#This is my lamb which means I get to shove all of my mannerisms onto it

[twoshotsoffandom]

The lamb likes to tell dad jokes. Here is a collection of some of its best worst jokes

[bordemm]

𝐵𝑅𝐴𝑇(𝑈𝑆𝐻𝐼𝐽𝐼𝑀𝐴 𝑊𝐴𝐾𝐴𝑇𝑂𝑆𝐻𝐼)

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs:sᴍᴜᴛ,ғᴀᴄᴇғᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ,ᴍᴀɴ ʜᴀɴᴅʟɪɴɢ,ʙʀᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ,ᴅᴇɢʀᴀɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ. ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴅᴏᴍ ᴜsʜɪᴊɪᴍᴀ

ᴜsʜɪᴊɪᴍᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:ʏᴏᴜʀᴇ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴡʜᴏʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴜsʜɪᴊɪᴍᴀ ᴘᴜᴛs ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ:2672

ɴsғᴡ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜᴛ

Large would be an understatement. There was something that lit a fire in Ushijima that he didn’t know he had, there's something about the way you looked so small standing next to him that made his pants a tad tighter than they should’ve been. Ushijima was not a small or gentle man by any means but when he was holding your hand as you two walked down the street his hand would cradle yours like you were made of glass. The stares you would get when seen together were obvious and anyone could read their faces. You looked like a small lamb next to the big bad wolf. You didn’t care for the stares they didn’t bother you or ushijima, the both of you were content in the small bubble you had.

“Toshi” you said looking up at your boyfriend tugging his sleeve a little, he looked down at you without a word waiting for you to tell him why you called for him

“Can we go home?” you asked looking around the packed venue, it was a party for the national team and of course Ushijima was invited and he spent all day fighting with the people up top to allow him to bring you, it’s not that you were unable to care for yourself or that you couldn’t stand to be apart from ushijima, no that wasn’t it at all. Ushijima knew he wouldn’t be able to get through this night without you by his side, you were an anchor to the giant. Something that brought him comfort, you could read Ushijima well because you had no other choice. Wakatoshi was a man of few words in front of others but with you he felt as though he couldn't stop his lips from moving, it was ironic truly, such a small thing like you couldn provide so much comfort to the tree of a man.

Ushijima looked down at you shaking his head no, you let out a sigh before trailing behind him as you guys walked through the crowd getting to the table. The organizers of the party let you come under one condition; you and wakatoshi would have to wear matching outfits. You didn’t mind but you weren’t expecting Wakatoshi to look so good in red. The dark crimson clashing perfectly against his tan skin and olive green eyes lit a fire in your belly. You wanted to go home not because you were bored, no you were wet embarrassingly so. The way his shirt was too tight showing off his muscular chest and his broad shoulders made you cross your legs trying to relieve the ache. Ushijimia wasn’t completely clueless, you two have been together for some time now, though he isn’t much of a talker it gives him the advantage, Ushijima can read you like a book.

You watched as Kageyama bounded over to you adjusting his suit jacket, you went to whisper one of the many dirty thoughts you were having only for wakatoshi to grip your thigh,dipping his head down to let his warm breath fan over your ear.

“Behave” is all he said but that six letter word made your pussy become even wetter than before. You squirmed in discomfort your panties sticking to your vagina like a second skin, ushijima squeezed your thigh harder as another warning as Kageyama came and took a seat at the table

“Hi (y/n) it’s good to see you” Kageyama said politely you nodded back giving him a sincere smile

“It’s nice to see you Tobio, how have you been?” you said making small talk with the setter to distract yourself from the oozing mess that you were sure is ruining your panties. Ushijima didn’t say anything or chime into your conversation as more people from the team came to the table, everyone sitting and talking.

“You know it (y/n) you’re spoiled!” Bokuto exclaimed making you giggle shaking your head

“I’m not! It’s not my fault toshi takes care of me” you said leaning into ushijima who just draped his heavy arm over your shoulders.

“Oh you take care of her ushiwaka?” atsumu teased making you roll your eyes

“I provide for (y/n) in any way she needs, as a partner should” he said taking a sip of his drink

“Well (y/n) if ushijima ever doesn’t provided for your more ‘personal’ needs i’d be more than happy to” atsumu said at this ushijima snapped his head back toward the conversation just in time to hear your response

“Oh really? How sweet of you Miya, i might have to take you up on the offer” you teased, wakatoshi knew what game you were playing and you knew just as well as him that if you didn’t cut it out you were really going to be in for it.

“Yeah? There has to be a closet round here somewhere” Atsumu said

“Watch it Miya” ushijima’s dark voice sliced through the conversation making Atsumu nervously chuckled and you sank in your seat

You didn’t let that stop you though, you continued to shamelessly flirt with Atsumu. Ushijima didn’t stop you wanting to see how far you’d dig your grave, deciding you’ve had your fun and now it was his turn, he stood up before standing you up from your seat by your arm with ease.

“We are leaving, let’s go brat” he said his voice uncharastically harsh, you became flustered strutting over your words as Ushijima dragged you away from the table, his grip nearly bruising. As you guys were making your way to the exit wakatoshi’s PR manager stopping you guys at the door pleading him to stay

“No i can’t stay, i have to teach this brat manners” he said, jerking your arm little as he openly referred to you as a brat in front of his manager, you knew you were in trouble by the lack of a filter he had right now. His poor manger stunned just stepped to the side letting you guys through

Timeskip

The sight in front of ushijima was delicious, you were sprawled over his lap your asscheeks an angry red color as his large left hand came down swatting you again making you yelp

“13, thank you daddy” you said placing your hand flat on the floor because of the force of ushijima’s spank sent you forward.

“Stop squirming slut” he hissed bringing you back up on his lap

“M’ sorry daddy” you whimpered hoping he would have mercy

“No you aren’t, not yet” he said spanking you again this time on the right asscheek

“14, thank you daddy” you said gripping onto his thighs to steady yourself

“Did you enjoy behaving like a cock hungry whore in front of everyone?” He asked, his voice booming off the walls of your shared bedroom. You shook your head no, earning you another spank.

“You can’t be that dumb, use your words slut” he said, his words going straight to your sopping cunt

“No daddy just missed you” you confessed which wasn’t a lie this was ushijima’s first night home in 2 months. Ushijima let out a sigh sitting you up so you were straddling him. He hand came up cupping your cheek his calloused thumb wiping away a tear

“So that’s why you were acting like a bitch in heat? Missed daddy?” he said his voice sincere you nodded sniffling nuzzling your head into his hand

“I’m sorry princess, i know i’m gone a lot” he said running his large hands up and down your spine making you shiver

“But you know better, and if i don’t punish you now you’ll keep thinking with that pussy instead of your head” he said gently before shoving you off his lap onto the floor in front of him. You looked up at him with wide eyes as he stood above you, if you felt small before, you were truly dwarfed in this position. The 6’4 man towered over you before giving you a nod allowing you to reach up to his dress pants with shaky hands unzipping them and pulling them down along with his briefs, his thick cock coming up and bobbing against his muscular abdomen.

“Now make yourself useful,” he commanded. You immediately took the head of his cock into your warm mouth and quickly enveloped him as you suckled on his tip, never taking anymore than that into your mouth. Ushijima rolled his eyes before cradling the entirety of your head with one hand slamming his length down your mouth the tip ramming into the back of your throat, you squealed around him sending vibrations up his cock making him groan.

“suck” he said, you followed his instructions hollowing your cheeks around him bobbing your head around him and pumping what couldn’t fit in your mouth in your hands that dwarfed around his thick cock. Ushijima allowed you to keep this pace for a while before placing both of his hands on this side of your head making you look up at him your swollen lips around the middle of his cock

“Don’t forget to breathe, and tap me twice if it becomes too much. Blink twice if you understand me” he said dominant persona dropping for a second. Your heart swirled with love over his tenderness with you. You blinked twice letting some tears fall.

Ushijima regained his dominance snapping his hips forcing more of his thick cock down your raw throat. His pace was relentless as he spewed filth telling you how much a good whore you were, asking if you had gotten what you were begging for. You couldn't respond only allowing a stream of whimpers to leave your throat.

Ushijima finally pulled out, leaving a string of saliva connecting your bruised lips to tip his heavy cock, you gulped down the air greedily huffing and puffing. Ushijima allowed you to collect yourself till he picked you up easily before tossing you down on the bed.

“If i were to put theses fingers” he said suckling on his fingers before pushing two of his thick digits into your pussy making you moan

“In here and press here” he said curling his fingers to effortlessly pushing against the spongy spot inside you making you moan even louder

“Would you cum for me?” he asked, taking his other hand rubbing your clit making you writhe and squirm under him the white hot pleasure building faster and faster leaving you unable to catch up cumming all over his fingers.

“Looks like you will,” he smirked, his ego stroked by how easily you came undone for him. Your legs trembled as you came down from your high.

“Shh shh it’s all good little one deep breaths the fun hasn’t started” he said laying down and pulling you on top of him, your dripping cunt lubing him up without trying as his cock laid heavy on his toned abs

A quick smack on the ass brings you back down earth letting the gravity of the predicament you put yourself in weigh on you

“You were so desperate to get your needy little pussy filled, take what you want” he said resting his head back against the plush pillows watching as you lined yourself up with cock with shaky hands. You let out a groan, feeling him stretch and fill you to the brim, your pussy feeling impossibly full.

“Atta girl” he praised smacking your ass again making you jolt forward

“Now bounce” he commanded and you followed his orders not wanting to push him more than you already have you grounded your hips against him feeling his cock stir inside you till you got up and began bouncing on his cock.

Ushijima watched closely as you began to shameselly bounce whining and moaning about how full you were and how good he felt. He gripped your hips slightly, guiding you brows furrowed in pleasure.

“Daddy s’ too much!” you exclaimed hands coming up to tweak your hard nipples with a moan that turned into a scream feeling ushijima slap your clit

“You can and will take it,I'm giving you what you asked for no?” he said, giving you a harsh thrust in particular making you throw your head back. Ushijima loved this, loved the way you shamelessly used him to get off, no regard for his pleasure just yours it made him feral. Before you could cum he flipped you guys over remaining inside of you. He lifted your legs putting them on his shoulders before he began thrusting into at an unforgiving pace making you scream

“Just like that baby so fucking good for you, daddy gonna stuff you full is that what you want?” he asked as the tip of his penis kept tapping your cervix

“Yes yes yes yes daddy so good so good” you mindlessly babbled as you began to cream around his cock a white ring of cum forming at the base

Ushijima looked down at you as your eyes rolled into the back of your head and your tongue lulled out of your mouth the pleasure overwhelming your brain.

“Your brain oozing out of your sloppy little pussy too?” he said referring to your fucked out state, he asked but didn’t expect a response knowing you’ve been fucked stupid

After you came for the third time without a break overstimulation began to set in making you push your feet flat against his shoulders trying to push him out with weak legs

“Too much daddy!” you screamed as he continued to mercilessly fuck you. His big hands swatted your legs off his shoulders before wrapping a hand around your throat

“Whos. pussy. Is. this?” he asked punctuating every word with a thrust that sent you to your building orgasam

“Ts’ yours toshi all yours!” you shouted knowing your neighbours could hear your boyfriend fuck your brains out.

“Then let me use MY pussy as I please” he said his thrusts becoming inconsistent as he came close to cumming. Knowing your boyfriend was close you began to clamp down around him wanting to him cum hard inside of your fluttering walls

“Fuck you keep squeezing me like that im gonna cum, but that’s what you want huh? You cum slut” he said thrusting into you. You nodded looking up at ushijima like he was a god, tears freely flowing down your cheeks from the immense pleasure your boyfriend was giving you. That face. That’s what sent him over the edge. There is nothing more he loves, eyes glassy with tears, lips red and swollen, little hiccups and moans leaving you as your pussy shamelessly sucked him in more.

“Gonna fill this pussy with my cum, stuff you full” he said thrusting so hard like he was trying to funnel his cum directly into your womb

“Yes yes yes yes yes” you chanted like a bitch. Wanting nothing more than your boyfriend’s hot cum spilling into you marking you in the most lewd way possible. With one final thrust and a throaty moan ushijima came inside of you painting your walls white with cum.

You moaned at the warm feeling of his cum filling you to the brim, you whimpered as more of his cum came out overflowing from your pussy on to the sheets of your shared bed

“So full” you whimpered as ushijima slowly rocked his hips fucking his cum into you before pulling out

“Your such a good girl” he praised stroking your hair lovingly looking down at you like you hung the moon and stars in the night sky

“Thank you toshi sorry i was being a brat” you sniffled his cum still flowing out of your pussy

“Shhh it’s okay baby just relax i’ll go get your bath ready” he said placing a sweet kiss on your temple on your temple walking to the ensuite.

You dreamily sighed tilting your head to the side ignoring the ache in your legs and focusing on the love swirling in your heart.

[celestialgaea]

1. I LOVE your writing! You're amazing! 2. If it's not too much trouble, could I request something for brotherhood Ezio - either fluff or smut (maybe a hybrid if such a thing exists?)

These requests really make my heart soft :,) It’s definitly not troublesome at all, darling! a smut/fluff is coming your way :)) enjoy reading! 

btw, I always had the concept in mind of Ezio being a nude model for a painter/paintress so I used it as inspiration for this request, I hope you like it!

Pairings: Brotherhood!Ezio x Reader

warnings: smut, fluff, mature content

summary: Ezio convinces you of using his nude body as reference for your painting and that’s where things start to get heated.

A sound of raging growls left your throat as it was the sixth time you scratched away the slender torso that was sketched upon the parchment. It was slender, too slender for it to be still considered human. Ironic. The Greek gods were inhuman, but you were unable to project the divine muscles that roamed in your thoughts onto the piece of dried lamb skin. You missed Florence, dearly, and since the first week that you had left the vivid city to live in the unknown town of Monteriggioni you thought that the quiet farms, where trees of oranges grew, would help revive the inspiration to paint a Magnum Opus but it only dried the river of colour in your head. You couldn’t compare Florence to a third rate town as Monteriggioni. You could still recall the smell of paint and the dusty marmer that stained the Florentin air of the market, and the sight of novices carrying their painting supplies as they were on their way to class. You missed how you used to visit churches, not to pray, but rather to admire the fresco’s. Now it was all gone. No inspiration and the few churches that existed in this village were sober and only consisted of a giant crucifix and a statue of Madonna holding her child.

bang bang. Someone knocked on the door of your atelier. With a dissatisfied grunt you threw the charcoal pencil on the ground and shoved your seat back with a strong force, causing an abrasive sound to be heard from outside the small building.

‘Who is there?’ You asked sharply as you walked towards the wooden door. You tried to regain your patience and freshened your cheeks, which was red of annoyment, by pressing your abnormally cold palms against them. 

‘It’s me, Ezio.’ His voice was unclear due to the door that seperated you, but it did not spoil the low rumble that was always present in his speech. You pressed your eyelids together rather harshly and groaned in regret. How shameful musn’t it be to shoot invisible daggers towards Ezio as just the thought of his intimidting gaze locked on your face after your scene of lost temper made you wish you hid instead of confronting him. You weren’t scared of him, you were scared of embaressment.

You opened the door to the sight of Ezio leaning against the doorframe, one eyebrow arched in question. 

‘I came to check up on you, ragazza. It sounded as if you were fighting off pirates in there.’ You felt how your face heated up against your will and you tried to laugh it of with a breathless snicker. ‘The only thing I was fighting with were my sketches,’ You stepped aside, exposing a part of your artist studio. It was not big, as it was perfect to fit in a few tables and art easels with canvasses of variating sizes, but it was practical enough to be able to craft in peace. But it seems that the serene peace wasn’t present anymore these past weeks.

‘Where are my manners, come in.’ With a faint smile he swiftly entered and closed the door. 

