#and I mean a butterfly bodice?!?

[ultimateaclrecovery]

Reasons I should not be allowed on the internet:

I stumble upon purple things and then I want to buy them. Even if they are ridiculous

I am so obsessed with this tik tok dress that I spent nearly an hour searching for it and cheaper look a likes. But the real thing is 700 dollars and The best dupe was still over 300 and not as cute. And like I super don’t need a prom dress. But like I COULD make use of a super fun 30th birthday dress and my house is basically butterfly themed already…. But not for 700 dollars. Sadly.

But a purple a waffle maker that makes heart shaped waffles with a space for sticks?? For only 30 dollars?? That one I may actually get. I would probably only use it like once a year but it would be perfect for galentines with my chocolate fountain, and I do have the storage space. So that one may be a birthday present to myself.

Constantly torn between I need to stop spending money on ridiculous things and make a good salary and I can buy some of the fun things I want.

[stvharrngton]

Ooh requests? Literally anything mushy-gushy lovey-dovey romantic with Steve! Like cuddling under blankets on movie nights that get a bit handsy? Or romantic getaway weekends where it's just you and him? Or god-forbid wedding night sex? That man would be on cloud nine on his wedding day?? The sex would be SO incredibly sweet and tender I just know it!

i love all of these ideas but i went with wedding night i hope that's ok!! <3 ps I'm sorry this took so long :(

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, fingering, unprotected p in v, steve is a lil cocky but v sweet

word count: 3.1k

requests are open!

You reached the top floor of the hotel, the floor where the Honeymoon Suite resided. You and Steve walked hand in hand, fingers interlocked together before he abandoned that, scooping you up in his arms.

“Steve!” you squealed, clutching onto him for dear life as he carried you the rest of the way down the hall.

“What?” he asked innocently, warm honey eyes glancing down at you, “It’s tradition, I have to carry you over the threshold as the new Mrs. Harrington.”

You swooned at hearing that for the millionth time tonight but it never got any older. Your wedding wasn’t big, nor fancy, by any means but it was what you wanted. All your closest friends and family by your side as you married the love of your life.

Watching from his arms as Steve struggled to get the key in the lock of the door, you hid your giggles behind pursed lips before he finally managed to turn the lock. 

The room was beautifully put together, the big, soft, four poster bed the centrepiece. Big windows and plush furniture, complete with champagne on ice for you both. It wasn’t the fanciest, but it was everything you could have dreamed of. You both insisted on paying for the wedding yourselves, denying help from friends and family. But you knew Steve’s Mom couldn’t take no for an answer, depositing a substantial amount of cash in her only son’s bank account.

“Here,” Steve hummed, setting you down on the edge of the bed, kneeling to the floor so he could unbuckle the small strap on your shoes. He set them aside, taking both your hands in his much larger ones, placing a kiss to each knuckle before squeezing them tight.

Steve stood up straight now, leaning into you to brush his lips against yours, ever so softly. The kiss was sweet and heartfelt, his palm cupping your cheek as your lips moved against each other. Your noses brushed against one another’s when you pulled apart, the tip of Steve’s sculpted nose trailed along the slope of your own.

“I still can’t believe we’re married,” he whispered, voice sincere as he spoke, “I know it’s been hours but I’m so lucky.”

His words made your heart flutter. The soft look in his eyes, orbs of warm honey so loving and wet, his thumb soothing over the apple of your cheek, you felt so in love. You blinked up at him with big doe eyes before he went back in for another kiss.

Steve soon switched your positions with him sitting on the bed and you between his legs. He coaxed you into his lap, your knees pressing into the bed either side of Steve’s thighs and you were grateful the skirt of your dress allowed for ample movement. Steve’s large hands caressed your back, moving up and down over the lace bodice whilst his lips never left yours.

“Let’s get this off, yeah?” he whispered against your lips, fingers working delicately to undo your dress, allowing you to step out of the material. Once your dress was safety away, you stepped back between Steve’s spread legs, his large palms immediately clutching at your waist.

“There’s my gorgeous girl,” he cooed, pressing featherlight kisses to your stomach as his fingers explored the white lace that covered the intimate parts of your body, “my beautiful wife.”

You swooned at his words, the butterflies swarming in your stomach as your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of his lips on your skin. You were soon back in Steve’s lap, your lips colliding once more in a heated kiss. His hands found your back again, travelling down until they reached the globes of your ass, squeezing at the flesh. Steve licked into you all pretty, all tender and sweet as your fingers rushed to unbutton his shirt, his jacket and waistcoat abandoned long ago.

You couldn’t help but grind your hips over Steve, already feeling too good and he’d barely got started. You hummed in content as his lips found your neck, teeth nipping at the sweet spot behind your ear, his tongue darting out to soothe the bite. 

Steve flipped you over, your back hitting the bed with a soft thud. He soon rid himself of his shirt, situating himself rightfully between your legs. His hands trailed over your body, large hands squeezing at your tits, his lips following with kisses in their wake. You sighed out your husband’s name in response.

“Tell me what you want, honey,” he whispered. His mouth made its way down your body until his lips reached your heat, leaving wet, open mouthed kisses over the material of your panties.

You whimpered as you leaned up on your elbows, eyes wet and pleading with your husband. You couldn’t think straight, didn’t know what you wanted, all you knew is that you wanted Steve, in any way he could give.

“Oh- oh, fuck,” you breathed, back aching as Steve was still making work of soaking your panties, in more ways than one, “your fingers! Fuck, I want your fingers, Steve.”

Steve could only chuckle as you squealed out your answer, one that he was surely satisfied with. “Anything for you, my beautiful wife.” He spoke against your skin, fingers hooking beneath your panties, pulling the lace down your legs, careful not to displace the frilly garter that was snug around your thigh.

The words made you hide a blush behind your arm as you slumped back against the bed. You felt his fingers curl around your wrist, moving your arm away from your face as Steve’s lips found your neck. Whispering against your skin, leaving wet kisses in their wake, “Come on, baby. Let me see you.”

Steve peppered kisses all over your face until you couldn’t help but let a smile creep back on your face. His fingers headed south, the pads of his fingertips ghosting over your tits, circling the peaks of your nipples before brushing over your stomach and finally reaching your pussy.

Your legs moved farther apart by instinct, letting Steve’s fingers explore your pussy; your throbbing clit, your sopping wet hole. He hummed against your skin as he felt you, your wetness coating his fingers as he spread it around. Your skin went hot as he spoke once more, “You’re already so wet, baby, hm? Such a perfect, little pussy.”

A low moan tumbled from your lips at his words, your eyes fluttering shut as he finally slipped a finger inside. Just a single digit but it was enough to have you falling apart beneath him. He pumped it slowly, fucking his finger in and out of your cunt as his lips wrapped around your nipple, tongue swirling around the pert bud.

Your back arched from the bed as Steve brushed his thumb over your puffy clit, smirking as you moaned his name.

“Want another, honey? Is that it?” he asked, his finger picking up the pace, curling at the knuckle, “Think you can handle it? Doing so good for me.”

You couldn’t help but whine, clutching at the sheets as your other hand found Steve’s soft locks. You did your best to nod your head, mumbling something that resembled a please.

So Steve plunged a second finger inside your hole, scissoring and stretching you open as your noises only got louder. The pace of Steve’s fingers grew gradually, his thumb rubbing at your clit harsher. Your slick leaked down his fingers and Steve only grew stiffer at the sound of his fingers fucking your wet pussy.

He watched as your eyes went glassy, barely able to keep them open. Steve towered over you, hooking his leg over your own to keep your thighs spread, his crotch subtly rutting against your soft, doughy thigh. His fingers were fucking you at speed now, Steve liked to be soft and gentle mostly, but he knew how you liked it when it came to having his fingers inside you. And that was hard, fast and deep.

“Are you gonna cum for me, honey? Go on,” he cooed in your ear, tongue licking at the shell, “make a mess all over my fingers, baby, want you to feel all kinds of good.”

You whimpered as your walls clenched around Steve’s fingers, a few more circles of your clit and you were a goner. Back arching off the bed you saw stars, nails digging into Steve’s scalp as you lost yourself all over Steve’s fingers. You cried his name like a banshee and Steve was totally in awe of you.

“Oh, that’s a good girl,” he mused, slowing his fingers to work you through your climax, “there you go, honey.”

Steve was peppering kisses all over your face when you came back to reality, his fingers still inside you but not moving, keeping you full up for just a moment longer. Only when he brushed his lips against yours did he remove them, a whimper escaping your lips when he did so. One that Steve gladly ate up.

You curled your fingers through his soft tresses as he kissed you slowly, almost as if he was savouring every minute of this moment with you. He pulled away from you for only a second, a second to pull his fingers to his lips, the same fingers that were inside your pussy not moments again. You stepped in quickly though, before Steve could slip his fingers in his mouth, wrapping your fingers around his wrist and bringing them to your own lips. Your tongue swirled around his digits, tasting yourself on him. 

Steve groaned as he watched, eyes hooded and dark, bottom lip snug between his teeth. You released his fingers with a pop, a faint smirk tugging at your lips as you did. He pulled you up into his lap, not caring about any wet patches you may leave on his pants, wrapping his arms around your waist as he caressed your back.

“Oh, my wife’s such a little minx.” Steve teased, moving his hands down to your ass, large palms groping at the supple flesh. You could only giggle in response, the heat creeping up your cheeks as your fingers ran through the hair on Steve’s chest, moving down his stomach to where his belt buckle sat.

He helped you out, undoing the buckle and shoving the black material down his legs, leaving him in just his boxers. Your hand reached further south, ghosting over his length over the boxers. Stroking and squeezing, ever so lightly. Steve let out a loud, deep, guttural groan in response.

“Fuck,” he hummed, letting his eyes flutter closed. Your fingers dipped beneath the elastic of the waistband, your nails raking through the neatly trimmed hair there, delving further until they could wrap around Steve’s thick cock. You felt his grip tighten, his fingers digging into your skin with every move, every stroke.

His boxers soon joined his pants and his shirt, scattered somewhere on the plush carpet of the Honeymoon Suite. You tried to crawl off of him, to get on your knees before him, tongue out ready and waiting but Steve had other ideas.

“Baby, no, I–” he stammered, holding you at your waist to keep you in place in his lap. Those big brown eyes bore into your own, warm and inviting as they always were.

“But, what about–” but Steve cut you off before you could finish. One of his large hands came to cup your cheek as he spoke, his voice quiet and soothing.

“We’ve got the rest of our lives for that,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. His other hand reached for his cock, holding it at the base as he slid it between your folds, teasing, smearing the wetness that was already there, “I jus’ need to feel you, honey, please?”

The desperation that laced his voice sent your head spinning. The butterflies erupted in your lower stomach at the thought, the fact he was eager to have you sink down on his cock, to fill you up really had you reeling.

So you nodded, bracing yourself on Steve’s shoulders as he guided his cock inside. You sank down on him to the hilt, taking all of him at once, an impressive feat to say the least. You both moaned out at the feeling, your walls wrapped around him, his cock throbbing deep inside you.

You took a minute to drink it in, the feeling of being full up, the pretty picture of Steve below you. His hair was perfectly messy, his cheeks a little rosy, his eyes a little hazy. His pretty pink lips were parted just slightly, his jaw slack as he held you close.

Slowly but surely, you started to roll your hips, back and forth, Steve’s cock sliding in and out of your pussy. Your nails digging into his broad shoulders as you rode him, Steve’s face buried in the crook of your neck, wet, open mouthed kisses being left in his wake as he groaned lowly.

“God, fuck,” he whined, revelling at the feeling of your body pressed against his, your tits rubbing against his chest with every roll of your hips, “you feel so good, honey. So fuckin’ good.”

Your head rolled back in pleasure as you began to move faster now, grinding on Steve’s cock with vigour as you mewled at his words of praise. Steve sat back on his hands now, watching you make work of him and his cock. He was in awe of you, as he often was, the way your hips moved in a tantalising motion, the way your hands moved over his body before moving to your own. Fingers dancing over your skin, up your stomach and over your tits, squeezing and rubbing at your nipples.

Steve looked at you like you held the world in your hands, the moon and stars cascading through your fingertips. Every mole, freckle or blemish on your skin is a fine piece of art, the glint in your eyes a stroke of your character, the cute blush on your cheeks a cause to admire. He had never been so in love, drowning in his own happiness and pleasure simultaneously.

But as much as he was revelling in having you perched in his lap, cock sliding in and out of your pussy, there was always that underlying feeling that had Steve urging to take control. So he gripped your hips and flipped you on your back for the second time that night.

He gripped your thighs and spread them wide, his gaze falling to where you were connected. Where his thick cock was splitting you in two, stretching your pussy out wide. His length was slick with your juices, the creamy ring forming at the base of his cock. Steve slowed the pace, his hips moving at a deliciously slow pace.

“Oh, look at her, baby,” he cooed, his eyes flitting up to you through the hair that had fallen into his face, “she’s so wet, and it’s all for me? Fuck, pussy was just made for my cock, I just know it.”

“Steve,” you whimpered, arching your back and reaching out to clutch at any part of him your fingers could reach.

“I know, baby, I know,” he mused, leaning down to grab at your hands, threading his fingers through your own as he continued to roll his hips against your own, thrusting slow and deep, “I’ll take care of you, yeah? I’ll always take care of my girl.”

You wrapped your legs around him, your feet crossing at his tailbone as you pushed him closer to you. Steve let out this groan, one that was all pretty and deep, his eyes rolling back as he felt your walls clench around him. He squeezed your hands in his, his thrusts became more erratic, his rhythm slightly off the pace.

You could tell he was close, the way the tips of his ears bloomed red, the way the cute, pink flush crept up higher on his neck. Steve dropped your hands, opting instead to cup your cheek, his forehead pressed against yours as the other slithered between your bodies, his fingers soon finding your clit. He rubbed softly, a movement that matched the way his cock was fucking in and out of you, pulling a wailing moan from you.

“Oh, please,” you cried, your eyes squeezing shut, “please don’t stop, Steve, pleasepleaseplease.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, honey,” Steve chuckled, peppering kisses all over your face, “you want it, huh? Want me to fill up this pretty little pussy, is that it? Been such a good girl f’me. God, I can’t believe I get you all to myself for the rest of my life.”

Your pussy fluttered around Steve’s cock at his words, the pressure building in your lower stomach as his fingers on your clit, his cock in your cunt became a little too overwhelming. “Want it so bad, Steve, baby, please. Oh, please fill me up.”

You pleaded with him and who was Steve to deny you? He groaned as you begged him and Steve only doubled down. Even though the speed he was fucking you was slow, it was enough to have you both ticking over the edge.

“Oh, fuck—,” he whined, “cum with me, honey, yeah?” His thumb stroked over your cheek as his eyes looked into yours deeply, fingers still rubbing at your clit. You felt the beginnings of your orgasm start to build, your skin tingled white hot as your legs began to shake.

Steve called out your name like a song, musings of praise falling from his lips over and over again. High-pitched whines mewled in your ear as Steve filled you up, his cock still fucking in and out of your spent hole, doing all he could to keep his cum deep inside you for as long as possible.

He nuzzled his face into the crook of his neck, his lips placing sloppy kisses to the skin there as you both mellowed from your high. Your chests heaved against one another as you caught your breath, your fingers still tangled in Steve’s hair. He pulled out of you with a whine, eyes catching a quick glimpse of his cum seeping from your pussy.

Steve leaned over you as he rolled over next to you, cradling your face in his palm as he brushed his nose against yours, the tip of his own running down the slope of yours, ending with a sweet kiss to your lips. 

“That was–”

“Amazing? Out of this world?” Steve cut you off with a smirk, “Best sex of your life? Just to name a few.”

“You’re an idiot.” You giggled, swatting at his shoulder as you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah,” Steve hummed, pressing one last kiss to your lips, “but you’re stuck with this idiot for the rest of your life.”

[sarahscribbles]

saz i am the FIRMEST of believers that loki’s into cock warming, especially when he comes home from a long mission or gruesome battle literally all he wants is to be nestled inside you for hours 😌

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥�� 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐱 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐.𝟔𝐤

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The endless sky stretching beyond the Allmother’s library is a vibrant swirl of scarlet and amber when you hear the clatter of a dozen hooves in the courtyard below. Over the excited braying of horses you hear the calls of Einherjar for stable hands and body servants, and the book in your lap quickly tumbles to the floor with a thump as you rush towards the window in a flurry of skirts. 

The sudden disturbance in the quiet of the evening can only mean that the campaign is over and the princes are home.

Loki is home.

You reach the window just as he swings a long leg over his horse and drops elegantly to the ground, looking every inch the warrior in leather and metal. The last dying rays of sun catch the small golden band around his finger and the breeze tousles his perfectly styled hair, but he barely appears to notice because his attention is already fully focused on something else. 

You, standing at the library window. 

He found you within five minutes of arriving back home. Always, your husband will find you, as though some invisible string connects his heart to yours. 

The smile that curls across his lips when he catches your eye is both devilish and devastating, as is the wink he offers you as his horse is taken away.

A kaleidoscope of butterflies takes flight in your stomach and your fingers curl tighter around the pillar they rest on. Six weeks he’s been gone - one of the longest campaigns of your marriage - and it’s taking everything in you not to run through the palace and have him right there in the courtyard.

Perhaps more than once. 

His bright eyes linger longingly on you until he disappears beneath the window ledge and into the Palace. From the floor below, you hear the gentle buzz of conversation and revelry as the warriors recount their journey to victory for anyone who will listen. You hear the distinct sound of Thor’s war cry; the hearty cheers of The Warriors Three; the joyous clanging of swords in celebration…

You hear the familiar deep roll of laughter that you would recognise anywhere.

The sound of your husband’s mirth, his uncontained joy, makes you giddy with excitement, the likes of which you haven’t experienced since you first started courting him or the first time you got to taste his kiss. You’ve missed him - missed the warmth of his embraces, the softness of his lips, the easy way he can make you laugh without even trying.

You’ve missed your best friend.

Forgetting all about the book you’ve left lying, pages akimbo, on the floor, you rush from the library on quick, quiet feet to race your husband to your chambers. You know it will be his first port of call, as it always is after any length of time you spend apart, and the thought alone is enough to make you fizzle wildly with anticipation. 

Will he take his time worshiping your body? Will those large, gentle hands spend hours refamiliarising themselves with every dip and curve? Will his lips lavish attention on you until not an inch of you has been left unkissed? 

Or, will he back you against the chamber wall and hoist your skirts around your hips? Will he rip your bodice from your body and roughly have his way with you? Will he make you orgasm again and again until you go limp in his arms? 

Perhaps both if you’re lucky. 

Perhaps this reunion will be similar to the last when neither of you were seen outside your chambers for three days; one day of pleasure for each battle the Asgardians had won, so your husband had promised. 

And delivered on. 

The late evening air tingles with his magic as you pass along the Palace hallways. He’s closer than you had initially believed, but when you finally approach the ornate double doors of your chambers, only the two Einhenjar stand outside. 

You breeze quickly past them with a brief nod, stepping straight into the empty living area of your chambers. There’s nothing to suggest that Loki is anywhere within or lurking in the rooms beyond, so you haltingly let your guard down. 

Beyond the walls of your chamber, you hear the merry sounds of the warriors making their way to Odin in the heart of the Palace to boast of their victory. They pass by in a raucous cacophony of cheers and shouts - still loudly retelling the events of each battle to their eager audience of courtiers - and you prepare for your husband to come striding through the doors energised by victory.

But they remain firmly closed.

Your brow furrows at the same time a knot of disappointment twists in your stomach. Loki’s letters from the battlefield had been dripping with innuendo and filthy promises of how he planned to ravish you upon his return - some so salacious that you’d had to lock the doors to your bedchamber early in the afternoon. 

Surely, after so many promises of debauchery, he wouldn’t choose an audience with Odin over you. 

The sounds of Thor and his fellow warriors become increasingly more faint and still there’s no sign of Loki. You wait another minute and then start towards the doors, but you’ve barely taken three steps when a familiar pair of arms wrap around your middle so suddenly that you yelp in surprise. 

“I caught you, my little mouse.” Loki’s soft voice purrs in your ear, and you feel his warm lips press a lingering kiss to your cheek. 

You pretend to huff, but it’s impossible to stop the smile that spreads across your face at being back in your husband’s embrace. “How do you always manage to do that?”

His answering laughter makes your heart swell. How had you survived six whole weeks without him? 

Loki places one last kiss to your temple and twirls you around in his arms. You’re flush against his chest and the familiar feeling of safety washes warmly over you. “Do you forget to whom you are married, dove?” he teases, eyes twinkling as he gazes at you. 

“As if such a thing is even possible!” you reply, teasing him just as easily.

“Little vixen,” he murmurs, and pulls you tighter against his chest. “Did you miss me?” 

Briefly, you consider teasing him a little more, but something in his eyes makes you reconsider. Reflected in them clear as day is how deeply he missed you and how desperately he needs to hear you say that you noticed his absence. 

“Like one would miss a limb,” you say softly and twist your arms around his shoulders.

Loki smiles and dips his head to kiss you gently. It’s sweet and innocent yet it still awakens six weeks of need within you. Your fingers curl greedily into his hair as you pull him to you, silently begging him for more, but you only feel him bite your lower lip and pull back. 

“Don’t you wish to go and congratulate Thor and the others? I’m sure they would relish the praise of their Princess,” he says, his pretty green eyes dancing with mischief at your pout. 

“The only thing I wish to do is spend the next few hours welcoming my husband home,” you reply.

The very thought has a throbbing ache begin between your thighs. You picture tousled bed sheets and your husband's firm body writhing and flexing beneath your hungry fingers. You want to spend hours losing yourself to the feel of him and clutch him to you like a life raft as he makes Valhalla dance behind your eyes.

You want to enjoy your husband. 

Loki squeezes your hips. “You know there’s nothing in the Nine that I can deny you, darling.”

Before you can draw breath to reply, he’s easily tossing you over one shoulder and carrying you towards your bedroom. Your shrieks of laughter ring through the chamber. After six weeks, your heart is full again, swelling with love for the man who’s rushed straight home to you and is kicking the doors to your room closed with a satisfying bang. You wait for the inevitable feeling of soaring through air as he tosses you onto the bed, but seconds pass and you’re still draped over his shoulder. 

“Are we feeling sentimental this evening?” you question, only half teasing. 

By now, you had expected to be stripped and possibly restrained to the bed, but your husband appears to be in no rush to have his way with you. 

“Possibly,” Loki answers, lightly tapping your ass. 

He sets you down gently on your feet, then takes both your hands in his to raise them to his lips. They’re warm as they kiss the backs of your knuckles and his sparkling green eyes never once leave yours. 

“Undress me, darling,” he whispers softly and releases your hands.

He’s already stepped out of his heavy outer armour, likely as soon as he stepped inside the palace, leaving him in the casual, soft leather that you know all too well. Your practiced hands reach out easily to push the long overcoat off his broad shoulders, and it falls to the stone floor with a quiet thump.

The rest of his clothing is quick to follow. It’s beautifully intimate, undressing him - revealing him piece by piece so you can marvel at this beautiful man who wears your ring on his finger. You reach out to lightly trace the scars on his abdomen that weren’t there last time, scars that you’ll kiss over and over while he falls asleep in your arms later. 

“I’m fine,” Loki whispers, reading your thoughts while your fingers continue to dance over his skin. 

Your eyes dart to his, searching for any tiny flick of untruth. The god of lies he may be, but he can hide nothing from you. 

“I promise, dove.” He continues, letting his hands fall to rest on your hips. “I’ll recount the story of every new scar for you if I must.” 

Your own hands find his on your hips to pull them to the fastenings of your gown. “I insist on it, my prince,” you say with a smirk. 

Loki rolls his eyes, but the smile he gives you is nothing short of adoring. “As you wish,” he says, and begins to trail a single finger along the bodice of your gown. 

In a pale shimmer of green the fabric disappears before you, melting to nothing until you’re finally bare before him. His eyes drink you in - heavy with six weeks of pent up desire - and you can’t fight the shiver when he reaches in to suck a bruise to the juncture of your neck and shoulder. 

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, placing a kiss over your bruising skin. “Ethereal.” He adds, sliding his hands around your waist and letting them run along your lower back to squeeze your ass. 

“Mine,” he says more forcefully, placing a firm kiss to your lips at the same time his hands lock around your knees. 

You squeal against his lips as he hoists you into his arms, but easily lock your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck. You feel the shift of his body as he climbs onto the bed, but instead of being laid back amongst the generous piles of pillows as you expected, Loki positions himself back against the intricate headboard with you still straddling his lap. 

“How I missed you, my darling wife,” he says quietly when his lips leave yours, and then he’s coaxing you onto your knees before him. 

Loki takes your hand in his and guides it towards his cock, wrapping your fingers around it with a contented sigh. You know what he’s asking without him having to say a word. 

Slowly, you begin to stroke him, watching his eyes flicker closed when you increase the pressure. “Did you miss me? Or did you miss this?” you tease him. 

“How unfair of you to make me choose,” he replies instantly. 

You squeeze his cock with a smirk, not missing the quiet groan that floats from him or the slight curl of his upper lip. 

“Oh, that might cost you later, dove,” he says. It’s meant to be a warning, you know, but it only makes your core burn for him. 

“Perhaps that’s what I’m counting on,” you quip back quickly, which makes the god in your bed chuckle softly. 

His cock grows beneath your touch, which only makes a surge of power shoot straight to your head. You begin to stroke him faster and apply just the barest hint of pressure, but a large hand quickly reaches out to still yours. 

“Am I…,” you begin, but trail off when you glance towards him. 

Loki’s eyes are alight and dancing with the promise of mischief. Without a word, he edges you forward on the bed until your aching cunt is directly above his cock. You clench desperately at what you know is coming and it feels like an eternity until Loki is coaxing you down and the head of his cock is brushing teasingly against you. 

He maddingly drags himself through your soaked cunt again and again, pulling groan after groan from deep in your chest. Your nails dig into the pale skin of his shoulder, leaving a pattern of tiny half moons in their wake as you fix him with pleading eyes. 

“Fuck, Loki. Please, put it in,” you beg, needing to feel your husband fill you after six long weeks apart. 

Loki grins back mischievously. “As my love commands.” 

Slowly, he eases his cock inside you, making you take him inch by inch until you can take no more of him. He hisses at the feel of your cunt clenching wildly around him, and you’re rewarded with a stream of moans and curses until you’re fully seated on him. 

A hand closes quickly around the base of your skull to pull you in for another blistering kiss that’s lazy and wondrously sloppy. “I missed this tight little cunt,” he rasps into your ear with a roll of his hips. 

“Fuck,” you curse softly and let your head fall to his shoulder. 

He feels so blindingly good inside you that all you want to do is ride him until he can’t remember his own name, but when your hips begin to rock against his, Loki plants two strong hands on them to hold you still. 

“Ah, ah, darling. This is more than enough for now,” he says lightly. 

Not fully believing what you heard, you pull back to peer at him. “What? Loki, it’s been six -.” 

“Shhh, dove. I thought you insisted on hearing all about our time away?” he replies. 

“Yes, but not now! There will be plenty of time for you to tell me after!” You try not to whine. There had been three battles in all, and Loki had promised to tell you about all of them in detail. 

