"No shit. That was... Jesus, that was insane."

"Mm thanks, pretty. Sit still, I'll be right back."

You hop up off the bed with another quick glance at Jinyoung before you disappear behind a misty glass door. While you're doing.. whatever you're doing, Jinyoung takes the time to sit up and try and find a comfortable position because of course it's now that everything finally settles in.

"Ow, fuck!" He hisses at the pain of trying to sit on his ass with all the cuts on it.

"Yeah, about that, put your butt up for a moment?"

He frowns, but upon seeing the tube of ointment in your hand as well as baby wipes and a lollipop, sighs and reluctantly bends over.

"I know, I know, but don't worry, it'll only sting a bit. Also, make sure to apply some Neosporin or disinfectant on the backs of your thighs and bottom until they begin to scab up." You drone on about how to take care of the injuries whilst applying the salve, the basics on how to not exercise while they're still open because the sweat can cause an infection, the usual things. When you're done both rubbing the medicine on him and giving him a jog through cautions, you finally twist the covering on the tube of ointment and reach for the wet wipes before meeting Jinyoung's eyes again.

"Roll on your back, please. Feet up in the air and spread your legs so I can see everything."

"Why?"

"Because," you smile, already nudging him to move into position, "You're all messy. I need to clean you up, don't I? Now come here, I even have a lollipop for you since you did so well."

It's soft how you take care of him, Jinyoung thinks. The mood switch is completely different from what you were like when you were fucking him like you hated him, because now, you're so concerned about whether you're pressing the wipes too hard onto his skin as you swipe the cold sheet between his legs and rear end.

"I'm sorry," you say, slowing down on cleaning him to snort at how hard he sucks on the light green candy, admiring how at peace he looks with the warm expression he wears.

"For what?"

"I probably went a little too hard on you. This was your first actual time with an experienced domme, and I'm afraid that I could've ruined it for future references."

"Oh no, don't feel bad. I liked it."

"You did?" Your eyebrows shoot up.

"Of course. This is probably the best I've felt in literal months."

And he smiles. He smiles genuinely one of the most breathtaking smiles you've ever seen, with a slight fan of creasing around his eyes from the rise of his cheeks, and a laugh like pure beauty. You return it.

"Well, I'm glad I could help, Jinyoung. Now, I think it's about time for you to go, considering the session is officially over, and you most likely have a lot of work in the morning," You wink and stand from your spot on the bed.

Jinyoung allows you to help him back inside his robe, even rub the dried tear tracks off his cheeks, and before he knows it, he's slowly walking away from your assigned room, looking back at you as you stand in the doorway with a hand on your hip.

"Goodbye, Madame Black."

"Goodbye, Mr. CEO. Come again sometime, I'm sure you'd love to be taken down another peg."

#HOLY FUCK THIS TOOK FOREVER #a lot longer than I expected #well all that matters is that its here now #hope you enjoy lmao #kpop smut #hard got7 hours #smut #jinyoung smut #got7 smut #sub!got7 #sub got7 #sub!jinyoung #domme reader #domme!reader #dom!reader #dom reader #sub!idol #sub idol #idol x reader

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uas-fics · 3 years

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Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Read on AO3

Title: How to Train A Champion and Keep Your Reputation Intact

Summary: Piers doesn’t want to coach Leon, but the last thing Piers needs is for everyone to know a cool punk like him used to perform in Pokemon Contests! If it means keeping his reputation intact, he’ll begrudgingly teach this ray of sunlight what he knows.

Fandom: Pokemon Sword and Shield

Ships: LeonxPiers | dnnz

Rating: T

Contest Warnings: N/A

Chapter 1: The Early Morning Visitor

----

Of the people Piers expected to be sitting across his kitchen table at eight in the morning, the former champion was not one of them. Leon wasn't even in the top ten, yet here he was, twiddling his thumbs behind a cup of tea with a peppy expression on his face.

Piers was barely a human being this early, yet Leon seemed to have the same energy as a particularly bushy-tailed skwovet.

"You have a nice kitchen," Leon commented, more to fill the silence than an actual compliment.

Piers glanced at the pile of take-out containers on the counter then the singular shoe that hadn't made it to his room with its partner the night before. His kitchen was nothing spectacular, and it didn't need to be. His home was a place to crash or bring a date, not some fancy townhouse. With only he and Marnie there, why should he bother fancying the place up?

"What do you want, Leon?" Piers took a sip of his tea.

Leon wrapped his fingers around his cup but didn't move to drink. If Leon would have preferred coffee, he could have said something before Piers poured him a cup. It'd be a waste to pour it down the drain.

"Well, it's a little silly, but I could use your help with something," Leon explained.

Piers narrowed his eyes.

Leon was the chairman of the Pokemon League. Piers gave his gym over to Marnie after the last Champion tournament. What could he want Piers to help with at this point? The only connection he had with the League was Marnie.

Unless...

"I swear if you're goin' to pull the same shit as Rose did and try to get me to make Marnie move the gym—"

"No, no, nothing like that!" Leon raised his hands, palms facing out. "It has nothing at all to do with Spikemuth or the gym."

"Then what does it have to do with?" Piers leaned back and crossed his arms.

"Uh, well, alright," Leon didn't meet his eyes, "it's about a rumor."

Piers' frown deepened. He always had rumors about him floating about. It came with his persona.

"I heard Piers beat a man to a pulp because he spilled his drink on him." or "I heard Piers took three girls back to his home and made them leave before the sun was even up." or he was a dealer of rare hallucinogenic flowers or that he used his pokemon to break into Rose's office and peed in a potted plant behind his desk.

There was rarely any truth to the rumors. He didn't care to squash them. He was a dark-type trainer, having everyone thinking he was a bigger badass than he already was could not hurt his reputation.

"C'mon, mate, aren't you a little old to be listenin' to rumors?" Piers cocked an eyebrow.

"It's not a bad rumor.”

"What's the rumor then?"

"Ah, well, I heard," He paused to clear his throat, "that you, ah, that you competed in pokemon contests when you were younger—and that you won."

Piers barely kept his face deadpan.

Where had Leon heard that? Those contests happened just before posting on the internet boomed, so it wasn't like the contests were live-streamed and archived. The only video that he knew existed of his contest days hid in a box in the back of a closet. Marnie captured it when she could barely see over the railings at the stadiums. Even then, the video quality was terrible and Marnie kept moving the camera around. He looked like a black and white blob in them.

He forced himself to calm down. He could easily deny this rumor. No one would believe he, Piers, former Spikemuth gym leader, head of Team Yell, the fierce trainer of powerful dark-types, would ever compete in a pokemon contest.

"Where did you hear that?" Piers reached for his tea just to have something in his hands.

What credibility did this rumor spreader have? Probably none. Denying this would be easy.

"Oh, I heard your sister mention it."

Piers nearly dropped his cup.

Shit.

He could not deny this, not without putting Marnie's credibility on the line. She was still a new gym leader. The last thing she needed was the chairman thinking she was a gossip.

He hissed out a breath. "Oh, did she?"

"Yeah, she was talking to Opal while Bede filled out some papers," Leon told him. "She said she remembered you used to be good at pokemon contests. That's why I'm here."

"So what?" Piers spat. "It isn't illegal, now is it?"

Why couldn't this have been about Malamar scaring passers-by on Route 7 when he was bored? Why could this have been about the rave Piers helped throw in an abandoned mine last month? Why could it have been about pissing in the potted plant? Why couldn't this have been about anything else?!

Leon frowned. "Of course not—"

"Then why are you askin' me about it?"

"Because I wanted your help to win one."

Piers' mouth gaped. Did he hear that right? Leon, the former champion, one of the strongest pokemon trainers in all of Galar, wanted to enter a pokemon contest.

He stuck a finger in his ear and twisted it.

"Sorry, say that again. I must have somethin' in my ear. I didn't just hear you ask for help in a pokemon contest."

"That is what I asked." Leon beamed. "There is one in Ballonlea in two weeks and I want to enter, but I don't know the first thing about them. If you know, you could help me—if you want to, that is."

"Why?" Piers held back from pinching himself. How was this not a dream? Maybe he was messing with hallucinogenic flowers after all.

Reaching into his pocket, Leon took out a folded piece of lavender paper. He laid it flat on the table, smoothing it with the side of his hand, before pushing it over. The faint scent of roses wafted from it.

"All are invited to the first Bellonlea Pokemon Contest!" It read in a flowing, elegant font. "Coordinators of all ages and skill levels are invited to the Bellonlea Stadium to participate in a Pokemon Contest. Please contact the Bellonlean Ladies' Society for more details and how to enter."

"Was this ‘ppose to explain somethin'?" Piers pushed the flyer back. "Why do you want to win a contest?"

"That prize, of course!" Leon took his phone from his pocket. He scrolled a moment then turned the screen to Piers.

A picture of a red and white hat with a black logo stared back. It honestly looked like something an overly-excited ten-year-old would win from a cereal box drawing.

"It's a hat." Piers peered over the top of the phone to look at the hat Leon already had on.

"It's not just a hat. It's a limited edition!" Leon pulled his phone back. "I had one when I was a little kid, but I lost it to an angry corvisquire. The first place in the beginner contest wins it."

"And you can't just, you know, buy one for yourself?" He rolled his hand. "I know you have sponsorships out your ass." Piers looked down pointedly at his Spikemuth Chamber of Commerce shirt for emphasis.

Leon shrugged. "What fun is that?"

Piers downed half his drink in one go. The burn on his throat reassured him he wasn't dreaming.

"Piers?" Leon leaned over the table, his face alight with a smile. "Can't I talk you into helping me out? Please? I promise to owe you one after this."

Piers groaned. What choice did he have? He couldn't deny it without hurting Marnie's reputation. Their reputation used to be the only valuable he and Marnie had to their names, besides each other. Lying to Leon to save his own skin was not an option.

"Yeah, yeah, alright." Piers raised his hands in defeat. "Fine. I'll do it, but," he held a finger up in Leon's face, "you have to swear on your life that you won't tell a soul about it. I don't need anyone thinkin’ I ever put any of my pokemon in a frilly suit or made them dance around like pretty ballerinas or some shit."

Leon nearly jumped across the table. He put his hands on Piers' shoulders and squeezed a little too hard.

