#(Then again...there are muses who make her suffer just as much. If not more.)

[harrygoeswest]

Secret Santa

At your yearly Secret Santa draw at work, you draw Harry's name.

Terms and conditions (TWs): a lot bit sweet and a little bit spicy. Penetration not included.

Word Count: 7,999

A/N: Hello hellooooo. Look at me posting a Christmas fic on the 1st December! I've been feeling very Christmassy this year so if I can get my shit together there will hopefully be another, totally unrelated, one in a couple of weeks time. Love you all, and thank you for always coming back when I decide to post something <3

~~~

“Alright, everyone gather ‘round.”

I look up over the top of my cubicle to the common area. Charles, the office manager, is standing on the coffee table—that is unlikely to hold his weight for much longer—with a plastic bowl in hand and a cheap Santa hat on his big bald head. It’s not even the end of November yet.

And yes, we do have to call him Charles. Not Charlie, because ‘adding one extra syllable is stupid and unnecessary for a nickname’.

“It’s that time of year,” he says, grinning like a buffoon.

Trying to shove down my sigh, I push away from my desk and wander around the other cubicles to where the rest of the team is congregating by Charles.

“Are we all here?” he asks impatiently.

We’re not a very big office—ten of us total, including our illustrious leader, and a supervisor.

Looking around, it seems the supervisor himself is the only one missing.

Izzy, my partner in crime in this corporate hellhole, nudges my hip with her own from beside me. I bump her back.

“Are we doing secret Santa?” she asks.

“Certainly looks like it,” I mumble, and start picking at my nails.

“Why are we only nine,” Charles muses, doing another head count. “Oh—Harry! Come on!”

“Sorry!” Harry, the missing supervisor, calls back from some hidden place in the office. 

“Time is money, mate!”

I rub a hand down my face, failing to hide my weariness.

A second later, a lanky frame hurries to join the group, wearing form-fitting pressed grey trousers and a black cable knit jumper. Something is different about him where he stands a head above the rest of us. Something I’m trying to hide my shock at.

“Oh my God, Harry—,” Izzy blurts, “where’s your hair?!”

The group titters with laughter at Izzy’s shrill horror. Even I let out a snort.

Indeed, Harry’s once voluminous curls have been shorn to a neat buzz cut. Annoyingly, while I never would have pegged him as a sexy bald, he wears it well. What I’m struggling with is why he’d choose to do it in winter.

“I’ve made a hairshirt out of it,” he deadpans.

From the practical cricket noises following his declaration, I’ll assume no one in our office knows what the fuck a hairshirt is.

hair shirt

in American English

NOUN

1. a garment of coarse haircloth, worn next to the skin as a penance by ascetics and penitents

2. self-imposed punishment, suffering, sacrifice, or penance

“It’s now hanging pride of place in my lounge.” Charles grins. “Anyway, we’re doing secret Santa for our Christmas meal this year, which is on the fifteenth of December. Times are tight, I know,” spoken like a man who has never known what it’s like to be clawing his way to payday to make ends meet, “so the cap is a tenner. It’s just a bit of fun, alright? Let’s go.”

He holds the bowl out, and one by one we pluck out a folded scrap of paper. I’m not last, which means there’s still a selection of three by the time I get there. I pick one at random, sure to hate whoever I get.

I know I won’t be lucky enough to draw Izzy again like I did last year, but I suppose as long as I don’t get Charles, I’ll be satisfied.

HARRY

Motherfucker.

I’ve already started moving back to my desk so I can’t feign innocence and try and swap the name. The second-worst name I could’ve drawn—that of the supervisor. And a more-than-occasional object of my affection.

Is it inappropriate to have a crush on your supervisor? Not really. I’m sure lots of women fancy their seniors in the workplace. I’m all for women in senior positions, but there is something inherently attractive about men in power—not including Donald Trump. Ew. Add to the fact that said man is already hot shit and (I’m talking about Harry again), well, it’s a lost cause. Never mind the fact that we were both asked to interview for the supervisor role when the last one left and I turned it down.

Harry and I used to be cubicle neighbours who shared coffee breaks and threw scrunched-up notes to one another over the wall. Once we had a cat GIF email chain going that spanned 134 emails over twelve days. Now he sits at the other side of the floor in a private office where the door is always closed and we don’t make coffee for each other anymore. We definitely don’t send endless cat GIFs to one another.

I add the slip of paper with his name on it between a document I’ve finished with, and stick the whole thing in the shredder.

~

Later that afternoon, around three o’clock—when I hit a motivational wall and have to take a walk around the office for a change of scenery—I’m standing at the photocopier scanning an abhorrent amount of paper. I really wish the people who worked here could learn to be a little greener.

“So, who’d you get?”

I look up from my scanning to find Harry leaning over the printer, looking boyish and handsome all at the same time. There’s a delighted little gleam in his pretty green eyes, and I have to wonder when I last saw him looking so… mischievous.

“Wouldn’t telling you defeat the entire purpose of a secret Santa?” I retort.

“Yeah, but this is me. I can’t keep secrets and I’m bursting to tell someone mine.”

“Please don’t tell me who you have, Harry. Not again.” Because he told me who he’d drawn last year and then Izzy also let slip who she had as well, and by the end of the day I’d worked out who everyone had. “Also, if you’re so rubbish at keeping secrets, I’m definitely not telling you.”

He pouts. “You’re no fun anymore.”

I try not to let it show how much that comment bothers me. Especially that it came from him. “Apparently not.”

“Is it me?”

“No.” I say as calmly as I can manage. Of course he’d choose himself first, and the name I happen to have picked out.

“Izzy again?”

“No.”

Harry then proceeds to list off every name in the office, to which I pointedly reply with no, each and every time.

“But I’ve said everyone’s names.”

“Exactly.”

He sighs. “Fine. Do you know what you’re going to get for yours?”

“No.” And it was a painful truth. A year ago, if I’d have picked Harry’s name out I would have been over the damn moon. Now, it feels awkward and weird to be buying for the good-looking supervisor who used to be my friend. “Do you?”

“I have a few ideas for mine.” He grins.

Lucky for some.

“Well, that’s good,” I answer noncommittally.

I start to move away from him, but I’m stopped by a hand around my elbow.

“Hey,” he coaxes, and I meet his frowny gaze. “You good?”

If this were my friend of a year ago, I’d tell him it’s Friday, I’m bored and want to go to the pub to start my weekend early. But because he’s my supervisor now and I don’t know where to draw the line, I decide to keep the line very low and say, “All fine. Just tired.”

His frown doesn’t ease when I make a poor attempt at a smile. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, yeah?”

Nope. “Yeah, of course.”

“Alright,” he releases my arm. “Well, if you’re really stuck on what to get your secret Santa person, you could look in the magazine I’ve left on your desk.”

I raise a brow at him and he grins again, all white teeth and dimples.

Ugh.

“Is it inappropriate?” I ask, feeling nervous.

He feigns offence. “Of course not, that would be very wrong.”

I narrow my gaze but start to move back to my desk again. “Yes, it would. But I appreciate the help.”

“Any time!”

In my cubicle I find a company magazine on my desk, tabbed two-thirds of the way back. The page opens to a website specifically for Secret Santa gifts. With a sigh, I follow the link and start mindlessly scrolling through the options. There’s everything from oversized mugs to slippers and swear socks, whiskey cubes to coffee table books, candles and incense to bath sets and body creams. I am not short on options.

None of this really feels appropriate for Harry.

Still, since I’m bored out of my mind and have nothing better to do, I waste a good thirty minutes more scrolling mindlessly. Even though I’m struggling to find something for Harry, I do manage to find a present for Izzy—bed socks with cats all over them—and for my mother—a Lazy Susan.

I’m about to give up my search for something fun for Harry and think I’ll just stop by the crafty beer place down the road from my flat—he said he liked a certain one once—when I spot it: The Holy Grail of Secret Santa gifts.

I don’t even hesitate, adding it to my online basket before I can talk myself out of it. It’s only a couple of quid, so I can get him something else as well.

I spend the rest of the day feeling oddly smug, and when five o’clock rolls around I snatch my things up and head straight for the shop that sells the craft ale Harry likes. Then I walk to the pub to meet Izzy.

~

Our office Christmas meal is held in a tapas restaurant around the corner from the building we work in a couple of weeks later. I’ve never particularly cared where we eat—I’ll always find something—but I do struggle to marry up Spanish cuisine with the festive period. Apparently the general consensus was that no one really wanted a traditional Christmas dinner because they’d be getting that on the 25th December. I’ve always just thought of it as a roast dinner on acid but what do I know?

Our dress code for this year is ugly Christmas jumpers, so our table is crowded with colleagues wearing everything from traditional 70s muted-tone cable knits to Charles at the head of the table in a bright red jumper with a light-up Christmas tree on it. I do have a little giggle every time I look at him. It’s awful.

I’m somewhere in the middle of the long banquet-style table, sandwiched between Izzy and Craig, the new guy in marketing. He only started on Monday, has spent the entire week looking like a startled otter, and is already dangerously close to crossing the line from tipsy to drunk. He doesn’t look old enough to be tipsy but I keep that to myself. I’ve been subtly adding more food to his plate anytime it looks close to empty and I don’t know if he genuinely hasn’t noticed or is too polite to say anything because he just keeps on hoovering it up. Also, the dangerous thing about tapas is you always think you’ve eaten more than you actually have, and end up hungry again when you get home. Or, I do, anyway.

“Are we all about finished?” Charles’s voice booms from the end of the table.

There’s ten of us here in all, so his volume also attracts the attention of every other patron in the restaurant.

As if we’re not raucous enough already.

A chorus of mumbled yeses echoes around the table.

Charles claps his hands together. “Excellent! Harry, bring the bag.”

Pink-cheeked, Harry manoeuvres his way out of his seat directly opposite me—I’ve been avoiding looking at him for most of the night in favour of Izzy—and locates the bag with everyone’s Secret Santa gifts inside.

When we got here, Charles was waiting by the door with a large gift bag—you know the ones children get on Christmas morning? This one’s got Peppa Pig on it, which was comical in itself—that we were promptly instructed to leave our gifts inside as subtly as possible. 

Harry places Peppa Pig on Charles’s chair and waits like a faithful servant for his next instructions.

The next five minutes are spent watching Harry flit up and down either side of our long table as he drops presents into laps, a true Christmas elf. 

“Nicely wrapped,” he comments as he places mine in front of me.

I pull a face while Izzy chuckles beside me, and inspect it for a moment. It’s two presents taped together—one tiny and solid, no bigger than a credit card. Hey, wouldn’t that be a nice gift. The other is bigger and heavier—a cubic box. I desperately want to shake it but it feels like it could be breakable.

Izzy just has one—short and cylindrical and, again, heavy. But it’s slightly smaller than mine. I don’t know why that makes me smug. Bigger doesn’t always mean better. In most circumstances anyway. I’m not sure anyone has ever said that about a penis.

“Alright everyone,” Charles barks when the last gift is given out, “start unwrapping.”

A little shiver runs down my spine.

Here’s the thing about me—I love getting presents. Whoever decides to marry me one day needs to be a giver, because I get a little thrill any time I open up a gift. I think I’m equally as generous, but this is exciting for me.

What’s not exciting is that attention keeps flicking around the table. I don’t like being the centre of attention. A hard line to balance. Basically, I’m sitting here slowly picking apart my gifts while trying to keep the joyous little smile my lips are itching to make off my face.

I open the big present first, which seems to be the opposite of what everyone else does. I’m also trying to be subtle about watching Harry open his gifts.

God, this is torture.

The big present evokes a barking laugh out of me.

It’s well-known in the office that I’m a lover of Tesco, in any form. Primarily a Big Tesco or a Tesco Meal Deal. The big gift is a mug that just says ‘Tesco Value Secret Santa Mug’ in the supermarket’s old branding.

“Nice,” I mumble. I’m grinning like an idiot. I genuinely love that mug.

“Someone knows you well,” Izzy says with a nudge. 

She’s already opened her gift—a candle that apparently smells like mashed potato.

It’s disgusting.

“Someone doesn’t know you at all,” I say, nodding at the glass jar with a cork lid in front of her.

“Or they know me well enough to know I hate these candles and find it funny,” she retorts.

I snicker and pick open the wrapping on my smaller gift. I tug it out from the opened end, and with every new inch revealed, my mouth opens a little further.

I look up at Harry, whose expression is the mirror image of mine.

“You are joking,” Izzy says, and follows it up with a loud cackle.

~

Approximately 1 Year Earlier…

“Are you sure you don’t have me for Secret Santa?” Harry asks, pouting at me around the edge of our cubicles.

“Yes, Harry, I’m sure.”

I picked Izzy this year, who is the best person I could’ve possibly got as my favourite work colleague. Harry is a very close second, but I’d never tell him that.

“But you know who does have me,” he says matter of factly.

I do. In an office of ten people, I have managed to work out exactly who has who, only because Izzy told me who she has, and Harry has already told me he picked out the woman in Human Resources. I’ve deduced from there everyone else’s picks, including that I must be Charles’s. I suppress a shudder at the thought of what he might give me.

“Why does that matter?”

“Because I know what I want from them and I need you to subtly suggest it to them.”

“Oh, Jesus,” I mutter. “What is it?”

Harry rolls his chair around the cubicle partition, phone in hand. “Funny you should bring up Jesus, actually.”

He puts his phone on the desk in front of me, and at the same time he rests his chin on my shoulder.

He.

Rests.

His.

Chin.

On.

My.

Shoulder.

I try not to outwardly react to it, even though it’s setting off every single butterfly living in my stomach. I haven’t had sex in far too long if the simplest thing has me heating up this way

Christ.

Anyway, I finally look at Harry’s phone, and it makes me laugh.

Hysterically.

Honestly, I can’t stop.

I’m crying by the time I recover.

“Grow Your Own Jesus?” I sputter out, still tittering.

“Yeah!” He sits back and grins.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I kinda feel I’m lacking a little faith in my life.” He shrugs, but that toothy grin is still all there, along with his dimples and shiny green eyes.

How this man is single, I don’t know.

“Shut up, Harry.”

“Just drop a hint for us, yeah?” He starts rolling away, but not before he drops me a little wink.

A wink.

I’m in so much trouble.

~

I stare at the ‘Grow Your Own Jesus’ in my hands, then at the matching one in Harry’s.

“You remembered?” Harry asks, clearly fighting a smile himself.

“So did you,” I accuse.

“Well, I just kind of hoped if you didn’t want yours that I could have it.”

I gasp and hold the small cardboard box to my chest. “No. He’s mine.”

“Wait,” Craig pipes in from beside me, “did you two get the same thing?”

“They got each other the same thing,” Izzy corrects. “The same weird thing.”

“It’s an inside joke—you wouldn’t get it.” Harry pretends to flip his now non-existent hair.

Izzy sticks her tongue out at him.

“I’m going to grow him in my Tesco mug,” I decide.

Harry quips, “At work, I hope.”

“Obviously. Pride of place on my desk.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” he says proudly.

“And what about yours?”

“Oh,” Harry pats the box on the table, “he’s coming to bed with me.”

A laugh bubbles out of me.

“Ew.” Izzy’s nose wrinkles.

~

After dinner is settled, we head out of the restaurant and to a pub near Soho Square. A couple of people drop off and head home, but Craig is still soldiering on, bless him. He’s more stable when in motion than when stationary, and as soon as we find a group of tables together, we shove him in the corner.

Charles offers to buy a final round before he heads home for the night, and when Craig asks for another beer, I make sure Charles comes back with a non-alcoholic one.

“Why are you so protective over the new kid?” Harry asks as he sandwiches himself between me and another colleague.

“I’m not,” I retort. “I just don’t trust anyone else to look after him if he’s too plastered to get home by himself.”

“That still seems quite protective,” he argues.

“Well, put yourself in his shoes for a second. It’s your first real job, you’re young, you have one too many drinks on a night out with your new colleagues and you’re left to your own devices when everyone decides to call it a night. Maybe you take a walk along the river to sober up, and the next thing you know, you’re toppling over the wall and drowning in the Thames.”

We’re silent for a moment. Harry is just…staring at me, probably wondering where that came from. To be honest, so am I.

“That escalated quickly,” he says after a bit.

“But am I right?”

“I doubt it.”

“Ugh, go away.”

“I don’t want to go away.”

“Well, don’t ask stupid questions. We should be looking after him as the newbie. He won’t come back if we treat him like shit. You, as the supervisor, should recognise that.”

Harry lifts his hands in defence. “Alright. Point taken.”

“Are Mum and Dad fighting?” Craig asks loudly, sitting on the other side of Izzy now.

Izzy pats his arm. “I’ve heard Mum and Dad fight, Craigy-boy, and it doesn’t sound like this.”

“We’re not fighting,” I assure him, although I’m not sure how I feel about being referred to as Mum next to Harry’s Dad. “We’re having a discussion.”

“Sounds like you’re fighting,” Craig mutters and sinks further into the corner of the bench we’re crowded on.

 I take a sip of my drink just to keep my hands and mouth busy. Harry nudges me with his elbow, and when I meet his gaze he winks at me.

Winks.

At.

Me.

I’m not sure if the dreams that wink is sure to feature in will be welcomed, or if they’ll be nightmares.

Charles eventually calls it a night, with a shiver-inducing parting comment that he “needs to give his wife the good lovin’.” The rest of us thankfully don’t dissolve into chaos—I’m not drunk enough to be patient over making sure multiple people make it home alive and safe.

It’s only just gone midnight by the time I decide to call it quits. It seems no one else has been keeping an eye on Craig’s drinking habits, because the poor kid can barely stand or keep his eyes open.

“Alright, Craig, where’s home?” I ask as Izzy and I bundle his lanky frame into a particularly nice wool coat.

He mutters something inaudible and I let out an impatient sigh. “Say again?”

He repeats himself, and I think he says Lewisham. “Lewisham?” I clarify.

Craig nods.

“Couldn’t be a little closer, aye?” I grumble.

“You’re not taking him home, are you?” Harry asks, a little tug between his brow.

“I’m not leaving him by himself, H,” I remind him. “I wanted him to sober up and no one else listened, so yes, I’m going to make sure he gets home safe.”

“How? The tube is closed and the bus will take hours.”

“Well, I’ll just have to get an extortionate taxi and deal with it on Monday, won’t I?”

“Don’t you live in Tulse Hill?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“Lewisham is farther out of the way than Tulse Hill.”

“Not really,” I argue.

“I’m coming with you.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t be daft.”

“I’m not being daft,” he insists. “By the time you manage to find a taxi willing to take you that far and actually get there, it’ll be close to two o’clock. And then you’ve got to get home from there. That’s pushing three in the morning. And while I admire your determination and independence and your incessant need to help the new kid, I am not willing to let you travel around London alone on a Friday night, whether you like it or not.”

We’re all quiet for a second—I actually think Craig is asleep on my shoulder now—and then Izzy very quietly whispers, “Damn.”

Sensing defeat, I release a pent up breath. “Fine.”

“Fine,” Harry concedes, “I’ll search for a taxi, shall I?”

“If you want,” I mutter.

We start walking, if only to find somewhere for Craig to sit down while he snoozes, and then say goodbye to Izzy, who’s boyfriend is waiting nearby to pick her up.

It’s cold and a little windy tonight. My cheeks feel frostbitten and my nose is painfully numb. I pull my woolly hat down lower to cover my ears and my scarf up higher to my nose, so all that’s visible is my eyes.

I catch Harry’s gaze, and he offers me a tentative smile. I smile back but I’m not sure if he can tell.