Your husband shifts beneath you, making you whimper when his cock does the same. “Perhaps, but, for now, I wish to have my darling wife warm my cock as I tell her about our victories. Would you deny me that?”

He knows that he has you. You can’t deny this man anything, even if it means spending a tortuous evening with his cock inside you. 

“No,” you reply, fighting to keep from pouting. 

Loki pulls you in for another quick kiss. “Good girl,” he says and gives another teasing roll of his hips. “If you can continue being good and not try to pleasure yourself all evening, then I will personally see to it that you don’t walk properly for the next week.”

[her-power]

just for tonight (Joseph Quinn x fem reader / one shot) 18+

warnings: adorable as well as smutty. I guess that sums it up!

summary: this is a one shot based on an interesting dream I had involving JQ & myself & a casino. my hyper-fixation heart couldn’t help it and wanted to turn it into a story. enjoy!

a/n: a new Eddie Munson series is in the works & fixation on the darkness II is in brainstorm mode!

word count: 2k? Maybe? I don’t know, I didn’t use my word document for this one lol

You wished you didn’t agree to go to this bachelorette party. You weren’t even in the wedding party but your friend who was a bridesmaid begged you to come because she couldn’t stand the maid of honor. Most Saturday nights you spent lounging on your couch with your cats, and a book on your lap. You felt like a grandma, but you were trying to be a good friend. The bride was in her early twenties, the rest of the party were in their mid twenties. You and your friend were the only ones who were thirty.

You really hated staying out late. It was almost 11 o’clock, you were sitting alone at the bar in the casino of the hotel you had to book. The bridal party wanted to head out to the next town to a bar that closed at 2am, that’s where you draw the line, you’d rather get drunk by yourself and then drag yourself to your hotel room. You were on your second tequila sunrise, which is a lot for you, playing candy crush on your phone, feeling eyes on you from drunk men who would walk by, preying on you. You could never take a compliment but you were pleased with how you looked tonight. A lightweight black mid sleeve dress adorned your curvy figure, went down to your ankles and had two slits up both sides of your legs. The bodice had a cut out diamond shape, exposing some of your sternum below your breasts. You didn’t wear a bra, the tie front of the bodice supported the girls delicately. You had finished your drink, and one magically appears in front of you.

You glance up at the bartender through your eyelashes. “I didn’t order that.” You say kindly.

“No, but the gentleman across the way did.” She tells you with a smirk and you glance behind her. Your breath hitches and butterflies fill your stomach; the most beautiful brown eyes stare back at you, smiling sweetly at you, holding up his glass as a hello. You have to close your mouth, you couldn’t believe someone as handsome as him had bought you a drink, and you couldn’t shake how familiar he looked to you. You clear your throat, digging through your wallet for a ten dollar bill, you hold it up, giving him a questioning, awkward smile. Casino drinks were way too over priced unless you were gambling. He laughs, and your nerves come back as he gets up from his seat and walks around the bar towards you. You rub your sweaty palms on your knees, your leg begins to bop uncontrollably as you feel his presence stand next to you.

You don’t look at him right away, but after giving yourself a little pep talk, remembering what your grandma said about men, you look up at him with a smile.

“I don’t want your money, love.” He’s English, his voice is nice, soft with a bit of a rasp. You realize you’re staring and laugh awkwardly, looking away and he smiles back at you, his cheeks dimpling.

“These drinks are way too overpriced.” You say quietly. “Please, take it.”

You move the bill towards him but he places his hand over yours, crumpling the bills under your hand and gently moves it away. You sigh, shaking your head, placing the money back in your wallet. “Okay, if you can afford it.”

“I can…I suppose.” He laughs softly.

You meet his eyes again, you were definitely a little drunk because you still couldn’t place why he was so familiar to you.

“May I sit?” He asks you and you nod. He slides on the bar stool next to you, his knee grazes yours slightly and you swear you can feel a current shoot down to your lower belly.

“Why did you buy me a drink?” You ask, a blush rising to your cheeks. “I mean, I look pretty pathetic, sitting alone at a bar while her friends are off galavanting somewhere else.”

He grins, perfect teeth. “I think you look pretty beautiful.”

You swallow a nervous laugh. “Oh.”

He cringes and chuckles. “I know, that was lame. I’m sorry.”

“Not lame, I just don’t know how to take a compliment.” You laugh, taking a swig off the drink. “It’s also my choice to sit alone at a bar. I didn’t feel like staying out til two a.m.”

“Ooof. Let me guess, bachelorette party?” He sips his own drink, leaning his head on his palm as he looks at you. You nod, taking another swig. “You seem nervous.”

“Nah.” You laugh a little too loudly and he stifles a giggle. “I’m just…I’m not used to…this. I mean…you’re just…I could just be drunk but, you’re insanely handsome.”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh stop.”

“You can’t take a compliment either!” You laugh, nudging his shoulder. You were loosening up, and part of you thinks it’s his calm energy, and obviously mixed with the alcohol.

Realizing you had knocked back your entire drink, you do the logical thing and order another one. The two of you got to talking, mostly about favorites, why he was there alone, if he gambled and if he had a favorite late night snack. He said his name was Joseph, or Joe. You had turned your body closer to his, the slit of your dress had fell down just the right way so your leg was exposed. You caught him subtly glancing that direction, a blush creeping up on his cheeks when he realized you saw him looking. You clear your throat, glancing at the time on your phone. It was after midnight.

Call it a night and get his number.

Invite him upstairs.

Listen to your grandma.

Invite him upstairs.

“Do you like scrabble?” You ask him, smiling at the silliness of the question.

“Like the game? Yeah…why?” He laughs.

“I have travel scrabble in my room and free alcohol. Whoever loses has to order dominoes.” You grin, your head was foggy but you weren’t that drunk where you couldn’t make consensual decisions.

“Okay, shouldn’t take long for me to win.” He winks at you and you roll your eyes. You both pay your respective tabs and exit the casino, the two of you walk towards the elevator but you stop, leaning on his shoulder for support, unbuckling your heels and sighing with relief before stepping in the elevator. “I don’t know how you ladies do it with the heels.” He laughs.

“Worst. Nightmare.” You groan, tossing the heels into a nearby trash can. He raises his eyebrows and smirks, you catch his look and laugh. “$3 at savers. I have other shoes.”

“Just checking.” He giggles, letting you on the elevator first. You press the button to the 14th floor and he lets out a laugh.

“Your hotel is on the 14th floor? What do you know, so is mine.”

You give him a mock shock face. “Must’ve been fate!” Yeah, you were drunk.

“Oh shush.” He laughs, shaking his head. You had moved yourself closer to him by accident, you were beginning to sway, but he didn’t seem to mind when your hand lightly touches his and he places his hand gently on your lower back as the elevator doors open. You fumble with your purse, trying to find the keycard, weeble wobbling your way towards your room. You see the number for 1457 and hover at the door.

“Well, this just got even more interesting.” You look up at him curiously and he point to the room across the hall. “That’s my room.”

“No it’s not.” You say, genuinely shocked this time. He gives you a smile, taking his keycard out of his pocket, going up to the door and sliding it in the slot. It lights up green and he opens the door like he just did a magic trick.

“I think you’re stalking me.” You say, finally finding the keycard and sliding it in the door. You push open the door, turning on the lights and tossing your purse on floor. He follows you in, shutting the door and locking it behind you.

“I believe, darling. That you’re the one stalking me.” He grins, his body very close to yours you could feel the heat radiating off of him. His hand reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and you shudder.

“Scravel. Trabble. Oh my god. TRAVEL SCRABBLE.” You cackle and quickly move away from him, you didn’t know why, he was definitely about to kiss you. You could feel his eyes on you as you dig through your luggage to find the game, you look up at him and suddenly feel shy. “What?”

“Nothing.” He smiles, leaning against the wall. “You’re just adorable to look at.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, and you bite your lower lip, going back to searching for the game. He takes the bottle of red wine on the table and pours it into two plastic cups. You laugh when he hands it to you after finding the game.

“Classy.” You grin and clink your cup against his. You both sip the wine and you jump onto the bed, opening scrabble and sitting criss cross apple sauce. He sits across from you, placing the cup on the nightstand next to the phone.

You hand him his letters and the two of you sit silently as you move around the tiles.

Que.

Quest.

Tech.

He makes a word that is just jumbled letters.

“That’s not a word.” You tell him.

“It so is a word!” He laughs.

“LEK is not a word!”

“Google it.” He smirks coyly at you.

You narrow your eyes at him and open your phone, you let out a laugh. “LEK is a basic monetary unit of Albania?! There’s no way you knew that!”

“Are you upset with me for knowing unknown words?” He leans towards you, smiling. “I mean, I can order us the pizza.”

Your breath hitches, he’s so close to you, your knees are almost touching. Your eyes dart from his lips to his eyes, your heart was racing. In one swift arm motion, you launch scrabble off the bed, taking him by his shoulders and wrapping your legs around his middle.

“Fuck the pizza.” You say, before crashing your lips against his. His arms are strong as they wrap around your waist and you straddle him. His hand moves up your leg, to your thigh, gripping the muscle as he moves his way on top of you, his tongue sliding delicately in your mouth. You grip his hair in your fist, he moans softly against your mouth, your hands pull his dress shirt out of his pants and glide up his smooth back. He pulls away from your lips, kissing your neck softly, in between your covered breasts. Your eyes flutter close when you feel him slide down towards your waist and he scoots back on his stomach, massaging your calves. You lean up on your elbows, and watch as he moves the slit of your dress to the side. He leans forward but you stop him with the base of your foot against his forehead and he laughs.

“I don’t normally do something like this.” You tell him, swallowing hard.

He gently moves your foot away, resting it on his shoulder. “I don’t either.” He gently kisses your calf. “We don’t have to…”

“No, no…I want to.” You smile shyly. “I just don’t want you to think I’m the kind of woman that will…”

He moves back up to you, your leg going with him, draping over his shoulder. He cups your face, runs his thumb along your lips. “I don’t think you’re that kind of woman.”

You smile, lifting your face up to kiss him gently. He smiles into your kiss, sliding his way back down in between your legs. Your heart races, feeling him pulling you towards him by your thighs, your knees bend and your head falls back against the pillow as he leaves soft kisses on your inner thighs. You feel his fingers dance gently along the straps of your underwear and you lifts your hips as he pulls them off slowly. He looks up at you through his eyelashes and grins. He looked so sexy. You could honestly come by just his look alone.

“You are very, very beautiful.” He says softly, and his face disappears. You gasp softly when you feel his lips kiss close to your sex, and your back immediately arches when his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks. You grip the blanket beneath you, a moan escaping your lungs.

“Ohhh…” You moan loudly, your hands fists his hair as he swirls his tongue in circles, licking you delicately and kneading at your thighs. You could already feel your orgasm building, but this was just…too fucking good. You didn’t want it to stop. You bite your bottom lip, your tummy muscles clench as your orgasm screams out of you and your back arches. He continues to eat you up, burying his face deeper as you continue to come.

He lifts his face, wiping his lips and smiles, you catch your breath, leaning up to catch his lips. You tasted yourself, and that made you crave him more. He holds your face with his soft hands and you move on top of him, ripping the buttons of his shirt open. He groans softly as you pull away from his lips and kiss his chest, moving your tongue in long stripes across his torso and move your lips down to his hips. You unzip his pants, kissing him gently on the sensitive skin on his pelvis and he shivers, letting out a soft gasp. Your eyes widen as you expose him, questioning whether or not you could fit this in your mouth. You kiss the tip gently and he moans, letting out a laugh of pleasure as you take him entirely into your mouth. He pulls gently at your hair as you swirl your tongue around the head, moving your fist up and down. His head hangs over the bed as he breathes heavily, you watch his chest rise and fall.

He gasps. “I want…I want to feel you.” You lift up your head and he sits up, taking your face, kissing your swollen lips. You shiver, more butterflies settling in your tummy and he watches as you lift your dress above your head. You instinctively shield yourself and he stands up, smiling at you, taking off the rest of his clothes. His hands gently go to your arms and he rubs his palms against your soft skin. You blush as he pulls your arms away from your chest, his eyes scan your body and he meets your gaze. He gives you another sweet smile, leaning forward to kiss you gently, you wrap your arms around his shoulders to deepen the kiss and he kneads at your waist. He cups your ass, lifting you up to the picture wjndow ledge and he stands between your legs. You pull away from his mouth, smiling shyly.

“Condom?” You ask him. He smiles, nodding and going into his jacket pocket. You laugh almost.

“What?” He chuckles as he places the rubber over his erection. “I’m a gentleman. I’m never gonna assume.”

Your heart does a pitter patter, you swear you could see yourself falling in love with this man. He cups your cheek, kissing you deeply and you open your legs wider for him. He hooks your leg around his waist and stares into your eyes. He slowly slides into you and you gasp, your head falling back against the window with a thud. He lets out a sharp breath, gripping your thighs as he pushes himself deeper. He kisses your neck, thrusting into you faster and his lips catch your hardened nipple in his mouth.

“Mmmm…ohhhh…fuuuck…” You’re surprised at your own sounds, how insanely pornographic they sound and you moan even louder when he grunts loudly.

You pull his face towards yours, biting his lower lip and he holds onto the window for support, rocking his hips faster and faster. You whimper and he picks you up, still inside you and kissing you passionately as you both collapse on the bed. You place your leg on his shoulder and he kisses your calf, holding your leg to him as he moves, his other hand reaching to cup your breasts. You place your own hands through your hair, grazing up your body, the pleasure you were getting from him was making you see colors. His moves become a little ragged, and you can tell he’s getting close.

“Kiss me.” You moan, another orgasm building fast. He does as he is told, slipping his tongue in your mouth, thrusting harder and deeper. Your nails claw at his back, and he grunts loudly as you clench around his cock, screaming so loud you’re positive the whole building heard you. He comes hard seconds after you, his moans full of raw, raspy intensity. You hold him close to you, caressing his damp hair as you catch your breath. He lifts his face up to look at you and kisses you softly. You smile against his lips and he gently pulls out of you. He sighs, resting his head on your chest.

“I don’t mean to put a damper on this wonderful night…but I really have to pee.” You laugh and he chuckles against your chest, moving off of you. You hop off the bed, grabbing a pair of shorts and a t shirt from your luggage and rush into the bathroom, after doing your business you tidy yourself up and brush your teeth. When you exit the bathroom, Joseph is sitting with his ankles crossed in a t-shirt and sweatpants. You had forgotten his room was across the hall.

He smiles sweetly at you and you smile back, crawling next to him in the bed. He cradles you against his chest, gently running his fingers through your hair.

“Question game?” He says with a laugh and you nod.

“Okay, where did you grow up?”

You suddenly felt a pit in your stomach. Talking about home opened wounds that were still healing, but you answer him anyway. “Massachusetts.”

“With parents and siblings?” His finger dances gently around your shoulder.

“No siblings, just my parents.” You sigh. “Only child.”

“Me too.” He chuckles. “Where are your parents now?”

Fuck. Here comes the most awkward interaction in the world. He feels you tense up but doesn’t say anything. “…you don’t have to answer that, love. I’m sorry if it’s a touchy subject.”

“No.” You laugh awkwardly. “It’s not, it’s just…what I’m about to tell you usually makes people feel uncomfortable and word vomit which makes me want to crawl into a hole, but I don’t think you’re that kind of person.”

You feel his eyes on you and you glance up at him, he was really listening to you. “My dad lives in a one bedroom apartment with his dog Felix in Boston. And…my mom…she died when I was seventeen.” His hold on you tightens and he gently caresses your face, moving his face closer to yours to stare into your eyes.

“Tell me about her.” He says softly and tears immediately spring to your eyes. You have never had someone say that to you, not even your loved ones, let alone a stranger.

So, you tell him. You tell him how she was the funniest woman on planet earth. How she could quote some memorable movies using their voices and would go out of her way to make a person laugh. How much she loved you. How angry you were when she died. How you hope to never scream like that again in your life. How sometimes you wish you could go back, and take her place.

You feel his lips on your cheeks, kissing your tears away, you didn’t even realize you had been crying.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, this is embarrassing.” You laugh, wiping your face.

“Don’t ever apologize for talking about an important person like her. She sounds like a lovely woman.” He rubs your cheeks. “She made one hell of a daughter.”

You laugh softly, pressing your forehead against his. “How is it possible I meet a perfect stranger at a casino and I still have no idea who you are?”

He laughs and sighs. “Well…do you know Metallica?” He almost blushes and you stare into his eyes, confusion on your face.

Then you realize.

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit.

Holy. Shit.

You gasp loudly, launching yourself back from him, your body falling off the bed as he tries to grab you and you land on your back. You let out a laugh.

“Are you telling me…no, no, no, hold on. Hold on.” You meet his eyes and he’s stifling a laugh but also looks horrified. “Joseph…Joseph…Quinn? Who played Eddie Munson? Are you…me? Me?!”

You lean up on the edge of the bed, staring straight into his eyes, he looks like a lost puppy and your heart skips a beat. “If you want me to leave, I will leave. I know it’s a lot; I do, but…I felt something as soon as I looked into your eyes. I can’t explain it…but I understand if you don’t want me here.”

You stare at him, leaning closer to him, your hands grab his face. You gently run your hands over his cheeks, his lips, studying him more. “No…I want you to stay.”

He lets out a sigh. “Really?”

You smile largely. “Right now, you’re just the handsome man who bought me a drink at a bar, who made me laugh and listened to me talk about the worst day of my life. You left no hints, you were just you. Just for tonight, and forever, that’s who you are to me. Just Joseph.”

He smiles, grabbing your hand, his cheeks dimpling, and you kiss him.

Boy, do you kiss him.

Fin.

[pink-princess-pussy-pop]

Behavioral Lessons - King Ben x Reader

Summary: You push Ben's buttons too far

Words: 5.3K

Inspired by a section from my Dating Ben Would Include. Ben didn't lose his beard or fangs in this guys. He just didnt. So with that, he might just have some other… beast like qualities. (im so sorry i went rouge)

Link to photo of the dress, but if you hate it, just ignore when the dress is described and picture whatever you want to be wearing!

Warnings: Smut, uhhhh, thigh riding, a bit of edging, choking bro im not well at ALL for doing this to poor mitchell, not proofed

Edit: oh god. yall this is so dirty. i didnt mean to make ben a degrader but here we are... I’m sorry if I ruin this franchise for you rip i ruined it for myself

You had to take matters into your own hands. You hadn't seen Ben in weeks. And when you had, it wasn't for more than a few minutes when you passed each other in the corridors of the castle. He hadn't even been returning to your shared room at night, sleeping in his office instead. You were growing restless without your fiancé.

Since you were both twenty-one, your wedding was coming up. With the nearing celebrations on top of his usual king duties, Ben had been more stressed than usual, which is why you hadn't seen him recently.

So naturally, you just had to take matters into your own hands. You knew the way to help your fiancé was to help him relieve his stress, and you knew just how to push him to get there.

Every Friday night, you sat down with Ben and his parents for dinner. But this Friday was special. Not only were his parents going to be there, but so were your friends. It was the final Friday before your wedding and it would be the most you've seen of him in weeks so you were looking forward to it. And what was to come afterward.

...

You kept the dress hidden for months. It was strapless and fell mid-thigh. The body of the dress was a pale yellow, the outer layer was a sparkly floral pink fabric, and the bodice had tiny bows up the front. Evie had designed it for you and was standing in front of you now.

"Oh. My. God. I don't think I've ever made anything better. You look incredible. Ben is gonna go craaaa-zyyyyy." She was gushing over you, shoving a pair of gold shoes into your hands. "Now put these on, and then let's get to that dinner.

You looked at yourself in the mirror absolutely mesmerized at your reflection. Your legs looked incredibly long with the length of the dress paired with the heels. Dizzy had so graciously styled your hair, a simple updo, but with your small tiara on your head, it was perfect. You smiled at yourself, bringing your hand to your neck where a small, gold, necklace with the letter "B" sat.

...

You were giddy with anticipation, ready to see Ben, ready for him to see you. You entered the large dining hall, filled with your friends from the Isle and Auradon. Belle was at your side immediately, looking beautiful as always.

"Y/N! Sweetie! You look lovely!" The small woman hugged you. "I am so looking forward to you and Ben's wedding next week. It is going to be beautiful!" You smiled at her.

"Thank you! I'm excited about it too. Ben is a wonderful man. I’m very lucky to be marrying him." Then, Lumiere announced that dinner had been served and as you turned to go to your seat, Ben was behind you.

"Hi." He was giving you the smile that made your stomach flutter with butterflies. His hands were on your waist almost instantly, bringing your body closer to his. He looked perfect, would you expect anything different? The blue suit with the golden crown was a look you'd never get tired of.

"Hello." You smiled back at him as he kissed you for the first time in weeks. You broke it first, knowing that people were most definitely watching you and that you needed to leave him wanting more.

As you walked to your places at the table, Ben whispered in your ear...

"You look incredible, Y/n." You flushed at the compliment and at the way his voice sounded when he said your name.

You sit next to him, the chairs closer together than normal with the new amount of people. The plan was in full motion now.

The feast was grand, as it usually was, but before it began, Ben rose to give a toast.

"Thank you all for joining Y/N and me," He gestured for you to stand and join him. His arm wrapped around you instantly. "In our final feast before our wedding." He turned to you, his beautiful smile returning again. "I can't speak for my beautiful fiancé, but I am so happy that our closest friends and family were able to join us tonight." You spoke before he could go on.

"I am also very happy you are here!" The hall erupted in a chorus of laughs and Ben squeezed your side.

"I'm so honored to be marrying such a wonderful person. I cannot wait to share the rest of my life with you.” You smiled at him as he bent down to press a soft kiss to your lips. He whispers, "I love you." and then he pulls away to continue. “Alright, I’m sure you all want to eat, so I won't bore you with my love speech any longer."

...

As everyone else ate, you counted the minutes until you could begin your plan. You didn't want to start it too early or too late. You had to wait for the right time. Ben was such an attentive fiancé that he had noticed your behavior.

"Honey?" You were startled at his voice in your ear again. "Are you feeling ok?" You turned to him, noticing that he was looking down at your chest, blushing when he looked back up. You shifted at the sight of his tongue running over the tips of his fangs.

Now. It was time for your plan.

You set your hand on his upper thigh, leaning over to whisper into his ear.

"I guess I'm just hungry for something else..." You ran your hand up further before you were stopped by him. You looked down at his hand grasping your wrist, right above the seam of his pants.

"Y/N." His usually sweet voice was stern. You set your face with a smirk but innocent eyes, looking up at him. His jaw was clenched but you could tell you were getting somewhere. His skin was dusted pink and his pupils had dilated. "What are you doing?" You reached your fingers to brush against the fabric of his pants and he snarled, his grip on your wrist tightening.

"Ben!" His father interrupted and he swallowed, squeezing your wrist once more.

“Stop if you know what’s good for you.” His words were low and then he turned to his father who was across the table. You took this moment to shake yourself from him, turning to the former king, before placing your hand back onto his pants.

Ben jerked, trying to keep his composure in front of his parents and friends, but how could he when you were teasing him like this? In order to not draw attention to himself, he kept both hands on the table.

"Son, are you ok?" Ben eyed you, giving you a glare that only spurred you on further. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"I'm fine." He continued his conversation with his father, talking about God knows what, as you continued to tease him. You were half listening to Ben and Adam and the other half of your brain was only thinking of making Ben as flustered as possible, so you ran your hand over the growing tent in his suit pants. You could tell he was struggling to maintain his composure, his breathing had gone uneven, his face was red, and he kept glancing at the big grandfather clock behind his father's chair.

You smiled, gave his clothed member a squeeze, and withdrew your hand, reaching for a large piece of chocolate cake. You looked over at Ben, his eyes narrowed on you as you brought a bite to your mouth. His slip in composure was glorious and you winked at him as you brought a bite of cake to your lips.

You almost choked on the cake as his hand slid onto your thigh, just past your dress, fingers skimming the soft lace of your underwear, already wet from your actions and your thoughts of the night to come.

"So needy that you've resulted to disobeying your King? How pathetic." His lips grazed over the skin under your ear before he leaned back to look at you.

Your thighs squeezed against his hand involuntarily and it was his turn to smirk. He regained his composure, returning to “normal” Ben, now free from your teasing.

You, however could barely eat your dessert with his hand pressed between your legs.

“Regretting our actions are we?” He whispered to you as his engagement ring slid over your core. You covered the gasp with a cough. “That’s what I thought.”

...

The second dinner had ended, Ben's arm was around your waist. As the two of you neared the doors of the large hall, his name was called.

His dad and Lumiere were behind you.

"Your Majesty, your father and I have been talking and there are a few things we wanted to go over for palace security during the ceremony. If you come with us, it won't take very long." Ben's face was completely normal as he gave Lumiere a nod before turning to face you.

He plastered on his King Ben smile, brushing his hand against your cheek, bringing your lips to his, but he didn't kiss you.

"I hope you know, I'm not going to be nice tonight." His lips were on yours for mere seconds before he stepped back, running his tongue over his fangs once again. Then, he turned back to Adam and Lumiere, leaving you in the dining hall, thoughts running wild about what was to happen to you that night.

...

You called Evie as soon as you got back to your and Ben's bedroom.

"Do I keep the dress on? Or do I wear something else?" You were frantic, walking around the closet, not knowing what to do.

"Girl! Calm down!" You had told her what had happened and she was so excited she practically screamed. "If I were you, I would put on one of his dress shirts. He won't be expecting it when he comes in to punish-"

"Oh my GOD, EVIE!" The laughter on the phone was enough to make you roll your eyes. "Thanks for your help." You grumbled.

"Let me know how it goes!" Before you could reply, she hung up. You set your phone down and grabbed one of Ben's white dress shirts along with a simple, white lace lingerie set from a drawer.

Slipping the dress off, you carefully put it on a hanger and set it in your closet. You slid the shirt on, buttoning it up, leaving it open just enough to see the bra you had just put on. You began to take out your hair, setting the crown down on your vanity counter, and removing the pins holding the updo in place. Finally, you applied a bit of lipgloss and a spritz or two of Ben's favorite perfume before climbing onto your shared king-sized bed.

...

Thirteen minutes later, not that you had counted, the bedroom door burst open, and in walked your fiancé. His eyes locked on your body as he removed his suit jacket. You knew he was waiting for you to look at him, so you obliged, looking up from the random book you had picked up, you really weren't reading it anyway. He was glaring at you as his hand loosened his tie and removed it. You tried your best to look at him with the most innocent eyes you could and he chuckled.

You watched as he unbuttoned the first two buttons of the white shirt and rolled the sleeves up to his forearms. When you looked back into his eyes, they were almost black.

"Did you have a good time at the dinner, my dear? Did you enjoy yourself?" His hands were placed on the bed so he was leaning down. His tone was condescending, which sent shivers down your spine. He was always so sincere. This new side to Ben was intoxicating.

“Answer your King when he speaks to you.”

If he noticed your eyes widening in shock, he didn’t acknowledge it. He was unmoving, his eyes challenging you, taunting you.

“I’m not going to ask again.” You didn’t know how to respond, so you nodded.

