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#i bet she’s forgotten what some things taste like
yourdeepestfathoms · 2 years
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thinking about the OXENFREE II concept where Riley saves Alex from the loop
it would take a crowbar to pry Alex away from Riley because i feel like Alex would hold on So Tight the moment she makes contact with her. with someone real for the first time in five years. Alex refuses to let go because she’s terrified that, if she does, she’ll be forced back into the loop. Riley lets herself be an anchor for the terrified girl, just to make her feel safer, more stable in reality.
also you can’t tell me that all of Alex’s senses wouldn’t be absolutely assaulted by Everything once she gets back to the real world. i mean, she’s been stuck reliving the same night over and over and over again for five years—she’s probably used to the darkness. and even when on the ferry during her false escape, that light is nowhere near as bright as the light in reality. also, there’s so much new stimulation. forgetting about the light, there’s the sounds, the smells, the sensations. the clamor of other people is deafening to someone who has interacted with the same voices for so long, the smell of gasoline would probably choke her, and the sensation of hot sun on her skin would be like throwing her directly into an open fire. the poor kid is absolutely overwhelmed, and probably starts to teeter into a full-blown sensory overload.
Jacob then proposes an idea: they wrap her eyes with something! since eyelids can only do so much, they wrap her eyes with some cloth to block off as much light as possible. if they have something to plug her ears, they use those, too. anything to make her more comfortable.
and then Riley and Jacob come to one big problem: Alex’s identity. this girl probably had missing posters or at least missing reports about her. it’s been five years, but surely people would have remembered a kid who disappeared under such mysterious circumstances. if they want to get her off Edwards Island, they need a way to hide her appearance, at least until they can get some hair dye to change her hair color from its very distinct shade of blue (“technically, it’s teal,” Riley says over and over again) (Jacob keeps saying orange, which Riley shuts down right away because orange is a hideous color and they shouldn’t subject the poor girl to that torture; “she’s already gone through enough!”).
so, to solve this issue, they have Alex swap her jacket with Riley’s. Alex seems extremely distressed to part with the piece of clothing that has quite literally gone through hell and back with her, but Riley swears up and down that she’ll return it to her once they’re somewhere out of eyesight of other people (and once she washes the thing. it reeks of sweat and saltwater and blood).
they also have Alex wear Jacob’s hat. they tie her hair up into a messy bun and tuck it underneath the hat, thinking that’ll be good enough to hide it from people.
Jacob carries Alex to the ferry, then to the car. she keeps her face buried in his neck the entire time, which is good. if her face matching the face of a missing teenager from five years ago doesn’t draw stares, then the fact that she’s essentially blindfolded certainly would. but she keeps her head down the whole time. she also has her nails dug into Jacob’s shoulders for grounding, and if this hurts him, he doesn’t say anything.
in the car, Alex falls asleep in the backseat while Riley and Jacob discuss what they’re going to do. they decide the best course of action is taking Alex to Riley’s house and waiting for her to recover enough to explain everything thoroughly to them. she can then tell them what she wants to do. if she wants to return to her actual family, then they’ll help her find them (though, Riley mentions that she’ll take Alex under her wing if Alex doesn’t want to go back to her home) (Jacob is curious about this, but he doesn’t say anything about it).
Jacob then asks the big question: “do you think Alex would rather have tacos or McDonald’s for breakfast?”
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dramioneasks · 1 month
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HP FESTS: DramioneFanfictionForum (Part 6)
Deflower Draco 2024:
Off To The Races by anna_h_ofeliya - E, 8 chapters - Upon returning to Hogwarts for the eighth year, Hermione learns that some Slytherin students covertly slip out after dark to fly around the Whomping Willow, seeking to reignite the thrill of danger.
Where the Foxglove Grows by eggmett - E, WIP - My eyes move over each offering, passing from one face to the next. Some of them are familiar. But the last, the twenty-eighth face, causes my heart to skip. A gasp sticks in my throat as I struggle to maintain my composure. Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy is virgin number twenty-eight. [Draco x Hermione x Voldemort] [Warnings: Rape/Non-Con]
Like Warm Apple Pie by undercoverdrxco - E, 2 chapters - Draco, Theo, and Blaise are two months from leaving Hogwarts as virgins. That just won’t do. A bet is placed and targets are made… Draco is decidedly going to ‘woo’ Hermione Granger. - An ‘American Pie’ inspired story in which Hermione is swotty and talks a lot, Draco is an awkward virgin, and Theo and Blaise are rightful morons while ALSO being total virgins -
Draco, Are You Coming? by EternalOphelia - E, WIP - 8th year. Draco is a virgin and keen to not be after living 100-years-worth of adult lives during the war—he just wants to be, without expectation. While Draco has had experiences with girls, he’s behind his classmates/housemates since he had more pressing things on his mind, mainly staying alive. When his well-meaning friends (Blaise and Theo) try to help him by sicking an all too willing Pansy on him, Draco is unable and unwilling to sleep with her; humiliated, he leaves a naked Pansy on his bed. Days later, when Hermione Granger becomes involved and steps in on Draco's behalf, he begins to see her differently.
Disturbingly Capable by Zeebee3 - E, one-shot - She considers his hair again, giving him the taste of a pause, then meets his eye; holds it. “Fuck you.” It’s the first thing she’s said to him in a year that isn’t a spell, and it feels good that it’s still some form of a curse. Seeing him misunderstand it feels even better. He sighs, like he’d expected insolence. “You always were a stubborn little thing. This is your last chance, Granger. Tell me, or—” She interrupts him because she can, and even with years of war between them, he still lets her. “I’m sorry if that wasn’t clear,” she says, tone indicating she’s not sorry a bit. “For a moment, I’d forgotten how stupid you are. Let me spell it out for you: I choose option two. I’ll fuck you.” His shock freezes him for a breath, and then his brows twitch together. “What?” he says. --- Or, Draco barters with his virginity and Hermione is happy to unburden him of it for the promise of being released from Malfoy Manor.
Belong To Me by WillowingScribe - E, one-shot - On one of her rounds as prefect Hermione finds Draco Malfoy in front of the Mirror of Erised talking to none other than... her? ___ “Stop it! Stop lying! You wouldn’t want me even if none of this had happened. You wouldn’t want me even if I wasn’t Draco Malfoy.” And then he said something that shocked her enough that the Invisibility Cloak slipped from her fingers and pooled onto the floor. “As if, Granger. Find somebody else to deflower.”
Mine by Forgive_Me_Severus - E, WIP - Bitten by a werewolf while on the run, Hermione Granger has had to navigate transforming under the Moon, being Alpha to five other Wolves of Hogwarts, and every aspect in between the same way she always had before: through research. But when Draco Malfoy reappears at Hogwarts as part of his probation, nothing she's studied could prepare her for what would happen next.
Cake By The Ocean by The_Taco_Dragon - E, WIP - An arranged marriage that he hates. A Bachelor Party he never wanted. Champagne eyes that make him weak.
Breaking Draco by So_scarlett_maroon - E, WIP - "Apparently, those beasts from the other houses can't go even a month without touching themselves." Hermione heard the voices and realized she'd forgotten to cast her usual noise-blocking spell. She lifted her wand to do just that when the words she'd just heard hit her. Another voice spoke now. "Surely it's just the muggle-borns, right? Purebloods are taught from birth not to defile themselves with masturbation." "Nope," the first voice resumed. "MacMillian was there, Weasley too. They both seemed to think that going a whole month without coming was some monumental task. Weaklings. Try going 18 years, mate." Hermione was struggling not to laugh. She couldn't believe there were men at Hogwarts who were not only virgins but they'd never gotten off. "Draco, did you really join their little competition, though?" Hermione had to cover her mouth to stifle her gasp. "Of course I did, Theo. I will win easily and show them all how little control they have. Unlike all the other so-called 'men' in this school, Slytherin's know how to keep it in their pants."
The Stroke of Midnight by charingfae - E, WIP - Problem number one. He’s in love with Hermione Granger. Problem number two. He’s a twenty-four-year-old virgin. Problem number three. He can’t do anything about problems number one or two thanks to an irreversible, accidental chastity vow made during a drunken escapade in fifth year. -- Draco laughed—a real, deep, belly laugh—even as his heart twinged with longing. He wanted her to like him, to be with him, to love him. He wanted to tell her that he loved her hair, especially when it grew large enough to have its own postal code. He wanted to tell her that her laugh altered his brain chemistry, and that being the one to make her laugh made his stupid life worth living. Instead, he said— “Try the beetroot.”
Seven Minutes in Heaven by allofthelights11, AutumnWeen - M, 2 chapters - Draco's house arrest was finally over with the conclusion of his N.E.W.T.s, but the challenge he would face next was even more daunting: Hermione Granger wanted him. She had no idea he was a virgin. or The time Draco fainted at a house party.
Measure of a Flan by allofthelights11, winterwells - not rated, one-shot - In which Draco desperately wants to surprise Hermione by making her grandmother's iconic flan on a special holiday weekend away.
Malfoy Rites of Passage by allofthelights11 - E, one-shot - In which, thanks to Malfoy Manor being crammed with nosy portraits with entirely too many opinions on the prostate, Draco and Hermione retreat to the rose gardens to do a little fooling around. Deflower Draco 2024
I Love A Wedding by aCanadianMuggle - M, one-shot - Malfoy Manor has decided that the heir should be wed. Cue a line of possible suitors taken to the Manor quite against their will, an unspeakable visitor and a quite ingenious solution to all of Draco's problems.
Aeterna Amantes by SyrenGrey - E, WIP - Draco Malfoy must have been around sixteen years old when the painting was commissioned–and what a pity, too, as the young Malfoy stood holding a pale, bone-ivory mask in one hand while a black cloak dangled from his other arm. He was as thin as a skeleton, the area around his eyes gaunt and hollow, perfectly suiting the title of Death Eater which he’d accepted in his nascent, sixteenth year. This was how Hermione remembered him. Maybe not so thin, and not as pale as this portrait conveyed, but standing tall, despite the resignation buried within his silver eyes. She had very few fond memories of the spoiled bully, but it didn’t take much for Hermione to feel pity for any creature–and Draco Malfoy, heir to hatefulness and bigotry–boy who never stood a chance–was worthy of pity. It was impossible to know what exactly had happened to him. Even six years after the Battle of Hogwarts, his body was never found.
Keep Your Wand Up by malfoyesque (PearlBracelet) - E, 3 chapters - A prank looms on the horizon, one that will destroy Draco's already shredded reputation. The jokes already exist about him lowering his wand, and about whether or not he'll ever be able to get it up again. And if the entire school were to just so happen to find out he was still a virgin– Yeah. You see the problem. But he soon finds out that he's not the only one. And that might be the thing that saves him.
More Than a Mask by vannminner - E, WIP - Amidst the masquerade, masks are shed, passion blooms and Draco's cock is warmed by the one witch he's wanted to take his v card since fourth year.
Partners by EscapeInMyBookshelf - E, one-shot - Auror partners Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger have had a long day in the field and come back to the Ministry to deal with paperwork. She volunteers to help him with his workload.
Heads of Seduction by MarinaJune - E, 2 chapters - A pair of knickers and a pot full of mystery tea–what do these have in common? Draco is about to find out, along with just how much the newly-appointed Head Boy and Head Girl have changed since they all last walked Hogwarts. The swottiest Gryffindor and most stoic Slytherin have more to share than just class notes with him, as long as he leaves all expectations at the door. [Draco x Hermione x Blaise]
The Countdown by westxnorthwest - E, WIP - Malfoy, D. L. Determined match: Granger, H. J. Appointment: 5 June 2003, 10:00 AM - When the Wizarding Marriage Law passes, Draco and Hermione learn they have six months to consummate their marriage, and a year to produce an heir. What could go wrong?
A Traditional Malfoy Marriage Ceremony by Storycat9 - E, WIP - Draco and Hermione thought a quick Ministry elopement would help them avoid stuffy Pureblood weddings (and Lucius's schemes to break them up.) But Malfoy magic wants something a little more traditional. Newlyweds must learn to be flexible, right?
A Long Hard Wait by Iceemist - E, one-shot - Five times Draco nearly had sex, and the one time he actually did.
Purity by Storycat9 - E, one-shot - Draco comes back to Hogwarts to take his N.E.W.T.s, but he seems to have left some things out of his study guide.
This fest is ongoing.
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pennyserenade · 7 months
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The Hollywood Hedonist Method
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pairing: dieter bravo x you, dieter bravo x reader rating: explicit (oral sex (female receiving), pinv, unprotected sex, light dirty talk (a little degrading), sex in public place (?), soft dom!reader, soft dom!dieter tags: references to drugs, talk of suicide (not serious), a self pitying dieter bravo word count: 2.9k+ summary: dieter's movie is bad and he looks to you for a quick fix to a long problem. a/n: is this the most inspired piece i ever wrote? probably not but i did have a lot of fun writing it. i wouldn't say this is my usual writing style, but i'm trying something new on here and i hope you like it. if you'd like to be updated on when i post my writing, follow my writing updates blog @belovedinfidels
He fingers you on the black marble countertop, his mess of crushed ambitions transformed suddenly into a hardy joie de vivre as you accept his tongue into your mouth. Salacious stories be damned: this is better than any page six bullshit could cover, his strong body settled between your widened legs, his long fingers curled in the warm comforts of your body. He breathes you in, drinks you up. 
Your whiskey soaked tactlessness is divine tonight. It offers a heady respite from the impending dark cloud of his self doubt. He doesn’t even mind that you don’t realize how gloomy this shit makes him. He feels like one of those goddamn characters in Sunset Boulevard, switching between the dead bloodied man floating in the pool of his own ambition, and the frenzied, forgotten actress with the warm gun of delusion in her hands. He hates that he’s miserable over his fucking shitty movie, and he’s so hard it’s embarrassing, and a little confusing, and you’re beginning to squirm and he wonders if maybe his tongue might make you shake and—-
“Dieter!” 
You dig crescent shaped imprints on the pale, freckled skin of his shoulders. His tongue makes you shout–better than he could’ve ever hoped for. It’s the ego boost he needs. Plus, you’re so goddamn wet that it’s coating his chin and he’s only just got on his knees. That’s nice, too. 
He licks up to your swollen clit, tonguing it until you let out delightful little mewls and writhe beneath him. When you close your legs around his head, he lets out a moan. You taste like the closest thing to penitence he’ll ever get. He could eat your pussy all night if you let him. Really. There’s some things he knows for certain, some things even bad fucking movies and a deflating ego can’t rob him of, and his love for this is one of them. The act of spreading a woman apart and eating her like she’s ripe pickings from the Garden of Eden almost drives him to romanticism sometimes. He is sure he could write poetry about this. He bets your pussy’d look so pretty on a canvas. He’s never drawn a pussy from memory, but he’s gonna try it tomorrow and—
“Are you okay?” you rasp, looking down at him with a frown. 
Well, maybe it can rob me of this, he thinks bitterly. 
Your grip turns more forgiving in his hair, your fingers sympathetically pushing his locks back from his face. He comes up, his slick-glistened lips forming into what you suspect is meant to be a reassuring grin. It looks more like a grimace. You run a thumb affectionately over his cheek and he groans, pushing it off with his shoulder. He positions himself back between your legs. When you pull at his hair again, trying to get him to look at you, he winces sharply. 
“Dammit,” he mutters, dark eyes deep wells of glazed frustration. “If I don’t make you cum I’m going to jump out of the window,” he deadpans. 
You’ve always hated the kind of people who make you wonder what’s a joke and what’s not, because it’s a constant commotion of miscommunication. Life becomes a bad joke, a joke that is in constant need of explaining, and you’ve never liked that. Dieter is the sort that seems to be hanging on the edge of I don’t know, the kind who seems to be supplanting real answers for half funny, half serious ones. The uncertainty he posits is a product of the uncertainty he feels - you can tell already - but you’re not exactly enthused to decipher him for the rest of your life. 
You frown. You’d only met him under strobe lights not even two months ago, shouting over the music to get to know one another. He had tasted of stale cigarettes and early morning remorse, and he’d taken you in the women’s bathroom, pressed you against the bathroom stall, and fucked you with bruising intensity. Then he had written his number on the palm of your hand, and kissed you chastely on the mouth after it was all over. There’s no future here. You won’t be deciphering anything. 
“Sit on my face,” he implores. Dieter delivers the sentence like he’s asking you if he can hold your hand. His fingers grip at your thighs and his breath grazes the inside of your legs. When he presses his lips to the side of your cunt, you close your eyes against the sensation. He tongues the spot, laughing shakily as you ease underneath him. Your hips press forward and he takes it as acceptance. “Or don’t,” he says. His tongue teases at your lips, and you can hear the grin in his tone when he says, “I’ll eat you out like this. That’s just fine, too.” His tongue nudges into your opening and you gasp. Your hand finds his hair again. “But tell me you want it.” 
His lips press to the side of your pussy again. You gush involuntarily at the sound of a husky voice, at the way he hovers over you with the promise of more. 
“Mm.” You look down your body at him, making eye contact as he presses kisses closer and closer to your glistening clit. He nods his head at you, encouraging you as he begins twirling his tongue around the area. “Actors are so goddamn self absorbed,” you say. He nods wordlessly again, smiling against your skin. He doesn’t tongue your clit, though. You want him badly to take it into his mouth. To suck—
“Fuck, please,” you plead. “I want it.” 
His eyes glimmer. You feel his hot breath all over you, and can hardly stand the sensation of it. You want to ride his face, make him bring you to orgasm your own way. You nearly forget his sad, petulant attitude in your impatience. 
He takes your clit in his mouth, sucks eagerly as you stroke your nipple through the thin cotton of your dress. Dieter is greedy even in his giving, taking as much of you as you’ll let him. He enters a finger into you—a finger that goes in with an embarrassing ease—and then another when you moan lewdly into the enclosed air of this someone else’s bathroom. His face moves with your hips, letting you rock against the rhythm his own fingers set. You moan his name and he goes faster, and you feel on the brink of imploding. 
Your eyes close and you focus on his mouth, and the fury with which he works at your swollen clit, and you think of his fingers, and the way your cunt clenches around them, large as they are. As you cum against his mouth with an unapologetically guttural moan, he surprises you with the seriousness of his intent—how he does not look up at you or smirk against you, but works devoutly at building another orgasm up. You grip the edge of the sink and your head thuds against the mirror as it lolls back. The glass reverberates but neither of you care; your ass is gradually rising off the counter and his body is rising up, one of his legs kneeled on the ground and the other one hovering. He makes you cum again in a matter of seconds. 
In between your second and third orgasm, his belt buckle jingles open and he’s risen all the way up. He comes up for air, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and then he kisses you on the mouth. He’s wet with your juices down to his chin and he’s not afraid to spread the taste of you against your tongue. There’s a drop of pre-cum wetting the blue of his tight boxer shorts. You grab onto his jean loops and jostle him closer. He comes without protest. 
“You shouldn’t ask a man how he feels when he’s eating you out,” he tells you. His head is pressed against your chest and he’s looking down at himself, at the way his cock is strained in his boxers. He’s hard as hell. He looks back up at you with intense eyes. “It’s likely he feels pretty fucking good.” 
“Shut up,” you groan. You stuff your hand down the front of his open jeans and his neutrality fades into a smirk. His hips jerk as you palm him and he whimpers, desperate as ever. You fist his hair, driving his neck back so you can kiss along the column of his throat. “The movie wasn’t even that fucking bad,” you tell him. He laughs and you feel his Adam’s apple bob against your lips. You suck at the skin there. If he minds, he doesn’t say. His eye lashes flutter against his cheeks and he happily grinds against your hand. You think you could make him beg, if you wanted. You think maybe he wants to. 
You withdraw your touch suddenly and he whimpers, pupils blown wide with desire. He goes from confused to uncertain. “What?—“ 
“Ground,” you command. He nods curtly. 
He peels off his jeans and underwear on his way down to the cold, sterile tile, making no qualms about being bare ass naked on his employer’s bathroom floor. They are downstairs and they’re partying, and even if they weren’t he wouldn’t give a damn anyway. That’s the appeal of him, isn't it? It’s why the public buys the magazines and watches the movies he’s in. Dieter is a brilliant train wreck and they want to see. 
That movie they put him in was so goddamn commercial and so heartless, and so contrived. He hopes he gets cum on the black shower mat because of what they’ve done to him. 
“I’ve got no condom,” he tells you suddenly, remembering. This had been so spur of the moment. A hand on your knee under the table turned to a hand in your underwear and suddenly you were both up here. His face scrunches up, waiting for rejection. 