‘Lack of inspiration?’ He asked. You nodded. ‘Not only that, It is impossible to find any references to bodies as muscled as those of the Greek Gods. Monteriggioni isn’t filled with art as in Firenze, thus making it difficult for me to find those references.’ As you looked at him from the side, you saw how perfect his body posture was to be used as reference; It was flexible and broad, yet it was intimidating and yet not graceful enough to be that of a dancer. 

Ezio hummed in understanding. He was slightly proud that he still had the ability to make you blush, even in his forties, when he caught your eyes wandering through his clothing.  ‘Why don’t you use models like Leonardo does? You could ask him to lend some to you,’ You grinned. ‘Ezio, my dear. The only references to human bodies that Leonardo uses are either dug up from their grave or strangers with the most inhuman facial complexion. Leonardo is fascinated by the misshapen, not the divine.’ 

‘Well, if the ancient Greeks believed that women were the misshapen copies of men, then I confirm myself as being fascinated by the misshapen. My dear.’ He mocked. His lips curled into a sly smirk and he winked at you, but you merely scoffed playfully as you shook your head and walked towards the chaotic scene that played upon your desk; Scattered parchment with incomplete sketches, charcoal pencils and quills thrown all over the table and, at the moment, irrelevant attributes such as a skull and a terracotta bust of Bacchus -A marmer bust was way too expensive for the meager loan you had to live with-

‘Charmed.’ You said, not impressed. Maybe slightly impressed.

‘As I thought you would be,’ 

The open space of the studio behind you felt enclosed as the soft touch of Ezio’s breath caressed the nape of your neck. His eyes roamed over the table, observing every object -he even squatted down and stared into the dead eyes of Bacchus-, and trailed alongside the lines of your sketches with his middle and index finger pressed together, the two fingers levitating above the charcoal lines.

‘Why did you scratch them? It is beautiful. Well, I am not going to lie, it looks a bit...how should I word it?’ He mumbled. ‘Bad?’  ‘A bit out of proportion,’ He trailed alongside the torso with the same two fingers. ‘See,’ Ezio said. ‘The torso is a bit too long, and the muscles are too muscled.’

You scoffed, a small laugh plastered on your face. ‘Too muscly,’ You mumbled to yourself. ‘Ezio, I don’t know if you have noticed but I do not have any male models nor have I seen a man naked before. No, I mean, not that I am a virgin. But I just haven’t seen a naked man with the right size.’ Good Lord. Ezio grinned, not ashamed for the innapropriate phrase that kept resonating in his head, and locked eyes with you as he raised one eyebrow. You shivered. It was that one raised eyebrow that made his face so intimidating, so intense. ‘Not the right size, huh?’

‘You know what I mean, old man.’ He scoffed. His hand covered his breast and he pretended to be in pain. ‘You wound me with your words, bella.’ 

Oh Ezio. He was so entertaining. He was probably one of the very few reasons your stay in Monteriggioni will last for a very long time. Leaving him would make you feel empty. Ezio had a way of pulling women (and also men) towards him, chaining them with such a scorching desire that it would feel injust and even sinful to break the invisible attraction He brought those small moments of thrills and excitement with him whenever he just walked by making you want his attention to be focused on you and solely you.

‘I could send an apprentice of mine to model, but only if you’d like?’ ‘Are they quite muscled? I need a body that represents the gods and not 17 year old boys who are only interested in horses and girls.’ ‘No, judging by the statues I have seen in Florence they wouldn’t be a very great choice. And besides, I don’t think that they can stand still, naked, for a few hours while a beautiful lady has a clear view of their cazzo without, you know, the visuals showing their excitement.’

Your facial expressions showed slight disgust as you were imagining their erect member and face, reddened with shame, while they were posing as one of the Greek deities. Well, to be fair, you couldn’t expect less. They were boys with raging hormones, and you were a young adolescent that was not able to conceil her raging hormones from experienced and charming men. Or shortly said; Ezio. 

Speak of the devil. 

Ezio noticed the disgust on your face and emitted a low and rumbling snicker as he patted your back, the impact of his force causing your shoulder to be shoved forwards. ‘Keep your sneaky little mind away from my apprentices private parts will you?’

‘Ezio!’ You hit his arm, your mouth open and pretending to be shocked by his remark, but you couldn’t help but curl your mouth into a smile. ‘Back to our previous topic,’ You said, recovering from what just had happened. ‘I really need to find a male model for my project, Ezio.’  Ezio happened to show empathy with you as he began taking off his boots. 

‘Ezio, what in heaven are you doing? Put those back on! Ezio what are you thinking?’ Nailed to the floor you looked at ezio who was only wearing his trousers and chemise, its string loosened and showing the flesh upon his chest, and had his hands on the sides of the edge of his pants, ready to take them of and show the world what momma gave him. ‘I am sacrificing my pride for the sake of your painting.’

Your eyes widened. ‘Would you do that for me? Really?’ ‘Bella, what does it look like I am doing?’ He grinned, taking off the rest of his clothing as you had turned around to reorganize your table and prepared the small podium on which Ezio had to model.

‘And besides, what did you mean with Sacrificing your pride?’ You heard Ezio sigh while you sharpened your charcoal pencils. ‘All these men on Classical paintings have a...well, you know, a small penis, so you will have to reduce mine...a lot.’ You laughed, placing the pencils on the table. ‘Oh, Ezio, I don’t really think it will be necessary.’ You said teasingly. You sat down behind the desk when you heard his voice floating around your ears as he walked towards the small podium, every inch of his skin exposed for you and only you. ‘Prego?’ 

It was difficult to keep your gaze off his private part. It was just...hanging there,  minding its bussiness. It was as if your insulting remark about his member just spat back at you with double as much spit. You managed to clear your throat in a subtle way without choking on your saliva. ‘You’ll have to lay down.’ You said. You stood up to grasp a few layers of cloth to cover the small stage to save Ezio’s behind a bit from the harsh ground. It felt weird to be so near him; He was naked and you were clothed. 

You quickly smoothened the cloth onto the stage, fixating your disorientated eyes on it, and walked, almost ran, with rapid speed back to your desk.

It still felt like a fever dream. You were able to get the most skilled murderer fully naked in front of you, without asking once. As it felt surreal, it simutaniously felt forbidden too. He was way older, a teacher of a kind, how many women wouldn’t have killed for this chance. For seeing Ezio naked, almost vulnurable without his armour. Vulnurable for attack as told by the white lining of the remaining scars on his body. 

‘Lay down and lean on your elbows,’ And so he did. ‘Put one knee up. No the other knee, Ezio. Not so high, go a bit lower. Not that low. Yes, stay like that!’ Ezio grinned softly. ‘You are very demanding, aren’t you bella?’ ‘You iniated on being my model, Ezio,  so do as I say.’  Ezio raised an eyebrow as he tilted his head, sucking air through his teeth, sounding similar to scorching metal in cold water. ‘My apologies, maestro.’ 

His body was beautiful. Not too brawny and not fat. Broad muscles showing through his skin and simultaneously a layer of soft fat hugged around his torso, but it didn’t hang nor did it seem loose, It was tight and gave Ezio’s body comfortable for burning cuddles. 

You gave a last look at Ezio’s position, observing it, but something felt wrong. It felt plain, flat. It didn’t have your desired dimentions. 

‘Ezio,’ He turned his head towards you. ‘Could you touch the ground with your left hand and move your torso towards your lifted knee. Let your right arm rest upon that raised knee, yes, just like that.’ It was better. More rounded than flat. And the most beautiful of all was how above his pubic hair, which was trimmed, small layers of skin bundled upon each other, giving more dimention to his body.

You picked up the stylus - a metal pen- with satisfaction and began carving lines onto the parchment. Those lines slowly became basic shapes until more shade and more complexity was added to them. Ezio’s eyes kept sailing from around the room to your concentrated face. It must be intimidating for him whenever it took only fractions of seconds before you raised your eyes to look at him every single time. And every time he wondered how many seconds it would last this time before you watched him again. 

‘Do you do this a lot? Using nude models?’ Ezio asked. You stood halt in your drawing to look up at him. ‘Well, No. Back in Firenze I was too ashamed to ask for one. If the word would spread about a women making a carreer out of brush strokes instead of a man stroking her to let her bear him a son, they’d burn my paintings. And they may burn my paintings, but i’ll still use the ashes to draw a big cazzo on the front door of their homes.’  You said, slightly flinching at the thought of your face being tortured by the sweltering flames that are devouring your art works. Ezio laughed. His wide-opened mouth created deep curving lines next to it, sparkling eyes squinting at you. 

How did he do it? How was he capable of making you desire him with just a smile. A smile of confidence. A smile of which hundreds of women fell for. Let alone how his body would call for company as melancholy and charm hung like a perfume around him. 

‘Eccezionale,’ He grinned in a breath. ‘And in Monteriggioni?’ ‘The average male in this village is almost expired. They’re at least fifthy.’ 

‘You don’t older men?’ He asked teasingly. Yes you did, especially him. ‘There is a difference between older and old. Old men are almost expired. Older men, on the other hand, are more matured and experienced.’ 

With a last look at the sketch you laid down the stylus and motioned for Ezio to move again. You quickly added some shadows around the sillhouette around the body as you felt Ezio stand behind you. 

‘And what is “older” to you?’  ‘You ask a lot of Questions, Ezio. Aren’t you  Il mentore?’ His broad shoulders casted a shadow on your cheek that was turned to his side. ‘I’m curious. Isn’t a man allowed to ask questions? Especially if he’s as expired as me?’ You scoffed.

‘Ezio, you are not expired. You aren’t old.’

‘I’ll be turning fifthy in five years.’

‘That’s still ages away from now.’

‘Time flies, bella.’

‘Well, mentore, I don’t perceive you as old. In fact, you are mature and very sharp.’ You stole a quick glance of his private part before letting your gaze wander towards the floor. How was he able to keep himself so tame when the tension was creating a heated knot in your lower stomach? The knot kept contracting with every breath from Ezio’s soft lips that brushed against your neck and the radiating heat from his naked body caused by the Florentine sun that tortured his skin underneath the layers of his heavy assassin robes. 

You turned around, trapped in between the wooden desk and Ezio’s nudeness, and placed a hand on his bicep. ‘How aren’t you burned yet underneath all those layers of clothing.’ Your eyes locked with his. ‘I have very thick skin,’ He palmed your hand in his and lead it down his muscular arm, rubbing against its hot skin, let it follow the curves of his muscles back up to his chest. You didn’t even need to glance down to see that his good old friend has “awakened”. 

Ezio’s hand caressed your collarbone and slid down, only to stop at the cleavage of your gown. With his index finger he easily pulled the piece of fabric away from your chest, exposing your breasts that were visible through the thin night gown. 

He hummed in satisfaction.

Ezio disposed you of your clothes in a slow and agonizing manner until your naked body was hugged by the warm air that filled the art studio. His eyes, filled with passionate lust, wandered over your whole body, absorbing every inch of naked skin.  Ezio pressed his body close to you and you felt how his manhood, swollen with blood, was pressed against your stomach. Ezio kissed your lips. His lips covering your upper lip as you softly nibbled on his bottom lip. His tongue wetted the entrance of your mouth before the warmth of his saliva got mixed with yours. Ezio’s hands roamed your whole body, he wanted to take all of you, touch all of you, feel every piece of your hot skin lingering against his. His hands trailed back to your upper thighs and rubbed them as his fingers curled to grip the soft flesh of it. His warm hands felt rough and experienced against your inner thighs, it felt like everything that desire is. 

Ezio pulled your legs around his waist and carried you the the small improvised podium of layered blankets as his one hand held the fold at the backside of your knee and the other was pressed against your lower back. 

You couldn’t describe how overwhelmed you where with all these sensory feelings. Your contracting stomach, heating core and tickling neck, caused by Ezio’s lips and teasing nips, made you close your eyes and press your legs tighter around his torso. You pressed yourself against Ezio while you yearned for his body engulfing yours in this passionate warmth as Ezio’s hot breaths left humid spots on your neck. 

His lips kissed your collarbone and so he went down with smouldering and slow kisses down to the curve in between the mounds of your breasts. His hand cupped your breast and massaged your nipple with his thumb as his mouth place kisses on the side of your other breast before tracing to your nipple and holding it between his lips. 

your breathing became irregular, some were sharp and some were pitched. Your hands took a grip on Ezio’s broad back and you couldn’t help but groan in a breath. His body slid down on yours until he stopped above your pubic bone, a trail of saliva covered your torso. Ezio placed your legs on his shoulders, holding onto your thighs, and he breathed so softly against your humid entrance. 

It felt tingly and increased your need for him to touch you. Ezio’s fingers caressed your labia as his hot and humid tongue slid up your crease. Your breath hitched. His lips covered your clit, his beard tickling your inner thighs, kissing it before taking it between his lips and sucking on it. You groaned. Your clit was pusling and you felt how your entrance was filled with so much ecstasy. Ezio kept licking, nibbling and just making you feel on cloud nine until you felt how tension was layering and building up in your core and you felt how it was almost going to explode in bright colours of the sweet relieve. But Ezio stopped before you could taste that pure sweetness and how much you disliked it, the builded up tension slowly died down.

‘Why did you stop?’ You asked defeatedly. Ezio smirked. ‘I want us to finish together,’ You were surprised. ‘Because I can’t wait any longer to be inside of you.’  Ezio slid back up so his lips could reach your mouth again. You enveloped your leg around his waist and Ezio gripped the fold of your knee, slowly pressing your thigh against your chest. 

He groaned as the tip of his manhood entered slowly. He stopped after a few inches of his manhood had entered so you’d adapt to his lenght and width and began pumping slowly before he’d let his whole penis enter inside of you inch by inch. He filled you so good.

Ezio began pumping in and out between your slick walls and went rougher. The sweetness and lust of the moment made both of your groan in synch. But the more he motioned inside of you, the more your groans became heartfelt moans. You grabbed ezio’s back as you bit on his shoulder. With every push and every thrust of his body against yours the sinful sounds of hitting skin was like background music for the hymn of your moans. Ezio grabbed your thigh and pushed himself deeper, which you doubt was still possible, and the poor man was lost in deep groans. He kept you close to him as he filled you until the building up layers made you speed up, shortening the silence between every clap of skin. ‘Ezio,’ You whispered in lost sweetness. The more tension that build up, the more the yearning for that sweet relieve became. ‘(Y/N),’ He groaned in your ear, huskily. 

Only a few strokes and you were there, both of you. Oh, sweet Lord, how you were losing your mind in a blurr of white light. Just those few last strokes and you’d explode. You were almost there...almost...and ‘Ezio!’ The ball of squeezed tension exploded into a firework of sweetness and fire. Ezio came inside of you with squeezed eyes and a groan before he let himself relax onto you. Your chests were elevating in an irregular rythm. 

‘Mio Dio,’ You whispered in amazement. Ezio slid out of you and took the excess length of the cloth to cover both of you.

‘So when are you free to come back? To finish the painting?’ 

‘Very soon, Bella, very soon.’

[worldwidemochiguy]

Finish That Sentence (M)

When he opened his mouth again, you could taste the anger dripping past those sinful lips. 

“No.”

 “Yes.” 

“Kitten, when I say ‘No’… it isn’t a suggestion.” 

“Good, I didn’t ask for one.”

➵ Warnings: 18+, Yandere Jimin, Smut, Fingering, Oral (m and f receiving), Edging, Penetrative Sex, Daddy kink (oop), Jimin calls you kitten a lot, Slight Degradation

➵ Word Count: 4K

➵ Masterlist

“I’m sorry, what did you just say, kitten?” 

You swallowed hard, willing your hands to remain steady as you clenched them by your sides. Don’t give in, you told yourself, stifling the urge to just surrender and beg for mercy. You’re in the right.

“I-I said,” You stammered, flushing when he smirked at your undeniable nerves. You cleared your throat and made another attempt, hoping in the brief time passed since you last opened your mouth you had somehow grown a backbone. 

“I said… I want to go out tonight.” 

“Oh. Well, of course, kitten.” Jimin replied smoothly, and you knew it had been too easy, you couldn’t relax just yet. “Where do you want me to take you?” 

