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toppersbitch · 3 years

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Naughty / Topper x Reader

18+ Minors DNI

Summary: Your picnic with Topper gets rained out, but you two can still have fun in the car;) Word Count: 3k Warnings: food, eating(ofc you can always skip to the good stuff;), alcohol, choking, hickeys, nipple play, spit, degradation/praise, hair pulling, oral(fem and male receiving), edging, slight overstimulation, and unedited work

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You felt a drop of rain hit your cheek, then your chin, then your bare shoulder, and then your leg. You were on a picnic with Topper. The various fruits, cheeses, and crackers spread on a large tray. His hand was on your thigh, with your hand on top.

“Did you feel that?” he asked, turning to look at you, his mouth full from the bite he just took. You nodded as you took another bite, the raindrops landed in various places, slowly.

“Do you want to pack up now?” he was now washing down the food with wine he stole from his parent’s cellar.

“No, let’s just stay a little while more, we can watch it come in” you nodded, you turned your head to look out across your view.

You were sat on the country club lawn. It was empty, mentions of a storm meant no golfers and no outside bar. You and Topper had the entire lawn to yourselves.

“Okay,” he nodded, continuing to stuff his face.

You sat watching the storm move in, the slow steady raindrops drops becoming more fast and frantic. Suddenly it began to pour, you becoming instantly soaked, your styled hair becoming soggy, and your clothes becoming baggy.

“Let’s get going,” Topper standing quickly, bending down to put the lunch back in the cooler bag. He reached out his hand for you to grab, you did so pulling yourself against the weight of him. He handed you the cooler bag and started to fold the blanket. You both ran, already soaked up the steps of the clubhouse. Topper pushed open the door and shoving you through, you slowed to a walk when inside. “Crazy kids,” an old man server shook his head as he watched the two of you track wet footprints through the hallway. You two exited out onto the porch, the rain was coming down hard. “On the count of three,” you said squeezing his hand, “One-” he squeezed your hand back, “Two,” you hugged the bag into your side, “Three,” you both launched off of the top shallow step, he fumbled to get the keys and unlock his Jeep. “Why didn’t you do that earlier?” You shouted, almost halfway to the car.

“I don’t know,” he yelled back, you saw the red lights flash, signaling it was open. You both split to either side of the car hurrying to jump. Both doors slammed shut and you turned to look at each other, out of breath.

You breathed heavily as the car engine started up. You laughed watching him shake his head like a dog. Water flicked everywhere. You half shielded your face from it, Topper laughed trying to move your hands away.

He pulled you in for a quick kiss, you smiled into it. “We’re getting your seats all wet,” You frowned at him pulling back, “Your mother is going to be upset,” Your hands moved to both cheeks, wiping the drops from his cheeks.

“Probably but who cares,” he said pulling the cooler bag to the front. He took out the wine bottle, removing the cork. He took a swig.

“Where to now princess?” he handed the bottle to you, you took a long sip while shrugging. “Not it,” he shouted putting his finger to his nose,” you playfully punched his arm.

Your brain began racking every place on the island, both of your houses out of the question. You thought of all the places you could watch the rain, and it hit you. The looks out being the only to come to mind. It was a large pull-off, specifically taken over by Tourons.

“The lookout,” you say, smiling at him.

“Whatever you say princess,” He handed you the wine bottle and drove quickly towards it. Luckily to your delight, any and all Tourons had moved onto indoor activities.

He parked the car and turning off the ignition. He took the wine bottle from your hand taking a long and big gulp. His head hit the headrest and his hand landed back on your thigh.

You looked in the visor mirror, your mascara had been smeared and it was running down your cheeks.

“It’s almost all gone,” he said pushing it towards you, “It’s still half full Top,” you took it taking two sips.

His eyes were on you, staring intently, his hand on your thigh tightening. You smiled at him, handing him the bottle. He took it swiftly, “Open your mouth,” he took a swig but held the red liquid in his mouth. “Why?” you asked, he widened his eyes and moving his head forward. Hinting to do what he said.

You opened your mouth, his hand moved to grab your jaw. He pushed your head back and moved his to hover. He lined his mouth up and let the red liquid fall into your mouth. You swallowed and he pulled your mouth down to kiss.

His grip on your jaw moving down to your neck pressing slightly, his tongue swirling around yours. He messily set the wine in the middle compartment. His kiss harshened, his now free and needy hand grabbed your thighs, pinching and kneading.

Your hand grabbed the back of his neck, pulling the hairs. Your other hand finding its way up the hem of his shirt and to his chest.

His left hand moved up your shirt, pinching at your stomach and then cupping your breast, kneading it. You moaned at the pressure, your mouth opening. Topper pulled back and smirked, “What a naughty girl,” his hand gave one last squeeze to your throat before leaving, his mouth attaching, sucking, and lightly biting.

Your head tilted back, your mouth parting slightly. His mouth moved around hungrily, bright red and purple marks appearing. His legs moved over the console one at a time, the bottle of wine nearly toppling. His hand removed itself from your thigh, quickly catching the bottle. He took and few sips and then held the bottle to your mouth, “Drink,” he demanded tilting it. You allowed the liquid in until he pulled it back, he took the last sip and tossed it to the backseat.

He was straddling you, looking down hungrily. He pulled your shirt off, his hands pushing their way between your back and the seat. His hands fumbled around until the clasp opened. You felt the release as he pulled it off, your breasts falling out of the cups. He stared down at them grinning.

“You’re so fucking pretty baby,” his eyes scanned your body up and down.

He moved his head down taking one breast in his left hand and the other in his mouth. His tongue circled around the bud and till finally, he flicked his tongue over it. He lightly bit the bud, sending chills throughout your body. You let out small whimpers, his hand left your breast, moving up your neck and jaw, keeping contact. His thumb rubbed against your bottom lip and then entering your mouth. You sucked on it, applying slight pressure with your teeth.

Your hands played with his shirt until he caught on, he pulled back, watching you let his thumb leave your mouth. Your eyes are big, and staring right at his. His hand gripped the headrest behind you. You pulled the shirt up and he aided in pulling it over his head. Your hand touched his abs, he moved back down to kiss you. His tongue was hungrier than before, the pressure of it all forcing your head back.

You slid your hand down to his pants, undoing the belt quickly. You pulled them down, the bulge pressing against the tight boxers. You palmed it teasing him, he let out a short moan. He grabbed your wrists, “Don’t.”

Topper hated being teased, he hated not feeling instant release. You stared up at him menacingly as he let go of your wrist. You pulled down his boxers, his large member swinging up. It was red and throbbing. You looked up at him, his eyes watching intently for your next move. You reached out and took his balls in your hand, you massaged them as you licked from the tip to the base. His hand gripped the headrest once again, his fingers digging in.

You swirled your tongue around the tip, keeping your gaze locked with his. You moved your hand to the base and continued to swirl, lick up and down and stop.

“Stop being a fucking tease,” he grabbed your wet hair in his hand, he pushed your head harshly so that you had all of him in your mouth. You gagged and closed your eyes tightly. He pulled your head back, only the tip in your mouth. He pulled it out, you built up spit, and placed it on the member.

“What a good little slut,” you took him all in your mouth, the spit spreading to the base. Your hand grabbed it and slowly pumped as your mouth bobbed, your tongue never stopping swirling. His hand gripped together on your hair, pushed your head farther each time. You removed your hand and let his entire shaft enter your mouth, you gagged and your eyes brimmed with tears. You looked up to meet his gaze yet again. Relaxing your throat more. He began to take charge, staring down at you, your mascara already running, hair pulled tightly in his hands, eyes staring up at him, and the humming sound you made. Oh god, the humming sound you made, it felt electricity was running through his body every time.

It sent vibrations throughout his dick, his headed throwing back and moans escaping. You continued humming as his pace quickened, hitting the back of your throat rapidly. You felt him twitch, and one last loud moan escaped before he pulled out. He reached down squeezing your cheeks together, wanting to see his load in your mouth.

“Swallow,” he said letting go of your face, he watched as you swallowed and then stuck your tongue out to show. “Good girl,” he said taking his hand to your cheek and rubbing his thumb.

He leaned down, his head closer to your stomach. He reached a pressed the buttons leaning and scooting the seat back at the same time. He got to his knees, his head right in front of your heat. He slowly slid off your shorts. One of his hands staying close to your wetness. He placed a hand on each thigh, pressing them open.

He put his thumb to your clit, your panties keeping the skin separated.

“So wet for me princess,” he moved down leaving wet, hot kisses on your thighs. His hands toyed with you through your underwear. Circling your clit so lightly you barely felt it. You pushed your hips forward hoping for more pressure. Topper moved his hand away.

“Uh uh,” he hummed, “I’m in charge,” he moved up looking to meet your gaze. He took your underwear in his hands and slid them off slowly, his eyes staring right at your cunt. He took in the redness of it, the wetness seeping out creating a shiny look. He ran a finger up your slit, you whined.

He held his finger up, seeing how wet you were, “God what a little slut you are, do you want me to touch you baby?” he questioned, you watched him moved back down, eyes still locked on yours, you hummed a yes and his smirk grew bigger.

He stuck out his tongue, it met with your clit, applying a second of pressure before moving down and letting it slowly enter your slit, then moving his tongue up and down. The sensation making a whimper escape your mouth. He lapped at your wetness, only teasing you.

Then he applied pressure to your clit again, this time sucking, erupting your stomach with a hollow feeling. He pulled back watching as his finger entered you. He pumped a few times watching you writhe for more. He added a second, and placed his mouth back on your clit, sucking a flicking. He pumped his fingers quickly bringing you to the edge. Your hand gripped his hair pulling as he made your stomach turn to knots.

“Don’t cum yet,” he said, his breath cold against your warm and throbbing pussy. You whined in protest, his fingers pumping fast, he stopped as your body began to tense.

You whined one again in protest, “Topper,” he pulled back watching your eyes close in disappointment. “Don’t tease me next time,” his hands were kneading your thighs, making you grind towards him.

“Please Top, please,” your puppy dog eyes meeting his. It was hard to say no to his princess. He gave in, quickly inserting three fingers into your pink pussy all at once. He slowly moved up your body to your breasts, taking one again in his mouth, he sucked and kissed all while pumping his fingers in and out.

You moved one hand down to your clit, rubbing small fast circles, trying to bring more release. Topper began to pump harder, he had found your g-spot. The pressure built in your stomach, the circles around your clit became sloppy. Topper closed his teeth around your nipple, sending you over the edge.

You moaned out, Topper released your nipple and moved back to watch your face. He looked down to see your hand and his so close, it angered him. He slapped your hand away.

“Naughty little whore can’t wait,” he sucked the juices off your fingers. You grinned as he grabbed a package out of the console, he opened it and then rolled the condom down his shaft. He hovered over you once again. He rested his head into the crook of your neck, his head angled down to watch as he lined himself up to your entrance.

He slowly pushed in, your hands gripping for anything they could, one squeezing the door handle and the other the headrest behind you. His hands gripped your sides, squeezing. He pulled back and entered again. You felt his length fill you, you bit at his shoulder. His pace stayed slow and steady, teasing you.

“Please Top, faster,” you whispered, your hot breath creeping around his ear. His pace didn’t increase, it became even slower. “To-” he jerked his head up and a hand to hold your throat, “Whose in charge,” he asked, squeezing to restrict your airways slightly.

“You are,” you said hoping it would increase his speed, “Now please Topper, please,” you begged through a choked voice. His hand removed itself and made its way down to your clit, his thumb pressing harshly on it, making you jolt.

“Good girl, don’t cum until I say so,” you hummed in response. He sped up, roughly, ramming into you. Your body moved every time, his thumb rubbed slow agonizing circles.

The knot in your stomach began to form again, you whined and moan under his body. His thumb sped up now, his thrusts going deeper.

“C-can I cum?” you questioned, so close it was hard to speak. “No,” he said, his thrust became rougher, if that was possible. You felt your legs begin to tense and shake, you couldn’t hold it much longer.

Topper threw his head bad, you felt him twitch inside you, he let out a loud moan. The look of pure euphoria almost made you release.

“Cum! Right now,” he yelled, his thumb moving as fast as it could. The feeling of pure electricity took over your body, your legs shaking, you let out a scream of excitement. His thumb kept moving as his dick held still inside you.

“Top,” you whined, in between moans. He kept moving his thumb, making your body to jolt frequently. You tried to move back, but the seat was in your way. He smirked as he kept going, whimpers escaping your mouth. It was bringing you to a third orgasm, and quickly.

Your stomached clenched and knotted again and finally you released.

“F-fuccck,” you screamed reaching down grabbing for his hand to stop. To your pleasure it did.

He chuckled, “You’re so pretty when you cum princess,” he said, he pulled his dick out slowly, the sensation making you clench again. He pulled up his boxers and slumped back into his seat. He looked over to you tiredly.

“It’s still raining,” he said, you giggled, “Duh silly, it’ll probably rain all week,” you said, he smiled at you and you smiled back. You move your chair back to its original place, reaching down for your clothes. You slowly and tiredly dressed, Topper, doing the same.

“We should probably head back soon,” he said starting the car, it was nearly dinner time.

“My place? My dad’s making steaks,” Topper said, his hand landing on yours rubbing. You nodded laying your head back. Topper climbed over the backseat to reach his shirt, “Ah fuck the wine spilled,” you turned to look, “maybe we should go to the carwash place first, at least get the smell out,” he sat back in the front seat.

“Whatever you need to do,” Luckily the seats were black, the wine did nothing but make the dark color richer. He put the car in reverse and pulled away from the lookout.

The carwash place was nearly empty, one worker sat dozing off in the front office, “Hey man can you just give the seats a quick clean?” Topper asked, inserting the credit card into the reader. You both went to take a seat, Topper’s hair was mostly dry, yours was still sopping wet. He held your hand as the both of you sat waiting, he leaned into a whisper.

