#Raven Concealement

[clairifys]

You are mine, and I am yours.

Benjicot Blackwood x Fem!Targ!Reader

w.c: 3.0k

18+ minors dni!!

c.w: violence, blood, death, 18+ content, nsfw, tent sex, fingering, making out, kissing, p in v, descriptive words, not-canon (sorry!)

ok guys i finally finished.. lmk if y’all like it!

There had been whispers from the Riverlands. You sat in on your mother’s council as you listened to the lords brabble around you. It wasn’t until Maester Gerardys spoke up that everyone went silent.

“Your Grace, a raven from Raventree came in, unfortunate news.” He spoke slowly, “Samwell Blackwood, Lord of House Blackwood was slain. His heir, Benjicot Blackwood now sits where he once sat.” Maester Gerardys concluded.

“Unfortunate news indeed..” Your mother, Queen Rhaenyra spoke saddened by the fatality.

“..Along with that news, the Riverland houses have expressed concern.” Maester Gerardys added.

“And what concern is that?” Your mother spoke cautiously.

“News that Aemond Targaryen’s dragon, Vhagar has been flying above them on multiple accounts.” He concurred, upon hearing this, you speak up.

“Mother..” You began, “Allow me to go out on Vermithor and keep our troops protected from the sky.” You suggested slowly, your mother looking at you with uncertainty and love in her eyes.

“My daughter, my only daughter,” your mother began before being cut off by Princess Rhaenys.

“Rhaenyra. We are at war, only few of us have dragons and Vermithor would be the best chance against Vhagar.” She affirmed strongly, “Vermithor has been with (Y/n) since she was a babe. She’s been riding much longer than Aemond.” Rhaenys left no room for objection and your mother looked at you with determination and melancholy.

“Alright.” She spoke firmly. “You will go on Vermithor before break of day.” Rhaenyra stood up and softly grabbed your arm to lead you with her to her room.

“My love, be careful and stay concealed until you reach the Riverlands.” She spoke lovingly as she took off the necklace your father, Daemon, gave her when she was a teenager. She fastens it around your neck before speaking, “Take this with you, to remember and to hold when you feel lonely.” She finished as a tear rolled down her cheek. She gives you a kiss on the forehead and holds you in her arms.

Benjicot had received no letter of affirmation from Queen Rhaenyra and only hoped she’d seen it and considered sending a dragon. The Northerners had arrived the previous day with Cregan Stark, the Lord of Winterfell. 

“Oye, Benji get your arse back in and train with me.” Kemit Tully taunted with a smile. He had been training with two of the boys he grew up with, Kermit and Oscar Tully.

“Yeah, yeah keep up with your taunting when I have my dagger at your throat and my foot on your chest.” Benjicot spoke up, a glint of madness in his eyes, the same as when he was on the field.

Benjicot Blackwood was a strange man. Soft and sensitive in any other occasion, even crying after his first battle once he saw all the casualties, but there was a reason he was named ‘Bloody Ben’ when he began his fights.

Kermit and Benjicot were about to start sparring when they noticed Oscar was silent, looking up in fear.

“Oscar..?” Benjicot spoke softly, unsure.

“Dragon.” He mumbled before shouting, “Dragon!”

As the men around them turned to look up, ready to be set aflame by Vhagar, they noticed the bronze color and tan wings. Still weary, the men around them took shelter under the trees as Benjicot, Oscar and Kermit stood planted in their spot, marveling at the sight of the beautiful beast.

You commanded Vermithor to land when you had seen the men cower under the blanket of trees. Flying downwards, your pearly ivory hair whipping behind you as it stayed in the same braided style, lest you need to engage in combat. Guiding your dragon to landing, you slowly climb down off of him as you pull your riding gloves off with your teeth. Your black and red dress blowing behind you as the men who ran to the trees slowly come out. Before you can speak, a man of considerable size, donned in Northern armor approaches and bows before kissing your hand. Cregan Stark you come to realize as he begins to speak.

“Princess (Y/n). It is good to finally meet. I met with your brother, Jacaerys a moon ago. I thank you for coming.” He finishes politely. You feel your face flush at the open show of adoration, it’s never not embarrassing for you, but you give him a soft smile, albeit awkwardly before he leads you to the tent where all the lords were meeting.

Benjicot had already made his way to the tent when Lord Stark greeted you, he was too nervous to go up to you, due to your lineage and beauty. When you made your way in the tent and situated yourself, you spoke confidently.

“I have been sent by Her Grace to ensure the safety of our men who have selflessly put their lives on the line for my mother’s cause. Whilst I am here, I assure you, if Vhagar is to begin attacking, there will be a dragon in the sky for you, to protect you.” You stated confidently, hoping none of the men could notice your nerves. You hadn’t ever been the highest of royalty as your mother was always there. Now though, you needed to keep your promise to your mother to ensure her birthright, even if it caused you to perish to achieve it.

“So..” Oscar started as he and Kermit looked at Benjicot when he met up with them after the short-lived meeting. 

“What?” He asked softly.

“What was she like? It’s not everyday a Princess as beautiful as her flies down from the sky to protect an army.” Oscar pleaded for information.

“Gods, she’s..” Benjicot trailed off as he looked at you from the training ground to see you lovingly caress and speak to your dragon in a language he didn’t understand.

“..we should be glad they sent someone as fierce as they did, she promised that if Vhagar were to return attacking, she’d meet him in the sky.” He finished softly, still watching you.

“Alright you two, let’s stop talking about her before she has her dragon eat us and start training.” Kermit insisted, secretly in awe.

Benjicot and Kermit were up first, not being able to begin their fight due to the Princess’s arrival. The only sound around them was the clashing of steel and the thumping of their hearts, which in turn, distracted the Princess from what she had been doing prior.

You walk over to where you see two men fighting, you notice them as Lord Benjicot Blackwood and Lord Kermit Tully battling it out. Benjicot gains the upper hand eventually as you watch in a trance of the crazed man’s ability and soon, Lord Tully is on the ground with a dagger to his throat. Ser Oscar Tully, you come to believe, begins cheering as Benjicot puts his hand out to the Tully on the ground. His back to you, you begin a gentle clap which sends all three men’s spine straight up. They all turn to you as you focus your gaze on Lord Blackwood while he maintains eye contact before nervously fiddling with his fingers and averting his gaze.

“Princess,” Lord Blackwood speaks up, meeting your eyes again with a slight flush on his face. You wonder if it’s because of the sparring, or maybe because of you. Normally you’d get weirded out when men expressed any sort of adoration towards you, but this time it was different.

“I can see where the name ‘Bloody Ben’ comes from, Lord Blackwood.” You state gracefully. You notice the two Tully’s giving him a look and smirking. His face flushes red as he responds,

“Thank you, Princess, but please call me Benji.. or Ben.. or whatever you wish.” He stumbles on his words and you find it endearing, you hear his friends laugh and you chuckle softly.

“Alright, Benji.” You speak as his face flushes an impossible red, “I’m glad to have you on our side, your swordsmanship is unlike any I’ve seen.” You state clearly before taking your leave to your tent.

.. 

“‘Please call me Benji, or Ben, or whatever you want, My Princess, please take advantage of me!’” Kermit taunts him as Benjicot swings around and begins to wrestle with the Tully boy.

You hadn’t lied when you told Benjicot that you’d never seen skills such as his. It was true, you think as you lie awake in your tent. You feel your face heat up as you think about the timid, yet brutal man. He fought without grace, he fought like a real warrior. None of that pansy dancing you’d seen around you growing up in King’s Landing.

You awake in the midst of the night to the sound of your dragon's calls. Something was wrong. Vermithor only ever made noises such as that when there was a threat evident. You rush outside, regretting not getting a cloak as it’s freezing in the dead of night wearing only a nightgown. You notice some of the men stepping out of their tents, sleep ridden eyes soon turning to determined anxiety. Benjicot steps out of his tent and you rush past him, almost knocking into him.

“Princess?” He questions before hearing the roar of a dragon overhead. Vhagar. You rush past him, grasping his arm gently and run up to Vermithor, who is undoubtedly concerned, climbing up him quickly, you command him to fly.

Before you can situate yourself, you hear Aemond.

“Dracarys”

Suddenly, the trees are ablaze and men on the ground begin to shoot arrows at Vhagar in hopes to weaken him. Commanding Vermithor forward behind Vhagar, you ready yourself.

“Dracarys!” You scream as Vermithor lets out a wall of fire onto Vhagar, Aemond, noticing, turns Vhagar around to attack. You quickly fly up in hopes of Aemond following, you turn your head to see him behind you, gaining on you.

As a last resort you make a hard right and when Vermithor flies close enough past him, you jump. 

Landing on Vhagar’s tail, you begin to try and climb when Vhagar whips his tail around to shake you off. Your dragon, Vermithor, begins to shriek in despair that his rider had ‘fallen’ off. Vermithor, being a war dragon, circles behind Vhagar, before coming to the front of him and sinks his teeth into Vhagars neck. In the midst of this, you had climbed up his tail and when your dragon attacked, so did you.

Vhagar descends down, thick, gallons of fiery blood spewing from his neck as you and Aemond clamber about, trying to plunge your daggers into each other. Noting that Vhagar was descending into The Fork, you grasp onto Aemond and jump. You hear your dragon scream and screech in agony of losing his rider.

In your struggle as you and Aemond begin to fall to your descent, you plunge your dagger into his one good eye, and you let go of him.

You knew dying was a common occurrence, and you had been ready to die for your mother’s cause, but you hadn’t known it’d be so soon. You prepare yourself for the plunge into the deep, cold water of The Fork, and you hope your mother is proud of you for going down with a fight as you close your eyes.

You feel yourself fall as you try to slow your breathing, but before you can feel the hard slap of the cool water, you feel the hard slap of your stomach hitting a dragon saddle. Wrenching your eyes open, your head whips around as you grab onto scales to prevent yourself from falling. Vermithor. He had seen you falling. He came and he saved you from the terrible fate you were about to be bestowed upon. Vermithor flies up and begins to spit fire, unable to hide his joy at saving his rider as your eyes well up with tears that threaten to spill. After calming him down, you fly over where Vhagar and Aemond met their demise. You see Vhagar’s huge body float slowly over the river, but Aemond begins to sink down.

When you land back on the ground, cheering erupts from all around you. Everyone comes up to you and gives you their appreciation, some of the older Lords even ask for a betrothal between you and their sons from your stunt. Once the crowd dies down, and eventually disperses, you fail to see the one person who hadn’t come up to you yet. Benji. You walk around for a little in hopes to see him, but eventually you retire to your secluded tent farther from the rest of the men as they begin drinking at a fire.

Hoping to see him in the morrow, you enter your tent smoothing down your disgruntled nightgown before looking up. Your big, purple eyes meet his stormy brown ones and you make a noise of surprise. The two of you stare at each other, taking each other in for the first time. You notice his eyes hold that crazed look, but something else glosses over them. Love? Lust? You couldn’t tell. Your eyes meet with his before he quickly looks down at your lips. He takes a step forward and you meet him in the middle.

The kiss was sweet, a gentle, sensitive thing. Your hands tangle in his hair as one of his hands cradles your neck, the other coming down to squeeze your waist. You gasp in surprise and when he hears it, he smiles against your lips before gently meeting your tongue with his. Your thoughts are clouded with the thought of him, so much so, you completely forget your near death experience. Breaking apart for air, he leans his forehead against yours and whispers, “You’re mine, and I am yours.” 

He leads you down to your futon in the tent and lays you down gently before pressing a loving kiss on your lips. Your mind is dazed with desire as your body begins to react to the growing bulge in his trousers. You rut up into him, not in control of your body, blinded by the feeling of his body being so close to yours. He laughs softly before asking, “Are you sure? If you want me to stop, just tell me.” Beginning to get irritated at the lack of attention to your body, you grab him by his hair and your lips meet in a searing kiss. He pulls your nightgown down your body with a featherlight touch, leaving you in only your shift. The cool air makes you shiver as you grab his tunic and shove it off of him. Your lips meet again, your mind going dumb. He pulls his trousers off, leaving him in only his breeches before taking your shift off in one motion. Laying bare in front of him, he feels his breeches tighten as he takes you in. 

You begin to feel nervous as his full attention is on only you, and you’ve never laid with someone before. 

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He groans out, looking at you as if you’ve hung every star in the sky. You feel yourself grow impossibly wetter before he pulls his breeches down and leans down on his forearms on top of you. Your lips meet again for the umpteenth time and he begins to slowly rub his fingers through your slit, catching your slick. You moan out in pleasure, bucking your hips up when he pushes two of his fingers inside and groans. He pumps them in and out of you before adding a third finger, and you begin to feel a pressure building in your abdomen. You moan out in desperation when you feel his fingers leave you and you crack open your eyes that had been sealed shut. 

“Well, aren’t you needy?” He purrs before taking his slick covered fingers and shoving them in his mouth. You moan at the sight and let your head fall against your pillow. Suddenly, you feel him hovering over you and something prodding at your entrance. Slowly guiding it in, you both moan out in ecstasy. The stretch is insane, if you hadn’t been so aroused, you’d say it hurt. Once it’s fully sheathed in, you wriggle around, drunk off the pleasure of it all. Benji lets you adjust to his size before slowly rocking into you.

“Benji.. Please” You moan out in pleasure. His eyes darken, as if he had just won a battle and he begins to slam into you. You mewl out sounds as he grunts and groans. Your abdomen begins to tighten and your legs begin to uncontrollably shake. His thrusts get messier, before the white, hot pleasure rips through you. You hear Benji groan on top of you before his thrusts get deeper and faster, overstimulating you. He grabs onto one of your breasts, softly massaging it while his lips connect with your other peak. Your womb is suddenly coated, and you feel the beautiful feeling of being stuffed full.

Benji collapses on top of you, his head on your bare chest as you pull the blanket up over you two. You run a hand through his sweaty hair and he looks up at you with love in his eyes.

“Please, please, come home with me when this war is over. Let me love you for the rest of our days.” He practically begs and you make no objection. Kissing him softly as one of your hands holds his head and the other rests on the necklace your mother gave you.

hope you guys liked it!!

[targs-on-zorses]

Sweet Favours

Pairing - Gwayne Hightower/Lady-in-Waiting!Reader Warnings - Nice, hot smut, mild choking, fingering, some riding, gwayne being cocky, a little bit of fluff, tourneys and jousting, a little bit of blood, reader is not described in any detail other than being of House Mullendore of Uplands Summary - “If I might request a favour, my lady.” “Hmm, and what sort of favour would that be, good knight.” “Mayhaps, a sweet kiss from those lovely lips, dear lady.” Word count: 4732

A/N - Wow. I genuinly cannot believe I have finished this. I started it not long after Ser Gwayne Hightower graced our screens, and it is now, what? two? three weeks later? I would like to thank my hype-people: @thenameswinter99 whose reactions to my tiny excerpts made my day, @barbieaemond, Liv my partner in crime who has assisted in fanning the flames with this fic, and @just-some-random-blogger. We will continue to torture you with gifs. Accept it. This is your life now. And also to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for beta reading. Dividers are mine own. It is possible there will be a part 2.  (the fic will be up on AO3 shortly. Use the link in my masterlist)

Good weather for a tourney, you thought. Nary a cloud in the sky, the bright sun beating down on the cobblestone path leading to the arena. The sounds of blades being sharpened and hammers striking on metal. There was a buzz of excitement in the air. It had been some years since Oldtown had hosted a tourney of its own. But now, the seats had been cleaned, the lords box furnished. Bunting linked building to building along the narrow streets of Oldtown. 

It had been some years since you, as lady-in-waiting to Lady Lynesse Hightower, had last attended a tourney. You peeked out of the carriage, watching as people streamed towards the arena, some carrying flags in every shape and colour. 

A raven had arrived from Kings Landing a month ago, bearing the news that the Queen, Alicent Hightower, cousin of your lord, had given birth to another son, Aemond Targaryen. Lord Ormund had decided to host a tourney in his honour, although none of the royals, nor their immediate vassals, were able to make it.

The carriage stopped at the entrance to the stadium. You stepped out of the carriage, graciously accepting the hand of the squire waiting, lifting your skirts to keep them out of the dirt on the streets. Your lady followed behind you.

A handsome young knight stood at the entrance. You smiled, admiring his pleasant features, the warm blue eyes, the bow shaped lips, soft golden hair.

“Good morrow, cousin,” Lady Hightower greeted.

“Good morrow, my Lady,” the knight responded. “Perfect day for a joust, is it not?”

“It is,” Lady Lynesse concurred. “I wish you luck, good cousin, at the lists.”

“Thank you, my Lady.”

Ser Gwayne bowed, stepping aside to let the lady pass. 

As you passed him yourself, curtseying briefly, he put out a hand to stop you.

“A moment, Lady Mullendore.”

You followed him inside, cloistered in a hidden alcove right by the doors. 

“If I might request a favour, my Lady.” He had that grin on his face that suggested his thoughts were anything but innocent. Not that the way he said ‘my Lady’ had you thinking innocent thoughts either, as you clenched your thighs together at his words.

“Hmm, and what sort of favour would that be, good knight?” you said, smiling sweetly. 

“Mayhaps, a sweet kiss from those lovely lips, dear lady.”

“Oh, you are most bold, good ser,” you giggled, feeling your cheeks redden at his words. And that little smirk that he always seemed to have plastered on his face. Seven save you, you loved that smirk.

A small group of people squeezed past the opening you were concealed in. So you stretched up, and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. Then you turned away to rejoin your lady.

A hand grasped your arm, pulling you back into the shadows.

“Gwayne!” you chastised. “I must return to my-”

His hand snaked around your waist, tugging you up against his body. A single finger lifted your chin, angling your face towards his, and he stared hungrily at your lips. He bit his lip, moving his hand to grasp your chin, running a thumb over your parted lips.

“Not that sort of kiss,” he whispered, seductively.

Then his lips were on yours. This was no gentle kiss, like the ones exchanged so early in the mornings. Sweet it was not. He pulled your face to his, pushing his tongue into your mouth. His hand tightened at your waist. 

Your hands stretched up, tangling themselves in his soft, golden hair. Your heart pounded in time to the movements of his tongue. He tasted of the sweet wine he liked, probably drinking small amounts to calm his nerves before the joust. 

He pushed forwards, backing you into a wall, completely devouring your mouth., pressing the evidence of his own arousal into your thigh. A moan escaped you. Seven save you, this kiss…

He pulled away abruptly, swiping his thumb over your lips again before departing with a satisfied smirk on his face.

He vanished so quickly, it took a moment for your body and mind to catch up. You raised a hand to your lips, remembering the passionate way he claimed them. 

Voices sounded just outside, and you remembered where you were.

Lady Hightower would be looking for you. You could only pray she had no idea what you had just been doing. You straightened your skirts and hair as best you could, and made your way to the Lords’ box overlooking the arena.

“Where have you been?” she snapped as you hurriedly entered and found your seat.

“My apologies, my lady,” you muttered, but she had already looked away.

You sat in the front row. Whether that was a blessing or a curse, you did not yet know.

From here, you could see everything. You would be able to see if he was hurt. Or killed.

You did not want to dwell on it. 

The knights paraded and preened. You knew half of them were not worth the armour they wore. 

“The Tyrells sent a measly bunch,” Lady Lynesses muttered to another lady. You did not disagree. 

“Hmm, it does not look like we will have much entertainment, my Lady,” another woman said.

You ignored them and watched as the jousts commenced. However, they were not wrong.

In the very first tilt, a young Tyrell squire not only knocked his opponent off his horse, but himself as well. Later, a Blackbar knight cuffed himself round the head with his own mace.

A measly lot indeed.

A brief lunch of venison was served. No sign of any of those veteran knights yet, though. 

By the afternoon, you were bored. The morning had been relatively uneventful, lunch equally so. You were eager for the new round of tilts to begin. And to see who would be crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty.

A few unimpressive knights rode out, bashing each other.

Finally, he rode out, sat proud atop that big black horse of his. His helmet was off, tucked under his arm, letting his golden hair shine in the sunlight. He held his lance in the other hand, meaning all that kept him on that horse were those strong thighs of his. You flushed, thinking of how it felt to have those thighs under you as you rode him into oblivion.

He rode twice around the arena, scanning the crowds. His eyes searched for you. Finally, he stopped in front of the box, beckoning you over with a movement of his head. You stood to lean against the barrier keeping you from falling onto the sand below.

“May I ask that you grant me your favour, Lady Mullendore?” he said, a graceful smile dancing across his face. You did not see the sour look Lady Hightower directed at you.

“Unfortunately, good ser, my favour is only given to those who will win,” you teased.

