#I’ve been struggling for a while to find something to look forward to.

[blvefilm]

Let My Song Teach You

Word Count 4805

Warnings Canon-typical violence, profanity

Pairing Agatha x Rio x Fem!oc

Summary The trial continues and Umbra finds herself struggling to maintain balance.

Notes this is part 3! I took some time to plot ahead since I was just feeling this out initially- I hope you enjoy!

Part 1 / Her Shadow Here

Part 2 / If I Can't Reach You Here

The incessant wailing of pained witches is a familiar sound, but it grates on the senses all the same- my shadows writhe at the shrill cacophony.

Agatha, having immediately rushed toward Teen when it began, seizes the record player. She hoists it high above her head with a snarl before slamming it against the wooden planks. The shattered pieces scatter across the floor, but she doesn’t stop there. Even once the noise quiets, she stomps it with a relentless fury. 

I’ve always thought Agatha looks magnificent when she’s angry.

Rio and I stand side by side just behind Lilia, watching the chaotic sequence of events with measured calm. For a few beats the only sound in the room is Agatha’s ragged breathing.

“We’ve been cursed.” Lilia states gravely, her eyes looking comically wide with her Liza Minnelli lashes.

A metronome sat atop the dark oak piano begins to tick ominously. 

“I think this means the trial started.” Rio chuckles, gesturing to the timer with her blade. I can’t help but grin- her amusement is infectious. Quite literally, in my case. 

“Why are you smiling?” Questions Jen, incredulous.

“They’re tourists.” Dismisses Agatha, shimmering gold pants catching the light. 

“They’re psychos.” Jen corrects, shooting her a sharp look. 

Rio nods, grin spreading too wide, the red lighting casting eerie shadows on her face. Jen instinctively steps back, heeled boots clicking against the floor.

The coven exchanges uneasy glances as they wait for something, anything, to strike.

“...And nothing is happening.” Teen murmurs, voice tinged with tentative hope. “Maybe this curse isn’t so bad.”

Agatha shakes her head at him with a weary sigh. 

My attention is drawn to Alice who rolls her shoulders, staring down at herself in confusion. “Does anybody feel...” She allows the word to trail and I can feel the entire room lean forward.

“What?” Urges Lilia, dread thick in her voice.

“I feel…lighter?” She says, tone lilting at the end in question and a shade of relief. 

I raise a brow in muted shock when Lilia’s honey colored fur coat begins to smoke. A second later she falls to the ground screaming in pain, an odd tangle of limbs against the invisible fire that could be heard sizzling over her skin. 

I despise the smell of burning witch.

“What is it, Lilia? What’s wrong?” Questions Teen as he runs to her alongside Alice. 

Rio and I share a glance, my head tilting toward the flailing witch in question when she shakes her head ‘no’ in denial at my request to offer help. I purse my lips in agitation at the senseless theatrics of this whole facade.

She was always the one who enjoyed games.

“What's doing that to her?” Jennifer yells, looking quite frazzled in her flower crown. 

“How do we stop it?” Teen turns to Agatha with his question and she can only stare, dumbstruck. 

“Alice, protect her!” Kale demands, voice dropping in desperation.

At the sound of her name, Alice jerks away from Lilia’s crumpled form, turning to Rio with a huffed, ”Can I borrow this?” 

Rio willingly releases the dagger, and Alice swiftly raises it high above her head, slashing in a downward arc until it thunks into the wooden planks. She makes quick work of  carving a circle around the whimpering woman while chanting harshly in Latin.

Lilia’s frame jolts as the curse is expelled from her, and she takes a moment to collect herself before weakly rising with Alice’s help. 

“I need you to draw one of those circles around me, right now.” Jen inserts from beside Agatha. 

Everyone ignores the comment as Rio glides toward the crescent shaped couch, flopping down and meeting my gaze from beneath her lashes as she leisurely crosses her legs. 

“So, uh…Breaking a curse. Smudge sticks? A salt bath?” Teen stutters out, beginning to pace. “What if we locate and reason with the witch who cast the curse?”

I’m tempted to roll my eyes at that, and Rio’s mirth cycles back to me.

“Once vengeance is loosed, you can’t real it back in.” Mutters Agatha, gloved hands curling in agitation. 

“So, what do we do?” 

“The only way to end the curse is to face it.” Lilia supplies shakily.

The ominous words barely leave her lips when Jen crumples to the ground in a blur of pink, her screams slicing through the air a pitch sharper than Lilia’s. Agatha cringes away from her as if it will jump to her next- which, it might, I suppose. 

Alice is at Jen’s side in an instant, frantically carving the protection circle while the potions witch begs for her to hurry.

“Her shoulders.” Teen breathes, horrified, as the circle seals with a faint shimmer. 

The cut-out neckline of Jen’s flowing dress reveals her once flawless shoulders, now marred by jagged strips of charred flesh. I let out a low whistle at the damage, and Teen shoots me a disapproving look. 

“Do I have one too?” Lilia whispers, tugging at her neckline to expose the same grisly sight etched into her skin.

I feel the electric charge in the air before the deep vibrations of a rumbling growl quakes the floor. 

The witches gasp as a sudden torrent of magic spirals through the room, whipping everyone's hair and frilly clothing violently. A demonic screech circles like a predator seeking its prey, the sound drilling into our eardrums. 

“What is that?” Someone asks, voice barely audible.

“That’s the curse.” Rio offers, unbothered, her face obscured by a magazine.

Agatha takes a step back, unwittingly colliding into me. The warmth of her frame lurches away just as quickly when my hands automatically find her hips to steady her. Her sharp blue eyes snap to mine, brimming with accusation. 

I meet her glare with a slow smile, unable to resist.

“The backwards record!” Exclaims Teen.

Alice shuffles the broken pieces of the record together, exhaling heavily when they reveal the one song that she can never escape. 

Agatha, feeling the pressure of the situation and likely wanting to get further away from me, rushes to Alice’s crouched figure and pulls her up by the shoulders- Giving her a shake.

“It’s you isn’t it? You brought it in here!” Her voice is sharp with accusation. 

“Leave her alone, Agatha!” Shouts Teen, pulling her back by the arm with surprising strength.

“I didn’t think it was real!” Alice explodes, tears pooling in her eyes as she throws her hands out in a plea for understanding. 

“I thought it was me! That it's my fault that I can’t keep a job…that everything I touch turns to shit!” A small sob escapes her, thick with shame. “That I couldn’t save her…”

With trembling hands, she tugs her shirt to the side to show us scars that mimic Jen and Lilia’s burn- Hers deep and mottled like they never healed quite right. “I convinced myself they were birthmarks...Even though she had the same ones.”

I note Agatha keeps a hand against Teen’s stomach, guarding him from the current conflict. 

“Wait, are we talking about a generational curse?” Jen questions with a hand out, trying to grasp the situation. 

“Oh you poor thing.” Lilia sighs with empathy, I mentally echo her thoughts.

“Poor us!” Jen corrects. “Now we have her family’s old ass curse!” Rio snorts at that, flipping a page.

“I’m sorry.” Alice whispers brokenly.

Before anyone can respond, Teen yelps when an invisible force slams into him. 

Agatha surges forward, but it doesn’t matter- before she can reach him, Teen is flung like a ragdoll through the glass window of the recording studio. 

The crash can be heard through the room, shards of glass tinkling to the floor. My grip on Agatha loosens- A move I didn’t register making, and she bolts to his side, Alice close on her heels. Groans of pain mingle with the crunch of glass as they swarm him. 

I glide toward the shattered window, staring idly as Alice crouches beside him, brushing off shards and muttering words of comfort. Another victim of the curse helped by the ever-dutiful protection witch. 

“Hey,” Teen croaks, voice weak but laced with humor. “I got attacked by the curse…Does that mean I’m part of the coven? Blessings and burdens alike?” 

His pitiful attempt at levity pulls a faint smirk from me. 

“Not a lot of blessings with this group.” Lilia quips, stepping through the door with a dry smile.

I nod, lips twitching in agreement when a voice cuts through the moment. 

“Is he okay?” 

We all spin to face Jen who has refused to leave her warding circle.

Agatha drifts past me and back into the main room, scoffing with a toss of her hands. “So what? You live in that circle now?”

“Maybe.”

Rio stands, stalking toward her with a predatory gait, as Alice and Teen shuffle their way back toward us. 

“So what’s the plan, Agatha?” Rio questions, leaning toward the witch, voice laced with impatience. 

She pointedly avoids her gaze, turning instead to Alice who in turn stares at the piano like it might snap at her. 

“You’re right. That’s the solution.” She snaps abruptly, jabbing a finger toward the instruments. 

“No, it's not.” Alice bristles at the suggestion. 

“We have to play Lorna’s Ballad.” Agatha says with renewed confidence. 

“I’m not playing that song!” Alice shoots back, crossing her arms defensively. 

“All signs point to a jam session.” Agatha mutters, exasperation apparent as she pops a hip and spreads her hands before her.

“What good will it do? The Ballad opens The Road. We did that. We’re here.” She continues to deny the glaring truth. 

“Lorna’s version is different, though.” Teen steps in.

“What did Lorna want from The Road?” Agatha questions no one in particular. “What was her intention?”

Rio speaks up from where she is perched lazily at the drum set, “To save her daughter.”

“You should have burnt to a crisp years ago but here you are. Sullen and aimless, but alive. That’s because at any given moment somewhere, someone is playing that song that you hate so much…Lorna’s Ballad is a protection spell…It protects you.” Agatha’s words hang heavily in the air.

I can see the realization wash over Alice- fear, disbelief, guilt. They all flash in rapid succession that I imagine is dizzying for the poor witch. 

“And maybe now it can protect us.” Lilia finishes as she comes to the same conclusion. 

The hair-raising screech echoing through the room cuts off conversation with a brutal reminder. Time is running out. 

“Okay,” Agatha snaps with urgency, “Who’s good with piano? Lilia?” 

“No. No, I studied the zils. And a little pan flute.”

“Okay, Jen?”

“Ballet.”

“Oh, come on guys!” Agatha hurls with irritation, chest beginning to rise and fall with labored breaths that only draw my gaze to the deep cut of her top. 

“I play guitar. Sort of.” Teen offers timidly. 

“Okay, great.” The witch brushes a strand of hair from her face, taking a deep inhale to steady herself. “Jen, you’re on bass.”

“I’m still in the circle…”

“Jen!”

“Well, what do you know? Zils.” Lilia murmurs as she picks up the tiny instruments with a bemused grin. 

Ignoring her, Agatha spins to take the mic. The static feedback squeals through the room causing everyone to flinch. I step up to the available mic beside her. Her eyes narrow my way, speculative, before turning to Alice with a sly smile.

“Ooh! Alice, play it right and play it well. Maybe we won’t die.” She drawls, equal parts encouragement and challenge. 

The opening notes ripple through the room as Alice begins to play the piano, for a fleeting moment it feels like hope. Then the familiar sound of sizzling snaps everyone’s focus back. 

To my horror, the curse attacks Agatha this time. Smoke rises from her clothes and she hunches over with a gasp of pain. 

Instinctively, my shadows surge forward, curling possessively around her and wrenching the curse off before it can do anymore damage. Rio’s satisfaction and a thread of warning trickles through my chest at my interference. Agatha stumbles, catching her breath as the black tendrils retreat. 

“You could do that the whole time?” Teen gasps, voice a mixture of disbelief and outrage.  

I glance at him briefly, but don’t dignify his question with a response. My focus stays on Agatha as I scan her up and down for serious injury, avoiding the confusion in her expression. 

Satisfied she is unharmed, I clear my throat before speaking, tone leaving no room for argument. “Keep playing.” 

The coven is still for a heartbeat, everyone processing what just occurred with varying expressions of bewilderment and chagrin. Alice places her trembling fingers back on the keys and the melody resumes, each note only winding tension tighter.

I have learned the lesson

Of all that’s foul and fair

Our love was forged in Fire

Water, Earth, and Air

The spell is cast

How long it lasts

I cannot divine

The Road is there

And so I dare

To risk this heart of mine

Down, down, down The Road

Down the Witches’ Road

My gaze locks onto Agatha’s profile as she sings, her voice raw and commanding. The way the light catches her jaw, the intensity in her gaze- it’s magnetic. 

Heat rises in my chest, spreading to my limbs with a slow burn and melding with Rio’s own. Beneath that, a whisper of caution. My balance is meant to steady Rio’s chaos, not mirror her yearning- Yet, I feel it. 

It’s maddening, this push and pull. The same longing she feels tethered to the woman who has undone us both in different ways. 

The little witch is distracting enough that I almost miss my cue to join in. 

Down, down, down The Road

Down the Witches’ Road

Down, down, down The Road

Down the Witches’ Road

Follow me, my friend

To glory at the end

Flames burst to life around the room, licking at the walls like serpents tasting the air. They grow hungrily, casting shadows that twist and dance. 

“Oh, great! Fire!” Lilia exclaims.

“It’s angry.” Rio warns, continuing her sing-song tone, silhouette haloed by the fiery glow. 

“Stop phoning it in! Play like a witch!” Agatha commands, voice escaping her in a growl. 

I have known the power

Of midnights in the wood

I’ve danced inside the circle

Of all that’s bad and good

The danger’s great

The trials wait

Tame your fears

A door appears

To love that never dies

As we go 

Down, down, down The Road

Down the Witches’ Road

Down, down, down The Road

Down the Witches’ Road

Down, down, down The Road

Down the Witches’ Road

Blood and tears and bone

Together and alone

The room pulses with life while scattered embers glow like stars against the night sky. Our voices rise and fall, melding together in a seamless dance as we weave magic with our song. 

Alice’s voice breaks through, raw and thick with emotion. Tears trace silver paths down her flushed cheeks, and the magic around us coils tighter with each note.

If I can’t reach you

Let my song teach you

All you need to keep our love alive

If I can’t hold you

Remember what I told you

It’s the only way we survive

We survive

As we go

The curse itself manifests in a grotesque demonic form, perched above us. Its body is a patchwork of flesh and blood that glistens against the dim light. It seems to parody the shape of a woman, with long stringy hair and a mouthful of unnervingly flat teeth. 

The mockery is undone by the wings of thin tissue stretched taut over jagged bone that jut out at unnatural angles. The smell of iron and rot saturate the place. 

Down, down, down The Road

Down the Witches’ Road

“The curse. I see it. I can see it” Alice chokes before her voice takes on a raging determination. “...I can kill it.” 

Down, down, down The Road

Down the Witches’ Road

Down, down, down The Road

Down the Witches’ Road

Wherever it may bend

I’ll see you at the end

The curse moves with unsettling precision, settling itself upon the witch’s shoulders as if it belongs there. It talons curl into her skin, aligning with her brutal scars- they intertwine in a tapestry of her past and present torment.

I’ll see you at the end

I’ll see you at the end

I’ll see you at the end

I’ll see you at the end

A cloud of fire erupts above Alice as her final note pierces the air, arms flung wide. The curse- a surging flame in a violent bloom, twists inward, then collapses into a swirling void. 

As if it never existed.

“It’s gone.” Agatha breathes, hand clenching the mic in a white-knuckled grip as her eyes scan the room warily.  

The faint creak of wood draws their attention to the piano, currently groaning open to reveal a narrow, dark passage within. 

“The exit!” Alice gasps, relief breaking through her exhaustion. 

“We did it. Yay!” Teen mumbles, tone unsteady as he sways on his feet. A second later, his knees buckle, and he crumples to the ground.  

“Teen!” Agatha cries, panic cutting through her usually steely demeanor. “What happened?”

“What’s wrong with him?” Lilia’s voice rises in alarm, gaze darting to his torso where blood spreads across his side. 

“He’s bleeding!” 

“We’ve got to get him out of here.” Urges Alice where she clutches his arm. 

The group scrambles to lift him, their movements frantic and uncoordinated. Shuttling an unconscious body through the narrow opening of a piano proves to be more complicated than any of them expected. 

Rio, who stands at my side and watches the scene unfold, subdues the desire to laugh when they bang his head against the wood for a second time- Only because Agatha’s eyes have welled with tears of fright for the boy. 

“Watch his head!” Lilia yells, voice strained.

Finally, they manage to pull him through, laying him on an elevated slab of stone just outside the passage. His pale face is slack, and blood continues to seep between their fingers as they try to staunch the wound. 

“Okay, hold on. Hold on.” Jen says, voice trembling with the weight of the situation. 

“There’s so much blood.” Agatha whispers, voice cracking with emotion that she hasn’t displayed in a long time. 

“I got it.” Jen reassures, although her demeanor screams unsteady.

“What else can we do? What else can we do?” Agatha croaks, bloodied fingers cupping his face.

“He’s young. He’s strong..” Lilia begins. 

“Dont!” Agatha snarls, turning to look at Rio and I, voice falling to a weak plea, “Don’t.”

It feels like a bolder in my gut when her loaded gaze lands on us, and I’m sent back to those hazy memories of her begging Rio…Of my birth. 

“Jen!” Agatha barks out, attempting to jolt Jennifer into action. 

“Water and moonlight.” She finally stammers. 

Alice scrambles to the thin stream a few feet away, falling to her knees to collect water, and being mindful not to slosh it as she hands it off to the potions witch.

Jen cups it in both hands, turning to the thin stream of moonlight breaking through the tangled branches and begins to chant in Latin. 

“Three of Swords.” Lilia mumbles airily. 

She delicately pours the water against the wound, his body flinches away with a small hiss of pain. 

“You’re making it worse!” Agatha accuses fearfully. 

“Wait, wait.” 

There is a visible sigh of relief when the blood begins to wash away to reveal healed skin. Jen gasps in shock at her own work, using his jacket to wipe away the remaining blood. 

“Jennifer…” Lilia breathes. “Look what you did.”

Agatha’s tear stained cheeks reflect the light when she glances our way once more before they clamor together to move him somewhere more comfortable. With far less huffs and grunts than when they shimmied him through the piano, they find him a patch of soft foliage to rest him on. 

Agatha sits by his side, gaze not leaving his face. The other coven members stand in the tense silence briefly before stuttering that they are going to start a fire and promptly wander in the opposite direction.

I eye Rio in my peripheral, twirling the damned flower in her hands as she stares despondently at the witch. I urge her to walk away through our connection, ignoring the fact that I haven’t either, but not one to be told no she parts her lips to speak anyway. 

“Agatha-”

“Don’t. Not right now.” She lashes out abruptly.

Rio sighs and the hand holding the flower falls to her side limply, before she spins to follow the coven dejectedly. I stretch a bit of shadow to caress the witch’s back softly, she shudders at the contact, but doesn’t look my way. I don’t expect her to.

 I take a seat on the log beside Rio once I make my way over to the flickering flames casting elongated shadows of the coven’s figures. She plays with her knife idly as the witches chat, sparing me a fleeting glance at my arrival. 

“I never really identified as just a witch…I’m an eleventh-generation root worker and midwife.” Jen murmurs, face reflecting the orange glow. 

“A midwife…” Lilia gasps with genuine appreciation. 

“How were you bound?” Alice asks softly.

“I was invited to the brand-new Obstetrics Association of Greater Boston. To share my expertise…It was a trap. I still don’t know how he did it. Bound me without magic.” She sighs deeply to clear the haunting memories from her mind. “So much for ‘do no harm’.”

“When mom died,” Alice starts quietly. “I stopped believing everything she ever taught me. I was so angry. Part of me hoped that The Road wasn’t real, so I could stay angry. Because…” She exhales shakily, unable to finish her thought. 

“Now you know it was all for you. And that makes you sad.” Lilia hums. 

“You’re right.” Alice concedes tearfully after pausing to wipe her face.

“Sad is better than angry.” The divination witch sends her an empathetic smile. 

“Here. Put this on your pressure points.” 

Jen shifts to hand her a small tin effectively shifting the somber weight that had settled over the group. 

“Why?”

“Because it smells nice.” She responds simply.

“Thanks, Jen.” Alice says, tone a shade lighter than usual at the gesture. 

“You know the worst part of being a witch?” Lilia states, queuing up another rant. “All the misconceptions and rumor mongering. That we talk to goats. That we’ve all got an extra nipple.”

“You guys don’t have extra nipples? I’m covered in nipples.” Rio states and I can’t help but join in on the antics when Lilia’s lip curls in disgust. 

“There’s one shaped like a star on her back.” 

“You wanna see?” Rio asks, moving to lift her shirt with a grin. 

“No, thank you.” Lilia says, appalled, as the women break out into snickers. 

I can see it then, the tentative camaraderie between the witches. They could make a powerful coven if everything about this wasn’t so convoluted. 

“Check this out.” Says Lilia once their laughter dies down, pulling her collar low to expose the skin of her throat. 

“What is that?” Jennifer asks, leaning in to get a closer look. 

“Vampire bite. Right before I knocked out his other tooth.”

“Oh!” The witches both exclaim with impressed tones, and intrigue slithers through my chest. The emotions are not my own, but Rio’s. 

“You know, we really kind of hated each other in the beginning. But now…” Lilia dangles the words in the air.

“But now?” the potions witch prods. 

Lilia blinks away the fog veiling her eyes. “Huh?”

“Lilia, where do you go?” Jen asks with a disbelieving laugh that sends Alice into another fit at her side. 

They quiet down as Agatha shuffles her way toward us stiffly, a blanket of uncertainty rippling through the coven. Rio, who’s moved to the ground, now sits between my legs where I remain perched on the log behind her. Agatha gives us a heavy look before easing down beside us. 

“How is he?” Alice’s voice has lost all amusement. 

“Mouthy.” 

“That’s a good sign.” Lilia breathes.

“Agatha, why don’t you show us your battle scars?” Jen encourages after we fall into a loaded silence against the whispers of crackling flames.

Agatha’s brows twitch upward with surprise before she unrolls her sleeve to reveal her arm. She shares a look with Rio and they both chuckle- I vaguely remember it myself from my time as a flicker in the back of her mind. 

“Knitting needle to the elbow.” She remarks in a haughty voice. “You ever hear of the Daughters of Liberty?” 

“No.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Exactly.” She affirms with a smirk, her own laugh hesitant amongst the others.

“I’ve got a scar.” Rio finally blurts- I’d felt her teetering on the edge of saying it or remaining silent since Agatha first spoke. My shadows twirl around her legs, as if to shield her. 

“No, you don’t.” 

“Yes, I do. A long time ago, I loved someone. And I had to do something that I did not wanna do, even though it was my job.” Rio angles her face toward Agatha just slightly and the witch whips the other way as if she might burn her. 

“And it hurt them.” She continues softer. “She is my scar.”

Agatha continues to avoid her gaze, hand tucked to her chin in an attempt at a mask of nonchalance. I resist the gnawing temptation to speak up in Rio’s defense- To tell Agatha that she is the reason her very being was torn in two. 

“I’m gonna stretch my legs.” She finally spits after a weighted pause that no one seems willing to break, standing with a deep sigh and walking briskly down the trail. 

I’m already standing when Rio gets up, together we turn to follow her when Lilia reaches out to halt our progress. “Don’t think for a second I’ve forgotten what you said in the sound booth.”

A scoff escapes Rio as she jerks her hand back with a snarl, I can see the slight edge of rejection in her eyes most couldn't. Very few regarded Death warmly, after all.

I wrap an arm around her waist with a forceful tug, fingers tickling along the exposed skin of her side while she allows me to pull her down the road and away from the campfire bonding session. 

Agatha stands rigidly, arms crossed, and her back to us as we approach. I halt as Rio eases forward to tangle her fingers in Agatha’s long hair, the witch’s visible shiver and small moan in response to her touch draws me closer until I’m barely a step away. 

She rotates to meet Rio’s soft gaze, visibly melting into her as she caresses her head fondly and clutches her in an embrace. Agatha’s eyes meet mine over her shoulder, face inches from my own. Her irises cloud with a storm of emotion, fondness with a barbed edge.

I hesitate, still unsure where I stand, before gently pressing my forehead to hers in a small show of acceptance. Of affection. My shadows, with a mind of their own, coil around us in a cool hug. 

Agatha’s eyes flutter closed with a shuttering exhale, savoring the small bubble of safety in the battleground we have created.

Rio’s relief and raw yearning hits me like a wave, my knees feel weak in its presence. With me torn from her, all the softer parts of herself are closer to the surface- More vulnerable. 

Agatha pulls back from our hold, just far enough that her lips are a breath away from Rio’s as her eyes pool with heat. 

The dark force that formed me jabs into my mind like a hot poker, causing me to flinch against Rio’s back with the force of it.

You are here to guide. To protect. To collect.

The reminder yanks all the warmth from the bond, leaving it a chilled husk of a thing between us. I retreat backward, one step, then two- Inhaling and exhaling deeply through my nose. 

“Agatha…” Rio hesitates to say the words we know to be true, and I almost wish she didn’t when I see the mental walls slamming back down in Agatha's eyes. “That boy isn’t yours.”

The little witch’s shoulders curl inward, the tender parts of her burrowing back into their hiding spots. She nods jerkily as she works to paint her usual sarcastic smile. It doesn’t hold the desired effect- her lips tremble with the effort and it’s hollow of any emotion.

She shoulders past us with a weak scoff, gait weary, but chin held high.

[idontlikemarshmallowsthatmuch]

I had this dream last night of riding a bike near a park with fresh green grass and an endless blue sky in the afternoon. There were kids playing at a little playground, some people having a picnic, and a birthday party near a barbecue grill. I was filled with this huge rush of happiness, just to be alive and to look around me.

I started to pull my phone out, because a part of me worried that I would forget what I had seen, and I wanted to remember it forever. As I opened my camera app, however, I suddenly gained lucidity. Of course I wouldn’t remember, it was a dream. And I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep any photos.

But even with tears streaming down my face I was grinning, and I took dozens of pictures before deciding to just look instead, desperately trying to burn everything into my mind. The streaks of white clouds, the endless pale blue expanse above me, the trees nearby as wind blew through their leaves.

I definitely don’t have those photos I took on my phone, but I have them in my mind now. It’s given me just a little something to look forward to.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Pet Pastimes.

Pairing: Yandere!Gojo x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 1.6k.

TW: Dub/Con, Hybrid AU, Snow Leopard!Gojo, Puppy!Reader, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Degradation, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Reader Is Very Oblivious, and Manipulation.

“And you’re sure this is going to help?”

Satoru had been agitated when Suguru first brought you home – all dolled up in your collar, ecstatic to be led along the very same leash he always strained against. You were more obedient than most of the unruly mutts he knew, always happy enough to sit patiently and wait for your next command, but it would take more than a few weeks of passable behavior to convince Satoru dogs were anything but hyper and messy and so loud, he could hear their mindless barking from a mile away. The fact that you were supposedly here to ‘help’ him (Suguru called you a “service animal”, said most captive-born exotic hybrids had more domestic companions, but Satoru didn’t think you deserved such a pretentious title) didn’t make anything better. Satoru didn’t need help. What he needed was Suguru’s attention, but if he couldn’t have that, he’d settle for yours.

“Oh, I’m sure, puppy.” His fist tightened around the base of his cock. Suguru wasn’t home – just a quick errand, he’d claimed, it should only take a few minutes, as if that was an excuse for leaving his favorite pet and dutiful companion at home – and Satoru barely waited for the apartment door to lock before luring you into the kitchen and telling you to get on your knees while he leaned against the counter, Suguru’s forgotten phone well within reach. Currently, you were kneeling in front of him, your hands balled on your thighs and your gaze almost cross-eyed as you struggled to see what he was holding to your lips. He thought you would’ve had a little more experience, but your first owner must’ve been the sheltering type. Part of him was annoyed that he’d have to pick up the slack and teach you something so basic, but overall, he was pleased to know that it would be a long, long time before you got enough practice in to replace Satoru as Suguru’s favorite playmate. “I’ve just been feeling a little stressed out lately,” he said, drawing it out each word, giving your stupid canine brain time to process what he was saying. “This’ll really help me relax. You wanna help me out, right?”

Automatically, you nodded – your pressed frown instantly replaced with an eager smile. Your ears perked up, your concerns completely forgotten when presented with the chance to do what you’d been trained for. “Please, ‘toru,” you whined, and he fought the urge to cringe at the way Suguru’s nickname sounded coming out of your mouth. “Please let me help!”

It was almost cute, just how desperate you were to make him happy.

Almost.

He forced himself to smile back at you, using one hand to scratch at the base of your ears while the other jerked lazily over his cock. He was already hard, thankfully, and at the added stimulation, the sight of you practically drooling on yourself to get a taste of his cock, he felt himself twitch – thick pearls of arousal beginning to bead at the tip and drip onto your chin. You didn’t seem to care, to notice. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find out that his was the first cock you’d ever seen. “Can you open your mouth for me? Big n’ wide, just like I showed you.”

Like the trained dog you were, you obeyed immediately – letting your mouth fall open and looking up at him with the same bright, expectant eyes that must’ve won Suguru over, when he first picked you up. His hips wanted to buck forward, to bury him to the hilt in your newly available hole, but he held himself back, told himself he had to ease you into it no matter how little you’d done to earn his oh so generously given kindness. In the end, he settled for swiping his thumb over the flushed tip before resting it gingerly on your splayed-out tongue. It only took a second for you to stiffen, to jerk back. You didn’t cough or sputter, but your mouth snapped shut, your expression taking on a certain unease. Satoru fought the urge to bare his teeth. “Is something wrong, puppy?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just—” You closed your mouth, looking away. “It tasted weird. It was bitter, n’ stuff.

He sighed, rolling his eyes. “Look, if you still don’t think you can handle this, I can just tell Suguru you decided you’d rather go back to the pound—”

“Please don’t!” Your hands shot to his thighs. “I’ll be good, I promise, and I can’t— I don’t want to go back to the—”

“Then open your mouth.” After a second, you straightened, your lips parting and your jaw going slack. Still, he feigned reluctance, narrowing his eyes into a half-hearted glare as he raked his fingers through your hair and tugged half-heartedly, just hard enough to draw out a strained whimper. “And this time, don’t fuck everything up just because it ‘tastes weird’. If you do that again, I’ll have to tell Suguru you were being a bad dog.”

Your ears drooped, your tail falling slack against the tiled floor. Still, you managed not to jerk back as he slid his cock into your open mouth, slotting his tip against the velvety inside of your cheek. He could see you wince, your shoulders rising as you fought the urge to pull away, but even if you’d tried, the fingers knotted in your hair would’ve kept you rooted to the floor as he rolled his hips and thrust shallowly into the hollow of your cheek. Your tongue was smooth compared to his and wide compared to Suguru’s, and he could tell you were fighting not to move, not to explore the unknown factor trespassing inside of you. With a slight hum, he took pity on you – hazy lust having softened his previous annoyance. “It’s okay, puppy – you can lick, if you want to.” There was a moment of hesitation, then the broad flat against your tongue against the underside of his cock, tracing the shape of a prominent vein Suguru tended to favor, too. He shuddered, but told himself it was only out of reflex. You got lucky, that was all. “Mind your teeth. I’m takin’ you back to the shelter myself if you bite down.”