He supposes he could make do, maybe just ask you to talk to him while he masturbates this hard-on away. Are you into that sort of thing? He supposes it’s a little exhibitionist, and he knows that’s not everyone’s cup of tea but—
You don’t seem to give a shit. You straddle his hips and look down at him. You’re still a little loopy from your orgasms but confident in your approach-confident that he wants this badly as you think he does and goddamnit if you’re not right. He ought to be responsible and ask you the slew of questions responsible people ask before they bury their cocks into nice women such as yourself. Birth control? Have you fucked anyone else and do you think they might’ve given you something? When’s your birthday? Middle name? But he doesn’t. He breathes steadily beneath you, excited and so fucking worked up he’s afraid the first heavenly push into you might be the last one if you’re not careful with him. 
He doesn’t even know if you won’t tell the paps about this. Maybe you will. Maybe the price of this will be a magazine spread featuring a bad airport photo of him and the headline “DIETER BRAVO OUT OF CONTROL: L.A. FLING TELLS ALL.” And this L.A. fling will know all, will have everything to tell. In a matter of seconds he tries to decide what kind of person you are. He softens a bit, and you notice immediately, and that fresh Hollywood self pity is back and he softens some more.  
Before you can ask if he’s okay again, he heaves a telling sigh. “Too much or not enough drugs,” is his response. It was good while it lasted. What’s the worst that can tell them now? That he eats pussy to make up for his drug induced impotence on bad days? 
You look confused, maybe even a little wounded. No, you are wounded. He squeezes your hip as if to say “You did your best” and this hurt flashes more visibly across your face. Well. 
“Coward,” you tell him. His eyebrows raise to his hairline. 
“Hm?” he answers.  
You lean down, whisper it to him. “You’re a self pitying coward. It’s not the drugs. You’re making yourself miserable.”
“Listen—“ he starts indignantly, but you shake your head. Oddly, he’s getting stiff again. This has been the most embarrassing night of his whole fucking life—and perhaps the most telling. 
You look down between your bodies, pleased. “My theory was right.”
“Please,” he groans, “no more or I’m going to kill myself for real.” 
You laugh and it’s so genuine and that he laughs too, despite himself. You might be laughing at him for all he knows but it doesn’t feel like it. He decides once and for all, looking at you, watching you, that you won’t tell about this or about anything. If you wanted to, you would’ve already. And most importantly, he simply doesn’t want to believe you could be someone like that. He isn’t a coward. Not all the time. He takes a chance on you, here, now. 
“Are you on birth control?” he asks. You nod your head. ��Have you been tested lately?” You nod your head again. He smiles. “Do you like me? Check yes or no.” 
You check yes — or at least he thinks. You kiss him tenderly, more tenderly than is good for him, and you both fall back into your hurried, lust riddled motions. You take his growing hard on in your hand and guide him into you. You lean your forehead on his and let him sheath himself inside of you. He goes slowly, wincing against the warmth of you squeezing around him. It feels so fucking good—dangerously good. He forgets about the stupid movie and the bosses down stairs and all that miserable shit about ruining their rugs.  
“Do you like it when I’m mean to you?” you whisper, once he’s fully inside. He looks at you, amused, and shrugs his shoulders. 
“I don’t know. Seems like it.”
“Do you think you’d like if…If I was controlling?”
He hums against your shoulder, bringing your body closer to his. “How so?” he asks. He begins guiding your hips, lifting you gently off his cock and slowly back down. 
“Make you beg,” you say quietly. “Maybe call you names, if you want. Maybe tell you how good you are when I think you’re good.”He twitches inside of you and you smile. He smiles too. 
“Actors are so self absorbed,” he jokes.
“Your movie wasn’t bad,” you assure again, more kindly. He doesn’t respond. He kisses the place between your neck and your shoulder. You quicken the pace that you ride him in and he nods gratefully, sighing softly. His knees draw up and you reposition slightly, feeling him more deeply inside of you as you grind back down into him. 
“Do you want to cum?” you ask him. You drive your hips up, gripping onto the hands he has on your hips, making him move in your slow, teasing pace once again. He bites at his bottom lip and doesn’t respond. You stop moving. He flashes his eyes up at you, annoyed and aroused and vaguely infatuated. “Of course,” he breathes out. 
“Tell me,” you taunt back. You resist when he tries to move you back down and he groans, but you feel him twitch in you again. 
“I know you want me to fuck you too,” he counters. 
“Sure,” you nod, “But remember: I’ve already cum three times and you’ve cum none. I think I can withhold far longer than you.”
He can’t help but smirk. That’s not good enough for you. You want him far gone for you, incoherent practically. You rise off his cock completely and he lurches forward, groaning. “No!” he says. “I want to cum!” he says, pawing at you. “Please!”
You hover over his glistening cock and pout. “Didn’t seem like it,” you taunt, moving your hips over him but not touching. His lips part but no words come out. “I want it to seem like it. You’re a big boy, Bravo and you can use your words, can’t you? I hate a man who can’t use his words—who’s afraid to.” You lean down, close to his ear. “I hate a coward.” 
“I—I can use my words,” he stutters. His fingers brush against your hips. “Please, just climb back on me and keep riding me. I—I need that.”
“Tell me.” 
“Fuck,” he grunts. “I need it so bad.” 
You grab his cock, stroke it lazily. “Again,” you say. His face twists up in what could be either pleasure or pain and he says, “Please. I need it. Need you.” 
He’s as hard and desperate as he was before. You kiss him hard on the mouth and allow him to take over again, guiding you down onto him this time. He flips you over, lays you down against the ground, and drives into you. You gasp and he smiles like he’s won a prize. 
“Can I—“ he fills you to the hilt. “—is it alright if I…Can I cum in you?”
You nod your head. He looks at you and you understand he wants more than just a nod. “Yes,” you answer. 
It doesn’t take much more than that. He gathers up your legs, drives into you with one or two more inspired thrusts, and then he’s growing rigid against your body, hot spurts of his cum filling you. He exhales softly into your neck. You think he might apologize for a moment but he doesn’t. Instead he thanks you. 
“Feel better?” you ask. He nods. 
“Much,” he says. “Hell—I might really be starting to think that the movie wasn’t so bad.” When he looks at you, you can tell he’s kidding. 
“Well,” you joke back, “At least even the bad movies get you fucked, huh?”
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lucy90712 · 1 year
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Pedri makes reader feel bad after implying all she wants is his money
wc: 1700+
For most of the afternoon I have been cleaning the house and getting things set up as my boyfriend Pedri is having his teammates over for the evening and I don't want the place to look a mess. Pedri and I have been together for coming up to 4 years which is crazy to think about as it feels like just yesterday that I made the at the time crazy decision to move to Barcelona with Pedri so that we could stay together. From that day our relationship has only gotten stronger to the point that I can't even imagine what my life would have been like if I chose not to move here. I truly love Pedri so much he has been with me through everything and we have both supported each other through everything life has thrown our way. 
Its not often that Pedri invites so many of his teammates around but I encouraged him to do it as the team has been doing so well and working so hard that I thought it would be nice for them to get together and have some fun. After suggesting it I told Pedri that I would make other plans for the evening to get out of the way so that they could have a proper boys evening but he insisted that I stay. That is the reason I've been preparing things for most of the afternoon because although I know none of them would really care I wanted to have snacks and drinks ready as thats what I would do with my friends. 
Just as I finished with the last of the snacks the front door opened and Pedri came in with Gavi as he can't drive so Pedri offered to just drive him straight here. Gavi greeted me with a simple hello and a smile and Pedri came over to give me a kiss which made Gavi make gagging noises which made Pedri flip him off. The 3 of us all sat down and started talking until others started to arrive a bit later. Pedri had invited pretty much the entire team which meant there was a lot of people suddenly in our living room so people were sitting on the floor and everyone else was squished onto the sofa. To make things more comfortable Pedri allowed me to sit on his lap which we do all the time but never in front of anyone else so I felt a bit awkward to start with until Pedri grabbed my hand and rubbed it with his thumb to calm me down. 
Once everyone had arrived and settled in we were having so much fun everyone was talking and laughing which made me really happy as I love to see the team getting along so well. I didn't really say much but I was happy to just sit and listen to everyone because I'm not the most outgoing person so just being present in the conversation was fine by me. Everyone seemed to be liking the snacks I'd made too which made me happy as I spent quite a while on them and tried to make things that were healthy but also tasted good. 
"These are so good" Gavi said eating one of the things I made 
"Yeah everything is really nice thanks y/n" Ferran added 
"These must have taken you ages" Gavi said 
"I bet you spent a lot of my money on them too" Pedri said 
Everyone kind of gave him a look once he said that but I tried to brush it off as just a joke and continue the conversation to not make things awkward. Luckily his comment seemed to have been forgotten at least until he started making more comments about money and implying that I'm only with him for his money which is so far from the truth. It hurt to hear him say those things because I didn't know he thought about me like that or believed that I didn't actually love him. The more things he said the more it was starting to bother me so to avoid crying in front of everyone and ruining the evening I excused myself and went to the bedroom to just be on my own. 
When I was finally alone I could no longer stop the tears from falling and once they started they wouldn't stop. It's so hard to believe that Pedri would ever think that I'm only with him for his money I mean we have been together since before he was so successful and I took a big risk to come to Barcelona with him all because I loved him. Pedri does of course make more money than me but I still work hard I'm in my last year of university and have a job which takes up most of my time outside of studying. All the money I earn goes towards either paying for bills or things I need for university but I never take Pedri's money unless he specifically allows me to. Sometimes when we need food he will give me his card to use but I always make sure to find the best deals and then give it back to him right after I get back. 
Pedri is often spoiling me with gifts but I always tell him not to because I don't need any of those things not that I don't appreciate them but I don't need him to spend his money on me to be happy. When he does get me something I will always try to take up extra shifts and get something for him but of course it isn't worth as much because I simply can't afford it but I always try. For birthdays and other holidays I try and get him gifts that have a meaning and show how I feel about him and I can't believe he would just forget about all of that and act like I don't care about him at all. 
Pedri's POV
"Dude whats up with you tonight?" Gavi asked 
"What do you mean nothings wrong" I said 
"The things you're saying about y/n are you guys in a fight or something" he questioned further 
"No we are fine" I replied 
"Well I don't think everything's fine you can't just pretty much say that she is us using you for money and say everything is fine" Ferran pointed out 
"I'm just joking I don't actually think that" I said 
"You might want to tell y/n that I can't imagine it feels good to hear you say those things" Gavi said 
Oh no what have I done. I was just joking around as people always seem to think that y/n is with me for the money even though I know she isn't so I wanted to make a joke out of it. Thinking about it again it probably wasn't the best joke to make as I know she sees what people say and tries her best to show me that she isn't with me for the money. The more I thought about it the worse I felt as I know she works really hard and has never once taken advantage of the fact that I earn quite a lot in fact it's always my decision to spend money to get her nice things like she deserves. 
When y/n left the room I didn't think much of it but now that she's been gone for a while I can't help but feel like I've really upset her. As much as I want to go and find her and apologise for everything I said I can't because there is other people here and she probably wants some time away from me. While sat with everyone else I wasn't at all engaged with the conversation as all I was thinking about was y/n and how I must have made her feel. 
Your POV 
From my spot on the bed I heard the front door shut and then silence which I knew meant everyone had left. Despite that I still didn't move as I didn't want to see Pedri just yet because I've only just stopped crying and I know I look a mess. When the bedroom door opened and Pedri walked in I quickly hid my face so that he wouldn't see my red eyes and may just completely ignore me but of course he didn't. He came and sat down next to me and put an arm around my waist to pull me into his side. I still didn't move but he stayed next to me and tried to get me to move the pillow that was in front of my face. Eventually he succeeded and I looked at him for a second before going to look away again but he stopped me by putting his hands on my cheeks which made me look at him. We looked at each other for moment before his mouth opened and he clearly started to think about what to say. 
"I'm really sorry for what I said earlier" he apologised 
"Do you really believe that I'm like that?" I asked
"Of course not I don't know why I said it I was just joking because I know people say those things about you but I wasn't thinking about how it might come across" he explained 
"I promise I'd never use you for your money I really do love you as soon as I finish uni and get a better job I'll contribute more to everything I just can't afford to right now" I started to ramble even though Pedri already told me he was joking 
"Its ok I know that you love me and I don't need you to contribute anymore you do enough for me in other ways I promise you that it was a joke and I'll never say anything like that ever again" he said 
"Thank you" I said 
Only when we finished talking did he take his hands off my face as instead he put one behind my neck to pull me into a kiss and the other went around my waist to move me closer to him. When we both pulled away from the kiss I moved to lay on top of him and he gently ran his hands through my hair and stroked my skin all while telling me how much he loved me which was nice to hear. 
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orangepanic · 6 months
Text
Decided to lean into the age gap - Irosami
His next kiss was softer than Asami had thought, yet no less passionate. It almost felt like he was tasting her. Savoring her, committing the feel of her lips to memory, as if---
"Wait," Asami said as she pulled away, "you're saying goodbye?"
General Iroh looked away.
"Iroh? Why? What changed?" Asami searched his handsome face for answers. After months of build up, of quiet jokes and subtle touches and eyes that lingered just a little too long they'd finally cracked. A chance meeting in this small and untraveled staircase in City Hall after a rainstorm and suddenly they'd been wrapped in each other's arms, all heat and lips and tender wanting. His fingers tangled in her hair as he pressed her into the wall with his body. Spirits, how she'd dreamed of this. And yet somehow she still wasn't enough.
"I'm sorry," said Iroh. "I would if I... but I can't. I can't do that to you."
"Do what? Iroh, I said yes. I want this. I want you, whatever that comes with. Is it your family?"
"Don't agree to things you don't understand," he said sharply. "You have no idea, Asami. None."
Asami took his hand, so hot in her own. "Then tell me," she said. "Don't be like the others. Talk to me, Iroh. I'm not Daddy's little girl anymore. I can handle myself. Let me make my own choice."
General Iroh met her eyes. His own seemed darker now, more bronze than bright gold. "I'm older than I look," he said hesitantly.
Asami quirked an eyebrow. "Like 25?"
Iroh grimaced. "No."
"Thirty?"
He shook his head.
Asami frowned at him, taking in his smooth skin and thick hair. "You can't be older than 36 or so," she said. "You don't look any older than Mako and he's the same age as me."
Iroh took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, as if steeling himself. "Asami," he said, "I---"
"Just tell me, Iroh," she said. She squeezed his hand. "Please."
"I'm five thousand years old."
Asami scrunched her brows together. She must not have heard that right. "Excuse me?"
"Five thousand," Iroh repeated, "or close enough. I've forgotten my true age, and those who knew it are long dead. Like the first Avatar I once sought the spirits, and like the first Avatar I was given gifts. But my gifts are more like a curse. I never age. I do not die. I will look always as I am, a young man, yet anyone reasonable will see I am far too old to love."
Asami was silent for a moment, taking that in. Five thousand years? That was a really, really long time. On the other hand...
"You must be really good in bed," she said.
Iroh's eyes flew open. "W-what?"
Asami gave him a sultry grin. "All that experience. You must have learned a thing or two... right? I mean, you're a very good kisser." And he was. Far better than the 18-year-olds she'd dated.
"I, um, I." Iroh's face got steadily redder. "I suppose, I, uh, yes. I've been around. Some."
Asami squeezed his hand again. "So what's not to love? Are you hungry? I bet you know all the best places and dishes since you've been around so long. You've probably tried everything."
"Well, there is this shop over on 8th that has authentic Fire Nation food just like they made it back in the---"
"Great!" said Asami. She tugged Iroh down towards the door and he stumbled after. "I'm starving. Then if you're up for it I can see if five thousand years of experience is enough to beat me at Pai Sho. Hardly anyone can. My money's on me but prove me wrong."
General Iroh chuckled behind her as they raced out again into the steaming summer night. "I think you'll find I have a few surprises for you," he said.
Asami smiled. "Good."
Thanks to @krastbannert for the idea!
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dialovers-translations · 10 months
Text
Diabolik Lovers CHAOS LINEAGE ー Subaru [09]
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Monologue
Taken there by Laito-kun,
Subaru-kun and I headed for the living room,
where everyone else had already gathered as well.
I thought that Carla-san,
wanted to talk to me alone,
but perhaps that is not the case after all.
While Carla-san looked somewhat surprised,
when he saw Subaru-kun,
he did not seem to particularly mind his attendance, as he began to speak.
Carla: ーー It should be obvious what I want to talk about.
Quite some time has passed since we welcomed Eve into our manor, but I have yet to experience any developments towards becoming the Supreme Overlord.
Eve does not seem to show any changes either.
I am fairly positive that the path towards becoming Supreme Overlord will open to us once she has fully ‘ripened’ as Eve, but her blood still smells as foul as ever.
I do not notice anything different about her either.
Yui: ( I’m pretty sure I smell bad to him because Subaru-kun sucked my blood. )
( That’s why a Founder such as Carla-san perceives it as ‘foul-smelling’. Seems like he has forgotten all about that though. )
( He can wait for me to ‘ripen’ all he wants, my blood will never be delicious to him. )
Carla: At present, we have not been able to obtain any new information on the Supreme Overlord or Eve, while the situation remains stagnant as well.
However, I can only assume that the other Houses will continue their assault. In which case, we must make a move forward as well.
That is why I have decided that I will keep Eve by my side in hopes of triggering some kind of evolution.
Subaru: Wha...!?
Yui: Eh!?
Carla: Do you understand, Eve? From today onwards, you shall start living in my room.
Subaru: Oi! Why are you decidin’ this without our approval!?
Laito: So that means you’ll keep her all to yourself?
Kou: Carla-kun, you’re so lucky~
Azusa: If Carla wants to become the Supreme Overlord, that might be the quickest way to do so...
Carla: Yes, exactly.
While I am taking a chance by betting on a method which has zero evidence backing it up, as long as we do not have any clues, I believe I have no other choice but to test out all possibilities.
It is my destiny to rise to the top and govern over the Vampire race, and to do so I will do anything at my disposal to become the Supreme Overlord.
Yui: ...Ugh.
( Anything as his disposal...I guess he’s so obsessed with the title because he’s a Founder? )
( Even if he doesn’t remember, he might still be the same person deep down, just like Subaru-kun was. )
Carla: Subaru, do you understand? From this moment onwards, your supervising duty has been officially revoked.
Subaru: Cut the crap...So in other words, I gotta hand her over to you?
Carla: What do you mean? Eve was never yours to begin with.
*Rustle*
Subaru: Not in a million years. I’m not lettin’ you have her.
Carla: I beg your pardon? Could it be that you are after the title of Supreme Overlord yourself?
Subaru: Supreme Overlord? I don’t give a damn ‘bout that shit!
I mean, you’re over here obsessin’ over that stupid title like a fool but do you even know what the title holds?
Carla: ...Excuse me?
Subaru: As soon as you realized her blood tasted bad to you, you should have started by askin’ yourself the question whether you’re even Vampire at all.
Yui: ...!
( Don’t tell me, he’s going to reveal to everyone that their memories have been altered? )
( And that my blood tastes bad to him because he’s a Founder and not a Vampire... )
( I guess that might be a good plan. If we address it to everyone right now, it might bring forth some kind of change. )
Carla: What are you saying all of a sudden?
Subaru: You heard me. You really don’t feel as if somethin’ is off ‘bout your current self?
Like how you’re actin’ as our ‘older brother’, or what exactly you’re fightin’ for.
Carla: Hmph. Such an odd thing to say. I simply cannot understand where you are getting at.
Yui: ( Carla-san doesn’t seem shaken up. He must be very confident that he’s a Vampire. )
Subaru: Once again, I really think you should be a lil’ more doubtful of your own memories and this fucked up World!
*Thud*
Carla: ...
Subaru: ...Laito, Kou, Azusa. Her blood smells sweet to the three of you as well, doesn’t it?
Laito: Guess so.
Kou: Yeah, it makes me thirsty.
Azusa: Yeah, me too...
Subaru: Did you hear that, Carla? Seems like you’re the one who thinks her blood is disgustin’.
Carla: ...And?
Subaru: That’s because you’re not a Vampire like we are! You’re a Founder!
Carla: ...I was wondering what you would come up with.
Oi, Azua. Do you understand what Subaru is trying to say?
Azusa: Well...
Laito: Ah, could it be that Subaru-kun has fallen in love with Eve~?
Kou: Ah, I get it now! Subaru-kun doesn’t necessarily want to become Supreme Overlord, but he just wants Eve all for himself~
Carla: In other words, you have been blinded by Eve? Are you trying to confuse us?
Subaru: ...Che. It’s no use. It doesn’t seem like he’s willin’ to listen to what we have to say.
Yui: Yeah...I don’t think any of them sense anything strange about their own memories right now.
Subaru: Fuck!
Carla: Either way, I understand very well that you do not intend to let me have Eve.
In which case you leave me no other choice. I will simply have to take her by force then.
*Cling*
Subaru: He drew his sword...! Step back, Yui!
Yui: ...!?
Carla: Subaru. It is not too late just yet. If you obey and hand her over, I shall forget about everything you said just now.
