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wheresarizona · 2 months

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Columba

summary: It isn’t until you’re in his home that you learn it’s General Marcus Acacius who’s summoned you for your services—you’re not sure why he did, when the other courtesans standing beside you, hoping to be chosen by him, have bodies that look nothing like yours.

pairing: Marcus Acacius/Plus Size f!reader (Courtesan)

rating: E (18+!! This is smut. No y/n, explicit smut, plus size reader, courtesan reader, age gap (reader is of legal age in today’s standards), takes place pre-Gladiator 2, dommy Marcus Acacius (loves giving orders), he’s a tiny bit possessive, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, rough sex, backshots, woman on top, oral sex (m receiving), vaginal fingering, breast worship, hair pulling (m receiving), slight breeding kink, (1) pussy slap, dirty talk, spanking, spit mention, some biting, with hair like that he wants it pulled, some sweetness at the end)

word count: 4.8k+

a/n: I took one look at Marcus’ hair and immediately thought, that guy likes his hair pulled. I also decided that since he spends weeks to months with a bunch of men at a time, when he comes home, he really appreciates a curvy woman. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d be able to write anything for him until I saw the movie, but the trailer got me. This is unbeta’d, all mistakes are my own. I hope you enjoy!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Masterlist

It was the marble bust atop a pedestal that revealed whose home you were in. The opulence of the domus’ atrium, with its four tall marble columns surrounding the impluvium's shallow, sunken pool in the middle of the room and the compluvium’s opening in the ceiling above it, allowing the moon’s light to filter in, told you whoever lived here had notoriety—then you saw the face carved out of stone, recognizing the curls and strong nose you'd only ever seen as he was paraded past you down the street in honor of his latest victory, and you knew.

General Marcus Acacius is a man feared by many for his ferocity and skills in battle. It's been said Mars, the God of War, blessed his birth, while others believe his bloodline is descended from the God himself. What you know to be true is he's a gifted General that the Emperors and Gods have smiled upon, and in his presence, an intimidating figure you didn't dare look at unless you were addressed.

There are four women standing to your right, all of you younger than him, naked, and courtesans of the highest standard—well-educated and well-versed in politics along with the pleasures of the body—and highly sought out by society's elite.

Marcus is at the opposite end, silently making his way down the line with what you can only assume is a scrutinizing eye, and you fear there's been a mistake that you're here—the other courtesans are all built similarly with small breasts, flattened stomachs and thinner waists than yours, whereas you’re curvier, and have more meat on your bones, with your bigger chest, soft noticeable belly, and grabbable hips. Clearly, he requested a particular type of woman, and it doesn't appear you're it. Staring down at the tiled floor seems better than seeing the disappointment on his face when he gets to you.

His sandaled feet come into view as he stands before you, and you can feel his eyes roaming over your bare body—golden snake bracelets coil around each of your upper arms, and at the unexpected gentle touch of his fingertips to one, you flinch.

"Do I frighten you?" His voice is a low, deep rasp that shivers down your spine.

"No, Sir," you answer.

His thumb strokes over the snake's head and along its body. "Why do you flinch?"

Raising your head, you see he’s wearing a white tunic with a gold pattern lining around his neck, down his arms, and along the hem, a belt securing it at his waist; golden cuffs covered his wrists. You’re met with dark eyes, a furrow crinkling between his eyebrows—his brown hair with a kiss of gray, curls like waves on his head, his facial hair dotted with a few silvery strands. It takes you a second to answer his question because the glimpses of him you caught during victory parades and the marble bust didn't prepare you for his beauty.

Mars and Venus have bestowed their blessings upon him.

“My apologies, Sir,” you finally reply. “It was simply surprise at being graced by your touch.” His expression is difficult to read, so you continue speaking, “I’ve heard of your prowess in battle that inspires songs and how your enemies tremble before you, but I do not believe I have reason to fear you—unless that is something you wish. Do you wish for me to be frightened of you?”

Some men liked it if you acted afraid of them to feel powerful. Some men, usually the big, tough ones, liked to bury their faces in your bosom while you held them. The slight show of relief on Marcus’ face when you said you had no reason to fear him made you suspect he’d be in the latter category.

“No.” His eyes are locked onto yours. “I do not need another to fear me. I wish for you to want my touch.”

“I wish for more than your touch,” you reply. “I wish to feel your lips on mine and your weight on top of me, I wish to feel your cock inside me and to hear the sounds you make when you peak, and I do wish for your touch; I wish to feel your hands claim my body as yours.”

His gaze turns to one of desire, and it makes you smile.

"You," he says. "Stay. The rest of you,” he announces, keeping his eyes on yours, “leave us.”

The invitation the messenger brought to your home the day prior did not state who requested your services; it simply said the person was a public figure, and the woman picked would be paid handsomely.

The servants, who stood as still as statues against a wall, scurried to assist each of the other women with redressing.

"Come," he orders, offering you a hand you accept. He leads you to a room you realize is his personal quarters when you spot his armor in a corner, Medusa's golden head on the cuirass shining in the candlelight—she wards off evil and offers protection. There's a bed against the wall opposite the door, and he lets go of your hand, slipping off his sandals by the doorway before walking over to a thin table laden with a jug, cups, and a bowl of berries and grapes.

"Care for some wine?" he asks without looking at you while pouring himself a cup.

His body is tense, and you’re assuming you’re here to help him relax—he arrived home only days ago from war, and you got a chance to see him rolling down the street on a chariot as he waved to the cheering masses. It would make sense that he could use somebody with your expertise to get him to unwind.

“No, thank you, Sir,” you answer, and he faces you again, taking a drink. “It’s a great honor that you chose me, and I do not wish to forget a single moment.”

His cup lowers, and you're surprised to find he’s wearing a little smile. He twists to set his wine down next to the jug, and removes the cuffs from his wrists, setting them onto the table then his eyes are on yours.

"Marcus," he says, and it only takes a few strides to have him in front of you again.

"I'm sorry?" you ask.

His attention moves to your body, and he’s not looking upon you like an object or something he’s just purchased as most men do; his gaze is appreciative, the same kind of look you could imagine was on his face when he stared at art that pleased him. Your figure isn’t the ideal for most Roman women—your hips are too wide, your breasts are too large, your ass is too big, your thighs are too thick, and your stomach is too noticeable—yet, there are many men who sought you out and paid well for your time, and it seems the General is one of them.

"My name." He walks around you, his fingers sliding along your upper back from shoulder to shoulder. “Call me Marcus. I want you to be familiar with how my name tastes on your tongue.”

The touch and his words cause your nipples to harden and goosebumps to rise on your skin.

"Marcus,” you say.