You tried to nod, but gave up quickly. Instead, your acknowledgment came in the form of your tongue curling around his tip, licking at the arousal dripping down his shaft, doing your best to lap at the shaft of his cock despite the awkward angle. Saliva and pre-cum pooled in the corners of your mouth, but you didn’t dare tilt your head back, didn’t dare swallow - keeping your mouth wide open as he drew back just far enough to pull out of your cheek and aim, instead, towards the back of your throat. You flinched, your dull nails scraping against his thighs, but it was easy to drown out the dull spark of pain as your tight throat fluttered and tightened around his cock, as the hand still wrapped around his base fell away in favor of joining its twin on the back of your skull and pulling you flush against his crotch. This time, you couldn’t stop yourself from reacting – your body lurching against his legs as you gagged, as you tried to wretch yourself out of his hold, but he was too far gone to so much as consider letting you go. “Stupid mutt,” he mumbled, cupping the back of your skull while you fought not to suffocate on his length. “Don’t even know how to breathe right. Can’t do anything on your own, huh, can you?”

Your only response was a choked inhale, a string of incoherent gibberish half-muffled by his cock. Drool wasn’t the only thing dripping down your face, now – tears were rolling down your cheeks, fat and hot, drawing thick trails through the mess of cum and spit. Your tongue wasn’t moving, anymore, but he didn’t care – your mouth was warm and soft and fuckable enough to make up for your lack of skill. You were beating at his legs, too, your little hands made even smaller when compared to him, and for a second, he could be convinced that you were a little cute. Not cute enough to deserve as much of Suguru’s attention as you got, obviously, but cute.

His cock pulsed against the convulsing walls of your throat, and he cursed under his breath. You let out a pained whine as he drew back, pulling out of you entirely. Without his support, you threatened to buckle over, to collapse into yourself, but he held you up with one hand while the other pumped over his cock too quickly, too roughly not to tip him over the edge. It was all you could do to stare up at him with those big, watery eyes as he let out an airy moan, as he painted thick ropes of white across your messy face, as he left you stained and teary-eyed and covered with his cum.

You blinked once, then twice, but didn’t react, too out of it to complain or cry out or question why his lips quirked up into a small grin, his eyes taking on a dreamy, half-lidded sort of lull. “Good puppy,” he cooed, his heart skipping a beat as he heard your formerly stagnant tail begin to sweep lazily over the tile floor. He reached for Suguru’s phone as he went on, keeping his tone light, delicate. “Can you smile for me, too? A big, wide smile – to show how happy you are that you get to stay with me n’ Suguru.”

It took a second, but eventually, you managed a stilted nod. It was shaky, at first, more of a mangled frown than anything, but with a little love and patience, you found your footing, your lips splitting apart into a wide, beaming smile – as if you were the happiest, most pathetic puppy in the world.

God.

You were fucking adorable.

Your smile barely faltered as the camera shuttered, as Satoru’s hand fell back to your head and pet over your disheveled hair – a treat for his well-behaved mutt. He could feel you melting into his palm, but his eyes were fixed on his picture of your smiling face and, with a few taps of his thumb, Suguru’s shiny new lockscreen.

Maybe, once Suguru got a good look at your pretty face, he’d think twice before deciding to be such a neglectful owner again.

[wanders-in-wonderland]

Smile for the Camera

It’s 10pm sharp when I start my stream. I’ve always been on time, always with my makeup on flawlessly, hair styled perfectly, and bedroom set curated just right to show my pretty pink sheets and collection of toys.

I smile and wave at the camera, tossing my hair back to reveal the pink lingerie set I’ve chosen for tonight.

“Good evening everyone! I’m sooo glad to see so many of you tuning in!”

The chat inbox floods with greetings from my audience and there’s an influx of money that comes from my particularly generous viewers. I giggle and flirt with my viewers, many of whom who have become regulars in my viewership population.

Someone in the audience asks for a strip tease and I feel my pussy pulse in response, looking forward to a night of performing for my devoted viewers.

I start slow, running my fingers up and down my body, brushing gently over my lingerie-clad nipples and whimpering loudly for the microphone to pick up. My eyes stare into the camera, all of my thoughts melting away as I fall into my role of entertainer.

Teasingly, I pull along the shoulder straps of my top, letting the fabric fall away from my chest to show off my perky tits and hardened nipples that are always a fan favorite. My hands dance over my chest, pulling gently at my nipples in a way that makes my moans completely genuine. My eyes glance to the screen and I see the excitement building in my chat box, and my account balance steadily rising.

Suddenly, I hear the lock on my door click and my body goes cold. The door to my room is out of the video shot, behind my camera setup and before I can even react, the door slams open.

I let out a startled yelp as my arms instinctively cover my chest. In the corner of my eye, I see the chat go crazy as my audience tries to figure out what it is they’re hearing but not seeing off screen. My attention is wholly focused on the man whose frame fills my doorway.

I scramble off my bed. “What the fuck? Why are you in my house?” My voice is shaking with fear and shrill with panic. I’m far too preoccupied to even think about the livestream anymore.

My fear deepens when I see him leer at me and stalk through my door and towards me without any hesitation.

“A fucking whore like you should be more gracious to me,” he says, his eyes taking on a dangerous glint. He and I are both in the camera’s view now and the viewers on my stream are firing off more messages than before, speculating over who he is and what is going on.

Without saying anything else, he moves to me faster than I can evade and grabs my hair. My mouth opens to scream but before sound can escape, he throws me chest down onto my bed. The air is forced out of my lungs and for a moment, I’m still and stunned. The next moment, he’s on me.

His hand is buried in my hair, keeping my face pressed down against the bed while he forces my ass up into the air. I struggle uselessly against him, unable to push up off the bed or move myself away from his ironclad grip. My cries are muffled against my bed and I want to scream and yell for help but there’s not enough air in my lungs.

His free hand lands a sharp slap against my ass that make me jolt forwards and arch my back further in pain. He doesn’t give me time to adjust as he begins to land blow after blow. My arms begin to flail, fingers scrambling for something to hold onto as I struggle.

“Stop fucking moving, whore,” he growls at me. I feel the spanks subside for a moment and I can feel my ass burning red and throbbing from the pain. My head spins from the abuse and the lack of oxygen. I feel his large hand find my wrist, his fingers locking around me in a bruising hold as he yanks my arm behind my back, straining my shoulder.

The hand on my head finally comes away and I raise my head just enough to gasp in much-needed oxygen. In that split second, he’d grabbed and secured my other arm behind my back as well, his one hand effortless holding my arms crossed behind my back. My body is still bent over, knees on the bed and ass up in the air. My only saving grace is that I can raise my head enough to breathe and glance at my laptop, showing the livestream still ongoing.

My eyes dart across the screen, reading messages as fast as I can. None of them show any concern for me, in fact, a vast majority are discussing how much they wished they were the ones holding my body down in this moment.

“Fuck yes, show that whore her place.”

“God, what would I do to be there to punish her for always teasing us.”

“I bet her cunt is dripping wet right now.”

I whine softly when I see that message because it’s right. “Please, let me go!” I turn my head to look at the menace of a man behind me. He flashes a dark grin at me, “Not until I fuck you out of your whore mind.”

His words echo in my head and panic rises within me. “Please! No! Stop! Someone help me!” I make eye contact with the camera, begging at its cold, dark lens.

He laughs behind me. “There’s no one here to help you, whore. You and I both know that every single person watching behind their computer screen is more than eager to see your whore body get ruined.”

As he speaks, his free hand pulls his belt and pants undone enough for him to pull his massive cock out. I let out a choked gasp when I see it.

“Wait, no, please, you’re too big, it’s not going to fit! Please!” My voice shakes and I start to struggle harder against him. His body dwarfs mine and I watch through the camera as he rips my panties off, the sound of tearing fabric filling the room.

“Shut the fuck up and take it, whore.” I feel the head of his cock brush against my dripping slit and my eyes widen.

“Wait, please-” My begging ends in a wail as he slams himself into me to the hilt. The painful stretch makes tears spring into my eyes but unimaginable pleasure quickly follows as his cock nudges into every sensitive spot inside of me. He doesn’t give me time to adjust as he begins to rut into me mercilessly.

Every thrust makes my body shake with pain-tinged pleasure and pathetic moans are spilling out of my mouth as my eyes roll upwards. My hazy vision catches a glimpse of us on the camera. I look like a rag doll, back arched, ass in the air, and shuddering as he towers over me, his cock sinking into my cunt.

Every thrust is accompanied by the squelch of my wetness and the sound of our bodies slamming into each other. The bed creaks under us as his body moves like a machine, drilling into me. “Fuck, you tight fucking whore, your pussy was made for me huh?”

His voice is guttural. Suddenly, he grips my upper arms and yanks me upwards. His other hand comes around to grip my throat as he traps me against his front. The new angle makes his cock stab even deeper into me, forcing a cry from my lips.

“Look at the fucking camera, whore. Show them what a fucked out little slut you are. Go ahead, smile for the camera.” His thrusts seem to come even faster now.

I have tears falling from my eyes as my face reddens from his constricting grip around my neck.

“Smile or I choke you out on my cock like this,” he snarls, hips never stuttering in their punishing pace. I let out a muffled groan and try my best to focus myself enough to obey.

I stare through half-lidded eyes at the camera, barely coherent. My lips pull up in a small, desperate smile as I feel myself gradually running out of air.

“Good fucking whore. Now tell them how much you like having your whore cunt fucked.” His hand leaves my throat and goes to pinch my clit harshly, making me squeal.

“Ah- I like having, ah-, my whore cunt fucked!” My voice is hoarse, my orgasm fast approaching as he starts to roughly roll my clit between his fingers.

“That’s right, and you’re going to cum like this aren’t you, whore? Come on, cum all over me, show them how much you love this.” His words combined with the brutal assault on my body push me over the edge and with a desperate wail, I fall apart.

I hear him groan lowly behind me as my pussy clenches around him, my orgasm ripping through my senses. He uses my body harder than ever, treating me like a sex toy as he chases his own release. He slams himself into me one final time as he erupts, his grip bruising my arms as he keeps me in place.

I collapse against him, a boneless, overstimulated mess. He lets me down gently onto the bed, pulling out of me. The sound of his cock squelching out of my pussy makes my viewers more than aware of how well-fucked I am. He steps away from the bed and towards my filming setup. He leans into the camera and smirks.

“Let me know how else you want to see this whore fucked. If your idea is good, maybe I’ll let you come and enjoy her too.” With that, he shuts the camera off and closes out of the streaming site.

My body is still limp on the bed. I feel him settle next to me and pull me close before brushing my hair away from my forehead and kissing my nose.

“Do you think they liked me?” His murmurs.

“They loved you,” I say, breathless and drowsy from what we just did.

“I hope so, I wouldn’t want my debut on your stream to make a bad first impression,” he says, frowning down at me a little. It makes me let out a soft laugh.

I tilt my head up to kiss his jawline, “Only you would fuck the life out of me on livestream and then worry that you did a bad job.”

I giggle again and he grumbles back at me, “Shut up and sleep, I’ll clean up.” His kiss on my forehead is the last thing I remember before drifting off to sleep.

[sea-lanterns]

RIDE ME!

synopsis: (cowgirl! au) what's better than riding a horse? a cowgirl.

featuring: navia, dehya, shinobu, clorinde, beidou, arlecchino

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader, strap ons, riding, reader on top for the most part, teasing, strap ons refered to as c.o.ck and other synonyms, pet names, possessiveness, jealousy, potential poor translation of french from google translate (navia), slight cunnilingus (shinobu), size kink (beidou), handcuffs (clorinde), degradation (clorinde, arlecchino), usage of whore/slut (clorinde, arlecchino), captor x prisoner dynamic (arlecchino), belly bulge (beidou), may be ooc.

art credits: black lagoon

NAVIA

“Oh my, your cute little legs are shaking so much, ma cherie!*”

Navia giggles to herself when you find yourself panting and struggling to take all of Navia’s length inside of you. The thick toy causing your throat to tighten and whine, because Navia just had to pick something so damn big and long to shove up your pussy.

“N-Navia…” you grit through your teeth, some of the air knocking out of your lungs when the woman suddenly bucked her hips forward. “Yessss?” She replies nonchalantly, a smug look on her face when she sees the way you were struggling to properly ride her. “Did’ya…have to choose the biggest toy you could find?” You groan while glaring down at her sarcastically. 

“Oh honey, stop complaining…” Navia giggles, grabbing your hips and ripping a moan out of you when she begins bouncing you on her own. “You’re a big girl, so you can take a big dick on your own, hm?” 

With each riveting thrust, Navia had you bouncing on her hips like you were some excited little bunny, a look of pure satisfaction on the cowgirl’s face when she got an up close view of your pussy swallowing her cock each time you moved up and down. The sight was utterly breathtaking for the legendary cowgirl of your town, and you saw that she was in fact drooling a little bit from the way your cum was dripping down her shaft. 

“Oh, baise-moi, tu es si belle*.” Navia mumbled under her breath, eyes glazing over in a mesmerized way. “I can’t believe you’re mine…”

She chuckles at the way your body twitches from the constant hammering of her hips, so she decides to cut the tension a bit by grabbing her cowgirl hat lying on top of the night stand and placing it over your eyes. 

“There, now you look like a proper cowgirl.” Navia giggles, clutching your hips and smiling at the way her oversized hat tilts forward to cover your eyes. “Now ride me properly, you silly cowgirl. No horse is too big for you to tame…”

She lets out another cheery smile and continues to brutally thrust her hips at that. 

English translations taken from Google Translate: *my love, *fuck me, you’re so beautiful

DEHYA

“(Chuckle), is the princess unable to tame this bull on her own?” 

Dehya smirks cockily at the way you trembled like a leaf on top of her, the look of pure determination on your face as you attempted to get all seven inches of her strap deep inside you. You would’ve gotten all of it fitting snugly by now, but Dehya had been teasing you for the entirety of your session, smirking and gently patting your hips in a condescending manner, that really had you distracted to the point you struggled greatly with even fitting the first few inches.

“Oh, princess…” Dehya chuckles, eying the way your pussy was just drooling over her shaft like it was trying to lube itself as much as it could. Probably because it needed that much lube in the first place, and the sheer amount of precum you were excreting was enough to make your ears go hot in shame. “I’ve never seen you produce so much slick without orgasming, darlin’”

“Shut up…!” you whimpered, giving Dehya a snarky glare. “I’m not used to riding you on top!”

“It’s really not that hard, babe,” Dehya sighs, rolling her eyes playfully. “Trust me, riding a woman is a lot easier than riding a bull, and I know from both experiences.” She clicks her tongue and winks at you. “So why don’t you give it another shot, come on, I know you can do it.”

She gives you an encouraging pat on the ass and leans back, making sure to stretch her stomach a little bit so her abs could shine under the sunset’s rays. The sight of Dehya looking so relaxed and confident in you gave you the little boost you needed to ease up and slowly slide down to the hilt. 

With a strangled gasp, you let out a pretty little whine that made Dehya practically groan with pleasure. “Such a pretty noise you made there, princess,” Dehya husks, trailing one of her thumbs to push at your clit. “Can you make more? You’re usually singing like a canary by now…”

She chuckles and helps you ease down the rest of her cock, noting the tiny twitch in your legs as you struggle to ground yourself to reality. “Ah, poor thing’s all tuckered out just from sitting down,” Dehya grins, sitting up slightly to whisper in your ear. “Would you like this bull to help ride for you?”

When you were unable to respond, feeling too unbearably full from her cock, Dehya smirks and shifts her hands to rest on your hips. “I guess that’s a yes from the pretty little lady.”

Holding you close to her muscled body, she begins to thrust upwards at a brutal place, tip hitting so deep inside you it had you bouncing till you weren’t even moving on your own…

SHINOBU

“Having difficulty, sweet thing?” Shinobu whispers in that raspy voice of hers, eyes glinting forwards at you like a cat, as she watches the way you involuntarily jerked at her thrusts from her strap on pounding inside you. Shinobu was by no means a gentle woman of any kind, yet when it came to you, the sweet darling bachlorette of small town Inazuma, the outlaw was considerably generous to you, given by the fact that she could wreck your delicate pussy at any time she wanted. 

With that in mind however, Shinobu was being awfully patient with how long it took for you to adjust to her strap. The toy was not even breaking five inches, yet when you tried to stuff it inside you from the top —eager to ride Shinobu like a first time rodeo gal— you almost cried from the sheer stretch you felt of her shaft spearing you open. 

“Oh, baby…” Shinobu hummed to herself out of pity, reaching a hand forward to ease your walls a little more by playing with your clit. “You gotta loosen up, babe. I’m about to slip right out again if you’re this tight right now…”

“S-Sorry…” you grimaced, trying desperately to get your body to relax. “I don’t know why it won’t go in…”

“You’re too tense, babe.” Shinobu chuckles, pulling her bandanna down to slip her long tongue out to lick at her teeth. “Do you want me to help you? I certainly can, all you need to do is ask…”

With the way she was licking her teeth seductively and showing off her impressively long tongue, you felt your cunt drip a bit more as just the sight of it had you drooling out of arousal. “Yes please,” you mumble softly, letting Shinobu lift you off her cock and place you back down on the bed. She eased herself lower so that she was now eye level with your cunt, and began licking slow, languid strokes with her tongue until she was able to see your folds loosen up a bit.

“Atta girl…” Shinobu mumbles breathlessly, gripping your thighs to keep you from squirming and pressing deep nail indents into your skin. “Tastier than any ambrosia they serve at that damned bar…”

She groans and pulls you down to kiss at your stomach, playfully nipping the skin right above your belly button before staring up at you hungrily. 

“Do you still wanna ride me, doll?” She asks in a husky tone. 

You shake your head no. 

“Tch, spoiled girl…” she grins and raises your legs up on her shoulders so that she can angle her strap to fuck you. “You should be grateful I’m so lenient on a sweet thing like you…”

And with that, she has you clawing at the sheets as the outlaw prods her tip through your folds…

CLORINDE

“What a naughty girl, unable to keep your hands to yourself…” 

Sheriff Clorinde smirks to herself as the jingle of your handcuffs move with every bounce you take on Clorinde’s strap. The sheriff having chosen a curved, purple dildo as a strap for you to ride on, as this was your punishment for provoking the sheriff while on duty for patrol.

How did you provoke her you may ask? Well, let’s just say parading around in a short skirt, casting flirtatious winks at the gunslinger and whispering how much you wanted her to destroy you was a one way ticket to pound town with Clorinde and your hands bound together with metal cuffs. 

“But Sheriff, I was only vying for your attention…” you pouted, whining when you felt her hands grip your ass and keep you seated downward on the smooth, warm, toy. 

“Vying for my attention, you say?” Clorinde raises a brow, tugging on the chain between your cuffs so that you’d suddenly lurch backwards with a yelp. “Nearly the entire town saw the way you were crooning for me. Don’t you have any shame?” 

She gave a particularly hard thrust at the word shame, grinning to herself when she saw the way you began leaking all over the toy and crying. “What’s wrong you needy girl, have you sprung a leak?” She teases, trailing a finger down to scoop up some of your essence. “Weren’t you whining for my attention earlier? Come on, where’s that excited spark I saw earlier…”

She continues to roll her hips —albeit at a slower pace— before tilting her head up at you and sighing. “You know better than to make me jealous, sweet thing.” She sits up to whisper in your ear and holds your waist a little tighter. “Navia, Furina, and practically all the cowgirls in town had seen you parading yourself in such ludicrous ways. Only I have the pleasure of seeing you, alright?” 

She grunts and begins to roll her hips a bit faster, practically grinding into you to the point all you could feel down there was Clorinde’s strap rearranging your insides. 

“Clorinde��” you gasped when she suddenly pulled you forward to place a delicate little kiss on your mouth, completely contrasting the way she was currently pummeling you with her cock till all you could see were stars.

“That’s sheriff to you, slut.”

BEIDOU

“Well damn, I didn’t know a gal as sweet as you could take a cock this well…”

Beidou laughed as she rested back on the bed frame and placed her arms behind her head. She looked as relaxed as can be while she watched the prettiest girl in town —that’d be you— lazily bounce on her strap with determination. Usually the rugged cowgirl would be on top of you, molding your body to fit hers as she pounded her cock to the oblivion, but this time you wanted to try something different. Something you always wanted to do ever since watching Beidou wrangle some of those wild horses.

“I admit, when you first asked to ride me, I didn’t think you were serious,” Beidou sneers, “But after seeing how determined you are, it seems like you’d make quite the good cowgirl if you keep this up.”

She smiles and tilts your chin up to look at her, an endearing grin on the cowgirl’s face as she continues letting you “take the reins” so to speak. 

“Like I’d ever want to ride a horse though,” you chuckle jokingly, barely hiding a moan as it slips past your lips. “I’d rather just tame a woman…”

“You already did, darlin’” Beidou smirks, pushing you down a little further till there was a slight bulge in your stomach from her cock. “You could tame any woman out here if you could, ya little rascal…”

Your body involuntarily shuddered when you felt her tip push so deep inside you, the ridged edges of her strap feeling so good against your walls, as they milked her for everything that she was worth. “Gentle now…” you groaned, feeling stuffed to the brim from the way she was handling you. “Is this how you treat all the ladies you bed with?”

“No, just this lady.” Beidou chuckles. “Am I too rough?” 

“Not…exactly.” You whimpered, steadying yourself as Beidou bucks her hips a bit harder. “I just need to get used to it, that’s all…”

Beidou smiled softly at this, before murmuring a curse under her breath and pushing her bangs back in amusement. “Oh fuck me little lady…you’re absolutely precious…”

She can’t stop herself from grinning before grabbing your hips and helping you bounce up and down her shaft. At the extra pressure and boost in speed, you nearly creamed yourself and cried while Beidou kept you upright in her arms. 

“Well if you’re so lenient on me being a bit rougher, then perhaps I shouldn’t be so gentle on you anymore, little lady…”

And she kept her word, having you eyes roll back in bliss as she leans forward to suck a nipple into her mouth.

ARLECCHINO

“Tch…I see why that small town of yours was so angry at me for taking you…” Arlecchino husks, the smoke from her cigar fogging up your senses while you sit upright on her lap with her cock buried inside you. “You’re quite the sight for sore eyes, aren’t you?”

She slips the cigar out of her mouth and puts it out on the ashtray beside her, blowing some smoke into your face and watching as you grimace and cough with a frown. “Sensitive too,” she remarks, smirking and caressing your face with the sharp nails you were oh so terrified of. 

“A-Anyone would grimace if they had smoke blow back in their face…” you grunt, glaring down at your captor while you rode her strap with need. “It’s rude to do that anyhow, y’know.”

“I think you’re forgetting I’ve done much ruder things,” the bandit leader chuckles with amusement. “For example, kidnapped you and kept you for ransom. Isn’t that much worse than blowing smoke in your face, doll?” 

Your face scowled down at her and she only grinned at the way you were pouting. “Oh, don’t make that face sweet thing. It’s not like I have you tied up and chained to a post in the desert. You willingly came in here to fuck me, so don’t act so innocent now…”

She flashes you a sneering look before moving her hips a bit rougher so that you could really feel how hard and perfect her cock felt inside you. The way your lips part and glisten with barely contained drool had Arlecchino stroking her ego faster than you could come undone. The sight of your town’s prized jewel now drooling and riding her cock with pathetic need was sending the bandit leader into another state of superiority.

“Oh how I wish that sheriff of yours could see you now,” Arlecchino chuckles, “Clorinde was it? My, she was seething at the way I had you gripped in my arms. She looked like she would shoot me dead right on the spot if I hadn’t been carrying you.”

She was on a power trip, a glistening of madness in those red, X-shaped pupils of hers, as she began bouncing you harder against her strap. 

“You like that though, I know. A whore like you just loves being the center of attention amongst all those rugged cowgirls…”

She scoffs and sits up to bite a hickey onto your neck, enjoying the way you squirmed and clung onto her shoulders immediately once you felt her teeth on your skin. 

“Tell you what, once that sheriff of yours comes up with the sum of money I want, you send her back a little message for me, m’kay?” She growls and practically grips your ass into her clawed hands. “I want you to show her every little bite, hickey, and scratch I leave on your body, so she knows you had fun with me in my tent. Got it?”

You nodded enthusiastically before whining at the way she was now speeding her thrusts. 

“Good whore.”

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Reign Down on Me - Part 10

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt, violent scenes

A/N: sorry this took so long, but i hope y'all enjoy! Can't wait to hear what you think of it 💕

-🐺-

“Gaz.”

You pretended to still be watching the TV while you called on the sergeant. Up till that point he’d been scrolling mindlessly on his phone, but out of the corner of your eyes you could see him look up. Meanwhile the couple that had been on the screen were still locked in a passionate embrace - giving you a perfect excuse for your question. 

“You’ve had like…girlfriends or boyfriends or whatever while you’ve been serving, right?”

At first he snorted. 

Finally you turned around and met his gaze properly, steeling yourself against the grin that was threatening to break out on his face. He quirked his lips for a moment while his eyes remained fixed on you, alight and shining at the idea of you wanting to talk about relationships. It froze you in place for a moment, tense at the idea he’d see right through your reason for asking or had overheard you and Rudy talking throughout the week. 

“I have. Why you askin’?” He finally said, actually turning his body fully into the conversation. 

“I just wondered if it was difficult. You know - to maintain a relationship.” 

“It’s not easy. Our jobs make us unreliable, not present - even if we’re in the same place sometimes, tired, grumpy. I reckon my exes could write a book with things to moan about,” he laughed. “To be fair though I could’ve tried harder with em. I think I’m just a bit too deep in the job right now to make something properly work outside of all this, you know?”

“So none of them were other soldiers then?” You asked, tilting your head. 

“Nah. That’d be a fuckin nightmare! Imagine trying to find time for each other while you’ve got two different fucked schedules, then there’s having to make sure you’re not in the same units so you don’t get hit with punishments for fraternisation and all that shit.”

You instantly turned away and nodded, zoning back in on the TV again. The couple were trading sly smiles while they passed by each other at work, the fuzzy music played softly and sent your ears flicking at the sound. It was your hope that the subject would be dropped then, but even you weren’t stupid enough to think that would be that. 

“Why the sudden interest in relationships then?” Gaz asked, leaning his arm against the couch and propping his head on his hand. 

It didn’t matter how much you pretended to love whatever the show was, or how far forward you sat, you couldn’t evade Gaz’s sites. He was there in the corner of your eyes, filling the space like a prowling jungle cat. The only way you were getting out was through the conversation. 

“Well…I’ve never really been in a relationship or had the chance to be in one. None of us hybrids really got on that well at Branhaven and I sure as shit wasn’t gonna shack up with any of the handlers. Now that I live with you guys though, I thought maybe I’d have a shot at having…something someday,” you said quietly, giving him a brief glance back.

“And I’ve just shat all over your parade,” Gaz said, raising his eyebrows. 

“Pretty much,” you answered with a faux huff. “Dick.”

Gaz’s breathy laugh brushed past your ears. It forced you to turn back to him fully, so that you could properly behold the soft brown hues of his creasing eyes. Even in the dingy space that made up the los vaqueros rec room, his eyes were so warm. 

“Have you really never been with anyone?” He asked, letting a hint of a frown settle on his face. 

“Nope,” you shrugged. 

“Ever kissed anyone?”

“Hm…does kissing someone on the cheek in nursery count?”

“Hell no,” Gaz laughed. “Who were you kissing in nursery anyway you little Casanova?”

“His name was Shawn. His family was moving away and he was the only other hybrid in my class, so he was the only one I really played with. We both gave each other a kiss on the cheek goodbye. I was far from a ‘Casanova’,” you said indignantly, already crossing your arms in protest. 

“I’m sure it was very sweet, but that’s definitely not a real kiss,” he shrugged.

“Didn’t realise you were the arbiter of kisses.”

“I don’t need to be the arbiter to say you gotta do it like them,” he said, signalling at the lovers on the TV, “to have it really count.”

“Well shit, I’ve never had that happen at my job.”

The couple were now fucking quite ferociously in the supply cupboard at their work. Paper and trays were flying and shelves were being rocked, but nevertheless they faced no interruption despite the storm they were creating. Even just breathing as heavily as they were would’ve had them kicked out in real life, you thought. 

“So you’ve never fucked anyone either then? You’re like a full proper virgin, apart from your Shawn love affair of course.”

You rolled your eyes at him. 

“Didn’t say that,” you shrugged.

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’?”

“You shagged someone, but you never kissed?”

“It wasn’t like we were doing it because we really liked each other,” you supplied. “We both just agreed we’d scratch a mutual itch and go our separate ways after.”

It went almost exactly as clinically as how it sounded too. Even thinking back to that night where you’d both snuck off to the bathroom together, you could only remember the giddy joy you felt at actually getting off with someone else instead of feeling anything for the other hybrid. Which was a good thing too because it wasn’t like you’d ever seen him afterward. You’d never been sent back to Norway again. 

He’d shucked off his clothes and told you to do the same, confirming you still wanted to do it. He’d so nicely asked “you still want to fuck, yes?” And barely said a word more, only a few “harder”s or “no, like this”. You’d both been pressed up against that cold concrete corner, hands grasping through the dark, and trembling bodies quietly drinking in each others attentions while making sure to stay as quiet as possible in fear of waking up your superiors. He’d been more experienced, so he’d gotten you off first and then he finished, only taking a moment's breath before wiping himself off and putting his clothes back on. He’d left you alone to collect yourself soon after. 

“Well that shouldn’t count either,” Gaz said, after you’d given him an overview of your experience. 

“What? But we actually did it! We both came and everything.”

“Came and then went! Sounds shite,” Gaz groaned. “Shaggin’s meant to be fun. Not just ticking each others boxes and then walking off.” 

“Damn, you’re really not letting me have anything here,” you smirked, refolding your arms again. 

“Because you’re supposed to really want it off the person you’re with, like be able to kiss them and talk and laugh and stuff. If I’d had someone bark instructions at me and then leave me straight after I’d feel like it was part of our job or something.”

“Almost my whole life’s been this job, it’s not like I ever thought I’d get anything like you’ve probably had. When I finally got old enough to even have sex I’d already been working for years. Sex like that is the only way I get to get off with someone,” you explained, trailing off a little at the end when you thought back to Rudy revealing more about he and Alejandro. 