"Thanks a million for this!" He hopped up. "Where should we train? I think I understand the rules, but maybe we should go over the rules first? Or outfit—"

"Tomorrow." Piers cut him off. "We'll start tomorrow."

Leon's face fell like a growlithe that just had his bone taken from him. Piers held his sad gaze. Marnie's morpoko did the same pout when she wanted something, and Piers knew better than to give in.

If Leon still wanted to learn how to be a coordinator, he had to prove himself first. A day would be enough time for Piers to think up obstacles to make Leon forget about the silly notion. Contests, despite the stereotype, were hard work. While beginner contests weren't all that complicated, Piers didn't mind sprinkling in some of the more difficult to grasp bits from the higher tiers. With any luck that would confuse Leon right out of the idea and out of Piers' life.

Leon took a breath. He pulled his hands from Piers and squared his shoulders.

"I'll meet you back here at eight sharp tomorrow and then we can get started."

"No. You'll meet me outside Spikemuth at noon."

"Oh, well, alright. It'll be a champ—" Leon caught himself from using his old catchphrase. "It'll be a fun time."

"That's one way to think of it," Piers muttered, feeling less and less enthused at the arrangement by the second.

----

True to his word, Leon stood outside the front gate of Spikemuth at noon on the dot. He perked up when he saw Piers and jumped in front of him.

"Good afternoon, Teacher Piers."

He winked.

Piers wrinkled his nose.

"Call me that again, and I'm callin' this off."

Leon laughed nervously. "Sorry." He whistled. "Sooooo, what should I learn first? How to use music? Or pose? I'm already pretty good at that."

"How about the rules?"

Piers waved him to follow down the road towards the Spikemuth Tunnel. People were less likely to eavesdrop on them if they walked.

"Alright, rules. I know there are two rounds, and each trainer uses only one pokemon."

"Coordinator," Piers corrected sharply.

He promised to teach, but he didn't promise to be entirely pleasant while doing it.

"Yeah. There are two rounds. The first round is the Performance Stage. You show off your pokemon's appeal with a choreographed set of moves. The judges will assign points based on how well the performance fits into particular categories."

Piers began to ramble on about the different move categories as if the contest in Bellonlea would be so complicated. Beginner contests weren't judged by the five categories individually like higher-ranked contests.

Back when Galar still had a contest circuit, the people in beginner contests were kids with weak pokemon that might only know two or three moves. A performance with a cool move first and a cute move next wouldn't be judged as harshly as the first rank contest would.

However, Leon didn't need to know that. If he thought that the category system was complicated and—in Piers' humble opinion—limited and stupid, maybe he would back out.

"And that's all there is to the appeals rules." Piers looked at Leon, expecting him to be confused and dejected at the long-winded explanation, but instead found him holding onto every word.

"Well, that doesn't seem too hard." He nodded. "It's just putting on a show in a time limit with your partner. Easy."

"We'll see how easy you think it is when you're doing it." Piers stood under a shade tree. "The next round is the harder one. It's the battle round."

"Battle? I thought contests were for show, not for fighting."

Piers cackled at the genuine confusion on Leon's face. Of course, he would think that. That silly stereotype about contests never seemed to die, did it? Coordinators didn't just train their pokemon to teach them new moves. Their partner had to be strong to last the battles against one another. Even though Piers was a gym leader when he did contests, he still struggled against the stronger opponents.

He idly grabbed a lower branch and bent it down. If he didn’t slouch, Piers was tall enough that he could just about reach into the pokemon nest a few branches up with relative ease.

"You would think that, wouldn't you?" He opened his hand.

The branch whipped up and hit the branch the nest was on. The skwovet in the nest jumped with a squeak. Its sudden movement knocked a sitrus berry over the side.

"In the second round, two coordinators battle to remove points from the opponent, usin' moves that fall into the contest categories." He snatched the sitrus berry out of the air.

The skwovet glared at Piers. Piers smirked at it before wiping the berry on his shirt. The pokemon chattered and hurried higher into the tree.

Leon frowned at Piers' interaction with the skwovet. Piers met his gaze, daring him to comment on it.

Leon cleared his throat. "That wasn't necessary."

"It was an accident."

Leon pursed his lips in doubt but didn't argue. Instead, he said, "So it's a battle, but it's an entertaining battle. I can do that."

Around a bite of berry, Piers shrugged, "It's a five-minute battle, but the point of the battle isn't to knock out your opponent with the first move. No one needs to faint. It's to show that your pokemon is better than theirs."

Piers half-expected Leon to go on about how no pokemon was better than another, instead, Leon stroked his chin in thought. Maybe Leon realized that a contest wouldn't be as fun as he thought and wanted to give up on the idea.

The branches above shook and the skwovet chattered. A leppa berry slammed into the ground near Piers' boot. The skwovet, arm loaded with unripe leppa berries, held up another. It threw it. Piers took a step to the side.

"Nice try," he mocked. The skwovet's fur bristled. It tossed down the rest of its armful and missed every time. With a huff, it stomped back towards its nest to rustle through its hoard.

"Alright. I think I can handle this," Leon said, moving into Piers' personal space and lifting his arm over Piers' head, "with your help."

Grinning, he stepped back then opened his fist to present an oran berry. The skwovet cried out in frustration. Piers rubbed the top of his head. He glanced up at the wild pokemon once more before walking away from the tree, with Leon in tow. It was best not to test his luck anymore. The skwovet might use a move on him and the last thing he wanted was to spend the night picking slobbery bullet seeds out of his hair.

The skwovet angrily chattered but seemed to give up. It hurried down the tree to gather its berries. Leon crouched to roll the oran berry over. The skwovet eyed him but snatched the berry up to shove into its cheeks anyway.

Piers raised an eyebrow. Maybe this training wouldn't be as bad as he thought.

----

The training area outside Spikemuth wasn't much, just a patch of barren earth that trainers from Spikemuth would come to battle when they didn't feel like using the gym. Currently, the only souls there were Piers and Leon. Since Marnie took over as gym leader, the younger trainers of the city moved their training back to the gym.

"They didn't want to come when you were the gym leader. They think you're scary," Marnie had explained. "Dunno why though. You're about as scary as a teddisuara."

Piers crossed his arms. "Do you know which pokemon you're goin' use? These are Hoenn rules, so you can only use one."

Leon tapped the pokeballs at his belt. "I'm not sure. I didn't think I could go in with Charizard, so I didn't bring him with me."

"Why not Charizard?"

"Everyone knows what my Charizard looks like," Leon explained. "And I don't think I can pretend not to be me if I use him."

Piers' brows furrowed. What in the world was he talking about?

Upon seeing Piers' expression, Leon chuckled to himself.

"I guess I forgot to tell you." He put his hands on his hips and set his feet a shoulder-width apart. "I'm going to do this contest in disguise."

The hope Piers just acquired vanished.

"You're what?"

"I'm going in disguise," He repeated. "I was the champion, and now I'm chairman. That would give me an unfair advantage, don't you think?"

Piers pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course, Leon would want to win on a level playing field. The Bellonean Ladies' Society would probably just give him the stupid hat if he promised to simply show up and bring more attention to the event. If he did that, Piers could have stayed at home and lazed about, but, noooo, Leon had to win his silly hat fair and square.

"How do you plan to do that?"

"Well, I hoped you could help me with that, too." Leon pointed to his face. "I've seen your stage makeup, and you're talented. I bet you could make me look like a different person."

Piers hated that he couldn't argue with that. Not long after he decided to follow his dream of being a punk star, one of the gym trainers offered to teach him the basics of cosmetics. Once he had the basics down, it only took a year of using his pokemon, friends, and Marnie as test subjects for him to perfect his art.

He could easily make Leon's face look different enough: soften his cheekbones, maybe a few freckles, pull his bangs back, color contacts, and glasses...Leon would look good in glasses, even if it meant hiding his natural eye color...

Piers shook his head. He hadn't agreed to anything but training for the contest. He was not giving Leon a makeover like they were preteens at a slumber party.

Leon pursed his lips. "It would be pointless if I won because of who I am. That wouldn't be fair to the other train—coordinators."

"No. Figure that out yourself."

Leon sighed, his shoulders slumped. He muttered under his breath, something Piers couldn't make out. Finally, he straightened and shrugged.

"You know, I have to approve the budgets for each gym provided by the league," he lifted one finger and wagged it as he continued, "and wouldn't it be nice if Spikemuth got a little extra in their budget so their new gym leader could fix up her gym stadium? I know the Spikemuth Chamber of Commerce can't always give too much to the gym, and it needs a few repairs."

Piers' mouth fell a gape. Did Leon just try to bribe him through his sister? He had to admit, he was impressed. It wasn't the best bribery offer he'd ever been given, but considering whom the offer came from and what Marnie would get in return, he decided to give in.

"Make sure the gym gets enough to replace the crumplin’ stadium walls, and I'll do it." Piers stuck out his hand.

Leon took the offered hand in his and shook once. "I knew you'd have a change of heart."

Piers yanked his hand back. "Change of heart my ass. Just send out your pokemon."

With a nod, Leon let out each of his pokemon in turn: Aegislash, Haxorus, Dragapult, Mr. Rime, Seismatoad, then Rhyperior. True to his word, he hadn't brought his ace pokemon with him. Like a well-oiled machine, they quickly lined up and turned their full attention to their trainer.

Pride rolled off Leon as he gazed at his team. Up until last year, this team was undefeated. Leon kept them at their best and even Piers could call that admirable.

"Alright everyone, listen here." Leon clapped his hands as if any of them didn't have their eyes on him. "Remember how I said we were going to enter a contest? Well, only one of you can enter it with me."

Leon's Mr. Rime leaned on his cane and Aegislash shifted his shield, though the other pokemon didn't react one way or another to the news.

"Contests aren't like normal battling. They're a performance." Leon gestured to Piers. "Piers is going to help pick the best one of you for the contest."

Piers snorted. "Oh, didn't I tell you? I'm not assessin' your team."

Leon's hand dropped to his side. He tilted his head.

"You're not?"

"No."

Piers took out the only pokeball he had on him. With a flick of the wrist, he released his own contest partner. The stench of rotten eggs filled the air. Everyone but Piers jerked back to cover their noses.

Skuntank shook himself out. He stretched his front paws forward then pulled the rest of his body up like a cat in a sunbeam. Piers crouched down and patted his partner between the ears.

