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peachpitfics · 7 months ago

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Wildest Dreams

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Your Father has betrothed you to his eldest, most despicable friend. You confide in your closest friend, Benedict Bridgerton, that you wish your first time could be with somebody else, somebody you liked.

Length: 3.5k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Propositioning a friend, first time, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, orgasm.

a/n: Wildest Dreams is part i of iii ~ requested by anon here.

Bridgerton master list (tag list)

The blood drained from your face, your hands clasped together in clammy nervousness – your father had just told you that since you have failed to successfully find a husband within the first year on the marriage mart, he will be arranging a betrothal between yourself and Lord Roger Howard. Lord Howard was six and sixty, he was your father’s eldest friend. Every interaction you ever witnessed was filled with contempt and disrespect, especially with service staff. His words were often filled with bigotry and unfairness. You found him repulsive, his yellowing chipped teeth in his villainous smile. The way his poorly maintained fingernails curled at the ends. His white moustache stained into unsightly colours from cigar smoke. The thought of having to be near this man, be intimate with this man, nearly drove you toward deaths door.

Your knees shook, standing from your armchair in the sitting room, not speaking a word to your father as you exited. Scurrying up the stairs, throwing yourself onto your bed, you felt your heart was about to burst out of your chest. Tears streamed down your face, you did your best to suck in deep breaths, but panic continued to wash over you. There was nothing you could do to save yourself from this fate. There had been some suitors interested in you, but you had chosen to wait, to see if the one person you had wanted would make himself available to you. Now it was too late, those suitors had moved on with other young ladies, and the man you wanted was nowhere to be seen.

Your lady’s maid knocked meekly on the door, having come to prepare you for this evening’s ball. The Queen would be there, and you knew she would be disappointed in this match your father had forced upon you, not that that would help you.

“Shall we get the family jewels out miss? I hear it is to be quite an exciting night” You could tell she was putting it on, trying to sound excited. It seemed to come off as patronizing instead.

“Whatever you should think is appropriate” You tried to keep your feelings to yourself, but the streaks through your makeup sold you out at first glance. You spent the rest of your preparation in silence, usually the two of you indulged in a little gossip, it was supposed to be fun.

All evening you hid behind larger groups, behind servers carrying trays of champagne, doing your best to ensure the inevitable could not happen. Finally, considerably late in the evening, your closest friend deigned to arrive. Almost surging across the dance floor and into Benedict’s side, you linked arms and impishly whisked him out through the conservatory doors.

“Miss Y/n” Benedict exclaimed, “What is the meaning of this?”.

You breathed heavily, ducking, and weaving through overgrown plants and florals. You scouted each entrance, paranoia clinging to your side like a child in a sack race.

“My father has committed a most heinous act” You spill to Benedict, there is only concern etched on his face, “I am to be married to Lord Howard”. Your breath never steadied, sweat beaded where your forehead met your hair line. There was that panic you remembered so fondly, only hypervigilance had eliminated that feeling from the centre of your chest.

“Oh lord,” Benedict’s mouth hung open, utterly flabbergasted, “I cannot believe he would do that to you” Both of his hands found their way to your shoulders in compassion.

“And yet he has. My own father has bargained me away to some elder beast! There is nothing I can do to stop it” Your hands ran through your hair, untangling one of the twists.

Benedict did not know what to say, all he could do was lurch forward and take you into his arms. His strong arms reached around you, pulling you tight. The sound of his steady breath and rhythmic heartbeat calmed you quickly.

“When I was a little girl, I wished on a falling star I would find someone who loved me as their equal. I now wish for that same thing on this very night. To think that I have wasted my life dreaming about love, finding someone like me, with the same interests, the same age as me even!” You thought aloud. Benedict was always someone you could tell your innermost thoughts to, he never judged you once, and he was the kindest of listeners.

Benedict Bridgerton also knew exactly who you were dreaming about – it was him. You had been friends for several years, and it had always been obvious to anyone with sight, that you and Ben were infatuated with each other. But Benedict was young, and impulsive, unlikely to marry at this time.

“I do not want to spend my life with that old simpleton! I want to experience life and love!” You cried out, “My elder sister divulged what it is married couples do on their wedding night – I do not want that with him! I cannot live my life without having ever experienced the touch of a man who cares for me!” Your cries turned into whispers; whimpers scattered throughout.

He held you close to him, making a caring swishing sound, it kind of sounded like the ocean. Benedict sure knew how to comfort you when you were in need.

“Y/N! Where are you?!” Your father’s voice echoed off the glass walls, sending you into a frenzy, quickly separating from Benedict, dabbing your cheeks with a handkerchief.

“Yes father?” You responded.

“Lord Howard is here with me. There is something he would like to say to you” Your father called. Benedict hid low amongst the broad-leafed plants, the darkness of the conservatory shading him. You appeared from the shadows without explanation, not that your father was seeking one. Lord Howard stood hunched next to your father, who was 20 years his junior. It appeared as though he bowed, but it was hard for you to discern.

“M…m…miss Y/n?” He stuttered, struggling to see through the spectacles at the end of his nose, “There is a question I must ask you. With the permission of your father, I am here to ask for your hand in marriage” Spittle flew from his mouth in between sharp consonants. Dread flooded your body, you felt like you were being submerged in a pool of water, the tears in your eyes, simply the only way for the water to escape.

There was animosity in your father’s gaze, warning you there was simply one answer to the question asked. Taking in a deep breath, “Yes, Lord Howard, I will accept” You murmured. Lord Howard did not look pleased, he did not appear bothered either, he simply nodded once and turned about, marching back to the main ballroom. You wondered if this was what your marriage was going to be like? Would he ignore your existence and leave you to your own life if you produced an heir? You could not ascertain whether this was a good thing or not.

Benedict hung his head, having watched this entire exchange from the shadows. There was an element of guilt on his part, he blamed himself, unable to give you what you wanted in time to save you. When your father had left you standing still, tears staining your dress, Benedict slid out from the darkness.

“I think I am going to ask the footman to take me home… I only have so much time before my time is not mine any longer” You lower lip trembled; the peaceful silence of the conservatory disturbed by the soft sounds of sobs.

“Y/n,” Benedict muttered, his hand running down your upper arm. Electricity connected your flesh in a zap, your breath caught in your chest as his skin joined with yours. His tender hands grazed yours, tickling the palm of your hand.

“Benedict” You shook your head, moving to take your hand away before he closed his around it. His tongue flicked over his lips several times as he contemplated what he had to say. Sometimes you heard the other young ladies tell stories about Benedict, you never knew if they were true. They spoke of how he was finest of the Bridgerton brothers, they also spoke of his rakish tendencies, however mostly in a jealous fashion.

The forecast in Benedict’s eyes swiftly shifted from clear blue to a stormy grey. You had not noticed how tall he was before, looming over you like a dark cloud. His face illustrated apathetic gloom, his hand boring you into him, like he was the eye of the storm.

“There is something I must speak with you about, in private” Benedict rolled his tongue aggressively on his teeth as he spoke. Everything about his demeanor was confusing, you felt strangely like prey, wondering why it felt good. Benedict snuck out the conservatory door, your hands clutched together while he led you to his carriage, asking his footmen to make way for the Bridgerton house.

“What is this about Benedict?” You asked as soon as the door was secure and the carriage moving.

“Y/n, please give me a moment and I will explain everything. I do not know if I have a solution to your problem, but I may be able to offer a compromise. Something I would only do for you, if you asked, because I care about you so deeply” Benedict paused, this intense look of thoughtful worry about him, “If you would be agreeable, I would like to suggest that I… bed you for the first time” Benedicts voice was low and resounding.

Your lips parted abashedly, your cheeks flushed pink, blinking became uncontrollable. All you could do was sit completely still, astronomically stunned by what Benedict had proposed. You understood that for whatever reason, Benedict could not give you everything you wanted, but he was offering you something. He was offering you an experience you may never have gotten to have otherwise, a chance to feel loved and wanted in intimate affection with another person.

“Say something, anything, please. I cannot stand this silence” Benedict rubbed his temples after a few minutes. His eyes were still dark with longing, he looked over with you a deviating sense of ownership.

“You would do that for me?” You entreated, hands shaking so hard you nearly sat on them to make it stop.

Benedict nodded surely across from you, the carriage pulling up at the Bridgerton house. Your eyes locked, the carriage completely still and silent, you took a moment to consider the ramifications of your choice. Ben’s posture was resolute, his gaze expansive, eagerly waiting for your reply.

“Yes” You swallowed hard, Benedict snatching your hand from your lap and dragging you from the carriage, running up the walk and into the house. You made short work of the very many stairs on the way up to his bedroom, sure that nobody could have seen you, as you ran that fast.

Blood rushing around your body, you stood just inside Benedict’s door, trying desperately to catch your breath. Benedict shuffled about the room, lighting a few candles, closing the windows for the evening. He looked back at you, having already stripped into your underclothes while his back was turned. A most shameful lust driven smile sketched lightly onto his face, he made the long voyage acrost the bedroom to stand a foot or two in front of you.

“Thank you for doing me this favor. I will owe you always” You remarked, your eyes dancing figure eights on the lush carpet squishing under your wiggling toes.

Benedict’s shoulders were more relaxed than you had ever seen them, his posture always just so. Strands of hair bled onto his sticky forehead, dark eyebrows brewing overhead transfixed eyes. That charming smile, filled with foolishness, had not been seen since leaving the ball – this was something so chronically serious to him. He effortlessly tugged at his maroon cravat, casting it to the floor, his proud neck craning to get another glimpse of you from another angle. His throat bobbed when he stepped closer again, just one more step. Fiddling with his waistcoat buttons ardently, watching the frustration set into your eyes, Benedict finally shed his coat and pitched it across the room, knocking over something unbreakable in the corner. It did not steal his gaze; his eyes were set on you. Benedict lifted his suspenders off his shoulders, allowing them to dangle by his hips, the chest of his white, silk undershirt gaping open. Your teeth instinctually bit into your lower lip at the slightest sight of skin you had not ever seen before. The corner of Benedicts mouth upturned smugly, his lips rolling together as his breath became audible. Standing just one foot apart, the tension between you was palpable. You wondered if someone had struck a match, might the room simply explode, there seemed to be so much chemistry between the two of you.

“Please, continue” Your hands pressed to your stomach, you watched as Benedict unlaced his boots, one foot at a time on the stool at the end of his bed. His blistering eye bore into you even still. Making his way back to you, still at hardly an arm’s length, his brawny arms crossed his body to pull his undershirt off over his head.

You swooned audibly, almost gasping seeing the entirety of his torso bare for the first time. Your lips wet, your eyes unblinking, Benedict smiled cheekily, knowing the effect he had on you. His hands moved past his navel, your eyes following, to the button atop his breeches. Benedict made quick work of his trousers, having teased you plenty. Your back straightened, your gob smacked jaw snapped shut at the sight of his naked body.

Benedicts tongue flicked over his teeth, “Would you like me to redress, y/n?” He badgered, pretending to reach for his shirt on the floor. You careened forward, lessening the space between you to essentially nothing.

“I do not know what to do, not truly” You admitted, feeling yourself choking on nothing. Benedict reached out to your hands, taking them in his, placing them on his chest. Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head at the feeling of his light chest hair beneath your fingers. His sculpted pectoral muscles and taut stomach, a trail of dark hair leading you downwards made you feel ravenous for him. He looked at you as you looked at him, eyes filled with desire, faces pink in the candlelight. Benedict leaned in to kiss you, pulling away left at the last second to place a single kiss on your neck.

“You. Are. Wicked” Your face flitted over his, grazing your noses and lips together in potential kisses. Benedict leaned into you, his kiss soft, warm, and breathless. You gasped at the first separation, taking in hasty breaths before crashing back into each other. Everything you were doing felt completely wrong, reprehensible – but with a kiss as intoxicating as Benedict Bridgerton’s, you were afraid not even heaven could help you.

Your hands slipped into his thick, dark hair, pulling him down and into you, wrapping your arms around his neck and climbing up onto him. His hands rested under your thighs, carrying you toward his bed, you could feel his hardness pressing against you.

This was not what you had been expecting, this was no impish boy. Everything about his movements was intentional, well-practiced. His hot, amorous kiss; the way his tongue slipped thankfully over yours, how his teeth greedily nipped at your auspicious bottom lip. His hands moved passionately across your back, his long kisses surprisingly hard on your neck, laying you down on the pile of bedding. He frantically shoved it off the bed, throwing pillows, knocking himself in the face once or twice. You laughed together, slow sizzling tongues dancing as one as Benedict removed your floor length under gown.

Benedict knelt above you on the bed, gently stroking himself, looking down on you. There was that dark cloud you had noticed earlier.

“I want you to enjoy me” Benedict rumbled, making you a promise. You did not yet understand, but you would. Taking his finger, Benedict dipped it into your mouth, bringing it to your nipple, rolling it between his finger and thumb at a glacial pace. His touch was peculiarly possessive, his lips rested around your other nipple now, sloppily dragging his tongue around in spontaneous circles. Big open-mouthed kisses surrounded your breasts, your shock and surprise manifesting in noiseless writhing.

Benedict positioned himself between your legs, lying down forcing your legs apart. Wanting to snap your legs shut, you refrained, trusting Benedict with your life. His breath was agonizingly warm on your inner thigh, his lips parted and gliding up from your knee. Benedict dotted small, chaste kisses along your hips – you deduced he was headed for the pinnacle of your thighs, a place you had never felt burn and ache quite like this.

His tongue slid gently up the slit of your pussy, you breath shuddered, his harmless laps amazed you with every movement. Eye lids fluttering, breathy moans filling the room, Benedict’s graceful tongue swirling your clitoris in curious patterns, drinking in your wetness as though you were a drug to him. Your fingers crawled down into his hair, your hips bucking toward his retreating tongue, you squealed lowly for more.

“Are you quite alright?” Benedict groaned into you, the vibrations of his voice set you on edge, your toes clenching in different ways.

“I do not know what you are doing, but I would like for you to keep doing it” You moaned intermittently, between gasps as his tongue flicked roguishly at your clitoris.

Benedict spread your legs wide and high, taking his finger and resting it at your entrance. He tediously sunk his finger inside you, curling up, making you yelp out in astonishment. Finding a steady pace, his finger already snug inside you, Benedict began at you again, never failing to find exactly the spot he was looking for. His alteration of speed and pressure backed you onto a cliff face, body incandescent and damned to revelry. Pressing his fingers into you rhythmically, Benedict pushed you over the edge, the sensation of falling and flying all erupting at once as you moaned and yelped uncontrollably. In the aftermath of your pleasure, you watched Benedicts eyes, his head still clutched between your legs gently sliding his tongue over you, his charming, sexy smile reflected in his eyes.

Slowing rising to his knees, Ben positioned your legs higher, resting your calves on his shoulders. Taking his cock in his hand, his pressed his tip against your wet skin. Your skin erupted in a tingling sensation, unbridled attraction and hunger liquefying your brain.

You looked up at Benedict in clear understanding, nodding gently, your eyes focusing on the powerful look of restrained urgency on Benedict’s face. He pushed forward smoothly, eliciting a groan from each of you, not even pressed to the hilt yet.

When Benedict filled your pussy fully, it felt like being winded. Panting like a dog under him, Benedict stilled himself, noticing how full and tight you felt, his cock twitching with pleasure. Benedict moved slowly at first, long unbroken strides forward, thrusting into you. Every drive forward, simultaneously blissful, and hot, curving to pound into that sensitive spot just inside you. While every drawback, was likened to slow-motion, devastating deprivation. Ceaseless, savage moans made Benedict grin above you, thrusting harder, wholly triumphant in setting you alight. You knew you would burn for him for the rest of your life.

“Make that sound for me again” Benedict grunted sinisterly, thrusting back into you brutally, forcing that loud intonation from you again.

Your fingers clawed at his back, your hips moving with his in most divine unison. Benedicts teeth grazed your ear, your breathing syncing in ceremonious adoration; his momentum increased, driving into you with new eagerness. Your nails buried in his plump behind, pulling Benedict tighter into you. With propulsive sureness Benedict plunged into you one last time, his cock twitching inside you to his irrevocable release. Never had you felt so full before, his face exquisite above you, leaning down to a soulful kiss.

“I’m proud of you, taking me like that” Benedict panted, taking a second before withdrawing and rolling next to you. He lay on the flat of his back, chasing his breath, his heart thumping through his chest, beating so hard you could almost hear it. His words made you blush, hiding your face in your hands, his seed leaking out of you onto the linen.

“It is not always going to be the same, is it?” You pondered aloud, staring at the detailing on the ceiling above you.

“I will not lie, y/n darling, I do not think every single instance will be the same” Benedict reached over, gently slapping your thigh in solidarity.

“That is disappointing to hear” You sighed dramatically.

Benedict chuckled sweetly, “Perhaps at his age, he will not have the capacity to complete more than the marital act”. You knew he was joking, trying to lift your spirits, but you genuinely hoped that might be true. Other worries began to plague your mind, worries of potential children. What if you were unable to conceive his heir due to his age?

You rolled onto your side, looking into Benedict’s clear, sky-blue eyes, “There may be another favour I ask of you, dear friend”. Benedict's eyes widened curiously, prepared to do most anything for you.

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missfrustration · 2 months ago

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to teach a captain - part 2 (luffy x reader 18+ fanfic)

summary: If the “D” in his middle name didn't stand for dick, you don’t know what would.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7

rating: 18+ explicit, minors do not interact!

tags: pwp, nsfw, smut, sexual content, masturbation, first times, self discovery, cluelessness, luffy is a curious guy, sub!luffy, dirty talk, "good boy," some praising, reader is a member of the crew, post-time skip, second-hand embarrassment, you will cringe, no use of y/n

A/n: the real spice starts now. I got carried away and wrote like 6k words for this one. Luffy, ur my goat forever. on ao3 here!

words: 6.1k

“Talk to me? About what? I find it hard to believe you would end your time out there just to talk to me.”

Without a beat, Luffy tilts his head. “You didn’t answer my question earlier, and I wanted to know why,” he says, crossing his arms.

“What?” But you didn't need to ask what he meant—you knew exactly what he was talking about—but that didn’t stop your entire body from freezing.

“You had your clothes off, making noise, and had that thing. At first, I thought you were in pain, but then when I came in, you seemed… good. I have no idea what happened.”

You swallow thickly, only looking at the deep brown of Luffy’s eyes. You feel a heavy blush form on your face as you struggle to find any words.

“I’m sorry, Luffy, but I don’t think we should talk about it,” You say. “I don’t think it’s appropriate.”

“What? That’s not fair.” Luffy whines.

“What’s not fair?”

“You were having a good time, and I want to know why. The way you talked… you looked like you were having fun.“

Your body tenses into a rigor mortis level of shock.

“You want to know what you saw?”

He nods adamantly.

“Luffy, how long were you watching?”

He shrugged it off like it was no big deal. “A while.”

You blink. Luffy definitely saw everything then. The feeling of him seeing your bare form pleasuring yourself with no guilt is enough to make your face light on fire. You cuss at yourself for not closing the door like you should’ve.

“How old are you again, Luffy?”

“Uh… 19?”

“That‘s what I thought,” You mumble, sighing so hard you groan. “If you don’t know, I can’t imagine you know other things— anything about…” a pause, “ do you know where babies come from?”

Luffy scratches his chin.

“Isn’t it a giant bird? I think Grandpa told me that once.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’d thought you would say. Okay, we both need to sit down for this one.”

You rustle some stacks of clothing off your bed onto Nami’s bed to the right of you before you sit on the edge of the sheets. Luffy plopped onto the edge beside you, kicking his feet against the bed frame.

“If this were anyone else on the Sunny, I wouldn’t need to think twice about entertaining this,” but of course, it’s Luffy. You sigh. “So, we can talk about it, but no relaying ANYTHING about this to the crew, got it? This conversation cannot get to them.”

Another shrug. “Sure, that’s fine.”

You sigh and rub your face, watching Luffy through your fingers for a moment before sliding them down and crossing your arms.

“You can ask away then.”

Luffy perks up and grins. His mind was off to the races.

“What was that noise you were making?”

How you painfully grimace at the first question tells you how much you’ll enjoy this conversation.

“Well, that’s what happens when you, uh, when people do what I was doing?” Your voice turns into a question by accident. If this was anyone else but Luffy, you would’ve tapped out here, but you know Luffy would never let you hear the end of it.

Luffy hums, reflecting on your answer.

“What were you doing?”

Yep, we are going there.

“Uh, I was making myself… feel good. It’s called masturbating, or…pleasuring oneself.” You cringe at the informative tone in your voice as you mull it over. “Like you said.”

“What were you using?”

“Using? What do you mean—” Before Luffy answers your question, you realize he meant your dildo. “Oh, it was… a tool.”

“A tool? Like, to help fight?”

“No, it’s to help me feel good. It’s called a toy.”

Luffy looks around the room.

”Do other people need that?”

“For what?”

He briefly thinks about the question, scratching his head like the words are right there.

“If they want to feel like that too.”

“Hardly,” you snort. “Guys never have it that rough; usually, hands work fine. Women may. It just depends on whether they need some extra help.”

As far as you know, you recall Nami telling the girls she gets her pleasure from men on different islands and usually her hands if we’re stuck on the sea for a while. Robin doesn’t mention her individual sex life, but you’d assume Franky takes care of her whenever she needs a pick-me-up.

”Then why do you need a toy?” Luffy asks.

”Man, Luffy…” You mumble, arms supporting you as you fall back on your bed. “This is a lot for me.”

When you look at him, his pout says it all. You pinch the bridge of your nose with the strength that could knock you out of this nightmare, yet disappointed that you’re still here.

“Okay, okay, fine. Sometimes, during these moments, it’s harder for me to reach the same… conclusion than it is for others, so I need the assistance of a toy to help me. I don’t know much about the others–that’s not really something people talk about to each other.”

Luffy perked up at your last sentence.

“Huh? The others do it, too?”

“Well, maybe. That’s not for me to know.” You say. You try to shrug it off–thinking about it too much will make you want to knock on every door you need to open on the Sunny.

“Why can’t the crew just help you next time?” Luffy asks.

Suddenly, the bed no longer offers support as you sit straight up. You didn’t need to say anything; Luffy saw your concern screaming before you could open your mouth.

“We’re nakama! I would do anything for you guys. The others feel the same.” He says with a smile. Luffy’s words make it seem like the easiest answer, practically beaming at a newfound resolve. It just makes you sink into the mattress more.

“That’s not exactly… something that requires you guys. People don’t usually help each other with this…” You stop before you explain only people who are very close can, but you know Luffy wouldn’t know how close that is unless you explain it.

“Does that mean you won’t tell me how to do it?”

“Tell you?” You ask. Luffy nods, and you only widen your eyes more. “Wait, you want me to tell you how to masturba-“ you clear your throat before finishing, “tell you how ?”

“You said it felt good, right? I wanna know how, then!”

Your captain is a nice guy, giving you a clean, optimistic smile after his words. To him, this is practically like learning a new combat skill–the way he fights for his nakama means he always wants to learn how to get stronger. You guess this is just another skill for him. To you, this obviously crosses intimate boundaries.

You sigh, “You wanna know that bad, huh?”

Luffy nods.

You gaze at Luffy, wondering how you should go about this. You know he’s a loose canon when it comes to anything in the realm of keeping things private. He couldn’t keep Mr. 0 a secret even when their lives depended on it! On top of that, Luffy is the type of guy to pester you about something he’s curious about until he finds out or flatlines. If you tell him no, he could possibly keep asking until everyone on the ship hears about it. Your mouth opens to deny him, but it’s lost on your tongue.

If explaining to him how to please himself is all it is, maybe you can rush him through the steps and have him out the door shortly after. After all, he is seriously uneducated, which may help him in the long run. For what exactly, only God knows. You’re just a girl.

“If it means you keep this all a secret.” You relent, “Promise? Like, really promise. I know you’re horrible at keeping them, but I need you to just this once.”

It makes Luffy perk up, crisscrossing his legs and resting his hands on his ankles. “Promise!” He says with a toothy grin. He’s ready to listen.

“Okay, you know your…penis-“ another cringe, “between your legs?”” You ask, gesturing to his crotch. You have to find a baseline about what he even knows in the first place.

“What, the family jewels?”

