#a little light abduction

[j-august]

Amanda Foreman, Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire

[deathsbestgirl]

Please talk more about how not fine Dana Scully is, people really tend to underestimate how fucked up she truly is, honestly the way she manages to hold onto her kindness and integrity through so much violation is kind of miraculous

sometimes it makes me a little crazy. like, dana scully was so light in season one. she smiled and laughed a lot, she teased mulder, she loved working on the x files with mulder and it was obvious. even on the days she would get frustrated with mulder for doing something crazy. and i think that's true throughout the show, until the later years where it meant losing mulder, giving up her child, going on the run...

but. for me, a change occurs in beyond the sea. probably more for the audience than scully or mulder.

scully sees her dad's ghost before she even learns he's gone. she had her parents over for dinner and wanted him to be interested in her work, instead of being disappointed with her career choice. he only asks how it's going right before they walk out the door, and then he's gone. part of her wants to believe she really saw him, but it's also really scary. she almost looks for x files with similar happenings but as she finds them, slams the door instead.

she buries herself in the case as soon as the services are over. she believes boggs as mulder nearly begs her not to. when mulder is shot, she loses it on boggs. and in the end, she tells mulder she's afraid to believe.

scully was afraid to believe before she was abducted. after her abduction, believing is more terrifying. she clings to skepticism and focuses on proof. in their line of work, only what you can prove really matters. it's what mulder needs her for, and later on, she clings to it harder even though she can't deny there are certain fantastic things she believes in.

after her abduction, everything is heavier for both mulder and scully. we saw how lost he was in 3, how self punishing & self hating. and when scully comes back, she's determined to get back to work. she won't take any time before heading back because that would mean sitting alone with what happened to her and she can't possibly deal with that. fear of the unknown to the extreme.

scully never believed samantha was taken by aliens. then she was taken like her, returned completely battered an inch from death with no memory of what happened. whether that was the work of whoever (or whatever) took her or her own mind...either thought is terrifying.

in firewalker, mulder is so cautious with scully. he can't bear her disappearing on him again. he tries to keep her safe and it ultimately puts in a dangerous position. but she's quick, and she saves herself while the girl handcuffed to her dies on the other side of the door.

mulder was so gentle with her after her father died, calling her dana for the first time that we see. he does it again in lazarus when jack willis/dupre kidnapped her. he's careful with her feelings whenever she's vulnerable. after her abduction, in firewalker, when he finds her alive, he cups her cheek like he did in beyond the sea. she is so precious to him, they're best friends. and she tells him she's fine over and over again.

in irresistible, the case already disturned scully on a core level. she couldn't comprehend the violence and violation of what donnie pfaster did to the dead, and later his victims. as a pathologist, she can't imagine desecrating a body. what she does, she does because she cares about people and justice. she can't save them when they're already gone, but she can find the truth and honor them.

in season two when they're separated and she's teaching again, she goes on about the man lying dead in front of her.

"what this man imagined...his dreams, who he loved, saw, heard, remembered...what he feared...somehow it's all locked inside this small mass of tissue and fluid."

and her student calls her spooky.

although scully doesn't love people the way mulder does -- untethered, unchecked -- she loves humanity & her country, and she wanted to do something important with her life. she decided in squeeze to be on the victims' side, like mulder. with mulder.

all through irresistible she is so disturbed and trying to be strong and hide her feelings from mulder, so she goes back to d.c. for a therapy session & to get them some leads. and then as soon as she comes back to work the case with mulder, donnie pfaster makes her a victim again. so shortly after her abduction and almost dying in firewalker. karen kosseff tells her how vulnerable she was, and it's like it almost doesn't seem real. because she doesn't remember, she healed, and if it weren't for the missing time & everyone around her having lived those horrible months without her, it would be like it didn't happen.

she fought like hell against pfaster. injured from a car accident, bound & gagged, in a house she didn't know. hallucinating him as other evil men & the devil. she was spiraling and she only had herself to depend on in the moment. hoping that mulder & co would find her in time. but ... the man worked quickly.

she didn't seem too affected after lazarus, but she believed it was her friend and that he was sick. after her abduction, she didn't have anything to cling to. after pfaster, she had mulder and she only leaned on him when she was completely overwhelmed & he wouldn't let her deal with it alone.

she has new fears.

she loses her sister and mulder loses his dad. both murdered by the same people. aliens or the shadow government, when they decide scully is a problem they have her abducted or attempt to have her killed. and she can't really do anything to prevent it when she has no idea what or who she needs to protect herself from.

there are a few moments that really stick out for me, that i just think it's clear she's not okay. scully bottles things up and keeps her pain close. she doesn't unleash it, does her best to hide it & bear it alone.

but in piper maru, skinner tells her they're letting melissa's case go inactive. cold. she's opened her eyes to government conspiracies. and she flat out tells skinner "if i may say so, sir, it has everything to do with interest. just not yours, and not mine."

there's no reason they couldn't solve her sister's murder. they have the weapon, and like scully says, they can catch people with much less. and then she goes down to the basement office where mulder is working on a case. he's going through everything, actually doing some normal pre-investigation things. and he won't ignore what's going on when so many men have suffered and may well die, just because the government is trying to sweep it under the rug.

and scully loves him so much for this.