"Skuntank here won nearly every contest he entered," Piers explained. "He knows more about them than even I do, I'd say. Even keeps track of the Sinnoh contests online. If anyone can give this team a proper assessment, it'll be him."

Skuntank lifted his head proudly then stomped forward. He stalked up, down, and around the line, eyeing each pokemon. He stopped in front of Haxorus, narrowed his eyes, and rumbled. Haxorus shuffled nervously. She looked to her team members then back at Skuntank. Siesmatoad shrugged, and Dragapult looked away.

Satisfied, Skuntank trotted back to Piers. He took a breath and stated something to the pokemon, loud and clear.

The other pokemon were taken aback. They muttered amongst themselves, all except Mr. Rime and Aegislash. With his chest puffed out, Mr. Rime strode forward. A moment later, Aegislash floated next to him. The rest of the team remained still.

"That's the two to choose from," Piers said. To the other members of Leon's team, he continued, "You can go over there. Take a rest why don't you?" He jabbed his thumb towards the grass at the side of the training area.

Without missing a beat, Dragapult floated away, soon followed by Siesmatoad, Haxorus, and Rhyperior.

Leon gasped. "That's amazing. How does Skuntank know?"

It wasn't as if Skuntank could smell contest talent on Mr. Rime and Aegislash. It just so happened that when Skuntank asked, Mr. Rime and Aegislash wanted to enter a contest. The rest weren't interested.

Ignoring Leon's question, Piers asked, "How do you want to decide between these two."

Leon blinked. "Isn't that what Skuntank is here for?"

With a thump, Skuntank flopped to the ground, paws under his chin, and shut his eyes.

"He's filled his quota." Piers said. "This is your job, Mr. Chairman."

Leon stroked his chin. He crouched down between his pokemon. Mr. Rime tapped his feet and spun his cane. Leon lifted his eyebrows at the impromptu performance. Not to be outdone, Aegislash held his shield up and spun it on the end of his arm. He tossed the shield then expertly caught it.

Mr. Rime danced backward. He spun in a circle, holding his cane up to the sky. From the tip of the cane, snow flurried around him, glittering like tiny diamonds.

Aegislash, upon seeing Leon's dazzled expression at Mr. Rime's performance, clanged his shield and blade together. With his trainer's attention back on him, Aegislash whipped his arm out. The shield rolled out on its side into the middle of the battle area. In the blink of an eye, Aegislash descended into his shadow. Using shadow sleek, he hurried in front of the shield.

Aegislash burst from the ground, large and dark. He whipped the shield up. the sun glinted off the polished metal. Contrasted against Aegislash's dark form, the shining shield appeared like a bright star in the night sky.

Leon's mouth fell a gape. "Wow, I didn't know you could do that, Aegislash."

Aegislash returned to his normal appearance and smugly shurgged. Mr. Rime stomped his foot in frustration. He put his fingers to his mouth and whistled for Leon to look at him. Once again, his cane spun. Around him, aurous panes of light screen appeared then frosted over. Mr. Rime stopped and raised his arms. The light screen panes shot up and burst like fireworks.

Aegislash bristled. His grip on his shield tightened and his single eye narrowed. Mr. Rime sneered at him as Leon carefully picked up the frozen light screen fragments to examine.

Piers clapped his hands once. "Don't you lot make this a battle." To Leon, he ordered, "You need to pick one."

Leon stood. "But they're both really talented."

From behind them, Skuntank snorted. Aegislash and Mr. Rime turned their glares from each other to the dark-type.

Piers agreed with Leon, even if his pokemon didn't, but leaving those two to keep one-upping each other wouldn't end well. Leon had to pick a partner for the contest, even if it would hurt someone's feelings.

Leon thought on his choice then slumped forward with a sigh. He rummaged in his pocket and held up a coin.

"I can't decide," he admitted. "Heads for Mr. Rime and tails for Aegislash."

He flicked the coin into the air. Like the oran berry before, he caught it from the air. With a hard smack that made the top of Pier's hand hurt, Leon slapped it on the top of his hand. Aegislash and Mr. Rime stood tense as Leon slowly lifted his hand.

"Heads."

Mr. Rime jumped up with joy. Aegislash dropped his shield to the ground with a thud. Leon reached out to comfort him, but Aegislash waved him away. Dragging his shield through the dirt, he trudged towards the other pokemon.

Skuntank lumbered back to his feet. He intercepted Aegislash. Skuntank rumbled at Aegislash. He silently mulled over what Skuntank said then lifted his shield from the ground.

In a voice like clashing metal, Aegislash yelled at Mr. Rime. Mr. Rime stumbled in his tap dancing, looking shocked at what his teammate said. Skuntank cackled, slapping the ground with his paw. With his mood improved considerably, Aegislash led Skuntank away to join the other pokemon.

----

Mr. Rime was a showman. Even with the occasional heckle from Skuntank, he and Leon managed to cobble together the start of an alright appeal round. After Piers finally admitted that the move categories meant shit all for the beginner contests, Leon decided to make use of what Mr. Rime already presented: sparkling snow and unique uses of psychic power.

Piers, for his part, offered critique when he saw a move that might be too showy or too dull, but mostly left Leon to his own devices. After all, Leon was the one entering, not him.

A thunderbolt tore through an icy column, shattering it. A glow of psychic power protected some of the ice from the heat. When the mist cleared, what remained was the carving of the Champion's logo.

Leon pumped his fist. "There we go!"

Skuntank muttered something to Aegislash, who replied in agreement. Though he hadn't been as loud in his criticism as Skuntank, Aegislash made snide remarks for every misstep.

Piers had more fun watching Skuntank and Aegislash than Leon and Mr. Rime, honestly.

As the heat both from the thunderbolts and the day wore on, Piers was thankful he choose to sit under the shade instead of directly interact with Leon.

Though on the field, he would have had a better view.

Every time Leon raised his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow, Piers turned his attention towards him. Rehain once mentioned Leon weight trained and exercised to stay as fit as his team, and Piers could tell. He stared at the well-formed muscles usually hidden under Leon’s shirt several times before finally being caught.

“Is something wrong? Is this too much?” Leon gestured to Mr. Rime’s newest ice sculpture.

Piers made up a suggestion to save himself the embarrassment.

“It’s fine, but you’re rushin’. Slow down, if you know how to do that,” Piers replied, turning his head to hide his pink cheeks against his shoulder.

“Oh, alright.” Leon nodded. “Mr. Rime, take a few more seconds before calling down the thunderbolt!”

Stuntank chuckled and Piers sent him a glare.

“Shut up,” he hissed, earning another laugh from Stuntank.

Something pulled at Piers' sleeve. One of Dragapult's dreepy chewed on his jacket. When Piers acknowledged it, it flew in a circle trying to get him to play with it. It went to nip at the end of one of his ponytails.

Dragapult sighed and wrapped his tail around the dreepy to pull it back. He gave Piers an apologetic look.

The rest of Leon's team wasn't doing much better. They were bored out of their minds.

Siesmatoad ripped a clump of grass from the ground and tossed it in her mouth. Rhyperior and Haxorus took turns stabbing leaves through their horns or tusks, seeing who could make the biggest hole without tearing the leaf in half.

Before Leon and Mr. Rime could start again, Piers called, "That's enough for today."

He stood and put his hands on his lower back to stretch. Skuntank grumbled but got to his paws.

"Well, if you say so." Leon came over to the crowd of pokemon with Mr. Rime. "Everyone ready?"

Seismatoad spat out the grass clump, nearly hitting Rhyperior's foot. Dragapult cooed and the rest of his dreepy hoard hurried out of the tall grass. Aegislash refused to look at Mr. Rime, instead of staying close to Stuntank. Haxorus bent forward and pressed the button on her pokeball with her mouth scythe, returning herself.

When Leon took out Aegislash's ball, Piers put a hand on his wrist.

"Before you return him, can I ask you a favor?"

Leon raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Aegislash and Skuntank seem to be havin' fun together. Do you think Aegislash could come back with me for tonight?" Piers asked. Skuntank stamped a foot and wheezed in approval.

Leon lowered Aegislash's pokeball. He bent down so he looked Aegislash in his singular eye.

"Do you want to have a slumber party with Skuntank at Spikemuth?" He spoke like a parent to a child. Mr. Rime snickered. Stuntank kicked sand at him with a short growl.

Piers pulled the bill of Leon's hat down over his eyes.

"Aegislash is probably older than both of us combined," he reminded. "Don't call it a slumber party."

Leon pushed his hat up and wrinkled his brow. Realization crossed his face.

"Ah." He asked Aegislash, "Do you want to have a date with Skuntank at Spikemuth?"

Piers went to pull Leon's hat clean off, but Aegislash took hold of the bill and pulled until it completely covered Leon's face with the bill touching his chin. He rolled his eye and shrugged towards Skuntank. Skuntank snickered and shook his head back in reply.

Leon laughed, taking the hat into his lap. "I'm joking. I'm joking. Sorry." He put a hand on Aegislash's shoulder. "Really, if you want to hang out with Skuntank for the night, you can." He smiled sincerely.

Aegislash paused, eyed his trainer, then seemed to sigh. He took the hat from Leon's hands and set it on his head. He patted his head, like a parent pacifying a child. Aegislash floated by him towards Skuntank.

-----

“Listen up.”

Piers whistled to the crowd of dark-type pokemon around the Spikemuth stadium. All heads turned towards him and the two pokemon by his side.

“This is Aegislash. He’s part of Chairman Leon’s team.” Piers nodded to Aegislash. “He’s visitin' for the night, so don’t be an asshole.”

He sent a pointed look at Malamar, who crossed his tentacles. Malamar only recently got out of trouble for scaring people around Spikemuth. Neither he nor Marnie needed Aegislash going back to Leon traumatized from Malamar's pranks.

The gym pokemon muttered and mumbled to themselves, eyeing Aegislash suspiciously.

Going well so far.

No one jumped to attack or called out an obscenity towards the new pokemon. Already it was going better when Raihan brought his pokemon over to play while he and Piers visited. Not one sucker punch to the back.