A taxi pulls up some minutes later, and we wake Craig up only so he can tell the driver his address. He falls straight back to sleep again, head pressed against the window.

I’m sandwiched in the middle back seat between the two men. Harry is somewhat bulkier than Craig. I can feel his thigh against mine. It’s warm, which is nice. I feel like I need the body heat.

The drive is relatively quiet, except Harry makes light conversation with the driver while I am also trying not to pass out on someone’s shoulder.

When we finally arrive at Craig’s house, the streets are eerily quiet. Harry makes me stay in the car while he wrangles Craig into his home. I move over into Craig’s vacated seat and watch out the window, a little entertained by the sight.

“Am I dropping you off somewhere else, love?” The taxi driver asks, breaking the quiet.

“Yes, it’s in Tulse Hill, is that okay?”

“No problem at all.”

“Do you know approximately how much it’ll be? And do you take card?”

“By the end of the journey, when I’ve dropped your friend off in Battersea, it’ll probably be over a hundred. But your mate has settled it already.”

“Wait, you’re taking Harry to Battersea?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I thought Harry lived in Brixton. Battersea is an even longer journey.

I rub my tired eyes.

Harry slides back into the backseat and eyes the empty middle seat now I’ve moved over, but he doesn’t say anything.

“When did you move to Battersea?” I ask quietly once the car is moving again.

Harry clears his throat, “Few months ago.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s okay.”

“Just okay?”

He turns a look on me that I can’t decipher, so I decide to let it go. He obviously doesn’t want to talk about it.

We’re quiet again, and I decide this time around I hate the silence in the car. I hate that Harry and I don’t talk about our lives with each other anymore now that he’s in a more senior role. I hate that he doesn’t really feel like my friend anymore. And I especially hate that this is mostly my fault because I don’t know where the boundary line is.

I lean forward and ask the driver, “How long will it take to get from my house to Harry’s?”

I can feel Harry’s eyes on me but I ignore him.

“Another half an hour, probably?”

I can’t help it, I grind my teeth together as I slump back into my seat. I’ve been avoiding looking at the time, but I look now, and it’s nearly half-past two. 

My bones feel tired.

“It’s fine, you know,” Harry’s voice is like whiskey when he speaks, all low and honeyed.

“It’s not fine. You could be home and in bed by now.”

“So could you if you didn’t have the need to mother everyone.”

I don’t know what possesses me to do it—whether it’s the weariness or the level of alcohol in me—but I don’t retort with words.

I just stick my tongue out at him.

Harry laughs and shakes his head at me, turning that smile on his lap.

It’s that smile that forces me to say it, because no matter how much we bicker, I can never really be mad at him. “Why don’t you just stay at mine and go home in the morning when the tube is open again?”

His gaze snaps to me again. “Seriously?”

I don’t know where my confidence has come from. “Do you think I’d offer if I didn’t mean it?”

“But…your flat is tiny. Last I remember, you don’t even have a sofa.”

“I don’t,” I admit. “But I have a king bed. I can erect a pillow wall.”

He gives me a funny look. “I am not sober enough to listen to you use the word erect right now.”

I snort. “Seriously though. It’s so late and I’m tired and I don’t like this already, and for the sake of all our bank balances, just…just stay.”

He stares at me for a while. “I don’t have anything to wear to bed.”

I look at him, in his silly jumper and slacks and woolly hat. “I’ve got a big t-shirt I wear on my lazy days. You can borrow that.”

“How big?”

“Like, triple-XL.”

He purses his lips. “Maybe.”

“Come on, Harry. I’ll put it in the dryer real fast to warm it up, and I’ll even make you breakfast in the morning.”

His mouth twitches again, nostrils flaring as he wards off another smile. “Why are you pushing this so hard?”

“Because you didn’t have to come out all this way with me and you did it anyway.”

“Of course I did, I’m not leaving you alone with a drunk kid and a taxi driver.” He glances at the driver. “No offence, mate.”

“None taken,” he replies.

“Is there still a charge if we cut the journey short?” I ask him.

“No, you’re on a meter. If it helps make your decision any easier, I’m going home straight after this job.”

“See!” I gesture at the poor bloke in the front who we’ve subjected to this torture. “Let the man go home to his family, Harry.”

I can see the driver’s shoulders shaking, but he never says a peep.

“Alright, alright. Fine. I’ll stay at yours.”

“Good.”

Great.

Excellent.

Harry is staying the night at my place. 

In my bed.

I hope I didn’t leave the flat in a mess.

~

By the time we’re dropped off at my flat, I’m a practical zombie.

I let us inside, feet like lead, and Harry follows with just as much enthusiasm. Locking the door behind us, I dig through my drawers for the t-shirt I promised and toss it in the dryer for a few minutes. I clean my teeth, and then give Harry the t-shirt. While he changes in the bathroom, I quickly change into a matching festive jersey pyjama set. Feeling sexy is the last thing I’m trying to achieve. If anything, I just want to be warm—the flat is freezing.

Once changed, I set about making that pillow wall I promised.

When Harry emerges, I’m midway through taking my makeup off.

Looking at him, I can’t help but giggle.

“When you said you had a triple-XL t-shirt, I thought you just meant a plain one. Or, like, one with some generic wording on it. Not this,” he points at his chest.

I admire him in my pink t-shirt, which depicts Salem from Sabrina the Teenage Witch surrounded by cake and the words ‘I eat when I’m upset’. “I think pink suits you.”

Harry’s eyes narrow at me, and he moves around the bed to the side I’m not perched on. He studies my pillow wall for a while. “Do you think I’ve got the lurgy or something?”

“The lurgy?” I chortle. “No, I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I don’t think it’s me we need to worry about being uncomfortable here.”

“I’ll be fine,” I insist with a grin as I finish the last of my makeup removal, “as long as you stay on your side of the wall.”

“I would also be fine. I don’t think we need the wall at all.”

“And why is that?” I ask, tossing my used wipes in the small bin next to my bed. I slip under the covers, and Harry, with his hairy, toned legs, does the same. It’s still weird seeing him with a buzz cut.

“Because it’s half an inch tall. You couldn’t stop an ant from getting over it.”

I gasp, and reach over to smack his arm. “How dare you. Ants can vertically climb.”

“Are you sure?” Harry retaliates by smacking me too, except he completely misses and ends up whacking my boob instead.

“Ow.”

He’s already pulled his hand away and is covering his mouth, eyes wide with shock. “I’m so sorry.”

“You should be!” I hiss, rubbing the assaulted breast in question.

“I didn’t mean to. I was aiming for your arm.”

“Well, your aim is terrible.”

He rolls onto his side, giving me his best puppy dog eyes. “I really am sorry.”

“Sure you are.”

“I am! But this does prove my point that the wall is useless,” he reasons.

“Fine.” I snatch the cushion at the top of the pile and toss it at the foot of the bed. “Collapse the wall if you must.”

He grins, all pretty and green-eyed, and tugs the next pillow down the row up underneath his head. “Much better.”

Sighing, I say, “Go to sleep, Harry.”

“Yes, boss.”

I shut my eyes, burrowing into the pillows, and wait for sleep to claim me.

And I wait. 

And I wait.

Unfortunately, I am far too aware of Harry’s presence beside me.

I’m thinking about the fact that he’s currently wearing my favourite t-shirt and the shameful part of me probably won’t wash it for ages. Maybe an even worse part of me will put it on as soon as he leaves my flat tomorrow.

Fuck this crush.

Why did I think it would be a good idea to let him stay here? In my bed? In my t-shirt?

I really hate myself sometimes.

“I can hear your brain whirring,” Harry says into the silent space between us.

“It worked overtime today, the fans are cooling down.”

He snickers, and then it’s quiet again. “Can I tell you a secret?” He asks after another minute.

I open my eyes to find him watching me. It’s a little unnerving but I can’t say I hate the attention. “A secret?”

“Yeah. I haven’t told anyone yet.”

I study his face in the dark room. “Okay.”

He wets his lips with his tongue first. “I gave my notice today.”

“What? You’re leaving?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“End of January.”

I can’t be sure, but I think I might be about to enter crisis mode. Harry is leaving. Harry, who I’ve seen almost every day for three years, is leaving.

I let him tell me about this new job—how it’s the same position but more money in a bigger company with better benefits.

For a second I don’t know what to say, but I eventually manage to come up with, “Well, congratulations, H. Sounds amazing.”

“Thank you.” He smiles. “Are you going to miss me?”

I pretend to think about it. “No, probably not.”

He gasps. “How rude.”

I giggle. “Of course I’m going to miss you.” Probably too fucking much. Like, crying into my cornflakes every morning for the foreseeable future. That much.

“Good. I’m gonna miss you, too.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I have missed you.”

I frown. “What do you mean? We see each other everyday.”

“It’s not the same, though.”

I know what he means, but I’m too much of a wimp to admit it. Or maybe I just want to hear it come out of his mouth, because it’s been swirling around my head for months and months. “How?”

“We used to go out together, you know, me and you and Izzy and her bloke. We had a good friendship going, right? And I think I kind of fucked that up by taking that supervisor role this year.”

“Yeah, but your career is your career, Harry. You did what was right for you.”

“Maybe, but I still hated knowing I’d drawn a line somewhere.”

Funny. I thought I was the one who’d drawn the line. “Well, we’re not going to see you at all now.”

He frowns. “Don’t say that. We can still have Friday night pub time.”

“I’m not sure, H,” my tone is teasing, “you’re joining the big boys now. You’re more important than we are, you’ll forget about us in a month.”

“Don’t,” he whines, throwing me that puppy look again. “I won’t.”

“Sure.”

“I’d never forget you.”

“I’m sure you say that to all your old work friends. Soon it’ll be new ones with new pubs to visit on a Friday night, and we’ll just be a minor blip in your career path.”

“Stop iiiiit,” Harry growls, and the next thing I know, he’s reaching across the divide we made and wrapping himself around my waist, his face in my neck.

I don’t know how to immediately react, stunted into stiff silence.

“You are not a blip,” he insists, squeezing me closer to him.

“You say that now,” I mutter.

“You’re not,” he snaps, then a second later asks, “Why aren’t you hugging me back?”

Tentatively, I loop my arms around his shoulders. I don’t know where to put my hands initially, but one ends up on the back of his neck and the other between his shoulder blades.

“Better,” he says, face still shoved into my neck.

We’re back to silence again for a moment, but my mind is racing. This is not how I expected to end my night at all. Not with a man in my bed and definitely not hugging said man. Who I’ve happened to fancy for far too long.

I can’t help but wonder if it’s a good thing that Harry is leaving. Maybe now I can take time to get over the stupid crush I have on him and start behaving like a normal woman in her late twenties, rather than the perpetually single saddo that I’ve become.

Yes. I’m determined to turn it into a positive.

There will be no crying into my cornflakes.

“This is nice,” Harry whispers.

“Yeah,” is all I can come up with.

“You’re very comfortable.”

Seriously? I want to roll my eyes. “Thank you.”

“I don’t want to move.”

Don’t panic. Don’t panic. DON’T. PANIC. “You don’t have to.”

“Yeah?”

I swear there’s something blaring in my head. “Sure.”

With that ringing endorsement, he snuggles closer and pulls me flush against his front.

This is fine. Absolutely fine. Nothing to worry about here. No siree.

Except, then, his hand finds the back of my thigh, and he pulls it over his. With a pat for good measure, he lets out a satisfied sigh.

“This might be the most comfortable I’ve ever been.”

Great. “That’s nice,” I squeak.

And it is nice, in a way.

It’s nice to be held in the embrace of another warm body.

It’s nice not to spend the night alone.

It’s nice to feel someone else’s breath on my neck that isn’t just my own reverberating back into my face from my pillow.

The tantric tickle of Harry’s fingers on the back of my legs is nice, too.

Really nice.

It’s so nice, in fact, that I…

I fall asleep.

~

I wake up plastered to Harry’s chest. Harry’s chest, that is still covered in my favourite t-shirt. God, that’s pleasing.

It’ll smell like him now.

#winning

I think I’m the first one to rise, which means I have the opportunity to sneak off and start breakfast, but then I feel a warm palm against the skin of my lower back, circling, and I realise I’m not the first over the finish line into consciousness. I also feel a slight chill against my sternum and I think one of the buttons on my pyjama shirt might have popped open, which means there’s definitely the potential for a peep at some boobage.

“Morning sleeping beauty,” Harry’s voice sounds like gravel.

“Hi,” I choke out.

“Sleep well?”

I slept amazingly. Dare I say it’s the best sleep I’ve had in weeks. Maybe even months.

Fuck it, it’s the best sleep I’ve ever had.

But all I actually say is, “Yep. Did you?”

He hums, his hold on me tightening. “Like a baby.”

I like that far too much. “That’s good. How…did we get like this?”

“You on top of me?” He asks and gives me another squeeze. “No idea.”

“I am not on top of you.”

“You kind of are. But I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“You’re comfortable?”

“I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. It’s like when you have a cat on top of you—you don’t move the cat.”

I look up at him for the first time, then. He’s still sleepy-eyed, but he’s more awake than I am and he looks so soft, and so happy. “Do you need me to move, Harry?”

“Absolutely not.” He follows this comment up with a lazy grin that has my insides turning to mush. He’s always been a little bit infectious, like a good drug, and so I can’t help but smile back at him.

He lifts a hand to my face then, still holding my gaze, with his finger under my chin while he gingerly wipes his thumb in the corner of each of my eyes in turn. When I throw him a questioning look, he responds with a simple, “Eye goo.”

I want to be disgusted by that, but I’m not. Not in the slightest. If anything, it’s making this crush I was so determined to get rid of yesterday even worse. And, because I can’t help myself, I gingerly reach my hand up to his face and do the same thing, wiping the dried moisture from the corners of his eyes.

We stay like that, staring at each other with lingering touches on each other’s faces. I don’t know what we’re doing. I’m terrified and nervous and excited all at once.

My heart is telling me he’s into this the same way I am, but my head is telling me I’m overthinking it and it doesn’t mean anything.

Now, call me fucking crazy, but people who aren’t into each other don’t touch one another the way we are.

I tell my head to shut the fuck up.

Tipping my head back slightly, it causes Harry’s light grip to adjust, until his hand all but swallows my cheek.

He lowers his head, and I know, I just know I’m not imagining the pull between us anymore. My breathing becomes laboured, chest heaving with every inch his mouth gets closer to mine.

When our mouths meet I’m dizzy, but I hold onto the shred of sanity I have left, if only to enjoy the moment while it’s here.

It’s exploratory at first—a simple taste of one another. Harry’s mouth is soft and gentle. He takes his time, like he’s learning me. His hands are doing the same thing, cautiously roaming my face, my arms and my back.

I don’t know what to do with my hands, because I want to touch him everywhere. Start with his chest, and for the first time ever I wish for the absence of my damn t-shirt on him. Move to his arms just to trace the definition of his muscles and the lines of his strong veins.

He’s so…delicious. Always has been, hair or no. And the permission to touch him in any capacity has me feeling drunk. I feel more out of sorts now than I did last night.

Harry’s grip moves to the back of my legs, and he drags me over his body so that I’m straddling him.

The new position has trepidation rendering my limbs frozen, and I have to force myself to move, to keep touching him. I can feel his length between my legs—not completely hard but certainly working its way there.

“Is this okay?” Harry asks against my lips, voice hushed but still loud in the quiet room. His hands dance over my hips and thighs, like he wants to touch other places but is worried of crossing that line.

“Yes,” I breathe in answer. 

He resumes his ministrations, becoming braver now with the use of his mouth, and in turn I do too.

My hands finally slip underneath the cotton t-shirt to feel the taut skin of his abdomen, fingertips following every dip and curve. In return, Harry slides his up my shirt, taking the weight of my breasts in his hands.

“They’re so soft,” he comments, and for some reason I like that so much that I kiss him deeper.

Our tongues are involved now, licking and nipping and tasting the other where we can.

“I want to take your shirt off,” I admit.

“You mean your shirt?” He teases, and moves into a sitting position with absolutely no effort.

“Both,” I tell him.

He grins, kissing me again while I ease the cotton up his body, until we have to break apart so I can remove it completely. 

Harry’s body is…perfect. I knew it would be—toned lines, masculine, pronounced muscles. I want to lick it.

I’m kissing him again, if only to stop myself from lapping at his golden skin.

I’m kissing the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen—ever known.

I can feel him toying with the buttons on my pyjama top, slowly coaxing each one free. When the last one is done, he slips the garment over my shoulders until we’re in matching states of undress. His large hands cup my boobs, thumbs rubbing against my nipples.

A sharp bolt of pleasure zips through me, straight to the pulsing core between my legs. With an involuntary rock of my hips, I moan into his mouth.

“Oh, shit,” he groans, “did you like that?”

I can only nod, and then whine when he does it again. Helpless to the taste of him, I loop my arms around his neck. Our bodies are flush together, tongues tangled, and my centre is lined up right over his cock. His cock that is now fully hard.

I start rocking my hips in a rhythm if only to find some friction for the need growing in my lower belly.

Harry’s grip moves from my tits to my arse, squeezing tightly and encouraging my movements. “If you keep doing that I’m going to embarrass myself and make a mess in my boxers, but I don’t want you to stop.”

“Please don’t make me stop,” I beg.

“You better not stop.”

So I don’t. I keep rocking, keep kissing, keep touching.

Every roll of my hips is ecstasy and I can feel the bubble growing inside me, pushing to the surface. The heat in my body expands, not just inside me but across my back and my arms and my chest. I haven’t had any physical contact for a while, and the intimacy of this, with Harry, is setting off every single one of my nerve endings.

“I want to see you come,” he tells me.

I grip the back of Harry’s neck, and for the first time since we started kissing, he moves his mouth. He kisses my cheek, then my neck, my throat, my chest, and then he finally pulls my nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking while squeezing my breast, and, well…

I go off.

My orgasm crests in the least subtle manner—loud and hard. My core is pulsing and my legs are shaking. My body is on fire—in fact, I’m sure I can feel a bead of sweat dripping between my cleavage.

Harry’s mouth is on mine again, warm and wet and sultry, and I cling to him like I’ve got nothing else in the world.

“You’re so pretty,” Harry whispers against my lips.

My face flushes, as if I’m not already burning up, but I still manage to say, “So are you.”

He kisses me hard but chaste. “I’ve wanted to see you like that for a while.”

“Like what?” I ask, still panting.

“Undone. By me, specifically.”

I swallow the sudden lump in my throat. “What?”

He laughs, and his thumb strokes my cheek, “I’ve always thought you’re sexy as fuck.”

“No you haven’t.”

“I bloody have,” he insists. “I thought you knew that.”

I scoff. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“Well, I’ll keep telling you until you believe me. Now, I’m pretty sure I was promised breakfast?”

I give him a questioning look. “But what about…you?” I ask, and throw a pointed look at the space where our crotches meet.

“I don't believe in transactional pleasure,” he tells me, then kisses me again. “I just hope we can do this again.”

“What, sleepover?”

He laughs. “Sure, if that’s what you want to call it. But I was also hoping there might be some dating involved.”

I gawk at him. “You want to date me?”

“Indefinitely.”

Well, shit.

[scarletemeraldpurple]

Kinktober day 9: Lactation (posting this at 1 am on the 10th but ssshh)

Rio finds you on the brink of death, but it isn’t your time yet. She takes it upon herself to nurse you back to health.

CW: Reader suffers from homophobic violence, the consent is a bit dubious

Other notes: Very gentle Rio, lots of pet names, lactation with healing properties (and aphrodisiac properties), reader becomes Rio’s pet

“Well well, what have I found this time?” Rio mused to herself as she saw you on the ground, curled up, almost unconscious.