(side note: i always love when mulder does this. it's like "do you think i'm spooky?" he wants her to think of him as well as he thinks of her. they're best friends. it matters to him what scully thinks of him. a rarity.)

then there's wetwired. scully watches all the tapes they find and very quickly becomes paranoid about mulder, specifically. now, i don't think she really believes it, i think it's a thought that scares her when she's at her lowest. but she was assigned to the x files to debunk his work, he gets neck deep in alien & government conspiracies. she didn't always understand the specific dangers of their particular work. she's so ashamed when she's back to herself, and mulder doesn't blame her at all. and when she starts talking about what she remembers, mulder takes her so seriously. mulder believes she saw something, but like the others, she misinterpreted what she saw because of the heightened paranoia & anxiety. one woman thought she saw her husband cheating with a blonde, and it was her neighbor with his golden retriever. so it's very possible she did see someone having a meeting with the cigarette smoking man outside their motel, or at least someone involved with their case.

scully is always afraid to be taken again, to be murdered. she knows the smoking man has something to do with all of it. she knows she stayed because of mulder. and she will continue to work on the x files with him. because it isn't just about him anymore. she needs answers too.

and then there's the cancer arc. i wrote all about memento mori already, and i think that all says a lot. but then there's gethsemane. kritchsgau told scully the shadow men gave her cancer to make mulder believe. it guts her, it almost kills him, but they know where her cancer came from and they haven't been able to do anything about it. i can't get over the way her voice cracks in redux. mulder is waiting for her in darkened bedroom and tells her that everything goes back to the fbi. her abduction, her cancer. she wasn't ready to face where her cancer came from, and mulder tries to help her. and any time she almost has a grip, another thing makes it come crashing down around her. the men who had her abducted, her sister killed, gave her cancer being part of the same institution she is...that's unbearable.

scully grew up with a father in the navy. they love their country, they trust their government & military & law enforcement. the x files turns everything she's ever known and understood about the world upside down.

and then there's seasons 8-11. i don't have anything to say except: scully is NOT okay. she gave up her son and has never forgiven herself. she thinks about william everyday and prays he's safe, that she did the right thing. as if there even was a right thing. you never see a more raw or vulnerable scully than in the revival. and if mulder wasn't there holding her together and doing what she couldn't...i don't think there would be a scully.

[wheucto]

an ii/su crossover would be fun just for the trichotomy of light-based beings. inorganic light/organic light/whatever the ii contestants are

[poisoned-pearls]

Shout out to the 10,000 words of my wip JamiAzu fic. i thought I’d be done by this word count, but im only like, a third past halfway-

OH but it’s based off of the idea of Azul and Jamil starting to date like, 3 days before the end of school. Over the summer and first few months of school they get closer (including some scenes from others pov of them)

BUT literally no one knows they’re dating the whole time. Azul is vague as hell and never talks abt personal stuff, and acts the exact same way. Jamil is also the same, but man has never talked abt his personal life with anyone ever, so that’s not too out of character. Neither of them are keeping it a secret either. The twins, Kalim, and najma all know they’re dating bc they’re the only ones close enough to them to be told and witness them.

it takes like, a big ass school dance for everyone to figure it out. People see them kiss during a slow dance and everyone’s talking abt it bc everyone still kinda assumed that Jamil hated his guts (also all of the third years are gone. They need smth to talk abt)

so someone who runs a school like. Idk. You know those annoying ass street interviewers on TikTok right? Them. They have someone at their school who does that at their school.

ANYWAYS that dude comes up to Jamil and is like “hey so how did it feel getting with octavinelle’s housewarden last night? Y’all dating now?” and Jamil just has like. The most dead pan look ever before he says “we’ve been dating for like, ten months. What are you on?”

[chaosworthy]

↳ @familylightfox​ asked: Harmony was trying to keep a routine. It was why she set a cup of tea next to where he dad was sitting and holding a cup herself of hot chocolate. Despite her best effort, she couldn’t get her smile to reach her bloodshot eyes. Although she did have something for them. 

“Grandma Greta says she’s got all her sources lookin’ and she ain’t gonna stop till they find him.”

                                                                 —————

    {➹} – WHY DID IT FEEL like they were just here...? It was a thought that hit the hedgehog rather suddenly when the cup was set next to him and he saw the look on his daughter’s face. While the cup wasn’t taken, a hand did reach out to cover one of her’s in a comforting gesture, or one he hoped was reassuring at the very least. He was glad for the news, even if he had expected nothing less.

    “I guess we should hope that she doesn’t find whoever took him first then, yeah?” A small attempt at a joke, even if it did hold a little truth to it. Arrow knew far too well that anyone from the village who found his partner’s kidnapper wouldn't let them go without a few injuries, to say the least. Still, the hero’s expression fell again, either too tired or too distraught to keep up false pretenses for once. “If we don’t get any leads soon...it may be worth calling Knux an’ a few others in. I know they’re dying t’ pay you two back for what happened with Dark, and they are good at finding things no one else can at times.”

     Regardless they were going to find him. They had to.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Alien Escape

Male Alien Yandere × Gender Neutral Reader

(CW: Noncon, oviposition, breeding, overstimulation, crying, fear, minor character death, weird alien dick, minor mentions of medical experimentation (NOT on reader), alien, implied abduction, general yandere behavior)

Word Count: 680

(Just something I typed up on my phone because it was in my head and demanded to be written, a nice little mini-fic. Hope you enjoy!)

Tears streamed down your face, and your legs burned and ached from running so fast through the labyrinthine halls. Your frenzied footsteps on the cold tile floor were completely drowned out by the incessant blaring of the alarms.

When you slipped and broke the containment field, you had doomed everyone.

At last, you had made it to the exit. But it was covered by a heavier metal door with no handle.

Of course. The entire site was on lockdown now.

Maybe you could double back and hide in one of the abandoned rooms. If they weren't sealed off by now, too.

You ran off down a side corridor, but it was a dead end. Maybe it wouldn't come this way since it wasn't the way out.

Suddenly, the alarms and all the lights turned off. Probably sucked dry due to the escaped alien's ability to absorb energy.

You huddled into a corner in the darkness, nothing visible.

Then you saw light. Coming from far down the hall. The pale sickly green glow of the alien slowly approaching.

When he entered your field of view fully you gasped. He had a struggling Colonel Hughs in his arms, a hand over his mouth.

The alien slowly walked towards you and as he did so, he impaled Hughs with a spike that protruded from his wrists causing the colonel to rapidly age before turning to dust.

The alien had absorbed his life force.

It was humanoid, but had no eyes, nose, or mouth. Scars from "research" littered his body. Its wrist spike retracted back into itself as it slowly stepped towards you.

His strange ribbed cock poking out of his genital slit and lengthening as he approached.

It looked slimy and writhed as if with a will of its own. All while glowing with the same green light the rest of his body did.

You cowered and sobbed. You weren't ready to die. You weren't ready to die. You weren't ready to die.

And you weren't going to.