“Then I suppose it is a good thing I will win this tourney, then, my Lady,” he assured.

You giggled, taking your favour from the arm of your chair. He tilted his lance towards you and you dropped the favour along its length. He nodded his head in thanks and rode off again.

He prepared himself for the first tilt, putting on his silly helmet - you always giggled when he wore it. 

His opponent prepared himself similarly, some knight of House Florent. A cousin, perhaps?

You held your breath as they charged towards each other. You knew Gwayne had been injured previously in jousts. He was well now, but still, you worried. 

You wanted to look away, but you could not tear your gaze away from these two men, charging towards each other, lances held at the ready.

There was a crack, and the Florent knight went flying off his horse, landing with his legs at strange angles on the ground.

Gwayne rode a victory lap as the young knight was carried off to the maester’s tent.

As his next opponent struggled to get on his horse, Gwayne nodded to you, promising you victory. 

He unhorsed every opponent he faced with practised ease. Downing the ones that dared to try for victory on the ground. He certainly was bashed a few times, almost, almost, downed from his horse at others. But today it seemed the Gods themselves too had blessed him with their favour. 

The final tilt, however, you would deny you were terrified. For now he faced your own uncle, Ser Paxton Mullendore, a hardened veteran of many a battle and many a tourney. In fact, he was near undefeated, and would tell anyone who would listen that the only man to successfully unhorse him had been Daemon Targaryen at the Heirs Tourney some years ago. Gwayne too had been there, and Daemon too had unhorsed him. 

Suffice to say, you feared for him. 

You could see Ser Paxton glaring at him, and the favour on his lance. He knew it was yours, and he was displeased. 

Ser Paxton pulled down his visor and charged. Gwayne too. You gripped the hands of your chair tightly, hardly daring to breathe.

The crash of lance on shield. Gwayne barely clung to his horse, his lance in pieces.

They went in for a second charge.

Another crash.

This time it was Ser Paxton who fell. He immediately called for his sword. His pride would not allow Gwayne to win so easily. In fact, he often boasted of how he was better with his sword than atop a horse. Ser Paxton wielded a mighty mace, the sort of one you had seen bend swords and smash armour such that it looked as though a dragon had landed on their chests. 

You clung tighter to the decorative arms of your chair, eyes wide and fearful.

Gwayne did not notice, still holding his shield, arms wide and savouring his victory.

Paxton swung his mace.

“Gwayne!” you screamed. He turned to find a mace flying towards his head and ducked at the last moment.

Your relief was short-lived, as Paxton swung again, shattering Gwayne’s shield to splinters, your brave knight falling to the floor.

He dodged again and again, crawling towards the wooden barrier in the middle.

As Paxton smashed through the fence, Gwayne stuck his foot out, tripping up the large, mace-wielding man.

Ser Paxton fell to the ground unmoving. You gasped, staring in horror even as the crowd cheered. Even Gwayne was concerned, his fingers digging through the neck piece, trying to find a pulse.

Suddenly, Paxton jerked, sitting up. You breathed a sigh of relief. He and Gwayne seemed to talk for a moment before the latter pulled the former to his feet.

You smiled and clapped, overjoyed that both were alive.

Gwayne helped your uncle to the maesters, before mounting his horse once again for a victory lap. He was handed back his lance, now adorned with the wreath of yellow roses, the colours of House of Tyrell, their overlords.

He galloped twice around again, the ladies whispering to themselves, “Who will he choose?” He finally stopped in front of you, angling his lance such that the wreath slid down into your lap.

Suddenly, every eye was on you. Murmurs spread around the stadium. Gwayne still sat atop his horse below you, giving a gentle smile and an encouraging nod. 

You ignored the hiss of displeasure from Lady Hightower, and raised the flower crown, placing it on your head. The crowd cheered and clapped, and Ser Gwayne bowed before riding away to have his own wounds seen to.

The tourney over, the audience gathered themselves and prepared to leave.

You rushed off, partly to avoid whatever withering words the other ladies-in-waiting had to say to you, but mostly to avoid the wrath of Lady Lynesse Hightower. The look on her face as you had been crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty was one you hoped to never see again.

You had arrived in Oldtown at ten, ready to serve Lady Lynesse as a lady-in-waiting. But from the moment you were introduced to her by your father, Lord Mullendore, she had shown nothing but contempt that bordered on hatred for you.

When your father presented you, she had her nose up at you and said, “Well, I was not expecting her to be so… plain. I was told you were a great beauty. Perhaps you will grow into one.”

But, according to her, you could do nothing right. In the halls of the Hightower, you were alone and friendless. The other ladies followed Lynesse’ lead and scorned you. You missed your home, Uplands. You missed your family, your father, your mother, your brothers, and uncle Paxton, although he visited often. You sought companionship in the books in Oldtown’s many libraries. You engrossed yourself in the history and giggled as you read books like A Caution for Young Girls as you read it in the privacy of your chambers. 

It was when you were eight-and-ten that you attracted the attention of Ser Gwayne Hightower, your Lady’s cousin and the son of King Viserys’ Hand. 

Initially, you had waved it off as just some silly pacing fancy, after all, knights had that all the time. After all, as your lady said, cruelly, “What man could possibly want such a plain girl as you?”

But he was honest in his interest, and the two of you began to court, secretly of course. Lady Hightower would have a fit, and she was most fond of suggesting other women for him, though he always refused.

It was on the night of your twentieth name day that he took you into his bed. He was careful, and gentle, and everything you had imagined and more. The both of you knew Lady Hightower would never let you wed, so these stolen, secret moments were all you had.

You loved him, you knew it. How could you not when he was gentle, and kind, and every bit the knight he was painted to be?

What you did not know, however, was if he felt the same about you. He may call you, “my love,” but that was not the same.

You quietly made your way to Gwayne’s chambers. It would not do if you were caught together. Lady Hightower would use it as an excuse to get rid of you. It simply was not worth the same and disgrace that would fall on your family.

Today, he had already gone too far. You intended to tell him as much. Kissing you just before the tourney in an alcove where anyone could’ve peeked in and seen you? Crowning you Queen of Love and Beauty in front of thousands?

Perhaps, though, you would scold him after you lay with him. As dangerous as that kiss was, it had left you unsatisfied and wanting for more. And it would butter him up and make him more agreeable to slowing down.

You walked in, expecting to find the room empty, only to see Gwayne standing with his back to the door, sipping some wine. You spotted his armour peeking out of a chest to the side of the wine table.

He turned as the door closed, his eyes darkening as he beheld the low dress you wore. You had been tugging it down as you made your way here.

He was still wearing his green woollen tunic that he wore under his armour. The buckles were undone, as was the loose linen shirt he wore under that.

He took another sip of wine, tilting his head as he admired you. He placed the glass back on the table, and took a step towards you.

You were withering under his heated gaze, but you stood firm. He liked to tease. Now it was your turn.

“I was going to wait for you,” you said, the corners of your plush lips lifting flirtatiously. “I was thinking I’d lay naked in your bed.”

Gwayne smirked. “Such a shame, then, that I’m already here. It would have been a most delectable sight to behold.”

That way he said delectable, pronouncing every syllable, had you biting your lip an effort not to moan. A wave of need coursed through you..

He stepped towards you again, still giving you that smirk that made you want to rip your clothes off and let him give you exactly what you longed for.

“Perhaps I’ll leave and come back later, leave early from the feast,” you whispered, all desire to tease rushing out of you. You did not know how much longer you could keep this up.

“It would be a shame if you had to walk all the way back down, leaving me here alone and wanting for you,” he rasped, his voice going deep with desire.

“Like the way you left me earlier.” You tried not to moan as you felt his breath on your neck.

“Would you touch yourself while naked in my bed?” he hummed, a hand ghosting over your cheek. “Would you pleasure yourself, imagining that it was my cock that brought you to peak?”

You no longer knew words. Seven save you from this man and his vile tongue that made you feel nothing but insatiable lust. 

“And would I then arrive, finding you covered in a sheen of sweat, and then would I plunge myself inside your sweet cunt until the only thing you can remember is my name?”

You let out a whine at his words. He teased you relentlessly, barely touching you. You reached out to grasp his solid arms, trying to pull him closer. You wanted him to touch you, badly. 

“Gwayne,” you whine, the heated tension becoming unbearable.

“Yes, sweet lady?” he says, licking his lips. “Is it all too much, this teasing? Not unlike the way you have teased me all day wearing a dress such as this.” He tugs on the laces on the front of your dress making you gasp. “What is it, my love?” he says as he ghosts his lips over your neck again. You let out an aching whine. You were desperate for him to do anything, anything but keep on talking. “What? You want me to stop?” he says. Yes. You wanted him to stop teasing you with his filthy words. You wanted him to push you on his bed and strip you of your restrictive clothing. You wanted him to fuck you mercilessly until all you know is his cock. He chuckled darkly, seeing your pained expression. “Look at you, so needy.” You whimpered again. He finished unlacing your gown, finding you wearing no corset or smallclothes underneath it. You gulped, feeling the sensitive tips of your breasts brush against the cloth of your dress with every breath. “Oh, you naughty lady, wearing nothing under such a dress.” 

You give up. You can’t take it anymore. You need to touch him. You need him to touch you.  You grab his face between your hands and pull it to yours. The kiss is messy and filthy, and oh so terribly brief. He pushed you off him, holding your face between his hands, panting just as wildly as you. You whined desperately, straining to pull him back

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he growled.

Then he pounced. He tore the dress off your shoulder letting your breasts free. He gripped your face and pulled your lips back together. He shoved his tongue into your mouth, hot and wet. You shimmied out of your dress, leaving yourself bare. He cupped his hands around your behind, squeezing as he lifted you up and spread your legs around his waist. You ground against his clothed cock, sighing into his mouth as little sparks of bliss shot through you.

He carried you to the bed, divesting himself of his tunic, still continuing his relentless assault of your mouth. He withdrew gently, a stark contrast to the violent way he had kissed you, resting his forehead on yours. 

“Touch me,” you whispered, tugging at his shirt, silently begging him to take it off. 

He ignored your tugs, and latched his lips to the peak of your breast, as his hand worked its way between your legs, gently brushing your pearl. You moaned loudly, fingers clenching the silk sheet beneath. His fingers were pure heaven. You pulled again at his shirt, as his fingers entered your cunt, opening you up for him, skillfully brushing the spot inside you that made you keen. You clutched his arms, your nails digging into the flesh leaving angry red marks.

“Fuck, my love, you feel so good and wet,” he panted, trailing hot, wet kisses to your neck. “Fuck yourself on my fingers, sweet lady.”

And you did. You rode them, broken moans and whimpers spilled out of you. Your peak washed over you quickly, his fingers pumping in and out of you, drawing it out. 

He didn’t give you long to recover from the intensity of your peak. He allowed you to pull his shirt off, revelling in the pale expanse of muscle, and the few scars that litter his chest and stomach. You pressed a few kisses to the ones on his chest before he pushed you back down and started untying his breeches. 

“Keep yourself wet for me, sweet lady. Touch yourself.”

You moaned, doing as he says and letting your fingers gather up the wetness from your centre, preparing yourself for him.

He pushed his breeches down revealing his beautiful cock, hard and red. You took your hand, slick with your juices and pumped him a few times. But when you went to put it inside, he stopped you, sitting up further, leaving his cock far away from where you craved to sheethe it.

“Ah ah ah,” he tutted. “Only good, sweet ladies get to be fucked. Have you been good, sweet lady?”

“Yes,” you moaned. “Please, Gwayne, please, I've been good.”

He continued to stroke his cock, right in front of you. You groaned. He so loved to torment you like this. “Have you? Really?”

“I've been good, Ser. Please, let me have your cock, Ser!” You babbled, delirious with need, your hands reaching out for him. 

“Hmm, I suppose you have been,” He said, and suddenly leaned forward and slid his cock into your drenched cunt. 

You moaned in unison. The walls of your cunt stretched to accommodate him. Gwayne was by no means large, but he always seemed to fill you up perfectly. It was heaven, finally having him inside.

He gave you a moment to adjust, waiting for you to nod that you were comfortable, before he seized a hand, holding it above your head and pounded into you, mercilessly. 

Your breasts bounced, brushing your sensitive nipples on his chest. Wanton moans spilled out of you now. Every thrust of his cock hit the perfect spot inside you.

“That's it,” he whispered into your ear, lightly biting the flesh below it. “You feel so good, my dear, squeezing my cock like that.”

All coherent words had left you, and you could only babble in agreement. 

“Gods you feel so good, such a sweet, wet little cunt.”

Your moans grew louder, and you clung hard to his shoulders. You probably left nail marks in his back, but you were too lost in your pleasure to care. 

The walls of your cunt fluttered, signifying that you were close. Your moans became louder and higher in pitch. 

“That's it, sweetness,” Gwayne grunted, shifting so he could watch your face as you came. “Come for me, right on my cock.”

He brought a hand between you, rubbing your pearl. 

Your walls clenched around him as you screamed, you back arching. 

He wrapped a hand around your neck, holding you down as he fucked you through your peak, his own quickly following as he spilled inside you. 

He collapsed on the bed next to you.

You both lay there for a moment, catching your breath. You rolled over to look at him. He never looked more beautiful than he did in this moment. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead and chest. His bow shaped lips were parted. His chest heaved.

You loved him. There was nothing else. You loved how he looked in the moments after. 

You lay on your sides, facing each other. Your hands entwined as you stared deep into each other's eyes. His were blue, like the sea, and always glinted with mischief. 

“I have something for you,” he rasped. His voice was always delightfully husky after you fucked. You loved it, and the way it left you wanting for more.

“Gwayne,” you sighed, “we can’t.” 

This was a rule established early on, no gifts to be exchanged, and today, he’d already broken it, gifting you the flower crown. 

“No one will know it was from me,” he insisted. You took one look at his pouty face, his eyes wide and pleading. He knew how to make you melt, and melt you did. He just looked so sad, like a puppy pleading for pets.

“Fine,” you conceded. 

He smiled wide, and rolled over to grab something from the bedside table. He brought out a box. It was wide and flat, covered in green leather with silver hinges and clasp.

You sat up a little, leaning on your elbow, and took the box from him. 

You opened the box and gasped. Inside was the most exquisite necklace you’d ever seen.

The shape of it reminded you of how the beacon on the Hightower looked when alight. Green emeralds the size of your thumbs arranged in three seven pointed stars connected to a chain of intricate silver swirls. The two stars on either side of the middle contained a ruby at their hearts, while the centre one, and the larger of the three, framed a diamond, larger than any you had ever seen.

“Oh, Gwayne, it’s beautiful.”

He smiled. “Let me help you put it on, my love.”

You turned slightly, lifting your hair as he clasped it around your neck. You turned back to look at him, adjusting the way it lay across your chest.

“Hmm,” he hummed, openly staring at the way the centre charm sat right between your breasts, pointing downwards. “I think I rather like it too.”

You giggled, trying to ignore the heat that spread through your body at his words, and his gaze. You could now understand why it was designed the way it was.

“I think I’d like to fuck you wearing that necklace,” he said. “Hmm, perhaps I’d like you to ride me, so I can watch it bounce on those pretty breasts of yours.”

You bit your lip at his filthy words, heat already pooling in your gut. 

He gripped your hips, and you squealed as he lifted you onto his thighs, cock half hard already.

He plunged his hand between your legs, groaning at the feeling of your wetness. 

“Ride me, my sweet lady,” he commanded.

You gave his cock a good few pumps, before you sunk down, moaning at the stretch. His hands dug into your hips as you began to move, circling your hips.

You went slowly at first. Gwayne seemed to groan in frustration at your pace. You grinned, knowing how much you teased him now.

“I do not think this is quite riding me, sweet lady,” Gwayne grunted beneath you. He smacked your behind, the sharp pain and pleasure of it making you cry out. “Come now, love, ride me. Fuck yourself on my cock and let me watch those gorgeous sweet tits of yours.”

You did as he commanded, quickening your pace and truly fucking yourself on him. 

Your tits bounced, the necklace clinking with the movement. You moaned, relishing in the way his cock felt. 

He reached his hand up, cupping your bouncing breasts and letting your vigorous movements rub your sensitive nipples on his thumb. 

Your walls clenched around him. Your peak was approaching, fast. 

“That's it, love,” he groaned. “Fuck!”

You threw your head back as your peak washed over you, your pace stuttering as you attempted to ride him through it. 

He gripped your hips and rutted into you, a fourth peak closing in so soon after the last. 

You peaked, feeling his seed coat the walls of your cunt as you screamed his name and collapsed on his chest.

[thesongoficeandfir3]

The wolf, the raven and the arrow

Benjicot ‘Davos’ Blackwood x Fem Stark reader

Au, after the war and the blacks won

Warning: I don’t think so lest you count my bad writing ahahah 😔

You currently stood in the training yard of Riverrun, shooting arrows at the target up ahead. You and your elder brother Cregan, were on your way back to Winterfell from queen Rhaenyra’s coronation. The journey from King’s landing to the North was a extremely long one, so it was decided to stop at the Riverlands for a few days for rest and the opportunity to not have to sleep in a tent another day.

As you continued to shoot the arrows, at the corrnor of your eye you noticed the young formidable lord of Raventree Hall looking at you. He was leaning against the fence of the training ring,snacking on an apple while his men roughhouse around him. When your eyes locked with his dark ones, you rolled your eyes and continued to shoot. From the very first day you stepped foot in Riverrun, Benjicot Blackwood eyes would always be on you.

When you were breaking your fast or having dinner in the great hall with others you would always notice him looking at you, moments as this one when you were in the training yard, he never failed to be at some corner his eyes taking in your figure. If you pass him briefly in the halls, he was always looking at you and would only look away when your figure finally disappeared out of his sight. You two had yet to hold any real conversation as your brother was always accompanying you nearly every where you went. This time however, Cregan was busy in the company of Alysanne, something you will for sure tease him for later, alas leaving you by yourself.

Benjicot knew he’d be a fool to not use this opportunity of you finally being all alone, without your intimidating brother trailing next to you like a guard dog. As you tried to keep your attention on the task at hand, you heard the men suddenly whistle and cheer, though you didn’t turn around you just knew it was directed towards you.

You then heard the sound of a large amount of them walking away from the training yard and one walking towards you, their boots causing a squelching sound in the mud. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Lord Blackwood.” You greeted him formally though there was no warmth and friendliness in your tone not even bothering to look at him instead shooting another arrow.

“Lady Stark” he greets you back in an equally formal tone of voice, but the smirk on his face showed that he had little to no respect for formality. It was simply to mock yours. After the greeting it goes quiet, save for the sound of you readying another arrow to shoot at the target.

He snickers as you miss your shot, the arrow straying a few feet away from the target. He may not have been there for long but judging by the looks of it, you had yet to hit a bullseye.

“You really are a terrible archer, aren’t you?” He says as he takes another bite of his apple before throwing it off to the side.

“Clever of you to say that to someone who still holds the bow and arrow.” you bark back immediately.

This causes the young lord to chuckle again not feeling offended or threatened in the slightest. He still stood behind you, and little to your knowledge his eyes never left your figure and occasionally analyzing it from head to toe. He found your fiery temper amusing and couldn’t help but wonder if he could push you any more.

“I’ve never seen someone shoot this poorly… and that is saying something considering I’ve seen five year olds train with bows.” He replies nothing but pure mockery in his tone.

His words caused your blood to boil, and you quickly shoot another arrow to try and prove him wrong however, this time the arrow doesn’t even make it remotely close to the target but shoots to the forest behind.

He let out a bark of laughter, making no effort to conceal his amusement at your failure. “Are you trying to be a bad shot, or does it come naturally to you?”

You knew deep down this….he wasn’t worth it….you knew proving him wrong was a waste of time yet, your pride got the better of you. Again you took another arrow, changing your stance and ready to shoot. though you already set yourself up for failure as your stance was all wrong but you did not know it.

To be fair on your part, you were still relatively new to archery and your brother was in the process of teaching you, so you had a lot to learn. That being said, it should be another reason as to why you shouldn’t bother to try and prove to the Blackwood lord you’re not good when in fact… it mayhaps have been the truth.

As you were so focused ready to hit the target, you didn't even notice Benjicot had left his previous position, till he was directly behind you. Your breath hitched as you felt his chest pressed on your back. You could feel his heat radiating off of you, providing a comfortable warmth in contrast to the slight cold and wet environment as it had rained a few hours prior.

“What are you-“ you say with a shallow breath .

“Relax, I’m just trying to help,” He whispers, his lips hovering just over your ear. The feeling of his breath against your skin makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up in response. “First, your hips don’t need to be pushed so forward.” He says as he slowly moved your hips with his hand, guiding your body to the correct position for the shot.