He’s in front of you again, his darkened eyes on yours. His big hands grip your waist, pulling you into him, and he shoves his face into the crook of your neck, feeling him inhale deeply. “Gods, you’re the best thing I’ve smelled in months.” The words are said against your flesh. “Like a meadow of flowers in Spring, and I fail to remember the last time I felt such softness.” He squeezes the fleshy handles at your hips and goes lower to grab handfuls of your ass, then runs his hands up your back. “Upon hearing your description,” he says, “I knew you’d be perfect, but what I imagined has no comparison to seeing your beauty with my own eyes.” His admission catches you off guard as it sounds as though he always intended to pick you from the line of women. It’s curious that he even invited the others if his mind had been set beforehand. He straightens, meeting your gaze. “Take off my clothes.”

There's no need to reply; you just do as he ordered, getting his belt undone, the leather falling to the floor, then pulling his tunic over his head, it meeting the same fate as his belt.

He’s completely nude, standing at his full height before you.

You expected the scars etched all over his body, the evidence that he'd lay down his life for Rome without hesitation. There's a long, jagged one across his right pec, silvered with age, that has you forgetting yourself and softly pressing your fingertips to it.

He snatches your smaller hand, pulling it away from his marred skin.

"My apologies," you quickly say, bowing your head in submission. "I shouldn't have touched you without permission."

"You may touch me." Once again, he surprises you by putting the flat of your palm against the scar, his other hand grabbing your chin to lift your face.

From his reaction to your fingers on him, you think he hasn’t been with a woman in quite some time, and you hope you can make up for all the nights he spent alone.

It seems he's done with the pleasantries when his lips crush into yours. It's all of the encouragement you need, kissing him back while rubbing your palms up his broad chest, feeling his warmth. You snake a hand down his stomach through the trail of hair low on his belly to take his half-hard cock into your hand—he groans and twitches in your hold.

He truly has the Gods' favor—a talented General, handsome and well-endowed.

With his hands on your waist, he walks you backward to the bed, laying you on the mattress. He's on top of you, deepening the kiss with his tongue pressing into your mouth, his hand palming your tit, making you wet with arousal and your body heat.

It's fascinating how he's defying all of your expectations. The men who seek you out after spending months fighting are often rough and brutish, using you however they want to release their tension. There's never kissing or offers of drink; it's orders to suck their cocks, or to get on the bed in their desired position—and here's Marcus kissing down your body, along the skin of your neck to your chest. Most of his weight is on his knees between your legs while bending forward over you, and the only word you can think of to describe it is he's worshipping your breasts. He has them in his hands, moving from one to the other, licking, sucking, and nibbling on your nipples and soft skin, the sensations making your pussy weep with need.

“Gods, Marcus,” you moan. He has you squirming with how good it feels, your fingers pushing into his curls. He takes a pebbled bud between his teeth and gently tugs. “Oh,” you gasp, your hands tightening in the tousled waves on his head.

He releases your nipple. “Harder,” he rasps, then flicks his tongue against your stiff peak, and you do as requested, pulling his hair harder. A loud groan rumbles from his chest as he continues laving at your tits, skimming his hand down your stomach, your skin tingling under his fingertips, until he’s sliding two fingers through your wet slit. You tighten your hold on his head, your toes curling when he starts rubbing your clit, and the realization hits that he intends for you to have just as much enjoyment as him.

"Marcus," you whine.

He’s one of those men who has you praying that he’ll wish for your company again, and you wouldn’t even make him pay if you got another chance to warm his bed.

The push of his thick digit into your pussy makes your breath hitch at the slight stretch, his thumb pressing to your sensitive bundle of nerves, moving side to side—you know he’s going to make you come, and you silently thank the Gods.

His finger is pushing in and out of you, his thumb continuing its movements, and he lifts his face to look you in the eyes, his own are so black there’s hardly a sliver of brown remaining. "Come for me," he commands, slipping a second digit inside you—you’re so wet you can hear the slick slide of his fingers pumping into you. The muscles in your belly are tightening, and the fire in your core is building. "Come for me, sweet girl." His head dips to lightly bite your nipple before soothing it with his tongue. "Once you come, I'll do as you wish and sheath my cock into this perfect cunt."

The hot heat of his mouth envelops your pebbled bud, and he sucks—it's your undoing; your eyes close as you fall over the edge, coming with a moan of his name. His digits and mouth continue to extend your ecstasy while your chest heaves with labored breaths and your heart pounds.

He lets go of your nipple with a wet pop, his hand sliding from your pussy, up your stomach, leaving a trail of your release on your skin. His voice deepens, “You’ve done well for me, and I keep my word—turn over.”

He helps you to roll onto your front, and you get up onto your hands and knees—a familiar position. He takes a moment to admire you in front of him, his palms feeling the thickness of your thighs and hips. His fingers dig into your plump asscheeks as he spreads them and dips his head, hearing and feeling him spit between them, the hot saliva dripping from your asshole down to your opening. He shuffles up behind you, sliding his cock through the wetness of your come and his spit to lubricate himself, then notches it at your entrance—you both moan as he slowly starts feeding himself into you.

Gods, he’s big.

There’s a slight burn with how he’s stretching you, your inner walls having to accommodate his ample girth, and once he’s pressed all the way to the root inside you, a breath leaves you that you hadn't realized you'd been holding in.

He has a tight grip on your waist and pulls out almost all the way, immediately pushing back into you hard enough there's a clap when his hips hit your ass. This was expected, Marcus setting up a rhythm that punches the air from your lungs each time he thrusts forward—he’s working out what he doesn’t wish to feel, and with how slippery it is between your legs, he's moving easily, and the brutal pace feels amazing.

Many times, you’ve had to fake your enjoyment to make those employing you think they’re talented lovers—the majority are selfish in bed and care little about your comfort but want their egos stroked. Marcus, on the other hand, earned your favor when he took the time to ready you with his fingers and allowed you to climax.

He's pounding into you, the collide of his body against yours making your asscheeks shake, and with how his cock is pressing into something truly divine, he’s also earned your screams of his name and whatever incoherent words are babbling from your mouth—he has you dizzy with pleasure, heat coiling in your belly, and there’s no doubting the Goddess of Beauty and Sex has given him her blessing.

Sounds are spilling unbidden from your lips, Marcus loudly grunting with each stroke, the wet slap of skin hitting skin echoing in the room, and you look over your shoulder—the candlelight around the room shows the glisten of sweat on his golden skin. His head is thrown back, his eyes closed, and his jaw slack. Hair is sticking to his forehead, and a beautiful rosy flush has begun on his chest, rising up his neck to paint his cheeks. You can't think of another you've laid with who looked so breathtaking while taking their pleasure, and you could only imagine how glorious he’d look on the battlefield. You don't know what comes over you, reaching your hand back to touch his hip, and suddenly, he’s looking at you, his eyes glazed with lust.