The alien had no intention to hurt you. He wanted you to be his incubator.

Out of all the people in the facility you were the only one he sensed any sympathy from. And no ill will. He only sensed regret and anxiety whenever your gaze landed on him.

It was the only modicum of kindness he experienced while being captured, contained, and experimented on.

He clung to it, focused on it. It was a lifeline for him.

And when you broke the containment unit he was housed in, he was convinced you had been purposefully trying to free him.

As he loomed over you, he could sense your fear. He gently wiped your tears away with his prehensile cock before pulling you up, turning you around, and pulling your pants down.

Yes~

This would do perfectly as a receptacle for his egg.

You begged and babbled, sure that he was about to turn you into dust.

When his slimy dick worked its way into you the noises you were making progressed into screams.

He put his hands carefully on your fragile human hips as his priggle writhed all around inside you, causing you to squirm and moan involuntarily in pleasure.

If he had a mouth your alien mate would have cooed at that sound.

The alien's dick molded itself to your inside perfectly, to kiss every little fold of your intimate depths, leaking viscous goo as it did so.

After your tenth forced orgasm from your otherworldly lover your legs finally gave out and he had to hold you close as he pumped one final time into you.

He deposited a large egg inside causing your tummy to bulge out, quite beautifully in his opinion.

The creature put his hand on your head and used his abilities to make you fell into a well earned sleep.

Green slime leaked from your entrance and down your legs when he pulled out of you.

It was a good thing you were a janitor, because once he had you back on his home world you'd be dealing with this mess daily.

[obsessedwhyyes]

A Sound Hypothesis

Part 1 of The Scientific Method series.

Summary: Inexperienced in the ways of love, you often find yourself labelled an overthinker. But then again, you are a scientist. When your incredibly beautiful travelling companion proposes a night you'll never forget, suddenly you're left wondering, are you really ready for this? Ever the scientist, you propose an experiment, and get more than you bargained for.

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4762 Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader Content: Act 1, smut with plot, inexperienced nerd reader, making out, oral sex (giving and receiving), hand job, cock worship, blowjob and handjob instruction (ie. Astarion teaches you how to pleasure him).

A/N: Can't believe this got to nearly 5k words, good lord. Actual smut comes in half way through, but it's still rather spicy before then. Also, writing handjobs is hard.

The events of the night prior felt like a dream, yet you remembered each moment vividly.

“I’m beginning to like the whole package, honestly,” he had purred, “and you clearly like me too, so I was thinking…”

You looked into his eyes as he gazed confidently, hungrily into yours. There was only him in this moment. Well, him and the quickened pulse of your heart pounding in your ears. You were certain he could hear it.

“We could take an evening to ourselves. Get to know each other a little more intimately.”

But you were struck with a hit of nerves then. You had lived a sheltered life before your abduction. A wizard and a scholar, your pursuits had been in the sciences and that of perfecting your craft, rather than in stolen moments of lust with beautiful strangers. Not to say you hadn’t experienced a few stolen kisses, however. But to give oneself entirely to another - that was a very different, much more intimidating affair. Yet there was no denying the spark that flickered between the two of you as you spent your days and evenings together, and that spark ignited a growing ache within you that lingered each night you retreated to your bedroll.

“I want to, Astarion. Gods, I really want to, but I’m…”

You hesitated and tore your eyes from him; fiddled with your fingers for a moment.

“You’ve never done this before,” he finished, causing you to look up suddenly from your busying hands.

“I had my suspicions. I’d have already bedded you twice over otherwise.”

You could only laugh, not only at the sheer audacity of his remark, but because of course he knew. Gods, he could probably smell the inexperience on you from a mile away.

“It’s your decision, of course. Should you wish to keep things light between us, we’ll end our evenings together as friends. If you decide you want a little more, however–”

He stepped closer to you - close enough to feel his cool breath on your skin and smell the freshness of his cologne.

“I’ll give you a night you’ll never forget.”

He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his hand lingering delicately where your neck meets the line of your jaw. He was playing you like a fiddle, and you knew it. But gods, if his tune wasn’t a siren’s song in the night. You wanted nothing more than to dance to it.

And then he kissed you.

Gods, the way he kissed you.

There was need, yes; a hunger not unknown to you even in your limited experience. But it was a hunger wrapped in a velvet blanket of familiarity, as though he had known your lips as long as his own. He was certainly skilled, there was no denying that.

The chill of the night air felt like a splash of cold water to your senses once his lips left yours, and you found yourself mourning the loss of his touch.

“Think about it,” he had said that night, before retreating back to his tent.

–

And here you are, wrapped in your bedroll, thinking about it. Ceaselessly.

About his voice, laced with the sweetest honey, speaking promises of nights wanton and dripping with ecstasy. About his smile, teasing and rakish, and the feel of his lips against yours which you missed like home.

You think about the times you let him feed from you; the gentle way he held you, one hand cradling your head. The soft, pleasured noises that would rumble from his chest as he grazed over the soft flesh of your throat - and sunk his teeth into it. Then, greedy, he would begin to pull you close, your chest flush against his own. Every time he fed, it was as though the gates holding back the flood of every primal vampiric instinct within him were unleashed at the taste of you; the ambrosia that is your life essence which you willingly gift to him. And every time he fed, before you reached the point of no return, you would break him out of his trance - a simple series of taps on his shoulder - and he would release you from his predatorial embrace.

It was in those moments, you would see the look in his eyes: ravenous, pupils blown, boring down into you as you lay there beneath him, vulnerable. Your gazes would linger and gods, how you imagined what it would feel like to be entangled with him; for him to take his pleasure from you.

No, you tell yourself. This has been going so fast. Your time together has been so short in the grand scheme of things yet, with the threat of ceremorphosis looming over you, your time on this mortal plane may be fleeting. One might argue that now is surely the time to experience that which you have not… isn’t it? 

But what if this isn’t what you actually want and this aching need within you is simply a manifestation of the stress your increasingly bizarre situation has brought you? It is not unknown for one to develop bouts of hypersexuality in times of stress, or so you have read in books detailing such occurrences.