Then he moves up and places his hands over your own as you held the bow. “Second you don’t need to be so tense,” he says as he leans his face even closer to yours. If you had turned your face even in the slightest you were sure your lips would meet his. You do as you’re told and with a shaky breath you relax. “That’s it, just like that. Good girl… now shoot.”

You felt a strange twist at the pit of your stomach at his words, and it took everything inside of you to not react. You finally release, the arrow goes flying and hits the target square in the center, right in the bullseye.

You gasp in shock and a smile spreads across your lips. While your eyes never leave the target, Benjicot’s eyes never left you.

He immediately noticed the soft smile on your face and found himself surprised by it. This was the first time he saw you without a scowl or frown on your face around him. He can't help but feel a bit pleased that he has managed to provoke such a reaction from you. As much as he enjoyed annoying you,he enjoyed making you smile more.

“So you are capable of smiling.” he says whispering in your ear, breaking the moment of bliss between you two.

You then realized that he was still very much hovering over you and his hands found their way to your hips keeping you close to him. You quickly elbowed him in the stomach shoving him away from you,and creating a good distance between you two in the process. Though there was a small part if you that missed the warmth.

He let out a small noise as your elbow connects with his stomach, the blow knocking a bit of the wind out of him, but despite the pain smirks. “And the she wolf is back,” he chuckles extremely amused at how fast your mood changed. “though I’d be lying if I didn’t say I liked your fiery side a bit more than your soft one.” he said as he straightened up himself from the blow.

“You want a woman with fire... go marry a Targaryen.”you say with a scoff as you leaned the bow and arrows against a post near you.

“Tempting as it is to have a dragon for a wife, I think I prefer wolves.” Even though you had assaulted him last time he was near you, he began to take steps towards you.

“Wolves eat ravens.” you said with your arms folded and stared at him as he walked towards you.

“That's what makes it fun…. the danger.” He flashes you a toothy grin, swiping his tongue along his teeth.

He continues to walk towards you, his steps slow and measured like a predator, his eyes never leaving yours.

“By the seven- you're psychotic and relentless.“

He chuckles as you comment on his behavior, not like he hasn’t heard that before. He is now standing right in front of you again, that grin still on his face as his eyes look into yours. He reaches a hand up and brush some of your hair away from your face, his touch gentle.

“And you've not seen anything yet.” He spoke out in a low tone

The way he looks at you and his gentle touch made you feel that same pool of excitement in your stomach as when he was fixing your position. To be honest you had really nothing against him , hell you don’t even know why there was ‘rivalry’ between you two but at the same time you couldn’t give in that easily.

“You don't give up do you?” You say not pulling away

“Never, not when I want something.” He leans his face closer, his lips mere inches away from yours.

“And what is it that you want?” you say relishing in the moment you get to mock him.

He continues to speak in a low, suggestive tone.

“I think you know the answer to that.” He says with a grin his eyes analyzing and drinking in all your features, as this was the first time he got to be so close to you.

And what makes you think I want the same?” You say continuing to tease him. “I'm a lady of one of the seven great kingdoms... the only daughter of the late lord stark, what do you have that other lords don’t?

“Would you like a list?” He quips back, his voice dripping with confidence.

For the first time you laugh from his words. “humor me, Blackwood”

“I’d worship your body every night and make sure to leave you breathless. I’d be loyal to you, and would kill anyone that dare to cross you. I’d give you all my attention,” he then runs his thumb on the bottom of your lip and his voice going lower “I may be a lord but a woman like you deserves to be a Queen, and I’d make you my Queen in all but name.”

You would have caved in right then and there if you hadn’t noticed your brother in the distance walking into the castle bringing you right back to reality. Your eyes flicker right back to Benjicot.

“That’s very tempting lord Blackwood but I’m not so easy to tame with mere words” you say as you leaned up and gave him a quick kiss at the side of his lips before walking to Cregan.

“I’m not ready to stop running Blackwood” you say with a laugh as you walk away.

“And I’m not ready to stop chasing you lady Stark” he replied back, his eyes again never leaving your figure. He didn’t see this as defeat but as courage to work harder.

[kittensnax]

The authors un-hidden, blatant fetish as world building and tone setting for the authors slightly more restrained yet still barely concealed ravenous desire for a club sandwich

[lordprettyflackotara]

sandman || fred weasley

smut 18+, minors dni

You lacked the capability to relax.

Being in Ravenclaw the expectations of the world were on your shoulders, not including the dementors that circled Hogwarts walls that made your skin crawl.

You had been up late studying with Hermione in the Gryffindor common room, who had already been dragged to bed by Ginny.

Clutching your quill you continued to scribble on the parchment paper, your temple beginning to throb.

“How did a Raven manage to fly into the lions den this late at night?” Fred Weasley’s recognizable voice asked you. You poked your head up from your Herbology textbook, Fred’s curious eyes watching you.

“I was studying with Hermione, she ditched me early. So much for an all nighter,” You explained, marking your page. You resisted the urge to fold the corners, placing your quill in between the pages about gillweed.

“Granger going to bed early to avoid studying? How out of character. Did you give her some of our drowsy draught potion?” Fred teased. You giggled, watching the lean quidditch player approach you. A white wife beater revealed how much muscle he truly had, his usual robes keeping them concealed.

He strode over to you confidently, taking a seat on the floor beside you. The fireplace cackled behind you, the warmth of the fire drawing Fred closer. “It’s almost three am, do you plan on sleeping?” Fred asked curiously. You knew as well as he did that he was notorious for sleeping through anything. Including the dreadful hail storm that once terrorized Hogwarts.

“I’m basically an insomniac at this point, I can’t relax for more than five seconds without racking my brain to solve an equation,” You admitted sheepishly. You nervously tucked your hair behind your ear as Fred leaned back on his hands. “Here turn your back towards me, I have some legit magic that’ll help you relax,” Fred told you. You hesitantly raised your eyebrow. The ginger tended to be a mischievous prankster, even if you weren’t a victim of his tricks.

“And you’re not going to prank me?”

“Pfft, of course not,”

“Promise Weasley?”

“I promise,”

You shifted around, your back now turned to Fred as you pulled your skirt down. You weren’t sure what to expect, acutely aware of how close you both were. Fred brushed your hair away from your back and over your shoulder, before beginning to massage your shoulders. “I thought you said this was magic,” You say timidly, his large hands massaging your skin with ease. Fred chuckled at your response, brushing some of his shaggy hair out of his face.

Merlin he needed a haircut.

“Yes this is the magic of relaxation,”

Your tense body began to slowly relax under Fred’s touch, the gingers eyes scanning your neck.

“Looks like you’re good at something other than pranks Weasley,” You say teasingly. Fred rolled his eyes. “I’m good at quidditch too ya know,” He countered. Fred could feel himself growing flustered as he continued massaging you, his eyes wondering down your figure.

“Your neck looks pretty tense, I can fix that for you if you want. I’ll just need you to turn around,” Fred offered, trying to appear cool and confident. You felt your face flush pink as you shifted around, facing him. You had never gotten a chance to interact with Fred one on one, George always connected to his hip.

The moment seemed oddly intimate, even though you had never considered relationships or sex worth your time. Yet the ginger sat in front of you with his large hands and soft lips, practically begging for you to kiss him. You had never considered yourself to be attracted to Fred Weasley, yet your body was yearning for more of his touch.

Fred couldn’t contain himself anymore, closing the gap between your lips and his. He tasted faintly of butterbeer, your eyes fluttering shut as your lips danced against his. Your arms found themselves around his neck, Fred’s hands slithering down to your waist. In a swift motion he had pulled you onto his lap, straddling him in front of the fire. Your fingers found his hair, small groans being swallowed by him as your hips bucked against his.

You could feel a wet patch growing in your panties, the soaked fabric rubbing right against Fred’s growing boner. His large hands slipped up your skirt, grabbing your ass. Your hips grinded against his, lust boiling in your stomach. “I wanna taste you,” Fred muttered against your lips, his words a confession. You felt heat rush to your cheeks as you briefly pulled away, Fred’s lips almost chasing yours.

“W-what Weasley?”

Fred brought his thumb to your lower lip, dragging it downwards.

“I want your lips wrapped around my cock as I make you cum on my face,”

His filthy words sent a shiver of arousal down your spine, right down to your cunt.

You went to unzip your skirt before Fred grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“Keep it on,” He whispered, his order teetering on the line of a plea. You swallowed as the ginger laid down in front of you, eagerly awaiting you. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” You admitted, causing the ginger to chuckle. You stood up, pushing your panties down to your ankles before stepping out of them.

“I’d be a lucky man if I were to die between your thighs. C’mere,” Fred told you. You kneeled down over his head, your cunt inches away from his face.

“Fred what if I crush-”

Your concern was silenced by Fred’s hands pushing you down onto his face. You whimpered as his warm tongue licked a stripe up your cunt before assaulting your clit. You felt your thighs tighten around his head as his hands kept you in place, your filthy noises becoming louder by the minute.

“Fuck, right fucking there,” You moaned, grinding your hips onto his mouth. His lips began to suck at your clit, causing your thighs to shake. Your eyes centered on Fred’s boner, his cock throbbing inside of his pajama pants. You leaned forward, hungrily shoving them down. The lack of boxers caused you to giggle as his cock landed on his stomach.

“No underwear huh? Naughty boy,” You teased. A sharp smack landed on your bare ass, causing you to winch in pain for a brief moment before Fred’s tongue brought you back to ecstasy.

The ginger was longer than you expected him to be. You took his shaft into your hands, bringing it into your mouth. A soft groan was muffled by your folds, encouraging you to sink your head further down onto his cock. You took as much of him as you could in your mouth, using your hand to jerk the rest of his cock.

Fred admired your determination and for a brief moment he considered switching positions, the thought of you on your knees for him mouth watering. Yet, there was something about having your pretty lips wrapped around his cock as he was buried into your pussy that pleased him more.

You tasted divine, much sweeter than any other girl he had fooled around with. He licked up your cunt, pushing his tongue inside of your hole. You were involuntarily animalistic, your hips having a mind of their own as Fred laid there in heaven.

Fred’s hips were beginning to do the same, bucking upwards. His cock hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag as saliva trailed down your chin. Fred momentarily pulled away from your dripping cunt, smirking as your juices coated his lips and chin. You took him out of your mouth, gasping for air.

“You sound so pretty when you gag on my cock. Do it again and i’ll make you cum,” Fred ordered. You tried to grind down onto Fred’s face but his strong hands kept you in place. You could feel his warm breath a mere inch away from your cunt, taunting you.

The idea of cumming on Fred Weasley’s face had never been more appealing to you.

Desperately you brought his cock back to your lips, shoving it down your throat. You forced yourself to keep his shaft in place as you gagged around him. Saliva was trailing down your chin and neck, beginning to dampen your blouse.

“Such a good listener aren’t we? What a good girl,” Fred praised, kitten licking your folds. You pulled back, inhaling deep breaths of air.

“Now be a good girl and ride my face until you make yourself cum,”

You leaned back hesitantly, gripping his chest for support as he placed his mouth back onto your cunt. It was as if he somehow had memorized your body, his tongue licking every right place. Your moans were sinful enough to wake up the entire Gryffindor house and it was a miracle no one had bothered to go into the common room.

“Freddie, I, fuck-” You groaned, a familiar knot in your stomach forming. His lips had wrapped themselves around your clit, sucking harshly at the sensitive bud as your thighs trembled around his head. His large hands kept you on his face, refusing to let you move away.

You could feel your cunt clench around nothing as your thighs began to shake, squeezing Fred’s head unintentionally. Unholy moans that were mantras of his name echoed off of the common room walls as you came. Euphoria had washed over you, your nails digging into Fred’s chest.

Fred licked and sucked at your clit until you slowly lifted off of him, your knees almost buckling as you shifted away from his face. You weakly sat beside him, your after orgasm glow apparent to the ginger in front of you. “Look at you, you’re so cute,” Fred teased, using his thumb to wipe away the remaining spit on your chin.

In a swift motion you brought your lips back to his, Fred rising to his knees. You could taste your juices on his lips as you roughly meshed your lips against his. Fred couldn’t take it anymore, pulling away to meet your gaze. He shrugged his wife beater over his head, discarding it without a second thought.

“Bend over for me, yeah?”

You turned around, bending over in front of him without a second thought. You could feel him lubricate the tip of his cock by running it up and down your folds. The sensation of it hitting your abused clit made you shiver. “You have no idea how long i’ve thought about doing this,” Fred confessed. A cool breeze hit your bare skin as Fred lifted up your skirt, exposing your ass in full to him. As he pushed inside of you his fingers gripped your waist forcefully, as if he were afraid you’d disappear.

“So full- shit,” You groaned, your eyes screwing shut as he bottomed out.

“You’re practically fucking milking my cock, merlin, you slut,” Fred groaned. Your cunt only clenched around him tighter at the sound of his degrading words, causing him to smirk.

He began picking up the pace, fucking into you slowly. Your noises only grew louder as his hips began to snap into yours faster. Fred’s thrust were merciless, his body chasing an ecstasy only you could provide.

Strings of curses mixed in with your name left Fred’s lips as he watched his cock go in and out of you. He was so deep inside of you that you almost thought you were seeing stars, your body drunk off of the feeling of his cock.

“You feel so good Freddie, so fucking- good,” You slurred, your words of encouragement only making Fred pound into you faster. His cock was abusing your g spot, causing your legs to shake as your knees dug into the carpet below you. You could feel the rug digging into your skin, making it raw which each thrust.

“I wanna fuck you everyday, make you my personal Raven,” Fred grunted. He could feel you getting closer to your final high, his hand slithering down to your swollen clit. You began to squirm as his fingers circled around your sensitive bud, unable to handle the fast circles he was drawing. “Oh- i’m gonna cum, I can’t, fuck!” You cried, your walls spasming as Fred ripped you into a state of euphoria.

Fred fucked you through your orgasm mercilessly, ravishing in the sight of you in a state of pure bliss. He was so focused on you that by the time he tried to pull out his cock it was too late, his cum painting the inner walls of your cunt. Your body was spent, slumping over onto the floor as Fred pulled out of you.

Two orgasms was all it took to get you to finally go to sleep. Fred smirked to himself as he shoved his pajama pants back on, your small sleeping body curled up into a ball in front of the fire. He grabbed your things, shoving them into a bag he knew he’d deliver to you in the afternoon when you ran into each other in defense against the dark arts.

He eyed your panties on the floor, contemplating putting them back on you. Instead a more mischievous thought came to mind, which caused him to decide to shove them in his pocket instead. He picked up your body up bridal style, carrying you upstairs to the girls dorm. Fred knocked on the door, hoping whichever gryffindor girl opened it wouldn’t be a first year.

A sleepy Hermione Granger opened the door, rubbing her eyes as her vision settled. “Y/n is still here?” She asked. Her mind was already scrambling itself on what to do, the responsibility of being a prefect weighing on her shoulders. “Yeah she finally just went to sleep, I don’t think I can deliver her to Ravenclaw tower at this hour,” Fred shrugged. Hermione stared at Fred, shirtless and hair messy. He looked like a wreck, and you didn’t look much better.

Questions were on the tip of her tongue, ones she decided could wait until the morning. Hermione knew there were a few extra beds that were designated for first years, but in emergencies they would have to do. “The spare beds are to the right, be very quiet and don’t pull anything stupid,” Hermione said sternly. Fred carried you inside of the room, ignoring the dozens upon dozens of sleeping gryffindor girls. Hermione trailed close behind him, ensuring he wasn’t up to any funny business.

“How’d you get her to go to sleep anyways? Shes practically an insomniac,”

Fred shrugged, laying you down and bringing the red colored comforter up to your shoulders.

“I’m not sure myself, guess you can call me the sandman,”

[smokesandsonatas]

I just want to see the Octavinelle trio get surprised, tongue-tied and amused because the reader is cunning.

Characters: Azul, Jade, and Floyd.

Warnings: None, just the old contract signing the Octavinelle way. First person pov. Mostly in Azul's pov. Tension (?).

Not beta read.

Shrimp Cocktail.

Apparently, it does not take a lot to amuse the Octavinelle trio. Or the story where you took a deal with Azul and it went unexpectedly.

They should learn not to underestimate Shrimpy.

Azul had always underestimated you. In his eyes, you were a mere human—a dimwitted fish floundering in the waters of Night Raven College. You lacked the cunning and intelligence of Jade, who could manipulate any situation with a few well-placed words, and you weren’t a lazy smartass like Floyd, who could memorize an entire book but discard it just as easily if he found it dull and boring. With your easy-going nature, you seemed like the perfect prey.

Well, you are the perfect prey.

Here you are, sitting in Azul’s office at the Mostro Lounge, the twins flanking you in chairs beside you. Floyd lounged with a lazy grin, manspreading on the sofa, while Jade sat, poised like a gentleman, a smirk barely concealed behind his gloved hand. Grim had been left behind at the ramshackle dorm, leaving you alone in the scammer's den. Azul could barely contain his amusement—you had just fallen into his trap, one he fully intended to exploit. You sat quietly in front of him, your face poised with a neutral expression. To Azul and the twins, you looked kind, naive—perhaps even a little stupid. They think you are an airhead. Their excitement was barely contained. They got you right where they wanted you to be. Here in Mostro Lounge, with no one but them watching over you like predators waiting to pounce and choke their prey.

"You're here for the favor of us providing Grim with food three times a day, seven days a week, for the duration of your absence with Professor Trein as the school's official photographer at an event outside Night Raven College," Azul began, his voice dripping with the saccharine politeness he used to mask his true intentions. "In exchange, you agreed that you will work for fourteen days, regular shifts, without any compensation for Mostro Lounge. I expect you to fully commit to your duties."

You nodded, hands neatly placed on your lap, a small smile on your lips. "Yes, that’s exactly it."

Jade’s grin widened slightly. You were so naive, so predictable. Pathetic, really—but there was something endearing about your earnestness. Everyone in Octavinelle liked this about you—how you walked into traps with your eyes wide open, never realizing until it was too late. You really are a shrimp, through and through. No sense of survival, no sense of fear.

Jade could feel his twin looking earnestly in you, their expression one of amusement.

You will never survive in the ocean.

"Very well then, Prefect," Azul continued, practically trembling with excitement as he handed you a golden scroll, a quill magically appearing in his gloved hand. "Sign this contract, and the favor you ask shall be yours."

You took the pen, hovering it just above the dotted line. Azul’s eyes gleamed with anticipation—just a few more minutes—seconds, and you’d be bound by his terms, forced into two weeks of unpaid labor. The satisfaction was almost too much to bear. You would be working without compensation, and Azul could even charge you for any drinks or food you will consume during your shifts!

Azul had also noticed that whenever you work, customers come flocking in! Is it because you're the famed Ramshackle dormleader? He can only suspect so. He might also have you gather more customers—all for free, technically, you are working free to him anyway.

Azul raised an eyebrow when he saw you set the pen down and lean back, that small smile on your lips widening into something sharper, more calculating.

Azul frowned.

"Azul," you began, your voice light and casual, but with an edge that made the room’s atmosphere shift. The twins noticed it too. Jade’s eyes narrowed slightly yet the smirk remains in his lips, and Floyd���s grin widened a little more as they both watched you closely—their eyes glued to you as a clear sign of their newfound interest.

Azul blinked, thrown off by your sudden change in demeanor. "Is something wrong, Prefect?"

"Not at all," you replied smoothly. "I’ve just been thinking about our arrangement. Fourteen days of unpaid work for three meals a day for Grim. It sounds like a fair trade, but then I realized something interesting."

Azul’s hand twitched slightly as he tried to maintain his composure. The contract is perfect in his eyes, all will favour him, how could it not be perfect? "And what might that be?"

You leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming with a mischievous light. "Well, the contract is almost perfect. Almost. But there’s one tiny detail that caught my attention—the meals for Grim. You’ve agreed to provide them three times a day, seven days a week, but the contract doesn’t specify the quality of those meals, does it?"

Azul’s smirk faltered, it is common sense that Grim will be given tuna in cans, isn't it? "The meals will be adequate, and his favourite tuna—"

"Ah, ‘adequate,’" you interrupted, your tone almost playful. "That could mean anything, really. Some stale bread, leftover scraps—technically, that would fulfill the contract, wouldn’t it?" You giggle, a sound so sweet it almost had the twins—in their fascination, to stand up and hover behind you. You heard a thud, no doubt it was the twins. Jade’s eyes narrowed, yet his smirk remains, replaced by a look of intrigued and amusement. Floyd sat up straight, fully intending to be by your side yet his uniform was immediately yanked down by Jade, stopping him from interfering. Floyd almost let out a hiss at his twin, though eventually he relents.