It’s as though he’s been in a trance, losing himself in your body, and now he’s come back to be in the moment with you. He falls forward, his hands sinking into the mattress on either side of you, blanketing your back and slowing his pace. His chin is on your shoulder, and he bites the shell of your ear; all of his weight goes onto one arm to free up the other that roughly grabs your breast and plucks at your nipple.

“You take me so well,” he says into your ear, his cock continuing to slide in and out of you. “Your sweet little cunt will milk me dry, and then I’ll have you again and again after that to keep you full of my seed.”

His words steal a moan from your lips.

“Does that please you, my sweet girl?” he asks. “You wish for more of me? Has another ever fucked you so good?” He gets his hand between your legs to circle the pearl of your pleasure, and your jaw drops, eyes closing—he’s going to make you come again. “Answer me,” he growls, lightly slapping your clit, and you clench around him.

It’s challenging to think, but you say, “No,” and push your ass back against him as he thrusts forward, fucking yourself on him to get closer and closer to your end. “I’ve never had such fortune.”

“You do now—by morning, I’ll have you ruined for any other man, and your cunt won’t soon forget the shape of my cock.”

He means every word that slips from his tongue, and it sets the fire in your belly ablaze. You’re holding yourself up on shaky limbs, the muscles in your stomach knotting up—you’re close.

“Marcus,” you moan.

His warm breath tickles your ear as he speaks into it: “I love how my name sounds from your lips. I know you’re close. Give in so I can feel you ascend to the heavens.”

His words, the fullness of his thick shaft moving in and out of you, and his fingers swirling around your sensitive bundle at the apex of your thighs has you shattering—stars burst behind your eyelids as white-hot pleasure erupts in your center, your pussy clamping down on him hard enough he slows to a stop, and groans in your ear.

You exhale panted breaths, your heart beating rapidly, and the blissful euphoria ripples through your body, slowly ebbing away.

Somehow, you find your voice, "Allow me to ride you."

He kisses your shoulder, his beard scratching against your bare skin. "You want to mount me?" he asks.

"Yes."

"Then you shall."

He pulls out of you, an achy groan leaving him as he lies beside you on his back, and you get up onto your knees. He draws your attention with how he’s splayed out on the mattress, his long legs slightly spread and arms crossed over his head. His cock is still hard, it shiny with your juices, and resting against his lower belly, cushioned by the tantalizing path of hair that led directly to it—and he’s looking up at you, his eyes dark with want that keep lowering to your bosom, and back up to your eye line, the pink of his tongue wetting his bottom lip, that you suddenly wish to bite.

There’s the common knowledge about Marcus all of Rome is aware of—the family he comes from and the military achievements that have led to him being the victorious General the Gods have blessed the city with, and now you’re versed in his more private attributes—he likes his women to be sturdy with sizeable breasts, he enjoys the pleasurable pain of his hair pulled, he’s a generous lover, he prefers to be in control unless you can tempt him enough to hand over the reins. It’s quite tempting for him to lie back and watch your tits bounce as you ride him.

Shuffling in place to face him, taking his hard length in hand—he didn’t ask, and you didn’t offer, yet you want to take care of him like he took care of you, so you scoot back enough that you can bend down at the waist, wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock.

The sound of Marcus’ loud moan and the way his back arches as if it were the string of a bow shoots straight to your cunt—you can taste the mix of your essence and his arousal that’s steadily dribbling from the sensitive head that you lick and suckle; your hand easily stroking up and down the sheath of skin on his shaft. The muscles in his thighs and stomach have tensed like it’s taking everything in him to hold back and not fill your mouth with his come.

“Enough,” he grits the order through his teeth, and his palm lands on the side of your ass with a hard slap that echoes against the walls, the sharp sting getting a moan out of you—your head lifts off of him to see he’s scowling. “I’m not spilling down your throat,” he continues and smacks your ass again. “Ride me, or I’ll have you under me.”

“Apologies, Marcus,” you reply demurely and sit up on your knees once more. Quickly, you move, throwing a leg over his waist to have your thick thighs hugging his hips. You rise, grabbing his cock, you press to your entrance, and you watch his face as you slowly start to impale yourself on him, relishing in how his mouth falls open and the tight grip he has on the meat of your thighs, his fingers digging into them hard enough it bordered on painful.

The fullness is incredible when you sit flush against him, and you love how he fills you. Your palms find purchase on his broad chest, and you rise until only the tip of him remains inside of you, and you drop back down—the rhythm you set has you moving in his lap, up and down in quick succession, Marcus groaning, his eyes locked on the jiggle of your breasts.

Sweat forms on your skin, feeling it on your forehead and a single drop sliding down your spine, your eyes closed as you focus, your moans stuttering each time you sink onto him.

His hands are resting on your backside, rising and falling with you, his voice rough with pleasure, “That’s it, ride me, bounce on my cock.”

This isn’t about you, and though it feels good riding him, your goal is helping him achieve his own high, and you’re determined to do so—your hands leave him to press your tits together, and you gasp in surprise when he sits up and shoves his face into them. Your pace doesn’t waver, and you look at him to see he’s keeping himself up with an arm braced on the bed behind him, the other hand grabbing a handful of your ass, and you know he’s not going to last much longer.

Your fingers slide into the unruly curls at the back of his head, and you yank them hard to make him look at you, Marcus hissing while his cock twitches inside you. In this position, you’re taller, and he gazes up to meet your eyes.

“I want you to come,” you pant, continuing to fuck yourself on him. “I want to feel you flood my cunt with your seed.” The noise he makes sounds like a whine. “Then I want you to do it again, and again after that—I want you to fill me to the point I’m brimming with you, and you’re in me for days.”

He squeezes his eyes shut as he groans out a long, drawn-out Fuck

With his beautiful neck on display, you duck your head and lick up the taut skin of his throat, wishing you could suck a mark into it to remind him of you for a while after you part ways. His free hand roughly grabs your chin to pull you close enough for him to slot his lips against yours, and you have to slow to a grind as he messily kisses you, shoving his tongue into your mouth.

He breaks away to fall back onto the mattress, his fingers getting a tight grip on your ass, the muscles in his arms flexing as he lifts you enough to start thrusting up into your soaked pussy rapidly—he’s grunting while baring his teeth to chase his high, and all you can do is press your palms to his chest for balance while keeping yourself raised enough for him to pound into you.

The slick push and pull of him, moving in and out of you, has you chanting his name, and it sounds wet between your legs, hearing the clap of skin on skin of him plowing into you. Perspiration makes his tan flesh glint under the candle's light, his hair is a mess atop his head, and his expression is wild; it’s no surprise when his strokes get uneven and his eyes close. Marcus tugs your ass down to bury himself as far as possible in you as he gives in, coming with a guttural groan—you feel his cock jerk and the wet pulse as he paints your insides with spurts and spurts of his spend, wringing himself out until his body goes completely lax.