" You look so pretty when you cum,” his hot breath against your ear, “I hope I can make it happen again.”

The door to the garage swung open and Topper pulled back quickly, “It’s all done,” said the guy walking in and throwing the keys back to Topper, “Hey thanks man,” he caught the keys pulled you to your feet. You felt frazzled by his comments.

He opened your door for you and then proceed to walk around and hop in. His hand found its way to your thigh again, higher up, almost touching your heat.

“Naughty girl, ready for me again!” he questioned, he could feel the warmth and heartbeat that your cunt was giving off.

“I can’t wait till after dinner,” he said squeezing your thigh harshly.

------------------------ This is my first smut, hopefully not cringey. Lowkey felt award writing it and I really hope my friends don’t somehow find this…. I would die of embarrassment! Anyways hope you enjoy!!

Okay question? Why does Topper stuff never do well? Makes me so sad, Topper deserves so much better haha

Here is my masterlist <3

#topper imagine #topper outer banks #topper x reader #topper x y/n #topper x you #topper thorton imagine #topper thornton #topper obx #topper smut #topper thronton smut #outer banks imagine #outer banks #obx imagine #obx #smut #outer banks smut

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repmvbxxx · 2 years

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Tell Me Why

Anyone familiar with the Tell Me Why game will recognize this spacious home owned by Sheriff Eddy Brown. The house has been carried over from the game to The Sims 4 with minor changes to the landscape, added decor, and a remodeled basement and garage.

36 Delos Crossing

World – Brindleton Bay

Original lot’s name - Tail’s End

Value §231,699

Lot size 40x30

DOWNLOAD tray files (free)

Don’t forget bb.moveobjects on cheat when you place it

Also you can find excel file with all CC (creator, pack’s name and URL) wich I used in game. If you using my builds please tag me ♡

@awingedllama @charlypancakes @harrie-cc @felixandresims @littledica @myshunosun @pierisim @ravasheencc

• Description •

The private house is fenced with bushes, trees and ponds. On the lawn there is a table and a basketball basket for active joint recreation, and garlands on a tree and fireflies create a fabulous atmosphere at night. On the main floor there is a kitchen, a living room and a small sitting area where you can listen to vinyl records or the crackle of burning wood in a fireplace. From here you have a beautiful view of the pond and the bay at Brindleton Bay.

Also here is the bedroom of the owner - Sheriff Eddy Brown. A work desk, old folders and a cork board are an integral part of this room.

On the second floor there is a recreation area, from the windows of which a beautiful view of the pier and yachts opens.

There are also two bedrooms with separate bathrooms. They can be suitable for middle-aged children and teenagers, as well as for neighbors.

Each bathroom is equipped with a washing machine, which should make cleaning easier if there are tenants living in the house.

In the garage, everything is equipped for joint outdoor activities and creative activities. There is an art workshop, an impromptu stage for performances with a guitar, a small TV with a comfortable sofa, a bar counter, a ping-pong table, a punching bag and a carpenter's table. Also, the caring sheriff did not forget to put a microwave and a mini-fridge with snacks and cool drinks.

The garage has everything you need for a happy life in the country - a rack with food, car repair tools and your own warehouse of unnecessary things that are so sorry to throw away.

#ts4 build #sims 4 #my screenshots #my edit #ts4 cc #download

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steviebunny · 3 years

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Till' The End of Time

Chapter 2

Stark's Home

Los Angeles, 2011

Lenora's feet grounded, arms pulled up to protect her chest, Nat's shoes now kicked off, hair pulled up, and arms at the ready. The two women shuffle both looking for a moment to attack, all in good-natured fun of course.

Lottie saw an opening and took a chance, and swung. But Natalie saw it coming, grabbing her wrist and kicking up to wrap her leg around her attacker’s neck and pulling towards herself to pin Lottie to the ground. She straddles her, the ginger baby hairs frame her face now inches above her soulmate's-

"Now that's beautiful, really Precious. Now if you could both just stay there so I could get a picture."

"Tony."

"What- I'll just send it to Rhodey." There was no use in arguing, if Tony hadn't pulled his phone out he'd have just pulled the footage from J.A.R.V.I.S anyway.

"Sorry he's like this, I swear you'll get used to it," Natalie smirks, sitting back on her knees still over Lenora's hips. "I'm sure."

"Is it okay if I google you, you don't mind if I google you right?"

Lottie escorts the spy to a guest bedroom not too far from their own, it’s got a beautiful view and a built-in ensuite bathroom. As well as a walk-in closet across from the bed.

"So if you're planning on staying the night this will be your room, not just tonight- any other night you wish to as well if you don't feel safe going home after dark. I know how into work Pepper can get sometimes she forgets how the day can fly by. Our bedroom is just across the hall and to the right, and Pepper's is the next hall over, Happy is just two doors down from her. There's a small kitchen nook in your room as well, but if you want more space just walk down the corridor and take a left through the archway."

Nat nods along, mentally processing all the directions. She kicks off her shoes by the door and runs her fingers across the wine rack along the wall. She grabs a set of glasses- holds them up and shakes them. A silent invitation to join which her soulmate swiftly declines.

"So umm, Tony's gone with Happy to pick Rhodey up from the airport so they'll be home in a bit, if you have any questions you can ask JARVIS, he's essentially the house’s automatic security system. Pepper will probably brief you on that in her office tomorrow... If you need a set of slippers you can also just ask JARVIS, he'll have them ordered and brought to you within a few hours, anything really- don't worry about charge Tony wants you to know as long as you're here you can have anything you want to make you comfortable."

Lenora stares through the large glass window while talking, she can hear the pop of a cork and the pouring of a drink into the glass. "The window. It's tinted on the outside, we have security measures in effect to stop people from coming too close to the home but if they somehow managed to they still couldn't be able to look inside."

"Thank you for all of this, the impression I had of Stark is not at all what you make him out to be."

Nat sits across from Lottie, kicking her legs up and across in front of her stretching out comfortably.

"Oh yeah, a long time ago we all realized it would be easier to feed into the press's narrative of us, it made things easier now? Rather than the constant fighting."

"I can only imagine."

"So do you have any questions, I'd be happy to answer anything that's on your mind."

"I actually do have a few if you're comfortable."

"Completely. Ask away."

"There are these robots that run around the house, I've bumped into them on a few occasions today- what are they exactly?"

"Okay well, there's three of them, Dum-e, Butterfingers, and U. They're, we joke and call them our children, They wander around the house helping when they can. Mostly they just follow each other or others around."

"So you guys made them?"

"Not exactly, I have always loved robots and the idea of sentient ones was always something we hypothesized about together, but Tony is the one who conceptualized them, and Rhodey helped with the electrical wiring of their mechanics. They're really the boy's father's, I just take care of them, grease their joints make sure they're comforted when Tony makes fun of them, that sort of thing."

Nat nods seemingly accepting the response, her eyes running over the other woman yet again. She can't help but let them linger upon the collar, of course, she knows as much as Maria informed her but seeing as she wasn't told she'd be meeting her soulmates today, she'd rather hear it straight from the source, eliminate all the other variables. "The paparazzi photos that have been released. They call that a dog collar, 'an exposition of Tony Stark's kinks' but I'm assuming that's not the full story."

"No, it's not... It's not a sexual thing at all, honestly, I'd prefer that over this...I'm a mutant. Born. I was given an ultimatum either I... Partner with this agency S.H.I.E.L.D. And I wear the collar, the remote is government property. This doesn't come off of me until they want it too."

"Isn't that painful?" She questions a rare degree of sadness and concern that can be heard through her compared exterior.

"Like- 'Lottie's voice cracks, and she takes in a deep breath' Like you wouldn't believe. When a mutant can't have access to what their mutation is, it just swirls inside and can't get out... It radiates everywhere. You can't not feel it, some days it's not as bad, some days the pain meds help. Some days not at all, I'm lucky to have Rhodes and Tony support me through it- there are days where I can't get up and eat or use the bathroom... I'm just stuck and moving. Even thinking hurts. Then there are other days where I can move around, and even train- like today 'she brings her hand to her neck, swallowing a bit before continuing. Everything just feels heavy all the time, my insides, my outsides, it's like I'm constantly putting effort into every little thing that should come naturally."

"I- Wow..." Nat truly has no words, no clue how to respond. She had no idea that it was like this, the few girls back at the Red room who were mutants were manipulated into using their powers for their organization, their pain was caused by other reasons but never their abilities. She remembers back to when she was little there was a girl, she was older and would put on these demonstrations, she could make plants move. Every night she'd grow flowers through the cracks in the floor. Sometimes she held the others braid them into their hair.

She didn't make it out.

The memory made Natasha shudder.

"Sorry I shouldn't have unloaded all that on you we just met. I have a problem with that- I overshare, sometimes I can't tell where to stop."

"No, no. It's okay. I asked, I wanted to know. It's horrible that you have to live like that, it's not fair. You deserve better. Really."

JARVIS's voice rings in through the room. "Mr. Hogan and the others are approaching the gates."

"That's our cue, Ms.Rushman, thanks for indulging me with your company."

"Anytime."

"Honey, I'm home!"

"We're coming!"

"Not without us you aren't!"

"Tony!"

The girls walk into the Foyer, holding hands, Rhodey pulls his wife into his arms squeezing tight, "I missed you." She pushes her face into his shoulder "missed you too."

"Platypus, look at what we found," Tony says motioning to the redhead. "Isn't she pretty?"

"She's gorgeous Tones. It's wonderful to meet you...." He smiles at her, letting Lenora go- moving to shake the woman's hand. She accepts shaking his hand in return "Rushman, Natalie Rushman."

"It's nice to meet you, Natalie."

The four soulmates talked and laughed, into the dark hours of the morning. Bonding over shared interests, stories, and anecdotes. Eventually, the humans of the house wound down, the bots nestled into their individual lab spaces. JARVIS's silently over-seeing the home.

Lenora's head is happily resting in James's lap as he runs his fingers through her hair, Nat lays similarly, her back resting against the arm of the couch. Her legs folded underneath her, Tony sits beside the redhead his arm outstretched along the back of the couch his fingers brushing against Natalie's arm. Loving but not pressuring, a comfort in physical touch. Knowing each of them is there for each other.

"Well... As fun as this has been, we should all probably get some sleep. Because last time I checked, Tony you have to be in Monaco tomorrow morning. And since it's about two something now we have a steady 3 hours of sleep awaiting us before we've gotta get on the jet."

"Curse you and your never-ending responsibility, babygirl." Tony sighs, as he gets up sending a look to the woman who has been leaning next to him "I'm sure Lottie's shown you your room by now, but ours is just across the hall, our bed is big. The door will be open to you whenever."

She nods, "Thank you but I'm going to look over the files Ms.Potts sent me first."

"Of course, should be surprised, the workaholic, hires another workaholic."

"Like, you're one to talk."

"Shut it, Sugar Bear."

It was an hour later after skincare was done, sweaty bodies showered clean and dry, settled in the firm bed, on top of silky sheets, when the sound of the door opening could be narrowly heard through a sleepy daze.

The feeling of a 5'3 woman crawling into bed to be greeted by the warmth of her mates, and burrowed herself in with them.

Everything felt right.

How it was meant to be.

For now.

Masterlist

Chapter 3

@americasass81 @nsfwsebbie @niffala

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heliosthegriffin · 4 years

Text

He’s channeling his energy productively.

Jaune walked down the halls of Beacon backed to his dorm, it had been a long day so far, not a hard day though, just one of those days that kept going and seemed like they wouldn’t end. Making it back to his room would at least let him spend the rest of day how’d like.

The sounds of laughter followed a group of older girls walked pasted him. It was outside of class time so the students could wear whatever they wanted. They wore clothes that were made to go clubbing.

Jaune’s eyes had a life of their own as they stared at the girls walking past, you’d think having seven sisters would make him more respectful wouldn’t you? But, having a lesbian older sister, and a couple others that were bi, all they did was teach him how to peak without getting caught.

That said he’d doubt his friends would call him out for staring, considering some of the girls here had assets that would give Yang pause.

They didn’t notice him pausing and walked by, a fragrant fruity perfume left behind. Jaune couldn’t help but look behind him, watching those girls go, a sway in their step that cause something in Jaune to rise up.

“Dammit,” Jaune cursed as his pants tightened up.

Jaune look around before he adjusted his pants, so that his zipper wouldn’t fly off by accident again, and tucking his erection down his pant leg so that it’d be less noticeable.

Jaune felt frustration well up in him, this had become a reoccurring problem since he started Beacon. The girls here were just too damn hot! It made walking anywhere a damn hassle and a embarrassment, and he had no way to release any of his damn tension in his dorm, Nora had broken the locks to the bathroom and the door; That had probably been the closest he had ever come to killing somebody.

Letting out an other sigh he resigned himself to shuffling back to the dorm as the blood went flowing elsewhere. He should just thank his lucky stars that he’d never popped a boner anywhere near Ruby, Yang would have found out somehow, probably Nora, and then killed him.

Right as he got close to the dorms, Jaune’s blood-flow was back to normal, but he still felt tense and incredibly worked up.

The sound of weights being lifted, treadmills running, and other exercise equipment sounded from nearby.

The gym was only a short walk away from the dorms. Jaune paused for a moment, Nora and Yang always seemed to go to the gym when they go worked up, maybe he should try it, it’s not like he didn’t go often anyway, so what would it hurt to work out so stress?

---------

Jaune stared at the scroll in his hands, ‘10:03′ where did the time go? He went in at ‘4:26′, went to the weight rack, and then everything seemed to go into a blur, and then the next thing he remembered was a upperclassman telling him the gym was closing in soon.