Marnie’s Grimsnarl picked up the toy ball and held it protectively. Both scrafty scooted to shield their tower of cards. Obstagoon took his nose out of a bag of crisps for a moment before shoving it right back in. Liepard yawned, purposely exposing her fangs, before laying her head on Toxicroak’s lap. Toxitricity peeked an eye open from his corner then continued strumming his chest. Morpeko jumped off the stage and scurried over to Aegislash and Skuntank.

She greeted them. Skuntank wheezed to her as Aegislash lifted his shield in a hello. Morpeko spoke with Aegislash a moment before turning to the rest of the pokemon. She took a deep breath and shouted to them her approval.

Malamar snorted but uncrossed his tentacles. Grimsnarl slowly took the ball back out. Neither scrafty moved from their hard work. Toxitricity waved idly. Liepard and Toxicroak and Obstagoon didn’t acknowledge the announcement, the former two napping and the latter still stuffing his maw.

Skuntank jerked his head towards Toxitricity's corner of the gym. Aegislash and Morpeko followed after. Grimsnarl and Malamar watched them closely.

Marnie took a bite of her hamburger. Around it, she asked, “Is that really Leon’s aegislash?”

Piers open the bag from Bob’s Your Uncle to dig out his order. “He is. He and Leon’s Mr. Rime got into a fight, and Aegislash wanted to be away.”

“So Leon asked you?” She swallowed.

Piers thought on his feet. “Dark and ghost types are pretty close when you get down to it. Born of night and the deepness of the soul and all that.”

“Shouldn’t he have asked Allister?”

Piers took a bite of his burger and slowly chewed. He swallowed and said, “Kid must have been busy. He’s still got school to go— just like you.” Piers smirked, leaning over. “And how’s that school work going, little sis?”

Marnie blushed. She huffed, snatched the bag from Piers, then marched to the stage at the other end of the stadium.

Even being a gym leader, Marnie still had to go to school like every other kid her age. Since she was still learning to juggle gym leader duties and school, Marnie fell behind in her classes and had to take extra lessons.

Piers had been the same when he took over the gym, but he usually skipped after-school lessons. She complained about the lessons often, and Piers offered an understanding ear.

He wasn’t above using this information against her, though.

With long strides, he followed his sister. He overtook her quickly. Holding his burger between his teeth, Piers hopped onto the stage and sat, his toes brushing the ground. Marnie walked up the steps to sit near him. She purposefully set the bag with their food on the side farthest away from Piers. He leaned across her to fish his chips out of the bag.

They sat in companionable silence, watching the pokemon as they ate their fast food.

When Marnie’s scrafty turned to open another pack of cards for their tower, Malamar raised a tentacle glowing in psychic power. With both scrafty backs to it, a card from the middle of the tower pulled itself out.

Piers’ scrafty gasped and tried to hold the wobbling tower together, but only managed to save the top two cards from falling. As the scrafty started to argue, Grimsnarl went to the wooden crate next to the stage. She sat her ball inside and began to dig through the pokemon toys until she found another ball. This ball was worn and patched up. She wandered over to Malamar to talk.

Skuntank, Toxtricity, and Aegislash lounged against one of the crumbling stadium walls as Morpeko chewed on a berry. They made friendly conversation until Grimsnarl and Malamar came over. Grimsnarl raised her ball.

Skuntank shrugged and spoke to Aegislash. Malamar sneered at Aegislash. Aegislash rolled his eye and pushed himself up. Skuntank slowly lumbered to his feet. Toxtricity shook his head. Morpeko tossed her berry up and caught it in her mouth before standing as well.

Piers nudged Marnie and pointed at the pokemon as they walked to the middle of the stadium.

Grimsnarl tossed the ball and hit it to Skuntank. Skuntank bopped it with his head. The ball dropped towards Aegislash. Aegislash raised an arm to hit it, but Malamar’s tentacle shot out and smacked the ball up. Aegislash snapped something at Malamar, who ignored him.

Piers chuckled to himself as the game of hot potato continued. Every time the ball neared Aegislash, Malamar or Grimsnarl made sure to hit it before he could. Of course, they were testing him. Being on the former champion’s team wasn’t enough to prove Aegislash worthy, even with Stuntank and Morpeko's approval.

Soon Aegislash had enough. When Malamar went to hit the ball for himself, Aegislash shadow sleeked behind him. He burst from the ground and slapped the ball towards Grimsnarl. The attack on her friend took Grimsnarl by surprise. She stumbled back trying to hit the ball but missed. For the first time since the game started, the ball bounced against the floor.

Skuntank cackled. Morpeko chased after the ball. Malamar stared at Aegislash, who held his ground.

Marnie started to push off the stage to break up the fight, but Piers put a hand out to stop her.

After a few tense heartbeats, Malamar coughed a laugh. He covered his beak and shook his head. Grimsnarl took the ball back from Morpeko. Seeing the newfound respect for Aegislash from Malamar, she went back over to the box to switch the worn, old ball, for a nicer ball with a pink and cream polka-dot pattern.

Marnie let out a breath. Piers tossed a chip in his mouth.

He knew things would work out well. Like his trainer, Aegislash was endearing in his determination.

He wondered what Leon was doing while the Spikemuth pokemon played. As late as it was, he was probably home, or maybe he was training with Mr. Rime for the contest. Piers could almost see him now working with Mr. Rime to pose in time with some pop song.

Leon worked hard for what he wanted. It's no wonder he became champ so young and held the title for nearly a decade. If Piers had that kind of drive, he wouldn’t have left Spikemuth fall into disrepair as he did.

He bet he could ask Leon to help him fix up Spikemuth, and not just the gym. The outside walls needed the myriad of penises and breasts painted over. He could do it, but it would be better with some company, particularly with company that had the energy of a sugar-high puppy. Enjoying the outside air, just talking and working—That would be fun. Piers would be willing to wake up early for that.

Piers reached into his chip container absentmindedly but found nothing but salt. He jerked out of his thoughts to see his last two chips disappear—one into Morpeko’s mouth and one into Marnie’s.

“The hell?” He held his hands out towards the empty container.

“Do you have a new girlfriend?” She asked bluntly.

Piers choked on his tongue. “What?” He shook his head. “No! Why would you think that?”

“A boyfriend? A non-binary friend?”

“No,” Piers assured. “I don’t have anyone.”

“Huh.” Marnie scratched Morpeko behind the ears. “You had that look on your face.”

“Look?” Piers’ stomach clenched as he asked, “What look?”

“That look.” Marnie pulled her pokemon to her lap. “The one you get before Morpeko and me find some gushy love song folded up on the living room floor. It happens every time.”

Piers’ ears grew hot. Twice, Marnie found his secret love songs twice. For that reason, he didn’t even write them on scrap paper anymore but in a nondescript notebook in his dresser drawer—which he hadn’t pulled out since he broke up with an ex gym trainer more than a year ago.

Morpeko stuck her tongue out in disgust at finding another love song. She clambered over Marnie’s arms to the chips container. Morpeko licked her paw, dabbed it in the leftover salt, and cleaned her paw before hopping off the stage to rejoin the game.

“I don’t have a look like that.”

“Yes, you do,” Marnie replied in a sing-song voice. “You get this far away look on your face and a little, tiny smile like you’re thinkin' of somethin’ soft. I only see it when you’re datin’ someone or,” her eyes widen in realization, “you gotta crush.”

Piers’ stomach unclenched and fell to his boots.

“You’ve got a crush, dotcha?” His little sister pried. “Who is it? Do they like you back? Can they like you back? Are they a trainer? What’s their pokemon team? Do you see them often?”

Piers' head spun, blurring the rest of Marnie’s inquiries.

No way. He was too old for crushes, for one thing. For two, if Marnie’s theory held any water, then his ‘crush’ would be Leon.

That wasn’t possible.

Sure, he admired Leon’s strength and his determination. His kindness towards pokemon and others was sweet if a little goody-two-shoes. He was much more clever than he first appeared. His athletic frame stole Piers' attention and he wouldn't mind leaning up against that strength-trained chest.

Oh. Arceus. No.

Piers’ face reddened as he cataloged his thoughts. He did have a crush. He had a crush on Leon. Leon was the Chairman of the League. Not only that, he was and still is the poster child for preppy, sporty trainers everywhere. Leon was the goal children were taught to chase if they wanted to compete.

Only the trainers from Team Yell ever wanted to be anything like Piers, a badass who sang to his own song, not the one society dictated.

Sponsors flocked to Leon like mothim to a flame for his perfect public persona.

Only the Spikemuth Chamber of Commerce ever sponsored Piers, and that’s only because they always sponsored the gym leader.

Leon was the light that the world idolized.

He was the darkness that fought back to prove to those that the shadows were protective and safe for people like him. He was a fierce dark-type trainer. He sang punk rock. He had a band of miscreants who would follow his every order.

He could not have a crush on Leon.

Yet, he did.

What if people found out? Arceus, if news got around he wanted some of Leon’s finely toned ass—

“Piers?” Marnie poked his cheek.

He jumped, losing his balance and tumbling off the stage.

At the thud of his fall, the pokemon stopped their game. Obstagoon tossed his crisps bag aside to barrel towards his trainer. He skidded to his knees, dramatically throwing his claws up and crying out as if Piers fell off a ten-story building.

Marnie hopped down. Crouching, she asked, “Did you break your face?”

Piers groaned loudly. “Dark void, open up and swallow me. I no longer want to live in this cruel world that would play my heart like a harp string and snap it with its sick, twisted irony.”

Once Piers went on with his dramatic monologue, the pokemon returned to their games, confident Piers was fine. Obstagoon patted the back of Piers’ head reassuringly.

Marnie crouched next to him. “Is the person you have a crush on that bad? Are they married or,” she lowered her voice, “old?”

“We’re the same age.” Piers didn’t lift his head from the ground. “He’s single as far as I know.”

Marnie poked his cheek. “So what’s the matter? Are you too scared to ask him out?”

“No. It’s worse than that.” Piers crawled into Obstagoon’s lap and leaned his back against the warm, somewhat smelly, fur. Obstagoon wrapped him in a hug. He’d seen his trainer confused and in a pansexual punk panic before. Piers needed all the comfort Obstagoon could give him.

Marnie tucked her legs under her and waited expectantly for Piers to clarify.

He sighed, slumping farther down Obstagoon’s lap. Obstagoon’s arm fur tickled his nose as he buried his face in it.