He pulls you forward to lie on top of him, wrapping his arms around your middle, and turns you both onto your sides. There’s a hiss that slips from his lips when he removes his softening length from your cunt, and you smile at Marcus sliding down the bed far enough for his face to nuzzle in your bosom while hugging you tight. Your fingers stroke through his sweat-damp curls, his hums of appreciation sounding like the purr of a cat.

Minutes pass in silence as your breaths even out and your hearts slow. After some time, he says something you can’t make out.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you,” you reply.

His head lifts, and he kisses under your chin. “Stay,” he says again.

“I have no intention of leaving. I’m here until you send me away.”

“And if I don’t wish to send you away?”

His lips trail along your jaw.

Your eyebrows pull together. “As I said, I’m here until you request my leave.”

“And if I never request your leave?”

He’s kissing your neck now, the question making your eyes round. “You intend for me to be your mistress?”

It’s not uncommon for a courtesan to become one’s mistress. Some of you are from families of wealth and do this line of work for the powerful connections, while others are freedwomen who’ve worked their way up to earn their notoriety—either case, courtesans are respected and thought to make great mistresses.

“That is all I can offer since I have no plans to marry,” he answers. “You can stay here with or without me when I’m ordered away, and whatever is left of my salary and spoils of war after the household debts are paid, you may keep.”

He makes you frown.

“Why me?”

Marcus gets his arm out from under you and scoots up the mattress to look you in the eyes.

“You’re everything I desire in a woman with your beauty and intellect, and you can sate my needs in bed—you’re perfect, and I want you all to myself. I do not wish to share you with anyone else.”

It’s in this moment you realize you’re the one in control here—you don’t need him, you’re self-sufficient, and there are many who’d eagerly take his place, but your looks are rare in your profession, and he needs his deal to be enticing enough for you to take it.

“What if I decline your offer?”

“Then I pray you’ll allow me to keep your company until I receive my next orders.”

He seems to be a good, honorable man who wants to please you, and he had you tempted to accept on the merit of his skills in bed alone—there’s just something that won’t leave your mind.

“Before I make my decision, answer this question: if you believe me to be so perfect, why were the others here?”

He presses his large palm to your cheek. “It was in your power to deny me your company, and though the other women weren’t of my tastes, they were better than nothing.”

You see no flaws in his answer.

“I accept your offer on one condition.”

“And that is?”

You no longer find him intimidating, and you’re now comfortable brushing errant hairs off his forehead and sliding your fingers through the curls above his ears.

Your eyes lock onto his. “You return home to me,” you tell him. “You fight with the might of Mars, and you always return home to me.”

That earns you a small smile, and he takes your hand into his, kissing the center of your palm.

“I will, my Dove.”

Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

#pedro pascal #marcus acacius #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius/reader #marcus acacius x y/n #wheresarizona writes

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addictedbespoken · 1 year

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sarawritestories · 3 months

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Eris X Plus Size Fem Reader

Summary: Eris Vanserra, High Lord of the Autumn Court takes helps you get ready for date night.

Warning: THERE IS SLIGHT NSFW ELEMENTS Dom/ Sub dynamics if you squint hard enough but mostly Eris being happy

Thank you @milswrites for selecting the Eris for this. It was a great choice I'm happy with it.

Divider's created by @tsunami-of-tears

Word Count: 1.1 K

ACOTAR Masterlist

You were a vision. The maroon silk fabric tightly accentuated your full breasts, the bodice hugging your full frame to accentuate your hourglass figure. The material pooling at your feet, a slit reaching your thigh exposing your stretch marks, as you sat at your vanity applying your makeup. You went with a soft look; Kohl lightly lining your eyes the color of your irises popping Thanks to the soft brown powder you applied to your lids.Your hair in soft curls hair pinned back gold leaf clips. You grabbed your brush and the maroon color rouge that matched your dress when the bathroom door creaked open and your mate walked out.

The brush dropped from your hands.

Eris had stepped out and you took in his handsome form. His short copper colored hair slicked back not a single hair out of place, a black tunic sleeves accentuating the muscle in his arms. A corset vest to match you, gold swirls ran up the vest standing out against the dark red hue of the corset. His black trousers hugged him perfectly, allowing his years of riding horses and training to be on full display even wearing his riding boots to finish out the outfit.

Mother spare you.

Eris turned to you, those russet colored eyes twinkled with excitement as your arousal permeated the room, “Is my High Lady ready for her night on the town?”

You nodded your head as he approached you, his own arousal colliding with your own. You arched your neck to maintain eye contact with him. He reached out his hand tenderly grazing your cheek and your eyes fluttered shut, his scent of whiskey, smoke and brown sugar eliciting another wave of arousal to hit you.

“My Love?” His husky voice whispered, “Were you listening?” You opened your eyes and you were met with a quirked brow and a . Your eyes glazed over to the freckles that kissed his nose and cheeks and you reached your hand out to touch them when the High Lord of Autumn gripped your wrist and brushed his soft pink lips to your knuckles. “I asked you a question, Pet. I expect an answer.”

“Sorry, Eris, What was the question?” You make the effort to take in his appearance once more, “I was distracted by a very handsome high lord.”

A low growl emulated from Eris’ throat. “Is that so?” He leaned his face closer, his breath intermingling with yours. “Hm, maybe I should change.”

You whined and he pulled away from you suddenly. Only for his hand to lay at your shoulders, his head bumping yours as he looked at you in the mirror. His eyes looked as though he had been starved and you were his only salvation. In the time that the two of you had been together there had not been a curve, a bump, a stretch mark not touched, kissed, or loved by the red-headed male. “Are you almost ready to go?” his voice called out to your through your reminiscing.

“I am, I simply need to put on the rouge for my lips.” You smiled as he kissed your cheek, his reflection moving once more. As you reached for the jar, a large hand grabbed it first, “Eris?”

You faced the male once more as he opened the jar taking the brush and dipping it in the makeup. “Allow me.” He placed the jar down and you found yourself struggling to breathe as he held the brush to your lips. “Part your lips for me, My Love.” You did so giving him easier access. He leaned down and you watched as your High Lord, Mate, Lover, slowly placed the brush against your top lip.

His breath smelling of whiskey and cinnamon you shifted as he slowly and meticulously swiped the brush against your top lip. You shifted again as the brush lightly touched your lip tickling you. The featherlight touch of the tool and the closeness of your mate kept causing you to fidget in your seat, not used to the intimate act Eris was providing you.

Eris finished the top lip, he gave you a stern look, and gripped your face, his fingers clutching your jaw as his palm pressed against the underside of your chin, the lower part grazing your neck. “Stay still will you, Pet. Don’t want to smudge that pretty face.”