You are still my younger brother after all.
Subaru: ...But I’m not? I thought a Founder would know better than to continue spoutin’ such bullcrap.
Carla: Come again?
Subaru: You’re not gettin’ her!
*Woosh*
Carla: Hmph. I cannot believe you would be as impudent as to throw a knife at me...I suppose you truly want to bare your fangs at me.
ー Carla strikes him down
Subaru: Kuh, you...!?
Carla: You shall learn that the punishment for betrayal is a big one. You fool.
Subaru: Who’s the fool here, huh!? Is this the best you can do now that you’ve forgotten ‘bout your own identity as a Founder!?
*Clang*
*THUD*
Carla: ...Ugh.
Subaru: Damnit! This won’t work!
Yui, let’s run! Now’s our chance!
Yui: Yeah, Subaru-kun!
Monologue
After clashing swords with Carla-san,
Subaru-kun managed to fend him off for just one moment.
Using that opportunity, we grabbed hold of each other’s hands.
And dashed off just like that.
Away from this fake familyーー
ー The scene shifts to a cave
Yui: ...Hah...Haah, haah...
Subaru: ...Haah.
*Thud* 
Subaru: ...It doesn’t seem like they’re comin’ after us. I just hope nobody saw us flee over here.
Yui: I wonder why they won’t come after us...?
Subaru: They might be shaken up. 
Even if they don’t believe any of what I said, I’m pretty sure Laito and the others also had their suspicions about the taste of your blood.
Yui: Now that you mention it, while the two of you were fighting, all they did was watch from the side.
Subaru: Since he didn’t order them to attack me, Carla might have been somewhat in panic as well.
I can never tell what that guy’s thinkin’ though.
...I just hope we can rest up a bit here.
Yui: ( Ah! There’s blood seeping through his shirt! )
Did you get hurt perhaps...!?
Subaru: It’s just a scratch. I’ll be fine as long as I rest up a little.
Yui: But it looks really painful. It won’t stop bleeding either...
The wound might have opened up from the sudden movement! Show me!
*Rustle*
Subaru: Ah, oi! Cut it out...!
*Rustle*
Yui: ーー Aah, I knew it. The fabric’s drenched in blood.
Your old injuries must have opened up again.
Subaru: Most of them were almost fully healed, so it’s no big deal.
Yui: ( That’s a lie. The wound’s wide open again. His stamina has surely gone down as well. )
Subaru-kun, suck my blood. Even if it won’t heal them, it should help you feel a bit better, right?
Subaru: I can’t do that. I won’t be able to control myself once I get started. I’m just not confident in my ability to hold back right now.
Selection
→ It’s for your sake (♡)
Yui: I’ll be fine. You haven’t sucked my blood in a while.
I want to do something for you. I want to actually do something for you as well, rather than always be the one getting protected.
Subaru: ...
Yui: So please let me do anything I can?
Subaru: What are you sayin’...? Don’t come cryin’ to me afterwards.
→ That’s fine (🖤)
Yui: That’s fine. Even if it kills me...
Subaru: Idiot, what are you sayin’...!? I won’t let that happen.
Yui: But if it’s to save you...
Yui: Don’t worry. I’m begging you, Subaru-kun. Have my blood.
I don’t want you to have to suffer all alone. As your girlfriend, I want to share the pain with you.
Subaru: Haah...You really are unbelievable. Always sayin’ the most outrageous things.
Well, I guess I can’t protect you if I don’t do somethin’ ‘bout these injuries. Now’s not the time to be sayin’ such things. 
Am I really that much of a loser that I can’t even hold back? I’ll show you that I’m perfectly capable of controllin’ myself.
*Rustle*
Subaru: ...I’ve made my choice. You’re ready for it as well, right?
Yui: Yeah, come here.
*Rustle*
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On certain CGs, little black roses will appear on the screen. If you click on them, you get an extra line of dialogue.
“You’re shakin’. Are you alright? Don’t endure the pain and just tell me if it hurts, ‘kay? ...Although I might not be able to stop, even if you ask me to.”
“Nn...Haah...What makes your blood so incredibly sweet and hot?”
Subaru: ...Don’t go faintin’ on me ‘cause it feels too good, ‘kay? Don’t leave me alone. Hah, nn...Phew.
Yui: Nn...Aah...
Subaru: ...Nnh, nn...Hah...
*Rustle*
Yui: Ah...
( His fangs are sinking deep inside me... )
Subaru: ...Nn, kuh...
Yui: ...Ah, Subaru-kun...
Subaru: ...Haah...Your blood...It really does taste sweet.
Yui: Nn...You can have some more.
( Please, may my blood...help soothe his pain. )
Subaru: Idiot! Don’t entice me with those sweet moans! I seriously won’t be able to stop!
Yui: I don’t mind, if it’s you...
( I mean, he’s sucking my blood so gently, making me feel good... )
( My body feels hot, like I’m floating...Almost as if I’m dreaming. )
Subaru: But I do mind. I want to treasure you even more than I treasure myself...
*TIMESKIP*
Yui: And? Did it help you feel better?
Subaru: Yeah. I’m in a way better mood than before as well.
Yui: You did manage not to suck too much after all. I had faith that you would be, you know?
Subaru: Listen, don’t you think you’re bein’ a little too carefree now? My thirst hasn’t been quenched at all. 
Yui: Eh? Is that so? Then I don’t mind if you have some more...
*Rustle*
Subaru: Idiot! Why are you exposin’ your skin!? I said it’s enough!
Yui: R-Really...?
*Rustle rustle*
Yui: ( I don’t think he needs to hold back though. )
Subaru: We can’t sit here like this forever, can we? We have to discuss what we’ll do next.
Yui: Yeah, you’re right.
Subaru: Carla will definitely come for us to steal ‘Eve’.
Even without his original memories, he’s still got a big-ass ego, and he’s got his sights set on becomin’ the Supreme Overlord. 
Yui: Carla-san is a Founder, so in an actual fight, he’d be a force to be reckoned with.
Subaru: Yeah. With his memories gone, he didn’t seem to try to use his Founder powers.
Yui: Those are linked together?
Subaru: Beats me. I think it’s just that you need to have an awareness as a Founder, or else you won’t think of tryin’ to use them, right?
But we’re up against four people. Founder or not, if I try to face them head-on, I’d stand no chance.
Yui: ...I’m sorry.
Subaru: Hah? Why are you apologizin’ out of the blue?
Yui: I mean, if you hadn’t protected me, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt so you would have had an easier time facing them...
Subaru: Idiot. If I hadn’t taken that bomb for you, my memories wouldn’t have returned, right?
So don’t apologize. How am I supposed to react when the whole reason I ran away was to keep you safe? 
Yui: ...Yeah, guess you’re right. Then let me thank you instead. Thanks.
Subaru: Yeah. Don’t ever put the blame on yourself again, ‘kay?
Yui: ( Fufu. He really is so kind. )
Hey, I wonder how big this cave is?
And how far have we made it?
Subaru: Good question. It honestly might be safer to try and find shelter at one of the other Houses rather than running far away.
Yui: But the other Houses are also out to get Eve...They’re after me, right?
Subaru: The Orange House...won’t work. We only just faced them after all. I’m pretty sure Ayato is still enraged about it.
We could try to head back, puttin’ all our hope on Laito rememberin’ everythin’ but the chances of that are pretty slim.
Yui: Then...
Subaru: Reiji always knows how to keep his head cool, so we might just have a shot at the Scarlet House.
Shuu’s over there as well. If we play our cards right, they might just shelter us.
...Well, they might not take my words seriously.
Yui: That’s not true, Subaru-kun. You’re actual brothers after all.
Subaru: You say that, but our family has always been different from the Mukami’s or the Founders.
Yui: ...Even so, I’m sure that you’ll connect somehow. Don’t worry. Let’s have faith in the power of family! (1)
Subaru: The power of family, huh...? Don’t make me gag.
Yui: But...
Subaru: I know! It’s not like we’ll get any further by hidin’ in here.
I guess we can go see Reiji. Off to my shitty older brothers.
Yui: ...Yeah! I’ll follow you anywhere.
Subaru: Yeah, I know.
ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー 
Translation notes
(1) Literally she says ‘genuine bonds/connections’ but that sounded kind of dry in English, so I went for a less literal but more natural-sounding translation.
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anxiefics · 1 year
Note
Hello! I saw you wanted scara requests and there was one idea from @kichiyoshi I REALLY wanted to see done but I don't think anyone has done yet. So if you did I'd be very thankful.
(It's like their only post and I don't think tumblr would allow me to copy the whole thing)
: ̗̀➛ ib: @kichiyoshi !!
: ̗̀➛ synopsis: looks like you forgot your consciousness was connected to the balladeer's. oops?
: ̗̀➛ ft. scaramouche x reader
: ̗̀➛ cw: written before 3.3 quest, cursing
: ̗̀➛ this idea was so cute!! thanks for sharing yaya
_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
after the time in pardis dhyai, you were even more wary of scaramouche, not that you weren't already on edge because of him. you were just barely keeping your.. rather interesting thoughts out of your head while he spoke to you, knowing that he could read your mind. you could still feel his ghost-like shadow over your shoulder, tickling your ear. maybe you're just delusional.
he's in a coma now, isn't he? you thought to yourself. serves him right. i do wonder if i can see him though...
after a long and hard day, you really wanted some eye candy. however, i don't know why you'd pick the balladeer of all people, not to judge your taste of course (like seriously, cyno has his chest on display. though maybe that's for tighnari?)
"hey, nahida!" you waved to the small god, who seemed to be pondering something, as per usual. she brightened up upon seeing your face.
"why hello, y/n. what brings you here?" nahida inquired.
"i would like to see scaramouche, if that's possible," you answered with a sheepish smile on your face.
"ah, he just woke up a few days ago. he's in this room here, but keep in mind that he is still a bit disoriented," she warned, leading you to the room on the left.
"thanks nahida, see you later!" you knocked on the door as the god went away to do godly things, you presumed.
a familiar, snarky face answered the door. ah, how you hate to love this guy. or love to hate, either way.
keep it cool, y/n. and that you did. though internally, you were screeching. looks like you forgot all about how his consciousness was connected to yours. his sheer bodysuit left little to the imagination (a more modest approach compared to cyno's), kimono fitting loosely around his lithe figure, like he couldn't be bothered to tie it properly. though he has gone through a shocking change (he's a good guy now, or so nahida says), he still had that "i'm better than you" air to him. you'd be lying if you said you didn't find him attractive.
okay, i know he was evil, but he's not anymore so i am free to gush over him right? how is he so hot but cute at the same time!?
scaramouche, or should i say the wanderer, was flabbergasted to say the least. you dare make such presumptuous comments about him, a puppet that rose to become a god? how absurd! he has half a mind to reprimand you about your behavior right now! ah, but he is quite intrigued by your thoughts (which did not match your face at all), so he'll let it slide for now. after all, he's in a good mood today. this motherfucker knows he's the shit.
"hm, awestruck by my presence already?" he raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by how long you've been standing there, saying nothing, verbally at least. "a mere mortal like you should be."
"w-what? no! of course not! i'm just making sure you aren't trying to kill anyone again!" you sputtered, a feeble attempt at covering up your attraction.
archons, really! i wanna squish his cheeks! i bet they feel soft!
okay that was it.
"f-foolish human! do you not realize that i can very well hear your thoughts? you should watch what you think!" scaramouche tilted his hat down, hiding the red spreading on the cheeks you oh-so wanted to squish.
oh. oh shit. you'd forgotten all about that. to think you were so cautious before, cursing him out in your head, because no way you developed a crush on scaramouche. nuh-uh. all that hard work of denial and complaining had gone to waste, what a shame. what would the traveler think of you (not that they hadn't already known, and judged you for)? so, you thought of the next-best option in this worst-case scenario.
to run, of course.
you pushed his big-ass hat further down, hoping to disract him long enough to make your quick getaway. you bolted the hell out of there, your shoes clacking loudly against the tile floor. this way's probably the exit, right? you sprinted past a confused nahida, yanking open the double doors and yeeting yourself (not that you could fly) as far as you possibly could. which, was admittedly pretty far. you ran out of breath as you reached the edge of sumeru city, taking a few shortcuts to get there. you were doubled over on your knees, gasping for air like your life depended on it, which it did.
"ahem." oh hell no.
you looked up to a floating red-faced scaramouche, courtesy of his new anemo vision. venti really knows how to pick 'em, huh?
"dumbass." he seemed more flustered than you realized. "you did it again."
you laughed. "i'm not the one who looks like a tomato though!"
at that, he got even redder, if that was even possible.
"what's this? the almighty balladeer is embarrased?" you cooed, moving forward and dragging him down.
"shut up! you're the one with the weird thoughts!"
"and you're the one with the cute face!" you pinched his cheeks.
wow. they really were as soft as they looked.
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wordsbyarwen · 4 months
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i said i would be focusing on my current WIPs but lol, apparently February is the month of "distract everyone with Greek myths set in Hell." this one features Tissaia as Hades and Yen as Persephone (without the kidnapping).
i haven't touched the beginning but i've never in my life had so many headcanons develop and crawl out of so few paragraphs while actively writing them, so this was fun! what started as "the mages are the gods and use avatars to appear to their followers" became "i bet Tissaia thinks this whole situation is Rita's fault" (spoiler: it is)
anyway here is a little 500 word taste of worldbuilding and snarky tissaia+rita. as a treat. mostly for me.
Tissaia shook off the mantle of Hades like a winter cloak, rolling out her shoulders and tipping her head sideways. Even as she diminished in stature, her neck gave a satisfying pop of releasing tension. When she opened her eyes again, the view was much more familiar.
She hated being six inches taller in her own house, hated the idea that things could look so different from the perspective of someone who stood a head higher. In the mortal realm it was all well and good to present herself as an imposing figure - how imposing depended on her audience, her mood, and the day of the week - but she would always prefer the body she was born into for the day-to-day affairs of her court.
Sinking wearily onto her throne, she rested her forehead in an open palm for a long few moments, eyes closed. She was exhausted, but there was work to do that was far more exhausting yet.
Well. Perhaps she couldn’t rightly call it work, but she was determined to resolve the mystery of the mortal in her house, and she had a very good idea of where to start.
Composing herself, Tissaia lowered both hands to curl her fingers loosely against the arms of her throne. Her blue eyes flashed with fire and lightning and, lifting her head, her voice shook the very foundations of her throne room.
“APHRODITE!”
When the echoes of her voice died away and the room fell silent, she waited for the span of several long breaths. Then, rolling her eyes, she spoke again, this time as if she were addressing someone at the back of the room, her eyes still gleaming with power. “Do not ignore me, you great Olympian slattern; your stench is all over her.”
“My, my. Impatient, melodramatic, and charming as ever. I have work to do too, you know.”
The voice of the woman who strolled into Tissaia’s periphery was dark and rich as loam, her skin like raw umber. She was a little taller than the version of Hades Tissaia wore in her own home, busty, and broad in shoulder and hip. Her lips, glossy and dark, were curled into a smile, and her hair was twisted into locs broader than Tissaia’s thumb and piled high atop her head in an intricate display.
Most gods chose a form and maintained it - sometimes the body they were born into, sometimes a preferred avatar. For some, transitioning was easier than others. Tissaia had always resisted change herself, found the act rather more taxing as a result.
But Aphrodite - Rita - had a face for every occasion and every audience, so many that Tissaia had forgotten what the woman rightly looked like. She supposed it didn’t matter.
The body she presented herself with today was one Tissaia had not seen in a while, but it was as lovely as any Rita had chosen and equally on display: bare arms, dramatic neckline, skirts that were sheer in places and barely opaque enough for modesty in others.
“What is it this time, then?” Tissaia asked as Rita moved to stand in front of her, hands on hips, expression smouldering. “Seducing pretty boys, or starting wars over pretty girls?”
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oliveroctavius · 10 months
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Hi, it's me again!
Do you know if there's a playlist somewhere of what music the Coffee Gang would listen to?
I feel like maybe a few artists were mentioned in the comics from what I've read so far, but I wonder if you had an inkling/headcanon/any idea what the characters would enjoy.
... Now that I'm thinking about it, the weird temporality of comics might make this an issue...
Oh this is a super fun question which I have no ready-made answer for. (If anyone reading this does have a playlist made or opinions on the subject, share 'em in the notes!)
Going by the comics timeline, I'd start with late 60s/early 70s rock and disco hits. MJ seems the most tuned into new music by way of youth culture and dance venues. Stuff by the Beatles, Beach Boys, Monkees, the Foundations, the whole top 40s list. (ASM #45/130)
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Emphasis on female solo acts, maybe: MJ pulls an Aretha Franklin album from Peter & Harry's shelf, and I bet she likes Nancy Sinatra. Wherever she goes, the first thing she does is often to turn on some tunes. For the most part, she's the group tastemaker.
As for Peter, I'm guessing this ask was prompted by ASM 136:
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It's a running joke that being Spidey keeps him a decade behind [current date] pop culturally. Ella Fitzgerald's career dates back to the 30s; I like to think that most of Peter's music taste + collection is inherited from Uncle Ben and Aunt May. Though humorously cynical nerd Pete might've had time to latch onto Tom Lehrer pre spider-bite, the way some modern high schoolers have a Weird Al phase.
The Osborn-Parker record collection is probably mostly Harry's, covering similar cultural territory to MJ's tastes. Maybe there's a never-opened Wagner opera in there courtesy of Norman. The girl on the cover of Hip Hug-Her always reminds me of Gwen, but I have no idea where her music taste might go. Movie soundtracks, maybe?
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ASM 151 has notes on JJJ's music collection, of all people: Guy Lombardo, good lord. (And Mantovani is an orchestra conductor.)
Flash is a bit mysterious because his background took a while to fill in. In the far future of ASM 574, he listens to Tom Waits on Peter's recommendation. I was kind of nursing the headcanon that his dad kept Johnny Cash around the house and referred it to the only music for real men left in the world but rarely played any of it, until Flash got around to listening on his own and to his surprise really emotionally connected with it and reclaimed it into his own music taste...
In any case, there's a bit of music still left once Gwen leaves the scene. Kung Fu Fighting is PeterMJ's song, for one.
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One of the last big nights out of the classic era is to the disco in SSM 24! This delightfully camp villainous music group is unfortunately not available on any music platforms, but KC and the Sunshine Band, the Bee Gees, the Jacksons and the Trammps certainly are.
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And finally, based on this random panel whose issue I've forgotten, I like to think MJ got everyone into new wave at some point. The B-52s, Talking Heads and the Waitresses have reminded me of her. I also think her modeling connections would introduce her to the NYC weird art scene of that era, like Klaus Nomi, Grace Jones, and Laurie Anderson. By that time it would mostly be the Watson-Parker music taste, though.
Well, that's a whole lot of links to individual songs and not a coherent playlist at all, but I wanted to cover as many different bands/eras/ideas as I could work in. I'm sure I missed some though.
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Random Things Dr. Cimmerian Said Asleep
Dr. Cimmerian is, first, typically a ray of sunshine. Second, he has a bad habit of dozing off while reviewing reports. And drooling on a few here and there. He does say some weird shit while asleep, I blame the copious amounts of coffee everybody consumes. Once more, without context!
"Peaches? With long pork? Pushing the boundaries of fine cannibal dining I see, Ferdinand. I'd suggest some shiraz or a nice zinfandel."
"Yoshi! Put down that D-Class right this instant! He's a very boring serial killer. The nice Chaos Insurgency guy next to him would taste better, not that we condone a humanitarian diet here."
"Dyo, honestly... the crinoline is outdated with good reason, namely it's too damned impractical. Stick to corsetry."
"Eighty kilos of gunpowder, twenty kilos of iron nails, a further twenty kilos of roofing tar? In her skirts? I've heard people say 'If I'm going to die, you're coming with me!' before, but... that's hard-core. No wonder they stopped burning witches after that. Woman was a massive legend, but not a witch. A REAL witch wouldn't need all that to make burning her a bad idea."
"Clef... your ex... Woman has an entire magazine warehouse of issues. And you put your junk in the crazy. Never. Sleep. With. The. Crazy."
"Dad? Why is the beer growing mushrooms?"
"AAAAAHHH! WHO THE UNHOLY HELLS GAVE 096 A FUCKING CLOWN SUIT!"
"Put down the cake knife and walk away, Dr. Bright. You knew when you asked Mabel for German chocolate what you're in for. Besides, you could just hit her with her own terrible cake. Not that O5 would condone that, of course."
"Uh... Ben? Is it me, or are the daisies staring us down?"
"We actually nailed jello to a tree once. Clef bet Kondraki $200 he could figure out how it's done. Benny almost ate his sword over that one. Turns out you can do it, provided you simply nail the unopened box to the tree."
"Cain, can you locate in the notes where anyone asked Dr. Matthieu for his opinion?" A pause. "Nowhere? Huh. As I thought. Thank you."