So what you were saying wasn’t strictly true. However it wasn’t like you were going to reveal to Gaz that you’d been picturing you and various match ups in the 141 to a degree where you were struggling to concentrate at least daily now. Every interaction with Price and Gaz had felt charged with a thousand volts of electricity where it hadn’t necessarily been before. 

Price could be shifting you out the way while he walked by you, putting his hand against your back and you’d practically melt into it. Gaz had ruffled your hair condescendingly after you’d gotten the all clear for your hip from the doctor and your scalp had tingled for the rest of the day after. Then there was the phone call you’d had with Ghost…hearing his voice rumbling down the line made your stomach do weird little flips and had your tail wagging the whole time even while he was chastising you for losing control. 

You blamed it all squarely on big stupid Rudy. Rudy who had been training with you on the matts the day before, targeting your sore hip the whole time while divulging little details of he and Alejandro’s relationship.

He’d told you about how they grew up together on the same street. Trained together. Fought together. One day Rudy had almost been killed, trying to protect Alejandro so fiercely he’d jumped in front of a bullet for him. Then after he’d had his shoulder patched up, he’d apparently gotten tired of Alejandro’s lecturing and found a creative way to shut him up. 

When Rudy had suggested you try something similar with your team, now that you were constantly getting heat for your injury, you’d gotten as hot as a lava rock before tumbling off the edge of the matt. Your distraction had been fully taken advantage of by your smarmy wise-ass opponent who’d decided to throw you from the fight. 

“So now that you’re with us, you think you’ll be able to find someone to fuck you properly then?” Gaz asked, pulling you back into the room so hard you were left blinking back at him without response. 

You tried to respond to that with anything other than a high pitched whine. Though you decided to stay silent when you realised that was impossible. 

“Jesus, your face. You’re getting all embarrassed just at the thought. You’re such a virgin.”

“I am not embarrassed! And I’m not a virgin!”

“Yeah you are, you’re doing that thing with your ears!” Gaz grinned. 

“What thing with my ears?” You whined.

“They always go lopsided when you’re embarrassed, one always points up and the other one folds back all awkwardly. Juuust like that,” Gaz said, quickly snapping a picture with his phone. 

“Hey!”

Gaz turned the phone so that you could see. The ear situation was exactly as he described, while your mouth slanted into a displeasured frown and your eyes were set hard into the screen. 

You smacked his phone from his hand so that it landed on the couch. From there you used the opportunity to snatch it up, quickly scrabbling against the old material to prize it up. Just before you could delete it however Gaz dove on top of you, easily overpowering you and prying the phone from your clawing hands. Your back was pressed flat onto the couch cushions, your body straining as his full weight sat on top of you, angled so that he could fend of your legs with his body, hold back your hands with one arm and use his one free hand to secure his phone. 

“Gaz, get off! I’ll bite you!” You protested, voice going squeaky as he kept you pinned underneath him. 

“You wouldn’t dare,” he laughed, holding his phone high above your head. “Price would go mental at you.”

“What are you doing?” You huffed, almost getting a bit of leverage over his forearm until he shunted it back fully into place and squashed your arms in the process.

“Taking some lovely pictures for Ghost. The man’s been desperate for  updates while we’ve been away, you know,” Gaz said, clearly typing something while he still fended you off. 

“Don’t send him pictures! Ah, Gaz! That’s it, I’m going nuclear.” 

You flung your head up and licked all down the length of his arm, slobbering down the full bulk of it and sending him recoiling. A satisfied grin lit your face when his phone fell down the back of the cushions. You then twisted your body, managing to use the nasty surprise and the momentum so that you could reverse the position, landing on top of him while he was squashed to the couch. Though you almost faltered when you saw him below you, you still kept a good drip. You managed to hold him there a moment, looking down at him with all your mixed feelings twisting their way through your gut. 

“That’s fighting dirty, Pup,” Gaz huffed, not bothering to struggle now that you were on top.

Both of you breathed heavily, you could feel Gaz’s heartbeat rattling quickly below you. It was pounding heavily against your legs from where you sat above him. Your own heartbeat hammered erratically, growing more wild at the compromised position. 

“I’m a hybrid! I need the element of surprise to have the upper hand,” you said, trying desperately to keep to the topic at hand. 

“Colour me surprised then.”

“And me. What the fuck are you two playing at then, eh?”

Both you and Gaz whipped your heads round at the same time, meeting the irate eyes of Price. You felt your ears lower immediately and clambered off of Gaz, awkwardly looking away while you fixed yourself. Gaz’s smile had dropped, but he didn’t worry about looking sorry. He flipped himself up and tilted his head. 

“Nothin’, just messing around. What’s up, Cap?” 

“I’ll thank you both to not get yourselves injured doing anything stupid, please,” he said sternly.

“Sorry, Sir,” you mumbled, ears still laying flat against your head. 

“None of that,” Price grunted. “I need to send you both off today. I’ve got some contacts I’m going to get in touch with, but I trust that you two can manage some reconnaissance without me. That alright?”

“Course, Sir,” Gaz answered.

You nodded along with him. 

“Good. Go get something to eat and get ready to head out.”

“Is it just the two of us going?” Gaz asked. 

“No. Your company is waiting in the canteen for you,” he said, a sly smile beginning to form across his lips. 

Immediately you got a sense that you were going to like the group you were going out with. Your tail twitched and your ears perked up, Gaz and Price couldn’t help but laugh at your reaction. Though when you shot Price a look to confirm your suspicions he leaned back and sobered, nodding his head at you as if to answer your question. 

It’s him. You thought. 

You raced up from the couch and away from the booming laughter, who’s echoes followed you down the hallway. After bolting like a wild stallion and flying past multiple shocked people you burst into the little canteen and looked around slowly until your eyes zeroed in on your target. 

It didn’t take long for you to find the black balaclava, the familiar scarred mouth below revealed so that he could eat the steaming rice and vegetables on his plate. His big body was angled away from you, talking to his mohawked companion and blissfully unaware of the presence about to attack him. 

“Ghost,” You whispered to yourself. 

You couldn’t hold yourself back. As conscious as you felt of all the other people spread throughout the room, you weren’t able to let them stop you from running up to Ghost and wrapping your arms around him and whining.  

“I’m gonna assume that’s you, Pup. Otherwise Rudy’s gotten awfully sweet on me.”

Hearing the low timbre of his voice was enough to get your tail into a frenzy. He was really there and you were getting to hug him. Even better - he soon stood up and brought you round to his front so that you could snuggle up under his chin. His scent filled your whole body, your lungs burned with him. 

“You’re here,” you sighed, adjusting into the bulk of him. 

“Jeez, I’m feelin a bit left out, Pup. I’m here too,” Soap said from behind you. 

“You don't appreciate my hugs, MacTavish.”

“Says who?” Soap said, a smile evident in his voice. “Get over here, you wee shite.”

He grabbed you then, forcing you from Ghost and wrapping his big stupid barrel arms around your body. Even while being crushed you had to admit that you loved the attention. It also meant you got to face Ghost, even if you had a silly grin plastered all over your face and a wag in your tail that wouldn’t leave. Nothing got you more excited than seeing the coy smile he wore just for you. 

“Missed you too, Pup,” Ghost said, angling his head toward your tail. 

“Really?”

“Mhmm,” he murmured, his voice silky smooth in your ears. “Been lonely walking around without my little shadow.”

“Then you should’ve come sooner,” you huffed, finally breaking free of Soap’s arms. 

Soap flashed you a cheeky smile, his eyes glimmering brightly at you as if all his past fears had been allayed. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder, huh. Though you didn’t get to dwell on that for long.

Soon enough you were yanked back onto Ghost by the collar, forced to sit astride his massive lap and face him directly in the eyes. The fact the top half of his balaclava was still secured only made his stare more intense, the bright pools of his eyes practically spitting off heat they focused so hard. No matter how hard you scrabbled against him, he kept you like that, pinned onto him with no other choice but to face him down. 

“You shouldn’t have taken yourself off to the kennels, naughty Pup,” Ghost said lowly, breath hot on your cheek. “The reason I wasn’t here sooner was because I was busy undoing Price’s mess these past few days. You don’t ever make decisions like that without me there again. You’re my responsibility, mine to look after - not Price’s, not Gaz’s, not anyone else's. Do you understand?”

Your mouth went dry, you were still actively squirming in place. You didn’t understand the sudden shift in his demeanour. He’d never treated you like that before. He’d never grabbed you or spoken to you with such a menacing tone. Nevertheless it felt like he was holding your collar like he was about to stick a gun to your head.

Your ears had flattened and your tail had calmed, nervously twitching as it dangled to the ground. After taking a nervous gulp, you nodded. Mood thoroughly soured.

“I just thought it’d be better if I got it over with… Price tried so many ways to get me out, I thought they’d make it worse if I fought it.”

“Yeah? Well I've Sorted it now, I was never gonna leave you in that little prick’s care so that he could hurt you and do whatever he wanted just to prove a point. This,” he said, jingling your handler tag, “means that I have a duty to you, and you have a duty to me. We look out for each other - we’re legally bound together for as long as we live. Part of that means that you don’t go off taking orders from whoever slings their rank around. Okay? Don’t put yourself in a position to get hurt just because you’re used to assuming that’s the right thing to do.”

“Ok,” you said meekly, nodding hard despite the grip Ghost still had on your tag. 

He huffed out a breath, finally exhaling after his tirade and releasing you. All the heat in his eyes died and suddenly they were back to crinkling jewels. You had to blink back at them just to know that you weren’t seeing things. He’d looked so angry…no,that wasn’t really it, was it? He was hurt, annoyed maybe. The way he’d been speaking was desperate, in only the way Ghost could sound desperate. Making sure that his point hammered home. 

Your shoulders sagged and you let your ears cautiously spring to a neutral position, finally summoning the courage to look away from him. The noise of all the other diners floated back to you, forcing you to look around to see if anyone had paid much attention to your scolding. Apparently not, Ghost had been quiet enough so as not to attract much attention beyond a few stray stares. 

“Hey,” Soap said, reminding you that he was still sitting across from you. “You know he’s only getting on at you because he was running around like a mother goose tryna keep you from those wankers in 104.”

You turned to him, grateful for an excuse for someone else to look at. Even while remaining heavy hearted at upsetting, his words had perked you up a little. You could feel your ears raise a little more above your head. 

“Mother goose?” you repeated back, a smile rising on your lips.

“Oh yeah, he was flapping around like crazy. Giving it ‘If anything happens to Pup, I’ll shoot the fucker responsible. I don’t care if its just a hair out of place, mark my words, Johnny. They’ll be bloody unidentifiable!’,” Soap said, doing one of his dreadful Ghost impressions. 

It made you laugh if nothing else. Ghost groaned from behind you, but pulled you further into him, and further into his scent. You breathed him in and sighed, nuzzling underneath his chin and into your favourite spot. Even if he had just told you off like a bad dog, you couldn’t hold it against him. All that mattered was that you were back together again and he had somehow managed to solve your little situation. 

Which did make you wonder…how the hell did he manage to pull that off? And how lastingly mad was Ghost going to be. 

“Ghost?” you mumbled into his collarbone.

“Mm?”

“How long are you going to be angry with me?”

Most important question comes first naturally. 

“I’m not angry with you. I just needed to get my point across. Somehow I’ve got to look after you, but you make it really bloody difficult when you’re always off flying into trouble,” he grunted. “First I’ve got to deal with the kennel debacle and then I’m getting a call from Price telling me you got yourself shot. Feel like I’ve hardly had a minute to breathe with everything going on.”

“Not to mention you’ve got that fuckin’ parade thing to look forward to now,” Soap snorted, pointing his fork in Ghost’s direction.

“Parade thing? What?” 

Ghost was about to explain, but Gaz and Price turned up before he could open his mouth. Gaz took his place next to Soap, setting his tray down on the table before bumping his shoulder. Price sat between you all and smiled to himself when he saw you curled into your handler. He handed you a tray of steaming hot chicken and rice after he’d set his own in front of him. 

“Happy now?” Price asked. 

“Mm, almost,” you dead panned. “Apparently Ghost has to go marching off to some parade though.”

“That’s a negative. We have to go marching off to the parade and demonstration day, Pup. Both of us.”

Your ears dropped back again and you drew back from Ghost’s side just so that you could eye him directly. What did he just say? You couldn’t work out why on earth anyone would want you in a military parade. Your tail was broken. You were awful at drilling. How on earth was this going to work? 

“Uh…say what now?”

“Time to polish up your dancin’ shoes, sparky,” Soap grinned. “Face left! Forward! Stop! Find your center!” 

Soap’s drill sergeant impression, complete with leg movements, landed like a lead balloon. Gaz elbowing him did very little to relieve its weight. You breathed out a bone weary sigh and collapsed against Ghost. 

“Just leave me in the kennels to rot.”

“Now, now, Pup. That’s not the attitude,” Ghost chuckled. “Where’s my - ‘oh thank you Ghost, you’re my hero’ speech?”

“I musta left it behind in my non-parade trousers,” you glowered. 

Price laughed a rich laugh, luckily just in-between eating. The others all sported smiles that did nothing to make up for the annoyance that was plastered all over your face. 

“What’s the big deal? All you gotta do is a little frog marching and a bit of demo on how you work?” Gaz said, trying to reassure you. 

“The ‘big deal’ is that I don’t wanna be a spectacle for the general public to gawk at,” you said sourly. “Ive seen parades, because I’m usually too beat up to be called into them mind you, and they suck for hybrids! We have to dress up all fancy in those silly little harnesses and dumb berets and then we get dragged around like animals on stupid gold rope leashes. Then as if that’s not embarrassing enough they’re gonna make me growl and bark in front of everyone to show off the ‘fearlessness of our fair British troupe in the face of agression’ - no thanks.”

“I hate the growlin’ thing,” Soap muttered, sticking a forkful of chicken in his mouth.

“Well it’s still better than getting beat up by the 104 for a week, Pup,” Price said, directing his fork toward you. 

“You say that, but i bet if you were in my shoes and after doing all that drilling had a bunch of stinking civvy kids tryna touch your tail and their dumb parents tryna ruffle your ears - you’d say something different.”

“I won’t let anyone touch you, Pup. I promise,” Ghost soothed. “We just need to get through the day and then I’ll get us out of there.” 

“And how are you even gonna be in the parade when you can’t show your face?” You asked, throwing up your hands at his balaclava. 

“They’re permitting me a neck gaiter.”

“You allowed to wear a skull one?” Soap asked, his lips curling into a bemused smile

“Unfortunately not, I was told it had to be plain,” Ghost shrugged. 

“Of course you asked,” you said, rollling your eyes but smiling despite everything. 

“Well it’s only down to me asking that got you this replacement gig in the first place,” Ghost reminded you before shunting you onto a spare seat. “Now eat your lunch and stop your whining. If I have to hear anymore complaints I’ll make you wear a muzzle. I’ll find a pink sparkly one with charms on it and all.” 

You folded your ears back at that, mouth gaping at the threat. He wouldn’t dare! Or would he? You looked between him and Price and huffed when they gave nothing away behind their serious expressions. 

Only when you started shovelling food in your mouth did they both start laughing and shaking their heads between each other. It made your cheeks burn, but you kept quiet and busied yourself with the delicious canteen food that you were sure to miss on your return home. It was better to focus on that than earning yourself a telling off for glaring at your superiors over your plate. 

“I’m surprised they let you off with a little parade instead of sacrificing Pup for the week,” Gaz said thoughtfully. “Who’d you have to go asking to get that kind of trade off, LT?”

“Well it wasn’t just the parade, I was supposed to go apologise to the father and do a little grovelling too.” 

“And how’d you worm your way out of that one, ay?” Price asked, already groaning before hearing the answer. 

“Who said I wormed out?”

“You said ‘supposed to’ Ghost.”

“Well you see, Captain - the benefit of never showing my face is that no one really has any way of telling that it’s really me when I ‘reveal’ myself,” Ghost said smoothly, a smile apparent in his voice alone. “Ergo, doesn’t necessarily need to be me that turns up to apologise.”

“Oh, you bastard,” Price chuckled. “I’m not covering for you if they work out what you did.”

“No need, I got a message to say it’s all handled.”

-🐺-

The light was just starting to drain from the land, the orange glow of the sun smattered the ground with withdrawing tendrils of light. They washed across the pale dirt, stroking it with their warmth before retreating somewhere behind the darkness. Slowly and then all at once the sky went from orange to black. 

“I assume you’re excited to go home now that you’re not going back to the kennels,” Rudy said, breaking the easy silence that had fallen between you. 

You nodded an answer, but didn’t say anything back. 

The other hybrid had been relatively quiet since you’d arrived, apart from asking what the news was from Soap and Ghost, he hadn’t said much else. He’d instead made a point of exaggerating just how tired he’d been from the night before, only showing you the hickey that flamed up around his collar bone as he yawned and stretched. 

He’d been sleeping for most of the rest of the journey to the watch point. After being out and actively looking for the target for a few hours however, the two of you had gotten more restless, fidgeting and shifting how you sat every few minutes. 

Still, you kept your eyes across the horizon and your ears pinned forward. You didn’t want to mess up anything else after everything you’d been called out for so much already. You were especially aware of the fact that Ghost and Soap were only a few meters from you both as well. This was the last situation you wanted Rudy baiting you in. 

“You ever been in a parade before?”

“No,” you answered, shifting the leg you were sitting on and flicking your eyes out over the ground. 

“They’re not too bad. The ones here anyway, you do a little showing off and then you get some free food..” 

“Do they make you guys walk on a harness and bark at the men too?” You asked dryly. 

Rudy threw his head back and laughed. The sound caused a small smile to break out on your face and you shook your head at him for the disturbance. Nevertheless the smile stayed on your face while you continued to keep watch. 

“You British hybrids have to put up with a lot, hm?”

“You don’t know the half of it,” you said sourly. 

“I know enough…” Rudy replied, seemingly trailing off as he spoke. 

You looked away from the spot you’d been boring a hole into with your eyes only to glance at Rudy’s face. It took on that serious hard look again, his lips stony and his eyes cast far away. 

“You’ve worked with a lot of us then?”

“A decent amount.”

“Take it you’ve not met anyone half as charming as me, yknow - since you were all grumpy about working with me the first time.” 

He snorted at that.

“None of them have been anything like you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You have some life about you, it’s a good thing,” you saw him shrugging in your peripherals. “Most of them are quiet, angsty. Half of them look like they’re glad to die when their superiors send them off just to protect themselves. The other half just seem dead already.”

His words stole anymore words from coming to your lips. You knew exactly what he meant - that used to be you after all. The old you would never have done anything like you’d done on your last mission for any of your previous superiors, would never have let the beast inside you rage. You had to be clear enough to protect yourself. You spited them too much to be willfully suicidal, you’d rather see them die instead of you. 

Now that had all changed. Ghost had only just reprimanded you because you put yourself in harms way, but even still you knew you’d rather die for any of your team than have them go instead. With that thought in mind, your back prickled with a chill that shivered through your whole nervous system. 

“You don’t have to tear yourself apart just to be a good soldier, Pup. I hope being with the 141 for any amount of time has taught you that all that doesn’t even matter. We get to have lives too, you know? Get your job done and keep yourself and your boys alive, fight so that you get to come home and actually live. Find out what makes you happy and do things that you like because there’s so many of us hybrids that are used like bullets and so many humans that are so happy to discard us once we’ve hit our targets. Fuck anyone that tells you you’re disposable. We have just as much right to be here as anyone - remember that.” 

You blinked back at him. A faint buzzing rang through your ears, a shrill little hum that tried to force tears from your eyes while it snatched at your heart. A low growl threatened to loose from your throat, bark at the enemy, fend off those pesky emotions. 

No, he wasn’t attacking you. He was just speaking the truth. 

“Do you wanna take over as my therapist?” You muttered, having to clear the lump from your throat before you could spit even a word out. 

He laughed wryly at that and muttered something under his breath.  “I’m just saying… you could’ve ended up like anyone else you got trained up with, but you didn’t. Don’t waste your new life stuck on what things were like. Make something good out of it.”

[cutielando]

my lifeline | m.r.

synopsis: in which you're his only purpose in life

my masterlist

Mattheo had always had it rough.

Being the son of the Dark Lord brought enough complications to his life, let alone being at school with people who only made fun of him because of that.

It wasn’t fair. Nothing about his life seemed fair, but he had no choice about it. He couldn’t change who he was, no matter how much he wanted to.

But he could change the way he viewed himself.

And he did. 

From the moment you had entered his life.

You transfering to Hogwarts from Beauxbatons had probably been the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Watching you timidly walk towards the Sorting Hat, anxiously waiting for it to speak and tell you which house you would join, seeing the sweet smile you had given the Slytherins once you joined them at their table and just so happened to have been sitting right across from him.

He knew, from the moment you had looked at him with your bright eyes, that he was a goner.

Over the course of your first weeks at the school, Mattheo had been the one to welcome you the best, always offering to show you around the castle, help you study or simply just keep you company while you would do homework together.

Pansy had also become your friend, very eager to have another girl in the friend group.

Pansy was also the first person to find out about your crush on the curly haired bad boy. 

It didn’t come as a surprise, really. With the amount of time you had been spending together ever since you came to the school, the countless walks you had been on with him when the both of you had free time, the charming smiles he would give you whenever he would look at you.

He had you mesmerized and he didn’t even realize.

The holidays had proved to be the perfect opportunity for Mattheo to finally tell you what he was feeling, right before you left for home.

“Y/N!” he had called out for you as you were struggling to carry your luggage down the countless pairs of stairs towards the castle entrance.

You turned around, a smile immediately appearing on your kind face. The kind of smile that made the butterflies in Mattheo’s stomach go crazy.

“Hey, Mattheo. I was just about to leave for the train, I didn’t want to be late” you explained, gesturing towards your trunk.

You didn’t know if you should have said anything else, knowing that his father and him probably didn’t want to have anything to do with each other and he had no reason to want to go home for the holidays.

“I know, and I wanted to catch you just before you left. I wanted to tell you something that I’ve been putting off for the entire semester” he said, scratching the back of his neck.

You nodded, signaling that you were listening. 

He let out a breath before speaking up once again.

“I like you, a lot. Ever since you transferred here, you’ve been on my mind. I’ve come to look forward to every minute that I get to spend with you, regardless of what we do. I just wanted to know if you would like to go on a date with me once you get back?” he asked, making you smile.

All the daydreams about what it would be like to be with him, to know that he was just yours, they were finally going to happen after so much lost time.

“Your timing really sucks” you joked, making him blush and nod. “But my answer is yes” you added before quickly leaning up to kiss his cheek and left.

Unbeknownst to you, the moment you had turned around and couldn’t see him anymore, he fist-bumped the air and did a little happy dance, being sure that nobody would see him and tarnish his bad boy reputation.

Typical.

During the time you spent away, you guys exchanged several letters, in most of them Mattheo was complaining about how slow the time was passing and how eager he was to see you again and take you out.

Which he did, the hour right after you had got back to Hogwarts. 

Your date had been amazing, sipping your favorite warm drinks at the Three Broomsticks, browsing around your favorite shops in Hogsmeade, and then finally ending with a goodnight kiss right at the bottom of the stairs leading to your bedroom.

The news that you had become a couple spread around as quickly as a disease would. Gossip traveled very fast around a school full of teenagers, especially when it involved someone with a reputation like Mattheo.

Being seen together in front of the whole school had been something you were weary of, ever since he had asked you out; mainly because it was no news that your now boyfriend was a very handsome lad, and a good number of the girls from every house had a thing for him.

Imagine now, with him dating you, it had automatically put a big target on your back.

But not to worry, Mattheo was there for you.

“People are staring” you told him on the morning of your first breakfast together as a couple, a day after everyone had got back from holiday.

“So? Let them stare, I don’t care” he said, shrugging his shoulders and pulling you closer to him.

You gulped, noticing more and more girls whispering and looking at you over their shoulders, frantically it was more like glaring deep into your soul.

“Easy for you to say, you don’t have the entire female population of this castle hoping your head would explode so they can take your place” you had meant for it to sound like a joke in order to not worry Mattheo, but he had seen right through it.

Following your gaze, he had noticed just how much attention there was on you that morning. He cleared his throat, glaring at every single girl right back, which then prompted them to blush and turn away from you guys.

“Don’t worry about other people, they know nothing about us and they’re just jealous” he whispered to you, planting a kiss on your temple in comfort.

You knew that he was right, that you just had to drown everyone out and just focus on Mattheo and what you had.

And that was exactly what you did.

Months went by very quickly, making your relationship with Mattheo only blossom more and more with each passing day. The love shared between you was more intense than anything either of you had experienced before.

You two helped each other, motivated and encouraged one another. You helped him deal with his problems, listened to him whenever he needed to unwind and just talk to someone about his home, about what his childhood was like and what being Voldemort’s son had done to him.

You slowly helped him out of his shell, making him open to you more and more each passing day, making sure he was comfortable whenever he was around you and always made sure he was okay, no matter where you were or what the circumstances were.

You became what he needed, his savior. 

A lifeline to pull him back to reality when he would need it the most, whenever he would feel like he was about to fall off the edge.

You were his life.

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[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

A Night Forgotten.

Part Seven

Present Day:

“Drop the sheet, Davis,” he demanded. “Drop it right now.”

Emoni gaped at him. “W-what? Erik—”

Erik reached forward and yanked the sheet from her grip anyway, baring her to the world once more. Then, before she could bolt and find something else to hide behind, he took hold of her shoulders in a firm grip and forced her to stay put.

“Erik, let go of me! I’ll kick you in your balls! I’m serious!” she threatened in a high voice, attempting to yank free. Emoni dug her fingernails into his forearms, embarrassed by the way he was simply staring at her. "Let go!"

“Be still,” he countered. “Stop! Just…stop fighting me, please.”

Maybe it was the 'please' that did it, since Emoni knew Erik would rather tear out his own toenails than plead for anything. Unsure what he was after or how far to trust him, but concerned by how grave he suddenly appeared, she reluctantly did as requested and stopped struggling. She watched him instead, looking for clues as to what might be the matter, but his face gave nothing away.

He didn't move, didn't even seem to breathe. He just stared at her naked breasts in complete silence. Emoni felt an instant shiver down her spine from his penetrating eyes and slow, even breaths. She could feel her nipples hardening with anticipation.

“What is it?” she asked after a while, her insatiable curiosity needing to be eased before she popped from the suspense.

What was wrong? What did he see that she didn't?

Finally, he said, “I bit you.” He released her shoulders and lightly feathered over the bite mark upon her left breast. “Right here.”

The light caress made her body instantly react. Her heart started pounding, and she went tight from head to toe with a sudden, throbbing sexual need. A small moan escaped her lips.

Erik froze, finger still on her nipple, and she could feel his body shudder in answer. Cursing under his breath, he glanced up at her.

“I didn't just fuck you. I bit you. And not just here,” his fingers ghosted between the valley of her perky, upturned breasts to her abdomen, “And here…and here…I was rough with you…do they hurt?”

“I-I don’t feel pain…Erik, are you okay?” she asked, voice breathy, body tingling and trembling. Between her legs, she could feel the trickle of her arousal as it flowed through her bare lower lips, preparing her body for him.

Erik’s nostrils flared as he inhaled and smelled her arousal. A rumble of pleasure rolled through his chest. He closed his eyes, clearly struggling to maintain some control. “ I’ve Done it. Crossed a line...”

Emoni knew exactly where his mind was taking him. He’d thought his actions last night weren’t consensual.

“Erik, no, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sure this was on a mutual basis. I—don’t go blaming yourself for our lack of memory. I’m sure it’ll come to us soon enough.”

“…This just…it feels off. Not what happened between us…because I’ve always wanted that to happen…it’s just the gaps in memory…”

“That's what I've been saying,” she said, practically panting now as her body went slick with desire. “Things are s–strange.”

“Emoni…” He breathed a greedy sigh and the hold he suddenly took on her right wrist to anchor him tightened just the tiniest bit. “Fuck, you smell wonderful,” he sighed. “I want–” His lips clamped into a tight line and he shook his head. “I want…”

When he opened his eyes, they burned with a dark, fiery lust.

He leaned towards her, his mouth tilting to catch hers. As his lips parted, Emoni caught the glimpse of his teeth. The gold slugs against white teeth.

The thought was instantly lost, however, when his mouth careened into hers. Erik claimed her with a languid, deep kiss, and the hand at her breast cupped her supple flesh, kneading it. His fingers gave her nipple a little series of pinches guaranteed to make her ache for more. Spine bowing in response, she arched her back, offering more of herself up to his touch.

Dizzy with sudden need to feel him between her thighs, Emoni manoeuvered them over towards the top of the bed, plundering Erik’s mouth with her tongue, licking every crevice and claiming ownership of it.

He groaned in response, allowing her to take him where she willed.

They made it to the pillows, and she reached up to fist his hair in her hands to pull him down on top of her as she laid back into it. Pressing her into the mattress with his greater weight, Erik nudged her legs open, insistent that they part to make room for him. His hands were everywhere on her, searching, finding, exploiting every sensitive spot, and then fingers were in her, spreading her open once more for him.

Emoni winced with the twinge of discomfort that came from her swollen, hot body being stretched open once again. The night's activities had left her sore and a little achy. In tune with her on a level she couldn't mentally comprehend, but still felt deep inside her heart, Erik sensed her body's tenderness and slowed, gentling his hand's movements. His fingers leisurely eased in and out of her as his thumb lightly brushed over her soft, delicate clit instead, sending electricity arcing up her spine.

Without words, he bent his head to press adoring, lazy kisses upon her throat, then lower, at her breast. As his lips brushed over the bite mark he'd given her the night before, a rush of magic passed between them, filling Emoni with its sweet, quickening pleasure. Her heart slowed in her chest and her body loosened, surrendering to him.

He was so gentle with her, so...loving.

“Erik,” Emoni shut her eyes tightly, unable to gaze into his own that was so intense.

Erik nibbled on her jaw, pressed his plump lips against the pulse in her neck, all while fingering her to a creamy mess. It was so obscene how loud her pussy is. Her face grew hot with bashfulness all while trying to fight back loud moans.

“No need to fight it, pretty girl. I see what you wanna do. Give it to me…I’m in this pussy and I can feel you gripping…this tight, wet pussy…”

Emoni pressed her face into Erik’s chest and she moaned unabashedly.

“There you go…good girl…I want you to make the biggest mess on my fingers…it’ll make it easier for me to fit all this big dick in you, Princess…”

“Oh, my god…”

Emoni’s thighs closed around Erik’s waist tightly. The sensation of release crept over her body sending shockwaves through her. Emoni arched her back, incoherent noises spewing from her pretty lips while she leaked all over Erik’s thick fingers.