“Actually, um…” You hesitated, and your boyfriend raised a mocking brow. 

“Go on, baby, I’m waiting.” 

You took a fortifying breath, before letting it all cascade out of you. 

“I want to go to a friend’s party and it’s at a club and I don’t want you to come.”

Your breath ran dry. Jimin’s jaw muscles jumped under smooth skin. He rose from where he was reclined on the couch, standing up so that the two of you were eye to eye. 

You could see every ounce of restraint weighing down his muscles, slowing his arm to a glacial pace as he tucked his index finger under your chin. But, in those eyes, there was a rage swirling in the depths which you often glimpsed but never submerged yourself in. You wondered if this was the night where you would finally get the chance to drown. 

When he opened his mouth again, you could taste the anger dripping past those sinful lips.

 “No.” 

In that one word were a thousand utterances, a thousand missed opportunities to have fun with your friends who you missed so much, and all because of him. You had rolled over and played dead so many times, but you have had enough. 

“Yes.” You snapped, and his eyes widened, in danger of revealing the roiling currents of fury underneath the placid surface.

“Kitten, when I say No… it isn’t a suggestion.” 

“Good, I didn’t ask for one.”

Your back ached as Jimin slammed you against the wall. His hand — which had slipped behind to cradle your head, preventing injury — came down to encircle your throat, while his other busied itself restraining your wrists above your head. You had no choice but to arch into him in discomfort. He pressed his body against yours, revelling in your small whimpers. 

“Kitten thinks she calls the shots, huh?” Jimin asked patronisingly, before grinding against you. You thrashed in his hold defiantly, even as a part of you went molten beneath his body heat. “You think you can speak like that? To me?”  

“You say worse things to me every- oh!” Your breath hitched as his teeth dug into that sensitive spot below your ear. You felt him smirk against your heated skin, a huff of laughter at your choked moan as he rolled his hips against you once more. 

“That’s because I’m in charge, kitten. You’re mine. You have to show me some respect.” 

That comment drove you over the edge. 

“I’m- you- get off of me!” You shoved him away, making no effort to help him as he stumbled back, eyes hooded and lips swollen from the effort to carve his ownership into the bruises on your neck. Surprisingly, he didn’t attempt to plaster himself on you again. He merely watched as you tugged your shirt back into place, smoothing your hair down with a trembling hand. 

“I am not your property.” You stated, annoyance flaring as Jimin chuckled. “I can… I can do what I want. I’m an adult. You can’t just tell me what to do or I swear to god I’ll-” 

I’ll break up with you. 

The threat had been on the tip of your tongue when his eyes met yours. And there it withered, died, and blew away on the wind. You had been right. Tonight would be the night you drowned in Park Jimin. 

His rage was no longer on a leash. It sunk itself into his muscles as he prowled towards you, step by step, until you were voluntarily pressing yourself against the wall in an effort to evade him. He paused a hairsbreadth away from you, close enough to feel the tension of each coiled muscle, pulled taut and waiting to pounce. 

“Or you’ll what?” He breathed, and you flinched. The corner of his lips tugged upwards, and a finger trailed delicately along your cheekbone. Soothing the lamb before the slaughter. “C’mon kitten, what’re you gonna do, hmm?” 

“I-I… uhm-”

“Go on, finish that sentence.” 

His finger tensed, the nail cutting into your skin. 

“I…” You hesitated, before closing your eyes and swallowing your pride in one rancid gulp. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to go. You were right.” 

His gaze flickered with satisfaction, but it was not enough to temper the overwhelming wrath which swum in the depths of his dark eyes. 

“That’s not what you were going to say, is it, kitten?” He leaned in to run his nose along the column of your throat, making you whimper slightly as he put pressure on the capillaries he had burst with his possessive kisses. “Say what you want to say, like I told you to. It’s okay, I won’t get mad.”

You’re already mad, you would’ve said if his teeth weren’t so close to your jugular. 

“I was going to say… that I would… b-break up with you.” You whispered, and his entire body tensed. “B-But I didn’t mean it!” You hastened to add, reaching for his hands and clutching them desperately, “I wouldn’t really break up with you! It was a lie! I’m sorry!”  

“Good girls don’t lie.” Jimin replied eventually, his voice devoid of all emotion even as his eyes screamed bloody murder. “You must be mistaken. Good girls don’t lie and I know you’re my good girl.” 

“I am your good girl.” You responded frantically, gripping his unresponsive hands as if you could force your sincerity in through skin contact, “I’m your good girl and I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I was just being stupid!” 

“Well at least you didn’t lie about that.” Jimin looked up at you, eyes twinkling with sardonic satisfaction. “You are stupid if you ever think you could leave me and get away with it.” 

The world tilted on its axis and it took you a few moments to realise Jimin had tossed you over his shoulder. You went limp, resigning yourself to the punishments you were bound to endure. Whatever it was, you just had to take it, it would be easier for you that way. 

It was difficult to navigate your apartment upside down. It was also unnecessary. You knew where Jimin was taking you. Sure enough, after a few moments of breathless disorientation, Jimin flung you down on your shared bed, remaining at the foot, watching with dark eyes as you tried to rearrange yourself into some semblance of dignity. 

“You lied about wanting to leave me.” Jimin’s voice was cutting, like it always was when he found a reason to punish you. And, inexorably, you had to submit to him. 

“Yes.” 

“But we already know that good girls don’t lie. What does that make you, kitten?” 

Your mouth went dry. You knew what he wanted. 

“I-I’m a bad girl, Jimin.” 

“Jimin?” He repeated, and you belatedly realised your mistake as he strode around the bed and wound a hand in your hair, yanking it back ruthlessly.

“Daddy! I’m sorry, daddy!”

“What are you, kitten?” He asked again, and you held back a sob. You liked it so much better when he was kind to you. 

“I’m a bad girl, daddy.” 

“And what do bad girls deserve?”

“…Bad girls deserve to be punished, daddy.” 

He leaned down, bringing his face closer to yours until the tips of your noses almost brushed. If you had been good, Jimin would have maybe kissed the tip of your nose, making you both giggle. But you hadn’t been good. You had been bad, and now you were being forced to reap what you had sown. 

“Do you think you deserve a punishment, kitten?” 

No! All you had wanted to do was go out and meet your friends, there was nothing wrong with-

Jimin yanked your hair again and you gasped, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. 

“Y-Yes, I deserve a punishment, daddy.”

“Use your manners, kitten, c’mon. Ask nicely.” He hissed, and you nodded obediently, as much as you could with his grip still painfully tight in your hair.

“Please, daddy, punish me. I’ve been a bad girl. I deserve it. Please.” 

“Well done, kitten.” 

You resented the fact that you blushed at his praise, something which made him snicker, trailing a hand down your reddened cheeks. 

“So eager,” He murmured, cupping your jaw for a second before he shoved you away. 

“Hands up,” He commanded, and you slipped into the familiar motions, raising your crossed wrists to the headboard where you knew a pair of restraints were affixed. Jimin made quick work of your hands, electing not to bind your ankles, arranging your body as he wished. 

After five minutes, your clothes had been removed whilst Jimin remained fully dressed, gazing at you with dark eyes. He had positioned you sat up against the headboard — to which you were tied — with legs spread wide open for his convenience. 

Your cheeks burned as he climbed onto the bed, unable to stop the instinctual clenching of your legs together. He gripped your ankles and ruthlessly tugged them apart again, laughing cruelly as you squirmed. 

“Now, now, kitten, don’t move. You look so pretty like this.” He breathed, eyes fixed firmly on your core which, to your embarrassment, was practically dripping on the bedsheets. 

“Sorry, daddy.” You whined, twisting your wrists against their ties restlessly, appreciating the slight burn which kept you rooted in reality.

“So polite, baby, aren’t you?” Jimin smirked, still making no move to touch you, “Where were these manners earlier, hmm? Or, is this what you wanted all along?”

“Yes,” You whispered, trying to wrap your legs around Jimin’s waist and tug him closer, to his amusement, “Daddy, please, touch-”

“Oh, baby wants me to touch her?” He laughed at your insistent nod, “Are you sure?” 

“Yes, please,” You babbled, sinking fully into the headspace, “I’ll do anything, daddy, I want to such your cock, I want you to fuck me, please, anything-”

Your speech melted into a high-pitched whine as Jimin shoved a finger in you without warning. Though his digits weren’t very long, they were thick, and you could feel each knuckle as his finger sunk into you, stretching you out crudely. 

“You’re so wet,” Jimin chuckled, crooking his finger in a way that made you see stars, “God, I could just fuck you right now, couldn’t I?”

“Yes, please dadd- ah!” You moaned as Jimin added another finger, scissoring them within you and making you feel so deliciously full. 

It must have made quite a sight. Jimin, in slacks and a black button down with the forearms rolled up, viciously pumping his fingers into your naked writhing form, already starting to glisten with sweat.

By the time he added a third finger, you were gone. He kept rubbing insistently over the bundle of nerves within you, and each time his fingers were buried to the hilt, he would roll his thumb on your clit, making you clench tight on him over and over again. 

“Jimin, I’m going to- oh please, ah, let me come, daddy, please?” 

Jimin hummed, sitting back on his heels as he seemed to mull over the question, all the while pumping his fingers viciously into your tight hole. You tried to roll your hips onto his hand, meeting his thrusts, but he braced his other hand over your hips, pinning you down so you were forced to just lie there helplessly and take whatever he gave you. 

“Daddy, I’m-” You started to convulse as you felt the familiar tug at your belly button, the pleasure building within you and about to overflow, and Jimin yanked his fingers out of you abruptly. 

You whined as you felt the cool air brush against your empty hole, close to tears as the blinding pleasure of the orgasm dissipated, leaving behind an uncomfortable sensitivity. 

“Daddy,” You moaned, kicking your legs petulantly, “I was about to come.”

“Only good girls get to come, kitten.” Jimin stated, and you felt like you were about to cry.

“I am a good girl!” 

“Oh, really?” He asked, eyebrow cocked at your pathetic form, lying prone on the bed. 

“Yes, I promise, daddy, I’m good.” 

“Okay, then.” Jimin murmured, unconvinced, bringing his fingers covered with your slick up to your mouth. “Suck.” 

You took them into your mouth obediently, bobbing your head up and down, letting your tongue dart out to lick at his knuckles. He shoved them into your mouth suddenly, and you gagged, but didn’t pull off. He cooed at you as tears began to brim at your eyes. 

“Oh, kitten. You’re such a greedy little slut, aren’t you? So eager to have something in your mouth, poor baby.” Jimin cooed, and you whined pitifully around his fingers. “I’m going to untie your wrists now. Is that okay, baby girl?”

You nodded obediently, leaning back as he fiddled with the restraints. He captured your mouth in a filthy kiss as he did so, jamming his tongue into your mouth and twisting it sinuously around yours as if he was trying to taste the arousal you had licked off his fingers. 

You let out a groan of relief as your wrists were finally free and Jimin snickered, eyes shining with satisfaction as you rubbed the red marks. He sat back against the headboard, directing you into a position lying on your front between his legs. 

“Take my trousers off, baby.” He commanded, and you obeyed quickly, unzipping the slacks and tugging them down. Through his briefs, you could see the bulge of his erection, thick and hard, a slight wet spot where his precome had pressed against the fabric. You flushed with pride at the thought that just fingering you had made him so aroused. 

“You have to take off my briefs now, kitten.” Jimin said, almost amused since you had just been staring at his cock for the last minute, trailing your hand up and down his muscular thigh distractedly. At his command, you nodded hurriedly and pulled them off, finally allowing his erection to spring free. 

You licked your lips, and Jimin laughed. 

“So fucking desperate, aren’t you kitten? What a dirty slut my baby is.”

“Yes,” You mindlessly agreed, “Your baby.” 

Jimin took himself into his hand, hissing slightly at the contact, and slapped his cock against your face. You whined, trying to chase it with your mouth, and he finally gave in. 

“Okay, open up baby.” He murmured — unnecessary since your mouth was already wide open — taking hold of your jaw with one hand and using the other to feed you his cock.

Immediately, you took him in down to the base, nose brushing against the spare hair as your throat contracted around him frantically, trying to swallow. His fingers wound into your hair tightly, and he began guiding you up and down his length, using your throat as a cocksleeve. 

“God, so fucking-” Jimin grunted, dropping his head back as you gagged around him, “So fucking perfect, kitten. My perfect baby slut. Take me so- ungh - so well.”

You moaned around his length, both at the praise and the feel of him, heavy on your tongue. 

The knowledge that you were being used to chase Jimin’s selfish release made you slip even further into headspace, where everything was a hazy mess of overwhelming pleasure and stinging pain. You could feel the urge to come, which had cruelly receded as fast as it arrived, slowly flowing back into you. 

Jimin braced both legs against the bed bracketing your head, giving no warning before he began thrusting harshly into your throat. He held your head steady as his hips pistoned into you, groaning as you whimpered and spluttered around him, tears running down your flushed face like a river.

You had no chance to breathe, and when you were light-headed enough that you truly thought you were about to faint, Jimin yanked himself out of you. You weren’t allowed to slump against his thigh like you would’ve liked, as Jimin held your face in place as he came, strokes of white decorating your tongue, cheeks and even your forehead. 

You stayed there, eyes closed, until Jimin released you and you collapsed against his leg with a gasp. His fingers stroked through your hair distractedly as your and his pants mingled in the heady air. 

“So good, baby.” He praised you softly, and you whimpered. “Do you want daddy to take care of you?” 

“Yes, please, daddy.” You begged, excitement starting to reenergise you as Jimin tugged you up the bed.

“Such a polite little girl,” He mused, smiling as he watched you shuffle into place, lazily unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it aside. 

“You’re my baby girl, right, kitten?” Jimin purred, and you echoed back mindlessly.

“Yours, daddy, your good girl.” 

Jimin swiped a finger through the still-wet come on your face, lifting it again to your swollen lips. 

“Suck, but don’t swallow.” He instructed you firmly, and you nodded, eagerly taking the finger into your mouth and swirling your tongue around the familiar bitter taste. 

Once Jimin had fed you all the come that had lingered on your face, he leaned in for a filthy kiss. His tongue explored your mouth, collecting all the come he had made you keep like some sort of pet. As soon as he pulled away, leaving you breathless, he shot you a cocky smirk — even with his mouth full — and lurched down to your core. 

He fucked you with his tongue, spearing the muscle with sharp motions, drawing out a truly unholy sound as he spat back his own come into you. The feel of it, wet and filthy and degrading, made you clench around thin air. Though, Jimin soon remedied that. He plunged two fingers back into you down to the last knuckle, leaning up slightly to suck your clit. 

“Ah, fuck, daddy!” You cried, back arching as Jimin added another finger just as he laved his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves. “P-Please, oh, fuck me, please.” 

“You like that?” Jimin purred, his lips glazed with your slick and come, “You like being daddy’s little cumslut? My own personal fuckdoll?” 

At his crude words, Jimin shoved another finger into you, meaning he was pumping almost his whole hand into your tight hole as you moaned and cried. Tears were running down your face from the stimulation, but Jimin just didn’t let up. 

“Yes, I’m- ah, I’m your fuckdoll! Daddy, please, m’gonna, oh, m’gonna come.”

Jimin pulled his mouth away from you to give your core a sharp spank. You jerked away from him, but couldn’t put up much resistance when he tugged you back. 

“You aren’t going to come unless it’s on my cock, understand, kitten?” 

You whimpered pitifully, and his voice softened. 

“Does my angel want to be fucked now?” 

“Yes,’ You sobbed, clutching at him desperately, trying to pull him up, “Please, daddy, I’m- m’your angel, please.”

“Okay, kitten.” He smiled at you benevolently, wiping his slick-covered face on the bedsheet before pushing himself up on his forearms and crawling up the bed to you. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as soon as you could, tugging him close until your rapidly rising chests were touching. He captured you in a kiss, slanting his mouth against yours in a way that made your toes curl, swiping his tongue into you possessively. You gave into him with ease. 