Death. You thought to yourself. Death has come to take me. It’s just as well.

“Let’s find out what your story is, hm?” Rio said, lightly massaging your temple.

What she found horrified her. You were dragged out here by a group of men. They beat you half to death, in theory it was because you were suspected of being a witch, in reality it was because one of them suspected you of trying to seduce his girlfriend.

“They don’t even truly know of the power you hold,” Rio said quietly, “it’s not your time to go yet, little one.”

That was the last thing you heard before blackness took over your vision.

You woke up in a cave, on a mat of woven vines.

“Sorry, I don’t have guests often and I don’t really sleep, this was the best I could do on short notice.” The strange witch who saved you said.

You tried to get up, you were unsuccessful, wincing at pain coming from your abdomen.

“Easy there sweetheart.” She sat beside you on the mat as you laid back down.

“I thought you were Death, coming to collect me.”

“Well in a sense I did, just not in the way you expected. But you can call me Rio.”

“Rio?”

“Rio Vidal, at first it was just a pseudonym, but I’ve gotten a bit attached to it.”

“River of Life, so Death has a sense of humor.”

“Gotta have one in my line of work.”

You chuckled lightly, which caused you to wince again.

Rio reached a hand out, very cautiously, to brush some hair out of your face. “I can help you with that, sweet thing.”

“Yeah? Why do you want to help me?”

“Someone’s a bit mistrustful.”

“Can you blame me?”

“No I cannot. Look, here’s the deal. I have something I need help with, and you can help me with it.”

“What exactly does Death need help with?”

“You forget that at the end of the day, I am a green witch. And there’s a little side effect of that I need help with.”

You looked at her confused.

“What exactly do you know about witches?”

“Not a lot. Managed to find an old banned book about potions but that’s been about it.”

Rio nodded slowly. “Okay well…how should I break this down? I can help heal you, quickly in fact.”

“Okay. And in return I?”

“You help me get my breasts to stop aching.”

Your eyes widened.

“You drink from me, it heals you, I get rid of my milk from this cycle.”

You could not believe what you were hearing. She had to be joking right? Maybe Death’s sense of humor was more twisted than you thought.

Then Rio flung her top off, and you saw her nipples leak a bit. “Think you can get on your side or do I need to straddle you?”

“Does it have to be like, mouth to tit? Can I not use a cup or something?”

“You could if I had any.”

“Right, right, guess you don’t really need to do the ‘sustenance for survival thing’.”

“Look, sweetheart , you can spend possibly months healing, unable to sit up for weeks. Orrrrrr, you can put your mouth on my tits and both of our lives will be so much easier.”

You really did not mean to be staring at her chest, but they were big…full, and right in front of you.

“You’re not exactly being subtle, doll.” Rio said, bringing a hand to cup one of them. “C’mon, it won’t take that long, you don’t even need to drink all of it to heal. And I’ll still get some relief.”

Fuck it. You thought to yourself. “Okay. Y’know making a deal with Death was not really on my agenda for today.”

Rio smiled. She slid next to you and gently coaxed you to your side. You cautiously wrapped your lips around her nipple. She stroked your hair encouragingly.

“There you go, just like that.” She let out a moan. “Oh you’re good at that baby.”

It really did work quick. You were already starting to feel better. You felt calmer too. You weren’t sure how to describe what it tasted like, but it was good, and you wanted to keep going.

“Mmm, feeling better baby?” Rio asked.

You were but you found yourself in a haze. It just felt so good to keep sucking. To keep drinking Her in.

“Mmm, I bet you are. You should be all healed up actually. But you can keep drinking that works for me. You’re awful cute like this.” She scratched at the back of your scalp and you moaned around her.

“Maybe I should keep you. Yeah, I think I’ll do that. You’d like taking care of me like this every month, wouldn’t you pet?” Rio mused as she petted you.

“Other side now if you wouldn’t mind. Not that you’d mind very much right now.” She chuckled.

You readjusted so that you were on top of her, now drinking as much as you could from her other tit.

“It’s been so long since I’ve had such an eager little mouth on me. You feel so good pet.” She reached an hand between her legs. “You’re being so good for me baby, just keep sucking.” She said as she started to rub her clit to the sight of you.

She had stopped leaking into your mouth so you detached and realized how worked up you had gotten…how worked up she had gotten.

“Kiss me, pet.”

You didn’t hesitate to obey. Her free hand wrapped around the back of your neck as she let you explore her mouth with your tongue. You moaned into her.

“Easily excited little thing aren’t you?” Rio whispered against your lips. “Fuck baby I’m so close, fuck, yeah keep looking at me like that.” She said as she grabbed your jaw, wanting those big doe eyes on her for as long as possible.

You felt her shake underneath you as she came. Eye contact broken as she screwed her eyes shut in pleasure. You stroked her hair, totally in awe.

Rio composed herself and brought her fingers to your lips.

In that moment you realized you never wanted to be done tasting her, every part of her.

“Such a good little pet. Already so well trained.” She teased. She adjusted you so that your legs were on either side of her thigh. “This is the last thing I want from you tonight okay? Can you cum for me, sweetheart?”

You nodded and started grinding against her. Every sensation seemed so intense tonight.

“I did forget to warn you about something my dear. See I can just heal people, but if someone is healthy, then drinking from me can act…as a bit of an aphrodisiac. Feeling a little fuzzy?”

You nodded and continued rocking your hips against her.

“I could have stopped you I suppose. But you were just so cute. And I bet if felt really good didn’t it?”

You nodded again, whimpering.

“And I bet this feels amazing right?”

“Uh-huh” you moaned out.

“Oh did I make you lose your words? That’s okay. Pet’s don’t need words, they just need to hump or suck, or whatever else I tell them to do. And right now? I want you to cum.”

Your body complied with her demand. She took your hips and made sure you rode all the way through it. You collapsed on top of her.

“Big night huh sweet thing?”

“Mhm.”

“Get some sleep my dear. I’ll be right here.”

[messiahzzz]

i have been thinking a lot about mystra’s relationship with gale, how reducing her to “his ex” really is an understatement. she was and still is so much more than that. moreover, using the term “ex-girlfriend” in relation to her plainly feels wrong and diminishes the influence she has over him, as well as the role she played in his life since his childhood (and it also trivializes the abuse he suffered through her).

there are several instances where gale gets defensive when his companions mention or ask him abt mystra. he claims that their relationship was no less real even though most of their interactions were incorporeal.

we have already established that gale is an unreliable narrator in this particular case, still not having fully come to terms with the fact that he was groomed, manipulated and abused. he ping-pongs between bouts of realization (even in his romance), gaining clarity that he was merely used and eventually discarded and that mystra never truly cared for him, back to making light of his situation, idealizing her once again. realizing the extent of his trauma, that he is indeed a victim in this scenario, unlearning what he has been made to believe from a young age is a slow and painful journey. he is in the process of healing, but it takes time. time he deserves just like anyone else.

which makes me wonder what their relationship really looked like, once the lines between teacher, muse, and lover began to blur. i also feel like one of the reasons why part of the fandom still struggles to identify mystra as his abuser, is because she is a white woman who initially presents herself in a soft-spoken, benevolent manner… and well, the fact that gale himself is ambitious to a fault and a lil insane about the promise of power. he also briefly mentions "crossing mystra’s boundaries” when he confides in tav and tells them about his folly. (“i am, after all, the villain in this story.”) which led to a looooot of misinterpretations.

leaving the overall lore and mystra’s treatment of her other chosen aside — what we can discern from her interactions with gale in-game, is that mystra is civil as long as she remains in control and gale follows her demands, but as soon as there’s even a slight mention of challenging her power or defying her rule, she rather quickly changes her tone.

there is also one particular exchange between them that just won’t leave my head:

“you were many things to me, but never a threat. and never a savior."

even if we choose to blatantly ignore the fact that mystra is a deity, his goddess - there is no possible way that their relationship ever could have been equal by any mortal standards. the power imbalance that comes with her being his teacher and a symbol of his admiration, plus the sheer control she holds over him and his powers are simply too great. don’t even let me get started on how it is a common tactic of abusers to isolate their victims from any outside influences so they can exert full control over them. and how up to meeting tav and their merry band of misfits, every single soul he was close to was inevitably tied to mystra in one way or another. he briefly mentions his colleagues and then there’s elminster, also mystra’s chosen and former lover, and tara, who is a fine wizard in her own right. he spend so many years in service of her, dedicating his life to her, that now there is no one left he can truly call a friend. most of his little anecdotes and stories he tells are restricted to his childhood and university days, everything else was mystra.

evidently, ordering gale to detonate the orb is the most efficient course of action in her eyes. he is just as expendable as any other mortal, after all. maybe once significantly more useful given his status and the extent of his powers, but she doesn’t feel sorrow nor remorse for ordering him to end his life. his death is simply the most convenient means to an end.

another thing i would also like to briefly touch upon is the trigger/detonator itself. a dagger to the heart. it could have been literally anything else, a simple incantation. it is well within mystra’s power to stabilize the orb and also to remove it from his body entirely. but no, what she requires of gale is to stab himself. one might argue that it was simply a cinematic choice meant for a more dramatic effect, but it really leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. especially considering the fact that she is commonly known and referred to as a jealous goddess. it almost makes it seem like yet another form of punishment or mere pettiness. after his long period of isolation, gale is now surrounded by fellow humans. people he cares about, even perhaps people he might eventually consider good friends — which is enough of a reason for him to not want to die, to keep going and try to find another way, rather than to blindly follow mystra’s bidding. now there’s a group of people who support him and are genuinely invested in him staying alive. hmmm...

[kikyoupdates]

Otherworldly Attraction ⭑˚🔮⭑ 𝑠𝑒𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

yandere!jjk x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, isekai, jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

You don't know how or why, but you've been isekai'd into the world of Jujutsu Kaisen. Although your first instinct is to stay away from the plot, you've been blessed with an abnormal amount of cursed energy, and for better or worse, you find yourself sucked into the storyline. You decide that you may as well use your newfound powers for the greater good, and if you're lucky, you might succeed in rewriting some of the characters' fates. But it turns out that your presence in this world is an even bigger deal than you first thought, and soon, everyone wants to make you theirs.

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“Draw two,” Sasaki says. 

“I’ll add another draw two. So now [Name] has to draw four,” Iguchi follows up, throwing another card onto the pile.

You stare at the two cards left in your hand, and then you cast a glance beside you, over to poor Itadori, who’s easily holding more than ten. Part of you wonders if you should be nice and spare him, since he’s clearly suffering more than enough already, but then again, this is Uno. 

Uno is just about as cutthroat as it gets. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, wincing a bit as you add another card onto the pile. “I still have a draw four card left… which means Itadori has to pick up eight cards in total. Also, um, Uno.” 

“No way!” he cries out, and you swear you see his soul leave his body. 

Sasaki throws her head back and starts laughing. “Man, Itadori, you stink at this! I swear you’ve placed last every single time we’ve played. It’s actually kind of impressive how unlucky you can be sometimes.”

“I haven’t lost yet,” Itadori stubbornly refutes, but of course, within the next round, you win, and Sasaki and Iguchi quickly follow suit. 

You watch as Itadori’s shoulders slump in defeat. 

“Fine, now I lost,” he sighs. Most people would probably be pretty frustrated seeing as he’s lost more than four—or is it five games in a row now? In any case, Uno tends to ruin friendships and drive people insane, but since this is Itadori, it only takes a few brief moments of adorable sulking for him to perk up again. “Alright, well, I’m ready for the next round!” 

Iguchi shakes his head. “Sorry, but no more. I’m starting to feel bad about beating you this badly.” 

“Really?” Sasaki blinks. “I’m having the time of my life.” 

“You don’t always have to voice your intrusive thoughts aloud, Sasaki.” 

“We can play more next time,” you say, gently patting Itadori on the shoulder. “And I’m sure you’ll win a bunch then. Enough to make up for all the losses from today.” 

“Doubt it,” Sasaki muses. 

“Sasaki, that’s seriously enough out of you,” Iguchi sighs.

“Alright, fine,” Itadori relents. He quickly glances towards the clock on the wall. “I guess it’s about time for me to head out anyway. It’d be nice to get to the hospital early for a change.” 

More than a week has passed since you first awoke in this world, and during that time, you’ve spent pretty much every day hanging out with Itadori. It’s quite literally a dream come to true to be able to talk to him like this. From the moment you discovered you attended the same school, you were already starstruck, but you figured you would only ever be able to stare at him longingly, from afar. Never in a million years did you imagine that you would actually become his friend. 

Even though your friendship is destined to be cut short, you’re determined to enjoy these blissful moments for as long as you can.

You and Itadori say goodbye to Sasaki and Iguchi, and the two of you walk out of the building together, stopping by a vending machine to grab some canned drinks. You crack your can open and sit down next to him, relishing in the fresh air paired with the cool liquid running down your throat. 

“Visiting your grandpa again, right?” you affirm. 

Itadori takes a big gulp, then nods. “Yeah. Same old, I guess. That’s another reason why it’s nice being part of the Occult Research Club. A lot of people have pestered me to join athletic clubs, but they run way too late. I wouldn’t be able to make it down to the hospital in time for visiting hours. It just works out better this way. Plus, hanging out with those guys is a lot of fun.”

“It’s nice that you always make an effort to visit him,” you say, smiling gently. “I’m sure he really appreciates the time he gets to spend with you. It must mean a lot to him.” 

“Well, I’m the only one he has left, so I’d feel really crappy if he had to spend every day all on his own.”

“Still. Not everyone would make sure to visit every single day, like you do. You’re really kind. You’re a good person, Itadori.” 

You hold your smile as you take another sip of your drink, and you don’t notice that Itadori is staring at you wide-eyed, at least, not until you turn and realize he’s nearly breathing down your neck. 

“Um,” you say, feeling a bit embarrassed by how close he is, “y-yes? Is there… something on my face?” 

Itadori scratches his neck. “Uh. This might sound like a bit of a weird request and all, but I was just wondering if… maybe you wanted to come with me today?” 

“Come with you?” 

“Yeah. To visit my gramps. Since we got to talking and all, I figured maybe he’d like to see someone other than me for a change. To be honest, I don’t think he has much longer left. He’s always snapping at me for visiting him, saying I shouldn’t waste my time going to a depressing place like that, and that I should be spending time in clubs with my friends instead. Maybe he’ll feel better if he sees me bring a friend along. He won’t worry that I’m lonely, like he is.” 

You proceed to just stare at him, and although you didn’t intend for your gaze to be unsettling, Itadori lets out a nervous chuckle and quickly shakes his head.

“Aw, man, what am I even saying? Sorry. That was kind of weird. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to waste your free time going to a hospital, of all places. I didn’t mean to try and pressure you into anything. Just forget what I—” 

“I'll go,” you blurt. “If you're sure you want me to come with you, then yes. I'd be happy to meet your grandpa.”

Itadori blinks rapidly, clearly bewildered, but it doesn’t take long for one of those ridiculously cute smiles to spread across his lips. 

“Awesome! Thanks so much, [Name]. That’s really cool of you. I feel like you’re always the one doing me favors, even though it should be the other way around.” 

“It’s not a favor,” you reassure. You pause, smiling shyly. “I really like spending time with you, after all.” 

Itadori’s smile shows no signs of disappearing, and together, you make the trip to Sugisawa Hospital, where his grandfather is currently admitted. 

You have to admit, you feel a little nervous. His grandfather is his only remaining family, and naturally, you want to make a good impression. Even more so because you know that he doesn’t have much time left. You may not be able to stay by Itadori’s side once the canon plot begins, but at least for now, you’d like to put his grandfather at ease. 

“Don’t worry,” Itadori reassures, smiling brightly. “He might seem like a crabby old man at first, but he’s not actually that bad. I know he’ll be happy to see me with a friend.” 

You smile back and quickly nod, and after a moment’s delay, Itadori slides the door open. 

“...you again, Yuji?” a gruff voice immediately barks out. “I thought I told you to quit wasting your time stopping by. Don’t you have anything better to do? What about your school club?” 

Itadori steps into the room first, rolling his eyes as if this kind of reaction is typical, but once you follow behind him and make your presence known, his grandfather’s expression does a full one-eighty. 

“Oh,” he blinks. “Who’s this now? Yuji, don’t tell me… you finally managed to get yourself a girlfriend? Good going, kid. I didn’t know you had it in you.” 

Itadori blushes a bit, but his embarrassment dissolves once he lets out a sigh. “Cool it, old man. Don’t make me regret bringing her. This is [Name]. She’s my friend. You always seem so worried about me not spending enough time with other people, so I invited her to come, and she accepted. Make sure to be nice to her, okay?” 

“It’s very nice to meet you, sir,” you say, bowing your head. “I hope me being here isn’t an inconvenience.” 

“Itadori Wasuke,” his grandfather introduces. You watch as he sits up a bit straighter in his hospital bed. “Hm. Are you sure you’re not dating Yuji? You seem like you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. You’ve got manners, unlike this brat. Hey, Yuji. Don’t be stupid. You don’t want to lose a pretty girl like her to someone else.” 

Itadori rolls his eyes again. “It might be easier said than done, but try to ignore him. Sometimes I think he just says things because he likes hearing the sound of his own voice.” 

“See that?” Wasuke points. “Do you see how this ungrateful grandson of mine treats me?” 

You bite back a chuckle. Naturally, you’ve already gotten a glimpse of what their relationship is like, well before meeting either of them in person. Wasuke may have a sharp tongue, but it’s clear that he loves his grandson, and he wants him to have a good life. He wants him to be surrounded by people who care for him, and even though Itadori will face plenty of hardship in the future, the fact remains that he will have plenty of friends who are willing to stand by his side. 

“Itadori’s a really good guy,” you say, lacing your hands together and smiling. “Everyone likes him. He’s got a lot of other friends besides me. And I know he’ll make countless more friends from here on out.” 

You pause to gauge their reactions. Itadori is blinking at you, perhaps a bit flustered by your sudden declaration, and Wasuke’s expression hasn’t really changed much, but you notice that his eyes are a bit wider than they were a second ago. 

It’s awfully subtle, but for just a brief moment, a smile rises to Wasuke’s lips. 

“Is that so?” he chuckles. “Thank you for saying that, young lady. I’ll admit that it brings me some relief. I’m glad Yuji isn’t just wasting the best years of his life tending to a sickly old man like me. If he’s got friends like you who speak so highly of him… then I guess he must be doing something right.” 

“No way,” Itadori marvels. “Did you just compliment me, gramps?” 

“Don’t get used to it.” 

“Still! You actually said something kind of nice for a change!” 

“Alright, I take back everything I just said.” 

The two of them go back and forth like this for a while longer, and you’re perfectly content to just stand there and watch. It’d be nice if Wasuke could stick around longer. It’d be nice if Itadori didn’t have to lose the only family he has left. But without a doubt, Wasuke will live on in his heart, and you get the feeling that even when he passes, he’ll be watching over him for a long, long time. 

Wasuke clears his throat. “Seriously, though. If you don’t act fast enough, by the time you know it, [Name] will be dating someone else. Don’t live a life filled with regrets, kid.” 

“...gramps, come on.” 

Uh-oh.

You’re not an idiot, so of course, you know what this means. The wooden box he’s referring to is where Sukuna’s finger was being kept. Up until Itadori found it, that is. 

Which can only mean that soon—like, very soon—the main plotline will begin to unfold. 

You nervously chew on your lip. Truth to be told, you want absolutely nothing to do with that stinky finger. You already know that everything will be fine until the Occult Club members remove the seal, but still. The whole thing just freaks you out, and it’s way too scary to even fathom getting involved in. 