"Whomever said you couldn't herd cats never was at my Aunt Martha's house. All she had to do to herd cats was just touch the food bag, and every cat in her house came running."
"WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO FEED THAT POOR IDIOT TO 682? He's going to get an upset stomach."
"Uh... Agent Dimitriov? I think you might have forgotten part of your uniform. Aren't your knees cold?"
"Are you sure we can't just yeet him out of the airlock when no one's looking? Yes, I know the spaceship is on Earth still, but it's far enough off the ground for terminal velocity to become a factor. Just push him out of the vent."
"You hit the Scarlet King in the junk, with a hammer? And survived? Okay, Abel... I take it back. You're not just a Semetic badass, you're THE Semetic Badass."
"How? How in the hells did you manage to shoot yourself in the back with no one else around you in a sealed room? The fuck you mean, 'The Invisible Man has a gun?' Admit it, you had someone shoot you to get out of Peanut-sitting again, didn't you?"
"Coffee. Extra large, heavy on the cream and sugar. No, larger than that. Larger." A pause. "What do you mean, you don't sell by the gallon?"
"Dr. Gears. This is the SCP Foundation. Sarcasm and pessimism are practically survival mechanisms here. Give the kid a pass."
"NOOOO! COME ON, WHAT THE BLUE FUCK DID OREGON DO TO DESERVE LENNY? YOU UTTER BASTARDS!" In the middle of a meeting with the Ethics Committee, eyebrows were raised, and coffee spilled.
"Run."
"I, too, would rather be under the sea, in an octopuses garden in the shade. You thinking what I'm thinking, my dive brother? Right. Let's leave these landlubbers and go hang with the fishes."
"Funny, 035. First, we can't KEEP you dressed, now you're out here looking like a weird ass male version of Rogue from the X-Men. Malicious compliance is acceptable, I suppose."
"You keep making poultry explode, Alto. Perhaps your charming assistant should give you cooking lessons?"
"WHY IS EVERYTHING ON FIRE?!? AGAIN?"
"Screw the files! Don't let 999 burn! That little blob of joy is my only reason to live."
"That's it. Get me a team of ten really strong D-Class, a case of 100 mph tape, a tranquilizer gun fully loaded, the electric purple snow leopard furry suit in lost and found, and a camera. Let this be the last time anyone sees Bright butt in public."
"I'm not above blackmail and we both know it. Gimme. The. Pie."
"Simon? I think this might be above my skill level. Can you please get Dr. King to calm down?"
"I can't believe Agatha talked him into a mankini. Didn't need photo evidence though."
"WHO THE HELLS TAUGHT THE KETCHUP PUPPIES TO 'FETCH THE LEG'? Max? That's... honestly impressive. Pity about that guy from MC&D, though. He did have it coming, to be honest."
"You ran... the Bible... through the Clockworks? On "Very Fine". And, got basically over a thousand pages of 'Try not to be an asshole, mmmmkay?'. Experiment inconclusive. Run the 'Communist Manesfesto' through next, my accountant is curious."
"Why are you here? Basically, 343 likes a joke as much as the next person. Oh. You meant why are you in the Femur Breaker? Well, we gotta get 106 back in containment somehow. That's where you come in. For what it's worth, I'm sorry about this, you seem like a lovely fellow."
"They're just firing arrows at us. You have an SMG, shoot them back. Some MTF agent you are."
"He's dating THAT? I've seen less silicone in a RealDoll. And, better fashion sense, for that matter."
"Wait... hold the phone, Abel. You're older than Jesus, but never had a cannoli? Rabbit, my girl, this will not stand. Cannoli the man!" A brief pause. "I KNOW, RIGHT? Whomever invented the cannoli deserves a sainthood."
"Primitive and outdated concept on a crutch!" Preceded by a thump.
"New Bright List entry: 'Dr. Bright is no longer allowed to access the Cursed Clown Nose of Improbability under any circumstances. No, not even to prevent an XK Class Scenario.' Noted. This item #857, or 858? I lost track."
"WHAT kind of butter? Oh. I thought you said something altogether more horrifying."
"JULIAN, YOU ABSOLUTE WALNUT! You forgot Quinn's birthday. Of COURSE you're in trouble for it. I got you covered though. They're still into lemons and tea, right? You're golden. Lemon blossom tea set, courtesy of the fine folks of Etsy. Pay me back on Friday."
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caxycreations · 4 months
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Tagging @that-one-enby-onyx @moremysteriesthantragedies @thetruearchmagos @mikathewriter and @the-octic-scribe cause I figure y'all will be at least somewhat interested in this stuff ^-^
Some Fun Facts About the Cast
Ryder
Ryder's tail wags independently of his will. He can choose to make it wag, but if he's happy, excited, or otherwise feeling positively, he can't NOT wag.
His favorite meal is Elyr Style Steak (Relanian equivalent of New York Strip) with applesauce drizzled over it and buttered beans on the side (green beans, specifically).
He once let David pick his Halloween costume, having promised he would wear it, no matter what it was, as part of a lost bet. He'd expected David to make him wear something embarrassing, only to find a tuxedo on his bed, and a cheap plastic "ring" to go with it.
He did NOT connect the dots when he, wearing the Groom costume mentioned above, arrived to the party he and David were attending and found David in a white wedding dress with matching ring, and to this day fully believes David was dressed as Selana, a popular pop singer that David enjoys who is known for wearing white, flowy outfits.
David
David can bark, chirp, trill, meow, and purr, and while he can do all of these at will, he has been known to do them on instinct as his immediate reaction to strong stimuli.
He can purr with his mouth full and it does vibrate his tongue heavily when he does. Do with that what you will.
He once had the opportunity to cook a meal for a visiting Kanorian Ambassador passing through Tylvin. He was the only one working the café at the time. The Ambassador remarked that his skill, even with the limited tools of the café, was "On par with the banquets of the royals". David has never forgotten that and his cooking is one of the few things he has a genuine pride in.
He's a LOT faster and agile than you'd think. David ran Track and Field in high school and never let those skills deteriorate. His top speed recorded was 26mph, with average Sentient speed being ~18mph. His agility is solid as well, with David having an innately perfect sense of balance.
Davina
Her culinary skills are on par with a part-time fry cook in high school, and her food tastes about as good. This is why she orders takeout and delivery so often.
She views physical intimacy as a means to an end (that end being relief from her hyperactive drive and her partner's tensions and needs), and not as anything special. She's been known to offer or even ask for it with just about anyone for this very reason.
She can tell at a glance if someone's relationships are mutual, and has a sixth sense for "pure" relationships (platonic or romantic connections that are mutual and equally strong both ways)
Her tail is fully prehensile, and can be twisted and bent however she likes due to a mutation she and her brother share. This IS part of the mutation they share that causes their tails to be slightly longer than twice their heights.
Trace
He can draw WAY better than he lets on. Most of his art is simple and rough, but he is fully capable of drawing in a fairly realistic style.
He's hyper-sensitive to wind direction and air pressure, and can tell differences as small as a single person entering or leaving a room he's in by the addition or loss of their breathing.
He uses his courier job as both practice for his weekly races AND as a way of building up favors with his contacts in Tylvin's illegal free-running league. He offers to deliver packages and letters, no questions asked, in exchange for nothing but "A favor owed", which has made him a very popular courier for the underground.
To add to the last fact, Trace has never asked a big favor. His payment has always come in the form of free meals, replacement clothes when his wear out, or simply free reign to train on buildings owned by contacts he's delivered for. This contributes to his popularity as a courier; he charges no money, and all he asks in exchange is small comforts and freedom to train.
Also
Should I do stuff like this more often? For other characters, for places, or something like that? Or maybe less positive/more positive stuff than this?
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hbyrde36 · 11 months
Text
Caught in the Undertow
Chapter 8: I'm drowning in your kiss and it tastes like goodbye
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 AO3
The eventual smut is smutting, so y'know, be aware
*Steve*
“I’m losing my mind, Robin.” Steve groans, slumping in his seat on the other side of the booth.
He hadn’t wanted to leave Eddie after their talk this morning, worried that he would change his mind and move out while Steve was gone. He knew it was a little irrational and did his best to let the thought go. It’s not as if he had a choice, canceling on Robin wasn’t an option. Besides, he really needed to vent to her about what’s been going on. 
“That's a little dramatic.”
He cuts her a hard glare. Their server chooses that moment to finally come over, and he has to fumble his way through ordering lunch and wait for the woman to walk away before he can respond. It’s torturous.
“I'm serious!” Steve hisses. “How am I supposed to get over my stupid feelings for him when he keeps acting this way? He’s always finding excuses to be close, to touch, and the cuddling, my god the cuddling! ”
She quirks a brow while taking a long sip from her drink. “Well, that doesn’t sound like the behavior of someone who doesn’t want to be with you.”
Steve shakes his head. “You don’t get it. The second he wakes up and realizes it’s me he’s holding, he runs away. It’s so bad that he told me he wanted to go home this morning.”
“What?” She practically shouts.
“I mean, he said he was just trying to give me my space back, and when I said I didn't want that, he changed his mind, but I don’t think..”
She slumps forward abruptly, head in her hands. “Oh god, you’re both idiots.”
“Not helping, Robs”
“Fine, sorry.” She taps her fingers on the table, thinking. “Maybe this is just, how he is? Naturally flirty and touchy-feely. I mean, you remember how he was with you during the whole Vecna thing.”
He rolls his eyes, begrudgingly amused that she can refer to their hellish ordeal over spring break as, ‘the whole Vecna thing’, but he doesn’t know what she’s implying.
“What are you talking about?”
Robin’s jaw drops. “Are you serious right now? The bambi eyes? The vest? Big boy!?”
Steve shrugs.
“How have you been on so many dates and yet have absolutely no idea when someone is flirting their ass off with you!?”
“I don’t know! I’m just, I'm so confused.”
“Look, for the record, I think he likes you, a lot, and maybe he’s just not ready. I think you should relax, give it some time, and I bet he’ll come around.”
-
Steve was relieved to see that Eddie’s van is still in the driveway when he gets home, and he suddenly feels a little silly for having worried about it. He smiles as he enters the house, vowing to himself to take Robin’s advice and chill out, let Eddie be however he wants to be, and hope things work out. 
He manages to keep his cool for all of 5 minutes before he walks into his room to find Eddie sitting on the bed, staring at the contents of a cardboard box.
Steve felt all the blood drain from his face.
He had almost forgotten about the box, had only vague spotty memories of the night everything went in there. He remembered getting home from the hospital, the night Vecna’s bats almost took Eddie from them, the rapid fading of adrenaline causing him to stumble and fall as he entered the empty house. 
Robin had begged to stay with him, and God would he have loved that, to have someone there, to not be alone. But he couldn’t have the breakdown he needed to have in front of her. He told her he was fine, that she should be home with her parents.
He crawled on hands and knees to the small bathroom on the ground floor. Tears blurring his vision as he threw up what little was left in his stomach, then dry-heaved for what felt like hours before collapsing onto the cool tile. 
Steve didn’t know what time it was when he finally scraped himself off the floor, but the bit of sky he could see through the room’s small window was starting to lighten. He picked up Eddie’s vest from where he’d dropped it on his way in, and trudged up the steps to his room. 
He laid the bundle of sweat-soaked denim carefully on the desk, and stripped out of his own ruined clothes. He wasn’t aware of showering or putting on pajamas, he was just suddenly back, clean and dressed. He stood in the middle of his room holding a trash bag, staring down at the pile of dirty bloodstained cloth. 
One blink later and he was in bed with the lights still on. He always slept with the lights on for a while after a new run-in with the upside down. The garbage bag was full, tied off, and sitting by his bedroom door. He stared at it, heart hammering in his chest for reasons he couldn’t name.  
Eddie’s vest still sat where he’d left it on the desk. He had the irrational thought that it wasn’t safe there, out in the open. He had to take care of it until he could give it back to Eddie, or his uncle. Flinging back the covers, he got up and rummaged through his closet until he found a cardboard box. It would have to do. He gently placed the vest inside, fingers sliding over the various buttons and patches on its front. That’s when he recalled the guitar pick necklace. He had taken it from Eddie before they moved him, and shoved it in his pocket to make sure it didn’t get lost. 
He lunged for the bag and tore it open, cursing himself for forgetting as he dug through the pockets. Finally, his hand wrapped around the small piece of plastic on its short chain, and he sobbed in relief. He clutched it to his chest for a moment before adding it to the box.
Steve looked back at the soiled clothing that spilled out of the ripped bag, and it hit him all over again just how much blood Eddie had lost. It wasn’t the first time Steve had to dispose of something like this. His scoops uniform had found its final resting place at the bottom of a trashcan too. That was different though, that was his own blood, and no matter how intense the torture had been, when it was over there had been more than enough of it left swimming through his veins to keep him alive.  
There was no such guarantee where Eddie was concerned. 
What If the worst happened? What if Eddie didn’t make it?  These bits of him, remnants of the precious red fluid that had once flowed through Eddie’s body, would be all Steve had left of the boy it belonged to. He added the soiled clothes to the box and closed the lid, sliding it under the bed where it would be safe. 
Steve knows, even as he tries to muddle his way through an explanation, that this is it. Eddie is going to realize how fucked up he really is. He’s going to leave and he’s never going to talk to him again. 
He looks down when he’s finished, the need to run away so intense that he has to laugh at himself for how much of a coward he’s become. 
“Jesus, it sounds even worse when I say it out loud. I’m sorry, you’re probably so creeped out now. I’m just gonna…” Steve says, with a shake of his head.
He tries to get up, but suddenly there’s a hand on his knee, and Eddie is pushing the box out of the way to get to him. Steve is caught off guard, it’s not the reaction he was expecting at all, but his body responds instantly when Eddie straddles his lap, and he’s half hard by the time their lips connect.
Steve can’t stop the needy little sounds that crawl up his throat to betray him. Eddie doesn’t seem to mind, drinking each whine and whimper down like it’s some rare delicacy, as he grips the back of Steve’s neck. 
Eddie pulls back, tugging Steve’s shirt up and over his head, before letting Steve help him with his own. It’s the first time either of them has seen the other’s scars and they stare at each other openly.
Steve’s throat tightens at the sight of Eddie’s torso, all the marks there illustrating how close he’d come to death. He pushes the thought away, instead choosing to focus on how well the skin is healing, proof that Eddie lived, that he made it. He leans in, placing gentle kisses on every inch of marred flesh he can reach until Eddie hauls him back up, claiming Steve's mouth again with his own. 
Eddie pushes him back gently, until he’s laying flat on the bed. Steve groans as Eddie lays his full weight on top of him, deepening the kiss and grinding their hips together. 
Just when Steve thinks he can’t take it anymore, that he’s going to come in his pants like a teenager, Eddie shifts. He slides down Steve’s body, kissing and biting a trail down his chest and stomach until he reaches the top of his jeans. Eddie looks up at him then through his eyelashes, and it takes Steve's breath away how beautiful he looks like this. He knows Eddie is asking if this is okay, and all he can think is godyespleaseanything, but he can’t speak. He swallows thickly and gives the barest of nods. It’s all the permission Eddie needs.
Eddie works his fly open quickly and easily with one hand, which Steve finds incredibly hot, then moves off the bed so he can pull Steve’s jeans and boxers all the way off. It feels strangely vulnerable, being completely bare when Eddie still has his sweatpants firmly in place. As if he can sense it, or maybe he just knows Steve that well, Eddie slides his own bottoms off before crawling back up on the bed.  
He settles himself between Steve's legs and quickly goes to work sucking a bruise into his inner thigh. Eddie licks, and sucks, and bites what feels like every square inch of him except the one area where he is most desperate for it. Steve is a trembling mess by the time he feels the first hot wet slide of Eddie’s tongue along his length. He makes a high, keening noise he didn’t know he was capable of, as Eddie finally has mercy on him and swallows him all the way down.
Steve knows he isn’t going to last, it’s been too long, and Eddie's mouth feels too good when he hollows his cheeks. He fists the comforter, trying to hold on as long as he can. 
“I’m close.” Steve manages to rasp out. 
Eddie moans around his cock, bobbing his head a little faster now. The vibration is enough to send Steve over the edge, and in seconds he’s coming hard, pulsing into Eddie's mouth. 
Eddie backs off of him slowly, and Steve watches, mesmerized as Eddie's throat works to swallow what Steve left behind. He doesn’t take any time to recover, doesn’t hesitate for a single second to pull Eddie up and kiss him deeply.
He’s never kissed a girl straight after a blow job, it always seemed like something dirty, something he should be grossed out by. He’s not, in fact he kind of loves that he can taste himself on Eddie’s tongue, but even if it were less pleasant he wouldn’t care. There's no world in which Steve Harrington would not kiss Eddie Munson, if he was willing. 
As much as Steve wants to get his mouth on Eddie, he’s never done that with a guy before and he’s a bit nervous that he won’t be any good at it. So he decides to go for what he knows. 
Steve licks a long stripe up his palm and reaches between their bodies to take Eddie’s cock in hand. Eddie sucks in a sharp breath at the contact, resting his forehead against Steve’s as he ruts up into his fist. 
It’s intimate, they’re sharing breath and looking into each other's eyes from inches away as Steve works to make Eddie come. It’s the most intense sexual encounter Steve has ever had, and it feels so good, and so right, that Steve sort of wants to cry.
Eddie is panting harder and Steve knows he’s close. He grips Eddie’s length just a little tighter and begins to swipe his thumb over the head on each pass. Eddie comes with a shout and sags against him, body trembling. Most of Eddie’s mess wound up on the covers, so Steve moves them out of the wet spot before taking Eddie into his arms.
They lay there tangled together for a long time afterwards. Trading a few slow lazy kisses and gentle caresses of skin. Steve doesn’t speak, afraid to break the spell that has fallen over them, but sooner or later they would need to talk about it. Already Steve could feel the anxiety creeping in, the worry that Eddie would regret what they had done or that it didn’t mean anything to him.
Eventually his panic gets the best of him, and he has to say something, to check in with Eddie and make sure they’re okay at the very least.
“Eddie I…”
The doorbell rings downstairs, the sound echoed through the house, louder than it should be in his room because the door is still wide open.
Steve looked at the clock, 6pm. It had to be Wayne. They’d invited him over for dinner on his night off and both of them had clearly forgotten till now. Eddie curses, sitting up abruptly and fumbling around for his clothes.
“We forgot about Wayne. I’ll..um..go let him in.” Eddie said, dressing quickly, all the while refusing to look Steve in the eye. He ran out of the room while still pulling his shirt back over his head. 
Steve groaned and buried his face in his pillow. Now he’d have to make it through an entire meal and put on a good face for Wayne before he could find out how Eddie felt. He could do that. It was fine. Totally and completely fine. It’s not like he would be actively going crazy all night or anything. 
He took the fastest shower of his life and did his best to pull himself together before joining the two of them downstairs. 
-
Eddie and Wayne are in the kitchen sitting up at the counter, a steaming cup of coffee in front of the older man. Steve greets Wayne briefly, warmth blossoming in his chest when the man says “it’s good to see you, son.”  
Steve gets to work quickly on dinner, thankful that he had prepped most of it the day before. Chopping would have been dangerous with the way his nerves have his hands shaking. 
Eddie and his uncle chat as Steve cooks, and somehow it's not awkward at all. He relaxes slowly and even starts to interject in their conversation after a while. Eddie hops down from his stool at one point to help, but all he manages to do is make Steve’s cheeks turn red when he brushes a hand along his lower back.
They eat right there at the counter. Steve tried to set the big table for them, he wanted to make things nice and it’s what his own parents would have expected, but Wayne insisted he was fine where he was. They didn’t need all that fancy business to enjoy each other's company. 
Steve loves it, wonders if this is what family dinners are supposed to be like, instead of the stuffy affairs he used to suffer through with his own relatives. He imagines a future where he gets to have this all the time, with Eddie and Wayne, and smiles. He doesn’t know if what happened earlier actually changes anything between them, but he allows himself to fantasize about it, if only for a few minutes. 
When the meal is done Steve decides to give the two other men some time alone to catch up. He could use a little time to get his heart under control anyway. He plans to hide away in his room but he’s just at the top of the stairs when he hears Wayne ask a question that knocks the wind out of him.
 “So, are you and Steve an item now?”
“What!? Um, no, I mean why would you think that?” Eddie replies.
“Well, you’re clearly both interested, what’s the problem?”
“It’s just..it’s not like that, Okay? It’s…that’s never going to happen.”
“You better tell him that then, son, and stop leading him on, because the way he looks at you? I been around for a long time. I know love when I see it, and that boy’s in deep.”
Steve’s heard enough. He retreats to his room and breaks down in tears. 