Suddenly, an idea presents itself. A scientist such as yourself requires a chance to gather all available evidence before coming to a conclusion. A little experimentation, perhaps. Then, you’ll know for certain if your attraction runs deeper than you give your body credit for. Your honed mind will not be governed by a set of primitive bodily urges - you’re better than that. You won’t allow it.

For now, sleep beckons. Tomorrow, you shall put your idea into practice.

– 

The next day passes as swiftly as you had hoped. You’re eager to welcome the night. You and your companions had seemingly settled into a predictable routine when it came to your evening endeavours: your fellow wizard and friendly rival, Gale, would slave over the cook pot with the limited items you had procured over your journey, while the Blade of Frontiers himself regaled your group with stories of his adventures, punctuated with commentary from your remaining companions, ranging from crude to complimentary. Food would be eaten and domestic duties fulfilled, after which, everyone would begin their journeys to their bedrolls. Well, everyone bar you and Astarion. As the resident elves, you require far less rest than that of your travelling companions. It was in these moments, where the camp lay dormant and the two of you sit against a fallen log by the campfire, that you had developed something resembling a rapport with Astarion. You have become rather fond of your night time talks.

Tonight, however, you have plans beyond repartee.

You feel emboldened by your plan. Where before, you were thrown into territory unknown, unprepared and anxious, now you have the comfort of scientific method on your side. You know exactly what to say - you’ve thought of every possibility after all.

Sitting side-by-side, you turn to him, determined.

“I was thinking about your little proposition last night.”

“Were you now?” Astarion replies with a smirk on his lips and a gleam in his eyes.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself just yet. I always imagined that the first time I, um…”

“Did the horizontal dance with an esteemed companion? Engaged in amorous congress? Fucked?”

“Had sex,” you quickly correct, halting his attempts to fluster you further. “I always imagined the first time I had sex would be under slightly less unusual circumstances. We’ve been under nothing but stress ever since we got off that damned Nautiloid. I can’t tell if this desire I’m feeling is because I truly want to spend the night with you, or because my body just wants a distraction.”

“Is that such a bad thing? We’ve worms in our brains and danger is lurking around every corner. Our time is short, darling. If I can provide our dear leader a little respite in these tumultuous times; offer up my services in her time of need, that sounds like time well spent, does it not?”

He shuffles closer to you, resting his arm behind you on the log which you both lean against.

“Besides,” he continues, his voice low and close to your ear, “you’ve been so good to me, offering up your neck for me to savour. It’s only fitting that I offer you a little distraction in return.”

“I don’t want to just… use you as a distraction, Astarion. Gods, I offered you my blood because I wanted to help you, not because I expected a favour.”

For a fleeting moment, his expression shifts. And just as quickly, his smirk returns, embodying a practised sultriness that has surely wrapped many a soul around his fingers.

“No,” you continue, “if I have sex, it will be because it’s something I truly want to do; that I’m ready for. Not just a fanciful distraction. I hope you feel the same.”

That expression again, barely noticeable. You can’t quite decipher it.

“So, darling,” he purrs, “what do you suggest?”

“I was wondering if I could kiss you.”

“Ha! Can’t get enough, eh?”

“I just think that, with a little more evidence, I might be able to see if this is something I’m truly ready for; to discern whether this desire is real, or simply a physical response to this gods-awful situation we find ourselves in.”

He laughs, seemingly amused by your reasoning, and your heart flutters at the sound. Unexpected.

“Gods, are you always such an overthinker?”

“I just think it would help me come to a decision.”

“Is that what this is then? Your little experiment?”

“I’m nothing if not a scientist,” you tease back.

“Alright, my dear. Your terms are acceptable. A kiss, for scientific reasons, of course.”

Of course, you say to yourself. That… is what this is, isn’t it? Simple evidence gathering?

You have no time to consider this as Astarion places a finger under your chin, lifting your gaze fully to his, and suddenly, you hear your pulse pounding loudly in your ears once more. Gods, his eyes are beautiful.

An easy smile, a tilt of his head, and he presses his lips to yours, delicate and familiar. He’s gentle, at first: his lips linger on yours a moment before kissing you again, a tender sensation. As you close your eyes and immerse yourself in the feeling, the world around you quietens. No longer do you hear the crackling of the fire as it dies, the chirps of insects, or the rustle of leaves in the breeze. 

At this moment, all you know is him.

You succumb to the coolness of his touch, the smoothness of his skin, the freshness of his scent - sensations so overwhelming that your body responds of its own accord, letting free a soft moan into his mouth.

As though in response, Astarion’s hand lowers from your cheek and trails from your neck, your shoulder, to your waist, as though committing each dip of your body to memory, before pulling you closer to him. Your hands, in return, plant themselves against his chest. His body feels hard and angular against the softness of your own.

As his tongue seeks permission to dance with yours, there is a hunger; a fieriness that threatens to engulf you. The kiss deepens, and you realise with a start that your legs have entangled themselves with his.

Pull yourself together, your mind screams. You’re meant to be in control of your body, not the other way around.

Or so you think, when suddenly, Astarion’s hand moves to your arse - the cheeky sod - and he skillfully, seamlessly rolls you onto his lap, taking advantage of your entangled legs, purposefully positioning you so that you’re straddling him.

Shit.

You gasp. You had forgotten to breathe. He notices and, gods, the smug look on his face. He knows he’s taken you off guard, and worse still…

He knows the effect he’s having on you.

The wall you had carefully constructed between your mind and body begins to collapse, brick by brick. As you kiss, the final fragments fall away, and everything that was once separated threatens to come together in a powerful, unified surge of desire if not for the final threads of your self-restraint.

His body desires this as much as yours, it would seem. As you straddle him, his hands caressing you as they drag up and down your back, you notice a distinct hardness digging into you, oh so close to your core. It takes more willpower than you’ve ever known to not grind into that hardness, seeking the release which you ache for. You are a tautly drawn bow, the tension between your mental focus and physical yearning almost unbearable.

Noticing how stiff you become, Astarion retreats from your lips, tilting his head in playful curiosity.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, darling?”

“I… I…” You barely recognise your own voice as it strains to come out of you.

The bowstring snaps.