Dazed by his rapid movement you nodded your head, “Yes, High Lord.” You parted your lips once more.

Eris smiled and kissed your forehead, “There’s my good girl.” He swiped your bottom lip with ease and your breathing hitches when he finished and gave your face a squeeze. You moaned as he pulled away a soft chuckle grazing your pointed ears. He held out his hand for you to take. Intertwining your fingers with his he yanked you up from your seat, his free arm wrapping around your waist. He began to sway the two of you. “You know we could stay home. Have some fun of our own.” He said as he pressed his forehead against yours.

You giggled, “You promised, Love, a night out just the two of us.”

Eris side spinning you out, “I guess I did,” He spun you back in and you braced your one arm around his shoulders the other on his hand as he dipped you. “As High Lord I have to keep my promises. Especially the ones I make for you.” Eris leans closer.

“You’re going to smudge my lips.” You murmured.

Eris chuckled, “I don’t care.” And he pressed his lips to yours in a heated kiss.Your hand moved to his face as both his arms gripped your hips squeezing the soft flesh and before you could deepen the kiss he pulled away, chest heaving. “If you're good, we’ll see how pretty that color looks on you, when your lips are around my cock.”

You smirked, “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Vanserra.” You move to wipe the color that transferred to his lips but he places his hand over yours and shakes his head.

“Leave it. Let all of Autumn know who I belong to.” The gold string hummed in your chest as Eris moved you up right and went to grab your shawl wrapping it around you snuggly you leaned up and kissed the base of his neck making sure the deep red color was peaking out of his shirt.

Eris lifted a brow at your action and you merely shrugged, “For good measure.”

Eris tugged on the bond and looped your arm around his, “I love you.”

“And I you. Now let’s go!” You cried out tugging him out the door to his amusement, making sure you sent love down the bond.

“Anything for you, High Lady.”

Tags: @milswrites @lady-of-tearshed @tsunami-of-tears @readychilledwine @ceoofyearning

@velariscalling @daycourtofficial @prythianpages @writingcroissant @itsswritten

@illyrianbitch @acotarxreader @pit-and-the-pen @nocasdatsgay @labyrinth-of-stories-and-stars

@ninthcircleofprythian @lilah-asteria

@kylaisra @nickishadow139 @aelincaddel @nighttimemoonlover @demirunner

@marvelbros-oneshots @mybestfriendmademe @awkardnerd @lanea-1

#sarawritesstories #acotar fanfiction #acotar #eris vanserra #eris imagine #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris vandaddy #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra fluff #eris vanserra fanfic

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secret-smut-sideblog · 9 months

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Distances Met (Part 4)

18+ trauma release, angst, pining, complicated feelings, blood drinking, heavy petting, grinding, fingering (f!), restraint (mild), angry sex (sort of)

Astarion X F! Plus Sized Tav

listening to: The Apparition - Sleep Token, Unpunishable - Ethel Cain

He could listen to her for hours.

In the lamplight they sat with one another, her animatedly telling a story, him laying on his side. A bemused smile on his relaxed face.

The cave of his tent had become their sanctuary at night, laying in the pillows and books and warm light between them.

Since their tender sleep at the tavern they were entwined.

Often they retreated to eachother here, sharing the heavenly silence. Her head laying in his lap as he read, his hand trailing lazily in her hair.

This kind of intimacy that he had ran from, bristled at, hissing, he now craved from her. Something about the secrecy of it helped, knowing this was just between them. In her lack of revealing it too he wondered if she felt similarly.

Of course the camp knew they were fond of eachother but these nights, these shared moments were their's alone.

He was continually struck by how good it all felt. How strange, to be working backwards like this. To go from a mindless lust to this platonic tenderness. Though, he reminded himself, they had only shared one moment of amorous touch when he fed from her in frenzy. It made him feel dizzy to realize they had never even kissed.

She caught his eyes wandering in thought from her story and smiled, "Copper for your thoughts?"

He blinked and felt a flush creep up his neck. Admonished her for always seeing through him. He was cool water cupped in her hands, transparent, moved in ripples.

"Ah, darling," he trailed a lazy finger up her forearm, always hypnotized by how his pale hand looked against the dark ichor of her. Like wine in a glass. "I'm just musing," He thought about how to continue and decided on honesty. "That this.. this thing we're doing. It feels good, I've treasured it. It feels safe here."

He cringed at the lack of nuance to his words and let his eyes drift back up to hers. The forest green of her crinkled up at the edges, her warm smile pouring into his heart.

She reached out and, in agreement, pinched his side. That playful tilt in her brows. He let out a mock gasp and grabbed for her. She let out a delighted squeal as they play wrestled, letting out that laugh that he coveted when he managed to tickle her sides.

Their legs and arms tangled in eachother, it all felt so easy. He relaxed into her, her hand trailing up and down the curve of his neck. He almost purred. Then it trailed further down his back and he felt that instinctive tension, his back tight.

Her hand paused. "Is this okay?" She said low against him, his head nodding into her chest after a second of apprehension.

She knew about his scars but had never seen it, the marred skin always covered.

She began again, testing with one hand. Laying it flat against the top of his spine, still. Waiting for his body's response to continue. He focused on his slow breathing, letting the sensation of her sure warmth take forefront in his mind.

Slowly she slid her hand down his back, applying soft pressure. He sighed into her. The work of her hands made him sink, his muscles releasing slightly. Her other hand joined now and his eyes fluttered closed, a satisfied moan escaping his throat. When her strong hands kneaded into his shoulders, finding the knot he kept there, he felt like a tapestry being unwound.

"Star?" She said quietly, and he realized he was quietly crying into her, the fabric of her tunic damp.

"Please dont stop,"

She continued with no hesitation, rubbing and pulling and finding. She pulled the corner of his shirt up, pausing, a question. He fought with himself, the shame on his back, the comfort he felt in her, the angry skin he knew there. He reached under himself and pulled it over his head in one motion.

He tried not to squirm as he knew she was seeing it, seeing him. Seeing the butcher's poem carved into the pathetic flesh, offering no resistance to the knife.

Her hands continued their worship and he felt like falling through the floor. But there was a rising in his throat, the tears hot. A catch in his breathing.

She stopped and sat up, moving him side ways on her lap with hushed assurances. And with a sigh, draped her body across his back. Her lap beneath him and her chest above him, her warmth seeped through all. He had never been held like this. He realized that she was in essence shielding him, her body covering his back. If she had been there. If she had gotten to him sooner.

A ragged sob ripped through his chest, painful and animal.

She did not falter as he wailed into her again and again, her chest rising and falling above him, steady. Her plush lap cushioning him, he gripped her thigh like a buoy in a storm as he babbled and keened.