Ben chuckled again, his fangs on display. Any sight of them made your heart race and he knew it.

“No, honey. Use your words.” His voice lowered. “Or do you want to disobey me again?”

“Yes, I enjoyed dinner.” Your voice was small but you held your ground, not breaking eye contact. You challenged him back. “Did you enjoy dinner, Ben?” A dark look crossed his face.

“Why don’t you try saying that again, using my correct title?” You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, but you had to admit, you liked this side of him.

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight…” You sat up from the headboard, leaning towards him, and bowed your head. Then, looking up at him through your lashes added, “…my King?”

His eyes narrowed again and his hands wrapped around your ankles, tugging you to the end of the bed. He settled his knee between your legs, brushing your clothed core on purpose, but not acknowledging it. His hands settled by your head and he hovered over you.

“No.” He dug his knee into you harder and you threw your head back, exposing your neck to him as you moaned. “No, I didn’t.” You felt his finger slide down the column of your throat before hooking itself around your necklace laced with his initial. He leaned down, mouth hovering over the pulse point in your neck. “My bratty fiancé couldn’t keep her hands to herself.”

His teeth ran down your neck and goosebumps erupted at the sharpness of the canines. “You haven’t touched your bratty fiancé in weeks.” He tugged on your necklace and your eyes found his again.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

Now that was a surprise.

Though he got stressed fairly often, he never used vulgar language. You had heard him say “damnit” once after losing a Tourney game in high school, but that was it.

Suddenly, you felt your body flush at his outburst. You didn’t reply, too shocked to say anything.

Ben smiled, but it wasn’t his good King Benjamin smile.

This smile was positively wicked.

“I believe I asked you a question, Y/N.” The fingers hooked on the chain around your neck now rested softly on your throat.

Holy shit.

“Yes.” The words were almost inaudible.

“M’sorry… what was that?”

“Yes.” You spoke clearly now.

He snickered.

“That’s now how you properly answer a question, now is it? Let me ask again.” His fingers tightened slightly. “Do you want your King to fuck you?” The word rolled off of his tongue like honey and your hips rolled into his knee.

“Yes, I want you to…” His eyebrow went up. “…fuck me.” His fingers withdrew from your throat.

“Hmm.” Suddenly he was standing up, leaving you on the bed, catching your breath. “I don’t think you’ve earned it.”

You watched with wide eyes as he sat down at your vainity in the corner of the room. He looked so casually regal. His crown, the unbuttoned shirt, his crisp blue slacks. But there was some other air about him that was making you crumble in his hands. The way he was man spreading, his long legs awaiting as your own throne. His beard and sharp fangs you were aching to feel between your thighs. Your toes curled at the thought.

“You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you honey?” The mean tone from before had returned. “You’re thinking about me fucking you?” Your face flushed so much you were sure it went down your whole body. You quickly realized he’d asked you another question.

“Y-Yes. I am thinking about that.” Your snarkiness from before was long-gone. He gave you another wicked smile. His picked up your crown, which was much smaller than his since your coronation would happen after the wedding.

“Well, are you going to sit there all night or are you going to come finish what you started at dinner?” You got up from the bed immediately crossing to where he sat. His fingers wrapped around your necklace again, tugging you to his level. Your knees hit the floor, hands on his thighs while he brushes your hair from your face. He tilts your chin up to meet your eyes.

His hand retracts while he takes you in. On your knees in front of him, wearing one of his shirts and dear God, the white lace of your bra peeking out at him was making his head spin.

No longer having self-restraint, Ben’s lips lock on yours. You moan into his mouth as his hands wrap around your torso, pulling you to sit in his lap. He growls into the kiss as you grind your hips into his.

Finally. You thought to yourself. Ben’s control over his respectful manner had cracked a little but your goal was to break through it completely. And you knew by his bruising grip on your hips that you were on the right track.

Then suddenly, Ben wasn’t touching you anymore. Your body was left heaving on top of his while he leaned back in the chair, resting his elbows on the armrests.

“Go on.” You stated wide-eyed at him. “I’m not going to do all the work here, honey.” Your face flushed as you looked to his crotch, the tented fabric strained. “You did this…” His hand grabbed yours, setting it back onto his pants. “…so do something about it.”

Slowly, you began to move your fingers and Ben’s eyes narrowed.

“You and I both know you can do better than that.” His hand found it’s way back up to your throat. “Don’t you want to please your King?”

Dear GOD where had this side of him come from? He shifted the slightest bit so his pants ran against you.

“Ben!” Your eyes squeezed shut, brain foggy with him.

“Are you really making me wait?” You shook your head, avoiding his gaze as yours shifted to where your shaking hands were now trying to undo his belt buckle.

As you worked to free him from his pants, Ben’s hands found their way back to your hips, slowly pushing up the fabric of his dress shirt so he could see what was lying underneath.

His mouth almost watered as the white lace was brought into view. He licked his lips at what the fabric was trying in vain at hiding.

Ben had to remind himself that you were not being rewarded now. That you’d disobeyed him at dinner and now was not the time to be relishing in how lovely you were.

He was brought out of his thoughts as your hand slid into his boxers.

He threw his head back and muttered a barely audible,

“Fuck.”

As your fingers wrapped around him, timidly moving up and down.

He looked at you, so focused on what you were doing, so desperate to make him feel good, needing to hear his words of praise. Ben guided you to straddle one leg as he began to rock his hips into your hand.

You were so trained on pleasing your fiancé, that you hadn’t even noticed that you’d begun grinding on his thigh.

Ben had noticed. He watched as your breathing became more rapid and how your strokes became less careful. You looked up, meeting his gaze, sucking in a breath at the primal look in his eyes.

His eyes flashed with pleasure as your thumb ran over the tip of his cock. His fingers stopped your hips and he said,

“Stop.” Right as you were about to come. You did as you were told but you couldn’t help the whine that escaped at the lack of sensation.

Ben rolled his eyes, the hands on your hips forcing you to grind into his leg once again. You moan, tossing your head back to avoid looking at him. The fucker was edging you.

“So Goddamn needy.” His hot touch on your skin was gone and you had to steady your breathing before looking at him again.

Ben had begun to unbutton the rest of your shirt, pushing it off of your shoulders once it was fully undone. He shamelessly raked his eyes over your body, grinning that evil grin as he did so.

Then, his hands were under your bottom, picking you up before setting you down on the bed.

“Are you going to behave now?” The dampening of your underwear at his words is embarrassing. Ben’s thumbs skim over your abdomen, right on the waistband of your underwear. Ben doesn’t break eye contact with you, smiling once again. He looks hot as hell, his fangs and the beard along with his crown.

Was he going to fuck you while wearing his crown? God you hoped so.

“Honey?” Ben lowered to his knees, fingers now on the sides of the lace fabric. You instinctively close your legs but Ben’s strong hands are there instantly, forcing them back open.

Embarrassment floods your system as you watch him look down, a shit-eating grin appearing on his face before his eyes return to yours.

“Keep them open.” His fingers dance dangerously close to the damp lace. “Answer my question, please.”

He’s so close that you can feel his breath fanning your core.

“Yes, Ben. Fuck! I’ll behave.” He kisses your inner thighs which are now practically shaking in his grasp. His mouth moves to your hips, right where your waistband is.

“Do you want to know a secret?”

“What?” You sound breathless.

He looks directly into your eyes.

“I’ve been able to smell you this entire time.”

You’re too late to react as Ben rips through the white lace with his teeth. His hands are keeping your thighs to the side and he looks at you for a moment: A shaking little mess before him, your cunt dripping and clenching around nothing. You watch as he smiles again, bracing yourself for the contact of his tongue, lips, and teeth.

His tongue licks your glistening cunt from the bottom up twice and your hand clamps over your mouth when his lips wrap around your aching clit.

And then.

Oh, fuck.

You’d forgotten about his facial hair.

The delicious roughness contrasting with his sweet mouth made the pleasure skyrocket.

Ben loved the taste of you. He was never able to get enough. So anytime he went down on you, he took all he could get. He moaned at the taste of you, the vibrations going straight through you.

Your hips lifted off of the bed as one of his hands moved off of your thigh and a thumb pressed hard against your swollen clit. At the same time, Ben bit into the soft skin of your thighs, marking his territory. He repeated his actions on the other side, now rolling your clit between his fingers.

If you weren’t covering your mouth, you were sure the whole castle would be able to hear you.

Ben’s mouth returned and you let out a scream as his teeth bit your clit gently. He let his tongue swirl around it as his thumb ran down your slit, parting your folds, exposing more of you to the cool air. He moved the slightest bit and the roughness of his mustache brushed against your clit, sending you into your awaiting orgasm.

Ben continued devouring you through it, eating you out like a beast, already wanting to get another one out of you like this. He looked up at you, realizing he hadn’t been able to hear you, eyes narrowing once again at the hand over your mouth. Your hips rocked again as he slid his middle finger into you easily but then he stopped all of his actions.

Your grown was muffled but one look from Ben and your hand fell to the side.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of being too loud…” his finger curled inside you and you let out a loud moan, a blush settling over your cheeks instantly. “…because I don’t care if anyone hears. They’ll know how good the king is fucking you, right?” His mouth was on yours again, finger pushing in and out of you slowly. Your hips jerk up and you moan into his mouth, making him smile into yours.

Ben pulls away, making you groan in frustration. As you sit up on your elbows, you watch as Ben steps away from the bed to undress and you know he's doing it slowly on purpose.

"Ben-"

“Shut up. You brought this on yourself, honey.”

Once again, your cheeks heat. His harsh glare makes your heart pound.

His eyes tear away from yours as he finishes undressing. Yours close, waiting for what's next half in anxiousness, half in eagerness. His warm hand on your knee snaps you out of your thoughts.

His tongue runs over his bottom lip before he brings it between his teeth. He pulls your body down and steps between your legs. Ben's hand settles on your neck again, smirking at the feeling of your racing pulse.

"Don't tell me you're nervous, sweetheart." You take a deep breath before looking into his eyes with a smirk of your own.

"Why would I be nervous if this is what I wanted?" His jaw sets as the smirk disappears.

And then under his breath,

"Such a fucking brat." Before his hand fully wraps around your throat as he brings his lips to yours.

Your hands reach up to wrap around his shoulders pulling him down on top of you.

You pull away when Ben bites your lip, tasting blood.

"Benjamin!"

His smirk is back.

"Oh, so you're using my full name now. I thought this is what you wanted." You glare at him as you run your tongue along the bite. His head dips as he kisses you again, sucking on your bottom lip. You are so enthralled with the feeling of his mouth on yours, you don't register what else he is doing until you feel the head of his cock pushing into you.

You act on instinct, pushing your hips into him but he pulls away.

"Don't be impatient. That stunt you played at dinner was cute and all but-"

"You thought it was cute?" You pout. "I thought you were going to punish me for it, my King."

With that, Ben pushes into you the rest of the way, wrapping his hand around your throat again, silencing any moan trying to escape.

"You were saying?" Your pelvic muscles clench around him which spurs him on further. "What's the matter, my love?" He pulls out of you and puts the slightest bit of pressure on your throat. "You want me to punish you?" He leans in to kiss you again but stops centimeters from your lips. "You asked for it."

Ben kisses you once again, hands now on your hip bones as his hips roll into yours at a brutal pace. Your hands wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you as he does the dirty work.

Your nails dig into his skin as you near your orgasm, pulling away from his lips as you struggle to catch your breath. Then suddenly, Ben stills inside of you and laughs as you whine.

"Would you like me to keep going?" You nod, although you know he will continue to fuck with you. "Really?" His lips find your neck again, kissing the spot beneath your ear. He grins against your skin at your whine. "Alright."

Ben begins to move ever-so-slowly. Annoyed, you begin to roll your hips into his but he is quick to stop you. His hands press your hips deep into the bed, forcing your movements to stop.

"Ben..." You trail off, eyes closing as Ben continues. He leans back, his beautiful smile gracing his face.

He gradually picks up speed, every movement into you brings you closer to the brink but Ben knows your body well. He's memorized your body and the ways it reacts to his. He knows that when you throw your head backward and try to cover your mouth to subdue the noises you're making that you're close. That's when he knows to stop.

"Fuck, Ben, please." He leans over you again, his beautiful smile still plastered on his beautiful face.

"Please what?" He has the audacity to rub soothing circles on your skin.

"Damnnit Ben." Your eyes are squeezed shut, unable to look him in the eyes. Ben leans over more, his lips brushing against yours.

"Please what, honey?" Your eyes open and narrow at him.

"I already asked Ben..." He chuckles.

"And I'm asking again." He raises his eyebrows. "Now unless you'd like me to," his hips roll again, "continue with your punishment, I suggest you use your words and answer my question."

"Benjamin," You pause briefly, waiting to see if he will stop you and make you use his title, but he doesn't. "Please, please, fuck me."

Ben smirks, making him impossibly more attractive.

"That's all you had to say." His hands grab your thighs, wrapping them around his waist before turning his smirk into a grin.

He moves again and it is glorious. Ben does all the work, which is fine for you because you're too enthralled with the pleasure to do anything about it. His hands tighten on your legs and pull you to him, bringing your bodies impossibly closer. His pace is brutal, fingers most definitely leaving bruises in their wake.

Instead of covering your mouth, your hands wander up his arms and pull him down to you again before resting on his broad shoulders. His crown glints in the light and your eyes roll at the sight. His hand leaves your thigh and reaches between your bodies to pinch your clit. To cover your moan, you pull his lips to yours, releasing it into his mouth. Ben smiles in return, rolling your clit between his fingers.

You break the kiss, gasping for air as your head is thrown back, He takes the opportunity to attack your neck again, his teeth gently biting at the soft skin.

His hips slam into yours once again and it pushes you over the edge. Your mouth opens in a silent scream, your body going limp in his arms.

Ben follows not far behind, groaning into your neck.

"Fuck."

After the two of you calm down, he pushes himself back, looking down at you.

"I'm sorry if I went a little overboard. I just-"

"Ben..."

"No seriously I-" You cut him off.

"Benjamin shut up." His eyes widen. You look up at him, a small smile on your lips. He watches with wide eyes as you push yourself up to sit under him. His smirk returns as you wince at the soreness he left you.

"Did you just tell me to-" You cut him off with a kiss, hands pulling his face to yours.

You break away from him and his eyes are wide.

"Ben, if you had gone overboard I would have told you." You kiss him again. "Besides, it's what I wanted." His eyes narrow.

"What?" You giggle, squishing his cheeks together before his hands wrap around your wrists, pulling your hands down. "Y/N, what did you just say?" You fall back onto the bed, laughing.

"I had this whole thing planned out, Bennie Boo." His eyes roll at his ex-girlfriend's nickname for him. "You were stressed and we hadn't..."

"Fucked?" He finishes for you.

"...in weeks, so I put this plan together to help you relieve your stress and so we could..." It's Ben's turn to grin.

"Say it."

"Make me."

His smile drops.

"Oh, you're asking for it now, sweetie." His lips were on yours before you could even think of a clever response.

I'M BACK!!!

bro ive literally been working on this for like 3 months.

:) ENJOY

[sarawritestories]

I Wanna Be Yours Chapter 2

Xaden Riorson X Lydia Aetos

Summary: Lydia Aetos Longs to be a Ballerina, her father has other plans, and has conscripted her to the rider's quadrant with her childhood friend Violet. Reuniting with her brother he only gives her two orders. Do not bring up wanting to dance and stay far away from Xaden Riorson. Both of his orders go ignored.

Chapter Summary: Lydia is drowning in the memories of her past, and trying to get her footing at Basgiath.

A/N: I'm so sorry that it took me this long to get out. I loved chapter 1 so dearly I was struggling to make sure Chapter 2 was just as good!

I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! I promise it won't be super long like this for every update I was just going through some things and fighting some insecurities!

Word Count: 9,235 (I wasn't going to have you all wait this long just for a short fic

Chapter 1 I Wanna Be Yours Masterlist

My breathing becomes rapid as I wait to go on stage. The anticipation before a performance has always been the reason for my heart racing and my nerves are heighten. The warmth of a larger tanned hand enveloping my own instantly quiets the noise in my mind. “You look like you’re ready to crawl out of your skin, Dove.” I smile and look at Lian, my dance partner, my love. His warm brown eyes, twinkling under the mage lights. He smiles and it’s so disarming and causes butterflies to flutter in my stomach. “You are radiant.”

I giggle, and smooth out my dance dress the flowing skirts various shades cobalt that stops at my knees. The bodice having an intricate design of silver swirls against the blue corset like top. “You say that every show.” His free hand plays with one of the lose curls framing my face, the rest of my hair in a tight ornate bun. I take in his form; his outfit matches mine in hue with his pants various levels of blue with a simply white tunic that reveals some of his tone chest the silver pendant you gave him wrapped around his neck. “I have to say, Lian, you’re not so bad yourself.”

Lian chuckles as He lifts my hand to his lips, pressing them to my knuckles specifically where the ring he had given me resides. “I mean it Lydia. I love-

The music swells in the auditorium the melody, the indication I need to appear. “See you out there, Lover Boy.” He releases my hand as I begin to leap onto the stage and into Fourth position. Feeling Lian’s warm gaze upon my body, causing my cheeks to redden. I begin the routine.

My movements are fluid, my turns sharp. Seraphina’s words in the back of my mind, “Keep those feet pointed, arms straight, girl.” Her raspy voice rings in my ears as I correct my feet and my arms. Allowing the music to enter my body once again. I am its puppet, the symphony my puppeteer.

I swirl my skirt whirling around me the shades of blue looking like rippling waves around me. And I begin the movements that lead to my big leap when I notice one of the musicians hit the incorrect note. Seraphina always said to not let the musicians’ mistakes be your downfall on the stage. Heading that advise I push through tampering my annoyance I run and take in the air. My grin big, my legs stretched wide, I feel as though I’m flying, and in this moment one thing rings true, there will never be a more freeing feeling than this.

 The other musicians’ notes turn sharp and out of tune, and the disruption despite what I was taught causes me to stumble my landing. I hiss as my ankle rolls, causing my body to collapse to the ground, but I don’t think about the pain as screams erupt from the theater.  Tanned Hands are instantly on my waist hoisting me up and the familiar smell of soap and ocean waves crash tells me its Lian. I smell the flames before I see them. “Lian, we have to get out of here.” My voice trembles as fear begins to consume me.

Flames erupt around the theater as the ground shakes before us Lian grabs me closer to me. "I'm sorry dove," he whispers.

 "For what?" He presses his forehead to mine. Panic laces my voice as he grips me tighter, his thumb grazing against my hip in a soothing manner. Confusion washes through me at his behavior, we should be trying to leave to get out of here. “Lian, you’re scaring me.”

 "I love you more today than I did yesterday." He murmurs in my hair. My chest feels heavy like someone is applying all their weight over my heart at his words. I can’t breathe. He looks at me expectantly and my stomach gets a sinking sensation.

I shake my head as tears pool in my eyes and begin to run down my face, as I cup his cheek, "Why does this feel like a goodbye?" I cry out while he waits patiently waiting for me to finish his statement. The sounds around us muted by the intensity this conversation has become.

"Finish it, dove. Please." The banisters above us crash, and the flames lick my skin as he grips me closer to his chest. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

 I tremble, and press his lips to mine quickly, "I'll love you more tomorrow than I did today." He kisses my lips once more, just when the stage collapses, he pushes me out of the way. The warmth of his touch lingering on my skin as I watch him get consumed by the hole where the stage once stood. Arms wrap around me, hoisting me up and dragging me to safety. I begin to thrash and scream, calling out to him, "Lian, LIAN!"

My Screams the only sound in the burning auditorium.

“Wake up, Lydia! Wake! Up!” Dain’s voice breaks through the darkness and my eyes open with a jolt and I sit up. My eyes can’t seem to focus, and I don’t recall where I am, Dain’s hands grip my shoulders, and my gaze quickly moves to my brother. His eyes hold concern in them, his brows furrowed, “You were just having a dream.” His thumbs rubbed my shoulders, “You were out for two days.”

“Two days.” Memories of golden yellow eyes and how the blue daggertail bowed to me. A dragon had bowed to me! I lived to tell the tale of my first interaction with a dragon.

 I slowly lift my hands and wrap them around his wrists as though I need proof, he is really with me. His eyes glance at my hand and spot the silver band with a swirls throughout the band and the initials LD engraved in it. “I didn’t think he would let you keep anything after mom left.” His brown eyes meet mine.

 I quickly remove my hands with a scoff. “The General doesn’t get to dictate what I keep and what gets thrown away. Even if he thinks he does.” My mind goes back to watching as he destroyed one set of my pointe shoes. I smile, what he didn’t know on that day, that in my bag, the new pair I had bought from the traveling market were there.

Dain releases my shoulders, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Lydia he is only trying to protect you.” He lowers his hands and shoots me a glare, “As am I.” His tone is clipped.

I blink and my lip curls, “What’s that supposed to mean?” I cross my arms.

My brother leans against his chair, also crossing his arms a familiar stance we have taken over the years. One that only led to one of us screaming and the other either with tears, or a broken nose. Dain’s nose has never looked the same since. “Are you aware whose dragon it was that you enticed?”

Rage consumes my body, “You want to ask that again, Brother?” I quirk a brow at him.

“No.” His tone is just like the general’s, too much like him.

“You know I don’t know, so don’t be a condescending prick and just tell me.” I begin to stretch my legs under the blankets my feet naturally pointing. The numb feeling shifting into pins and needles my legs has been in one position for too long. I need to get up…I need to practice.

“That was Xaden Riorson’s dragon, Lydia.” Dain snarls. “And you bowed to it, like it she was some all-powerful being. Do you know how that makes the Aetos family look? Did that even cross your mind?”

I turn to sit at the edge of my bed, my hand gripping the end so tightly my knuckles turn white. “You’re joking, right?” Anger begins to bubble; my face begins to heat up and I can feel the tears beginning to build. “A dragon approached me. In most cultures, bowing between two parties is a sign of respect. I was thinking of how I could come out of that situation alive.” Dain’s lips formed into a tight line shifting in his seat. “I thought about my life. I wasn’t thinking about who that dragon belonged to, how embarrassing it was for you. I sure as fuck did not give a shit about our family reputation.” I rise noting that I am still from my clothes from the parapet. Finally taking in my surroundings I notice the rows of beds someone brought me to the female wing. “What time is it?”

“We have about 2 hours before formation.” Dain says rising from his own scene. “I need you to lay low. Please for the love of the gods, please lay low. Don’t attract any unwanted attention, do not bring up the dancing thing.” He grips my arm, his fingers digging into my skin. “This is the most important one so pay attention. Stay away from Xaden Riorson.”

I snort and yank my arm back, “I have no interest in being near the one person in this place who would probably want to see our heads on a spike, thanks to the action of our father.” Pushing him out of my way I grab my bag that is lying beside my bed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get ready for the day.”

I left the female wing before he could get another word in. I manage to find the showers on my own and wash off the grime that I have been sleeping in. Letting the water cascade down my skin, I rub my face my mind wandering from that interaction with the blue daggertail. To the nightmare I woke up from. Lian. My dance partner, my lover, my best friend. I twist the ring on my finger absentmindedly, it’s been months since I last had a dream about him. Tears well up in my eyes.

The rays of the sun warmed my skin as I began my stretches, Lian lying on the blanket in front of me. The sun is hitting his tan skin, his eyes closed, a smile on his face. As though he didn’t have any care in the world, except to be here with me. Finishing my stretches I rise to my feet and lift my teeth on my tippy toes. My bare feet sink into the plush blades of grass. I raise my leg above my head.

I begin to hum, and the tune shifts me from the prairie we are having a picnic at and morphs to the theater. My hums soon are replaced by the sweet sounds of the orchestra. I move my leg down pointed behind me. My movements fluid as my feet carries me through the stage. Leaps precise arms tight, various faces in the crowd, that I don’t pay close attention to. I begin my pirouette. I’m to do five spins for this routine, the most I have done. Putting myself in position I smile out to the crown and stumble, brown hair the same as my own, a smile that Dain inherited are looking back at me. It’s not that my mother is in the crowd that causes my movements to falter. Her eyes, seeming to glow in the dim lights of the theater and their color, gone were the warmth and comfort of her blue eyes. Her gaze now cold, hard and the vilest shade of red.

Hands gripped my waist pulling me tightly, fingers beginning to dance at my size as laughter begins to bubble up my chest.

“Lian!” I squeal as he spins me around, always knowing exactly when I need to be pulled from my thoughts. “Put me down! I’m rehearsing!”

He presses his lips to my ear, “You’re always rehearsing, Dove. We’re outside let’s enjoy our picnic.”

“I don’t like dealing with the wrath of Seraphina.” I murmur as I lean into his touch.

“I have a gift for though. Don’t you want to know what it is?” I whip around to face him, and he chuckles at my wide-eyed expression.

“My Love, if you want my attention, start with gifts.” He leads me back to the blanket and sits me down. “I have something for you too.”

“Me first,” he tucks what he has behind his back. Lian's curly brown hair becoming wild with the soft summer breeze rolling through. “Close your eyes, Dove, and hold out your right hand.”

I quirk a brow but obey, closing my eyes I stick out my right hand. It feels like hours have gone by though it has only been a minute at most before his soft hand holds mine. The cool bite of metal sliding down my finger until it reaches my knuckle. I open my eyes and gasp. The engraving work on the ring is beautiful, the swirling design reminding me of shadows and in the center where the shadows should my initials reside there. LD.

I look up at my partner and smile, “Lian D- He silences me with a kiss one filled with so much passion it makes me dizzy.

He pulls away, “Do you like it?” He murmurs over my mouth.

“No.” His face falls before I kiss his nose, “I love it.” Lian’s grin takes my breath away. “My turn.” I press a hand to his chest, “Sit back, and close your eyes.” Lian sat back on his heels and closed his eyes. I dig through my bag until my fingers grip the chain, pulling it out revealing the oval pendant with my name in the center. I crawl to him and gently place the chain over his head and place the necklace down gently around his neck.

Lian opens his eyes, and looks down to the pendant. His thumb grazes over the engraving of my name as though he was caressing me. My body responds to the sight of it as if his thumb was grazing me, tenderly. He looks up at me with a smile, “Now you’ll be near my heart forever.” Lian grabs my waist and pulls me on his lap. “Happy Anniversary, Dove.”

I press my forehead to his. “Happy Anniversary, Lian.”

“Lydia?” Violet’s voice rings through the bathing chambers.

“I’m in here,” I call out, her footsteps echoing through the chamber.

“Are you okay? I just ran into Dain.” Her voice is hesitant, she knows my feelings for my brother as well as I know about hers. “He seemed upset.”

“He can get in line.” Shutting off the water and grabbing my towel to dry off. “I don’t need a lecture about how he is a good person. I’m not interested in that.”

“I know what today is.” My hands still, “I’m not here to talk about Dain. He’s being an ass.” I wrap the towel around my body and step out. Violet’s blue eyes with flickers of amber were warm. “I’m sorry.” She engulfs me into a hug as I swallow the tears threatening to fall. “He would be so proud of you, Lydia.”

Today would have been our two-year anniversary. I should be at the dance studio with him rehearsing. Yet here I am in Basgiath and Lian…is gone.