"But here’s where things get interesting," you continued, voice dropping to a near sweet tone that Azul use. "If Grim receives such ‘adequate’ meals, he might not be satisfied. A can of tuna alone won't cut it, he needs meat. A properly cooked, healthy meat seeing as he is a carnivore. He could get hungry, irritated—perhaps even cause trouble." You pout—a gesture which distracted Azul for a second as his eyes fell on your lips—appearing as meek as possible, "And as his caretaker, his henchman, I’d be worried. Distracted. And a distracted worker is an inefficient worker."

You locked your eyes against Azul's blue ones.

Azul’s eyes widened as he began to see where you were leading him. He blinked in intrigued and a mix of irritation and amusement.

"And," you pressed on, now leaning on the table, merely inches away from Azul's face. "if Grim were to get sick or cause problems because of poor nutrition, it wouldn’t just be a problem for me." You roll the scroll and use it to poke Azul's chest. "It would be a problem for Mostro Lounge. After all, you’re responsible for providing his meals, for almost a week at that. Any disruption he causes would reflect poorly on your business, wouldn’t it?"

Azul’s mind raced as he tried to find a loophole, but you had him cornered. Refusing your amendment meant sticking to a contract that could end up causing more trouble than it was worth. Agreeing to it, however, would mean committing to a higher standard of care for Grim, cutting into his profits. Twenty-one cans of tuna is not a big expense for him, but if you're to insist on nutritious meals... Well, that would cost him much more than what he intended to provide for your gremlin of a cat.

A simple overlooked in his part really, perhaps it is his fault for thinking you're one of those anemones that will blindly agree to anything without reading the fine print.

Finally, Azul forced a smile. "What do you propose, Prefect?"

You smiled sweetly, as if this were all a friendly discussion. "I propose that the meals provided for Grim meet a specific standard. Balanced, nutritious, and satisfying. A mix of tuna and properly cooked meat. A steak even. That way, Grim stays in good condition, I stay focused on my task outside of Night Raven College, and Mostro Lounge continues to run smoothly." You smiled at Azul as you lean at the table—mere inches away from his face, the octomerman can practically inhale your scent, have you always smelled this good?

"I also propose that I won't do overtime during my shifts for fourteen days, though I will not get paid, I would love it if my meals and drinks are free of charge—all within the time of my shift, of course."

You smiled sweetly at Azul—the way you don't break eye contact. It's exhilarating. It's making him sweat under his dorm uniform. "It’s in everyone’s best interest, don’t you think?"

Azul hesitated. This was not the agreement he had envisioned. His meticulously designed scheme had been dismantled by your shrewd maneuvering. We're you secretly a trickster? Appearing naive and helpless yet you are the one who catches people in your trap of being a false prey.

With a begrudging sigh, he conceded, "Very well, I’ll agree to the contract your propose. The meals provided for Grim will meet the specified standards, and you shall have the favours you asked during the course of your shift at Mostro Lounge."

You picked up the pen again, a triumphant glint in your eyes as you prepared to finalize the deal. A sweet, sweet, smile on your lips. "Thank you, Azul. I’m so glad we could come to an agreement."

As you signed the contract, Azul's sense of triumph morphed into a tumult of frustration and begrudging admiration. It's disgusting, your body language appeals to him—he knows it appeals to the twins too, given how Floyd is laughing right now, with Jade snickering beside him. You're one of the first—if not the first who had successfully turned the tables on him. It is not even a heavy contract, just an agreement for food and yet, Azul concedes to your demands. Though he suppose it is not bad, since he will see you everyday for almost two weeks. What had seemed like a one-sided victory for him had morphed into a more balanced exchange. You had come into his office alone, seemingly naive, and yet you had outmaneuvered him with words that unsettled him deeply, yet amused him greatly—jellyfishes swimming on his stomach. Perhaps during that time for your compensation he will invite you to his office so he can give you a proper assessment.

Heh, not bad at all.

Jade and Floyd had their mismatched eyes glued on your form, as you stand. Admiring the sway of your hips as you walk outside the room where nobody ever comes out as victorious as you are. You, a small shrimp, had greatly amused the twins. Unfortunately for you, Floyd hates being bored and Jade loves unpredictability—both qualities you tickled the moment you succesfully negotiated a deal with none-other-than Azul Ashengrotto.

As you left the room, Floyd let out a low, almost purring chuckle—how dare you Shrimpy? His blood is now pumping in excitement because of you. "Hehe, Shrimpy’s got some real bite, huh? This is gonna be interesting."

Jade’s gaze followed you with a newfound intensity. "Indeed. The prefect is far more dangerous than they appear. Heh, perhaps they relish the game, much like we do."

Azul was left staring at the contract, his frustration intertwined with a growing, unsettling admiration. You weren’t the dimwitted fish he had thought you were. No, you were a tempest—a captivating, unpredictable force in the waters of Octavinelle. The way you had twisted the terms of the agreement had left him both disturbed and intrigued. Your brilliance was both unsettling and exhilarating, making him realize that you were a much more dangerous fish than he had ever anticipated.

A shiver of something dark and obsessive crept into his thoughts. You had managed to turn a simple negotiation into a display of strategic dominance, leaving him with a dangerous mix of respect and a growing, unsettling fascination. The twins are no better, Jade glues you into his memory, the way you answer casually—it is attractive. Floyd is well, Floyd. He might visit you later and compliment you for outsmarting Azul!

Hehe, who would've thought you are a predator in your own right? Perhaps the shrimp cocktail is a dish best served cold after all.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

suguru’s knuckles are tainted with blood.

oftentimes, you think of yourself as supportive — supportive of him, his passions, supportive of the career he chose. you’d really, really like to think so. 

moments like these make it difficult to say that with conviction.

(he won, of course. suguru always wins.)

but his knuckles are bruised, splotches of purple and blue seeping into the skin, split and dripping with droplets of red. it smudges your palms, when you reach out to take his hand into yours; warm, trickling slowly down the valley between your fingers.

your brows furrow, in badly concealed worry. suguru notices, because he always does.

“don’t worry,” he says, voice a soothing salve to your heart. honeyed, like a coo is resting at the tip of his tongue, waiting to be let out. “it doesn’t hurt.”

he’s lying. you know he’s lying. wounds like these hurt, no matter who you are — even if you’re 6’3, all muscle, a professional boxer with several trophies under your belt. even if your hands are big enough to cover your lover’s like a warm blanket, envelop them wholly, the way he’s doing now; wiping the bloodtrail away with his thumb. even then, it hurts to bleed.

(don’t worry.)

”… how could i not?”

suguru softens. his eyes, still gleaming with the afterglory of victory, crumble with warmth, with fondness. it makes him look a bit like an angel.

his hands, meant to ground you, withdraw for a moment — one of them slipping down to capture your wrist. he leans forward, and presses his lips against your fingers, your knuckles, right up to the center of your hand. softly, chastely.

(he always does this, bends down to reach you. there’s never any need to chase him.)

”i’m sorry,” he murmurs, breath hot against your skin. forehead still damp with sweat, glistening under the dim lights of the locker room. you tuck a sticky strand of raven hair behind his ear, and he smiles. ”that was a mean thing to say.”

”it was,” you agree, gaze still stuck on the bruising.

a raspy chuckle leaves his lips. “forgive me, sweetheart,” he exhales a softened breath, leaving the ridges of your knuckles. ”i won’t tell you how to feel. just don’t want you anxious, you know that.”

”… of course i’d be anxious,” you can’t help but mutter, struggling to keep your spite at bay; lips curling down into a frown. ”you’re hurt.”

”barely,” he soothes you, massaging your hands with his big palms. you should tell him to stop, to just let his busted hands rest, but it feels too good. ”i’ll be fine. and i gave you a good show, didn’t i?”

you snort. ”a little too good…”

suguru breathes out a chuckle, and you can’t help but smile. remembering his form, his punches and jabs, the fire in his low-lidded eyes — it’s always a treat to see him in the zone, even if it leaves you sick with worry. and when he gets truly heated, sweat running down his abs, heavy pants leaving his lips in time with his dodges…

well.

it’s hard to hate it. hard not to enjoy it. even though you have to close your eyes, every time he takes a hit. 

”made you proud?” he asks, awfully polite for a plea. leaning closer, a magnet to your touch, bare thigh brushing against your own. tilting his head, with a softness the average person wouldn’t think him capable of. he’s anything but gentle, in the ring.

he’s silly for asking.

”of course,” you whisper, letting him come as close as he wants. his lips are inching closer to yours, and you say the words without thinking. it’s instinct, muscle memory, you don’t have to try. ”always. you did so well, suguru...”

a hum. low, pleased, buzzing at the base of his throat. his eyes flutter shut, smile creeping up his lips, and you know it does more for him than you’ll ever know — living up to your expectations.

”did you think i was cool?”

a breathy giggle spills from your lips. he cracks a single eye open, pouting, leaning closer still; as if the distance between you could kill him. breath ghosting against your teeth, a shiver trailing down your spine.

”’m serious.”

”of course i did,” you huff, eyes bright with laughter, lips melting into a grin. ”of course you are. pretty sure my knees buckled, once or twice.”

now he’s laughing, and it’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard — breathy and raspy, like a trail of smoke, going straight into your lungs. he closes the distance between you, then, still chuckling slightly. grinning, teeth against teeth, stars lighting up his eyes. 

your bruised up angel. 

(yours to patch.)

”let me see,” you mumble, pulling away from the clumsy kiss, fleeing from his hands at the same time. wrapping yours around his, instead; the warmth doesn’t have time to leave him. you examine his purple knuckles, once more, still leaking crimson. ”does it hurt when you move your fingers?”

he tries to close his fist, testing the limits, not quite making the cut. unfurling his fingers, one by one, with a low hum. ”just a bit… feels more numb, really.”

a crease forms between your brows. two sharp teeth digging into the skin of your bottom lip, as you mutter. “… did you already take painkillers?”

”coach gave me some,” he nods, untangling his fingers from yours — lifting just one hand up, bringing his thumb to your forehead, to smooth away the worried crease. ”i barely feel it, anymore. really.”

you wish it was enough to put your heart at ease. but it’s still restless, still trembling, puppeteered by the anxious thread that keeps it tethered to your veins. 

”… and you know i’m used to it,” he adds, smiling sweetly, hand slipping down to cup your cheek. tugging a little at your lip, silently urging you not to bite down on the tender flesh. ”you don’t care, though… do you? my little sweetheart.”

(… uh oh. he’s shifting into mother hen mode.)

you breathe out a sigh, standing up from the bench, before he can start babying you properly. unfurling your fingers from his, reluctantly, not really wanting to let go. ”i’ll clean it. c’mon.”

suguru simply smiles, tilting his head to the right, disheveled bangs following along. fully aware of his own charm, when he’s like this, sweaty and tuckered out — chest exposed, droplets dripping down his stomach, stopping near the trail of hair just below his belly button. you could do without the injuries, but he’s still lethal like this. eyes gleaming with pride, something pleased, when he notices your lingering gaze. you clear your throat, and his smile grows.

when you step away, suguru gets up too. trailing after you, like an overgrown puppy, all the way to the sink, dirty with rust — this venue is older than what you’re used to from his sponsors. but it’s fully functional, cold water spurting out the tap and running through the gaps between your fingers.

you adjust it, until it’s almost lukewarm, and put your hand out towards suguru.

he places his palm over yours.

then you bring it right under the tap. both of them, eventually, watching as the blood gets washed off his fingers and trickles down the drain — a murky spiral, muddying the clear water. you clean the wound as thoroughly as you can, with a wet cloth, without putting too much pressure on the bruising.

suguru gazes at you all the while. waiting.

he’s always been good at it.

”… there,” you exhale, a gust of anxiety leaving your lungs. the pressure on your chest feels lighter, but it’s not enough; your hands start digging through your pockets, through band-aids adorned with sunflowers, a blister pack of paracetamol, fingers curling around a roll of bandages. his very own first-aid kit, always within reach.

without you having to ask, he holds his hands out. letting you work in silence, wrap the bandage around his hand — beginning at the inside of his wrist, twice around, moving up diagonally to the bottom of his ring finger. around, around, making sure it’s not too tight, but firm enough to help. before long, both his hands are covered in cotton gauze, the bruising nowhere to be seen. you can’t help but feel better, even though you know it’s still there.

when you look up, into your fiancé’s eyes, his eyes are crinkled at the edges. he looks terribly fond.

”… thank you, honey.”

(your angel, the inside of your mind repeats. your precious boy.)

his hands radiate warmth, gently cradled by your own. his heart pumping fiercely, hot blood flowing through his veins, even below the coverage. you let out something like a coo, a caring little noise, leaning forward — tipping your head down. you press your lips against his patched-up knuckles, all of them, and you can practically hear the hitch of his breath.

you kiss him with all the care you can muster. like the wounds will disappear, if you cover them in love.

suguru can’t bear it.

”angel,” he musters, and you want to correct him, but you know he wouldn’t pay it any mind. ”look at me?”

you do. drawn to him, a flicker of light, gazing up at him through lidded eyes. he cups the right side of your jaw, and leans in close — one kiss to your cheek.

then another.

”you’re too sweet,” he murmurs, almost agonized. ”too sweet to me, i don’t deserve it.”

you should smack him for that. you won’t, though.

”… you do,” is all you say, shoulders slumping just a little, a breathy exhale slipping past your pursed lips. ”you deserve it. and your knuckles do, too.”

an amused huff of air, ghosting against the skin of your neck as he travels down. leaving a trail of butterfly kisses behind him. ”do they? after they made you all worried…”

”because someone doesn’t look after them properly,” you scoff, smiling all the while, squirming when his lips meet your pulse-point. ”don’t blame your poor hands for your career choice, they didn’t ask for this.”

suguru laughs, and you can practically feel it; his chest rumbling along, like a joyous thunderstorm.

”sorry,” he murmurs, pulling back to look you in the eye, his own sparkling with delight. ”you’re right… good thing they have you to look after them, hm?”

”mhm.”

another little breath of a laugh. he reaches for your head, fingers threading through your locks, ruffling your tousled hair with a cotton-clad hand. gently.

”well, i’m sure they’re very grateful, too.” he gives you a smile, and it burns straight through your lungs — almost piercing, in this dim corner of the room. ”we’re lucky to have you, sweetheart.”

a small grin tugs at your lips. at his praise, his attention, just the way he looks at you. suguru has a way of burning brighter than anyone else, even in a crowded room, a turbulent boxing ring. your eyes remain on him, him, him, and it isn’t just his stature, his broad shoulders. it’s his charisma, blinding, a bullet in a loaded gun — the click just before your finger meets the trigger. it demands attention.

(you couldn’t look away, even if you wanted to.)

silence stretches, unwinds, settles somewhere in the space between you. it’s comfortable, being in the same space as him, just resting idly, with his hand falling down to rest at your back. your heart at ease, safe and protected. both of you.

before long, you’re reaching for his face. peaceful, but still gleaming with something like pride, a little sticky with the residue of sweat. his chest moves, the fat of his pecs lifted up, and down, in tandem with his steady breathing. the back of your fingers meet his skin, running against the apple of his cheek. 

”… congratulations,” you whisper, soft with pride, even fiercer than what he must be feeling. ”… on another victory, suguru.”

and his eyes soften, again — inevitable, bleeding heart between battered ribs. he smiles, looking at you like you’re the prize he’s bringing home. 

”for you,” he croons. ”always for you.”

(he’s too sweet; but you already know. he always looks right at you, after the finishing blow.)

suguru leans into your touch, and puts his hand over yours, and you think to yourself that he hasn’t changed at all — in all the years you’ve known him. he’s still that bright-eyed, fire-in-his-veins kinda guy, still just as tender as he’s always been. bruised knuckles, bloodied hands, and all. when he asked you out, he made a promise to protect you — your knight in shining armour, always there to keep you safe.

you’d thought him a bit of an idealist. a romantic. 

but that’s the thing, about suguru, about everything he does. he doesn’t know how to sweep memories under the rug, how to love people without wanting to bleed for them, without tearing himself open and letting them see inside. he doesn’t know how to love in a way that doesn’t feel a little like a blow, and he keeps his promises the same way he catches a swinging fist with his palm; without trying.

you don’t think there’s a language that could hold his love. that could translate it properly.

(maybe boxing is all there really is.)

“… are you tired?” you ask him, after a brief pause, lightly pinching the fat of his cheek between your fingers. watching his nose scrunch up. “wanna go home and sleep?”

“yes, please,” he mutters, a weak smile and a soft groan. “feels like my knees are about to buckle.”

you let out a laugh, raspy with the same fatigue he must be feeling, only tenfold. “oh? what happened to the tough guy act, all of a sudden?”

“i’m always your tough guy,” he tuts, but it doesn’t sound very confident when he has to stifle a yawn in the same breath. nuzzling into your palm, like a sleepy kitten. “tough guys need their rest, too…”

a soft, sleepy grin. “especially tough guys who have been throwing their fists around all day, huh?”

“especially those, yes,” he hums, eyes fluttering shut. “those guys need some extra care.”

“i’ll have to pamper you, won’t i?” you wouldn’t mind at all. he only gives you the chance when he’s a little too exhausted to pretend he doesn’t need it. “make you tea, tuck you into bed? kiss you goodnight?”

at that, he lets out a weak scoff. cracking an eye open, a single slice of amber dye, gleaming with amusement. “extra care. not coddling, angel.”

“oh, don’t be like that,” you coo, almost letting a bout of laughter slip between your teeth. pinching his cheek, again, while he feigns a little frown. “you’re my tough guy, aren’t you? you can take it.”

a breath bubbles up from his throat, too sleepy to be a proper giggle, but dangerously close. dangerous for your heart, the adoration already urging you to pinch his cheek again, maybe bite his exposed chest a bit. he’s so cute it makes you angry. the cutest, most gentle boxer in the world.

“if you say so,” he hums, and you know he craves some pampering if he’s already relenting this early. “what the baby wants, the baby gets.”

“exactly.” your smile is so big it’s hurting your cheeks, but you can’t help it when you look at him. “and my baby wants to go home, doesn’t he?”

a huff. he can’t hide a smile, either. “ah, now you’re just upsetting me on purpose, aren’t you?”

he says that, but his hand still finds yours, fumbles for it in the dark. cotton gauze on warm skin. he squeezes it, gently, and then it’s moving again — curling around your waist, guiding you towards the exit, his jacket hanging on the coat rack. made of wool, a little oversized, even on him. he drapes it over his shoulders, dragging the zipper up to his neck.

then his hand finds your waist, again. 

when you pull the door open, cold air flows into your lungs — a tingle down your spine, the tips of your fingers, cool and crispy autumn air. the dark sky greets you, suguru’s car parked just outside. before you can even shiver, he’s tugging you closer.

“don’t worry,” he whispers, squeezing you against him, eyes rich with care. “i’ll warm you up, sweetheart. just stay close.”

he gives you another blinding smile, the lamp post above you like a halo over his head. breathtaking. your angel, your protector — your big, wooly wolf. 

suguru keeps his promises. he holds your hand, all the way through the car ride home, bandaged skin on top of yours. he melts the cold around your heart, melts all your worries away. supportive, always.

you want to be the same, for him. a pillar of support, something to lean on — a hand to hold, a roll of bandages, a rock to ground his unsteady feet. you want to be there for him, watching him shine. there to meet his eyes, when they search for yours after a narrow victory. there to give him the love he needs.

if he’s the bruise, then you’re the disinfectant.

(you’ll be there, to patch him up.)

[miam0re]

Post Workout Sexy Time | Sylus

Warning: NSFW, Semi-public sex, arms/veins/hands fetish if you squint, hitting it from the back, petnames(Sweetie), creampie, sweaty bodies, more stuff i probably missed.