Gods he wanted it to stop but it had a course to run that he had no say in. Only when his voice was raw and the skin around his eyes was tight and blotched did he slow. His legs had curled up into her without his noticing. Panting and coughing, exhausted.

She only ran her fingers soft through his hair.

Her nightly retreat from his tent left her with a pang tonight. Draping the softest blanket around him she could find she slipped out like a whisper.

Walking on tiptoes she held her hand hard to her heart, holding back the tears that threatened. His wails still ripping through her. A pain she was woefully familiar with. She and that pain had been bed mates for many a night. The body remembers.

No her head was too busy to return to her tent just yet, she wandered to the water.

She always returned to the water, when she had escaped the Underdark one of her first sights was the sea. The endless depth, the tide pushing and pulling, the crashing against the stones. It brought her to her knees. She had never seen something so powerful, so overwhelming. A piece of that moment would live in her soul.

Now she pulled her clothes off, throwing them unceremoniously on the stones. Wading in, head heavy, she felt the pull of the stream surround her as she sat. Drawing a gentle outline of the bruise he left on her thigh, the grief his hands left there.

Water flowed around her and she closed her eyes. Imagining that same water that made her hair dance in its flow reaching the sea, an essence of her taken with it. All connected. Its fingers all reaching. Some sliver of her being drank, bathed in by those she had to leave behind. May the tears that she shed now reach them.

When morning broke she returned to camp, twisting her hair into a braid as she walked, the smiling faces of her companions greeting her. Shadowheart waved her over and she plopped down next to her, listening to the breathless update she had. Many of her travel mates had become what she felt like were friends and she treasured their time together. Knew that someday it would end, they would go their separate ways. She was hopeful, selfishly, that she could keep it a little longer.

Karlach rose from her tent, arm raised in stretch, letting out a loud yawn. "Morning.." she bellowed between yawns. Her bedhead was always unmatched. "Uh-oh, looks like Fangs is in one of his moods,"

Tav's eyebrows threaded together in worry, following Karlach's eyeline. Sure enough, there was that silver hair, back turned he was rummaging roughly in his books. Tav's legs started to rise but she held back, they had shared something very hard last night. Rushing to him and prodding so early wouldn't serve either of them. Shadowheart's eyes were trained on her knowingly, one hand reassuring against her forearm as she sat back down. "I dont know what's going on between you two," she began low in her throat so those nearby wouldn't overhear. "But I would warn, tread carefully sister."

They packed up and started to head out, the long day ahead of them. Astarion was already standing impatient at the mouth of the trail, hands on hips. She took up pace with him as they went but his back was still to her, head straight ahead. She had seen him sulky before and usually found it endearing but there was a bristling to him now. After minutes of tense walking she broke, "Did I do something wrong?" Under her breath so only he could hear.

He stiffened, "Now, now darling. I wouldnt even dream of it," The mask was back up. Her heart fell. "I think I'll take up the rear today, gotta have someone watch these delectable backs." Smooth as silk, but she saw the hardness in the flash of his face as he turned, trudging away from her.

She stood quiet, watching his retreating figure. Shadowheart took up the empty space, subtly weaving her hand into Tav's and pulling her back into the rhythm of their walking. She took a shaky breath out and continued on.

The goblin camp proved.. interesting. Tav was so used to the disdain people felt upon seeing her that the reverent way they look at her, spoke to her. Well it was a change. She allowed herself to have fun with it.

Taking up the mantle of powerful Drow woman was silly for her, she had never felt that way, not really. But in her pretending she found it came natural, suprising herself.

Not that she wasnt an imposing figure when she wanted to be, standing she was eyeline with most of her male companions. Sometimes surpassing them slightly. Though Halsin still beat her by a mile. Her body was powerful too she knew, not just in strength.

She stood tall now, hip jutted out, hands braced on her lower back as the goblins twittered around her.

She could tell her compatriots found it amusing too, playing into it like she was some fearsome warlord. Gale even would mock flinch when she slid her eyes too him. Karlach telling one of the starstruck younglings of her many evil exploits.

Everyone except.. well.

She had relented and let him brood, sulking behind the group. Still made small offers to pull him back in the fold but he would give her a withering look and return to his oh so important book. It was childish and she wouldn't lie, annoyed her. But she knew their bond wasnt that easily separated, no matter what he may think.

She directed one of the goblins to get her and her friends something to drink, her tone low and throaty. Smiled to herself when they trotted off dutifully. She pulled her waist length hair out of its braid, let it fall behind her. Oh she was having too much fun.

Eyes were digging into her back. She almost rolled hers when she finally looked over. She knew in a good mood Astarion would find all of this a riot, playing into it with that mischievous charm. But in this mood she expected impatient vitriol to be on his face, ready to move on. Not allowing her some fun.

She got something much different.

A flush had travelled up his neck, his mouth drawn into a deep line. One hand at his side, fingers twitching. Chest rising and falling. His eyes dilated and dark flitted away too quickly when hers met them. Oh.

Part of her wanted to shrink away but another part of her stood taller, turning back to hide the smile dancing at the edges of her mouth.

Later that night as they tried to decide on a place to set up camp, she dropped her rucksack gratefully. Stretching her shoulders, she surveyed. The bickering made her smile, and let them go at it until they eventually would need her to make the final call.

Astarion was already stalking away, "Hunting." he said. So she got one word responses now. She was over it and got up to follow him.

"Astarion," She called, catching up to him. She knew he heard her but was still pacing ahead. "Star!" She had more force in her voice than she intended, but he finally turned.

He stared at her hard, jaw clenched. She understood that what they had shared that night was very raw but this level of vitriol confused her.

"I dont know why you're avoiding me, I could guess but I dont want to put words in your mouth." She began, carefully picking her words through the haze of her frustration. "I'm sorry that I did something to hurt you, to upset you." Her eyes wavered then, but came back to his stronger. "I still want to spend time with you. To.. be with you. In whatever way that means."

His eyes flared and he seemed about to say something but bit it back, that heat rising in his neck again. In anger or something else, she wasn't sure.

He stepped forward.

"Stay away from me, Tav." His eyes were digging into hers, and contradicting his words stepped even closer.

They were both breathing hard, her frustration giving way. He was going to throw it all away. Everything they had shared.

For this? This pettiness?

Fine, but he wouldn't get the last word.

Before she could stop herself she kissed him. Hard and fast, her mouth strained against his. Her hands gripping the back of his stupid head. His face turned into hers, their mouths fitting together perfectly. Her body screamed to the high heavens, feeling how soft his cool mouth was against her hot angry one. She pulled away rough, only seeing the edge of his face as she turned and walked furious back to camp.

There was a storm that night and she was glad of it, the sky agreeing with her. The rain pounded hard against the tents and she wanted to stand in it, to scream her fury into the whip of it. She knew below the anger was a much more painful emotion but she wanted to live in the righteous scream in her chest.