Lian’s absence has hurt me in more ways than one. After our one-year anniversary he vanished. At least when my mother abandoned me, she had the decency to leave me a note. Late nights at the lake, stolen kisses backstage, his arms wrapped around me so tight the colonel’s wrath couldn’t find me there. I long for those moments once more, but clearly, he didn’t. His words the day we exchanged gifts ring in my head, “I’ll get you out, Lydia, you’ll never have to deal with your father. I’m going to set you free.”

He didn’t keep his promise. He left me behind without so much as a second glance. Freedom. My mom longed for it, Lian promised it.  I’m growing to detest the idea of freedom if it means the people I care about most fucking abandon me for it, leaving me to a cruel fate.

Confined. Controlled. Caged.

What good is freedom if it means stepping on the backs of the people one loves just to get there?

My feeling of sadness contorts to anger as I slowly pull away from Violet, she has never once abandoned me and is confined in this brick cage as I am. Violet doesn’t deserve my anger, though the sympathy in her eyes told me I could, and she would let me. I refuse to be my father or my brother and take my out-of-control feelings out on people who do not deserve it. Straightening my spine I give Violet’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Hard to be proud of someone, you actively abandoned with no word as to why you left.” I release her hand and swallow once more forcing the lump lodged in my throat back down to the pit of my stomach where it belongs. Where all my unwanted feelings belong.  “I’m going to get dressed and we can head to formation.

Violet nods, her eyes still glittering with concern. I quickly moved to change into the leathers that were near my bed this morning. Wrapping my hair in a tight bun I stick the two hair pins in. I link my arms with hers and give her a smile, a performative one, but a smile all the same.

Formation was a blur even as I am currently looking for a seat during breakfast, thinking back I can’t quite remember anything other than the list of names of those that did not make it yesterday, and everyone’s eyes on me. Kind of like they are now, though I have never been a stranger to eyes upon me, I wish it was for my ability to dance and not because I survived an interaction with Xaden Riorson’s dragon. And arm drapes around my shoulder, “Welcome back to the land of the living.” Ridoc’s voice is a welcome joy from the ominous stares burning holes in my skin. “Come, we’ve already scooped up Sorrengail.” Before I can counter, he is brining me to the table with Rhiannon, Violet, and a man who’s skinny, sandy curls lay atop his head.

Sitting at the open seat next to him the handsome man, he held out his hand, “Sawyer Henrick.” There is a twinkle in his green eyes, his freckles a stark contrast with his pale skin.

I grip his hand and give him a warm smile, “Lydia Aetos.”

Sawyer winks, “You know, you’re a lot prettier to look at than your brother.”

Heat creeps up my skin, as I release his hand. “Thanks, I guess.” I take a sip of my drink, “He is an eye sore.” Sawyer spits out his drink all over Ridoc as he chuckles, while the latter groans.

“How are you feeling, Lydia?” Rhiannon changes the subject as Ridoc continues his grumbling.

I think back to Xaden’s onyx eyes boring into my skull, or the heat from the Blue Daggertails nostril’s grazing against my neck as if a gust of warm summer’s wind was caressing me. Her yellow eyes staring at me, assessing me, for what? I’m not sure and I hope I wouldn’t find out considering who her rider is. The fear surges back up but a hand gripping my own brings me to the present. Soft, tiny, Violet, I look over to the youngest Sorrengail, “I’m alright. Nothing a few days rest couldn’t solve.”

“So, that interaction with that dragon…”Ridoc pulls my attention to him, “What was that all about?”

I shrug, beginning to devour my meal, not caring how the food tasted as I discover how hungry I am, “I truly wish I knew. I have never met a dragon before her.”

The table falls silent in contemplation. I shift in my seat and feel the familiar prick in the back of my neck. Glancing up Onyx eyes look at me in cold assessment as he eats his food, his stare never breaking from my own. I give my performance grin, the one that makes the audience fall in love with me the moment I step on the stage. Slowly raising my hand, I lift my middle finger to him.  His eyes lower and he tilts his head ever slightly ignoring the person who is chatting away in front of him. I give him a playful wink and break eye contact though I can feel his eyes on me.

“Well, should we call you the Queen of the Dragons?” Ridoc quips as the table chuckles with him and I hunch my shoulders slightly, embarrassment trickling through my body. “I mean I have never heard of a dragon that has bowed to a human in that way before. It must mean she’s destined to rule them all.” Ridoc smiles at me as I ball up my napkin to throw at him.

“Absolutely not, I would much rather you all call me twinkle toes than that.” I sip my water as the entire table, Violet included, give each other playful looks.

Collectively and in the highest decibel above screaming yell, “Twinkle Toes!” Before erupting in laughter and I can’t help but join in. I forgotten what it felt like to be surrounded by people that I connect with so well and enjoy their company. Sitting with them wiping my tears from laughter that causes my stomach to ache is a welcome reprieve from the dark corners of my mind where I usually reside.

“Mind if we join?” A man’s voice pulls the group from our bubble and back into reality. I lift my gaze and it feels as though ice has been poured over my head. The man’s eyes the same shade of brown as his, his hair like the curls I ran my fingers through countless times, lips I’ve kissed on numerous occasions. His face has the same shape as Lian’s, they could have been twins. My gaze shifts lower to the relic that peaks through his leathers and that’s where the similarities end, and the sound of my heart shattering thunder in my ears.

“Not at all We have space,” Ridoc scoots down, Lian’s look-a-like allows his handsome friend that had a matching tattoo along, with blonde hair and blue eyes, to sit closer to Ridoc and he sits in front of me. I swallow down my surge of emotions tears threatening to fall as the man smiles at me.

Ridoc takes over with the introductions, saving himself for last. “And who might you two be.”

The blonde-haired male eyes locks on Violets, as he smiles and I notice that her cheeks are red as he holds out his hand to her, “Liam Mairi.” Violet shakes his hand and averts her gaze. Sliding his hand from hers his fingers lingering slightly from her fingertips. Clasping the man’s, in front of me, shoulder, “This right here is Bodhi Durran, a second year.”

Metal clashes as my utensils falls on the plate, “I’m so sorry.” I rise to my feet acutely aware eyes are on me, “I just realize I need to do some things before class starts. Please excuse me.” I smile at Bohdi vision beginning to blur as tears rise, “It was lovely to meet you.” I turn and briskly walk away before anyone can call me back. Running down the hall and into the female wing of the dorms I reach my cot and sob in my pillow. Memories of Lian I have since buried deep rising to the surface:

“Lydia Aetos. My muse.” Lian smiles as my hips grind against his, “My dove.” His tanned hands slide my dress up my thighs they slowly reach my chest palming my cleavage resulting in a moan from me. “Who sings such pretty songs in pleasure.” He sits up and I adjust accordingly as I ride him.

“I love you.” I whisper, my eyes lidded, “I love you Lian Durran.” My fingers slide through his dark curls as his lips find mine and claim me.

A hand clamps over my mouth as I’m hoisted from my cot. My back presses against a hard back a dagger at my neck as hands grip my legs to prevent me from kicking. “Shh, Twinkle Toes. We’re going to take good care of you! I scream resulting in the hand clamping tighter around my mouth.

I lash around as Jack Barlow and his cronies begin to carry me down the empty corridor. “Jack,” the one struggling to keep my feet together groans, “Can’t we at least have some fun with her before we get rid of her?” My body stills at the implication. I know I’m in danger, but fear keeps me frozen in place.

Help

Help

Help

I am incapable of calling out to help as the duo pulls me into the shadows. They pin me to the wall, and I beg my body to move, will it to do anything besides tremble, I think of Dain, and the dream of a better relationship with my brother, of Violet whose kindness has brought me from the brink of insanity by her friendship. I think of Rhiannon, Ridoc, Sawyer, Liam and even Bodhi, friendships I’ll never get to see grow because I know one thing is certain.

I am going to die today.

Jack presses the knife to my skin keeping my head in place with his hand. “I’m going to make sure you feel the humiliation I felt on the parapet that day.” He whispers in my ear as he grazes the knife across my neck, hard enough to break skin, though not hard enough to kill. As if he was a predator toying with his food, he lowered the cold steel down to my chest where the leathers we received protected me from taking any reputable damage. “You are such a pretty little thing.” Bile rose in the back of my throat at his words. “You’ll be even prettier drenched in your blood.

“But you sai-

“Even I wouldn’t stoop that low.” And with a quick movement of his hand Jack slit the other cadet’s throat. I screamed his palm muffling the sound. His cold blue eyes meet mine, “Now where were we?”

“What do we have here?” A low voice causes Jack to turn, yanking me to his front. Hazel eyes meet mine and I take a moment to take in the person in front of me. His dark black hair with short curls allows the sharp angles of his face to stand out. His high cheekbones and perfectly set nose this man is handsome and right now his mouth is set in a firm line, “It’s not nice to hand a pretty lady in such a way.”

“I’m handling a pest problem.” Jack simply states.

The man smiles and its devastatingly beautiful. “Allow me to correct myself.” His large, calloused hand wraps around my forearm and maneuvers me out of Jack’s grasp with ease. All the while gripping the collar of Jack’s jacket, “You will not touch her or come near her ever again. “Do you understand?” Jack nods a snarl curling at his lips as the man releases him. “Good not run along, you’ll be late for battle brief.” Jack makes sure to level me with a glare as he walks down the corridor. The mystery man turns towards me and smiles, his eyes scanning me, locking in my neck where the warmth of my blood clings to my skin. “You’re hurt.”

“A simple scratch, it will be gone in the morning.” I look to the corpse lying behind him and he glances to where I’m staring, “Better than being that guy at the moment.” The man snorts as his gaze lands on me once more. He nods as though the answer is good enough for him as I reach out my hand, “I’m Lydia.”

His eyes light up in recognition, “Aetos right?” I sheepishly nod my head as he takes my hand and places a soft kiss on my knuckles, “A pleasure. You are much nicer to look at than your brother.” He releases my hand and I laugh.

“I see my brother has made quite the name for himself.” I quip as I fidget as silence fell between the two of us.

“Come on Cadet, we will be late for battle brief.” The man extends his arm for me to loop through and as my hand pressed into his muscled arm, he led me down the hall.

I look back to the body on the ground, “Um shouldn’t we take care of him?”

Garrick chuckles, “Don’t fret, Pretty girl, someone will dispose of him and his things. “Death is pretty commonplace here.” I feel his eyes are on me. I glance back in his direction to see a playful smirk on his face, “I like your eyes. How one is brown, and one is blue. Its about as unique as having a dragon bow to you.” He quirks a brow as I groan looking up at the ornate ceiling above. “Word travels fast here.”

“So much for going through these three years undetected I guess.” He hums in agreement, and I take a moment to study him as we go down the stairs. “So does the pretty boy have a name?”

The man winks at me, “He does.”

“Well, I can’t call you my hero forever,” I smile, the sadness of a former love fluttering away, as I shamelessly flirt with the man in front of me.

He whistles, “You’re good, Aetos.” He releases my arm only playfully nudges me. “My name is Garrick. Feel free to keep calling me your hero though. I won’t mind.”

I laugh, “You’re a shameless flirt.” I counter as we approach a classroom, students from every year begin filing in.

Onyx eyes meet mine, his nostrils flare slightly at the sight of me with Garrick but his lips remain in a tight line as a warmth breath grazes my ear, “Takes one to know one, Pretty Girl.”  I whip my head towards him as he stands to his full height and walks into the room without so much as a goodbye. Though he is quick to wrap what I now see as a tattooed arm around Xaden causing the Wingleader to break eye contact with me.

“Hey, are you okay? You ran off pretty quickly at breakfast.” Ridoc’s voice rings out as I find him with the others at the entryway.

“I’m fine, just needed to catch up on work.” Ridoc nodded as we all entered the large classroom with chairs that rose all the way up to the rafters. Every student in Basgiath could be sat here. The ornate look of the room takes my breath away as it reminds me of the theater I once used to frequent with my mother.

“Everyone, take your seats and we will begin.” A woman projects her voice from where she stands, at what can only be described as a stage. I’m once again reminded of the fact that I am no longer a dancer. This is not a theater. I am to become a rider. This is Battle Brief.

Waking up early, I quickly change into my leotard and tights that I sneak past my father’s nose. The last week has been a challenge to say the least. I have been struggling to gain my footing, Dain’s constant quips and critiques, the intense class schedule. Finding reasons to get up and keep moving has been a challenging one for me. Familiar dark thoughts overriding my brain my father’s words ringing in my ears. Somedays I am able to quiet them other time they were yelled in high decibels causing me to curl into a ball in my cot.

Worthless. Pathetic. Disgrace of a child.

Wrapping my pointe shoes around my ankles tying them securely I begin to tiptoe toward the Gym where there are full length mirrors.

Grateful that no one is around, I begin my stretches, my feet pointed outward, I lower my body. I focus on my breathing as I plie I reach one arm out in front of me the other above me and I sink lower once more.

Inhale

Hold 2, 3, 4

Exhale

I rise on my exhale and do this a few more times trying to keep my breathing even and the dark thoughts at bay. To keep from those feelings consuming me entirely as they have in previous years. And I begin to do my routine.

“You need to get up, Lydia.” Lian whispers as I turn over and cover the pillow over my head groaning. “Dove.” His fingers graze up my bare spine.

“Go away.” I grumble pulling the covers over me tightly.

Lian continues his tender strokes, “Is it happening again?”  He gently removes the pillow from my head to reveal my tear-stained cheeks. “The dark feelings returning.”

I nod my head, “It feels like my body weighs a ton. I just want to lay in bed.”  Lian proceeds to pull the covers off me and before I can begin to scold him, he kisses the bottom of my spine spine and leaves soft pecks all the way up to the base of my neck.  “Lian.” I warn.

“I’m not going to do anything, not like that anyway.” He chuckles as his firm hands begin to rub the tension from my shoulders. “Seraphina can rehearse with the others today.”

“You should-

“I would never leave you behind, Dove.”  He continues to massage my back and reaches a knot that elicits a groan. “I’m going to set you free, baby. I promise.” A small smile emerges on my face, “There she is.”

My spins become sloppy as memories of Lian bubble up.

I would never leave you behind. But he did.

I am going to set you free. Yet, I’m still in a cage.

I love you, Dove. Then why did he leave?

I lose my footing as I leap, and my ankle rolls before I can fall to the floor calloused hands grip my arms. My body stiffens as I see the rebellion relic, followed by the scent of leather and mint. My eyes gaze up to meet the Gold flecked onyx of Xaden Riorson. “What has you up this early?”

I writhe out of his grasp, “Why do you want to know?”

Xaden quirks his scarred brow, “I’m your Wingleader, Kitten, it’s my job to know why my cadet is not only out of bed but why she is in…whatever it is you’re wearing.”

I look down at my pointe shoes followed by my pink tights and leotard, “I’m a dancer. This is dance attire.”

His eyes graze down my body and a shiver course down my spine at his ogling. “Why are you here?”

“This space is for all cadets, Wingleader.” I begin to continue when he presses a finger to my lips.

“No, no. Why are you here in Basgiath?” His thumb idly swiped my hip the tenderness of the action pulling me from my stupor. As I whack his hand and step out of his grasp. “I mean it is pretty obvious you don’t belong here, Kitten.”

Through gritted teeth, “Well the fuck aware, Riorson. I also recall telling you my name is Lydia.”

He takes a step closer, gripping my chin he forces me to look at him, “Tell me something, Lydia. Why did you bow to Sgaeyl?”

Sgaeyl. That is the name of his dragon. Beautiful. Just like her. “Out of respect.”

“You didn’t have to.” He murmurs getting close enough that I have no choice but to look up at him. “Most people would have ran away.”

“I’m not most people. I prefer keeping my flesh intact not becoming a pile of ash.”  I pull one of the hair pins from my hair pressing it to his chest forcing him to take a step back. “Tell me, Xaden, why did she bow in return?”

He hums in contemplation, and I scowl. He bends down at the waist, so our faces are inches apart from one another. My heartbeat quickens at him being so close to me, warmth pooling in my belly as his beautiful face closes in on mine, our nose near touching. “Now where is the fun in answering that, Kitten.” His face contorts into a look of confusion. “You’re crying.”

I press my hand to my cheek to find tears there. The dark thoughts hit me like a wave crashing over a rock, unlike a rock, I get swept up in the current:

Useless, Pathetic, Annoying. Traitor

Traitor

Traitor

Traitor

I wrap my arms around myself and take a step away from the Wingleader. The warmth his body provided was now gone. “I have to go, if I want to change and make it to formation in time.” I turn acutely aware I am putting my back to him as I scurry off back from the room. Finding a vacant hallway, I slide my back against the cool brick, rubbing my chest. The words are becoming all-consuming, and I allow myself to succumb to the darkness. The words playing in a loop as though it was playing through a faulty record player.

Worthless

Worthless

Worthless

Words are so cruel but have been my constant companion when people I care about were so quick to leave me. Abandon me. Brennan, my mom, Lian, even Dain is guilty of abandoning me. It’s hard to not let the vile words keep me down when the most important people in my life constantly leave me. At some point the words that would pop up as fleeting thought began to take root and seep into my brain as something factual the moment, I found that letter on my bed. The moment I learned that I wasn’t worth fighting for, wasn’t worth defending.

Dain’s betrayal stung the most when he would stop defending me against our father when it came to my dancing and has since tried to snuff out the one good thing in my life with him.

“I highly doubt you’re good enough to make a career out of it. This is a fine hobby sure, but you need to realize that he expects you to train to be a warrior.”

A chunk of my heart deteriorated that day. Dain has never once seen me dance, for him to say that hurt. For him to then reiterate that last week stings more. Nothing has changed and I was hoping that being here away from our father would give us the chance to mend things. The hope now since squandered since I yielded my practice challenge after the first punch. He said I was embarrassing him and making father look like a fool.

Maybe I am a fool. Fool for falling in love with a performer who the moment things became complicated had left without an utterance of goodbye.

Foolish for thinking I could have a career in dance with my father carrying me like a marionette doll. Foolish for thinking him and I would ever have a loving father daughter relationship like I witness Violet have with her father.

Foolish for thinking I’m good enough to fight for, to love, to be cared for.

Foolish

Foolish

Foolish

Stray tears turn into stream of sobs as I tuck my knees to my chest and bury my face in them. I don’t care how loud I’m being, or how emotional I am. I just want the ache in my chest to disappear, for the heaviness of my existence to lift from my shoulders. For someone, anyone, to pull me from the depths of my darkness so that I may be able to breathe easier, to feel less burdensome.

My vision blurs as I allow the thoughts to rip me apart, the sounds of footsteps causing me to lift my head. Finding a tall figure hovering over me as my vison gives way to the tears, I don’t register the hands that lift me from the ground only the comforting smell of Leather and mint before falling asleep allowing the exhaustion of my episode to welcome me with open arms.

“Lydia!” Violet squeals jolting me awake, I look to see I’m on my cot. The other women filtering through. “You missed formation, I was so worried about you.” Her frail arms wrap around my neck and I’m quick to embrace her back not only because I needed her comfort but also to keep her from falling. “Were you asleep the whole time?”

I shrug, “I honestly am not sure how I got here. I was practicing in the gym before anyone had woken up. Next thing I know I am waking up to you.” She nods and a pang of guilt hits me like a dagger, I know that someone had brought me back here during my meltdown. Violet has enough to worry about on her own, she doesn’t need to be worried about me as well. “Was Dain mad?”

Violet bit her lip and her cheeks became rosy, “He was,” She looked up as though she was trying to pick the best word from a shelf. “Agitated.”

Shit.

“He was angry. I didn’t mean to miss formation. I just didn’t wake up.” I sit up and grab my leathers. Preparing for the fight I will inevitably have with my brother. “I will be surprised if he doesn’t just kill me before the year is over. That way he doesn’t have to worry about me ruining his image.”

“Well, what if I said that I have something that gives you and I an edge.”  I pause and turn to my friend. She holds up a book in her hands the scrawl so familiar.

The Book of Brennan

“How?”

“Mira must have kept it after Brennan died.” Violet shrugs and her eyes shift as if for a moment she was back home, and her brother was still alive. I reach over and grip her shoulder and she physically shake off the memories. She gives me a smile, “We’ll read this after classes. If we are even late to one. I fear Ridoc is going to become lost.”

“Can’t have that. I’ll change quickly and we can go.” She nods with a smile and the vacancy in her eyes dissipating. And I turn to go change, wishing there was something I could do to keep Violet safe from the horrors of this world.

I’m going to murder Violet.

The brisk cold air of the night still reaching my bones even with my cloak on. I cling the material tighter to my chest as I cross the courtyard hoping I blend in with the dark shadows of the night. I shouldn’t even be the one out here tonight. After reading Brennan’s guide to surviving Basgiath, Violet took it upon herself a few days ago to find out who our first challenge partners were. In turn she knew of a flower that grew in a tree near the lake that would give herself an edge next week. She had asked if she should get enough for two people, but I refused.  I had no intention of fighting anyone next week but that even if I did I would not need it.

Violet didn’t intend to have a flare up before she set off on her little escapade tonight. These past few weeks have taken a toll on her body even though she would never say anything. Dain and I knew she is suffering in silence, stubborn just like her mother. Though tonight she couldn’t even get out of bed. Her silvery blue eyes pleading as she asked if I would go get the flower for her. Even gave me a rough sketch of what I was looking for. Not being able to deny the minx anything I agreed and now out in the abnormally cold evening for summer my knee flares in pain, something that occurs when weather shifts, I sustained an injury during a performance when I first started dancing and now, I’m acutely aware of when we are getting a storm, or when General Sorrengail is having a fit. The abnormal chill causes another shooting pain to my knee, and I grit my teeth swallowing the pain.

The tree comes into focus and my mind drifts back to simpler times.

“Dain! I can’t its too high.” I scream clinging tightly to a branch closing my eyes to avoid looking at the daunting distance from the branch to the ground.

“Lydia, I promise I’ll catch you.” Dain voice calls out. “I promise I won’t let you fall.”

I peak an eye open and his arms only slightly bigger than mine are wide open ready to cling onto me should I decide to jump down. “I’m scared.” I whisper.

“I’m your brother, my job is to protect you. I just need you to trust me. Can you do that?” I nod my head and take a steadying breath as I ease my grip on the branch. Shifting in a seated position the skirt of my pale pink dress shifting with me. “That’s it. Now jump!”

I close my eyes and take that leap a shrill scream erupting from my throat as the air whirled around my ears. Arms gripped my shoulders and knees.  “See,” Dains voice; a soothing balm over my fears, “You are safe. So long as I breathe, I will always keep you safe, Lydia. I promise.” I latch my arms around his neck and squeeze him tight.

“I love you, Dain.”

Another cold breeze kisses my cheeks as I’m brought to the present, where it’s not warm and sunny, but warm with the looming threat of rain above. Where my brother and I are not close and may as well be strangers. The only person who would protect me from the monsters lurking in the shadows being myself. I shake the looming thoughts reminding myself that I am here for a task.

I lighten my steps to keep them quiet and not draw attention to myself. To further ease my worries of being caught as I loom closer to the tree, I imagine that I’m not a cadet out past curfew in a war college I want nothing to do with, but instead a wraith dancing across the stage, undetected from the royal guards. The orchestra’s melodies were one of short beats that matched with footsteps, a dark undertone to build the tension for the audience, as though I may be caught.  My movements highlight my ability to flip and contort my body, in place of my normal languid long movements.

My feet move on their own accord as I dance with a face covering to conceal my identity, for if the guards realized there was an assassin on their grounds, they would likely kill me. In swift movements, as though I’m galloping toward the tower, where my sworn enemy waits for me at the top. I stretch my body as if I was on my tiptoes I would be able to reach the man who was destined to be my enemy. Who became my lover instead. Lovers destined to be apart, who against the odds found moments to be together. The music roars in my ears as the short beats of the music shift to one of longing and passion.

I place my foot in the slot made for my dance shoes and begin my accent my lover waiting for me at the top of the tower. The music rises in tandem with my ascent and dramatically I falter on a step acting as though I lost my footing. The music in tandem with the music building to a climactic moment, the audience gasping thinking I will fall. As gracefully as slid, I pushed my body back against the set piece and continued my ascension.

My forehead collides with a tree trunk, and I yelp in surprise. Reality rearing its hideous form from my beautiful daydream to reveal I am halfway up the tree. How I didn’t hit any other branches takes me by surprise, but I continue, keeping my eyes peeled for the flower Violet needs.

Spotting the delicate looking but also dangerous plant I settle myself on a large branch that supports my weight and I gather a few of the buds and place it in the vile that the youngest Sorrengail sibling provided for me. Once I gather enough for Violet to use, I place the vile in my pocket and set to lower myself from the tree where I hear voices. Lying on my stomach keeping myself flushed against the tree branch as three cloaked figures come into view.

The three lower their cloaks and my heart stops. The pink hair of the marked one that destroyed Violets shoulder at our practice round of challenges. Garrick’s curls appeared from the cloak along with his annoyingly handsome smirk. Finally, Xaden Riorson, and in the moonlight, I can’t deny that his beauty whooshes the breath out of me. I especially try to keep the fact that his body close to mine when I ran into him at the gym plays across my mind periodically and heat pools in my stomach at the though of his hands on me and his lips…

The shuffling of more feet pulls me from stupor as more marked ones approach, I know because most have opted to not wear any coverings and let reveal their relics with pride. I scrunch my brows; this meeting is against the codex. The marked ones are not supposed to congregate in groups larger than three. A ridiculous rule, as these children are paying for the crimes of their parents but regardless a rule they are actively breaking. I pray to whatever gods can hear to keep me hidden. Xaden only needs to look up to see I’m there to expose that I’m listening and because of who I’m related to; he has grounds to kill me for simply being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

I am going to murder Violet.

As the group of Marked one’s settle is when Xaden’s voice booms in the courtyard. “Alright, let’s get started.”

A person in the back of the group perks up, “I am having a difficult time with History.”

Imogen snorts, “Because of the dates, or because of the lies?” I roll my eyes at her, I may agree that I don’t believe what they are teaching is accurate especially after talking to Lian last year but to stupidly question out loud in the open where anyone could hear is foolish and the quickest to get yourself executed for treason.

“Both.” The young man mutters. Movement on my leg causes me to jolt and I clamp a hand over my mouth to prevent me from shrieking as I look at my leg only to find my leg hidden in the shadows, and it almost feels like the shadows are caressing my leg as if in comfort. Feeling my heartrate regulate I lay back down in my position and try to remain quiet as Garrick answers the young boy.

As the hour ticks by I learn that Xaden is helping the marked ones get through their time here. They like me didn’t ask to be here but must make the best of the dangerous situation their parents unknowingly put them in. My eyes constantly find Xaden’s figure through this meeting and how he looks almost fatherly, the way he’s standing, and the words of comfort and advice causes my chest to tighten. Xaden is more of a loving father to these people than my father ever was to me. Once again, I felt movement against my leg only to find darkness and my brows knit in confusion.

“What of Lydia Aetos and Violet Sorrengail?”  A girl in front quips up in front and my blood runs cold.

“What of them?” Garrick questions back in a tone that can only be described as a warning as he crosses his arms.