“I can’t ask him out,” Piers muttered. “He’s my opposite.”

“Opposite?” Marnie echoed.

“Opposite,” Piers repeated. He paused, then said, “I’m punk. He does ballet. What more can I say?”

Her brows furrowed. She opened her mouth, then shut it, opened, shut, then tilted her head with one eyebrow raised.

"He dances?”

Piers rolled his head away. “You kids have no culture.” He sighed. “He’s the kind of person every kid wants to be like. I’m the kind of person kids stop comin’ to community gyms to train because of.”

Marnie hit her fist into her palm. “Oh, I get it. You don’t want to drag down his rep ‘cause people think you’re a lazy delinquent.”

“Hey!” Piers bolted up, right into Obstagoon’s hanging tongue. He wiped the slobber off his forehead with his forearm. He jabbed a finger at Marnie.

“It’s the other way around. He’d pull mine up from a mysterious, cool rebel rocker.”

He cringed at himself. Out loud it sounded childish. What was he, a schoolboy?

Piers flopped back against Obstagoon, grabbed Obstagoon’s arm, and dropped it over his face.

“Suffocate me. Please. I need to die to escape this torment.”

With a humph, Marnie wrapped her arms around Obstagoon’s thick forearm and lifted. She looked down at her brother with a frown.

“That’s it?” She shook her head. “That’s sad.”

“You’re a kid. You don’t understand.” Piers countered, trying to pull Obstagoon’s arm back over his face.

Marnie wrinkled her nose and tugged against Piers’ attempts.

“I am not.” She dug her feet into the ground. “It is sad. If you’re a ‘mysterious, cool, rebel rocker,’ why should you care what anyone thinks?”

Piers dropped his hands to his lap.

Without the opposing force against her, Marnie fell backward, still clinging to Obstagoon’s arm. Instead of letting her fall, Obstagoon lifted his arm, leaving her hanging off the ground. He carefully lowered her, but she kept his arm pressed against her chest.

Piers pushed himself up to his feet. He patted the back of his shirt, throwing black and white fur into the air. Without a word, he headed to the stage and picked up the trash from their food.

“Piers?” Marnie hugged Obstagoon’s arm to her chest. “Are you ok? I didn’t break you, did I?”

Piers turned. “Yeah. Just fine.” He walked back, bag in hand. A smile spread across his face as he reached up and ruffled her hair.

“You’re right. I was being the opposite of cool.” He admitted, prying her hands off Obstagoon's arm. “Thanks for reminding me.”

Marnie was right. He was the cool, fierce master of dark-type pokemon. He became one of the strongest trainers in all of Galar without resorting to Dynamax in a pinch.

Why the hell should he give a flying ratata’s ass about what other people think about who he wants to make out with?

He still didn’t want people knowing about his contest days. The stereotype of elitist snob coordinators still hung too closely to contests. The attraction could excuse Leon, but he didn't have a good enough excuse for dressing skuntank in a tophat and glittery, purple bow tie when he was still a stunky yet. Maybe if the contest scene grew a little, he could try again, but until then best keeping that particular secret under wraps.

Marnie shrugged, aloof. “It’s whatever. Someone needs to help you keep your head spun the right way around. I'm the only one qualified for it.”

“What would I do without you?” Piers chuckled.

“Die, probably,” Marnie replied. “So can you ask this guy out? Does he like you at all?”

Piers shrugged.

He didn’t know if Leon liked men. As far as he could remember, Leon never dated anyone of any gender. Leon had always been laser-focused on training and being the strongest trainer in Galar.

But if he did like men, would he be interested in Piers? He didn't know, but given how much time they’d be spending together training for the contest, maybe he could figure it out.

Marnie, her ponytails somewhat righted, asked, “If you need help, Gloria and me could—”

“I’d rather step on a pincurchin,” Piers cut her off, crushed the paper bag into a ball, and tossed it to the side. It bounced and went right through Scrafty's new card tower.

"Sorry," he apologized.

Scrarfy sobbed and slumped back. Marnie’s scrafty looked towards him then sighed. She walked around and helped him pick up the cards, their friendship restored.

“I’ll tell you if I find out anything.” He pointed at the hot potato game still ongoing with his thumb. “Right now, though, you and me don’t need boys when we can play with the best pokemon in the Galar region, though.” To Grimsnarl, he shouted, "Oi, toss it to me!"

Marnie giggled as Piers took her wrist and led her towards the game.

----

AN: Shout out to my friend Sara for the help with this! You da best!!! ^-^)/ Next chapter should be next week? I'll probably post to A03 first though if you want less of a wait.

Also feel free to follow my art blog @uas-art if you enjoyed the chapter art.

#fanfiction #dnnz #gym leader piers #Champion Leon #piersxleon #multi chapter

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sdv-mostly-shane · 3 years

Text

Waves of Silk and Honey

Summary: Shane is interrupted from his normal bout self wallowing by a certain long-haired writer. He finds himself relaxing at every word that comes out of his mouth, and finds himself a little something more. Some slight suggestive content.

♡ this one goes out to a very special request- I hope you enjoy! Thank you for your ask. This was such a fun writing stretch for me, as I never thought to put these two together ♡

***very very *slight* spoiler for 1.5*** please keep scrolling if you want to go in completely blind.

Shane didn’t even know why he let himself get dragged to this new beach everyone was talking about. When the town was blabbing about a ‘resort’ that the farmer had built on an island they found, this was not what he expected.

It was cute, alright, but he hated the sun beating on his neck, he hated the way his shirt clung to his belly, and he hated that everyone was having fun, except for him. Shane watched Abby, Sebastian, and Sam at the waters edge, as he made his way to the closest shade, and sat down. As he drew his legs up to his chest and pushed his back harder against the cliff wall, he let himself sink into the dull greyness of his feelings, and he closed his eyes.

...

“Do you mind if I sit here? Its the best shaded area, and the close sea breeze helps clear my mind as I write. Would you be so kind?”

Shane’s eyes shot open at the sudden waking, but the soft, melodious voice soothed over his surprise. He looked up to see Elliot, pen and notebook in hand, and a gentle smile on his face.

“Mmph. Go ahead.” Shane really didn’t care either way, as long as he didn’t have to talk to him, but he did briefly think that he at least wouldn’t look so pathetically sad with someone sitting next to him.

“Oh, thank you,” Elliot sighed as he sat down, “what sweet relief to be in the shade. The sun is angry today... My skin is a bit too delicate, I'm afraid.” He turned to Shane with an embarrassed half smile.

Shane didn’t have to force out a reply, as Elliot immediately crossed his legs, opened his notebook, and started to write something down. If this is all he wanted to do, then maybe he could just close his eyes again ...

...

He drowsily peeked his eyes open sometime later to see Elliot looking at him, head resting in his palm. He normally would get embarrassed at this direct attention (as it was usually scorn or pity from the other villagers), but Elliots eyes were neither. Just clear, emotionless study.

“You must like being alone. The silence of solitude is something I searched for for many years before I moved here to The Valley-I need it for my writing, you see..... the sweet friction of pen and paper is the music of my soul. That's why I chose the beach as my home, so that I could have peace and quiet to do my work.... it doesn’t always work, however, so I thought maybe the change of scenery would help release this little block of mine that has plagued me all week.”

“So you went from one beach to another beach just to see the same thing?”

“It’s a little silly, isn’t it. You’re right, of course. No matter where we are, when we look outwards into the water, we are seeing the same rolling tides of the same sea. No matter which shore you are on, you are watching one ocean. It’s magic, in that way.” Elliot earnestly turned toward Shane, who’s eyes were already on him- “Breathe deeply,” Shane couldn’t stop himself-he filled his lungs with the salted air before he had even finished his sentence, “Do you notice it? That's the smell of the sea. Whenever I smell the sea, it reminds me of my youth. The ocean really impressed me as a child.”

Shane didn’t know how to answer him-which was probably better than his normal ‘f-off’ reply, to be honest-and instead just looked at the man. He had seen him occasionally at the saloon through the haze of amber on his tongue, remembering him sitting with one of the red headed girls, dressed in a coattail and tie, of all things. The very nature of posh, education, and sophistication poured out of him as languidly as the honey hued locks of hair flowed over his shoulders. Here, he could clearly see him, and met his eyes-he felt soothed, and remained quiet for a moment longer.

“Hmm... thank you, Shane.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I know.”

Shane, puzzled, furrowed his brows in response to the mans gentle smile. He turned his gaze to the ocean and ventured another deep breath of the crisp air. He watched the waves pull in and out, in and out, in.. and out...

...

“Shane, I truly appreciate your kindness to me. You’re one of the few people who have sincerely listened to my musings without brushing me off. I know that I am kind of an 'oddball'. I hope you don't mind.”

Shane couldn’t help but let out a small laugh-“hah, that’s usually what people say about me.”

Shane glanced over quick enough to catch the mans gentle face transform into defined angles and squinted eyes as his grin grew into a beaming smile. “We’re not all that different, are we. Just as the ocean-different sanded beaches, but the same sea... that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you smile, Shane. I do hope you’ll bless me with its presence again soon.”

Shane didn’t feel embarrassed by his forwardness, a welcome change from the shallow small talk of the rest of the townsfolk. He enjoyed letting the mans richly colored words replace his own grey thoughts. There was no judgement in his tone, only warmth-Shane felt more at ease from his voice alone than he ever did from the ‘relaxing’ ocean in front of him.

Shane finally responded, “You like talking to me? I guess I believe you... maybe you’re just as weird as I am.” Shane turned his head fully to smile at him, and was caught off guard by the sudden blush on the mans cheeks; he raised an eyebrow and a smirk as the man quickly turned his head toward his page, suddenly interested in his writing again.

Shane was amused watching the pink flush travel up the mans cheekbones, up to the tip of his ears. He found his eyes trailing over his jaw, down his neck, and onto his bare shoulders. Gone was the stuffy jacket, and Shane could see his actual body shape for the first time. His shoulders were quite broad and surprisingly bulky, for someone who Shane thought was a bit frilly. He caught Elliot’s eyes peeking past his veil of hair, and Shane laughed to himself as he watched the mans eyes dart back to the page in front of him, his blush blooming further into a deep red. Was he... flustered?