While you struggle to come up with a reasonable excuse, your phone buzzes again. 

Balls. He’s just too goddamn cute. It makes it downright impossible to turn him down. 

With a heavy sigh, you text him that you’re on your way, and you eventually get there, unsurprised to see him standing in front of the same storage box that Fushiguro was frantically searching at the start of the series. 

Itadori grins widely. “Thanks for coming! Here, check this out. Have you ever seen something like this before? It looks kind of supernatural, doesn’t it? I bet Sasaki and Iguchi would go crazy over this.”

He proceeds to hold up a small, visibly old wooden box, and you gulp as he opens it up to reveal the cursed object inside—one of Sukuna’s fingers.

Of course, he doesn’t have the slightest clue what it actually is. It’s completely wrapped up in the seal, making the object inside indiscernible. He probably wouldn’t be grinning ear-to-ear if he knew it was some wrinkly old finger. 

…then again, he swallowed said finger without even hesitating, so maybe he wouldn’t actually care that much. 

“Oh, c-cool,” you say, doing your best to mask your discomfort. “Yeah, it definitely gives off that occult vibe. I’m sure the other club members would like it a lot.” 

“I really wonder what it’s even supposed to be, though.” Itadori frowns as he picks up the sealed finger—much to your horror—and leans in closer to get a better look at it. “Yep, I honestly have no idea. You got any theories, [Name]?”

Without warning, he tosses the cursed object towards you, and out of pure reflex, you lurch forward to catch it. 

The second it falls into your hands, you experience a sense of dread that is almost too nauseating to put into words. 

It’s only for a moment, but the scene before your eyes changes. All of a sudden, you feel something wet sloshing around your feet, and you look down to find crimson liquid, red water, or perhaps—blood. 

You try to choke out a few words, but no sound escapes your lips. You’re understandably disoriented, so your gaze then pans upwards, and to say that you’re terror-struck would still have been an understatement. 

Right there, sitting on top of a pile of skeletons, is Sukuna.

It seems as though you’ve lost the ability to speak, but even if you could speak, you doubt you would have been able to find the right words. You’re too overwhelmed with fear to even think clearly, and right before you collapse onto your knees, just shy of a meltdown, Sukuna knits his brows together and leans forward.

“...who are you?”

You snap out of it with a gasp, only to find that you’re still standing in front of Itadori, who has a worried look on his face. 

“[Name]?” he frowns. “What’s wrong? You don’t look so good. Sorry, did I freak you out by tossing that thing at you? I probably shouldn’t have done that. I get why you’d be startled.” 

He crouches down to pick up the cursed object, which you apparently dropped to the ground without even realizing it. You place a hand over your chest, exhaling shakily. Your heart is pounding relentlessly, and you feel dizzy, like you might pass out at any given moment.

Just now… that was Sukuna’s Innate Domain, right? But how is that even possible? He hasn’t even been incarnated through Itadori yet…

You swallow hard. That finger is completely sealed. Even though the seal is old enough to be torn off by even a regular human—like Sasaki, for instance—Sukuna shouldn’t have appeared before you. Or at the very least, you shouldn’t have been able to see him. 

Maybe it was just a strange vision. Maybe the shock induced some kind of hallucination, or something. None of this makes any sense in the first place. The fact that you’ve been transported into the world of Jujutsu Kaisen.

Itadori places the cursed object back inside the box, then tucks it into his pocket. “Sorry again for catching you off guard like that. Are you okay? You look a bit faint. That was my bad. You even mentioned before that you don’t really like scary stuff, so I should have thought twice before doing that.” 

“I’m okay,” you reassure, and it’s true. You feel perfectly fine now. That sensation of choking up and being overcome with fear is already a thing of the past. It seems more and more likely that it was probably all in your head. 

Yeah.

You must have just been imagining things. 

“Kokkuri, Kokkuri, please tell us… which creature is the school council president weaker than?!” 

Ah. So, it’s finally starting. 

The question is all too familiar, of course, and as you allow the coin to be guided around the board, the word formed is exactly what you expected. 

“What? A fish?” everyone laughs in response, and just like in the canon series, the door abruptly slides open, revealing none other than the student council president himself. 

He starts berating everyone in the room, of course, but you're not really paying attention. 

Instead, you gaze at Itadori with a wistful smile, realizing that after today, you will no longer be part of his life.

There's no place for you by his side. It's simply too dangerous, and even if you were strong enough, you can't risk upsetting the delicate balance of this world. Everything will unfold the way it's supposed to, which means that your role here, albeit small as it was, is over. 

…or is it?

More chapters are available on Quotev and Ao3!

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[deepestnightcolor]

Just imagine Elliot ranting to his friend (Reader) how he just can‘t really put the scene from his mind onto paper, the reader of course would love to help him…

turns out the scene was about a beautiful woman masturbating, that lands her on Elliots bed with him telling her how to touch herself (to get it as accurate as possible of course) with him so close to her, watching and analyzing her every movement while he takes notes for his story

(You can add as much to it as you want)

ᴀ/ɴ: Okay, anon, wow. What is your BRAIN! I drooled a little over this, honestly. And I was SO excited to write this. I hope I hit the right spots with this, because hehehe. Had my head go brrrrrr. Thank you so much for your time and attention and your willingness to request! <3

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Elliott (SDV) x Fem!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 2007 words.

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: alcohol consumption, masturbation, making out, being watched while masturbating, finger fucking, teasing, pining.

☾ ʙᴇ ᴍʏ ᴍᴜꜱᴇ ☽

Usually, Elliott tried to avoid talking about his writing on Fridays. The reason for that was simple: Fridays were spent with you in the saloon and needed to be honoured.

This Friday was different, though. Something was bothering Elliott, and even though he tried not to show it, he did show it. On accident, of course. A dramatic sigh left his lips, wettened by the beer he was sipping, eyes looking out of the window wistfully. His whole body language screamed “HELP ME OVERCOME THIS WRITING PROBLEM”, and you just weren’t one to let your friends suffer.

“What is it, Elliott?” You asked, leaning your elbows on the table so you could take a closer look at the author. “It’s nothing,” he sighed, voice filled to the brim with drama and expiration. “You sure?” “Yesss, everything is finnnnneeee.” The stretched-out “fine” ended in a drawn-out sigh, hazel eyes looking up at you, just begging for you to ask again. You sipped your own drink, eyebrow cocked at him. “You suuuuuuureeeee?” “I mean, it’s Friday...,” Elliott began, his lips now pushed forward in a cute little pout, “I don’t talk about my writing on Fridays.” “And if I tell you that it really is fine?” “Well…Maybe I would be able to make an exception then,” he murmured, adding a quiver to your lower lip. Oh, Elliott. So cute, so dramatic, lying it on thick for you today.

“Alright, it really is fine for you to tell me about you-“ “There is this scene I am struggling with,” he quickly began, scared you could change your mind faster than he could get his words out, “and I think you would be the perfect aid.” You hummed, licking your lips clean from the stickiness of the alcohol. “Is that so? And what is that scene about?”

The shimmer of mischief in Elliott’s eyes should have worried you, even more so when it was combined with him lowering his voice to a hushed whisper, telling you how he needed to tell you at his shed. It wouldn’t work here, you see, confidential information would be shared with ears that shouldn’t yet hear it. So of course you agreed, following your friend to his home without even a seed of doubt planted in your mind. “You want what?” You asked, disbelief drenching your voice. “I know, I know, it must sound absolutely ridiculous, yet you must consider! I am stuck on this scene, and I could use a beautiful muse like you!” “So, and just to be clear I heard you right, you want me to masturbate in front of you!” Elliott gave you this awkward, pleading grin, head cocked to the side: “Uh…Yes. Though it would be professional, I promise! No words will be shed about this – I just… I just really could use it for my book.” His hands clasped together as if he was silently begging you, and yet again he pulled his face into that cute little pout. “Pretty please…It is one of the last elements of my book and I-“ “Fine.” Surprise flashed over Elliott’s face, and really, you yourself were surprised. Both of you had expected that it would have taken a lot more to convince you, yet who was Elliott to complain? “Great, great! Thank you so, so much, darling! How about you lay down and get comfortable already, and I will just get my pen and paper.” “You will take notes about this?” “Why, yes!” Well, that had answered it, hadn’t it?

You took a deep, shaky breath as you began to take off your top, the little skirt that you had thrown on for the saloon. After a moment of hesitation, you even discarded the bra that had been holding your tits up, allowing them to bounce free. With a glance in Elliott’s direction, you allowed yourself to slowly find a spot on his mattress, but as soon as your head hit the pillow, you were surrounded by his scent. It would have been a complete and utter lie if you had tried to say that this didn’t begin to turn you on; lying almost naked in your friend’s bed, surrounded by his smell. About to be watched by him. Goosebumps arose on your skin, your clit twitching gently at the thought. You had always found Elliott handsome, but he had always seemed to keep his distance; most often hiding himself behind his manuscripts. This…was incredibly raw and open.

The sound of a chair’s legs scratching along the ground caught your attention. Elliot’s flustered face appeared in your field of vision, leading you to blush as well.

“You look…stunning,” he whispered. There was no dramatics in his voice, no exaggeration. Only that sweet, honest compliment. You gave him a smile, biting down on your lower lip. He had taken off his coat by now and rolled up his sleeve; his hair tied back in a top knot. He looked absolutely delicious himself, the way he started to write his notes. Hazel eyes taking you in completely, just to scribble something down on the paper. He had lit up a candle on the nightstand, the flickering flame accenting his sharp features in a way that made you want to drag him onto the bed with you, but instead, you slowly let your fingers slip down your neck, to your breast. The movement caught Elliott’s attention, and you could feel his gaze following the dance of your fingertips. You, on the other hand, shamelessly focused your attention on him. Being watched like this had a thrill to it that you hadn’t expected, but now fucking loved. Your thumb was now caressing your own nipple gently, mind wandering to the thoughts ofhow it would feel if Elliott was the one doing it. The goosebumps that appeared in your skin weren’t solely because of the pleasure you felt from teasing your nipples, but also because you believed Elliott’s hands on you would feel much better.

He scribbled something down again as your hand travelled down further, catching the hem of your panties. You lifted your hips, slowly sliding them off your hips. Your lower lip was bitten as you felt the air brush your cunt, and the throw of your panties towards Elliott definitely wasn’t an accident.

His eyes lingered on your cunt as it was exposed, taking it in with a deep inhale. He wrote something down, then scribbled over it, running a palm through his hair while shifting on his seat. “Oh, yes,” you whispered as your thumb caught your clit, giving the bundle gentle flicks of your thumb. Elliott swallowed thickly, his feather scratching the paper in a newfound frantic. You pressed your feet in the mattress and spread your legs wider, your eyes slipping shut as the gentle waves of pleasure washed over you. You had only just started, but feeling Elliott stare at you like this…Yoba, it made you wet. As if to prove it to him, you allowed a single digit to run through your folds, only to suck it into your mouth. The low groan coming from next to you caught your attention, yet when you looked, Elliott was fixated on the paper, feather just barely able to follow all the words that were supposed to spill out of it.

You slowly allowed your hand to pick up the journey along the curves of your body again, slowly stroking up and down your thighs with quivering fingers. You knew a pair of hazel eyes were following each and every touch, and you easily began to rub your clit again. More warmed up than the first time, you let a moan of pleasure leave your lips, not even opening your eyes when you heard Elliott shift on his chair, his hot breath hitting your skin soon after. “Mhhh,” you cooed, arching your back in a little just for show, dipping a finger into your cunt, your perverted mind wishing it was the author’s dick instead.

The quivering gasp next to you was the first thing that caught your attention. Looking over at the man, you could see that his hand was placed firmly in his lap, eyes wide. “What’s wrong, Elliott? Got a little hard there?” You whispered. Pride that your looks turned him on so much filled you, making you add another finger. The brunet grunted, shifting in his seat again under the pretence of getting more comfortable, but the lustful expression gave him away.

“You just look so luscious,” he breathed, his hand now wrapping around his shaft through his pants with barely an ounce of shame. “So pretty for me,” he added, willing himself to at least pretend to write down some more notes.

You didn’t really care about that, your eyes were now solely focused on his hard dick, just barely hidden behind his hand. Fucking yourself with your fingers, you whimpered his name, causing his attention to snap towards you.

You were close, you could feel the orgasm building up beneath your touch, but you just…you just needed a little more. “Elliott, kiss me? Fuck, please,” you whispered, a high-pitched moan leaving your mouth as you circled your clit again. Elliott’s lips pressed against yours in a captivating kiss; teeth clattering against teeth, tongues battling for dominance. Even though you had just asked him for a kiss, his hands automatically began to roam, finding your clit with ease and replacing your thumb there. Him rubbing patterns into the bundle of nerves while his tongue licked over yours sent shocks of pleasure up your spine, leaving your brain light and empty. In all honesty, Elliott couldn’t hold back anymore. His hips sloppily and greedily humped against your thigh while he rubbed your clit, sucking on your tongue with a tenderness you had expected from him, but also with greed that made your heat throb.

“El- Gonna-“

He didn’t let you finish the sentence, too busy to fill your mouth with his tongue again, his humping growing faster against your leg. The squeal that left you made him moan lowly, rubbing the bundle of nerves despite your orgasm already being torn out of you.

Your free hand reached for Elliott’s hair, tugging the long strands as you moaned, your body spasming at the feeling of your orgasm recking through you. Not even the tug caused Elliott to show any signs of mercy, his thumb steadily kept up its circling, with him only pulling away from the kiss to watch you shiver and squirm beneath his late touch.

“Elliott!” You cried out, eyes rolling back as you felt one of his fingers enter your sensitive gushing cunt, the grin on his face almost diabolic. “Are you going to cum a second time, my muse? It would be great for my story,” he whispered to you, working his finger into you while his thumb was still tracing patterns on your clit. His lips peppered gentle kisses upon your chest, making your heart thump against your ribcage.

“Elliott, can’t, oh, Yoba!” You tried to hold on to his wrist, but his merciless treatment of your slit didn’t even falter. “El! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your body squirmed away and drew closer, like the tides at the beach, but in the end, he still pushed you over the edge. With a quivering cry you released, your hips snapping up to get the author’s finger knuckle deep within you, your legs spreading and snapping close – it was as if your body was malfunctioning.

As your back met the mattress, Elliott’s fingers on you began slowing down. Gentle kisses were casted upon your skin, attempting to calm you down. Your hand was still buried in Elliott’s hair as he came down next to you, one arm wrapped around your waist. In the bliss of two orgasms, you rolled around and slowly snuggled into his side, pressing your face into his chest.

“You know,” you whispered after a while, voice still hoarse, “I think your book really needs a sex scene…And I know just the muses.”

[more-than-a-princess]

Eira's combined skepticism and embarrassment encouraged a laugh out of Sonia. Where she was adventurous and eager to bend the rules, Eira was steadfast, seemingly preferring predictability. And not embarrassing herself in public. Though Sonia had to glance around them at that suggestion: beyond their security and a few bored-looking shopkeepers, they were the only ones patronizing the market at that time. For safety reasons, naturally.

"Who are you afraid of, Eira-chan? Your security?" She beamed, giving the group of suited individuals, doing their best to appear discreet, a wave. "I assure you, mine have witnessed worse. When there was a pop-up cafe for the latest Scream film here in Japan, I insisted my entire staff come with me to not only sample the full menu, but to obtain all of the limited edition posters and keychains! The bleeding pastry for dessert might have been my favorite, though they didn't agree."

Perhaps it had been the gratuitous amount of raspberry jam, or the fondant knife stuck in the center of the 'victim,' recreated in pastry. In any case, she'd been the only one to enjoy the morbid dessert. Just as she was now the only one finding amusement in the conversation as she sipped her hot cocoa, the drink having cooled enough not to burn her tongue. "The point is, I don't think you should worry about being embarrassed. Not around me, anyway: surely you know I would never judge you?" Perhaps she didn't, and so emphasis was necessary. But, to Sonia's surprise, Eira started laughing and she found herself joining in, too. There, that was the friend she knew: one who scolded Sonia but who easily smiled a minute later.

"If our family business ventures joined forces, I daresay we'd be unstoppable. In products that we cannot discuss at any formal event!" Sonia insisted through giggles, easily taking Eira's smack at her shoulder as they meandered along, hot cocoa in hand. But she shook her head at the chocolate description Eira gave her: it sounded rather...inappropriate? Or crass? Two things Novosonian chocolatiers shied away from: they had too much pride in their businesses and their chocolates.

"I'm sorry, I've never seen that sort of chocolate before, though it sounds like a delightfully inappropriate gift!" She grinned, the inflatable pretzel in their sights and therefore, the pretzel stand. "But if you believe I'd detest the chocolate, it must really be poor quality. Perhaps the disappointment part of the gift and-"

Sonia's eyes widened at the vast array of pretzels on the menu: lightly salted, cinnamon-sugar covered, spicy, cheese, pretzels topped with various seeds, and..she paused, stifling a laugh. Arranged proudly in a display were several pretzel-wursts: for those who couldn't decide between sausages and pretzels, a festival-sort of food on a stick, no sauerkraut or applesauce necessary.

"What was it you were saying, about enhancement drug jokes?" She muttered to Eira, biting her tongue to keep herself from giggling before she approached the woman behind the counter and ordered a lightly salted pretzel with a small container of beer-infused cheese for dipping. At home, she would've been allowed a single bite of a pretzel for publicity's sake but here, no one would mind if she indulged. Just a little bit: in German treats and joking with her friend.

Eira shoots a glance at Sonia after her description. Chocolates were nothing foreign to a bedroom, she’s no fool. But chocolates used like that seemed like the worst kind of mess. And yet- no. Absolutely not. Eyes are wide with bewilderment before her hands gesture dismissively.

“I’m not quite sure I believe that, given your propensity for seeking out places you’re not supposed to be. But for the sake of facilitating and escaping this topic before more people overhear it without context. I’ll say that I do. Oh my god, Sonia. Do you—At least with my family’s business there’s no worry—no, I’m lying. Enhancement drug jokes. Ugh! Anyway!” She sips the hot cocoa after it’s been handed off, and immediately almost burns herself with the eagerness. Ugh. Now she definitely can’t hang around here to try all the flavors. Twice embarrassed.

Sonia gets a rather sour look from Eira with her togue peeking out between her lips. Her lips quirk into a smile, and then she starts laughing. Despite all attempts not to and continue holding her grumpy exterior. How could she not? Sonia was infectious, to say nothing of her determination and insistence on staying positive and good-humored. Doesn’t mean she won’t get a playful smack on the shoulder from the idol before making their way towards the pretzel stall. Mug in one hand, the other kneading her brow as she attempts to regain her composure.

“By comparison, the gag gift feels almost tame. It’s… you really haven’t seen it before? Anyway, it’s basically like the chocolate rabbits around Easter, except instead of being shaped like a rabbit it’s shaped like a man. And without the extras! The mold has boxers.” Eira rolls her eyes, this topic will plague her now, won’t it? And some field of subconscious is just as likely to bring it back to the group once she sees them again. “You’d probably hate it, the chocolate I mean.”

[k-dokja]

Life is so much better when you don’t take anything seriously 🫠 Kayden x f!reader.

“…What?” You cross your arms, meeting Gestella’s eyes without flinching. For all you know, you haven’t done anything wrong to receive her attention. Maybe she wants your hair care routine, you can’t tell with her glaring at you in silence for the past few minutes.

“What is your relationship with Kayden?” She asks point blank, making you raise your eyebrows in surprise. Truthfully, you expect that this conversation might come at some point, but you had thought she’d dance around the topic longer.

“Why does it matter?” You shoot your own question in return, leaning back on the couch with the blasé confidence you associate to your beloved pain in the ass more than anything.