Pairing: Sylus X Fem!Reader

Mia's Notes: this post is me whoring over his body, his arms, his neck- also its me coming back into writing yayyyyy! so much excitement to find the motivation to write smut again. To be honest, I forgot how I used to format my posts and went back to see my previous posts, only to get further confused with my inconsistency. I hope the horny words can make up for my lack of structure heuheu. A good 900+ words for all of you mwahh

When you agreed to accompany the boss of Onichynus to his personal boxing club, you expected to just sit on the sidelines and stare at your phone, handing him his water bottle whenever required. However, instead of having your eyes on your screen, your gaze was fixed upon the sculpted body of the man before you. He swung his arms, landing punch after punch to the poor sandbag, the thuds echoing in the scarcely populated gym. After all, how many people would come for a workout in the middle of the night? (that crazy white haired man of course)

The veins on his arms were so prominent, further enhanced by his tightened fists. How the sweat glistened and rolled down his muscular biceps, sliding down his forearm; aren’t you getting a little carried away looking at his arms? I mean, how would it feel if wrapped those strong arms around you and took you then and there? Holding you in place as you helplessly flail around trying to escape his toe curling thrusts-

“Aren’t you getting a little lost in fairytale land?” lo and behold, the man of your fantasies snapped his fingers in front of your dazed face, bringing you back from your thoughts. He chuckled as you mumbled, taking the bottle from you and having a swig of his drink. And as if it wasn’t enough that you were daydreaming about his arms; now watching drops of water slip past the corner of his mouth and trail down his jaw, the bob of his adams apple, the water creeping down where his tank top hid his body from your hungry eyes.

“Sylus.” just whispering his name with that slight horny desperation in your voice was all that he needed to shoot you a devilish smirk and drag you by the waist to the changing rooms. Your heart paced wildly as he locked the doors and pulled you further into the metal locker lined room.

You ravenously tugged at his shorts, pawing at the growing erection that the flimsy fabric failed to conceal. His tongue melded with yours, clothes being discarded left and right in an entanglement of arms and legs as you were finally stripped bare, his mouth claiming territory on your jaw and neck. Overwhelmed with the heat of his lips on your neck, you barely registered the cool metal pressing against your erect nipples, your body pinned chest first to the lockers, making you shudder audibly.

“if you keep making sounds like that, I’m not sure I’ll be able to resist being a little…rough with you.”

His caramel smooth voice made you instinctively arch your back and stand on your toes, as you’ve down countless times prior. His hands went down to securely hold your hips as he ran the tip of his cock in between your folds, gathering your wetness on his head. He sharply inhaled at your swaying hips, slowly nudging his fat tip past your tight entrance.

You thought, like always, he’d grab you by your hair and fuck into you, pushing you further into the locker. But to your surprise, one arm snaked around your breasts, and the other around your tummy, pulling you closer onto his cock. The slow glide of his dick into your pussy was heavenly, your hands finding anything to claw onto, like, for instance, the arms he had you caged with.

“I saw the way you were staring, Sweetie. Do my muscles turn you on that much?” his veins popped out as his arms tightened around your torso, making you gasp. Your nails dug into his skin, feeling his arms tense while holding you taut against his chest, hips slamming at a merciless pace. Your knees felt weak, your body slouched over, but worry not. With the kind of grip he had on your body, you weren’t going anywhere except on his dick. His chest heaved behind you, sweat dripping off his eyebrow and colliding with the drops on your glistening back. The locker room started to feel steamy from how hot and laboured your breaths were, the walls replaying the slapping sounds of thighs against thighs. You weren’t even sure you could feel the ground under your feet anymore, feeling so weightless as Sylus angled his body, allowing his dick to graze against parts of your body not unfamiliar to him.

Wet lips and sharp teeth found your neck once again, drowning out his grunts caused by your body eager to milk him with how it clenched around his cock. Calloused fingers squeezed your nipples as you squealed out his name, being silenced by him nudging your face to the side and kissing your agape mouth.

“Feels so good, Sylus. Make me…cum…please-”

Fuck, if you keep singing praise for him in your beautiful voice, how do you expect him to act sanely? How do you expect him to not brace one hand against the locker, fucking into you till his thighs feel sore and your body can barely hold on? His own mind is jumbled up, on the brink of explosion, just a little bit longer till-

“Fuck, Sweetie-”

Sylus was shaking with the intensity of his own orgasm, grinding into you and holding you in a python like hold, not letting you escape him. There was so much coming out, strings of cum ran down your thighs, puddling on the floor in between your shaking legs.

Sylus wasn’t sure if this was the only round; if your incoherent mumbles were asking for more or not. But since you’re still clutching his arms and clinging to his body, maybe you wouldn’t mind if he slowly started moving his hips again.

[romanteacism]

Knight Aemond x Princess Reader Pretense

Synopsis: An afternoon of pretense that makes Ser Aemond question all that he believes and the possibility of him wanting more than what his station is fit for. Warnings: None (yet), Aemond and Reader becoming closer, infatuation, Jealousy, Aemond Discovering Emotions, Fluff, Fake-Marriage PREVIOUS PART / NEXT PART A/N: I was giggling and kicking my feet the entire time writing this

“Sister, you’re absolutely flushed! Was lord Arthur here?” Your brother asked with a teasing grin, making you scowl at him as he sat across from you. As always, you were in the gardens of the summer palace with your sworn protector watching over your day-to-day activities, minus a second knight, much to Aemond’s relief. “Oh, shut up!” You muttered, looking upon your lap and bringing your clammed, cold hands up to your cheeks, attesting how heated they indeed were. “I’ve never seen you like this,” Your brother grinned as he poured himself a cup of tea and refiled your own cup as well. You grumbled and rolled your eyes as you urged your face to be rid of the flush that spread throughout. 

Aemond gritted his jaw. Not only did he have to suffer watching as Lord Arthur tried to engage with you throughout the whole of the morning— and you utterly besotted by every little thing he did. Now, he had to hear the recollection of events as your brother had joined you in the gardens, offering no reprieve for your knight, who was already growing tired of the thought of Lord Arthur. “Do you think he will be the one you shall choose?” You choked on your tea, and Aemond’s gaze turned lethal at your brother’s question. 

“Gods, brother— I barely know him!” You exclaimed, trying to find your napkin, but it had fallen from your lap; luckily, your knight was quick to retrieve his handkerchief and offered it to you. “Thank you, Ser Aemond.” You say and dabbed your lips. “Seriously, brother, enough with such subjects.” You say, and Aemond silently agrees as he returns to his post behind you. “You must think of your betrothal soon— you are of age, sister. Father and I are drowning in a sea of parchment, and as much as I want you to stay in our home and care, I would very much like the countless scrolls addressed to me by the eligible bachelors of the realm cease! Just earlier, I was rudely woken before the first light with a scroll marked ‘urgent,’ but it was simply a proposal for your hand!” 

You shook your head. “Why are you pressuring me into a betrothal and marriage when you yourself are not burdened by such matters? Should you not be married first? You are, after all, older than me and are set to be the next king,” You raised a brow, and your brother failed to find a response to your query, simply changing the subject altogether. “So, are you ready for the end of the summer ball?” You bit your lip to hinder your laugh at your brother’s tactic to change the subject. 

“Not quite— Theodore had accidentally ruined my gown,” You pouted, wholly dismayed by your pet cat who had used your dress as his own scratching post. “I’ve sent a raven home to ask the maids to send another, but I do not think it would come in time,” You sighed, troubled as to what to wear for the ball that would take place in two days' time. “Then go to town and have another made,” Your brother shrugged as he finished his tea. You furrowed your brows, “You would let me leave the castle?” You questioned in surprise. “As long as you bring your guards and do not run off again to god knows where.” Your lips parted, uncertain if your brother was being serious. “Truly? Do you mean it?” You questioned as he stood. “Yes, we need you looking your best for Lord Arthur, lest he becomes uninterested and leaves you to be a spinster.” He teased and quickly placed a chaste kiss on your temple before running off before you could retaliate at his jest. 

“Your hood, princess,” Aemond said, tugging at the hem of your cover to conceal your face. “Do not fret so much, Ser Aemond. All of this disguise makes them more suspicious,” You say as you walk along the town with your knight by your side. Aemond disagreed, but he stayed silent; he turned behind the two of you to ensure the other knights were still in tow and the other guards he ordered to patrol throughout the town were by their post. 

“Flowers for the lady?” A florist called at Ser Aemond by the side of the alley, urging him to take one of her bouquets. Aemond ignored the call, but you were distracted by the pretty flowers. “Ooh…” You trailed, bemused by the colorful display, burying your nose into a bouquet of lilacs. Aemond waited tensely as you made conversation with the vendor, hoping you would not be recognized. “Princess—“ He whispered, tugging at your arm as he saw the woman starting to realize who you were. “Enough formalities… would not want them to grow suspicious, would you not, Aemond?” You whispered as you turned to your knight, addressing him without formal titles for the first time. Aemond licked his lips, an odd sensation spreading through his body as you addressed him solely by his name. 

“Such a pretty girl you are… it’s a shame your husband would not buy you flowers,” The vendor suddenly sighed, rendering Aemond still in his spot. He expected you to deny such claims, but you only laughed at the vendor’s tactic of trying to sell her flowers through guilt. “It truly is a pity… before, when we were courting, he would just send me flowers without me even asking for them!  He would send them so often and in such large quantities that it turned my father’s home into a garden; even bees began to swarm it! Now, not even nagging or arm pulling would urge him to pick up a simple wildflower off the street!” You laughed, along with the woman who readily brought your pretense. Aemond just stood there, his cheeks flushed, and he felt his erratic pulse at the tip of his ears. “What happened to you, husband? Has marriage with me truly changed you?” You asked with a smile, your eyes urging him to join in your deception. 

“Come now, wife, we must get going,” He said and handed the vendor a few coins along with the bouquet he observed you liked the most and hastily took your arm to drag you to the seamstress. You laughed and yelled a quick ‘thank you’ to the woman who seemed happy enough that her most pricey bouquet was bought by what she believed were husband and wife. “That was fun,” You laughed at your pretend husband, who was too rigid as he walked by your side. “You could have been discovered, princess! What were you thinking?” He said, exasperated. You sighed and shook your head, taking the bouquet from his hand, letting your fingers brush, and you felt how cold his touch was. “What would get me discovered is your persistence in calling me princess. Come now, Ser Aemond, address me by my name, or have you forgotten it already?” You teased, but Aemond did not find the matter amusing at all— if anything, this visit to the town had made his already tense manner more austere. 

“Fine, keep calling me princess and have them discover I’m here— create a commotion and arouse more dang—“ Aemond sighed and finally uttered your name, unchained by any title. You smiled triumphantly up at him, but only an uncomfortable expression could be seen on his face as his stomach was in a knot. “You’re starting to offend me now. Am I that disagreeable that you could not even pretend that I am your wife for the afternoon?” You asked as you linked your arm with his. Aemond swallowed thickly at the question you proposed, when he did not answer because he his nerves and emotions that he always tried to conceal were starting to get the best of him, you felt dread pool in your gut. 

You stayed silent until you reached the seamstress’ shop, finally letting go of your knight’s arm. You talked with the woman who ran the shop, who as well did not know your true identity. Aemond stood by the door as you began to be fitted for your gown. “Sir, you need not stand by the door. Come, sit and have a cup as you wait for your wife,” An elderly man approached, ushering Aemond onto a seat, and he began to question if you two truly did look like husband and wife because the smallfolk readily believed and assumed such notions. 

“How lucky you are that your husband joins you with such errands; I could not even get my husband to accompany me to a simple walk along the town square!” The seamstress laughed as she measured the length of your arm. You laughed, turning to Ser Aemond with a teasing glint in your eyes as they were completely oblivious to who you were, too distracted with what they assumed to be a couple completely enthralled and devoted to one another. “Hm… it truly is rare to find such a man,” You smiled and returned to face the mirror, Ser Aemond shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he felt his heart flutter further. “Here you are, lad,” the old man offered him tea and sat next to Aemond. 

“So, how long have you two been married?” He questioned casually, trying to converse with a man who never enjoyed such things. “A—a year,” He said stiffly, sipping the hot liquid, his eye going to you, who he knew listened to the conversation even if your gaze was focused upon the fabric selection you were presented with. “Quite new— how long did you two court?” Aemond was asked, and his hold on the cup tightened as he could not dismiss the prying old man, for you will surely scold him. “Five years,” He muttered and saw the shock on the stranger’s face for the long courtship. “Her… her father had disapproved of the match— it took time to convince him.” 

“And convinced he was,” you interjected, making the two men turn to you. The old man smiled, “Lucky lad you are, such a comely wife who’s ready to defy her father’s wants— you rarely see that now. Girls are too afraid to go against their father’s order and have themselves disowned.” The man sighed, and Aemond stilled as you approached. “Better to have love and be destitute than be miserable with a dowry,” You shrugged. “What color do you think, husband? The pink or the cream?” Aemond licked his lips as you and the man expectantly looked at him, waiting for his response. “The cream, wife,” He answered, urging himself not to stutter as he was finding it harder to breathe with each moment of your pretense. “Very well, if my husband says to pick the cream, then I shall wear a cream-colored gown,” You smiled further and returned to the seamstress, giving her the preferred fabric of Ser Aemond. 

When it was time to settle the payment, Aemond stood beside you by the counter. “Could it be finished by the morning after next? We could pay more,” You say, and the seamstress eagerly nodded. “Of course, and what name should we place when it is collected?” She questioned, making Ser Aemond nervous, for he himself could not think of a pretend name. “Seraphina,” You pretended, and Aemond hindered his confusion to show how effortlessly you thought of a name. 

When you exited the shop, Aemond could not restrain himself to ask the question in his mind. “Where did that name come from?” He questioned, confusing you for a moment. “Seraphina?” You asked as you two walked arm in arm to the outskirts of town where the royal wheelhouse waited. Ameond nodded, and you shrugged, “I’ve read it from a book before, and truthfully, that is the name I would want for my daughter if I ever have one,” You say, taking another whiff of the bouquet Ser Aemond bought for you. “Our daughter, you mean?” He asked, gathering the courage to join you in your pretense fully. Your eyes widened, and a laugh escaped your lips as you tore away your knight’s armor— a rare grin on his thin lips that made your heart beat faster. “Yes, of course,” You laughed, still keeping up with the charade that was wholly easy to do.

When the ball commenced, Aemond was no longer glued by your side but rather at his true place, which was by the distance— a mere knight guarding his princess. He stood by a pillar a few yards away from you, but he could still hear your voice, listening to your conversations. “Look, Lord Arthur is to approach— sister, your cheeks are already blushing!” Your brother laughed, making you roll your eyes and pinch his side. In truth, a blush no longer crept up to your cheeks, not even when Lord Arthur invited you to dance or when he placed a kiss on your knuckles. 

Aemond stood on his post with his jaw gritted tightly, and his hand clenched around the hilt of his sword. The lord pulled you flush to him, and the song began. He watched you dance around with the lord with the gown he had helped pick and with the flowers he bought for you, adoring your hair— his mind straying to the afternoon where you and he were husband and wife to sedate his mind and preoccupy him from the truth that a mere knight like him would never deserve a princess. 

Taglist: @anukulee @ladyriverasafespace @rebeccawinters @gayfiretruck @bellarkeselection @eraenaa

[nowanderers]

xavier x reader —ੈ✩‧₊˚

warnings: smut, oral (f! receiving), thigh fucking, cum on panties

wc: 1.2K

tagged: @luckylittlepaw

artist note: i needed a change of pace after what i wrote for sylus. ones written for the other men can be found here.

things did start off innocent. 

you’d both planned for a nap, drained from last night’s mission and the 2 am return home. you’d both yawned through the afternoon. declarations of sleepiness passed both of your lips— though for xavier that’s typical. 

those sleepy intentions died the moment his cock poked your ass. your bedroom, now anything but a quiet environment suitable for sleeping. the incessant squeak from your bed frame and xavier’s light gasps overshadow the swishing of the smooth bed sheets beneath your frenzied movements. 

warm puffs of jagged, short breaths tickle your bare skin as you feel xavier’s head rest against the back of your neck. caught between two strong arms, you press your hips into him while he ruts against you. his cock feels hard and heavy tucked between your plush thighs. the fat tip firm as it rubs along your damp, thin lace panties in wanton need. 

he’s holding you close to his chest so lovingly– contrasting the depraved way he rolls his hips. when xavier’s pace picks up your body floods with more heat. you pant in dire need of cold air to fill your lungs, feeling parched. skin on fire under the thick blanket that conceals you both. tearing it off, you shiver from both his teasing cock and the cool air nipping at your skin. your sweaty bodies stick together like glue as you move in tandem. you push back into him, hips tilted as you chase after the tiny ghosts of friction that torture your clit. pussy undeniably sopping wet with need– ready for more than this.

xavier’s gentle hands move away from your waist in favor of touching your stomach. his fingers softly caress their way to your chest, sending a flurry of energized butterflies straight to your cunt. he covers your tits with his large hands and he gives them both a squeeze that has your eyes rolling back. he’s close. his slowly bruising and ravenous grip on you is the leading indicator.

the man only ever got rough with you minutes before cumming. his fingers dig into your skin as he uses your chest as leverage while he fucks your thighs. every sound he let out sent you reeling. his labored breaths build until he’s moaning so softly in your ear. the wet slide of his cock between your legs becomes sloppy as his hips buck and stutter into a desperate rhythm. you feel the heat against you before you realize he’s cumming. spurts of his cum hit your thinly clothed center and you mewl from the hot sensation. he ruins the sheets and your underwear, smearing his load all over the lace fabric.

eventually, xavier’s breathing evens out. you’re still snuggled together in the middle of your bed, cum trickling down your thigh. “what happened to feeling sleepy?” you ask with a lazy smile stretching on your lips as his arms coil around your waist. he kisses along your neck and draws you closer into his hold– as if he could get any closer to you at this moment.

“i couldn’t sleep,” he answers simply, voice dulcet as the words brush against your skin. shifting, he lets go of you while he continues further. “i read somewhere that helps.” 

you feel the mattress dip and you turn to see him moving farther down your bed. “what are you doing?” you ask, catching his attention. finding your cluelessness kind of cute, xavier smiles and reaches for your hand, giving it a tender squeeze thereafter.

“helping you fall asleep.” 

xavier settles between your legs without another word. he gives your hand another loving squeeze before leaving it to lie alone on top of the cold sheets. your gaze follows his movements as he adjusts you until your thighs flank either side of his head. 

pretty, glacier-blue eyes gloss over your body with a fleeting glance before lingering on the messy scene at your entrance. his steady hands spread your legs wide, exposing more of you to him. sticky and cum soaked, your panties clung to your center. they outline your pussy so hotly that his eyes burn with desire. slowly, he slides the fabric to the side. you watch with bated breath as he leans down and licks a teasing fat stripe through your delicate folds. he sighs against you, saturating your dewy pussy with his spit as he repeatedly drags his skilled tongue through your cunt. he groans at the taste, pausing to savor the sweet essence on his lips before diving back in for another lustful lick that has your toes curling.

xavier doesn’t do the same thing long enough for you to get used to it. he flicks his wet tongue across your clit before sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth, teasing every nerve ending on its surface. after he pulls a string of shaky moans out of your chest, he slides the warm muscle all across your pussy, cleaning up every bit of your wetness with the eager slurp of his lips. enjoying himself, his eyes fall closed and he releases a peaceful hum that strokes all the sensitive points within you. he laps at you keenly, trying to work out what you needed most– the answer was all of it.

with every deep, lingering lick across your slippery wet cunt, you sink further into a bliss so heavenly. warm, fuzzy, and gingerly carving you out from the inside. 

xavier has such a sinfully drawn-out way of eating you out. slow, sinuous, but impactful, like he had all the time in the world. he moans against you, languidly shaking his head back and forth along your folds while he sucks your clit between his lips, tongue flicking against it in his mouth. 

“oh.” you whisper.

he always got this into it. the sensation ravaging your body with every sound that’s muffled into your cunt. his fingers bite into the skin at your thighs as he presses his face closer, using them as handles while he sloppily makes out with your sweet pussy. he groans again, rendering you speechless. all you can do is shake loose the mangled syllables that catch in your throat as his mouth pushes you closer to the edge. the sounds flowing past your lips want to be words, instead settling for half-formed pleas and whines that stretch on into oblivion. 

xavier brings all of his focus to your throbbing clit, swirling his tongue around the aching bud nonstop while you hold his head firmly in place. you can’t help but cry out as his ministrations successfully shut your body down. a couple of deliciously rough licks later, your cunt trembles through a gushing wet orgasm– lips framing his name through a debauched noise that’s hard to categorize. loud. uncontrolled and erotically charged. the love child of a moan and a scream.

you’re walked through your high by the subtle drag of xavier’s tongue. the heat of it ebbs and flows, coursing beneath your skin before all the raw pleasure in your body fizzles out. until you’re left with this mind-numbing sleepiness that has your eyes half-lidded. 

you remain splayed out, breathing through deep inhales and exhales while he lays soothing kisses along your inner thighs. his lips travel up your torso and across your chest. even now, you can feel the emotions that he’s able to wake up within you with each kiss he presses into your skin. you smile weakly at the love that flourishes in your chest. the thick blanket from before covers your body once more. 

one last gentle kiss is placed on your forehead and soft words that you can’t discern barely reach your ears. far too sleepy as you near the precipice of a phenomenal nap.