When you felt his head nudge at your entrance, you whimpered against his mouth, but instead of rejoining your lips like you had expected, Jimin pulled away completely. Ignoring your protests, he sat himself up on his knees, lifting your hips until they rested on the top of his thighs. 

He gripped you firmly, stopping you from any attempt to roll your hips, so his cock was infuriatingly just out of reach, though every so often he would shift and the forehead would brush your clit, making you moan pathetically. 

“Daddy,” You whimpered, so close to release and yet so far, “Please, fuck me. Please.”

“You’ll never say anything like that again, right baby?” Though his voice was soft, his eyes were merciless as they watched you writhe in desperation. 

“Say what? Daddy, I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re… just- please-”

“You’ll never disobey me.” He stated, and you shook your head fervently.

“Never, I promise!”

“You’ll never ask to go to a club without me.”

“I won’t! I don’t want to go anywhere without you daddy, I’m sorry.”

“You’ll never…” He hesitated, his voice cracking slightly as he repeated, “You’ll never threaten to break up with me.” 

You gasped, the arousal building in you becoming more painful by the second. 

“I won’t! I won’t! I’m yours, daddy, only yours!”  

Jimin smiled. 

“There’s my good girl.” 

When he rolled his hips into you, you saw stars. 

He was so thick, filling you so completely. He picked up your hips and started pounding into you right away, thigh muscles bunching as he shoved himself into your tight heat over and over again. 

“Feel so good around my cock, baby.” He grunted, hands painfully tight on your hips. You hoped he left bruises, “So perfect, you were made for me. Made to take my come, like a good little slut.” 

“M’your slut,” You babbled, mouth hanging open as Jimin fucked you brutally, “Please, daddy, touch-”

“Of course, baby.” Jimin murmured, moving his thumb inwards slightly to press against your clit as his cock stretched you out. 

“I’m- daddy, can I- oh, can I please come?” Your eyes rolled back in your head as Jimin angled your hips slightly different and began a volley of thrusts that battered directly against that spot that made red-hot pleasure coil in your gut, “Please, I wanna come on your cock, wanna be yours, daddy please.”

“Such a good girl,” Jimin groaned, falling onto his forearms and grinding his cock into you, “Yes, go on, baby, come. Come on daddy’s cock.” 

At his permission, you let yourself go, writhing on him as your vision blanked out. He rode through your orgasm, pressing his cock into you in slow, maddening circles before letting his own come spill into you as well. 

The two of you collapsed against the bed, uncaring of how sweaty and gross you were, simply panting to get your breath back. 

“Jimin?” You managed to get out, and he propped his chin up on your chest, a lazy, satisfied smile on his face. 

“I- You know I didn’t mean it, right?” 

“The break up thing?” He questioned, as if it could be anything else, and you nodded. A little huff of laughter brushed your chin. 

“Well, that’s good to hear, baby, but I know you didn’t. And even if you did, it wouldn’t matter.” 

“It wouldn’t?” You asked, and a devilish smirk painted itself across his features. 

“No matter what you say or try to do, I’ll never let you get away from me.” 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Eye of the Storm 11

Warnings: nonconsensual sex (series), voyeurism, oral, mean Thor

This is dark!Thor and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a new servant at the palace of Asgard but the job isn’t so easy as you thought.

Note: Angry Thor has arrived (as @lokislastlove​ begged for)

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Loki gloated for much of the day. As the winds and rains raged outside, he seemed little bothered. He spent some hours at his desk then called for his supper. He ate with relish and you found it increasingly difficult to ignore his fleeting gazes. He made no secret of his desires, tickling your thigh or your ass whenever you were near or requesting some task which would expose you further to him.

When he dismissed you, you dressed quickly. You prayed you could flee back to the servants' quarters without obstacle. You just wanted to sleep and the memory of Thor looming in the shadows never quite left your mind.

As you grabbed your apron, Loki neared you and kept you from heading to the door. He touched your cheek as he considered you and his lips curved slightly. There was a knowing in his eyes. He didn't even glance away as another roll of thunder sounded from outside.

"My dear, I must tell you your services have been splendid," He rubbed your chin with his thumb. "Adequate to say the least."

Your cheek twitched. Your stomach churned with dread. His words assured you that he knew he had played his last card with Thor. You were his sacrificial lamb and he was sending you to slaughter.

"Thank you, your highness," You gritted out and drew away from him. "I should retire for the night so that I do not lack in tomorrow's duties."

"I hope you do get some rest," He said as he turned away from you. "Though I suspect this storm might keep me awake."

You watched his shoulders, his careful steps, the way he seemed resigned. You had counted the seconds until you could leave and now you were afraid to. Yet, you couldn't stay.

You went to the door and left without another word. The snap of the door made you flinch and you turned down the corridor away from the king's chambers. The path was longer but would keep you from passing the royal lodgings.

It didn't matter. You reached the next corridor and the windows flickered as lightning crashed. A figure stood at one of the tall windows, staring out into the roaring storm. Thor's hand rested on the stone frame but he didn't look at you. Nevertheless, it was too late, he was aware of your presence.

"Hiding from me?" He asked.

"Your majesty," You uttered softly. "No, I was only returning to my chambers."

"And last night?" He turned at last, his figure limned with the next strike of lightning. "I waited for you and you never returned to your chamber."

"I was late last night. Very late," You lied. "The prince--"

"I do not want to hear anymore of my brother," He huffed as he took a step closer. "I do not want to hear how you prefer him to me."

"I do not, your majesty--"

"My king," He corrected you. "You must recall your manners. You will not be returning to my brother's service. My wedding is through and my wife is here. I've gone along with his ploy for long enough."

"My king, I should--"

"You should do as I bid," He got closer, his steps slow but decisive. "I am not asking you to return as my chambermaid."

You shivered and stepped back as he continued to encroach. He kept on until you were against the wall. Your insides felt as if they would dissolve and you'd be nothing but a puddle on the floor.

"Did he explain to you what I did that day?" He asked as he touched the waist of your apron. You nodded, fearfully. "I did it for you. To be with you. To save you from him."

"My king," You grabbed his hand before it could move from the belt of your apron. "I do not-- I have only ever been a servant and I wish nothing else."

His eyes narrowed and glowed in the dark of the corridor. He scoffed and batted your hand away. He shook his head as he sneered. His hand flew up to your throat and he held you against the stone.

"I was not asking," He said. "And what else does a servant do but obey her master's command."

His hand slipped around the back of your neck as he turned and wrenched you away from the wall. He kept his fingers tight as he urged you down the next hallway, your sandals slipping on the stone. You gasped at the pain his grasp sent down your spine as he turned you around corners.

He stopped before his chamber doors and forced the left one open. He shoved you through so that you nearly stumbled onto your face, only just catching yourself on the back of a chair. You looked up, stunned to find the queen staring back at you. Her dark eyes burned and darted to her husband as he pulled shut the door with a loud clatter.

"Is this the whore then?" She stood. "The one you wrote that ridiculous bill for?"

"Whore?" Thor echoed with spite. "You can keep that title for yourself."

"Pardon me," She spat. "I am your wife, your queen. You will not--"

"By law, I can do whatever the fuck I please," He retorted. "And as my wife, you will obey me," He neared and slapped your ass, "Just as she does."

You righted yourself, watching Calla pleadingly as Thor groped you. She scowled and her jaw tensed as she stared down her husband.

"I will not abide this. You humiliate me? After dragging me all the way from my home?" She raised her voice as she rounded the table. "I will give you your heir, not her, so send the wench away."

Thor shook his head and laughed. A low, sardonic laugh which made your blood freeze.

"Oh?" Thor tore his hand away from you. "You want to do your duty, huh? Then show me you can." He grabbed her wrist and she fought against him. He easily spun her around and twisted her arm up behind her back. "Perhaps if you don't lay there like a corpse, I'll be able to leave my seed in you."

He marched her towards the bedchamber. You stood stunned by the table. You peeked over at the door, wincing as the king barked again.

"Sweet maid," He called. "Come and attend to my wife."

Your eyes widened and you kicked yourself. You scurried across the room and followed the king and queen into the next. He pushed her away from him and reached back to haul you past the threshold.

"Help her undress so that she can do her wifely duty," He ordered. 

He unclasped his cape and tossed it away. As he loosened his armor you went to Calla and she seared you with a look of revulsion. She went rigid and allowed you to remove her belt and then pull her gown over her head, the silk smooth against your palms. She slipped free of her sandals and faced the bed, waving you away like an insect.

"Well, then," You pushed down his undershorts. "Get on the bed, wife."

Calla held her head high and stepped up to the bed. She lifted her knee onto the mattress and for a moment, hesitated. There was a glimmer of doubt in her eyes; a sliver of fear. She climbed up and laid flat on her back. 

Thor neared the other side and stopped himself. He looked at you and snapped his fingers before pointing to the wall. You gulped back your terror and went to stand where he bid. You folded your hands and lowered your head. He snapped again and you looked up. He raised his brow in a silent warning.

You quivered and he got up onto the bed. He took Calla's leg as he turned his back to you. He leaned her leg against his torso, her foot peeking up above his shoulder, then pulled the other up. She let out a breath as he reached between them, the muscles of his back constricting beneath his skin.

"Tho--" Her voice fizzled as he thrust into her sharply. "Ow, you're hurting--"

Her voice was muffled as he covered her mouth with his hand and his flesh slapped against her. He was impatient and unkind. He hammered into her without relent as her hands clawed at him and the blankets. Her murmurs escaped from beneath his palm and were soon little more than whimpers.

He leaned against her and raised himself higher. He curled her body beneath his, lifting her ass off the mattress. Her weight rested on her shoulders as he planted his feet on either side of her and rutted into her from above.

You couldn't look away. It was horrifying yet hypnotizing. He rescinded his hand from her mouth and clung to her thighs as he fucked her relentlessly.

"Come on," He growled. "Come on," He sped up. "Come on--" He snorted in frustration. "You bitch, give me something."

"St-stop," Calla begged. "It hurts."

Thor ignored her, the clap of flesh filled the room along with his deep grunts and Calla's weak whines.

Then it stopped all at once. Thor swore and pulled out of her, letting her drop heavily to the bed. He muttered and got down off the mattress. He rounded the bed and grabbed her dress from where you'd left it on the cushioned stool. He flung it at her.

"Go!" He snapped. "Now."

"Thor," She sat up and tried to untangle her dress. "Please--"

"Useless," He snarled. "You can't do the one thing you're good for. Go or I'll drag you back to your chambers as you are. Let my people see how pathetic you truly are."

You saw her tremble in hurt and shame. She blinked as if to keep from crying and turned her legs over the edge of the bed, wincing as she did. You glanced at Thor as he ignored her and glared out the window, the sky wailing still.

You went to Calla thought you realised she likely blamed you, and reached to help her untangle her dress. She let you and you angled it over her head for her. As she straightened it, you fetched her sandals and belt and she touched your hand as she took them. You looked at her shyly but didn't find the spite you expected, only pity.

"Come on," You whispered and beckoned her away from the bed, peeking over at Thor. 

She rose and followed you around the bed. You led her across the receiving chamber and to the door. As you grabbed the door handle, her hand rested on yours.

"You should go too." She said softly. "He will hurt you."

"I cannot," You replied. "If I did, it would only be worse. You must know that."

She sighed and bent her head. She nodded and let go of you. You opened the door and she stepped out into the corridor. You sensed her watching you but could not look at her. You blamed yourself for what Thor had done to her, not her for what he would do next.

She hesitated but finally left. You closed the door softly and felt a flood within. You had never been so terrified in all your life. You could hear the thunder still and the king in the next room stomping back and forth in his fury. You stayed by the door and watched his shadow pass by the other.

You rubbed your hands together nervously then wrung them. You peered around the chamber and made yourself breathe. You shifted on your feet. You leaned against the doors and the walls seemed to close in. You turned and grabbed the handle, your thumb on the lever.

“And where are you going?” Thor’s voice stopped you and you turned back slowly.

“No where,” You lied.

His chest rose and his shoulders squared. His lip curled and you cowered as he stormed towards you. You exclaimed as he grabbed you and swung you up over his shoulder. The air was knocked out of you as he spun and carried you back to the bedchamber.

He dropped you onto the bed and paced along the bottom as he continued to seethe. His hands were in fists as his muscles tensed and untensed. His eyes burned and he stopped suddenly, looking down at you as he puffed up his chest.

“You have no idea how hard it’s been. I’ll fuck her for hours and I still can’t come,” He sneered. “I can’t-- stop thinking of you. And my damned brother just took you. I--”

He pushed his knee onto the bed and you sat up. He lifted his other and caught your ankle before you could shimmy away from him. He grabbed your other and forced your legs apart. 

He pulled you closer to him, bending your legs around him. His hands went to your apron and ripped it loose, jolting your body against him. Then he gripped the collar of your dress and tore it down the middle. His eyes had turned dark, sinister. He undressed you roughly, shredding your clothes entirely.

He bent over you and cradled your face with his large hand. His lips crashed into yours and tried to devour you as he squeezed your jaw. He pulled back and his eyes bored into yours as you stared back in fright.

He searched your face as your fingers balled up the blanket beneath you. You shivered and turned your head away from him. You braced yourself for what was next.

“You…” He was breathless. “You don’t want me?”

You were silent. You clamped your lips shut and sniffed. You stared at the wall and your body stiffened against his. He sat back and you closed your eyes.

“You will,” He rasped, “You will want me. I’ll make you want me.”

He moved back and grabbed your knees. He held them apart as the bed shifted beneath him. You waited, eyes squeezed shut. Waited for the pain. 

You gasped as you felt something else. Something warm and wet against your cunt. Your eyes shot open and you looked down at the king as he bent between your legs, his hands slipped down your thighs as he kept them apart. His eyes met yours and he flicked his tongue across your clit.

You gasped and he did it again. His tongue delved deeper between your folds and back along your bud. He swirled around it and suckled, all the while, his eyes never left yours and you couldn’t look away as you watched him lap you up.

His tongue sent ripples from head to toe, your nerves buzzed beneath your flesh as he kneaded your thighs. His mouth made sloppy sounds as he purred and his mouth tended to you fervently. Your breaths came quickly and your core swelled with a sudden heat. That same heat you’d felt before.

Your feet and back arched as you threw your head back. You let out a whine as your eyes rolled up and Thor’s hands snaked around your thighs. He pressed your legs around his head and squeezed him between them as he urged you closer and closer.

You let out a stuttered cry as you came. You slapped at the mattress as the waves crashed over you. You panted, gulping for air as the orgasm overwhelmed every inch of your mind and body. 

But Thor didn’t release you nor did he stop. His tongue continued to play with your clit as he kept his head buried between your legs. You reached to the back of his head and pushed. You were so sensitive it hurt. You needed him to stop… but it felt so good when he didn’t.

You moaned as he purred at the taste of you. He drank up your arousal and dragged his tongue up and down your folds. He once more focused on your bud and it wasn’t long before you were writhing again. Your hips bucked against him as another climax took you.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, both trying to nudge him away and draw him closer. You were trapped in confused ecstasy. You were entirely overwrought but your want never quite dwindle. Less, no more. You wanted it all.

A third orgasm shook you. A fourth, fifth, sixth. So many that you were sobbing from the sheer pain of your pleasure. Your cunt was swollen and sore and yet he still did not stop. He clung to you and kept you at the mercy of his attentions.

Your head swam as you felt yourself cresting again. Your hand slipped from the back of his head and your legs went limp over his shoulders. You closed your eyes and mewled as you ascended then suddenly you were plummeting down. 

Down into a void in which you could still feel that sweet agony in your core. In which you were both floating and falling. A darkness which swallowed you up completely. A sleep long overdue.