“Guess, I had more stress to work out than I thought I did.” Jaune said to himself walking to the gym showers, suddenly starting to feel exhausted and wanting to jump into bed at the closest opportunity.

-----------

The next morning was agonizing, his arms felt like they were made of pure, while on fire and being pulled apart! Maybe he went too hard last night.

He was also feeling cavernously hungry. No wonder Nora has an appetite like a black-hole.

------

Jaune’s problem came back in full force during lunch when Yang leaned too far back and the top couple buttons of her shirt decided they wanted a life in the air force.

Leaving Jaune with a delicious view of her cleavage.

Yang looked at her shirt, “Shoot, I actually liked this one.” She then resumed eating.

A hand caressing his leg, brought him out of his vision. “Are you alright, Jaune?” Pyrrha’s warm, gentle voice whispered into his ear

A mildly blush went up his face. “Yeah, just, uh, taking in the view.”

“Oh, ok then, but if your not feeling well, I can take you back to the room.”

“I’m good.” Jaune said a little too fast, as his mind started to fill in the blanks of what his monkey brain wanted to do to Pyrrha.

Pyrrha nodded.

Jaune felt thankful that Yang or Nora hadn’t found a chance to tease him about being alone with Pyrrha.

Lunch came and went, and Jaune made sure he was the last to get up, so that his problem wouldn’t be seen. He couldn’t exactly fiddle with himself under the table without drawing attention. So with all the swiftness he had, he tucked himself into his pant-leg while getting up.

In hindsight, maybe walking behind his developed female friends, and especially Blake, was a bad idea. His other head disagreed with him.

The rest of the day went by in a blur, combat class was a mess, but mostly cause he can’t being drawn to his friend outfits, they showed so much leg.

He went back to the gym again after class, he went to the treadmill and leg exercise machine. The upperclassman had to tell him to leave again.

-------

The rest of the week seemed to follow a similar pattern for Jaune, he’d wake up sore, but a little less so each day, go to class, end up aroused, then pent up, then go to the gym when he had the free time, and only when he had free time, going into those workout trances made him lose anytime for studying, hanging out, or training.

Training with Pyrrha was probably the hardest part of his week, literally and metaphorical, because while he loved Pyrrha like a sister, his body constantly reminded him that they were not siblings! It always made him feel disgusted when ever he looked at Pyrrha that way. No way Pyrrha ever looked at him that way.

After training with Pyrrha though, he still had two hours before the gym closed, and he was pent up again.

The upperclassman had told him to get an alarm or something, cause he wouldn’t always be there to tell him to leave.

-------------

Hanging out with team RWBY was always a... Experience, they were fun, don’t get him wrong, but it was like chaos in a bottle. The bottle was also cracked, and there was no cork either.

Today he and the rest of his team came over to hangout, and Ruby insisted they play twister.

Jaune was forming a bridge with his arms bending backwards to stay on there spot, while Ruby was draped across him with one leg over his shoulder and the other over his arm, with her front laying across his stomach, and her arms going in between and around his legs. While Nora lay under him her chest pressing into his back. It was also a really small mat.

Everybody else had dropped out, or refused to play, while Blake controlled the game, and Yang video taped everything.

Then Nora sneezed into his neck. That was the straw that broke the camels back. Sneeze both tickled his neck and scared the life out of Jaune, as he somehow managed to jump a foot into the air from his position, carrying Ruby with him. They landed on Nora with a thud.

Jaune’s position with Nora’s chest on his back and Ruby’s legs on his chest, really wasn’t going to help with his tension, as his lower-body decided to achieve liftoff.

That said he had managed to get a grip on himself lately,. So Jaune calmly got off Nora, and picked up Ruby, putting her next to Nora. All while hiding his full mast, then went to the gym again.

“You think he’s alright?” Ruby asked innocently.

“Probably just rubbing one out.” Nora said full of confidence. “These sweater puppy's of mine are of a quality most women can only dream of, yet here I sit, my majesty a reality, I don’t blame Jaune at all.”

------------

Jaune was watching with wrapt attention as Ms. Goodwitch strode across the arena pointing out several flaws in recorded fights she had on holographic videos. Tapping them with her wand to enhance the smaller images at time.

RIIIP

Her blouse broke, showing off globes of creamy white flesh barely being contained by a purple bra.

Ms. Goodwitch paused, a light blush on her face. “Well, Students this should teach us to be prepared for anything.”

Jaune then got up, walking out the door.

“Mr. Arc, where do you think your going?” His teacher asked severely, as several laughs broke out of the room, many people pointing at him.

“To the gym. I don’t think I’m going to be able to focus much today.” “Very well, any others who wished to join him?”

The gym was very packed that day.

------

Jaune enjoyed hanging out with Pyrrha, she was probably the best friend he ever had. He just wished she would stop having to bend over so often in front of him, or walking in front of him when she did that he couldn’t help but focus on her swaying hips.

Jaune sighed as he felt a rise tower start to erect. “I’m going to the gym be back later.”

Pyrrha merely looked bewildered. She though she had him for sure this time!

----

The transfer students were interesting people, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of them. They came from all walks of life, all paths, all creeds and kingdoms. From the strictly dressed military like Atlas Academy, to the survival of the fittest types and loosely dressed Shade Academy, or the storied and traditional style of Mistral. They were all interesting, diverse, strong and incredible sexy.

Ever since he ran into that black haired girl and her green haired partner, he somehow kept managing to find them in the most compromising or revealing positions possible.

So, Jaune started hitting the gym harder than ever.

--------------

1 Year later....

----

With a slight shaking arms Jaune pushed the loaded bar back up, exhaling. Then he took a slow, deep inhale as he lowered it down to his chest, then exhaled rising it up again. Inhale, exhale, till he finished his rep.

He rose up from the bench with a grate moan, feeling the warm soreness across his body. It hurt, but in a good way. In a way he couldn’t have appreciated a year ago.

Grabbing his towel he wiped the sweat off his face, and then cleaned off the bench. Treat the gym right, and it’ll treat you right back.

Jaune paused as he walked toward the shower, he had gotten into a habit of showering here so he didn’t have to make his teammate's rush to clean up, there was wall of mirror he looked himself over finding nothing of note, beside himself sweaty and his hair kinda sticky looking.

The water was cold, but high pressured, helping unwind any knots on his back and wash off grime better. He had started taking cold showers more frequently as in the field your rarely got to wash off in general, and if you did, it’s not likely you’ll get hot water, so it he thought it was probably best to get into the habit now.

Working out felt good, taking a shower afterword was just perfect. The only thing that would make it better was wearing his onesie, he had a right to comfort! But, it had gone mysteriously missing after he met Coco on his walk back from the gym half a year ago. So, for now he was stuck wearing white tank-top, and a pair of cotton shorts back to the dorm.

He waved by to the upperclassman about to close the gym, and left for his dorm. He may not have started going to the gym for the right reason, but over the course of a year, he felt like he had grown from then. In fact... what was the reason he started going to the gym? Something about women? Eh, must have been nothing. Ever since he started taking his training double seriously during the Vytal festival, it was like he just didn’t feel dating anybody till he around to being a huntsman, like that there was more to life than dating or stuff.

Jaune ran a hand through his hair, he had started growing it out at the beginning of the second year and now Pyrrha and everybody else vetoed him getting a hair cut!

“Hahah, jokes on them though, they have to brush the knots out of my hair!”

Walking back to his dorm a fruity perfume pasted his nose, a vaguely familar laughter along with it. Then a slightly familar group of girls were walking in the opposite direction as him. They looked like they came back from a night on the town. He liked the way they dressed, it complimented themselves very well.

As he walked pasted them they paused and stared at him, Jaune paused too, but shrugged, giving them a broad smile and a wave before walking back to his dorm.

Jaune failed to miss the women eyeing fucking him as he walked away, all of them red face and heavy breathing.

“Hmm, why do I feel like I’m in danger?”

----------

Jaune wasn’t sure when, but he had grown into a morning person. It was fun to get up in the morning now, he liked watching the sun rise, seeing the sky change colors on his morning runs.

Being team leader meant having responsibilities, so being a early riser now meant getting up his team, they were going to be third-years in a not small amount of time. So he made sure that they got up at a reasonable time to prepare for the day. Along with the fact on mission they would have to get up before the sun rise on most days.

Also, he especially liked to watch his teammates get up, it was entertaining in different ways from Nora crashing out of bed, to Ren rising from a blanket cocoon, and Pyrrha’s silly little death threats to any man stealing bitches out there.

He tended to wake them up with a gentle approach putting hand on there shoulders and carefully shaking them awake. He had forgotten how strong he was a couple of months ago when he sent Nora flying into a wall by accident, so had tried to be gentle.

The rest of Team Jnpr had learned a couple months ago that they no longer had a choice in waking up early, the only choice was before the sun was up or after.

Jaune put on his uniform for class, he frowned a little bit, as it was tighter than it was yesterday. Maybe it’s new? Guess it needs to be broken in.

Team RWBY met them at breakfast, Ruby refused to let her other bestie get ahead in the leader game by letting just JNPR get up early! Jaune didn’t notice but he often got murderous glances from Blake.

Eating breakfast Jaune felt a crick in his back so he leaned back.

Pop-pop-pop-pop, RIIIIP!

His buttons on his shirt fired off like a machine gun shattering against the walls of the cafeteria, and then his shirt fell to pieces, revealing his sculpted torso, arms and abs.

“Ahh man, I liked that shirt.” Then continued eating, not aware of the stares his friends, other students, and Ms. Goodwitch were giving his body, eyeing him up as much or more than he used to do to them.

AN: If this Jaune was ever put into a situation where couldn’t exercise for like a week, his libido would come back with vengeance and make him a unstoppable sex monster. That said, what are the odds of that happening?

#Jaune Arc #Not quite crack #Slight Himboification #Team JNPR #Team RWBY #Glynda Goodwitch

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gutsygay · 4 years

Text

Stuffing Story: “Daniel Gets His Fill”

Hieee 👋presenting my first kink fiction story, just a couple college guys getting stuffed.

Features stuffing, overeating, tummy rumbles, burps, and tummy rubs.

SOOOO um hope y’all like it 👉👈🥺

“

“And that about wraps it up for today! Don’t forget chapter four homework due Monday.” the professor said, dismissing the class.

Daniel grinned, hopped from his seat and headed toward the lecture hall door. He was an active type, and hated to sit still for long periods. As he waited for the crowd of his classmates to shuffle through the door ahead of him, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the nearby glass bookcase. He was average height, with tan skin, broad shoulders and large thighs. He was muscular and lean, save for a bit of a belly protruding from the very bottom of his abdomen, which he could never quite seem to work off, or even to tuck away completely when he wanted to hide his pudge.

Daniel didn’t care though. His main passions were eating, and working it off with strenuous exercise. His energy seemed boundless, but none more than his appetite was bottomless. At the time he wanted nothing more than a full rack of ribs and some buffalo wings. But at the same time he already had energy to expend as well. He wavered about how he’d spend the afternoon when his friend Nick called to him from across the hall, settling his silent debate.

“Yo Danny! We hitting the gym or what?” Nick said with a toothy grin.

“Sure, bro.” Daniel replied. “Leg day today, right?”

“Think so.”

“Sweet. I’ll meet you downstairs in five.” Daniel said, and headed to his car.

He grabbed his athletic clothes. He smiled to himself in anticipation of the coming activity. Soon they’d squat, lunge, press and strain their legs until they were nearly too sore to walk. He turned his thigh to the mirror he’d mounted on the inside of his locker door. His quads were already looking huge - they were getting that chiseled teardrop shape as well. As he lifted his shirt for a better view, he felt a sudden rumbling from down below. It had been nearly four hours since lunch - which was never enough for Daniel in the first place - and he was filled with nearly child-like excitement for what was to come. He thought of his favorite part of lifting - gorging himself afterward. Such a strenuous, calorie-intensive session as leg day meant he could pack it in with no shame.

He arrived at the basement gym, which was open to all resident students, but was surprisingly empty at the time. Nick was already at the squat rack - he had already set them up with a soul-crushing 315 pound squat rack.

“Alright then.” Daniel said, pumped. “Let’s hit it.”

And so they did. They grunted their way through 5 sets of squats, followed by lunges and leg presses. Then Daniel did some calf raises in the squat rack, his belly jiggling every time he descended. Some of it slipped out from under his shirt occasionally, and glistened with sweat. Daniel just rolled his eyes and tucked it back in.

When they finished, Nick lifted his shirt to wipe his sweat, exposing his ab muscles. Nick looked at Daniel’s partially exposed abdominal region and smirked. “You can never seem to lose that chubby little gut, can you?” he said, poking Daniel’s flab, which was still beaded with sweat. “Nah, don’t have the willpower I guess. But I don’t care. Let’s go eat.” Daniel said.

“Sure, maybe just a salad, Danny? If you - “

Nick was cut off by a deep audible growl from Daniel’s belly. Daniel squeezed it with both hands and looked up at Nick.

“Uh, okay bro, how does Wendy’s sound?” Nick said, silenced by Daniel’s rumblings.

“I’m not feeling it. Let’s hit that new buffet instead.” Daniel said, already headed for the door. Nick followed, knowing his friend was now less of a freshman undergrad and more of a beast in search of prey.

They showered down, got back into school clothes and jumped into Daniel’s car. Daniel usually offered Nick a ride back to his apartment whenever he needed it after their afternoon lifting sessions. They headed a few blocks away from the main campus building, towards a new all-you-can-eat buffet. Daniel’s hungry stomach continued to growl louder, but he simply turned up the car stereo to drown it out.

After what seemed like an eternity, Daniel and Nick pulled into the buffet. They walked in and the greeter happily showed them a booth, but the restaurant owner behind her pursed his lips upon seeing Daniel and Nick, visibly ravenous. They had already twice visited the fairly-new establishment. This kid’s gonna drive me out of business, he thought to himself. That orifice must eat his weight in food once a week.