[shaisuki]

my regrets and joy || bully! satosugu

SERIES MASTERLIST

content warnings noncon, dubcon, angst, talks of abortion, lots of crying, nanami and haibara being the best to reader.

notes finally updated this.

synopsis the reason you decided it's payback time.

weekends after a long dragging week of exams, chasing deadlines and activities is your motivation to continue and push through the week. the promised of resting and a time for yourself where you can snooze through the late afternoon. instead you're waking up on a saturday morning at a bed that doesn't belong to you.

the softness and the scent of sandalwood and bergamot lingered in the bed where you lay. the smell of fresh linen also tinting in sheets. it was dead giveaway that you weren't anywhere near in your dormitory where you shared it with a roommate. posters of different genres of anime you liked are plastered in the walls along with a small bookshelf and your nightstand in your small room. here, it was devoid of any personal touches.

you softly wince when you stretched your body. the familiar aching of muscles and the stinging of bruises and teeth marks decorating your plush body. the smooth texture of the sheets doesn't soothe you from the bruises they made. you slowly moved your body. sitting in a upright position and that seems to worst. the place between your legs is where it hurts the most considering they were insistent on fucking you on both of your holes. you ignored the soreness and went to reach for the bag you brought with you.

rummaging through the contents of it and failing to notice suguru's presence looming at the door of the bedroom. holding a glass of water for the guest they have for the night.

“good morning, princess.” geto said, spooking you off and accidentally gripping the blister pack of your birth control pills. the crunching of the foil covering the gridded pack resonates in the room and it doesn't escape suguru when you put back whatever you're holding in your bag.

he places the glass in the nightstand before joining you in bed. placing himself behind you and he wraps his muscular arms around your round stomach. “continue what you're about to do.” he orders and you slowly reach out for pills you concealed to him earlier. he didn't say anything but you feel his steely gaze following your every move. he didn't even say anything when you revealed what you were holding as you pressed the content of it to pop the pill. there in your palm rests two colored pills. you always take two when something happened like this and since the two won't bother to use protection when fucking you and you won't risk of a pregnancy that you don't want.

there is only what your peripheral vision can do. you don't even make the current expression suguru plastered on his face. tentatively you slowly brought your palm to your mouth and swallowed the pills before grabbing the glass of water and taking a drink from it.

the raven colored haired boy remained silent. humming as he buries his face to your neck and inhaling the natural scent of your body. “geto? can i go back to my place now?” you ask unsure. your heart beating fast and there is a reverberating sound tingling in your skin where his lips are pressed. his hold in your stomach tightens and it started to hurt enough to form bruises. “eager to go back like you have a choice.” he whispers. nibbling the shell of your ear and that snaps something inside of you. “that's why i'm asking for permission.” you snarl. quickly regretting that and suguru raises a brow at you. geto hums.

“someone's a little irritated this morning.” he whispered. his large hand came to cup your jaw, squishing it hard and forced you to look at him. “an attitude this early, careful.” he warns. his voice holding such venom in them that's enough to paralyzed you. “yeah and then what?” you challenge to him. you shouldn't be playing fire but you were so pissed that he still decided to toy with you and you're dying to go back to your own place. away from them and it looks like they're still not contented from tormenting you.

geto stares at you. trying to suppress a smile threatening to curve on his lips from the scowl that is currently plastered on his face. he likes you demure and always so pliant however when you run your mouth like this, challenging him for a fight that you can't win, it always made his cock twitch and fuck, he could get used to this.

it fills you with dread doing something like this. you can't help it sometimes and it felt good being able to stand up for yourself and be brave, if you only were that in the first place when they started to make your life miserable you shouldn't have ended in this situation, in a bed where they forced you to lay and have their way to you.

“oh, what's this?” gojo muses. interrupting the little scene unfolding before him. it was always fun to see geto being worked up. almost breaking his usual cool demeanor over something trivial and putting up with your bratty behavior when you mustered some courage and you look so scrumptious this early morning. wearing one of their shirt from the night before. your soft belly are pressed against the tight fabric. your big thighs are squished together making them look bigger than they already are and your chubby cheeks are crushed by his best friend's hand and that terrified look from your face. it's simply amusing.

“shut up, satoru. this one ought to be taught a lesson. get your ass here if you want to join.” geto snapped at him and he didn't need to be told twice.

“wouldn't miss that, suguru.” gojo chuckles and he's now behind you. licking your now naked round shoulder. your back pressed against his naked body. “we did breed you a lot yesterday and all that fucking, you still have the strength to be cranky this morning. perhaps it wasn't enough.”

then it happened like it always does.

“there's no chance for me to be pregnant, doctor. i was in a two-day coma after overdosing and i was on the pill. isn't people especially for those who are pregnant lose their babies after overdosing?”

the doctor in front of you coughs to clear his throat before speaking up and you pull your sweater closer to you. feeling colder as the minute passes by. it didn't help that you started to hate hospitals and meeting with doctors but just to erase your doubts and put your mind at ease for the sickness you were experiencing the months, you decided a professional would help and you wished you didn't.

“i understand your concerns, miss. being on the pill is a highly recommended protection against pregnancy however contraceptive methods aren't a hundred effective and regarding to your history of overdosing, as much i don't want to say it, it is what most people call as a miracle.”

a miracle.

you want to throw every curse word you know at the doctor in front of you but instead you take a deep breath. collect your thoughts and listen to whatever knowledge he can conjure to help you. suggesting to take a second opinion and order more tests to be thorough but you have heard enough and you don't want to stay any longer at that cold, grey office.

flowers pushed through the earth. decorating the ground with their bright colors and the soft breeze flowing through the little botanical garden gave you a sense of peace and sanity that keeps you at bay. you can't even think of single thought. deeply fixated on the flowers sprouting in the ground and only to be trampled by being stepped on.

you want to be angry but you can't bring yourself to be. the weight of the confirmation hasn't settle down for you to let hell loose. to think that you were finally free and you celebrated too early for it lead you to this. why even you're far away from them still they manage to get their clutches to you?

“—(y/n).... (y/n)?” you broke out in your trance after the call of your name coming from haibara. a concerned smile if offered to you and you let out a small smile. “are you okay?” he asks you worriedly. “yeah.” you lied. haibara doesn't need to know. you bothered him long enough with your burdens. “okay, shall we go home now?” the brunnete beams at you and you followed him in the parking lot.

the ride to the place where you moved out is silent except for the song playing in the radio. haibara hums to the beat of it which made you smile but it falters when you remember what happened at the doctor's office.

there's no denying of it. you were really pregnant and the symptoms were consistent. you choose to be blind like you always does. afraid of what the outcome and the suspicion that you really are pregnant came true but why? of all the times you took those pills and being in the verge of death. it thrived and survived the ordeals your body had gone through. telling you that it wanted to home in your body and it was meant to be but were you going to be bad if you don't want it or was it the world telling how bad you are in your past life and this is your punishment. a life filled with suffering so you can atone for all the since you have committed.

nanami couldn't quite grasp the way how your thoughts run. some days you were you. a regular woman of your age with hobbies and dreams to aspire with a smile that you can get through whatever hardships that is thrown at you. he was filled assurance that you were starting to be yourself after that accident. when you started to smile bit by bit and some days you were distant. a stranger with no direction in life. drowned in a ocean of your problems. sinking in the depths of black, murky water with no intention of surfacing up. forever in the darkness.

he knows you too well and since the night and the day you woke up from what he wished was only a nightmare. he spent the rest of his days knowing you. of what a person you are in your broken shell. in your walls built up high that he patiently climb for you to trust him and it rewarded him you. the real you.

haibara have been babbling for the last minutes and nanami never left his sight at you whereas you find him staring intimidating you didn't even bothered to tell him to stop and there wasn't a smile on your lips while haibara talks. you always find his friend's antics endearing and you always listened to him. laughing at the little details but now, you weren't. your eyes a little dead and your attention is occupied with the gears turning inside your head.

nanami clears his throat trying to get your attention and it work. your lips in a tight line after realizing haibara was talking and your weren't listening and that's what he took the opportunity to ask you a question. “how did your check-up with the doctor go?” and nanami regretted asking you that question when your eyes widen and your lips tremble. blinking furiously to fight the tears and shaking your head off. it was like digging a buried bad memory and he just brought it up for you to face.

“i-i don't want to tell you both about it.” your voice shaky and then a tear drop fall from the corner of your eye. “i burdened you both since the day you helped me and i'm ashamed for all the trouble i have caused.”

nanami was about to say sometimes when haibara interrupted him. “no!” he retaliated before muttering an apology for raising his voice then continued. “don't say that! you're not a burden and it's not like you wanted to be in this situation. you were a victim.” he says and that made you to cry harder.

“the doctor told me i'm pregnant.” you revealed and nanami and haibara's eyes widen. although on nanami's part he knows it. he suspected but never confirmed it since you were fine and it will be you who knows the changes happening in your body. “oh, (y/n)....” haibara wistfully says and then crashes his body to yours to hug you. the kind of hug that a friend will give you. “do you think we'll change just because you are pregnant? sshh. don't say anything and just cry it all out. nanami and i will support every decision you'll make.” haibara looks at nanami and they both exchanged looks. you wouldn't have to go through this alone. you have them.

true to their words nanami and haibara kept their promise to take care of you and supported your decision that you were keeping the pregnancy cause it was there and the child is already growing inside you. as much as possible you avoided doing what a expecting mother did. it was already enough that your growing belly is a proof of your pregnancy but you still took care of it. you didn't bother to take an ultrasound to know the gender of the baby. it's already painful that you're going to be a mother to a child conceived by its father who forced you.

you didn't need a reminder but haibara insisted. he was documenting the whole duration of your pregnancy. a camera he brought is already filled with photos of you with him and nanami. window shopping at the baby's section in malls. nanami massaging your feet while you sat with a bowl of your cravings in your hand. haibara baby proofing the apartment you have. you crying in front of the television. hormones you said and haibara laughing at you. nanami cooking for you with his sleeves rolled up and a apron tied around him. you and your swollen belly in months and the next photo is you having two babies cradled your chest in the hospital bed.

twins. you have twins and in the most rare of cases you conceived two babies with different fathers. it was evident. a crown of hair in their heads. a white hair to the younger twin and a black hair to the older twin.

you didn't accept them right away when you first heard the cries after a excruciating birth you have to go through. cause that cries belongs to children whose fathers laid waste to your being. who destroyed you but in a glimpse of their scrunched up faces crying, a serene kind of calm washes over you. these children of yours are innocent and shall not suffer your wrath and regrets because they were made of ill intentions towards you.

they were healthy. the doctor said. strong and loud cries of babies meant of good health. they cried and cried until they were given to you. little bundle of joys. that's what they are called and you don't want to call them like that. considering you wished for their demise during one of the times of your pregnancy that may be they would change their minds and slip out of you. these are your children now and you would not wish harm for them. they are yours to protect and to love.

“what will be the color of your eyes, kenji?” you coo at the newborn in your arms. his white hair incredibly fluffy and doing the same to the other newborn of yours whose hair color is the same as his father. you wouldn't dare to call nor speak of their names to your children. they don't want to know that they have a father like them. “how about yours, yushin?” you continue to ask them like they can understand you.

of course, it would like the same as theirs. hours from now they will open and show the colors of their eyes that resembled them. not only in the color of the eyes but also the features they have. in the next weeks it will show. the faces you loathed so much but you convinced yourself that it is your children. they may look alike but they will never grow up to be like them. you were raise them to be kind and strong. who will value the feelings of others as much they value theirs.

“mama loves you both.” you whisper and kissing their foreheads. you would show that you loved them for the years to come.

not only they grew up alike, their behaviors started to show similar to them. yushin is a calm child while kenji, his little brother younger than him for a few minutes is a wild child. always demanding your attention and is clingy. cries when you show the littlest of attention to his brother and you would soothe yushin's pouts after giving his little brother the attention. you loved them equally but to yushin's eyes you love his little brother more and that pains you.

at the tender age of three, yushin seems to quite understand how the world works similar to his brother but ignores it as long he have you. sleeping soundly in your arms while his older brother stares at his younger brother. yushin stares right up at you. “sleeping.” he says. pointing to the younger twin in your arms. you nod. “that's right, yushin. kenji is sleeping.” you said to him and he imitates you nodding.

you put kenji in the room and after putting him to his bed. you directed your attention to yushin. patting his head in a affectionate manner. your child melts at the gesture and he slowly descends to sleep and then you put him besides his brother.

you wonder how long you can protect this peace. sooner or later you will have to face them. lately fate is slowly intertwining your life with theirs and you were afraid what will they do if they were to find they have a child with you and you fear it the most. you didn't fear for yourself, you feared for your children.

it was time to strike back. you'll finish what they started and it would be the end of all. you will live your days with your children and see them grow up. it was decided. you're going to fight now in your own ways.

this time they won't know what's coming for them.

taglist: @missakward123 @lupitalove @i00bear @socialanxietyvictim @tourmalxine @labelt-san @ghostlyworld @kashxyou @chiiiiiiiiiiifuuuuuuuu @cute-sucker @skii-high @boyimjustaloserforyourlove @jossayuuu @bubblesandsand1-0 @ply4vnce @witchymermaid12 @luna-v-roiya @mariyumemi @sinfullygay @higurumapet @kvk6433gkcigv @s-j320 @bts-skz @imcreepininyourheartbabe @hazzelle-kento @cashcadaver @n1vi @kiruupon @vebbiewuzhere @its-princessmara @ssetsuka @unicornqueen05 @idkwhattfimdoinghere2 @sunnytyun @tomriddles-wh0re @ya-mamaaaaa @wateriswhatiam @red-writes @saltyladyflower @greyclouq @bahurani @lovayle @okayiamkassandra @sealikesushi @sanzuandmikey @spicana @luvsymai @uniquenicefangirl @ushijimaschubbs @lansy-4 @aesonsgirl @eggieshiteru @jellibean2018 @uchihabucketlist @sunaemoby @cupidscourt @divinedolliebun @rottmntrulesall @mmeharuno @sleighter @haesify @desperadaparasapagmamhal @ichikanu @daytej @0honeylemonade @definetlythinkimanalien @thulhu @mastermasterlist1p1

[shorthaltsjester]

something that downfall has me thinking about again is the fact that the dawnfather and the matron of ravens both conceal their true faces in their appearances; with the light of the sun and with a blank mask, respectively. the only time we’ve seen those concealments fade is when they’ve each chosen to reveal themselves to a champion of theirs - pelor with vex and the matron with vax. and it’s so interesting now having these mortal avatars be a different kind of concealment but also maybe a more blatant honesty — when vex’s eyes adjusted to see more than just the bright sun, she saw the face of a soft and kind man and ayden is a kind young boy, fighting for his family with an imperfect shield. when the matron took off her mask in front of vax, he saw the face of a cold and sad woman and emhira is distant and ill-fitting, even among those meant to be her (forcefully adopted) family. i am always so enthralled by the way that the expanding history and stories of exandria slot into love with one another in poetic and compelling ways but the way every piece of info about the gods feels simultaneously like a revelation and like it’s info that has always been within the story, just hidden from the audience is truly mind boggling to me.

[mitchellnman]

Always Hungry.

MDNI.

PAIRING: Martin x reader

WARNINGS: pwp, mentions of bruises and scrapes (martin) pussy eating. Reader is afab, but there's no gendered pronouns or use of y/n. Hastily written, no beta reader we die like victorian children.

WORD COUNT: 942.

A/N: Hi hello I haven't written a fic in 2 years but Martin made me crawl from my grave please enjoy!

—

Martin's room smelled like incense. Cheap incense, bought online with a holder that made the smoke look like a waterfall. Martin only burned the incense to cover up the smell of sex and sweat, in case the landlord came knocking. It mostly worked, unless you pulled back the blankets on his bed. Then, it was all him, musky and heady and sweet, and you, more or less the same.

He was feeding his skink some blue worms, to match his blue eyes, and the blue candy that poked out from between his lips. He smiled. Martin always smiled when his skink ate, her blue tongue flicking out. She was a silly little creature, lacking a few brain cells, but cute nonetheless. More importantly, she seemed to like you, when you scratched under her chin, or held her little hands with your fingertips. Martin liked it too.

He was shirtless, only in a pair of black jeans that hung low on his hips. You followed the curve of his spine with your eyes from under his hair, down to his waist, and further down, his pants only halfway covering his perfect ass. He was covered in bruises, scrapes, and what you supposed you could call rope burn, from seatbelts digging into his skin. He was beautiful in a nihilistic sort of way, as if Chuck Palahniuk had specialized in paintings instead of novels.

You pushed away from the wall you were leaning on as you watched him, unable to resist touching him anymore. Your cheek brushed over his shoulder, fingers tracing up his sides. He smelled like you, and like sugar. His jaw flexed as his tongue rasped over the candy. Your hands moved up his back, cold fingers on warm skin.

Martin set the skink down in her tank and turned around in your grasp. He regarded you for a long moment, his eyes piercing as he tried to read your mind. You had half a mind to tell him everything you thought. His fingers cupped your chin, and tapped your lips. A wordless request for you to open your mouth. You did, and he brought his lips to yours, pushing the blue raspberry candy into your mouth. You kissed around it, your senses overwhelmed by the artificial flavor. Blue raspberry, what was it, really? Certainly nothing that occurred in nature.

His black hair fell around both of your faces, shielding you from the sunlight that was streaming in through the window. He made an obscene moan, and pushed the rest of the candy into your mouth with his tongue.

"Finish it." He whispered. His blue tongue darted out, and licked your lips. He smiled, a devilish thing that could only mean sin was on his mind. With that knowledge, you took his hands, and walked backwards to the bed. Your thighs hit the mattress, and you fell back. Your tongue pressed the candy to the roof of your mouth so you didn't choke on it.

He descended upon you like an animal, ravenous after starving for days, his hands pushing your shirt up over your ribs. His blue tongue darted out and licked your skin, teasing for only a moment. Then he bit down, nipping at your stomach with that same grin. His large hand squeezed your crotch, concealed by a pair of his sweatpants. His palm pressed against you, slowly massaging you through the fabric.

Martin sucked a mark into your skin, below your belly button. His head dipped down further, sniffing at your crotch, his nose pushing against your clit.

You smiled, and your hands found a home in his hair. It was a little greasy to be sure, but it was soft on your fingers, and he moaned so sweetly when you tugged on his dark locks.

His clever hands tugged your pants down around your ankles, and he didn't give you a moment to breathe. How could he, when you were the best thing he'd ever tasted? Vaguely, he wondered if he could make a candy that tasted like you.

His tongue swiped over your clit, and you shivered with want. Your thighs pressed against his cheeks as his head dipped lower, intent on devouring you.

"Martin," you gasped. "I have to go to work—"

You could feel him smile against you, his breath hot against your cunt as he laughed.

"Should have thought of that before..." He teased, utterly merciless. He pushed two fingers inside of you with ease, still slick from last night, and this morning. In fact, he could still taste himself inside of you.

Your back arched as he found your sweet spot with a practiced ease. Your hands curled in his hair, and the moans he made sent vibrations straight up your spine, like a low bass played from a quality speaker.

He coaxed you to your peak, and you came with a loud cry, your vision going utterly white with previews of heaven. He held you in place as you thrashed, a large hand pressing into your thigh.

When you opened your eyes again, his head was on your stomach, cheek resting against your skin. Martin was smiling, obviously pleased with himself. His nose and chin were shiny with spit and slick, his chest pressed against your core, just enough to keep your body thrumming.

“Call out. Spend the day with me.” He said. His fingers traced over your skin, drawing nonsensical patterns, writing invisible sheet music that only made sense to him.

“Martin…”

“Please.”

It was hard to resist him. Him with his blue lips, and shiny chin. Him with his black, messy hair. You sighed, and admitted defeat.

“Fine.”

[gothicminxx]

Sylus x Fem! Reader

CW: Mention of injury and blood, yandere Sylus, slight cameo from Xavier, no use of Y/N, Sylus calls you doll.

In honor of Sylus being released I couldn’t help but write about his man. Kicking my feet, giggling, and blushing.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*

He patiently stood on a janky roof with rotting wood. The stench of mold wafting in his nostrils and the pouring rain only amplified the unpleasant aroma. Thick evergreen trees concealed his looming figure, a perfect spot to watch through the eyes of his raven that perched on its own tree a few miles west. Calmly the bird observes a figure that has since piqued his interest in every lifetime. A peculiar soul that has only ever belonged to you. Though a rare and delicate rose like yourself intrigued three others. Tragically, you were not his alone.