Shane grinned to himself, bemused. Why would a man so effortless and, you know, actually beautiful, be so nervous of *him*? He half turned his attention back to the waves, not wanting to full on ogle the guy. The waves were dropping further into the shore, and Shane watched as the bubbles of the wet sand fizzled and popped.

“I came to the valley to find the ivory tower from which my talents could reign supreme. But what I really found was a dungeon of loneliness. I hope we can grow closer, Shane. I enjoy your company.” He gestured to his notebook with his feathered pen, “plus, your nearness has seemed to open up my mind to some new inspiration. In fact-before I lose this-“ he brought his book close to his chest, and resumed fervently writing.

Shane remained silent, watching the dancing of the wisps of duck feather dance in the sea breeze as the man wrote. He wondered what it must be like to know that you were smart and to know your purpose in the world. He turned his attention back to the sand, where little creatures were popping in and out, his eyes only returning to the man when he noticed two sturdy arms lift above his head, gathering the honey silks of hair into a messy knot atop his head. Shane could hardly stop himself from peeking over his shoulder to the flexing of the mans back-that too, much more bulky and defined than expected. He did sometimes see him fishing, while on his daily walk from Joja, which would explain the tight muscles stretching and contracting across his skin. Shane forced himself to turn his attention back to the little crabs that were scurrying and dodging the tide.

Elliot looked up with a small gasp, and pushed himself off the ground. He made his way a bit up to the shoreline, crouched down, and gingerly reached into his shorts pocket, pulling out a tiny speck of red. He turned toward Shane with a little wave, gesturing to him with the baby crab- “I thought he would like to see the new beach as well.”

Shane, witnessing the most precious display of his life in front of him, had his own turn to blush, now, thinking about how much more he wanted to get to know this burly, poetry-writing, beautiful man with a tiny crab in his pocket. For now, he just returned the mans wave with a smile, and let himself sink into the vibrant reds, pinks, and honey-hued golds that were floating around in his thoughts, as he closed his eyes.

#my headcannon is that elliot is actually SUP THICC #I mean have you seen THE NECC on that sprite???#hello????#thick Elliot forever #sdv shane #stardew shane #stardew valley #stardew elliott #sdv elliott #sdv shane x Elliot #Shane x Elliot #sdv fanfic #sdv requests

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angelicichor · 4 years

Note

Wait. Requests are open? Fuck yes. Then I request Thomas bending me over stuff and fucking me into next year! Art or words man it don't matter. Its gonna be fantastic either way .My U R G E S are out of this world right now.

U… I like you. I might actually do some more….. F I L T H Y art of Tommy-boy, but I ain’t home now so that’ll have to wait. For now however…

N//SF//W

Thomas being a bit too eager… but in a good way.Female reader for this one… sorry folks.

Enough

Summer has been a bad season in Texas, for obvious reasons - heat, dryness and dust, oh god the dust, it was everywhere, sticking to everybody’s sweat covered bodies, making it unbearable to go shirtless, but also impossible to go with anything more prude on.

In a way you had a hate-love relationship with this season, you’ve always lived in colder places, so the warmth of the sun was murdering you and seeing Charlie with his big ol’ belly pouch and old man tits out, covered in white, untamed chest hair was an ENORMOUS problem, but at the same time tis’ was the season for drinking refrigerated sodas and eating copious amounts of ice cream that Luda Mae made herself and gosh darn it was delicious.

But the most amazing stuff wasn’t any drink or a snack, no, it was the full-blown dinner date that was Thomas, abandoning his usual shirt and tie to don a simple black tank top, that clung to his chest almost perversely, showing off his robust bicep, beautifully shaped triceps, as well some of the powerful muscle of his back, his tan skin glistening with sweat as he bent over a car’s hood, opening it to check what in tarnation was wrong with Hoyt’s sheriff car, the old man being too damn lazy to do it himself, god bless him for that.

With the apron gone you also had a wonderful view of Tommy’s firm legs and thick ass, stretching the material every time he’d bend over to reach inside the machine. It looked so damn squeezable, but you knew better than to interrupt the man at work, knowing that Luda would be over you in a second, scolding you for not working yourself. You loved her, but how could she NOT understand that her son was a god damned gem and you NEEDED to take a closer look at him.

He seemed oblivious to your hungry gaze coming from the porch, unaware how his form made your heart flutter and your gut heat up thinking of all the wonderful things that behemoth could do to you and that fact made you FURIOUS. It’s not like you didn’t try to initiate things either, just every time you tried anything Charlie would bring in some new meat or Luda would need her son to go to the station with her to help unpack some deliveries or Monty needed to be carried off the sun, too tired from the heat to move on his own.

Little to say, you were frustrated, but a chance to take revenge on this beautiful, dark haired bastard was coming and oh so very soon.

The thought brought a devilish grin onto your face, an expression that made Charlie go “You alright, girlie?” above you and you snapped to attention. “Ya lookin’ at my nephew like he the next one in line for dinner.” He laughed and you puffed at him, standing up with a slight blush, dusting off your jeans.“Sorry, sir, just thought of something funny.” you lied and he cocked an eyebrow, not really believing you.“U-huh, sure, darlin’. Ya ready to go into town? Got the money?” he asked and you smiled warmly, lifting your purse up and shaking it slightly. “Good, let’s go.”

With that you almost jumped towards the old pick-up that waited right next to Hoyt’s sheriff car. Not able to resist the urge you took a swing and slapped Tommy’s perked butt, making him rise in shock and hit his head on the metal above him. You laughed, before getting into the truck and closing the door, so he wouldn’t pull you out. He most likely still could, but instead he rolled his eyes, massaging his head and shaking it shortly in disbelief before going back to work.

Once in the town you quickly parted with Hoyt, running to find a decent, still functioning clothes store, a woman on a mission.

Your plan wasn’t enacted until the next morning, however. For once you’ve been happy that Thomas always woke up way before you, leaving you to your own devices. That was his biggest mistake yet.

The day was pleasant, even with the sun shinning down on all of you mercilessly, there was a nice breeze going through, something you all hoped would be there to stay. You were very helpful right from the morning, shining with enthusiasm when told to hang the laundry, feed the chickens in the coop Charlie and Thomas installed some time ago, and then come back to help Luda Mae make some cookies.

And you probably though you were cute, wearing that baby blue summer dress that was just a bit too short to be innocent, with a bow in front, slightly to the side, as well as those stockings that hugged your tight just right, making it look so squeezable, with those flat sandals that made you look just so much shorter and more adorable.

And you’d also think you were being sly, brushing your hand across Tommy’s forearm while passing him on the way to the coop in a rush, as if the chickens were going to escape, or when you heard his boots stop in from of the kitchen entrance and ‘dropped a fork on accident’, bending down with only your back, giving him a peek at your white, frilly underwear, and acting like you totally didn’t mean to lick that batter of the spoon in such a seductive way.

But he knew what you were doing, realized it the moment he has seen your outfit and those hungry eyes you gave him unconsciously, but Thomas was a patient man. He let you play your game, refusing to give in to your advances, so you’d be forced to come to him and ask properly for him to take you, enduring the constant sting of arousal building in his body when he would notice you, going around, completing your tasks, acting like you don’t notice him. He was doing a fine job, too.

That is, until you up and tripped, falling to your knees right before him and looking up at his masked face with those huge, bashful eyes, a blush creeping it’s way onto your cheek.

And Thomas could swear he heard something in his head snap.

You tried to get up, but before you could rise one leg you’ve been swooped up by your neck to met his eyes. There was an anger to them, but it wasn’t what made you shiver, it was the true, unfiltered, primal lust that resonated from them, as well as the sweet smell of hormones and frustration making your head spin and leg pull up slightly, as your hands helped the rest of your body not suffer from the Butcher’s hold.

The next time you blinked, your whole body has been shoved onto the kitchen table, Thomas’ free hand throwing multiple objects onto the floor, creating a lot of noise that made your anxiety spike, but he couldn’t care less, leaning into you, one hand still keeping you in a choke-hold, the other gripping onto your tight, giving it a good, firm squeeze. His forehead pressed onto your lightly, his eyes focused on yours, a small smirk rising on his lips, followed by a hungry lick, delight hitting him hard when you shivered just at his hot breath hitting you.

With a rushed motion he pushed one of your legs away, the other giving way for his muscular tight, pressing onto your heat, you hips bucking against it in reflex, wanting to feel the man’s warmth.

His free hand shifted from your tight to your chest, rising with your heated breaths, stopping at your right tit and massaging it roughly, pinching your nipple the moment it started hardening, a quiet laugh moving his body when you squeaked at the sensation, your hands moving form his forearm to your mouth, pink painting your cheeks. With that the hand holding you down moved, trailing your body down, until it reached your heat, then pressing against it and rubbing it up and down slowly through your already soaked panties, his index finger pressing them in to reach deeper inside you.

Your hands stifled your whimpers and moans as he teased your chest and entrance, seemingly not phased by the fact that anyone could walk in on you two at any second, that Luda Mae was supposed to come back to resume making the baked treats, but you were slowly forgetting about all that too, too focused on how good his hand felt on your covered cunt, how his eyes pierced yours, so close, warning you not to move a muscle if you wanted him to be nice and you feared what would happen if you disobeyed.

Soon enough one of his fingers slid your panties to the side, making you feel vulgar, even more that you already did, exposed to the world on the table, but all the anxiety you felt melted into nothing, as one of his fingers slid inside you, unannounced. It moved slowly, parting your walls and teasing your nerves, making you tremble at the feeling, insides clenching with need, allowing him to please you, even more so when a second one joined, picking up the speed, already making you feel almost full with how thick and rough they were, hitting you exactly where you needed them.

Your trembling fingers kept collecting your sounds of pleasure, hiding your face from him once he lifted his head away from your face, to look down at your squirming form and he wouldn’t have that, leaving your breasts and pulling your hands above your head, your lips pressing in a line as a reaction and you saw the satisfied smile on his face.

A third finger squeezed it’s way inside you, making your head loll back in shock, a weak moan leaving your lips and that was enough for him.

Slowly he pulled his fingers out of you, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness, eyes closing just for a second, just to look back at him with a small pout, silently telling him how rude he was to do something like this to you, but his devilish smile let you know that he didn’t care, bringing his fingers, still covered in your slick to your face with a silent order, to which your lips pressed together in an act of rebellion.