They claimed their booth seats, and beelined to the buffet area. Daniel grabbed a plate and loaded it with buffalo wings (honey barbecue AND blue cheese), meat loaf, a bacon cheeseburger, quesadillas and a pepperoni calzone. The plate must’ve weighed nearly a pound, and Daniel was practically drooling on the way back to the table.

“Jeez, got enough there, bro?” Nick asked as they sat down, but Daniel was already stuffing his face.

“Nnnf, mm!” Daniel forced a reply.

“Never, huh?” Nick asked.

He watched as Daniel tore into the bacon cheeseburger, engulfing nearly a third of it in one bite. In well under a minute he’d downed the whole thing. Daniel grinned wordlessly at Nick while chewing the last bite, and quickly swallowed before promptly moving on to the meat loaf, followed by the chicken wings.

Jeez, does he ever slow down to breathe? Nick thought to himself. And I feel like he’s just getting started. Nick ate a few bites of his ham slices, and mac and cheese on the side. When he looked back up, Daniel’s buffalo wings had been reduced to six picked-clean bones piled up on the plate, being drenched with grease dripping from Daniel’s calzone. Nick watched as Daniel’s eyes rolled back slightly and closed with pleasure every time he swallowed. He’s enjoying it. It’s like sex on a plate to him! he thought.

Daniel finished the 3 quesadilla slices, and pressed a napkin to his mouth. And then he burped. He tried to quiet it, but his hand and the napkin did little to muffle the rumbling gas that burbled up and out of him. It lasted nearly 5 seconds in all, and Nick could even feel the vibration through the table.

“You good, dude?” Nick asked.

“Uh, ‘scuse me, heh heh.” Daniel wiped his mouth and rolled his eyes, trying and failing to play off his prior eruption.

“Damn dude, you really put that shit away.” Nick gestured to the now empty plate before him.

“What can I say? I’m hungry as fuck.”

“You mean you were hungry as fuck.”

“I dunno man, that belch freed up some room.” Daniel said, patting his stomach. His belly had always been a little large, or at least proportionally big compared to the rest of his body, but now it was visibly distended. More? How could he possibly still be hungry? Nick wondered, and watched as he purposefully strolled back to the buffet line. He had just packed away more than 3000 calories as if it were nothing. Nick couldn’t help but feel intimidated, yet drawn to Daniel’s ability to consume like some kind of alpha male.

By the end of it, Daniel had downed a second plate. And a third. And a shish-kabob. And not one, but two bowls of ice cream for dessert.

Daniel polished off the second bowl, and released another burp, not even trying to muzzle it this time. Nick sat in awe. He himself had managed two plates and a scoop of ice cream, but his dishes were nowhere near as heavily packed as Daniel’s.

“Oof, I think I’m about ready to put a cork in it, bro.” Daniel said, fiddling with his pants belt.

He stood up, revealing his overstuffed abdomen. In the past hour it had taken them to eat, it had grown from a miniscule, doughy bump to a basketball-sized food baby. They headed out to the parking lot, and Daniel lifted his shirt to give his belly a little massage. Nick couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“So that’s where you put it all.” Nick said, blank-faced, and finding himself weirdly intrigued by this bodily transformation.

Daniel turned to face Nick. He burped again, managing to muffle it into a low hiss this time, and replied, “I’m not a bottomless pit after all, haha. It’s gotta go somewhere, y’know.” He looked down at Nick, grinning, and gently patted the underside of his bloat to make it jiggle.

“Uh, yeah, heh heh.” Nick replied, watching his friend’s flab bounce.

“Hey, you want to come over and hang for a while? That anime you like came out on Netflix.” Daniel offered.

“Yeah, sure! I’d love to let it hang out with you. Er, hang out with you.” Nick said. An unexplainable chill ran through him.

They hopped back in Daniel’s car and headed off to his apartment. Nick kept glancing over toward Daniel, still in disbelief at the size of his stomach. In the intermittent illumination from passing streetlamps, he saw it bulging and spilling out in between the seat belt straps. He also saw the physique of the rest of Daniel’s body - his arms and chest were defined, and his quads were still bulging from the prior workout. His left arm was fully extended, lazily gripping the top of the steering wheel, his other resting sandwiched between his thigh and his belly flab.

When they arrived at Daniel’s apartment, they went to his couch, turned on the TV, and waited for the streaming service to connect.

“Whoof!” Daniel exhaled, as he collapsed onto the couch. He reclined in the corner with the armrest and the back cushion, and extended one hand behind his head, the other poking his abdomen again. “Heh heh, maybe I overdid it.”

“Nahhh,” Nick said absentmindedly, staring at Daniel’s gut.

“Uh, don’t you think so?” Daniel grinned, raising an eyebrow.

Nick realized what he’d responded with, and simply blushed.

“Yo, I’m about to burst, jeez.” Daniel lifted his shirt further and fumbled with his belt. “I gotta undo this, I’m dying. You’re cool with that, right?” Daniel said, popping his belt buckle open.

Nick paused, still staring, and said, “D-Do what you gotta do, man.”

Daniel’s exposed belly shone in the soft light of the television. He gripped the button of his jeans, pulled with a grunt, “Unnnh!” and popped open the waist of his pants, sinking backward into the cushions as he did so, as if overcome with relief. He pulled down his zipper, and the lower part of his abdomen spilled out, and rested upon his thighs ever so slightly. Then he lifted his belly to grab the waistband of his underwear, and tuck it downward, so that his gut now hung out completely, unrestricted. His stomach gurgled audibly. Daniel put a hand on his chest and belched loudly. Good lord, he has no shame about this at all, he’s just sprawled out, digesting and not giving a fuck. Nick thought. He’d never experienced anything quite like this before.

“Damn, ‘scuse me, heh heh. Sorry about that.” Daniel said, his abdomen continuing to rumble periodically.

“Don’t be.” Nick said quickly, unsure of why he had received such a feeling of satisfaction from someone else’s burp.

Just then, the streaming service loaded, and Daniel leaned forward to pick up the TV remote, and let out a slight groan, the sides of his belly folding into rolls as he did so. Daniel gripped the remote with both hands and said, “This dumb thing doesn’t work right, I need to get it fixed. The show won’t play unless you hold the On-Demand and Play buttons at the same time, for the first few minutes.”

Daniel reclined again and held the two buttons, extending both hands toward the TV, further exposing his belly in his lap. The theme song of the aging anime started on the screen. The catchy, angelic tune emanated from the TV, but wasn’t enough to muffle further rumbling from Daniel’s stomach.

Daniel looked down at it between his arms. “Ugh, it’s sitting in me like a rock. I really gotta burp again.”

Nick was fixated on Daniel, not paying a moment of attention to the anime on the TV. “H-heh, bet you could use a belly rub right now.”

“Ugh, you know it, bro.” Daniel replied.

Nick paused for a long while, staring at Daniel’s plump gut, resting in his lap. “You know… I guess, maybe, if you wanted to, I could rub your belly for you.”

Daniel looked over at Nick, and let out a soft chuckle.

Nick stuttered, nervous he’d made things weird. “I-I mean, uh, since your hands are full, and like-”

“Sure, bro. Come on over.” Daniel said smiling.

“Uh, seriously? I mean, okay.” Nick said warily.

“Yeah man, what else are bros for? Also I’m dying over here, I’ve never been this bloated.” Daniel reassured him, as Nick slid toward his end of the couch. “If I could get a quick massage down there that would be great.” Daniel reclined, and turned his body toward Nick slightly.

Nick rubbed his hands together to warm them, and gazed upon Daniel’s rumbling, distended tummy. In the low light from the television, he could see that it had bulged from under his ribcage, giving the top an almost triangular shape, but became sublimely rounded closer to his navel, and at the underbelly, which spilled between the zipper of his jeans and onto his thighs. There was almost no hair on his tummy, save for a light sprinkling of peach fuzz surrounding his navel, and trailing downward towards his manhood. His belly button, which Nick had earlier seen to protrude slightly outward, had all but disappeared into the newly chubbier, squishy mass of belly.

Nick hesitated to take in the sight up close. “Y-you ready?” he looked up at Daniel.

“Go ahead, bro.” Daniel replied with a smile.

Gingerly, Nick placed a hand - starting with the fingertips - atop Daniel’s belly, and he could feel the warmth and softness of his exposed skin. He placed his other hand on it as well - the fingers wrapped around the side of his belly, while the thumb lightly gripped in Daniel’s sunken navel. He slowly pressed into the soft skin until it reached a point and became firmer, the bloat caused by all the food. Nick blushed and remembered that he was giving a massage, not just feeling his friend for pleasure.

Nick began to press more firmly and move his hands in a slow, rhythmic motion surrounding Daniel’s navel.

“Like this?”

“Almost.” Daniel replied, his eyes closing in bliss.

Nick continued, pressing firmer still, and re-orienting himself on the couch to press and knead from different angles. Nick could still feel Daniel’s stomach rumbling about, working away at the mass of food. Periodically Daniel would let out a small burp, and Nick could feel the vibrations starting deep within his friend’s body, and burbling up and out. Nick wondered what kind of relief he was bringing his friend, if Daniel’s tummy was faring any better due to the massages and release of gas.

“Move your right hand down a little.” Daniel instructed. Nick slid his hand down below the navel, closer to Daniel’s left leg.

“Unh, down more. And press.” Daniel said, sounding almost desperate.

Nick obeyed, his hand now brushing against the front of Daniel’s jeans, and the waist of his underwear. He pressed harder in this lower area, under the stomach, and felt something shift, as if he’d freed up some mass deep within Daniel’s swollen gut.

“Right there, that’s it -” Daniel started, before he was cut off by a sudden, intense rumble, followed by the loudest burp Nick had ever heard. Nick’s head was positioned right near the top of Daniel’s abdominal area, and he could hear the massive expulsion of gas, and feel the tummy deflating. The burp lasted nearly a full ten seconds, and Nick looked up at Daniel, chuckling.

“Man, you feel any better after that?” he asked.

Daniel hesitated to catch his breath, “Yes, oh my God, I needed that.” he said, groaning. Daniel set down the remote, as the show was playing properly now.

At this point Nick was in acceptance that he was aroused by all this, and continued softly massaging Daniel’s gut, which was finally settled, more or less. Nick prodded experimentally around Daniel’s belly button, curious if he could help his friend release additional pressure. Daniel rewarded his friend’s work with several more burps, each bringing him blissful relief as the pressure in his gut gradually decreased. Finally, Daniel’s stomach was settled, and Nick felt the mass beginning to move downward into the lower intestines.

“Thank you, bro. That felt amazing.” Daniel said, grinning as he looked down at Nick, whose hands were still feeling his belly.

“My pleasure!” Nick replied with a toothy grin. He realized that seeing his friend stuffed, and helping him through tummy trouble, made him feel a delight he’d never experienced before. He stayed still, save for his hands, waiting for Daniel to say he’d done enough. But it seemed to Nick that his friend was just letting him stay there, his hands on his tummy, for as long as he wanted.

Eventually Nick fell asleep, his head on Daniel’s lap, and he listened to the last remaining soft gurgles from deep within his friend’s tummy as he drifted off. Daniel soon found himself nodding off as well, in an irresistible food coma, his hand resting on Nick’s back. He fell asleep, happily dreaming of tomorrow’s breakfast.

“

And that’s that, hope y’all enjoyed 😅

#stuffing #overeating #gassy #gassy belly #tummy troubles #burp #tummy rub #tummy rumbles #gurgle #belly rubs #belch #gutsygay #original

114 notes · View notes

zmediaoutlet · 4 years

Text

in support of Texas relief, @merle-p donated $45, and requested Sam/Mick. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post.

(read on AO3)

This hotel really is a tip. Mick takes the keycard up with him—American quirk—and shakes his head at the identical thin carpets, the shoddy elevator, the spotting on the mirror, the bed with its awful polyester duvet. No, not a duvet—a thin bedspread, with a vile leaf-and-flowers pattern that wouldn't do for wallpaper of even the saddest pensioner. He leaves his bag on the cheap luggage rack and tosses his keycard onto the desk and looks at the bed, rubbing his hand over his mouth.

He orders dinner from what passes for room service. He doesn't know what the Winchesters are doing—probably dipping away to some diner, from the profile work Lady Bevell had provided—but they don't call for him, either way. A chicken marsala of decent quality, sticky rice, overcooked broccoli. He eats it efficiently with his mobile playing a midnight stream of the BBC World Service, sitting at the table with the lamps lit. He looks out the window, its view of overcrowded trees and the parking lot and the road, and he does see the Chevrolet pull back in, bulky and too-big and too-loud and too-American, and he smiles at it even if he shouldn't, and passes the napkin over his mouth, and sits back in his chair, to think.

Work of a moment to set up the typewriter. A quick twist of the ink-ribbon and a murmur of Farsi and he sends his report back home. Casefiles distributed to local hunter, he types, and pauses. Tests of loyalty continue, he types, more slowly, and doesn't have much to add. His reports are terse as a matter of course but he isn't often given to dissembling. Not, at least, before the massacre at the headquarters. He unclenches his jaw and tears the sheet of paper out of the typewriter. That's more than enough.

Quiet, since the alpha vampire was destroyed. Ketch has been doing his own work, directed by both Mick and by the old men on orders Mick isn't given to know, and he's been allowed replacement assistance at headquarters but it isn't as it was. The Kendricks-trained goons they sent are more of Ketch's ilk than his and he doesn't know them. Mary Winchester has been distant. It's only Sam Winchester, really, that Mick knows at all in this country, and Sam is…

Mick sits watching the trees in the moonlight, for a few minutes longer, and then goes to the minibar in the suite's kitchenette. Not much to inspire, there. He calls down to room service, again, and makes an order, and then goes to the ensuite and washes his face, and swishes the marsala-flavor out with mouthwash, and then looks at himself, his suit somewhat rumpled and no tie and his eyes—he looks away from his eyes, and thinks, well. If it goes wrong, it will hardly be the first time something has gone wrong.