“Their parents are the reason we’re here against our will. When do we get to punish them for their crimes? It’s clear we can’t touch Dain, but surely, we can take out the twinkle toed princess?”

“Lydia Aetos and Violet Sorrengail, are mine to handle.” Xaden says with cool indifference though his tone edged on being scolding. “I will remind you, Cadet, that Violet and Lydia didn’t ask to be here either. Violet was studying to be a scribe and you’ve all seen Aetos dance. Neither of them wanted to be here. They are trapped in the same position as we are by the exact same people.”

“You plan on sparing them?” The girl retorts her voice bordering on shrieking. “My mom and older sister are dead because of them. I think taking their children evens the score.”

“Fall in line, Cadet. The two girls are not your kill. I said I am going to handle it. Believe me no one has more reason to hate those two than me.” A sinking feeling wraps me into a state of paralysis. The memory of his hands on me shatters like glass, of course he has every reason to hate me for what my father did. Of course he would want to settle the score, blinded simply by the fact that he’s attractive, I forgot how lethal he is.

The silence permeates over the courtyard, “If you don’t have any other questions then we’re done here.” Imogen commands her nose in the air. “Make sure you go in groups of three to not raise suspicion.”

The group begins to disband in their merry groups of three murmuring about the happenings of this meeting. Imogen and Xaden left together as Garrick waved them off leaning against the tree, watching them go with ease. Silence falls leaving the creatures of the night to sing their beautiful melodies. It almost lulls me to sleep as Garrick’s voice breaks me from the trance, “Have a good night, Pretty Girl, and good luck.” He pauses as my heart thunders out of my chest, and chuckles pushing himself off the trunk of the tree, “You’re gonna’ need it.”  He begins to walk away, and I’m left alone in a state of confusion.

I wait a few minutes to ensure that everyone has left before I make my descent. Landing on the grass with a soft thud, I take a moment to admire the moonlight reflecting the rippling waves, a smile on my face in the beauty of it. Pulling my gaze away from the water I attempt to lift my leg to walk only to find it won’t move. Looking down tendrils of darkness are wrapped snuggly against both ankles keeping my feet planted to ground. I attempt to move again and almost scream out when a low chuckle emerges behind me, whipping around my wavey hair falling over my shoulder as I meet Gold-flecked Onyx eyes and my heart falls into my stomach as Xaden’s figure emerges into the moonlight. A slight tilt of his lips as he crosses his arms.

“You’re not where you’re supposed to be, Kitten.”

To Be Continued!!

Some I tagged that wouldn't let me link if that happened I'm so sorry!

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Enjoy!!

[divineidolatry]

CONSTANTLY IN THE DARKNESS — CHAPTER TWO

— written by june.

pairing: coriolanus snow x reader*

rating: explicit (18+) — mind the tags, see masterlist for disclaimers

summary: against your wishes, you call the curtain on your relationship with coriolanus snow and walk out of his life for good. against your wishes, he waltzes back in like nothing's changed.

tags: exes to lovers, it's complicated, slow burn but they're constantly fucking, manipulation, toxic relationship, power play, unprotected sex, bdsm, dom!coriolanus, sub!reader, edging, overstimulation, orgasm denial, spit kink, bondage, pearl play, choking, shoe riding, degradation, dirty talk, brat taming, penetrative sex (piv), aftercare

taglist: comment on the masterlist to be added to the taglist.

wordcount: 6,747

index: previous chapter

Coryo, ever good at playing the gentleman, gets out first and offers you a hand, which you take gratefully. It’s comforting, being able to lean on him for stability as you cross the pristine and empty lobby to the elevator. It’s all familiar. Nothing has changed. Even the staff remembers your name. It’s like you never left.

He puts a hand over yours, looking at you with that cool expression of his that you know so well, full of poise and elegance, but there is an unmistakable pull in the air between you. The elevator doors open and he bows his head to the neighbors coming out, exchanging a brief pleasantry, and you put on a pleasant face. Part of you wants him to see you still hold the value you promised: perfect at his side, controlled to the very end.

When the elevator doors slide shut and the gears begin pulling it up, he releases a sigh and pushes you up against the gilded walls, hand dropping down to your hips.

“I missed the scent of your perfume in here,” he whispers in your ear, and it’s hard to trust him, hard to believe he means any sweetness he says — but what’s the harm? He buries his nose under your ear and inhales deep, his breath hot and humid against your skin.

You swallow, licking your lips, watching the floors pass by. 10, 11…

“I missed the scent of you.” His lips graze your earlobe and you can’t hold it back anymore — you missed this, you missed him, you missed his skin pressed to yours, his touch. You moan, and as the elevator slows down as it gets to his floor, you feel him smile against your neck.

The board is all his.

He wastes no time scooping you up to carry you to the bedroom, tossing your fur shawl off to the side somewhere between entrance and bedroom. Setting you down on his bed, he pauses for a moment, looking at you like he has discovered a piece of priceless art thought to be lost to time. You stare back, pulse quick, blinking too much, wondering when the bubble will burst. This is delicate, too delicate, you were supposed to be clashing, ripping clothing off one another, begging for release — and instead there’s a tender fondness lurking in the room, offsetting your balance.

“Coriolanus…” Your voice is barely more than a breath. He stiffens a little, annoyed that you’d dare disrupt his reverie.

And that’s the thing. Even though you are here, there is that tug in your heart that nothing has truly been resolved. You’re just a moth to the flame, likely to get burned.

You squirm under his gaze, wanting him to take you, touch you, tease you, anything. Instead, he just looks you over, inch by inch, his eyes roving and hungry. The fire in him is rising and you tremble, eager to be consumed, and you part your lips a little, wetting them. It catches his eyes and he comes closer, leaning over you toy with the pearls on the gown’s bodice. He tugs a little on them, not bothering to look up at you.

What game is he getting at now?

“Stay still.”

Ah, there it is. The command in his voice, something sharp entering his gaze. A terrible and pleasant shiver passes through you, your body knowing what’s coming before your mind catches up.

He pulls a butterfly knife out from his coat pocket, flicking it against the pearls of your dress, tearing them off and ruining the design. You pout, but he gently traces the knife along the velvet, cutting at the straps, his brow furrowed with intense focus. This is simply meant to debase you, to ruin you, to claim you. And when he pulls up your skirt, he will find you soaking through the silk and lace of your lingerie.

“Coryo…” Your whine brings his eyes back to your face. He looks entirely unamused.

“You know better than that, doll.”

“I liked this dress, sir.” You are huffy and indignant, and you know what that does to him, how it irks him to have you pushing back. It’s easy to read on his face, how he wants nothing more than to lift you up, shove you against a wall, and put you in your place, you begging and blubbering all the while.

And it is exactly where you want to be.

“I know. Stand up.”

No more room for debate. You do as told, turning your back to him as he slices the knife through the ties of your bodice. The sensation of cool air touching your skin makes you whimper, and he presses himself to your backside, letting you bask in the heat of him, a taste of what’s to come.

The wet heat of his breath against the nape of your neck sends goosebumps down your arms, and he leans in to whisper in your ear.

“Do you remember your safe word, darling?”

You nod and he sighs. Is it relief? Is it joy? You aren’t quite sure, and he doesn’t let you linger on it before he turns you around and gives your ruined dress the gentlest of tugs, watching intently as your breasts spill out.

“There you are… starting to look like the slut you are.” His words are unforgving, and he smirks at the whine catching in your throat.

“Oh? Do you disagree? Good girls don’t usually give their exes fuck me eyes at a high society balls, or beg to be taken by them in the back of a car, now do they?” He sounds like a right prick, and you’ve never been more attracted to him in your life.

You shake your head, feeling the warm, salty sting of tears, and he steps close, pressing himself to you as he twists your chin upwards to lick at the wet trail running down your cheek.

“Crawling back to me like this, grinding against me like a common whore… just look at you.” He drags a hand up from your waist to grasp at your breast, pinching the nipple, appraising you in a way that has you pressing your thighs together, something he does not fail to note.

“I’d strip you bare now and give you exactly what you want if I were a better man.” His eyes flash cruel and dark, and he’s so dangerously beautiful like this. Like he wants to watch you turn to cinders in his hands if you’d let him — and you would. “But I don’t think you need that, no. You need to be debased. You need be used. Isn’t that right, darling?”

He wants you to admit it, beg for him to tease you, treat you like a whore, use and degrade you, and you are burning up with want for him to do exactly that.

You only hesitate for a moment before you nod, swallowing thickly. “Mhm. Please put me in my place, sir.”

He laughs at you, harsh and oppressive, but you can feel the growing hardness pressing against your lower belly. As easy as you are, he’s no better for when you drip ’sir’ from your lips like honey for his ego.

“Oh darling…” He runs a thumb over your kiss-swollen lower lip. “You can ask me much better than that. Remember, I’ve seen how low you’ll go to debase yourself for me, so let’s not play dumb, hmm?”

You swallow again and it feels like rocks. He has begun fondling your other breast, letting its weight feel some relief from the way he massages it, watching as your mouth goes agape when he toys with the nipple. Everything is betraying you, any argument you might make faltering in your head.

You close your eyes, jaw quaking with poorly contained need, an intense blush bleeding over your cheeks.

“Sir, I want you to treat me like the whore that I am. Please, punish and use me as you see fit, for I want nothing more than to serve as your slut.”

You sound so desperate and you hate how humiliating that is, but he steps back and pushes you back onto the bed, kneeling down to lift the hem of your dress and bunch it up around your waist.

“Let me see if your words hold any meaning,” he murmurs against the tender skin of your inner thigh. Like a starved man, he bends his head down and sucks at the gusset of your underwear, the sound so loud in your ears that you feel dizzy. It’s obscenely filthy, and you can feel his wet tongue through the soaked fabric, licking at the edges. When it makes contact with your skin, it feels like a bolt of electricity crackling through your nerves.

You lift a gloved hand to thread through his hair, holding him there and bucking into his mouth, stealing a moment of this. When he comes up, your hand falls away, surrendering to the dark and primal in his eyes.

“You’re soaked through, desperate, and what I give you still isn’t enough, mm?”

There’s a shred of defiance in you, and you cling to it like a weapon, leveraging it to egg him on. “I need more.”

He retrieves the knife from his pocket and trails it with a feather-light touch over your underwear. “Look,” he commands as he grabs one side, slicing the knife through, then repeats on the other, peeling the tattered garment away and throwing it to the side.

He sits back, smirking, smugly satisfied with himself. “Look at you. A fallen grace.” He shifts to the side, allowing you to look in the mirror across from his bed, and oh, you know what he means, you’ve seen the marble statues on show from the old world. Your ruined dress pools around your waist, tits hanging out, cunt dripping and accessible: there’s no other way to put it, he’s reduced you to a simple whore.

“You can dress yourself up in your finest, parade yourself around like the queen of high society, and charm the masses with your wit, but I know who you really are.”

Your eyes meet his, knowing he is watching your uneven breath, the minute movements of your body in response to his words. There is a cruel glint in his gaze as he continues to undo you with nothing more than his voice, the words dripping like honeyed poison from his lips.

“You’re nothing more than a greedy little girl who wants to be made to submit, to take cock in each and every hole until you forget yourself, to cum until you’re stupid and no one else in the world would want you… no one but me.”

He reaches down and cups a hand over your cunt, running a finger through all your slick, and there’s a twisted delight on his face.

“You’re dripping, darling. And I’ve barely touched you… what do you have to say for yourself?”

You writhe, bucking your hips against his hand only to find emptiness as he swiftly moves away, clicking his tongue at your greed.

“Ah, ah. Where are your manners?”

You hate him for it, the bastard, but he knows how to wring it from you. “Please, sir,” you whimper, clutching the bedsheets around you so hard you feel the nails tearing the fine fabric. “Please. Touch me. Spit on me. Do anything to me.”

You need him. You are under his thumb.

And he always knows what you want. For his cruel touch, you’d walk through any blaze — it’s the only thing that stirs you anymore, the only thing that feels real in this society of masks and charades.

Deep down, you hope that is what he sees in you too…

He pulls you off the bed and pushes your trembling body down on your knees. He sneers down at you with disdain, running a hand through your hair before he tugs at it to crane your neck up, causing you to let out a whining cry.

“What am I to do with such a filthy whore but use her for her intended purpose, right?”

You watch him, desperate with need. He releases your hair and slaps your cheek.

“You know when I ask you a question, I expect an answer. Do you think you can do that for me, hmm?”

You nod, thrilling at the touch even as it stings.

“Yes, sir.” You wince at how pathetic you sound.

“Good girl.” The words are a purr from his lips. “Now, I believe you know how to service me with that mouth. So show me what you’re best used for.”

Consumed with want as you are, you hastily undo his belt and unzip his trousers, licking the hard curve through his underwear. Your saliva hangs in thick strings between the fabric and your mouth, and he groans above you, fingers tightening in your hair. It spurns you on as you free his cock. You tongue at the tip, messy and wet, saliva already dripping down over your chin before taking it into your mouth, stabilizing yourself with a hand at his thigh. The hand in your hair softens its grip and he runs his fingers through your hair. You sigh around him, the touch so gentle, so pleasantly encouraging as you slowly take more of him in. His length and girth fills your mouth, and you push it as far back as you can take, and he lets out a hitched groan as you begin to bob your head at a languid but steady pace.

“That’s a good fucking girl.” His voice is low, heated. You’re already getting to him, and that’s good, but the praise gets to you too, leaving you whimpering around his cock and bucking your hips, wanting just a little touch, anything…

“You’re not really sucking like a proper whore though, are you?”

His other hand comes up to your hair and you feel his fingers comb through to establish a firm grip. You stutter a little, but pick up the pace, hollowing your cheeks as you suck him as deep as possible, relaxing your throat — if you just breathe a little deeper, maybe you can take him to the root, maybe…

“That’s it, that’s it, good little whore.”

And you can tell he means it by the laboured breathing. Your increased pace is met with him starting to thrust into your mouth, leaving you to choke and slobber around his cock, drooling and making a mess of yourself that drips down over your chin, spilling over your breasts. As you descend further to your place beneath him, you can tell he is doing the same, getting lost in the way he wants to take you, ravish you, own you. No role comes as easy as this to you — and he’s the one who could get you there with a snap of his fingers.

So you give him bite, just like when you first met. The slightest bit of teeth as he fucks your face, and you hear him moan shortly before he cums down your throat. You’ve surprised him, taken that from him, and it is a victory. Credit where it is due, however, he’s quick to pull out and let some of his cum hit your chest, turning you into an even worse mess. Even as you look more the part he wants you in, you can tell he is frustrated, and you’re thrilled to find out what comes next.

You watch — not without a little disappointed whine — him tuck himself back into his underwear, zip his trousers back up, and it isn’t long before he has a cruel grip at your chin.

“Open your mouth. Tongue out.”

He sounds furious and his expression leaves no room for doubt. You obey, and you know it’s coming before his cool saliva hits your tongue as he spits in your mouth.

“Close your mouth and swallow, cunt.”

You swallow, loudly, humiliatingly, and there’s tears welling in the corners of your eyes again, hot and shameful. You open it again without him asking, showing your clean tongue, showing how good you can be.

“Please, sir… I want to cum…”

He laughs at you. There are tears streaming down your face, you know he sees how desperate you are and all he does is stick the toe of his dress shoe against your cunt.

“If you want to cum, darling, you can rut against my shoe.”

You wish you had shame left, but he has ripped it clean out of you with how badly you need him. There’s no hesitation as you cling to his thigh, rocking your hips as you finally find an angle that has your swollen clit pressing against the smooth leather of his shoe, smearing the polished dark with your wetness. You’re close, you hate how close you are, rutting against his shoe, but the moans betray you, everything betrays you, and you look up to find him smirking down at you.

“You continue to impress me with how desperate you are for me. Your first orgasm of the night, and it’s going to be had clinging to my shoe like dirt.”

Sobbing, you rut harder, more desperate, because you need this. You need to cum, you need him to see you like this, pathetic with your need for him so that maybe he might take you, cruelty and all. You know he wants to, know he is as desperate as you from how he just came, he just wants you to play his games, debase yourself, and you’ve never had a problem with that before. The guilt of tonight only makes it sweeter.

“You’re close, aren’t you, whore?”

You nod, your body taut and trembling. “I’m so close, sir, please.”

And he denies you.

He pulls you up, your shaky legs made worse by the heels still on your feet, and he scoops you up to bring you over to his desk, plopping you down on it. The blubbery crying escalates, thick in your throat, vicious and demeaning. You were so damn close.

“Did you really think I’d let you?” He leans over you, grabbing your face. “You truly are a stupid brat.”

It’s a victory, you think, because he’s still upset you made him cum already, but it’s not a terribly sweet one all things considered.

“Stupid little whore thought she’d get to cum just like that?” He punctuates his words with gentle but firm slaps against your cheek, leaving the skin burning hot. “You’re the one who begged me to treat you like this. While you’re crying over that lost orgasm, remember all the ways you’ve debased yourself for me already. And yet you still think you have a say when you cum. Don’t be a fool. It doesn’t become you.”

You glare at him for that, pained from your need and furious for his words. He’s punishing you for leaving, you’re far too intelligent to miss that even at this stage and he knows as much.

He circles the desk where you are sat, seeming to think. The moment drags out, silent and unnerving, your sticky breasts cold in the chill air. It’s getting harder to predict his moves — and a part of you no longer wants to. You want him to wash over you with the ruthlessness of the ocean, drag you under into waves of pleasure. Anything his calculating mind concocts is a treat, however harsh it feels in the moment.

He nudges you into a standing up after a while, tugging your dress down and off, letting it pool around your feet. The gloves go with it, and now all you have on are heels that have become far too wobbly, and the pearl jewelry.

“Don’t move. Heels stay on for the night.”

Ah. You’ve played together like this before, he likes how they look on you and they act as their own sort of punishment, painful and demanding. He arranges you so that you sit straight up, hands splayed out on the dark wood surface on either side — and he makes you wait like that as he steps away to the drawers where he keeps his collection of tools and toys.

Looking around the room as you wait, you note little has changed; it’s as familiar as when you were sleeping here every night, spacious but well decorated, including touches you’d suggested to him. You figured he might have replaced certain things, things you were certain were just him entertaining your vision, but no, the room remains as much yours as it was his… It’s a strange feeling.

He stands before you again, snapping you out of your drifting thoughts as he sets a few things down on the desk behind you, and there’s a bit of an unreadable glint in his eyes. But it’s nothing good, it never is. He palms your breasts again, gaze focused on them as a smirk crosses his features.

“Sometimes I think I should fuck you up against a window so the entirety of the Capitol can see how gorgeous your breasts are, and know that they’re all mine.” He sounds serious, but as much as he would delight in everyone knowing how much he owned you, you knew he was far too possessive to ever let anyone else actually see you like that.

“But no matter, I can treat myself to an even better view, isn’t that right?”

It’s infuriating how smug he is, but you nod. He loves when you surrender to his judgement, accept your place with affirmations, reminding him just how much you want what he doles out.

He picks up a clover clamp, and as he pinches one of your nipples to attach the clamp you let out a whine. It pinches, it aches, and it’s going straight to your cunt, feeling so good and vicious all at once. He retrieves another, repeating the process, and then you see a tiny strand of pearls in his hand and at the center of it: a little weight. He loops one end into one of the clamps and you whimper pathetically as it tugs heavily at your nipple. The other end is attached and you want to cry, but refuse him the satisfaction, biting back.

“Now, I think a trade is in order.”

You don’t comprehend what he means until he reaches behind you to unclasp the double strand of pearls from your neck, pocketing it. You want to pull them back, they’re yours, he gave them to you, but you resist, pressing your palms down hard against the table. He’s pushing you, and you will snap… but not in this moment. You want him to put in the work.

He takes the last items from behind you into his hands, and pushes you back until you’re lying down on the desk. Circling you, he ties your wrists together in silk. It’s slippery and delicate, and you could break loose easily; it’s a test — of willingness? Loyalty? Weakness?

“You’re breathtaking.” It’s like a revelation from his lips, and far too emotional for you right now.

“Don’t—” Your protest is short lived as he puts his hand over your mouth, a warning.

“Do you want me to gag you too?”

When you shake your head, he releases you.

“I’ll say it again, then. You are breathtaking, always, and absolutely beautiful when you submit to me like this.” He is speaking softer, it’s a moment of vulnerability that kind of pisses you off, and on the other hand makes you want to sob. It’s unfair that he knows how to pull at you like this, knows just when to go so soft that it throws off your balance. It shouldn’t make you whimper and rub your legs together, but it does. His mask comes back up.

“Legs apart, slut.”

You don’t hesitate to do as you’re told now, watching with a held breath as he comes to stand between your legs. He sees the eager expectation on your face and quick as a flash, he slaps your cunt with a few light strokes, smiling wide as you cry out and try to press your legs together. He won’t let you.

“Ah ah. Not this time. You’re not getting away from this.”

Pulling the pearls, your pearls, from his pocket, he leans over you and runs them over your wet cunt, coating them in your slick. For a minute, he teases like this, lightly running them along your clit in fleeting touches, a brush of the smooth pearls and nothing more. You let out quiet moans, breathy little things, and he chuckles.

“You’re so filthy, do you know that?”

He takes the pearls and twists them until they encircle your clit, pushing on both sides to create pressure. It draws a ragged moan from you as you dig your nails into your palms, twisting in the soft silk ties.

Removing the pearls for a moment, he gives the weight connected to your nipple clamps a firm tug, leading to a keening wail from you, pulling it until you whimper and whine, your jaw quaking from how good and awful it feels.

He drops it back down on your tummy as if losing interest in it, and continues to drag the pearls around, every so often circling and pressing into your clit, giving you want you want only to yank it away moments later. When he does, he hooks a finger into the chain connecting your nipples and tugs, hard enough to remind you: pain and pleasure go hand in hand. It leaves you breathing heavy, silent tears running down your cheeks and onto the desk. You need release badly, worsened from the earlier denial.

“Remember, you don’t cum without permission.” It’s a stern reminder, and you know the weight of disobeying.

“Please, sir, please, I need to cum, please make me cum, please…” You cry and blubber and whimper, but he merely tuts at you.

There’s no relenting from tormenting your clit, then easing up or ceasing entirely while he toys with your sore nipples, the chain a cruel reminder of all you’ve surrendered to him tonight. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve come close from this, you worry your palms may begin to bleed, and you don’t know how much longer you can withstand this. Theres a sheen of sweat across your body when he seemingly stops entirely and you watch with hooded, cautious eyes as he comes around the desk. You expect him to put the necklace around your neck again where it belongs, where he’s fastened it so many times, and instead he shoves the the wet, slippery pearls into your mouth. You whimper around them, tasting yourself, and he runs a gentle hand through your hair as you notice him straining against his trousers again.

“I’m going to fuck you now, doll. You’re allowed to cum when I do.”

You whine in relief.

Circling back to the other end of the desk, he undoes his trousers, freeing his cock of his underwear, and lines it up with your greedy cunt. He teases the tip along your wet folds, groaning as you buck your hips, trying to get him inside of you already. He pinches your clit until you still, your breathing twisted through with moans and whines, and when he finally pushes in, you swear you see stars as he stretches you open. It’s so good, it’s so filling, you have felt so hollow and empty all night and now he’s filling you to the brim with his cock.

“You’re so wet,” he groans. “Drenching my cock like this… you feel so good.”

It’s the sweetest praise you’ve heard all night.

He starts moving agonizingly slow and the tears continue to come against your will — it’s so much, how your cunt clenches around him, how badly you need him. You want relief and you want him deep inside, you want him to hit that spot and you want him buried inside you until you feel your clit rubbing against his skin.

His pace picks up steadily, and you can feel the weight between your breasts rolling and tugging, making you whimper from the tenderness. He reaches up to remove the clamps, each one eliciting a pained cry from you as the blood begins to rush back, leaving them even more tender and sensitive than before.

Everything in your body is alight from the stimulation and edging, and you feel every inch of his girth stretching you open. You haven’t been fucked in months and your body can’t get enough of his.

He grabs your hips, nails digging in as he picks up the pace, the thrusts growing erratic as he leans over you.

“Look at me,” he groans, and you do.

For a moment, you can’t see anything but him: he fills up all your senses, his words command your absolute attention, and his cock, it’s pushing you to breaking. Though your body is aware, your mind is a haze, and before you realize it you are clenching and fluttering against him, squirting and making a mess of the desk, of his suit, and biting down on the pearls so hard they break apart, spilling all over and making soft noises as they roll over the desk and onto the floor. You’re shaking and trembling and he’s still fucking you, chasing his own need, moaning as he does.

“Such a sweet, tight cunt for me,” he murmurs, licking a long stripe on your cheek were tears have rolled down. “I know you can cum again.”

Your whimpers are desperate, the sensation of him continuing to fuck you is verging on too much, but you cum again, and again, or rather you really never stop cumming. He delights in the mess he’s made of you, working one hand between your sweaty bodies to play with your clit. The sensation snaps the last strings in you, and you begin sobbing, reduced to nothing in the palm of his hand. He’s so cruel, his touch is horrid, and you want him, you need him, you can never get enough of him.

You hear him groan above you, his hips snapping against yours sharply, and you feel him cum inside you. He thrusts deep one final time and you both moan, the mess spilling between you as his mask breaks. He’s spent, and he’s vulnerable, and even though you’re shaking and trembling, you know you have him as much as he has you.

He stands there for a moment, staring down at you with adoration and something you cannot read. You’re sagged against the desk, spent, and you whine as he pulls out, cunt gaping empty. Some of his cum drips out of you and pools on the desk below.

“Messy, my cum leaking out of you like that.”

Your cheeks flush with shame, his gaze feeling too hot now as he gently strokes your clit again, pushing some of his cum back in. It’s obscene, the sound, the feeling, and you’re relieved when he undoes your heels before he unties your hands.

The game is over. You’re not sure who won, only how good and wrecked you feel, thoroughly fucked by the only man that has ever drawn out this side in you.

“You did so well, darling.” His voice is soft, but filled with the same heat you heard from him at the ball.

Your eyes land on some of the pearls scattered on the desk, a tired hand absently playing with one. You’re pretty upset they ended up ruined like that, but if he catches the sullen look on your face he doesn’t say anything, and you won’t be bringing it up. Some losses are inevitable in war. You can take it. The pearls had been like a collar, a profession that you were his. You taunted him with that at the ball but this wasn’t love, not anymore.

The complexity of it all settles back into you, and you blink rapidly a few times, trying to bite down on the mixed feelings. You’re broken up, and yet… You’re here. With him. And now?

He scoops you up silently, watching your face carefully as you look up at him. Neither of you speak as he carries you to the ensuite, easing you into the tub as he turns on the hot water, the level of luxury indulgences he could enjoy knowing no bounds.

You wince a little for the heat against some of your more sensitive areas, but you sink into the feeling, letting yourself finally relax after a long night. Though your eyes are heavy, you watch him, head in hand, as he undresses completely. A sight for sore eyes at least: his body is just as beautiful and firm as you remember it, a surprise to find under his handsome suits.