Gestella’s eyes narrow by a minuscule margin before she tears her attention away from. “Tch…”

“Hey!” Her lackey, whatever her name is, blows up in the place of Gestella. More than a few times now, you’ve seen her inserting into the conversation when Gestella’s social ineptitude fails her. But you struggle to think of her as anything but Gestella’s mouthpiece when speaking for her boss is all she does. “My lady demands an answer from you!”

You’d assume Gestella has already given up on the idea, but her lackey seems to think otherwise.

“I’m his supplier,” you drawl, barely holding back a snicker, “he’s horribly addicted, you see, can’t live without having a whiff of it every day.”

“Addicted?” Gestella frowns. “To what?”

You shrug, “Can’t say,” you lower your voice conspiratorially, “it’s privacy protection for my client you see.”

Her ire heats up the entire room, but once again, she gives up without pressing you. With another click of her tongue, she turns away from you. “Pathetic…” She mutters before taking her leave, vanishing into the thin air.

With her departure, you contemplate visiting Jiwoo less often. There is more than enough to deal with now that Kayden is suffering from his long recovery, you don’t need some silly drama on your plate to complicate everything. Besides, it’s not like you have anything more you can do for him at this point, it’s all on him to expedite his healing now.

“Huh, was Gestella just here?” Kayden’s familiar voice penetrates your musing as he paces towards you from the stairways.

“Yeah,” you tilt your head towards him in acknowledgment, draping your arms over the couch, “done for the day?”

Kayden leaps on the couch gracefully, padding over to curl up on your laps, “Not yet,” he says, “one more thing.”

Without giving you any other warning, he buries his entire face into your chest, drawing a lungful of breath before groaning in contentment. “That’s so much better.” His words are punctuated by heavy nuzzling into your soft flesh, rubbing his scent all over your torso.

With his final grumbles, Kayden plops back down, bearing a content and lazy smile on his mouth, “You should stay here everyday, save me the trip to your place to recharge while I’m this weak.”

“Isn’t this crowded enough with all the cats and… dog?” You snort, but the corner of your mouth curves into a smirk. “Besides… you could use the exercise.”

”Hey, that’s no way to talk to the love of your life.” Kayden huffs, lashing his tail at your face. “What’s the point to your cat form if you don’t use it, anyway? Yours is far more compact than any of us.”

“Some of us don’t enjoy being an animal all day, weirdo,” you swat his backside, making him jump slightly, “although, I don’t oppose to you staying in this, you’re much more tolerable this way.”

Kayden growls, “You’re just profiting off being bigger than me for once,” he snaps back at you, but the fury in his eyes dim into a smouldering gaze when his sight lands on your chest once more, “still, can’t deny that you’re much more delectable as you are… good enough to eat—”

“Ehem.”

You both turn in time to see Kartein mid-coughing. He adamantly refuses to meet your eyes, and the same goes for Pluto, who sits by him. But the muttering Kartein makes is directed towards the two of you anyway. “Just reminding you that there are other people in the room.”

“Tch,” Kayden grunts and settles back down on your lap. “Spoilsport.”

“See why you should make the long trip now?” You tease, ruffling his soft furs.

He snaps back at you with his sharp teeth, but visibly deflate when he knows there is a limit to his actions. “I will deal with you when my strength is back.”

“Promises, promises.”

There is something you can still help Kayden with for his recovery after all.

[ch3rrybbie]

Need.

Randall Kirkland x fem!reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

———

Summary: You can’t seem to stay away from Randall, you’re yet to speak and he can’t stop staring. Why do you feel like you know him? What does he want? What do you need?

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, unprotected sex, oral (fem and male receiving), fingering, masturbation, smutty daydreams, y/n is stubborn asf.

Note from author: Hi there! Tysm to the love on the snippet I put out, I just randomly write it and decided to share it and I’m so glad I did lol. I hope this lives up to what yall were expecting and I hope you enjoy. I will deffo probs write more for Randall and other fandoms so drop requests( hopefully Ik them). Also this is basically my first ever fic and time writing smut so pls be nice and I hope it’s not too bad lmao😭😭😭

———

You’d been in town for four months now. And as much as a hell hole as it could and would prove itself to be you were thankful for the reprieve from the outside world. You’d come alone on a post college road trip looking for something anything as to what your life should be as to who you would be. Then came the crows the tree and the bogeymen in the woods.

———

Life soon became mundane, wake, work eat sleep repeat. You’d decided to live in town and not colony house,your double bed becoming a lifesaver through those long cold nights. Whilst your house didn’t have the charm of your dorm or home bedroom you tried your best. Forgoing fairy lights and band posters you supplemented with writing down song lyrics and crudely drawn flowers on the walls you were no artist but it was something to look at before the whispering and tapping got too loud and you reverted back to tucking your head under the covers, knowing all that kept you from them was a rock loosely strung on the door.But you spent your fair share of time at colony house helping rule the roost with Donna and she’d grown to love you fiercely like a daughter and it kept you going.

The day the bus arrived,the day he came,was almost alike any other. You woke at sunrise to help Tian Chen with opening the diner after Sara’s…retirement. You were wiping down the tables when you saw it through the windows. The bus had lazily rolled in and heaved to a stop right outside the diner and you saw him swing off its disgruntled steps. Tall, toned with a buzzed head and a face like thunder you mused to yourself. But there was something maybe lust or the delirious state the town caused, something tugged you to him. A feeling that you should go let him know you were there, an obligation.

You heaved the thought down, as unpleasant as swallowing bile.

———

Upon Kenny’s command you resigned yourself to ushering in the bus folk. Your eyes caught Donna’s and with it you passed a sympathetic glare you hoped she understood its messaging-“I’m sorry you have to go this again but don’t be too much of a bitch with them”.

Most of them were heartwarmingly lovely to a point your heart broke, they didn’t know the fate that had befallen them.The pain and suffering they were yet to face. You remembered exactly how each and every second felt and resorted to flittering around helping how you could, making sure their steaming cups of herbal tea were always brimming. As you were filling an old lady’s second cup you heard a gunshot go off.

Your world span. Ears ringing you dropped the cup it’s shatter giving music to your pounding steps as you burst out the diner.

“Donna?!” you yelled praying she’d be able to answer.

“I’m fine sweetie but hold the door” she casually threw back her eyes trained on someone, gun pushed into their chest.

Burning heat arose as he turned his head, his furrowed brows lifting as soon as he saw you a confused look replacing his disgruntled one. He cocked an eyebrow, as if to say you know this crazy bitch??? You ignored him and felt envy flush over you as you watched Ellis and Fatima run off hand in hand after escaping bus passengers.

You wondered if you’d ever have someone that would run with you into danger without a second thought.

You begrudgingly followed Donna’s request ushering the last of the bus strangers into the diner hoping the simulated warmth would numb the fear of the tapping and whispering yet to come.

Donna kept him for last seemingly keeping a close eye on him gun nudging him periodically. Time seemed to slow the closer he got, his stature seemed to exaggerate with his hands strung loosely in the air, a sarcastic surrender. He was surprisingly stocky, muscles taught as his agitation grew stronger.

Your eyes once again locked and your breath caught in your throat. A spark lit within your stomach and spread all throughout you. He had a similar lust struck gaze yet his eyes never left yours,never once walked across your body.

You snapped your head away.

Donna incredulously looked between the two of you and shoved him into the diner. You dared not to turn and look for him in the sea of strangers. And yet that did nothing to quell you swelling desire, you felt it cresting, waiting to come crashing down.

It was going to be a long night.

———

As soon as the sun streaked through the windows you legged it out of there citing a lack of sleep. Which was true you felt his gaze on you the whole night and you hadn’t looked once.

———

It’d been a few days since you’d had your weird eye fuck with the stranger from the bus. Randall, as you’d come to find out and you’d vowed to push aside all thoughts of him and refusing to even use his name although your only danger of using it was at night when your convictions stuttered and were only quelled by toe curling thoughts of him.

Issue was he did anything but ignore you. He was everywhere.

He was at colony house arguing with Donna. He was atop the bus staring down all who dare walk past. Hell he was even occasionally scoffing his face in the diner. And yet you avoided him, not a single word uttered yet he had your heart hitching.

His staring persisted despite your avoidance. It seemed to only make him hungrier to see you.

You found yourself slipping into thoughts of what he smelt, tasted and fucked like.

Thoughts. That was all you could have.

No more.

———

You were trudging up to colony house after a late night drinking with Jade, in summary you lost your bet of out drinking him and he soon was let in on your little secret. But you trusted him. The only person you could never tell was looking at you a face like thunder. Your confusion clouded your perception and failed to see Randall him marching away from Donna.

Your breath caught in your throat as he got closer, you felt exposed. It was a balmy spring day so you’d sported jeans and a tank top thinking nothing of it. He finally let his eyes slip down your body, staring greedily, seemingly committing it to memory.

You’d reprimand him if you weren’t doing the same.

He wore a white tank with an open t shirt strung on top, his jeans tight in all the right places. You were about to look at his arms again before the muscle in his jaw clenched harder and he barrelled on.

Donna loomed at the top of the porch steps a face like thunder. And yet she didn’t care to rant about the backend of the altercation you saw.

Shit.

“You greenhouse now” she spat.

Fuck.

She shut the door behind the two of you with a slam so you opted to give your now peace offering, “Look here’s the bulb I told you about I think it’s gonna look great with the-“.

“Honey, we all have needs and wants I understand that but HIM?!” she flung out incredulously hands on hips. With your face a mixture of horror and confusion she continued “I saw the way you two looked at each other that first day at the diner and I’m sure you’ve done more than look since, hell what was that just now?!”

God you wished.

You couldn’t help but laugh, “Donna nothings happened, and as far as I’m concerned nothing will”

Her shoulders sagged and she sighed, “Good , you deserve someone better than him”

You cringed at that. Was he that bad?

“Now show me my beautiful new tulip bulb” she proclaimed.

———

Donna’s comment had been bouncing around your head for days alongside seeing less of Randall him, tension was building.

Yesterday you spied him working on a truck and couldn’t help but walk closer. He Sported the same white tank that exposed this thick corded arms. He’d grunted as he’d rolled himself under the truck. Jeans straining to contain him, legs spread. Arms straining with force. You imagined what it’d be like to even sit on his lap clothed, how good you’d feel.

How good you could make him feel.

You’d pictured him taking you pressed against the hood of the truck. Skirt flipped up, exposed for all to see. Tits bare and pebbling against the cold harsh metal. He’d stroke you first you were sure, then he’d fuck his thick cock into you. Uniting pain and pleasure,he’d make you taste yourself on his thick calloused fingers as he took you for all to see.

The day dream vanished as you watched a girl from colony house , Lola? Lila?, walk up to him and hand him water as he rolled out from under the truck.

Your heart dropped and an amassing wave of disappointment came over you. Albeit foolishly , you’d thought his attention had been solely concentrated on you and not whoever would reciprocate it.

You turned walked home before he could see you.

That night you couldn’t help but call his name as you came to the thought of him working on his truck.

———

The last place you could think of being alone was the woods, I mean your bedroom was the other but your thoughts couldn’t be controlled there as you’d realised last night.

After seeing him with the girl from colony house your conviction became stronger. And you decided to strengthen it alone in the woods the last thing you needed was to see him.

You started your descent into the peace, the trees were lush with greenery and swayed welcomingly. It was a thick, sweaty day. Your sundress swung as you walked providing the cool breeze you needed.How funny, you were trapped in a hellish town full of monsters human and other and yet it was so beautiful. Flowers were starting to sprout up through the dense leaves of the forest floor and you couldn’t help but be entranced. The less funny part was who your brain was obsessed with happened to be who you had decided was the resident fuck boy.

“Hey”

Speak of the devil.

Your heart pounded in your chest knowing the monsters wouldn’t be so polite. Your eyes were snatched up from the forest floor to all six foot of him lazily leaning across a tree. Same tank top and jeans as your daydream. He must be on break from working on his truck.

FUCKKKKKKKKKKKK. He looks good.

“What’re you thinking so hard about?” He inquired.

You awkwardly shuffled and looked around.

“Sorry forgot everything is secret here, you smoke?” He asked coolly

Taken by surprise you chuckled, “uhhhh yeah before, well you know” you gestured around you.

He hummed cigarette already between his teeth.in one slick motion he’d lit it and started steadily approaching you taking a drag. He lazily held it to you.

You leant forward not breaking eye contact as hou took a drag, cigarette still between his fingers. You could’ve sworn he swallowed harshly, but the moment was cut short as you spluttered and coughed.

It’d been awhile since you’d last smoked.

He laughed heartily and his hand slipped to your back stroking and patting till your coughing seized. His hand awkwardly retracted and you longed for its warmth to grace you again. He attempted to strike up a conversation again before seeming to change his mind, lips pressing back together.

They looked soft.

He had always seemed so sure of himself how strange you mused to yourself.

“I’ve seen you staring at me” you burst out, regretting it as soon as it fled you lips. So much for secrecy.

He chuckled caught aback then grew somewhat serious taking another drag, “You like it?”

“No” you lied through your teeth

“Really?” He smirked.

He paused, “It’s not like I haven’t seen you looking back sweetheart”

He looked satisfied with his own reply slowly walking back shrugging and once again leaning against the tree.

He smiled a boyishly handsome grin,took a longer drag taking in your shocked face.

SWEETHEART?! Really, he truly was a fuck boy then huh.

You once again lost control of you mouth, “I don’t think your colony house girlfriend would be too happy about you calling me sweetheart” you spat.

He coughs out smoke unable to stop himself from laughing,“ Who?” he laughs.

You refuse to let his facade get to you, not helping him with the answer.

His confusion blends back into another stupid smirk, “Oh, Laine?” He chuckles, eyes narrowing to gauge your reaction.

Laine? You think to yourself, what a stupid name. Lame Laine. EW! no you refuse to fight some random girl over him. He didn’t belong to you.

As much as you wanted him to.

Your eyes flicked back to his and something seemed to cross his face. His eyes darkened.

He knew. He knew you wanted him.

He slowly approached.

“You still want some?”, he asked. Gesturing to the cigarette.

He read your apprehension and said something that was dizzying to you.

“I could shotgun you” he she shrugged eyes not leaving yours. Unable to speak you nodded… a little too enthusiastically and he smirked. You could’ve sworn his eyes darkened.

He tilts your head up softly but as firm as needed to align your lips to his, all that separated you was air. With bated breath loosening unwillingly out your mouth in a sigh, your were lips parted in anticipation. Something he seemed to be unable to mock his face sporting the same intense stare as if he could unfurl your lips and drive you over the edge of what you weren’t sure madness pleasure?. Slowly, softly he blew the smoke into your mouth and you felt so intensely in need of him that it didn’t feel like breathing him in, it simply felt like breathing whole for the first time. It felt as natural as anything being this close needing him there needing him anywhere on you or near you. His fingers felt nice but the searing want shared silently was a feeling like no other. It radiated beyond magnetism. Staring at each other no longer held challenge but you were looking, truly seeing each other for the first time beyond the facade beyond this bodies you didn’t need to scratch the itch of knowing the conclude something. You’d know him before.

You breathed in the smoke he blew, eyes not breaking from his. His pupils were blown and it was your time to smirk. If you didn’t know before you knew now.

He wanted you too.

You blew out the smoke as slowly as you could. His eyes fixated on your lips.

He looked entranced.

His hand still cupped your jaw, his thumb coming up to glide across your lower lip. Smoke gone, you pulled his thumb into your mouth and sucked. His eyes once again met yours. “Fuck” he breathed out.

It was your turn to tease him. You spied the cigarette. It’s sweet red cherry still burning, you decided whatever was about to happen was going to burn like that.

Fast and hot.

Fuck it you thought.

You took it from his fingers, he was still entranced.

You breathed it in slowly and pushed on your toes to meet his face. Your tits brushed his chest. Your noses skimmed. His hands dropped to grip your hips and they bunched up the material of your dress. Surprisingly slowly but surely your lips softly bumped and grazed each other and you blew out the smoke. He didn’t breathed it in, so puzzled you stayed like that eyes locked till neither of you could bear it any longer.

He snapped out of the trance.

Your lips crashed together desire encompassing you heat moving lower. He smelt like pine and sea air and sweat and smoke and oil.

He tasted salty. His lips were soft.

It was almost all too delicious.

Almost.

You couldn’t stop yourself from moaning as his hand smoothed up your back to hold your head and pull you in further. He grabbed your thighs and pulled you up easily. He grinned into you as the kisses grew hot and sloppy.

Your back hit a tree and the friction between you started to give you much needed release. He started pushing his hardening crotch into yours. He broke the kiss, “I knew you wanted me” he leered. “Shut up” you groaned and seized his lips back to yours.

His lips start to wander sucking your neck and finding the spot that made you push out a lengthened moan, legs attempting to pull him in further.

“Fuck you needed this almost as much as me huh baby” he croons as his hand slithers from your waist. It skims up your stomach leaving goosebumps in its wake. It reaches your tit feeling its weight even inside your bra. His hand snakes in and is surprisingly cold, you hiss. “Awe is it cold baby” he mocks as he smooths his thumb over your pebbling nipple, his eyes flick to yours. “Huh baby?”, he pinches and rolls your nipple to elicit an answer. “Fuck yes” you hiss, your hips jerking even further into his.

You pull his face back to yours with both hands, teeth clashing wantonly as you kiss him viciously. He moans breathlessly , gasping and moaning as your hand slips to press against the outline of his hard cock. It’s as big as you thought.

“Tell me what you need baby” he begs, his grip on your hip tightening. You refuse to answer, smirking. He grabs your hand from his crotch and pushes his bulge into your underwear covered crotch. You throw your head back against the trunk and your moans come out as hums through your clamped lips. “Come on baby tell me what you need”.

A vision of you knelt before him flashed into you mind. And you grew wet. Going down on someone sometimes felt submissive, degrading even. But with him the idea of teasing and controlling him whilst knelt before him. You needed it.

You pushed him away and he lowered you to your feet looking sheepish.

“I’m sorry did I do something that-”

You cut him off by sinking to your knees and open palm sliding down his front and down his clothed thighs. You applied more pressure the closer to his crotch you got.

You looked up at him through your eyelashes, “Is this okay baby?” You crooned.

“Yes” he breathed out.

You took your time.

Unbuckling his belt and sliding it out, you kissed the outline of his cock in his jeans before unzipping and sliding them down. You made quick work of his boxers and there he was.

As big as you thought, bigger even. The head of his cock was burning red and seeping with precum.

Oh he was aching for you.

How many nights had he fisted his cock to images of you?

You trace a finger over the seeping head and he hisses. You smirk, “is that sensitive baby?”. You do it again and he moans long and deep. You trace a finger down the thick veins and caress his balls and he rewards you with a needy “please baby”.

You lean forward on your knees and kiss the tip. Kiss the shaft and lick your way down to his aching balls. You return you attention to the seeping head continuing to kiss is gently allowing the kisses to get sloppier. His hips jerk towards you and you indulge him. His burning tip slips into your mouth and you lower it till your nose brushes against his lower stomach. You keep your rhythm soft and slow and he melts into you. His moans must be reaching the town by now and you hoped that colony house girl heard. You started to increase your suction and go faster and he pulls you off him. You release him with a lavicious pop.

He tucks himself back into his jeans and you stand there unsure until he surges down tasting himself on you. He backs you up against a tree and drops onto a knee. Both of his hands snake up your legs lifting your dress and stroking your wet heat over your panties. He kisses your thighs and licks a thick wet stripe over your clothed clit. He tugs your pants down maintaining eye contact as he spits onto your bare gleaming pussy. He kisses you clit achingly soft and begins to lick and kiss building your already approaching orgasm. You begin to gyrate against his now gleaming face. His now hot calloused hand rubs your clit and he pulls away and just stares at you. His confidence vanquished, his face desperate to watch you come. He dives back and guides two finger into your heat and curls them perfectly. Your loud breathing transforms into moans uncaring of who might hear. He hums into your aching pussy seemingly encouraging you. White hot heat encases you everything goes numb as you come around his knuckle deep fingers, pussy spasming. He watches your face contort in pleasure and continues his ministrations carrying you through.