The suites are all on the same floor. Dean's in 703, Mick's in 706, and Sam's down at the far end of the hall, 712, the hall ending with a great picture window looking out onto the moonlit woods, and Mick pauses in front of that last door, watching out for a moment. Not yet nine o'clock. Plenty of time to turn around and try for a different night.

The elevator dings, halfway down the hall. Mick's mouth hitches, without him meaning it to, and he knocks at Sam's door. A moment, while Mick stands placid in full view of the peephole, and then a muffled rattle while the chain is disengaged, and then the deadbolt and then the door opening by a foot, Sam standing in the gap and giving Mick a look like he's not to be trusted. "Yeah?" he says, not exactly unfriendly but not welcoming, either.

Mick smiles, as friendly as Sam isn't. "I wondered if we might have a talk, you and I," he says.

"It's late," Sam says, which it clearly isn't. His brow tightens. "Something about the job?"

"Something like that," Mick says, and at that moment the girl arrives with the room service cart, looking confused. "Ah," he says, and gestures. "Please come in, miss, Mr. Winchester was just waiting for his order," and Sam blinks at the girl and then gives Mick a look that would melt steel, but luckily Mick is not steel. He opens the door wider and Mick sees he's in bare feet, his jacket removed, the most informal he's been in Mick's presence since he was being tortured—and Mick follows the room service cart into the suite and Sam's too polite or too circumspect or too self-controlled to stop him.

The room's dim, illuminated only by the bedside lamp, and the girl's uncertain. "Where would you like it, sir?" she says, and Mick gestures at the table under the window, and Sam's silent while she unloads the bucket, the two glasses set down with gentle clicks.

Sam smiles at her as she leaves—very fake, it drops off the second her back's turned—and waits until the door closes behind her to say, "What the hell, Mick. Champagne?"

Mick shrugs, pulling the bottle out of the silver bucket. "Not a good one, if that helps," he says. Appropriately cold, at least. He starts working the wire cage, ignoring the look he's getting. "I thought it might be appropriate, that's all. Inauguration of a new stage in our partnership."

"Our partnership," Sam echoes, with unflattering skepticism. The cork pops smoothly and Mick smiles at Sam, eyebrows high, and gets at least a sigh, an eyeroll, a shake of head. Slight exasperation—how he looks, sometimes, at his brother. Mick pours while Sam watches, saying, "If it's about our partnership, then I should invite Dean over."

Mick watches the bubbles rise in the second flute and licks his lips. That was a particular sort of tone, from Sam. "I thought we might discuss some things privately, you and I," he says, and turns to hold out one of the glasses. "Dean, I think, isn't yet my biggest fan. Though I'd like that to change."

"Champagne probably wouldn't do it," Sam says. He's giving Mick another look. Assessing. Mick tips his head and can't tell if he's been found wanting. A beat, before Sam walks over and takes the glass. "Maybe if you brought whiskey."

Damn Ketch. Mick shakes his head and extends his own glass as a toast—but Sam's already moving away, sitting in the chair on the opposite side of the table, looking out the window. His hair's tucked behind his ear, lamplight on his cheek and moonlight on his brow. Like a sculpture. Mick sits opposite him and sips the champagne and it's—sugary, light. "This really isn't ideal," he says.

Sam glances at him, and then down at his glass. He takes a sip and makes a face. "Sweet."

Mick licks his lips and gambles. "Truth be told, I like the cheap stuff better," he says, and—yes, Sam looks up at him and it's with slight surprise. An opening. Mick shrugs. "I wasn't always top Kendricks material. Had to learn to drink like my betters."

Sam huffs air through his nose. "Sounds familiar," he says. Mick raises his eyebrows and Sam half-smiles, his head tipping. "At Stanford I think I was the only one who actually liked Hamburger Helper without the hamburger."

Not a reference Mick gets, but he gets the sentiment. "To not being posh," he says, lifting his glass again, and Sam snorts but nods, and takes a drink, and Mick watches his throat move as he swallows, the way his hand's delicate on the flute. The size of him.

"I wanted to thank you, too," Mick says. He sets his glass down. "I didn't really get the chance, before." A frown, Sam not understanding. Is it genuine? Mick clears his throat. "For—killing the alpha vampire. I would've died if you weren't there."

Surprise—god, it was genuine. Mick's out of practice, being around people who aren't hiding ten different agendas up their tweed sleeves. "You're probably right," Sam says, after a second. His mouth lifts at one corner. A dimple. "No offense. But I didn't do it for you."

"Oh, thanks," Mick says, leaning back, and Sam actually laughs a little, says: "I meant, that's the point, of being a hunter. You kill the bad thing and save whoever you can. That's what makes the whole thing worth it."

He shrugs, sips at his champagne again. Makes another face but seems to be getting used to it. Mick taps his thumb on the table, watching him. "I'm getting that," Mick says. "I think. It was always… very academic, before. Clean research, without the messiness of the real world."

Sam's eyelashes sweep low. "Sounds easier," he says, with a queer twist to his voice that makes Mick wonder.

He's not going to uncover everything there is to know about Winchester the Younger tonight, however. He makes a note, puts it to the side, and instead tops up their glasses, reaching over the table to fill Sam's without Sam much helping. "Mick," Sam says, sighing protest, though Mick notices he doesn't actually pull away.

"Once the bottle's opened you have to finish it," Mick says, easy, "it'll go flat, otherwise," and he lifts his glass in a little toast and drains it in a few frothy swallows—Sam sighs, and takes a gulp too—and then Mick gets up, comes around the table, and sits on the edge, a little too much in Sam's space to be mistaken for casual.

Sam blinks at him. His mouth's still damp a little from the champagne. "What's up?" he says. Almost warning.

"I said I wanted to thank you," Mick says. He reaches down—Sam's legs long enough that his knee's close—so Mick puts two fingers there, very lightly, feeling the twitch of reaction. Still, Sam doesn't completely pull away. "I can provide other benefits than not-very-good champagne."

Sam's chin tips up and he looks at Mick very steadily. "You're serious," he says, after a few seconds. Mick lifts a shoulder. Sam's eyes tighten, minutely, at the corners. "What's with the British Letters and using sex to infiltrate the enemy? That something they teach at Kendricks, too?"

Mick swallows. It is, but Sam's not to know that, unless—he'd wondered, if Lady Bevell had, but he hadn't been part of her debriefing. "Not the enemy," he says, forestalling the thought. "And not using. And not infiltration, either, and not even, really, the British Letters, here." He takes a breath and gives Sam a little smile, feeling unaccountably like he's at the edge of a cliff without belays to hold him. "Just Mick. Michael, if you like. Expressing my gratitude and wondering how I can show it."

"Most people just do beer and pizza," Sam says, still with those tight searching eyes.

Mick doesn't move his fingers, where they're still just brushing the warm denim. "Never much liked pizza," he says, which he knows is stupid as soon as it comes out of his mouth, but Sam hasn't moved—isn't moving, still as a watching tiger in square uncomfortable chair. He chances it, spreading his hand flat on the lean muscle of Sam's thigh. It flexes underneath his palm and he breathes out, slowly. "You're ridiculously attractive. You know that, I trust."

"Thanks," Sam says, after a moment. He grips Mick's wrist, tight but not bruising, and Mick swallows again, meeting Sam's eyes and trying to look honest. He's out of practice with that, too. Sam looks at him, and at his mouth, and Mick thinks for a second—yes—but then Sam detaches Mick's hand from his leg, firmly, and pushes it back against Mick's chest. His fingers are briefly hot through Mick's shirt. "But I don't accept payment," Sam says, with a quick hard press for emphasis before he lets Mick go. "Especially not—" he starts, and shakes his head instead of finishing. He pushes his chair back and stands, turning to the window. He pushes a hand through his hair and it falls messily right back into place. He blocks out the moonlight. He's so oversized—in everything—smarts and skill and beauty. Mick wants to touch him again immediately and doesn't.

"My mistake," Mick says. He bites the inside of his lip very hard, until it hurts more than he can stand, and lets it go, and waits for the throb the grow and swell and pass, and in all that time Sam doesn't speak. He stands up, fixing his cuff, at pitches his voice to lightness. "At least you enjoyed my champagne."

"I wouldn't go that far," Sam says, not precisely light but not cruel, either, and Mick turns to go—and is caught, by the wrist again, while Sam says: "Wait."

He's being looked at, again, and before he can decide what expression Sam's wearing he's pulled forward and he's being kissed. His hand flexes in Sam's grip and with the other he touches Sam's stomach, surprised. Sam's hand on his jaw, controlling, and his mouth—firm, not giving anything up, but good, too—not a hint of uncertainty, not dithering about. Mick breathes in through his nose and enjoys it. A man's kiss, he thinks, hard and uncompromising. He tips his head back, letting Sam guide him, and parts his lips, and there's Sam's tongue—for a second, a hot brief flash that jolts his gut—and then Sam pulls back, a centimeter, breathing against him. Mick strokes a thumb over the waist of his jeans where his belt is weighing them down, and Sam ducks his head, breathes against Mick's jaw for a second, and then steps back entirely, letting Mick go.

There's a warm throb in Mick's wrist. Sam gripped him very tightly, for a moment there. "That was unexpected," he says, after a moment. His lower lip is damp and he very much wants to lick it, but resists the impulse.

Sam has no such compunction, apparently. He licks his mouth and stretches his jaw, too, resettling. Mick's put in mind again of a tiger, looking at willing prey, and his cock flexes in his trousers. "Just wondering," Sam says, casual.

Mick's startled into a grin. "You absolute prick," he says, and Sam smiles back at him. A little smug. "And how was it?"

A lifted shoulder, like nothing. "Maybe we can stay here again when we're done with this job," Sam says. Then, a little more serious: "We can talk. If it's just Mick, and not anything else."

Mick runs his tongue over the sore spot inside his lip. "I'm looking forward to it," he says, and Sam nods. He steps back and Sam lets him go, and Mick hooks the bottle of champagne out of the bucket, dripping ice-water onto the carpet. "But I'm taking this." Sam snorts. "And I hope you don't mind if I have a furious wank over this in about ten minutes."

An eyeroll. "TMI," he says, the bastard, and Mick sighs at him and exits with what dignity he has, and when the door's closed behind him he stands in the overly bright hall with the bottle still dripping cold against his trousers and breathes out. He licks his lips and gets a taste of champagne.

After the case is done, he thinks, and can't imagine for a moment what might go in that space. It's a strange uncertainty. For the first time in his life, something unplanned and uncalculated-for, something the Letters haven't decided for him. Something just for him. He flexes his hand, still feeling the echo of Sam on his wrist. After the case. He really is looking forward to it.

#ffcc #sam/mick davies #spn fic #first kiss #my writing

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mimithings97 · 5 years

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Wine and Cheese Nights (M)

Summary: Kicking back and relaxing to the sweet sweet burn of red wine and the even harsher sting of soft touches from your boyfriend, spells for cheesy conversation and great sex.

Pairing: Jungkook x Y/N

Genre: Domestic AU, Smut, Fluff

Warnings: Unprotected Sex, Fingering, Handjob, Jungkook cumming in his pants, Dry humping, Swearing, Alchohol Consumption, Creampie, Hair pulling

Word Count: 6k

A/N: I legit started writing this when Jungkook got pissed on vlive, and I just never came back to it. It’s kinda cute tho. And now I’m beginning to realise I think I have a thing for making guys cum in their pants. Pls forgive me.

“Guk?” It’s a shout stretched across the wall between the both of you as you bend to be at eye level with the rack of wines.

You hear a vague mumble as an indication of his acknowledgement at your question.

“What are we going for, white or red?” You look amongst the choice, red wines littering your view whilst to your left, the glow of the fridge shows the selection of whites. Your palette is contemplating which would be most appropriate. The cool, refreshing sensation a white would bring or the richness that calms at the bottom of your stomach with a red.

The contemplation when your boyfriend fails to reply is noted.

“I bought a couple of reds yesterday that we could give a go.” It comes as more of a statement than a question, albeit unintentionally, but it clearly shows that your subconscious is craving the feeling red wine brings.

“Oh, go on then. The Portuguese one though, I wanted to give it a try.”

Automatic hands found themselves already taking Kook’s preferred option before he had issued it, so giving the label a once over and grabbing the two glasses you had already fished out of the cupboard, you round the corner into the living room.

There was something about red wine and cheese by the fire, something that evaporated the chill from your body and spread a warm calmness through you. You knew the wine would cause a blush to your cheeks, and his. It would cause his touches to feel like a blanket of molten lava all over and the room to dissipate into background music and aimless conversation.

Guk was crouched, hair dishevelled and serene demeanour, attending to the fire that licked orange and red hues around the room and immediately heated the exposed skin on your legs and arms.

The sight was pure homeliness. Him, dressed in a black buttoned up shirt, loosened at the first few buttons and sleeves rolled, with joggers, and you in merely a grey top, the cotton long enough to reach the middle of your thighs. It was comfort and carefree all at once.

Your uncovered feet found the softness of the blanket underneath once through the archway to the living area, and the back of your exposed thighs soon found the same fate on the leather sofa, heated by the glow of the fire your boyfriend still prodded and probed to his liking.

The familiar creak of the cork against the bottle, followed by the pop as it was released, prompted Jungkook to finally join you.

“Mmm,” sinking into the sofa beside you he mirrored how you leaned forwards, watching the wine chug into either glass, with a desire in his eyes.