She pulled her soaked leathers off, straining with the wet fabric. Whipped her tunic off. It felt better to sit in her underclothes, her body still hot. She closed her eyes, frustration crumpling her face. She missed him. The divine tranquility of his tent, the sound of their calm breathing, his hand trailing idle little circles on her shoulder.

Gods damn him. Gods damn her.

She took a shaky breath out and opened her eyes, red eyes in her peripheral.

She turned shocked at the opening of her tent. The rain had hid his approach.

He stood now, white hair soaked. Hand gripping the fabric. Eyes burning.

Before she could react he was on her.

His mouth crashed into hers, his hand gripping the nape of her neck, the other on her ass. She came back just as hard, wrapping a leg around his hip, hand sloppy in his hair. Her body a forest fire of need.

A throaty moan escaped his lips and he gripped her ass harder. Tongues twisting. His hand racing to his tunic, undoing the ties. No time for that she ripped it off of him, a gasp caught in his throat.

His torso free she took to it like an oasis in a desert. Kissing and suckling on his neck hard, knowing she was going to leave bruises. Breathlessly he ground his hips into her, head thrown back. "Gods," he strangled out.

That only fed her, hot mouth leading up to his ear lobe. Nibbling and sucking fervently. His hips buckled and a low whimper left his perfect lips. He pulled her down to the ground, her hair whipping with the motion.

They were both moving against eachother so fast, desperate. Hands hungry and grasping.

She straddled herself on his lap, back arching into him. She could burn the whole camp down with the fire in her body.

She grabbed his head and directed it to her neck, breath hot in her throat. "I want you to feel it," she said low in his ear. "Feel how much I want this."

He groaned and sank into her ferociously, the pain sending a delicious chill up her back. She could feel how hard he was pulling and it only heightened her high. Swallowing big gulps of her, grinding her hips into him. His eyes were rolling back in his head, tasting the arousal in her, how her blood ran extra hot, thick. She rode herself into his lap, gasping and writhing. He was so hard against her already, his hands gripping her back.

She began biting him back, the skin on the side of his neck so soft between her teeth. He gasped and moaned roughly into her neck, his breath coming out in little wet gasps against the bloody mess he was making. She pulled him off of her, not able to stand it anymore. She needed more.

He fell back on her bedroll, eyes wide and dark. Blood smeared all down his front. She pulled her bralette off, throwing it to the corner. He was back up, hands and mouth all over her. Took her hardened nipple into his swirling mouth. She bucked against him, a whine out of her open mouth. His hand pushed into her underwear, finding her already soaking his fingers. He groaned low, plunging inside her. The edges of her eyes watered as his clever fingers pulled against her, hitting just right, pulsing in and out.

"Gods, Star," she gasped out, to his curling lips, grinding his palm against her clit as she rode his hand.

She reached for his hardened length, still trapped in his leathers but he grabbed her hand quickly, pinning it hard against her lower back. Being restrained like that only made her ache more, the tension building in her abdomen.

Gods he was too good.

Her eyes were rolling, hips moving of their own accord. She felt like an animal in heat. He had leaned back and was just watching her writhe against his hand. "What a sight," he purred.

Her thighs were pressing around him harder and harder as she climbed. "Yes, yes," he breathed, watching her get closer to her undoing. "Please," his grip on her wrist tightening.

"Oh fuck, oh gods," she strangled out.

She looked into his eyes, his face so close to hers. Lidded and hazy with lust, bright red with her blood. Mouth smeared with it, dripping down his neck.

That was her end, the build crescendoing into a final deafening note. It hit her so hard she almost couldn't take it. She thrashed and writhed, her head thrown back, a small scream sliding out. She saw stars in her vision as her thighs gripped him for dear life.

"Holy hells" he breathed, his eyes filled with awe. He gently pulsed his fingers in and out of her, feeling how she gripped them as her high came down. When he finally pulled them out he moaned, the creamy slick running down his forearm.

She slumped against him, trying to catch her breath, her chest heaving. He lead her onto her back, following her down. Covering her quivering body with his. She ran her fingers through his hair, still slowing her breath.

"I'm sorry," He murmured into her chest when she had finally slowed. "I shouldn't have run from you. I'm a coward it seems."

She chuckled, somewhat breathlessly. "You're one of the bravest people I've known Star, you just show it funny."

She felt his smile against her chest. "I've missed you." He whispered.

"I've missed you too."

Part 5

#lets fucking go!!!#this one got away from me lol #also my Tav is absolutely a top. do with that what you will #astarion x plus sized tav #astarion smut

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bambiraptorx · 7 months

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[I.D. A digital drawing of an adolescent version of Draxum from ROTTMNT with his mother, an oc. She holds him in her arms and leans her cheek against the top of his head, and he wraps an arm around her neck. Both of them are smiling and have their eyes closed. Draxum is wearing a short sleeve tunic under a brown himation, and has roughly shoulder length hair and jagged bangs. His legs hang over his mom's arm and his hooves stick out from the hem of his himation, showing lighter patches of fur above his hooves. His mother is a tall plus sized woman with deep blueish grey fur and goat horns growing from the top of her skull. She has several vitiligo-like patches of pale blue fur on her shoulders and the sides of her arms, and a large, roughly triangular patch of light fur on her face that reaches from her jawline to the bridge of her nose. One of her goat-like ears is half of the lighter color, while the other has a small light dot on the bottom edge. She has deep purple hair that reaches her shoulders, and slight facial hair on the sides of her cheek and above her lips. She is wearing a pale brown sleeveless dress. End I.D.]

Since I've finally broken out Draxum's teen design, I thought I might as well draw something with his mom. Would you believe I've never actually drawn her before because I haven't lmao

#rottmnt #rottmnt au #rottmnt baron draxum #teen draxum #lua oc #<- her name is lua lol #rottmnt oc #my art #rottmnt fanart #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #i might tweak her design a bit so it's more simplified and easier to draw #but that depends on how often i end up actually drawing her lol

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michelleleewise · 2 years

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Tale as Old as Time

Pairing: Jotun Loki x plus-size reader

Warnings: bribery, mentions of mental institution, mentions of alcohol. I think that's it.......if I missed anything I'm sorry.....fluff with a sliiight touch of angst......

Summary: Loki gives you a gift while Thor plots his revenge....

Part five--Part six-

You wandered down the hall, heading for the front doors with James beside you. You hadn't seen Loki in a couple of days but you figured he was resting and were assured he was OK, so you decided to get some fresh air and go for a walk. Slipping your cloak on you made your way outside. "So, tell me James, what was he like?" You asked looking at the candelabra. "The master?...he was charming, dashing, eveyone loved him." James said smiling. "So...he was lonely." You said nodding. "He never said such but....yes, I believe he was. His father was a cruel man, and after he lost his mother..." He trailed off looking down.