Your breathing stills and he rises lifting his fingers to your lips, letting them sink into your awaiting mouth. You plead to be able the touch him and he smiles and kisses you full of need. “Please touch me again baby” he moans wantonly. You needed to see him come. Your hands slid down his front and once again released him. You stroked him firmly, the head of his cock an even brighter red and was pouring pre come. He was close. Your lips lunged for his and you tugged his cock harder. His moans became louder, breathing harsher as he spurted hot and harsh against your bare stomach and pussy. Your hand was covered and his face was serene. This was way more delicious than a daydream.

———

You were both bashful as you helped each other dress. Cheeks flushing as he pulled up your panties and gently tugged your dress down, you’d stopped him from wiping his come away and his confidence sprouted back. “You want something to remember this by?” He jested. “You wish” you spat back, you both knew what he said held truth.

The bell sounded in the distance.

“Come on I’ll walk you back”, he tugged your hand putting you in front of him and nudged you towards the edge of the forest. Was it to put a barrier between you and those things? No, you wouldn’t delude yourself into thinking he cared. If he cared he’d of asked you out or something along those lines. Right?

You made it back in time. “This is me” you awkwardly shrugged. You both waited for the other to speak.

You broke the silence.

“Randall, look you don’t owe me anything I get it this was nothing. I won’t tell Laine and you can go back to persuing her”.

“Y/N, me and Laine are-“ he started

You cut him off. You couldn’t bare to hear it.

“I just needed a release from whatever weird tension we had, I get it seriously no need to explain”

He looked stunned and started to frown. But he quickly masked it with a careless gaze.

Your eyes narrowed, “thanks for walking me back I guess”

“Yeah yeah , anytime”

He turned to abruptly leave.

You wanted him to stay, your bed would bed would be so warm with him. The thought made your heart skip.

“Randall wait!”

He turned

“Get home safe”, you deflated as you were unable to ask him to stay. As if he’d want to.

His swagger returned, “Don’t worry about me too much sweetheart” he smirked.

He laughed at you rolling your eyes as he strolled away.

———

Why did him walking away hurt so much? Why did you feel like you knew him?

“Fuckkkkk”, you hissed as you slid down your door. Had you fucked him in college? No,no surely not you’d shamefully remembered every drunken fight and embarrassingly bad one night stand. Then how could you possibly know him? You didn’t know but it was almost certain he remembered and the one whiteclaw too many was the culprit as to your forgetting. How could you forget a connection like that it almost felt cosmic. God now you really sounded like a colony house hippy dippy idiot.

[desperateknot]

I swear this one has no right to make as much sense as it does.

Swap Ishqueg/LCB Queequeg AU.

La Manchaland's Fashionita ID Queequeg uptie story:

The child... didn't really have a choice. It was either becoming a mindless Bloodbag or becoming her Daughter.

For her, turning into a Bloodbag would be no better than turning into a Mermaid. That was why...to save herself...Just like back then...

Still, she managed to run. She managed to runaway from that mockery of an amusement park.

Now, it is time for her to return to her original quest.

That bastard has to be alive still. She'll find that crone, tear her heart into pieces, and then drink her blood.

Before that though, she'll have to get over this fear of water.

She feels as if she might be dying already. The water is lodging inside her hair, soaking her clothes, seeping through her skin. Soon, she would explode-

The child stopped that line of thought. She tried to remind herself that there was no real basis for her fear, yet she couldn't stop herself from trembling.

Whose fault is it that she has to suffer so much?

Her red eyes accidentally met the make-shift orange ring on her finger, before closing themselves shut.

Outis: Did you really think you can escape us?

The child had heard the sound of footsteps accompanied by scissors snippings from faraway, yet she found within herself no will to flee or fight.

Outis: The dress I especially made for you...Do you have any idea how much fabric I have to spend for that?

She would rather tear off her own throat before laying a finger on that woman. For, of course, she was her dear Mother.

Outis: Selfish child. Have you ever even spared a thought for your poor parent?

For reasons she can't seem to recall, the child knew what was about to happen next. As if it all had happened before.

Thus, she kept her eyes shut, waiting for the punishments to be over.

When she was dragged back home, that question still plagued her:

"Whose fault is it that I has to suffer so much?"

It would be so much simpler had she just obeyed her Parent.

Outis: Here in La Manchaland, there is no need for you to mourn.

Outis: You will never again have to confront the people who were hunting you! You won't need to avenge for those whose faces you have forgotten!

Outis: So be a good child, would you, Telema-? Your Parent always knows best.

Being a well-behaved and obedient child of the family, being a good sister is not at all a difficult task. In fact, for her, it is like second nature. It's almost as if she has done all of this before.

It's certainly much more pleasant than forcing herself to confront the fear of water.

Snip. Snip. She is trembling, but this time, it is of excitement. Finally, she has something to quench that familiar thirst. She can't help but suck on her thumb, thinking of the mouth feel of the fresh meat.

Once upon a time, she was a maggot fed on the rotten, filthy human flesh. Now, she finally has the privilege to sink her teeth into their still fresh bodies, tender skin and warm blood, listening intently to the faint breath that would soon cease.

Snip. Snip. Her body moved on its own. When she dons the mask, it is nigh impossible to control herself or remember who she is. But all that just feels natural.

Maybe, she was born for this. She mused as she danced with the mangled corpses.

Everything feels deeply familiar, almost as if she was just returning home.

And, if that was the case, things become significantly more straightforward.

Protect her home. That was what she was tasked to do. That was what she was born to do.

Born? Born. She was born.

Snip. Snip. She suddenly felt an uncomfortable sensation on her ring finger, as if something was actively tying her down.

It's the make-shift ring again. Now, fully dyed red of blood.

She could no longer remember why it was there, but surely, it couldn't be that important.

Snip. Snip.

When the strands of sunset scattered through the crimson red streets of La Manchaland, the child could swear she heard a stranger's voice.

???: Wrong question.

???: For whom. For whom do we suffer so much?

She mustn't let those things trouble her, though, lest she upset her dear family.

Still, there might just be one thing that she couldn't help but secretly complain to herself.

She couldn't see the sunset from here.

Was there something she was supposed to do? She couldn't remember anymore.

La Manchaland's Fashionita ID Queequeg voicelines:

Identity Obtained: Protect the family...huh.

Uptying: Aha. Ahahahaha. Cut it. Already cut it all!

Reasoning: The Bloodfiends are kind of like the Middle in the sense that they are a metaphor for a fucked up abusive family that Queequeg can't escape from. To be a Kindred is like to be born again. Themes of rebirth is already present in Canto V. So this is a rebirth for Queequeg, but it's twisted and fucked up.

Queequeg called herself a maggot before, surviving off people's deaths. Bloodfiend Queequeg makes this more literal by sucking on humans' blood to survive.

The Bloodbags, in a sense, are quite similar to Mermaids, something that Queequeg absolutely does not want to become.

Canon Queequeg always wears a mask when fighting for Ahab. Bloodfiend Queequeg conveniently has a mask made by the Barber too.

The Fashionitas' design has rose motifs, which is a red flower, which could be read as a reference to The Little Mermaid, one of Queequeg’s source materials. The Fashionitas' design conveniently has scissors to cut the rope (ring) that connected her to a certain special person that she could no longer recall, which is even more poignant when you remember how she can't go to the sea anymore, because Bloodfiends are afraid of water. Hence, she can no longer reunite with Ishmael.

Too bad that Bloodfiends aren't weak to sunlight, or it would be even more angsty. Imagine. Pacifying her. With the gentle sunset.

Bonus:

Moby Dick Queequeg is said to have been a cannibal before the events of the book and preferred rawer meat.

Vampires don't have reflections on silver mirrors. This is very elaborated, but I feel like it would be thematically fitting if Queequeg doesn't see a reflection of herself in mirrors because of her lack of individuality. It was only when she was with Ishmael that she had any real desire of her own. But right after that, her desire was overwritten with Ahab's.

Personal notes:

There is a reason why she is sucking on her thumbs on the uptie art 👍

Also, I think Bloodfiend's Queequeg uptie art is the best piece I have ever drawn for her. I like the quality of the colour and the fake linearts and everything. However, the pre-uptie Bloodfiend Queequeg art is the most Queequeging Queequeg I have ever drawn, even though she is in a pretty feminine dress. I have a tendency to make all the characters I draw look feminine, even the male characters. Queequeg is the most masc character I have ever been obsessed over, so it's a force of habit.

I actually made a YouTube video of Bloodfiend Queequeg uptie story too: https://youtu.be/56rG1v-0Lv4?si=RgzpvZsPkQ84myZf

By the way, I made almost the entire thing before Part 2 of Canto VII, so I didn't touch the main plot of Canto VII a whole lot. In this mirror world, Queequeg was still a Sister of the Middle, left and joined Pequod, and when Pequod crashed, she returned to land. She wandered in La Manchaland some times later after their 200 years quarantine and got turned into the Barber's Kindred. Now that Canto VII is done, I think Dulcinea would fit her a bit, too, at least superficially. They are both...purple princess (and yes, Queequeg is a princess).

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

just don’t get us caught

pair: Fred Weasley x reader requested by anonymous

I'm watching Order of The Phoenix currently and I have a good idea for a fic, where it's Fred Weasley x reader and reader is a Slytherin and has always been very by the rules and is a prefect, but Umbridge pisses her off a lot to the point where she pulls a prank on Umbridge, and it has the twins wondering who could pull of something that elaborate, and eventually Fred figures out it's her but keeps her secret, and even helps her pull more pranks in the future, and she starts to help the twins with stuff for the joke shop and even helps sell some of their stuff to students

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❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

You weren’t sure what finally snapped in you. Maybe it was the way Umbridge treated the Gryffindors, or maybe it was how she belittled students in general. Whatever it was, it had you ready to break every rule you’d sworn to uphold as a Slytherin prefect.

And so you did.

You spent nights perfecting the prank. It had to be subtle, but devastating enough to leave Umbridge fuming. A delicate potion slipped into her tea that would turn her skin bright purple by morning. You’d even borrowed a few tricks from the Weasley twins’ playbook—if anyone knew how to make a scene, it was them.

The morning after, the entire school was buzzing. Umbridge was beside herself, trying to scrub her face clean, but the potion wouldn’t wear off for at least 24 hours.

Fred and George were in absolute awe.

“Who could’ve done it?” George mused during breakfast, scanning the Great Hall for a potential prankster.

Fred shrugged, though he had an amused glint in his eye. “Whoever it is, they’re a bloody genius.”

As the day wore on, Fred became more curious. He was determined to find the culprit, not to out them, but to congratulate them—and possibly learn a few things. After all, this prank was far more subtle than anything he and George would’ve pulled off. It had finesse.

The last person he expected was you.

Fred had never pegged you, the Slytherin prefect, as someone who even had the capacity to prank. You were known for being strict, by-the-rules, and basically everything the twins weren’t. But when he caught you smirking quietly to yourself as you passed Umbridge in the hall, something clicked.

That night, Fred cornered you in the library.

“Alright, out with it,” he said, sliding into the chair beside you.

You looked up, startled. “What are you talking about?”

Fred grinned. “You know what I’m talking about. The purple skin, the prank. It was you, wasn’t it?”

You stared at him for a moment, considering your options. Deny it, and he’d probably let it go. Admit it, and... well, Fred wasn’t exactly the kind to keep quiet. But then again, maybe he would.

“And if it was?” you finally said, eyebrow raised.

Fred’s grin widened. “I’ll keep your secret, on one condition.”

You crossed your arms. “And what’s that?”

“You help us pull off a few more. You’ve got talent, Y/N. Why let it go to waste?”

You considered the offer. Part of you wanted to refuse, to stick to your role as prefect. But another part—the part that had thoroughly enjoyed watching Umbridge suffer—was intrigued. You’d never been one to break the rules, but with Umbridge in charge, everything felt... different.

“Alright, Weasley,” you said, “I’m in. But you better not mess this up.”

Over the next few weeks, Fred and George brought you into their world of chaos. They didn’t just prank for fun; they were planning something much bigger. You found yourself staying up late in the Room of Requirement, helping them brew potions, develop joke products, and sell them under Umbridge’s nose.

It was thrilling.

The three of you became an unstoppable team. Fred always seemed particularly impressed with your ideas, often pulling you aside to suggest more complex plans. The line between friends and something more started to blur, especially when Fred would give you that mischievous smile, the one that made your heart race.

You weren’t sure when exactly you fell for him—maybe it was the way he respected your abilities, or how he never made you feel out of place even though you were a Slytherin. But you were certain of one thing: Fred Weasley was trouble, the best kind of trouble.

And you were more than happy to keep causing it with him.

One morning, you all pulled off your biggest prank yet. Thanks to a combination of fireworks and enchanted fliers, Umbridge’s office was covered in bright green slime. The whole school laughed, but no one could trace it back to you, Fred, or George.

Later, as you sat in the common room, Fred leaned in and whispered, “We make a good team, Y/N.”

You smirked. “Yeah, we do. Just don’t get us caught.”

Fred chuckled. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

And from that day on, you weren’t just the Slytherin prefect anymore. You were Fred’s partner in crime, helping him create chaos.

[calisources]

𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐋, 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All quotes are taken from different media about betrayal, heartbreak and future betrayal or the art of it. Some quotes include some foul language so please beware. Change names, pronouns, locations as you see fit for your muses.

It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend.

The mistake was mine, for trusting you.

For there to be betrayal, there would have to have been trust first.

I used to advertise my loyalty and I suffered the consequences of it.

I used to open my heart easily, until you broke it.

Why did you despise me?

 You loved me - what right had you to leave me?

He would have killed me.

Then you should’ve died. Died rather than betray your friends, as we would have done for you.

I think I realized that I would rather die because I betrayed them, than live because I betrayed you.

Stab the body and it heals, but injure the heart and the wound lasts a lifetime.

It's hard to tell who has your back, from who has it long enough just to stab you in it.

What was it that you wanted and why didn't you fight for it?

But... do you stop loving someone just because they betray you? 

That's what makes the betrayal hurt so much - pain, frustration, anger... and I still loved her. I still do.

 Maybe I was safe to you, and you needed to feel that.

I could never hurt him enough to make his betrayal stop hurting.

You are going to break your promise. I understand. 

When someone stabs you in the back and then apologizes, accept the apology, but don't give him the knife back to do it again.

I will forget you as soon as my head lays on someone else's arms. 

I would have taken a bullet for you. It just never crossed my mind that you would be the one to shoot.

Don't be nice. Be loyal. Nice can be faked. Loyalty can not.

You got betrayed because love turned you blind.

Don't punish yourself for trusting people and getting betrayed. It's not your fault.

What is more important, that Caesar is assassinated or that he is assassinated by his intimate friends?

It hurts to breathe. It hurts to live. I hate her, yet I do not think I can exist without her.

Was it all in my head?

You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees.

Some people are in such utter darkness that they will burn you just to see a light. 

Her only way home was to betray her friend.

I risked, and I lost, but the risk was still worth it.

Could a marriage be happy, standing on a shaky ground of adultery and a disregard for the wife’s feelings? 

When dealing with love and relationship. Hurting and betraying a great woman can lead you to a painful life of regret.

I once met a man who didn't have a heart. He told me he didn't have one.

Do not give your ears to snake they are legless to stand on their own.

Even as your body betrays you, your mind denies it.

When you care about someone, you can’t just turn that off because you learn they betrayed you.

You believed me incapable of hurting you, and yet I did.

I would rather my enemy's sword pierce my heart then my friend's dagger stab me in the back.

Do you ever wonder, do you, why I loved you for such a long time, and still didn’t really know you?

False friends, like weeds, try very hard to appear genuine.

Some scars don't hurt. Some scars are numb. Some scars rid you of the capacity to feel anything ever again.

Whoever controls the king, controls the kingdom.

A man sleeps with another woman, he is praised for it, a woman does the same, she is labeled as a whore.

Innocence like yours attracts snakes, and all they want is a piece of you.

I didn’t know that you were ashamed of me.

My past. My mistake. My regret. My love.

The easiest way to steal something is for it to be given willingly.

I don't want to fall in love with you, because you will use it against me.

Cal betrayed me, and I betrayed him. And you betrayed both of us, in a thousand different ways.

Betrayal isn't ridiculous. It's the reason empires fall.

She is an able negotiator and a strong ally.

That is for what you did to me.

Not as the faceless lover. Not even for today when you made love to me... or perhaps we should call it 'fucking', since there was nothing loving about it, only manipulation

Do you know why he did what he did to you? Because he could.

You’re my prey tonight.

You should’ve paid attention. Princesses don’t trust the dragons, they fall pray of it.

A son for a son, heh. But that's a grandson...and he never was much use.

I can love what is broken.

She is intent on pleasing the men that frighten her.

I’ve given my loyalty before. Too many times now. Always works out the same.

You’ve been moving your lips, but I’ve not heard a word.

I would betray you a thousandfold for her.

A woman should not be trusted. Specially one with such beauty and doesn’t even realize they have.

Because you needed to know that not everything was a lie.

Did he touch you like this?

Yes, but that's how he always touches me. He would n-never…

Maven is his mother's son.

I gave him so much-parts of myself I didn't even know were there.

The only betrayal I ever did was being my mother’s child.

We made a bargain. I give you over, and he agrees to let my forces enter Prythian through his territory.

Having faith in your spouse does not lead to trust, truth does.

You may not have loved me,but I loved you, and my love was never a lie.

I hope I never meet the guy that did this to you.

If there is a marriage and your husband loves you, there is no other woman. 

From his vantage point on the deck, the commoners were ants.

I will never make the mistake of loving you ever again.

Why the hell would you save that motherfucker’s life?

The only one you protected was yourself.

Yes. I did protect myself. It was about damn time I learned to do that.

Betraying someone once can be a mistake. Betraying someone twice is a choice.

My brother needs to watch where he steps while doing so. And on whom he steps.

You ended one life, but I got another in me.

You think I betrayed you.

You're nothing but a bad habit.

Can’t have love without lust.

Be careful who you follow and treat everyone who come to you as if the have an agenda towards you.

Break his crown, break his throne, rip his monarchy apart.

[adarkandmagicalforest]

An Irritation p. 2

pairing: Otto Hightower/Targaryen Reader (twin to Daemon)

tags: explicit sexual content, hate fucking, mentions of incest, otto hightower talking about sin

Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight, Part Nine, Epilogue

She had not thought to do it again.

But then, Daemon had been expelled from his short term as Master of Laws and had been in an especially instigative mood since then. He'd dragged her from her bath, complaining all the while, demanding they fly together.

When she refused, as it was Winter and a storm was pouring rain over Kings Landing outside, he prodded her, viciously trying to get her to rise up to his fire. But Daemon was poor company when in such a mood, so his pushing only served to make her furious. She'd bit out some response and dressed in a mere robe before leaving through one of Maegor's tunnels, her brother glaring after her as she left.

She ended up at the Tower of the Hand soon enough.

But to her utter disappointment, Otto Hightower was nowhere to be found in his chambers.