“Which one is this again. The Porto?” He grabs at the bottle once you place it down giving the label a once over whilst you mumble a ‘yeh’.

You lean back, glass to lips, cool rim to heated skin, and take a sip, too eager to feel the slow burning warmth down your throat.

It doesn’t disappoint and as you take another sip you see Jungkook mirroring you, heads tipped back as the wine fills the gaps of tiredness with a comfortability instead.

“Shit,” he breathes out against the glass, finally leaning back against the sofa, eye level with you now as you smile at his reactions, eyes closed and throat bobbing with the sweet burn of alcohol that sets ablaze his cheeks almost instantly.

“It’s good, isn’t it.”

“Mmm,” lifting his arm and nestling it in behind your neck to pull you against him, head on shoulder, as he hums his reply.

“Your mum recommended it to me, actually.” You can’t see his eyes, but you sense the lift in them as he listens fondly, “said her and your dad found it when they went on holiday a couple of years ago and only just discovered they sell it in Korea.”

His hand strokes under the cotton of your sleeve, pulling you ever closer so he can place a kiss at the crown of your head between the messy stands that litter across your face, as you raise the glass to your lips.

It was one of those nights, those few nights of ease and tranquillity with little to nothing for distraction other than the others company. These moments came sparsely - him off venturing into alternate continents and even once home, you were often working in the evenings, digging into you wine and cheese nights with back straining work. So, when these moments came, like hell did they taste sweeter.

He mumbles into your hair, kissing against your temple once he’s spoken but the words weren’t clear.

“Hmm?”

He lifts himself to distinguish his words.

“Mum’s always had good taste.” He pauses a little before laughing breathily. “Why d’you think I’m a wine guy and not a beer one?”

You turn to him to see that smile. That smile of adoration that speaks volumes.

“Shut up, you like beer. We always drink beer.” Surely he hadn't been lying with you just to appease your constant thirst for the cool alcohol. But his hand rises up to your cheek to thumb the crease that sets in between your brows as you frown at his lies and it fucking annoys you that it disappears instantly.

“Baby, I only drink beer because you like beer.” Prick. Literally the man begins chuckling to himself at your dismay, taking a final sip of his wine to finish his glass before he leans into the table in front to pour himself another.

“No... You drink beer with the guys as well.”

He leans out of you touch so when he leans back you throw your uncovered legs over his lap, him grabbing gently at your calves and feeling at the soft skin with his coarse fingertips.

“Yeh, but wine does something to you that beer doesn’t. Everything feels...” you watch him as he finds the words, “romantic.”

Cringy bastard is all you can think to yourself and the chuckle at him isn’t suppressed, as he rests his head back to reveal his jaw, sensing, with the flush of his cheeks, that the wash of alcohol had spread to his head already.

Jungkook was never much of a drinker. But you always had revelled in that fact, how whenever you drunk together it was his full exposed self, transparent and candid, completely and utterly at your disposal. Perhaps wine was romantic then - it pushed all logic behind, all the ‘i love yous’ that you held back for inappropriateness or for fear of rejection were spilt. That’s what made wine and cheese nights so fucking good.

Mirroring him, you lean back into the arm of the sofa, head nestled comfortably in the cushions as your boyfriend's administrations up and down your legs sets goosebumps into your skin. You bask in the feeling with eyes drifting shut, and you fail to see the way Kook gazes at you. He maps yous face with his eyes whilst the wine eases down his throat. The way your sprawled hair reflects the red of the fire, the way your top hangs loosely and awkwardly around your neck to expose your protruding collar bones and the way that, despite the surrounding warmth of the fire, your nipple peek through your top. It’s only love and admiration in his eyes, and maybe they linger a bit on the perk in your top but he’s keeping that one to himself.

“You look pretty when you drink wine.” The smile that was already twitching the corners of your mouth up wipes fully across your face at his statement, one eye opening to see how he gazes at you with a toothy smile of his own.

“Hmm, and you get cringy when you drink wine.” You relax further into his touch as he laughs openly and you both finish the remnants of your glasses. He takes yours from you hold and places it on the table in front, not filling up for another but leaning back, knees bent now so your legs were lifted up to his chest.

He places a kiss, gently and slowly, on either ankle.

“Not cringy... romantic.” He traces his hand up the complete expanse of your legs now, thighs newly exposed from where the angle of your legs had ushered the material of your shirt down to your waist.

“You always told me you were never one for romance though.” It’s a smug statement, a recollection of how you pined and pined for the boy who was all work and one nighters until the sex just wasn’t enough with you. The first woman to be loved by the great Jeon Jungkook wasn’t such a bad title to have.

That smirk that you paint only extends as you see his inner battle, leaning up and forward now into his hold on you.

“Shut up and give me a kiss.” He lowers your legs as he leans in and his hold on your waist becomes comforting, not desperate or hugely lustful but warm, romantic at a push.

The contact is brief, his lips brushing softly over yours for a second or so before he brings a hand to your cheek. His thumb paves a line from your jaw to your lip, tracing over the smile that now takes hold.

“D’you want another glass?”

He barely thinks over it, instead, nestling his head into your neck and pulling you over his so you have legs either side of his, encasing the warmth of your bodies in a tight embrace.

“No, just stay here for a while,” and it’s a murmur that heats the soft skin of your neck.

You do just that, stay in his hold, your hands threading into the hairs at the back of his neck and nails tracing the line between hair and skin. Slow hands wander under your top and stroke patterns across the expanse of your back. The wine causes a buzz in your head, a comfortable one that makes his touch more apparent, the feeling of his fingertips on you more vivid and you find yourself with your chin on his head, his hair tickling at that part between your neck and your jaw that has always been oh so overly sensitive.

“Baby, your hairs got long.” You pull at his roots with your hands and tug it outwards, examining just how long the strands have become since you last saw him.

“Mmm.” Is the sleepy response thrown your way, or perhaps he’s just absorbed in your touch and the feeling of such close proximity.

“It’s curly too.”

You had never been able to fully appreciate the curl of his hair because it would only take shape once his locks were grown out. But now, with that strands long enough, his hair would bend and wave after a shower or once he had been sweating. It was unruly, but it was natural and you loved it. He didn’t think you would like him growing out his hair, but once he knew you did he spoke of how he would grow it until you could plait it, a fantasy that was spoken between the drunken giggle of another wine and cheese night.

You nestle further into his touch once releasing his hair, letting it flop down in various directions.

“When we’re old...”

You automatically feel him smile into your neck at your words,

“... you should let it get long enough so you can tie it up...

“Mmhmm?”

“... put it in a bun on top of your head and get your fridge out of your face so I can see your eyes.”

He pushes you back by the waist and leans his head off your shoulder, mouth wide in smile and eyes full of some kind of emotion you can’t pinpoint.

“But you can see my eyes now.”

And it’s true. Despite some strands falling into his eyelashes you can still see the emotion in the way he looks at you with his eyes. Windows to the soul that express far more than words could right now. For however long, you are swallowed into the abyss of the way he looks at you, complete absorbed in those few seconds of silence. Almost trance like.

He breaks it with a kiss to your cheek, short but full of sweetness. You laugh at how lost you had become in the previous few seconds, remembering how your conversation before was merely a fantasy of his hair.

“I just thought it’d be hot.”

He rounds your face with his lips to kiss the other cheek.

“Mmm, so you think I’m hot.”

You let your laugh come to the surface, whilst he watches you, grins on full display.

“I mean, you have your moments.” He kisses your lips, this time, teeth clashing as your smiles fail to subside.

This is wine and cheese nights, cheese not being the food, because, as if either of you were actually that posh. No, you called them wine and cheese nights because it was one of those few evenings you allowed yourself to indulge in romance, in the sticky, cringy, bliss, of being romantically and disgustingly in love. In a relationship that for the most part had to be concealed from the ordinary, public eye, wine and cheese nights allowed for the frankness of love.

“Are you sure that’s not the wine talking?” He mumbles into the kiss.

“Piss off and kiss me back.” You hands that were laid against his neck press with purpose now so he is pushed forwards into your lips, chuckling into it at your insistence.

He hums into it once your lips move in the same way your hands go up and down his neck, nails and all.

There’s something about having his body so close, being lost in his touch that sends pangs of warmth through the expanse of your body and sends your mind wandering.

You pull away but instead place soft kisses down his jaw and onto his neck with slow movements, your tongue occasionally pressing swipes into his skin and tasting the salty flush of his skin.

“You’re always hot, wine or no wine.”

His hands move from their gentle movements at the expense of your back to your side, grasping tighter and firmer at the skin than before.

“You think?” He’s finishing for your words of flattery, his ego speaking up whilst you begin teasing at his neck with your teeth.

“Mmhmm...” strong hands roams your thighs now, fingers on bare skin making the action all the more tantalizing.

“...when you push your hair back,” you switch to the other side of his neck, whilst one hand reaches up to his forehead and grabs at the hair of his fringe to push it away whilst gently tugging and teasing at the strands.

“...mmm, when you take your shirt off from the back, you know, where you pull it with one hand over your head.” You can just envision him doing it now and it causes your hips to stutter the slightest roll into his crotch.

His body is slack at this point, completely overtaken by the sensations you are putting on his body, you lips tight to his neck, hands grappling at his hair, hips grinding slowly into his. You feel his head completely lean back into your hand, and a breathy groan escapes him lowly.

You smile at his neck and lean off to see him, hair dishevelled under your hands and eyes closed. You give his fringe another pull so his throat is completely exposed and his groan is louder this time.

“... the way you love when I pull your hair.”

You attack the junction of his neck, where his adam’s apple now bobs from how he tries to compose his breathing, kissing and sucking with vigour.

“You find that h-hot?” The question is all to breathy and low to hide how affected he is.

“Fuck, Guk, it’s so hot.” You accompany your words with another harsh tug and his response is instant, the grip he has on your hips digging in firmer and pushing you into his half hard crotch.

You love how aroused he is under your touch though, wanting him to submit further. You unlatch your lips and lean back, his eyes finally opening when he feels your hands grab at his. His expression is laced with confusion and curiosity when you guide his hands upwards, but his eyes turn purely lustful and dark when you settle his fingers into the hair at the back of your head, giving them a guiding pull at the roots to show him explicitly what you want.

There’s a brief twitch at the side of his mouth, a slight smirk before he is overcome by the sensation of your hips on his, your shirt bunched up so it is your skin is on his trousers. With a pull of your hair, his lips are on yours, hard and messy, both pushing your weight forward so there isn’t a space between you.

He emits a groan when you shift your weight further onto his crotch and it causes you to smile into the kiss, an action he diminishes by biting into your bottom lip, hard, and groaning once again.

Jungkook has never been good at telling you what he wants, conceding to patience and taking things slow, so by the way he pulls at your hair and pushes his hips up into yours, you know just how turned on he is, how much he wants to just fuck you on the sofa right now.

You can sense the shift in dominance at this point, with all his eagerness showing. His hips are now the ones taking control from underneath you, his hands being more insistent in your hair and his lips taking full advantage of how your head is thrown back and neck fully exposed. You indulge in the feeling for a moment, let him take over your body and devour every part of you. The sensation of his erection underneath you, pushing up into your clothed core makes you desire more, makes low moans spill from your mouth and makes your hips grind into his.

His head retracts from your neck and your eyes creep open to find his watching the movement of your hips against his, the way you circle against his crotch. He keeps one hand at your hair, no longer pulling as he is lost in the feeling of your movements, whilst the other hand comes down to your hip, digging fingers into your hip bone for some kind of purchase.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me.” His gaze trails back up to yours and you watch each other breathing heavily, his fringe now beginning to stick to his head as the wear of his arousal forms on his forehead.

You half hum, half moan at his statement as the friction pools lust within your stomach and down to your core. It’s not enough to send you into overdrive, but the clothed movements make you horny beyond belief.

His fucked out expression tells you he is in the same predicament, struggling to control his motions now as his erection becomes painfully hard underneath you.

“You make me so fucking turned on it's unreal.” He grunts it out as he uses his hand on your hip to anchor you as he almost fucks himself up into you. You lean forward and place your open mouth to his jaw, trying to control your moans and you breathing as his actions become faster and more desperate.

His lips attach to the spot where your neck and shoulder meet, sending vibrations into your skin when he groans at your hips meeting his rhythm.

Subconsciously, one of your hands that was still latched into his hair for purchase, moves down over his shoulder, between your chests and down towards the spot where your hips meet. He doesn’t feel the movement until you grasp firmly at the outline of his erection through his trousers and the suddenness of your attack causes him to let out a moan into your skin.

“Fuck,” it’s a mere whisper as your hand is pressed down by your hips, giving extra friction that he clearly appreciates by the way his breath stutters and his forehead now presses to your shoulder.

“This is how turned on you are for me?” You whisper into his ear, breathy but seductive.

“Fuck y-yes.”

Pushing down harder now, your hand increases its speed, tracing the outline of his hard on with bold fingers and your hips never falter their grind.

“D’you think you could cum like this?” And you finish your question by biting down on his ear, causing him to emit a moan as his head bows further into your body.

“Y/N, I-I’m still in my fucking clothes-ahh,” you squeeze harder on his dick and he finished his sentence with a groan, loud, and higher pitched than before.

Despite how turned on you are, how much you want to feel pleasure of your own, seeing your boyfriend needy underneath you is almost far more rewarding. The way he shivers against you every time your hand stretches to his tip, and how he can’t help the noises he spills.

“That’s never stopped you before.” He is unbelievably hard underneath your palm as your administrations torture him.

“Y/N, seriously I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop.” He says it with so little conviction you continue at a faster and harder pace, grinding your hips with vigour and pressing your chest into his.

“Tell me to stop then.”

You smile at his silence, still panting into his ear.

Finally he responds, leaning back quickly and moving both hands to your hips to grab harshly and push you down further.