An act that he quickly ruined, pushing his hips against you, spreading your legs further to accommodate his width and making you gasp with the pressure of his hardened erection, still covered with his jeans, on your needy cunt. The moment your lips parted his fingers slid in and his eyes warned you not to bite, so fearfully you obeyed, letting your tongue collect your wetness, with a deep flush on your cheeks.

Finally his fingers retreated, leaving you panting below the giant, eyes closed in shame.

You heard a clack and some shuffling and just seconds later something warm and slick pressed against your entrance, forcing your eyes open, wide in terror as you struggled to get your hands free, but to no avail with Thomas’ hand still holding them down like an iron shackle.

“No, no Tommy!! Somebody will see, please not he--!” ignoring your pleas he shoved himself into you, the power in his thrust making you scream out, moving the table slightly. Your legs pressed up to your chest, spasming slightly, as the thickness of his cock spread you wide, making your muscles tighten, a long whimper escaping your mouth, your body unable to relax around him, your only saving grace being your wetness and you scolded your brain for bringing the phrase “curiosity killed the cat” to your head.

The pull of his hips burned, sending spiking pleasure throughout your whole body, mixed with a hint of pain, and the second thrust was not kinder, again earning him a sweet whimper, as you desperately tried to stay at least a bit quiet, but as his speed slowly picked up, reaching a steady rhythm, making the leftover things on the table clatter, you couldn’t handle being silent anymore. Every time he hit your end, you moaned, screamed, cried for him to go faster, harder, and he happily obliged, making you see stars over and over again, your hands struggling in his grip, body lifting off the table in a fit of pure ecstasy, letting him ravage you, use you however he wanted, you brought this upon yourself, after all, and now you were going to pay dearly for your teasing.

Just as your mind was becoming a mess you heard a crack and panic returned to you, making your walls clench against his dick sharply, making him groan, his free hand pressing onto your hips, hard enough to leave bruises, but you noticed another crack and realized something horrible.

“To---Thomas!!” You screamed and his eyes shoot up to yours, making your skin errupt in goosebumps at just how feral he looked. “Th---The table!! The table’s gonna!!” You warned and he growled, both of his hands lifting you up to his chest, still kept full of him, until he pulled out just to slam you on your belly onto the kitchen counter, kicking the breath right out of your lungs, and plunging right back into you, his furious hands reaching to the walls as he kept himself steady, pounding into you aggresively. One of them pressed your head to the wooden surface, before grabbing your hair and forcing you up and into an arch, the other following to keep you steady by your waist, forced to look him in the eye.

You felt your climax building, quickly and he didn’t protest when your fingers found your swollen clit, circling it furiously, desperate to reach that peak and you saw him smile, his lips mouthing the word “COME” and with your eyes shooting wide open you did, your walls collapsing on his cock in an almost painful manner, but he forced them away, seeking his own release, ridding your orgasm out as you screamed his name repeatedly, only strengthening his desire to destroy you, finding the strength to pound you harder, fuzzing your mind, making you a babbling, begging mess, moaning as your head was slammed back onto the counter and adoring the dizziness that came with the sudden motion.

His fingers digged into your hips, keeping you still and the stutter in his last harsh thrust was the only thing that warned you of his collapse, warm strings of thick come filling you up, making you moan in a higher pitch, your insides twitching against him, reaching another, smaller orgasm alongside his and your body gave out, trembling, shaking, exhausted, whining when he pulled out, cum slowly dripping out of you and onto your oversensitive thighs. He didn’t move you, instead putting his dick back into his boxers and zipping his pants back up, buckling his belt and letting you get up onto your shaking arms before wrapping his strong arms around you, his leather mask pressing onto your neck, so he could kiss it’s nape and you could swear you heard something similar to the words “I win” escape him, but he wouldn’t... Yeah, no, he would and you elbowed his belly weakly in protest, to which he rumbled a laughter, nuzzling into your hair, both of you covered in sweat.

Then again you felt your body being lifted and eased onto his shoulder, your hands shooting back to your skirt to cover your slightly exposed pussy as he carried you out of the room, grabbing one of the already prepared cookies off the counter and biting into it with a cocky smile.

“Tommy!” you heard Hoyt’s voice from the living room and you hoped he couldn’t see you, one of your hands covered however much of your face it could. “Ya done fucking over there, ya bastard?” The old man laughed and the embarrassment of being caught made your shake in Tommy’s grasp, even more so when he just.... NODDED. “Good! Get me some meat when you’re all cleaned up, boy! We need to get dinner started.” Hoyt replied and you died slightly inside, knowing damn well that you would not survive this evening, mentally.

It didn’t help that after the shower your body refused to function, protesting to the treatment your monstrous man has given it, so Tommy had to carry you down to the table, his chest just swelling with pride and you HATED IT.

Still, even with Hoyt’s rude remarks... It was worth it.

#Thomas Hewitt x reader #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #tcm #tcm: the beginning #thomas hewitt #virgo writes #slasher #slashers #slasher community #This one???#This one my man.#This one is #Something #HOPE YOUR THIRSTY ASS IS HAPPY #you H O E #NASTY #NASTY PEOPLE

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myulalie · 3 years

Note

The prompt I thought of is technically a songfic, so I don't know if it's something you're comfortable with...but I recently listened to Tom Odell's 'Another Love' again and it kinda made me think of Magnus

Hi! Thank you for this prompt! It was very exciting to work with and I love this song, so I had A LOT of ideas and eventually settled for one: the hanahaki disease. You can read on AO3 here. Hope you’ll like it!

How to wield hearts

I wanna take you somewhere so you know I care Magnus wears his heart on his sleeve, a weak pulse hidden in frilly fabric. It’s not like he has anything to lose anymore. It doesn’t matter, not that Alec cares anyway. Magnus left his aching heart in the eighteenth century and there is no breezing through the years to get it back. He wouldn’t walk in his past self’s steps anyway, because Magnus so desperately wishes he had kept his heart someplace safe, in Alec’s calloused hands perhaps. Shadowhunters know how to wield hearts, their most precious possession, the only weapon they possess and that could turn against them.

But it's so cold and I don't know where Magnus’ withered heart remains somewhere in his chest, dark and frozen in the winter night that saw it break. It drifts away in a sea of regrets, and sharp memories like shards stab at the emptiness, as if Magnus would ever forget. There is nothing more consuming than absence, and Magnus desperately looks into himself for a sliver of golden light, even a tinge of that love he used to carry. He finds nothing, but the inkling that Alec should have been it.

I brought you daffodils in a pretty string It came in gold nuggets, flower petals he drowns in once again. Magnus never knew what to make of the daffodils, spent too long admiring them, longing and wistful. An immortal’s life is long indeed, and he didn’t believe he’d live to meet his soulmate. Now that he’s come face to face with Alec, he cannot believe he pulled the daffodils out centuries ago. He weaved the stems into flower crowns and gifted them to his lover, and now Magnus has nothing to show, can only hope that Alec believes him when he says he cares. He wants to, so much.

But they won't flower like they did last spring The flowers don’t bloom. Magnus’ spring has come and gone, like his first love, and he can’t be it for Alec. He would turn lead into gold for Alec, but Magnus’ gold is splattered with blood, ancient, and ever so cold. He hides shirt sleeves splattered with blood like skeletons, and fears the lie shows in the distant shine of jewelry. For all his glitter, Magnus is nothing but the shadow of gold now. Magnus is not it.

And I wanna kiss you, make you feel alright Magnus yearns to be. He craves the taste of Alec’s lips and wishes he could breathe the shadowhunter in and soak up the light that shines through the cracks of Alec’s armor. Alec is hurting too, Magnus knows, and the shadowhunter feels like a tin soldier, setting himself on fire to keep Magnus warm. Magnus burns out for him too, yet there is nothing for Alec to find, but his petals torn loose, drained of life.

I'm just so tired to share my nights Magnus spends countless nights in the company of misery, a restless presence he hates, but prefers to loneliness. He deserves it. He was greedy, and now that his soulmate comes along, there is nothing to share but grief. Magnus resents himself for his mistakes. Alec’s pain is his own, and Magnus almost regrets Alec didn’t fall in love with someone else, because he could remove the stems too then, and lose the ability to love Magnus altogether. Magnus doesn’t deserve Alec’s love anyway, and he wants to spare Alec the pain, but the shadowhunter is determined to love Magnus, to love enough for the two of them.

I wanna cry and I wanna love Magnus doesn’t feel anything, and he wants nothing more than to cry, and to love Alec. How fortunate would Magnus have been, too. Alec brings him in relentlessly and embraces him in a silver glow, the moon watching over him at night. Magnus wants the passion and the aggravation, but he can’t even hate himself anymore, because it’s so close to love.

But all my tears have been used up He has no tears left to cry. Magnus had plenty enough time to mourn, and there is nothing to grieve either when you lose the ability to feel such things. Sometimes he dreams that his tears would bring the flowers back to life, and they’ll rise and bloom, to love Alec just this once. What a privilege it would have been, to love the shadowhunter, yet Magnus can’t even shed a tear for him.

On another love, another love He loved Camille, once. He loved her again and again, until he suffocated on the daffodils, and the stems had to be surgically removed. Alec won’t even love somebody else to spare himself the pain of a partner like Magnus, loveless and unfaithful, because he couldn’t wait another year, even less another decade, to meet his soulmate. Magnus couldn’t wait, but he couldn’t even die either. He has always wanted to live, but what’s life when all he can feel is loss?

And if somebody hurts you, I wanna fight Magnus’ ire takes over when Alec is hurt, and sometimes he hopes that it’s enough. Alec must feel it, Alec must understand that there is so much Magnus feels, except for love. Yet, Alec is hurting because of him, burns himself on the magnitude of Magnus’ repressed feelings. Magnus’ will to fight flickers and dies then, because it feels like he’s lashing out at the wrong person. What is there to fight but himself anyway?

But my hand's been broken, one too many times Alec bites the hands that feed him and struggles so ruthlessly against people that it shoves them back to the depth of an ocean of feelings, resentment left untold. It also breaks what’s left of Magnus’ withered heart. He goes under, and can’t come up to breathe. How can Magnus prove that he cares, when he can barely swim?