Wow, off to a great start.

“… yeah. that’s what a man has with their penis—it’s your version of genitalia—whereas women…. it’s a long story… but I'm sure you saw the difference.”

He nods again, making you groan. You realize he really did see all of your pussy this morning, not to mention in excruciating pleasure. Judging by his face, he doesn’t seem confused as to what you mean when referring to his junk. That at least helps the awkwardness of this.

“Alright, y’know how sometimes you wake up and you’re hard?”

“What do you mean hard?” Luffy blinks.

“Hard means when your dick, or penis, y’know, is hard. When you wake up like that, it’s called ‘morning wood.’” You cringe at yourself again, but less severe.

“Oooohhh, yeah, you mean when it’s hard to pee!” Luffy says.

“Yeah, that’s kinda what I’m talking ab–”

“You mean like this!” Luffy smiles, reaching for his pants. He unbuttons his shorts and pulls the hem of his boxers down.

“W-what the hell are you doing?” You squeak, scrambling around.

By the time you think to turn away, you see Luffy’s hand pop out from his shorts, followed by…

“See?”

His dick is in his hands semi-hard. It’s flush against his fingers, almost the exact same color as his skin, except for a tinge of pink that lightens the more you travel towards the tip. Your eyes bulge out.

“Woah, you’re already hard… that’s surprising.”

“Yeah, it's like this a lot.”

For some reason, his words send a strange spark in you. Of course he has working bodily functions–that makes a lot of sense–but you suppose it surprised you. At first, it seemed like Luffy was completely oblivious, his body included.

“You're very red,” He says, his other hand starts waving in your face, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, yeah I’m fine,” You say with a nervous laughter. “But you don’t just whip it out like that, man.”

“Oh, sorry, I figured I could since you’re teaching me.”

You look down at his dick still in his hand, except this time, it’s grown to what you guess is his full length. Compared to others you’ve seen in the past, his length is a little smaller. You can’t tell completely without staring it, and you don’t feel like gawking would be that nice.

“It’s fine. We can work on courtesy later, but it’s super important you know about consent. Just know you’re allowed to stop whenever you’re uncomfortable with this, or by me, alright? When you talk about—or do —topics like this, it’s important to know this if you’re overwhelmed or if you don’t like what’s happening, understand? That’s called consent. Are you okay to keep going?”

“Yeah,” He smiles, “so, what do I do now?”

You shift a little, trying to scan the room for literally any answer that would get you out of this situation without your face feeling on fire—at the very least without talking about his penis again—but you cannot find a single reality. There is nothing but the goddamn wall of the girl’s dorm looking back at you.

You hope your face isn’t red anymore, or else you’ll think you’ll die from high blood pressure.

“Okay, go ahead and put your hand on it like this.” You do a hand demonstration, lightly grasping the tips of your fingers together to form a lazy ‘O’ and gesturing for him to do the same. Luffy grips the middle of his shaft on the second attempt after floating his hand around the head.

“Then you’ll want to pump into it a few times.” You pump your hand ring into the air, one that he followed suit around his dick.

His movement is stagnant and uncoordinated, imitating your motions with a waver. His hand shakes in all different directions, making his dick shift like a goddamn joystick. But it’s enough to start stimulating himself.

Slowly, his shaft begins to grow a little more.

And more. And more. And…

…Holy shit.

“Like this?” Luffy asks.

“Y-yeah, Luffy, it’s working,” you say, slack-jawed.

If the “D” in his middle name didn't stand for “dick,” you don’t know what would.

His hand gripped around the base of his shaft is now a fraction of the entire length, whereas previously, it covered everything but the head. Maybe his dick was still flaccid when he took it out. If that’s the case, bro was packing a fucking monster this whole time??

And you realize how much you’ve been staring.

“What now?” Luffy’s voice puts you back to reality.

“Well, there's one more thing that helps.” You get up slowly, your legs trembling a bit. You shake it off and walk off to the side to reach into the confines of your drawer again. What you pull out after rustling through the clothes is the small bottle of lube, almost empty from this morning’s events. You shake the bottle back and forth before popping the top open and reaching for Luffy’s hand. Although he looks at it quizzically, he obliges to give you an outstretched palm when you reach for it. You squirt a quarter-sized amount, which slowly spreads around the surface.

You motion for him to close and open his hand, making him spread the lube to the rest of his palm and fingers. He grimaces at the sight, watching the sticky substance break apart into small strings before separating, but he still looks back at you for more directions.

“Good, okay, go ahead and do what you did earlier.”

He nods, eyes now filled with determination for a newfound purpose. With one hand toying with the fabric on his clothed thigh, the other hand encircles his girth again, now barely touching fingertips as he starts to move up and down the shaft. It doesn’t take long for the lube to spread across his length, leaving small beads that move everytime he glides over them.

“This is feels different. This feels,” He trails off, but you can tell by the fluidity in his arm that the stimulation feels better…

You’re really gawking now. You rip your eyes away and stand up from the bed.

“Well, you keep doing that until, you know… alright, I have to leave, I hope you—”

Luffy whines your name. You feel a hand grab your wrist gently, immediately removing his grasp when you turn around.

“Wait.” Luffy's eyes set on where he touched you, then back to your eyes.

“What is it?” You ask. You look down to see his dick still in his hand, stroking up and down. You swear there’s a pink tinge dusted on the apples of his cheeks.

“I need to know if I’m doing it right!”

“Yeah, Luffy, but God, you want me to watch you while you do it?” You ask.

“Is that such a big deal?” Luffy gives you puppy dog-like eyes, almost offended that you don’t want to look at him. “I thought you said you were gonna help me.” Luffy says sheepishly, lowering his eyebrows.

Obviously, it is a big deal, but he’s so innocent for his own damn good that you can’t even argue with him at this point. He really doesn’t want you to leave, but you’ve wanted to keep his privacy as a top priority. Regardless, you know your say on things won’t get you anywhere, now. You swallow a lump down your throat.

“I guess it’s not.” You sit back next to him.

His feet sit firm on the plush pink carpet, he continues.

“So?” You hear his breath hitch, seeing his lips purse a little. His voice is quiet now. “Am I… doing it right?”

“Yes, you are.” You say. “If you need to, you can also control the pressure by squeezing or loosening your grip, slowing down or speeding up your hand, too.” You do some more motions with your hand, pumping it in the air with different speeds. He nods before focusing on his hand.

He changes his pace, you see his hand lose tension around his member and go slow for a few pumps as he tests the feeling. You watch your captain languidly pump his length back and forth, before he hums his disapproval. You see his hand start to speed up now. Small veins from his hand to his arms start to peak out from the firmness of his grip.

Luffy’s breath hitches again, this time at the change of pace, brows now furrowed a little.

“Okay, how long do I go for?”

“As long as you want to, but usually, there is a good stopping point. You’re trying to cum–uh, climax, which is where it feels the best, but you’ll know when that is when your penis… well you’ll see,” you shift. You hope it’s not too long. Luffy is a guy–a beginner–, so you’ll assume he won’t last long for his first time.

You realize the words sound crude coming out of your mouth, but if you could figure it out by yourself years ago, Luffy can too with a rudimentary explanation. The whole time, Luffy focuses on your words in agog, fully digesting each part. He goes right back to pumping himself with a firm nod.

“That means I’m doing it right?” He asks.

“Yes, Luffy, youre doing it right.”

“Okay.”

You’re limited in what you should say at this point. His vest is unbuttoned, revealing a chest that heaves after each firm thrust of his arm. He’s starting to throw his head back slovenly, the lids of his eyes lowering until they shut tight together. You don’t think you can look at his face anymore. At least without having a deep pool collect in your stomach. This is purely for Luffy and his educational purposes, after all. It’s stupid of you to feel anything more than that.

Your eyes nail to the wall, the very same place you chucked the bottle of lube at when Luffy first found you, trying to stifle the urge to stare. It’s futile, however, all you can hear is the small shallow huffs from the side of you. Luffy notices your sudden disassociation, however.

“You can keep looking.” He says quietly.

“R-right.”

You look down at his hand, which moved from the shorts on his thigh to the mess of the sheets between you two. There are the veins on his skin you only see when he’s fighting, popping out from his forearms to the back of his hand.

One particular pump makes him whimper loudly, whipping his head back more and parting his lips. Then another, one that makes the whiny groan in his throat linger in the air, until his legs dart wider apart, clacking his knee against yours. The quick force of it makes you jump in your skin, letting out a squeak that snaps his head forward. His brown eyes search for you, darting between you irises with low lids.

Something strange has been setting you off.

With you specifically. You squirm in your place on the bed, only a few inches from your captain jacking himself off, feeling his pleasure so well, so vocally , and now looking at you with the eyes he has after being starved and seeing a feast. Dark, enticing, needy hues, but this time, so aroused . The musk from his body is so—

“Hey,” Luffy calls out your name again. His voice has a waver in it now, a sound not lost on you, and one that is dripping more with the feeling of desire, of lust , that you certainly detect. The entire time you’ve known Luffy, you’ve never heard his voice have such a neediness in it. You never would’ve guessed it was possible. Your thighs shift together subconsciously, creating some space between your once-grazing legs.

“Am I doing it good?” He whines again. Its so breathless, so lovely. That voice so coaxed with fervor. Each word lingers a little bit more in the air the more he speaks, making your face hot and body hotter.

“Yes. Yes Luffy, you are.” You whisper. “Do you feel good?” A small sound comes out of Luffy’s mouth after your words come out. It’s almost like a hiccup, one that erupt throughout his body as his hips jut forward.

“I, think so,” He says, he looks all over your body, “Yeah, I do feel good.”

Your breath hitches. There’s a pause that feels like hours have replaced seconds.

“I feel good when you say that,” Luffy whines. “I think.”

Your chest swells as you look into his eyes. You see they’re staring right back at your face, looking at each individual feature like it’s the first time he’s seen you. Like, really seeing you.

“What do you mean, Luffy?”

“When you tell me I'm doing a good job. Hahh ,” Luffy moans. You see his eyes dart to your lips which you didn’t realize until now that your biting between your teeth. “Am I still doing it?”

“Yes, Luffy, so, so good.”

Is it wrong for you to enjoy seeing this? His hand palms the sheets more, head whipped back again from firm, languid pumps to his dick, and he’s whining from it now. He sounds so desperate for release, so welcoming for every tinge of pleasure he receives from himself that builds up more towards an awaited ecstasy.

His head lazily tilts towards you, his eyes open and on you, drinking up the very essence of you.

It almost feels like you’re naked.

“Please...” He mewls out, which commands your attention from whatever haze it’s in.

“‘Please’ what, Luffy?” Your voice is a thin veil of what it was prior, with an airy breath that crashes with the impermeable heat radiating from his body.

“I don’t- mmph!-“ Another delectable whine escapes his lips. He continues, “I don’t know, just–ahh, please – “

The hand previously entangled in the sheets finds purchase on your shoulder, his needy fist grasping the strap of your tank top. The abrupt move causes your stance to falter due to his inadvertently tugging you down closer. Your eyes are level now, with your noses just a hair from touching. Your hands land on his thighs, and Luffy’s pace falters while his breath hitches at your touch.

Luffy stares at you, and your senses are overwhelmed; His brown eyes seem to swallow your closest features, the hot breaths and hiccups that escape his mouth ghost upon your lips, and the downright filthy sounds his lubed hand makes against his cock have you reeling. He never takes his eyes off of you, even as his expression shifts to desperation and his whines evolve into needy whimpers.

“Tell me… mngh that I’m doing good, I’m still doing good, yeah?” You notice his fingers flex in the grasp he has on you. For a brief moment, you wonder how it would feel to have even one of those thick fingers inside of you.

“You’re doing…so good. You’re so good at touching yourself, Luffy… good boy .” The rational part of your mind is shocked at the words coming out of your mouth, but the way Luffy’s leg twitches and breath wavers at the sound of praise from your lips silences any rationality you may be harboring.

Almost under his breath, he murmurs out a reply whilst his gaze flicks from your eyes to your lips; “Yeah, I’m..” he begins, “...your good–“

Before you can even muster a reply, He whimpers in a voice you never heard, your name wavering on his tongue, instantly stealing your attention and giving you a bellowing heartbeat.

“I feel something.” He says, letting his words faded out with a breathless huff. “Something new , hahh, I don’t…”

“Yeah, I–I know that.”

“What do I… do I do?” His lids are low when he looks at you, pleading for an answer in the colors of your eyes. Your chest feels tight from his small voice, encompassed by a lit flame inside that compels you to speak.

“If you want, please keep going.” You breathe, a horribly devious idea coming to your head. It’s a want to push him further to the edge. “You’re doing so good, Luffy.”

“ Mmmh. ”

You don’t know what’s worse: In the beginning, when Luffy revealed to you and only you his desire when watching you touch yourself, or hear his lustful whines and moans that only elevate because of you. Your voice being the thing your strong captain, with a bounty of countless berries, needs right now. His pleas and wants make you want to see the end of this.

Luffy pants more now, loosened hair clinging to his forehead, tongue peaking out to moisten his lips as his eyes start to squeeze shut. His pace is faster now as he groans in delight, quickly learning a pace and intensity that he needs . It’s an instinct of his he never knew, a yearning programmed in his brain that compels him to stroke his length faster, it’s a yearning you share as you watch thick beads of precum drip out.

It was extremely enticing. His plush lips once encased in smiles now slackjaws in stuttering breaths. His chest is heaving in a way you’ve never seen in his fights—whereas his chest hollows out in deep, robust pillars of breath during a battle, it’s now unsure, uncertain, but so daring to steal another fading breath.

Watching your captain build this unsteady breathing tempo, the way his arm juts around as his eyes languidly blink, and most of all, the way his hand grips and pumps onto himself. You can see from his jutting hips and louder huffs that he’s close, and you can practically see his way to climax. But you know something is very off.

As his arm starts to shake a little more each time, just as Luffy mewls his loudest, starting to hitch his breath, starting to garble unintelligible things, closer and closer to a sweet release. Suddenly, he releases the grip from your shoulder, fingers unclench as it wavers, flinching up and down in the air. In an instant, he grabs onto your plush thigh with such strength you do more than flinch. You moan loud. Luffy doesn’t notice your voice, though; he’s too preoccupied with the fireworks that are going off in his head.

That’s when you register what’s wrong.

You hear knocks on the deck above you. It’s footsteps of people.

It’s the crew.

Your uneven breathing once aroused and whining from Luffy is now panicked in fear. You look to him; he’s so close now you can see his lids flutter.

There’s no way they won't hear him. You huff against him, seeing him teeter, hand gripping on you, moving closer and closer to your crotch. You decide to do something you didn’t think twice about until you moved in towards Luffy.

“ I, I’m …— mmf! ” Luffy pants, but is swiftly cut off by you. Your lips bury themselves against his, so rugged and rough that Luffy’s eyes widen against it. Your hand latches on to the side of his head, intertwining the fingers with his black hair as you push into him. You feel his whole body jolt, going so stiff except for his rapidly moving arm until it suddenly stops.

Luffy moans against your lips, pushing against you so hard you feel the vibration of his vocal chords. His lids lower, eyes unfocused as he starts to helplessly whimper into your mouth.

You feel small, warm ropes of liquid sputter onto your arm, your shirt, reaching all the way to his neck as he whines again and again. All tries to moan his orgasm are stiffle by your mouth against his, the sounds muffling enough that you know they won’t hear.

You move you lips away, seeing a small string of saliva before it quickly breaks, and you realize how fast you need to act before the crew comes.

When his moans are replaced with breathy huffs, and his hands lay comatose at his sides. You spring into action. Your shirt is already covered in ropes of cum, so it’s the first thing you decide to change. You rip off your shirt, revealing your chest to Luffy right next to you. You cover your hand with the fabric and wipe down the cum on your arm in one fluid motion. You rub the stain off of your neck. Luffy’s body follows suit. A frantic apology leaves your lips as you clean his chest, arm, and hand with your shirt. You toss it, immediately grabbing for a clean shirt from the neglected pile of laundry. Once its shimmied on, you whip to Luffy, another apology as you lift the hem of his boxers, trapping his half-hard member inside before hiking his boxers and shorts back up, buttoning and zipping up the fly with speed that Luffy doesn’t say anything.

In Luffy’s daze, you rush him out of the girls’ room to the hallway. You straighten his back out, make sure all of his clothes are straight on him, and try to act as normal as possible. Normal like you didn’t just teach your captain how to jack off. Or kiss him.

Almost on cue, some of the crew appear into the hall. Smiling when they see you and Luffy. All except Ussop, who immediately clamors to Luffy as soon as he registers him.

“You!” Ussop points to him, stomping over to Luffy with a vengeance. “Where the hell were you? I was looking for you everywhere, man!”

Luffy just looks at him, partially confused, partially still in a post-nut delirium.

Ussop is hammering into him something, you honestly aren’t paying attention, as you see the other crewmates walk down. The girls come next, both carrying comically large numbers of shopping bags. Sanji is following them, practically hovering behind them as he asks them about their time. You see a patch of moss-colored hair and some bones too, they wave their salutations before heading to different areas of the ship.

You smile and wave back at everyone, putting on a curt smile.

“So? That doesn’t give you an excuse to ot say anything before you leave. Jeez, what am I gonna do with you.”

Luffy manages to shrug, the larger half of his indifference showing towards Ussop, but you are at least relieved to see he’s starting to use some braincells. Ussop starts to sniff in the air when he catches a whiff of something. He steps towards Luffy.

“Ew, Luffy, you reek like…” Ussop stops, pauses for a second to look at you. You’re only a few feet away from them, but with his puzzled glance it feels like your seeing things through a wide lens. His attention immediately jumps back to Luffy when he breathes in, wrinkling his nose a little as Luffy tries to step back. Ussop doesn’t let him, gripping the front of his shirt. “Dude, you need to take a bath anyway. It’s been way too long.”

“What? No way? I hate that tub, I get all weak and stuff!” Luffy groans. For his last attempt, he pries each finger off of his vest, but Ussop turns to him and jerks both of his hands around the nape of his collar.

“You’re going now!” Ussop shouts, walking away and hauling Luffy with him.

“Nooo. Help me! AHHHH!” Luffy screams, kicking his legs against the floorboards as his hands scramble at his collar. With no luck, Ussop drags him down the hall with immense irritation. It’s honestly surprising how well Ussop can manhandle the captain. They disappears around the corner of the hallway, but not without Ussop giving you a glance and following. The eye he gives you sends a chill down your spine. Does he know what happened?

Oh God.

You attention is immediately stolen as a mop of blonde hair whisks you around to face his figure. The cook takes your hands in his so gently.

“Ah, mademoiselle, I hope you’re doing alright.” Sanji kisses your hand. “Was it alright being on the ship by yourself?”

“Yeah! Um, it was, uh… things were okay, I guess.” You spit out. In your mind, you curse yourself for sounding so obviously not okay, but it doesn’t seem like Sanji notices.

“Ahh, if only I hadn’t promised Luffy to take him to that restaurant, I would’ve spent it with you.” He cooes. “That idiot captain barely stayed with us before he disappeared to wherever God knows. I wasted my time instead of pampering a delicate lady.”

So he really did sneak away. was it really all because of you?

“Oh, I see, maybe next time.” You plaster on a not-so-convincing smile, but it was just enough for Sanji, as he let go off you and instantly ran towards Nami, who was walking towards you too.

It seems that Sanji had flailed his arms wide open to try and embrace Nami before he was promptly shut down by Nami’s right hook. He falls head first on the floor.

“Hey girl!” Nami says, entirely ignoring Sanji’s limp body as she steps over him, as ruthless as ever. “I got you some things.” She smiles, rustling through her loads of bags in hand.

A humongous gift bag with pretty tissue paper poking out of the edges is put in your hands, you look at her quizzically.

“Thanks, Nami! But what’s with the fancy bag?” You ask. When you take it, your arm almost gives out from the sheer weight of the contents. What the hell is in here? You think.

“Just a little something I think you should have,” she wries. Nami has one of those grins on; the one where you know she’s up to mischief. “Tell me how you like them,” She says before scampering off, almost stepping on Sanji’s twitching body in the process.

Robin comes up behind you and giggles. “She said you need a wardrobe change soon when we start shopping. I couldn’t stop her.” She smiles, now hold up a small bag of her own from a slew of other ones she had. “Here, take this.”

“Aw thanks!”

“No problem, it’s just what you asked for, by the way.” She winks, before also walking around you.

You hear the hinges creak behind you, meaning she’s opening the door to the girls’ dorm. Robin’s footsteps stop, making your heart drop to the goddamn floor.

“You seemed to be busy in here.”

You turn around, remembering the state you left the room in. The girls’ clothes that were once neatly stacked on your bed are either knocked over, greatly disheveled or both. Robin looks back at you with minor confusion.

“Oh!” Your voice cracks as you shimmy past her figure in the doorway, rushing back to the bedside. “About that. The ship was… rocky earlier.”

“At dock?” She asks with her usual soft smile, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, um. I’ll fix it up, sorry for the mess.” You look down at the edge of the sheets, now noticing the small beads of bodily fluids from earlier. You quickly fold over the wrinkles formed on the sheet to cover it up. Robin’s on the other side of the room at this point, setting down the bags and sorting through them.

“I don’t mind it at all. Just make sure Nami doesn’t see her clothes on the floor. I don’t think I can help you there.” Robin giggles.

You look between you and Nami’s bed, seeing a pile of her baby tees toppled off the bed and lay unfolded on the floor. You yank it back onto the bed immediately.

“Right.” You say. Jesus, how much sweat is on your face at this point. From how wildly embarrassed you’ve reacted, she must think something is up.

Thankfully, Robin seems to have not noticed, or at least dropped the subject. She’s now in the corner of the room. Taking the things out her and Nami’s bags and hanging them up on the closet while she hums a soft tune.

“Cute shirt, too.” Robin softly says.

In horror, you look down, realizing the shirt you threw on was Robin’s old Galley-La shirt.

“Thanks.” You stammer.

Robin is almost a decade older than you. She’s in a relationship, and you hoping to God she doesn’t realize what you’ve been up to. Ussop’s questioning glance towards you tells you they both noticed something. Your heartbeat was frantic now.

You excuse yourself as you slip yourself out of the girls’ room, frantically scurrying to the deck. You need some fresh air. Now.

At the deck's side railing, your feet brush on top of the soft bed of grass of the Sunny. You watch the waves brush up against the hull, gently lapping up against the wood before dispersing into the air. Tashini's shoreline is only a few yards away, greeting each ebb and flow of seawater.

You take a deep breath of the night air, releasing it with a languid sigh. Your hands have stopped shaking at least, but a feeling of morose still creeps into the back of your mind. Your heart beats at a regular tempo but with an echo that confuses you. You take a deep breath again.

You should probably change out of Robin's shirt now.

#x reader #fanfic #fem reader #reader insert #ao3 fanfic #my fanfic #one piece #monkey d luffy #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #luffy #one piece luffy #straw hat luffy #one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #monkey d. luffy x you #monkey d. luffy x reader #luffy smut #smut

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crystalflygeo · 1 year ago

Text

Mark of an Archon ft. Venti / Zhongli / Ei / Focalors / Nahida / Neuvillette + gn!reader

cw/tags: Mostly suggestive but nsfw in some parts (mostly Zhongli, Neuvillette) marking, kissing.

notes: Alright so... this is different from anything I've written before but I got inspired by the concept of the elemental symbols used as marks by the Archons to denote those important to them. Just short fluffy little dabbles I guess, first time writing everyone except the dragon men heh. I tried REALLY HARD to keep this gender neutral and be inclusive in descriptions but regardless, reader bottoms lmao. Hope y'all like it. (Y'all will NEVER guess where did I get the inspiration for all the marks' placements hehe) Edit: Y'all I have never played obey me WHEEZE the marks placement actually comes from a very old magical girl anime I loved as a kid XDDDD (except geo, it was on the belly button but-//hit)

It is said that the Archons place a mark on the body of their loved ones. A symbol of protection, perhaps of “ownership”, imbued with their elemental energy. Legends has it that they remain mostly invisible to the naked eye, glowing brightly only when the Archon in question touches it, but leaving behind a distinctive trace able to be identified with elemental sight.

However, none of this has been proven at all, and remains mostly as a fantastic tale, just a rumor…

Or is it?