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

Picture perfect (yandere Prompto Argentum x female reader)

a chapter i wrote awhile back

warning stalking

It was raining outside. Unlike most of the 11 year olds Prompto was by himself. He honesty didn't mind being alone, it gave him time to look over all the photos he had taken that day but he wished that for once someone would strike up a conversation with him and not judge him by his weight. "Hey fatty, we're talking to you!" a voice yelled out. Prompto looked up to see two of his peers standing near his desk. "Want me to get you another chair, the one you're sitting on looks like it's about to collapse" one of them said rudely. "Valentine's days coming up, I guess you're gonna steal everyone else's chocolates since no one's gonna give you any" the other said before snickering. Prompto didn't response, he only knew it was going to add fuel to the fire. "Hey, stop ignoring us!" The two yelled in Union. A young girl with (h/c) walked over to the duo and slapped them in the back of the head. "Why don't you two can it!" She said. "Owww... (Y/n), that hurt" they whined before running off. "Prompto don't listen to them, they're just a bunch jerks" she said. Prompto looked at her in surprise. "Um... You didn't have to do that, they probably ran off and told a teacher about that" he said shyly. "I don't care they deserved it, I would do it again anyway" she said sitting at the desk next to him. She looked at the camera on his table. "Oh wow you have a camera, that's so cool!" She yelled in excitement, her eyes lighting up in curiosity. "Ye... yeah" he replied. "Can I see some of your photos please" "Sure, just please be careful" he said while handing her the camera. She slowly scrolled through all the images, taking in every little detail. "Wow these are amazing" she said while handing him back the camera. "Thanks, I've actually never shown anyone else my photos" he replied. "Well I'm glad to be the first and I noticed that you don't have any photo's with people in them" she said. "Well it's just that I've been to shy to ask people..." He mumbled while lightly blushing. "Well... I'll be your model!" She said with a big smile on her face. "What!!" He yelled in shock. "If you want to take a photo of me you can" she said. He held his camera up. "S...smile" he said his face decorated with a light blush. She gave a large grin as he pressed the button.

📷📷📷

4 years later

📸📸📸

It was the first year of high school and all the studying in middle school had gotten Prompto into a decent high school. The last bell of the day rung signaling that school was finished and that the club gatherings would begin.

He started walking through the crowd to the photography room. He started walking down the stairs before someone shoved past him, causing him to bump into someone, he quickly grabbed onto them to stop them from falling down the stairs. "I'm sorry" a feminine and slightly familiar voice said. He let go of the person, a girl around his age with (h/c) hair and (e/c). "No I'm sorry, it was my fault" he replied. She looked at him for a few seconds then started to look around in a panicking manner. "Have you lost something?" He asked. "Yes, my textbook " she said while looking around. He too started looking around. He turned around and found the Textbook just a few steps away from him he picked the Textbook up. He looked at the name printed on it (y/n) (l/n), the name of his grade school friend. "(Y/N)!! Is that you!" He yelled out in shock. She turned to him and looked at the label on his camera. "Prompto! It's been so long since I last saw you" she replied "Wow you've changed!!" The two of them yelled in union. Silence filled area not so after as they both stared at one another.

Prompto couldn't help but admire the way she had grown. Her hair was styled in a way that framed her face perfectly, her body had feminine curves but her eyes still gleamed like when they were kids. At the same time she had admired how much he had changed. His body was tall and lean and his masculine features were prominent.

"Your still into photography Prompto, that's good to see" she said while giving him a grin. "Yes, and what have you been doing with your life over these years?" He asked. "I've been doing creative literature" she replied while checking the time. "We should probably head to our clubs now, hope to see you again soon Prompto" she said, running off.

As she left he felt numbness overtake him. He couldn't understand how her appearance could mess with his emotions. Why did he feel so incomplete without her in his presence, as if she had stolen a piece of him and taken it with her. He just couldn't understand what he was feeling.

📷📷📷

Prompto finally arrived home. He threw his bag down on the bed and took off his school jacket. He looked at the clock, 6:30. Enough time to heat up some leftovers, clean himself up and hit the books, maybe if he was lucky he would have some time to spare.

After eating dinner and having a shower he sat down and grabbed his bag and placed it on the floor next to his desk, he started taking things out when he saw a book. Thin line the book he had to read for his English class. Didn't understand why the teacher decided not to give the class background context on the book like he usually does, something about wanting everyone to make their own meaning of it. He opened up the book and decided to get it out of the way as soon as possible.

📸📸📸

You and I are meant to be together. You make me feel complete. You are perfect in my eyes. I could say it a million times, yet it still wouldn't be enough.

📷📷📷

As he read through the book he realised that the words on the pages matched up with the feelings he had ever since grade school. Now he knew what those feelings were, he was in love.

📸📸📸

I watch you from afar. As stunning as always. Every moment is priceless.

📷📷📷

Prompto watched (y/n) walking home, taking a photo every once and a while. Her hair flowing in the light breeze, the moonlight glowing off her skin. Just perfect, no amount of Photoshop work could replicate her beauty. He loved every part of her, from head to toe.

He displayed each one on his walls or place them in his wallet just so he can always see her.

He laid on his bed staring at the wall opposite of him, covered in photos. all of them were of his dear (y/n).

📸📸📸

He walked down the stairs to the cafeteria, he walked in to see Noctis waving at him. With no hesitation Prompto sat down next to him. "Hey, how was last period?" Noctis said. "Fine I guess, I was maths so it was really boring" Prompto sighed. "All the guys are talking about white day already, would you believe that" Noctis sighed. "You've never liked the attention, have you?" Prompto asked. "Not really, all the girls get super competitive and considering that I want to ask a girl out this year..." Noctis said before getting cut off by his friend. "Wait, who is it!!!" Prompto nearly yelled out. "Will you calm down, I don't want anyone to hear about that" Noctis hushed "Who is it?" Prompto whispered while poking him. "It's (y/n), to be honest I've had a crush on her since grade school" he said while lightly blushing. Prompto couldn't help but feel his blood boil at his best friend's words. He thought he could win her over with his royalty and wealth, if he had all that he would be spoiling her in the fineness luxuries the world had to offer, give her whatever she wanted.

He had the urge to punch him, which confused him. why would he want to hurt his best friend over a couple of words. He pretended that it was nothing and continued talking to his best friend but deep inside envy was coursing through his veins.

📷📷📷

For the rest of the day he had been in a foul mood. The final bell of the day signaled the students to leave. He got to his locker and took out his bag and shoes before leaving. He walked out of the school grounds before taking a hoodie out of his bag and putting it on and pulling the hood up to counsel his face. This had become a daily routine for him now, watching (y/n) walk home. Most would call it stalking but he didn't see it that way. It was a long trip at such a late time. I was dangerous for a frail girl like her. He wanted to make sure she returned safe and he couldn't help but take photos of her. She was the perfect subject, the perfect model.

For the whole trip he could tell she was on edge. She keep looking around or going into shops. At one stage she saw the hooded figure stalking her and she panicked and ran out of his sight.

📸📸📸

The next day at school she had been paranoid, Prompto could tell by how she acted. Maybe he should have hid better. The poor girl looked like a lamb that had been separated from the herd.

The lunch bell rung and everybody left class, rushing to the cafeteria. Prompto walked amongst all the others before being stopped by a hand tugging on his sleeve, he turned behind and saw his beautiful, angelic (y/n). "Oh (y/n), what's wrong you've been acting strange today" he said trying to sound clueless. She looked up at him before replying. "Some creepy guy has been stalking me lately and..." She mumbled. "Do you want me to walk you home?" He asked patting her head, her hair was so soft he just wanted to nuzzle into it. "Yes thank you, I'm just afraid that..." She thanked. "I'll make sure that nothing happens to you" he hugged her in his arms, he just wished he could hug her forever.

📷📷📷

Walking (y/n) home was a honor to him, not having to hid in the shadows and act secretive but being around her made his heart beat like crazy and his whole body warm but like all good things it had to end.

"Thank you Prompto for walking me home, I really appreciate it" she said to him as she unlocked the door. "I don't mind, honestly I enjoyed this time we had together, I actually wouldn't mind doing this more often, gives us time to catch up" he said while placing a hand on her shoulder. She turned around and wrapped her hands around him. "Bye Prompto" she said while hugging him. He couldn't help but sigh, her embrace was so warm and welcoming. "Hey (Y/N)" he murmured "Yes" she said. "I was wandering if you could help me with a project I have in photography..." He shyly asked. "Of course! It'll be just like old times!!" She squealed while hugging the oxygen out of him. After what seemed like forever she had finally let go. "Tell me the details tomorrow, OK" "OK" "Good bye, see ya tomorrow" she said as she walked in. "Good bye" he mumbled to her before closing the door.

📸📸📸

(Y/N) was waiting outside of Prompto's house waiting for him to come back so that they could start the photoshoot. "I wonder if he still keeps the spare key under the mat" she said as she knelt down and shifted the mat, it was. She put the key in the lock and twisted it until it clicked, she opened the door and entered the house. The house was nearly pitch black, all of the blinds were closed and a light musky smell clung to her nose give her a strange and unwelcoming feeling.

'I should go to the bathroom and get my make up done' she thought as she walked up the staircase. She opened one of the doors slightly, what she believed to be Prompto's bedroom. 'I'll just leave my bags in her' the (h/c) haired girl thought as she walked in and saw the most horrifying sight.

The room was littered in photographs of her, most she never knew were taken. She gasped, Prompto was the stalker all along! Before she could make Take another step a pistol was pointed at her. She looked at the weilder, her familiar blonde haired friend with a horrified expression on his face. "You! You were the one who was stalking me all along!" She yelled at him, he still held his pistol to her. "(Y/n)... I wasn't ready to tell you-" he shuttered. "You! I don't want to see you anymore!" She screamed at him. Prompto felt something in his brain beginning to crack. "But-" "No buts, I don't want to see you even remotely near me, if you even so much as get close to me I'm gonna file a restraining order!" She screamed over him as she tried to get past him, but it failed. He just stood there, as still as a statue while his mind began to wonder into a dark inky abyss. A smile began to appear on his face. "Tell me that you love me" he said while giving her a sickeningly sweet smile. "What if I say no?" She replied. He cocked the gun, readying to take a shot.

[hisgirlwonder]

East to West - Part One

Length: 4.1K words Warning: Sadness, angst, Michael being an asshole, etc Synopsis: Palos Verdes called your name from the moment Michael suggested the move there. Would it live up to your expectations or would it be the beginning of the end? You were soon to find out. Notes: Since getting a tug at my heartstrings to write for Duncan and Jim the idea of this popped into my head. Fair warning about this series and that Michael is the antagonist. Jim is a precious little lamb who has graduated from school and he will get the life he deserves. PS. this is going to have a few parts because I have admittedly been struck with a plethora of ideas for the story. // (FYI: The name is more than just a play on the direction they moved in. If you can guess correctly what it’s about then you get a gold star.)

This had been a long time coming. You were growing sick of the concrete jungle you lived in and wanted to be closer to the ocean; the place where you belonged. Michael suggested making Palos Verdes your home and you agreed without hesitation.

“There you are,” you mutter when you spot Michael in the living room; head down, completely immersed in his phone and those slender, ring-adorned fingers sporadically tapping on the screen. You drape arms over his broad shoulders and whine like a child about the fact you’re bored. His attention remains mostly unbroken but he pipes up with a smart ass remark, “Hi bored, I’m Michael.”

He was beginning to impinge on your last nerve but you knew this is how it was going to be; being forced to deal with that constant regression into a state of immaturity. You push yourself off his chair and amble over to the couch, moping as you move, “Wow, what a great help you are.”

You slump down onto the couch and feel an ache bellow in your chest; unhappiness roaring inside, begging to be released. The lack of deliberation over your deep-rooted feelings recently had become too much and you can’t help yourself from complaining, “Ever since we arrived I feel like all I’ve done is watch re-runs of films and read the same handful of books. I’m going crazy, Michael. You’re at work all day, almost every day, and I have nothing but these four walls to keep me company.”

Why am I so unhappy? I thought moving here would make everything better. Closer to his friends, closer to the beach. Why do I feel so empty and unfulfilled?

He queries what you actually want to do but the words are flecked with apathy; sounding as if the care he was trying to convey was non-existent. If you likened Michael’s attention to anything besides himself as of late it would be a tiny drop of water in the ocean.

“Maybe I could take up an art class, make friends, or even get a job.” You suggest, trying to fight through your hurt with optimism. Michael responds with a mouthful of disbelief, “Get a job? Somehow I can’t see you working.”

Shrugging off the doubt you pick up a pillow and throw it in his direction. It hits and bounces weakly off his shins, falling to the floor. “That’s because I haven’t found anything that calls to my soul. Besides, you’ve never let me work.”

Michael doesn’t understand your need or desire to go off and work. He thought because he gave you everything that that should be enough. It was as if he liked to ignore your need for independence because he wanted you to be like the wife of all of the men in his growing company; a trophy to look at. You were wild at heart - longing for a challenge and for something to pour yourself into.

He disregards the last ten minutes that he’s spent putting your feelings down entirely when he breaks the concentration to look up and grin at you, melting your core into a puddle with those blue eyes. When he was like this, it seemed as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

“Sandy and Phil should be back from their holiday any day which means we can have them over for dinner. Maybe you can go with Sandy to the art classes she’s been attending? Phil said she loves them.”

Sandy and Phil Mason are the married couple who partly prompted the shift to Palos Verdes. Phil told Michael to bring his business here because “Palos Verdeans” as he calls them, would eat up what he was creating. Michael, never one to turn down a challenge or offer, accepted and the rest is history. You went along with it because after all it was near the beach and you were a water baby at heart.

*

Rumbles erupt from your starved belly as a reminder that you haven’t eaten so you stroll to the kitchen and open the fridge. Your hungry eyes peruse over the contents and settle on some fruit; also taking a bottle of water for good measure. You perch yourself on a seat at the counter and pop a few grapes into your mouth to sate your appetite for the moment. Past the sound of your teeth piercing the flesh of the fruit, you overhear Michael talking to someone.

“Hey Phil, it’s Michael. How are you doing? Yeah, I’m good. Getting settled in, you know the drill. Palos is great. Are you two back from holiday?”

There’s a break which you figure is probably Michael listening to Phil rattling off some useless information; a habit which he was all too guilty of apparently.

“Wow, that sounds like that would have been interesting. I was thinking that maybe you two and the kids could come over for dinner tomorrow night? You all can finally meet Y/N. I can show you a few things I’ve been working on.”

Another pause but this time when the silence is broken there’s a change in his tone as if he’s saddened by something Phil said.

“Oh, they can’t come? That’s alright. Y/N has plenty of time to meet them. What time works for you? Ah, That’s perfect. Hey, buddy, don’t bring anything. We’ll see you then.”

The focus drops from Michael and you start to guzzle the water to quench your thirst but are interrupted when he yells out for you to come to him. “God, what is it now?” you mumble under your breath as you’re wandering back over to where he’s sitting.

“What do you want?”

“Can you be a doll and organise something for dinner tomorrow night? Just don’t make anything with olives in it – Sandy hates those.”

Your brows furrow because you can’t believe the way he’s acting; forgetting how you’ve told him many times that olives are the one thing to make you gag. His lack of manners and preoccupation with the Masons were starting to get to you. The annoyance you’re feeling doesn’t stay hidden for long when you subtly drag Michael with a reminder of how long you’ve been together and questioned when you ever cooked with them. He doesn’t flinch and instead smiles, remarking how it will be perfect. You wanted to throttle him but you swallow the distaste and start to walk towards the stairs.

“Y/N?” Michael calls out as he’s headed in your direction. You’re standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding the bannister and you turn back to see that Michael is closer than you imagined.

“You’re going to love them, I promise. Their kids, Jim and Medina, are great. You couldn’t pick a better family.”

“I’m sure I will. But, right now, I have to plan what I’m going to wear tomorrow night.”

You continue as you were, running up the stairs to the bedroom.