-
He ventures back downstairs a half hour later, praying it’s not obvious that he’s been crying. He doesn’t really want to face either of them after what he overheard, but none of this is Wayne’s fault and he doesn’t want to let the man leave without saying goodbye. 
Eddie won’t look at him when he reappears, which is fine, and definitely doesn’t make him feel like he’s dying. Wayne gives them each a hug before he goes, giving Steve an extra squeeze before letting go. 
The second the older man is out the door, Steve runs away to the kitchen. It needs cleaning up from dinner anyway, and it’s the perfect excuse to keep busy for a while. Eddie doesn’t try to help, which is a relief. When it’s all done he turns to find Eddie standing in the doorway watching him. It couldn’t matter less, but he wonders how long the other boy was there, quietly observing. 
“Can we talk?” Eddie asks, expression guarded.
Steve smiles, but he knows it looks anything but happy. “Can it wait till morning? I’m..tired. Can we just go to bed?”
Eddie studies him for a long time, and finally nods. 
There's no discussion as they get ready for bed. It seems silly to Steve to put on pajamas when they saw each other naked a handful of hours ago. He’s got nothing to lose now, so he strips to his boxers and climbs into bed. Eddie watches him, says nothing, and does the same. There's a gaping space left between them when Eddie lays down. And Steve decides he has two choices. He can accept it and go to sleep, knowing what Eddie is going to say to him in the morning, or, he can say, fuck it. He does know what Eddie is going to say, and so he also knows this is his last chance to feel him, to taste him. 
He closes the distance between them, slotting their mouths together. Eddie opens to him instantly, and Steve licks into his mouth desperately.
Eddie pulls back after a few minutes, panting. “Steve, I really think we should…” 
“Please, Eddie.” Steve whines, and he should be embarrassed. but he just doesn’t have the strength for it. “I don't want to talk.” 
Eddie shuts his eyes tight, looking like he’s having some internal war with himself. Steve drags a hand up Eddie’s thigh and cups him through his boxers, not above playing dirty. Eddie bites back a moan and gives in, smashing his mouth into Steve’s. 
If this is his only opportunity, Steve isn’t going to waste it this time by being scared. He moves slowly across Eddie’s body, licking down his happy trail and dipping a tongue just below the band of his underwear. Eddie writhes under him, one of his hands coming to rest lightly in Steve's hair. He lifts the elastic with his teeth and drags the boxers down around Eddie’s thighs, freeing his hard cock. 
An unexpected moan slips out of Steve when he gets his mouth around Eddie for the first time. Eddie echoes the sound, and his grip on Steve’s hair tightens ever so slightly. Steve sinks down as low as he dares, loving how it stretches his jaw, and the way the soft skin feels against his lips and tongue. It feels like he's only been going for a minute or two when he feels the telltale pulse. Eddie tries to pull him off but Steve fights to stay in place. He’s rewarded with Eddie's come shooting down his throat. The heat and taste of it make Steve’s eyes roll back in his head. He doesn’t resist this time when Eddie urges him up. He goes willingly, eager to see Eddie’s face. He looks blissed out, lips bitten red and eyes half closed, but his cheeks are wet when he pulls Steve in for a kiss, and he doesn’t know what to think about that. 
They make out for a long time, and Eddie returns the favor the same way Steve did earlier in the day. 
As much as Steve wants to stay awake all night, if only to gaze at Eddie’s face and put off the inevitable, his eyelids are heavy and he is emotionally and physically exhausted. Sleep sucks him under quickly. 
-
Steve wakes to an empty bed. Eddie’s side is cold, it’s clear he’s been gone for a while. His stomach drops, in a panic he runs to the guest room, already knowing what he’s likely to find. He swings the door open and it bounces off the wall. Sure enough, there are a few things still lying around, but most of it, including Eddie’s bag, is gone. Steve looks out the window to confirm it and, yeah, Eddie's van isn’t there.  
Before he can think better of it, Steve pulls a pair of pants on, grabs his keys, and runs out to his car.  He gets as far as putting the key in the ignition before he stops. Why is he chasing after someone who doesn’t want him? Eddie has made it pretty clear that he doesn’t want to be with him. Steve knew last night was probably it, so why is he still so shocked? Because the sex was good? Because it felt real? 
God, he’s pathetic. 
Had he really thought Eddie would change his mind overnight?
He had, he’d hoped anyway. 
There's a loud knock on the car window, right next to his head. He doesn’t even react, too overwhelmed with all of the other feelings swirling inside him. He does look up though, and it’s Robin.
Wordlessly, she opens the car door and grabs onto his legs, swinging them out. She crouches down in front of him and all he can do is look at her. He’s frozen. 
“Oh, Steve.” Is all she says. Just two words, but it breaks him. He falls out of the car and into her arms.
“How are you here?” He croaks, face pressed to her hair.
“I rode my bike.”
He could see it laying abandoned in the middle of the front yard, one wheel still spinning in the breeze. 
“I mean, how did you know?”
“Wayne called me.” She replied. Steve stiffened. 
“He said he doesn’t know anything,” she quickly added. “But he saw Eddie come home and he thought you might need someone. Do you want to talk about it?”
Steve sighed. “Not really, but come inside and i'll tell you anyway”
Part 9
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aprillikesthings · 4 months
Text
lol I spent a portion of last night/today reading someone else's live-blogs of season 5 and I'm kinda glad just bc I'd forgotten that in the LAST SCENE of the LAST EPISODE they were like "yay let's go to space and bring magic back to other planets :D FRIENDS ROAD TRIP"
(also I reread an old interview with ND Stevenson where he was like "wooo I bet they visit a bunch of planets")
Anyway it's forced me to re-imagine the first chapter and change of my fic but it's fine, better now than later
okay lets get another episode down while laundry is in the dryer
s1 ep4!
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On the one hand I get why they have Angella be like this
On the other hand I'm like, do people here not know what "child soldier" means? Yes, Adora's old enough to make decisions for herself, but that's. Why she left.
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I feel like this is loosely inspired by really big pretty churches, but in a fairly neutral kind of way
Or maybe it's just that everything reminds me of Her
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(The cathedral in Leòn, Spain; aka one of my fave places on earth, I'm always surprised this pic turned out as well as it did because when I took it I was crying, anyway)
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*squints* I forget if they ever explain which defeat they're referencing here, I'm positive they do but I'm blanking
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Is that Castaspella on the mural
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Catra's little "prrp!" here was almost definitely involuntary, and I love that they had her do a "surprised kitty" sound
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Okay so Shadow Weaver is like NO I KNOW YOU NO MORE ABOUT ADORA AND YOU'RE NOT TELLING ME and is visibly threatening Catra, but then her crystal thing starts to hurt her, and as she backs away Catra reaches for her before Shadow Weaver slaps her hand away, have I mentioned how well they portray child abuse survivors
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:(
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BAHAHAH that's gay
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the village hoes just be throwing themselves at her amiright
(I don't mean the baby obviously)
Note to self for later, writing reasons: the Princesses all have literal physical objects that are the source of their powers
Man I can never get over the degree to which Perfuma reminds me of a friend I had in the late '00's, a tall thin blond sorta-hippie with long hair who REALLY tries to think positive and loves trees and flowers
Hordak: why are u still so obsessed with blondie Shadow Weaver: i'm not Hordak: you are so full of shit. give it up or no more magic for u
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Poor Adora had NO idea she had to fill shoes this big or old
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Bow will make such a great dad at some future point
Wait I gotta include that in my fic *runs off to write notes*
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accidentally took the worst screenshot lol plz enjoy
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This Ken lives in Plumeria!
Perfuma: we believe karma will come for the Horde someday :) Glimmer: or you could just fight them yourself Perfuma: mmmmmno
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You're gonna have to tell her this like fifty more times
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where did you get those
Boy it took like nothing for Perfuma to convince her people "actually let's go murder those sumbitches, call me KARMA AHAHAH"
Adora's actual magical ability: hiding that huge-ass sword no matter what she's wearing
All the green growing things taking over reminds me of scenes in Princess Mononoke, which was almost definitely on purpose
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Perfuma has tasted blood and she's not going back
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The parallels with "she's not really gay, it's a phase, she's confused, I'll get her to come to church" like I'm sorry but there's no way they didn't use that phrasing on purpose
Glimmer: if you were perfect you'd be HELLA ANNOYING
(she's not wrong)
ANYWAY my laundry was done like fifteen minutes ago but I wanted to finish the episode out :D
4/52
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liliansun · 1 year
Note
day 16/365 of haechan appreciation
just a little psa : i'm actually a nice person hyuck just makes me a bit toxic is all
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anyway i have to write this quickly otherwise i'm gonna spend my whole day just looking at him (I would resend in day 15 but i've quite frankly forgotten and I don't need a reason to cry today and so early in the morning)
haechan as the 5 senses (and feelings)
taste - lemon fizzy lollipops. diced mango eaten with a spoon. frozen sprite.
smell - sandalwood. mango. coconut. a subtle hint of coffee and something a little expensive (dior maybe? idk)
sight - cheeks full of food. a sea of phone lights. sunsets - chewy orange, pink lemonade, a type of red that belongs in a tunnel (and maybe astigmatism) and it's your moment.
sound - the sound of shoes clicking together. the blanketed silence of overhead headphones. the ambience of a jazz bar.
touch - peppering of his kisses and little nips at the skin of your cheeks. ear muffs. grasping at his leather jacket by the zip.
feelings - the feeling of a chest filling with air and a steady but sleepy heartbeat. fizzy giddiness you felt during childhood and in crazy straws. not exactly knowing exactly what he is to you but somehow being your entire world at once?
god i love him.
and i was thinking - if haechan said some things that guys have said to me, would I consider it? ....yes. did it work with them? of fucking course not.
AT LEAST SHE IS SELF AWARE. now listen hyuck kinda does crazy things to us (when she says you’re the only one she wants to share him w >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>)
I freaking love frozen sprite and I quite literally have a mango ripening so I can eat it omg. HE IS EXPENSIVE I bet he smells like home, comforting and warm. The touch part has me kicking my feet and crying I’m gonna be honest 🥺
😭NOT IT NOT WORKING W THE OTHER GUYS WHSHS but we been knew bc hyuck is just,,hyuck 🤭
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duskwoodgirl4life · 1 year
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MC had not seen Jake since that one day in duskwood that was over 6 months ago, he told her that he would contact her when he was able to. MC was now living in duskwood MC Jessy were sharing an apartment Jessy had helped her get a job at the Aurora Phil happily said yes.
Things had been going well. MC kept herself busy trying to keep her mind off Jake, everytime her phone rang or buzzed her heart stopped thinking it would be Jake. Her heart broke into a million pieces all over again she kept wondering if he had forgotten about her. Did he want her to move on from him? Phil had been getting close to MC; he wasn't all that bad looking.
Christmas was coming up MC and Jessy had just bought a tree and we're busy decorating it when Jessy's phone buzzed.
Jessy: that's probably Richy, I bet he's forgot what time to come round
Richy: Hey beautiful, what time did you say to come round?
Jessy: I knew you would forget you can come round now
Richy: okay, see you soon X
Jessy: yep I was right
MC: he's really lucky to have you in his life
Jessy: I'm sorry MC, we can have a girls night of you want
MC: no it's okay, the distraction will do me good
Jessy: I'm sure he will contact you soon don't give up hope
MC: I'm trying to I really am, it's just so hard I love him
Jessy: I know you do, come on let's go get some wine
MC: that's a good idea
They went into the kitchen and grabbed two glasses and the wine. There was a knock at the door. Jessy went to answer and let Richy in; he had bought a couple bottles of wine and tequila.
All 3 had an amazing night laughing and joking with lots of drinking, the next morning MC woke up with a hangover thankfully she had some painkillers and a bottle of water by her bed. After taking the painkillers she got up and went to make coffee Jessy was already up and was feeling hungover.
MC: remind me not to drink tequila again
Jessy: my head hurts never again
MC: What happened to Richy?
Jessy: He's still passed out on the bed
MC: I need coffee and a shower
After taking a shower MC felt a little better she still had some last minute Christmas shopping to do, once she was ready she headed out into town. The shops were busy, everyone rushing about trying to get their gifts. After MC had finished she decided to treat herself to a coffee and a slice of cake.
MC went into the rainbow cafa and placed her order, she found a seat near the window and sat down. The waitress bought her coffee and cake. MC took a bite of the cake and it tasted so good.
After MC had finished she made her way back home and wrapped up the gifts, she placed them under the tree. After a busy day MC decided to go run a hot bath and get an early night.
The next day MC woke feeling a lot better. It was now Christmas eve, everyone was coming over tomorrow for Christmas dinner there was so much to sort out. Thankfully Cleo was bringing the desserts and Hannah and Lilly were coming round in the morning to help with the cooking.
Later that day MC had just finished work and was now heading back home, when she arrived back home she could hear Jessy and Richy talking to someone. When she opened the door she was greeted by someone she thought she would never see again.
Jake: MC?
MC: What the…Jake is that you? What are you doing here?
Jake: yes it's me, I came back to be with you
MC: But I thought it was too dangerous? And why the hell didn't you tell me? I've been so worried
Jake: I understand I am sorry I didn't let you know, I wanted to surprise you I am no longer being followed by the FBI I am free
MC ran over to Jake and put her arms around Jake holding on to him as tight as she could, she couldn't believe that Jake was really here. She stepped back looking into his eyes. He had beautiful bright blue eyes.
MC: I can't believe you are really here I've missed you so much
Jake: I've missed you to MC more than I can say
MC: I love you Jake
Jake: I love you MC
Everything was coming together so well MC felt like she could take on the world now that she had Jake back in her life.
The next morning MC woke early, Jake was still asleep. She got out of bed and opened up her wardrobe pulling out a gift for Jake.
Jake: Merry Christmas my love
MC: Merry Christmas my handsome hacker I've got you a gift
Jake: You have? Thank you so much
MC handed Jake the gift inside the box was a picture inside a frame, it was the first picture that they took together the first time they met.
Jake: MC I love it, thank you so much
MC: I'm glad you like it
Jake: I have a gift for you
Jake reached over to his backpack and pulled out a box, he handed it to MC to open as she took the paper off she opened up the box and inside was a beautiful heart pendant.
MC: OMG, Jake it's beautiful thank you so much I love it
Jake: you are welcome my angel
Jake helped MC put on the pendant. It looked beautiful around her neck, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him softly.
MC: this is going to be a wonderful Christmas
Jake: I agree, it's going to be perfect
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Text
Are You Ready For It
In the middle of the night, in my dreams, you should see the things we do
Summary: When Elain Archeron's roommate can't interview wealthy business man and school alumni Lucien Vanserra, Elain agrees to step in.
Little does she know what Mr. Vanserra does behind closed doors.
Or what he'd do to her, if she'd only agree to let him.
NOTE: Still a 50 shades of orange rewrite but without any of the problems with consent.
beta'd by the incomparable @the-lonelybarricade
Chapter 2: Every Lover Known In Comparison Is A Failure
Read more: Chapter 1 | AO3 | 15k words
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It took two days for Elain’s results from the clinic to come back, which gave her plenty of time to think. Elain struggled to focus in her classes, her mind constantly wandering back to Lucien, utterly naked—practically a bronzed, muscular God with the thick, long cock of one, too—calling her baby, telling her she was a good girl. She knew there would be more. Lucien had explained he’d like to inject a little pain the next time they met just to see how she liked it.
Spanking, he’d said with a roguish smile before promising he’d eat her out afterwards as a reward.
And fuck Elain if she didn’t want to feel his mouth between her legs again. He’d sent her home the next morning after feeding her breakfast and it was all so normal that her only reservations were the acts themselves. She’d never been hit in the bedroom, had never been hurt in the bedroom. She’d been bored to tears, of course, and Elain wondered if maybe she couldn’t find some enjoyment in all of it. Take what she liked, leave what she didn’t.
She trusted Lucien to stop, if nothing else, and to respect her boundaries. 
Elain was in her afternoon class when the e-mail popped up. She knew nothing was going to come up and still she was breathless sending him that screenshot as proof. Lucien had done the same the day before with a little winky emoji and a tongue emoji. Truly, they probably should have done it before she ever put his cock in his mouth but Elain considered it a risk worth taking given how good he tasted and how utterly sexy he was.
Lucien’s response was immediate.
Can I see you tonight?
She almost laughed.
You sound down bad, daddy.
If she was going to be spanked, might as well earn it. He liked a little sass both in and out of the bedroom even if he wanted eventual submission. She just had to figure out how to walk the line between the two. Elain had found some amount of pleasure in pleasing, and she couldn’t pretend she didn’t like being told what to do. She was still shy when it came to sex and men were always hoping they’d get some secret pornstar in the bedroom when really Elain wanted them to tell her what they wanted, and not the other way around. 
Be careful.
She could practically hear the growl in her voice. She pressed her legs together, the lecture happening in front of her all but forgotten.
I can’t tonight. I work and Arina is dealing with something. Tomorrow I’m off…I could see you then?
And Lucien, predictable as ever, sent back:
I’ll send a car. Seven p.m., don’t eat.
That sounded ominous, though she bet it merely meant he wanted to feed her. Elain hoped there would be no deconstructed meals, at least…and maybe a little vodka. Assuring him she was looking forward to it, Elain slid her phone back into her bag and returned to her lecture. 
After, Elain biked directly to the florist to pick up the evening shift. It was quiet at night, giving Elain time to work on arrangement and, when she ran out of projects, to do homework in the quiet. Since Arina had ended things with Jack, their apartment had peace. They’d cleaned the apartment top to bottom in an attempt to remove the smell of him and yesterday, when Elain came home, she’d found a sweet burning candle that didn’t have his unwashed odor battling it for dominance.
In the past, though, getting homework done in the floral shop was essential given Jack was either loudly playing his video games or loudly fucking Arina into boredom. Arina had confessed it had been at least a year, maybe more, since he’d made her finish. She supposed that was what had been so attractive about Eris Vanserra—his willingness to eat a woman out. 
Arina said she didn’t want Eris which was a shame considering how much he obviously wanted her. He’d sent a massive bouquet of flowers Elain had fished out of the trash, if only not to waste something both so pretty and expensive. She understood Arina’s hesitation. To admit she was interested was a betrayal of her feelings for Jack…whatever those were. And it proved him right.
Jack was the other problem Elain couldn’t get over. She returned home late in the evening to find him waiting inside the lobby. He had a key to get into their building though in truth he probably could have just pulled really hard on the door, given how flimsy it was. He was pacing back and forth in a surprisingly nice shirt, for him at least. Still cargo shorts, still floppy, messy brown hair she was certain was unwashed. 
His eyes narrowed when he saw her come in. Choosing to ignore him, Elain went for the stairs, adjusting her backpack.
“This is your fault,” he called after her retreating back. “You got in her head.”
“You messed this up all by yourself,” Elain retorted, irritated by how Jack refused to take even a shred of accountability. Pausing on the third step, Elain turned to face him. He was doing a decent job of swallowing his hatred but she was prepared to run up the steps if that changed. 
“You started that fucking fight–”
“I never hoped you died!” Elain bit back, surprised her feelings were hurt. “And she was right. You should get a job.”
“I have a job, bitch!” he spat. Jack couldn’t go five minutes without reminding her how much he hated her. Elain only rolled her eyes. 
“Jobs pay people. Arina works hard—”
“Shaking her fucking ass,” Jack spat, taking a step towards Elain. “Like a fucking slut. Of course she’s making money with her tits hanging out of her shirt. You could too, if you weren’t such a frigid bitch.”
“Great,” Elain replied. “Good talk.”
She turned her back and glanced at her phone. Lucien had sent her a picture, distracting her the moment she realized it was a picture of his penis rather tastefully shot. Erect and clutched in his big hand, Elain could appreciate the sheer largeness of him. His hand covered him entirely but only half of his penis. 
Something hard collided with Elain’s back, knocking the breath from her body. She slammed to the dingy, smelly carpet before her brain could catch up, still holding her phone. 
“What the—”
That same roughness caught her upside the face and too late, she realized it was Jack. Jacks fist that had punched her in the back and hit her in the face. Jack, dragging her up the steps by her hair and straddling her chest, hands around her throat.
Elain kicked, shoving at his face as she screamed furiously. He cut off her air, squeezing until she choked. Awash in panic, Elain scratched and pulled at him, terrified by the dark, empty expression on his face. He was going to kill her. 
The glass door beneath them wrenched open. “What the fuck?” came a dark, masculine voice. Jack released her as feet thundered up the steps. Elain gasped loudly, choking and crying as she rubbed at her neck. Her vision went black for a moment as she fought to catch her breath. The sound of something wet rattled in her head as a warm hand touched her back.
“You okay?”
“Who the fuck is this?”
She blinked. Eris Vanserra was looking down at her, holding more flowers in one bleeding, bruised hand. Jack was pacing the bottom of the steps like a wild, wounded animal. 
“I’m calling the cops.”