Gently, he helps you scoot forward, giving him enough room to slide in behind you, putting his legs around yours. He presses a kiss to the nape of your neck and your breath hitches. You kind of want to shout at him for being so tender with you, so romantic, but you’re still a little gone, and there isn’t much room for you to escape as you are. So you try to ease up, let him take care of you. You can try to quell whatever possessive notions he has later. Harder with the ones burning a hole in your gut, but you breathe in deep, leaning into his touch.

He doesn’t speak as he fixates on taking care of you, and you listen to his even breathing and the sounds of the bath, the clink of a glass cup being picked up, filled with water, then poured over your hair. Herbal shampoo that you know costs more than what some citizens spend on a nice dinner, massaged into your scalp. You feel like a prized possession as he rinses it out thoroughly before following it up with conditioner, gently run through the locks of your hair.

Slowly you feel yourself coming back up from the space you sank into as he washes your body, slowly and tenderly, cleaning of the sweat and grime of the evening. You sink further into him, resting your head back on his shoulder, and when he reaches down to help clean off your cunt, you sigh.

“Feels good,” you murmur. Shit. You didn’t mean to.

He chuckles and you feel the rumble against your back, but either he is too concentrated on his task, or he is pocketing that to use against you later. Maybe it is just a mercy he is offering you this once but… no, you know him better than that.

When he is satisfied with his work on you, he lets you both just sit there, bask in the ease of the moment. Surely he knows you won’t let it drift on forever, but it would be so easy to. He places a kiss to your temple and you would cry if you had it in you. He shushes you, as if he knows the inside of your head already, as if he knows each crevice of your mind… and maybe you can’t put it past him.

“We can fight in the morning,” he says, “just relax. You’ve had a long night.”

Well, at least he knows you won’t go down easy.

When the bath has run its course, he helps you towel off and carries you back to bed. Moments like these always make you almost mistake him for a gentleman. Almost. You don’t know all that lurks underneath, but the shadow flickers across him now and again, an abyss you could fall into. Maybe you want to.

When the two of you are tucked under the duvet, he lays a kiss to your shoulder blade and pulls you close.

“Are you alright?” His voice is nothing more than a whisper, and you know he is just checking in with you about the scene. Everything else is too complicated for such a question.

“Mmm, ‘m good.” The words are slurred and messy this close to sleep, and pressed against his body, his arm holding you close, you finally fall away from waking, dreaming of nothing.

Sunlight isn’t supposed to be this harsh this early. Still, as it starts to pour in through the tall windows of the penthouse bedroom, you rub your eyes and wince at how bright it illuminates your shame. You should not be here. It pounds like a depraved headache in your mind.

Despite the way he let your relationship fall by the wayside before, Coriolanus Snow is a possessive fucking bastard and you just played right into his need to keep you. You’re right back to where he likes to keep you, and you let your guard down and let it happen. Foolish. Greedy. Slutty.

He’s still sleeping next to you, arm draped over his face to blot out the sunlight. As quietly and swiftly as possible, you look around for something you can wear home as only your gloves and fur shawl wouldn’t exactly cut it. Not without causing a scene worthy of exile.

You’re not sneaking out, you fully intend to make good on his promise last night and get a few meaningful barbs in before you walk out of his life for good, but it would be best if you could do so fully dressed. Pretty certain you must have left a thing or two behind, you scamper over to the walk-in and peruse your options. Lingerie, a few pairs of heels, and a couple silk slips… not your first choice but it will have to do. With the shawl, it might be just chic enough for stepping out when your chauffeur arrives.

When you step out, his eyes are on you immediately, sat up in bed as he is. He’s watching you with a bemused grin.

“Leaving so soon? I was going to offer you a round two.” Bastard. He looks so fucking self-assured.

“How generous,” you say, flashing him a brilliant smile. “I’m pretty confident in telling you that won’t be happening in this lifetime, Coriolanus.”

“You sure? Last night you were cockdrunk like an addict. If I remember correctly, you even cried over how good it felt.”

He’s not wrong, the words are a blow because yes, part of you does want to stay but in the harsh light of day, your desire to play a better game rears its vicious head. He can’t get everything he wants with just a cocky snap of his fingers.

As you take another step toward the door, you watch his face drop, and you pause, looking back at him.

“Ah, I see how it is now,” you say, the words a dagger you can finally twist back in him. “You’re the one who doesn’t want me to go. If anyone is the addict here, it’s you.”

You leave the room, heading towards the elevator and grabbing your shawl on the way. You hear footsteps behind you but attempt to pay it no mind, waiting for the ding of the lift, but it’s taking too long and you feel his hands on you, shoving you against the wall before you realize it’s happening.

He kisses you hungry, a man possessed, pushing the slip up, dragging his fingertips over your mound. He’s desperate, he wants you to stay, he wants you and it’s a weakness. How rare to see him like this. You know you should push him away, but you melt into it for just a moment — and he breaks the moment as he bites your lower lip, too hungry for his own good.

Fuck. You let him open you up, push in and possess you. Again. You need to get out of here.

The elevator dings. Finally.

You bite him back, harder than he bit you, and when he pulls back in surprise, you push him off you. His lips are red with blood. His, you hope.

“Goodbye, Coriolanus.”

He watches you with a furious fire in his eyes as you wait for the doors to close — but there is a fire in your eyes too this time. A warning. You will burn him just as bright as he does you.

And despite it all, you know this is just the start. There’s no escaping unscathed.

taglist: @ohmeadows @casualhedonists @qalijahbydior @missakward123 @akira1803 @damagdsnow @carebear209 @herewegoagaiinn

[002yb]

"It's too big."

The way Kory titters gives him butterflies even after all these years. From where she stands in front of him, Dick watches fondly as her shoulders tremble from her giggles, as she looks over her shoulder at him with an easy smile and bright eyes.

"I believe the saying goes, 'That's what she said,' yes?" Kory says, out-of-pocket. It makes Dick snicker, unabashed as he presses an adoring kiss to Kory's shoulder. She hums at the affection, sighing pleasantly. When she reaches behind her to drag her fingertips high up Dick's thigh, Dick jolts from surprise, barking out a short laugh when she teases, "I don't mind though."

Dick loves her.

"The corset." He says, disappointed if only because it's fun when Kory wants to dress up and even better when she wants Dick's help. With all the excess to the garment though, there's no way for Dick to lace her into it. Not in the way it was intended, at least. Not in the way Kory was hopeful for. She had been so excited about it, too.

He wonders if the shop Kory went to earlier that day is still open and if he ran like a fool, Dick could make it and charm his way into an exchange. He'd be willing to try, if nothing else.

"You're supposed to tighten it." Kory tells him, the cheeky minx.

With the same cheek, Dick tugs at the excess corset. Pulling Kory back into him with a surprised 'oh!' before she laughs and, 'oh,' indeed. Butterflies again - just like that.

She pulls at the corset, too, for the first time noticing that it's looser than all her others and likely not the same as what she'd meant to buy at the shops. A shame, but they can always have their fun without it, too—

"This must be Jason's." Kory explains, far too casual for such a bold, earth-shattering statement. Though she goes on to talk about how she must have grabbed the wrong bag when they were checking out, Dick's thoughts are still caught on: this must be Jason's.

Meaning... the corset Dick has in his hands - the one he'd been lacing up and cinching tight; all pretty boning and alluring mesh and delicate appliques actually belongs to... for Jason to... oh. Oh.

The visual is there before Dick can stop it and, try as he might, he can't make it go away. He stands there, stupefied and actually stupid, because oh. Oh, no. His thoughts race faster than he can keep up with, that image of Jason inappropriately at the forefront of it all.

He knew that Jason and Kory went out earlier. They go shopping together often. Is the lingerie shopping a part of their thing? Do they always buy the same pieces?

Oh, Dick thinks again, helpless as a flush warms his cheeks and stings his ears because the implications are damning: his girlfriend and his little wing have matching sets of lingerie.

Whoah. Wow.

Lost in his thoughts of being pressed between two corseted beauties with their bolstered racks, Dick is oblivious to how Kory turns to face him, her hand holding loosely to the ill-fitting bodice. It gives Dick a blessed view of her chest, but before it has a chance to distract him Kory is laughing at him, giggling with a fond endearment. Tickled, she calls him out, "You're fantasizing it!"

Dick startles to attention, wide eyed, overheated, and utterly exposed. "I'm not!" He sputters, but his voice cracks and Kory is delighted by it.

"I know this blush," She says as she pinches Dick's reddened ears, gaze softening as she looks him over - takes him in. She smiles warmly at him even as she teases him and makes him blush worse, "You are flustered. Imagine how I was feeling, to see him!"

"I'm really not," Dick insists half heartedly around embarrassed laughter.

"Lies, I see you." Kory laughs, too. Not so much embarrassed as she is zealous to be able to share this with him, now that she's found Dick out for the truly degenerate man he is, "Don't leave me alone with these feelings!"

Not for the first time that day, that evening, that very hour - Dick is taken by how truly beautiful Kory is. She stands in front of him, holding the too-loose corset up, and reenacting her afternoon spent out with one of her dear friends. Gesturing to her own chest, pressing her breasts together so that Dick can have a proper visual and understanding of just how bewitching Jason's cleavage is.

"I understand now why you always want to smother yourself in mine."

She's teasing him again, but alongside it is a cute comprehension. Dick laughs when Kory tells him her love for him is second to none, but his chest —and she feels him up then with her hand to his pec, pressing her fingers into muscle while hmm'ing and haa'ing— is too firm; it's not soft. The gesture she makes, the grabby hands, disarms Dick. It's too sweet, but Kory is as enthralled as Dick by the majesty of Jason's chest.

"Don't change this though," She warns Dick, tapping Dick's chest. Dragging her nail down his abdomen, finger catching at the waistline of his pants and smiling over how Dick shivers, melts.

Kory raises both her hands then, catching the corset awkwardly with her elbows. When she grazes her thumbs over Dick's cheeks, Dick raises his hand to hold her. Turns his head to kiss the heel of her palm and smiles soft when she flusters, too.

Dick loves her so much it takes his own breath away. He feels tongue tied. Bashful in a way he hasn't been since Kory and he were young. To love and be loved by someone so warm and wild and wonderful — Dick kisses her hand again, the tips of her fingers.

=====

@alexandraisapenguin — alpengu somehow, someway I lost your ask, but this is based off of what you sent me most recently! With Jason wearing something more fem + Dick and Kory and ahhhhhh somehow it became entirely dickory being cute and appreciating hot toddies, whoops. At the same time, I can't be sorry because they're so freaking cute?? ;U;

Here are some additional thoughts to bring it around to something that involves Jason a little more:

A no-cheating!AU where it's actually Kory that puts all the depraved thoughts of Jason in Dick’s head hahahahahaha. Because 1) Kory is interested and 2) it flusters Dick so easily and that's cute

Dick, taking the hint and having that conversation like:

'You want him to...' and Kory is like, no.

And Dick pales because while he'd suffer through it for Kory, Dick isn't the most keen on the alternative: 'oh, you want him...to me...?' and Kory laughs because again, no. The opposite!

Which, oh.

All in all Kory wants the both of them to fuck Jason and Dick just about passes out because oh my god

Just Dick, scandalized but also so completely understood by his partner hahaha

But yes, there being a joint effort to pursue Jason. And Kory already loves him, but Dick falls just as hard as he comes to really know his little wing and it's beautiful and ahhhhhhhh <3

Okay here's a dickjay bit since that was supposed to be the ask:

Something with Dick happening on Jason trying to tie his own corset. Maybe he seeks Jason out for intel or a mission or because there was another family falling out, but Jason isn't expecting him.

And Jason feels so humiliated and exposed because the delicate clothes are too big a vulnerability. Especially since they're 'ill fitting' and 'wrong' for someone like him

Cue some fights and scrapping because Jason lashes out in his embarrassment until Dick gets Jason pinned, front against a wall, and he pulls the corset tight and Jason just sort of ohs

Or! Dick gets Jason pinned with Jason's back to the wall, instead. And they're pressed close, chest to chest. And Dick gets distracted in an instant because Jason's heaving bosom ohhhhhhh hello

Regardless, Dick telling Jason, 'Let me.' and Jason relenting and it's just this quiet, intimate thing

And Dick marvels at all of Jason, fingers trailing along the cut of his waist

Ugh, Dick smiling that heart stopping smile and telling Jason that he looks really nice. And that soft/delicate/beautiful things suit him ;A; Which sort of devastates Jason in the softest of ways

And it's because the corset is too tight that he loses his breath, not because of Dick

Another potential scene, where Dick and Kory have successfully wooed Jason into their lives and while Kory is chill, Dick is very much not, never:

Dick is always nestled in Kory's chest. And constantly peeks at Jason to test the waters there. And Jason stubbornly crosses his arms over his chest because no, not a chance

Until one day (among way too many) Dick is again staring at Jason's toddies and Jason heaves the greatest of sighs before clicking his tongue and telling Dick to just do it - he's so damn embarrassing

And Dick dives right in, face first into Jason's chest before choking out the most sinful of sounds and Jason startles because omfg, stooooooop

Also, Dick and Kory taking one toddy each to rest on ahahaha. Meanwhile Jason stares deadpan into the void because what's happening? How did this become his life?

========

Thank you to anyone who has read this far! And to alpengu, thank you very much for the ask again (and tags on some of your reblogs - I see you lol). Quiet as I've been lately, I really do appreciate all the support from everyone. //U///

But yes, ngl I miss posting a lot too and hope to be able to write more again ahahaha. More often than not the thoughts are rough/disjointed, but I'm happy with how the drabble portion of this turned out!

[bearlytolerant]

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Solas x fCadash

Chapter Rating: T

AO3

PROLOGUE

1: ARLATHAN

The evening is still and the sparkling blue lights of the city synchronize with the stars in the sky. Solas gazes out of the high paned circular window, drifting for a time, imagining being up there and not where he is. Here, he is Solas, elected official of Arlathan, and a man with hands full of all these responsibilities that make him ache inwardly for something different. Ache outwardly for what he used to have. Used to be. If only he had wings to stretch and to soar. But wanting and wishing were for those who weren’t—well—him. When had he become such a serious sort? When had he let his wings be clipped, only to settle for the dog whistle of his betters claiming to be equals? The answers are all but lost in the sigh of his withdrawal from the window. After all, it is a night of celebration.

“Why—aren’t you a sight?” Mythal says as she stands before him, smoothing her hand along his shoulder and brushing off some invisible dust. Silk and leather in the darkest blue embroidered with silver and gold. When the moonlight hits the silver just so, it is like a moon reflected on still water. He is proud of his design and he appreciates that she noticed. “You always clean up so nicely.”

“Not quite as nicely as you,” Solas says with charm. A smile.

Mythal beams at him and spins once, the white stitches on the black and purple marbled fabric shimmering as she twirls. She is her own pocketful of stars as the constellations he could map out slowly shift out of sight like they do in the changing seasons. Her dress glimmers and sparkles, swirls in an endless expansive space while simultaneously clinging to every curve of her body. She stops and laughs with a hand over her mouth, fingers gilded with glittering gems inlaid in obsidian.

“I do look rather lovely tonight.”

Indeed. Together, they pair perfectly. Just as she wants.

“Elgar’nan is sure to be pleased when he sees you,” Solas says.

“I do hope so. He has been rather—hmm,” she taps a finger to her chin twice, “distant, as of late.”

“You miss his affections.”

She smirks. “More his undivided attention.

“Ah, I see.” Solas says.

Mythal trails her fingers down her bodice, tapping them against the fabric as she goes. “No, Solas, I can’t imagine you can see.” She rolls her shoulders and straightens her back, smile gone. “Have you yet to feel the way love can consume you whole? Make you into an utter fool?”

The question is a rhetorical one of course.

He has not.

Not like she means.

He’d spent his youth on fights and passions. Adrenaline rushes, once his lifeblood, pumped through his veins and ignited every impulse. He recalls a fling with Ghilan’nain in his late twenties but it came and went like a caterpillar to chrysalis, never morphing into a butterfly. They were both just young and needed to fly. Eventually, he’d turned his attention to the love of music and the thrill of creation, painting frescoes and composing magical ensembles and making friends with the most delightful and interesting spirits. Nothing quite moved him the way imagining did. So he hadn’t made room for the love of another in a romantic sense. Not then. Not now. Perhaps, not ever. His loyal duty to Mythal makes sure of that.

And love? Well love is something to be given, not just taken and what he gives, it’s offered to her. Mythal knows this. Down to the last detail. It is why he’d been chosen to be her closest advisor and confidante. He chose duty over romantic love. Continues to choose it.

“No, Mythal,” he answers. “I have not.”

“Consider yourself fortunate.” The tiniest of smirks. “Love is a complicated little thing. You know like a little hummingbird. Fast, fast, fast it steals the sweetness from you and flits away, leaving you left feeling utterly empty and drained.”

“That is a—fascinating perspective you have,” he replies.

Bites back his opinion on her cynicism. It will only earn him that lecture he’s heard ten times over about living eons and a little cynicism in life is like salt on your meat. Not too much, not too little. Just enough to bring out the flavor.

She wasn’t always like this. Isn’t always like this. But it’s more lately than there was before and even though she confides her marital squabbles in him, he’s noticed the blank look in her gaze and the excess flirting. It isn’t unusual. Elgar’nan and Mythal are moons and tides. He just hopes he and the people will not be dragged into the deepest depths of their discourse.

She sighs and throws herself over the crushed velvet settee with her hand on her forehead. “Oh, I would never wish love on my worst enemy.”

The bell tolls on the clock next to her fireplace, an immaculate gift given recently from the dwarven nobles of House Cadash. A clock made of stone and lyrium, washing the room in a subtle but beautiful blue hue every hour.

Once—

Twice—

A final time—

Solas towers over Mythal and offers his hand. “Come. The others will be expecting you. We can ponder over your musings after.”

Without another word, she places her hand in his and he hauls her to her feet, guiding her from the room, her arm linked with his. They gracefully traverse the high vaulted, curved corridor, covered in moving murals, moonlight shining eerily through stained glass. The clack of heels echoes all around them. Painted figures smile and wave at them as they pass by, twirling inside the scenery. Mythal waves back.

“Ah I do so enjoy these murals. So lovely. Almost as lovely as the spirits who reside in them.” She blows a kiss at the murals before they round the corner.

He opts for silence, though her small chuckle signifies she does not need his words to know his disapproval. A subject he’d broached once before and now knows is not up for debate.

Solas opens the great, heavy stained glass doors before them. Music, light, a mixture of scents, and laughter spill out, an instant overstimulation of the senses. The spiraling spired ceiling is decorated much like the corridors. Elaborate paintings and pearlescent filigree provide an enchanting scene above the party guest’s heads. Magical banners drape across the expanse of the ballroom in coordinated color palettes that reflect the night’s sky, dotted with lights that spark from one end to the other like shooting stars.

“Fashionably late,” Solas says, “just as you prefer.”

She pats his hand and says, “you know me far too well, old friend.” Releases him and wanders off to garner attention from someone else for the evening.

Solas ambles amongst the shadows of the dance floor, sipping at a glass of gooseberry wine he’d accepted along the way until he spots the perfect perch in a comfortable corner to lounge in. Mingling would be of greater value once the guests had at least one more drink in their veins. So he waits.

Solas focuses on the closest pair of elves twirling to the crescendoed notes. Spies the glittering jeweled cuffs on their ears. Dwarven make. It must be becoming popular now and he wonders who might have influenced such a bold fashion statement. He would place coin on Sylaise if he had to take a guess.

“I heard Elgar’nan is only signing the treaty to conquer the dwarves and take their lyrium.”

“You always think the worst of him. Did Andruil plant the idea in your head?

“No. Why would you think that?”

“You have been spending a great deal of time in her chambers as of late. Is her bed as big as the rumors claim?”

“You are changing the subject. And I wouldn’t know. She wants maps from me. Nothing else. If that answer satisfies you, can we get back to the subject matter I presented?”

A sigh and the elves dance just a smidge closer to Solas. Though they whisper, their words are clear and crisp in his ears. “Why do you concern yourself with such things? Can you not just enjoy this moment?”

“It is not so easy for me to turn a blind eye to unwarranted war. We were promised peace.”

The shorter elf scoffs. “What war? There will be no war.”

“Mark my words,” the other says before they dance further out onto the dance floor, their words getting lost among all the other voices.

A few more songs played and a second glass of wine downed, Solas weaves in and around the ballroom. He dances with Ghil. She is far too pretty in an emerald green dress lined with a colorful array of blooming night florals, moths flitting about on her shoulders, to be wasting away as a wallflower. Her dress whirls upon the floor like wind in tall grass, nearly stealing his lead all on its own.

“You look lovely, Solas,” she tells him with a smile that doesn’t meet her eyes. She keeps peering past his shoulder to scan the room.

“Thank you. And you look as stunning as ever.”

She doesn’t acknowledge his compliment, eyes still searching for something or someone else. “Might I help you with your search?”

“Oh, no,” she says. “I’m not searching for anyone.” She misses her cue and steps on his foot. “Apologies. Excuse me.” She bunches up her dress and skitters off the dance floor and Solas takes up an offer to dance from a new partner.

A few more dances with the party attendees and then he sees her—Lady Cadash. The woman of the night, ambassador of the dwarven people, with a trail of endless rumors circulating the halls for weeks and yet he’d discovered nothing of her for himself. Nothing true anyway. She stands out, even amidst all the elves. Or perhaps, despite all the elves.

A clamp on his shoulder and his eyes are averted.

“Striking, is she not?”

To Solas’ tower, Elgar’nan is a mountainous refuge. A massive bulk of a man that almost doubles him in height. Shoulders twice as broad. His deep purple robes flecked with gold swish about his feet and appear to swirl in hungering blackness. Like some great expanse of the universe that could swallow all of them whole. His billowing sleeves are lined in glowing white light and his long black hair is pulled back into a single braid, brightened by the glow of his lyrium infused circlet. All of him awe and beauty.

“Indeed. For a dwarf.”

Elgar’nan’s burst of laughter rumbles in an echo around the room.

“Speaking of striking,” Solas says, ”I believe Mythal was looking for you.”

Elgar’nan inhales sharply, forming not a single reply about Mythal. He makes no attempt at searching her out either.

“Perhaps you should offer our new friend a dance?” Elgar’nan’s sunburst painted nails dig deep into his shoulder.

“Introduce us?” Solas suggests, unfazed by his grip.

“It would be my absolute pleasure.”

Solas follows Elgar’nan’s lead. Hands clasped behind his back, and head held high, he catches wind of some of the whispers around him. If Elgar’nan does not gain some control over the rumors, his negotiations could actually spill into war before he gets what he wants.

“Pay no mind to what they say,” Elgar’nan says, as if knowing Solas’ thoughts.

“These rumors—”

“Will be taken care of.” Elgar’nan’s voice pitches lower, like a rumble in the belly of a volcano. A warning. A threat.

“How?” His question remains unanswered as they approach Lady Cadash. A sinking feeling warns him that he knows exactly how such rumors will be eliminated. He just hopes he will not be the one elected for the job.

“Good evening, my lady,” Elgar’nan says. His demeanor shifts as he greets her with a smile like morning’s sun filtered through the window. Happy and bright.

“Good evening,” Lady Cadash allows a courteous smile as she bows her head.

“I thought I would introduce you to my oldest and most beloved friend—Solas.”

Oldest and most beloved is certainly news to him. He holds out his hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Lady Cadash simply bows her head.

“Solas was mentioning to me how he would love to share a dance with you,” Elgar’nan says. “Give you a delightful and enchanting welcome.”

“Yes, indeed. May I have this dance?” He offers his hand again.

She wordlessly takes it. The top of her head just barely reaches his shoulder (tall for a dwarf), but she bears herself much the same as Elgar’nan. It’s obvious she could command all the attention of room if she wanted to. A small part of him feels intimidated but only for a moment. After all, he’s earned his place here the same as everyone else.

“Do try to keep up,” she says as the music changes to a tune he does not recognize.

Though the lilt is unknown, his love of music makes it easily familiar as he leads her across the floor. She keeps in step, performing perfectly.

“You are positively radiant,” he comments as he twirls her once and she places her hand back on his shoulder.

“For a dwarf that is.”

It has been quite some time since anyone has made him flush. “Ah, you overheard.”

“You elves think you are the only ones with decent hearing. So lofty in comparison to my people. What is so often mistaken as pride, is your unchecked arrogance.” There is no disdain in her voice but a matter-of-factness that makes the comment sting more sharply.

“An astute, if not harsh observation. I meant no offense.”

“Of course not. And your intention supersedes any impact it might have. For it would be uncouth if I were to experience a negative feeling on the subject matter. I must remain composed and unbothered, lest I commit a social faux pas against the delicate and fragile nature of the rules governing your high society over mine. One negative feeling and the tension between dwarves and elves might blow their diplomatic house of cards down, and I would shoulder the blame for any and all paper cuts obtained from the debris. So, no offense taken.”

“Clearly. I see you prefer to take defensive measures.”

She laughs at that, hearty and full. It brings a smile to his face. “Clever and charming. I see why your charge paired you up with me. You do not trip so easily over your ego.”

“My charge?” He twirls her once and dips her low.

“Is my assumption wrong?”

“A great deal of your assumptions have been wrong. As have mine.” He continues to lead her across the dance floor, avoiding the others' bodies brushing up close to him in the expansive room. “I have no charge. The most powerful mages naturally lead and take on roles but the power is shared. Much like you children of the stone.”

“Oh, no. Whatever you’ve heard of that is a bit more complicated. There are many who move pieces in the shadows, coveting a checkmate.”

“I imagine that must be difficult.”

“Not at all.”

“Are you not in danger? And what of your father? Doesn’t that worry you?”

“My father will either be alive tomorrow or dead. Same as you or I—well perhaps not you if the rumors about the Elvhen are true. But at the end of the day, are we all not pieces on the world’s board, being moved toward some unforeseen but predestined end? Worrying and fretting over my father will save him from neither fate. But partaking in the pleasantries of this evening will guarantee my happiness in this present moment.”

He supposes her approach is rather optimistic, even if he can’t quite grasp it himself. “And are you?” He continues, “happy, that is?”

The song comes to an end and Lady Cadash takes a step back and curtsies. She meets his gaze, expression unreadable. “It remains to be seen,” she replies.

She slips away into the crowd before he can question her further. His eyes trail after her until she disappears amongst the twirling figures, almost tempted to follow after her. It has been some time since anyone has piqued his interest as she has.

[virgo-mess]

The Birds and the Bees

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Chapter List

1.Alexithymia- The Inability to Express your Feelings Parts 1 and 2

2.The Woes of Adolescence/ What the heck Happened that Summer Parts 1 and 2

3.Caught in a Summer Storm/ What the heck Happened that Christmas.

4.Summer Bluffs? Part 1

5.Disco, Strippers, and Margaritassss Part 2

6.Sleepless in a Hotel Suite Part 3

7.Shades of Pink

8.The Things I’ve Dreamed Part 1

9.Renewal Part 2

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And we've finally made it to part 2 of Chapter 2... Good grief I was hit with the most random wave of productivity. I'm making this post at 2 AM after writing for four hours. Sorry if there's any typos, this was honestly a product of me seeking comfort for my own inner turmoil and the result was FLUFFFF. So let me know what you think in the notes pleaseee, I beg. 👀

TW: Panic attacks, Kissing, and fluffffff. That's really it guys, enjoy!