“Fuck you.” It’s a mere whisper as he struggles to keep himself from cumming.

You lean off him once he has reclined back entirely, submitting to your movements and the pleasure you cause to coarse through him. He is completely fucked out, once you get a full view of him, sweat glueing hair to his forehead, eyes bloodshot from how tight he was squeezing them and mouth in a tight line as he swallows his moans down.

For a brief second, you release your hand, and to your satisfaction, he lets out stuttered whine, but after lifting it to your mouth to coat it in spit, your hand quickly finds its way through the layers of clothing and down against his cock.

The contact immediately has his eyes blown out wide and leaning forward again to try and control himself from cumming straight away, forehead in between your breasts now.

“Baby, just cum for me, stop holding back,” you say as you tighten your grip. He merely responds by shaking his head into you, knowing if he tried to tell you ‘no’ his reply would be nothing more than a whole hearted moan.

Your hand that was still at the back of his head weaves through his locks and tightens the strands into a fist, pulling his head up so it is level with yours, unable to subside the feelings anymore.

“Fucking shit, Y/N,” your faces against one another, lips brushing as he breathes his words into your mouth, eyes screwed shut as your hand twists at the tip of his cock.

You bite down on his bottom lip as he moans out loudly, tugging at his hair, hand pressing on his slit and the sensory overload causes his to cum into your hand.

“Fuck. D-dont stop.” And you don’t. Continue your firm grip up and down his length as he continues to spill into his trousers, hard, with moans and obscene words breathed against your mouth.

Eventually, you release his lips as his shivering body subsides into a slump and he lowers his head back down to regain his breath, simultaneously, softening in your hand.

It’s now, in his post orgasm bliss that you feel the mess he’s made in his trousers. It’s warm but so fucking unpleasant, so you collect as much as you can in your hand before finally releasing him, causing him to whine out as his softening erection is exposed to the cold.

The way he shivers, the grip on your hip twitching and his stuttered breath causes you to plant soft kisses on the top of his head.

“You good?” You mumble it into his hair.

You feel his body shake, not from the aftermath of his orgasm, but from the laugh that bubbles up in his throat. He lifts his head now, somewhat recovered from the exertion of how much he came, eyes lit in a smile once they meet yours.

“You’ve messed up my favourite trousers,” he says with a half hearted laugh as he throws his head back and you smile at his reaction.

With bodies to some degree unattached, you pull your hand up, still coated in his cum.

“Yeh? Well you messed up my hand, you dick.” He looks down to where your hand is, head still thrown back and his face distorts in disgust.

“Urgh, I need to go wash up,” but despite his sentence he fails to move, and you weren’t going to let up either, that ache still burning at the bottom of your stomach, yearning for release.

Now though, you begin to feel his cum dry on your hand, so with little to no delicacy you grab at the sides of you shirt which hangs at an awkward angle on your hips, and tug it over your head. The heat of the room and the fire behind you immediately warms your back as you naked skin becomes exposed.

Jungkook, with heavy eyelids, watches as you wipe down your hand, and then toss the top aside, your body bathed in an orange halo and he can’t help but reach out to touch at the skin of your shoulders and up and down your sides.

For a moment you think you should forget how turned on you are, ignore the need to release and just bask in each others company, skin on skin. But as you lean in to nuzzle into his warmth, Jungkook grabs at your hips and rises quickly to a stand, much to your surprise.

“Guk, wh-,” but with a quick swat on your ass he keeps your question at bay, instead, causing a wave of laughter to emerge.

“Shower time.” You would try to protest, but with a firm grip and a swift walk, he has you in the bathroom before the words form.

Placing you down on the countertop, he finally releases you, kissing your shoulder before he turns and makes his way to the shower, turning it on and testing the temperature with his palm. And it is only now, with the first distance between you, that you see his expired form - his black shirt stuck to his back with sweat, hair pointing outwards in all directions and that red tint on his cheeks that only comes out if he’s fucked on alcohol or has actually fucked - in this case, both.

Your eyes are trained on his as he lifts his shirt, not how he normally does, but reaches one hand behind him and pulls it from the back and over, exposing the full length of muscled back and then shoulders to you. Bastard knew exactly what he was doing. And of course, it causes an immediate reaction in you, legs crossed now for some form of friction.

“Wow, that really does turn you on,” he laughs at your form, leant back with legs pressed together, admiring the view.

He discards his shirt on the counter next to you and you grab it, throwing it in his face.

“Fuck off.”

Hopping off the counter, you brush his shoulder as you walk past in the direction of the running water, the steam it’s releasing being all too appealing to hold back from any longer. As you saunter, you hook your panties off, flicking them off your feet behind you in the direction of your boyfriend.

The first touch of water on your naked form automatically sets you alight, wet on dry skin, and you feel every drop that makes its way down your body. Jungkook says something, but it is a mumble as the water encases your ears and the glass barrier between you distorts his words.

“Did you hear what I said?” This time spoken softly next to your ear as you feel his fingers dance aimlessly at the curve of your back and up to your neck. You lean back into his touch so your ears come out of the stream of water and instead you find yourself leaning against his shoulder, bare back against his bare front, skin on skin.

“Hmm?” You hum into the air as he places a kiss on the skin he exposed after he swept your wet strands away from your neck.

“I said you’ve still got your necklace on, baby”

Oh.

“Oh shit,” and £6000 worth of crystals handed to you under expensive chandeliers to the occasion of your birthday was most certainly not about to be tainted by shower water.

So, automatic hands reach up for the clasp but, “I got it,” he says, lips still dangerously close to your ear and his delicate fingers now making light work of the masterpiece around your neck. You can’t see him through the steam filled shower as he leaves your side to place it elsewhere, but you certainly see his figure, in all its naked glory approach you once again.

“Let me under I’m still covered in cum.” Oh, ever the romantic. With a scoff, you’re aside and watching him melt into the heat of the cascading water, long hairs strands dampening one by one and framing his face. You’re eyes also aren’t discreet about the way they wander over his bare torso and the way it now glistens a golden brown with the way it soaks.

Both happily covered by the falling warmth, he nestles his way back into the back of your neck, his lips taking the same route from your neck and round to your jaw as earlier - and there’s nothing you can do about the way you lean into it for more.

“So beautiful.”

“Mmm,” is mumbled when earlobe is caught between teasing teeth.

“All mine yeh?”

Always,” and hands descend downwards, trailing after the lines of water that filter over your curves. Fingers reach breasts for a brief moment, but it’s a fleeting touch before they head further southward to the curve of your crotch.

“And this is all mine too.”

No words this time but a moan as he cups your core with a not so delicate touch as what preceded it. But your body doesn’t mind. It bucks into the hand, in fact, searching for friction that had been needed since the moment you straddled your boyfriend earlier and made him cum like putty in your hands.

“Guk, please.”

“I know, baby, I know.”

Two fingers settle their way into you, slowly, too slowly, but the burn inside you is all the same as your body sets alight in pleasure. His palm is pressed hand to your clit at the angle and if you weren’t already distracted by that, the sensation of his teeth pulling and sucking at your neck makes your knees buckle.

“Good?” You feel the smirk on your shoulder rather than hear it in his voice. Kook knows exactly how he’s making you feel he just loves to hear you say it.

“Fuck, so good.” And the long fingers pressed so deep inside you curl and push up and then out, much to your pleasure because it strikes that spot far within you that has you moaning and turning your head to chase his lips.

You find them. Somewhere between his hand picking up its pace spearing into you and your moans groaning out by the lips that are hungry on yours he has you bending at the waist. Folding you down and then pushing you forward possessively so your hands have to reach out for the tiles in front of you as his hand goes to work at a whole other speed.

“Guk! Fuck.” Your legs almost give way in the new position but a growl behind you tells you he is far from done with your body, and the piston of his fingers sends the message even better.

You can’t help when one hand goes down to his wrist, not sure whether it wants to calm him down or speed him up, but just as skin touches skin his hand pulls out and away from you. Legs wobble and a whine wins the battle of being fought down.

“All fucking mine.” The tingling in your core because of its emptiness disappears in an instant when you feel the bare head of his cock rock between your folds.

“Guk! You’re still hard, what the fuck.” He always told you he had stamina, but you’d figured the boy would tap out after a round of cumming in his pants. His dick tells you a whole other story.

He thrusts in hard and all at once and leaves no time between the first moan you both release in unison before he is chasing that deep place in your pussy over and over. It’s relentless and fucking amazing all at the same time and your hands and head and feet struggle to find any sense of stability. You’re all his in this moment.

“Holy shit, so tight Y/N. So fucking tight.” The rambling commences once the pace is set, because he just loves to talk about how much he loves being inside you. “Made for me baby.”

The words are lost on you though as the impending orgasm strikes upon you faster than you’d realised it would - his fingers must’ve done a job on you.

“Fuck, Guk. Oh my- fuck!”

“That’s it baby. Fall apart on my cock.” He holds you up with one hand woven in the wet mess of your hair as your knees buckle under the strain of the pleasure.

The other hand striking you clit with a slap is what has you screaming though as every fibre of you shakes and pulses, blood pumping up into your ears and stomach caving in He’s so deep inside you as he continues to pump himself at a dangerous speed - it only prolongs the pleasure.

“Cunt squeezing me so- fuck- so good baby. Gonna make me cum. Shitt,” and he groans out into your shoulder as he slaps at your clit one final time for good measure, spilling everything his balls hadn’t already that night so far inside you. “So good, jesus.”

Breathing calms and the sound of water falling returns, the stream on the back of your body providing some relief to the shaking and ache you feel settling in. You knees feel fucked and your core feels even fucking worse - but you love it. Nothing like post-sex burn in every crevice of your body.

A whine and wince come from the mouth still at your shoulder as he pulls up and straightens, dragging you with him because like hell can you hold your own weight right now.

“You good?” he smiles at you as you’re spun to face him, all rosy cheeks and shallow breaths. He kisses at your mouth lightly because you’re smiling at him too. “I’ll take that silence as a yes.”

The sound of water hitting skin and tiles is all that there is for a while, the occasion sinking of lips into neck as well, but the moment is ruined when Jungkook decides to plunge two fingers into your abused cunt. The fucking sting of it causes you to instantly drag away from the sensation, far enough so he can’t do it again but not far enough that he isn’t still in your embrace.

“Guk, what the fuck.”

“Whattt? Just trying to keep my cum in there.” You don’t kink shame Y/N, you swore to him you didn’t find it weird.

“Baby.”

“Well, wouldn’t we all rather it be in there,” another slap to your clit that has you laughing before you realise it, “than over there.”

And when you follow the train of his finger, sure enough, you find the heap of his trousers outside the shower, cum stained and all.

Smirking back at him, “I don’t know, I find it kinda hot.”

And Jungkook fights every internal battle in his head not to kink shame, he swears he doesn’t find it weird.

#bts #bts au #bts smut #BTS jungkook #bts jeongkook #bts jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jeon jungguk #jungkook #jungkook smut #bts one shot #jungkook one shot #jungkook au #jungkook domestic #wine and cheese nights #jungkook things

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fieryfantasybooklover · 4 years

Text

Scythes And Stories Chapter 4 - Death And Freedom

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

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Ariadne heaved in several deep breaths, trying to calm herself and clear her head. “I… You cannot expect me to make such a huge decision on the spot like this!” she replied shakily. “I can, and I will. Either you come now, or you stay and try to live on your own. I can promise you you will never find me again.” Anna said harshly, sparing no sympathy for the privileged princess. But that’s not true. You’ve privileged to let her live, and to hear your voice, Anna’s soul whispered again. “Fine. I’ve made my decision. I will come with you. But only in one day’s time.” Ariadne said, jarring Anna back to herself. “If you planned to kill me, I’d be dead. This I know. I also know that you are well within the capability to find me again. So I will come. But I need to take care of something first. Either you allow that.... Or I allow myself to be kidnapped.” Ariadne finished, stubbornly turning her gaze to Anna. Saying nothing for another second, Anna turned the deal over. Examined it. And finally spoke. “You’re a gutsy one, it appears. Very few would be doing anything other than begging for their lives in your position.”

“I don’t beg, nor will I ever.” Ariadne replied, saying nothing else.

“Fine. You get one day, and not an hour more.” Anna said, turning to the window. “Do not make me regret this, princess.” and with that, Anna turned, kissed Ariadne on the cheek, and disappeared out the window.

Shocked into stillness, Ariadne’s thoughts were whirling. It was not uncommon for people in her kingdom to greet and say goodbye to each other with a kiss on the cheek. But something about that one felt different. More kind, if that even made any sense. Something beyond just the politeness of the action. Strangling the mysterious butterflies in her stomach, Ariadne sat. And then, her thoughts rose. “Why did I let her stay? Why did I talk to her? And why do I even believe anything she is saying?” all these questions and more flew through Ariadne’s head. And unbidden, the answers rose. The answers that shine far too brightly. The answers that would be more palatable to keep hidden. You let her stay because you were entranced by her. Because she is free, and the clearest view of the outside world you have ever had. These are also the reasons you talked to her. She is new, and dangerous, and you are young and gullible. As for why you would believe her, it is because she is voicing what you were already beginning to think. Shaking her head to clear the accusatory statements from within herself, Ariadne spoke. “No matter what, she is an assassin and has killed countless people. I will not soften towards her, and run as soon as possible. But first, I need to make my exit.”

Christopher rose. Quietly, calmly, he corked a stopper and slipped it into his bag. The shop was once again closed for the night, and the sun was setting, staining the sky in fire. “You’ve made it this far. Do not mess this up now.” he thought to himself. After all, he’d worked for this. The hours of faking being sick, flailing in pain. The hours of ingesting poison after poison to harden his resolve and increase his immunity. All those hours and all that blood and pain would not be for nothing. After he left this night, there would be nothing left but ashes, smoke, and the ruin of a once magnificent kingdom.