“No,” Elain gasped. Their landlord had very few rules, but a call from the cops always led to an eviction. “No, I’m fine it was…” God how did she even try and rationalize this?
“Who the fuck is this, Elain?”
Brazen. He was so unrepentant. Elain needed to talk to Arina, needed to figure something else out. There were going to have to move.
“Eris Vanserra, I—”
“We’re dating,” she managed, cutting Eris off before he could figure out who Jack was and what Arina had done. “He’s my boyfriend and you need to leave before I change my mind about the police.
“This isn’t over,” Jack warned. “I want to talk to Arina. You tell her to fucking call me back.”
“Arin–dat—this better be fucking over!” Eris snarled after Jack’s retreating back, still crouched over Elain. “What the fuck–”
Elain shoved at his chest. “You should leave, too. What is wrong with you? She said she didn’t want to talk to you.”
Outrage flooded over Eris’s handsome features. “You’re welcome for not letting you die.”
“I would have been fine,” she dismissed, rising shakily to her feet. “He wouldn’t…” but Elain wasn’t so sure Jack wouldn’t have killed her in his rage. 
“Call the police,” Eris ordered. He wasn’t her boyfriend and he wasn’t her boss. 
“Mind your own business, Eris.”
Amber eyes flashed at her pure defiance, and too late, she wondered if he wasn’t just like his brother. Elain grabbed her phone and her backpack and stomped up the steps, tears pricking at the back of her eyes. It felt like too much. Elain only hesitated when she realized why Jack must have been waiting in the lobby instead of upstairs. Had Arina picked up a shift? Was he planning to intercept her?
“That’s Arina’s ex,” she said, ignoring the way her throat burned. “I think he’s waiting for her.”
Fury flooded over Eris’s features. “I’ll–”
“If he finds out she slept with you, it’ll only make things worse for her,” Elain told him. A reminder that his rage would fall unfairly on Arina’s already tired shoulders. Clearly warring his own need to revenge against his desire not to find Arina being strangled in an apartment lobby, Eris nodded tightly. 
“Can you check on her at work? Maybe…maybe drive her home tonight? She doesn’t have a car. Tell her I asked but don’t tell her why.”
Eris’s eyes slid down her body. “She’ll know,” he warned, jerking his head towards her neck. “Everyone is going to know. You should let me drive you to the emergency room.” Elain shook her head, already tapping a message out to Lucien.
Change of plans. Let's meet next week.
“I’m fine,” she lied, though a little food and some trashy television could fix this. “You’ll check on Arina?”
Eris nodded tightly, clearly warring between his concern for the girl he liked and his concern for Elain. She forced herself to smile, hoping the bruising wasn’t too bad. Elain swallowed and trudged back to her apartment, dropping her backpack by the door. Just as she’d thought, Arina was gone with an apology note on the counter regarding their canceled plans. It was for the best—what if Jack had done that to Arina? 
Elain changed from her jeans into sleep shorts and a tank before she dared to go into the bathroom and survey the damage. Her eyes were bright and her neck red and swollen. Little fingerprint bruises bloomed against her skin. She’d always marked up easily. Like a peach, her dad had joked. It wasn’t funny now. Scarves would hide the worst of it but there would be no Lucien until they faded.
It should have been fine. Elain settled on the couch, a bag of chips between her legs, when a pounding on the door dragged her away from Love Island. 
Fucking nosy, busybody Eris, she grumbled. Had he drove by, ensured Arina was fine for the moment, and circled back to annoy her? 
“You’re so…” Elain wrenched open the door, intending to tell Eris he was stupid, only to find his brother on the other end. Lucien’s eyes immediately zeroed in on her neck. He’d tattled?
Lucien didn’t wait for an invitation to step inside, still dressed from work. Too late, the door shut behind him, Elain wondered if Lucien hadn’t come straight from work. He ran a hand through his hair, mouth opening and shutting like a fish.
“I’m fine,” she said with exasperation. Had this man ever done friends with benefits? Elain hadn’t, but she was pretty sure running to her rescue fell outside his required expectations.
“You called,” he finally said, his voice a rough rasp. “I heard…”
She’d been staring at his dick, distracted by his naked body when Jack had hit her. In her confusion, her hand must have slipped. “I didn’t mean to,” she said quickly. Lucien’s hand covered his mouth for a moment, eyes wide. Blinking, he came towards her, running his fingers over her face.
“He hit you.”
Elain nodded, biting her bottom lip. 
“What did I tell you about people touching what’s mine?”
Her stomach splattered at her feet. Was he serious right now? A furious tear slid down her cheek. “You’re going to punish me–”
“No,” he interrupted quickly, guiding her back to the couch. “Not you. Never you. You’re my good girl, keeping yourself safe.”
And fuck if that didn’t ease the tension building in her chest. She let him pull her into his lap, bracketing her body with his strong thighs. Elain buried her face into his bicep, forehead pressed into the couch. She was shaking, unsure when that had even started. Lucien stroked her hair with gentle fingers.
“You were right to call me,” he murmured. “It’s my job to keep you safe…to care for you. Remember?”
No one had ever taken care of Elain. Some part of her wasn’t sure she even knew how to be cared for. 
“You can’t do anything,” she whispered. Lucien’s body went stiff  beneath her and she knew he didn’t like being told what he could and could not do. She twisted to look at him, drinking in his fury and his concern. “He’ll hurt Arina, you’ll just make things worse. Please,” she added, Lucien didn’t yield, didn’t budge an inch.
“So next time am I supposed to just listen to him kill you and hope Eris gets there in time?” She’d never heard him sound so furious, so cold. 
“No, I…I can be more careful—”
“You aren’t responsible for preventing your own murder, baby,” Lucien murmured. “What are you thinking?”
“We should probably move,” she whispered miserably, well aware they could barely afford it. She couldn’t tell him that, though. What did a man like Lucien, who lived in a sprawling two story penthouse in the sky, understand about the realities of housing. Still, it clearly pacified him. He rubbed his thumbs over her cheeks.
“That’s a good plan.”
She didn’t know how they’d make that work. Lucien didn’t need to know everything. He was still half a stranger to her, and a bossy one at that. 
“You should let me buy you a car,” he murmured. Elain jerked.
“No,” she breathed. “No, I have a—”
“A bike,” he agreed. “Yes, I know. It could just be a loan while we’re…together…” he said, wincing at the word together. “You don’t have to agree to keep it forever though I do consider it a gift.”
“A gift is a necklace,” Elain replied, her heart pounding in her chest. “Not a car.”
“If you want a necklace, I can–”
“No, Lucien, you’re not understanding. I’m not asking you for jewelry. I was…a car is too much.”
“It would make me feel better, to give this to you,” Lucien replied softly, pressing his mouth against her cheek. “To take care of you.”
“This wasn’t in the contract,” she whispered. Lucien smiled.
“I said I wanted to take care of my good girl. What did you think that meant?”
“Sex,” she replied automatically. Lucien only shook his head, silently scolding her for not realizing the wealthy deviant also wanted to be her sugar daddy. Elain didn’t know how to process that in the wake of everything else. 
“Am I allowed to tell you no?”
“No,” he replied automatically. “But you can come with me and pick out what you like.”
Elain was going to murder him. “So…this is what gets you off?”
Lucien shrugged. “Did you think it was all pain, no pleasure?”
“I guess I don’t see how spending thousands of dollars is pleasurable.”
Lucien kissed the tip of her nose. “What incentive does my little brat have to behave if I’m not taking good care of her?”
“Brats can be spoiled–”
“Brats should be spoiled,” he insisted. “And daddy’s good girl gets rewarded for taking a gift without being difficult about it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbled, reclining back against his chest. “It sounds like daddy’s good girl just goes along with whatever unhinged idea daddy had and doesn’t complain.”
“Now you’re getting it,” Lucien praised, kissing the side of her neck. “And if you and Arina need a place to lay low for a while, you can always borrow my apartment.”
“Let’s just…one thing at a time, okay?”
Lucien pressed his chin against her head. “Fine. What are you watching?”
“Love Island,” she admitted with only a small amount of shame. Graysen had loathed Elain’s guilty pleasures and she expected Lucien to demand she change the channel, too.
“Turn it on,” he murmured. “And explain to me what’s happening.”
Elain suppressed the warmth blooming through her in favor of inhaling the strong scent of him. 
And began explaining her show.
LUCIEN:
“Close the door,” Lucien told Beth when his brother came in the next day. He’d cleared his schedule, in part because he was taking Elain to a dealership to pick out a car. That was at least fun.
He could torment her a little, work her up and do the one thing Lucien had always enjoyed, which was spoiling the women he fucked. He had no intention of ever taking that car back. What would he do with it? 
Eris held a heavy envelope in his hand, tossing it to Lucien’s desk as he sat in one of the chairs.
“Jack Rogden,” Eris said without preamble. “Two semesters at the community college, a solid D average. He’s got an online presence if you ever want to read true drivel.” Eris shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “They’ve been dating for almost four years.”
Better Eris than Lucien. “Anything usable?”
“No. He doesn’t work, his parents are just like him…he doesn’t have enough followers he’d be embarrassed if anyone found out…and honestly his followers seem the type that might praise him for putting a woman in her place.”
Lucien’s gut tightened. “You know…I have a decent relationship with Rhys—”
“No. No mafia, for fucks sake,” Eris snapped. “Lord knows what he’d find sniffing around a college campus. I don’t want the media involved at all. We handle this between us.”
“How?” Lucien reclined back in his chair, thinking of Elain’s perfect neck covered in ugly purple bruises. Just the memory filled Lucien with a blinding rage. Rubbing his hands over his eyes,
Lucien waited for Eris to come up with a solution.
“We needed to get them out of that shithole.”
“Elain said—”
“Mm, yes, tell me more about what the girl making eleven dollars an hour told you about her living situation,” Eris sneered, reminding Lucien that he was too divorced from the realities of everyday life. He shifted uncomfortably. He barely knew this woman. A car was one thing…an apartment was something else.
“I’ll put the girls up for now,” Eris said decisively. “Maybe condemn that entire place. I know that fire escape isn’t up to code.”
“Put them up where?”
Eris considered for a moment. “It depends on what Arina will let me get away with. The estate, if she’s willing. No one is out there, it’s a good place to lay low. I’ve got a place I never use downtown, that’s pretty close to campus. Or a fucking hotel if she’s going to be difficult. They can have the penthouse at the Starlight.”
“Just start with the Starlight.” He knew full well they’d balk at anything more. “I’ll talk to Elain.”
Eris grimaced. “Maybe you should talk to Arina, too.”
“You do that. Someone needs to impress upon her how serious this is and frankly, I don’t think Elain is doing that at all. You saw what happened. You tell her she’s going if you have to drag her there yourself. And then fucking make good on it.”
And that was that. Eris seemed a little more settled, if nothing else. Lucien, too, felt better by the time Elain arrived, pretty as a picture in a soft plum coat dress and navy tights. Her little brown booties were scuffed and he wondered how much of her clothing was second hand and how much was just well-loved. Jess had never worn anything so often she might damage it and the comparison between the two was stark.
Elain plopped into the chair on the opposite end of his desk, pulling her crossbody over her head and tossing it to the chair beside her.
“Mr. Vanserra.”
His whole body went tight all over again. “Say it again. See what happens.”
“You keep teasing me about sex and yet…” she gestured around her, looking about with exaggeration. “Here I am. Unfucked.”
“Needy,” he replied, eyes sliding to his watch. “We got an appointment first.”
“For this car,” Elain all but sneered. “Because you get off–”
“Spoiling my girl,” Lucien interrupted smoothly. “Exactly. So you’ll go and pick out something expensive while my dick stays rock hard in my pants. And when he get home, I’ll put you on your hands and knees and fuck the brattiness right out of you.”
And fuck Lucien, but Elain shivered at his words. “Okay,” she murmured, a reminder that all she really needed was a firm hand. He was semi-hard already just at the thought. Taking a calming breath, Lucien stood.
“The sooner we go, the sooner you’re fucked.”
“And what will it entail?”
“Depends on how much you intend to test me while we’re out. I’ll be counting how many spanks you’ve earned in my head all day.”
Elain’s eyes tightened at the side. “No more than ten…just to start.”
Fair enough. Reasonable, even. And Lucien was well-practiced enough to make ten spanks count. He nodded. “Deal.”
Ever so shyly, Elain came towards him, phone in hand. “I feel like you want to buy me something new—”
“I do,” he agreed, curious at the picture on her screen.
“They don’t make them anymore,” she said and of course Elain, with flower hair pins pulling curls off her face, and her lilac colored nails, wanted a VW Beetle. He looked at the picture she’d pulled up, of the lot the yellow car stood on with more than forty thousand miles to its name. When he’d given Jess a car, she’d spent half a million dollars on a flashy, two-door sports car Lucien was sure she still had. And Elain wanted to buy a car for less than twenty thousand dollars. Where had he found her, he marveled, pulling the phone from her hand, just to see where the car sat. Lucien was willing to bet he could haggle. It felt so odd. Maybe she didn’t understand what was happening. The whole point was to spend his money, to be absurd about it.
“You want this?” he asked, disbelief lacing every world.
Elain tucked a curl behind her ear. “I know it’s a lot. I ah…there are other, but this is the right color–”
She reached for her phone to show him her back-ups but Lucien held it out of reach, his outrage etched over his face. “A lot? Baby, this is nothing. If you want it, you can have it. You could have five of them.”
“Just one is fine,” Elain told him, eyes sliding to her feet. “And it’s only a loan.”
He snorted. “Not at this price. If you want this, you have to keep it. What am I going to do with it when we’re done?”
She shrugged. “What about the other girl—”
“They never once assumed they wouldn’t be keeping the things I gave them,” Lucien replied smoothly, brushing a finger over her face. No bruise, at least that he could see, and the high neck of her dress hid the fingerprints he knew that were lurking just beneath. 
Elain sighed softly. “I just wanted no strings attached sex, Lucien.”
“Mmm,” he agreed, putting a hand on her back without admitting that he’d purchased her a lot of very expensive, very sexy lingerie. Truly, that was a gift for himself given he wanted to drip candle wax all over her tits while she wore it. Still, Elain needed to get used to this aspect of things because in every other relationship he’d had, it was merely a given. He didn’t want to have to fight her over something so trivial.
They left for the dealership without squabble. Elain kept crossing and uncrossing her legs while Lucien spoke, deferring to him through thick, dark lashes. Lucien couldn’t help himself as he put a hand on her thigh, rubbing lazy circles over the thin fabric of her tights. He paid in cash and Elain drove it off the lot. It was in his name for the moment—he’d pay the taxes on it before selling it to her for ten dollars, sparing Elain a gift tax penalty he knew she couldn’t afford. 
Trotting after him back into his place, Elain was bouncy and filled with appreciative words. She was too easy to impress. A little pussy eating, a little gift giving and she was practically a purring kitten at his feet. She wanted to please him now. That suited Lucien just fine because he wanted to eat pussy and he wanted her to please him. 
“Are you happy?” he asked, cupping her face after leading her to the bedroom. Elain’s cheeks were flushed, eyes bright.
“Yes,” she admitted. 
“Good. Come here,” he added, dragging her to the bed and setting her in his lap. “We need to discuss one more thing.”
She did as she was told without an ounce of wariness. This was working. He liked it too much. “I want you to move out of your apartment.”
The fire in her eyes was immediately extinguished. Planting her hands against his chest, Elain shoved. Lucien held her tight.
“You and Arina. Eris has a place at the Starlight. It’s just temporary while you two find somewhere else. Somewhere safe,” he added. 
“Lucien,” she protested but this was too reasonable and to be frank, Elain was well under the budget he mentally laid out for her.
“It’s already paid for,” he told her. “Whether someone sleeps there or not. You’ve got the car, you can drive to work and school and Arina can borrow it too. I just want to know you’re safe,” he added, clasping his hand softly around her neck. 
Elain swallowed hard. “We’ll be okay—”
“Baby,” he interrupted, nuzzling his nose against her own. “He hurt you. He could have killed you if Eris wasn’t there. The Starlight has a doorman and a reception desk…and cameras. No one but Eris and I have to know you’re there. Your last year of school shouldn’t be so stressful.”
Let me do what I promised you I would, he added silently. 
“It’s not forever?” she asked, eyes big and trusting. Lucien kissed the corner of her mouth.
“Only temporary. When you find somewhere you two like, you can leave and no one will stop you.”
A half truth. Lucien wouldn’t stop Elain but he suspected his brother wouldn’t be satisfied until Arina was in his bed and draped in the Vanserra last name. 
“Okay,” she agreed.
“Good girl,” he praised.
“Was I good while we were out?” she asked him hopefully. Lucien didn’t have the heart to give her all ten, though he had made a case for it in his mind.
“Why were you crossing your legs so much?” he murmured. “Were you trying to distract me?”
“No,” she breathed, eyes mischievous. 
“I think you’re lying,” he replied, all the blood in his body flooding south. “Take off your dress, let's see what’s underneath.”
Elain’s eyes went wide, her fingers fiddling in her lap. “I can’t…the zipper is in the back.”
Lucien reached for the little white piece of metal and pulled it down, revealing a pretty, hot pink bra…and nothing else. God, he could have kissed her. “Liar,” he breathed against the back of her neck, unclasping her bra to rid her of every stitch of clothing. “Where are your panties, Elain?”
“I forgot them,” she said, as if she hadn’t put tights on. Lucien was achingly tight and unbearably hard. She squirmed against his erection.
Lucien slid his hands between her legs, delighted to see she was wet. “More lies, baby girl. What did I say about lying?” Elain said nothing at all, not as he twisted her in his lap until her ass was in the air, her face buried against the pillow.
“I’m sorry,” she said, not sounding terribly sorry at all. Lucien rubbed the tight, rounded flesh with his palm, delighted by how his hand covered the whole of her ass cheek.
“Five spanks. Isn’t that right?”
She whimpered and Lucien trusted her to use the safe word if she needed to while he prayed she didn’t. “What happened to my good girl, baby?”
Elain looked over her shoulder at him. “I want to be. I thought you’d like it if I didn’t wear them.”
“I don’t like being teased,” he lied, still kneading her flesh. “All I could think about was that wet pussy of yours. Do you know how hard I was all day?”
“I’m sorry, daddy.”
Fuck. Lucien swallowed a groan, bringing his hand down for that first slap. He didn’t hit her as hard as he wanted to, promising he’d ease her into it. Elain’s eyes went wide, tears springing to those big, doe eyes. “Count for me, baby.”
“One,” she whispered.
Lucien throbbed in his pants. Four more and he’d have his cock in her cunt, fucking away those bright tears. He slapped again, hitting the opposite cheek to give her a second to breathe. Elain gasped louder, which might have earned her an extra had they not already negotiated the first five. A tear slipped down her cheek.
“Two.”
Lucien spanked again, and again, and again, and Elain counted each in turn. Her ass was red from his hand and warm to the touch. He was certain she’d have broken had he done many more and was grateful they’d discussed it ahead of time. Lowering his mouth, he kissed each side of her ass while she twisted to watch.
“Are you going to be my good girl now? No more brattiness?”
Elain gulped, nodding her head.
“Come here,” he said, ignoring that her pussy had been on his thigh the entire time. Elain scrambled, letting him pull her back into his lap. “Undress me.”
“Yes, daddy,” she breathed, unknotting his tie with nimble fingers. Lucien didn’t move though some part of him wanted to instinctually. Elain had it off him, followed by his vest and then his shirt, baring his skin to the cool air.
“Pants, too,” he told her, laying backwards so she could slide down his body. Elain smiled ever so slightly, that spark of mischief back, despite the redness of her eyes. She had him naked quicker than he’d imagined, her mouth brushing against his cock without ever touching.
“What days are you off next week?”
“Wednesday and Friday.”
“Do you have class?”
“Not on Friday.”
Fuck, yes. “I want you to come to my office that day.”
“Why?”
His eyes snapped to her face and Elain immediately lowered her gaze.
“Sorry, daddy. I’ll come.”
“Good girl.” Fuck, Lucien wanted to hear her say that wrapped around his cock. Elain slid back on her haunches, staring down at his body with bright eyes. “How much more can you take?” Elain shivered, her pert breasts jiggling ever so slightly.
“Whatever you tell me to.”
God, he was losing his mind. 
“Ride me,” he ordered, impressed by how in control he sounded. Elain immediately straddled his hips, rocking her pussy against his achingly hard cock. Lucien reached for her hips, prolonging it for a moment. 
“It won’t always be like this,” he whispered. “I want to tie you up.”
“Yeah?” she breathed, slotting him carefully into her body. Lucien wasn’t going to let her sink onto him slowly. He still craved that little bite of pain, wanted to see it on her face. He yanked her onto him, well aware his cock was both thick and long. She gasped, her face contorting for a moment and despite his promise he wanted pain, Lucien stilled for a moment while Elain adjusted. 