The Woes of Adolescence/ What the Heck Happened That Summer Part 2

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“Yet the summer which was to change everything was coming nearer every day. When boys and girls are growing up, life can’t stand still, not even in the quietest of country towns; and they have to grow up, whether they will or no. That is what their elders are always forgetting.”- Willa Cather

Shay’s POV

The hours ticked by as Shay and Cash rummaged through boxes full of forgotten memories and unpacked feelings. Any lingering awkwardness from Cash’s prompt proposal for Shay to move in with him was long forgotten by the time Cash slipped away to get them takeout from the Trails End Bar in town. That intimate moment of fellow feeling they had shared had done a great job at prolonging the inevitable conversation they were bound to have for the time being. They spent the rest of their cleaning sipping on glasses of red wine and reminiscing about the happy carefree days of their youth. A prospect that usually had Shay in tears of hopeless yearning was currently filled with bashful giggles, rosy cheeks, longing glances, and fluttering butterflies. Shay supposed drinking wine with Cashton Ewing was a bad idea from the get-go, she was sure the consequences of such an act would be coming back to bite her in the ass soon enough. But she couldn’t help but want to enjoy a face paced blunder with her long-time crush while she could.

“I remember this sundress; you wore it on the last day of eighth grade” Cash mused pulling Shay’s old white sundress with sunflowers stitched on the bodice from one of the boxes with a soft smile on his face. Shay eyed the dress wearily; she remembered that unguarded garment and the scarring memory attached to it very well.

“Yeah, I did…” Shay mumbled before focusing her gaze back on the TV, she’d plugged in 13 Going on 30 not too long ago. The scene of Jenna’s less than stellar thirteenth birthday party was quickly unfolding on the screen. Shay couldn’t help but think about the last day of eighth grade, the day she’d tried her best to forget. Part of the reason she latched onto 13 Going on 30 was because she saw both herself and Cash reflected in Matt and Jenna. Shay felt like the movie was the closest she’d ever get to living out a romantic fantasy with Cash. Sometimes she’d forget she was watching a movie because there was a degree of mirrored likeness between her life and the world painted on the screen, from Jenna and Matt being best friends and neighbors, to Matt taking pictures like Cash, right down to Shay’s vexatious run ins with her own personal mean girl, Opal May Stevens. Shay had her fair share of mean girls throughout their childhood, that could only be expected when you were best friends with the prettiest boy in school. None of them were ever quite as mean as Opal May Stevens however, who had seemed to make it her mission to make Shay’s life a living nightmare about a month or two into that school year. Cash never seemed to notice of course and why would he really, Shay had all but figured out he had a thing for Opal May when she turned up at the movie theater that Valentines Day, she locked herself in a bathroom stall to cry. It wasn’t the first time Shay cried over Cash and Opal May nor would it be the last or even the worst. The worst breakdown she had in relation to her first crush and her childhood bully was reserved for the last day of eighth grade….

 “You do always look great in a sundress you know that, Cherry Blossom. What happened that day anyway?” Cash’s voice lulled through the air, pulling Shay out of her dark inner ruminations quite suddenly. Shay’s green eyes strayed from the screen for a split second to see Cash’s ocean orbs gazing at her intensely.

“What?” Shay asked, her brows knitted together in confusion as she tried to recall what it was, they’d even been talking about. She’d gotten lost with the dull echoes of taunting children’s laughter reeling in the gloomy memory bank of her mind and the tiresome chanting of Opal May’s odious voice ringing in her ears. Shay felt Cash’s finger gingerly brush against her forearm, and she finally let her green eyes meet his blue ones. They gazed at her in a way that made her feel like he was trying to ground her and anchor her to him all at once. She always wondered how he could tell when she was being swept away in the murky currents of the more melodramatic waves of her angst filled musings.

“…The last day of school that year, I asked you to meet me out on the school lawn, near the gardens after school, remember? I waited for you, but you didn’t show and by the time I made it to your window it was locked, and you were hysterical…” Cash trailed, his thumb was now drawing soothing circles down the length of her arm so tenderly Shay thought her heart might burst. Shay found herself leaning towards Cash the way a moth is drawn to the light and warmth of a candle despite the way her brain was telling her it wouldn’t be a good idea. Her usual thoughts of caution were being overpowered by the shrill, odious singsong of Opal taunting “TWIRL” repeatedly.

People always talk about the prominent events in your life that change you for the better or for the worse. The ones that stick with you long after they’ve happened and even longer than you’d like them to. They’re pesky shadows that cling to your every move, tethered with you from the green cusp of adolescence to the weathered qualms of adulthood. Silently lurking, endlessly twisting, constantly weaving their influence over your unconscious thoughts and actions day in and day out.

Well, Shay’s earthshattering, life altering moment occurred on the last day of eighth grade and prompted her very first mental spiral. One that was bad enough for her mother to send her away for the summer and stick her in a therapy center in California. Of course, it was a long time coming at that point with her parent’s contentious divorce, Opal May mockingly reciting her end of the year English assignment to a group of her peers was just the final nail in the coffin that year. It only hurt all the more that the muse of that assignment was sitting right next to her now. Shay couldn’t help but assume Cash had something to do with Opal’s cruel joke to some degree…

“I didn’t show because Pete told me you wanted me to meet you by the science hall instead, remember? And I’m sure you know what happened and what Opal did, you had your fun joke let’s not rehash it.” Shay said dismissively, letting out a long sigh she busied herself rummaging through a box once more to take her mind off the memory fighting tooth and nail to free itself from the murky bank. Cash let out a sigh of his own, his fingers found their way to her thigh and resumed drawing soothing circles, but this time Shay found it more tantalizing than anything.

“Pete told you that… I never told him to tell you that Shay, I swear.” Cash’s voice was soft, but Shay could hear the overarching note of sincerity in his deep vibrato. Shay didn’t respond as her hand clutched a hard, glossy, and slightly weathered book and pulled it out of the box with a ghost of a smile on her lips. Her thumb glided down the picturesque lighthouse on the book’s cover, situated in front of a purple, pink, orange sunset.

“What’s it really matter now anyway Cashton? We can’t change the past and I don’t fancy dwelling on it all that much either.” Shay said again dismissively, her eyes were still trained on the book in her hands intently, Cash had given it to her as a gift one year. A photo guide of the most beautiful lighthouses the world had to offer because Shay loved them so much at the time. She still did, while she was living in New York she often wished the Statue of Liberty was a lighthouse instead. Shay felt Cash place a finger under her chin, gently urging her to meet his gaze and she did. Shay met his gaze with sad green eyes and a surprisingly heavy heart, despite the butterflies that fluttered in her stomach at the intimate action. She wished he would stop doing this stuff, touching her this way especially when it was clear it meant more to her than it did to him. Especially when it was clear it would always mean more to her than it did to him.

“It matters because you were a wreck that entire week Cherry Blossom, seeing you like that hurt you know. You were my best friend, you were so sad, you looked so broken, and for the first time ever I couldn’t fix it. Then you just went away for a whole summer, didn’t call, barely answered my letters, you shut me out and came back a different person Shay, that was scary” Cash admitted in a heartfelt tone, his thumb gently caressed her chin and his blue orbs bore into hers with an unreadable sort of intensity that Shay couldn’t place.

“Please don’t act like you don’t know what happened Cashton, you and Opal May spent the entire summer together while I was gone, and I know she couldn’t resist telling you about it. You didn’t miss me that much and it’s fine, really, I don’t care about things that happened when we were fourteen anymore, alright. I forgive you, let’s move on.” Shay lied, forcing a smile on her face, so she didn’t look as bitter as she felt inside. Cash’s expression hardened a bit, but his eyes looked as intense as ever before.

“Well, if you don’t care Shaylee Rose why is it you can’t tell me what happened or what happened to you that summer huh? I don’t appreciate you accusing me of doing something to intentionally hurt you, I’d never do that so would you please explain what it is you’re passive aggressively forgiving me for. Please… what did Opal do, did she hurt you?” Cash coaxed softly, Shay let out a sigh but made no effort to turn her face out of his grasp or move her body away from his tethering pull. She knew it was the wine talking for the both of them right about now, loosening their inhibitions enough to let his touches linger and to let her heart hope his touches meant more than they did.

“We need to talk about this Shaylee, I think we’d both feel better if we did…” Cash said in a gentle but serious tone, holding her gaze as his thumb trailed from her chin to her cheek. Shay let out an almost defeated sounding sigh, she knew he was right, she would feel better if she could find it in her to utter a word. She didn’t think she could, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to.

“Cashton Micheal, I don’t think I can talk about it, so can we please just keep going through this stuff… please” Shay pleaded feebly. Her panic at his prying was evident with every shaky syllable she uttered with tears brimming in her eyes, threatening to spill over any moment. Shay inhaled sharply and tried her best to blink the tears away, but a single tear broke free, rolling down the length of her flushed cheek seemingly in slow motion. Cash’s expression softened at the sight of the lone, melancholy drop of water almost immediately.

“Alright…shhh, we don’t have to talk about it. Don’t cry it’s okay.” Cash said in a low whisper. He wiped the lone drop away with the pad of his thumb tenderly before placing a kiss where it had just been. Shay fluttered her eyes closed and let out a content sigh at the feel of his lips against her wine flushed cheek. It surprised her how delicate his lips seemed to feel in contrast to his now giant muscled appearance. The gentleness reminded her so much of the Cash Ewing she knew before things changed so dramatically between them that fateful summer. Shay opened her eyes as she felt Cash start to gently toy with the ends of her hair.

“Maybe we should call it a day for now Cherry Blossom? It’s not like your mom is going to be back anytime soon. Why don’t we head out to the beach for a bit” Cash said in a soft tone, Shay felt a pang of guilt in her chest at the obvious sadness swirling in his blue eyes. Though his fingers were still toying with the ends of her blonde hair tenderly, Shay could feel him retreating from her on an emotional level and she couldn’t help but hate herself for it. That wasn’t her intention, she craved his vulnerability more than anything but only because her vulnerability was so difficult to articulate, so hard for her to put into words. She wished it wasn’t.

“Sure, I could go for a swim right about now. Let me just put some of this away first, remember this Cashy?” Shay asked, holding up the book with a trace of a genuine smile on her lips in an attempt to snuff the rising tension in the air. Cash’s blue eyes trailed over the lighthouse on the book’s cover with an almost melancholy expression on his face. Shay wasn’t sure what came over her but before she knew it her fingers were intertwined with Cash’s once more. Much in the same way he had grabbed her hand down in the kitchen though that somehow felt like a lifetime ago with everything that had played out between the two of them since they wandered upstairs. The wine was indeed a bad idea but at least they were holding hands again, Shay knew it wasn’t much but at least it was something. Cash’s expression softened as his eyes glanced down at their laced fingers before meeting Shay’s gaze with a sheepish grin on his face.

“Of course I do Cherry Blossom, I gave you that book for your tenth birthday. You were obsessed with lighthouses back then but judging by the dust on the cover I’d say that’s been up here since you got back that summer, huh” Cash said in a tone that he clearly wanted to sound nonchalant, but Shay could tell by the way his tongue glided over his inviting lower lip, it bothered him. A soft sigh escaped Shay’s lips and she found herself tightening her grip on his large hand quite suddenly. Partly to comfort him and partly to keep him from slipping away from her again.

“It wasn’t like that Cashy, I promise. I love this book, that empty book stand on my shelf was always meant for it, but my mom couldn’t remember where she put it when we started redecorating.” Shay said sincerely, it was true after all. Her mom had misplaced it shortly after they started painting over the pink clouds on her ceiling that September and Shay hadn’t seen It since then but, she looked for it every month for a year. “I have no idea how it ended up in the attic though. I swore I put it in my closet that day we started moving things, but you know my mom. Too nosy for her own good.” Shay tacked on jokingly, Cash chuckled softly with a sheepish grin still plastered on his face, but Shay could tell his blue eyes were searching her green eyes for something.

“So, you never looked inside of it then…” Cash trailed in a way that made Shay think he knew something she didn’t. His eyes quickly darted between hers and the lighthouse situated in front of that picturesque sunset several times before settling back on her face with an obvious blush on his cheeks.

“No, why, did you put something top secret inside of it? Am I going to find the map to DeDe Green’s missing gnome collection in here or something” Shay said in a teasing tone, Cash rolled his eyes, and another sheepish chuckle escaped his lips. Shay looked over at him curiously. She wasn’t sure what to make of his sheepishness, but she could only assume the two empty bottles of white wine they’d shared was the driving force behind the emotional roller coaster they’d taken the other on in the past few hours.

“Pete and I never touched those creepy gnomes Shaylee, I assure you. I don’t know why everyone always assumes we’re behind most of Plymouth’s long-standing mysteries, if anything you and I would be the more likely culprits. We were quite impish if you recall” Cash said with amused blue eyes, now it was Shay’s turn to roll her eyes though she now found herself eyeing Cash up in a sort of bashful curiosity.

“Well, if it’s not a map, what’d you put in here Cashton Micheal?” Shay asked, eyeing him up in lighthearted suspicion through her thick lashes. Cash bit down on his lip sheepishly, drawing small circles on the back of her hand so delicately it had Shay’s stomach swirling with bashful butterflies.

“Just a love letter or two… or fifty. Didn’t you notice it was thicker than usual” Cash said nonchalantly, Shay rolled her eyes at him once more, but they were still very much amused as they gazed into his deeply.

“Fine don’t tell me, I’ll just have to look for myself then huh” Shay said pointedly arching her eyebrow at him. Cash chuckled again; his cheeks were still adorably rosy under the golden hues of afternoon summer sun streaming in through the attic’s window. Shay stared at him for a long while, just admiring how pretty he looked wrapped in golden beams of light and felt her cheeks heat up for about the millionth time today. Still, she was happy most of the intense, mildly bitter tension that hung between them had dissipated even if it wouldn’t last long.

“Why don’t you believe me when I say these things Cherry Blossom, have I ever lied to you?” Cash asked in a teasing tone of his own, but his eyes were surprisingly sincere and undoubtedly vulnerable as they stared back at her intently.

“Probably because you’re Cashton Ewing, one half of Plymouth’s dynamic joking duo” Shay said pointedly, Cash let out a long sigh and resumed toying with the ends of her blonde hair. His thumb continued drawing circles on the back of the small hand that was still intertwined with his larger one. Shay inhaled sharply, having the sudden feeling Cash was going to kiss her though she wasn’t quite sure why. He hadn’t even inched closer to her, there was just a sudden shift in the air and a look in his eyes she couldn’t quite explain.

“You know, Pete and I only became close because I thought you read those letters I stuck in that book while you were away. So, I thought you just didn’t want me around you that much anymore” Cash admitted, his eyes were incredibly sincere, and his expression was quite serious with the afternoon gold dancing on his face. Shay looked at him in suspicious disbelief, searching his eyes for a tell or a ‘got ya’ of some kind but she couldn’t find one nestled in his orbs of ocean blue. Instead, they silently flicked to the thick book sat atop her lap, urging her to open it and find out the truth for herself. Shay wasn’t sure what to think, let alone do with herself if there was really a long-lost declaration of love nestled within the pages of the book he’d given her for her tenth birthday. She found herself replaying parts of the heart-to-heart mother daughter conversation she had shared with Maggie Harris before Cash came clambering through her bay window.

“…take going through your old things as an opportunity to look at stuff with a pair of fresh eyes, maybe there was something you missed the first time around, maybe you might even find yourself up there…hmm. Fourteen is a rough year for everybody, things that seemed easy to say suddenly aren’t…”

Shay swore she felt her stomach do a dozen flips as her green eyes settled on the picturesque lighthouse floating upon purple, orange pink hues and wispy clouds for a long moment. They flicked back to Cash momentarily, spotting the obvious sheepish grin still sat on his face as he gazed at her, and her heart knew he was telling the truth. Still, Shay found herself more conflicted than ever before, all the answers she yearned for from him her whole life were most definitely sat on her lap at this very moment. And yet part of her didn’t want it to be true because that would mean having no choice but to dredge up memories of that lonely summer. It wasn’t like she didn’t think Cash deserved to know, he did but part of her knew he deserved better than her. Shay didn’t want to admit everything wrong with them now, was her fault. She’d felt the pang of guilt in her chest more times than she could deny or play off in the last few days, and most especially in the last few hours. That deep seeded truth that she had quite possibly hurt him way more than he ever hurt her was too much to bear, too much to acknowledge. So, she bottled it all up and shielded herself behind plausible deniability. Habitual late-night mantras to try and convince herself that what she felt for and from him, wasn’t real. That the blushes, butterflies, and giddy hormones were never and could never be reciprocated because guarded, lonesome pining felt safer than unbridled love and passion. But now that Shay knew it was a tangible possibility, she found herself wanting it and him more than ever.

“Here” Cash all but crooned, lowering the hand that had just been toying with the ends of blonde hair he grasped her free hand and guided it to flip the book open. Shay felt a plethora of aroused giddy goosebumps prick her skin at the tenderly adorable action and found herself resisting the urge to crash her lips onto his more than ever before. The book now sat open on her lap and her green eyes instantly recognized photographs of smaller versions of Cash and her cuddled up under bright summer rays and blue skies. She remembered that day in Cape Cod quite clearly, they’d been looking for seashells in heaps of tan grainy sand the first summer after Huck Ewing left. Cash was notably happier that summer, Shay couldn’t help but smile at the memory despite how hard her heart was pounding at present moment.

“I remember that summer” Shay said in a soft breathless sounding tone, finally finding it in her to move and speak. She flipped through the pile of photos with a small smile on her lips, recalling every memory with a wistful feeling in her chest. One lone photo caught her eye, an old polaroid of Cash cuddled up in her bed asleep with the stuffed horse he’d won at the state fair for her the summer before eighth grade. Shay gingerly picked up the photo and closely inspected it with knitted brows. She couldn’t recall a time where she’d ever gotten out of bed before he did, even back then, she wasn’t an early bird like he was. She could tell by the soft glow spilling in through her smaller bedroom window, the picture was taken in the early hours of the morning.

“I don’t remember this one, when was this taken Cashy? We both know I’m never the first one out of bed” Shay said curiously, gingerly picking the picture out of the book and holding it up for him to see. Shay watched as Cash eyed the picture and swore, she saw another dusty pink blush sweep across his cheeks. Cash met her gaze with that emotion she could never quite place swirling in his eyes though her heart now told her what it could be, she couldn’t bring herself to believe it. At least not until three words rolled off his tongue and hit her ears like a warm lullaby, but part of her still felt like she’d never hear them. The nagging thought that his advances were purely sexual and nothing more had been nestled in the back of her mind since they had lunch with Pete and Daisy. Along with the even worse realization that she’d definitely allow it to happen just to finally have him, even if it was just once, even if it was just for a night and even if it didn’t mean the same thing to him as it would her. She’d handle the anguish of that earthshattering truth the morning after because she had to. Because, if his lips even brushed against hers, she knew, she wouldn’t be able to stop…

“That summer you went away I still slept in your room sometimes…all the time really. Your mom didn’t mind; I missed you and you weren’t answering the letters I mustered up the courage to send. I thought about flying out to California everyday just to see you, you know, but you said you needed space, and I didn’t want to intrude on your summer fun.” Cash admitted wholeheartedly, without even a hint of hesitation for Shay to fall back on. Shay took a deep breath, finding it in her somewhere, she turned to face him completely and with the action Cash’s thumb increased the pace of the circles he’d been drawing on the back of her hand. He was trying to sooth her in a way that made Shay feel they were on the same wavelength for the first time since they were thirteen. Shay found herself fighting the almost primal urge to capture him in a kiss once more because their eyes locked with such an intense familiarity it had her feeling breathless. As the first string of pure vulnerability rolled off her tongue with more ease than she thought she was capable of, since that morning they shared brunch. Even then she only scratched the surface, now she supposed she could say more without even going into the deepest crevasses that negatively shaped her woeful adolescence.

“I lied Cash, I didn’t want space, I wanted to be with you, and I wanted to write back but I didn’t know what to say. I was so confused about everything that summer, that whole year really. I just… didn’t know what to do, it definitely wasn’t fun, I was miserable without you, but I didn’t think you’d miss me that much because you had Opal.” Shay said, her voice was soft and trembling with every word, but her tone was perhaps the most honest it had been in years. She knew the confession wasn’t much in comparison to the things she held the closest to her chest, but she did see something within the blue orbs in front of her change. A look resembling realization but of what she did not know. She didn’t really have time to think much about it either because before she could register the fact that Cash’s face was inching closer to hers. Their lips brushed, in a way so unbelievably fleeting, yet so incredibly tantalizing, Shay thought she must have imagined it. In one of her daylight musings about amorous trysts with the boy next door, the only man who ever truly had her heart.

Shay gasped, gazing up at Cashton Ewing flushed and utterly dumbfounded when she realized he was so close to her, his handsome face was out of focus. All she could make out was a mess of blurry blue and the feel of his warm breath waltzing over her plump lips when the thought finally dawned on her that she hadn’t imagined it. Cash had in fact kissed her for the briefest of moments and with that realization, what was left of her faux resolve shattered. Shay didn’t give it much thought before she launched herself into Cash’s arms and crashed her lips onto to his, latching onto him like he was the only life preserver out in a sea of deep blue. Almost as if he was the only thing keeping her from being swept up in a tidal wave, the only thing keeping her from floating away, in a way he was.

Cash let out an audible groan that sent shockwaves of both arousal and pleasure radiating to Shay’s warm core. She felt dizzy as his strong arms snaked round the small of her back, carefully trying to pull her small frame even closer to his than she already was. Shay let out a breathless groan of her own as she tangled her small fingers in his soft grey tendrils the way she’d been dreaming of since they were teenagers. The kiss deepened in a way that teetered on a gentle, demanding sort of synchronized hunger that made everything around them seem to fade away. It was perhaps the most in sync, the most in the moment, Shay had felt with Cashton Ewing since that Valentine’s Day they laid on a frozen pond, staring up at the stars and feather like snowflakes. Shay had thought nothing could top the way she felt that night, lying next to him on a sheet of ice while he stared at her like she was the center of his whole world, but this moment took it all. It almost made the twelve years of silent pining and sleepless nights worth tiresome treading up a slippery slope, worth it. At least before reality set in and Shay found it in herself to let them both up for some much-needed air. They sat there in silence for what felt like forever. Eyes closed, panting, unmoving, and still clinging to each other in a sea of blue seemingly trying to process what had just happened. Shay immediately found herself wishing she hadn’t dared to come up from something as silly as oxygen because the act of doing so, brought her back to earth.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Cash’s POV

            Cash wasn’t quite sure what he had done to get to this moment. With Shay, the love of his life wrapped up in his arms. Kissing him the way he had only ever dreamt of for the past twelve years, part of him still couldn’t believe it was real. Not even when she pulled away to catch her breath, Cash found himself just staring at her. Taking in the way her perfect chest rose and fell while she sat straddling his lap, eyes closed, and cheeks tinted the most adorable shade of pink. It was moments like these Cash wished he had his camera; he’d take pictures of Shay all day if she’d let him the way she used to when they were free spirited kids running along sandy shores. Cash could never quite pinpoint why those days felt so far away. Perhaps it was the weight of getting older. The inability to block out the anxious internal ramblings that plague the dreaded period of one’s coming of age only seems to get harder as the years tick by. It’s only when you muster the courage to no longer let those anxious Broadway shows in your head no longer rule your life. Sometimes, it’s easier said than done but for reasons Cash couldn’t understand everything about that kiss felt easy, freeing even. The last time he’d felt this uninhibited was that summer before eighth grade, the last true summer he had Shay had spent together. Sometimes that summer felt like a lifetime ago, but this one kiss somehow made it feel closer than ever before, he could almost see it now. With the late evening sun streaming through the attic window, cascading over Shay’s sun kissed skin and short, bouncy blonde hair. It always seemed to frame her heart shaped face to some sort of ethereal perfection.

            “How are you even real…” Cash breathed out just above a whisper, more so to himself than anything. His tone was soft but somehow still managed to make Shay jump in surprise where she still sat on his lap as his vibrato cut through the silence they’d fallen into. Cash held back an amused chuckle watching her pretty green eyes fly open to meet his smiling gaze. His smile faltered slightly as he quickly assessed that her green orbs were flooded with a stream of fear. He couldn’t remember the last time Shay had looked at him with anything other than what he could only describe as a cute sort of annoyed look on her face. Sometimes she put in the effort to hide it behind a tight smile that never quite reached her pretty eyes. Cash had grown to appreciate the effort because it meant maybe she thought about him half as much as he thought about her.

 “Didn’t mean to frighten you, Cherry Blossom” Cash cooed, reassuringly tone running his hands down the small of her back in soothing motions with a bashful, yet comforting grin on his face. Shay wordlessly stared back at him for quite some time, her face and eyes were unusually expressive for the first time since they were hormonal teenagers.

“…I’m so sorry…” Shay finally croaked with tears brimming her eyes, her small arms wrapped around her torso in a clear effort to comfort herself. Cash couldn’t help the way felt his heart drop to his stomach at how frail her voice sounded as it floated out of her now quivering lips. This wasn’t the reaction he was hoping to get after an earth-shattering kiss like that, but it certainly put things in perspective for him. Shay’s inability to recount what really happened that day she refused to open her window or why she went away for a whole summer was one born out of anxiety and fear. Fear of judgment, the fear of Cash’s judgment to be exact. Cash watched Shay’s chest heave rapidly up and then down with soft blue eyes, a mix of sweat and tears fell from her rapidly moving eyes. They scanned the room, refusing to meet the blue eyes sat before them, searching for an exit the same way they had that last Thanksgiving they’d seen each other …

            “You don’t have to be sorry, Cherry Blossom. I’m not…that was perfect” Cash said in a soft but careful tone, reaching up to wipe away tears rolling down her cheeks tenderly. He knew what he had to do now. It was something he should’ve at least done that Thanksgiving everything went wrong. Looking back at it now Cash could see that was the day Shay had tried to open the window for him again. He tried to convince himself she was just “asking for a friend” but he knew she wasn’t. Cash would be lying if he said his guilt for that wasn’t what spurred him to beat Tyler half to death in a hotel lobby that snowy day Shay called him in tears. A night Cash was most certain Shay didn’t remember but that was a conversation for another day, for now he’d comfort her in all the ways he wished he could over the last twelve years…

“I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve ruined everything… I’m so stupid!” Shay said between gasps and soft sobs. Cash shushed her, tightening his gentle hold on her now trembling body as she attempted to squirm off his lap. Cash knew what this had seen her like this only twice before. She was pulling away from him again both physically and emotionally the same way she had back then, and he wouldn’t let her do it. He couldn’t let her do it at least not now that he saw a possibility of this ending the way he’d only ever dreamt of… He just had to get her out of her head long enough to see that he’d loved her and always had.

            “You didn’t ruin anything, Cherry Blossom, you’re not stupid. I’m going to take you downstairs it’s okay” Cash said calmly, still wiping away hot tears from her flushed cheeks with determination in his comforting blue eyes. Shay didn’t respond, her eyes seemed to still be looking for a flight-based exit strategy part of Cash wasn’t even sure if she heard him over her hyperventilating. Still, he guided her small trembling arms to grab hold of his neck.