You yield.

Your mind and body merge into a mess of lust and desire, and you kiss him hard and greedily. He returns the enthusiasm in kind, releasing a groan into your mouth as he does so. You want this. You want him.

Astarion pulls himself from your lips and turns his attentions to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses where, other nights, he had sunk his fangs. As he does so, you hear his voice, husky in lust.

“You know, if you still need a little more “experimentation,” I have a couple more ideas for you…”

His voice gives you goosebumps.

“... I’m particularly skilled with my tongue, after all.”

You nod.

“Your tent or mine?”

–

As you’re pushed against the bedroll within the privacy of your tent, you’re overwhelmed by a desire to feel every inch of Astarion’s cool, hard body on yours. It was such a primal need, to be enveloped by him; an urge beyond anything you’ve experienced, causing you to wrap your arms greedily behind his neck as you kiss each other, pulling him closer, but never close enough. His hips grind against you slowly, deliberately, granting you a brief, delicious friction which sends shivers up your body and fuels the incredible ache between your legs.

Astarion sits back up on his knees, admiring the mess of you, a smile on his pretty lips. You can only imagine the state you must be in: hair wild, eyes wide and hungry, clothes dishevelled. But your appearance is a distant notion in the back of your mind as Astarion lifts the hem of your skirt and removes your undergarments, sopping wet from your arousal.

You feel vulnerable, exposed to him like this, your desire on full display in front of the very man who you spent nights dreaming about. While his lustful gaze lights a flush of red across your cheeks, it doesn’t cause you to recoil; instead, you find yourself emboldened as he lowers himself between your legs, holding your gaze with eyes hungry and hooded.

He drags his lips up your thighs, leaving kisses so teasing that brings forth the neediest of sounds from your chest. When he reaches your core, he slides a tongue up the slit of you, agonisingly slowly, painfully gently.

Head rolling back, you anticipate the feeling of his tongue within you, but then…

He diverts his attention back to your thighs.

Bastard.

“Astarion..!”

“Eager little pup, aren’t you? Don’t you worry, darling - you’ll get what you desire. Once I have my fun with you, of course.”

He shifts, propping your legs over his shoulders as he grants you an audacious glance and grazes his tongue over you once more, sending a wave of tingles radiating across your body.

You begin to pout at his teasing action, and–

His tongue enters you.

He glides it firmly from your entrance to your clit, lapping you up in one motion, releasing the most wondrous groan, as though the nectar of your arousal is sweeter than any honey.

And so, like a man starved, he devours you, gauging quickly the sensations you prefer, alternating skillfully between firm strokes of his tongue, and the most teasing of flickers across your clit.

Your back arches, and you can do nothing but grasp at the edges of your bedroll as he works at you, leaving you in a state so blissful that you don’t notice the wanton sounds being cried from your lips.

“Easy, love,” he purrs, the loss of his tongue against you causing you to whimper. “As much as I enjoy hearing those delectable sounds of yours, let’s not wake the others, hm?”

You can only cover your mouth with your hands in a feeble attempt to hush yourself as he continues his ministrations. As your eyes meet and the pleasant ache in your core begins to swell into an all-encompassing warmth across your body, you wonder if this is what it feels to be revered as a deity would, your every sensation treated with the kind of awe that only a god might know.

It is when he enters you with his fingers - first one, then two, thrusting in rhythm with his tongue - that the warmth, now an inferno, reaches its peak. It surges through you like a divine crescendo, each wave of your climax a new blessing that floods your senses with a celestial rapture, singing his name like the sweetest hymn.

He caresses your thighs as he brings you down slowly from your high, grounding you.

As you return once again to this mortal plane, the lingering euphoria elicits a fit of giggles from you.

“Well,” Astarion smiles in return, removing himself from the home he has made between your legs, “you certainly seemed to enjoy yourself.”

“I did. I really did. Thank you.”

As you both sit yourselves upright once more, he presses another kiss to your lips. You taste yourself on him.

“I hope our little experiment was very informative for you,” he says with a wink. His words are teasing, but spoken with a gentleness that surprises you.

The truth is, you do have one more idea.

“Can I, um… Can I do the same for you?”

“What?” He says a little too quickly. Noticing this, he brushes his hair back with his hand to a more presentable condition, regains his composure, and continues. “I mean, you don’t have to. To see you squirm under my touch, that’s pleasure enough for me.”

“I want to make you feel good too.”

“You want to?”

That same indecipherable expression. A man with as many notches on his bedpost as he claims must have had some less than favourable conquests every now and then… Perhaps he’s had some bad experiences when receiving too? You suddenly find yourself cursing your lack of experience in these matters. You’re not exactly brimming with social expertise either.

“I probably won’t be the best - not as good as you - but I want to try. I always find that the best way to develop one’s skills is to practise under the guidance of a trusted expert. So… could you teach me how to make you feel good?”

Your gazes linger for a moment as he seems to assess your resolve.

Seemingly satisfied, he smirks, a well-practised aura of sultriness fitting back into place once more. All traces of that mysterious expression dissipate before your eyes.

“Well, darling, if you’re so eager to please me, who am I to stop you?”

You slide up to sit next to him as he begins to unlace his trousers, and suddenly you find yourself unsure of where to look. You’ve a scholar’s knowledge of the physical form; men’s anatomy is no stranger to you from an analytical perspective. And yes, you’ve fantasised about Astarion’s… parts before, as much as you have tried to deceive yourself into believing it was nothing more than a passing, intrusive thought. Yet, now that you’re here, about to perform the most intimate of acts to your beautiful travelling companion for the first time, you become bashful. You can’t quite believe the situation you’ve gotten yourself into tonight.

Yet, as he lowers his trousers and underwear to his thighs, revealing himself to you, all thoughts of bashfulness, of anxiety, cease to be for a moment.

“Hells, Astarion.” You look upon his hardened member with disbelief, measuring its girth against your arm. “How is that going to fit inside me, exactly?”

A slip of the tongue.

He grins, very pleased with himself. “Getting ahead of ourselves, are we?”

… And there returns that familiar flush of heat to your cheeks. Shit.