You continued to walk the grounds when you came upon a stone arch covered in roses. Reaching out you touched one with your fingertips "how are they still alive?" You asked brushing snow off them "everything here is enchanted, they never die." James said. You heard something behind you, turning to see Loki walking out to you. His blue skin seemed to shine brighter against the snow, his long dark hair swayed in the wind. You couldn't help smile seeing him wearing a dark green tunic that hugged his frame, a black leather overcoat layered on top, the bottom hitting his thighs. Tight black leather pants hugged his legs under his knee high leather boots. You felt your face heat up when he lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours.

"Good morning y/n." He said nodding "good morning Prince." You said smiling "just Loki dear." He smiled "I see you found the entrance to the gardens." He said, reaching up grazing a rose with his finger. "Oh..yes I...well I didn't mean to intrude, I just..." you rambled when he put his hand up "it is quite alright, they were my mothers gardens, I came here often to think." He said pulling a rose from the vine. "I haven't been in quite some time, maybe I could show them to you sometime." He said gently placing the rose behind your ear, brushing your cheek with his hand making you shiver. "But first, there is something I wish to give you" he smiled "Come, let me show you." He said holding his arm out. You wrapped your arm around his as he guided you back to the house.

You hung up your cloak, following Loki through the endless maze of hallways until he led you to two large golden doors. "Are you ready y/n?" He asked smiling "y..yes." you smiled back as he opened both doors, holding his arm out for you to go in. You were speechless as you took in the enormity of the room. "This was the royal library, housing every bit of knowledge we could get our hands on." He said walking next to you. You craned your head up looking at him "have you read all of these?" You asked wide eyed, seeing the floor to ceiling bookshelves "umm no, hehe I have read many of them though." He said smiling. "This is beautiful Loki." You said looking around "so you like it?" He asked watching you "oh yes, I love it!" You said, flinching hearing your voice echo. "Well then it is yours y/n." He smiled.

"Oh...I couldn't...it's...." you started when he grabbed your hand "you are a very intelligent woman y/n, your hunger for knowledge must be sated." He said looking at your hand. "Thank you Loki, this means more then you know." You said squeezing his hand. "We are so much more then the roles placed on us." He said, his eyes meeting yours. "I think we all choose our own path, regardless of what we are supposed to do." You said gazing into his eyes. You stood there a minute, lost in his gaze when he cleared his throat "yes, well I will leave you to it." He said dropping your hand walking towards the door. "O..h ok, thank you again..Loki." You said. He turned around giving you a small smile nodding as he turned and left, leaving you alone to explore the massive library.

When did he say he would be here?" Thor asked looking around. "He should be here anytime." Scott said setting the drinks down "are you sure you want to do this?" He asked sitting down. "Well yes, it's very simple you see, we have Hank put away, y/n comes to me distraught and I comfort her." Thor said sipping his drink "and I promise her to get him out if she agrees to marry me." He said smiling. "And if she doesn't agree?" Scott asked eyeing him "oh...you doubt me?" Thor asked taking another drink when Scott saw the man walk in. "Hey, he's here." He told Thor pointing to the door.

"Thor.." the man said walking up to the table "Stephen." He said standing up holding his hand out "that's Doctor Strange to you." He said shaking Thor's hand "sorry...doctor." Thor said as the men sat down. "So, why did you call me here?" Stephen asked waving at the server "I have a...situation I need your help with." Thor said leaning back "I need you to commit Hank." He said smiling "why..he may be eccentric but he's harmless." Stephen said ordering a drink. "He is a menace, for everyone's safety he needs to be in an institution." Thor said seeing Stephen eye him. "And this wouldn't happen to have anything to do with a certain...woman?" Stephan asked crossing his arms.

Thor reached to his belt grabbing a leather pouch tossing it on the table "I think that should answer your question." He said leaning forward. Stephen grabbed the pouch, weighing it in his hand. "How soon do you need this to happen?" Stephen asked placing the pouch on his belt "as soon as possible." Thor said smiling. "Very well, consider it done." Stephen said finishing his drink "if that is all.." he said standing up "Thank you for your service....doctor." Thor nodded as Stephen left. "If you ask me, i still think this is a bad idea." Scott said "well nobody asked you did they?" Thor said walking towards the bar. "Drinks on me! I am to be engaged!" Thor bellowed as everyone clapped and hollored.

Loki sat in his chair, staring at the snowflake seeing another another piece fall off and slowly melt, feeling the castle shake. "Master, just ask her." He heard pepper say when he shook his head. "She would say no." Loki sighed fidgeting with his fingers "You don't know that! Stop this stubbornness." She said sternly hopping onto the table. "You forget your place.." loki said "no, I will not allow you to wallow here, did you not see how she looked at you?" Pepper asked. Loki thought back to the last couple of days. After gifting her the library she seemed to seek him out, asking the servants after him. He had caught her gazing at him more then once making his face heat up.

"Now, I want you to go and ask her or I will do it for you." Pepper said glaring at him. "Fine, and when she says no..." Loki started "She won't! Now go!" Pepper said sternly as Loki stood up straightening his tunic. "Where is she?" He asked walking to the door "in the library." Pepper said following behind him. With long strides he made his way down the hall, coming to stand in front of the large doors. "Go on, we'll be right here." Pepper said, Loki turned to see the rest of the servants behind him "no pressure i suppose." He said smiling. He grabbed the handle, swallowing hard as he pushed the door open walking inside.

"Y/n...are you here?" He called out walking inside "Loki! Up here!" He heard, looking up seeing you on the ladder reaching the top shelves. "One moment.." you said placing the book you had back on the shelf you desended, your foot catching the bottom rung making you fall back when Loki caught you "you must be careful dear." He said as you turned in his arms looking up at him "t..thank you." You said smiling. He stood there looking into your eyes when he realized he still had his hands on your hips, clearing his throat he released you stepping back "what did you need me for?" You asked stepping closer. "Well, you see I was...well I was wondering..." he stuttered looking around "yes.." you said getting his attention.

He took a deep breath looking into your eyes "would you care to...join me for dinner?" He asked smiling. "I would love to!" You rushed out bouncing on your feet "I mean...umm yes, I would like that very much." You said looking down. "Wonderful, I will have the servants make you a new dress if you would like?" He said "I will talk to Natasha, I am sure she has loads of ideas." You said smiling at him. "then I shall see you this evening." He said grabbing your hand, kissing the back of it sending a chill through you "until this evening." You smiled back as he walked out to the hallway closing the door. "Well.." Pepper asked seeing him smile "she agreed." He said as they all jumped up and down "Oh, we have alot to do! Let's go!" Pepper said leading everyone out. Loki couldn't help the smile on his face as he walked back to his room to prepare for the evening......

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