As the castle’s apothecary, Charles was in charge of scanning all the king and queen’s food for poison. Then, a servant would test it. On this particular night, there was a teenage servant. A boy named Raymond, with wide brown eyes and a sweetheart he would die for. And this particular servant was Christopher’s friend. Who had been by his side since he arrived. “This is the moment. This is for your parents and Anna, wherever she may be. All the plans are in place, all I have to do is follow through.” breathing deeply, Christopher prepared himself. “Only one more hour of servitude, and you can shatter the illusion.”

Ten minutes of quick footsteps and casual greetings and velvet covered hardwood floors, Christopher arrived at the King’s dinner table. “Good evening, my King. I pray you are well.” Christopher said, shoving down the howling protest at submitting to a king who ruined his life. “I am good, thank you. I trust the ordinary routine will still suffice?” the king replied, already in his chair. “Yes, my King. I will search your food for poison, and then Raymond here will take a bite.” Christopher said, gesturing to the quiet serving boy beside him. “Excellent. Well, let’s begin shall we? I wish to dine before the sun fully sets.” he added.

“Yes of course my King.” said Christopher, bowing. He then retrieved his apothecary pack from the satchel he’d been carrying. Quickly but thoroughly checking all the dishes, Christopher with deft hand uncorked the bottle and dribbled the crystal clear, odorless liquid onto the King’s favorite dish, hiding the bottle again quickly. “My check is complete, my king. If you wish it, Raymond will now check the food?” Christopher said, stepping back. “Well, one thing first.” the king said, and Christopher’s heart jumped into his throat. “Do you have any sort of container with chemicals contained within your clothes?” the king asked, raising his eyebrows and turning to face Christopher.

Sensing very quickly that lying would be useless, Christopher kept his face blank, and nodded. “Yes I do, my King. The only one currently on my person is my own personal brew, to help me sleep at night. I’ve had a bit of a cold recently, so I’ve been using that. I must have forgotten to leave it back at my shop. Apologies, my king.” Christopher said, keeping his voice even and eye contact steady. Cocking his head, the king considered this. Years of calmly staying out of the way and acting like a bumbling fool helped Christopher now, and the king nodded. “I trust you. However, I would like to examine this brew myself. It’s a new precaution, suggested by my right hand. I’m sure you understand.” Christopher’s breath caught in his throat, but he replied. “Of course, my king.” removing the bottle from his cloak, he handed it over to the king’s right hand, Julius, who deftly examined it. “I can confirm this has all the makings of a simple sleeping potion. This is not harmful to you, my king.” the right hand said, handing the bottle back to Christopher, who dipped his chin in thanks, all the while thinking “Thank the heavens I had the foresight to disguise this.”

“Thank you, Julius. Now that that’s out of the way, Raymond may test the food.” the king said, clearly desperate to be done with this whole affair. “Oh don’t worry, you will be done with much more in just a few minutes time.” Christopher thought, hatred burning in his chest. Stepping forward, Raymond sampled each of the dishes, taking a bite out of each and swallowing before quickly moving on. Once finished, he stepped back. And now, the pinnacle. The breaking point. Could Raymond mask the effects of the poison for long enough to escape and grab the antidote Christopher stashed? Would the years of training be enough? Christopher waited with bated breath as the king looked for any sign of illness. After a few moments that seemed more akin to years, the King gestured Raymond away. Bowing, he turned and quickly walked out of the room. And thus, Julius left and the king began to dine. After being bid his leave, Christopher waited outside the door. Waited for the choking to begin. And once it did, he stepped back inside, met the king’s gaze, and smiled.

“Please, tell me how it feels. To be the one on the receiving end of somebody else destroying your life.” Christopher said, slowly strolling towards the king. He’d dined alone tonight, and was currently fighting to stay upright as he fought for air. Gurgles came from him that Christopher thought to be attempts at words. “This is for my mother. And my father. And my sister. This is for the assassins you’d ordered to be sent to their house. Just because they dared to show kindness, helping those less well off then them. But you can’t have that, can you? You cannot stand the poor trying to help themselves so you killed my family. To make a statement about those who’d dared to try and defy the crown. And then you brought me here. Thinking I didn’t remember, and never would. Well, I did remember. I always have. So this is my revenge. Maybe after this, I’ll be able to fight the nightmares.”

All throughout this, the king had struggled, but it was no use. The poison was deadly without an antidote, and he had not had enough warning. Waiting until the king’s struggles stilled, Christopher sighed. And then sprung into action. His bag was already packed with everything he needed. Christopher dashed out the door, down hallways and into passages and rooms, hiding from any person he saw. Within a few minutes, he was out of the castle. Dashing down the streets and around corners, Christopher ran. He ran as the dam broke inside him that he'd held for years. Making it into a back alley no human had laid eyes upon for years, Christopher slipped inside an abandoned building. Made his way to a storage closet. Slid down to the floor. And began to sobb. Tears racked his body and he shook. He was a gentle soul, put out of his element for the sake of darker things. And now, despair grew within him. But something else grew within him. Something golden and elusive, called hope.

Ariadne was burning. On fire with vindication and vengeance. On fire as she hid in different corners of the castle. She’d told her parents she’d be staying in her room tonight. Rose had seen her tearing the room apart, and turned a blind eye. Perhaps something within her told Rose that Ariadne was waking up. And oh she most certainly was. “I am not staying here any longer. My parents can weep about it for all that I care. However, I will remove Charles from the picture. My last act of pettiness will be this.” Ariadne thought to herself as she quietly worked her way towards the men’s barracks, flint and steel in her bag. It was rare for a Commander to sleep in the same barracks as his men. But Charles, new to his job, had yet to make the move. A fact Ariadne said thanks for. “I know he will survive this. But maybe not for long. Maybe he will die of despair after losing his good looks.” Ariadne thought, laughing to herself. “Either way, I should be able to escape the castle tonight. I will wait for Anna to arrive tomorrow. Then, I will leave. And I will finally be free of my cage.”

Reaching the barracks, Ariadne heaved a sigh of relief at her good luck. None of the soldiers were around, all of them patrolling and practicing in the art of war. So, Ariadne slid into a wardrobe. Drew her midnight black cloak around her. And waited.

About an hour later, as the sun began to set, the men filed back in. Laughing and talking to each other, joking and throwing things and swearing. Ariadne could overhear snippets of conversation, though nothing truly interesting. Who had beat who at dueling, who stole what, who was going to do what on their free day. Sighing, Ariadne settled in. “This is going to take quite a long while, won’t it?” she thought. “Oh well. I’ve waited years, I can wait a few more hours. And wait a few more hours she did. The most interesting thing that happened over those hours was somebody opening the door to her hiding place. Ariadne froze at this, barely daring to breathe. But he shut the door quickly, shouting that whatever it was wasn’t there. Exhaling, Ariadne allowed herself to breath again. And then finally, finally, darkness fell and all the soldiers slept. She slipped out of her hiding place and retrieved her flint and steel. Spotting Charles asleep on one of the beds, she began scraping the flint and steel together. It didn’t take long for her to shed several sparks onto the carpets on the floor. It caught quickly, going up in a blaze. Quickly sending more sparks into some of the drapes and a few empty beds, Ariadne then fled. Right out the door of the barracks, into the courtyard stained in moonlight. She could hear the panicked yells of the men from inside, but she spared them no more thought. Most would survive, though not without a cost.

Anna gazed down at the courtyard, spotting her quarry. She’d been keeping track of Ariadne ever since she jumped out her window, carefully making sure she didn’t alert the king. And now, Ariadne had just exited the barracks. And judging by the smell of smoke now coming from there, she had lit a fire. “Well well well Princess. We might just get along.” Anna muttered to herself. Ariadne moved in a flash then, making for the sidewalk that would eventually take her out of the castle. Jumping down, Anna tailed her, leaving the burning barracks behind her like a bonfire against the night sky.

Several tense minutes passed, and then they were both out of the castle walls. “Well, now is as good a time as ever.” Anna thought, and leaped into Ariadne’s way. Ariadne froze, but then recognized Anna and relaxed a fraction. Ignoring the ridiculous happiness that stemmed from that, Anna spoke. “I thought I would find you here, Princess. Been causing mischief have we?”

“You’ve been following me, haven’t you?” Ariadne replied, exasperated. “Why yes, I have. I had to make sure you were safe after all.” Anna said. And then, Ariadne did something magnificent. She rolled her eyes and smiled. “I highly doubt that was the case, but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.” Ariadne then said. Anna, chuckling, replied. “I’m touched, Princess. And though I do hate to stop the jokes, we need to meet my accomplices quickly. They can get us out of the kingdom.” Sobering quickly, Ariadne nodded. And then, the pair took off quickly down the dark roads.

“Anna! Thank god!” Lucie called once Anna and Ariadne arrived at the meeting point (an abandoned apothecary shop). “What took you so long? We were just about to give up!” Matthew added. “Ask our Princess here. Oh, and this is Matthew and Lucie” Anna said, dropping into a chair. All three pairs of eyes turned to Ariadne, who shifted uncomfortably. “Not that I owe any of you anything… but I had some business to take care of before I came. Personal business.” she said finally, looking at the floor. Lucie and Matthew exchanged confused looks before turning to Anna. “Why does she speak as if she came willingly?” they both said simultaneously. “That is because I did. And no, I will not explain why, how, or answer any other questions. I was told you can help me escape the kingdom. I would like to do that, not dawdle around and argue.” Ariadne said, finally finding her voice. The other three, shocked into silence, looked at her. “Very well then. Let’s get going, shall we?” Lucie said. With that, all four headed out the door. “I like her.” Matthew whispered to Lucie. “Oh of course you do. You like anything with even one inch of sarcasm contained in its being.” Lucie replied before kissing him. “I love you, but please shut up and let us get out of this godforsaken kingdom.” she finished.

“You told the rest of the Ravens we’re leaving with Anna, correct?” she asked, and Matthew nodded as they arrived at the harbor. “And I staged the death in her bedroom. It’s torn apart, the nurse is missing, and there’s a fatal amount of blood that matches our Princess here. I made sure to bloody a dagger and leave it there. No fingerprints, obviously.” Anna chimed in saying. “From now on, Ariadne, you’re dead.”

Ariadne, eyes wide as she gazed out over the ocean, turned to Anna. “No, I’m not.” Ariadne whispered. “I’m free.”

Cordelia laughed out loud, punching James playfully on the shoulder. “I cannot believe you would say that!” she exclaimed, laughing again. “Oh come on Cordelia. You know I am joking?” James replied, laughing as he dodged another punch. “But does she know that?” Alastair interjected, wiggling his eyebrows in a rare show of non-cynicism. “Alastair, I love you, but you’re not helping this situation.” Thomas said, sighing with no real malice. They were all enjoying a day off, a day sequestered away from the real world. A day of nothing but laughing and jokes and lighthearted teasing. James kissed Cordelia quickly before drawing back. “There. Does that make up for any grievances I’ve caused you?” he asked, and Cordelia stuck her tongue out at him. “Maybe for now. But I will not forget.” She replied, smirking. “I am absolutely terrified right now.” James said in a comically monotone voice. “Alastair, my friend, will you save me?

“No, in fact I will not. You’re on your own here James buddy.” Alastair replied as Thomas facepalmed. “Should I hear any yells of pain from your general direction, I will investigate.” Thomas said. “Thank you Thomas, you are my savior.”

“Oh I am sorry, but that’s absolute-” Cordelia interjected, but was then cut off.

A royal page had arrived with a letter for Thomas and Alastair. He handed it over, quickly bowed, and exited the room. Glancing towards Thomas, who’d taken the letter, all three others raised their eyebrows. “Well? What does it say? Thomas?” Alastair asked, quickly standing up as Thomas paled. “What is it?” Cordelia asked as James tensed as well, reacting to the quickly changing atmosphere of the room. Alastair snatched the letter from Thomas, moved his eyes to the words, and began to read.

To the princes of Luna, and whoever else it may concern.

Solis has begun to deteriorate at an even faster rate, and several tragedies have struck them.

A very wealthy and influential woman, Lucie Herondale, has vanished. Her husband is frantic to find her, though it is suspected she might have fled the city for reasons unknown.

Commander Charles of the Royal Army is in critical condition after a fire at his barracks. It is currently unknown whether or not he will pull through.

Princess Ariadne has been killed. Currently, no culprits have been caught, but it is suspected that the notorious assassin, known only as the Lady of Death, is behind this. However, the princess’s death is not the worst of it, though she will be mourned with great fervor.

King Samuel has also been struck down. Poisoned. The believed perpetrator is the castle’s apothecary, Christopher. He may have been working in cahoots with another, though neither have been located.

Vesperum is rioting, just about tearing itself to bits. I send this letter with the purpose of informing you, as well as warning you. I will not dismiss the possibility Solis will attempt to strike at another kingdom, either out of misplaced blame or just pure fury. No matter what, things are shifting.

I wish you all the best from now until the sun falls from the sky.

Signed, Marcus L. Kingsway, Member of the Royal Council of Luna.

Alastair finished reading to a silent room. James had drawn Cordelia close, as if daring the world to try to hurt her. Alastair himself, now shaken, turned to Thomas and silently folded the letter back up. I will not let anything happen to you both boys said to the other silently, both vowing to keep that promise. As two young couples made promises, they became a different type of warrior. They became the type of warrior that survives the roaring waves of fury and unrest, and the falling of ancient and vicious kingdoms.

#ariadne bridgestock #anna lightwood #arianna #thomas lightwood #Alastair carstairs #thomastair #cordelia carstairs #james herondale #jordelia #lucie herondale #matthew fairchild #LucieXMatthew #christopher lightwood #tsc #shadowhunters #the last hours #megans writing

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