His chuckling lets you know that he has, in fact, noticed your embarrassment.

Seeking to swiftly change the subject to the much more pressing matter at hand, you ask, “can I touch you?”

In wordless agreement, Astarion guides your hand to his cock, which glistens slightly from the beads of precum elicited from the head. As you hold it, his hand remains over yours, coaxing you to move up and down the shaft.

His cock isn’t warm as you would imagine a regular man’s to be, owing to his vampiric nature, but you note its hardness; the way it pulses beneath your touch; the way his foreskin glides over the head so seamlessly. You squeeze him, fascinated.

“Gently, love. Like this.” He demonstrates by applying a light pressure to your hand and twisting ever so slightly as you both reach the tip, then loosening his grip as he slides you back down his length. You repeat the motion, tentatively. Gods, you hope you're doing this right. He made you feel incredible. You want him to feel incredible too. But oh, what if you hurt him, what if you–

“A-ah…”

The softest sigh of pleasure from your companion interrupts your thoughts. It sends wonderful shivers throughout your body. You find yourself eager to coax more of those little sounds from him.

A newfound confidence flares within you, and you gradually increase your pace, up and down and up and down the shaft, squeezing and twisting lightly as your beautiful instructor taught. In a sudden bout of curiosity, you glide your thumb over the head on your way back down and–

“Ah!”

There it is again. That most delicious sound.

“Exactly like that, darling. Exactly like that.”

He removes his hand from yours as you continue to pump him - you are a fast learner, it would seem - and moves it to reach your cheek, turning you to face him. As he leans his forehead against yours, you notice his breathing has become heavier, just ever so slightly. Instinctively, your breathing begins to match his, and you feel an intensity in the air that gives you goosebumps. Then he kisses you, and it is hungry. Ravenous. Greedy. His hand moves from your cheek to the back of your head, gripping your hair lightly, pressing your lips firmly against his.

As you continue to pleasure him, you find yourself becoming greedy too.

You want to taste him.

Between gasps for air, you ask him, “can I use my mouth on you? The way you did for me?”

“Mmhm,” he says into your kiss. It feels almost a shame to remove yourself from his lips, but you have greater plans yet. 

You both reposition yourselves. He turns to lie himself back on the bedroll, and you crawl down his body to position yourself between his legs. So close to his cock, you find yourself admiring it, taking in every detail: the thick vein on the underside of the shaft, the way the head throbs a colour darker than the rest, eager for release.

You're overwhelmed with a primal desire - a need - to please, to give.

To worship.

“Gods, it's beautiful,” you think aloud.

“I know,” he remarks confidently in return. You roll your eyes at his arrogance, but in this moment, in your eyes, even you can't deny that his cock is perfection. Your mouth waters at what is to come.

You hold his member delicately, like a jewel most precious, planting kisses up his length. A soft sound escapes from Astarion’s lips and suddenly you are emboldened, determined to gift him with bliss as he had gifted you. To do so, however, you would need a little instruction.

“Tell me how to please you,” you plead, and you feel him twitch at your words.

“You are eager,” he purrs, propping himself up with his hands to gaze down at you. You notice a shiver and a sigh, ever so slight, when you trail a line of wetness from base to tip with your tongue.

“In that case,” he continues, brushing a strand of hair from your face, granting him a better view of you, “lick your lips and hold it at the base. Then I want you to get to know it a little, so to speak. Use your mouth around the head and start slowly - there's no point in rushing in, eh?”

You obey, shaking off the lingering feelings of bashfulness at the directness of his words, and wrap your lips around him. Out of curiosity, you swirl a flattened tongue around the head and gods, his skin is so smooth, still slightly salty from precum. His cock twitches and you hear him gasp above you - he’s especially sensitive there, it would seem. 

Where are his other sensitive spots, you wonder.

Time to experiment. You are nothing if not a scientist.

You bob your head and relax your jaw to the best of your abilities, taking in just a little bit more of him each time your mouth glides up and down, keeping your tongue flat against him to flick against the sensitive tip each time you glide back up the length. The sounds he makes - oh, those sounds. His moans are like velvet, a soft, deep timbre that caresses your senses and makes your loins ache once more. Every murmur seeps into your being, igniting your senses and fuelling your need to explore every inch of him. You continue your journey down and down his length, savouring the taste and the texture and–

You gag as his cock touches your throat.

Astarion recomposes himself. “Easy, darling. Use your hand where your mouth can’t reach.”

“Like this?” Your hand pumps the shaft in rhythm with the motions of your mouth and tongue, and Astarion’s head rolls back for a moment.

“Like that,” he exhales heavily, “and suck gently.”

There’s a certain sense of empowerment, unravelling him like this. You relish in every moan that escapes his lips, every twitch and pulse of his cock as you attend to him. The lewd, wet sounds emitted as your hollowed cheeks suck his length. His hand finds its way to your hair, fingers weaving through the strands with a gentle authority, pushing you hard enough to guide you to an ever-quickening rhythm, but gentle enough not to force himself down your throat.

“Use your other hand,” he says between breaths, “hold the balls softly.”

You do as he says, giving them the gentlest of squeezes as you attend to him, and his breaths grow deeper, uneven. You sense the rising tension in him, a tide gathering strength beneath the surface.

He gives one final instruction.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes meet with a stormy intensity and, as you pump up and down with your lips and fingers at a dizzying pace, the intensity seems to surge through him with the force of an ocean swell, powerful and all-encompassing.

With a tremor and a groan so delicious that you find yourself moaning instinctively in response, his cum fills your mouth. Your eyes water, taken by surprise by the force of his release, but you do your best to swallow each wave, releasing him with a wet pop as his climax subsides.

Some moments pass and, in the afterglow, the tent is filled with a comfortable, profound stillness, and only the sounds of heavy breathing - yours and his - as you both return to your senses.

“Did you just..?” He asks, breaking the silence.

“I did,” you reply with a grin, showing him your tongue to reveal that not a drop went to waste.

He laughs warmly, and your heart flutters.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” He kisses you deeply as he sits up, seemingly undeterred by the taste of himself.

“I think I’ve gathered enough evidence to consider your proposition,” you say teasingly.