-Barbatos

Venti’s mark rests between your shoulder blades, the small Anemo sigil emulating tiny wings in the most appropriate of places. It makes him fond of calling you his “angel”, though, you know it cannot compare to his own real wings... it makes your heart flutter nonetheless.

It remains mostly covered, and yet without fail, Venti’s hand would always gently rest on it before his hand slides over to your shoulder or waist. At this point the touch soothes you and you’ve come to expect it every time you enter Angel’s share and bright Aqua eyes land on you.

In the dark of night, those precious moments of closeness and passion among the bedsheets, Venti’s nimble fingers, calloused by the Lyre and the bow alike, trail along your spine and stop at the mark, before he leans in and places a kiss on it.

For the God of Freedom to brand someone like this… it would seem as a contradiction, but you know it to be his blessing, his vow to you and your love. As his lips go up to your shoulder and his hands slide down to your waist, sneaking between your legs, he closes his eyes and hums a soft tune.

-Morax

The Geo mark is found on a rather unusual place, and to tell the truth, it even embarrassed you a little at first. The golden diamond placed just below your navel, partially hidden by the line of your underwear. When asked about it, Zhongli simply murmured something about dragon mating, fertility or virility… his cheeks dusted red.

You admit though, that once you get used to it, you do find yourself idly tracing it from time to time. Sometimes it seems to glow softly, or feel warm, perhaps responding to the Archon when he thumbs gently at it, contrasting and comparing with his own blackened arms, etched with veins of gold. Amber eyes staring up at you with love and desire as he places a kiss on it making you shiver.

Zhongli constantly wants to mark you more, in all sorts of ways. Drape you in silks and cover you in gemstones and gold. Leave bite marks along your skin. Douse you in his scent. It appeases his draconic instincts. But nothing compares to that little geo sigil, a personal indisputable claim, tattooed on your skin.

In a way, the mark could be taken as the God of Contracts’ signature and an unbreakable oath to you, his mate. It makes the dragon purr as he rolls his hips into yours, sinking deep inside you and making you whine as his palm presses against it.

-Beelzebul

Right at the center of your collarbone, like a pendant held by an invisible necklace, that is where the Electro mark was placed by Ei. Sometimes it’s a real shame it can’t be seen normally by humans, it would make for a pretty nice tattoo…

It’s not like the Electro sigil is rare to see anyway, quite the contrary, a rather popular choice and common sight all over Inazuma with deep cultural and religious meanings alike honoring Her Excellency. But one look from a youkai or one of the mikos at Narukami shrine and you know this is different.

Ei could act aloof and have a hard time expressing or understanding feelings, but the way she looks at you as she straddles you… dark violet hair cascading down her back and sides, hands roaming your chest and settling at your shoulders. She pins you there under her intense purple gaze and then bends forward to kiss at the sigil before moving to your lips.

The Goddess of Eternity considers her choices deeply and rarely ever goes back on her word or breaks a promise, and that is what she bestows upon you with her mark, a promise. Of love, of respect, of loyalty. Who would’ve thought the Electro Archon could be so… passionate?

-Focalors

You couldn’t believe just where Lady Furina had placed a pretty, blue, Hydro symbol on your skin. When asked about it she’d just giggled and said everything had a reason when it came to divine marks such as these… then proceeded to not explain at all. But seriously, your inner thigh?!

You could only sigh but smile softly at her antics as she laid across the couch, head rested in your lap, taking a nap by using your thighs as pillow, or demanding to be fed more sweets and sputtering indignantly when you poke at her nose or cheek instead, blushing.

She often drives you insane, paying special attention to the hydro marking with kisses and nibbles when you need her lips to go just a little more to the side… but oh, how she enjoyed teasing and riling you up. Mismatched blue eyes blinking coyly under thick eyelashes.

This is Lady Furina’s pledge to you, her word of honor as the Goddess of Justice, to love and cherish you no matter what. For despite her innocent act, she is guilty of having fallen for you.

-Bonus: Buer (Platonic)

Many people underestimate and doubt Nahida. A grave sin, in your opinion. When she places her mark of Dendro softly in your forehead, you feel nothing but pride, willing to follow and defend her and her teachings, for it is an honor to be her acolyte.

You see her wisdom in her actions, in the contemplating looks at her beloved city and people, in the way she always tries to solve problems and learn from difficulties, in her kindness, gentleness and little smiles. You see her love in the way she helps the elderly and soothes the children, in the candied ajilenakh nuts she shares with everyone, in the sparkle of her unique green eyes.

Like any other Archon, her nation and all its inhabitants are like her children. Despite her preferred appearance, the way she holds your hand as she guides you along and brushes at your hair gently with comforting words and praise feel more akin to a mother.

Just as you trust her, she trusts you, that is the covenant her sigil represents. And in the eyes of the Goddess of Wisdom, one day you’ll reach the sky and stars above.

-Bonus II: Hydro Dragon Sovereign

You stare at the sigil in the palm of your hand. An ancient symbol of power, no doubt, but with a meaning long since lost to time and shrouded in mystery. Yet, its significance is crystal clear to you: “I am yours as you are mine.”

The way the Iudex would always, without fail, hold your hand gently and kiss your palm instead of the back of it as it was traditional would no doubt confuse some people, but it makes your heart skip a beat. This special connection, the knowing look from those gorgeous lavender eyes and the hidden smile pressed against your skin…

Your back arches with a moan as Neuvillette ruts softly into you, slow and reverent, peppering kisses and nuzzling at your neck. His hand takes a hold of yours, fingers intertwining and you shiver as the marking in your palm seems to react. Your grip his hand tighter, canting your hips as well and surrounding him with your legs, asking for more, more, more-

It’s unknown if one day his kind will return to power, just as it’s impossible to predict the flow of the elements and the energy in leylines or just what the future will bring. But for Neuvillette, having you by his side feels like the most refreshing spring water and makes life that much sweeter.

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sttoru · 1 year ago

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hmmm what if gym sex with gym owner/instructor toji fushiguro. you know, they be fucking by machines and stuff 🫨🫨🫨

𝐒𝐇𝐄’𝐒 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 . . . !

⟣ sypnosis. you thought it’d be just another day of you at the gym with your gym instructor, toji—though things were quick to escalate into a different kind of ‘workout’.

⟣ tags. gym instructor!toji fushiguro x female reader. exhibitionism, public, p in v unprotected, standing doggy ig, spanking, hair pulling, teasing, sprinkle of objectification / degradation, creampie, no to little aftercare, kinda pervert!toji as well. reader gets called ‘doll’.

⟣ note. yummyyumyummm.. this made me think of this ask t sent me & this fanart i need him so bad t_t not proofread btw. !

you were a newbie to the gym—your usual workouts consisting of the most simple sets; jumping jacks, burpees, crunches, squats, planks and push ups. an acquaintance of yours attends the same sports club and recommended you a certain gym instructor who works there most of the time.

his name was toji and apparently was good enough at his job for many other gym attendees to hire him in. you did the same and had started a few sessions with him earlier that week. toji was patient and quick to give you the needed feedback and advice on your workouts — a nice guy.

though, he did seem a bit intimidating, especially due to the fact that he was extremely bulky. your stomach did a flip once you first saw that dark-haired man.

the black tank top he wore almost every other day, his muscles that flex with each movement, the scent of his cologne you could smell whenever he got close and nonchalantly adjusted or corrected your form; that guy was more than simply attractive.

as your mind wandered and daydreamt about your gym instructor, your body was doing its needed squats. up and then down, inhale and exhale, tense and relax—you were on autopilot.

what you didn’t notice, due to the music blasting in your ears, was that toji had been wandering around the area. it was almost time for your own session with him where he’d do some cardio with you.

toji sipped on his water bottle, lazily approaching you from behind, your backside towards him. he looked around for a bit—this specific section of the gym was nearly empty at this hour of the day. except for you, him and. . . a random guy who was lifting weights in a far away corner.

toji’s eyes couldn’t help but flicker from your exposed shoulder blades to the curve of your ass whenever you squatted. it was very much intentional; not for the sake of checking on your squatting form, but more for the sake of his own needs.

it was like that almost every time he’s training with you—the gym instructor cannot resist the urges of subtly checking out that body of yours. more specifically, the curves of it. he could get a bit handsy when teaching you how to get the gist of a certain exercise.

you were a bit oblivious to this, because you thought that it was simply just toji doing his job. gym instructors were meant to help you along the way—instructing somebody and helping them get into the desired position by appropriately touching their body was part of that process. . . right?

you don’t know, but you also didn’t care. his touch on your thighs when he was correcting your form that other day, the way his big and veiny hands were gently holding your flesh; it was just way too appealing. even if he was doing his job, there was an undeniable attraction hanging between the two of you.

you couldn’t even count the many times where you ‘accidentally’ bumped into him at the gym just to hold a short conversation. toji’s eyes were everywhere—the sight of you out of breath, sweating whilst trying your best to look pretty when talking to him stirred his loins.

the dark-haired man knew you purposefully come and talk to him after each session. he knew that you always try to look confused in the gym when experimenting with a new machine just to catch his attention. toji knew all about your ‘innocent’ acts and yet he was falling for them. hard.

you were too good at that game of seduction and if it wasn’t for him risking the loss of his job, he’d have fucked you long ago. he’d have satisfied both your desires right at the gym with everyone seeing—he craved for a taste of you. he needed it. sooner or later.

so, toji took his chance. ‘it was now or never,’ he told himself as he approached you from behind. his presence was only sensed by you when his hands came in touch with your body.

one hand pressed onto your lower back slightly, the other on your upper thigh, fingertips digging onto the fat to help it slightly backwards, pushing your hips towards him—

“how many times do i have to tell ya, hm?” toji’s raspy voice whispers in your ear, his figure looming over yours making you feel caged between him and the treadmill you were facing whilst squatting, “arch your lower back just a tad bit more, push y’r hips back properly—mhm, jus’ like that. good, very good.”

you surprisingly do as told even whilst you were caught off guard by toji’s sudden appearance. your heart was beating out of your chest by the proximity of your bodies like this; your palms were getting sweaty. and not from your workout.

“y’re definitely gettin’ the hang of it.” your gym instructor comments, a faint hint of pride in his tone. he retracts his hands from your body, however not before teasingly letting his fingertips brush against the bottom of your ass, feeling up its shape in that single second of contact— “how’s your workout been today?”

you knew that touch was intentional. there’s no other explanation to the lingering stare on your ass as well. his eyes shamelessly took in your thighs and hips as if he wanted to be all over them, to touch them like he’d longed for so long.

“good. was about to take a break.” you reply. truth was, you weren’t. you only said so since toji was chatting with you at the moment.

there was an evident tension between you two—the way you took a sip from your water bottle whilst your pretty eyes were focused on toji’s ripped physique, your gaze that darted from his eyes to his lips, chest, lower body and back up. . . that game of seduction had gone on for way too long. toji had to have you. right here, right now.

that’s how you ended up clinging for dear life onto the treadmill in the corner of the building, your leggings and panties pushed down to your knees and toji behind you with his hands using your hips as leverage—his cock finally having a taste of your warm insides after all this time of fantasising about it during your lessons with him.

“fuck. . knew this pussy’d be fuckin’ tight—almost can’t move due to how much y’re squeezing me, doll.” the man’s rough voice spoke out whilst your wet folds were spread apart to fit his cock all the way in, his size massive to the point it almost hurt, “there you go, takin’ it so well.”

your walls clamped around his dick like you didn’t want him to ever move out of you—like this moment was all you had wanted from your encounters up until now. toji curses under his breath at the sight he’s finally seeing;

you trembling whilst he was balls deep inside of your greedy cunt that swallowed every single inch, even if it stung. what made it even better of an achievement was the fact that your ass was properly in his view now, fat jiggling with each press of his hips against it.

“hnngh—fuck me.. ah, please!” your stifled moans almost make toji’s eyes roll back. he loved those sounds of pure pleasure that escaped your lips—the ones which you couldn’t contain behind that hand clamped around your mouth.

it was risky after all; fucking in an open gym. you didn’t know if that one guy on the other side of the area had already left or not. you couldn’t see through all those machines and pillars obstructing your view. you just went with the logic that if you couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see you.

toji—being the absolute tease that he is—had seen your eyes wander across the section of the gym you were in. oh, he didn’t like it one bit that your attention was on anything other than him and his dick slamming into your sloppy pussy;

he stopped his movements and torturously slid his cock out of you until the head was all what was left inside, prodding into you every now and then like he was going to slam it back fully, only for nothing to occur. toji bit the inside of his cheek; rough hand landing hard on the left side of your ass, the other side getting its turn a second after you whimper.

the process repeats which makes your back arch deeply, hips instinctively moving back and then forwards—basically fucking yourself on his cock. toji liked that desperation in you. that’s what he wanted to gain out of his actions.

“hah—ya can push those hips back properly now, ay?” your gym instructor exhales through his nose, hand traveling from your ass to your hair, yanking that low ponytail of yours back. his sharp eyes scanned your backside as if you were a piece of meat, his hips grinding against your ass, kneading the flesh with his pelvis, “remember this when y’re squatting again—the position of your back like this, the slight arch—fuck.”

even in a predicament like this, toji used it to teach you about your form during your squats. not that you knew what that man was saying. you were too focused on the way he was slowly stroking his dick in your pussy, wanting the tip to reach the deepest parts.

“shiitt,” toji sighs before a noise—almost a low whistle—forms in the back of his throat. the pleasure kept building up inside of him and he knew that he could cum just by a bit of grinding against that plump flesh of your ass, his balls rubbing against the curves of it, “this body of yours ‘s gonna make me lose my mind, doll.”

but, toji didn’t want to end it with that. he was here to give you the pounding of your life—teach you another lesson which was unrelated to your workouts; the lesson of what happens if you try to seduce a man like him.

toji wastes no time and grabs your hips again, angling his own to hit your g-spot with each rough thrust once he resumes the movements. each press to that sweet area makes your legs shake, lips moving frantically, though only incoherent and slurred words leave your lips in quiet moans;

“nghh! toji, ‘s too good!” you whine, your own hand still clamped around your mouth to keep yourself quiet. you were always vocal during sex, but it was a bit risky to let yourself go in a public space like this, “mmph!”

though, with the fact that you were getting the pounding of your life right now, there was no denying the fact that it was impossible to stay fully quiet. a few lewd moans escape—toji tugging at your hair each time as a warning,

“sshh, don’t w’nna get me fired, do ya?” the man behind you grins. he isn’t even worrying in the slightest that this moment was probably getting caught on the cctv camera footage in the gym.

toji could easily get rid of those himself since he works at the gym and has some internal connections, but it’d make it all so difficult if somebody were to catch you in the act, “if ya keep quiet, we’ll do this more often, yeah?”

you shiver at that promise. you could already imagine all the times you can have toji to yourself in the future; how he’ll press you to a bench and fuck you—or maybe he’ll even take you in bathrooms. it was such a turn on. that’s all what was needed to shut you up in an instant;

“good girl.” that gruff voice murmurs once more, the pressure in your stomach builds, the coils forming threatening to snap any minute now for both of you. toji’s self control was hanging by a thread.

that same thread snapped in half the moment you let out a whiny and vulnerable whimper in the form of his name. with one hard thrust, toji presses his hips firmly against your ass, grunting as he makes sure to dump his load the furthest he could—the warmth of the sticky liquid filling your senses eventually stimulated you enough to reach your own climax.

“easy there, doll.” your gym instructor thrusts once, twice before pulling himself out of you, leaving the mixture of fluids leaking down by your legs. he huffs at the sight, taking it in for a couple seconds whilst kneading your ass between his fingers.

toji grabs a tissue he had somewhere in the pocket of his sweatpants and wipes his tip before tucking himself back in his boxers—pulling his pants up and readjusting his appearance like nothing ever happened.

toji puts the used napkin in your shivering hand and nods at you. you were a pretty thing whilst fucked out of your mind, that he could indeed confirm in a singular moment of eye contact.

he sighs and leaves you to fend for yourself as he starts to walk towards the stairs that lead to the third floor, probably to take care of something. you never know what he’s up to when he’s not in the gym—a mysterious man.

before the gym instructor vanishes, he does leave you a hushed message on his way to the staircase, head cocked to the side to look at you from his peripherals whilst he walks;

“clean y’rself up and continue with your work out. will be back in a few to check in on ya.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk smut #jjk x reader #toji x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #jjk x you #toji x you #toji fushiguro x reader

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kwanisms · 3 months ago

Text

Kinktober 「10:03」 — b.chris, l.felix

» stray kids menu | bang chan menu | felix menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ bunyip!Chris × fem!reader × bunyip!Felix wc: 6.6k summary: Y/N is convinced her map is wrong when she finds herself utterly lost on what was supposed to be a short hike from her camp. When she comes upon a small river and stops to fill her canteen, she finds more than water waiting for her. genres/themes/au: angst/fluff/smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, supernatural and horror themes, mild existential dread of being lost in the middle of nowhere, mentions of: camping, getting lost, Australian Outback; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! taglist for kinktober is CLOSED. Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: this was a LOT of fun to write! I would have like to added more but time crunches are real lol this also serves as Chris' birthday post! so hbd to Chris! bunyips are an interesting mythology because reports of what they look like vary but about 60% of sightings claim they look very seal-like so that's the direction i went in. i also slightly changed the prompt to include "him" cause Y/N is sandwiched between them lol anyways, thanks for reading! the next part is oni!Jeonghan so stay tuned as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), threesome, water sex, unprotected sex (do not do), oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), dom!Chris, switch!Felix, sub!Reader, use of pet names (hers: babe, baby, sweetheart, angel, honey; Chris: sir; Felix: babe), and that should be all of it but let me know if I missed some. kinks: Threesome + pool/water sexdialogue prompt: ❛❛ Make Me. ❜❜ + ❛❛ God, you’re so beautiful when you’re fucked out under me/us/him. ❜❜

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When you first told your family and friends about your plans to brave the wilderness of Central Australia during a solo backpacking trip, they were quick to insist you didn't partake in such a daring feat. They called you insane, pleaded with you to reconsider but you had been determined to prove you could do it, taking months of survival and wilderness courses in preparation.

After several months of courses, collecting the appropriate gear, you were certain you were ready for your trip through the Tjoritja / West MacDonnell National Park. The flight from Brisbane to Alice Springs took just over 3 hours where you took a bus to the telegraph station where the Larapinta Trail Head was located. You had everything you needed; water, camping gear, food, and a satellite phone with a solar charger.

Everything had been carefully planned out, permits obtained, and you were ready to start your trip.

Or so you thought.

The first section of the trail took you from the telegraph station to the first campground at Simpsons Gap. The trail was just under twenty five kilometers and took roughly nine hours to complete. The trail had been mostly deserted despite being quite popular in the area. The next day, you visited the gap, snapping a few pictures before packing up and heading to the next spot.

This stretch was longer, at just over 26 kilometers, and it actually took less time at eight and a half hours. You stayed in the campground at Jay Creek with another camper which was an older couple who shared their dinner with you. That night you slept better than the first and when you awoke in the morning, you were the first to head out.

The next few days went by without incident and you were finally about to start the last section of the first half of the trail. The next section would take you from Hugh Gorge to Ellery Creek. At a distance of nearly twenty-nine kilometers, it would take between ten and eleven hours to complete. After spending the night near Hugh Gorge and replenishing your stores, you headed on your way.

Your first stop was Hugh View before continuing on. Your plan was to stop at the next campground, Rocky Gully, where you would camp for the night. The hike from Hugh Gorge campsite to Rocky Gully only took a few hours which left you some time to explore the surrounding area.

You set up your camp at the abandoned campsite, taking a small bag to go on your small trip to explore the nearby area, following the trails around the campsite and following them east and south. You snapped pictures, hiking through the brush and taking in the sights.

After following the paths you came to a horrific realization.

You were lost.

You dug through your back but couldn’t find a compass and immediately started cursing yourself. You tried backtracking but somehow got even more lost. As you scanned the area, you started to look around for any potential water sources. Each step took you further and further away from camp.

Your water container had started to run empty and the sun was almost at its highest point in the sky. You needed water and you needed it soon.

As you walked further, you climbed over the crest of a small hill and felt relief flood your body as you spotted a glimmer in the near distance. It was a small natural channel with water at the base. Upon moving closer, you could tell the water was a decent depth, maybe about to your waist.

The water was dark but when you dipped your hand under the surface, you could see it was surprisingly clear. To be safe, you would use a purification tablet. Opening the top of your canteen, you dipped it just under the surface, allowing water to flow in and showing you that there was a slow moving current as you filled your receptacle.

“Thank God,” you whispered as you stood up straight and pulled your bag forward to dig out one of the purification tablets and drop it into the canteen. As you started to turn away, you heard a soft splash and turned to look behind you. Scanning the water, you saw nothing. “Probably my imagination,” you murmured, bringing the lid of your canteen up to screw it on.

As you moved to step forward there was another, much larger, splash and you felt a presence arise from the water behind you. A loud roar startled you and you were too shocked to move. Your flight or fight response didn’t kick in, instead you froze.

“Wh-what the hell?!” you yelled as you felt something grab your ankle, pulling back and forcing you to fall to the ground. It had a firm grip on you and pulled again, dragging you back towards the water and away from your pack. You clawed at the red dirt, desperately trying to find something to grab onto but came up empty.

Your canteen lay forgotten, water spilling out of it and soaking the ground under it as you were pulled down into the ditch. You screamed, kicking at whatever had a hold of you, fearing the worst. Water enveloped your lower half and had you not been fighting for your life, it might have felt nice in the hot Australian sun.

Finally you managed to turn yourself over and your eyes widened in shock. A massive creature, the size of water buffalo but it was not a water buffalo. It had an almost panther-like appearance but something about it was vaguely seal-like. It had sleek black fur, black eyes with bright green irises.

It opened its mouth, displaying its teeth, all of them looked like they could tear you to shreds. You let out a scream, bringing your arms up to shield your head. Though, with an animal this large, there was no way it couldn’t just bite you in half. You chanced a glance through your arms at the creature.

It hovered over you, its hot breath fanning over you with each pant as it stared you down. You let out whimper, shielding your face once more as you silently begged for it to not kill you. You heard the creature shift away, the heat of its breath disappearing. You waited for a few moments, only uncovering your head when you heard a splash in the water.

The creature was gone.

You sat up and looked around, expecting to see it lying in wait to ambush you but saw nothing. Looking down you saw that you were half submerged in the water and sighed in frustration as you attempted to stand up but you felt a hand close around your ankle again, yanking you back down into a sitting position. You let out a yelp, water splashing around you.

Seconds later, a head appeared, emerging from the water. Topped with short bluish green hair with waves and curls and a pair of striking green eyes that looked back at you. Your heart hammered wildly in your chest as you watched the head rise further, revealing the face of a handsome man. As he lifted his head from the water, he tilted it to one side, almost as if he was curious by the sight of you.

His shoulders followed, the water stopping about midway down his chest. His bare chest. You tried not to stare but it was evident that he was not wearing clothes but you didn’t want to think about that. “What the…” you trailed off as you looked at him. A smile graced his face. You half expected to see pointed teeth but instead were met with surprisingly human teeth.

“What are you?” you asked softly. The man tilted his head in the opposite direction. Paired with the smile it was slightly unsettling but he dropped the smile, a look of confusion passing over his features. He seemed to be mimicking your expression as your brows rose, so did his. “Wh-what are you?” you asked again, a little louder. He straightened up, moving through the water towards you, climbing up the slope. As more of his skin was exposed, it seemed that the silky black fur melted away to expose his golden skin tone as he crawled over you.

Soon he had you pinned, unable to get away as he looked down at you. He wasn’t answering your questions and you decided to change tactics. “Do you er… have a name?” A look of excitement came over his face and he opened his mouth.

Whatever you were expecting to come out of him was not what you got. In a voice you weren’t expecting from what you could only assume was a creature you’d just seen, he answered. “Yeah, I’m Chris,” he said, a slight accent you recognized. It wasn’t too different from yours.

“Ch-Chris?” you asked, feeling slightly relieved when he nodded eagerly. “And he’s Felix,” he added, jerking his thumb over his shoulder towards the left. You turned your head, almost letting out another scream when you saw another pair of bright green eyes staring at you from just above the surface of the water. The head raised and you were surprised that this one looked so different from the first.