“That’s what I like, baby…” Erik peppered soft kisses along Emoni’s sweaty temple, “Nice and slick for daddy to slide in…”

Emoni couldn’t believe she was doing this with Erik. Although she’d dreamt of it many times, to actually be in bed with him, skin-to-skin, she couldn’t put into words how thrilled and scared she was at the same time.

Erik lifted to look down at her. Emoni mustered the courage to gaze into his beautiful eyes. She watched as Erik brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking all her juices off with languid strokes of his tongue.

“Are you okay?” Erik questioned with a deep whisper.

Emoni slowly nodded her head, hyper aware of her hard nipples and quivering pussy. She wanted more. Erik knew it from the lusty look in her eyes.

“Emoni—”

“Please fuck me, stop talking.” Emoni quipped.

Erik paused, a sly smirk painting his lush lips.

Erik kept his eyes on her, positioning himself above her and Emoni’s eyes danced down to his third leg. Erik pointed his wide tip at her entrance and Emoni adjusted her hips so he could slide right in. Their eyes connected again and Emoni wasn’t prepared for the the long, slow glide of his big dick. The thick heft of him tenderly stretched her open, and her body adapted, easily accepting all of him. She held onto his shoulders as he lay over her, spreading her knees as far apart as they could go and welcoming him inside her.

When he was seated to the hilt, he paused, shaky and panting against her throat. His mouth lifted to her ear. “My Emoni,” he softly growled, laying claim to not just her body, but her soul, too.

“God, Erik,” she gasped in pleasure and wrapped her arms tightly around him, burying her nose in his throat as he began moving.

And as he began, something shifted between them.

Like a freight train, the recollection of the previous night hit them full force.

——

The Night Forgotten:

“Let’s get married. No stress, no family pressure. Real and authentic.”

Emoni looked over at Erik with upmost shock. He didn’t tell her where they were going exactly. But the vision of A Little White Chapel told her all she needed to know.

“Stop playing,” Emoni playfully shoved Erik although he didn’t budge, “Ha–ha–ha. Very funny, Stevens.”

Erik caught her hand in his and something shifted between them when he touched her. Emoni froze. Their eyes held on a little longer because realization kicked in.

“Erik…you’re serious?”

“Dead serious. As serious as I can be. I…”

Erik glanced at the chapel with nervous anticipation. Emoni didn’t look away from him for a second. This night was full of surprises, but Erik N’Jadaka Stevens-Udaku proposing to her was not on her bingo card.

“It’s the drinks. You’re drunk,” Emoni shook her head, “Let’s go—”

“I may be a little under the influence, but I mean what I say, Emoni. Will you marry me? Right here. Right now.”

Emoni scrunched her face up with disbelief. She wanted to slap him in his pretty face.

“What kind of proposal is this?!!! You don’t even have a ring!”

Erik glanced down at his lap. He started bouncing his leg anxiously. Emoni exhaled and she placed her hand on Erik’s knee.

“Hey…listen. I’m sorry. But…you want to marry me? Do you hear what you’re asking me right now? You could have any woman in the world. Hell, you have one waiting for you in Wakanda—”

“I don’t want her. I want you.” Erik replied.

“Erik, this is crazy—”

“Emoni, listen to me. It’s my decision to find a wife. A princess. And I want you to be my wife. I can see myself spending the rest of my life with you.”

Emoni watched as Erik turned away from her, hiding his face. She didn’t know what to do as she stared at the back of his head.

“I want you to be my wife. I’m serious, Emoni. I’ll give you the fairytale wedding of your dreams, I promise that. But…I just…I can’t explain it. It just feels so right. All of it…”

Emoni sat back in her seat. She couldn’t deny that it did feel right. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but at that exact moment, she could picture herself walking hand-in-hand inside the chapel to marry Erik. As wild as it may seem, she’d say yes. She knew she would—

“Ask me again.”

Erik slowly looked at Emoni.

“Erik…ask me.”

“…Will you marry me? Emoni Davis?”

“Yes. YES. I’LL MARRY YOU.”

Emoni clamped a hand over her mouth, so shocked by her own words.

“For real?!” Erik needed further clarification.

“YES!!!!” Emoni shouted.

A smile crept up Erik’s face and his cheeks deepened with dimples. Emoni palmed her cheeks, bewildered and surprised. She couldn’t control her shaky breath or the nervous tremors. Erik leaned over and smashed his lips into hers. They kissed in a frenzy, grabbing and squeezing each other desperately. Emoni broke the kiss and cupped Erik’s handsome face. His chest was heaving up and down like he was chasing oxygen.

“We’re really going to do this?”

“As long as you’re okay with it. Yes.”

“I can’t believe I’m about to do this,” Emoni smoothed her curls from her face, “Wow…”

“We can turn around and go back to my place. Your call. But just know this,” Erik stroked her chin with his thumb, “I plan on making you my wife and my Princess. If not today, soon. I mean that.”

Emoni knew he meant it.

She exhaled, “Okay…if we’re doing this, no games, Erik. Don’t hurt me. Don’t you ever take my love for granted. Respect me always. If you don’t I swear to God I will castrate you—”

“I’ll never harm you in anyway, Moni. I promise. I put that on my parents grave. I’m dead serious about you. No fucking games. No misleading. I’m speaking from the heart and not because of the alcohol. I want you and you only, girl.”

Emoni stared into his soul. To see Erik Stevens like this…it blew her mind.

“Let’s go get married.”

Emoni smiled with all her teeth and Erik laughed. He rushed out of the car and towards her side. Emoni didn’t wait for him to open the door, she rushed out and grabbed Erik’s hand. They walked towards the chapel, nervous energy radiating from them. Erik held the door opened for her and Emoni stepped inside. It smelled like an old church to her. She fiddled with her handbag while following Erik further inside.

“No ring…we need a ring—my belly ring! Oh shit! I don’t have a ring for you,” Emoni stopped in her tracks, “Erik—”

“Look,” Erik pointed to a vending machine filled with ring pops, “This feels like some shit out of a movie. They have ring pops. One for you and one for me.”

Emoni rushed to open her handbag and she was able to get two quarters. She placed it in the machine and turned to switch. A green and blue ring pop came out and she retrieved it. As they were about to enter, an officiant appeared from a room, startled by their presence. It was a short man with kind eyes and a bald head. He was wearing a cheap brown suit with a red bow-tye.

“Oh! Why hello! I’m Noah. Are you two looking to get married?”

“Y-yes,” Emoni spoke before Erik could, “We are.”

“We want to get married.” Erik responded with a confident smile.

“Great! You’re my second couple tonight. Uh—any rings?”

Emoni and Erik shared a look.

“Well…not quite at the moment…um…”

“We have these,” Erik presented the ring pops, “This was a spur of the moment thing. No access to the real thing. This should be sufficient enough, right?”

“Yes! We can definitely go forward with the ceremony! Any witnesses?”

“None. Just us.” Erik said.

He squeezed Emoni’s hand affectionately.

“Okay! Let’s make it happen then! Follow me!”

They followed Noah into his office. It was a cramped space with lots of photos of previous newly weds. They took a seat at the desk while Noah gathered some paperwork for them. Emoni gripped Erik’s hand tighter and he soothed her with his thumb stroking it. This was all real and not a dream.

“The Little White Wedding Chapel Las Vegas is a popular destination for many couples. From celebrity weddings to spectacular packages, there are many reasons why couples choose this location as their matrimonial spot. The best place in Nevada for a taste of Sin City’s wedding vibe. I highly recommend…”

Noah presented some forums to them to fill out. They each put their personal information down and afterwards, Noah asked them which package they would like for photography.

“Uhh…we can just take pictures from our phones if that’s okay.” Emoni decided.

She took one look at Erik and they both burst into a fit of laughter.

“Very well. We can get started if you’re ready!”

Noah stood to lead the way into the chapel at the podium where they would be wed. Since it was just the two of them, they walked down the aisle hand in hand. All smiles and giggles. They reached the podium and Erik helped her up before he stood before her. Noah cleared his throat to speak.

“Dearly Beloved and Honored, Invisible Guests, We are gathered together here to join Emoni and Erik in the spiritual union of marriage…”

Emoni gave Erik a megawatt smile and he winked at her.

“This contract is not to be entered into lightly but thoughtfully and seriously, and with a deep realization of its obligations and responsibilities. Please remember that love, loyalty, and understanding are the foundations of a happy and enduring home.”

Noah focused his attention on Erik. Emoni released a shaky breath while holding onto Erik’s hands.

“Do you, Erik take this woman, Emoni, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself unto her for as long as you both shall live?"

“I do.” Erik said.

Emoni blinked back tears but her smile and laughter remained. This was so crazy and spontaneous. Something she’d never think to do. But it felt so right.

“Do you, Emoni, take this man, Erik, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself unto him for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” Emoni replied.

“Erik and Emoni will now exchange rings as a symbol of their love and commitment.”

They both fumbled to open the ring pops and Erik almost dropped his but his quick reflexes saved the day. He had the blue ring pop and Emoni the green. Erik placed the ring pop onto Emoni’s finger first. She couldn’t contain her smile and her joyous laugh. Erik’s fingers were too thick so the ring pop only went on over his knuckle. He snorted a laughter. Noah watched the both of them with a content smile.

“By the authority vested in me by American Marriage Ministries and the State of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Erik swept Emoni off her feet and wrapped his arms around her waist. His lips crashed into hers and their tongue’s danced with a sloppy motion. Wet smacking filled the silent space between them, and it became awkward for Noah to stand there and watch. Way too intimate. They were in an intense lip-lock with their heads swiveling.

“Congratulations! You two look great together.”

Erik paused their kissing to look at Noah. Emoni buried her face into his neck.

“Emoni Stevens-Udaku.” Erik said.

“I’M A WIFE!” She yelled.

——

They pulled up to a hidden gem in the middle of the oasis in the desert. It was fitting for a Prince and his Princess. It’s surrounded by water, and secluded enough for privacy. Erik didn’t waste any time parking his car in one of his many garages. He wanted and NEEDED to be with Emoni. The overwhelming feeling within him called him to her. His wife. Erik climbed out of his car and practically ran to her side. Opening the door, he picked her up bridal style, shutting the car door with his foot.

Emoni’s squeals of delight made him smile. He twirled her around in his arms, careful not to trip over the grass in his front yard. He made it to his front entrance and placed Emoni on her feet so he could open the door. His heart was racing within his chest cavity. Erik pushed the door open and grasped Emoni’s small hand, pulling her inside. Emoni pressed forward, her eyes gazing around her in wonder.

“This is beautiful, Erik…”

She looked so beautiful.

“You’re beautiful…”

Erik pressed the front of his body against her back and then he curved his arms around her trim waist. Her rump against his groin sent sparks throughout his body. He was so infatuated with her. So enthralled with her. Obsessed with her. He was so thrilled to finally have her like this.

“I’m so happy you said yes…”

[say it]

“I love you, Moni. I always have…I always will…”

“And I love you, Hubby.”

Emoni turned to stare up at him as they stood within the dimly lit foyer. Her face reminded him of a fairy. Her curly hair mesmerized him. Her intellect drew him.

“Come on,” Erik guided her towards his stairs that led up to his room, “We’ve got some unfinished business to attend to, Mrs. Stevens-Udaku.”

Emoni slithered away from Erik, making her way up his stairs as if she were racing him. Erik gave her a playful look before following her, taking his time so she could have her fun. He had plans to imprint her frame into his luxury bed all fucking night long. She needed the endurance. He made it to the second landing, his eyes following a trail of her clothes. He picked up her dress, then he picked up her Dior heels, and then her handbag.

It wasn’t hard to find her, she was exactly where he wanted her to be. Erik pressed forward into his room, and his eyes lit up with absolute desire at the vision before him. Emoni was standing on his bed in her naked glory, skin glowing radiantly. He’d painted a picture in his mind many times how that frame looked like, but to see it in person…

“Damn…you got a body on you…”

Erik dropped her things on the floor and made his way over towards her.

“You got right down to business, huh?” Erik questioned.

Emoni giggled before climbing down from his bed. She made her way over to him, Erik grunting the closer she got. Emoni smiled up at him through those lashes and the innocence of her eyes didn’t match her actions. She was a true freak. He could tell.

“Why waste time? You need me…and I need you…”

Emoni started unbuttoning Erik’s shirt. He watched her intently, even took note of the little whimpers she made. Emoni smoothed his shirt from his body and then she smoothed her small hands beneath his white beater, lifting it over his sculpted body. Erik helped her remove the rest and he tossed it to the side.

“So sexy…” she whispered.

Erik let her have her fun. The sensation of her lips all over his chest and abs made his dick painfully hard. He knew she was aware of his stiffness because it was pressed against her lower belly. The gasp she released and the way she looked up at him caused Erik to pick her up and wrap her legs around his waist.

“Time to eat this pussy—”

“WAIT—I’m hairy down there—”

“Emoni. I don’t care about hair. I want my mouth on that pussy—”

“Shave me first. I wasn’t expecting you to—to eat me out—”

“Are you serious?” Erik arched a brow at her in disbelief, “You thought I was just gon’ fuck you and not taste what I’m sinking my dick into? All the times I’ve fantasized about making you cum with my mouth?”

Emoni blinked up at Erik in awe.

“Aight, I’ll shave you. But only because you asked. Otherwise, I’m eating it no matter how she look.”

Erik led Emoni into his master bathroom and sat her down on the sink. Emoni watched him open one of his cabinets and he grabbed some shaving cream and a fresh razor. He turned to retrieve a small towel from a shelf and placed it beneath Emoni’s butt.

“Okay…spread your legs…bring your knees to your chest.”

Emoni giggled. Erik shook his head at her silliness.

“You’ve had way too much to drink, pretty girl.” Erik teases.

“I can’t believe you’re about to shave me!”

“Your request, remember?” Erik said with a chuckle.

“I know. This is wild.”

“A night of firsts. A night to remember. Now, relax…”

Erik applied shaving cream carefully and then he turned on the water. After rinsing the razor, he focused on shaving away, staring intently at her pussy lips spread open and covered in foam. The brown hue of her folds against the pink of her flesh had his pipe pressed against his zipper. Emoni looked so edible sitting there on the edge of the sink watching him.

“You’re lucky this shaving cream isn’t edible, otherwise I would be burying my face in it,” Erik said.

“I love how insatiable you are, Stevens.”

Erik finished one side and moved onto the next. Without the hair, he could see vividly how fat her pussy lips are and how her clit poked out. Maybe shaving was a good idea. Now, he can lick, suck, and kiss all over her pussy.

“Almost done,” Erik rinsed the razor before going back in, “After this, I want you to lay on your back for me. I’m serious, Moni. I’m close to drooling right now. It’s best you do what I tell you…”

The warning in his voice made her body tense up. He had to grip her thigh to still her movements. When the last bit of hair was removed, Erik took his time using a wet cloth and light soap to clean her up good. He studied his canvas with ecstasy before dabbing her lips dry. He held Emoni down and he could tell from the look in her eyes she was nervous. Erik tilted her chin up so she could stare at him.

“I’m gonna take real good care of you, Emoni. I promise…”

“I know…It’s just…we’re really about to have sex…”

Erik exhaled slowly, “And it’ll be worth it. For the both of us.”

Emoni smiled at him.

“You ready?”

Erik held his hand out and Emoni placed her hand in his. Erik flicked off the bathroom light and they entered his room, the only light coming from the hall. Emoni climbed onto Erik’s bed and relaxed back against his pillows. She watched Erik take off his pants and his briefs, her eyes widening at the sight of his big dick and hefty balls. She knew he was packing, but to see it in person…

“Wow,” Emoni’s eyes were glued to his heavy dick, “Just…wow…”

“Wow? I got you that speechless?”

Erik got into bed and he was on his knees between her legs. Emoni was mesmerized. She timidly reached out to stroke the protruding veins that decorated his long shaft with her fingertips. The sensation caused his dick to involuntarily jump. That motion caused Emoni to wrap her hand around him. She squeezed slightly, stunned from how bricked up he is.

“I just—it’s so thick…and long—you fuck with all this?”

Erik laughed. Emoni was dead serious.

“Moni…are you scared?”

“No!” Emoni’s eyes were wide, “I can take it.”

“I’ll be the judge of that—”

Emoni had her lips around his tip before he could even finish speaking. Erik’s brows snapped together and he closed his eyes. The feeling of her lips snug around his tip had him lost for words. Erik opened his eyes to look at her, and the sight of her lips on him was a vision he’d begged for.

“My dick is in your mouth….”

He was stunned and happy. FINALLY.

Emoni sucked slow and steady, afraid to go too low and choke. He could sense her resistance. Erik stroked her hair to calm her.

“Don’t force it if you can’t take it all. I’ll train that throat soon enough, baby…you’ll get used to this dick in your mouth in no time.”

Emoni relaxed and sucked what she could, one hand on his shaft, head bobbing, glossy lips stretched over his shaft. This mouthy, sassy girl had his big dick in her mouth. Drooling all over his dick. Erik had to clench his fists to refrain from throat-fucking her.

“You’re such a nasty girl, Moni. You couldn’t wait to put this dick in your mouth.”

She surprised him with her lips on his balls. She put her face all in it and flicked her tongue on the underside of his dick. All while looking gorgeous. He could prematurely ejaculate from that visual alone.

“You love this big dick, huh?”

“Mhm,” Emoni’s expression said it all, “My big dick, Prince…”

Her lips were around him again. Erik couldn’t control his hips thrusting forward to meet her mouth halfway. The glossy look in his eyes and the pout of his lip was evident of his undoing.

“You’re gonna make daddy cum, baby…”

It was best she stopped. The closer he got, the more his dick sank down her throat. Emoni gripped his thighs with her nails digging into his skin. Tears trickled down her cheeks when Erik thrust forward, touching her uvula.

“I told you to suck what you could, now look,” Erik grabbed her by the hair, “I gotta feed you some more…”

“Mm!”

“Fuck!”

Erik cradled Emoni’s head and shot a thick load down her throat. She gulped it down while cleaning him off and it made him cum some more. A bead of sweat dripped from the tip of his nose as he stared down at her with primal desire. Emoni licked her lips as her eyes connected with his.

“I don’t have to ask if you enjoyed it. That was a lot of cum, Erik,” Emoni spoke with a quiver. She was still trying to recover from his dick being in her throat, “And you taste so good.”

Erik didn’t say a words as he lowered between her legs. When Emoni spread her thighs, Erik could see a dribble of her creamy essence just leaking. Before he put his face in it, he wrapped his lips around her nipple and startled sucking. They were too hard for him to ignore.

“Yes.”

“Yeah?” Erik kissed between her breasts before bringing his lips to her other nipple, “How bad you want it?”

“So bad, daddy,” Emoni clawed his back.

Erik hissed before sinking his teeth into her right nipple. Emoni gasped, the mixture of pleasure and pain so good she couldn’t control the flutter between her legs. Erik did it again to her other breast, enjoying the way she cried out. She clung to him like she wanted to live in his skin. His pulse was deafening in his ears. It felt as if all the blood in his veins rushed to his dick. The hardest he’d ever been. Like a concrete center block.

“Lower…please…”

“Beg better than that, Moni.” Erik teased.

“I’m so wet…I can’t take it…”

“You can take it,” Erik kissed and nibbled his way down her body, “You’ve been such a good girl for me…”

“Yes, I’m your good girl,” Emoni spread her legs wider, “Erik, please.”

it was her anxiousness. She kept rolling her hips towards his face like a sex-crazed woman. Erik had to give her what she wanted. Seeing Emoni so uninhibited and horny like that was breathtaking. Erik gave her what she wanted. He pressed his lips on her clit and kissed all over it before doing the same to her outer lips. Emoni threw her head back and raked her fingers through Erik’s locs.

The taste of her. He could bottle it up. She tasted heavenly. He found himself sucking and licking in tandem. Emoni sat up on her elbows to watch. Those unruly curls and doe eyes with a mouth full of her sweet pussy could make him cum again. The sound of his lips smacking sensually was akin to someone lapping at water. She was so wet. His spit wasn’t even a factor. Erik slurped her up like a famished man. With so much vigor and emotion. Emoni’s stomach almost caved in from the creeping sensation of her orgasm.

“Huhhhh! Oh! Oooo—”

Erik didn’t stop. He refused to stop. It didn’t matter that she was squeezing his head with her thighs. It didn’t matter that she was writhing and begging him to stop. It didn’t matter that she was yanking on his hair. He flicked his flat tongue up and down. Up and down. Back and forth. Back and forth. In a circle.

“Can’t hide this pussy from me,” Erik spoke against her folds.

“ERIK!”

She went to lay on her side and Erik followed. Somehow, she ended up straddling his face. Emoni had a fist full of his locs and she rode his nose, bucking her hips and grinding that fat puss into his mouth. Erik had a handful of her cheeks and he pushed her to keep going. Emoni spread her legs and tugged on Erik’s hair, forcing his head from the bed. Emoni was slow grinding and feeding Erik pussy. The unabashed cries of pleasure from her was beyond words. She was sweaty and filled with so much lust. The opposite of her controlled demeanor.

Erik sucked skillfully and Emoni froze above him with a bounce of her thighs she couldn’t contain. Her arousal mixed with Erik’s spit dripped down his chin and neck.

“Ohhhh g–g–goo–ood–da–daddyeeeeeeeeee!”

Emoni fell forward over his face and Erik allowed her to ride out her intense release. He could feel her sticky fluids on his lips and chin. Erik gently placed Emoni onto her back and he kissed up her body until his lips were on hers again. They shared the taste of her cum and moaned into each other’s mouths. Erik broke the kiss to look at her. Emoni had tears in her eyes. He thumbed her tears away.

“That was amazing,” Emoni spoke through sniffles.

“It was. Exactly what I dreamed of doing to you…now I gotta feel you around me.”

Erik lifted his hips and with one hand he aimed his tip at her drenched folds. Emoni placed her hands on his shoulders and held his gaze. Erik pushed forward and his dick sank inside to the hilt in one motion. Emoni’s eyes widened at how stretched she felt. Her walls were so taunt around his girth. Erik clenched his jaw and fought the urge to paint her walls. He needed to see how his dick looked inside of her. He sat up above her so that they could both watch.

“You fit so perfect around me, baby…”

Erik kissed Emoni while thrusting in and out slowly. He had to stop kissing her to see. It felt so good but the sight of his dick coated with cream set something off inside of him.

“That’s…that’s so good,” Emoni whispered with a tremble in her voice.

“Relax, I gotchu…”

She was shaking. He knew it was his big dick making her do that. He could tell from the way his dick split her open that it was a lot for her.

“Spread them legs, Emoni…”

Erik picked up the pace. She buried her face against her knee and just felt. Erik rocked into her warm center with his eyes locked on her. His balls slapping her ass mixed with the sound of her wet ass pussy was music to his ears.

“Damn, I’m deep in this. You hear that? This what you kept from me?”

“Fuck, Erik, FUCK.”

“I asked you a question.”

Erik went faster. Emoni wasn’t prepared. She looked up at him with tears streaming from her eyes. Erik had her folded up so his dick could dig deep and right where he wanted it with no running. He’d waited too long for this moment and she wasn’t going to escape his wrath.

“Erik, oh my goodness—”

“Answer me,” Erik growled.

“YES!”

“You played a lot of games, girl. Too many fuckin’ games. Got that ass now, yeah?”

Emoni bit down on her bottom lip and her eyes crossed. Erik felt her clamp down on him and it took all of him not cum. He made her cum though. Emoni’s lower lip quivered when he slipped out. Erik was on that pussy with his mouth to clean her up. Emoni was too weak to fight him. But she could feel herself squirting. It was an out of body experience.

“That’s okay, I like that, baby…”

Emoni finally regained consciousness and she sat up. Erik soothed her with his lips and rubbed her pussy lips with his fingers. He couldn’t help himself when he pushed inside of her. She was weeping on his fingers. The most he’d ever seen.

“Damn, baby. I got this pussy soaked. Listen to that,” Erik’s fingers going in and out of her created a gushy sound, “That’s what I like to hear. All because of daddy’s big dick…and daddy got more for you.”

“I want more…”

“You want more in this wet—wet?”

“Please…”

“Didn’t I tell you I was gon’ get you right?”

Erik wanted to hear her say it.

“Yes, daddy. Yes…”

She was in a dicked-out daze.

He didn’t ask her how she wanted him. Erik arched Emoni’s back and he was standing behind her with his dick pointed at her spread-open lips from the back. He sank back into that creamy pussy and Emoni buried her face into the sheets. Erik slipped out to see how his dick opened her up. Something in him, maybe a voice, some type of unknown force, had him putting his face in her pussy. He left teeth marks and hickeys all over her beautiful ass. With a lick of his lips he pumped that big dick in her again.

“Give daddy that pussy, Princess.”

“ERIK! erikerikerikerikerik—”

He was cracking her back so good Emoni couldn’t get a complete sentence out. To see his big dick disappear inside of her little body made him fuck her harder. Erik hooked his hands in the crease of her elbows and drilled her.

“You’re taking my pussy from me, daddy!” Emoni cried out.

“It’s my pussy, Moni. I’m taking my pussy.” Erik corrected.

“Ima cum on this big dick again!”

She glossed his dick and Erik simply chuckled.

“You’re so leaky for me.”

He was back inside and feeding her pussy what it wanted and craved with slower strokes. Emoni looked back at him with puffy eyes and an equally puffy pussy from Erik’s pounding. He stared into her eyes while he fucked her.

“Stay right there…that’s daddy’s baby…uh-huh…all night long in this pussy…”

Emoni’s eyes drifted shut and her back bowed when Erik went deep. He simply fixed her arch and pumped her with two more strokes that had her cumming again. Erik got down on the bed behind and fucked her slow from the side with a hand around her neck and his lips against her ear. He would thrust up into her and hold his dick there for a few seconds before sliding out to the tip and repeating. He buried his nose against her neck to smell her perfume. Emoni interlocked her fingers with his and lifted her leg more for him.

“I love you…and I’m so happy to have you, my Princess. I wanna make love to you in my Royal chambers…on my throne…beneath the Wakandan sunset…”

Emoni stared down between her legs to watch his dick go in and out. His words had her gripping him.

“This how I want you when I put a baby in you…I want you just like this,” Erik whispered in her ear, “Get that leg up nice and high…fuck into you slow…bury my fuckin’ dick in you…give this pussy what she wants…and cum so deep…just slide in and out of this wet pussy just like this…you loving that, huh? Having my babies? Taking this big dick whenever and wherever? Huh?…” Erik placed his thumb in her mouth to suck on, “Huh, Princess? You got a little frame but you take big dick…”

Erik held that leg up and fucked her long and hard. He multitasked by rubbing her clit with his other hand. She was at his mercy. That beautiful body. She pouted her lips and whimpered with each upstroke of his big dick.

“This angle…I’m a squirt…”

She didn’t have time. She was leaking all over his dick. And it added more slip. His dick glided between her folds and up in that pussy with such precision and ease she couldn’t even form words.

“Daddy about to nut…I can’t hold off…can’t hold this nut off—”

Erik’s fingers gripped her thigh hard and after two more thrusts he came inside of Emoni. She looked back at him and Erik tongued her down. He slowly pumped his seed into her pussy, making sure to keep it there.

——

Present Day:

Eyes connected and hearts pounding. Like a picture book, everything came back to their minds. It took for Erik to connect with her through sex for them to remember it all. And when they did, Emoni was overcome with emotion.

She told him that she loved him. And as crazy as that sounds, she did. She indeed loved Erik. And he felt the exact same way. She could feel that spark between them. And then she remembered…

They got married. She’s a wife now. The sex. They had sex all over Erik’s bedroom. He’d given her love bites, he shaved her pussy, he got a tattoo of her name, she got her belly button pierced. All of it happened last night. And she’d enjoyed it all. The emotions she’d felt at that time came back and it felt real and genuine. She could tell from the look in Erik’s eyes that he felt the exact same way. All of it so overwhelming but exactly what they wanted.

Once the tremors subsided, Erik kissed her gently, sweetly.

“You're mine, finally,” he sighed against her mouth. "All mine."

His fingers trailed between their sweaty bodies, finding the bellybutton piercing and stroking over it.

“My wife...my mate.”

The words registered, but Emoni was too enthralled with his distracting hands and lips, and with the slow rocking motion he made with his hips to stop and have a conversation about it. He was still so hard inside her, determined to prove his possession of her, and she found her body responding again.

His hips were relaxed as he rolled them, sliding forward again without haste, swaying in and out like the waves beneath them. He took his time loving her, his hold on her absolute as if she were the most precious thing in his life and this the most important moment he'd ever known. Tears pricked her eyes as she felt the first surge of desire sweep over her senses, taking her into the clouds, and with a cry, she gave herself over to it.

"More," she moaned, pressing her knees tighter against his sides to keep him from pulling out and moving off. "I need more, Erik. Please!"

His lips trailed a path down her throat, over the delicate bones of her shoulder even as he slowly worked his hips in a rocking motion that had him hitting at the right spots, making her see stars. When he wrapped his lips around her nipple and sucked, licking over the bite mark he'd left upon her breast, Emoni’s whole body shuddered in response. Nibbling electric shocks of pleasure ran the length of her spine and had her arching her back, offering herself up to him again, even as he bottomed out inside her, bringing them fully together again and again.

"Oh, my god. Don't...stop!"

A growling sound emitted from his chest again. Then, wrapping his arms around her, he rolled them so she was sprawled atop of him in a gloriously disheveled heap. With a firm grip, he resettled her over his big dick until she could feel it throbbing deep within her.

“Your turn,” he offered, and with a firm grip on her hips, he guided her to move over him for his pleasure. “Take all of it.”

Tossing her head back, Emoni closed her eyes and rode him hard, wanting to possess him as thoroughly as he'd done her. Every glide forward was met by his upwardly surging hips, forcing him deep into her slick, wet pussy.

His hands were everywhere, exploring her waist, her belly, cupping her breasts and thumbing her nipples. He traced the mark he'd left on her, played with the piercing in her belly, circling the proof of his claim upon her and causing a ripple effect of heat throughout her body in response.

“You're beautiful,” he whispered as she dug her nails into his chest, leaving behind reddish-purple, crescent-shaped divots in his skin. “So fucking beautiful, my Princess.”

There it was again—that arrogant, lordly persistence of ownership over her. Was it a declaration of his intentions, or simply a reiterating of the truth? She had to know...

Heavy-lidded and trembling with insatiable lust, she continued her relentless pace and pinned him down, meeting his warm, onyx gaze.

“We’re married, aren’t we?”

He pursed his lips and stared at her, clearly on the fence between confession and diversion.