But never one to suffer disappointment for long, the Princess began to help herself. He had not been here to stop her after all, and what did it matter if she wished to ruffle around in his things? He was their servant after all, it should have pleased him that his possessions could entertain her for a time, she mused as she explored the chest of drawers against the wall, the nightstand that held a pair of gloves and the desk with his papers. She even exchanged her robe for a pair of his trousers, loose and far too long for her much shorter legs, but an interesting sight nonetheless. She wished she could have found his pin, but the blasted man seemed to never take it off.

She had begun humming when she went through the rest of his clothes, the stale mass of dark grey, black and emerald green uninspiring until she found a pair of thick, woven ties inside. 

They were clearly meant for holding, perhaps to fasten against his belt or some other mundane purpose, but she as a dragonrider thought them to be rather similar to reins .

And so the Princess took them, laying herself back on the Hand's neat belt, hoping dearly she would not need to wait long. 

She counted near a half hour before her ears caught the sound of doors opening beyond the bedroom. 

Pleased, her pale hand rose up and pushed her half-dry, ivory curls up in an artful array and arranged herself into a more comfortable position on her stomach, though the mix of his trousers, her long hair and the dark green ties that were idly wrapped around her wrists like bracelets was an odd one, but she liked the way it felt.

Minutes were all it took then for the door to creak open - it halted of course, halfway upon opening. The Princess ignored it, instead twirling the fabric about as her heart thudded in her chest, curious to see if Otto would play.

More heartbeats followed, but words were not uttered. 

She could only hear his footsteps, stepping over the floor and to the rug beneath his large bed. 

"I did not think I would receive a visit from you, Princess. I did not receive a missive nor warning of it." Otto finally said, not as negative as he could have been. For the past week, the Lord Hand had been thoroughly avoiding her, which was an interesting development, especially with Daemon's horrible attitude of late. Normally the old man would've started lashing criticisms of her and Daemon both, no matter which twin had earned his ire, always lumping the two together. But even with her brother wrecking havoc, she hadn't heard Viserys grousing once about hearing of her from his Hand.

So the dragon turned onto her back, her pale hair covering her breasts but hardly as a fine act of modesty, what with the curve of her small breasts and her soft pink nipples being well on display. 

The movement caused the Hand's breath to hitch, just slightly, which made her lips turn up into a pleased grin. That would surely bother Otto, who's immediate twitch of his brow told her that his action had been an accidental one. "I thought you were a servant of my House, Otto - I did not think a servant required prior warning before I had need of him." She replied, lifting herself up onto her arms, peering up at him expectantly.

"Of course. Yet it would only be polite. Then, I should have expected that to be something that was beyond your worries, Princess." He said then, drifting closer now and placing his hands on the sturdy wooden footboard of his bed. He always kept such neat hands, she noticed blithely. Clean hands with clean fingers and clean fingernails. Only days ago, those fingers had been rubbing at her cunt til she came. Daemon would have taken this man apart piece by piece, slowly feeding each limb to Caraxes if he ever found out. 

"Mmm. The worries of a Princess are more important than such things." She agreed. She squirmed slightly then, rubbing her thighs together. The texture of the trousers that she was wearing was rubbing against her, heat looming within her at the motion.

This action caught the Hand's attention instantly. "It seems though, you've been here for sometime." He said darkly, finally approaching her properly, now looking down at her as if he could frighten her. 

"I have." 

Finally, Otto reached for her, looking rather frustrated but also aroused in her opinion, especially as his hand smoothed over her pale stomach. His fingers pushed her loose hair out of the way of his path as his touch traversed her torso, moving carefully along her delicate ribcage and then up the curve of her pale breast, the warmth of his hand pleasant, especially as his thumb moved over her nipple. The Princess moved slightly, pressing herself up against this touch, encouraging him to stroke and pet her. Cannibal liked the same. 

"You've been going through my possessions." He stated, disgruntled and yet still touching her. He was still roaming over her flesh, but now his hand was touching the trousers she'd stolen, perhaps noting after ducking them down an inch, that she wore nothing beneath them.

"I was bored." 

This, he didn't like, because then his fingers began digging into her, his nails raking over her until she gasped and red marks raised up through her soft skin. She was soaking through his trousers, she knew, and was tempted to grab at his wrist and escort it down between her legs - but she was fascinated where he was going with this. How odd it was to think him an interesting lover. 

"To think, a woman of your privileges, to be blessed by the Gods to rule - and yet to be damned by such sin." Otto finally said, an edge to him that made her ache. So this is how he wanted to play? Very well, she thought, ecstatic. 

"Oh yes, I forgot how pious you are, Otto. It must have slipped my mind the last time you were wetting your cock with my whorish little cunt." The Princess almost purred back.

That flash of pissed off and starving came over his face, and then he climbed over her in the bed. His hand gruffly moved underneath her hair, grasping at her nape with force as he kissed her. She kissed him back hungrily, her hands reaching for him and yanking at his clothes, fantasizing for a moment about putting on his doublet with the gilded hand of the King pin, perhaps with him putting his mouth to good use at her cunt while she wore it. 

But Otto had another thought, it seemed. 

Because her hands, having been making work of the ties on his doublet, were suddenly seized with an iron grip and roughly pinned above her head. And those ties, which she had been wearing as bracelets, were now her reins - as they were now being tied against the headboard with such swift action that by the time she thought to struggle and wriggle and fight, it was already done. 

She shouted her frustration, wriggling against the ties, but to no avail.

"So much fire and yet two little straps can keep you bound so tightly..." The Hand said, looking down at how she struggled. 

If it wasn't for the fact that he was still touching her, his fingers rubbing over her sides and then up to her breasts, massaging at them near worshipfully, she might have made a stronger effort of it. She could escape, if she so wished.

Otto lowered his head then, kissing at her rib cage slowly. "If you were not born a Targaryen, a girl with your appetites would have been punished by the Seven already." He said, his wiry beard tickling her as he mouthed along her sternum and then up the curve of her breast. His mouth was warm, but the tantalizing thought that he was visiting her body as he might a Sept while also murmuring of punishment could dazzle her mind. "A girl with such a mind - " The Hand continued, kissing one pink nipple while his hand plucked at the other. " - one no better than a slut... If you were named anything else, even just a bastard perhaps, you would have been stripped down and paraded through the streets to atone for the whorish desires within you."

Hot arousal bloomed in her, needy and aching at his words. House Hightower had always been tied to the Faith, but she'd never believed religion to be anything more than lies told to shame children to behave. Now, devilishly, she wondered if she should have learned more of it - if just so she could combat old Otto more properly. 

"And what does that make you, Otto? Touching your slut Princess like this, as I'm sure your dirty old Septons fantasize about too. Some faithful man you are... I wonder, what would your wife think if she could look upon you now, hm?" She mused back, glad to not be so breathless when his fingers began roughly unlacing her from her trousers. The laces rubbed against her flesh so quickly as he pulled them away, as he'd done so with such harshness that they left tiny rope burns on her stomach. The trousers were ripped away just as quickly, and her legs were pushed up, bending them against her chest.

The look on his face was dark and outraged, just as he usually looked whenever her or Daemon's lips ever quirked a smile or pushed the Hand to his limit.

This she was fine with, pleased to see some fire, but instead of receiving a cock, she got a rough hit. Otto's hand spanded over the softest part of her arse, just where her thigh met it, and even over her cunt. The smack stung unbelievably, and the sensation actually made her yelp in pain.

But that didn't stop the Hand's hand, who smacked her again. And again. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. 

Seven times, she realized once her arse was burning hot and stinging painfully. He'd hit her once for each of his stupid gods. Her core was weeping, the contact from his smacks not enough to satisfy, just to torture her. Perhaps he hadn't meant these to arouse her, but the evidence was surely hard to ignore.

"You really are no better than a common whore, aren't you, Princess? Look at you - " Otto opened her cunt lips with his thumb, a wet sound joining it. "Pink, pulsing and soaking wet after I've just struck you. I should bring you to the King and have him look upon you. You would bring shame to him, no matter white hair graces your head or dragon you straddle between your legs that make you believe you are outside of the will of the Gods."

"Oh is that what you desire, Lord Hand? If you wished for an early - well, earlier, death, I could introduce you to my Cannibal. It would be my pleasure." She assured, feeling indeed to her pleasure when the older man took his time stroking her.

The petting she liked, but when he did not add to her neddling, she immediately began to push at him, needing so badly to be ridden.

"Gūrogon aōha jēda sir, Otto? Tolī uēpa naejot qogralbar nyke rhinka?" Taking your time today, Otto? Too old now to fuck me roughly? She murmured coyly, knowing just how to annoy him with her tone and use of High Valyrian, which had never failed her before.

His thumb pressed punishingly upon her clit then, making her hiss and raise her legs up high as if that would make him relent.

"You will cease to speak your foreign language at once if you expect a response." Otto commanded, his voice strict and heady even as his free hand snatched at her leg, placing it high over his shoulder while he forced his fingers inside of her - they slipped inside of her easily, wetly, before beginning to thrust them within her, his speed not enough - she needed him angrier.

"Kostilus istia gūrēñagon ziry pār, ser." Perhaps you should learn it then, ser. She replied, mirth in her voice. And that was enough, she saw, with just a sharp twitch of the Hand's brow.

Her cunt received another sharp smack of his hand, the strike over her clit now, making her yelp. A second came over her wet lips. And then, with no warning, Otto took her by her hips and flipped her onto her belly. His body followed, straddling the back of her thighs as he forced his lips along her back, moving her pale hair out of the way so he might kiss along her neck, even grazing his teeth over her shoulders and then down her spine while his hands roamed her lithe body with a worshipping touch. He was so unlike Daemon or her other past lovers - the dragon princess never quite knew what he would do next, especially as she was under his mercy. What did a would-be jumped-cut second born son want to do with his Princess? He had yet to suckle at her as he did their influence, this she was disappointed she had yet to experience to it's heights. But then, Otto grasped at her rear, spreading her arse so he might run his knuckle along her cunt and even her arsehole. Every part of her came alive as he did, awareness and thrill raising her blood with excitement.

A knock came. 

To any other, this would have been the moment they stopped - almost getting caught the tipping of the glass that would have shattered the moment.

But not to a dragon.

She was Cannibal in a woman's form - and above all, she hungered. Wantonly, selfishly.

"If you do not fuck me right now, Otto Hightower, I will scream for all to hear." She threatened, turning her head to witness his face.

He did not disappoint. Fury crackled through the air, and he very nearly looked to scowl before reaching for the front of his breeches and taking out his cock. "What is it?" He called out coldly to whomever dared to interrupt.

The head of his manhood slipped inside of her, lingering for only a moment before being removed - and then roughly thrust back within her until he was fully sheathed in her, almost making her yelp if not for his hand slapping over her mouth to keep her quiet.

"The Small Council has been called, my Lord Hand, and are awaiting your arrival." A servant replied from behind the door.

Otto slammed his hips against her, his cockhead hitting that place within her cunt that she knew with enough attention would make her peak if he fucked her hard enough. She thrust backwards against him, needing more, but his fingers had dug into her soft hips tightly, forcing her still while he controlled the pace. 

"What topic has the meeting been called for?" He questioned gruffly. The Hand pulled out of her again, lingering with just the head rubbing through her folds, before thrusting within her again.

"I believe it is - Prince Daemon, my Lord." Pain came through her hips then - Otto's fingernails had dug so hard into her flesh that he'd surely drawn up her blood. "He has landed the Blood Wyrm over a tavern in Fleabottom - with the storm this eve, there was much damage to the area, including the death of a local tavern owner." 

There was no more teasing to be had now.

Her brother's Hand had finally begun doing as she wanted most - he'd roughly slammed his cock inside her, as deep as it could go, nearly taking her breath away at the force. 

"I - will be along - shortly." He growled, punctuating each word with a thrust, not even waiting to hear a response for the poor fellow who had given along the message before beginning to fuck her with true earnest.

If she had a mind to, she might've wondered if he would not worry of throwing his back out with this action - but there were no thoughts to be had, let alone a mind left to her as she lowered herself onto her elbows as Otto rammed himself inside her, fury ruling his body as well as his lust as he fucked her. There was a loud, wet noise echoing throughout the room, with their shared grunts and her muffled whimpers joining it. Over and over again, he drove into her body, until she felt him bruising her hips and his cock repeatedly hit upon her cervix. 

His hand suddenly removed itself from her mouth. It reached for her ties and undid them deftly before grasping at her throat. Her body was pulled up until she was pressed solidly against his chest, his cock still deep within her even as his lips brushed along her ear.

"Did you come here as a distraction then, Princess?" Otto inquired dangerously, the rumble of his voice making her shiver with delight. "So your brother might do as he wish through the city?"

She moaned softly, especially as his fingers wracked up her side, the pain whirling with the pleasure. She wanted to finish so badly, she could feel his cock throb within her - the talk of Daemon though had made him violent.

"Daemon does as he pleases whether or not if his twin sister knows or cares." The Princess replied restlessly. She rolled her hips back against him, but his grip was like iron.

"Does he?" He countered, accusation in his voice. 

She shoved herself against his back, enough to free herself. Otto was still in a fury over Daemon's recklessness, and once her feet hit the floor, her hair was captured - and then her lips. 

The kiss was fierce and mean, teeth clashing and his tongue demanding the submissiveness of hers, which he would never receive. She kissed him back hotly, gasping when he pulled her back onto the bed, her scalp stinging as he threw her onto her back.

When he finally did leave her, he did so with his cock still wet, and the dragon wondered idly if her brothers would be able to smell it on him. 

[yumeka-sxf]

A chronological analysis on Twilight and Yor - Part 21

*This is part of an ongoing post series. If you missed the Introduction/Part 1, click here*

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The next morning, Twilight muses to himself that there are still things in the world he doesn't understand, but nevertheless, a spy must overcome fear of the unknown. While his face and tone are dead serious, it's comical that the thing that caused him to burst into this heavy-handed inner monologue in the first place is none other than his misinterpretation of Anya's reactions the previous day. AniTrendz described the humor of this scene perfectly by stating that "Loid really spent all morning acting dramatic when he's just sad that his daughter called him lame."

And yes, he really was bothered by the fact that he's still having trouble understanding Anya's emotions. While her mental well-being is important for Operation Strix, he also cares very much how she views him as a father. Unfortunately for Twilight, this trend will continue – after a whole day of fun activities, he's devastated to see the scowl on Anya's face when they're having dinner that evening. And, once again, he blames himself and even thinks that Anya could possibly hate him.

As I've mentioned before, Twilight is always cool and confident when it comes to his spy missions, but whenever Yor or Anya are upset, he becomes a second-guessing nervous wreck! It's telling how frazzled he gets when trying to figure out what's going on in their minds versus anyone else. If Anya and Yor's happiness is tied to a mission, and he's always calm and collected about his other missions, why would he get so bent out of shape about them in particular? I think we all know the answer to that.

It's also important to note that the couple of days on the cruise are likely the longest amount of time Twilight has been alone with Anya, without having Yor for parenting support. If she were with him during all this, there's no doubt that her patience with Anya's antics and the encouraging words she always offers, would put his mind at ease. But without her around, there's no one to buffer his constant freak outs when trying to analyze the mind of a child. His anxiety gets so bad that Anya even starts to feel bad about it.

Meanwhile, the big showdown on the deck between Yor and the assassins has so far been the most gritty and violent scene in the series. Endo has stated in the fanbook that making Yor likable while also giving her a profession that involves killing people, was difficult (though I think he's done a stellar job!) A reoccurring theme in Spy x Family is how the tragedy of war has led to otherwise good people partaking in immoral acts, whether for survival or because they're brainwashed into thinking that the side they're on is the right and just one. It's not only Twilight and Yor, but other characters as well, such as Yuri, Sylvia, even the young terrorists from the doggy crisis arc, as well as the assassins on the cruise – the factions that they work for, the politics behind their decisions, and the jobs they're assigned to do, are not framed as heroic nor completely evil, only the aftermath of political turmoil that the next generation has to suffer for.

In Part 13, I mentioned an interview in the fanbook where Endo states that the Forgers should not be seen as virtuous role models…he doesn't think it's correct to only see their "nice family" side. Despite all the comedic antics in the series that sometimes stretch the veil of realism, one very realistic aspect is that none of the characters are depicted as "black and white," "heroes and villains," and their professions are portrayed as more tragic and ugly than "cool." This is in contrast to other shonen series, where the main protagonists are often portrayed as role models who fight for noble causes we can't help but support, while banishing only the most wicked of villains. And often these protagonists started out "normal" only to suddenly gain superpowers, opportunities to go on grand adventures, and have big battles against villains. But Twilight and Yor are the opposite. The series starts with them already having extraordinary abilities and exciting, dangerous jobs, so the end goal is instead for them to be able to attain a peaceful, normal life…because their professions aren't framed as wish-fulfilling but as heartbreaking, grim, and sometimes terrifying.

Twilight and Yor's professions, as well as those of pretty much every other character in Spy x Family, have a lot of gray areas on the moral compass. This is why having a balance of both fun, slice-of-life scenarios, and spy/political action and drama conflicts, brings out the true complexity of the characters. Twilight may lie and act cold as ice towards people during his missions, but because we get to know him while he's living as Loid Forger, we can see that he's doing it for a noble cause, and underneath all that callous calculating, he's a compassionate guy who cares about the feelings of others. Likewise, we see that when she's not killing people, Yor is a total sweetheart who doesn't have a mean bone in her body, is a loving mother to Anya, selfless sister to Yuri, and, like Twilight, she does what she does because she truly believes she's doing good in the world.

If we only see Twilight and Yor as a spy and assassin, our view of them could be skewed negatively. On the other hand, if we only see them as a "nice family," we would be doing exactly what Endo warned against in his interview. But because we get to see both sides of them, we're able to relate to them even more, which makes us want to root for them. Is the immorality of their jobs too much to be forgiven, or are they righteous people who are simply victims of a cold war? Obviously if you're a fan of the series like me, you're opt to lean towards the positive view that Twilight, Yor, as well as many of the other characters, have been sorely damaged by the post-war era that they live in, but the commendable things they do far outweigh the ugliness of their professions, so they deserve a happy ending. And that's really the main appeal of the series – with all the gray areas of morality, seeing whether they can truly live happily without lies is something to look forward to.

Continue to Part 22 ->

<- Return to Part 20

[misc-obeyme]

Solomon Alone

Okay I am having some health issues, but I've been feeling pretty good today. And since I have some energy, I'm also kind of on a roll with writing tonight. I don't think I've ever posted two things in one day, but hey I'm just gonna go with it.

It's another Solomon story because I'm obsessed with him. This is a pretty short one about how he might be feeling after Lesson 12. This is assuming he doesn't have ulterior motives or anything.

It's a bit different from my usual fluff... I would say this one is all angst, but listen I don't question my muse when that slacker finally shows up.

Solomon x GN!MC

Warnings: Hurt/angst and SPOILERS for Lesson 12 of Nightbringer

Solomon watched as you lost consciousness. He heard himself asking Thirteen what to do, heard her say she couldn't help. He heard the brothers crying out your name, hoping you would somehow wake up. He saw the look of anguish on Lucifer's face, even as he held the grimoire that you had handed over to him.

Through a fog, Solomon helped the demons bring you out of the reaper's cave. When they were prepared to bring you back to Cocytus Hall, he told them to take you to the House of Lamentation instead. He convinced them that you would be most comfortable in the spare room there.

And Solomon went back to Cocytus Hall alone. He walked through it in a daze, not at all registering the environment around him. His mind was fully occupied by the sight of you falling to the ground, struck by the magic of the fountain.

When Satan came to talk to him about researching curses, Solomon listened. He agreed to help Satan look through all of the books they could find on the subject. It was a welcome distraction. It slowly pulled him out of the fog that had clouded his mind. He spent hours and hours reading through those books. All day and all night, he tried to find the answer to what had happened to you.

Because now that he was thinking a little more clearly… wasn't all of this his fault?