Unbeknownst to you, he watched you often through various objects. A curious raven or strange crimson robotic eye in the sky— those times he had gotten careless, you caught him on occasion, not that you knew what the object was. He could not help it, you simply intrigued him. The vain of his existence being in every lifetime you would interest him. Such a pity.

Shamelessly his raven watched as you stood deep in the forest. Your jeans were dirty from mud splattering on the material, your leather boots were caked with a mixture of mud and grass, and your clothes clung to your body— soaked to the bone in pouring rain. But the weather conditions appeared to have little effect on you as you continued to run through the muddy terrain. Your eyes stared intently at your hunters watch, Sylus could only assume you were after a wanderer, “What a persistent little thing.” He chuckled to himself.

You were stubborn and oftentimes a bit too arrogant for your own good, especially when it came to combat. You refused to follow orders, going into the forest alone in search of a wanderer far out of your caliber. But your partner was nowhere to be found— you were never the type to wait around. Even if the task at hand was presented as dangerous, in the name of justice you sought to protect. “Such arrogance.” Sylus hummed, observing as you puffed your chest, and bared your teeth like some sort of wild animal to a wanderer triple your size.

Besides being arrogant, Sylus would also describe you as being reckless. When your adrenaline levels were high you barely thought with a coherent brain. This got you into trouble more than not.

With an overconfident stride you lunged forward with your sword, slicing the wanderer enough to earn a shrill shriek of pain and fury. A cocky smirk appears on your features as your sword is struck in its skin, piercing at its flesh. The wanderer growls in response, clearly growing agitated with the injuries it sustains from the blade of your sword. You were a fierce warrior, Sylus would commend you for that. But he knew the rating class of the wanderer in battle with you currently.

The wounds on the wanderer began to heal, its anger towards you palpable, and yet you refused to surrender as you raised your sword once more. Before you could strike, its massive foot made contact with your body, a yelp escaped your lips as its claws penetrated the flesh of your thigh. Within seconds the wanderer flung you in the air causing you to crash against a tree. You gasped for air as oxygen was deprived from your lungs, eyes wide in fear, and a hand reaching out as if to claw at the tree— practically begging for a savior.

Sylus prepared himself to intervene— this had gone too far. But when his crow squawked, he halted from rushing to the scene. A flash of pure radiant white light caught his attention. The beam was blinding that it almost resembled the welcoming embrace of an angel— utterly captivating.

Flashes of colors from the rainbow soon intertwined with the white beam creating a beautiful show of light. Sylus could hear the wanderer screeching a haunting melody within the wall of colors, meeting its demise, he could only assume.

Seconds passed and the noise dissipated into the unknown, alongside the glittering rays of color. The crow titled its head curiously to a tuft of white fluffy hair kneeled beside your body, concern evident on his face.

He wore a classic hunters uniform. Perhaps he was the missing partner that got you into this predicament. His azure eyes studied his surroundings for a moment to assess any present danger. When he found none, he tended to you. He carefully aided you back on your feet, holding your chin in his gloved hand to examine your face, “Are you okay?” His gentle voice asked.

Still bewildered from the previous battle you blinked a couple of times, slowly nodding your head as if processing his question. There was an aura of familiarity between the both of you. You allowed him to touch your skin to check for further injury. He was tender with you, as if you were a fragile porcelain doll that could break if touched wrong. Sylus could only grimace at the interaction, balling a scornful fist. The man was one of the three, Sylus knew this to be fact, he’d seen an exchange with the two of you before. Though, this one was much different than the last time. He no longer appeared to be a stranger to you.

The milky haired man frowned, placing a wet strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture felt over protective and affectionate, “It’s too dangerous for you to be out here alone.”

Sylus took note of the sparkle in your eye when you looked at him, the demure smile that flashed across your lips at his concern, and slight nuzzle against his palm. He was as important to you, as you were for him. There was a twinge of jealousy that tightened his chest, he should be the one touching your skin. He had to remind himself that the time would soon come. Sylus meticulously crafted a plan to insert himself into your life.

“You never showed, I couldn’t just wait.” You shrugged nonchalantly, it was almost comical to Sylus. You were near death’s doorstep for a moment, and acted as though it was merely another day in the office.

“I was trying to assess the danger myself,” The man sighed, “You could have been killed.”

“I’m okay, Xavier.”

It was evident you were far from okay. Traces of blood scattered your cheek due to small scratches from the tree. There were lacerations on your thigh from the wanderers' sharp claws, deep crimson blood now stained your damp pants. Xavier scowled, “You’re bleeding.”

Before you could retort, Xavier picked you up, “Let’s get you somewhere warm and cleaned up.”

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺

Sylus sat on a plush leather couch, his fingers tapping impatiently on his lap. The time is finally here, the lamb has entered the lion's den. Naively you drank his offering even if you were warned of possible dangers— your ego was still intact. Your persistence to find answers was admirable to him, but in the end it would come with a price.

A knock rang on the cherry wooden door before opening, “The prey has been caught, sir.” His assistant informed with a bow.

He smirked, finishing off his whiskey, and sauntering toward your location. The black liquid you drank earlier, was spiked with sleeping pills to make it easier for them to capture you. He couldn’t take any risks, you were a fighter afterall.

Sylus reached a large metal door with two of his men guarding the entrance. They gave him a nod as the door opened. He walked inside, noticing your body sat on an uncomfortable metal chair, your hands and legs were bound to it. You appeared to be groggy as your eyes wandered around the room— clearly confused by your new surroundings. “Ah, you’re awake.” Sylus stated.

His baritone voice caught your attention as your body stiffened the closer he got to you. Sylus could sense the immediate tension, your jaw clenching not going unnoticed by him, “Who are you?” You asked, your voice going up an octave as if you were preparing to shout at him.

He walked circles around you, practically sizing you up. In this moment you looked like a helpless little doll, which was different compared to the fierce and reckless warrior he knew you as. “Sylus.” He responded simply.

Sylus kneeled in front of you, his crimson eyes studying your every feature. You were much more beautiful than he anticipated, he was used to seeing you from afar that this level of proximity made his heart hammer in his chest. He understood the decades of intrigue from the three others and his own. A true enchantress that drove him mad with obsession. “Why am I here?” You snarled.

Your tone made him chuckle, “As I asked before, will you become the hunter or the hunted?” He tapped against the chair, “Seems you were hunted.”

“Are you some sort of pervert?” Your voice is full of contempt.

He shook his head, “No, nothing of the sort. You see, when you enter the N109 zone, there are no rules. We made a deal, you should have listened to your friend when he told you to tread carefully.”

Sylus stood on his feet, checking his watch to appear bored of the conversation. But you fascinated him, more than you could possibly understand. Currently as you sat captured there was an aura of defiance. A man as intimidating as himself did not shake you with trepidation; it was almost— thrilling.

For a moment your eyes widened in realization of your earlier conversation with Rafayel and the drink you accepted, “I only care about receiving intel.” You scoffed.

He placed a slender finger under your chin and tilted your head up to meet his scarlet eyes. A shiver ran up your spine, the sound of your breath catching in your throat made him lean in. “You’ll receive your intel in due time.” Sylus whispered, “But you’ll play by my rules, doll.”

Now that Sylus finally obtained you again, he’d make sure it was forever. He was never good with farewell’s, this time it would be different.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*

[funniestbitchinfaerun]

Bg3 companions and what vintage fashion era I think they belong in based on vibes only

this post brought to you by my degree in costume design

Gale: with that hair he can only be from the 80s. Remember that Miami Vice guy with the white suits and pastel shirts? Gale would think he looked so cool in that fit but would be an obvious nerd anyway.

Shadowheart: 90s-early 2000s goth. she would wear those spaghetti-strap velvet dresses and chunky black platform boots. she was Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way before Ebony was.

Lae'zel: 1940s. Partly because of the militaristic nature of githyanki culture and partially because i think she would look so gorgeous in one of those Women's Army Corps uniforms with the little hats. Give Bae'zel a little hat.

Astarion: 1930s but specifically in the way of those British guys from Noel Coward plays who hang out in velvet smoking jackets all day.

Wyll: 1920s. I'm talking three-piece suits, Gatsby style. Long cigarette holder. Wingtip shoes. Doing the Lindy Hop all night. I'm swooning just thinking about it.

Karlach: Gives me serious late-70s punk energy. She needs a beat-up leather jacket with Ramones and Blondie pins and the ripped-est jeans ever. Hair can stay exactly the same.

Halsin: This one's easy. Late 60s hippie. Homemade tie-dye, flower crowns, Birkenstock sandals. Possibly one of those suede fringed jackets.

Minthara: Also 1930s in that slinky Joan Crawford femme fatale way. She'd rock those bias-cut evening dresses and fur coats. Don't worry about how she got those diamonds during the Great Depression.

Jaheira: 80s mom vibes. Her high-waisted jeans and shoulder-padded blazers conceal her superspy badassery.

Minsc: 1950s greaser in the wholesomest way imaginable. Don't fight me on this. Boo has a tiny leather jacket of his own.

[pin-k-ink]

Oh my god, I love your writing and your blog is so beautiful !!! And I have a request 😭😭 can you write a Illumi x reader again? I read the last one, and it was amazing.

confluence // illumi zoldyck

tw ⇢ illumi kidnaps you (somewhat), mentions of prostitution, mentions of injuries, possessive behavior, imprisonment(?), strong sexual tension, hand job, nipple play, unprotected sex, marking, teasing, pussy job, praise kink

wc ⇢ 6.4k

a/n: the first part is really unnecessary but i like the fact that illumi is unhinged enough to actually kidnap someone just because he wanted to

The worn velvet curtain swept aside as Hisoka sauntered into the dimly lit parlor, his lips curved upwards in a sly smile.

"Ah, there's my favorite," he purred, catching your gaze from across the room. A leaden knot formed in your stomach at his presence.

You watched apprehensively as another figure emerged behind Hisoka - a tall, lean man with dead eyes and raven-black hair. Even from a distance, an aura of danger radiated off of him in waves. This was Illumi Zoldyck, you realized with a spike of trepidation.

"Mr. Zoldyck here has requested your...attentions for the evening," Hisoka practically leered, reveling in your discomfort. "I'll leave you two to get acquainted."

With a wink, he melted back through the curtain, leaving you alone with the renowned assassin. Illumi's hollow eyes slowly raked over your form, betraying neither interest nor repulsion. You felt like a slab of meat being appraised.

Swallowing hard, you managed a coy smile - the mask you had perfected to conceal your disgust. "Right this way, Mr. Zoldyck."

You led him through the rabbit warren of shadowed hallways to one of the private chambers. Every nerve ending prickled with unease at having this deadly man at your back. Once inside with the door closed, you turned to face him fully.

"How would you like to proceed?" you asked with practiced confidence, reaching up to slowly unlace the front of your dress.

In a sudden blur of movement, Illumi's hand shot out and wrapped around your wrist, stilling your movements while his other arm snaked behind your back. You gasped, stunned by his speed and proximity as his intense gaze bored into you.

"That won't be necessary," Illumi stated flatly. "I have no interest in pursuing sexual activities."

You blinked rapidly, his words slowly registering. A tiny coil of relief unfurled within you, though his vice-like grip kept you wary.

"Then...what am I here for?" you asked carefully, studying his expressionless face.

Illumi simply stared for a suspended moment before releasing you without a word. He moved to take a seat in one of the plush armchairs, resting one ankle on his knee as if getting comfortable for a prolonged stay.

"You may do as you wish," he stated dispassionately. "I simply require a quiet space away from prying eyes tonight."

His dead-eyed gaze drifted off, seeming to look straight through you. Utterly perplexed yet not eager to provoke him, you opted to keep to yourself. You passed the long hours in tense silence, stealing furtive glances at the unblinking assassin from time to time.

As dawn approached, Illumi stirred abruptly. Before you could so much as flinch, he crossed the room in a blink and hoisted you over his shoulder in one sinuous movement. You yelped in surprise, too stunned to struggle as he easily maneuvered your dead weight down the halls and out a back exit.

It wasn't until the brisk morning air hit your face that you found your voice. "Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere your...services will be permanent yet underutilized," Illumi replied cryptically as he strode on with disturbing speed and purpose.

The next thing you knew, you found yourself inside the imposing walls of the Zoldyck estate - prisoners of this strange assassin's whims.

You spent those first few days at the Zoldyck estate in a state of constant trepidation. The sprawling manor felt more like an inescapable fortress, with its towering walls, openly armed guards, and whispers of unspeakable secrets lurking around every corner.

Illumi had unceremoniously deposited you in a small but serviceable room, seemingly tucked away in one of the more reclusive wings of the estate. When you tentatively explored the adjoining bathroom and closet spaces, you found them stocked with basic necessities - soap, towels, simple clothing. It was clear this would be your new permanence quarters, for better or worse.

The first few nights, you slept in fits, jolting awake at every creak and groan of the ancient manor settling around you. You strained to listen for any sounds that might indicate Illumi's movements, your heart pounding at the mere thought of that cold, calculating predator roaming the same halls.

Finally, after nearly a week of self-imposed isolation, hunger and thirst pangs drove you to creep from your room in search of sustenance. You discovered the small kitchenette and pantry just down the corridor - clearly meant for your use, separate from the main household staff's facilities.

And so you settled into an understanding of your new role - a quiet, unseen shadow to keep this secluded wing tidy in Illumi's absence. For he was frequently away on jobs that would take him from dawn until dusk, according to the rhythmic comings and goings you deduced over the following weeks.

At first, fear gripped you whenever you sensed his presence upon one of his returns in the dead of night. You would freeze, ears straining to catch any sound that might betray which direction his silent footfalls were taking. Only when you heard the telltale sound of his chambers door opening and closing would you allow yourself to expel the pent-up breath.

Gradually, however, Illumi's routine became enmeshed in your own - an inescapable constant to which you acclimatized like rainfall to a drought-ridden land. You knew when he was home, when he was away, when he paced the halls in twilight like a specter plagued by insomnia.

True to his word, he never once made overt demands of you or behaved with anything more than cold disinterest during the rare occasions you caught glimpses of one another in passing. You were simply...there, serving your unclear purpose of being his secluded personal maid.

So the weeks blurred into months of solitary mundanity, your only duties being to dust, tidy, and keep Illumi's living quarters spotless while he came and went on his lethal missions. You weren't quite a prisoner, yet neither were you free in this dimly lit limbo of the estate's forbidden wings.

Until one night, when the haunting rhythm was shattered.

The shadow fell across your face, rousing you from fitful slumber. Your eyes flew open to find Illumi standing over your bed like a wraith manifested from the darkness itself. In the dim glow filtering through the curtains, you saw the dark splatters that coated his skin and clothes - unmistakably blood.

You jolted upright, mouth opening in a silent gasp as Illumi's penetrating stare bored into you. He said nothing, made no movement. Simply stood there with his blank yet demanding eyes fixed on you, as if issuing a voiceless summons.

Trembling, you forced yourself out from under the thin blankets, bare feet finding purchase on the chilled floor as you faced him fully. Up close, you could see the vivid streaks of crimson painting his porcelain features in macabre patterns. Whatever he had endured this night was beyond the scope of your imagination.

Illumi's eyes finally shifted, silently inclining his head in a subtle beckoning gesture. Throat constricting, you gave a hesitant nod of understanding. He turned and swept out into the hall, ruby footprints stippling the floor in his wake.

You wrapped a robe tightly around yourself and followed, your heart thundering with uncertain dread. He led you to the bathroom adjoining his sleeping quarters, the walk feeling like a funerary march.

Once inside, Illumi simply stood in the center of the room, awaiting your next move with an inscrutable deadness in his lifeless eyes. Gathering your nerves, you busied yourself drawing a hot bath, the rush of steaming water loud against the tomb-like silence.

From there, it became a ritualistic dance of sorts - you meticulously undressing him, peeling away each bloodstained layer until he stood before you in unvarnished vulnerability. His pale, lean-muscled body was a sprawling canvas of old scars and fresh lacerations made apparent.

Illumi stepped into the tub without preamble, lowering himself into the sudsy depths as more tendrils of red unfurled and bloomed across the water's surface. You found a cloth and bar of soap, kneeling beside the tub to gingerly begin wiping away the gore.

He held himself unnervingly still, that hollow stare fixed forward as you worked. You tried not to let your hands linger or trace the topography of his wounds. At least not at first.

But as more of the viscera was gradually sluiced away to reveal the sheer scope of his injuries, you couldn't help but let your fingertips ghost over the mangled flesh with a strange sort of morbid fascination.

You lost track of how long the two of you remained in that surreal, atavistic tableau. Illumi a gargoyle being ritualistically bathed, while you played priestess in undoing the night's violence carved into his body.

It was only when the bathwater finally grew cold and clouded that the spell was broken. As you wrung out the cloth one final time, you risked a glance up at his face and found Illumi's unblinking gaze piercing into you with...something you couldn't quite place.

A silent, infinite moment passed as that indescribable energy stretched to its fever pitch between you. Until finally, a shuddering breath escaped your lips, severing the connection as you felt your skin prickling with an irrational warmth.

From that night forth, his comings and goings grew more erratic. There were long stretches where Illumi seemed to rarely if ever depart the estate. You couldn't be certain, but his constant presence felt deliberate - as if he were now lingering by design.

And in turn, he began summoning you for minor, seemingly trivial tasks around his quarters or even his personal grooming. Requesting you dress gashes that would have been well within his capabilities to handle alone. Insisting you draw his bathwater at certain times, then dimissively dismissing you before actually bathing.

It was all highly mercurial and charged with some underlying tension, yet you remained thoroughly unable to discern its purpose or source. All you could deduce was that Illumi seemed to subconsciously crave your presence now in ways he did not comprehend himself.

So you resigned yourself to simply following his scant demands - becoming increasingly indispensable to him despite the ambiguities shrouding it all. Because in spite of everything, you could not ignore the enthralled fascination that had awakened within you that fated bloodied night you helped unmake his psychic scars.

The pungent tang of copper lingered thick in the steamy air as your hands glided over the taut plains of Illumi's back. Rivulets of diluted crimson swirled away with each firm stroke of the damp cloth, yet his body remained awash in a thousand miniature lacerations.

You worked with the same practiced meticulousness you had honed over these ritual bathings - a silent, meditative task allowing you to commit every meticulous angle and depression of his musculature to memory through touch alone. Illumi remained statuesque under your ministrations, seemingly unaffected by the intimate contact your fingers inevitably made.

Until a sharp hiss escaped through his clenched jaw as you inadvertently grazed an especially deep gash along his ribs. Illumi shifted infinitesimally, prompting you to freeze mid-motion, the washcloth hovering just above that inflamed, lacerated skin.

"My apologies," you murmured for what felt like the thousandth time, awaiting his silent dismissal of your accidental infraction.

Yet this time, Illumi showed no signs of waving away your concern. He simply remained still and tense as a tightly coiled knot of corded muscle flexing beneath his pallid flesh.

Tentatively, you resumed the motions of cleaning that particular wound, handling the area with featherlight caresses until you deemed it sufficiently clear of clotted blood and grime. All the while, Illumi held himself in a rigid line, the sound of his tightly controlled breaths the only accompaniment to the rhythmic lapping of bathwater.

Once you finished, you found yourself unwilling to withdraw contact completely. Almost of their own volition, your fingers traced upwards in a slow glissade, following the stark cords of Illumi's obliques, his abdomen rippling beneath your touch as you went.

There was an undeniable electricity now thrumming through the humid air - something visceral and primal you refused to put a name to. You became arrested by the motion of your own hands roving those slick, tensed contours, deviating from any sense of pragmatic purpose.

A ragged exhalation shuddered through Illumi's form as your meandering caresses drifted dangerously close to the waterline, the subtle motion enough to elicit a reaction. At last, he spoke in a low rasp that somehow cut straight through the dense miasma enveloping you both:

"You are...exceptionally thorough in your duties."

The jarring sound of his distinct timbre instantly snapped whatever unseen forces had lulled you into such an overt trance. You snatched your hands back as if burned, heat blossoming across your cheeks as you averted your gaze in a swirl of shame and embarrassment.

"My apologies, I...I don't know what came over me," you stammered, wringing the cloth futilely as you willed your heart to stop pounding against your ribcage.

Illumi uttered no reply, leaving the space between you suspended in weighted silence and unspoken tension. You chanced a sidelong glimpse to find him staring at you in that same unreadable way, his glassy eyes seeming to take in every nuanced shift in your expression.

Just as you felt you might suffocate under that penetrating scrutiny, Illumi finally broke away, levering himself up from the tub with elegantly economical movements. You instinctively scrambled up, backing away to give him space and turning to grab the nearest towel to offer.