-

A hum of excitement sings through your body while you browse through the dresses in your wardrobe. Nothing seemed to be fitting for the occasion until you got to the very last hanger – it held a plain black, mid-thigh length dress. You didn’t own anything fancier because that wasn’t you. Your style was more boho-chic – you preferred long, flowing skirts matched with bare feet than to shove them inside a pair of heels and wear a tight skirt.

You’d be lying if you said the thought didn’t cross your mind as to why and how you and Michael were still together – he thought with his brain, you with your heart; his style was sophisticated and suave, yours was something else; the music and art you love had soul – Janis and Stevie stole your heart and Michael could never understand that because he preferred classical music; you were a vision of natural beauty with your wavy, untamed hair and your sun-kissed skin with freckles adorning your upper cheeks and nose whereas he was always made up and looked incredible. You’d find yourself looking in the mirror and wonder what Michael saw in you. They say opposites attract, but this was “other ends of the spectrum” opposite.

You’re suddenly hit with a longing for the way things used to be, growing uneasy at the thought. Back when the nights were spent kissing every crevice and curve, plaiting his hair in spring right through the summer, singing to him as you play your guitar every Sunday in bed, after making love first thing in the morning. All of these things were slowly disappearing and becoming distant memories alongside your first kiss, your high school graduation, and learning to drive.

There’s a spike in your sadness when you suddenly remember your guitar was broken in the move and Michael is all too indifferent about it. He knew that it was your life and he did nothing to remedy the situation - you were soon to learn that maybe this was a sign from the universe to prepare for Michael breaking your heart repeatedly from this day forward. You think now or never and place the hanger on the hook on the back of the door before running downstairs to Michael.

-

Waving hands in front of his face proved pointless because he was locked into whatever was so intriguing on that phone. You wanted to throw it, break it, smash it into a million pieces but you know that wouldn’t do anything to diffuse the tension that had birthed itself in your marriage.

“You’re glued to that thing, I swear.” You nag; usually you’d lighten that with a sarcastic tone but today was not that day.

“Well, some of us need to work, Y/N.”

There was a taunt in his voice. A tinge of resentment, maybe. Michael was never really that vocal and the air of mystery that once drew you to him was becoming an irritation.

“Did I not just tell you earlier I’d go out and get a job?”

“Now, would you want to go and do something silly like that?”

“Because all of this is driving me insane, Michael. If you had bought me a new guitar like I’ve been asking you in the first place, then I wouldn’t be feeling like I want to rip my hair out.”

He doesn’t want to listen to you any longer and gestures in a direction towards the coffee table. “Take one of the cards and go buy it yourself. I just really need to finish what I’m doing for next week.”

Of course you do.

You grab his wallet and pulling one a card out at random then slipping it into the back of your phone. “I’ll do the food shopping for tomorrow as well,” you mention, throwing the wallet back on the table.

“Uh huh, uh huh, sure thing. Whatever you want.”

He’s not even listening.

“Maybe I’ll run away while I’m at it.”

“Sure, have fun, honey.”

Why do I even fucking bother?

“I’ll see you later, Michael.”

You storm off, snatching your keys from the bowl by the front door and slamming it shut on your way out.

-

Where are the guitars? There are records, there are music DVDs, there are posters.

Out of nowhere, a young man interrupts (probably younger than you) and asks if you need any assistance from him. He called you ma’am to which you laugh; a faint shade of pink painting your cheeks in embarrassment. With your sight on him, you get the feeling that he’s all too familiar but there’s no explanation you can think of as to why.

Your brain ticks over the small list of physical impressions that you notice. Firstly, the two of you both had wavy, brown hair. His seemed virgin and untouched whereas yours had been dyed; you were growing it out and currently were left with bleached tips. Secondly, his eyes are a beautiful blue; they felt from the few moments you looked into them that they could consume you whole with how deep they were. The third and final thing you notice is that, funnily enough, the two of you have the same beauty spot beside your right eye.

“Ah, no need to call me ma’am. Call me Y/N.”

“Okay, Y/N, can I help you?” He asks. His tone is sincere but charming all the same and it seemed like he really meant it when he asked if you needed help. Your eyes drop to his name badge and see that his name is James.

“Actually, you can, James. I’m his looking to buy an electric and an acoustic guitar and I need you to point me in the right direction. Do you have any Les Paul’s?”

“Do we?” he scoffs, “Of course. Follow me.”

The two of you walk across the room until you reach the cash register and he fans his arm across the wall beside; it’s lined with an array of guitars. “Here you are. These are what we have on display but we can order anything you like.”

“Thank you so much. Oh, I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to be taking your time up.”

“It’s fine, honestly. It’s not every day I get a woman in here who seems to know what she’s talking about music-wise.” He admits and becomes flustered, switching abruptly to asking if you liked the look of anything in the shop. You’d been married for what felt like an eternity and had forgotten the simple signs of when a man is interested in you; blind to the fact that this guy before you happened to be visibly giving his attraction away.

You’re pulled towards the mahogany coloured one and figure it’s best to go with your gut. He tells you it’s his favourite and commends you on your excellent taste while pulling it down and explaining that it was a new model with a few modifications for easier playing.

Those blue eyes meet with yours and you become awash with calmness, unlike the all too hot to handle glare that Michael would stare at you with. You fall into a fixation on him until you’re snapped back into reality as a result of noise in the close distance.

“Thanks,” you smile, trying not to blush when you realise what just happened. “Can I also just get a Gibson? I like-“  

The sentence is cut short by a phone call from Michael calling to find out what you’re doing. You cover the mouthpiece with a hand, whispering loudly to the assistant that you’ll be one moment and walk off to the side to unwillingly take the call.

A sharp tongue hisses that if he was listening earlier then he would know. He shoots an attempt at a Michael apology (one where he makes it sound like you’re actually in the wrong) but you intervene, reminding him he’s always busy. After a deep exhale you continue, explaining that you’re shopping and you’ll make the vegetarian lasagne he loves so much. There’s a silence followed by a groan because apparently, Michael doesn’t want it.

He rattles off some excuse but you’re not buying it. You stare at the floor and try to massage the tension out from its hiding place in one of your temples. Unaware, he is watching you and feeling the discomfort. “Just send me whatever you prefer and I’ll pick up the ingredients.”

You lift your head back up and draw your phone away from your ear before holding it in front of your face to stare at the screen and flip a middle finger up at the screen. Michael was testing your patience and you didn’t know how long it was before you’d snap completely

As you’re walking back to the counter, you slide the phone into your back pocket and the assistant asks if everything’s okay; not long followed by an apology for listening. Your stomach suddenly feels as if it’s holding butterflies and they’re flying out of your throat when you stumble on the words “you’re so kind” and instead it comes out more like s-s-so kk-k-kind and you want to slap yourself.

You smack the bottom of your palm to your forehead, telling him to excuse your inability to speak. He’s laughing and you can’t help but feel like an idiot. “Smile,” he grins, explaining that you didn’t need to be embarrassed.

“Before you ask, the answer is yes, just be back before closing time.” His tone is half confident and half confused.

How does he know exactly what I’m thinking or how I’m feeling?

You attempt to hide the excitement by gnawing the inside of your bottom lip and hold back the smile but it’s seemingly all too obvious. “Wow, I was right. I knew it,” he clucks his tongue and throws his head in the direction of the supermarket, “Go and shop. I’ll be here, waiting.”

“You’re a lifesaver and who knows, maybe one day it’ll be you I’m cooking for,” you yell out as your feet walk towards the exit. You could have died the moment those words left your mouth. The two of you only just met about half an hour before and here you were almost offering him a meal. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

-

You’re only steps away from the store when your phone begins to vibrate - it’s a message from Michael telling you that to make whatever you want as long as you put meat in it. Suddenly the feeling of fuck it strikes and you rebel; leaving empty-handed and returning to where you’d rather be with an idea.

“That was some quick shopping. Can you teach me how?”

“Change of heart, I guess. Hey, James, do you know anyone who might want guitar lessons? We just moved here and I’m growing bored so I figure one way to entertain myself is by doing what I love; playing the guitar and teaching others.”

“As a matter of fact, I think I may.” He asks, picking a pen and a notepad off the counter and hands them over to you. “How are you liking Palos Verdes?”

“Amazing, beautiful, spectacular. Perfect for where I am in my life.”

“Oh come on, you can’t be much older than me.”

“I’m twenty-five but some days, like today, you need to add a zero onto the end of it.”

“See, you’re barely older than me. I’m nineteen.”

You scribble details on the paper then hand the pad and pen back. His eyes glance down to inspect your handwriting and he jokes about you giving him your number. You playfully tease, telling him only if he wants you to be his teacher. Anyone else would notice how obvious it is that he wants to say something else but he restrains and instead asks when you can start.

“We can start as soon as Saturday if you like?”

“Saturday’s perfect. It’s a date.”

He taps and clicks away on the computer, waving his hand in the direction of the machine to tell you it’s ready. You pull your phone out of your pocket and hold it over the terminal before tapping in the pin number and pressing enter.

Your cheeks heat up from those few words and you hope like hell he’s colour blind. It appears as if it may have the same effect on him when you see him rubbing the back of his neck. He interrupts the moment, providing a distraction from the slip of his tongue and hands you the receipt. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring them to your car.”

-

“Mikey, where are you? I have some great news!”

Michael knew something was up because you only ever called him Mikey when you were in a good mood. He appears and you thought he’d be happy (how stupid could you be) but his expression is confused, and he asked where the food is; lifting his chin and looking towards the car as if you’d tell him the bags were still inside.

“I figured we could order in.”

Michael stays quiet and crosses his arms, looking at you with a raised eyebrow and a look on his face as if to say order in, really? But you knew this would happen – you knew he’d be sassy because he’d done nothing but shoot you down at every corner when he was actually paying attention. You come fully armed, combatting the passive aggressiveness of his body language with some of your own.

“We could get a mix of different meals from that organic place we were reading about. If your friends are so lovely, then I’m sure they’ll understand.”

He throws down his arms, admitting defeat and begrudgingly claims that he thinks it sounds like a good idea. You try to break the cloud of the toxicity in the air, grabbing at his hands excitedly.

“Mikey! I got my guitars and managed to get my first student. I decided I wanted to give guitar lessons. It’s so exciting!”

You’re like a child again on Christmas who’s staring at the presents underneath the tree in bewilderment. Elation flowed through you and you thought Michael would share the same sentiment but he didn’t – he was like the Grinch; snatching every present away with one look.

“What? What is it now, Michael? What have I done wrong this time?” Tears well up to cause your vision to go glassy and fall from your eyes when you blink, spilling onto your cheeks.

“I just thought if you were that serious about getting a job it would be something a little more productive. Do you really need to spend all of your time playing instruments?”

His words sliced straight through your feelings of sadness and cut you deep. You wipe away the wetness from your face, curling your lip up and spit back at him, “I’m telling you right now I’m starting a business and you don’t seem to understand me.”

There he goes again with the raised eyebrow and crossed arms but this time he added in a cocked hip. You wanted to smack the holier-than-thou attitude out of him as he barks at you, “You call that a business? Strumming guitars for twenty dollars an hour isn’t a business.”

This is when you snap and your mouth explodes; causing you to speak what’s really on your mind. You’re edging closer to him as you say, “What the fuck do you expect me to do for work, Michael? Do you want me to tart myself up into a little skirt, cover my face in a thick coat of paint and call you Sir while I bend over and lick your shoes clean? Tell me because I’m all ears.”

You’re standing in front of him with what feels like nothing left to lose and you poke him in the chest.

“You know the kind of person I am and you can’t fucking stand it,” you mock him, laughing in his face. Your voice changes from mocking to stern as you begin to growl, “I really fucking love you but you’re treating me as if I’m a bug you’re attempting to destroy which makes me really fucking resent you. Don’t shit where you eat, Michael.”

You decide to take a breather and go outside to grab your new guitars before you really lose it. Once you’re outside you feel your phone vibrate again but you know this time it isn’t Michael so you’re slightly more relieved.

It’s me, your knight behind the cash register. The strangest thing is I’ve been talking about finding a guitar tutor and then you come along. Safe to say I’m more than excited for Saturday. – J

The sadness and anger dissipate temporarily as you read over the message again and again; completely unaware that this was going to turn into something bigger than anticipated.

Taglist: @avesatanormalpeoplescareme  @sensitivethot  @sacredlangdon @sammythankyou @taintedaffairs @langdonsdemon @queencocoakimmie @1-800-bitchcraft (PS. if I can’t tag you, I can’t add you to my list so please make sure I’m able to if you’ve asked!!)

[thank-you-for-the-vampire-money]

I HAVE ISSUES (Part 7)

Series summary: Lance has always been an asshole.  Womanizer, alcoholic, narcisitic, you name it, that’s Lance.  But the question is… why?

A/N: PLOT IS PICKING UP... sorta. and YES!  MORE THAN 800 WORDS!

Lance x plussize!reader

Word count: 1520

Summary: Lance is definitely improving with the added help of Dinah- now he had something important to ask you.

Warnings: dealing with feelings, vulnerability, fatphobic language, mild violence, insecurity

Part 6

(GIF not mine)

The room was eerily quiet as Dinah scribbled notes in her pink, holographic notebook.  It was so quiet, Lance cringed at the sound of his clothes shifting against each other as he hugged his knees to his chest.

Lance had been seeing Dinah consistently every week for about a month and a half, and he had gotten very comfortable with her; (Y/N) was right, she really did help him.  He was noticing fewer temper tantrums, he felt less depressed, he was being a bit more social instead of isolating himself, he felt a lot better.

“So why don’t you think she’ll accept your offer?” Dinah asked, looking up at him with a smile to comfort him.

Lance took a second to answer.  “Well… because I’ve been an asshole to her for years,” he sighed, resting his chin on his knees, “I’ve been so rotten to her- why would she want to go out with me?”

“You have been nicer to her recently, correct?” she hummed, .

“I suppose,” he mumbled in reply.

“And you said last week that you apologized to her, is that right?” she continued.

“I did… she accepted it…” he hummed, “but what if she was just saying that to be nice?!”

Dinah sighed, looking him in the eye.  “From the way you talk about (Y/N) I don’t think she’d fake forgiveness,” she explained softly, “and you can’t know for sure unless you ask her- I say it’s worth a try,”.

He sighed heavily, his stomach already twisting from nervousness.  “I guess you’re right…” he nodded, taking a deep breath, “I’ll give it a try, I’ll ask her,”.

“Good!  I’m glad you’re taking that risk,” she smiled, very proud of him.  He was so closed off, she was happy he was opening himself up a bit.  “And remember, even if she says no, that doesn’t mean you’re any less valuable, nor does it mean you aren’t making progress,” she reminded him.

You looked up from her book and smiled as she saw Lance waving goodbye to Dinah.  “How was it?  Do you feel better?” you asked, getting the car keys out of your bag.  He had such a stressful week and he was really on edge, so this session was really needed.

“I feel good,” he nodded quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets.  He didn’t want to talk… not yet anyway.

You smiled kindly as Lance watched you vacuum the living room.  Lance had been sitting on the couch awfully quiet for the past few hours- he wasn’t normally like this.

“Are you okay, coach?” You asked, turning off the dirt devil for a minute so you could hear him.

He nodded unceremoniously.

“You don’t seem okay…” You hummed, sitting on the couch next to him, “you’re too quiet to be ‘okay’.  What’s wrong?”

He took a deep breath, trying gather up whatever courage he had- which wasn’t much.  “I just… I wanna ask you something…” he mumbled.

“Anything,” you smiled sweetly, trying to subtly show that he was safe telling you.

“I Uhm… would you… Do ya… wanna Uhm… wanna go out sometime?” He asked shyly, “I can… want to take you out to… to dinner…”.  He held his breath, waiting for your answer.

Your expression softened.  Then became hesitant as your brows furrowed.  Would it be wise to go out with your boss?  Well… maybe… why not?  “Sure,” you grinned

“Wait what?” Lance gaped.  She actually said YES!  He was so excited!  “Yes?  Yes!  Thank you!” He squealed, “how about Friday night?”