‘Is this some sort of mimicry technique?’ you wondered to yourself as you looked between the two.

The second one, Felix, was equally as handsome and looked like some kind of model. He had freckles littering his nose and cheeks, looking like stars dotting the sky. His hair was longer than Chris’, blond and swept back, a few strands framing his face. He had a much slender build.

“F-Felix?” you asked, looking at Chris. The one named Felix nodded, moving closer, his body gliding through the water with ease. “What’s your name?” he asked, his voice, which was much deeper, took you by surprise. “Y/N,” you answered as he neared you, also crawling up the slope of the embankment until the water hit just above his navel. Or where you assumed a navel would be.

You felt a hand on your knee under the water and your attention snapped back to Chris. “What’re you doing?” you asked, trying to squirm away but a firm hand held you down. “You can’t leave,” Chris said sternly. You looked from him to Felix and back. “Wh-why?”

“Because,” Chris started. “You took something from our stream,” Felix interjected, resting his head in his hand as he stared up at you. “You’re really pretty,” he added with a smile. “Th-thanks — wait, timeout,” you said, holding up your hands. “What exactly did I take?” you asked, looking up at Chris.

He nodded at the top of the embankment. You followed your gaze to find he was looking at your canteen which was occasionally dripping water onto the dirt. You turned back to Chris. “Water?” you asked. “The water I spilled when that.. that thing — grabbed my ankle?”

Chris looked mildly offended at your words. “I’m not a thing,” he retorted. “I’m a bunyip.” Your eyes widened as you stared at him. ‘A bunyip? The legendary maneater from Aboriginal mythology?’ You turned your gaze towards Felix who raised his brows, giving you a flash of a smile before you turned back to Chris. “You’re that creature?” you asked softly. Chris nodded.

“We both are,” Felix added. “Well, not the one you saw,” he clarified. “That was all Chris,” he explained. “Grabbing your ankle and yanking you down. I was over there.” Felix pointed down the way to where a log was sticking out of the water.

You nodded slowly. “But you’re still the same… creature?” you asked. Felix nodded. “Bunyip,” he corrected. You turned back to Chris. “I only took some water because I’m lost,” you explained. “I went for a hike and now I can’t find my way back to my camp.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Felix said, still resting his head in his hand as he stared at you. “Very unfortunate,” Chris chimed in. “But you still took without giving and now that water has been wasted. Not very nice of you in a place like this,” he continued. You glared up at him.

“I only spilled that water because you grabbed me by the ankle and dragged me backwards. I wouldn’t have dropped the canteen if you hadn’t done that!” Chris turned his head to lock eyes with Felix before his gaze returned to you.

“Regardless,” he started. “You still took from us and we demand a toll.” You stared incredulously at him, “A toll? For water? In the outback?” you asked. “Are you fucking kidding me!?” You looked between the two who merely stared at you. Clearly this wasn’t some joke or prank. “You’ve got to be kidding! We’re in the middle of the fucking desert!” you snapped. Chris leaned forward, making you lean away, your back pressing against the dirt embankment.

“Do I look like I’m kidding, sweetheart?” he asked, tilting his head. His close proximity rendered you speechless as you stared up at him. “Wh-what do you want?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Chris glanced at Felix who had moved, shifting closer to where the two of you were.

“Just a toll,” Chris finally answered. “Payment for the water you took and then spilled.” A frown formed on your face. You were about to respond but Felix spoke instead. “I think the spilling was your fault. You can’t fault the poor thing from her reaction when you grabbed her by the ankle and knocked her down. You don’t even have ankles,” Felix countered. Chris glared at him before sighing. “Fine,” he said.

“Just for taking the water then,” he said. “I don’t have money on me,” you said softly. Chris chuckled. “That’s alright, sweetheart,” he said, reaching a hand up to caress your cheek. “We don’t want your money,” Felix added. He was now right next to you. “That’s not the kind of toll we want.”

‘If they didn’t want money, what could they possibly want?’

“Then what do you—” you started, your words failing when Chris leaned in closer.

“We want you,” he interrupted. You stared up at him, eyes wide, like you were prey, caught in the eyes of a predator. “M-me?!” you asked, your voice cracking. You felt fingers brush your arm and turned to look at Felix. “Yes,” he said softly, giving you an angelic smile. “We want you, honey.”

You looked between them again. “Like… to eat?” you asked. Chris and Felix exchanged looks before they both burst into laughter. “You think we want to eat you?” Chris asked, his laughter subsiding. If they didn’t want to eat you, what could they possibly want?

“Okay,” you said softly. “Now I’m confused.”

“That’s alright, baby,” Chris said softly, resting his weight on top of you. “Would you like me to explain or would you rather we just show you?” he asked, his lips ghosting over yours. A shiver ran up your spine as the realization settled in. They didn’t want to eat you.

They wanted to fuck you.

The idea should have been preposterous. Not one, but two massive legendary creatures known for killing and eating people wanted to fuck you. You should have been sent screaming for the hills but instead you were intrigued. The forms they took on were much better to look at than the massive seal-like creature you’d initially seen but would they stay that way? Or was it a ploy to get you to agree and then actually eat you?

A million questions were swirling inside your brain but you only managed to ask a few.

“Will you stay like that?” you asked, gesturing to him. A smile crossed Chris’ face as he realized you were actually considering his and Felix's proposition. “Of course,” he answered. “Wouldn’t want to scare you off,” he added with a wink. “And you promise you aren’t going to eat me?” you asked.

Chris snorted, laughing in a low tone. “We aren’t going to eat you,” he replied. “Speak for yourself,” Felix said, giving you a very smirk as his eyes roamed over your body. “I’ll eat something,” he added.

Chris rolled his eyes. “Down, boy,” he said before returning his attention to you. “Any other questions?” he asked, cocking his head to the left. “Are we doing this right here? Out in the open?” you asked, looking around the ditch. Chris scoffed, sounding almost indignant when he spoke.

“You think we would do that? Have you out in the open where anyone could just walk right up and watch?” he asked. You shrugged wordlessly. You didn’t know what was going on in their heads. It wasn’t like you did this often. You’d never been in a position like this before.

Chris shook his head. “No,” he said softly. “We’ll take you back to our lair,” he continued. More private, and out of the sun,” he added, looking towards the sky. “And much cooler,” Felix chimed in. “How does that sound?” he asked, caressing your arm. “A nice and cool spot where we can have you all to ourselves?” You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat before nodding slowly.

“It’s settled,” Chris said, sitting back up and holding out his hand. You stared at it for a moment before taking it and allowing him to pull you up. “Where are we going exactly?” you asked as Felix moved, shifting to the middle of the stream. “Our home,” he said, dipping down until just his head was visible. “Is it far?” you asked as Chris pulled you deeper into the water.

“It’s not far,” he answered. “It’s a nice series of caverns,” he added as he moved behind you, wrapping one of his strong arms around your midsection. “You might get a little wet,” he continued, whispering in your ear, his breath making your hair stand on end and tickling your neck. “Oh,” he added as you started to float along the slow moving stream, his arm tightening around your stomach.

“And you might want to hold your breath.”

The route to their den was so hidden that you would have never spotted it from above and unless you were in the water, you still would have never seen it. There was a massive hole in the ditch which both Felix and Chris dived through. You had taken a deep breath before being submerged.

The tunnel led from the ditch to a large underwater cavern. Here, Chris resurfaced in a small air pocket to let you catch your breath before continuing on, taking one of the many tunnels that branched off from the main cavern. The tunnel wasn’t long but it was dark and impossible to see. You were left to the mercy of the man — creature? — holding you tightly against his chest as he swam.

There was a power he had, swimming along with what you could only assume was a tail. You never actually saw the lower half of his body so you could neither confirm nor deny if he even had legs. Though you did vaguely remember Felix saying Chris didn’t have ankles so perhaps that meant they didn’t have legs.

You didn’t have time to dwell on it as your lungs started to burn with the lack of oxygen. You started to panic, wondering if you might drown down here and you felt extremely embarrassed at the thought of the potential circumstances surrounding your disappearance from the human world.

‘All for some dick, too.’

As you started to struggle in Chris’ hold, he tightened his grip and sped up, kicking harder until the tunnel opened up. It was still dark but not like the tunnels had been. There seemed to be a little bit of light coming from above. Chris pulled you to the surface and you gasped, coughing as air filled your lungs. He kept a firm hold on you while you struggled to breathe.

“Take your time,” he said softly, keeping you afloat. You focused on breathing, inhaling deeply and slowly. Felix was nowhere to be seen as you looked around the air pocket. You cast your gaze up and noticed that there was a small round hole at the top of the cavern, letting a little bit of light into the cavern.

“Are we underground?” you asked. Chris nodded. “We are,” he answered. “Pretty far actually,” he added. You looked around but saw nothing other than the rock. “You ready to keep going?” he asked. You nodded, taking another deep breath. “We’re almost there.”

The rest of the journey to the den went by without incident and soon Chris was pushing you up onto a small smooth incline made of stone. Felix was already lounging nearby, the lower half of his body submerged in the water. You looked around, noticing a small sandy area further back.

Looking up, you noticed that there were several holes in the ceiling, allowing sunlight to filter in, bouncing off the rocky surface of the walls. The entire cavern was about 12 meters in diameter. From the water’s surface, the rocky walls ran up before starting to curve up towards the flat top. Deep grooves decorated the walls, almost like massive claws had dug into the rock, leaving behind marks.

The sandy pit area was small with a partial rock wall separating it from another area that was hidden from view. You felt weight on top of your legs and turned back to find Chris crawling over you slowly. “Looking for an escape route?” he asked with a sly grin. You shook your head. “No,” you answered softly. “Just taking in the scenery. I didn’t even know there was a cave system down here,” you added as you looked up at the holes in the ceiling.

“Are we under a mountain or something? It seems so large.”

Chris chuckled, his laugh drowned out by a splashing sound. You turned your head to find the place where Felix had been lounging was now empty and the blond was nowhere in sight. “You’d be surprised by a lot of things here in the Outback,” he said softly, hand skimming up the outside of your thigh to your wet shorts.

“Oh right,” you said, looking up as he got closer. “We sort of had a deal.” Chris chuckled as he drew level with you. “Indeed we did, honey,” he said, stopping so his lips were almost grazing yours. “I won’t do anything without your permission,” he added. “So you have to say it, out loud, that you’re okay with this.” You nodded. “I am,” you replied. “I’m okay with this.” Chris’ eyes flashed, the green seeming to illuminate in the low light of the cave. “Good,” he simply said before crashing his lips against yours.

You felt his hand cup the back of your neck as he guided you down onto the rocky surface, your press pressing into the wet fabric of your shirt. Chris’ lips left yours, making a path down your neck to the top of your shirt. He pulled back just enough to untuck your shirt from your shorts and tug it upwards. You let him pull it off you, his lips reconnecting with yours as his hands moved skillfully over your skin.

It made you wonder if he’d done this before.

Your thoughts were short lived as he undid the front clasp of your bra, quickly and easily sliding the straps down your arms and tossing the garment somewhere you couldn’t see, hoping it had been towards the sand pit and not into the water. That was your favorite bra.

Goosebumps erupted over your skin as Chris’ hands cupped your chest, gently squeezing and kneading the flesh as he parted your lips with his own, tongue slipping into your mouth to find yours in a mix of heavy breathing and saliva.

You whimpered as his fingers gently pinched and rolled your nipples. He pulled back, lowering his head and taking one into his mouth, tongue swirling around the bud. As your eyes fluttered shut, you heard light sloshing of water in the background.

Lifting your head, you caught sight of another pair of bright green eyes watching you from just above the surface of the water, wet blond hair swept back. Felix was swimming back and forth behind Chris, just observing as the blue-haired man’s lips moved lower and lower, reaching your navel.

He pulled back, his deft fingers making quick work of your belt before quickly undoing the tack button and zipper of your shorts. “Lift your hips for me, pretty,” Chris breathed. You did as he asked, allowing him to tug the wet material of your shorts down your thighs and discard them on the rocks beside you.

Once he had you completely naked, he shifted down, shrugging your legs over his shoulder before bringing his face level with your sex. He didn’t even spare a second glance before diving right in, parting your lips and dragging his tongue slowly over your clit. Your fingers tangled in his hair, hips rolling as he ravaged the nub with his tongue.

You heard another splash and lifted your head to find Felix was even closer now, eyes instead on where Chris’ head was between your thighs. He had an intense look of hunger on his face but judging by how he still kept his distance, you figured there was some kind of hierarchical order at play here. Chris must have been the more dominant of two but you weren’t about to let Chris have his way with you without giving Felix some attention.

After all, they had both said they wanted you. It seemed only fair.

Letting go of Chris’ hair you raised one hand up to beckon Felix over to you. His eyes shifted from Chris to you and back, clearly hesitating until he got permission from the larger of the two. “Chris,” you said, choking back a moan. “Don’t you – ah – don’t you think Felix deserves a reward for being so patient?”

Felix turned his gaze back towards you as Chris merely grunted in response. Taking his response as the go ahead, you once again beckoned Felix over to you with a finger. Chris’ grip on your hips tightened as Felix approached slowly. You heard a growl rumble from deep within Chris but light tugged his hair.

“You don’t have to stop,” you gasped as he dug his tongue into your hole. It was inhuman how his tongue seemed to fill your cunt, lapping at your walls and finding that soft spongy spot that had your back arching. Felix had crawled part of the way up the rocky incline, keeping his eyes on Chris, ready to bolt in the event that the large male lashed out.

There was another deep growl but Chris merely tugged you down, further into the water as he continued to fuck you with his tongue. Once he was level with your body, you reached out, taking Felix’s chin in your hand and turned his gaze towards you. “Eyes on me,” you said softly. Felix nodded silently, lips parting slightly.

“C’mere,” you said, pulling him into a kiss. The moment his lips touched yours, Chris pulled his tongue from your cunt, instead dragging it back up to your clit before sucking on the nub. You moaned into Felix’s mouth. The smaller male shifted, hovering over the top half of your body. One of his hands moved to gently grab and squeeze your chest. Another growl emanated from Chris but he allowed the contact to happen.

Your entire body felt like it was on fire from the touches of both men — creatures? At this point you weren’t even sure what they were. The top half of them, the part out of the water, was human. But from the waist down you couldn’t even tell. You really didn’t even care at this point.

Not when they were both making you feel so good.

You moaned against Felix’s lips as you felt Chris push two fingers into your cunt, your walls squeezing around them immediately. Chris slowly pumped his fingers in and out of you, resting his head against your inner thigh as he watched your makeout session with Felix. “I have an idea,” he said suddenly. Felix pulled back, turning his head to look at the older male.

“Take her spot,” Chris said, pulling his finger from your wetness and dragging you further into the water. Felix moved into the spot you had been. “On your back,” Chris instructed, turning you around in the water to face Felix. “Look at him,” Chris whispered in your ear. You did as he said, eyes widening now that you could get a good look at Felix.

The top portion of his body was just as you already knew — human.

But where his hips began, the human toned skin blended into the dark, smooth seal-like fur. He didn’t have legs like a human. Instead it was almost like he was half man, half seal. The end of his tail was in the water so you couldn’t see the tip but could surmise it was also probably like a seal’s. Your eyes wandered over his body and you noticed the lack of a certain appendage.

Before you could ask, Chris pushed you through the water towards Felix.Your knees met the edge of the rocky incline and Chris made you climb up over Felix until you were face to face with him. “I think he needs some more attention,” Chris said as he backed away a short distance.

You looked over your shoulder at him. Felix grabbed your chin and turned you back towards him. “Eyes on me, angel,” he said in a soft but commanding tone. Without Chris nearby, he let his more dominant side come out. You nodded as his hand moved down to your throat, fingers flexing lightly around your neck before he slid his hand around to the back and pulled you into a messy kiss.

You allowed him to take the lead, one hand resting on the back of your neck as the other moved to pull you over him as he laid back against the rock. You let out a moan as your core came into contact with the smooth skin of where a groin would be on a human. There was a rather large bulge you were pressing against at the base of his torso.

Both his hands moved to your hips, guiding you to grind against him. The friction felt amazing since Chris hadn’t quite gotten you over the edge. “That’s it,” Felix whispered, breath hot against your lips. “Keep going.” Your body started to shudder as you chased your high. As you got closer, you felt something warm against your cunt.

“What’s that?” you asked breathlessly. “What do you think it is, baby?” Chris’ voice asked from right behind you. While your attention was focused on Felix, he’d managed to sneak up behind you. Your mind was sent reeling with the possibility of what you were feeling between your legs. It was warm, slick, and pulsating. “Use your brain, sweetheart,” Chris added, brushing his lips along your shoulder.

Using what crude knowledge you had of their anatomy, you figured it was potentially some sort of reproductive organ. “Is it…” your words failed you, heat rising to your cheeks. Would calling it a cock be appropriate? Was it even a penis? You couldn’t see it, only feel. “Is it what?” Felix asked, amusement in his voice as he tried to coax an answer out of you.

“Is it… a… dick?”

Chris chuckled, his hot breath fanning over your shoulder. “What else would it be?” Your cheeks burned even more as you realized you were caught between their bodies. “Well, I don’t know,” you whined. “I can’t see it.”

You let out a squeak as Chris hauled you off Felix, pulling you back towards the water just far enough that you got an eyeful of Felix’s body. Your eyes widened as you took in what you were seeing. The bulge you had been rutting against had split open at a vertical slit in the middle revealing a long deep bluish-purple appendage.

The base of it was slightly thicker, tapering up to a slightly flared and angled head. The color wasn’t uniform throughout, being more blue at the base and more purplish at the tip. It was long, maybe twenty centimeters from base to tip. If you had to guess the circumference, you’d say it was fifteen to seventeen centimeters.

“Are you just going to stare at it?” Chris whispered into your ear. “Or are you going to do something?”

His breath made a shiver run up your spine as you stared at Felix’s cock, walls clenching around nothing as it twitched. Without speaking, you pushed away from Chris, climbing back over Felix and crashing your lips against his, pushing him back against the rock.

Felix’s hands moved to your waist, groaning as you grinded against him. He guided your hips, grinding your clit against the underside of his cock. You whimpered into the kiss, rolling your hips faster. You pulled away, pressing kisses to the underside of his jaw as you heard water sloshing behind you.

“Settle down,” Chris said calmly. You lifted your head, looking back at him. “Make me,” you retorted. The moment the words left your lips, you regretted it as his hand darted between your thighs, two fingers pushing into your sex and making you moan. He held them there, feeling your walls contract tightly. “Oh, I think she’s ready,” Chris said, addressing Felix. “You’ll get your turn,” he explained as he moved behind you, grabbing your hips and holding you in place.

“What’re you —” you murmured, lifting your head only for Felix to grab your face and make you face him. “Eyes on me, angel,” he whispered, green eyes staring into your own. You stared back, admiring the freckles that dotted his cheeks and nose.

You let out a groan, eyes fluttering shut as you felt the head of Chris’ cock press against you. Having seen Felix’s, you hadn’t expected Chris’ to be much different but you momentarily forgot that Chris was the larger of the two. Chris pushed into you, the head breaching your entrance and making you gasp out in pain. Felix’s arms wrapped around you, holding your body against his.

“Relax,” he whispered into your ear as you buried your face in his neck, body shuddering and tensing violently. Chris made no attempt to move or remove himself, instead keeping perfectly still as your walls slowly adjusted. “It’s okay,” Felix cooed. “Just relax, baby.”

You took several deep breaths as you let your body slowly calm down, the tension in your muscles lessening as the stinging pain of Chris’ cock stretching your walls ebbed away. When he felt your body was lax enough, Chris pushed further into you, his thick cock sliding inside slowly.

Felix guided you through it, whispering words of encouragement into your ear and peppering light kisses on your cheek and shoulder. The pressure of his hard cock throbbing against your clit as Chris filled your cunt made you whimper. You felt the head of Chris’ cock kiss your cervix and he finally stopped.

“Hold onto her,” Chris said softly to the blond as he moved his hands to support his weight, palms flat against the rock. Felix’s arms around you tightened and before you could ask what was going on, you felt Chris start to pull from you, making you whine but as quickly as he retracted, his hips snapped forward, thrusting into you with a strength you didn’t expect.

You cried out both in shock and in pleasure, the wind being knocked from your lungs with the first powerful thrust. He set a steady, but bruising pace, pounding into you from behind. Each thrust made your hips rock forward, grinding your clit against Felix, making both of you moan.

You buried your face in Felix’s neck, muffling your cries of pleasure. The lewd squelching sound of Chris’ cock ramming into you repeatedly echoed around the cavern along with his grunts and Felix’s moans. You felt impossibly full of his cock, having never taken anything this big before and somehow he managed to fit all of it inside you.

“God,” you heard Chris groan. “You’re so beautiful when you’re fucked out under him,” Felix added, moving a hand to cup your cheek, chuckling breathlessly when you leaned into his warm palm.

Your walls spasmed around Chris’ cock as the orgasm that had been building since he had you on your back finally crashed over you, waves of bliss spreading throughout your body as if shuddered, your clit still grinding against the underside of Felix’s slick cock. His hips started to buck, grinding hard against you as he chased his own high.

“F-uck,” he groaned. “Gonna cum!”

His warning came just in time as you felt a warmth gush between your bodies as his release spilled out of him, painting his stomach and spilling onto the rock under him. His hold on you pulled you closer, this cum sticking to your body as well as Chris thrust harder into you, each movement erratic but still powerful as he neared the edge.

“Hold her still,” he growled, which Felix complied instantly, holding you in place as another orgasm washed over you, your cunt convulsing around Chris’ cock, taking him over the edge with you with a loud moan. Chris’ teeth sank into your shoulder as he came, muffling his growl as he released into you, his hot, thick cum coating your walls and spilling out of you.

He continued to move, thrusting and fucking his cum back into you until he stopped, burying his cock deep inside, the tip resting against your cervix as another surge of cum spilled into you. You could feel a small pressure build in the pit of your stomach, moaning as his cum spilled into your womb. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

“She’s passing out,” you heard Felix murmur as he tilted your head, your eyes fluttering shut and their voices starting to fall to the background of your consciousness. “Clean her off,” you barely heard Chris say before everything went black.

When you came to, you were lying on your back, cool air hitting your skin. Your eyes opened abruptly and you sat up, looking around to find you were on the outskirts of your camp. The sun had long since set and the sky was littered with stars. You got up, looking down to find you were dressed in semi dry clothes. Your bag sat next to where you’d been lying.

You brushed yourself off and grabbed your bag, finding your canteen full of water. You stumbled back into camp, thighs sore as you looked around. You found your tent and walked over, unzipping it and peering inside. You slunk into it, turning to zip it shut and started to mull over what just happened.

Had you passed out from exhaustion and imagined the whole thing?

The ache between your thighs said otherwise. You opened your bag to check your things, grabbing your flashlight to inspect the contents. Nothing seemed to be missing as you pulled everything out until you saw a small note inside one of the small pockets. Placing the flashlight between your shoulder and jaw, you used both hands to hold the bag and pull out the paper, unfolding it before grabbing the flashlight and reading the note.

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cinnamonest · 1 year ago

Text

Uhtceare

Yandere Ayato x Reader - "Failed escape attempt" series

(I still cannot publish posts that have people tagged. I don't know why, it just gives me an error popup saying it couldn't be processed. Apologies to those in my taglist.)

Warning: DARK CONTENT, noncon/dubcon, implications of forced/coerced marriage, masturbation voyeurism that’s also kinda forced, manipulative use of mental health and problematic way of addressing it, gaslighting and psychological manipulation, implied future forced drugging, there’s just a lot of my man being awful here

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“Ah, there you are.”

Of course. He would be right there at the entrance waiting, wouldn’t he.

You were hoping to get a few more seconds to put off the inevitable, but the reality of your situation was not so kind as to grant you that. It was all far too fast — the full events of the night before, the journey of being dragged back here — flanked on all sides by doushin all the while — all went by in a blur, leading up to this very dreaded moment.

You kept your gaze turned to the ground, unable to bring yourself to make eye contact. Your fingers curled, digging into the fabric around your thighs.