“I’m your wife now? You saw it too, right?” she persisted.

“Emoni…”

She reached up one hand and palmed her left breast, stroking over his bite mark, presenting it as proof of her theory. Her whole body shook, tightened as she lightly fingered over the two, small piercings he'd made with his teeth. “I feel different now,” she admitted. “I feel...so much. Everything.” Desire slammed through her as she pinched the skin, pulling her nipple, and she threw her head back and wailed, “I can't stop!” Her hips were moving out of her control to a frantic pace now, fucking him so hard, the bed creaked ominously under them. “What have you done to me, Erik?! I feel so…unh!”

He reached for her. “Emoni, I‒”

She shoved him back down as he made to sit up, and bent so their mouths touched, preventing him from evading her question, again. “If you did this to me, and I'm yours now, then you're just as much mine, Erik. MINE!” She groaned now, feeling savage and powerfully possessive of her lover. She'd done her share of dating over the years, but this...this was a level of attraction that far exceeded anything she'd ever felt before. “And I don't share. Understand?”

Wonderment, then relief reflected in his face, and then there came a sudden and very final shift, as if some piece of the puzzle that had been them for so long finally notched itself into place in his brain and within his soul. A dark, feral intensity seemed to come over him.

His eyes gleamed like diamonds in the sunlight coming in through the round window nearby and his fierce smirk stole her breath.

“Fuck, yes,” he growled. “Fuck me and make me all yours, Princess. Mark me up and claim me.”

So, she did.

She rode him, sucked on his neck, wrapped a hand around his neck. Erik popped her on the ass and encouraged her to keep bouncing and fucking that dick with that tight pussy.

“I need you to shoot that cum in my pussy!”

She could feel him throbbing. Erik parted his lips and moaned her name.

“Give me what I want…I feel that big dick…let it out for me…give me all of it, daddy.”

“Ahhh, fuuuuckkkk—”

When all of the fucking and biting and scratching and moaning had reached its peak and tossed them into the storm together once more, when it was finally done and they were irrevocably mated to each other with full consent on both sides, Emoni slumped over Erik exhausted and thoroughly sated.

Quietly, she lay within his arms until her breathing evened out and her blood returned to its normal courses. Only then did she allow her mind to retake the reins.

As rationality returned, so too did the answer as to why she could remember all of the events after the reception. It hadn't just been something to do to stave off loneliness, or an itch to scratch, but because there was an undeniable, powerful connection between them...something that promised forever.

It didn’t feel on a whim. Yes, they were extremely sexual and weren't concerned about sleeping around, but as far as love and domestication were concerned, Emoni wasn’t expecting that. What had it been?

It seemed Erik’s inner jaguar had decided she was his one and only.

She couldn't deny it, either: the sex had been good—really, truly good. Mind-blowing, in fact. It had never been like that for her before, and she was guessing by Erik’s reactions during their love-making and now, with his light, affectionate caressing of her skin in the afters, that he felt the same. He radiated contentment, the same as her, and he was holding her close as if he didn't plan to let her go.

Well, that certainly explained everything, didn't it? From the office flirting to the jealous feelings every time she saw him with another women to the orgasms she'd given herself in secret while thinking of him. No wonder she'd been an absolute basket-case where Erik was concerned.

Surprising her quite suddenly, Erik drew her even closer to him, nuzzled into her hairline, and shushed her. “You're thinking too much again.”

She frowned, pushed back a bit, and rose up on her elbow to look down at him. “And how would you know what I'm thinking?”

His eyebrow twitched and a slow, mysterious smile wound up his cheek. “Because I know you, my Princess.”

He reached up and brushed her fringe out of her eyes. “Between worrying about who might have seen us leave together last night, whether we would be the talk of the office under some scandalous headline, and why it was you couldn't recall a thing we did after hitting the dance floor at the reception, I thought my head would explode. The only time that fantastic brain of yours was relatively quiet this morning was when I was fucking you.”

She gaped at him. “You… so now you have psychic abilities?”

He chuckled and in a quick move, rolled them and had her on her back again. “No. I just know you.”

“Is that so?” She didn't believe a single word coming out of his mouth and the expression she shot him made sure he knew it. “Then what am I thinking right now?”

He chuckled, and the wicked sound shot straight through her like electricity.

“You want me to propose properly, despite the fact we're already married.”

That gave her pause. She recalled the chapel and then exchanging vows. Was that really a marriage?

Sliding a hand down her belly, he played with her piercing. “I love this piercing on you. And I must say the tattoo of your name on my hip is perfect.”

She ran her fingers through his coarse hair and arched into him. “And when…will you give me…a real ring?” she asked, feeling a bit breathless from his amorous attentions.

He shrugged, dipping his mouth lower to place tiny, nipping kisses to her hips and thighs. “I have a ring back home. Waiting for the right time.” He circled the wet lips of her pussy with his tongue. “Guess my inner Jaguar decided he'd waited long enough.”

Emoni whimpered and raised her hips, silently begging him to stop torturing her and to just get to the part where he sucked her clit already. “You...you wanted to marry me before last night then?”

Onyx eyes glanced up at her as he placed tormenting, open-mouthed kisses upon her tingling flesh. “For years and years,” he admitted with an impish smirk. “Now shut up, and give me this sweet pussy again.”

She widened her legs and threw her head back on the pillow as he pressed in, making room for himself, taking her over...making her head spin.

“Oh, fuck!” she moaned, accepting that she was so utterly his.

@hearteyes-for-killmonger @imagining-greatness @chaneajoyyy @uzumaki-rebellion @lisayourworries @ratedbadgal @bombshellbre95 @cancerianprincess @dameshaemonique @6lack-1otus @thickemadame @thickeeparker @stinkalinkkkk @ehniki @electrixt @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @bxolux @sweet2krazee @seyven89 @ispywithmylileye @geemamii @nubianbabee @adoreesun @blackpinup22 @nayaxwrites @cocoa-puffs @dersha89 @honeytoffee @thickianaaaa @modelmemoirs @queenfaithmarie @angelicniah @soulfulbeauty19 @aijha @novaniskye @callmemckenzieee @blowmymbackout @lahuttor @momobaby227 @blackerthings @kenbieee @princessxotwod @palmstreesallday @kokokonako @coolfancyone @soulsparker @richgirlaesthetics

[nemo-writes]

⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞 ; 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

↣ pack!tf141 x witch!reader

↣ chapter summary; finally awake, the pack must face the consequences of their unraveling—and the distance growing between them and the one they love the most.

★ warnings; memory loss, slight non-con elements, violence

☆ story masterlist

Ghost jolted awake, his heart pounding and skin damp with sweat, his whole body aching with the telltale pain of staying too long in his wraith form. His mask is gone and he’s drenched in sweat, the sheets tangled around him, as if he’d been thrashing in his sleep. As he blinked away the haze, he recognized the dim, familiar space of his own room—the one he reserved for moments when he needed to be alone, away from the pack.

“Easy there.” Gaz’s voice cuts through the silence, weary but grounded. He’s sitting in a chair by his side, leaning forward with a flask in hand, his face lined with exhaustion. He looks a mess, his usual spark dampened by something deeper, something heavy.

"Drink this," he murmurs, pressing the flask toward him. The bitter, herbal scent fills Ghost's nose, and he recoils. It’s not your tonic—the one you tailored just for him—but something improvised. The smell is close enough, familiar in a way that unsettles him further. Still he takes the flask, grimacing as he gulps down the harsh liquid in one go. It burns down his throat, sending a faint warmth through his limbs, dulling the ache, but only slightly.

“This isn’t the real thing,” he mutters, passing the flask back.

“It’s what we’ve got,” Gaz replies, a hint of dry bitterness in his voice. “Better than nothing.”

For a moment, silence fills the room, thick and stagnant. Frustration claws at Ghost, his mind churning with broken memories, fragments of something he can’t fully grasp. He clenches his fists, the memories slipping through his mind like sand.

“Talk to me,” he finally says, voice low and tight. “What’s been happening? Everything’s blurred, like I’ve been… trapped in a dream.” His eyes flash with frustration, sharp and intense.

Gaz looks away, rubbing the back of his neck as he struggles to find the words. He inhales deeply, the silence stretching before he finally speaks, his voice low and tired. “You… we’ve been off, mate. The whole pack has. Lost, distracted, like we’ve been… obsessed.” He laughs bitterly, as if the word doesn’t quite cover it. “You especially.”

“Leah,” Ghost breathes out, the name slipping past his lips as his hands clenched into fists, his mind swimming with half-formed images of her—her face, her touch, her scent. But it’s all fractured and wrong, impossible to hold onto.

“How long?” He asks, voice barely above a whisper. “How long have we been… like this?”

Gaz shifts uncomfortably in his seat, not meeting his gaze. “Weeks,” he admits. “Weeks of us barely recognizing ourselves. We neglected the house, each other, our own bloody lives.”

Ghost tries to stand, only for his body to betray him, a sharp pain shooting up his legs. “And you’re only telling me now?” he snaps, anger flaring up. “We’ve been falling apart, and you didn’t think to snap me out of it sooner?”

Gaz flinches but holds his ground, meeting his pack-mates' gaze with determination. “You weren’t exactly listening, Simon. None of us were. Tried everything I could—potions, wards, even talking sense into you, but you wouldn’t hear a word against her. And then, it got to me too....”

Ghost lets out a frustrated growl. And then, as if reganing some of his long-forgotten sense, he thinks of you.

“We need to see her. Talk to her. Find out what’s happening.”

Gaz knows exactly who he’s talking about, his heart and mind in sync with his.

“We haven’t seen her in days.” Gaz laments, hand rubbing his face in desperation. “Her phone’s disconnected, and I’ve been taking care of you while Price went to look for Johnny.”

“Are they okay?” Ghost cuts him off again, but Gaz, despite looking so tired and haggard, doesn’t mind.

“Johnny went feral, stayed in his werewolf form for too long. But he’s alright now; he’s resting in his room. We stacked it up with a few of our clothes and food, or whatever we had remaining. We just haven't been able to leave the house, Price and I. Especially not with Leah still around.”

His last words come out strained, verging on bitter. Ghost can feel the weight of Gaz’s frustration; they’re all trapped in this swirling chaos, and every moment feels like they’re slipping further and further away from you.

Gaz reached into a bag beside him and pulled out a neatly folded set of clothes. They were plain, but clean—washed, pressed, and smelling faintly of lavender, a welcome break from the stale scent that seemed to hang over everything else. A fresh black facemask was also neatly folded into the pile.

“Go and get cleaned up,” Gaz said, holding them out to Ghost.

“Didn’t think anyone would’ve had the mind to do some laundry around here,” he muttered, a hint of dry humour cutting through the weariness as he accepted the clothes.

Gaz watched Ghost with a steady gaze, studying the exhaustion etched into every line of his face. After a pause, he pulled out his phone, typing a quick message to the others.

"I’ll let the boys know you’re up,” he murmured, looking back at Ghost. “But before we reach out for any answers, we need to be together. Properly. You, me, Price, and Johnny. The whole pack.”

There was something grounding about that idea—that, whatever had happened, whatever answers lay ahead, they’d face it unified. The pack had always been his constant, and in the haze of recent weeks, he’d almost forgotten how much that meant.

Gaz finished typing and slipped his phone back into his pocket, his expression shifting to something softer. “Take your time, Simon. Get a shower, clear your head. I’ll wait right here.”

Without another word, Ghost headed into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. The hot water beat down on him, easing the aches in his muscles and slowly peeling away the residue of exhaustion. He scrubbed his face, shaved, and let the water run over him, each drop lifting a little more of the fog that had settled over his mind.

When he finally emerged, clean and dressed, he felt steadier, like he was slipping back into himself. Gaz stood in the room, hands casually in his pockets, watching him with a faint but genuine smile. As Ghost approached, Gaz stepped forward, leaning up to place a soft, lingering kiss on his cheek. Then, he took his larger hand in his, squeezing it firmly. Simon hesitated just a moment before squeezing back, a silent gesture of thanks passing between them. The steady weight of Gaz’s hand in his felt grounding, a reminder that he wasn’t facing this alone.

Ghost nodded, the last of his hesitation falling away. “Let’s go.”

. . .

The silence in the room was heavy, like a smothering blanket that none of them could cast off. The air held an edge of tension, cut only by the occasional creak of the old house settling. The room itself mirrored their state—scattered, untidy, and dimly lit by the fading glow of the late afternoon sun filtering through the grime-streaked windows.

Johnny slumped deeper into the couch, the fabric of Ghost’s hoodie swallowing his frame. The scent of his packmate clung to it, earthy and metallic, a faint reminder of stability in a world that felt increasingly foreign. He tugged the hoodie closer around his shoulders, his hands hidden in the oversized sleeves. His overgrown hair and scruff shadowed his face, but his furrowed brows betrayed his unease.

Gaz sat at the table, his leg bouncing in a steady, erratic rhythm. The untouched tea in front of him had gone cold, a thin film forming on its surface. He stared at it like it might hold the answers they couldn’t seem to find. His jaw clenched as he tapped the table with a finger, the sound barely audible over the tick of the wall clock.

Ghost sat beside him, the chair groaning under his weight. The tension in his shoulders was visible even under his heavy sweater, his face-mask firmly in place. He hadn’t said a word since they sat down, but the intensity in his stillness spoke volumes.

John stood by the window, his back to them, puffing on his cigar with short, agitated breaths. Smoke curled around him, dissipating into the stale air of the room. His reflection in the glass was fractured and ghostly, distorted by the grime. He had always been their anchor, their steadying force, but now he seemed just as lost as the rest of them.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Gaz finally said, breaking the silence. His voice was hoarse, as if it had been days since he’d used it. “We all felt it. That… pull. It wasn’t normal. But now? Now it’s like—” He paused, searching for the words. “Like my skin crawls just thinking about her.”

Johnny let out a sharp exhale, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “Aye. Same. I can’t even picture her face properly. Feels like I’ve got glass under my skin whenever I try.” He glanced at Ghost, who remained still, his eyes fixed on the table. “Mate, you’re the one who’s best at keeping your head. You’ve got nothin’?”

Ghost’s fingers stopped drumming. He leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking under the shift. “It’s not about keeping my head, Johnny,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “It’s about the fact that I should remember. We all should. But there’s… nothing. Just a hole where the memories should be.”

Gaz slammed his palm against the table, making Johnny flinch. “And that’s the other thing, isn’t it? Her. And you.” His sharp gaze cut to Ghost, your name rolling off his lips. “We were ready to ask her to be part of the pack. It was all we thought about for weeks. Then—” He gestured vaguely, frustration radiating off him. “Now she’s gone, and it feels like—like someone yanked a piece out of us and then stitched us back up wrong.”

“Enough!” John barked, his voice rough from too many cigars. He turned from the window, his expression dark and weary. “We can’t sit here blaming each other or wallowing in what we don’t know. The fact is, something happened. Something we can’t explain. And until we figure out what it was, none of this”—he gestured at the room, at them—“is going to make sense.”

Ghost leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly on the table, tension etched into every line of his frame. His voice was low but firm as he rasped out your name, “What about her?”

“She’s alive,” Johnny muttered. His voice was uncertain, his fingers trembling. “I can feel it. Somewhere out there. But she’s… out of reach. Like something’s keeping us from her.”

John’s gaze darkened as he looked at each of them in turn, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “We can’t do anything for her—not yet. First, we need to pull ourselves together. Look at this place.” He swept his arm, indicating the wrecked furniture, the dust and chaos surrounding them. “We’re a mess, and that mess isn’t just around us—it’s in our heads.”

He paced to the trash bin, tying off the bag with sharp, precise movements. “We’re no good to her like this. We clear this house. We clear our minds. Only then can we figure out what’s happened, where she is, and why we’re being kept from her.”

Gaz frowned, the sting of John’s words cutting through his frustration. “And Leah?” he asked bitterly. “What do we do about her?”

John’s jaw tightened, the embers of his cigar flaring briefly as he took a long draw. He let the silence stretch, considering his response. “We leave her alone,” he said finally, his voice low and steady. “She’s dangerous, whatever she is. And right now, so are we. Until we understand what’s happened to us, we keep our distance.”

The room fell into an uneasy quiet, the weight of his words hanging heavy over them. Slowly, Ghost nodded, his knuckles white against the edge of the table. Johnny exhaled shakily, his shoulders slumping as the fight drained out of him. Gaz rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion and frustration etched into his features.

“Right then,” Price said, breaking the silence as he picked up the trash bag. “Let’s get to it. House isn’t going to clean itself.”

One by one, they rose to their feet, their steps slow and hesitant, but they moved. The weight of what lay ahead loomed, but for now, they focused on the first step—clearing the wreckage, both inside and out.

. . .

The clatter of dishes in the kitchen and the dull scrape of furniture being moved did little to mask the oppressive tension hanging over the house. Price stood by the sink, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, methodically scrubbing a stubborn plate with the kind of focus reserved for anything but the situation at hand. The faint slosh of water and the rhythmic clink of ceramic broke the silence, but not the heaviness in the air.

Nearby, a trash bag sat tied and waiting. Price gave the plate a final rinse, then stacked it neatly with the others before drying his hands on a worn kitchen towel. He grabbed the trash bag on his way out the back door, letting the screen creak open and slam shut behind him.

Meanwhile, Johnny tied his overgrown hair into a small, haphazard ponytail, the uneven strands barely staying put. His freshly shaved jaw—courtesy of Price earlier that morning—stood out starkly against his otherwise dishevelled appearance, making the lingering exhaustion in his eyes even more pronounced. He heaved another broken chair onto the growing pile near the back door, his movements sluggish but determined.

Ghost, nearby, silently swept debris from the floor, the steady rhythm of the broom punctuating the tense quiet. His broad frame was taut, shoulders coiled as though bracing for a blow that never came. Neither man spoke, their shared silence a testament to the strain hanging heavy in the air.

Upstairs, Gaz moved with a quiet purpose through his small workshop, tucked away in a corner of the house. The room smelled faintly of burnt herbs and candle wax, the aftermath of his earlier work lingering in the air. A faint golden glow pulsed from the fresh wards he had just set in front of Leah's door down the hall, the intricate pattern etched with precision into the wood.

He wiped his hands on a rag, the faint shimmer of magical residue clinging to his fingertips. The wards he had placed were strong, layered to shield her room from any unwelcome interference, but also to keep her presence confined. It wasn’t a solution, just a precaution—one that weighed heavily on him.

Suddenly, the sharp trill of the phone cut through the quiet, making Johnny start and Ghost stop. Price turned his head slightly, before nodding curtly, “I’ll get it.”  

He stalked over to the phone mounted on the hallway wall, snatching the receiver up with a practised brusqueness. “Price.”  

“John,” came Laswell’s voice, rough and harried.  

He frowned, his grip on the receiver tightening. “Kate?”  

“I need to see you,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “All of you.”  

Price’s frown deepened. “This isn’t a good time, Laswell.”  

“No, now’s exactly the time,” she snapped, frustration bleeding through the line. “This isn’t something we can handle over the phone. I’m coming up. Be ready.”  

His jaw clenched. “An explanation would be nice.”  

“You’ll get one when I’m there,” she bit out. Then, after a beat, her voice softened, weariness creeping in. “I’ve got answers, John. But not all of them. Just... be ready. I’ll be there in an hour.”  

The line clicked dead before he could press her further.  

Price lowered the receiver slowly, his eyes narrowing as he replaced it on the cradle with a deliberate motion. He turned back to the others, his expression grim.

Gaz descended the stairs, wiping his hands on his jeans as he stepped into the room. His brows knit together at the tension rolling off Price in palpable waves. “What’s going on?” he asked, his tone cautious, catching the shift in the atmosphere like a physical blow.

“That was Laswell,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of his stress.

“What did she want?” Gaz asked, his tone cautious.

“Says she’s on her way here,” Price replied, his voice clipped. “She’s got something to tell us. Something about what’s been happening.”

Johnny tilted his head, suspicion flickering in his tired eyes. “She knows what’s wrong with us?”

“Didn’t say.” Price reached for the cigar resting in the ashtray and took a long drag, exhaling sharply. “Only that it’s too much for the bloody phone.”

Gaz frowned, his brow furrowed. “Think it’s about Leah? Or... us?”

“Could be both,” Price said curtly. He cast a glance toward the stairs, his lips thinning. “Either way, we’ll find out soon enough.”

Ghost’s grip tightened on the broom handle, his voice low. “An hour isn’t much time.”

“No, it’s not,” Price muttered. He turned toward the windows again, his profile cast in sharp focus by the dim light filtering through. “So get your heads on straight. Whatever she’s bringing, it’s not gonna be good.”

Johnny let out a humourless laugh as he tossed the piece of wood onto the pile. 

Gaz muttered something under his breath before returning to his workshop. Ghost, ever silent, resumed sweeping, his movements just as sharp and tense as before.

They had an hour to prepare—for Laswell’s arrival, for her answers, and for the storm they all knew was coming.

. . .

The moment Laswell’s car pulled up the gravel driveway, the tension in the house thickened. Price watched from the window, his third cigar of that morning, forgotten in the ashtray as he studied the vehicle. Two figures stepped out behind her, their familiar silhouettes making his jaw tighten. Alejandro and Rudy.  

“Well, this just got worse,” he muttered under his breath, turning to glance at the others. Gaz frowned, Ghost took a long sip from his tea, and Johnny stiffened, his eyes narrowing.  

The trio approached the house with purpose. Laswell led the way, her usual sharp demeanour dulled by weariness, while Alejandro and Rudy followed, their expressions unreadable but far from happy.  

Price opened the door before they could knock, his broad frame blocking the entrance. “Laswell. Alejandro. Rudy.”  

Alejandro gave him a curt nod. “Price.”  

John stepped aside without a word, letting them file into the house. The pack stood scattered in the living room, their postures defensive.  

“Stinks in here,” Alejandro muttered as he took in the room, nose scrunched up. His sharp eyes swept over the remaining clutter and the signs of disrepair before landing on Ghost. His gaze darkened.  

Ghost stiffened under the scrutiny but didn’t flinch. His jaw tightened as he rose up to meet Alejandro.

“You look better,” Alejandro said coolly, stopping just in front of him.  

Ghost grunted, a curt acknowledgment that sounded more like a growl.  

“Good,” Alejandro said, his voice like steel. “Now grit your teeth.”  

The punch came so fast no one had time to react. Alejandro’s fist connected with Ghost’s jaw with a sickening crack, the force sending him staggering backward. He hit the floor on one knee, his hand clutching his face.  

Gaz moved to help, but Alejandro snapped, “Stay out of it cabrón (bastard)!”  

Johnny let out a furious snarl, his body coiled to lunge, but Price’s bark stopped him cold. “Stand down, Johnny!”  

Johnny stopped, his eyes darting between Price and Ghost, his hands trembling with restrained fury.  

Ghost slowly pushed himself up, his expression stoic despite the bruise blooming on his jaw. His eyes met Alejandro’s, something resigned yet determined in his gaze. “I probably deserved that,” he muttered hoarsely.  

“You’re damn right you did,” Alejandro growled, shaking out his fist.  

“Now,” Ghost rasped, leaning back onto his haunches, “tell us everything. Absolutely everything.”  

banner credit

[xxsabitoxx]

I want a baby

<Tengen x Fem! Reader Drabble>

Warnings: unprotected sex, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, creampie with the intent of getting reader pregnant. Reader is female and wants to have a baby so if that makes you uncomfy don’t read lol

A/N: unintentionally got carried away with this one ngl. Kinda funny tho cause I was initially struggling to figure out what I wanted the premise to be for this Drabble and now here we are.

Word Count: 2k

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Moonlight was filtering into the room through your open window, a cool breeze brushing your skin. The warmth of the man beside you created a stark contrast between the two sensations. Tengen himself was a walking furnace no matter the time of year. It was part of the reason you always slept with the window open. Well that and the fact that three other bodies were usually accompanying you. Tonight, however, was different.

Makio, Hina and Suma had gone away for a girls weekend. The only reason you didn’t go was because of a last minute mission you had been tasked with. They offered to wait for you, but you were adamant on them going as a trio. You had only convinced them by sharing your plans. This was the weekend you were finally going to tell Tengen of your wish. The very wish you and your co-wives had discussed quite frequently.

You wanted a baby.

“Ya know, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” It helped that you couldn’t see his face at the moment, you were certain you’d crumble and become too nervous to bring up the idea. “That so? I’m all ears.” He teased softly, the mood of your conversation had been a lot of cheeky comments and playful banter. Dropping what you felt like was a bomb could potentially ruin the mood. Then again, it was nearly impossible to piss Tengen off.

“Well, Makio, Suma, Hina and I have been discussing this for a long while now…” you started, hand coming up to play with his large fingers. A clear sign to Tengen that you were nervous. “Okay, if it helps… I think I know where you’re going with this.” Tengen wasn’t dense when it came to you or your co-wives desires, he figured it was only a matter of time before one of you popped the question.“Well… if you think you know, I guess there is no reason for me to stall.”

You laughed softly, not able to ignore the pounding in your chest. “At least look at me before you tell me.” The tone in his voice was softer than you had ever heard it, making it just as hard to deny. So, you sat yourself up, moving to straddle your husband’s waist with a warm flush on your face. You balanced by placing your hands on his chest, smiling when his own came up to hold your waist. There was a relaxed smile on his handsome face, one that gave you the courage to say what you were holding in.

“Tengen… I want to have a baby.”

The smile on his face was nothing short of dazzling. “I thought you’d never ask.” You froze, for some reason you hadn’t expected him to agree so easily. Yet, at the same time you couldn’t figure out why he wouldn’t. “Wait… really?” You blinked a couple times, the butterflies in your stomach turning into a frenzy. “Yes, really. I’ve been waiting for one of you to come to me with the question. Though I must say, I’m not surprised it was you.”

“Why’s that?” You adjusted your hips, a devious glint in your eyes. “Those three would do anything to get you to leave the corps.” And then it clicked, laughter bubbles in your chest as you fell forward to crush your lips to his. “Me too, for that matter. If I get you pregnant you need to promise me you’ll leave the corps.” This time, he kissed you, hands coming up to hold your face. “And not just while you’re pregnant and not until our baby is old enough to be without you. If I get you pregnant, you leave the corps for good.”

Your lips were centimetres apart as he spoke, your breath mingling. Part of you yearned to defy him, you wanted to stay in the corps and find a way to achieve the very reason you joined. Yet, the promise of a baby, the promise of a family… the promise of a normal life. It was outweighing your desire for revenge. “Deal. Get my pregnant and I promise you, I’ll leave the corps.” That same smile returned, Tengen took the initiative and flipped the two of you over. “Best way is missionary… though it’s a bit boring.”

“Oh—“ you felt warm and not just because of the hands pulling your clothes off of you. “Nothing is boring if it’s with you, Tengen.” You laughed as he threw the little clothes he had on, off the side of the bed. “Mmm that’s true, I do know how to make things flashy.” He was hovering just over your breasts as he spoke, finishing his statement with a long lick up your sternum. “You’ll look beautiful pregnant. Breasts swollen… everyone will know you’re mine… fuck never mind beautiful you’ll look ethereal.”

“You’re getting so far ahead of yourself.” Though, that statement fell on practically deaf ears. Tengen was too busy littering your chest and neck in bruises. Something Hinatsuru would certainly tease you about when they returned. For once in his life, the man couldn’t find the self restraint to take things slow. He wanted… no he needed to be inside of you. Now… if not sooner… hell at this point he was sure he should have been inside of you two minutes ago. “You’re so eager.”

It was breathless, not only was it rare for you and Tengen to have one on one time, it was rare for him to lose his composure in such a way. “Can’t help it…” was all he gave you, voice gruff as he moved himself lower, fingers reaching down to spread apart your folds. “You’re already so wet…” but he was also far too big to not prep you at least a little bit. “Can’t help it…” you mimicked him, a ghost of a smile on your face as you watched him observe your cunt.

“I-I can take it. Tengen if you’re that eager, trust me I can take it.” You knew him well enough to know he was going through an internal battle. Torn between going in with no prep and fingering you open just enough to get used to his girth. After nearly three years of marriage you think he’d know by now that you could handle him. “I don’t want to hurt you.” It was a soft murmur, even as he spoke he was collecting your arousal and gingerly pushing two fingers inside.

You gasped at the intrusion, hips jerking into his touch as he buried himself inside of you. “Y-you won’t hurt me.” It was meeker than you wanted it to be, mostly because he was curling his fingers exactly how you liked it. Gingerly he added a third, giving you a moment to adjust before repeating his previous menstruations. “Just give me a few moments, okay?” He continued pumping his fingers, watching as the crease in your brow melted away.

That’s when he knew the initial discomfort turned into pleasure. Tengen knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes, your body was like a never ending symphony that he had memorized every single note of. He could read you as easily as sheet music, never once making a mistake as he played it. “C’mon…Tengen please, that's enough.” Your walls were fluttering around his fingers. He must have trailed off while staring at you, his hand was slick with your arousal, your eyes filled with need.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to keep you waiting…” he chuckled softly, pulling his fingers out of you and using your own arousal as lubricant for himself. You wanted to touch him, but at this point you just may shatter if you prolonged this any further. Instead, you watched him spread your juices and his own precum over his entire length, a shaky sigh leaving him as some relief was bestowed on his aching cock. “Tell me how bad you want this.” There was a hoarseness to his tone, his own eyes mirroring the desire that must have been shining in your own.

“H-huh?” You blinked, slightly pulled from your daze. “Tell me how bad you want this… how bad do you want me to put a baby in you?” Suddenly it felt like your mouth was full of cotton. Your legs spread just a bit wider, coming up to hook around his waist. “So bad…Tengen I’ve been thinking about it for months. I want you to get me pregnant so badly.” You swallowed, body feeling hot all over as you confessed. “Yeah? That badly? You’ve been thinking about this for months? Every time we fuck, hmm?” You nodded, face burning up as your hips shimmied to try and reach him.

“Yes…months. So please stop teasing me…” it was hard to deny you when you put it like that. Tengen aligned himself easily, pushing in as slowly as he could manage. His hands trembled with anticipation, coming down to hold your thighs and pull you up against him. “Gimme the pillow.” He motioned to his own, watching your head tilt to the side and reach for it with equally as shaky hands. He took it from you, slotting it under your hips to give you better leverage and more comfort. “There we go, pretty girl.” He smiled, white hair framing his face.

“You…you’re so pretty, Tengen.” The compliment had him turning pink, eyes shutting as he laughed softly. He bottomed out a second later, willing his hips to stay still as you adjusted. “Move already…please.” Your fingers were digging into the sheets, walls clenching around him over and over. Tengen clicked his tongue, laughing again as he spoke. “So eager…” he was pulling out as he spoke, slamming his hips back once he got half way. He built a steady rhythm, angling your hips in such a way that he was brushing your cervix with each pass.