“Not used to a big cock?” he breathed because fuck she was so tight he could barely see straight.
“No,” she agreed, rolling her hips experimentally. Lucien groaned loudly, suddenly feeling very submissive beneath her touch. He didn’t like it—it was far too vulnerable, too intimate for what they were. Clamping his thighs around her, Lucien had Elain on her back before she could go any further. 
Another soft gasp escaped her lips, punctuated by a moan when he thrust into her. He felt right again, felt in control. Grabbing her knees and spreading her legs open wide, Lucien began sliding himself in and out of her impossibly tight, almost sloppy with wet pussy. He wanted to watch her take him, wanted to see the puckering skin that protested when he pulled himself out to the tip, only to slam himself back inside.
“Does my pretty girl like daddy’s cock?” he breathed, teetering on the edge of his sanity. Lucien couldn’t remember having ever felt a pussy this good, though in his defense, it had been a while since he’d last gotten laid. 
Elain whined, head thrown back, eyes closed. 
“Open your eyes,” he ordered. “You take what daddy gives you and you’ll watch.”
She nodded, her eyes fogged with the same heavy lust coiling in his stomach. He could barely think straight, could not have told her his name if she’d asked it. Elain’s desire was tacky against the skin of his cock, pulling with each new slide. 
“Can you come like this? Don’t lie.
“No,” she breathed. He ought to have guessed. Letting her hook her heel against his naked shoulder, Lucien began rubbing her clit with his thumb, using the slickness of her body to lubricate the touch. Her whole demeanor changed, grinding and whining like the greedy, needy thing he remembered from before. He liked the sight of her beneath him, flushed and undone, legs spread obscenely wide as she panted and begged.
“Do you need more?” he grunted, clenching his ass to keep himself from coming prematurally. 
“Yes.”
“Beg.”
Elain looked at him for a moment, defiance flashing in her eyes. He knew what she was thinking. He was in her body and in every way that mattered, Elain held all the power. She could simply stop him and ask him to leave and he’d have no choice in the matter. Still, Lucien asked because he wanted to hear her beg him to come. 
“Daddy, please,” Elain whined, arching her hips invitingly. She’d inadvertently pushed him deeper, changing the angle so his cock head was touching something soft and spongy. The noise that ripped from Lucien was barely human. Each new slide was better than the last, heightening his already hot pleasure. “Please let me come.”Lucien had forgotten their game in that moment, at least a little. Pumping wildly, the best he could do was keep his thumb rubbing, faster now until Elain screamed, tightening and convulsing around him. She was wetter, slicker and impossibly soft. The feel of her was maddening, would drive him insane. He already wanted to fuck her again and Lucien hadn’t even come.
He was just behind, the sound of their slick skin slapping loudly. He wasn’t embarrassed by the noise that escaped him, though it was new. He was usually much quieter. Something about her pussy specifically made Lucien forget himself, at least a little. Made him feel feral, a little wild. 
It took him a moment to come back down.
“Vodka,” Elain breathed, reaching for his shoulders. “And a little mercy, while you’re at it.”
Lucien nodded. She didn’t understand the game entirely. It was over, at least for the moment. He fully intended to offer her some sweetness and care after the fucking he’d just given her. Careful not to crush her, Lucien held her against his body, stroking her hair and kissing the side of her jaw.
“That was good,” he panted, his cock still twitching in her body. She nodded, exhaling a breath. He wasn’t ready for her to leave—not yet. He wanted to have her again…and maybe again, in the morning.
Spending the night was a huge rule violation. He’d even put it in his contract. And still, he thought she’d already done it once when they were testing things between them…why not again? She understood what this was.
“Hungry?” he asked, looking down at her sated, sweet face.
“Starving.”
ELAIN:
“Vassa’s wedding is this weekend,” Arina reminded Elain, tossing a pink wrapped package into her lap. “You’re still going, right?”
“Yeah,” Elain agreed, tugging at the gold ribbon with dread in her stomach. “Are you?”
They were in the middle of packing for the Starlight. Elain wondered what Eris Vanserra had said to her stubborn friend to convince her to leave. Arina’s eyes slid to Elain’s throat, the bruises fading and perhaps Eris hadn’t had to say much at all. She knew Arina was carrying around too much unfair guilt over Jack’s actions. Elain didn’t blame Arina for what happened. 
“Yes. I don’t want to go alone, though.”
Pulling off the top of the lid, Elain groaned.
“What is it?”
It was a rose gold macbook. Brand new and unasked for. Lucien, it seemed, had decided he’d go around her and merely gift her the things he wanted her to have. Elain had stashed all the lacy underthings he’d bought, ignoring the obscene price tags as she snipped them off. It was twice her rent over six little scraps of cloth and Lucien had merely sent it over without a care in the world.
Arina smiled when she saw it. “He’s got it back, huh?”
“It’s his fetish,” Elain tried to explain. Arina had already seen the car parked in the back lot because Elain had given her the spare set of keys so she wouldn’t have to walk to work anymore. 
“Sign me up,” Arina joked, joining Elain on the couch.
“Is that not what the Senator is trying to do?” Elain replied, glancing sidelong at her friend. Arina choked on the air she breathed. 
“No.”
Elain knew better than to push, but Eris hadn’t offered up the penthouse at the nicest hotel in the city because he suddenly cared about the girl his brother was fucking. He’d done it for Arina, a girl he’d had a one night stand with. Perhaps Eris was trying to wrangle more from Arina than Lucien wanted from Elain.
Clearing her throat, Arina continued. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
Elain looked back down at the laptop. “Seeing Lucien.” 
Some rational part of her told her not to go. Send back the gifts, end this game before it went too far. Before she started to like what was happening. Elain could still feel his cock bruising her insides in the most delicious way, could still feel his mouth against her body. She wanted to feel all of it instead of the disjointed way he’d been fucking her and in order to get it, at least once, she’d go see whatever utter nonsense he had planned for her. 
Arina leveled a look that told Elain she only barely approved of what was happening between them. “But you’ll be ready for Vassa’s wedding?”
Elain swallowed her annoyance. “I’m not spending the night. Just seeing him for a few hours during the day. I will be very ready for Vassa’s wedding.”
“Good. I was supposed to go with Jack–”
“Ugh.”
“And I can’t stand to go alone when you know everyone else will have their husbands and boyfriends.”
“Invite Eris–
“No.”
And that was that. 
Walking back into Lucien’s office was exactly the same as before. The only difference, she supposed, was when her heeled feet hit the lobby on the ground floor, she’d texted him to tell him she was coming up…and she was wearing the pink silk he’d sent over in a blue ribboned box. His receptionist had just as bad of an attitude and when Elain asked to see Mr. Vanserra, she asked, “More questions?” with a sneer that said she knew exactly why Elain was there. Elain didn’t respond to that, merely taking her spot on that sunken couch.
And Lucien sure took his time, dragging it out for fifteen minutes. Elain wasn’t playing this game with him. She still needed to get her nails done for tomorrow. She stood, earning a triumphant look from the blonde.
“Tell Lucien—”
“Tell him yourself,” came Lucien’s bossy, deep voice. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Ms. Archeron. Let's discuss that scholarship.”
Asshole, she thought, giving him the once over in his well-fitted suit. Nothing seemed out of place. He was the consummate professional in that moment, right until he closed his door behind him, locking it quietly. “Look at you,” he murmured and she knew what he wanted was to slip right into their game. 
“You made me wait,” Elain told him, crossing her arms over her chest. Lucien smiled, clearly pleased with the dynamic. He reached for her face, caressing her cheek.
“I’m so sorry baby. Let me make it up to you.”
“How?”
Lucien dropped his hand, walking for his desk to sit. “I am trapped in meeting hell today. Come make it better for me.”
He was undoing his pants, sliding the belt from the loops and wrapping it around his broad hand. Elain’s mouth dried, watching with fascination until he slipped it into a drawery just beside him. She could see the motions of him undoing his pants and assumed he must be hard in some capacity. He groaned softly when he was finished, his trousers around his ankles.
“Come here,” he whispered. She did, practically tripping in her excitement. His cock was rigid, standing proudly at attention. Waiting. “Sit on me, baby. Keep me comfortable.”
“You…” she didn’t understand.
Lucien reached for her waist, drawing her between his lightly haired, muscular thighs. “Warm my cock for the next hour.”
“Won’t someone see?”
Lucien was lifting her black dress up over her hips, fingers rubbing the fabric of her underwear. He wasn’t listening to her at all. “Did I buy these?”
“Yes,” she whispered when he pushed the fabric to the side so he could explore her pussy. 
“They’re pretty,” he said, pulling her closer until her bare thighs were rubbing against his erection. “Are you going to warm daddy's cock? Or am I going to bend you over my desk and spank you?”
“I’ll warm it,” she whispered, a thrill rising through her. Lucien groaned softly, turning her to palm her ass cheek. 
“Good girl,” he murmured, lowering her against him. She didn’t know the rules of the game, didn’t know exactly what he meant. He was teasing, letting her sink against him slowly, readjusting to his thick length. 
“That’s it, baby. You take daddy’s cock so well,” he praised, sweeping her hair to the side to press a kiss to her neck. “When we’re done, you’ll suck it, too.”
“Yes, daddy,” she agreed, squirming when he didn’t start thrusting. 
“Don’t move,” he warned her, one hand holding her hip. He had her legs spread obscenely across his lap, her back pressed against his chest. Elain was going to die. Inhaling a breath, Elain thought if he didn’t move maybe this would be bearable. Of course Lucien, a man who got off on pain, immediately surged forward, changing the angle of his cock and driving himself deeper into her. She whimpered loudly, earning a soft slap against her spread open pussy.
“Don’t do that again,” Lucien warned her seriously. It was on the tip of her tongue, to tell him this game was a mistake given he was doing a job. She nearly told him dragging her to his office so he could torture her while he took work calls was a recipe for disaster.
But Lucien, perhaps sensing the direction of her thoughts, merely using that same slapping hand to rub soft circles over her clit, silencing her protests.
“What did I tell you about good girls, Elain?” he asked, his voice hot against her ear. “What does my good girl get?”
“Her pussy eaten.”
She felt his lips smile against the side of her neck. “That’s right. Now sit still and keep my cock comfortable.”
His ringing phone made her jump, dragging his cock with her. Lucien groaned loudly, fingers digging in her hip. “I mean it,” he rasped, slapping her wet pussy a second time. She exhaled a gasp, the sting mingling with the heady pleasure of being filled. “If I have to take you off me I’m going to gag you with my cock.”
“Yes, daddy. I’ll be good.”
Anything to feel his face between her legs. Lucien ate pussy like a rabid animal and there was something absurdly erotic about the though of him spreading her over his desk, knees over his shoulders, while he took his time. Lucien answered his call, his voice clear. Easy. She didn’t hear an actual word he said, choosing instead to turn her head and look towards his tinted windows. No one could see them, though she could see with perfect clarity. People, unaware of what their boss was currently up to, milled about their desks and the common space. Elain picked a rather unremarkable man, tracking him in an effort to keep herself from thinking about how Lucien’s cock was twitching in her body.
He wasn’t immune to what was happening, though his voice sure made it seem like he was. While Lucien moved about, pulling open a spreadsheet on his computer and reclining as he listened, she could feel the rough pound of his heart beating against her own slick cunt. He kept brushing his lips behind her ear, letting her feel his ragged breathing before some comment from the tinny voices coming through his speaker dragged him back to reality.
How Lucien managed to multitask through this moment was beyond Elain. All she wanted was to roll her hips, to feel him thrust into her until there was nothing but the wet slap of skin punctuating the air. She wanted that man, the one she was still half watching, to hear her desperate moans. 
Time was utterly meaningless. One hour dragged into another until Elain was practically sobbing from the effort it took to hold him. Her body was fluttering, her arousal so hot she thought if he put his hand back between her legs she could have come with a feather soft touch. Lucien was practically trembling beneath her, his thighs all but shaking as he tried to wrap up the chattering men going on about personal things neither of them cared about. 
And then it was all over and Lucien was shoving his things off his desk just like she imagined. 
“Not a fucking word comes out of those lips,” he growled, hauling her off him with a ragged, soft grunt. “Do you hear me? Not one sound.”
“Yes, daddy,” Elain agreed, legs hooked over his broad shoulders.
“My good girl,” Lucien praised, sliding his fingers beneath the band of her underwear. She lifted her hips so he could shimmy them off her, watching as he stuffed them in his pocket. “I’m going to wrap these around my cock tonight and come all over them.”
She pressed her fingertips to her lips to keep him from hearing the appreciative moan threatening to rip from her throat. It was just a fantasy, his colleagues overhearing. One that was dangerously close to becoming reality if she wasn’t careful.
“You have the prettiest pussy, baby,” he whispered, his breath curling against her desperate, aching skin. “I could drown in it.”
It was a different sort of hell, laying against the cool wood, her body half draped over him, while Lucien studied her like she was a painting. She wanted to scream. Who cared if her body was pretty if it wasn’t covered in come?
If he heard the slant of her thoughts, he didn’t say. All she knew was one moment he was gazing down at her, feral with need and next he had her clit between his lips and was sucking. She bucked upwards, release building just as quickly as she knew it would. Lucien pressed a hand over her stomach, shoving her back to the desk and holding her still. There was no polite, slow build—though Lucien had never been polite with his mouth to begin with. He merely feasted, betraying his own fantasies while they’d sat in that meeting.
If anyone heard a sound coming from his office, it was their bosses sloppy eating. Lucien couldn’t help himself it seemed though he demanded it of her. She had a hand pressed over her mouth as her orgasm ripped through her, unable to grind into his face, unable to make noise, unable to do anything but pant wildly while he continued to lick, unconcerned if she was finished or not.
It was clear Lucien wasn’t done, and if he wasn’t done, she wasn’t either. “Please,” she begged, her pleasure becoming sharper, more sensitive. “Daddy—”
“You’ll take what daddy gives you,” Lucien told her, his voice more growl than anything. “Lay back, baby.”
She did, panting against the palm of her hand still pressed to her lips. Lucien was rabid, his tongue sliding over her, licking the climax dripping over her thighs until he’d cleaned her out. Elain, so used to having to beg and cajole men to go down on her, didn’t know what to make of Lucien. He was clearly a man who liked eating pussy. 
Lucien concentrated all his effort back on her clit, sliding over and over the way he typically did with his cock. With immaculate, precise rhythm, Lucien drew another shaking orgasm out of her body within minutes of the first. 
“Please,” Elain begged, shaking her head back and forth. She was certain she couldn’t take another.
“Came too fast,” was his rasping reply. Elain had to swallow her choking scream when Lucien demanded yet a third with his demanding, hungry lips. Only then, her body trembling, tears sliding down her cheeks, did Lucien relent. He reached for her, fisting her hair in her hand to pull her up for a messy, rough kiss. 
“Tell daddy thank you,” Lucien whispered before nipping the skin beneath her jaw. Elain immediately sank to her knees, realizing only in retrospect he meant for her to say the words rather than to sink between his still seated thighs.
“Thank you, daddy,” she whispered against the sticky skin of his cock. Lucien moaned softly, gathering up her hair in his hands.
“Take all of it, baby girl,” he all but pleaded. “I want to feel your nose against my stomach.”
Eyeing the largeness of him, Elain wasn't sure that was possible though she wanted to try. Licking the length of him just for a taste, she shuddered at the muskiness of his skin mingled against her own arousal hit the back of her throat. Lucien didn’t say a word, eyes dark as he watched. 
She swallowed him down, letting him use the hand on the back of her neck to push as far as she was willing to go. She gagged softly, mindful that anyone outside the door would hear if she was any louder. 
“That’s it,” he whispered. “Such a good girl, sucking daddy's cock.”
He was conditioning her to find pleasure in his words, to want to please him. She knew it and still on her next pass down, Elain widened her jaw and tried to take a little more, and again, and again, until she’d done exactly as he asked. Elain hated it and Lucien very obviously loved it. He held her there until she slapped at his thigh, her throat aching, her lungs burning. When she came back up she gasped for air.
“Vodka,” she managed, gripping the base of his cock with her hand. Immediately it was over. Lucien pulled to her feet, ignoring the throbbing erection she still held in one hand, to bury his face between her tits.
“Sorry,” he panted. “Fuck, Elain, that was so good, I–”
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” she chanted. “It was just too much all at once.”
“Do you want to stop?” he asked her, no hint of reproach in his words. She could say yes and she thought he’d shove himself back in his pants and walk her back to the lobby. 
“No,” she admitted. “I just… I need to work into being held that long.”
He nodded. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want to finish,” she said, bracing herself against his thighs as she sank back to her knees. “I want to taste you, daddy.”
Lucien moaned softly, head against the back of his chair. “Fuck me, baby girl. Suck daddy’s cock, then.”
She was back to sucking him just like before, his hand on her neck, still gently pushing but stopping when he heard her gag. With room to breathe, Elain could focus on the hollow of her cheeks and the slide of her tongue, working to adjust to this new, persistent intrusion. Lucien’s hips rocked back and forth and she wondered, if she told him she wanted to see him come more than once, if he’d indulge her.
He came gripping the edge of his chair to keep himself still, throat working furiously to keep from making a sound. Come filled her mouth, salty but not unpleasant and once again, Elain swallowed it all. He let her before she was back in his lap, straddling his naked thigh.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked before kissing her with messy, wild abandon. His tongue slid into her mouth, mingling her release with his. She moaned a sigh.
“I have a wedding,” she said regretfully. Lucien broke the kiss to look at her, eyes sparkling with mischief.
“A wedding?”
“My friend Vassa is getting married,” she explain, wishing she had nothing going on. “But maybe next week you could tie me to your bed?”
Lucien smiled.
“Nothing would give me greater pleasure, baby girl.”
She was starting to think the same.
LUCIEN: 
It delighted Lucien to no end when Elain stepped into Jurian’s wedding, arm looped with Arinas. Her eyes swept across the room for a place to sit, landing squarely on him. He wasn’t even trying to contain his amusement as he raised his hand, two fingers beckoning her to join him. Beside him, his brother was staring at his phone, clearly irritated with whatever he saw. He didn’t even notice the object of his fascination approach, not until Arina said, “Is this a set up?” Elain merely smiled, sitting beside him in one of the folding chairs on the lawn. “You should have told me you’d be here,” she said reproachfully, moving her knees until they touched his thighs so Arina could shimmy past and take the chair beside his brother. Lucien had worked this so well, leaving Elain on the aisle. 
“And miss seeing your face look like this?” he teased, mimicking her wide-eyed oh. “I think not.”
“How do you know Vassa?”
“I know Jurian,” he said, nodding to the dark haired man standing stoically beside a wooden podium. Why Jurian and Vassa wanted an outdoor barn wedding would be forever beyond Lucien. The weather was pleasant enough and yet even beneath a high, autumn sun, he felt like he was baking in his suit.
At least he knew better than to wear suspenders on his wedding day, he consoled himself. Not that he planned to get married, but still. Lucien thought Jurian looked absurd and meant to tell him just as soon as he could.
Elain was utterly stunning in a pretty pink dress, her hair half swept from her face. “Big plans tonight?” he teased, resting his arm over the back of her chair. Elain glanced at him.
“Are you ever not…you know?”
He chuckled. “Occasionally. Certainly not around you.”
She huffed out a soft sigh, eyes sliding over his body to her friend. Arina and Eris were pointedly not talking, the tension both painful and palpable. He didn’t envy his brother, so clearly interested in the blonde who wanted nothing to do with him. To be fair, she had just ended things with her ex…and yet Lucien thought Eris was an obvious step up. 
Lucien leaned to Elain again, about to murmur a filthy promise in her ear but the music started and Elain poked him in the ribs to silence him. Lucien could take a hint and, though her bratty behavior always brought his cock alive, he smothered his desire so she could enjoy her friend’s wedding. She hadn’t known he was coming and it was bastardly behavior to make her focus on pleasing him when she so clearly did not care about him at all.
That was clear enough when the wedding ended and both Elain and Arina all but shot from their chairs, pushing through the crowd to go see her. Eris watched as well, leaning towards his brother. 
“They moved in last night,” he murmured. “My card is on the account, though they don’t know it. I told them everything was included…don’t fuck that up for me.”
Lucien merely nodded. He didn’t want them worrying about food or other incidentals when an insane man was so comfortable strangling them.
“I bought Elain a car. She’s been letting Arina drive it to work,” Lucien added, nodding as Jurian passed. They could talk later. 
“I’m having him followed.”
Lucien turned to his brother with interest.
“And?”
“Nothing so far. He doesn’t go anywhere. Just sits in his fucking apartment all goddamn day. Huge waste of money.”
“Maybe you scared him off.”