“Sounds good to me,” she grinned, loving to see him smile so wide.

You were changing in the girl’s locker room at the gym, since Lance wanted to go out right after work.  You’ve never seen him this excited for something since… ever.  He had even done his own laundry for once, wanting his suit to be perfect.  With all his preparations, you were a bit afraid you were underdressed.  Was a pink dress too baby-ish?  Maybe you should have worn flats…

You walked out of the locker room, still fluffing your hair to adjust it properly- this one stupid lock just wouldn’t lie flat!  Setting your black flats on the floor to slip them on, you could hear Lance’s jaw drop to the floor.

“Stunning…” he beamed, looking at your figure up and down, “I never thought pink could look so good,”.

You chuckled shyly, your face blushing.  “That’s very sweet of you,” you rasp, your voice suddenly gone.

“A-are you ready to go?” he asked, shaking his head to break the spell you had cast on him, “the reservations are in thirty minutes,”.

The dance hall was huge!  Well, huge to you, someone who only attends noodle cafes and coffee shops across from Target.  There were so many nicely dressed ladies there, it made you feel a bit uncomfortable.  Thank God for the open bar.

Lance held you on his arm proudly as you both were lead by the waitress to your private booth close to the DJ.  Could you consider someone who only played jazz and swing a DJ?  WHat else would you call them?  Are there different name for- STOP!  You had to calm your mind down before you exhausted yourself.

“Get whatever you’d like,” Lance grinned, handing you a menu, “I recommend their lamb,”.

You nodded, taking a deep breath and skipping to the salad menu.

Lance gave you a look of both concern and playful judgement.  “I know what you’re doing- don’t,” he said, turning the page over to their signature dishes page as well as a wine menu.

After a ordering and getting your food, you felt a lot more comfortable around each other, talking freely and laughing loudly.  “Wanna dance before dessert?” Lance asked, gesturing to the dance floor as the Charleston started.

Your lips parted in an eager grin, nodded your head in agreement.  You took his hand and leaped onto the dancefloor with him, already moving your feet and hips.

Lance was a surprisingly clumsy dancer.  For someone who spent their entire childhood working on form and grace on a blue mat, eating, breathing, and sleeping gymnastics, his footwork was quite off.  It was fucking adorable.  Who knew you’d be the dancer out of the two of you?

Another thing, was that Lance never let go of you, he was always touching you.  He was either holding your hand, or your waist, guiding your hips or your shoulders.  He wasn’t handsy, he never pushed boundaries.  But… it was almost… affectionate.

“Phew- I need a drink,” he huffed, guiding you to a chair on the open bar.  “I’ll get us a couple sangrias, okay?” he grinned, squeezing your hand before going up the bartender.

“How much?” a strange man said to Lance, causing him to turn around from where he was waiting by the counter.

“Excuse me?” Lance hummed.  He had never seen this dude before.  HIghschool maybe?  Nah, he was much older than Lance.  This guy was at least forty-five.

“How much are you getting?” he asked, his botoxed-eye-candy mistress hanging off his arm like a cat on a leash.

“For… what?” he inquired, craning his neck.

“C’mon, there is no way a hot shot like you would get with a fat broad,” he gestured to you, sitting at the end of the bar, “how much did your friends offer to dare you to take her out?  Fifty?  Hundred bucks?”

Lance cringed at him.  Disgusting.  “I’m not getting paid… my friends don’t talk to me..” he hummed, still processing what he just said, “she’s my date!  And for your information, douchbag, she’s a nice lady!”.

“Take it from me, boy, you could do better,” he hummed, nodding in a condescending manner, “you could get a model if you wanted,”.

Without thinking about Lance actions, he punched the man straight in the nose, anger bubbling up inside of his chest.  “Don’t fucking call her that you overgrown dildo!” Lance shouted, throwing money at the bartender for everything, and storming up to you to leave.

“What’s going on?  What happened?” you gasped, shocked at Lance’s seemingly sudden burst of anger.

“It doesn’t matter- let’s get out of here,”

Lance draped a blanket over your shoulders as you ate your cheetoes.  “I’m sorry for what that dude said…” he sighed, bandaging his knuckles as he sat beside you, “I think you’re a beautiful lady,”.

You smiled shyly at him.  “Thank you for defending me- though I wish you had dealt with it in a better way,” you sighed, cupping his cheek.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking…” he muttered, playing with the strings of his hoodie, “at least I’ll have a lot to talk about next time I see Dinah,”.

You chuckled.  Even when you were upset with him (mildly), he was adorable.  “You’re a mess, Lance Tucker…” you sighed, “what am I going to do with you?”.

“I wouldn’t mind a kiss…” he said nonchalantly, pursing his lips.

You playfully rolled your eyes, kissing kiss cheek softly.

He blushed hard, showing off his perfect smile.  “Does this mean there will be a second date?”.

TAGLIST:

@buckyshattergirl @joannie95 @forever1313 @marie-is-in-the-dark @lookwhatyoumademequeue @nerdy-bookworm-1998

[aswithasunbeam]

An Elusive Peace, Chapter 7

[Read on AO3]

Rating: T

Summary: For Hamilton and Eliza, peace was supposed to mark the end to their separation and the beginning of domestic bliss. But Hamilton’s ambition and the challenges facing the new nation quickly interfere. Happily ever after may not be as easy to attain as they once hoped.

Ham gives a very important speech, and then they adopt a new baby...

February 1787

Steam wafted from the silver coffee pot as Eliza finished pouring the freshly brewed beverage. She’d never much cared for coffee, especially not the way Alexander drank it—piping hot and strong, with not a cube of sugar or drop of milk to soften the taste—but she did enjoy the smell in the mornings. When she placed the top on the pot, the scent of freshly baked bread and sizzling bacon quickly replaced the coffee.

“I can see to the rest, ma’am, if you’d like to go up now,” Judy offered with a sunny smile as she flipped a strip of bacon over.

Alexander had hired the young woman a few weeks ago after hearing her plead for assistance at his last meeting of the Manumission Society. Her former master had freed her upon his death, but his son, a Major Turner, was doing his utmost to ignore that particular provision of the will; the ensuing controversy had made it nigh impossible for the poor girl to find honest work. Although it strained their budget to add another member to their household staff, Eliza was more than happy to have her help with running the house and managing three willful children.

“Thank you, Judy,” she replied amiably. “I suppose I should set Philip to his reading, and I’m sure Mr. Hamilton will be wanting his coffee.”

She placed the coffee pot and the basket of bread on a tray and mounted the stairs. As she came to the top, she heard Pip chattering on about something along with the distinct sound of a newspaper page being flipped. Angelica’s tinkling giggle filled the space between Pip’s enthusiastic conversation.

When she entered the room, Pip’s chatter had given way to a series of grunts, and he was squatting on the floor with his arms hanging loose between his legs. “Philip, what on earth are you doing?” she asked as she set the tray on the table.

Pip answered with a series of short ‘oo’ sounds as he leaned his weight on his knuckles and scooted forward. “Monkey,” Angelica giggled, turned sideways in her chair and clapping her little hands together with delight.  Alexander had peeked over his paper to watch Pip as well, his eyes alight with amusement.

“So, will you, Papa? Please?” Pip asked, pushing himself upright again.

“Tomorrow, perhaps. If you’re good, and do just as Mama says today,” Alexander replied, with a fond sort of exasperation in his tone. Pip must have been pestering him about something while she was downstairs seeing to breakfast.

“What is it you’re getting if you’re good today?” Eliza asked.

“I get to see the monkeys,” Pip said excitedly.

Ah. She ought to have guessed. One of their neighbors, further up Wall Street, had acquired the exotic pets recently. Pip had spotted them swinging in a tree last Sunday, when the family had taken a walk  after dinner. Alexander had lifted Pip to sit on his shoulders so he could watch the creatures play, and their son had been obsessed ever since.

“Well, the first step in showing me what a good boy you are is to get to your reading,” Eliza told him, nodding towards the Bible on the sideboard.

Pip’s shoulders slumped dramatically, but he obeyed, trudging towards the sideboard, retrieving the Bible, and shuffling to her side to begin his morning reading. Eliza poured out Alexander’s coffee as Pip began his halting oration. Alexander thanked her softly when she pushed the cup forward towards him, and she began slicing and buttering the bread for Angelica and Alex. When Judy came up to serve the tea and the plates of Johnnycakes and bacon, Eliza allowed Pip to resume his seat at the table for his breakfast.

Little Alex had squeezed the pieces of bread she’d sat on his highchair into balls, and he began to throw them onto the ground. Pip and Angelica were both snickering, which made the baby grin. “Oh, Alex,” Eliza sighed, taking the bread away and replacing it with a few pieces of Johnnycake. That, at least,  the child began to gum with interest.

Alexander was looking pensively down at his plate when she looked over at him again. The Johnnycakes and bacon were untouched, and his son’s antics didn’t seem to have caught his attention. He was worrying about the speech he was to deliver in the Assembly this afternoon, she intuited.

“Was there anything of interest in the paper this morning, sweetheart?” she asked, hoping to distract him.

“Hm?” He looked up, frowning. “Oh, just more news about the farmers rebellion in Massachusetts.”

“The state militia still hasn’t put it down?” Eliza asked. The farmers, led by Daniel Shays, had been actively and violently protesting the high taxes laid upon them by Massachusetts since the autumn. The grievance had a painfully familiar ring to it.

“The General Court has declared Massachusetts officially in a state of rebellion, and General Lincoln defeated Shays’ retreating forces somewhere outside Petersham,” he reported.  

Eliza’s eyes widened at Lincoln’s name—the great General had been the one to accept the surrender of Cornwallis’s second at Yorktown. His association with quashing a rebellion jarred her. “General Lincoln is involved now?”

Hamilton shrugged.

He was far from indifferent to the situation, Eliza knew; he was just exhausted from having been warning people about the possibility of such a problem for years. Back when he’d first been sent to Congress, he’d campaigned for the central government to have a meaningful taxation power, not only so that it might make a start on its own debt, but also to help equalize the debts owed by the individual states. Instead, Congress continued without such powers, and printed worthless paper money to pay its obligations to soldiers and citizens. Massachusetts had raised the tax burden on its poorest citizens to as much as forty percent to try to retire her own debt, and also insisted on being repaid in specie, rather than the paper money. The result was a full-fledged rebellion.

Pip made his monkey sound again as Eliza came to grips with this latest news, and Angelica followed along. Alex made a grunting sound and pounded his little fists against the wooden tray of his highchair, determined to join in the fun. Her husband brought his hand to his mouth, obviously attempting to cover his amusement.

“All right, children,” she cut in to the ruckus firmly. “If we’re done eating, it’s time to wash up and begin our lessons.”

Pip shoved half a bread roll in his mouth. “I’m still eating,” he claimed, voice muffled by the food.

“Then eat,” she directed. “And we don’t speak with our mouths full, do we, Philip?”

“No, Mama,” he agreed, mouth still full of bread.

Eliza closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“I think I’ll head out now,” Alexander announced, taking a last gulp from his coffee cup. “I have a meeting with a client at my office this morning before I go over to the Assembly session.”

His plate had barely been touched, Eliza observed again.

He rose from the table and gave each of the children a tender kiss on the top of the head. He paused when he came to Alex, and rubbed his thumb over the baby’s chubby cheek tenderly to wipe away a spot of sticky jam. “I love you, my little lambs. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Bye, Papa,” Pip waved, a piece of bacon hanging out of his mouth this time.

Eliza followed him out into the entryway.

“Are you all right, sweetheart? You hardly ate anything.”

An embarrassed smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’m fine. Just…a little nervous. You know how my stomach gets.”

She pulled him into a gentle embrace. “Your speech is wonderful.”

“Thank you.” His arms closed around her in return. “And thank you for staying up with me last night to finish it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Of course,” she said. She bit her lip, considering her next question. “Is the public permitted to sit in the gallery today?”

He tensed in her arms. “I…I think so, yes. Why?”

“I thought I’d leave Judy and Polly with the children this afternoon so I could come watch.”

A heavy sigh fell from his lips. “I’m going to lose, Betsey.”

“You don’t know that, honey. You’re very persuasive. Perhaps the Assembly will see reason.” He’d worked so hard on that speech, infusing it with logic and passion in equal measure. “Given the fresh news about Massachusetts, I don’t see how they can do otherwise.”

He chuckled. “Logic and reason mean very little to these men. The import tax would bolster the central government, and Clinton would rather die than give away an ounce of his influence. Were I not loath to disappoint my constituents, I wouldn’t bother defending the act at all.”

Eliza rubbed his back and pressed her lips to his jawline. “I’d still like to see you speak, even if you lose the vote. Then you’ll know you have at least one supporter.”

His head tilted to the side and down so he could catch her lips with his own. “Thank you, my angel. I’ll look forward to seeing you.” He then extracted himself from her arms and donned his hat and coat.

“I’m so proud of you,” she assured him as he pulled open the front door.

He smiled weakly and stepped out into the cold, bright morning.

**

The gallery was more full than she’d imagine, the crowd composed almost entirely of men who were hooting and hollering at each other in a manner that reminded her very much of her five year old son. And, much like her son, her presence and steady gaze seemed to chasten them. She swept down and across the gallery to find a seat in the front row, leaving a more orderly and composed crowd in her wake.

“Ma’am,” a man on the bench near her greeted, making to rise despite the traveling desk he had set up on his lap. She waved him down and sat beside him. “Mr. Childs, ma’am, of the New York Daily Advertiser.”

“Mrs. Hamilton,” she introduced herself, smoothing her skirt as she settled into her seat.

The reporter nodded. “Your husband is meant to give quite the speech. I’ll try my best to do him justice in my account.”

She smiled politely, though she’d yet to see any account of her husband’s speeches that did him justice. There was something about the conviction and earnestness of his delivery that simply couldn’t be captured by the written word. Her gaze fell to the floor of the Assembly, and she saw her husband sitting down, studying the notes he’d made last night.

Alexander seemed to feel her stare after a long moment, and he looked up with a small, tender smile. She waved subtly and blew him a kiss, which he pretended to catch. She laughed. Some of the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease, making her doubly grateful she’d insisted on coming today.

The chairman banged his gavel at the front of the room, calling the meeting to order. “Good morning, gentlemen. Today we consider further the act granting to Congress certain imposts and duties, and specifically the clause regarding the grant of power to Congress to levy such taxes.”

Alexander rose from his seat.

“The chair recognizes Mr. Hamilton from New York City.”

“Thank you, Mr. Chairman.” Her husband crossed the room and  stood straight-backed at the podium before the Assembly, his piercing gaze roaming across the rows of delegates, as though drawing them all in before he began to speak. A noticeable hush fell over the room, except for the sound of quills scratching steadily as the newspaper men began to copy down her husband’s words.

“Mr. Chairman, There appears to me to be some confusion in the manner of voting on the two preceding clauses of this bill,”* he began, voice clear and firm. Eliza settled in to listen, watching with fascination as he seemed to gather passion with each word.  As he spoke, he began to pace, his gaze moving from one man to the next as he walked. The mass of powdered heads below moved with him, back and forth before the podium.

He’d added a piece last night where he quoted directly from the Declaration of Independence to bolster his claim of constitutionality. He hadn’t written those words down when he decided to add them; he knew them by heart. She’d heard the words so many times, but to hear her husband speak them now, they felt fresh, and new, and impossibly moving. The men around her were all nodding, captivated.

As he came to the end of the of his argument regarding the constitutionality of the bill, his voice rose, impassioned. “If the arguments I have used under this head are not well founded, let gentlemen come forward and shew their fallacy. Let the subject have a fair and full examination, and let truth, on whatever side it may be, prevail!”*

No one stood to argue with him. No one dared.