“Hold on to me Cherry Blossom. You’re going to be okay; I’ve got you” Cash cooed in her ear reassuringly, moving his hands to grip the back of her thighs. He slowly rose to his feet taking great care not to jolt her already form too suddenly as he weaved his way through half unpacked tattered brown boxes. Shay seemed mostly unaware of what Cash was doing or where she even was until he made it to the top of the stairs, her small arms tightened around his neck greatly.

“I’d never let you fall, Cherry Blossom, you know that” Cash cooed along with an unrestrained string of sweet nothings. They poured out of his mouth the way waves crash on the sandy shore, smoothing her over with everything he had in him. And for once it felt easy, showering Shay with praise and care the way she’d done for Cash every night he’d crawled through her window battered and bruised. That feeling he had for her on those nights, that level of reverence he held for her even then at the ripe age of 7 never went away. It only bloomed, blossoming the way a cherry blossom does in spring with dazzling hues of pink.

            “My chest hurts, Cashy, I can’t breathe…” Shay finally said still struggling to catch her breath when Cash finally strode into the kitchen. Her face was pale, and tearstained as she gazed up at him with the most helpless green eyes, he’d ever seen on her in his life. Cash gently shushed her once more, planting a tender kiss in her soft blonde curls, part of him wanted to cry right along with her. There was so much pain in her eyes and Cash didn’t know how he hadn’t seen it before but now that he had he would do everything within his power to snuff it out.

            “You’re having a panic attack, darling. Just breathe honey, I’ll get you some water and your snacks and we can watch some Harrison Ford movies” Cash crooned, attempting to set Shay’s shaky form on the living room sofa but her grip on his neck only tightened. Where she even found the strength to cling to him this was way beyond Cash right now.

            “Please don’t let me go, Cashy” her shaky voice hit Cash’s ear like some soft lullaby, but it was enough to deter him from setting her on the sofa. Cash nodded, silently plopping down on the sofa with Shay gingerly cradled in his arms; the action was enough for Shay’s breathing to slowly even out. Her green eyes were still clouded with a subtle amount of fear as they gazed up into his timidly.

            “I told you, no judgment on my part Cherry Blossom, remember?” Cash said placing a few more reassuring kisses into her soft curls with the same matured reverence he’d harbored for her since his youth. Before he softly wiped and kissed the few lingering tears on her flushed cheeks. It was hard to believe they’d had that conversation some hours ago a few feet from where they were no because it felt like they’d moved mountains since then. Cash felt Shay truly relax into his touch for the first time since they were kids. Smoothly melting into him and his comfort the way sand smooths under crashing waves of blue. Cash was sure it wouldn’t last too long; Shay had made it clear she was going to need a lot of reassurance if this thing between them was going to become anything like the way he hoped. Anything like the way he dreamed but for once Cash felt confident in his ability to get her there and that was more than enough…. That was everything.

🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝

[zeciex]

A Vow of Blood - Chapter 80:The Bloody Hand of Dread

Preview

Daenera sat up, gently lifting the baby from the basket and cradling him against her chest before lying back down again. Maelor’s head rested against her sternum, his chubby little fingers clutching the fabric of her bodice as he nestled into her, visibly soothed by the contact. Her head then fell back into Helaena’s lap, finding comfort in the familiar and reassuring presence.  “He misses you,” Helaena murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper. Daenera’s gaze instinctively drifted down to Maelor’s head, observing his pale wisps and delicate curls. He nuzzled against her, his chubby little hands playing with the soft fabric of her dress. She could feel his weight against her and found an unexpected comfort in it.  “I don’t think he’s capable of missing anyone yet,” Daenera responded, her palm resting on his back, her thumb gently soothing him.  Helaena hummed lightly in response, a knowing tone in her voice. “You miss him too…” Daenera looked up at Helaena, confusion furrowing her brow. “The baby?” Helaena’s lips quirked at the misinterpretation. “No, Aemond.” “Ah,” Daenera exhaled, her voice trailing off as she fell into a pensive silence, a new weight settling in her heart. Around them, the garden continued its gentle melody; leaves rustled softly above, the warm breeze caressed her skin, carrying with it the sweet fragrance of flowers and a hint of salt from the sea. Bees buzzed busily among the blooms, and butterflies languished in the warm sunlight.  Daenera’s voice emerged again, small and almost fraile, “It’s not as easy as that… Missing him, I mean. I should hate him…”

[torchwood-99]

Cressida's Transformation

So Cressida has big shoulder stuff going on this season.

And we know she's going to get a bit of backstory, that we will see more of her homelife, and that we will see her more vulnerable side, and that she will be trying to be "less of a mean girl" (with some difficulty.)

Now, looking at her costumes, with her big sleeves/big shoulders stuff going on, is making me crack theory that they're to represent butterfly sleeves, suggesting her character undergoing a transformation.

This dress in particular gives me butterfly feels.

The sleeves just scream butterfly wings, and the collar and the bodice also seem very reminiscent of a butterfly body. And in this scene she seems to be feeling quite sombre, so I wonder if whatever is going on here is going to be a catalyst for some change in her character.

Influences for this could be her anxiety, about being married, her friendship with Eloise, and perhaps her developing true feelings for Lord Debling, who she is going to be competing with Penelope for. The mix of all three might at once be humbling for her, give her some cause for reflection, but best case scenario, her friendship with Eloise might also give her the comfort and resilience to make a change.

[romaelettuce]

The Fire Within Us -Chapter Eight

A/N: Scene Pic on top :just wanted to let you know ive tried to find the large windows of the Stone Drum Chamber in Dragonstone,where the Painted War Table of Westeros is located.And successfully I did and found it in Episode 7 and merged them with Daemyra in the brothel scene. ( you'll get what I mean when you're done reading it lol)

Warning: smUT

The Princess' eyes fluttered open, sunlight creeping inside the master bedroom of the castle.

She brings herself up and takes a look of the dragon engraving behind the bed; she loves the way it was carved, the castle was really meant for the Iron throne's deserving heir.

"Elinda?" She calls out to her handmaiden, but eventually finds a dress laid out nicely on the other side of the bed. She immediately slips it on, admiring it, and guesses it was specially made for her, made for a Targaryen.

"Elinda, can you help me with the laces? I find it hard to-" She groans dramatically, giving up and fixing her hair, making a simple braid.

After that, she fixes the bed herself and walks away, her eyes squinting to find anyone in the castle.

She looks everywhere before happening to stumble out.

And there, she found him, a meter away, eyes closed, breathing in the pleasant piney scent of Aegon's Garden.

She can almost faint at the sight of him, just standing in the garden path that is surrounded with wild roses.

He is just breathtaking, she can't deny it and butterflies start to form inside of her. She composes herself before calling out to him.

"Good morrow, Uncle."

Yet, Daemon didn't open his eyes, a smile forming on his lips the second he heard her sweet voice.

Rhaenyra manages to walk up to him, holding the dress in place with a hand on her chest, she curses once she trips on a pebble, kicking it away once she's an inch apart from her uncle.

"Ah, my Princess." She couldn't hide her pink cheeks once he settles his gaze to her, lifting her left hand, kissing the inside of her wrist instead of the traditional way men used to do.

This is his way of showing affection.

"Cut that out, someone might see!" She playfully wrenches away from his touch and he chuckles lightly.

She ganders anxiously around the garden and finally sighs in relief, relieved because they are alone.

"I have been calling out to Elinda this morning, but have not seen her, or anyone, I have looked everywhere," 

Once he hears her rambling, he slips away and Rhaenyra follows him.

"You do not need that lot of people when you are with me." He leads her to a wooden pergola and a table is placed in the center, food in all its glory. Her mouth nearly waters when her eyes catch her favorite, honeyed ham.

Then her soul retreats and she faces him again, her hand still clutching the bodice of her dress.

"Look, I appreciate all of this but I need someone to-"

She stops talking when Daemon moves away, and stops behind her, and Rhaenyra shivered when his hands touched the skin of her back as he made quick work of her laces.

Once he is done, he admires his work and places a sweet kiss on the exposed side of her neck, at the same time, loosening her braid.

"You think I cannot expertly tie dress laces?"

They smirk secretly, and she replies in an instant. 

"Yes, because I thought you were only good at undressing me." This made him laugh and he kissed her silver hair.

"I bet you loved it when you saw it for the first time,.eh?"

He says, his warm breath hitting the back of her neck, referring to the dress she is wearing.

"Of course, I immediately knew it was from you."

She turns around and fixes her bodice in front of him and gives him a quick twirl while he smiles at her.

"You know, when you requested to come and learn here? It was a great idea."

He laces their fingers as the Princess looks up to him.

"Why do you say so?" She asks him quietly while he gently takes a handful of her bottom.

"Because we do not need to hide in the shadows, just for you to pounce and beg me to kiss you until dawn." 

With that, in that very garden of the Conqueror, she finally pounces on him and her lips immediately lands on his.

Their days remained the same,and his belonged to hers. 

Not a single person can see or know, and she understood why. Her game of self-discovery should not be witnessed.

And Daemon has brought themselves further deep, deeper than she can imagine.

It is the true meaning of want and he will make her want him and forget that cunt of a knight.

After all, it is that throne he desires.

"I don't understand..." The Queen mumbles under her breath.

"What?"

"Why did you let her go?"

Viserys sets down his goblet, turning to look at her, he hates the way her tone changes.

"I didn't want to fight, Alicent. Rhaenyra is hard to handle, you know that."

No one can tell if she's worried for her or not.

"And with him?" He can almost taste her bitter tone and the hatred she has for him.

"Daemon is impulsive, he only desires and cares for nothing but to piss you off everytime he comes back-"

"Daemon is family, my dear wife."

"What if he tries to corrupt her? Will you stand there and do nothing?" She protests.

He is the so-called Lord of Fleabottom after all.

He knew how much of a spoiled Prince Daemon was in his younger days, yet he was their mother's favorite.

Above all that, he loves him.

"They share the blood of the dragon." He finally answers after a short silence, Alicent isn't having it and storms away.

He'll never believe them, the gossip, the tales, the scandalous connection that everyone suspects between his daughter and his brother. Not until he sees them with his own eyes.

He is going to deny it because he knew it, by the way he looks at her.

He had brought the books he gave her, his brows knitted as he looks for something to read. She had requested it earlier after they dined, and said that she would not take too long to return because she will visit Syrax near the Dragonmont.

It did not take long to find the book he is now reading. He leans on the Painted Table, book in his hands as he reads in advance.

As Daemon was about to lift a page, Rhaenyra emerged before his hooded eyes, donning the sheerest sleeping robe he chose for her to wear days ago.

She walks slowly to him in a slow manner, dramatically shoving off the robe, revealing her complete nakedness to him.

She looks at him innocently, knowing he likes to see her hair free from those irritating braids.

His eyes skimmed from her legs, her waist, her slender arms, her firm breasts, her soft neck and up to her face, taking in every inch of her. 

With that, Daemon gave her the softest smile. 

"Gevie."

He gestures for her to come closer and she obliges, slightly shivering from the cold breeze coming from the tall windows of the chamber.

She stops shivering once his hands touch her bare waist, the pads of his fingers drawing little circles on her skin while he nuzzles his head on her neck.

Rhaenyra felt like she could fall. She feels his hand on the small of her back and that's all that keeps her standing.

She loves the way he kisses her neck and she lets her head fall back, tugging his short hair as she feels him exhale on it.

She smiles in satisfaction as the butterflies in her belly grow crazy inside of her.

The chamber's iron brazier is barely lit, making the perfect hue and he likes the way it illuminates her face.

His heart flatters all of a sudden when their eyes meet and he could not understand why, but he lets his mind drift and his hands continue to touch her perfect body.

"Turn around." 

He murmurs into her ear and Rhaenyra turns around slowly, Daemon's eyes landing on her soft bottom, while he pulls her closer to him as he sits on the table.

His hand grips her waist, and he hoists her up, making her sit on him, her naked bottom touching his lap, her back facing his chest.

"Uncle..." She sighs as Daemon's skilled hands begin to knead her breasts, his nose breathing in the scent of her. She held onto his arm, gripping it as he tweaks her nipples, rolling them between his fingers.

"You said you would like to read tonight." His words kiss the side of her neck as he continues to make her nipples hard, making the Princess cling to him harder, her short legs tangling themselves on his.

"I don't want to..I..aaah.." Her voice dies out as he nibbles on her neck.

"You don't want to… what?" He whispers in her ear, enjoying the way she writhes against him. 

So messed up by the pleasure he created on her breasts as he keeps kneading them, she didn't even notice his right hand sliding down, in a real slow pace, making sure to caress every inch of her skin, before reaching down to touch her down there.

Her eyes shoot open as his middle finger presses her virgin clit. She could not close her mouth from moaning as he moves his finger in circles and stops as he feels her move, her hips rolling instinctively. She thrusts herself forward, rubbing her cunt on his fingers, her sensitive pearl itching at the lack of attention.

Her hips imitated the rhythm of his fingers, rolling nonstop.

Her eyes flutter close. "I just…I just want you...to touch me..." She pants, rolling her hips harder again, seeking out the high she craves.

Daemon groans at the pleasure she created, and holds her neck.

"Sit still." His voice is low in warning, lips brushing the shell of her ear, his cock pulsating underneath his breeches, while his hand held her in place.

The Princess holds her breath when his fingers finally move, tracing her wet slit, moving up and unexpectedly, a lovely groan comes out from her mouth when his finger moves on her pearly nub.

The sound of her sensitive folds is the only sound that can be heard in this very room, his finger softly flicking her clit, and making her respond to his touch.

He enjoys it more than her, her small whimpers driving him insane.

"Please..." She begs, gripping the sleeve of his shirt, breathing hard as his two fingers move on her clit, drawing circles repeatedly.

She bit back a moan as he teases her, sliding his long fingers up and down making her head spin from the pleasure he built.

That is exactly why he had this castle unoccupied in the first place. 

And she loved this erotic idea of his. Despite the consequences, she couldn't help but be consumed by him.

And the moment they touched each other, from the very first night in the throne room, she knew that Daemon would let her take whatever she wanted.

"Kostilus, Kepus..." She whines when he slips his fingers inside her cunt, slick with arousal, glistening under the faint moonlight coming from the windows.

Please,Uncle.

He parts her thighs even more, ignoring her plea, his fingers pushing her to the edge, making her back arch.

Rhaenyra let her head drop back to rest against his shoulder, gripping the table underneath, holding her release as he mercilessly moves his fingers back and forth.

It is impossible for her to hold it back, as he drives her crazy, leaning in to suck on her neck, his knees parting her thighs even more, the Painted Table creaking below them.

He does not care, and continues to rub her glistening pearl with his thumb, and his spare hand goes up to her left breast, kneading and rolling her nipple between his fingers.

"Yes, like that..." He says, obsesses over the sounds she is making.

"Now, say his name," He gently bit her earlobe, his fingers retreating to rub her swollen clit.

She tries to picture the knight in her head, but all she could ever think about is him, who is touching her right now.

"I...I don't think he could touch me the way you do..."

He can't believe it. 

He is silent for a moment, still pleasuring her, as he waits for her to say something.

"He can never have me like this." She manages to say as she falls apart in his arms.

And that is all he needed to hear as he thrusts his fingers inside her again, her tight walls clenching as she writhes against his touch.

 He won.

"You are made of fire," He whispers in her ear as he strokes her breast whilst his fingers begin to move faster.

"But when I touch you, you turn to water."

He earns a sweet moan as he fingers her continuously, satisfied at the fact that he made her forget that cunt of a knight.

She is close, he can tell because she is now dripping wet, from his hungry touches.

"Cum, sweetness..." He tells her, pinching her swollen nipple, her breast slightly pink by his kneading.

"Dracarys."

He smiles as he feels her release, his fingers dripping wet while Rhaenyra handles her orgasm, breathing heavily.

He withdraws his fingers from her cunt, and she whimpers at the loss of contact, like it is where they belong.

He kisses the side of her head, stroking her body, handling the aftermath of her release, as he helps her down from his lap.

She wants to drag herself to bed, exhausted, but changes her mind when Daemon gently lays her down on the Painted Table, the wood warm against her skin.

The night is still young.

She blushes when he brings his fingers to his mouth, tasting her sweet juices.

She brought her arms up, circling it around his neck as he climbed up the table and settled between her parted thighs successfully; the table is strong enough to hold the both of them.

"Touch me again, please..." She begs again, and he happily obliges as she holds his head to her chest, his mouth sucking her hard nipples.

"Kepus..." She whimpers once again as his fingers return to rub her swollen clit, still pulsating like the way it did earlier.

Uncle.

He thrusts his fingers into her again, whilst kissing her breasts, nibbling on her soft creamy skin.

"Do not stop..." She whines as she takes in the rapid movement of his fingers.

"Never."

He fingers her drenched cunt as the hearth dies, and that is exactly how he wanted to take her, wrapped in darkness, as she writhes and begs for him to touch her over and over again.

She clings to him, and even if the fire died, the fire within them burned brighter than ever.

next

Shout-out to: @nyctophilic0vitnir , @grandlovescheme and @firefly-graphics

Thank you @nyctophilic0vitnir   (go to her page pls, there's a lot of fics waiting for you to read them), for the support and encouragement,for checking and correcting the errors of this piece, and for your time and effort. I appreciate you!❤

Thank you @grandlovescheme (go to her page or her A03, type in her name ⬆️) for the support and encouragement, I appreciate you bestie!💗

And credits to you @firefly-graphics , the dividers are pretty cool!! Pls Follow ⬆️❤

Daemyra gif thats somewhere in the middle of this chapter: credits t0-> @alicent-targaryen

Tags: @grandlovescheme @nyctophilic0vitnir @janelei @eschercaine @valkyrriee @taketotheskies @obsidian-hearts @daemyrachaos @rhaenyratumbles @lady-phasma @multifanderisspooky @flamehairedsiren @theobjectofyourire @gipsydanger17 @deseretsolitaire @profoundlydecadentmentality-blog @nyrasblog @missyviolet123 @foreverinthepagesofhistory

[letmeliveinelfhame]

Anything part 2

A mortal girl's eyes land on Prince Dain Greenbriar. She doesn't even know who he is, but he's affected her.

Part 1

Word count: 980

Rating: Mild, mention of debauchery and the word 'sex' once

First posted to my AO3, LetMeLiveInElfhame

Fic below!!

It isn’t long before I’m risking sneaking out to another revel. Images of him refuse to leave my mind, and it causes my imagination to run wild. No matter what I do, I cannot tame my thoughts. I’m hoping he will be at this revel too and I made sure to wear my best gown, white with deep purple butterflies adorning the bodice and part of the skirt. I have to lift the skirt ever so slightly so as not to dirty the whiteness as I make my way to the revel.

The revel is in full swing by the time I arrive, with many faeries already engaging in debauchery. I avert my gaze as I move further into the revel. I will never understand how they can be so open about sex, partaking in it in public. To me, something like that should be private, kept behind closed doors for no-one to see or hear.

Once I am further into the revel, I begin to search for him. However, I’m not watching where I’m going and bump into a rather drunk hob.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” I start to say.

“Filthy mortal! Who do you think you are? You don’t belong here!” His drunken words sting like a slap around the face, and I know what those feel like thanks to my keeper.

“That is no way to speak to a young lady.” I startle at the sound of another voice, and turn around. Standing right behind me is the beautiful faerie I had been looking for, even more beautiful up close. Just my luck that he’d be right there when I’d stupidly bump into someone.

The hob looks shocked and quickly mumbles an apology before bowing and leaving. I’m confused as to why he bowed, but more relieved now that he is gone.

“Than-” the words die on my tongue as I remember that the Folk don’t appreciate them.

He smiles. “No need for thanks. I couldn’t very well leave a lovely young lady such as yourself to get into trouble for something she did not mean to do.”

I can feel a slight blush warming my cheeks. “But still… I appreciate it. You didn’t have to do that for me. I’m indebted to you.”

“Consider your debt paid with the knowledge of your name and a dance.”

“Will you pull me out of the dance afterwards?” I give him a small smile.

“Of course. I am not foolish enough to leave you there to dance forever. Now, will you accept this dance?” He holds his hand out to me, and I place mine in his.

“I will. My name is (insert name), by the way.”

We start to dance to the music a group of fey are playing. I’m not the best of dancers, so I tried my best to keep up.

“It is a name that suits you,” he replies. “May I compliment you on your choice of gown? You look stunning in it.”

My blush deepens. “You really think so?”

“I cannot lie.”

“It’s one of my favourite gowns. Special occasions only, so I thought it fitting for this revel.”

“You thought right. You seemed to be looking for someone earlier. Are they the reason you chose to wear this gown?” he questions. I nod. “I must apologise from pulling you away from your search, then.”

I’m quick to reply, not wanting this to end because he thinks I’m looking for someone else. “No, no, not at all. I really don’t mind!”

We continue to dance until he pulls me away from the music, and I’m grateful as I had begun to tire.

“I’ve been curious about you.”

I look up at him, surprised. “About me? Why?”

He waits a minute before replying. “I know you were watching me at the last revel you attended.”

“Oh… right… I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me” My voice has grown quiet.

“I do not mind. You’re not the first and you won’t be the last.” He smirks.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I get a lot of attention wherever I go. Was it me you were searching for when you arrived at the revel? You didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave the dance to look for someone else.”

I look away, embarrassed. “Yes. You haven’t left my mind since I first saw you.” To save myself from saying more, I prepare to leave the revel. “It has gotten later than I thought, and I really must head back.”

“(insert name).” I stop at the sound of my name coming from him. “Let me walk you back.”

“There’s really no need-”

“I insist. How do you know you’re going to get back safely without running into danger? A mortal girl alone in the woods is not a good idea.”

I sigh. “Very well.”

We walk in the direction of my keeper’s home, making small talk along the way. When we get close, I turn to him.

“We have to stop here. My keeper doesn’t know I’m not in her home. I, um, snuck out.” My hands fidget.

He raises an eyebrow. “You haven’t been caught?”

I shake my head.

“Interesting. Well, until next time, (insert name).”

My eyes widen. “Next time?”

“As I said before, I’m curious about you.”

“I didn’t think there’d be a next time. Before you go, what’s your name? You know mine, so I believe I should know yours.”

He smirks, and I come to think about how I quite like when he smirks. “Dain. Dain Greenbriar.”

It isn’t until I’ve successfully managed to sneak back inside my keeper’s home that I realise he said ‘Greenbriar’. The drunken hob’s bow suddenly makes sense. I somehow caught feelings for, danced and spoke with a Prince of Elfhame. And not just any Prince. The future High King.

[walkingthroughfire-a]

She dreamed of this day since she was a little girl and now it's here. Her stomach is filled with butterflies but she can't tell if it's due to excitement or fear and uncertainty. She l loves the man she's about to marry, she does. But at the same time her mind often wanders to a 'what if' in regards to someone else.

When it came to her and Tony they toed a line of filtrations and possible feelings but nothing was ever acted on it no matter how many times April opened herself up to the idea. But he never acted more on those invitations and she knows his reputation. Even if he did somehow ruin a lot of her dates with background checks, they're just a friend and nothing else. No, they can't be anything else. That's just a pipe dream and she has to live in reality. Reality is that the man she is going to marry is a good man. A doctor like her with the same beliefs and that's always a good thing, isn't it? To agree on...everything? No debate, no witty banter, no trying to see things from another point of view? It means they get along ... all the time.

April stares in the mirror then she laughs at herself, shaking her head. "No." she just says to herself. What feelings she may have had for that man she works for are nothing. It's a school girl crush and not a solid foundation for anything. She's got a good man.

So much so that she's confident she also made the right choice in inviting Tony to the wedding. After all, they're friends and she wouldn't want to leave him out. Whether or not he shows up though, that'll be the question. One answered after she walks down the aisle and sees him standing dressed in a top tier suit and tie as he would. At least he kept the sunglasses at home.

She can't help but smile at him as she walks toward the alter taking the hand of her husband to be.

At this moment her mind is made up that this is what she needs. Stability, normalcy, no trouble, no danger ... Her heart is pounding against her chest hard as though the bodice of her dress is now trying to strangle her but she ignores it, breathes through it. And she smiles that April smile as the preacher then says , "If anyone has any objections, please speak now or forever hold your peace." but he barely even gets it out before a voice rings out in objection.

Surprised, April turns and sees that it's Tony standing in the crowd while everyone begins to murmur in whispers and gasps wondering what it is he's doing. Truly, April wonders the same. "Are you kidding me?" she asks, this, the day of her wedding!

"Tony, for God's sake, what are you doing?" she looks at him not with any kind of genuine anger, but a look of hope. A hope a happy bride should not be giving another man on her wedding day.

send me ❝ SPEAK NOW ❞ to object to my muse's marriage mid-ceremony

alternatively, send me ❝ I CAN'T DO THIS ❞ to leave my muse at the altar @etfuturist

[petalsmooth]

Spoiler maybe...

TBH I'm kind of believing it

You know how interviewers will say something that you think sounds a little off at the time, odd phrasing? But kind of shrug it off and rationalize it. Then later realize oh...they tipped you off about a spoiler.

Well new spoiler making the rounds is, well first off let's start with spoilers there are two fights in ep 7. First is discovery of W.D. and does talk to Anthony and Kate later and then make up at the Butterfly ball.

Next spoiler concerns what is said to be a separate fight where he catches her making a delivery for a W.D. edition after his bachelor party and he's worried about her safety and then there is the clip of her saying Colin I can take care of myself and he's saying back then what good am I to you? And I actually believe this is fairly close to what happens because this doesn't feel like a W.D discovery conversation.

Nic and Luke also mentioned trying to find a way to work in a New girl like kiss and the one in the clip out there looks something like that.

Well, newest spoiler is they end up having sex and Colin rips her bodice during this event. Which Bridgerton has never really done before despite it's reputation for risqué Harlequin like romances. But this brings me back to an interview they did before when the interviewer referred to Bridgerton's bodice ripping nature.

Which at the time was odd and I thought well ok....maybe this person is old school and calling it what those old Harlequin romances used to be called and didn't mean it literally because how could it be literal? It never happened before. Now I'm thinking this spoiler is true because that just strikes me as too much of a coincidence.

AND if it IS true this season is totally taking full advantage of the fact that not only does the audience already know and invest in both characters, but the friendship of the two actors. Because the intimacy scenes are definitely going to pass season 1. This doesn't even include the montage of sex scenes in ep 8 that are rumored to contain the scene where Nic/Luke broke a piece of furniture during filming. They thought the scene might not be usable because burst out laughing and she said Luke's name in an Irish accent but being a montage that wouldn't matter. Not a scripted moment but if it ends up there be rather amazing how a would be blooper actually works to advantage.

Although I will say I continually find it amazing how the ton lets these two do whatever they want without repercussions with exception of him helping her find a husband. Spending multiple nights at your soon to be new home before you are married and no one batting an eye? lol Well, I suppose for their own reason Portia and Violet probably ok with it because solidifying need for marriage. You'd think Anthony's blood vessels would burst though.