Nonetheless, without even hesitating nor willing it, you found your feet moving on their own. Perhaps it was instinct, to get away from the unfamiliar men that made you so uncomfortable and uneasy, and into the arms that, despite everything, were at least familiar, and thereby a comfort at the end of your long trial of distress and misery. Maybe you knew it was expected, and feared some consequence for not acting as you knew you should. Or maybe some of both.

Regardless, your feet shuffled forward, any thoughts muted in favor of instinct as you bounded over towards your husband — as much as you hated to acknowledge it, your one source of comfort. As you grew close, he reached an arm out, hand firmly planting itself on your back and pulling you in. Perhaps out of that same sense of fear at the thought of disobeying expectations, perhaps out of pure exhaustion, you allowed it without struggle coming to stand directly by his side, grasping at his clothes, burying your head against him and squeezing your eyes shut as if it would obscure the others’ view of you.

“I can’t thank you enough. You have no idea how worried I was about her,” he spoke to the arrangement of men now standing a ways away, moving his hand on to rest atop your head. “I apologize for the inconvenience. The poor thing gets a bit irrational from time to time. You know how it is.”

The other men only gave a brief, curt sound of acknowledgement. One, the own standing closest to the two of you based on how close the voice sounded, seemed to deem it appropriate to give at least some response. “Of course, sir.”

Not that that actually made any sense, that such a bizarre thing to say could ever warrant an ‘of course’ as a reply. But they weren’t there to be sensible, to assess the situation and act according to any supposed principles. To help. They were there only to follow through with an assigned task, one that they had not even tried to conceal in their expressions and tones towards you was an unwanted inconvenience, and to turn a blind eye to any conclusions they might draw.

Maybe that too was intentional — the estate lord could have easily sent his private forces to be the ones to escort you back to the estate, yet he chose to allow the public law enforcement to return you. Perhaps he knew you’d grown to resent the family’s private forces, and thereby had no issue inconveniencing them, whereas he knew you’d feel more embarrassment and guilt having strangers be forced to bring you all the way back… yes, the more you thought about it, that certainly seemed like that was his intent.

“I hope she didn’t give you too much trouble?”

“Not at all, sir.”

“Ah, I see, that’s good to hear.”

Your hands balled into fists.

The whole show made of it all was utterly humiliating — that too no doubt the intention — but you had no choice but to stand there. Doing something rash like running off to hide yourself from the embarrassment would only meet a worse consequence later.

The burning, bitter anger only made said embarrassment that much worse. It was consuming, maddening. Everything — this place, these people, their words and their attitudes, their dismissal of you as if you were a child or an animal — it made you so damn mad, and yet, you could do nothing but endure.

Your eyes burned. You blinked a few times in rapid succession. You couldn’t forgive yourself if you actually cried in front of these strangers. The back-and-forth between the two parties continued, but you did your best to tune out the words, knowing that listening would only hurt you further.

It wasn’t until there was movement that you returned your attention to them, pulling your head away from him to look — now they were turning, walking away.

Leaving you alone with him.

You then dared not avert your eyes from the ground, watching the men from your peripheral vision as they made their way down the path, growing smaller and smaller and they moved further away, until their footsteps were no longer audible.

All that remained was a heavy, palpable tension.

Avoidance was the easiest path — a foolish choice, of course, which you knew full well. It wasn't as if you could avoid the present reality forever, but nonetheless, you found yourself clinging to each precious second that ticked by, body growing stiffer as you braced yourself for the inevitable. Perhaps you could trick yourself into believing that if you just kept your gaze turned to the ground, nothing would happen.

But sure enough, you clenched your jaw as his hand moved upwards, and came to rest on your shoulder.

“Come on now. You're certainly tired. Let’s get you to rest for a while.”

His voice only made your stomach twist further. It was calm and gentle, not explosive or infuriated. It would have felt more assuring that way, if your fear could just be easily confirmed, rather than a calculated calm that felt far more dreadful and foreboding than any rage.

His hand moved from your shoulder, coming down to grasp your wrist. It wasn’t a sudden, harsh motion, nor was the grip itself strong enough as to be painful — but it was noticeably firm.

And then, he pulled. A soft tug, pulling you in the direction of the doors.

Your resistance was not a conscious choice, not something you thought about nor had any time to do so; it was only a reflex. Instinctively, your body stiffened, your feet dug into the ground, and thus his pull was met not with the meek obedience that was expected of you, with footsteps that followed where you were guided, but instead a firm resistance.

Your own realization of that resistance, what you’d just done, sent a sharp rush of fear through your veins.

And thus, for the first time since arriving, your gaze tilted upward, and your wide, frightened eyes met his.

His expression shifted. The amiable, pleasant smile half-faded, still present, but only barely.

“…Don't be difficult. Come on.”

Likewise, his voice dropped far lower, a dark and foreboding tone far removed from the one he’d spoken with just moments ago to the other men.

Your mouth opened, instinctively wanting to reply, but you couldn't summon a coherent thought. You were afraid, you were angry, you were so, so embittered and ashamed and wanted nothing more than to run to your room, close your eyes and burrow into the bed.

And for a moment, you considered the compliant option. If you just lowered your head and followed along, apologized and insisted you were just being petty or immature or whatever he would call it this time, and took whatever consequence was handed out, then you could do just that, confine yourself to your bed and try to forget it all.

But the shame only fueled the fury, like gasoline to a fire. It was his fault. As scared of punishment as you were, your pride could not stand for simply bowing your head, and as your mind raced, the sheer fury you’d been stewing in all throughout the night before, all the angry words you’d monologued in your head and vowed to spew at him when you saw him again, all came rushing back.

You swallowed, fingers curling even harder around the fabric around your thighs. Now that it was just the two of you, although you still fought it as best as you could, you couldn’t help that your eyes watered, burning as your vision blurred out of pure frustration and misery.

“I… I know you did all of this on purpose! I only got all the way out there because you let me, a-and…”

The words came out in a trembling, wavering voice, far weaker than intended.

He exhaled a heavy sigh, closing his eyes in frustration. His voice was still characteristically gentle, but you could hear his patience waning. “We can discuss this inside.”

“But I—”

“Inside.”

You stiffened, freezing in place. That was not a tone you heard often in your married life, more firm than normal.

You swallowed, gaze darting to the ground again, unable to summon a reply and not wanting to make eye contact again. With another heavy exhale, he pulled at your arm with a gentle tug, and this time, you followed, feet quickly shuffling behind his.

You didn’t say a word, though, through the full minute or so of walking across the courtyard, through the front doors, down the hall, only dimly lit today due to curtains hanging over the windows lining the walls. It occurred to you with a sinking feeling in your stomach that you were headed straight for your shared bedroom, rather than one of the estate’s many drawing rooms and lounges, which meant the anticipated conversation to come would be one you’d both want kept in privacy. Your stomach felt as if it were turning in knots, your chest compressed by an unseen force, each breath feeling strenuous and weighted.

And then, finally, you both came to a halt as you reached the last room at the end of the hall. You felt helpless, unable to do anything as you watched the handle of the door turn, stumbling in as you were guided forward by the hand that came to gently press on your lower back.

Likewise, equally pitifully, you could do nothing but stand there and wait as you listened for the door to close behind you, clenching your jaw at the trepidation in your chest from the footsteps on the floor behind you, but made sure to not let your fear swallow your fury.

“Now,” he began slowly as he moved around you to the other side of the room, voice now back to its usual tone, but still firm nonetheless, “I can tell you have a great deal you want to get off your chest, but you’ll have to forgive me for a moment… your well-being is my primary concern.” He looked you up and down, and his voice took on a note of concern that admittedly sounded sincere. “You aren’t hurt in any way, are you, dear?”

You bit your lip at the affectionate term, and more importantly, at how unbothered he came across. Granted, you now knew just how much of the past twelve hours or so had been entirely within his control, so it made sense that he was never genuinely distressed, but admittedly, it was also disappointing. Part of you wanted him to have been panicked and worried, to get the satisfaction of knowing you’d successfully gotten under his skin.

Still, you shook your head, keeping your gaze to the ground as you gave a curt, frustrated reply. “No.”

“Good,” his eyes closed for a moment, taking a heavy breath of pause. “Well, in that case…” He leaned back against the wall, folding his arms. “I believe this would be the best time to give you a moment to explain yourself.”

You couldn’t miss the obvious foreboding in his voice, nor the way it made your body stiffen.

But you had already prepared for that — you knew it would be intimidating, that it would be awkward and shameful, but you had spent the previous few hours trying to preemptively harden your resolve against that. Besides, after it was interrupted earlier, you now had the chance to get back to what was essentially the pre-written script you’d memorized in your head of exactly every little thing you wanted to say to him.

Unfortunately, as it turned out, the you that was standing there in front of him was significantly less brave than the ‘you’ in the scenes you’d played out in your head on the journey home.

Still, you clenched your hands into fists, thinking you had to at least force him to acknowledge the one point you’d deemed most important.

“You let me leave.”

In your mind, you’d spoken with a bold voice and looked him directly in the eye… and while the same words came out of your mouth, they were instead said with a weak, shrill attempt at an accusatory tone, pathetically looking to the wall as you found yourself unable to summon the gall to look up, once more lacking the firm accusation and self-assuredness your imaginative self had had.

He tilted his head. “That’s not a very accurate way to put it. I never granted you any such permission… I was simply aware of your intent to run off, and didn’t stop you.”

For a moment, you contemplated asking how he knew — but you had a feeling the answer would only make you more upset. His voice was laden with a faux sincerity, a sort of disingenuousness that made your blood boil, enough to embolden you further as you continued.

“And you… you had people following me the whole time, I know you did!” Your voice began to get louder as you grew bolder, bitter anger strengthening you against any trepidation. “They didn't even do a good job! I started noticing them towards the end of it!”

"Well, that would be because they were specifically told that concealment was not necessary.” He kept up the dry manner of speech, seemingly unbothered by your fury. “They deserve a break from high effort jobs every now and then, surely you understand. Besides, they didn’t directly interfere with your little outing, yes?”

He was so calm in contrast to your visible irritation, no doubt at least in part deliberate. It only served to make you even more mad.

“They told the local doushin to — no, you told them to tell them! There’s no other way that could have happened! I-I, I got," in sheer frustration, you jerked your fists in a sharp downward motion, "arrested!"

“I’m very well aware.”

“They put me in jail!”

“I do believe that is the standard process for an arrest, yes.”

“I was all by myself for hours!”

“Naturally. I couldn’t allow you to be placed with any dangerous persons, that’s why you were put in a solitary space.”

You clenched your fists so hard they trembled. “You, y-you let me get that far in the first place, and, and…” A lump formed in your throat again, which you did your best to suppress. “…Just to make me go through all that… I was there for hours before they came for me…” Your face scrunched up as you fought the urge to cry.

You hung your head, shoulders falling as you let your body relax, the fuse of anger burning out as it turned to a quiet bitterness swelling in your stomach. What was even the point? You knew better than to think your emotions would be given any weight, treated as anything beyond trivial.

A few moments of quiet passed, perhaps to see if you would say anything more, or perhaps just to force you to wait in uncomfortable uncertainty. After a moment, he shifted his posture slightly before unfolding one arm, holding out his hand in a standard gesture of speech.

“And what have we learned?”

You never would have thought one question could send such a spark of fury through your body in a single moment. Everything, from the wording to the timing to his tone, felt utterly mocking, infantilizing in a way that made you seethe.

You swallowed, practically trembling. “That you’ll go to any lengths to humiliate me?”

He returned the extended arm to its former position, exhaling heavily, straightening his stance. “It's rather unfair to assume I had such malicious intent. Stopping you early on in the past has clearly not worked in the long term, so further measures were necessary.” He tilted his head to meet your averted gaze, reflexively turning your attention back to him, eyes connecting with yours. “My only intention was that you would have some time to reflect on your series of decisions… and hopefully return with a change of heart. These episodes of yours are worrisome.” He gave a brief pause before finishing, “claiming I had cruel intent when you know in your heart that I only arranged this because I care for you… that's rather harsh, isn't it?”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to acknowledge the notion that the words were genuine. Admittedly having fallen for the words die a moment, you mentally shook off the momentary feeling of guilt.

These situations always went the same way, you'd be driven to apologize and feel bad about your choices. You had never met anyone else in your life with such a mastery of speech-craft as to be able to control your emotions and actions with words as easily as if it were pushing buttons on a machine. The first few times, you'd actually fallen for it, found yourself completely malleable, psyche bending and shifting to another's whims. At least with time, you'd become more resilient, had learned to notice and recognize the attempts… so you believed.

You opted to avoid answering the quesiton. Instead of acknowledging his own words, you turned to another matter that had come to mind during your escapade.

“Aren’t you abusing your authority? How are you even allowed to do this to begin with?!”

He took another deep breath, as if it were a trivial matter, or one that shouldn’t necessitate explanation.

“It’s… complicated, but the law does fully permit estates to employ local forces to locate any missing property belonging to the estate… people employed or bound to it are a sort of grey area in that regard.” After a moment of pause, he added, “besides, I also made it very clear that you were not in your right mind at the time, so your wellbeing was of immediate concern, and they were happy to help.”

“What?” The anger in your tone only rose. “I was perfectly in my right mind, you, you… a-and I’m not…”

A few moments passed as you trailed off, having to pause to collect yourself, blink away frustrated tears.

He opened his mouth as if to respond, but seemed to decide against whatever he'd considered saying, closing his eyes and taking a breath before finally replying in a more exasperated tone.

“You're making yourself upset needlessly. I can only do so much… in the end, I only wanted to keep you safe. You have to be the one to accept the grace you're given. Wouldn't that be easier for you?”

There was still unease to his tone, but the way he said it was nonetheless indicative of a sort of tiredness, as if not wanting to carry on about the matter anymore. It almost sounded like he was saying that you “accepting” his “grace” was all that was required to bury the matter entirely.

You spoke slowly, cautiously.

“You’re not… mad?”

“…I never said that.” He shifted away from leaning against the wall, standing upright. ”Of course, I can’t allow this to go entirely unacknowledged.”

He took a few steps towards you, and you fought the urge to step back, keeping your arms rigidly straight at your side as he continued.

“Normally, a proper form of consequence would be in order… however, after consideration, I realized that this was in large part my own fault, and I owe it to you to take responsibility for that.”

The words took you by surprise. The idea that he was in any way acknowledging that he had any responsibility for what you did was baffling, all things considered. He had never once even acknowledged that refusing to let you leave the estate was essentially holding you prisoner, and usually insisted that everything he did was what was best for you, even if, as he seemed to believe was the case, you did not understand that.

You hesitated before replying. “What… what do you mean?”

He flashed you an amiable smile. “A lesser person would only act on their momentary frustrations, but I’m not the sort of person who acts without understanding the situation. Luckily, I do understand you.” He looked off to the side, holding a hand up to his chin in a pensive pose, before adding in a quieter voice, “I made the mistake of getting too caught up in my work recently. Acting out over feelings of neglect is entirely different from misbehavior out of sheer petulance.”

He turned his head back towards you again before finishing,

“It would be cruel to respond to a cry for attention as if it were ordinary disobedience.”

The words took you aback, and you hesitated in your response, but as it fully registered in your mind, the momentary surprise was replaced with shameful fury. You held your arms firmly at your side, hands balled into fists as you replied.

“What?! I didn't— I didn’t do it for attention!”

You felt foolish for thinking for even a second that he might actually empathize with you, might finally come to enough humility to realize that much of your perceived disobedience was due to the sheer degree of meticulous, total control he held over everything you did. But no, instead, your attempt to run away was being treated as attention-seeking. It felt belittling, degrading.

He took a short breath, as if about to say something, but as his gaze fell upon you again, he simply exhaled, an amused smile forming on his face, replacing the former exasperation — and only infuriating you further, realizing even your anger wouldn't be taken seriously.

“Yes, yes, of course.” He made no effort to hide the dismissive amusement in his voice, either, but cleared his throat before returning to a more neutral tone before you could give any retort. “Regardless, you've been through a lot already. If you can be mature and calm down, make some acknowledgement of the trouble you’ve caused and show some remorse, then, I'm willing to somewhat overlook this.” Making direct contact between your eyes and his, he finished, “Won’t that be easier on us both?”

The obvious dismissal of your statement and implications of what he thought made your face feel hot. The embarrassment that had already been weighing down on you now became suffocating, and the utter arrogance of the presumption of your willingness to comply made you so upset it felt nauseating.

“What does ‘somewhat’ mean?” You tried to suppress the irritation in your voice.

He gave another heavy sigh. “Should you really be asking for specifics? It’s your best course of action regardless.”

You opened your mouth and inhaled as if to speak, holding your closed fists up to your chest, ready to spew every ounce of vitriol you’d been building up, and then, you fell silent as your eyes met.

His expression grew dark, eyes half-lidded and features blank — not contorted with anger nor curiosity, but merely waiting, watching, warning. Anticipating your defiance, prepared to react accordingly.

You looked down, hesitating.

Was it really worth it…? A few moments of lashing out, at what cost? ‘Consequences’ hurt, in one sense or another, they always did, no matter what form that word took.

You swallowed. He was right — one path before you was wiser.

You hung your head.

“…I’m sorry…”

Even with your gaze turned downward, you could see his eyes widen just a bit in your peripheral vision, not having expected such quick compliance — understandably so, based on your past incidents. But after a moment, his expression softened. He took another step, closing the gap between you, cupping your face in his hands and forcing you to lift your head back up.

“Mm. I’m glad you understand. You know, you've matured quite a bit recently.”

You almost, almost found yourself feeling happy at the praise, but then pushed that feeling away. It was part of the way he did things, part of the process, so you'd slowly come to recognize, putting the pieces together over and over until you became aware of how he managed to bring you down to submission each time. You refused to be swayed by that. You were only giving it up and apologizing because it was the was the easier, less painful choice… so you reminded yourself. Now, at least, you'd be done with this, could move on and quietly begin plotting again.

But then, as you felt his hand move down to your shoulder, then to your waist, you remembered the ‘somewhat.’

Yes, of course it couldn’t be left at that, wouldn’t be so simple as forcing you into humility just once.

You knew that full well. These checks of obedience after an act of disobedience never came solitary, and the desire for that subservience to be affirmed was not easily satiated. It would only grow deeper, an increasing hunger for your subservience. Pushing your pride further and further down, carving into your personhood and whittling away anything deemed unfitting. It would only go further, debasing you in increasingly violating ways.

You felt a gnawing in your stomach. You hadn’t thought of that part, in the moment, but the realization now made your heartrate begin to accelerate once more.

His eyes drifted downward.

“…Ah, right. The clothes you’re wearing, we need to have a servant wash them for you. Just set them by the door for now.”

You looked down. You hadn’t even bothered to think about it until now, having been so preoccupied with other thoughts, but indeed, the oh-so-nice and expensive clothing you’d been so lovingly lavished with, was now fully coated in grime and dirt.

At the same time, your immediate instinct was to protest the idea, knowing the intent. He wasn’t going to get you a replacement — which he himself would need to do, seeing as all of your clothing was, no doubt deliberately, kept outside the bedroom itself, and it had been established early on that you were to rely on him or servants to fetch whatever he would have you wear that day for you. Was the command too, then, intentional?

The very moment you even asked yourself the question, though, came the immediate answer, making you feel foolish for even questioning it. Of course it was intentional, planned — what wasn’t, anymore, in your life? You remembered looking back, on the day you were brought here, thinking over the past with borderline horror at the realization of how intricately detailed and precise every detail had been in his effort — what you now were certain was a premeditated plan — to get your family to call off the years-long betrothal you’d already been in, and marry you off to him instead. That realization of it all had kept you rightfully afraid of him, knowing he was always one step ahead of whatever you might attempt.

The corners of your mouth pulled taut with embarrassment, and you pulled your hands in towards your chest again, elbows pressed firmly to your sides. “That’s…”

He caught a glimpse of your face, and in turn smiled, an amused sort of expression. “Come on now,” he took a step towards you, reaching out and grasping at your hands, pulling them out of their defensive position, “even now, you’re still so shy over this?”

“I— no, I’m not—” you cut off, teeth clacking together as you snapped your mouth shut when his hands released yours, instead moving around to the binding ties of your outfit, pulling the knot apart.

You held your hands up to the level of your shoulders, bent at the elbow, fingers curled as if preparing to reach forward, to grasp at his hands, to do something.

But you didn’t.

The exchange was itself a means of conversation, communicating something not fully articulable by word alone. Violating your comfort and dignity, baring you to him, those things themselves were an assertion, a statement. To interrupt would be to challenge that assertion, to deny him. And perhaps it was, in part, also a test, a question of whether or not you would dare to deny the unspoken statement.

As the silk strands came undone, the first layer gave way to the second, and pulling apart that knot caused the fabric bound by it to slide apart, exposing your bare skin to the cool air.

An unspoken reminder that your body was not your own, that any right to autonomy and privacy you might have beyond this room, no longer existed within it. Access to you was not a privilege granted by your permission, but an inherent right, provided by the very contract that legally bound you to him.

The casual, unhesitating manner with which you were stripped down only emphasized that that very reality itself was not something to be regarded as of any great significance, but a fact accepted as readily as any other. Exposing you, touching you, exercising that unconditional access to your body was given no greater thought than utilizing any of one’s possessions.

There was nothing he could ever say to you, nor adequate words to even exist, to fully encapsulate the degree to which you were owned — but with that gesture, you understood all the same.

And even though the humiliation of the reminder made your eyes burn, made you bite your lip, you lowered your hands to your side. An admission of defeat, surrender.

It did not go unnoticed. He smiled.

“Very good. You’re behaving much better today than I anticipated.”

Another moment of praise. He was genuinely pleased. You could see it and hear it through his face and voice.

Were it on any other matter, you might have felt proud to be praised in such a sweet, charming voice. If the praise were on something you actually wanted to achieve.

And then, his eyes trailed downward, running over your body, taking in each detail. His eyebrows furrowed as his gaze settled on one particular spot.

“You really shouldn't lie to me,” he spoke in a quiet, low voice.

At first, you felt a momentary panic, not quite sure what he even meant, thinking you had somehow made a unintentional transgression. It wasn't until you looked down that you saw the scrape just below your collarbones from your, admittedly unsightly, vigorous resistance upon initial confrontation with the doushin the night prior, having essentially had to have been wrestled down to the concrete street. In hindsight, you were even surprised with yourself for putting up such a fight, but at the time it had just been the instinctive reflex, fueled by desperation.

It all felt distant now, as if further back in time than it was, the memory all blurring together. It was only a very small mark, and had now scabbed up as part of the natural healing process, but as his fingers brushed over the spot, you still tensed at the slight lingering sting.

“It doesn't really hurt,” you replied nonetheless. “It's fine…”

He only straightened back upright, closing his eyes momentarily.

“I suppose I shouldn't have expected common doushin to be able to follow instructions… just so you know, I did specifically say to ensure you weren't hurt in any way.” He turned his gaze downward, hand held to his chin as he added in a low mutter, “I'll be sure to only use private hands in the future, should I need something like this again.”

You shrugged, turning your eyes downward to the floor once more. Really, you wanted to not have to think about the incident any further, the mere memory stirring up embarrassment, which did not combine well with your already vulnerable state. “It's fine. It's not a big deal,” you grumbled. After a moment of hesitation, feeling another urge of spite, you added, “it wouldn't have happened if you didn't… do all that.”

He huffed in exasperation, but was quiet for the moment, seemingly composing his thoughts before replying.

“Don’t be disagreeable. We've discussed this. I care for you dearly, but that does not mean that you are exempt from expectations to behave.”

He always gave you that line — that a behavioral matter of yours had been previously ‘discussed,’ which merely meant he'd told you not to do something, or behave a certain way. That was the end-all-be-all — whatever you were told was set in stone the moment it left his mouth, and transgressing against the standard that was set was often treated as if you’d forgotten, as if it slipped your mind, the idea of intentional and deliberate disobedience being something unthinkable to such a degree that simply having done so by accident were more believable to him — and perhaps you ought be grateful for that.

You clamped your jaw shut, turning your head downward.

His gaze turned back to your body.

“…Your nerves are unsettled.” His hand slid it's way down your side, the feeling of touch lingering in a trail behind as his palm brushed over the curvature of your waist. “See, that's what causes these irrational episodes of yours. Stress, overexcitement. It just… builds naturally for you, over time.” After a moment, taking in your expression, he added, “it's nothing to feel bad about, dear. I don't mind helping you with it at all… I'm glad I can do so, really. I worry about how you'd manage without having me to help.”