He continued on for more than an hour, his chest working visibly and color rising in his cheeks as he built the foundations of his argument, stone by stone. Properly funding a central government posed no danger to the public liberty, he argued, and given the state of the country’s finances, the measure before the assembly was absolutely necessary to the continued existence of their country. New York had become the Atlas of the union, he claimed, and to leave the system as it was would be an act of political knight errantry.* Soft laughter emanated from the crowd at the image, just as he’d intended, and she saw Alexander smile faintly. Still he pushed on, making his points with zeal. Heads bobbed around the room as he made point after point.

Alexander’s knuckles were white against the podium as he worked towards his conclusion. “What will be the situation of our national affairs if they are left much longer to float in the chaos in which they are now involved… if there are any foreign enemies, if there are any domestic foes to this country, all their arts and artifices will be employed to effect a dissolution of the union. This cannot be better done than by sowing jealousies of the federal head and cultivating in each state an undue attachment to its own power.”*

A stunned silence reigned.

Alexander was breathing hard, absolutely spent from the effort. When he stepped down, she saw him bend at the waist and hold on to the nearest table. She worried suddenly that he would faint, given how little sleep and food he’d had over the last day. But he pushed himself up again after a moment and made his way to his seat under his own power.

“Is there to be a rebuttal?” the chairman queried, stepping up to the podium again.

Another long beat of silence passed, before one of the delegates rose from his seat. “I move for an immediate vote on the clause in question.”

Eliza felt her heartbeat quicken in her chest. Had he done it? Had he convinced them?

“I second,” another voice called.

“A motion for an immediate vote has been duly made and seconded,” the chairman called. “The vote shall now be taken.”

“Yea,” the first delegate cried.

Eliza smiled and clasped her hands together on her lap. Oh, he’d done it. She tried to catch his eye. He was sipping from a glass of water, his face tense.

“Nay,” the third man voted. And the fourth. And the fifth.

The smile leached from her face.

No. No, no. He’d worked so hard. No one had even bothered to rebut him. They knew they couldn’t compete with his words, with his ideas.

“The clause is defeated by a vote of 36 to 21. The assembly will now consider—”

She fixed her attention on her husband. His face had regained some color, at least, she noted. He’d known he’d be defeated, but the fact that no one had even bothered to try to argue against him galled her. Why should he entangle himself in petty politics at all, when this was the result?

His gaze traveled up to the gallery and landed on her.

She made herself smile at him. “I love you,” she mouthed silently.

His expression went soft, and he gave her a little nod.

**

“They couldn’t even muster a counter argument,” Eliza complained that evening as Alexander removed his coat and hat.

“They didn’t need to,” he sighed, resigned. “I told you I would lose, Betsey.”

“It’s just not fair.”

“It’s politics. It’s not meant to be fair. And it doesn’t matter anyway. We’ll be meeting in Philadelphia in May to overhaul the whole system. Let Clinton have his way for now. It will be out of his hands very, very soon.”

She held her arms out to him, and he sank into her embrace.

“I worried you were about to faint when you finished.”

“I just needed a moment to catch my breath.”

She frowned, unconvinced. His health, always delicate, felt especially tenuous when he began to overextend himself. It had been her initial concern when he went to the convention last fall, and so it remained. “You should go change into something comfortable. We’ll get some good, hearty food into you, and then you can have a proper rest.”

He pulled back from her and grinned. “No.”

“No?”

“I refuse to stay home and wallow in my defeat. Troup told me he has extra tickets for the theater tonight. Let’s get dressed up and go out.”

“Are you sure? You seem tired, sweetheart.”

“Tired? Me?” He took her by the hands and spun her around. “Perish the thought, my dear. Besides, between my practice and the New York Assembly, and you looking after the children, we haven’t had a proper night out in far too long. It will be fun.”

She couldn’t help but laugh; his good humor was contagious. “If you insist.”

“I most certainly do.”

“Papa!” Pip appeared in the entry to the parlor, bouncing eagerly on his toes. “Papa, I was really, really good today. Really! I listened to mama, and did all my letters and my sums. So can we go see the monkeys tomorrow?”

Alexander laughed and bounded forward to scoop him up. “I may give you to the monkeys. You and your sister. You should be raised amongst your own kind.”

“We’re not monkeys, Papa,” Pip protested.

“Are you sure? You sound like a monkey.”

“No I don’t.”

Alexander tickled him under the armpit, and he squealed with laughter. “Hmm, you’re right. Maybe not a monkey. Maybe you’re piglets?”

“No,” Pip giggled.

Eliza shook her head fondly as she headed upstairs to change for a night out. After selecting a dress and quickly fixing up her hair, she returned to find the animal game apparently still going. Her husband was on all fours with both Pip and Angelica on his back, and Pip was urging, “Giddy up, Papa!”

She leaned against the doorjamb, smiling at the scene.

**

Eliza tucked her hand into Alexander’s elbow and used her free hand to hold her skirts up from the snowy sidewalks as they hurried into the theater. The doorman pushed the door closed behind them as soon as they entered the lobby. Two fires glowed at the far end of the room, and she sighed at the warmth.

As she handed her cloak over to be stored, she heard a murmur of excitement ripple through the crowded lobby. She glanced back, assuming someone of importance had arrived. To her surprise, most eyes were trained on her and her husband.

Robert Troup was standing nearby, and he seemed to be encouraging in the interest in Alexander. When Alexander finished checking his coat, Troup called out, “Let’s hear it for Ham, the great man himself!”

A round of huzzahs followed, with almost the entire lobby partaking. Eliza laughed, shocked, and looked around to see Alexander blushing furiously. Troup stepped up and slapped Alexander on the back.

“Glad you came, Ham,” Troup said. “There’s talk of making you governor, after that speech of yours. You’d be a good improvement over Clinton, that much is certain.”

“It was hardly worth all this fuss,” he demurred.

“You were wonderful, darling,” Eliza interjected.

He laughed, clearly still uncomfortable, but he thanked her softly.

“There’s a few people eager to speak with you, if you wouldn’t mind,” Troup added.

Alexander glanced at her.

“Go ahead, sweetheart. I’ll go keep Mrs. Troup company,” she urged, kissing his cheek. He was quickly swept away into the crowd. Watching him for another brief moment, she looked around the lobby and spotted Jennet standing near the stairs to the box seats.

“Your dear husband is the man of the hour,” Jennet observed, taking her by the arm as she came closer.

“So I see. He certainly wasn’t expecting all this,” Eliza replied.

“He should have been. The whole city’s talking about him. He may have been unsuccessful today, but he’ll have plenty of support for whatever he can accomplish in Philadelphia this summer. Or so Troup keeps saying.”

Eliza smiled weakly. She was proud of him, truly, and glad he had so many supporters, but she wished people’s hopes for the nation weren’t resting quite so heavily on her husband’s shoulders. Jennet seemed to sense the hesitation, and she wrapped an arm around her shoulders companionably.

“Let’s go up to the box. The boys will join us eventually.” They walked up the staircase together, and Eliza took a program from an attendant outside their curtain.

She waited, and waited. Troup slipped in as the show began, but Alexander wasn’t with him. “He’ll be along,” Troup assured her in a whisper as the actors took the stage.

The first act had nearly ended before Alexander slipped into his seat at her side. He leaned close, his lips ghosting over her cheek, before he whispered, “I need to talk to you.”

“Now?”

He nodded.

Her stomach clenched. Had he accepted another government position? “All right,” she agreed, standing up and following him out into the hall.

His hand curled around hers, and he led her down the hall to a little deserted alcove.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Please, not another appointment, she pleaded silently.

“I just ran in to someone downstairs. Do remember Colonel Antil?”

She frowned, then nodded. They hadn’t seen him in some time, not since his poor wife had passed away, about two years ago. “How was he?”

Alexander shook his head. “Not very well. He’s not been coping well.” His hand squeezed hers tightly, as though he could ward off the same fate for her by holding on to her tight enough. “I suggested he come to the meeting of the Cincinnati tomorrow to request aid. He’d like to move up north to try to make a go at a farmer’s life.”

She waited, curious as to why he felt the need to immediately report this conversation to her.

“I invited him for dinner tomorrow at our house, as well.”

“That’s fine, honey,” she assured him. They had a leg of lamb she’d been planning to prepare anyway. There’d be plenty of food for a guest.

“They had a little girl, do you remember? Frances. Fanny. She’s just two.”

“I do,” she agreed, though she hadn’t remembered the little girl’s name until now.

“He can’t take such a little babe into the wilderness with him. I was hoping…” he trailed off, his gaze on the floor.

Eliza squeezed his hand. “You were hoping?”

He looked up at her. “I know it’s a lot to ask. We have three little ones already, and you do more than the lion’s share of the work. But…I was hoping we might offer to take her in. Just temporarily, while he gets settled.”  

It was a lot to ask. As darling as their three children were, they were also a handful. But her heart went out to that poor little girl. If Antil couldn’t care for her properly, if she’d be in danger going with her father up north, how could Eliza refuse?

Alexander looked so earnest as he waited for her answer. He’d always had a soft spot for children in difficult circumstances. Much of it stemmed from his own difficult childhood, she knew, and his immense gratitude to Thomas Stevens for taking him in when he had no obligation to do so.

“Of course we can,” she agreed.

“You’re sure. We needn’t say anything if you’re not comfortable. Completely comfortable. It’s your choice.”

“I know,” she assured him. “We’ll offer to take her while he gets settled. What’s one more monkey in our little menagerie?”

He laughed. “You’re an angel.”

She rolled her eyes. “So you’ve said.”

“I mean it. A genuine angel.”

He leaned close, his lips hovering near hers. She wrapped her arms around him and let her lower lip drop open so the tip of her tongue could touch his. A soft moan fell from his lips. His hand started to wander from her lower back towards her bustle.

“Not here,” she whispered, pulling away reluctantly. The effect he had on her, she thought, blushing retroactively. Her mother would have fainted outright had she heard her daughter was standing in the middle of a public building kissing a man, husband or not. He made a discontented noise as she removed his hand from her back. “Keep that up, Mr. Hamilton, and we’ll have more than one little monkey joining us.”

He grinned. “From your lips to God’s ears, my darling.”

*From New York Assembly, Remarks on an Act Granting to Congress Certain Imposts and Duties, 15 February 1787.

[homelessmusings]

" do you just want to watch me sleep?"

"i do find that enjoyable." sunchun trailing his fingers down the rest of her arm, slowly- "there are other things i'd like to do with you instead, but, as aforementioned, i am patient."

her throat goes dry at his touch, like her body is hyper aware - of what, though, jei's not sure.  she turns over to face him, still laying down, looking up into his eyes - " what do you want to do?"

he's still staring as she turns around again, the sadness shoved back behind cold stone walls. what does reflect in his eyes instead is deeply rooted love - and a flicker of /something else/, something a little dark and intense- "don't you already know, jei?"

she bites her lip, staring into his eyes - she can sense  lot of things from them, though what they mean could be many things.  jei has long since learned not to assume things when it comes to han sunchun, so she just reaches for his hand, threads her fingers through his cold ones and mumbles, " maybe i do.  but i want you to say it aloud.  i want you to make it real."

the connection between them tugs on strings, pulling up desires that he's held and withheld for decades. how could a single being have such a hold on him? it's one of the mysteries that he has tried to figure out, to at least make some sense of, but to no avail. despite years of searching, it's a piece of knowledge that he still doesn't obtain. all he knows is that he loves her, always has and always will, until the day his body crumbles into dust. "i want to spend the rest of my days with you, even if it is simply watching you sleep-" and then suddenly he's rolled over on top of her, pinning her with his weight, her hands pulled up over her head, trapped by the very fingers she threaded hers with. something flashes in his eyes again, the darkness seemingly intensified as he whispers low into her ear- "but i also want to kiss you, to taste you, to ravage you in ways i've only been able to dream about. i want to satisfy you in ways you've yet to be able to imagine-"

there's some kind of longing in his eyes that she feels at the very depths of her core - something that's drawn her to him for a long time, and even before that.  it's hard to explain how it feels like she's known him for what seems like a thousand years when she's only been alive for twenty four but it's like her very soul knows him, and calls out to him.  gently, her thumb rubs over his, listening to him speak - and jei thinks she /should/ have understood the darkness in his gaze, but she didn't.  not until he pins her and speaks to her with honey dripping from his tongue, wrapping her in a cocoon of warmth even though his body is almost frozen cold.  it makes her heart beat faster, and instinctively, she struggles against his hold - even though there's no energy to it, no drive.  it's almost like jei wants to be pinned down, like a longing she's had since before she was born. " why does it only have to be a dream?" she whispers in a small voice, strangled by his honey and dark.  " why must we only use imagination?"

he pulls back to stare down at her, his gaze locking onto hers, trying to read her. he knows she could have struggled out of his grasp if she really wanted to; she is by no means an unskilled hunter. but, she doesn't try very hard, barely trying at all - and it could be said that sunchun is doing the same. his grip is firm, but there are many opportunities for the roles to be reversed - and he would have let her. but, she doesn't. her arms resist in the same manner a small fish would once caught, wriggling but giving up soon after, acknowledging their fate. is that what she's doing? does she ... know? no, there's no way she would. she does not remember; sunchun knows that much.

her questions don't deflect him, or his desires. instead, they step forward like a lamb before a wolf, brave, offering. this close, her scent is dizzying, the pumping of warm, sweet blood under paper-thin skin calling to him, beckoning to him. these lusts, however, he can control; he is no fresh fledgling, suddenly drunk to his new senses and a slave to his instincts. sunchun is far better than that - no, instead it is his other sins that wish to be satisfied, the act in which he wants to caress every part of her body and let the beast which howls within finally have its sexual hungers satiated. and it's tempting - /so/ tempting - and he could take her right now, as he could have on countless occasions before, but, he doesn't. and he won't.

he can't let himself do so.

"because reality would deal gruesome consequences if i did." and, as quickly as he'd pinned her down, he rolls off of her, setting her free. rationality resumes control instead of emotions and he sits at the edge of the bed, his back to her, wrestling back down the monsters that had come so close to breaking free and wrecking havoc. he loves her too much, too deeply, to allow such a thing to happen while she's still human, still fragile. if the beasts are released, he doesn't trust himself to show restraint - there would be none.

if he were to ask her about the things she would feeling, it would be something like … deja vu.  like she'd been in this position before, a very long time ago when she knew it wasn't the case.  perhaps that's why confusion mars jei's features, because she doesn't understand why she doesn't fight back more on instinct because she was a /hunter/ and that's all she knew herself to be - but perhaps she really just did want this moment shared.  it's easy to simply assume that, rather than to understand the unsettled feeling at the very center of her core.  

but in the same moment of her confusion, jei can see sunchun wavering.

the dark in his eyes that she now knows for certain is desire wars in him with something else - probably his rationality, probably everything that keeps him distant and cold and a wall that she can't climb over.  and it hurts, how when she thinks she finally manages to get to a window to make her way inside his castle, he knocks her from the ledge until she's broken at the bottom.  he loves her, she knows this, but he always does this.  he always spreads them miles apart.  

it's exhausting.  it's heartbreaking.  jei wonders if he knows this when she looks at his back, the warm cocoon of his honeyed words broken by the force of him /letting her go/.  like he always does.  like it seems he always will.  her lip trembles, but she refuses to cry.  at least, not without getting a few words in.  

[ she wants to believe she's stronger.  she can get back up every time he knocks her down. ]

it always seems like his logic wins out in the end.  so why not choose the answer looking at him square in the face? it's something that jei still doesn't understand even though she /waits/, and /waits/.  he leaves her like this, hanging from his castle waiting for him to let her in from the bitter cold.  she wants to share his life with him, his full life.

she wants to be able to give him the things that he desires.

trembling arms wrap around his shoulders and link together by her hands, forehead resting on his neck - it cools her hot skin even as it brings hot tears to her eyes, and she curses how they fall.  " then stop waiting.  i want to feel /everything/ with you but you always - " /do this/.  … she trails off, but she's sure that he understands.

he may be patient because he's lived far longer years, but jei doesn't know how much longer he wants her to wait.