“Tomorrow night then, darling?”

Bastard.

But yes, you think to yourself. Tomorrow night. You’re ready.

Part 2, An Empirical Study, can be found here!

Masterlist can be found here.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Can you do yandere platonic Tengen with reader who is his blood related child and is hinatsuru’s child?

Yandere Tengen Uzui and his wives with a Child reader | Kimetsu no Yaiba

You don’t have to be bloodrelated to be dearly loved 

Whether you were birthed by one of your mothers or legally adopted or illegally abducted

You are the light of their lives

A sweet little baby they can pour all their love into 

Happily cycling with each of them through the night as you wake at the crack of dawn

..or maybe not so happy

“Come on! Suma its Hina’s turn!”

“Shh and no she get’s to spend all the time nursing them! I want it to be my turn!”

“Suma. Give me my baby or you won’t be able to hold them after what I'll do to you.”

“Suma…” “...Fine. But I take the next time they cry.”

As talented Shinobi spending the night with a crying baby is not as big of a change as usual

Plus there’s three of them to help

And when Tengen’s home it’s likely he’ll just take over because he’s away so often he just wants to spend all that free time with you

Even as you grow to a toddler stage you take absolute first priority

And if there's any time the wives might be inclined to ignore him is when they haven’t gotten their kisses for the day

“(Y/n)! Come here baby! Come on!”

“Don’t walk to him, he doesn’t have your bottle now does he? Come on my sweet mochi!”

“Makio!”

“Tengen!”

You’ll probably be spoiled beyond belief 

Unless you learn humility on your own you will actually take all their praise to heart

Just as they raised you

You’re allowed to step on others because your perfect in every way 

And if the world doesn’t treat you like a gift then the world has a problem

[afewfantasies]

🗡️ꜰᴇʏᴅ'ꜱ ʙʟᴀᴅᴇ 🗡️ - I - Nightmares

MASTERLIST

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.8K

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Feyd-Rautha X Reader

ᴘʟᴏᴛ: "Feyd-Rautha he's psychotic", at least thats what people say. Only, people forgot to add that your father's decided you were to marry. It's been over a decade and Feyd's committed to have the marriage and you with him as he ascends as heir and na-Baron of Geidi Prime.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: abduction, masterbation, voyeurism

🗡️ꜰᴇʏᴅ'ꜱ ʙʟᴀᴅᴇ 🗡️

“Another one?” Your best friend and fellow Bene Gesserit sister asks as you wake in another cold sweat. Nodding you sit up in bed blinking through the darkness. Leia lights the lamp and a yellow glow shines into both of your faces. The first vision was a decade ago, you had been sleeping under the stars. Pale skin and a bald head. A large brute of a ban killed another. Then there was a boy clearly terrified but shaking with anger too. Black eyes, black teeth, pale skin, a temper. Year after year the visions became angrier, more psychopathic. Handing you materials Leia climbs into bed beside you and you begin your account of the vision.

“Will you tell the reverend mother?” She asks.

“Not yet” you confess ordering your thoughts and placing the coded message on the scroll. Leia watches in silence. This vision was in a black room probably on Geidi Prime. You were asleep on a larger black bed with four posts. You were asleep only to wake up to the black eyes looking down at you. He’d never spoken before but he’d said two words in the strangest grittiest words before. “You’re mine” unlike all the other dreams you felt him in the bed, felt the friction of him coming closer, felt his breath on your skin, the heat coming from his body.

“Are you alright?” Leia asks, handing me a glass of water.

“No” you confess as the two words haunt you. There’ve been all kinds of visions. Brutal murders, sick torture, murderous games with concubines, moments of tyrannical rage and now. Now he’d come for you. Stepping out of the bed you find solace in the coolness of the stone on your feet. Leia follows and you search your things for the herbs that dull your senses. It’s a necessity for sleep and reprieve. Since childhood you’d been careful not to share but as you’ve grown it’s only become clearer and clearer the subject of your dreams. He was tall, strong, angry, well off, psychotic and some would say handsome. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, the na-Baron and your original betrothed.

“What is it?” Leia asks.

“He’s coming for me mother must teach me the way” you say against your training with fear and foreboding.

——-

Feyd’s earliest memories were of you, he’d been with his father on your home planet looking into your cradle. Your mother was beautiful and your father kind. You were peaceful and little and he’d held you in his arms. He felt protective and during the commitment ceremony he’d meant every word. As a second son your world was promised to him. Even as a child the differences between your two cultures were glaring to him. The freedom to play and be a child, the kindness of the people and you was something to look forward to. But then Rabanne had murdered his father, and his mother had been indifferent and after a few years it enraged him to no end. In a fit of anger he’d killed her. Even with all of his concubines he’d never felt as peaceful as he had with you in his arms as a child. He’d stopped a genocide in your home world looking for you only to find your mother’s kind eyes fearing for her life. He’d done right by sending her to a peaceful planet instead of taking her life. He learned you had been taken by the Bene Gesserit sisters which meant you could be anywhere. No matter where,  he intended to find you.His heart felt like a displaced magnet. Angrier still was the fact that he imagined you living a full life without him. Unbothered, not tortured by the distance as he was, happy and serene. Still he could not disclose his search to anyone in fear for your life. He would have to move carefully to keep his commitment to you.

 Another planet, stepping off the ship he’s given respect by the procession awaiting his arrival. His heart races; he knows your close. Sticking earplugs into his ears he applies the fasteners having his guards to the same. No one would use the voice on him today. He moves quickly spilling no blood. He can feel you. He’s getting warmer. He can feel it. Moving quickly he heads down into the belly of the academy moving quickly through the bunkers. His heart pulls as he passes an entryway stopping when he has a familiar sensation. Heart racing violently against his chest he stops Turing to face the steel door, he stops breathing allowing the violence of his heartbeat to reverberate through him like a war drum. Feyd-Rautha signals for his men to wait outside. Using the code scrambler he gets into the door. Hiding you hold your breath ducking down into the thick of your clothes, the sound of the alarms system’s failure are blaring. Fear racks through you as you try to keep calm remembering the Bene Gesserit mantras. Fear is the mind killer. The noise stops and you relax a little waiting for an announcement. Heavy boots hit the floor forcing you to freeze, the steps come closer stopping in front of the closet. Leis screeches and its muffled, trembling you contemplate your next move. The steps come closer and you see the door open, light filters in. You cover your mouth hoping for safety until a black eye meets yours.  Familiarity and horror paralyze you. Pale skin and a bald head. The face from your nightmares. Feed-Rautha Harkonnen. Pinching yourself you discover he’s finally free’d himself from your dreams and is now material. He steps in separating the close from around you leaving you crouched against the wall with no cover before sitting on your bed and watching you like he has all the time in the world.. His smirk is unsettling and it takes a moment before you stand feeling silly and all too vulnerable crouched in the deep closet.