Solomon was the one who brought you to Thirteen's cave, to the Fountain of Knowledge. If he hadn't done that, if you hadn't been there when you made that promise, then you would still be awake right now.

That guilt was something he couldn't afford to think about too much. He threw himself into the research to prevent it from crushing him entirely. Not now, not while you still needed him.

He could face the shame of what he had done when you were awake again. He knew he would have to. He wouldn't be able to look into your eyes or see your brilliant smile without also feeling the heaviness of knowing he had caused your suffering.

It was easier with you resting at the House of Lamentation. He must have known that subconsciously when he convinced the brothers to take you there. He knew each of them would be spending time by your side, taking care of you. It allowed him to stay away so he could focus on fixing the mess he'd made.

It was only one of the many reasons he had sent you with them, though. The fact was, there were seven of them and only one of him. He couldn't take care of you the way they could. He could try to give you everything he had, give you all of his love, all of his knowledge, every part of him. And still they would always be able to give you more.

Solomon was sure you'd have an opinion on his thoughts if you were here to express them. Even so he felt himself reverting back to being nothing more than your teacher. You were his adorable apprentice and he would always be proud of you. He would do all he could to make sure you knew the magic you needed to survive and thrive in the Devildom and the human world.

He would teach you all he could no matter what, but he knew he couldn't hold onto you forever.

Solomon sat alone in his room at Cocytus Hall. A room you had poked your head into to ask him about this or that. A place where you sometimes looked for him to talk to him about your day or ask him questions about things that were on your mind.

It seemed like anywhere he went in the hall, there you were. The ghostly memory of you, standing in the kitchen making breakfast or sitting in an overstuffed chair in the library, reading. He saw you everywhere and the reality of your absence pulsed through his bones, settling into a dull ache. He was so good at ignoring this pain while he worked, it was days before he admitted to himself just how much he missed you.

And while working and researching was the only thing that was keeping him from falling into that pain, there was a little voice of doubt in the back of his mind. He couldn't help having the suspicion that your curse would break without him. That it didn't matter how much time he spent going through piles of books, that in the end it would be your tie to the brothers that would wake you up.

That once again, he would only be able to stand by and watch as magic beyond his control altered you and your life.

More than anything, Solomon was afraid that he couldn't save you.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[naisilla]

The Emperor's New Muse Part .1

Odyssey Kayn x Reader

content: female reader, non-con, forced blowjob, forced doggy style.

Thunderous marching reverberated through the ship's interior as the sling troopers advanced. In their grasp, you struggled, digging your heels in, violently thrashing. With gritted teeth, you lashed out at the two soldiers who gripped your upper arms like a vice.

Your voice snapped at your captors as you hissed out threats, graphic descriptions of what you promised to make of them ejected from your lips. They cut you off abruptly by throwing your body to the floor. More cusses came from you after your face collided with the hard floor when your eyes snapped to the pair of boots ahead of you.

Looking up your eyes met with a single cold blue stare as his left eye was concealed with a golden eye patch that branched across the sharp features of his face. Immediately you recognize who this imposing man is. The blue hair cut into an edgy mohawk and the golden robotic arm that always gripped that mysterious glowing scythe. The Supreme Ordinal Kayn.

Any shock that you expressed vanished as your lip curled in a snarl, but before a creative insult could come out, the ordinal's boot came down onto your head, pressing it firmly as a warning. The troopers are watching this snicker. "That rebel has quite the silver tongue," one of them comments, making you growl in response, the chucking escalates.

The pressured weight on your head shifts as the ordinal kneels before you, grabbing your face and roughly turning it to look at him. A deep ''hmm" vibrates in his throat as he inspects you closely. His single blue-eye flicks up addressing his sling troopers. "A Rebel you say?"

One of the troopers pipe up "This one was caught trying to tamper with our fleet ships at the last dock."

"Yeh, little shit crawled into the system and sliced up the engine room," says another one. Kayn looks at you with a raised brow.

"You're a mechanic? You understand the elite design of our locus armada fleet ships?" You scoff and roll your eyes.

"I don't, I was just blasting everything until it turned off" Kayn's face scrunched in annoyance.

"I see" he drops your head and straightens himself to his feet, walking past the troopers. "Lock her up, I can't be bothered wasting my time on petty nuisances" He turns his back to you and continues walking off indifferently to your presence.

A hot flush boils within you, and your teeth and wrists clench simultaneously. How dare you be written off as a pest by this bastard! You were his sworn enemy, THE enemy of the Demaxian empire. They may not know who you are but you know them. They had taken your home planet from your people and had drained it of all its ora leaving a lifeless uninhabitable system behind in their greedy pursuit.

You remember the day when the serene sky darkened with the looming shadows of a fleet. When the Demaxians landed an instant struggle ensued as the village you lived in was raided and ravaged by troops. Anyone who resisted was executed immediately and those who remained were either left behind on the dying planet or taken in by force. You never saw your family again, which filled you with bitter hatred towards King Jarvan IV and his empire.

In retaliation, you dedicated your life to vengeance. You had joined a growing rebel group becoming a menace to the empire. You would sneak into capital cities to graffiti the suburbs and protest loudly in the streets. Unfortunately, it seemed that the people of the capitol didn't care much for the opinion of a lower-class citizen. They didn't have to suffer having their planet overthrown by the empire, they lived comfortably in their wealthy establishments and benefitted from having their cities powered by the ora they drained from your land.

You had all this rage, a desire to be known to the empire for that hatred. You wished to tear down Demaxia from its golden pedestal of ora, to drag it and all of its selfish people into hell. To be caught then mindlessly thrown into the prisons like some petty fellon? How demeaning.

As you were being taken away by the guards, you let out a sharp scream and managed to break free. You quickly rushed towards Kayn, moving swiftly and lightly on the balls of your feet, pumping your legs, and launching yourself upwards to attack him. However, even with Kayn's back turned towards you, He swiftly swished his coat and maneuvered himself out of your range.

He swiftly spins his scythe, the blunt handle of it knocking your airborne body off and slamming you into the ground with a painful crack. Your entire body aches as you cough, the wind completely knocked out of you. You spit blood from your mouth as you scramble to collect your composure. You glance around and see the other troopers holding back their laughter.

You lunge towards the demaxian again, the soldiers attempting to restrain you before Kayn. Although Kayn refused to acknowledge you he was impressed by your display of determination. The ordinal scowled while gripping his scythe tightly as if struggling to contain his frustration. "You may be skilled, but that doesn't excuse your lack of respe-" You cut off Kayn with a swift kick to his gut, he hunches over briefly before lashing out a flurry of swings from his scythe each slash you manage to dodge and counter, edging closer to him between each of his misses until you edge close enough to launch another hit hooking into his jaw.

Kayn's demeanor becomes more agitated as he realizes he's been outclassed in the battle. However, you watch as the Demaxian's eyes light up with interest as he smiles slyly and laughs. "You have guts, it's rare for someone of your status to fight back like that." He steps back cracking his neck with his scythe now lowered to his side. "Tell you what, if you can beat me in this duel I'll let you go. Then you'll be free to live this encounter and go back to being a menace to our glorious empire. If you lose however.... let's just say your sentence will be much more severe."

The ordinal inhales deeply and resumes a broad stance standing confidently before you beconing you with his hand in a taunt. "You will not be granted freedom unless you prove yourself worthy of it. So fight me."

The troopers cheer on encouraging the ordinal to put you in your place, but to their surprise you don't back down from the fight. You manage to hold your own against the demaxian, the troopers' eyes widening as you throw punch after punch.

The fight is fast and brutal. Both of you trade blow after blow as your bodies move effortlessly, dancing and flowing together with incredible agility. You dodge and duck beneath his swings while you deliver your own quick attacks in return. The soldiers spectating are captivated by the sight of the fight, some even cheering you both on as the two of you push each other further and further.

You may have been unarmed but Kayn was still unable to land a hit good enough to take you down, merely cutting you lightly while you miraculously used your body as your weapon. Your swift movements are a blur to the soldiers, who barely manage to track the two of you.

You land a series of solid punches to Kayn's body before he retaliates and delivers a kick to your side, pushing you back. You're able to move out of the way of his scythe as it flies past your head, the demaxian's face remains unfazed even though you landed some powerful hits on him.

"A lower class nobody shouldn't have such power" The Ordinal seethes through clenched teeth, his face twists in rage as he realizes you have successfully fought him to a stalemate. You can see the furious fire in his eyes as he stares at you menacingly.

"A rebel...someone like you, you have no right to be this good," the demaxian snarls, "what a shame, you could have been a fine soldier if you had been born into the proper blood," the demaxian chuckles.

Your own face creases with fury. "I take pride in not being of such filthy heritage"

The demaxian laughs loudly and gives you a look of disdain. "Oh? And just what are you prideful of? A species that could never create something so glorious as the Locus Armada? A race that could never harness an element that grants such limitless possibilities?"

He gives you a mocking salute as he speaks, "I can understand why you became a rebel. It must be exhausting being inadequate."

Fed up with his obnoxiousness, you interrupt his insults, swinging your leg behind Kayn's knees in a sweeping motion, causing his legs to buckle. As he stumbles, you aim a well-delivered strike to his groin, forcing him to recoil with a grunt. You top off the combo by bringing your elbow down onto his shoulder.

A satisfied smirk beams down onto the ordinal who was still recovering below you. "Your "glorious" bloodline is full of fat selfish pigs. All you do is swarm and colonize your military is rightly named the locus armada because that perfectly describes your kind as the pest you all are".

Suddenly your nerves are set on fire and your body twitches and spasms erratically as a powerful current of electricity jolt through your body. You drop to the floor feeling all of your strength instantly drained and your blurry vision spots the guards had stepped in with one of them holding a tazer.

Kayn grabs your dazed body and presses you against his chest, he stares into your eyes intently with a powerful gaze, his blue-eye boring right through your spirit. Your hearing is muffled as the insides of your ears ring but you can make out the ordinal's voice commanding his guards to be dismissed before blacking out.

Your eyes snap open as the past events rush back, instinctively you try to get up but are immediately halted finding your hands bound in cuffs. Glaring at them your first move is to try crushing your wrists free through the hole, too tight. Grunting you attempt to bash them against the wall before Kayns mocking voice rings "ah ah ah I wouldn't do that if I were you" He walks over towards you tapping the cuffs with a cunning smirk "Military cuffs, GPS, vital tracking and a shocking protocol" You grumble and glare up at the Ordinal before looking at your surroundings. You expected crumbly, rusted floors, sterile flickering lights and heavy-duty bars. But instead, you found yourself in a luxurious suite. A massive bed made with silky fabrics set in a spacious room of black gold and blue... Demaxian colours.

You squint your eyes and look up at the Ordinal guardedly. "Why did you bring me here? You get lost in your oversized cruise ship?" Kayn remains silent glaring down at you. You looked so pathetic on your knees before him and yet you stared back defiantly, the distain you had for him coming out like potent venom.

The ordinal doesn't respond to your provocation, instead he continues to stare at you with an amused look. The opulent room around you is a contrast to the harsh life you have lived on the streets. The silken furniture, the lavish bed, the spacious room would make any homeless individual feel uncomfortable in its presence.

There is a strange silence between the two of you as you remain on your knees, staring intensely at the demaxian with a hostile glare. His eyes bore into yours for what feels like ages before he finally speak.

"I wouldn't speak so proudly if I were you," the ordinal hisses, "you are a traitor to this empire, a lowborn pest. I could have your head for a pillow, yet you dare to act with such attitude before me?"

The room is silent as the two of you lock eyes, your resentment towards him clear as day. "So what now? Are you going to just kill me?" you ask, your voice full of contempt. The ordinal only shakes his head leaning over you so you have to crane your neck to remain eye contact. "No Im going to remind you exactly where you stand in this chain of command" Kayns says as one of his arms pulls up the fabric of his uniform that drapes over his pants chuckling. "You were naive to think I'd actually set you free from my grasp after all the little stunts you pulled" he clicks his tongue and shakes his head dismissively "no no no imprisonment or death is too good for you, I plan on breaking you another way."

Your eyes narrow as his hand goes to unzip the fly of his pants as he watches your reaction with an amused smirk. "I'm going to teach you to respect this empire" his other arm, the golden robotic one, grabs the back of your head gripping at your hair controlling it to become level with his hips as he looks at you expectantly.

You resist his hold as you jerk your head trying to break free of his grasp when another electric shock reverberates through you eminating from your wrists. A single glare from kayn reminds you that this shock was merely a warning for any more defiance. The ordinals cock now prods your lips promptly.

With a growl you releuctantly submit and begin to tentatively part your lips open, yet Kayn impatiently thrusts his long cock in, instantly hitting the back of your throat. You retch and pull back on instinct but the grip on your hair becomes more severe and you are force to take in more as kayns grip pulls you until your face is flush against his groin his neatly trimmed blue hair brushing your nose.

You can feel the Ordinals cock curve to penetrate your throat cutting off your air, you try to scream intent on cussing him out but the garbled noise that emits from you only makes Kayn throw his head back and moan. His hips begin to thrust each time his cock is crushed down your throat, tears prick your eyes as you helplessly choke.

You can feel your face burn red from the humiliation and lack of air, your head was caving in on itself with pressure, your pulse began to thrum. Panic was sinking in and you felt like you needed to retaliate so you bit down.

Instantly Kayn pulls himself out of your throat and you gasp for air barely getting a sputter before an iron grip is on your throat continuing to suffocate you. "Insolent brat! You'll pay for that!" Suddenly Kayn grabs you and throws you onto the bed, you bounce on the mattress and try to scramble but the Ordinal was fast to pin you down from under him. He grabs your cuffed wrists and pulls them behind your head forcing you into an inconvenient position with his other hand he takes his scythe and uses it to slice off your clothes now leaving you bare beneath him.

You could feel Kayns evil grin behind you as he positioned himself at your entrance, your hands and knees trembled and you mindlessly began to beg for him to stop between little sobs. Kayn leaned forward pressing his broad chest against your back and his laughter vibrated through you. "Not so high and mighty now are you little brat?" his tone was sickeningly sweet and condescending, his warm breath ticking your ear. Finally he pushes in his long length reaching deep within you. Kayn shudders at how you tightly clenched at him, the raw sensation driving him to thrust fast slamming his hips into yours.

Swallowing your sobs you grit your teeth and scrunch your eyes tight bowing your head, you refused to beg, begging for mercy would get you nowhere. Demaxians never took pity, the Ordinal was just as cruel and greedy as the troops that invaded your planet. So you would not cry, you would not submit and you would stay strong through all of this.

Part 2 out now

[deepestnightcolor]

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Kinkmas - 4th of December⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

ᴀ/ɴ: Day number four - who's it gonna be? Have fun finding out! Thank you so much for your time!

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Leah(SDV) x Fem!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 1086 words

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Body painting, dressing up, grinding, scissoring, kissing, making out, dirty talk, you're Leah's most favorite muse.

Honestly? This couldn’t have ended any other way. Leah was surprised the two of you had even lasted this long. However, with the way you had her pressed against the canvas she had just been working on and now was just another element of the mess you two had created on the ground of her hut. Your lips capturing hers in a rough, passionate kiss, probably meant that this outturn hadn’t come as a surprise to you, either, especially as your cunt squished against hers, your hips humping almost automatically, making your clits meet in a way that made the ginger’s eyes roll.

But really, she hadn’t had anything in mind when she had started this! Pinky promise! Well, at least not at first.  Winter always made it hard for Leah to let her “artistic side speak for itself” – to put it simply, she was suffering of a severe case of artist’s block. It didn’t matter what kind of tool she picked up, what kind of material she was facing, nor did it matter what she surrounded herself with – winter made her just feel… kind of drained. Pen, knife, hammer, paint brush, it didn’t make a difference what it was, it always ended back in its usual place, unused until the cycle repeated itself. The problem was – she wanted to create. Wanted to form some wood into a sculpture, wanted to fill a canvas with life, wanted to make something that mattered to her again – and yet her brain blanked whenever she had the opportunity to actually do something. Lucky little Leah, because she had just the right person that could possibly help her through this terrible time of year.

“Fuck, Leah, you are so wet,” you breathed, making the artist beneath you laugh breathlessly, her head falling back, knocking against the canvas clumsily. “Says you, sweet thing. Ohh, shit, yes, that’s good, grind on me, baby, just like that,” she gasped, her hands reaching up to let her fingers wrap around your tits through the skimpy little bra you were wearing.

Leah had known you would have agreed to her proposing you to pose for her, albeit you did so reluctantly.  It didn’t take much more than a few “pleaaaaase”’s and a wobbly pout for you to sigh and shrug your shoulders. “Fine,” you had told her, small smile on her lips when you saw the ginger’s face light right back up. “Thank you! I will see you at my hut at 4, the lighting is at its best then! Love you, sweet thing!” And really, pinky promise, Leah hadn’t had anything naughty in mind when she had asked you. She had had nothing dirty in mind when you had been sitting on that chair, and she had had nothing dirty in mind until there had been something dirty in mind. “Babe? Would you…mind wearing something for me? In the spirit of the Winterstar?” You had cocked your brow at her in quite suspicion but had shrugged your shoulders, nonetheless. How bad could it have been? And you were already posing for her, so why not be a good little prop and wear something, too? Whatever would help your girlfriend, you told yourself. What you hadn’t expected, though, was Leah to return with a set of underwear that resembled what Santa’s elves wore in his workshops in those cheesy Winterstar movies. “Seriously?” You had laughed, but Leah had only grinned. “Pleaaase?”

A gasp left your lips as you felt Leah’s paint covered hand grip your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples before she tugged on one, your cunts still pressed together in a deep kiss, juices mixing into a swirl of arousal. “Is it helping yet, that skimpy little outfit?” You asked between smacking kissing and cluttering teeth, between shared gasps and whimpers. Leah moaned against your lips as she bucked upward, meeting the grinds of your pelvis. “Shit, yes, you are such a work of art, little elf,” she panted, leaning downward to catch one of your bouncy tits, latching onto the skin through the thin fabric of the bra, this time making your head fall back. The wet smacking sounds of your cunts were accompanied by your moans and the sound of lips crashing together again, and again, and again. When Leah pulled away again, a string of saliva still connected your lips, making a mental image flash in front of her inner eye, a low moan leaving her. “Please, babe, sweet thing, don’t stop,” she gasped, despite the feeling of wet paint clinging to her back, cooling down her heated up skin. Her breathing was becoming shallow, matching your fast breathing in an odd symphony.  “What is it, baby?” you asked, arching your back in a little to let her green eyes follow the way your tits bounced with your quick, desperate ruts. “You feel so good- fuck, your clit on mine-“ She licked over her kiss-bitten lips, hand reaching up again to smack one of your tits, small laugh leaving her when she saw the stripe of paint she had left behind. “Gonna- shiiiit, keep it up! Don’t stop, don’t stop! Just like that!” She hissed through gritted teeth, hands sliding down your naked stomach just to end up on your hips, guiding your quick ruts, forcing them to keep up the pace that made her body tremble. “Gonna cum, too, baby?” You panted, biting down on your lower lip as you saw your girlfriend’s fucked out eyes search yours, wordlessly giving you a quick nod. Your grinding hips made Leah shudder, made the orgasm that had been so delicately building up crash over her in a way that had her gasping for air, your pretty face the only thing she could focus on. Your lower lip was wobbling as your head fell back, your humps becoming a little more frantic against her, and Yoba, the sounds you two made- squelching lewdly, cunts smacking their kisses. She could feel you drool on her lap, making her body twitch in another wave of overwhelming pleasure, her fingertips digging into her hips. “Fuuuuck,” she hissed between breaths, trying to buck up against you, trying to help you through that high. “Definitely found my muse for fuckin’ liiife.”

It had started out so innocently, and it had ended with a canvas full of smeared paint, and a farmer becoming a canvas.

But hey – it did work, didn’t it? Leah had created, perhaps finding her most favourite piece of art.