Eris didn’t answer, though his expression conveyed he doubted that very much. Lucien did, too. If Jack was angry enough to strangle Elain, it was only a matter of time before he tried something with Arina. Eris wouldn’t take his eyes off Jack until he had Arina in his own home, likely in his own bed. What did that feel like, Lucien wondered? To be pursued so relentlessly, to be wanted that ferociously. He thought he might pull away too, might balk and reject at every turn. 
His brother likely would have had better luck if he backed down. Lucien didn’t dare give Eris romantic advice, not after his own had crashed and burned so spectacularly. Eris would just throw Jess in Lucien’s face as a reminder that Lucien had no pedestal on which to stand. Though they were over, Jess was still the ghost that haunted Lucien’s dreams. She’d taken so much and in the end, given nothing back. Not even her heart, which was all Lucien had been asking for. Any other rational person would have recognized Jess was not the universal experience and yet Lucien had loved her so deeply, so unconditionally that the thought of trying again made him want to vomit on the floor.
He’d made himself vulnerable to her in every way possible and in return, she’d taken whatever she could get before moving on to someone more powerful, wealthier, and with better connections. 
No hard feelings, she’d said with those pitying eyes. As if it hadn’t been two years. As if Lucien hadn’t planned a whole life centered around her as his sun. He hated they still moved in the same circles, that she still wore the things he’d given her to taunt him, eyes always teasing as she fingered a silver necklace or a pair of lovely earrings. He hated it, wished she’d stop her stupid fucking games. Stop baiting him into making a fool of himself.
Eyes sliding back to smiling, laughing Elain, Lucien thought that when he ended things—and he fully intended to be the one who called things off—Elain would accept it. No taunting eyes, no showing up at galas and parties with his friends draped in the clothes he’d bought her and the jewels he’d put her in. That was, of course, due to her lack of social standing. Elain would never be invited, which was part of what drew him to her. 
But the other was merely Elain herself. She wasn’t vindictive. Finger prints bruising her throat, and all she’d thought about was her friend. When presented with the opportunity to spend real money, she’d asked him for a used car and every time he sent her something, Elain told him thank you. Not in a seductive buy me more, daddy, sort of way, but a wide-eyed, genuinely surprised, this is too much but I’m too polite to express anything more than gratitude. He’d sent her a new computer when he’d spotted her own, likely purchased her first semester on campus. The e and t keys were coming off and her stickers had faded. She needed a new one. Any other woman would have just told him so but Elain hadn’t thought to. She never would, though it would make Lucien absurdly hard if she did send him a list of things she wanted. 
Things he could give her in exchange for pushing her head on his cock like he’d done in his office. 
As if she could hear the shift in his thoughts, Elain turned to look at him, still smiling. It was a punch to the chest, robbing him of both breath and reason. She was so utterly stunning, standing there in a patch of pooling sunlight. She looked like a princess, effortlessly flawless and so gorgeous that the bride, beautiful as she was, was diminished by Elain’s mere presence. 
It prompted him to his feet, to walk towards her if only to bask in the glow. The bride and groom had pictures to take but the rest of them could migrate across the hillside towards the barn decorated in fairy lights for cocktails while they waited on the reception. And Lucien very much needed a drink. 
Sliding his hand over the exposed skin of her back, Lucien murmured, “Walk with me to the bar?”
“Today is not about you,” Elain chided gently, unaware that her words speared in his gut. “I’m here for classic, clean wedding fun.”
“You don’t think I know how to do the cha cha slide?” Lucien asked, swallowing those feelings while projecting nothing but unbothered confidence. “I can have a PG experience, Elain.”
“With no strings attached?” she asked, arching a perfectly shaped brow. “If I, for example, askyou to dance with me, you're not going to demand repayment at a later date?”
It was tempting and yet Lucien found himself placing his hand theatrically over his chest. “Tonight I am merely Lucien Vanserra, simple man who likes simple things.”
“Are you calling me simple, Lucien?”
He huffed, walking her from the crowd of well-wishers, her hand tucked in the crook of his elbow. “I wouldn’t dare. That wasn’t what I meant.”
She smiled. “I know. I was giving you shit.”
“Brat.”
“None of that,” she chided again. “If you are a simple man then I want to be a perfectly reasonable woman. The kind that can tease you a little without being called names. And besides, I think you like a little push back.”
He almost laughed. What gave her that impression? He’d done nothing but demand submission since they met. “I don’t think that’s true.”
“No? The nepotism baby doesn’t like being given a little bit of a hard time?”
He did laugh, then. “Okay, fine. Maybe if it’s you. But only you,” he added, looking down at her. Elain’s cheeks were flushed with pleasure, head tilted to look at her heeled feet as she walked. It struck him as true, though. Lucien had never really enjoyed being the butt of someone's joke, had never liked too much push back. It reminded him of his father and later on, of Jess. Elain never made it seem as if she were looking down on him and Lucien knew if he gave her as good as he got, she’d laugh it off. 
She’d made them equals that very first day in his office and he was only now realizing it. That was disconcerting. Stepping up the stairs to the deck, Lucien kept his hand on her back, swallowing thickly. Of course he didn’t think he was better than Elain, had never thought that. But he’d also given no thought to this relationship at all, outside of what his dick wanted.
In that moment, all Lucien wanted was to hear Elain tease him again. 
Laugh.
And maybe dance, too.
ELAIN: 
As it turned out, Lucien was incredibly proficient at the cha cha slide. The YMCA, too, though that was certainly easier. As the night wore on, after drinks and toasts and first dances, Lucien shed his jacket and his tie for dancing and general joviality. He’d rolled his sleeves to his elbows and unbuttoned his white collared shirt to his chest, offering her an unparalleled view of his neck and the very beginnings of his chest. 
It was practical to do so, she reminded herself. There was absolutely no air conditioning in the barn and everyone was drenched in a fine layer of sweat. As it stood, Lucien was holding one of Elain’s hands, his other on the small of her back as they panted their way through a slow song. Vassa and Jurian were making out not ten feet away from them and Elain was more than a little jealous. She’d already told Lucien he was going home alone that night and he’d been utterly good natured in his agreement. 
It was dangerous to rest her head against his shoulder. She swore she only did it because she was tired and a little drunk. Lucien merely pulled her closer. “You sure you want to go home alone?” he murmured, pressing a polite kiss to her scalp. 
“Maybe you could drive me home?” she asked him. She didn’t add that she was hoping to do a little making out in the car. She didn’t know if that was even allowed with all his rigid rules. 
“I could do that,” Lucien agreed, his voice laced with some unknown emotion. She didn’t dare look up, keeping her cheek pressed firmly against his damp shirt. “I’ll walk you to your door and everything.”
“Who knew Mr. Vanserra was such a gentleman?”
“I have my moments,” he murmured, fingers rubbing over her bare back. She didn’t think she liked these moments, not when it was so obviously muddying the water between them. How was she supposed to remain objective and clear when he was touching her like he cared about her? Like he wanted her for more than just her body? Lucien, who’d been laughing at her jokes all night and had danced with no one else when she knew he could have, was complicating Elain’s uneasy emotions.
Just the night before she’d been wallowing over Graysen, staring at his last text and willing herself to just respond. She hadn’t thought of him all day, hadn’t run to her phone every five seconds to check for a new message, to scroll through their old photos wistfully. Everything had been about having fun with the man in front of her. 
The music shifted back into a bouncy, utterly danceable beat. Elain and Lucien pulled apart without regret, jumping and laughing just like before. Always touching, though. She hadn’t noticed it at first but now it was impossible not to. His hand would brush her arm or she’d place her palm against his chest. Always reaching for the other, keeping them close. 
Elain only stopped when Arina came over, all but dragging her off the dancefloor. “I’m gonna take off. I have work late tomorrow and I need some sleep. You coming with?”
“Lucien’ll drive me home,” Elain replied breathlessly, reaching for a bottle of water from a nearby cooler. They were standing between the wide, curving entrance of the barn and the deck that led towards the grassy plain and the waiting parking lot.
“You sure?” Arina asked, biting her bottom lip. Elain noted how her friend glanced over her shoulder for a moment, looking for a man who was currently talking to some other brunette. 
“Positive. I won’t be too much longer, but you don’t have to wait up.”
Arina nodded, biting her bottom lip. “I like Lucien.”
And that was it. There was nothing else to say, nothing that wouldn’t get them both in trouble. As it stood, Elain almost told Arina she liked Eris, too. It was just…something happening with these brothers they didn’t want to acknowledge, couldn’t admit to each other, let alone themselves. So they danced around it, taunting and teasing the other without ever naming whatever it was. 
Elain finished her water, turning back to the dance floor where Lucien was engaged in a game of limbo, back arched as he made his way beneath an ever sinking pole. She smiled, well aware what she was feeling was affection. 
It was far longer than she promised before her and Lucien stumbled out, closing the party down with the last stragglers. Lucien fished out his keys with an easy smile, having stopped drinking hours before. Her car was gone and Elain hoped Arina had made it home alright. She slid into the comfortable interior of his car, almost giddy when his large palm gripped her thigh. It wasn’t sexual–merely comfortable, she thought. Lucien drove with one hand, radio playing softly in the background. 
“I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun at a wedding, of all places,” Lucien murmured as they made their way back to the city.
“No?” she questioned, turning her head to look at him. His auburn hair was unbound around his flushed, still sweaty face and despite a night of near endless dancing, he seemed keyed up.
Lucien squeezed her leg. 
“It’s your witchy little spell,” he teased, unaware of how those words caused butterflies to bounce around her stomach.
“Hardly. You’re just not used to genuinely good company.”
“I know that’s true,” he agreed, squeezing again.
 Elain hesitated, picking her words carefully. 
“You know…when this is all over, I hope you still consider me a friend.”
His thumb rubbed a circle over the fabric of her dress. “I’m not in the habit of staying friends with the women I fuck.”
All those butterflies died in the wake of his easy words, turning to stone in her belly. Elain swallowed hard as Lucien drove, unaware he’d unintentionally hurt her feelings. 
“Do you?” he asked, perhaps noticing she had gone immediately silent. 
“This is different,” Elain tried to explain, hating how her voice sounded. He caught it, glancing over in the dark.
“How so?”
“We’re not…” in love. There was no danger of it, given the clear lines and boundaries they’d both drawn. “Dating.”
“Ah,” he said, as if it explained nothing.
“Friends with benefits implies friends,” she added hastily. “And I don’t just…stop seeing my friends when they’re no longer…”
“Buying you things?” he supplied, she thought to be helpful.
“Having sex with me,” Elain disagreed. She’d forgotten for a moment that Lucien liked to do that. Maybe that was why he didn’t want to be friends. Didn’t want to muddy those waters, either.
Cut all ties, never see a shred of proof of what he’d gotten up to in the name of getting his penis wet. 
He looked again. “Let’s not worry about that for now.”
But she was. She didn’t know why, but the ticking clock in Elain’s head made her very worried. She liked him, and knowing that she was more than a couple of wet holes to him would have eased some of the anxiety she felt. Lucien went back to rubbing his thumb over her dress, settling back into silence. They were nearly to the Starlight when he murmured, “If you want to be friends when this is all over, I think I could do that.”
She swallowed the ballooning relief in her chest. “Good. I promise not to make it awkward.”
He smiled softly. “I believe you wouldn’t.”
Elain reclined her head against the seat as the overhead lights of the Starlight flooded through the dash. She’d never get over this building, builtd in the twenties from old ivory marble. Carved gargoyles stood watch as they got out, eyes trailing them as Lucien guided her towards the door.
“Elain?”
God, she knew that voice. Like something from every nightmare she’d ever had, Elain turned slowly to face Graysen. He was dressed nice enough in a blue and lilac plaid button up and navy pants. He had a suit jacket tossed over his shoulder and his sandy brown hair was mussed. She didn’t dare think as to why. 
“Hey, Gray,” she murmured, noting how Lucien stiffened just beside her. She could practically feel his radiating interest as Graysen wove through the parked cars to come talk to them. She took a steadying breath, heart hammering painfully in her chest. 
Brown eyes snagged on Lucien.
“What’s up, Vanserra?”
“The usual,” came Lucien’s cool reply. Graysen only nodded, undisturbed by Lucien’s standoffishness. 
“How have you been?” Graysen asked her, eyeing the off shoulder, backless pink dress she was wearing. She knew he recognized it from a formal event, was remembering how he’d peeled it off her body before quietly having sex with her. How she’d once cherished that memory. Now it made her feel sick. 
“Good,” she replied. “Vassa got married tonight.” She felt like she needed to explain what she was doing out with Lucien Vanserra at two in the morning. Graysen didn’t look at the man beside her at all, inching a step closer.
“I forgot about that. You look…” his words failed for a moment. “I always did like that dress. You look great, Lainey.”
Lucien was so still he might have been a statue. Elain almost vomited at the mention of that old nickname, of how casually Graysen told Lucien he’d seen everything she was wearing before, implying he’d taken it all off, too.
“You should respond to my text,” he added reproachfully. “Lets catch up, yeah? I miss you.”
“I—”
Lucien’s fingers curled around her waist. 
“I’d like that,” she finished lamely. Graysen smiled, every inch of him triumphant. Night ruined. 
“Perfect. Talk to you soon.”
She nodded, letting him walk away with a bouncy step. Lucien all but pushed her forward, still gripping her waist. He said nothing as they stepped through the revolving glass doors, onto the checked marble floors and the gorgeous well-lit lobby. Elain liked the character—little carved leaves trailed up ivory columns and portraits of women with curled bobs and flapper dresses adorned the walls. 
She had a private elevator accessed only with a keycard. Lucien waited for her to drag it out of her clutch and swipe, his face visible in the mirrored elevator doors. His cheeks were flushed, no longer from his enjoyment but from what she thought was anger. It was the way he held his lips, and the tightness of his eyes that made her think so. 
They stepped inside, avoiding the other’s reflection in the dimly lit space. Lucien still had his hand on her body and Elain considered that a win. “Why are you avoiding Nolan?” he finally asked when the halfway floor chimed around them.
“He hurt my feelings,” she told Lucien honestly. They were friends, after all. 
“Oh?”
“You’ve never had your heart broken?” she dared to ask. Maybe he hadn’t. Elain couldn’t imagine anyone leaving him. “He just moved on so quickly, it was like—”
“Like none of it ever happened,” Lucien finished for her right as they reached her floor. 
“Yeah,” she breathed. She expected him to stay in the elevator, to bid her goodnight without even a kiss. That wasn’t how she’d wanted this night to go. Lucien didn’t hesitate to follow just behind, looking around as if he’d never seen the penthouse suite before. Elain and Arina had gagged when they came in the night before. It was massive, with a wall of windows overlooking the city, and stairs that led to the pool on the roof. Three bedrooms, more than they required, a living room and a full kitchen, not to mention three and a half bathrooms made it the nicest place Elain had ever stayed in her life. 
She kicked her shoes off, letting her aching bare feet cool against the faux wood floors. 
“Was it recent?” he questioned. She shrugged.
“We dated for two years. It just takes a minute to get over.”
He nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Sure. You should have told him we were on a date. Made him a little jealous.”
Padding for the kitchen, Elain looked over at Lucien with surprise. “I’m sure he was thinking it.”
Lucien shrugged casually, unbuttoning his shirt like he was home. Maybe he was. How often had he stayed here, she wondered? Elain filled a cup with water before thinking better of it and offering him one, too. Lucien accepted, now shirtless and glorious.
“I worry you’re not getting much out of this.”
Elain gaped, her cup nearly clattering to the floor. “You bought me a car.”
“It hardly counts.”
Hardly counts.
“And what do you get out of this?” she demanded. Lucien’s eyes sparkled with mischief. 
“Your submission and sex exactly the way I like it. It’s just…” he hesitated for a moment. “You don’t ask for as much as the other women.”
Other women. She ignored the way that made her gut clench. She was prepared to offer him a rebuttal when loud moaning floated through the space. It was masculine and familiar. Lucien’s head snapped towards a closed door, mouthing the question, Eris?
Arina’s voice answered for them. “Eris, don’t stop—” 
“Want to watch a movie?” Elain asked him, eyebrows raised. This was the part where he left.
“Absolutely.”
Lucien:
Lucien was a fucking moron to spend the night again. Even dumber to be stripped to his underwear, laying beneath a pretty pink floral bed cover Elain had clearly brought with her. She’d put on some movie he was barely watching, too busy thinking about the peek of white thong he’d gotten when she came into bed. He’d bought it, along with the sheer nighty draped over her perky tits. All he wanted to do was eat between her legs. 
He couldn’t figure out how to make it happen. He had an arm around her body, her head tucked against his bare chest. Had all things been normal he might have demanded she crawl on his face and hold herself still. He was utterly jealous of his brother in the next room, though the sounds had died to nothing when Lucien and Elain began banging around loudly, trying to communicate they were very much around without making it weird. 
Lucien knew why he wanted to get between her legs and the knowledge that he was jealous of Graysen Nolan was almost too much.
Go home you dumb motherfucker.
Lucien trailed his hand down her arm, instead. Even if this was nothing more than fun, he didn’t want her leaving him from fucking Nolan. Elain didn’t react, eyes still fixated on the television. He decided he’d try a little more and if she stayed still, he’d deal with his too-hard cock some other way.
His fingers reached her stomach, thumb brushing just beneath her breasts. Elain exhaled softly, pressing a kiss to his body. Encouraged, Lucien continued lower until he reached the lacy thong that was haunting him and began rubbing through the fabric.
“You’re bad at watching a movie,” she whispered.
“I’d be better if you weren’t so fucking hot,” he replied easily. “I want to go down on you.”
She looked up at him, surprised. “You do?”
All the fucking time. 
“Do you care?”
She inhaled. “Of course not, Lucien. I just…what should I be doing?”
He almost told her to lay back. “Will you sit on my face?”
Her eyes went wide. “Sure.”
Elain shimmied out of her underwear faster than he could ask her to keep them on. He liked seeing her in the things he bought her. Lucien intended to gift her a new backless dress so Graysen could never ogle her in that pink one again. For now, though, thong tossed somewhere to the floor, Elain was straddled over his face, still pointed towards the television.
“Am I allowed to touch you?” she asked hesitantly. 
“Baby,” he whispered, pulling her closer to his mouth. “Tonight is just about feeling good. You can call me daddy again in the morning.”
And for the first time in his life, Lucien meant it. He wanted her whimpering at his feet more than he wanted most things but tonight, he also wanted to remind her that when it came down to it, Graysen wasn’t worth the effort it took to miss him. 
“Touch my cock if you want to. Do whatever you want to me.”
Elain exhaled sharply when he took that first taste. He forgot she was leaning down his body, that her hands were running up and down his stomach. Lucien was lost in Elain’s wet pussy and the sweet, musky taste of her. He’d never tire of this. Even when things were over, he’d always be thinking about her perfect, pink cunt. She began rolling her hips, riding him and Lucien was utterly gone.
Right up until he felt her swallow his cock. Lucien jerked, twisting to look at the woman laying atop him, sucking him down, down, down. He was still daydreaming about holding her flush against his body in his office. No one had ever managed such a thing and yet for ten glorious seconds, Elain had put his entire cock into her throat before she ended the game. She was working her way down with each new pass, pushing her pussy back against him, having registered the loss.
“Sorry, baby, but fuck who taught you to suck cock?”
She hummed a soft laugh but Lucien was serious. He wanted to personally thank that man. He indulged himself for only a moment, watching her hollowed cheeks and her wet, sloppy tongue swirling over his swollen head. 
And then Lucien was back, determined he would not be outdone by Elain and her sucking lips. Lucien wanted Elain to think he treated eating pussy like it was his job, like all he thought about was laving her clit with his tongue. She was appropriately loud given she was also gagging on his cock.
Elain made another pass, her nose brushing the skin of his stomach and Lucien groaned loudly—loud enough her roommate knew what they were up to.
“Again, baby, do it again,” he begged before drawing her clit between his lips to suck the same as she was. Elain’s vibrating moan had Lucien hanging on a razor’s edge.
She did exactly as he asked, holding him in her throat, nose smushed to his abdomen. Lucien jerked, unable to contain his release. He came roughly, still eating at her pussy, if only to feel her come against him too.
She did mere moments later, grinding so hard against him Lucien could barely breathe. His whole face was wet in her release—just the way he liked it.
Coming down was another thing entirely. Some small part of him, the part that valued holding boundaries, knew he should kiss her goodnight and leave. Elain panted, flopping to the bed beside him, one hand tucked between her tits. She was still in the lacy nighty, devoid of panties and while Lucien’s flagging cock had been pulled from the band of his own underwear. He pulled them up, holding her against him. 
“You can stay if you want,” she told him, offering him an out. “No hard feelings if you need to go.”
Lucien slid down the bed, stuffing his penis back into his pants.
“I can stay.”
A smile slid over her features. “Good,” she murmured, head back against his chest. Lucien kissed the top of her scalp, well aware he was fucked.
Well and truly fucked. 
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