An achingly beautiful symphony left your lips, edging him on as he whispered never ending praise. Things like how beautiful you were, how you’d look so cute pregnant, how you’d make an amazing mother. If anything, it was edging alone as well, cock pulsating with the need to fill you up until there was no possible way you wouldn’t get pregnant by the time he was done. “Tengen…fuck…” you said his name over and over, mixed between various profanities. Your clit was throbbing with need, desperately wanting attention as you felt the familiar tension in your gut.

Tengen, ever in tune with your body, reaches down to begin rubbing quick circles with his thumb. “C’mon, pretty. Cum for me…milk me dry.” Sweat was shining along his forehead, years of endurance training allowed him the ability to move the way he was. “Gonna cum… gonna….” The words died on your lips as your orgasm crashed down around you, warmth spreading through your whole body as Tengen worked you through it. “Good girl…” he groaned, body tensing as his own release threatened to pulse through him. “Hang in there for me…”

You could barely process his request, all you knew is he was pulling your hips up with him, moving to hover over you rather than kneel. He was forcing your body to contort into something reminiscent of a mating press, hips thrusting into you with new vigour as his release finally hit him. A whine of your name followed by breathy moans, the combination dizzying as he pressed himself as far into you as your bodies would allow. Moments of silence passed, Tengen still buried inside of you as he held your hips up. Nothing but the cool wind and your laboured breathing.

“Think we… need to do that a few more times” you finally choked out, laughing softly as his sweaty forehead met yours. “Oh definitely… I think two or three rounds may be necessary… you up for that?” Maroon eyes met your own, the closeness forcing a soft laugh from you. “Oh absolutely… maybe even more.” He merely hummed, eyes closing again to relish in the closeness between the two of you. He was more than determined to put a baby in you, no matter how many times it took.

[merakiui]

promising young man.

yandere!riddle rosehearts x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, one-sided student/teacher relationship, obsession, dark thoughts, jealousy, delusion, brief descriptions of blood/gore, violence, death, murder, brief nsfw note - riddle's perfect world comes crashing down with the arrival of foreign exchange student azul ashengrotto.

He meets him in Intro to Psych.

Azul Ashengrotto struggles to parse English, but he’s dressed like a businessman with his pressed suit and leather Oxfords. The only thing that reveals his status as a student is the black backpack he carries to class. Riddle’s seen him around campus a handful of times. It’s hard to miss him when he seems to throw himself into social circles with practiced grace.

This is the first time he’s ever had class with him, though, and so now he gets to see him in a classroom setting. There isn’t much about him that immediately strikes Riddle as odd. He’s well-dressed and prompt with a polite tongue. Every time he speaks in his thick accent, the one that just commands admiration and attention, that tiny Italian flag pinned to the strap of his bag becomes even more apparent.

Riddle’s not sure what he’s doing in this class. Perhaps he’s aiming to study law as well. He’d hoped to find more people with similar academic hobbies and interests and, while he’s yet to form any lasting bonds, he’s been wondering what sort of person Azul is.

On the first day of class, he introduced himself with confidence: “Buongiorno, amici. I am Azul. I look forward to the year with all of you.”

Though the structure and pronunciation of English proved awkward in his mouth, that didn’t stop him from opening himself to others. He’s friendly and outgoing, always welcoming conversation when it’s thrown his way. Riddle finds it impressive. If he were in Azul’s shoes, he’s certain he’d feel just a little lost attending school in a new country, far from home, surrounded by people who speak a completely different language. But Azul is resourceful, a dab hand at communication despite the barrier in vernacular. Perhaps that’s where his charm comes from.

Riddle thought the two of them might get along.

But then Azul proved academically formidable, and then you began to pick his brain after class, during time that was specifically reserved for Riddle so that he could discuss psychology with you.

So now Riddle sits in his seat, impatiently awaiting his chance.

“The law over in here is fascinating,” Azul says, leaning closer as you show him something on the desktop computer. 

“What’s it like where you’re from?”

“Mm. How to explain… The law is…”

“It follows a civil law tradition,” Riddle pipes up, casually flipping a page in his textbook. He does it for show. He’s aware it probably makes him look like an arrogant know-it-all.

You peek past the screen at him. “Oh! Riddle, you’re still here. Hello!”

He hums, warming under your gaze. “I always am.”

“What was it you were saying about the Italian legal system?”

Azul stares at him. An unhappy frown tightens on his face.

Uplifted with pride, swimming in the clouds, Riddle elaborates: “I’ve only just started researching it, but it’s very interesting. In the realm of criminal law, trials are often led by judges or a select few to form a panel unlike the juries we have here. Of course you’ll find differences everywhere. All countries have justice systems and law enforcement. Still, it’s fascinating to compare and contrast the fine details.”

From across the room, Azul’s stink eye has never been more obvious.

“Ah, that’s right. I’ve heard a few things regarding the way cases are handled over there. From what you know, Azul, would you say the system is harsher here than it is there, or is it the other way around?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Azul says, and that polite mask of his slips for a second. “I’ve never done crime.”

Riddle snaps his book shut and rises from his seat. “Let’s hope not. You’ve a promising career ahead of you.” He smiles sweetly at Azul like he’s particularly stupid.

Azul tracks him as he packs his belongings away and strides towards the door. His brilliant blue eyes are dark. “Ci fai o ci sei?” he mutters, clicking his tongue discreetly. “Rompipalle…”

Riddle will later learn these are slang phrases. He’ll learn a lot of things later—things he thought he’d never need to learn.

Thinking it a joke, you laugh and wave your hand about dismissively. “Aren’t you going to stay, Riddle? I watched the first episode of that podcast you recommended.”

Riddle perks up at that. “You watched it?”

“This past weekend, yes. It’s a riveting series. They really dig deep into the facets of a criminal.”

“Don’t they just?” He hugs his textbook close to his chest, nearly vibrating out of his skin. Finally, the moment he’s been waiting for—an opportunity to speak with you. “I’m amazed at how much time and research goes into each episode, and they always treat each case with tact. It deserves so much praise.”

Azul glances between the two of you. Riddle is sick with satisfaction. Once more, his blue hues land on him.

“You like criminals?”

“Not in that way, of course not.” Riddle shakes his head. What a preposterous assumption. “I find their minds to be exceedingly, bewilderingly captivating.”

Azul blinks back at him, owlish. He doesn’t seem to grasp most of what Riddle’s just said.

“In short, I think they’re a fine learning experience.”

“An experience? Non capisco.”

“For those wishing to pursue a career in criminal justice or law. Think of it like watching a tape from a criminal investigation. It’s important to study the interview techniques and tactics utilized by detectives to understand what’s most successful in gathering a proper confession.”

Azul nods along. “Ah, capisco.”

“We’ll cover things like that later in the semester. Don’t feel so overwhelmed, Azul.”

“I’m not. I learn as I go. Grazie, Professor. You’re very kind.”

“I’m happy to help. If you ever need anything, my office hours are on that sheet I gave you. I had a colleague of mine translate the syllabus for you. If you have any questions or need accommodations of any kind, let me know.”

“I will.” He fixes the strap of his backpack and, after bidding you a final farewell, stalks past Riddle out the door. His footsteps echo down the hall until eventually they’re no more.

“Riddle, if you have a moment, I’d like to speak with you.”

“Of course. Anything,” he says hastily, his heart stumbling in his ribs. 

“If you wouldn’t mind, could you help Azul out? I notice he struggles taking notes during lectures. If you’d be willing to share your notes with me so that I can get them translated, that would be great.”

Riddle doesn’t want to share, but this is an opportunity to be praised in spades. “I’d be glad to. I’ll scan and email them after each class.”

“Thanks, Riddle. Your notes have always been so organized. This is a huge help. I’m sure Azul will be just as grateful.”

I’m not doing it for him, he thinks, bitter and envious.

But he just smiles, standing a little taller when you compliment him.

Your notes have always been so organized.

What is he getting so territorial for? He’s had you for four classes in past years. Azul’s only known you for a few measly weeks. That’s nothing compared to the special bond you have with him.

Riddle isn’t worried.

1 September, 20XX.

Dear Diary,

(Name) Rosehearts has quite the lovely ring to it. Far more musical than that of (Name) Ashengrotto. I’m almost certain he sits there in class, silently drooling over Professor. Just last week, he took my seat at the front. The gall to do such a thing! Can you imagine? He must know that seat is the best for getting a perfect view of Professor. It’s childish to bicker over seating arrangements and I refuse to stoop to his level. That said, the seat is mine. Professor’s time is mine.

I’ve deigned to share my notes, but only because Professor put such faith in my abilities by personally asking me. Even though it’s foolish, I’m tempted to sabotage the notes so that Azul will have incorrect study material. But that would be unfair and an infraction upon all that I stand for when it comes to academic fairness. Thus, I’ve refrained from doing anything of that sort. I’m certain Professor would disapprove.

It makes me happy to know Professor listens to the podcast I recommended. I wish we could discuss it at length, but Azul is always there and he takes up so much of what little time there is. It’s infuriating. I wish he would just drop out of the class. That way it will be just Professor and me, as it was intended.

Perhaps he will once the coursework comes knocking.

Sincerely, 

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle slumps forward over his desk and combs his hands through his hair.

“That rotten Azul…” he sneers, his face scrunching into something sour. “He’s always monopolizing your time… Does he not realize how important it is to me—how much I look forward to talking to you? And you smile at him… You look at him with those sweet eyes of yours and he’s completely undeserving of such treatment! It never does anyone any good to be greedy, yet there he is…”

He inhales deeply, holds it for a few seconds, and then exhales.

What am I supposed to do? How can I make this right again?

Azul isn’t breaking any rules. It’s not a crime to seek you out for conversation after each class ends. But therein lies the issue. There is nothing wrong with that. It would be wrong if, say, there was an illicit exchange between the both of you. Like a taboo relationship of sorts…

Riddle startles in his seat, his eyes blown wide.

Azul isn’t having a secret affair with you, is he? Not that it could be considered cheating when you’re not yet married (and Riddle intends to keep it that way). He has a plan. When he graduates, there will be no formal barriers holding him back from starting a relationship with you. He can email you freely without the need to circle back to academics. He can invite you for tea or coffee and the two of you can chat about things that aren’t school, and it won’t be weird or overstepping boundaries. Because he won’t be your student anymore. He’ll be Riddle, your former student. And former students have better odds than current students, do they not?

He’s thought it out carefully. He was raised to be responsible, to do everything right.

And though he’s thought of it in passing—considered what might happen if he were to try to play at being a seductive siren—he’d never truly act on such folly. But Azul… It isn’t too impossible to theorize he might be sleeping with you for a better grade. What if he’s forced you into it? What if he has some sort of wicked blackmail? What if you’re holed up in your office every day, scared for your career, while Azul bends you over the desk and uses that boyish charm of his, that silky-smooth accent, to coax the sweetest of sounds from—

Riddle shakes himself free of that thought. He’s not going to imagine it any further. He doesn’t need to be plagued with graphic imagery, gross as it may be.

Even though he chases the fantasy from his brain, it returns to poke at him. He gazes at his lap, noticing the substantial strain in his pajamas, and groans.

It would be easier if he wasn’t where he is now. Logically, he’s aware he doesn’t have much of a chance. Neither does Azul. Unless he’s sleeping with you in secret. Then he has a chance. But he’s not. He can’t. That’s against the rules.

And even if he was, it wouldn’t be very fair for him to do the very thing Riddle’s abstained from.

His hand closes around his dick. He feels pitiful as he pumps himself to scandalous visions. 

It’s not fair.

He should have a chance. In a perfect world, he’d have you. He’s earned this, hasn’t he? He’s worked so hard. So why isn’t he allowed to have you?

It’s not fair.

Why does Azul get to relish in your attention when Riddle’s left alone in the shadows? Why can’t you look at him like you used to? Why can’t you praise him for knowing all the answers? Why can’t you tell him good work when he does just that? Why must you coddle Azul? Riddle thinks he can speak perfect English. He’s just playing it up to look weak and pathetic—to garner your sympathy!

It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair.

He’s the good one. The one with perfect marks. The one with perfect attendance. The one every professor holds in high regard.

Riddle squeezes himself and sucks in a breath through grit teeth.

He’s not funny like Azul. He doesn’t have that awkward charm Azul has. He can’t speak another language fluently. He’s never traveled out of the country. He thinks he knows everything, but he only knows so much.

He can fascinate you with the intricacies of his mind, each fold primed for education, but Azul can do better because he has social experience.

Riddle can’t believe it. He, of all people, is jealous of someone.

Cum oozes from his dick and coats his fingers in a pearly-white. It isn’t satisfying.

Right then, he thinks his world would be better if Azul stayed in Italy.

Or maybe it would be better if Azul wasn’t in his world at all. 

On his way out of class, Riddle stops Azul in an empty corridor.

“I know what you’re doing,” he says, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

He blinks back, oblivious. And then he smiles, revealing a row of perfect teeth. “What I’m doing?”

Riddle won’t say it. He can’t. Because then he’d be admitting the truth Azul’s trying to pry from his heart, whether that’s his intention or not.

“You know very well what you’re doing.”

A silent head tilt is his reply.

His temper is nearing its boiling point. It’s been on a low simmer ever since Azul first bewitched you, and it’s threatening to spill over.

“I see the way you and Professor look at each other during class. You may think it discreet, but I know.” Riddle folds his arms over his chest, feeling very proud of himself for successfully playing Sherlock. “I can tell there’s nothing formal about it. So how long has this been going on? How long have you been flouting the rules?”

Azul stares at him. His shoulders shake with his chuckle. “You’re funny.”

Riddle startles. His accent—

“I’m here to learn just as you are. What I do outside of the classroom is none of your business, so it would please me greatly if you could stop prying.”

His eyes narrow into vicious slits. “If you lay a hand on—”

“Oh, I’ve done more than that.” Azul smooths the nonexistent wrinkles in his sweater vest. The same brand of sweater vest that Riddle wears. “But you have no proof. The courts here will want that, won’t they? Or is it harsher here? Will you need to peer inside Professor to see for yourself? I wouldn’t know. I’ve never committed a crime.”

Disgust pools in his stomach. He feels like he could vomit, and it isn’t because he’s appalled by the conspiracy Azul’s proposed. It’s because he should’ve been the one to do it if it was that easy. Instead, he musters a mean glare.

“Who are you, Ashengrotto? What do you want?”

“I’m just a student like you. I want to learn lots from Professor.” He brushes past Riddle, his voice a melodious hum. “And some things can’t be taught in the classroom.”

Riddle opens his mouth to let the angry tirade fall, but he chokes on the words. There’s so much he wants to say, but all of it will come out accusatory. And that’s where Azul has him pinned. It’s all baseless accusation.

He doesn’t want to believe it. Surely you wouldn’t… It’s impossible! An academic and social infringement! It’s wrong!

It should’ve been him.

Later that evening, cooped up in his room, Riddle scrawls furious lines in his diary: He’s a liar. A cheat. An embarrassment to this institution. I should be the one who holds Professor. I should be there in Azul’s place. I’ve worked so hard. I deserve it. I’ve earned it!

He can’t let this madness go on any longer. He won’t tolerate it.

Looking at it logically, Riddle has illustrated the negatives and the positives in his notebook.

If Azul’s insinuations are true, then all Riddle needs is valid evidence. Unfortunately, that would mean you might lose your job given the circumstances. If it’s consensual, both of you are equally at fault. If it’s not, Riddle hopes Azul will burn in a terrible blaze.

But if you do happen to lose your job, it would relieve some of the weight burdening his situation. He could start a real relationship with you. It’s plausible! Perhaps not very realistic, but there’s always a shred of hope to be found in misfortune. 

Riddle wonders if he should just ask you and save himself the headache.

He gazes sidelong at Azul, who has since claimed that seat for his own, and chances a glance at his open notes.

That’s Riddle’s handwriting.

He’s sure of it. That’s his handwriting. He writes his notes in cursive. He writes in a perfect, elegant slant. His letters always connect. There’s no denying it; that’s his handwriting on the page.

A disturbing thought crosses his mind: Has Azul been practicing my handwriting?

It sounds impossibly silly. Who would devote so much time to something so witlessly fraudulent? Riddle wracks his brain for a reasonable explanation. Why would he need to practice someone else’s handwriting? Riddle could understand if Azul struggled to write in English. Most of his work is submitted in his native language. You allow this exception even though Riddle finds it unfair. Maybe it’s because you treat Azul’s work like it’s something special, and you jump through all of these hoops just to get it translated. Why can’t you treat his work with that same amount of care?

Riddle drags his pen along the page, scribbling mindlessly. Why is he doing that? He has nothing to gain from writing like me.

But then Riddle realizes the notebook is the same as his. The same color, in fact. He wonders when Azul purchased a new one. Did he purchase a new one, or has he always had this one?

Riddle looks down at his notebook.

That’s Azul’s handwriting.

He blinks twice and rubs frantically at his eyes. When he looks back at Azul’s notebook, it’s to a page filled with Azul’s stylish scrawl.

Have I…been copying him this entire time?

No, surely not! He would never plagiarize. That’s one of the biggest sins of academia. He couldn’t live with himself if he did that!

Besides, he’s not the copycat. It’s Azul in his sweater vest, boasting the same writing implements as Riddle, using the same brand of notebook. Riddle’s not copying him. It’s Azul. It must be.

It can’t be Riddle. He’d never do such a thing.

After class, you call Riddle up to your desk. He hesitates, his heart thrumming wildly, and shuffles over.

“Yes, Professor?”

“Riddle, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.” You withdraw last week’s assignment from a folder and set it down. “You wrote this, did you not?”

Riddle scans the typed document. “I did, yes.”

“May I ask if the Italian was intentional?”

“The Italian?” he parrots, confused. “I don’t understand what—”

In between brilliantly articulated paragraphs, he’s sprinkled in Italian words and phrases.

He coughs out a rattled laugh. “I must have been studying it for another assignment before I did yours. I…can’t believe this happened. It was fully unintentional. I’m very sorry.”

His face is flushed cherry-red. He’s never felt more humiliated.

“It’s not a big deal. I just wanted to ask. It definitely confused me.” You take the paper from him, smiling that understanding smile he loves so much. But then, rather intrusively, he wonders how many times those soft-looking lips have been on Azul, wrapped around him, sending him to cloud nine… “I actually asked Azul to translate it for me. He said all of it was written correctly. You must be very adept in your Italian.”

“I… I suppose I am,” he answers after a tense minute.

His brain is swirling like sediment stirred up on the ocean floor. When did I pick up Italian? I’m not taking any language courses this semester. I don’t even own an Italian dictionary… Just what in the world is happening?

“Ah, you don’t have to look so pale! It’s not going to affect your grade. I only wanted to fulfill this nagging curiosity of mine. Thank you for all the good work you do.”

Riddle nods mechanically. When you ask if he has time to stick around and discuss more psychology podcasts, he shakes his head and mumbles a feeble excuse.

He tears through his desk and all of the drawers in his room in search of it. If it’s not there, he can relax. If it’s not there, he can chalk it up to stress. If it’s not there—

It’s tucked away in his bookshelf. A little pocket dictionary. English to Italian. And it’s been bookmarked and annotated.

Riddle pulls it from the shelf in a baffled daze. When did he get his hands on this? More importantly, when did he read through it? In a hurry, he empties the contents of his backpack and flips a few pages in his notebook.

His notes from class. Dated for today. Written in Azul’s script. And at the top of the page, an exact copy of his signature, a name that isn’t Riddle’s: Azul Ashengrotto.

Riddle peers at his trembling hands. He flexes his fingers, curls them into a fist and then unfurls them.

He seizes his psychology textbook next and skims the chapter index in search of an answer. He lands on it. Page 371. Dissociation.

Two minutes into a phone call with Trey, he’s asked a simple question: “Are you speaking with an accent?”

Riddle bristles. “Of course I’m not. Of…course I am not,” he says, sounding the words out. His brow furrows. Why does my tongue feel so clumsy in my mouth? “I’ve always spoken this way, have I not?”

“I can’t say. I mean, come on, Riddle. You’ve gotta be pulling my leg.”

“You know very well I don’t pull legs, Trey.”

“You told me buongiorno when I picked up.”

“I did not!” he snaps, scandalized. “I said good morning as I always do.” And then he pauses. “I… I did say good morning, didn’t I?”

Trey’s silence is answer enough.

Riddle sucks in a sharp breath. Neither of them says anything.

Eventually, Trey speaks. “Do you want me to come up there? I could bring you a tart or…something. You sound…tired.” He chooses his words carefully. “Silly question, I know, but I’ve gotta ask. You’re not overworking yourself?”

“No, not at all.”

“And you’re getting enough sleep? What about food?”

Riddle frowns even though Trey isn’t there to see it. “I’m fine, Trey. Midterms are coming up. I’ve got to focus. I refuse to fail.”

Again, the other end is quiet. A minute later, Trey says, “Do you have time this weekend?”

“This weekend?” Riddle flips his planner open to this week. “I do.”

“All right. Is it cool if I visit?”

Riddle almost declines, so it surprises both him and Trey when he replies with, “Please.”

“I’ll be there,” he promises, and the call ends before Riddle can say grazie.

Trey brings six strawberry tarts. Riddle shares three with him over tea at the campus café.

“So what’s up?” Trey points his fork at Riddle. “You sound like yourself, but you don’t seem…fine.”

Riddle chews thoughtfully. He can’t confide in Trey because Trey wouldn’t understand. Because he’d apply Trey Logic to everything, and Trey Logic is almost always sensible. Riddle doesn’t want to hear it.

“I submitted an assignment in Italian,” he says instead, casually, as if it’s not a big deal.

Trey looks at him like he’s grown a third eye. “Since when do you know Italian?”

“I dabble.”

Trey laughs. Upon seeing Riddle’s serious expression, the humor sticks in his throat. “Oh, you meant that. Well. That’s…good then? If it’s for a foreign language course—”

“It was for psychology.”

“You…wrote in Italian…for a psychology assignment?” he reiterates, attempting to parse it. He drags his fork through his cut of tart, but he doesn’t bring it to his lips. “Why?”

“I couldn’t say. It perplexed me to no end when I realized it. My professor thought it was curious.”

“It is. I mean, you don’t find that just a little…unusual?”

Riddle stares at him over the rim of his teacup. 

Trey tries again. “Was the Italian correct, at least? It wasn’t all nonsense?”

He nods. “It was as if I was translating and switching between words. Like using the Italian word in place of an English word.”

“Huh…”

“It’s not very impressive. I can do much better than that.”

“I’m not doubting your capabilities. I’m just…trying to understand why.”

Riddle smiles. “Why not? I think it’s very good to study another language. It opens more doors for opportunity, and it’s a challenge that proves rewarding in the end.”

“Is that it?”

“Precisely.”

The conversation comes to an abrupt halt there. Trey changes the subject. They chat the afternoon away.

Later, Riddle returns to his diary.

He writes an entire entry in perfect Italian. Workbooks pile up on his desk; he’s not sure when they got there. He’s filling them out so fast his hand gains new calluses. 

Azul visits your office around the same time Riddle used to. Now it’s Riddle who trails after him, hoping to catch him in the middle of a nefarious scheme. He’s not sure he’s ready for whatever he might learn, but he swallows his rage and carries on.

Azul turns just as Riddle ducks around the corner, perfectly out of sight. He waits until he hears the tell-tale click of those pristine Oxfords against linoleum before continuing. Azul walks right past your office and then he’s gone. Looking both ways, Riddle creeps further down the hall.

Where is he?

There’s a tap on his shoulder. He whirls around, startled, and is about to unleash verbal tyranny when he stops short. You stand there, looking positively puzzled. 

“Are you looking for something, Riddle?”

“No… I—” He cuts himself off. “Actually, I was hoping I might discuss something with you. The final project.”

“Oh, of course! Did you come earlier? I stepped out of my office for a second. Sorry if my absence had you looking all over.”

Riddle falls into step with you. “It’s quite all right.”

He’s not sure what he hopes to find by sitting in front of your desk, gazing at the familiar interior of your office. He manages to get through all of the questions you ask him regarding the final project.

“I have too many ideas,” he lies, “and I’d like assistance in narrowing the topics down to one.”

He glances slyly at the floor. Would Azul be bold enough to hide a voice recorder or a camera somewhere? Or is there something of Azul’s left in here? A cheeky means of marking his territory, maybe?

Riddle turns up empty.

He stalls the conversation expertly for ten more minutes. During that time, he can’t locate anything from his semi-thorough observations.

Maybe it’s hidden in your desk. Maybe there’s nothing at all.

No. No, there has to be something.

He thanks you for your help and, shouldering his backpack, leaves.

Just as he turns down the hall, Azul steps into his path.

“Your mind is exceedingly, bewilderingly captivating.” He snickers like a devil. Riddle wants to punch him. “So many ideas. Where do you have the space for all of that?”

“It’s not polite to eavesdrop.”

“Oh, is that so?” Azul taps at his phone and then turns the screen towards Riddle. There’s a picture of him in the hall, looking awfully disoriented. “It’s not very polite to stalk now, is it, amico?”

Riddle narrows his eyes. “How easily that accent comes. Almost like flipping a switch.”

“Non capisco.”

“You should know you’re going to ruin your life and Professor’s.”

“I’m not.” He smiles cryptically. “You’re going to ruin it for me.”

Fed up with his attempt at mind chess, Riddle stalks past him in a huff.

You walk into class five minutes late, disheveled and breathless. You’re babbling about a meeting that ran late, but Riddle can’t trust that.

Meetings don’t end in frazzled hair and crooked ties.

What’s even more damning, perhaps, is when Azul Never-Late-to-Class Ashengrotto walks in fifteen minutes after you. He sits in the seat beside Riddle. There’s not a hair out of place on his person. Except there is. The glass face of his luxury wristwatch is smudged with a fingerprint.

Riddle wonders what forensics would have to say about that.

He phases in and out of focus during the lecture. He can’t stop searching you for fine details. He can’t stop questioning Azul’s presence beside him.

How dare you? he thinks. How dare you defile my professor? What makes you think you have the right to do such a thing when I’ve been working hard all this time? When I’ve been nothing but perfect…

He glances at his notebook. A single phrase has been scrawled over and over, so manically that the lines loop and overlap in angry criss-crosses. Lo voglio morto.

At the end of class, Riddle catches Azul in the hall.

“I would like to review with you for our upcoming midterm.”

“What an honor.”

Riddle hums. “Let’s compare our notes tonight. You can stop by my room after dinner.”

Azul grins like he can read through Riddle. Like he’s in on a joke Riddle’s not privy to.

“I would be happy to study alongside you,” he says, his accent thick.

Riddle imagines a rope around his neck. A rope of thorns and barbed wire, pressing into his jugular until, inevitably, it severs his head clean off.

Azul arrives on time. He really does feel like an echo of Riddle. Same school supplies. Same notebooks. Same fashion style. Same manner of writing.

Riddle shuts and locks the door behind him. He doesn’t waste time waltzing around the subject.

“You’re the reason Professor was late today.”

“You’re mistaken. I simply lost track of the time.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then what is? I had nothing to do with Professor’s tardiness. If it bothers you so much, why not tell Professor to be more conscious of the time?”

Riddle grits his teeth. He’s sick of this. Sick of these mind games. Sick of all this mental chess.

Sick of the fact that he gets to have you when you should have been Riddle’s from the start!

“You’re a liar! Do you know the gravity of your actions—the severe consequences that’ll undoubtedly befall Professor? Do you know you’re jeopardizing a brilliant mind all for your own immature fun?”

Azul holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Those are harsh accusations. They could ruin my life, you know.”

“Oh, like that’s such an issue.” Riddle scowls.

“Your room is quite nice, I must say.” Azul looks around, his hands in his pockets. He spies the many Italian workbooks lining Riddle’s shelf, and a slimy smirk pulls at his lips. “Imitatore,” he marvels, his eyes bright with an eerie sort of joy. As if he’s just discovered a particularly filthy secret and can’t wait to tell someone.

“If it isn’t the pot calling the kettle black.”

“And what makes you think Professor would ever entertain you?” Azul rounds on him, still smiling. “Professor loves me most. There was never any room for you.”

Riddle hears the distant crackle of something fraying. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I? All I did was take your best characteristics and make them even better. Italian lovers are a romanticized ideal abroad. You were never an option, let alone a consideration.”

How dare you. How dare you. How dare you!

Azul steps towards the door. “Addio. Le mie condoglianze.”

That something inside Riddle finally snaps, and with it goes his restraint. He grabs Azul’s wrist and yanks him to the floor. There’s a struggle for survival. During the scuffle, Azul claws at Riddle’s arm and face. Riddle kicks him down. And then his fingers wrap around his psychology textbook—all 800-something pages, a hardcover—and he brings it down, brutal like a guillotine.

“How dare you walk away in the middle of a conversation!” he berates, lips curled in a monstrous sneer. “How dare you touch what isn’t yours—what you didn’t earn!”

He thinks he sees a real smile on Azul’s face, but in the midst of blind rage he can’t tell.

He sees red. He feels red. It splatters his room in a mess of broken bone and pulpy gore. It flecks his face, warm and thick and soupy.

It all ends with Intro to Psych.

Riddle is bathed in blue light, afloat on a chaotic sea.

Distantly, in the back of his mind, he can hear his mother in hysterics: What have you done?! Do you have any idea what you’ve just done—the future you’ve so carelessly thrown away?! All of my hard work?! Do you realize what you’ve done?!

And he does.

If there’s anything Riddle has ever been one-hundred-percent certain of in his life, it’s this. He sits on the steps to his dormitory, battered and bloodied, and bites into the strawberry tart clutched between crimson-stained fingers.

Despite the crisp autumn air, he feels warm.

An officer approaches him just as he’s licking his fingers clean of strawberry and blood.

He holds his arms out before the woman can say anything. He already knows what comes next.

Riddle has always wondered what criminals think and feel in the aftermath of grisly crimes. He can’t feel much of anything other than hollow relief. Maybe that’s just the adrenaline snuffing logical thought and remorse. He thinks everything and nothing all at once. He’s sure he’ll feel it all come crashing down when he’s sat in the station for questioning and then the reality of his actions will seep in, awakening him from a vile, murderous dream.

Right now, he isn’t concerned with that.

You lived filthy and you died just the same, Riddle thinks as he’s led to a police car. And now there’s no part of you Professor will ever want.