So I'll use my voice, I'll be so fucking rude He speaks instead, and he speaks out of turn to let Alec know how he feels. If Magnus can’t convince Alec, then maybe he can push the shadowhunter away. Alec doesn’t deserve the pain, and Magnus has no qualms about sparing Alec if he can’t feel anything, can’t love Alec properly.

Words they always win, but I know I'll lose Actions speak louder than words, and Alec sees through Magnus’ ruse. Alec only heeds Magnus’ words when he speaks of fondness, or caring so much it hurts. Magnus’ broken promises and whispered pleas bring Alec closer than ever when night recedes and gives way to the first lights of dawn. Magnus blames himself for failing Alec yet again, and the night falls again.

And I'd sing a song, that'd be just ours He longs to give his withered heart to Alec. Magnus yearns for it so much, but what is there to give? Still life, and so little to share but specks of dust and crumbling leaves, the layers of the man Magnus used to be. Magnus gave up on his heart long ago, when it brought flowers to the wrong person and choked on petals like golden chips. He can’t even say the words to his soulmate now. Alec feels like everything that could have been, but Magnus feels nothing.

But I sang 'em all to another heart Magnus thought he could make his heart sing another name, Camille’s. It was another time, and another love, not the right kind of love, nor the right kind of person. Magnus’ heart can’t sing anymore. There is nothing but silence, and Magnus’ thoughts, rushing to his lips to flow in a never ending stream of repressed feelings. Alec listens, patient, and reads everything left unsaid, that flickers on Magnus’ face and echoes in everything Magnus does. Alec understands then, and Alec believes in the meaning of his silence. There is nothing to be said.

And I wanna cry, I wanna learn to love Magnus learns that caring feels a lot like loving.

#shadowhunters #malec #pearfectly fine to ask #autopromo #fanfiction #hanahaki disease #song fic #soulmate au

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wolfie-dragon-rider · 5 years

Text

Bursts of Light, Day 19: In Formal Wear

Another one with the kids! This one takes place when Thora is 12, and Clay is 10. Hiccup and Astrid are in their early thirties.

Also, thank you very much for the reviews and comments! They help a lot in getting me to write this!

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"But Mooooooooom! I don't like this dress! It's so itchy and frilly!" Thora shouted, and Hiccup involuntarily smiled. His little girl was so much like her mother.

Still, she would have to wear the dress for a few hours. It was expected for such an occasion. Hiccup had often wished he could see his family, and although he knew that he never would, that didn't mean he didn't want as many other people as possible to see how amazing they were. Even people dozens or hundreds of years from now.

"Come on, Thora. It's just for today. Don't you want to look pretty?" he asked, kneeling to get little Nadder, Quickclaw, screeched and flapped his wings, flying right past Hiccup's face to land on Thora's shoulder where he often perched. Honestly the dragon was getting too big and heavy for it, but Thora insisted she could still carry him.

"What's wrong with my normal clothes? They're comfy! Who cares about looking pretty if I can't breathe in this?!" she said loudly, and Astrid sighed, her knees hitting the floor with a soft thud.

"Oh, it's not that bad. It's a very roomy dress. Look, I get how you feel. I don't like long dresses or frilly stuff either. But when people hundreds of years from now look at our portrait, do you really want them to see you covered in mud and in torn clothes? You still look strong in this outfit. Even more so, I'd say. Look, the bare sleeves show off your muscled arms!" Astrid laughed.

"I don't look strong despite this fancy outfit. And I have to have big puffy pants to hide my cast. At least when people look at you they see someone who can stand on their own," Claybones muttered from his nearby chair. Hiccup frowned as he turned towards his son. The boy had just turned 10, and was getting moodier and moodier. At least he wasn't complaining too much about today's activities.

"Yeah, but you're not the future chief. People won't care about how you look," Thora shot back, and Astrid sighed. Clay's dragon, a Woolly Howl hatchling called Thinker, growled from his spot on the young boy's lap. Quickclaw screeched back, leading to Hiccup quickly jumping in between.

"That's enough, both of you. None of us are perfect, and the goal isn't to look perfect. The goal is to simply record the people we are right now," he said, hoping to defuse an argument before it started.

Thora and Clay had been very hostile towards each other lately. Hiccup suspected Thora was taking out the stress she got from puberty and the pressure of being the heir on her little brother who didn't have as many responsibilities, while Clay was hurting from an increasingly broken body. They hadn't really talked about it openly yet, but it was becoming clear that the dozens of fractures over the years were weakening his limbs. His legs were misshapen from all those splints and hastily set bones, and could bear less weight even when the fractures were healed. He was completely unable to run by now, and would often use a crutch while walking.

It was only late at night that he whispered about his fears with Astrid, talking about when his boy would have to use a wheelchair permanently.

Hiccup wondered if Clay knew about it. It was almost scary how perceptive and smart the quiet boy was. Unlike his father, however, he applied his intellect to observing people, learning secrets and mannerisms, figuring out their hopes and fears just by looking at them. So it was difficult to hide their worry from him.

Thora was the opposite, always rushing headlong into any situation without bothering to wait and observe. She'd take charge, assuming she knew what was best for everyone, but always somewhat aware of the village's eye on her.

"I still hate this dress," Thora muttered, and Clay scoffed but didn't respond otherwise. Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

"That'll be Grandma Kirsten. And look, kids, I hate my dress too. And I'm sure your father isn't a big fan of his outfit either. That armor is heavy!" Astrid said, standing up again and walking to the front door.

"She's right. Look, sometimes we have to do things we don't like in the moment, but that'll pay off for the rest of your lives. I never had a portrait like this with my parents. Just the one traditional coming-of-age one with my dad. Because of that painting, and I might add that the process of making it was very painful and involved a fight with Alvin the Treacherous, you two can see what your grandfather looked like. And what I looked like as a kid. But you'll never be able to see your grandma Valka again, because there is no portrait of her," Hiccup said as Astrid opened the door for her mother.

"So if you want to show your kids, or even your grandkids one day, what we looked like and where you came from, I'd suggest you stop complaining and get ready for the painter. He came all the way from London, you know," Hiccup's tone was harsher than he normally used with his children, but he didn't want them to miss the opportunities he never had.

"Exactly. There's no portrait of your Grandpa Tolfdir either. Nor of me, that's why I'm here today. And I know your father doesn't like to talk about it, but keep in mind that he will never be able to see this portrait, just like he can't see the portrait he made with Stoick. He knows better than anyone how important being able to see other people is. So you might want to think about that," Kirsten added, pushing a silk tunic in his hands.

Both the children went quiet at that. Knowing Kirsten would watch them, Hiccup went to the bedroom with Astrid to change.

"I'm sorry they're being difficult," Astrid said, and he sighed, taking off his regular shirt to put on the fine tunic.

"No, they're just… growing up. It's not easy being that age. But at least they're getting more opportunities and chances than we did. Even if they don't always understand why," he said as Astrid put his chestplate on him and latched the straps around his arms.

"You're always so understanding. I love them always with all my heart, but some days I don't… like them very much, you know? But then they smile and play and talk and I instantly forgive them," she whispered.

"And that's why we're doing this. So those smiles will be immortalized forever," he said, putting on his ridiculous silver vambraces.

"Exactly. So let's get back there before they start another fight," Astrid chuckled, fiddling with his armor for a bit before leaving the room again. Hiccup smiled, following.

"And so the prince and princess of France stood together as the evil warlord approached!" Kirsten was in the middle of a story when there was another knock on the door.

"Ah, that'll be the painter. Get ready everyone! Dragons as well!" Hiccup said, walking to the door and letting the man in. "Welcome, Master Frost. I hope we'll all fit on the canvas!"

Mr. Frost hesitated for a moment, but then Toothless and Stormfly pushed him inside in their eagerness to join the family. A yelp escaped the man, though at least he didn't run. Better than some dignitaries Hiccup had met.

"Uhhhm, let's see how we'll do this. Alright, boy, girl, you at the front. Chief Haddock, behind the girl please, and the Lady Astrid behind the boy's chair. Ah, Lady Kirsten, it's so good to see you again! You will be joining the picture as well? Next to Astrid would work best, probably," the painter said, fussing over them when they moved into position. Hiccup's hands on Thora's shoulders, Astrid's axe visible next to the chair, Claybones sitting up a little straighter.

"And finally the dragons! This is Toothless, right? He can go next to the chief, and this beautiful Nadder can join the equally beautiful lady. And of course, these little dragons shall join the children. That one on the boy's lap, that'll make him blend in well with the cloth, but still be noticable for the keen observer! Oh, and the little nadder curled around the young lady's neck? Ah yes, very fierce! The yellow hide works well with this red cloth! Now, just hold still!"

Hiccup did his best to keep smiling despite his daughter's dragon's claws gripping his hands. Just a minute in and he could already tell Thora was getting anxious, so he tried to squeeze her shoulders reassuringly.

Toothless crooned at one point, rubbing his face against Hiccup's side and earning himself a light scolding from the painter, but mostly the dragons and people were all on their best behavior.

"How does it look?" Hiccup asked Mr. Frost when they stopped for a break, stepping around the canvas he couldn't see.

"Oh, you have a lovely family, sir. Though I could tell the girl was getting… annoyed. Hence the break. But my sketches are all done, and now I can start the base layer of paint. After that I can finish it on my own, so you won't have to pose anymore," he said, and Hiccup nodded. Faint shouts came in through the window from where Thora was running around the house with Quickclaw.

"What kinds of paint do you use? This red is richer than anything I've managed to mix," Clay asked, the click of his clutches accompanying every step.

Hiccup stepped back a bit to let his son talk to the painter. Clay had been discovering a talent for art over the last few years, and he would often spend entire days drawing and painting. Hiccup just wished he could see what it was. His son always became defensive when he asked, so he decided not to push too much.

"You okay?" Astrid softly asked, sitting down next to him and grabbing his hand.

"Yeah, just… thinking about how happy I am we got to do this today. And how lucky I am with the family I have," he whispered with a smile.

"We are. Even if I sometimes want to scream in frustration at them," Astrid chuckled. As they spoke, Thora ran back inside, and Clay wrote down everything the painter explained about his process. Hiccup could almost picture in his head what the scene looked like. It stung that he would never see the ones he loved so much, but this portrait was close enough.

Even if they had to wear these awful outfits for it.

#bursts of light #blind spots #httyd #fanfic #hiccstrid #hiccstrid kids

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