You hesitated before giving a response. “What… what do you mean? I'm not… irrational…”

It was as if your words went in one ear and out the other, continuing on without responding to your objection. “But again, I failed to keep it in check this time, so this was ultimately my own fault… I'll have to make a note to be more thorough.”

His hand grasped at your waist, pulling you close. His other hand reached up, cupping your breast. He looked over towards your shared bed.

“Come on. Let's get you in bed.”

“Huh? But—”

His grip tightened. “Don't be difficult.”

Your stomach began to churn. You were still angry. The last thing you wanted was to go through what was essentially a humiliation ritual. There was something about the act itself — at least, between the two of you — that made you feel embarrassed and ashamed. The inherent vulnerability, for one, but moreover, because you knew the intent, you knew the way he viewed it in his mind, could practically feel the sentiment. An act of claiming, an exchange of power in which your loss of dignity became his gain of pride and control. Carving into your very personhood, marking you as something belonging to him.

Your opened your mouth, but whatever you intended to say was cut off by your small noise of surprise as you were pulled forward, in a manner that was somehow so gentle in touch, yet forceful enough to move your whole body towards his. His arm wrapped around your frame, the other positioning itself underneath your thighs before lifting you up and moving down to sit.

You fidgeted, tried to pull away — but his grip tightened, as much to secure you as it was a warning, telling you to hold still.

“It's for your sake. This will help you… you may not realize that yet, but you’ll thank me, I promise.”

His hands moved to your hips and turned you so that your back rested against his chest.

“As I was saying, you simply… build stress and neurosis, naturally. It's not your fault, really. You're just sensitive to changes, stressors... Every individual has at least some… defects in their nature.”

His hands retracted, and there was a brief rustling sound before they returned to your skin, now ungloved, flesh on flesh. The contact sent sparks through your nerves.

“That's why people pair with those they are compatible with. They fill each other's needs, compliment each other’s natures… I’m obligated to take those defects and resolve them.”

He gave you a smile — you couldn't see it, but could feel it as his lips pressed softly against your neck. Warm, full of sincerity and adoration.

“I wouldn’t do that if it weren’t out of care… and you in turn provide me with something that needs care and guidance. I enjoy having that.”

For all his attempts at soothing words and the gentleness of the touch, you knew in your heart that there was no doubt that that was part of the intent — to humble you, to tame you and make you docile, to make you submit. Forcing you to such a vulnerable state and inflicting reactions of pleasure was itself an act of exerting power and control.

It was, in a way, remarkable, that the human spirit could not only be broken by both brutal cruelty, but equally — or, perhaps even more effectively — eroded away with a gentle voice and touch, humiliation so deeply intertwined with affection that they became impossible to distinguish from each other, forming a unique sentiment that was both one and the other.

You were endearing to him, but that affection for you was like a venom that ran through your veins — an affection that diminished you, reduced you to some inhuman possession, a toy to be manipulated in any way he desired.

It made you feel sick. It made you feel angry, it tormented your psyche—

Your thoughts were turned to a haze as his fingers rolled your nipple between them. You inhaled a sharp gasp, back arching forward.

Processing your own reaction, embarrassment took place of the momentary pleasure, and your face felt hot. You reached an arm up instinctively to cover your breasts, pulling away from the touch.

“…We've had this conversation before, haven't we?” He reached up, grasping your jaw with a grip just firm enough to communicate a warning.

You swallowed and, albeit not without just a moment of hesitation, lowered your arm. You looked down, breasts now exposed fully. “I'm… sorry…”

He gave you a hum of approval, returning to the former fondling, fingers playing with the sensitive flesh. You bit your lip, breathing growing labored.

After a few minutes, his hands wandered downward, slowly, softly, down to your thighs, then back up over your hips, where they finally settled.

“Touch yourself.”

The command caught you off-guard. Your eyes widened. “…What?”

“Before I help you,” he murmured, “I want to see what you will do for me. That's only fair, don't you think?” He squeezed at your waist.

“Prove to me…” he leaned forward, breath hot against your ear, “that you know your place. Do as I say.”

You swallowed.

It was in your best interest to obey.

You reached down slowly, shivering as your fingers brushed over your clit. You pressed down, beginning to rub your outstretched fingers back and forth. With your other hand, you reached up, tweaking your nipple just enough to send pleasure through your nerves.

“There you go.” He pulled you a bit closer to him, so your bodies were firmly pressed together. He craned his neck, no doubt catching your abashed, embarrassed expression.

Not that he would give you any words of comfort on that matter, tell you not to feel embarrassed. He only smiled, grasping your hair and forcing your head to turn, pressing your mouth to his. It was only a short contact, parting with the softest of sounds.

His grip on your hip tightened, and you realized why he’d pulled back when he spoke.

“Don’t stop.”

You hadn’t realized you had, too focused on the slight surprise to being kissed. You took a shuddering breath, and resumed the motion. Your eyes closed, heightening your senses — the sensation of each touch and the shockwaves it sent through your core to every nerve in your body.

Your breathing quickly became labored. Even if you were inducing the sensation itself, it was good. You bit your lip as a soft, weak little sound came out of your throat, unable to refrain from vocalizing at the intensity of the feeling.

“Not just like that.” One of his hands reached down to your thigh, hand wrapping around the underside of it and pulling it to the side, spreading you open further. “Go on.”

“Mm…” You couldn’t summon any particular words, overwhelmed by the conflicting sensations — the heat to your face and knot in your stomach at the shameless way your body was so exposed, at the feeling of being watched as if the act were a performance, and the haze of arousal that rapidly began to cloud your judgement, obscuring the feeling of discomfiture, drowning your inhibition.

Even without the pleasure compromising your hesitation, you didn’t want to think about the alternatives if you refused to obey — this was thus far, comparatively, far from the worst consequences you’d ever received for acting out.

You reached down further, pushing two of your fingers past the slick coating your flesh and inside your body, curling them into the spot that made you tense, made your muscles spasm, over and over, each movement sparking a rush that surged throughout your body.

Each breath was a deep gasp. Your toes curled, your muscles went taut and your insides clenched around your own fingers.

But something was missing.

It was pleasurable, but there just wasn’t enough to push you over the edge. The sensations were too weak.

Your body had been conditioned something more, and this was not comparable.

Sweat began to accumulate on your skin as you kept curling your fingers, desperately chasing a high. His arm moved from your hip to wrap around your waist, pressing another kiss to your neck.

You tried. Frustration began to build. Your eyes watered as you curled your fingers as hard as you could, pressed as far in as they would go, down to the knuckle.

It wasn’t deep enough.

It wasn't what you were used to. Your fingers were too short, just short of reaching that one perfect spot that made you lose yourself in pleasure, melting to a mewling mess.

You shuddered. You couldn’t reach a climax, no matter how hard you tried to focus. Even without orgasm, though, your exertion reached a peak you couldn’t carry on further from, and your fingers stopped moving as you went limp, trying to catch your breath, frustration and desperation nearly enough to make you cry. Your head fell back, eyes closed as you panted.

You could feel the corners of his mouth upturn against the flesh of your neck.

“…Is something wrong?”

Your jaw clenched, and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

That was the other goal of it, besides proving yourself to him — it was also to prove something to you. Something you didn’t want to admit out loud, something that made your chest swell with bitterness just to admit to yourself, much more so to do so aloud.

“I can’t… I can't do it.”

“Mm.” He pulled you further back against him. “Then, what do you need?”

The tingling sensation, the desperate need, the remnant frustration of lost pleasure, was too much to bear. You swallowed your pride, closing your eyes as you forced the words out.

“…I need you to do it…”

You were expecting him to say something in return, but for a moment, he was only quiet. He began to drum his fingers back and forth against your waist.

“Is that so?”

You nodded again, which seemed to be to his displeasure—

“Use your words.”

“Yes…” You swallowed.

You waited, but no touch came.

“Hm. How odd.” His voice was low and quiet, but unmistakably derisive. “You seemed to think you were perfectly capable of caring for yourself, running off like you did.”

Your eyes welled with tears. You shook your head back and forth, unable to bring yourself to speak.

“No?” His hand trailed downward until it ghosted over your sex, the lightest of touches, borderline torment. “Then, you can't do this for yourself?”

“…No…”

He moved his face even closer, speaking directly into your ear.

“Then what do you say? Tell me exactly what you need. Show me.”

You swallowed. The burning of humiliation in your chest was almost too much to bear. Had your insides not still been alight with the wavering, tight feeling of need, your pride would have outweighed your desire. But in that moment, it did not.

You spread your still-quivering legs wide apart.

“…Please touch me.”

“Mm. And what do you want from that? For how long?”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“I want to cum.”

Finally — finally — his fingers pressed down against your clit, enough pressure to send waves of pleasure up your spine.

“There, see…” He pressed another kiss to your face. “Aren't things so much easier when you just choose to be honest?”

You nodded. “Yes. I… I’m sorry…”

He gave a low hum of acknowledgement. “This stubbornness is just your nature.” His fingers slid back and forth, gracing the bundle of nerves with friction. “But that can be fixed.”

You bit your lip. “I… I’m not— ah—”

One motion of his hand was particularly firm, the sensation it sent through your nerves so intense it was almost painful. Your hands shot forward, grasping at his wrist.

It was only when the motion stopped that you realized you’d erred — it was a habit of reflexively grabbing at his hands when a sensation was too intense, trying to pry them off — something he very much did not like you doing.

Sure enough, he sighed, frustration blatantly evident. You jerked your hands away, but it was already too late to take back the first offense.

“…Now,” he started, “Can you refrain from doing that again, or do I need to bind them?”

“I…” you paused, realizing you genuinely needed to think it through. You weren’t certain if you could abstain.

You felt him shift back, leaning away from your body.

“Well, that’s enough of an answer itself.”

You heard the rustling of clothes, felt movement behind you, and you turned your head over your shoulder just in time to see as he pulled off first the top layer, then the undershirt over his head and off his body. You made a soft sound as he then pushed down on your back with a firm touch, forcing you to lean forward, grasping at your hands and pulling them behind your back — firmly, enough to be a clear message to not try to dissuade him, but your pride, weak as it was, still couldn't let it happen with no objection at all.

“Wait, wait, I can do it, I don't need—”

“This is for your sake. Hold still.”

“But I—”

“Be still.” He spoke firmly, but softened his voice as he continued, “It’s not your fault for having that reflex… but you have to train yourself against it. You want to be good, don't you?”

You shut your mouth, nodding as you sounded an answer. “Mm-hm…”

Cloth wrapped tightly around your wrists, using one sleeve to bind them together. Not enough of a bind that you couldn’t break out with some effort, but just enough to keep you from reflexively trying to interfere.

“Now where were we…”

You were pulled back once more, perhaps even closer. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back.

And his hand quickly moved back down, and the bliss of shockwaves of pleasures overcame you once more. You whimpered, biting your lip.

His fingers pressed more firmly, rubbing circles into the nub, and for a moment, your wrists jerked against the bind as the reflex kicked in. It was too much at once, but now, you were prevented from doing anything about it. As he began to rub in circular motions, your body shuddered, and an involuntary moan came out of your throat — a wanton, shameful sound, laced with pleasure and lust.

“There you go.” You could feel him speak, shuddering at the vibration of his chest against your back and the warm breath against your ear. His other hand rolled your nipple between a finger and thumb. “Give into it.”

Your body trembled against his touch, and jolted as his own fingers pressed inside of you. His were longer, and the touches firmer, and the result was a degree of pleasure you were simply incapable of replicating on your own.

As much as you hated it — hated to think it, hated to acknowledge it, hated to try and not acknowledge it as the reality prodded at the back of your mind — he made you feel better than anything you had ever experienced, better than anything you could ever make yourself feel.

You whimpered, toes and fingers curling. Your hips moved, a rolling motion to meet each pressing movement.

A singular motion, and singular sound, both of which you near-immediately caught yourself doing, having been too lost in the feeling to think clearly. You cut off your voice and went still, but it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Don’t.” He didn’t stop moving his fingers as he spoke, instead pressing down with harsh force, essentially pulling you back closer to him with the hand partially inside you. “Holding yourself back like that is another form of dishonesty.”

You bit your lip, squeezing your eyes shut, but unable to form a response before he continued.

“And you wouldn’t want,” the fingers that had been gently tweaking at your breast pinched down hard, a momentary spark of pain and the lowering of his voice making you go tense, “to make this unpleasant because you couldn’t be good for me, would you?”

You shook your head back and forth with vigor. There were many punishments in your domestic repertoire that were unpleasant, and the thought of any of them made your heart skip a beat. “No, no, I don’t… want that…”

“Then you’re going to be honest, aren’t you?”

“Yes! Yes, I promise…”

“Mm.”

He kept rubbing his thumb against your clit, even in perfectly synched timing to each motion his fingers curled inward inside of you.

It was so pleasurable, so intense, it made you angry. Mad that he was capable of it, mad that his control over your body was greater than your own, and most of all, mad that he did it with such ease, effortless, that making you come undone entirely was something he mastered without ever being taught.

That pleasure began to build and build. You squirmed and whimpered, muscles throughout your body tensing and relaxing over and over. Your hips rolled into his hand. Each movement built the pressure in your body higher and higher, rapidly reaching a peak.

The edge that climax made you quiver, body and legs trembling.

“There it is…” his voice was so soft and gentle, soothing in a way it had no right to be.

The noise that came out of your mouth was nearly animal-like, a whimpering cry as you threw your head back, quivering and spasming. The waves of sensation pulsated throughout your body, reaching a peak and then beginning to ebb away.

You went limp, bodyweight falling back against his chest, heaving with heavy breaths. Your head felt as if it were spinning, and you stared forward in a dull stupor, body trembling with aftershock.

You twitched at the feeling of his fingers sliding out of you, with a wet squelching sound that made you shiver.

“Look at that…”

He spread his fingers apart, clear fluid forming a trail between them. You bit your lip, tilting your head downward in a futile attempt of avoidance of what you knew well came next — but that effort was quickly negated as he grabbed your jaw, turning your head back up and squeezing your face.

“Open.”

The force of the grip as he squeezed down more or less forced your jaw apart anyway. You didn't even get to take a breath before he pushed his fingers into your mouth, salty taste spreading over your tongue.

“Clean them off.”

Maybe it was a way of forcing you to acknowledge your own bodily reaction, even if you tried to deny it to yourself. Maybe it was much simpler than that — just another way to degrade you, or something simply arousing for him because it just was.

You complied nonetheless. Your tongue swirled around each finger, sucking and swallowing the taste of yourself. Even as he pulled his fingers back out, a string of saliva connected them to your tongue.

And then, after wiping his fingers off on the fabric around his thigh, he returned the arm to your waist, pulling you close, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“See… so much more at ease now, aren't you?”

That was one way to put it. You couldn't even bring words to your mind. Even processing what he said felt like a significant effort. Everything felt far away, your mind like a blank slate, numb and empty. Your body was even more exhausted, totally lax aside from involuntary twitches.

You made a soft sound as he turned your body to the side, just enough to look you face-to-face. Looking down at your watery eyes as they met his, the stupor in your expression, even as your brain began to clear, as if a machine turning back on after a few moments of darkness.

And he smiled. It was soft, full of endearment. And belittling. It was not made any better by the small chuckle he gave, patting the top of your head.

It burned in your chest, down into your stomach.

Your eyebrows furrowed and your lower lip quivered, an admittedly petulant pout. Shame formed a knot in your stomach. Disappointment in yourself, ending up like this again after swearing so many times over that this one would be the last, the last time you'd come apart so easily, the last time you'd find yourself spent and susceptible to the touch that seemed as if it were designed for your body.

And he laughed. An amused chuckle, patting your head.

“Mm. I had a feeling that wouldn't be quite enough.”

He leaned in, firmly grasping at your arms as you tried to squirm, bringing his mouth so close to yours, forehead resting against yours.

“But, that does admittedly work out for my sake.”

You grunted in surprise as he hooked his arm under your legs again, this time only lifting you just enough to set you down onto the padding of your bed, gently pushing on your shoulders until you were flat on your back, arched over your hands bound behind you.

“A-ah, I…” You swallowed, grasping at the sheets to the best of your ability. It was nothing you weren't anticipating, but the vulnerability made you tense.

It didn't help that he paused any motion, eyes trailing over your body, before reaching down and running his hands over your flesh, one moving to grip at your waist, the other your opposite hip. You couldn’t reach to cover yourself, forced to lay bare and vulnerable. Instinctively, you pressed your thighs together, but firm hands grabbed at the undersides, pushing them apart and positioning himself between them so you couldn’t close them again.

The former act was not enough. Putting you through the ordeal of being made to wait in jail like a child in time-out was not enough, exposing your body was not enough, toying with your body and forcing an acknowledgement of his own control was not enough.

Your lip trembled.

But anger still pervaded through your negative emotions. It compelled your courage, you felt defiance surging up. You had to look him in the eye, tell him exactly what you felt, tell him you knew what he was doing and push him off, then, maybe then you'd have the satisfaction of some sense of control.

You could do it. You had to.

“You… you're just doing the same thing as before!” Your eyebrows furrowed. “You’re trying to, to—”

“Again with this?” He tilted his head. “I really wish you wouldn’t assume such ill intent. This is how people love each other… you know that.”

You bit your lip. You almost, for just a second, fell for it, almost felt guilty. You shook your head forcefully, clearing your mind of the thought.

“No, I won't let you—”

And with that, there was a rapid shift in expression. His eyes narrowed in a piercing, foreboding look. You went silent.

Your shoulders stiffened. The words came out on impulse, resolve of defiance broken as quickly as it had formed. “I'm— I'm sorry—”

Dammit.

For once, the dark expression did not shift back to pleasant as soon as you apologized — an indicator of having gone too far. His hand slowly reached up, this time not in a loving caress or gentle-but-firm grip, but outright harsh grip on your jaw.

“You…”

He tilted his head forward to more directly look you in the eye. His voice was low and cold, making your heart race further.

“Do not ‘let’ anyone do anything.”

His fingertips pressed into your flesh, squeezing your face between them.

“I know you understand your place. Don’t behave as if you don’t.” Finally, his voice softened as he finished, “I can’t help you if you keep fighting me every step of the way. So… you’ll control yourself, won’t you?”

You swallowed, nodding your head, twitching as the motion made his fingernails dig into your cheeks.

“You know I don’t like being so harsh with you, don’t you?”

You nodded again.

“Good.” He leaned down and pressed his mouth to yours. Only for a short, chaste moment, but a slow, sensual motion nonetheless. You closed your eyes, tuning out the rustling clothes, heavily breathing with anticipation.

“You’ll have to forgive me for this. This whole ordeal has been stressful for me as well.”

You didn’t get time to ask what he meant — he rammed himself into you all at once, completely stuffing your body in one rough, forceful motion.

You cried out, back arching and body stiffening. You felt your insides clamp down, pulsating against the intrusion.

His hands tightened their grip on your waist, holding you still as the momentary sting ebbed away.

“There you go… calm down.”

You felt him slide out, then push back in, the latter movement sending sparks of sensation running up your spine, causing you to go tense all over again.

Your breathing became ragged, legs twitching and spasming at the sensation. You tried, without thinking, to snap them shut, but it only resulted in effectively squeezing his waist with you thighs.

The intensity of the sensation naturally induced a reflex of strain and exertion to your muscles, a need to channel the feeling through your body, causing your toes to curl, your thighs clamping down harder, quivering at the bare touch of flesh to flesh. You closed your eyes, but couldn't drown out the sound of skin making contact to yours, the sound itself increasingly accompanied by a wet squelching as skin met fluid with each passing second, leaking out of your body.

“You're so much more honest like this.” You could hear just the slightest strain in his voice, otherwise so very composed to perfection. “So meek… it's lovely. Once that resistance in you is fixed… you'll be perfect.”

You could see the corners of his mouth upturn into a look of amusement.

“You should see yourself.”

Your body stiffened, but all you could do was whimper. The words felt like a cold knife to the stomach — and you knew he knew that. Knew that that moment was you at your must vulnerable, the peak of awareness of your own helplessness, the moment you felt the most degraded, and yet, it still wasn't enough.

He leaned in close, speaking directly into your ear, so close you could feel the warmth as he spoke, never ceasing to move all the while.

“Whimpering and drooling like that,” he murmured. “You're trembling… and that expression on your face is so adorable. Like you can't even think straight.” He leaned back up, enough to look you in the eye — now welling with tears.

And again, he only smiled.

“How precious.”

His hands ran down your body, grabbed at your hips, and began to pull you, jerking your body back and forth to meet his own movements.

It was too much. Even with the knot of emotion in your stomach, you felt a hot, tingling pressure build in your body. Your legs quivered, the wanton little sounds from your throat higher and higher.

You didn't want that. It was the final part of this ritual that so demeaned you, one more confirmation of his control of you. You pressed your hands into the mat, trying to push yourself back — but it was only met with a harsh pull, forcing your body back until you practically slammed against his hips.

“Don't fight.”

It was the last thing you heard. You threw your head back as the sensation became overwhelming, back arching and eyes rolling back as the feeling reached a peak. You could only faintly register the high-pitched sound that sounded as if it couldn't be you, a voice you didn't recognize.

And then it began to ebb away. A hazy stupor filled the void as the pleasure dissipated, a feeling of exhaustion. Your weight went limp.

You made a soft sound as he grasped your jaw again, turning your head just enough to place another kiss to your lips.

“There you go. Look at you now… all that stress and in you, totally gone. You can see it in your eyes, even.”

He paused before adding,

“Well, gone for now. I'll have to start monitoring for it more closely.”

You shuddered at the sensation as he slid out of you, fluid spilling out onto the sheets.

You felt him reach behind you, untying your wrists — you brought your arms to the front of your body, but the forearms only laid useless, having fallen asleep from your weight.

He came to rest beside you, upper body slightly propped up on his elbow, head resting in his hand, looking down at you with adoration and endearment.

And you were so, so weak. So much weaker than you wished you were, body, mind and spirit alike. So weak that, in the rush of emotions that followed, you found yourself slowly crawling forward, burying your face against his chest with a pathetic little noise.

“Poor thing. Maybe that was a bit too much for you…”

His arm reached behind your back and pulled you close, and the comfort you felt seemed to melt your mind into nothingness.

“You should rest for a while,” he continued, “then we'll get you cleaned off. We have a few hours before you'll need to be ready.”

After a moment to process the words, you tilted your head up with the softest of inquisitive noises. The cold, creeping dread began to spread through your stomach once more.

He seemed to realize, then, that you didn’t understand.

“Ah, right, you wouldn't have known.” He reached out with the hand he wasn’t leaning on, brushing his fingers over your scalp. “While you were gone, I sent someone to arrange a house visit with a psychiatrist… a private one that works for families such as ours.”

His words certainly didn’t help soothe your nerves. Your mouth felt dry. Your voice came out weak, hesitant, part of you not wanting to ask, lest you learn an unpleasant answer.

“…Why?”

He tilted his head in just the slightest, loose strands of hair shifting and waving with the motion. “Well, keeping your needs in check does help with your condition, but I’ve realized it would do you good to have a secondary means to treat your hysteric tendencies as well.”

“My…” You swallowed. “My what?” The words slowly pieced together in your mind, hitting you with a sense of dread and confusion. You squirmed backwards, shifting just a bit away from him. “There's… nothing wrong with me…”

“Of course, of course, there’s nothing wrong, that’s…” He spoke in a reassuring sort of tone, as if to comfort you. “…A harsh choice of phrasing. You just need some help, is all.” After a moment of pause, he added, “don't worry, it's perfectly normal that you aren't self-aware of it. That's usually how these illnesses work.”

His arm reached out further, pulling you back towards him, pressing your bodies together before he continued.

“He’s just required to see you in-person for a little while before giving you anything. Regulations and all. We’re just going to get you something to make you a little more… docile.”

His arm wrapped around your body, and he pulled his head back just a bit to look you in the eye, smiling with endearment.

“Ah, I can tell by your face that you’re nervous. Don’t worry, I'll be there throughout the whole thing… I'll answer any questions, you just sit there quietly, alright?” He pulled you a bit closer, planting an affectionate, short kiss to the top of your head. “I know that sort of thing is a lot on your nerves.”