He accepted it wordlessly, toweling off with those same dispassionate, methodical strokes you had so intimately catalogued. But now, you could not allow yourself to so much as let your gaze linger overlong as he wiped away the last vestiges of water from his lithe, sinewy form.

Nothing more was said between you. No dissections of how the evening's events had escalated towards that deliriously heated pinnacle where boundaries nearly dissolved between you.

Illumi simply moved to exit the bathroom on those silent footfalls of his, leaving you surrounded by the swirls of dissipating steam with only the too-loud pounding of blood in your ears as company.

Yet the unspoken undercurrent persisted from that night on. A charge now existed between you - electric, intoxicating, something unquantifiable that spoke to primal yearnings.

And you could no longer ignore the precipice you teetered on each time Illumi's penetrating gaze found yours, nor the dangerous thrills that sparked through your very marrow whenever his pale flesh brushed against yours.

It was maddeningly exquisite torture to be allowed such proximity to this beautiful, lethal creature while maintaining professionalism. But the tantalizing allure of that forbidden craving only grew more insistent with each passing rendezvous.

Until that tension felt fit to detonate you both into an explosion of unfettered need, consequences be damned.

You sat cross-legged on the floor of Illumi's chamber, deftly mending one of his torn shirts with a needle and thread. The mundane domesticity of this task allowed you to sink into a semblance of calm focus amidst the ever-present hum of tension surrounding him.

The soft splashing of bathwater from the adjoining room acted as a metronome, letting you know Illumi was nearby as he went about his evening ablutions. You tried not to visualize the rivulets cascading down those chiseled contours you had so intimately traced in the past.

A sharp prick to your finger snapped you out of your wandering reverie with a muted yelp. A bead of crimson welled up from the pinprick, eliciting a sting. Before you could so much as reach for a towel, a sudden flurry of movement materialized in your periphery.

Illumi appeared before you in nothing but a towel hastily cinched around his waist, still glistening with errant droplets. His expression was as unreadable as ever, yet his eyes burned with an intense, predatory focus zeroing in on the smear of red now adorning your fingertip.

"You're injured," he stated flatly, as if this mere scratch necessitated such urgency.

You opened your mouth to protest, but Illumi had already captured your hand in his calloused grip with one eerily fluid motion. He raised your wounded finger inexorably towards his face, those flinty eyes never wavering.

A shudder you didn't fully understand rattled through you as Illumi's lips parted. Then his tongue slowly, almost reverently, swiped across the bead of blood with one long, deliberate stroke.

You felt your breath hitch at the utterly bizarre, disturbingly intimate gesture. Yet Illumi seemed entirely absorbed, holding your finger hostage as he proceeded to lave away every last scarlet speck with an unflinching focus.

Only once he was apparently satisfied did he finally release you, his gaze darkening with something you refused to identify as he studied the flush creeping across your cheeks.

In one effortlessly fluid motion, Illumi exerted his superior strength and leverage to propel you both backwards until you landed amid the disheveled bedding with a breathless huff. You gazed up at him straddling your waist with an expression of pure shock rapidly morphing into confusion and apprehension as he loomed above you.

The weight of his piercing stare held you transfixed like a moth ensnared in a spider's web. You wanted to protest, to decry how utterly wrong and incomprehensible this situation had abruptly become. But your voice caught in your throat at the first flickers of blatant intent you'd ever witnessed stirring behind those depthless black pools...

Until finally, something akin to panic short-circuited your paralysis. You managed to wrench yourself somewhat free, shoving against Illumi's solid weight in a desperate bid to disengage before...before whatever other forbidden boundary he seemed primed to obliterate occurred.

He permitted you to dislodge him this time, rocking backward into a seated position beside you with that same unnatural poise and composure. As if your breathless scuffle amounted to little more than shifting atmospheric pressure.

Illumi held your flustered gaze for a torturous eternity, neither of you daring to move or speak. Until at last, he extricated himself from the bed with eerie grace and retreated from the room in silence, leaving you in a frantic tangle amid the tumultuous wake of his upheaval.

Several days had passed since that heated encounter where boundaries were nearly shattered between you and Illumi. An agonizing silence lingered in the estate's halls as you avoided one another, equally unmoored by the events.

Until you were summoned to Illumi's chambers once more in the dead of night. You steeled yourself before entering, chest tight with apprehension over what awaited you.

Illumi sat shirtless on the edge of his bed, eyes finding you immediately with their haunted intensity. Your breath caught as you took in the jagged laceration slicing across his collarbone - a nasty wound clearly requiring medical attention.

"Attend to this," he said flatly, though his tone seemed to hold unspoken layers beckoning you closer.

You gave a small nod, throat constricting as you gathered the suture kit with shaky hands. Medical instincts took over as you positioned yourself between Illumi's parted knees, feeling utterly exposed under his unwavering stare.

With practiced motions, you began cleaning the area, unable to ignore the contours of his toned chest rising and falling with each steady breath. You tried not to dwell on how close his lips were, how the strands of his raven hair brushed your cheek as you leaned in.

A tremor ran through you as Illumi's hands settled firmly on your hips when you went to start stitching the wound. His grip was searing even through the thin fabric of your clothes as he seemed to pull you infinitesimally nearer.

"You resisted me, before..." Illumi's low rumble reverberated through you both as you stilled under his touch. "Yet you don't withdraw from me now. I find you...confusing."

You could only manage a shaky exhalation, overwhelmed by the strain of this delirious proximity and the weight of his stare boring into you.

One of Illumi's hands drifted up, calloused fingers trailing over your clothed ribs until curling beneath your chin. He tilted your face up to meet his lidded gaze, now burning with unveiled yearning.

"What is it you want from me?" His words were a low rasp as his thumb traced the seam of your lips.

You trembled under his scrutiny, rendered utterly powerless by the smothering force of his presence. Illumi seemed to study every hitch of your breath, every subtle flutter of your lashes as his palm slid around to cup the back of your neck possessively.

He leaned in until you could feel the whispers of his exhalations ghosting across your parted lips. When he spoke again, his gravelly timbre shot straight through your core:

"Because I find myself...consumed by this insistent need to have you near. Yet I don't comprehend why it torments me so."

A wounded sound escaped you at the molten admission laced in his words. Illumi's grip tightened fractionally, keeping your faces just a fracture apart as his free hand roamed along the curve of your waist.

"Tell me..." he growled, lips catching yours in an electrifying caress. "Tell me what you want."

That final thread of propriety snapped as you succumbed fully, crashing your lips against Illumi's in a searing, desperate kiss. He responded with unleashed vehemence, devouring you as he insistently turned you around until your legs hit the mattress.

You went tumbling down with Illumi's weight covering you in one fluid motion, mouths clashing with reckless abandon. Everything burned with frenzied urgency as his calloused hands gripped and roamed possessively over your prone form.

Illumi pinned your body to the mattress in a frantic tangle of limbs and bruising kisses. His weight was searing, muscles rippling with tightly leashed intensity as he straddled you. You writhed helplessly beneath him, hands roaming over the grooved scarred planes of his back urgently.

Without preamble, Illumi captured your wrists in one large hand and slammed them above your head. His other hand tangled mercilessly in your hair, forcing your head back as he bared your throat to the onslaught of his teeth and tongue.

Between the harsh nips and sucking kisses, he rasped out in a low growl tinged with feral possession: "You're mine...have been since I claimed you from that cesspool."

A whimpering moan escaped your lips at the dark resonance of his words reverberating through you. Your limbs went pliant under their spell as Illumi asserted his dominance with deliberate rolls of his hips grinding his hardened cock against your core.

"The others aren't aware of what's mine," he rumbled with casual vehemence, releasing your wrists to impatiently rip your clothes away.

Soon you were laid bare before his smoldering gaze, trembling with heady arousal as Illumi feasted on the sight possessively. The calculated divesting of his own garments seemed to heighten the frenzied craving fogging the chamber.

As his nude form draped over you once more, he husked against the fevered skin of your neck with gravelly intensity: "That's why I keep you apart...hidden from prying eyes and undeserving hands..."

You shuddered full-body at the predatory promise laced in his tone. Illumi responded by capturing your lips in a searing, devouring kiss, seeming to savor your quiet sounds of desperation in the back of his throat. One hand anchored your hip in a bruising grip as he ground himself against your slick entrance with honed restraint.

"Since that first night bathing you in my sins..." he rumbled darkly, nosing along your jawline and inhaling your maddeningly tempting scent. "I've been consumed by this all-devouring need to have you unravel for me alone..."

Illumi's words dripped like dark honey into the hollows of your very being, setting every nerve ending ablaze. He captured your mouth once more, drinking in your needy, desperate moans as his tongue slid against yours languidly.

Your hips arched off the mattress in an unconscious bid for more friction, the head of his cock now poised at your entrance. Illumi released a low, rumbling groan, breaking the kiss to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

"Say it," he growled, the guttural demand vibrating through you as he teased your dripping folds. "Let me hear you admit who owns you..."

You couldn't stop the keening cry that tumbled out of you at the sheer need throbbing through your veins. A sob wracked your frame as you surrendered to the exquisite torture, arching desperately beneath him.

"Please, Illumi...I'm yours, only yours," you gasped, fingers digging into the corded muscle of his back.

His answering growl was almost inhuman as his mouth crashed against yours once more, his tongue delving deep with unbridled hunger. In one smooth thrust, Illumi sank to the hilt, stretching and filling you completely.

You moaned into the kiss, trembling beneath the solid weight of his form as he began rutting into you in a relentless rhythm. It was all you could do to cling to him, your nails leaving crescent moons along his taut, scarred flesh as he pistoned his hips with growing fervor.

"That's it," he gritted out in a rasp, one hand tangling roughly in your hair as he held you firmly in place. "Let me see your pretty little face fall apart for me alone..."

The filthy praise elicited a shuddering moan from you, sending a new wave of heat blooming through your veins. Illumi's mouth captured yours again, his kiss ravenous and demanding as he fucked you harder and deeper.

The room was filled with the obscene sounds of skin on skin, mingling with the litany of breathless moans and gasps tumbling from your lips. You were completely unraveled for him, a mewling, panting mess beneath his expert ministrations.

"Something as beautiful as you… was never meant to be tarnished by another's touch," he grunted, the primal possessiveness of his words sending a surge of white-hot pleasure through your core. "You belong…only to me."

You could feel your impending release building, coiling tighter with each stroke of his cock buried deep inside you. Your nails raked down the hard planes of Illumi's back as his pace quickened, the bed creaking in time with his powerful thrusts.

"Cum for me," he rasped, the gravel-edged command sending you toppling over the edge.

You cried out as you came, waves of blissful ecstasy crashing over you in relentless pulses. Illumi fucked you through it, his rhythm stuttering as his own release approached. He groaned, the guttural sound vibrating against your skin as he found his own release, spilling inside you with a few final, erratic thrusts.

Your breathing slowed as the euphoric haze gradually lifted, Illumi's weight pinning you deliciously. He pressed a tender kiss to your temple, the unexpected gesture making your chest ache.

"Mine," he whispered against your skin, his lips trailing over the pulse fluttering beneath the hollow of your throat.

You awoke slowly, surrounded by the musky warmth of tangled sheets and the lingering fog of satiated bliss. As awareness gradually filtered back in, you became acutely conscious of the male weight anchored against your back, skin searing everywhere your forms touched.

Carefully, you shifted onto your side to find Illumi already awake and observing you with heavy-lidded intensity. He was propped up on one elbow, raven hair tousled in artful disarray that somehow only enhanced his aura of dark, rugged beauty.

Those fathomless eyes of his seemed to roam possessively over the exposed canvas of your body, taking indulgent inventory of the fading lovebites and crescents from his grasp that now bloomed across your skin like lurid floral tributes.

"You're awake," he stated in that low, disarming rasp that somehow held multiple implications.

You managed a tremulous nod, mesmerized by the aristocratic slant of his features and the exquisite musculature that comprised his lean and powerful frame. The dim morning light sluiced him in a warm glow, accentuating each grooved indentation and ridgeline.

"Your wound has reopened," you murmured without thinking, entranced fingers straying to ghost along the inflamed gash marring his collarbone.

Illumi's gaze followed your perusal with banked intensity, clearly taking note of the concern etching your features. His hand rose to ensnare your wrist in an implacable grip before guiding your knuckles to brush over the seam of his parted lips.

"Then you will need to attend to me again," he stated with an indecipherable undercurrent as punctuated each word with an indulgent sweep of his tongue over your captive skin.

A shuddering breath escaped you at the molten flashes his ministrations ignited along your nerves. Illumi responded by dragging you flush against the sultriness of his bare chest until his viselike arms fully enveloped you in their corded strength.

"See to drawing a bath," he commanded in a rugged timbre that brokered no arguments, even as his lips trailed searing, openmouthed paths along the column of your throat.

"While you seem so eager to care for my...needs."

Those last words were a depraved rumble you felt thrumming through your very marrow. Any semblance of objection instantly dissolved into pliant, smoldering acquiescence at such undisguised desire.

With great effort, you managed to extricate yourself from the delirious haven of Illumi's embrace, pulling on his discarded white undershirt to seek out the adjacent washroom and begin running the steaming tub. You moved through the familiar routine of drawing a steaming bath for Illumi.

Soon the spacious tub was filled with steaming water perfumed by fragrant oils. You turned to find Illumi's imposing, battle-carved form prowling in behind you - a great Renaissance sculpture of clenched muscle and primal masculine power exuding dark covetous intent.

He stepped into the tub without preamble, powerful body submerging amidst the lapping ripples. Illumi held your gaze firmly as he settled back against the curved rim, a clear unspoken directive kindling between you.

Swallowing thickly, you reached for the plush cloth and fragrant bathing soaps, lathering until the lavender-scented lather frothed luxuriantly. With utmost care, you began sluicing the rich moisture over Illumi's exposed torso and shoulders.

He remained unmoving and silent throughout your reverent ministrations. Only the intense weight of his watchful stare and subtle shifts of powerful musculature beneath your administrations gave any indication he wasn't carved from stone.

As your attentions trailed lower down his abdomen, Illumi shifted his hips subtly to allow better access. Those sable eyes glinted with banked smolders, studying each minute reaction flickering across your features.

"Keep going," he rasped in a low gravelly timbre that pulsed straight through your rapidly thrumming heart.

Throat constricting around a shuddering inhale, you mutely complied - allowing the fragrant lather and purposeful sweeps of the washcloth to tease along Illumi's sculpted 'v' line and curly, unkempt pubes below the water's surface.

Illumi's intense regard remained unwavering even as you gradually skirted lower down those powerful muscles, movements growing more sensuous and tinged with unrestrained yearning. Inch by torturous inch, your hands ventured downwards, awaiting his dark approval with bated breath.

"Lower," he rumbled thickly, giving himself over to your ministrations with subtle bucks of his hips and languid reclines that only enhanced the eroticism of the act.

By the time you finally reached the base of his erection, you were trembling, skin feverish and flushed with desire. Illumi's eyes held a dark, primal gleam as he watched your hands roaming over the straining, veiny skin.

A low groan reverberated in the back of his throat, the sound shooting straight to your core. His hand suddenly shot out to clasp your wrist, guiding your motions along the swollen length in slow, deliberate strokes.

"You enjoy serving me," he rasped, watching your face intently as he fucked himself into your hand.

Illumi's other hand wrapped around your waist, effortlessly maneuvering you into the tub to straddle his lap. Your heart thundered at the suddenness, the scalding water sloshing dangerously near the rim.

Yet Illumi's commanding presence dominated the scene - the dark, smoldering depths of his gaze and the iron-barred muscles flexing beneath you as he continued thrusting his cock into your palm.

Your His shirt stuck to you like a second skin, transparent and revealing the hard peaks of your nipples. Illumi's eyes roved greedily over the sight, the hand gripping your waist sliding up to roughly pinch the hardened buds.

A sharp gasp tumbled from your lips at the sudden sting. You arched instinctively, seeking more friction even as Illumi's grip on your wrist tightened, keeping the pace of his cock moving into your hand languid and controlled.

"You look so sweet, so pure," he husked, rolling the stiff peak between his thumb and forefinger with calculated pressure.

"I'm going to ruin you..."

Your mind swam with dizzying heat as his words sank through you. A low whine escaped your lips as his cock throbbed in your palm, leaking precum and swelling with every thrust.

Illumi's hand tangled roughly in your hair, forcing your head back to expose the vulnerable curve of your neck. His lips latched onto the fluttering pulsepoint, biting and sucking a dark bruise into the tender flesh.

You moaned, arching into the sensation as his mouth trailed lower, teeth scraping over the swell of your breasts. Illumi's grip on your wrist eased, allowing you to move on your own volition now.

He groaned, the sound vibrating against your fevered skin as you continued stroking his cock with increasing fervor. You were utterly drunk on the sounds escaping his throat, the sensation of his cock throbbing in your palm, his musky scent enveloping you both.

Illumi's fingers tightened around your nipple, pinching and twisting until the deliciously sharp sting sent waves of heat crashing through you. His other hand drifted lower, trailing down the curve of your ass and sliding between the slick folds of your pussy.

"So wet," he rumbled against your breast, nipping and licking at the stiff peak as he slid a finger inside you.

You moaned, thighs tightening around his hips as he began pumping his finger in and out, the friction eliciting delicious sparks of pleasure. Illumi pulled you closer until your back was arched and your breasts were flush against his face.

He licked and sucked the swollen, aching tips, groaning against your skin as his fingers slipped out of you. The water sloshed wildly as you writhed atop him, shuffling closer until you felt his cock sliding between the slick folds of your pussy.

Illumi's hands gripped your waist, holding you still as he rubbed the leaking head against your entrance, teasing the sensitive flesh with a wicked glint in his eye. Your thighs quivered as you fought to stay still, his gaze holding you captive.

"Please," you whimpered, voice catching on a ragged moan as the swollen head nudged against your clit.

Illumi's grip tightened fractionally as he continued torturing you with slow, deliberate rolls of his hips. His cock slid against your folds, teasing the sensitive flesh and sending jolts of electricity up your spine.

The water lapped dangerously close to the lip of the tub as you rocked into him, desperately seeking more friction. Illumi's dark eyes watched you intently, drinking in the sight of your flushed, trembling body.

His hands slid down to grip the supple curves of your ass, guiding your hips into a slow, steady rhythm that had his cock sliding between the slick folds of your pussy.

You gasped as the head caught against your entrance, sending a jolt of pleasure through your core. Illumi's eyes locked with yours, dark and intense as he guided your hips down, letting the head slide inside you.

You shuddered at the stretch, thighs clenching around his waist as he sank deeper. Illumi's fingers dug into the soft flesh of your ass, holding you still as his cock buried itself in the tight heat of your pussy.

A moan escaped you as he filled you, the stretch sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins. Illumi's hands gripped your hips, guiding you into a slow, steady rhythm as he thrust up into you.

Your hands found purchase on his broad shoulders, nails digging into the taut muscle as you rode him. The water lapped around your hips, adding an extra layer of sensation as the slick friction built.

You rocked into him, taking him deeper with each roll of your hips. His hands roamed over your skin, fingers digging into the supple flesh of your ass and pulling you closer.

The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, the room filling with the sound of wet skin on skin and water sloshing against the side of the tub.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping the thick strands and tugging his head back. You leaned down to capture his lips in a heated kiss, tongues sliding against each other as you rolled your hips, taking his cock deeper.

Illumi's grip on your hips tightened, pulling you down onto him as he thrust up into you. He fucked you hard and fast, the sound of your bodies meeting echoing off the tiled walls.

You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as you rocked into him, riding the wave of pleasure that washed over you with each deep stroke. Your muscles tightened around him, the sensation of him filling you over and over driving you higher and higher.

Illumi's grip on your ass tightened, pulling you down harder onto him, fucking you with abandon. The sound of the water splashing against the sides of the tub was almost drowned out by the sounds of your moans and gasps as you writhed in his grasp.

You felt yourself reaching the edge, the waves of pleasure building with each stroke until you couldn't hold back any longer. You came with a cry, muscles clenching around his cock as the waves crashed over you.

Illumi groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he fucked you through your orgasm, drawing out the pleasure until you were trembling and breathless. He followed soon after, spilling inside you with a shuddering moan.

You slumped against him, muscles weak and shaking from the force of your orgasm. He held you close, hands running over your back and legs, soothing the trembling aftershocks.

The water lapped around you as you both caught your breath, the tension slowly ebbing away. Illumi's hands cupped your ass, his fingers tracing over the soft curves.

"Next," he murmured against the flushed skin of your neck, pressing a kiss to the mark he'd left. "I’ll make you suck me off while you help me dress."