[aliidarling]

i’ve been playing the og silent hill 2 and it’s SO fun guys. i’m almost done w/the apartment complex part, i’m so excited to meet maria :3

JAMES SUNDERLAND x fem!reader

— nsfw content

summary; after your car breaks down, you find yourself in need of help and shelter. a town near by, silent hill, catches your attention and you end up running into an older man who’s name is james.

warnings: smut, p in v, soft sex, pathetic james, mary is mentioned a bit, he’s a bad person, unprotected sex, praise, fingering, slightly dub-con because he’s kinda imagining mary but it’s completely consensual, low-key up to you wether he imagined mary or you

the streets were foggy, a thick cloud of mystery blocking your view. your steps echoed throughout the empty town, sending goosebumps down your spine, a frown tugging at your lips. you couldn’t even remember why you were here—

ah, that’s right, your car had run down while you were driving near by and now you were on a search for a hotel or motel, desperate for a place to crash. normally, you’d sleep in your car, but it was far too cold for that. the snow was coming down without any warning, coating your surroundings in a thick coat of white.

so far you hadn’t seen or heard anything from this small town. you had seen the signs, the title itself giving you an eerie feeling. silent hill, you thought, sounds like something out of a horror movie.

a small thud comes from behind you and you whip around, looking towards the source. you manage to spot a young girl quickly running behind one of the buildings into a dark alley way, sending a wave of uneasiness over you. a young girl in a town like this, by herself? that couldn’t be good.

“hey!” you called out, running after her the best you could. wasn’t the best day to wear a skirt, you quickly realized. you struggled to catch up with her, quickly loosing her due to the fog. but her footsteps stayed, a clear print in the snow following her figure. you sighed tiredly and patted your chest, regaining your breath. the temperature was gaining an advantage on you.

right as you finally regained your energy and was gonna continue your search for the little girl, a male voice from behind you had you jumping in shock and turning around quickly. the mysterious man wasn’t too tall, with a lean physique and a dark green jacket. he didn’t have a menacing aura, if anything, he seemed like a soaked cat.

“hello?” he says hesitantly, keeping a distance from you. his brows furrow as he scans you, an unsure glint in his eyes that you can’t quite read. he seemed troubled, stressed more then the average person.

“..hello?” you say back, almost hesitantly. you step back, hugging yourself as the snow falls onto your hair. you gently blow a few snowflakes out of your breath. he fiddled with his fingers as he frowned, giving you a small nod.

“i’m james.. i’m looking for my wife, mary.” he says quietly, his voice soft. your posture relaxes slightly at his words, looking him up and down. he seemed the opposite of a potential threat, if anything, he’d need saving from any dangers.

“uhm. sorry, i haven’t seen any women.” you mumble, looking around. it was complete silence, giving you a feeling of discomfort. you wanted out of this town as fast as possible.

“uhm, yeah —well, she has brown hair, brown eyes, pretty—“ he rambled nervously, stepping forward. your lips press together as he displays his obvious distress.

“what’s your wife doing in a town like this?” you tilt your head in question, glancing at his features. gentle stubble, tired eyes, dirty blonde hair and firm brows. handsome. a little pathetic looking. like he’d cry easily.

“she.. don’t worry about that.” he sighs, preparing to turn away. you panic momentarily and step forward hurriedly, tugging at his sleeve with a tugged scowl. “my car broke down near by and i have no where to go. can i stay with you, please? this place gives me the heebie jeebies.”

he stares down at you in confusion, glancing at the way your hand tugs at his sleeve and how hopeful you look. he’s not a horrible person, he reminds himself, he should at least help this young girl out.

“yeah, sure.” he sighs.

a few hours had passed and you find yourself growing some sort of attachment to this older man. he’s attractive, kind, sweet and gentle— what more could you want? he’s blissfully unaware of the way you’ve devoted yourself to him, the way you give him the same look a puppy would give its owner when you’re walking behind him.

your hand is always holding his cuff, too scared to let go. the fog was too thick, you feared if you let your gaze drift for a mere second you’d never see the man again. the wind was starting to pick up now. you both were walking inside the abandoned apartments when he spoke up.

“you look like her, you know.” he says quietly, looking towards you. there was a permanent sad expression on his face that ached your heart. such a pretty face, always frowning.

“your wife?” you say softly, looking up at him. he nods silently and you look back down at yourself, wondering if that meant you were his type. did he think you were pretty? you hoped he did.

“same face and smile, same voice.” he mutters, lifting a hand to gently pet your hair. you smile softly as he runs his fingers through your locks, his eyes glued to the way your hair glistened.

“she seemed lovely.” you attempt.

he offers a weak smile of gratitude.

the town was slowly trapping you two. the fog was getting worse and more thick, the wind singing a lullaby to drift you towards the darkness. you didn’t like it one bit, you didn’t like how the sun started to set and how the noises of the undead increased.

your hands clutched james sleeve cautiously. he frowns and turns to you slightly as you two walk down the street, a bat in his hand with a thick log in yours, you both had found the makeshift weapons in the apartment complex from a few hours back.

“you okay?” he rasps, giving you a worried look. your brows were furrowed with fear as you shook your head, glancing around you at the over-grown trees and the broken windows of shops.

“can we find somewhere to stay for the night? i don’t want to be here when, you know.. it’s dark.” you gulp hard.

he opens his mouth to protest for just a second before his thoughts flick back to the apartment complex, to the large pyrmaid-headed man who attacked you both, who disappeared mysteriously— who wielded a huge execution blade. a vivid image of you being slaughtered by said blade flash through his mind and he shudders, turning to you with a small nod.

“we passed a motel earlier.” he suggests, gently placing his hand on your back to lead you in the direction. you happily follow, resisting the urge to curl into his warmth. days of being by yourself without any warm bodies has you craving this old man you’ve never met before.

“sounds good.” you smiled.

the motels were run down and the rooms were cold. the bed was full of dust, the corners of the room filled with insects and the bulbs flickering. it wasn’t the most comforting place you could be in but it wasn’t the worst, you were grateful you had at least a place to stay.

the mattress creaks underneath your weight as you shift, looking at the brown walls. james shakes the blanket roughly, the dust flying off and into your nose. you cough and he looks at you with an awkward expression, feeling stupid. he mutters a small apology and you give him a little nod, coughing lowly.

he sets the blanket back down and pats the pillows, brushing off the crumbs of who knows. the sound of the fabric wrinkling fills the dark room. you glance at the window and the foggy streets outside of your small room, the dark clouds and the empty parking lot for the motel. you wondered if this place was ever a popular town where people visited often.

he exhales. “you want left side or right?”

you peer over at the bed, blinking slowly.

“ermm, i don’t mind. right?” you say hesitantly. he nods and sits down on his side, stretching his arms momentarily before pulling off his shoes. you keep your staring subtle as he straightens his legs and lays on top of the blanket, arms crossed over his chest. his eyes are glued to the crumbling ceiling, his breath slow.

another creak comes from the mattress as you settle down next to him, keeping a respectable distance. you decide against crawling under the sheets, not wanting to know what lays underneath. a quick glance towards him makes you squirm uncomfortably, your body shiver at the cold. your shoes are kicked off by the edge of the bed frame, thankfully your hoodie is warm enough to give you a small sense of warmth.

silence fills the air. it’s quiet, but if you listen closely you can hear both of your breaths and sound of the harsh winds outside. the snow is getting worse and it’s only growing colder and colder. you shiver.

“james?” you whisper.

“yeah?” he responds breathlessly, surprised you’re speaking to him. his voice is rushed, almost like he’s scared he’ll forget what to say. he’s nervous around you, anxious.

“uhm,” you start hesitantly, “mary.. what happened to her?”

he struggles to answer for a moment, feeling his stomach churn at the reminder of his late wife. he missed mary, he missed her warmth and how she used to hold him at night. her soft voice still echoes in his head at night, haunting him for the unforgivable act he had committed to her.

“she got sick.” he forces out, his own words feeling bitter in his tongue. he tells himself in his head that she passed away in her sleep, that he awoke one day from deep slumber and got a call from the hospital, that he had nothing to do with it—. but the small voice in the back of his head knows better.

“she had skin cancer. fatal. only had a few months to live.” his eyes drift towards you and takes in your facial expression. how it softens and you gaze at him in sympathy, sympathy he doesn’t deserve. you were too sweet, too gullible. why were you even sleeping in the same bed with a man you just met?

“i’m so sorry.” you say under your breath, offering a look of sorrow. the thought of this gentle man losing his wife sounded horrible to you. he seemed loving, the type of husband who wouldn’t think twice about walking the seven seas for his wife. in a way, he was. here he was, in silent hill, looking for his wife. you respected that.

“it’s okay. she died three years ago.” he sighed heavily, turning to face you fully. your eyes widen in shock as he states the loss of his wife. why was he here then? looking for a dead woman? his lips tug up into a dry smile at the sight of your confused face and huffs quietly.

“i’m not crazy. i swear.” he hums, lifting a hand to gently lift a hair strand off your face. your heart flutters at the touch, watching as he gently twirls your lock with his finger before letting it lay back on your head by your ear. your big eyes blink at him, he blinks back.

“i don’t think you’re crazy.” you state softly.

he raises a brow in question.

“you’re just hopeful.”

his breath hitches at your statement. he can’t help but realize how young and bright you really are, you still have that light in your eyes he lost three years ago. what he would do for a night of happiness.

he slowly inches closer, eyes drifting down to your soft lips. they look just like hers. soft and plump, bottom lip slightly bigger then upper lip, a baby pink. he can’t help but imagine if you’d taste like her too. she tasted like peaches.

his movement doesn’t go unnoticed by you, and neither does his lingering gaze on your lips. your breath slows as he slowly leans in, one hand going to gently cup your soft cheek. he holds you carefully, scared he would break you if he squeezed too hard. like a fragile vase. you were so fragile in his arms.

“are you gonna kiss me?” you exhale shakily, looking as the man props himself on top of you with lust-filled stare.

“i don’t wanna hurt you.” he mumbles softly, running his finger down your cheek before letting it brush against your bottom lip, letting it tug slightly before he resumes his spit on your cheek.

“you could never hurt me, james.”

if only he could tell you how wrong you were.

as his lips press against yours, he concludes that you don’t taste like peaches, but more like blueberries. a deep midnight blue that exploded over him, tainting his clothes as you weakly tug him closer. your soft moan sends a shiver down his spine as he whines against your lips, pressing his body against yours.

you moan his name as he parts his lips from you, making him groan lowly at the sound of your voice. he wasted no time and smashes his lips back against yours, swallowing your erotic noises and letting them fall down into his crotch. he pressed his hips against yours and shuddered instantly, almost jolting at the friction.

he hadn’t feel the touch of another woman in years. now don’t get him wrong, he fisted his cock almost every day, he had a high sexual drive but with no one to help him(anymore.) he tries not to feel embarrassed as he rocks his clothed dick against you, whimpering into your neck like horny teenager.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” he rambled with eyes squeezed shut, hissing as your warm thighs wrap around his waist to tug him closer. he could probably finish in his boxers if he continued, he knew he was pathetic enough to be capable. but he wanted to feel you, and that made him feel so guilty. did he even deserve you? after comparing you to mary countless times and exploiting your innocence?

“i-it’s okay, please— james,” you moan. his hands dig into your waist before they start wandering your smaller body, placing themselves around the waistband of your shirt. he gives you a pleading look, bottom lip quivering pathetically.

“please, i need you so bad. i’m so sorry.” he whines, his voice shaky. you gasp at his words, a small yelp leaving you as he tugs your skirt down roughly and reveals your panties to the motel rooms dusty air. you were glad you had put on one of your newer pairs instead of those older ones in the back of your closet.

your eyes widen in shock as he wastes no time to pull your panties to the side, the cold air brushing against your pussy shamelessly. your nipples harden underneath your hoodie and you whine weakly, lips squirming. you needed friction.

“you’re so wet.” he mutters to himself in amazement, running his finger across your lower lips and circling your hole lightly, admiring the slickness and how you clench around nothing, eagerly waiting to suck him in. his eyes are glued to your body as he slowly sinks his finger into you till his knuckle, relishing in your soft sigh.

“s’for you.” you coo softly, fluttering your lashes at him. he inhales deeply and nods, mumbling something under his breath as he wiggles his finger. he feels a particular gummy spot inside your warm insides towards the back that has you immediately clenching down and he groans, remembering how mary used to reacted to his touch. you both were so similar that it was killing him inside.

he pushes his finger pad against you harshly as he connects his lips with your clit, gently sucking your bundle and nerves and making you feel like you’re on fire. you whine needingly at the pleasure shooting through your body as your feet dig into the creaky mattress, small moans leaving your throat. he hums into your pussy, not separating, set on making you orgasm on his face. he wants to taste you.

a few more sucks and slow rubs against your inner walls has you clamping down and jolting underneath him, feeling the knot in your tummy snap and release all over his mouth and fingers. a thin sticky coat of cum covers his fingers, little drops falling from his chin. he pulls away with a low sigh, licking your juices from his fingers, all while maintaining eye contact with you. your breath hitches at the movement of his tongue around his slender fingers, watching how he lapped your cum and swallowed it down. you whimpered softly for him.

a shaky exhale leaves you as you take in the sight of him kneeling over you, unzipping his jeans and shrugging off his dark jacket, letting it drop to the corner of the mattress. he positions himself above you, caging you in. for a man with such a soft and comforting presence, his body caging you in made you feel so small and vulnerable. his breath gently brushed against your face as he leans into your neck, humming to himself as his cock springs free.

you gulp nervously at the sight of him. he wasn’t too big, but he definitely wasn’t small. slightly above average with a pink tip, nice girth and a soft curve. he was so pretty, his pubic hair rough and growing into his v-line. you held onto him hungrily as he pushed his tip against you slightly, watching your expression and how you react to him slowly pushing inside you.

“easyyyy.” he hushed, pressing his forehead against yours to be able to watch your face morph into a blissful expression first hand, to be able to watch as you moaned at the feeling of him slowly sinking inside you. your legs subconsciously bend at the knee, curving and wrapping around his waist in a poor attempt to push him deeper.

good thing he can read your body language. his hands go to wrap around your wrists, holding you down as he presses his body more into yours, whimpering under his breath as your tight walls surrounds him. it felt like a warm hug to him, something he had missed.

small thrusts turn into deep strokes, sliding in and out of your pussy at a smooth rate. his noises are hot, guttural and raw from the depths of his throat, his face scrunched up in concentration as he hovers above you. his hips keep up its pace, a small squelching sound filling the cheap motel room. your noises are music to his ears as he groans lowly, watching his your tight pussy engulfs him so snuggly, how your breasts gently bounce as he moves his cock deeper into you— he was already addicted.

both your noises grow more consistent the longer you two go at it for, the heavy panting and the mattress creaking, the soft plap plap plap, the whispers and praises. his body stiffened as he felt his orgasm near, cock only hardening as he focused on chasing the sweet release he missed so much.

“you’re so good.” he whispers into your ear, tugging you as close as possible. you nod weakly and rake your hands through his ashy hair, tugging at the strands weakly. his tip smushes against your cervix and you whine into his ear, pleading for him to make you cum. he listens, reaching a down down for your clit, rubbing tight circles as you clamp down on him and cum all over his cock. he gasps meekly at the sensation of getting his dick even more wet, cumming himself.

his load is warm as he shoots it into you, his head immediately ducking for shelter in the crook of your neck. he clings onto you as he slowly comes down from the high of his orgasm, his body subtly trembling in your arms. you gently shush him, muttering small praises into his ear, rubbing your palm up and down his toned arms. your body is warm enough for him to fall sleepy. he nuzzled into you as he falls asleep, his thoughts drifting to mary. he snores softly.

[satorusugurugurl]

That angst fic 😵‍💫😵‍💫 got me thinking, what about a similar smut fic where when reader is stressed and overworked the boys try to be gentle and caring but all she wants is to be rough fucked, degraded, the works. She has to plead with them but they eventually cave. But once they are done it’s back to soft and sweet aftercare. So basically, open masochist reader :3 I could also lowkey imagine reader being insecure about wanting it to be rough and mean, I see so much stuff of people demonizing it on social media, definitely makes it something that is difficult to be open about. I think a lot of ppl also get it confused with CNC which is not the same thing. Consent and safety are what matters

-🍭

Salty and Sweet

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, FAB!Reader

Warning content: smut, dirty talk, vulgar language, , Satoru is a bit hesitant

Word Count: 1,680

A/N: Anon, you have inspired me. This is a little blurb of what I could see happening in a case like this! I’m working on Escort!Gojo and another request! I was hoping to have that request done tonight (but it’s taken a life of its own) I try to post once a day, but I’ve been working ten-hour days for the last two weeks, so I’m exhausted. 😵‍💫

Your boyfriends watched as you paced back and forth, arms crossed as you chewed on your bottom lip. You had mentioned wanting to talk to them about trying something new, but you seemed to be hesitant and struggling to find the right words. If they were being honest, it was almost cute seeing you struggle to voice what you wanted. The timid, innocent side of you was so adorable the duo wanted to smother you with kisses and cuddles.

“I don’t know if I can say it!” You yelled out, tilting your head back with a groan.

Suguru smiled, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “You can tell us anything, Y/N. Trust me, this is a safe space.” While his words were comforting, you still found yourself hesitant to voice your wants.

“Suguru’s right. There’s only one way to know if we’re okay with what you want us to try.” Satoru added, leaning back against the couch with a yawn.

“I know! I know!” Your flustered tension was shifting into more frustration. “I just don’t want you to, ya know, think that I’m some deviant.”

Satoru and Suguru shared a look; their years of friendship always came out in times like these; they both held hands in front of their mouth before leaning in close to each other. Their voices dropped maybe a tone as they fake whispered to each other.

“Do you wanna tell her or me?”

“You tell her that being in a poly-relationship is pretty deviant.”

“Oh yeah, for sure!”

Satoru’s head jerked in your direction with a devious smirk. “Hey, you kno—“ Satoru smacked his lips together the instant he saw how flushed you were, how you hugged yourself as tight as you could while you watched them in mortification. “Y/N, hey, no, it’s okay.” The duo stood from their spots on the couch, their stomachs dropping as you dropped your head, focusing on the ground.

Whatever it was that you wanted to try had you twisted in knots of unease and shyness. “Please, for once, can you guys take me seriously.” The room was like being in the eye of a hurricane before it hit. “This is hard for me to say because many people misinterpret what I wanted in the past. I don’t want to scare you guys off or have you look at me any differently.” Suguru put a reassuring hand on your back, gently rubbing it up and down, encouraging you to continue while Satoru gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Sorry, please tell us.”

“Yeah, we won’t look at you any differently.”

A bitter scoff escaped the back of your throat. “You say that now, but so many people in the past demonized what I wanted and got it confused with different kinks.”

“Y/N, come on, babe, just tell us.”

With a deep breath, you sighed with a nod. “Okay, just promise you’ll at least consider what I’m asking. You can take as much time as you need.” Both your boyfriends nodded in understanding. Fuck, your hands were clammy as you shook them out. Now was the time. “I-I want you both to be mean to me in bed.” You blurted out.

You waited for the worst reactions. Like them pulling away from you in disgust, asking a million questions, or wanting to comply with your desires. Which was fine. They were not required to do what you wanted in bed.

Neither of them did anything close to that. They just hummed, watching you, waiting for you to continue like they wanted you to specify what that meant. What you wanted, how you wanted it, when you longed for this to occur. You were waiting a second more for your glance up between your dark-haired boyfriend before your gaze drifted to Satoru.

“Okay, so, I was hoping maybe we could have really rough sex? Maybe you could degrade me, be a little nastier?”

Gojo’s beautiful ivory skin was dusted with a faint blush, his eyes leaving you before focusing on Suguru. “I don’t have much experience in that; could you give me some pointers, Suguru?” Suguru didn’t need to answer because one second you were standing between them, and the next you were over his shoulder with Gojo trailing behind like a puppy.

Minutes passed, or maybe it had been hours. It was hard to tell with all the oxytocin and dopamine that flooded your brain. Your wants and needs were finally embraced for the first time. Suguru took the lead, and fuck Satoru was right. Suguru did have pointers for him.

“Oooh~ you nasty fucking slut.” Suguru degraded his hands wrapped in your hair, forcing you to choke on Satoru’s cock. “Taking two cocks at once like a dirty nasty fucking whore.”

”S-Suguru, do you have to be so mean?” Satoru was struggling a bit more to really get into the whole degrading you thing. He wasn't uncomfortable with it, more so that he wasn’t sure how to do it. He needed practice to ease himself out of the role as a soft dom and more into a hard, demanding dom.

Suguru cocked a dark eyebrow up at his boyfriend as his cock slammed in and out of your dripping pussy. “Mean?” He pulled your hair lifting you off Satoru’s cock. “I’m not being mean in the slightest. Look at our dirty slut.” Following Suguru’s demands, Satoru looked down at you, his cock twitching as you both made eye contact.

You were a drooling mess. Eyes rolled back into your head as Suguru snapped his hips forward, causing a yelp to rise from your throat. Your hair was a disheveled mess, tears were staining your cheeks, and goddamn, you looked like you were having so much fucking fun.

“M-More~” you begged, tongue lolling out as Suguru pucked up the pace of his thrusts. “M-More, please!”

”Oh, Oh!” Suguru smirked, releasing your hair, causing your head to drop into Satoru’s bare lap. “You heard her, Satoru, the greedy little whore wants more.”

“Yeah?” Satoru gently stroked strands of hair out of your face as you struggled to keep your head up. “You want a more sweet girl?”

”Y-Yeah, I do.”

Satoru needed some form of guidance, so he looked up to his best friend. His dark hair pulled over his right shoulder, his dark eyes transfixed on your head. “Go on, Satoru, give her what she wants.” The way Suguru purred Satoru’s name had you both shivering.

”Okay, okay,” Satoru gently pulled your hair, “you’re going to suck my cock like a good girl, aren’t you?”

”Y-Yes Satoru, I’ll suck it for you, I’ll suck it, so go—oooh!!” Suguru slapped Satoru’s hand away. ”Naggh! Ah fuck S-Sugu!”

”You’re doing it all wrong, you himbo.” Satoru gritted his teeth as Suguru forced your mouth down onto his cock again. “She wants you to be fucking mean. Trust me. I feel her slutty fucking cunt clenching around me. She loves this, don’t you, Y/N?” All you could do was hum in response, deepthroating Satru breathing through your nose. “Look at her, being a greedy fucking whore, getting all her holes filled at once.”

Between the warmth of your mouth and the tears in your eyes, Satoru’s balls tightened, his ab’s flexing as he gently began fucking into your mouth. “Fucking slut.” Satoru’s words had you whimpering around him, and you bobbed your head faster, eager for him to degrade you more.

”That’s more like it, Satoru!” Suguru grinned, his free hand reaching down, rubbing your cit in fast circles. “Keep talking to her like that. She’s getting so close.”

You mumbled in agreement, only to have your words choked off by the fat cock forcing its way further down your throat. “What was that? You want to cum bitch?” You could only gag. “Ah, sorry, it’s hard to hear you when you're gagging on my cock.”

You gagged, cried, and trembled as both men fucked into you ruthlessly, your walls clamped down, eyes rolling back as you clutched the sheets so hard you were surprised that they didn’t rip as your orgasm hit you. It was so intense, wave after wave of pleasure! You moaned and gagged around Satoru’s cock; the white-haired man let out a whimper as he fucking his cum down your throat, biting his lip as your tight cunt hugged Suguru so tight you fell against you back, rutting into you like some animal in rut.

“Oh fuck princess, oh fuck, you want all my cum~? Hm? Then take it!” With one final deep thrust, Suguru came inside your still-twitching cunt. “Oooh fucking hell! That’s it, milk me bitch, milk me for all I got!” It was somewhere in between that moment that Gojo gently pulled you off his sensitive cock. “H-Haah shit baby.”

“S-She felt so good.”

This was heaven. You were in heaven with your boyfriends. You felt so satisfied, so normal, and thankful as the two of them were not at all shaming you for your kinks. God, thinking about all of the nasty little things they would say and do to you from now on turned you on.

“Felt good?” you panted roughly as Suguru smirked. “you honestly thought this skank would be content with one orgasm? No, we're nowhere near being done, are we, princess?” You were lifted with ease by Suguru as he planted you directly in Satoru’s lap. “Let’s continue, shall we?” His cock brushed over your bottom lip. “Safeword is pineapple.”

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

title: toyin’ with them older guys

pairing: bartender!joel miller/female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

chapters: 1/1

read on ao3 | masterlist

summary:

Joel Miller is the grumpy bartender and owner of your favorite bar near campus, where you attend trivia every Tuesday night. Thinking there’s no way Joel could return your feelings, your friend suggests trying out Tinder.

But when you bring them to the bar for a date, they keep leaving mid date with no explanation.

Maybe there’s something Joel isn’t telling you after all.

author’s note: thank you to everyone who hyped me up to post this when i wasn’t sure how i felt about it. your comments mean the world 💕

content warnings/additional tags: explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), alternate universe - no cordyceps outbreak, no use of y/n, unspecified age gap, alcohol references/consumption, possessive behavior, jealousy, mild violence (in the form of Joel kicking someone out of his bar), brief reference to Sarah’s mom and divorce, tinder dates, bribery, dirty talk, begging, pet names, praise kink, unprotected p in v, oral (m receiving), spanking. let me know if i’ve missed anything!

There’s a bar near the university that you love to go to for multiple reasons.

For one, they have great drinks. For two, their loaded tater tots are the best drunk food you’ve ever had the pleasure of consuming.

But the number one reason, above all else, is the grumpy bartender and owner, Joel Miller.

The first time you saw him, he was challenging a kid with a fake ID, his arms crossed over his broad chest, emphasizing the strain of his flannel over his biceps. When the kid tried to take a swing at him, he grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back before marching him out of the bar and kicking him to the curb.

Your friend had to remind you to breathe.

He hosts a trivia night at the bar on Tuesday nights, the perfect excuse to see the man weekly. You sit at the bar each time, scribbling your answers on the notepad as you sip on a vodka cranberry and sneak glances at the older man while he works.

One night, you were struggling to answer a question about where the Lord of the Rings trilogy was filmed when Joel leaned across the bar, bringing his lips close to your ear to say, “New Zealand.”

You’d gotten the point, thanks to him. And from that day forward, he’d linger near your corner of the bar, watching to see if you needed help with an answer. Eventually, you started showing up earlier and earlier for trivia night, just for the chance to talk to him.

You told him about your PhD program and the research you were conducting. You wanted to be a psychologist, but for now you’re just a perpetual student. You miss winter weather in Colorado, but appreciate not having to store a giant jacket anywhere in your small apartment. Your favorite season is fall, and your favorite holiday is Halloween.

He tells you about buying the bar a few years ago, after his divorce from Sarah’s mom and ensuing custody battle had been finalized, an investment he made with his brother Tommy. They’d fixed it up themselves and made it a popular local spot. His favorite movie is Indiana Jones and he prefers whiskey over any other drink.

It’s no surprise that along the way you’d fallen in love with the man.

Too bad he’d never feel the same.

————

Joel remembers the first night he saw you. Your rosy cheeks and tipsy smile as you leaned forward to say, “Vodka cranberry, please. With lime .”

“Lime, huh?” He remembers saying. You nodded your head vigorously.

“The lime is the best part,” you insisted. He chuckled.

“Not the vodka?”

“Gross, no.”

He tossed in three lime slices and you shimmied your shoulders with glee.

You come into the bar, alone, for trivia night on Tuesdays now. You’re a fountain of random facts, but every once in a while he’ll feed you an answer to help you out because he likes the smile that you give him in return.

He has no right to be looking at you the way that he finds himself doing every week. Eyes wandering to the way your jeans hug your ass or drifting to your cleavage when you rest your elbows against the bar.

But between the conversations and the trivia and the sweet smiles, he’d gone and fallen in love.

Which is why when you come to trivia night with a man who wraps an arm around your waist, Joel loses his goddamn mind and does the stupidest thing ever.

You get up to go to the bathroom and Joel leans across the bar to address the guy, keeping his eyes on the bathroom.

“I’ll give you $100 if you leave right now,” Joel says.

“What?”

“Hundred bucks if you walk out that door and don’t talk to that girl again,” he says again. He digs his wallet from his pants and pulls a bill out, setting it on the bar top.

Without further question, the man grabs the money and stuffs it in his pocket as he heads out the door. Joel feels a flash of guilt when you return from the bathroom and look around for your missing date.

“Said he had an emergency,” Joel lies. He’s surprised when you look relieved.

“He was kind of boring, anyways,” you shrug, dragging your notepad and pen closer to you. “He probably would have just dragged us down.”

Us, Joel thinks.

He could get used to that.

________

Your friend, Marie, had convinced you to try out Tinder. She was absolutely certain you were missing out on the love of your life by not swiping mindlessly through profiles that held no interest to you.

You weren’t about to confess your unrequited love for the local bartender to get her off your case, so that’s how you ended up on a date with Michael. He was a law student and liked kayaking and hiking.

You liked neither of those things, but he had curly brown hair and you had a type, so why not give it a shot?

You didn’t have it in you to be too upset when you returned from the bathroom only to find out from Joel that Michael had left. Joel slid you another vodka cranberry with lime and your night went as it always did.

When Marie asked you the next morning how the date went and you told her he bailed, she insisted on picking your next one. She chose Scott, a financial analyst at a local bank.

You’re starting to think Marie doesn’t know you very well.

Regardless, you show up at the bar for another trivia night date. Scott is tall and lean, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and he wore a suit to a bar. When you comment on it, he pulls a face and says he came straight from work.

“Not all of us are lucky enough to not have real jobs,” he says. You blink at him, surprised by the hostility.

That hostility continues when Joel approaches the two of you at the bar, lips turned down in a scowl, and Scott decides to order for you.

“She’ll take a vodka water with lemon and I’ll have Bulleit, neat.”

Joel raises his eyebrows at Scott, his eyes flicking to you briefly, before he sets a plastic cup on the bar top. He holds Michael’s gaze as he pours a shot of vodka into your cup, before using the soda gun to dispense cranberry juice. You have to bite back your smile.

“Vodka cranberry with lime,” he says, sliding you your drink. “And your whiskey will be right out.”

“That’s not what I ordered,” Scott replies.

“Yeah, but it’s what she would’ve.”

Scott sputters, face going an alarming shade of red with his indignation.

“I’ll be right back,” you mutter, taking your drink with you as you head to the bathroom.

________

“I’m not paying for that drink,” the blonde asshole says, knocking his knuckles against the bar for emphasis. Joel huffs a laugh.

“I don’t give a shit, kid. I want you out of my bar,” he says, planting both hands on the wood.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Get the fuck out of my bar.”

“I’m on a date!”

“Not anymore.” Joel rounds the bar and gets up in the little weasel’s face. “Get. Out.”