If your trembling could be felt, he didn’t say anything about it, only carrying on with his gently-spoken words.

“We won’t have to worry about you having these… irrational escapades anymore. And you’ll be so much happier, too.”

You felt his hand on your back, firmly in place — you were pressed so close together that there was no need to pull you any closer, but perhaps he wanted to be sure you couldn’t pull away.

“So… rest for now, alright?”

Mind and heart alike racing, in your stupor, you let the pause linger for too long. The hand on your back began to close in on itself, fingernails brushing against your skin just enough to send the faintest of pains up your spine.

You had no strength left in you to give anything other than the correct answer.

“Okay...”

He only gave you a hum of acknowledgement, and began to stroke your back up and down, a pattern that should have been comforting and soothing, yet was anything but. Exhaustion wore on your body, but even as you forced yourself to close your eyes, true rest was nowhere to be found.

#awful men portraying themselves as selfless/benevolent >>>>>#genshin smut #.ay

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halfusek · 5 months ago

Text

Something inky this way comes! The Ink Demonth emerges once again!

The Ink Demonth is a 31-day event dedicated to the game Bendy and the Ink Machine (and other games associated with the Bendy universe). It’s based on daily themes. As long as your creation involves elements from the game along with any interpretation of the respective day’s theme – it counts!

You don’t have to create something for each day, make as many creations as you’d like. However, if you manage to do all 31 of them, you can submit a form to receive a little gift (drawing request)! In the form, you will have to provide a link to each of your posted event submissions (it doesn’t have to be Tumblr, just a site that’s publically accessible!).

Here is the link to the form (it will be opened from September 1st to September 30th 2024):

Tag your creations with #The Ink Demonth and #Bendy and the Ink Machine. It’s important if you want to have your entry reblogged by me, which I’m going to do to everything I’ll see in this tag. (So don’t @ me, just tag it with the event’s tag and the game’s name. It’s possible that your post may not show up in the tags, if you notice that I’m not reblogging your entries for a longer while, feel free to DM them directly to me on Tumblr. My focus will be mainly on Tumblr, I may interact with posts on other sites but it is going to be with whatever I run into, as this event is Tumblr-focused. Feel free to post on other sites too, though!)

(And, though I think it goes without saying, if I notice a post containing something I consider harmful content, I will not reblog it and will warn the creator of such content that, depending on the case, they cannot continue to take part in the event with content like this or perhaps even not at all.)

Remember to tag only the finished entries, so the tag isn’t clogged with WIPs!

You can create whatever you’d like! Draw a picture! Write a fic! Do a video edit! Take a cosplay photo! Anything you can come up with that is a creative interpretation of that day’s theme!

(Don’t try to „cheat the system”, though – don’t submit a, let’s say, straight line for each day, I will notice this kind of spam and remember: spamming is a terrible sin. You can make an entry that covers a few themes but as long as you don’t create 31 things, the gift will not be granted to you.)

The event starts on the 1st of August and ends on the 31st. Although, don’t worry if you’re too busy in August, late entries are always welcome! (…for reblogging, as for drawing gifts I’m going to give all of you an extra month, so if you’re aiming for that, the end of September is your deadline.)

Why in August? I figured that since August is the month on Joey’s calendar in his apartment and August is the month during which BatIM takes place, it should be the one!

Please, make sure to tag appropriate trigger/content warnings!

Thank you for taking your time to read this. Reblogs are appreciated in order to get the word out.

Have fun everyone! 💛🖤

The themes this year have been thought out with the contribution of @sillyarchliker @insane-control-room @nayialovecat @skxllbxnny @doodle17 @ashciz @twinscovercorner @yellowmellow182 @lil-artist-blog-fandoms-ocs @a-vast-horizon @archer-kacey and from Twitter whom I can't tag here @AnaXisca @Josie57943943 @SirKeophimanh @BeyzaTheArtis @MadHatterison1 @GammaRoomba20

Thank you all for the theme suggestions! <3

You can view this year's themes in text under the cut~

Nostalgia

Tea

Hoax

Umbrella

Secret

Drop

Projection

Line

Record

Exhibit

Melody

Copy

Bow

Steam

Draft

Erase

Sailor

Rival

Hide

Gossip

Sillyvision

Heartbeat

Stairs

Obsession

Offering

Mask

Revenge

Regret

Queer

Cage

The End

#bendy and the ink machine #batim #bendy and the dark revival #batdr #the ink demonth #bendy fandom #halfpost #halfart

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novaursa · 2 months ago

Text

To Win a Princess (coming to light)

- Summary: Once you come of age, the realm seeks to curry the King's favor once more by seeking a hand of his younger daughter. You.

- Paring: targ!reader/Tyland Lannister

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Previous part: stolen moments

- Next part: to refuse a dragon

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The echo of Tyland’s boots on the stone floor of the Red Keep’s corridors is a steady rhythm as he makes his way to the small council chamber. His thoughts are focused, and his demeanor calm, though his mind occasionally drifts to the secret he holds so close to his heart. The week has passed smoothly, with no outward signs of suspicion from those around him, but in the Red Keep, secrets are as fragile as spider’s silk—and just as easily tangled.

As he nears the council chamber, a quiet voice cuts through the stillness, halting him in his tracks.

“Lord Tyland.”

Turning, Tyland meets the sharp, penetrating gaze of Lord Larys Strong. The man is in a shadowed alcove, his expression unreadable yet bearing that subtle, unsettling intensity that Larys wields like a blade. He moves forward, his limp giving his steps a soft, uneven rhythm, yet his presence carries an eerie weight.

“Lord Larys,” Tyland greets, keeping his voice neutral, his gaze calm. “A pleasant surprise, seeing you here before the council meets.”

Larys inclines his head slightly, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Indeed. It seems I find myself in the right place at the right time.” His gaze sharpens, and there’s a faint gleam of something curious, almost predatory, in his eyes. “Or perhaps… the right place to encounter the right people.”

Tyland raises an eyebrow, his expression politely attentive, though his instincts warn him to tread carefully. “You speak in riddles, Lord Larys. I would assume the council chamber is precisely where one would expect to find the councilors.”

Larys chuckles, a quiet, unsettling sound. “Quite so. But it is not the council alone that interests me.” He pauses, his gaze slipping to Tyland’s face, lingering as though searching for something beneath the surface. “I have observed, Lord Tyland, that you’ve taken… a rather keen interest in certain matters of the court lately.”

Tyland’s eyes narrow ever so slightly, though he maintains a neutral expression. “My duties require a certain attentiveness, Lord Larys. I would hope that is true of all who serve the council.”

Larys tilts his head, his gaze sly. “Oh, of course. But one cannot help but notice when a man’s attention is… especially focused. Especially when such focus falls upon matters of a more personal nature.”

A faint chill pricks along Tyland’s spine, though he holds his composure, meeting Larys’s gaze with steady calm. “If you’re suggesting something, Lord Larys, I encourage you to speak plainly. I would hate for there to be any misunderstandings.”

Larys’s smile widens, though it remains as enigmatic as ever. “Plain speech can be so limiting, wouldn’t you agree? I find there is often more truth in what is left unsaid.” He pauses, letting his gaze drift over Tyland’s face with a thoughtful air. “For instance, when I notice a man casting discreet glances toward… certain young ladies of the court. Such observations can say quite a bit without a single word.”

Tyland’s jaw tightens imperceptibly, but he responds with a carefully measured tone. “If I have cast any glances, Lord Larys, I assure you they have been entirely appropriate for a man of my station. One cannot avoid seeing members of the court.”

“Ah,” Larys murmurs, nodding with feigned understanding. “Entirely appropriate, then. Of course.” His gaze lingers on Tyland with an intensity that feels like fingers pressing against a wound, searching for a reaction. “Though I do wonder… would such appropriateness extend to, say, a certain princess? A princess who, herself, has been the subject of much speculation regarding her… alliances?”

Tyland holds his ground, his face impassive though his mind races, carefully choosing each word. “Princess Y/N is a member of the royal family. Any interest in her alliances is to be expected, given her standing. It would be strange if there were not speculation about her future.”

“Strange indeed.” Larys’s voice is soft, almost musing, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes as he watches Tyland with unnerving patience. “Yet, some speculations bear more weight than others. And some… well, some draw a man’s attention quite strongly, wouldn’t you say?”

Tyland’s voice remains steady, his gaze unwavering. “It is the duty of every nobleman to consider the future of the realm, and the royal family’s alliances play a significant role in that future. I would think that’s true for every man on this council.”

Larys gives a slight nod, as though considering this. “True enough,” he concedes, though his eyes remain fixed on Tyland’s face, still searching, probing. “But I find it fascinating, Lord Tyland, that your interest in such matters seems… singularly dedicated. It’s rare to see such focus from a man otherwise known for his reserve.”

Tyland tilts his head, his expression a mask of mild confusion. “I assure you, Lord Larys, my focus remains as broad as my duties require. Any insinuation otherwise is simply that—an insinuation.”

Larys smiles, his eyes narrowing with a kind of dark amusement. “Perhaps so. I wouldn’t presume to suggest otherwise. Still… the walls of the Red Keep have eyes and ears, as you well know. Secrets can be so… fragile, can’t they?”

Tyland’s face doesn’t falter, though he feels the weight of Larys’s words pressing down, like a blade hovering just above his neck. “That’s true, Lord Larys. Which is why I take great care to ensure that there are no misunderstandings regarding my intentions.”

Larys chuckles softly, his gaze alight with a mix of admiration and intrigue. “Ah, you are a careful man, Lord Tyland. I do appreciate that.” He pauses, leaning in ever so slightly. “But even the most careful of men can sometimes… leave trails. Little hints. Whispers.” His voice lowers to a murmur, each word dripping with veiled meaning. “Especially when some matters become… matters of the heart.”

Tyland meets Larys’s gaze head-on, a faint smile touching his lips as he matches the other man’s tone with equal subtlety. “I would think, Lord Larys, that such matters—if they exist—are best left unspoken. Especially when they involve people of great importance. Surely you agree that idle speculation can be dangerous in a place like this.”

Larys’s eyes glint with satisfaction, a hint of victory as though he has gleaned precisely what he wished from the exchange. “Of course, Lord Tyland. Silence, after all, can be the most eloquent language.” He tilts his head, offering a small, mocking bow. “I shall leave you to your duties… and your careful observations.”

Tyland nods, his tone cool but polite. “Thank you, Lord Larys. I trust you’ll remember the value of discretion, as any man of your position would.”

Larys’s smile widens, his gaze lingering on Tyland for one last, chilling moment. “Oh, I am always discreet, Lord Tyland. Rest assured, I am simply… observing. Enjoy the council meeting.” And with that, he turns, his uneven steps echoing down the hallway as he slips back into the shadows.

The small council chamber is filled with the low murmurs of lords and advisors, each seated around the table as they review the pressing matters of the realm. Tyland takes his seat, his expression calm and attentive, though the lingering discomfort from his encounter with Larys remains, gnawing quietly at the back of his mind. He keeps his gaze forward, focusing on the discussions, hoping to silence the unease that Larys’s subtle insinuations have left him with.

Viserys presides over the meeting, his gaze moving between his advisors with a mixture of patience and weariness. Lord Jasper Wylde brings forward concerns regarding trade routes in the Reach, and Grand Maester Mellos delves into the growing need for more grain stores to prepare for the coming winter. Each matter is met with careful deliberation, and Tyland contributes when called upon, his mind slipping into the familiar rhythm of council duties.

But as the final matters are concluded and the council begins to settle, Otto Hightower clears his throat, his gaze shifting meaningfully toward Viserys. His expression is composed, though there’s a glint of calculated intent in his eyes.

“Your Grace,” Otto begins smoothly, his voice carrying a measured politeness. “If I may, I wished to address a more personal matter. It regards Princess Y/N… and my son, Gwayne.”

Viserys sighs, a look of mild exasperation flickering across his face, though he nods for Otto to continue.

Otto’s gaze flickers briefly to Tyland before he focuses once more on the King. “It has come to my attention that, yet again, the princess has refused Gwayne’s latest courting gift. A beautifully crafted piece of jewelry, fit for a lady of her station… and yet it seems she found no favor in it.”

There’s a subtle emphasis in Otto’s tone, a touch of disappointment mingled with a father’s frustration. The other councilors exchange looks, a few raising their eyebrows, as though finding the matter amusing or perhaps indicative of some youthful caprice on the princess’s part.

Viserys rubs his temple, clearly worn by the ongoing matter. “Yes, I’m aware,” he replies, a touch of resignation in his tone. “Y/N has her own mind, Otto. Perhaps Gwayne’s gifts simply don’t appeal to her.”

Otto inclines his head, though his expression remains mildly critical. “Of course, Your Grace. And while I respect her autonomy, I would hope she understands the respect and devotion my son has shown her. He is, after all, a suitable match, one of honor and loyalty. It would not do to disregard such a connection so… lightly.”

A flicker of irritation rises within Tyland at Otto’s words, and before he can rein it in, he finds himself speaking, his tone sharper than intended. “The princess is well within her rights to choose whom she accepts gifts from, Lord Hand. Refusing a trinket does not mean she lacks respect for Gwayne, nor does it make her ungrateful.”

The room falls silent, a stillness settling over the council as every eye turns toward Tyland. The fervor in his words, the defensiveness, is unmistakable, and it’s clear that his reaction is far more intense than the situation may warrant. Tyland catches himself, realizing too late the heat in his tone, the way it must have sounded. He clears his throat, attempting to mask the sudden tension in his voice.

“Forgive me,” he adds, his voice calmer but more guarded. “I merely meant that the princess should not feel obligated to accept every gesture, simply out of courtesy.”

Otto’s gaze sharpens, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies Tyland with a hint of suspicion, as though noting the unusual passion in his defense. There’s a flicker of curiosity in his gaze, a subtle glint that suggests he’s already weaving implications in his mind.

Grand Maester Mellos coughs lightly, breaking the silence, though his gaze also rests briefly on Tyland before he turns back to the King. “The young princess is indeed entitled to her preferences, Your Grace. Matters of the heart can be… delicate.”

Jasper Wylde chuckles, attempting to lighten the mood. “Aye, let the girl have her own mind. It’d do no good to force her hand, even for the finest of gifts.”

But Viserys, who has been watching Tyland with a thoughtful expression, finally speaks, his tone measured, though there’s a hint of curiosity in his gaze as it rests on the Lannister lord.

“Thank you, Tyland,” Viserys says slowly, his words carrying a subtle weight. “For defending my daughter… even if with a rather unusual fervor.”

Tyland feels the weight of Viserys’s gaze, the King’s words settling over him with a quiet, pointed awareness. There’s a glimmer of understanding in Viserys’s eyes, an unspoken curiosity that seems to linger, though he does not voice it aloud.

Tyland inclines his head, keeping his expression carefully composed. “Of course, Your Grace. I simply believe the princess deserves the freedom to make her own choices, without undue pressure.”

Viserys nods, a faint smile touching his lips, though his gaze remains shrewd, as though he’s seen more than Tyland intended to reveal. “As do I, Lord Tyland. I appreciate your… loyalty to her.”

Otto, though outwardly composed, watches the exchange with a slight furrow in his brow, his eyes flicking between Viserys and Tyland with a calculating gleam. He clears his throat, his tone smooth as he addresses Viserys once more. “Your Grace, of course, the princess’s wishes are paramount. Gwayne’s intentions remain sincere, though I am certain he would respect her decisions… whatever they may be.”

Viserys nods, though his attention seems half-distracted, still lingering on Tyland, as though reevaluating his understanding of the Lannister lord. He gives Otto a dismissive nod, as though signaling an end to the matter.

“Thank you, Otto. And thank Gwayne for his continued interest. But let us allow Y/N the space she needs to consider her own path.”

Otto nods, a trace of reluctance in his expression, though he offers a respectful bow of his head. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

With the matter settled, the council resumes its usual business, yet Tyland can feel the occasional glances cast his way, a lingering sense of suspicion hovering in the room. He keeps his expression carefully neutral, determined to give no further cause for speculation. But as the meeting draws to a close, he catches one last look from Viserys—a glance filled with a silent, knowing curiosity that promises this matter is far from forgotten.

You and Rhaenyra sit on a private balcony, a gentle breeze wafting through the lush greenery that surrounds the table. Plates of fresh fruit, bread, and cold meats lie between you, a modest spread meant for an easy, informal meal. It’s rare to have moments like these, just the two of you, away from the prying eyes of the court, and you savor the comfort of your sister’s company.

Rhaenyra lifts her goblet, sipping thoughtfully as she watches you with a mischievous glint in her eye. After a moment, a smirk tugs at the corner of her lips, and she sets the goblet down, folding her hands under her chin as she studies you.

“So,” she begins, a playful edge to her tone. “Are you going to tell me what has you so enraptured with Tyland Lannister, or shall I keep guessing? He must be… something else, to hold my sister’s favor all this time.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning back in your seat, amused by her probing. “Oh, so now it’s my turn to be interrogated?” you counter, laughing softly. “What would you like to know, dear sister?”

Rhaenyra grins, leaning forward, her gaze curious yet teasing. “Everything. I can see it, you know—the way he looks at you, the way you look at him. You don’t hide it as well as you think. Besides,” she adds, lowering her voice, “it’s refreshing to see you allow yourself to… indulge.”

You smirk, meeting her gaze with an amused glint of your own. “If I recall, I’m not the only one here with secrets. And you’re one to speak of indulgence… shall I ask you about Ser Harwin Strong?”

Rhaenyra’s expression flickers with surprise, though she quickly recovers, waving a hand dismissively. “Oh, that is entirely different,” she insists, though a faint blush tinges her cheeks. “Laenor and I have an understanding. What I do is… within our agreement.”

“Then consider my actions within my own ‘understanding,’” you reply smoothly, an amused smile on your lips. “After all, aren’t we all allowed a little happiness?”

Rhaenyra laughs, shaking her head as she picks up a slice of pear. “Touché. But, little sister, you know well enough that the eyes of the whole realm are upon you. Especially now, with every lord vying to win your hand.” She arches an eyebrow, her tone both warm and cautious. “It’s not the same as it is for me. My own dalliances are protected by Laenor’s position. But you… your choice will shape alliances, shift power. You’re under the scrutiny of every noble family and councilman.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes slightly, though you know her concern comes from a place of care. “I’m aware, Rhaenyra. Believe me, Father has reminded me of it more times than I can count.”

Rhaenyra chuckles, though her gaze remains observant, picking up the smallest hints in your expression. “Yes, I’m sure he has. Still… that doesn’t mean I don’t admire your boldness. There’s something rather exciting about it, don’t you think?”

You smile, a soft warmth spreading through you at the thought of Tyland, of the quiet moments you’ve shared, hidden from the world. “Perhaps. Or perhaps I simply grew tired of doing what was expected of me.”

Rhaenyra grins, clearly pleased. “Now that sounds more like the sister I know.”

She reaches for another piece of fruit, pausing as her gaze flicks thoughtfully out to the courtyard below. “Oh, and speaking of the realm’s attention…” she says, her tone growing more playful. “I couldn’t help but notice Gwayne sulking about recently, looking rather pitiful. I wonder if that’s your doing?”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Gwayne? Hardly. If he chooses to sulk, that’s his own business.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes sparkle with amusement, clearly enjoying the idea. “Well, it seems he feels otherwise. The poor boy looks positively heartbroken. Perhaps he thought his latest gift would finally win you over.”

You roll your eyes, letting out a soft scoff. “Gwayne is… persistent, but I can’t say he’s anything more than that. I’m sure he’ll recover soon enough.”

Rhaenyra leans back, chuckling as she watches you. “Ah, I see. So, Tyland has claimed all of your attention, then?” She raises an eyebrow, clearly savoring your reaction. “Tell me, does he live up to the tales I’ve heard of Lannisters? Wealthy, charming, and cunning, yet with hearts locked behind iron gates?”

You smirk, meeting her gaze with a playful glint in your eye. “He has his own charms, yes. But those tales don’t capture everything.”

Rhaenyra sighs, pretending to look dreamy. “Well, whatever it is, you certainly seem smitten. Not that I can blame you. Tyland has the reputation of being more than just his brother’s shadow—quiet, yet always watching, always a step ahead.”

You nod, a gentle fondness creeping into your voice. “Yes, he’s… careful. Steady. But there’s more to him than even he lets on.”

Rhaenyra watches you, a warm, knowing smile on her face. “Well, then, I’ll make sure to keep your secret safe, for as long as you need it.” She pauses, tilting her head as she regards you. “But when the time comes… don’t wait too long to make your choice known. There are many who would question your discretion, and you know how quickly whispers turn to rumors.”

You reach across the table, taking her hand with a grateful smile. “Thank you, Rhaenyra. I’ll reveal my choice when the time is right. But for now… let me enjoy these stolen moments.”

Rhaenyra squeezes your hand, her expression softening as she nods. “Then enjoy them well, sister. And may you find happiness in them, no matter what the world has to say.”

The two of you share a comfortable silence, savoring the warmth of the midday sun and the rare freedom of a quiet meal, knowing that for now, at least, you have each other’s confidence and support.

In the low glow of Tyland’s chambers, the world narrows to just the two of you, caught in the throes of passion, your breaths mingling as the intensity of the moment deepens, your bodies entwined as though nothing could part you. Tyland’s hands are firm and possessive, holding you close, his lips trailing over your skin, drawing soft gasps from you as you revel in the warmth of each other’s embrace. Every touch, every whispered word carries the weight of your feelings, an intensity that seems to transcend the walls around you.

But just as your bodies reach that feverish crescendo, a sharp knock echoes from the door, piercing the intimacy with a startling force. You both freeze, your heart hammering in your chest as your gaze meets Tyland’s, the spell of the moment broken by the unexpected intrusion.

Another knock sounds, more insistent this time, and you hastily pull yourself closer to him, whispering, “No one saw me come here. I used hidden passageways, as always.”

Tyland nods, his face tightening with irritation as he glances toward the door. He raises a hand, signaling for silence, and calls out, “One moment!” His voice is firm, but you can sense the frustration surfacing.

With a quiet sigh, he gently disentangles himself from you, slipping from the bed and quickly gathering his clothes, pulling them on with quick, practiced movements. He leans close, brushing a soft kiss against your forehead before whispering, “I’ll deal with this. Stay hidden.”

You nod, watching as he moves to the door, pulling the sheets around yourself and burrowing down into them, ensuring that you’re well out of sight should the door open wider than intended. Tyland takes a steadying breath, his hand lingering on the door handle before he cracks it open just enough to speak with whoever stands on the other side.

To his surprise, Ser Criston Cole stands there, his expression as grim and unyielding as ever. Tyland’s brows knit slightly as he faces the Kingsguard, hiding his irritation.

“Ser Criston,” he says, his voice cool, holding a note of curiosity. “What brings you here at this hour?”

Criston’s gaze is sharp, though he remains respectful, inclining his head slightly. “My lord, I apologize for the intrusion, but Queen Alicent has sent for Princess Y/N. She is not in her chambers, and it’s rather late. I was asked to check if you might know where she is.”

Tyland’s expression doesn’t falter, though there’s a flicker of annoyance that he quickly masks with a look of mild amusement. “The princess? Why would I know the whereabouts of the princess, Ser Criston?”

Criston studies Tyland’s face, clearly weighing his response. “It’s only that you are known to be… close to the family, my lord. The Queen thought perhaps you may have seen her in passing or might know if she has taken to any of the gardens or quieter courtyards.”

Tyland raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe as he gives Criston a faint, dismissive smile. “If she isn’t in her chambers, Ser Criston, then perhaps the princess wished for solitude. She is known to have a free spirit, after all.”

Criston’s jaw tightens subtly, though he keeps his tone polite. “Yes, my lord, but it’s unusual for her to disappear at this hour without notifying anyone.”

Tyland sighs, his voice taking on a mildly patronizing tone. “Well, as I said, I haven’t the faintest idea where she may be. Perhaps she’s taken to a late-night stroll, or perhaps she’s simply avoiding the endless summons to courtly matters. Young ladies, I’ve noticed, can be rather capricious.”

Criston hesitates, casting a quick, searching look around the corridor, as if hoping for some clue to materialize. Finally, he nods, though his expression remains wary. “Very well, Lord Tyland. Should you see her, please inform the Queen or myself.”