The boy’s eyes go wide, like he realizes that maybe Joel isn’t playing around. He scrambles from his barstool, standing to his full height like he’s about to challenge Joel.

“You can’t kick me out, old man,” the blonde snaps.

Joel’s had enough. He fists a hand in the starched white shirt collar, driving him back towards the exit. The other patrons move out of the way, some whistling and cheering Joel on. He shoves the man out the door and looks at the doorman.

“He doesn’t come back inside,” he says. “And you? Don’t ever fuckin’ talk to her again.”

Joel returns to the bar as you’re walking up. For a moment, he worries that you may have seen him acting like a caveman getting rid of his competition, but you look around in confusion.

“Where’s Scott?” You ask.

“He forgot about somethin’ at work,” Joel says. Your brow furrows.

“Kinda weird that’s happened to me twice now,” you comment.

Joel just shrugs.

________

You don’t tell Joel about how you saw him throw Scott out of his bar that night.

You’d just left the bathroom when you saw Joel stomp out from behind the bar, his eyes dark and fixed on your date. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but based on the affronted way Scott was responding, it wasn’t anything good.

You crept closer to the scene, but stayed amongst the crowd. Joel marched Scott backwards with a fist tangled in his collar, shoving him out the door.

“And you? Don’t you ever fuckin’ talk to her again.”

Your mouth went dry at his words and your mind reeled at the implications. Was he doing this from a place of friendship? Or…could he maybe feel the same way you do?

Only one way to find out.

You call up Travis, a good friend from undergrad who still lived in town.

“Trav, I need your help,” you say when he answers the phone.

“Burying a body type of help or financial type of help?” He replies easily.

“Actually, more experimental.”

“I don’t swing that way.”

“No, listen to me, I have a hypothesis,” you insist, explaining the situation to him. How you’ve been on two dates at Joel’s bar but each time, the men have left without another word. And how after what you witnessed, you’re inclined to believe that it’s not a coincidence.

You ask Travis to come with you to the next trivia night. All he needs to do is pretend to be there on a date with you. A bit of hand holding, maybe an arm around the waist. Nothing more.

“But what if he tries to threaten my life?” Travis asks.

“Well…I mean…every experiment has risks,” you reply flippantly. He sputters indignantly down the line. “I’ll buy you your drinks and get you tater tots.”

He’s silent for a moment before responding, “Fine. Extra jalapeños and I’m not getting well liquor.”

“Thank you!”

________

You come into his bar with another man. His arm is draped over your shoulders as you approach the bar and Joel has to set the glass he’s drying down before it shatters in his hands.

“Joel! This is Travis,” you say, gesturing to your date. He forces a smile, reaching a hand across the bar to shake his hand.

“What can I get started for you?” Joel asks. The man, Travis, orders an old-fashioned with top shelf whiskey, while you request your regular.

“I’ll be right back,” you say as Joel is pouring the drinks. You weave through the crowd towards the bathrooms and Joel leans in to address Travis.

“I’ll pay you $100 to leave this date,” Joel says.

Travis smirks. “Make it $200.”

“Are you serious?”

“That depends, are you?”

Joel’s eyes flick towards the back of the bar and he reaches into his pocket for his wallet. He pulls out four fifties, dropping them on the bar.

Travis pockets the money before adding, “You know, there’s cheaper ways to get the girl.”

“Get out,” Joel grunts. The younger man laughs his way to the door, and you appear at the bar a moment later.

“Where’d Travis go?” You ask.

“Oh, he—“

“Can I get an order of the loaded tots?” Travis asks, cutting Joel off from making up an excuse for his absence and sitting back down on the stool beside you with a shit eating grin. “She owes me.”

“Owes you?” Joel asks through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, she lost a bet. I told her I could get the number of that guy over there in less than three minutes and she doubted my charm.”

“Travis and I went to undergrad together,” you explain. “We just wanted to hang out and catch up.”

Shit.

________

Travis decides to leave after two plates of loaded tots and one too many drinks. You help him call an Uber, but you stay behind as the bar starts to clear out.

It’s just Joel behind the bar, wiping down the wood and setting bottles back to their rightful spots as you sip from a cup of water. The kitchen has closed down and the music has been shut off, leaving the two of you in loaded silence.

“So…,” you say, twirling your straw in your near empty cup. “You wanna tell me what that was all about?”

Joel’s shoulders go tense before he releases a deep sigh, turning to face you. The bar separates you, and it feels like miles of distance when all you want to do is get your hands on him now that your hypothesis has been proven.

Joel Miller likes you. And he’s been sabotaging your dates because of it. Perhaps you should be more upset, but all you can feel is an effervescent giddiness bubbling in your veins.

While he struggles to find the words, you decide to take matters into your own hands. You reach across the bar, hooking your fingers into the collar of his t-shirt and tugging him forward. You lean over to meet him halfway, pressing your lips to his.

You pull back and look into his eyes. The coffee colored brown of his irises seems darker, his eyes half lidded as he looks at you.

“You wanna get out of here?” He asks.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

________

Joel’s got one hand on the wheel of the truck and the other resting on your thigh. He has to keep a hand on you because he’s worried that if he doesn’t anchor himself, he’ll wake up from this dream.

You kissed him. You reached across the bar and dragged his lips to yours in a way he’d only dreamed of doing a thousand times since you’d sauntered into his life.

He can’t help the small smile that tilts his lips up at the thought.

“What’s got you smiling over there?” You ask, your voice teasing. He glances at you.

“You do, darlin’,” he says. He relishes in the pink that blooms across your cheeks at the pet name.

Joel drives to his house, parking the truck in the driveway of his little bungalow. His bachelor pad, as Tommy calls it.

Maybe not for much longer.

He circles the truck to open the door for you, helping you down from the cab. He keeps his hand on your low back as he leads you up the porch steps and through the door.

You toe off your shoes in the entryway, letting them join the pair of sneakers Joel left by the door. You’re wearing a pair of socks with tiny cats printed on them, the sight so endearing to him he can’t hold back his laugh.

“What?” You ask.

“Nothin’, just…like the look of you here. In my house,” he says.

“Yeah?” You take a step closer to him, toe to toe as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Yeah,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging your body against his. The heat of you even through the layers of your clothes sends a shiver down his spine.

You press your hands to his chest, sliding them up and over his shoulders before linking them behind his neck.

“You gonna give me a real kiss?” You whisper back. Your lips are so tantalizingly close that they ghost across his as you speak.

He closes the distance, lips dancing with yours as he kisses you senseless. The feel of you against him, moving with him, sends sparks skittering across his skin. He’s unable to hold still, hands roaming from your back to your waist to your hips as your mouths part and your tongues tangle with increased desperation.

Joel slides his hands to the backs of your thighs, crouching slightly to lift you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. Your core slides against his growing hardness and he groans at the sensation as you let out the neediest whimper.

He wants to hear more.

He walks you both through the empty house until he reaches his bedroom, tossing you on top of sheets still rumpled from last night’s sleep. You scramble to sit up on your knees, moving to the edge of the bed and curling your fingers into the waist of his jeans.

“Can I suck your cock, Joel?” You ask, voice all breathy as you stare up at him with your big doe eyes. “Please?”

Joel’s mouth has gone bone dry. “Yeah? You want my cock in that pretty mouth of yours, sweetheart?”

You nod your head, fingers working on the buckle of his belt. His hands work in tandem with yours to get his fly open, shoving the denim down his thighs until he can step out of them. His cock tents his boxers, a wet spot already apparent on the fabric and he watches as you reach a hand out to stroke him, a groan escaping him at the feel of your warm palm against him.

“Take your clothes off and get on your knees,” Joel commands. He lifts his own shirt over his head as you unbutton and remove your pants, shimmying the tight fabric down your legs. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed as he watches you lift your shirt up and off.

His eyes rove your body hungrily. Your perfect tits and gorgeous curves, the way you flush beneath his gaze.

“Come here, baby,” he says, crooking a finger. You come to stand between his legs and he reaches around your back, unhooking your bra with deft fingers.

“You’re rather skilled at that, Mr. Miller,” you tease.

“I’m old, not dead.” He slips the straps from your shoulders, tugging the last barrier between him and your tits away. “God, baby, these all for me?”

“Mhm,” you him as he wraps his hand around the weight of one breast, thumb teasing your pert nipple.

“Tell me somethin’,” Joel asks, “why’d you bring all those boys around when you knew you needed a man?”

You lick your lips. “Didn’t know if the only man I wanted would want me back.”

Your voice is small and vulnerable as you say it, and that just won’t do. “Don’t just want you, baby. Need you.”

Your face lights up in the brightest grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby. Need you so fuckin’ bad,” he tells you, digging his fingers into your hips. “S’why I had to play dirty.”

Your smile turns downright salacious. You drop to your knees, running your hands up his thighs. “Show me how much you need me, Joel.”

________

Joel shoves his boxers down, exposing his cock to your hungry gaze. It’s gorgeously thick, the head a dark red from his arousal, a pearl of precum sitting in the slit. You lean forward and dart your tongue out to gather it.

“Don’t tease, sweetheart,” Joel says through gritted teeth. You keep your eyes fixed to his as you take him in hand, swirling your tongue over the sensitive head before taking him further into your mouth.

His hand is instantly in your hair. Not pressing, but his fingers tangle in the strands and tug deliciously against your scalp. He moans as you take him as far back into your throat as you can manage.

“Fuck, your mouth is better than I ever dreamed,” he says, voice rough.

“You’ve thought about this?” You ask when you draw back for breath, hand pumping his length in place of your mouth.

“‘Course, baby. These pretty lips wrapped around me, beggin’ for me to make them all swollen and used,” he says, standing and bringing a thumb to your lips and swiping it across their spit slick surface. “Open up.”

He uses his thumb to press against your bottom lip, opening your mouth as he takes his cock in hand and feeds it slowly between your lips. The smooth, hot length of him dragging across your tongue makes you moan.

“You like that, baby?” He growls, pumping his hips in shallow thrusts. “Like me usin’ your mouth how I want?”

You try to nod, your movement restricted by the grip of his hand that’s returned to your hair. There’s spit trailing down your chin and tears gathering in the corners of your eyes from the effort of keeping your mouth open for his thick length. You know you must look like a mess but with Joel staring down at you with his lust drunk expression, you feel on top of the world.

“I gotta fuck you, baby, will you let me, huh? Let me feel that pretty little cunt strangle my cock?”

You hum around his length and he withdraws, tugging you up by your hair and pulling you into the dirtiest kiss, all tongue and teeth and blatant desire as he turns your bodies, shoving you down onto the bed.

Joel slips an arm beneath your low back, using it to pull you up the bed as he crawls on to join you. He positions himself between your legs, tearing the soaked fabric of your panties down in a frenzy.

He slides his fingers through your wetness before bringing them to his lips, sucking them into his mouth with a groan.

“Christ, I’m gonna feast on you for hours, baby, but I wanna fuck you so bad,” he says.

“Then fuck me, Joel, please,” you beg, lifting your hips so that his cock slips through your center. “Come on, wanna feel you.”

He lines himself up, pressing into you with a delicious stretch, the slight sting of it making you whine. He shushes you, not stopping until his hips press against the back of your thighs.

“Good fuckin’ girl, takin’ my cock like you were made for it,” he says, leaning forward to kiss you, the shift in angle making him go impossibly deeper. “Tell me when I can move, sweetheart.”

You shift your hips restlessly beneath him. “Please move, Joel, wanna feel it.”

Joel pulls back before slamming forward, the force of it making you slide up the bed as all the air leaves your lungs in a whoosh. His grin is sharp as he does it again and again to the tune of your desperate cries.

“Joel!” You cry, clawing at his back with each thrust. “Fuck, yes, yes!”

He withdraws abruptly, the loss of him as you clench around nothing making you whine pathetically. With a bruising grip on your hips, he twists your body until you’re on your belly, ass in the air and chest pressed to the mattress.

Joel slides back inside your tight heat, a palm slapping across one cheek then the other as he resumes his powerful thrusts.

“Fuck, darlin’, you’re so goddamn tight,” he growls. A hand presses to the back of your neck for leverage, changing the angle yet again. “Can you cum for me? Can you soak my fuckin’ cock, baby, I bet you can.”

You nod, the movement restricted, but you can’t form words. All you know is the feeling of Joel pounding into your body like he owns it.

The hand on your hips moves to the front of your body, fingers finding and pinching your clit. You sob against the mattress, the sheets wet beneath you from tears and drool.

“Come on, baby, fuckin’ cum for me,” he growls. “Won’t fill ya up until you do.”

That’s the visual that does it. The thought of Joel finishing with you, inside of you, dripping out of you too much for your lust addled brain. With a shout, the thin remnant of your control snaps and you pulse around him.

“Fuck yes, that’s it, sweetheart, good fuckin’ girl,” he praises, his hand leaving your neck as he sits up, his tempo fast and sloppy as he chases his release through yours. “You want me to cum in this tight little cunt, honey.”

“Yes, please,” you manage to slur, muffled by the sheets. With three more harsh thrusts, he does as promised, spilling inside of you with a shout.

He slows before withdrawing, your body collapsing against the mattress without him there to hold you up. He chuckles as he flops beside you, dragging you into the cradle of his body.

“You done playin’ games with those boys?” He asks, smiling smugly against your neck.

“Yeah, think I might be into older guys,” you tease. He pinches your hip, making you laugh.

“See if I ever help you during trivia again.”

________

Joel’s standing in front of you, arms crossed with a scowl on his face as you stare up at him with pleading eyes.

“Come on, baby, help me out,” you ask sweetly, batting your eyelashes.

“Last call for an answer to our final question! What is the only song credited to all five original members of the band Fleetwood Mac?”

Joel sighs, biting back his smile. “The Chain,” he tells you. You scribble the answer, running your paper up to the emcee. When you return to the bar, you lean across the polished surface and tug him towards you, planting a kiss to his lips.

He drags you back for another kiss. And another.

“Anytime, darlin’.”

Joel Miller tag list: @huffle-punk punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfell @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro @justsomeoneovertherainbow

Join the tag list here!

[betterthanyalls]

hey betty wetty bo confetti

How’s about Ares x Reader in which she’s the daughter of Odysseus and and and she’s defending Telemachus & Penelope from the suitors and after getting into a fight with Antinous or however u spell his name, she meets Ares somehow?

BTW DONT FEEL PRESSURED OR FEEL THERES A TIME LIMIT - TAKE YOUR TIME 🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵

Okay love ya 🤩🤗

that nickname concerns me BUT HIIIII so ion know how good this is :sobs: , i made it in the span of like 2-3 hours from a burst of motivation. HERE YOU GO TAKE THIS AS A LATE BIRTHDAY PRESENT

Masterlist

Warrior's Blood

Ares x Reader

EPIC: The Musical ~ Oneshot ~ Action

Words: 1.4K

Published: 11-3-2024 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A loud belch sounded from the palace’s dining hall, followed by boisterous laughter and unorganized yells. The princess of Ithaca glared down the hallway while she stalked past the dining hall to her destination of the training grounds. “Men,” a loud voice called, the speaker standing up on a wooden bench, “we have been waiting for the throne for far too long. Can’t you see we are being played?”

Y/n slowed her pace, taking a peek into the crowded room to see the one suitor she hates the most speaking. Antinous. 

“I say, we take the throne. That boyish prince and his sister only stand in our way to the queen. Once we are rid of them, we shall have full access to the crown." Cheers and yells followed quickly. The onlooking royalty sneered in disgust. Normally, Y/n would only walk away and tell her mother about the new plan, but something inside her felt different—an urge to fight, a need for conflict. 

Taking a step into the light of the hall, Y/n cleared her throat.

“What would my mother think of this? Threatening to kill both of her children and then seizing her by force?" Y/n had to keep from gagging, not only at the idea of their threat but also the horrid stench of the room. 

Antinous turned to the princess with a look of pure murder and flame.

“Well, if it isn’t the weak girl. If you speak even a word of our plan, I will rip you limb from limb so you can meet your father in the underworld,” he stalked towards the younger girl with a vicious grin. “Now that I’ve thought about it, how about we begin that plan now? Starting with you.”

Y/n was wise enough to duck down, blocking an oncoming punch, only to be nailed in the gut with his knee. Falling to the ground with a sharp gasp, she was pulled to her feet by her hair. “Come on, girlie. You had the strength before to challenge me; where is it now? You’re as weak as your father.”

Staggering and getting out of his grasp, she pulled up a loose fighting position. The princess narrowed her eyes at Antinous’ insults while taking steps back to match his steps forward. Y/n tried to find some sort of strategy to take him down, like how Telemachus taught her. Her brother would always say to fight with wisdom, but there was no wisdom anywhere near this fight. Strategy only works if your opponent has strategy too. Antinous was anything but a planned fighter. 

So with her next best option, Y/n grabbed a nearby vase and chucked it at her rival's head. She missed, making Antinous even more angry. With a yell, a foot made contact with her stomach, throwing the princess to the floor and her head hitting a pillar. Pain shot through her entire body as she struggled to regain her breath. 

‘So, I did this easily. Thanks for the amazing lessons, Tele.’ Her mind wandered, forgetting about her approaching opponent as she took a glance at a nearby wall. There, up high, hung a tapestry by her mother. The twelve Olmpyians were displayed with divine glory. Glory that could help Y/n not die, if only they saw her. With nothing left to lose, the princess sent up a silent prayer before deciding to help herself.

With much pain and huffs, Y/n managed to stand on her feet once more with a sway.

Antinous offered a loud laugh, ricocheting off the stone walls.

“You just can’t stay down, can you? Do you not want to see Odysseus in Hades?”

“Don’t you dare speak my father's name,” she hissed through gritted teeth. She leaned onto the pillar with one hand while her other held her hurt stomach. Something other than pain burned inside her—a yearning to see him hurt, to see Antinous suffer. 

A new energy boosted her body; her muscles didn’t feel as sore, and the pain was dissipating. Deciding not to question this, Y/n dodged another punch aimed for her jaw. With fast footing, she grabbed a spear off the wall beside her and countered another punch.

Antinous grabbed the spear to rip it from Y/n’s grasp. Quickly, Y/n pulled the spear closer to her and kicked Antinous in the ribs. Instead of knocking him down, he only stumbled back. 

‘Left’ A voice spoke in her mind. Y/n was about to question the order until she noticed Antinous barreling towards her and instantly followed the demanded direction. 

Dodging a swipe of his sword, the princess swung her spear down at the man's knees, causing him to trip. Looking down to where he fell, a sudden push of rage flowed through her veins.

‘Blood’

She didn’t need to hear the voice again to know exactly what to do. With momentum, Y/n brought the weapons head down into Anitnous’ thigh, earning a scream from the male. She ripped the weapon from his flesh only to bring it down once more with another bloody cry. Her thoughts seemed barren except for a new order from the unknown voice. 

‘Stop’

That order only seemed to boost her adrenaline. Stop? She couldn’t. Not with all this pent-up anger and frustration she felt for Antinous. Y/n needed to make him learn where he stood as a guest in her kingdom. But as she raised her spear once more, the voice barked a command louder and all her pain and exhaustion rushed in.

‘STOP’

In an instant, her spear clattered to the floor as Y/n held her head with a groan. Antinous was being tended to by his fellow suitors, who had opted to stay on the sidelines. With labored breaths, Y/n managed to stumble away from the dining hall and towards the empty training grounds. 

Exhausted, she slumped to the sandy floor and leaned her back against a rack of swords. Her eyes shut against the glaring sun as the royal attempted to regain her breath. To her pleasure, the heat was blocked by a sudden shadow. The young adult cracked open her eyes to see a darkened figure wearing the full armor of a Spartan soldier. A mixture of emotions flooded into her soul as she recognized the nation's armor. Was this news of her father from serving beside the Spartans? But her hope was snuffed out as the familiar voice spoke.

“Stand up.”

She wanted to argue, but something in her felt compelled to follow the instructions. So, shakily, Y/n stood up in front of the warrior. From a new angle, she could see the stranger's identity. All breath escaped her lungs as she recognized the being from similar statues and paintings.

“Ares.”

The god, who towered over her with his divine form, smirked at the recognition.

“Indeed. I’ve seen your skill, princess of Ithaca. You fight well,” the god of war stalked around the girl in a circle, seeing her state after the fight. 

Finally, the two pieces connected in her mind as she turned to face him.

“It was you. The voice. The orders. That was all you.”

“You follow orders well, except for when you’re told to stop. I like that sort of fight.” Ares stood tall, power and bloodlust radiating off him as his armor seemed to brighten a bloody red in the sun’s light.

“Why’d you stop me anyway? You are the god of bloodlust, are you not? I could’ve killed him and solved the whole problem!” Y/n argued, upset at the missed opportunity.

“Have you forgotten the laws of hospitality? You would have been punished harshly by the gods had I let you continue. Not even I can defy those.” He glared down at her with warning. In response, she looked away with a defeated huff.

“Why’d you even help me then?” She grumbled, looking at the nearby swords; a few training weapons had begun to rust from limited use. 

"You have the ambition needed for the battlefield. Why would I let such skill go to waste with no proper mentor?” This caused Y/n to look at him instantly in shock, meeting the gaze of a grinning god beneath his helmet.

“Mentor?” 

“Y/n of Ithaca. You fight to protect. You fight to the last stand. That is a warrior’s blood. Like your father before you, you have the makings of a legend.” Ares held out his hand like he was shaking for a deal. “Become my champion, and I will help you become stronger than any opponent you shall face.” 

Y/n thought it over for less than a few seconds before grabbing the gods hand in her own and shaking them up and down. 

“Deal.”

[rivatar]

His Stress Relief

MDNI!🔞 based off this request!

Pairing: Aged!Up!Neteyam x fem!human!reader

W/c: 1.9k

Warnings/content: SMUT, Dub-con, p in v, cream pie, dom Neteyam, sub reader, dirty talk, cussing

A/n: I hope the anon who requested this enjoys, I didn’t know how you wanted it to go so I hope it’s okay and you like it!😩 And I hope the rest of you lovelies can enjoy too. Keep sending me requests & I love you all 💖

“Don’t go too far out, y/n!” Max shouted as you were already out the door.

It had been a stressful day for you in the lab. You had arrived on Pandora not even a full month ago. Everything was new to you, including a lot of the science they had here. You had just gotten your PhD not long before leaving for this mission and it was all you dreamed of was to work here, but now that you’re here, you found that the work was quite challenging and you didn’t like feeling stupid or behind everyone else.

After getting yelled at by another coworker for doing something wrong again, you decided you needed a break to calm your mind. You told Max you were going to take a walk right outside the facility, it wasn’t really a question for him but more so telling him where you’d be. He was a bit concerned for you as you were still new here but he knew he couldn’t stop you, nor had the time to babysit you.

The door slammed behind you. You spotted a slightly beaten path that led into the forest and decided to walk along it so that you could find your way back later on. You weren’t planning to go far of course but your racing thoughts occupied you so much it had you completely distracted.

Unbeknownst to you, a particular Na’vi had already spotted you and was following you quietly while staying tucked behind the various trees and plants of the forest.

Neteyam was out clearing his mind as well, he was also stressed like you, but his stress was due to his endless duties preparing to be Olo’eyktan soon. He noticed you and instantly became intrigued with you and decided to follow you and see what you were up to. It was something to take his mind off of his responsibilities for once.

You noticed a particularly amazing plant and crouched down to it, smiling gently. Next thing you knew a huge arm wrapped around your front and brought you back into them, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs in the process.

“What the fuck?!” You yelled in terror. You looked down and realized the arm was blue and your soul almost left your body.

“Hi, tawtute,” the creature bent down to speak in your ear.

“Please let me go!! I’m sorry for being out here! Please I’ll go back!” You pleaded and played nice while struggling against his steady hold.

“Nah. I think I’d rather keep you,” he spoke lowly and unbothered.

Fear rushed through your body like a flaming hot fire and consumed all your senses. You wanted to cry at your predicament but you had to keep your wits about you if you were gonna make it out alive.

“P-please! I’ll do anything just please let me go, I won’t tell a soul!” You pleaded some more.

He chuckled and was amused with you. “Anything?”

Confusion etched across your face. “What?”

“You said you’d do anything”

He sounded… suggestive. Or were you just going insane??

“…yeah?”

“I think I’ve got something in mind for your payment. And a way to relieve my stress”

To say your heart was beating out of your chest was an understatement.

“What do you want from me?” You cried.

“You’re not stupid, girl. You know what I want” he spoke sensually as he ran his other hand down the front of your body to cup your pussy. You gasped at the sudden sensation.

He pressed his hard bulge against your butt. “You understand now?”

You weakly nodded, fear still evident in your eyes but you were not wanting to upset him in any way by disagreeing.

Without anymore time to process this, he yanked your pants down and pushed your back forward, making you abruptly fall to your knees with your ass in the air.

You were flushed and felt exposed and vulnerable but before you could think about those feelings anymore, he suddenly ran his tongue up through your slit. You gasped at the pleasure.

“Mmm I love how your little human pussy tastes,” he groaned “much sweeter than the omatikaya girls”

He continued lapping up your juices like a starved man and you had no choice but to take it. It felt extremely good though, your hole clenched, wanting and needing attention too.

“Fucking slut. You act like you don’t want this too but your body says otherwise,” he said while prodding his thumb around your entrance. You tried to push yourself back to get the penetration you craved.

He laughed at your pathetic action. “Awww the little human needs some action? You should be thanking me” he spanked your ass hard.

You whimpered out loud and knew you were indeed being pathetic. But dammit, you were stressed and pent up too.

“Pleaseeee” you begged him shamelessly.

“Oh yeah?” He chuckled mockingly.

You backed up more, wordlessly begging him to stop torturing you. So he granted your request and plunged an entire finger in, already brushing your cervix with his long digits.

“Mmm!! More!” You moaned for him.

He groaned at the feeling of your tight, gummy walls sucking him in perfectly.

“So warm and tight… fuck” he purred.

He then plunged another digit in, marveling at how you stretched for him. He roughly sped up, deciding he wanted to watch your pussy cum on his hand.

“Cum for me” he urged you while his other hand groped your ass.

You were whimpering and moaning on the ground, feeling the pleasure wash through your body as your incoming orgasm threatened to burst.

“Can feel you squeezing. Let it go, tawtute”

And just like that, as if his sultry tone and words were all you needed to reach your peak, you came all over his working fingers with your eyes rolling back in your head. It had to be the best orgasm you’ve ever had.

“Mmm, good job sevin” he praised your shaking form, still recovering from the after shocks.

He rolled your limp body over to where you could finally see his face. He was so handsome. Your fucked out face scanned over his toned, muscular body. Every curve and edge of him was perfectly carved by Eywa herself. His body was amazing but you couldn’t believe how stunning his face was. His bright yellow eyes held so much emotion and passion in them and you held his gaze, unable to look away.

He took this opportunity to untie his loincloth rather slowly. The skimpy item of clothing fell down to the ground and just when you thought he couldn’t get anymore visually stunning, he did. His cock was huge to you but fit his body proportions perfectly. It stood up loud and proud, the tip glistening with his shimmery precum.

“I take it you like it, huh?” He asked teasingly but also meant it.

You snapped your eyes back up to him and nodded slowly. Your brain was telling you to be scared but the rest of your body was screaming at you to indulge and enjoy.

He bent back down to your recovering body. His hands reached the bottom of your shirt and tugged up on it. To your own surprise, you submitted and lifted your arms to let him take off your shirt. You did the rest by then unclipping your bra.

He leaned back on his heels and his chest quickly rose and fell at the sight of you being completely naked. His face didn’t change though, he seemed to be trained to show no emotion, though his breath quickening and precum gathering at his tip gave away his arousal to you.

He got closer to you and leaned in for a brutal kiss. His large mouth completely engulfed yours and you tried to keep up with him.

He pulled back to look into your eyes and said, “I’m gonna fuck you. I’m gonna fuck you so good you’re gonna be coming back and begging for more after this”

He left you no time to object this and continued the kiss. Although at this point you were sure you wouldn’t argue with him. Your body was aching for attention and relief.

He effortlessly picked you up and set your back against the grass. “Spread open for me,” he tapped your thigh.

You did as you were told and gave him complete access. He couldn’t wait to feel your tight, wet pussy around him.

He held his dick and coated it in your juices, before angling to start pushing in.

“You are soaked, little human” he said admiringly.

You were also amazed at how aroused you were, you had to admit it had been a while but also none of your previous experiences have been this erotic. Nonetheless you blushed at him stating the obvious about your neediness.

He sunk deeper and deeper, you were both making little noises of discomfort and pleasure at the tight stretch.

“Never had a Na’vi cock huh? You’re in for a treat” he smiled a bit menacingly.

You chuckled nervously, still focusing on breathing and getting through the extreme stretch.

He bottomed out and you moaned as he brushed your cervix. “Is that the spot?”

“Mhmm” you whined.

“I know, I know. Hold on tight, my little tawtute slut”

He removed himself all the way out and slammed back in, his huge balls slapping your skin.

“Fuck” he grunted.

He continued his assault on your cunt, ruthlessly pounding into you like a feral animal, giving you no time to adjust fully.

His mouth was open and relaxed in an ‘o’ as he watched your pretty face screw up in pleasure, both of you taking in the feeling.

You held onto his bulky arms that were settled on either side of you as he hovered over you.

You eyes started welling up with tears from the overwhelming sensation. You were being stuffed to your fullest capacity.

He then bent down to latch his mouth onto one of your nipples, while his other hand pulled your other one. You screamed and arched your back off the ground.

“I can’t! It’s too much!!” You squealed and he only let up so he could speak to you.

“Thought you were begging for more earlier? You’ve gotta take it now, cmon just take it like the good slut I know you are”

He then started rubbing your clit, edging you on more. “You gonna cum again? Well I’m gonna cum deep in your pussy, I got a lot and it’ll be leaking out of you for days”

He sped up his thrusts. “Maybe when it leaks out of you, it can remind you of me and you can use it to touch yourself”

His lewd words made your coil snap yet again, and your pussy convulsed around his length.

“Good lil cockslut. Take my cum now” he grunted as his thrusts got irregular and his body locked up. His cum shot deep into you and you felt it get crowded in there with his dick still inside too.

He was panting and sweating above you, his eyes half lidded and looking delirious and spent.

You both suddenly heard a distant cry, like a Na’vi calling out as communication.

His ears went up and he pulled out quickly, both of you hissing at the loss. He scrambled to tie his loincloth back on. He leaned down to your face after you sat up.

“Next time you need some na’vi cock again, come to this spot and I will answer your calling” he winked and ran off with his bow in hand, leaving you naked and vulnerable. But… also satisfied.

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