“Of course, Ser Criston,” Tyland replies smoothly, his tone unwavering. “If I happen to see the princess, I’ll be sure to tell her the Queen is waiting.”

With a final, assessing glance, Criston nods and steps back, his figure fading into the dimly lit corridor as he heads down the hall. Tyland watches until he’s certain the Kingsguard has gone, then closes the door softly, releasing a quiet, frustrated breath as he turns back to you.

Emerging from the tangle of sheets, you sit up, your face a mix of relief and lingering tension. “Do you think he suspects?”

Tyland shakes his head, though his expression is serious. “Not yet, but Ser Criston is not a fool. He’ll remember this night, so we must be even more careful from now on.”

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips as you reach for him, pulling him back down beside you. “It seems you handled him well enough,” you murmur, a note of pride in your voice. “And I… am grateful for it.”

Tyland’s expression softens, “I would do much more than that to protect you,” he whispers, his hands firm yet tender as they find their familiar places against your skin. The interruption has only stoked the fire between you, and he captures your lips with renewed urgency, a hunger in his kiss that speaks of the desire that has built up over all these stolen moments.

Your hands roam over his back, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch as his breath mingles with yours, both of you lost to the intensity of each other’s presence. He murmurs your name, his voice rough and filled with need, and his touch grows bolder, pressing you back into the soft pillows as the world outside fades away once more. Every movement, every whispered word is a testament to the connection you share, something fragile yet fiercely alive, hidden yet powerful in its secrecy.

Meanwhile, in the royal quarters of the Red Keep, Queen Alicent paces restlessly in her chambers, her expression tense as she turns to her husband, King Viserys, who reclines in his chair, looking visibly weary as he observes her.

“Viserys,” Alicent begins, her tone carefully controlled, though there’s an unmistakable edge of frustration beneath it. “Your youngest daughter is, once again, absent from her chambers. At this hour, and without any explanation.”

Viserys sighs heavily, rubbing a hand over his face as though to ward off yet another tedious discussion about his children’s whereabouts. “Alicent, Y/N is not a child. She doesn’t need constant supervision. She has a free spirit and her own preferences.”

Alicent’s lips press into a thin line, though she keeps her tone level, with that careful gentleness she often uses when addressing his daughters’ “unconventional” behaviors. “Viserys, it’s not just about her independence. It’s about propriety. She is of an age where people notice her comings and goings… and the court is always watching. This isn’t the first time she’s been missing from her chambers without notice.”

Viserys waves a dismissive hand, settling back in his chair as though wishing to end the conversation. “The court can concern itself with its own matters. I’m not interested in subjecting my daughter to endless scrutiny simply because some nobles feel entitled to know her every step.”

Alicent’s eyes narrow subtly, her expression turning thoughtful as she presses on, her words slow, calculated. “But, Viserys… there are expectations, especially for a young lady of her standing. She has yet to make her intentions clear regarding a suitor. Surely you can see how this… unpredictability may lead to questions.”

Viserys’s expression hardens, a flicker of impatience crossing his face as he meets her gaze directly. “Alicent, I know well enough the power of court gossip, but I’ll not have Y/N subjected to it unnecessarily. She has given me her word that she will reveal her choice when the time is right.”

Alicent’s lips purse, but she doesn’t back down, her tone turning pointed. “And how much longer must we wait, Viserys? Every day, the rumors grow, and with each unexplained absence, people will—”

“Enough.” Viserys’s voice is quiet but firm, cutting through her words with a finality that leaves no room for further argument. “I won’t tolerate this… insinuation, Alicent. Y/N is my daughter. She deserves our trust, not our suspicion.”

Alicent’s expression softens, though there’s a faint edge of frustration she can’t quite mask. “I only meant to say that I worry for her, Viserys. For her reputation, her future. As I do with Rhaenyra.”

Viserys’s gaze remains unyielding. “Y/N is not Rhaenyra. And I will not allow you to cast the same shadow of doubt over her. She is my child, and I trust her.”

A silence settles between them, thick with the tension of unspoken words. Alicent lowers her gaze, her lips pressing into a restrained line as she nods, accepting the boundary he has set, though it’s clear her concerns remain unresolved.

Viserys sighs, rubbing a hand over his face again, his expression softening as he leans back. “If there is something Y/N wishes to share, she will do so. Until then… let us give her the space she deserves.”

Alicent inclines her head, her expression schooled into one of reluctant acceptance, though her eyes flicker with a trace of lingering doubt as she rises, leaving the King to his thoughts.

Back in Tyland’s chambers, the world is far removed from the prying eyes of court and the whispered concerns that linger in the royal halls. Here, you are free, lost in the warmth and intimacy of Tyland’s arms, feeling each kiss, each touch with a passion that feels as boundless as the ocean. The night outside grows darker, but within these walls, your love is a bright, fierce flame, hidden yet undimmed, carrying with it the promise of every stolen moment still yet to come.

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd x you #asoiaf #hotd x y/n #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #fire and blood #hotd tyland #tyland lannister #tyland x reader #tyland x you #tyland x y/n #house lannister #house targaryen #to win a princess

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winwintea · 8 months ago

Text

how dreamies would react to bailing you out of jail

PAIRING ▸ dreamies x reader

TAGS ▸ none, except jail and chenle being rude at first, and oh karen renjun

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ i have never been arrested, i am a lawfully abiding citizen. have a nice day. i am perfectly normal and sane.

Mark Lee

Mark has never had to deal with the legal system before, so when he receives the phone-call from you, he’s really confused. “You’re… where?” He makes you repeat yourself and how you got in the situation. “What do you mean you can… ‘bail’ yourself out? Don’t you… have to be tried, like in front of a jury?” You have to explain to Mark how bails work, and eventually he begins to understand. “Don’t worry y/n… I’ll get you out, give me a second.” You can hear him leaving his room and running out, “CHENLE ?? CHENLE !! I NEED SOME CASH.”

Huang Renjun

Renjun is a little annoyed at first when he realizes that it’s the police station calling him and it involves you. “Well, what’d they do?” He asks, carefully, and as he listens to what the officers say, and his temper slowly starts to rise. “And you put them in jail for that?” He’s pissed off now. Not only was his day interrupted, but you got arrested for such a stupid reason. There was absolutely no reason why he needed to be involved either, so if they wanted him involved he would get involved. “You will be hearing from my lawyers…”

Lee Jeno

Jeno, like Mark, would be extremely confused on what exactly was going on. While he listened to you rant about what happened, and how you got put in jail, one thing would be on his mind: Were you a criminal now? He’s still technically trying to process everything that’s going on, nodding and expressing some “Uh-huh”s here and there to let him know you were listening, but his eyes are wide with concern. He really didn’t want you to become a criminal and agreed to buy your bail. (poor jeno)

Lee Donghyuck

Haechan cannot remain serious for once. He immediately lets out a giant laugh as soon as he hears what happened, “Yo, can you send me the mugshot? I might make some memes with it.” Obviously you aren’t too happy with this at all, and promptly hang up the call, stating that you were going to call someone else. 5 seconds later though, Haechan calls back, apologizing profusely, “SORRY. SORRY. I’LL PAY, I’LL PAY, SORRY”

Na Jaemin

Jaemin is both disappointed in you, but still worried for your wellbeing, so obviously he agrees to come bail you out, “Are you okay? I’m coming… to pick you up, don’t be scared.” When he arrives at the cell, he immediately scolds you, which he deems as appropriate payment for him having to drive over and rescue you. However, Jaemin will absolutely defend you all the way. Once he pays the bail bondsman, he then turns his attention to the officers, “Look at that face officer! Does that look like the face of a criminal to you?” It’s not until you beg him to leave that he finally gives up arguing with them.

Zhong Chenle

Chenle does not want to help you at all, “I don’t have time sorry.” (okay rude) But Chenle’s biggest mistake was calling you on facetime. You started crying and rambling about how your life was over, and how you were going to get sentenced to jail time, and this did the trick. “Okay. Fine FINE. I’M GOING.” He ends up paying a hefty sum to get your name cleared from the records and so there will be no trial for you! He doesn’t even ask if you did it or not. This is lowkey illegal and corrupt, but Chenle just doesn’t want to see you upset, and who are you to complain?

Park Jisung

Jisung is somehow so calm about the situation? Like, hearing that you got arrested doesn’t even phase him, “Where you at, send me the location, I’ll pick you up.” You’re shocked too, because you expected him to be in panic mode, but he just comes, does the whole bail process like it’s nothing and takes you home. When you’re in the car with him you can’t help but ask why he was so resolute about the whole situation. Jisung just gives you a nonchalant look, “It’s not the first time I’ve done this. Don’t do it again though.”

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 11 days ago

Note

How do you get into writing fanfiction, if you do write? Because I want to write but at the same time I don't want to feel stupid for putting it out there.

I do write. sweetbutterbliss on ao3, if you're so inclined. And I think that's the beauty of ao3. It's not like you'll have some editor tearing your stuff apart or it's part of your livelihood. It's just fun. If you want to write, write. Maybe some of your first attempts will be trite and confusing. That's why they're called rough drafts. You got this.

Obviously I also read a LOT of fics. And here's my biggest advice as a reader and writer:

Don't put yourself down in the summary. "I suck at summaries" or "This is terrible but please read it anyway." I absolutely won't read it.

Please use paragraph breaks. My old lady eyes cannot handle a huge block of text.

Tag appropriately. Major Character Death, anything that could trigger someone, etc.

Don't refer to your characters as "the brunette." or "the taller man" or "the older man" especially if we already know their name. Have faith in your readers, they'll know who's talking.

Wary and weary mean two different things. A lot has a space in it. Spell out come not cum.

Don't change the publish date so that your fic will keep showing up on the first page. It's rude.

Slow burn/slow build does not mean a meandering plot that has no ending. It's a build up to something with little hints or sparks on the way.

And most importantly, ignore all of these if you want. Tell me to fuck off and write what you want. There are veerrrry popular fics that I can't even finish. So what do I know. Let me know if you publish something so I can check it out.

#teen wolf #writing #ao3 #advice

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stormz369 · 2 months ago

Text

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 18

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: use of mommy/mama as a pet name (non-sexual), vague talk about troubled childhoods, sort of a found-family thing?, brief encounter with a grocery store Karen wc: 2.7k Disclaimer: I am very white, everything I write about Damian's cultural background is coming from 1) internet research on Damian 1.5) pestering my comic reader friend about Damian/Talia/Ra's al Ghoul (but so far he's basically said that DC really does stand for Disregard Canon, so I can reasonably do whatever works for my narrative and it'll be canon friendly somewhere) and 2) internet research on Arabic cultural practices/foods/etc.

I always endeavor to write about others' cultures with respect or not at all, and to put in an appropriate amount of research to get details as right as possible. That being said, I am human, and don't always know what to look for to get the information I need. If you know that something I've included is culturally incorrect please do feel free to tell me (if you have the emotional bandwidth)! I cannot emphasize enough how important it is to me that I write about Damian's Arabic heritage correctly and with respect, and any rewriting/research guidance offered will always be greatly appreciated and credit given where due! If you wish to provide feedback anonymously, feel free to send them as asks, but please do include an emoji or something I can use to credit you for your emotional labor in the applicable chapters! And thank you in advance! This is where I got the info about ma'amoul cookies, if anyone is interested!

Chapter Selection

I woke sandwiched between the boys; Jason's arms were wrapped around my waist, and Damian's back was pressed into my chest. I smiled softly, gently stroking his hair. He groaned softly and flipped around, cuddling into me.

Jason shifted, stroking my side. “Mh … morning~”

“Morning~” I whispered, smiling softly.

He sat up, stretching a bit. “... He looks downright peaceful with you…”

“Like he feels safe?”

“… Yeah. … I'm glad you can give him that. … He's been through alot.”

I nodded, stroking his hair more. “I can tell. … I like letting him be a kid.”

Jason nodded, leaning over to kiss my temple. “I think he likes it too. … I'll make breakfast~”

I nodded, holding Damian close. He sighed softly, snuggling in more. Eventually, the smells of breakfast cooking wafted into the room, and Damian's eyes slowly fluttered open. The instant he realized how close we were he darted back, almost falling off the edge of the bed. After a moment he looked away awkwardly, clearing his throat.

“... Um … th- thank you, for … everything.”

I nodded, sitting up. “Of course. Anything you want to do today?”

He frowned a bit. “... Is Todd working tonight?”

“I think so. You wanna do something fun when he goes?”

“... If you don't mind?”

“I don't mind.” I smiled softly. He flushed a bit, smiling into his chest.

“Ok … Thanks.”

I nodded, stretching. “Jay's making breakfast.”

He nodded, getting up and grabbing his clothes. I checked my phone, frowning a bit when I saw that Bruce had texted.

Bruce: Is Damian alright? 9:05am Me: Yes, he's ok 10:45am Bruce: Jason said one of his teachers said something about him? He said you were very upset about it. 10:48am Me: Yes, the math teacher. It was inexcusable, and I made sure she knew it. Jason got him switched into a new math class, so it shouldn't be a problem anymore 10:49am Bruce: Very good. … Jason also mentioned that Damian seemed to think he had to let them talk about him like that? 10:53am Me: He thought calling them out qualified as misbehaving 10:55am Bruce: … I'll speak to him when he gets home. Obviously I don't want him to put up with that. 10:57am Me: … Maybe not so obviously. I think he was worried about disappointing you. He seemed more concerned with how dealing with it would affect you publicly than with how it was affecting him to hear it 11:00am Bruce: … I'll fix this. 11:02am

I sighed softly. Somehow I doubted Bruce could fix it just like that. I changed into some casual clothes and joined the boys in the kitchen. Jason slid a few pancakes onto a plate for me and kissed my cheek.

“Thanks, pumpkin~”

Damian snorted softly, smirking at Jason. “... ‘Pumpkin’?”

I smirked back, leaning forward; “careful, kiddo. I can think of plenty of fun nicknames for you too, my little jellybean~”

He grimaced. “Ugh..”

“No? You don't like that? How about cutie patootie? Angel pie? Honey-bunch?”

Damian groaned, shaking his head. “Nooo! Gross!”

Jason chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Ok, mama, he's had enough.”

Damian froze, frowning. His walls shot right back up, and his voice was sharp; “... She is not my mother.”

“And thank God for that.” Jason rolled his eyes. “Your mother's a real piece of work. Trade up while the trading's good.”

Damian frowned more, staring into his plate. “... Mother is a … complicated woman. But she's my mother.”

My heart ached at how carefully he said it. Complicated was the nicest thing he could think to say about her? “... I'm sure she loves you, kiddo.”

Damian's jaw clenched as he nodded. “Yes, she does.”

Jason frowned a bit. “... In her way.”

We spent the weekend in a domestic bubble; we cooked together, watched movies, played games, and after Jason went to work Damian and I played with his craft kits. Watching him relax into the little family unit we established for ourselves almost made me wonder if he really was starting to view me as a maternal figure. I didn't mind if he was, but I wasn't sure how much I should lean into it. As with most things with Damian, I decided it was best to let him set the pace.

The next Friday night, Damian came over again. Jason sighed, rolling his eyes affectionately when he saw Damian at the kitchen table. “Do you have my girl playing mommy again?”

Damian blushed bright red, glaring at him. I raised an eyebrow, staring at Jason. “I told him he could come over, Jason.”

I set a plate of cookies on the table and a glass of milk. “You just finish your homework, kiddo. And don't burn yourself on the cookies, they're still hot.”

Damian nodded, taking one. Jason leaned over to grab one as well, but before he could I gently smacked his hand and grabbed his shirt, leading him into my room. “Not yet.”

He frowned, following along. “What? What'd I do?”

I shut the door, turning to face him. “Jay, my love, when you say things like that you make it harder for him to relax. You said yourself, he's been through alot; if he wants a taste of the nuclear family life, I'm happy to baby him all he wants. If he wants to come over every weekend I'll make cookies and ‘play mommy’, as you put it. And I don't want you making him feel weird about it. Ok?”

He shifted a bit, looking down at his feet. “Right, … sorry baby. It was just a joke…”

“I know, but he's still getting used to the idea that this is ok. Sometimes I think he expects to be punished for asking for things. I had to convince him to tell me what kinds of cookies he likes best. And he looked so surprised when I said we'd go to the store tomorrow for the ingredients I don't have. Like he thought it was a hypothetical question.”

Jason sighed, nodding. “He probably did…”

I nodded, gently cupping his cheek. “Just be gentle with him, ok? … Remember, if I'm playing mommy for him, I'm also playing house-wife for you~”

He blushed a bit and chuckled, wrapping his arms around my waist. “That sounds nice~ … you gonna wear a cute little apron and serve breakfast in bed?”

“Only if I manage to get up before you. Sometimes I think you don't sleep at all.” I chuckled, kissing him softly. He kissed back gently and smiled softly, nodding.

“Mh~ ok, mama, I'll play nice~”

I chuckled softly, kissing him again. “Good boy~”

The flash of red across his face made me giggle, and I led him back out of the bedroom. “Now you may have a cookie. And I'm making stir-fry for dinner.”

Damian looked up at me as I passed; “is it…”

I nodded; “vegetarian. And I think I finally figured out how to get that nice crispy layer on the tofu too!”

His lips curled up ever so slightly, he nodded once, and returned to his homework. Jason sat next to him, taking a cookie, and looked over his shoulder at his homework. “... New math teacher treating you ok?”

“It’s only been a week, but … Yeah, he seems like a nice guy so far. And word of the ‘crazy art show lady' has spread throughout the faculty.” I smirked a bit at that. I could be ‘crazy art show lady' if it made them think twice about disrespecting him.

Jason nodded. “Good.”

When I brought out dinner, Damian practically inhaled his first few bites. I blinked a bit, chuckling softly. “Don't choke, kiddo.”

He nodded, slowing down a bit. Periodically, I'd catch him staring at his backpack. “... You need something outta there?”

He flushed, shaking his head. “No, just … Jon is waiting for me to finish dinner.”

“Oh, I don't have a ‘no phones at the table' rule, kiddo. You can text your friend.”

He blinked repeatedly. “... I can?”

“Yeah, I don't mind. It would be pretty hypocritical if I did; I never go anywhere without my phone.”

Damian smiled a little and got his phone, texting Jon quickly. His guarded expression slowly melted away, and I had to remind myself not to stare before he caught me.

“... Do you want to invite him over some time?”

Damian looked up, frowning a bit. “Invite Jon over … here?”

“Yeah, you two could have a sleepover in the living room.”

“... Could we go to the arcade at the mall?”

“Sure! As long as his parents are ok with it. And give them my phone number in case they want to talk to me first, or need to check in.”

Damian grinned, nodding, and texted Jon quickly. “... Next weekend?”

“Sounds like a plan!”

Damian stared disdainfully at the wall of flour, scouring it for the kind needed for his cookies. Eventually, he grabbed a small bag, bringing it back to me.

“That's the one?”

He nodded slowly, frowning. “... I'm not used to looking for it in English, but this should be right.”

I nodded, gesturing for him to put it in the cart. “Ok, is that gonna be enough?” He nodded, releasing it. “What’s next?”

“Ghee.” He grabbed the corner of the cart and led me down the aisle, finding what he needed. He tsked softly at the container, but tossed it into the cart as well before leading the way to the spices. He selected several extracts, rose water, and a few spices I was low on.

“Alright, what else?”

“Dates, figs, pistachios, and walnuts.”

We scanned the aisles, eventually finding what we needed, and headed for the check-out counter. The way Damian watched the cashier and me had me wondering if he had ever been to an American grocery store before. I bagged the groceries, chatting with the cashier a bit.

The lady behind us in line glowered at Damian. He frowned, eyeing her for a moment, before continuing to watch the check out process. She huffed, rolling her eyes; “aren't you going to help, young man?”

I frowned, turning toward her. “Hey, leave him alone.”

I held a hand out for him, gesturing for him to come close. He frowned, taking a couple steps toward me.

She frowned more, looking more and more like she bit into a lemon. “I'm just saying, good boys don't just stare while others do the work.”

“No one asked you, lady. Back off.” I let my hand hover over his shoulder for a moment, not touching him but clearly indicating that he was under my protection. He glanced at my hand before looking up at me. “Should I do something?”

“No, kiddo, you're fine. We're just about done, and I would ask if I wanted help.”

He smirked slightly, watching me put my wallet away and grab the bags. He pulled the cart to the cart return and we headed out, strolling back to our bus stop. After a moment, he reached over and took the bag from one of my hands.

I smiled softly, letting him have it. “Don't let people like her bother you, ok? They're just grumpy that my generation doesn't expect kids to read our minds.”

He frowned a bit, staring at the sidewalk in front of him. “... That was common, in older generations?”

“Mh, yeah, I think so. My grandparents always had something to say about how my parents ‘coddled’ us. And my parents sure have a lot to say about how new parents are ‘babying’ their kids with the newest theories and parenting practices.” I chuckled; “as if there's something wrong with babying a literal baby?”

“... Back home, I was expected to behave just like the rest of the household. No matter my age.”

I nodded slowly. “Different cultures approach parenting differently, I suppose.”

“... I think in my case it's more of … my mother's approach to parenting.”

“Ah…”

He stared at a spot in front of him, frowning deeply; “... She loves me, she just … she had a … complicated life. … She did the best she could for me.”

I nodded. “... Parents are people. And people are flawed. Loving them doesn't mean we have to pretend they haven't hurt us, or that we have to forgive them for the bad parts of our childhood. … It's very mature of you to keep her experiences in mind like that. But you're also allowed to be upset.”

“... Upset?”

“It sounds like a classic example of ‘I had it bad, but my parents had it worse'. But you're still entitled to your feelings about your childhood. The good and the bad. … Children are supposed to be protected and cared for, but some kids … just don't get to have that. You're allowed to mourn the childhood you should have had. And you're allowed to seek out those experiences now.”

“... Like the craft kits?”

“Exactly. I bet it’s freeing, being able to just play, right?”

He nodded slowly. “... It is. … It's nice, not worrying about what people will think, or do. … You … you don't make a big thing about it.”

“Because it doesn't have to be a big thing if you don't want it to be. You get to decide what matters in this, and who's involved.”

He nodded slowly. “... Mother would be furious, if she knew Todd has been joking the way he has.”

“Joking?”

“... About you playing mommy.”

“Ah. I can make him stop if it makes you uncomfortable… But I also don't mind it if you don't.”

“... I will think on it.”

When the bus arrived we hopped on, finding a seat. Damian stared out the window, clutching his bag. At our stop I had to gently tug on the bag handles to pull him out of his thoughts, and we headed up to my apartment.

“Ok, remind me what the cookies we're making are called?”

“Ma’amoul. Mother made them for holidays…”

I smiled softly and nodded. “Well, I hope they'll live up to your memories then.”

We worked together to make the cookies, Damian staying practically underfoot to make sure they came out just right. The molding and filling process took quite a while, but we plowed through, slowly working out a rhythm. He hovered, watching them in the oven, until they were finally ready.

I carefully transferred them to a cooling rack and he immediately took one, breaking it in half. He looked it over, sniffing it a bit, and finally took a bite, chewing slowly. I watched, biting the inside of my lower lip a bit. “... What do you think, kiddo?”

He stared at the half of a cookie in his hand, his expression unreadable. Finally, he mumbled; “... Well, they're very ugly. … But they taste like home.”

I smiled softly, holding my arms behind my back to stop myself from pulling him into a hug. “I'm glad. And I'm sure the next batch will be prettier. Practice makes perfect, right?”

“The next batch?” He looked up at me curiously.

“Of course. You said they're your favorites.”

He flushed a bit and stared at the cookie in his hands again, nodding. “Yes, they are.”

“Then I'm gonna get good at this so you can have them more often.”

After a moment, he reached over to grip my elbow, gently squeezing before dropping his hand again. It was over as quick as it began, but I felt his warmth linger on my arm. I smiled softly, holding an arm out for him. He considered for a second before leaning in, letting me give him a quick shoulder squeeze.

“I'm glad you're happy with them, sweetheart. Why don't you go sit, and I'll bring you a plate and a glass of milk? And when the rest are cool we'll put them in a tupperware for you to take home.”

He nodded, nibbling on the rest of his cookie while I made up a plate for him. We sat on the couch, letting some dumb action movie fill the silence while we enjoyed the fruits of our labor.

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