“Get dressed” he croaks but you’re shaking like a leaf. Snarling he procures robes from the closet placing one over your head. The trembling intensifies. And he steps back feeling rejected. Leaving he has his men pack up your things and then there’s a barrage of people asking you all sorts of questions from what you like to wear and eat and do and it’s all so much. You’re loaded onto a Harkonnen ship and placed in a room alone. Looking through the window you gaze into space. When a few hours have passed you hear the door open and know it’s him before it closes. He takes a seat in his leather robes. You turn to face the man who moves like a snake. He’s more terrifying in person than in your dreams. His eyes watch your every move drinking you in. Parting his lips and showing his black teeth.

“Are you comfortable?” His words come as a surprise. It’s the thing you’ve least expected. It takes a moment before you nod, trying not to be rude as you look around the room.

“Yes, thank you” you respond.

“We are heading to my home world. I understand you have different needs. The Mentats are sourcing food and clothes if there’s anything you need let them know” he explains sanely.

“Ok” you respond, your hands begin to shake again. You sit on them trying to hide the true fear you feel. House Harkonnen is known for many atrocities. 

“I’m sorry” you apologize, terrified and embarrassed.

“Do you know who I am?” He asks.

“A Harkonnen” you confess and his snake-like eyes look displeased.

“Do you know who I am to you?” He asks, forcing you to frown.

“Nothing” you respond only to regret it instantly. Feyd-Rautha takes a breath inflating his chest as he trembles with rage, the paleness of his skin flushing as searing anger bubbles to the forefront. He stands stepping back from you in fear of hurting you.

“My father and yours promised us to each other” his fierce voice cracks as he struggles for control. His terrifying blackened teeth make your eyes shut. He’d done terrible things to people, slight and then slash that's how it went. He was one with his knives and happy to use them. You wait for life to end, your breath to hutch and everything to fade into darkness but it doesn't happen. You hear boots hit the floor three times. Bravery, curiosity? Perhaps it was so quick and painless that this is purgatory? You open your eyes and see Feyd has given you more distance. He’s recalled his anger and he stands stoic, fierce and regal.

“Do you not remember?” He asks because that day had been so monumental to him.

“I had heard heard whispers but …” you trail considering the realities and the odds. Your visions, how you’ve been in hiding. Out of all the things they call him; liar isn’t one of them.You consider the possibilities and it comes to you. Your heart begins to race, you feel stinging in your thumb, like a pinprick. A commitment ceremony was held. The realization is dizzying. “You wish to be married?” You ask and he nods. “To me?” You specify and he nods again. “But I’m nobody from an extinct world. I’m not even a high ranking member of my order” you declare in truth.

“No, you will be na-Baroness Harkonnen” Feyd says, taking a step in your direction. He watches you try to make sense of it. He’d never considered your reaction to being found, he hadn't expected fear or reluctance. He expected your inherent trust in him for you to cling to him for support and comfort as you once did, for you to relish his touch and be most comfortable in his arms.

“na-Baroness” you whisper, looking up at him. Pride fills Feyd at the sound of the words coming from your lips, utter perfection.

“My wife” he rasps and somehow your fear seems unfounded. “I made a vow that I do not intend to break” Feyd says recalling you in his arms as a babe. Your eyes looking up at him without fear in your swaddling helpless, innocent, true and his. A knock at the door causes him to withdraw, he turns standing in front of you. The guard tries looking around to you until Feyd stomps a foot. The man averts his gaze telling Feyd your landing is imminent. Nodding he straightens his gown as he stands tall. Feyd-Rautha holds out a hand. You take it with a deep breath and it seems to amuse him. The heat of him feels familiar. “There will be a crowd, I will send you along in a pod” 

“With who?” You ask standing with him.

“My men” he specifies and it's unsatisfactory. Grabbing your head dress you place it on your head and move forward that way. You hold his hand he secures yours warmly walking at your side. You keep up with him and as the door descends you start to tremble. He stands in front of you as you try to overcome your fear. His eyes are reassuring, his strong hands gripping yours in solidarity. There's no weakness in him. He’s all strength, cunning, volatility, rage and psychopathy. His eyes urge you to get a grip but the roar of the welcome party is unnerving. Your fathers reign ended to a crowd. Soldiers came and there was shouting, there was cheering and you had no time to say goodbye before your mother put you into an escape pod with a scroll. You arrived at an outer planet to find out your father had been beheaded. It’s why you hate crowds to this day.

“Not today” he whispers motioning for someone to come get you. The roaring is violent and you follow them into a pod lighting up at the sight of Leia. The two of you embrace each other warmly. In moments you’ve deemed each other okay. The guards watch the two of you closely. Sitting beside her you take a moment to check the beauty mark on the inside of your thumb. It had been there as long as you could remember. You should be terrified by your current predicament, inadequate training, no  preparation, playing a part of an unsanctioned plot of sisterhood, at the mercy of perhaps the galaxy’s most unbalanced man. But he’d been nothing but reasonable thus far outside of your abduction. 

The cheers from the people are thunderous, they celebrate his return with conviction. Once outside the pods you become acquainted with the sprawling palace halls. Uneasiness fills you and your hand clasps Leia’s for comfort, something your guards eyes settle on. Saying nothing you follow behind him seeing a Mentat among your escort. You’re brought into a grand hall with a stately black stone table. Fresh colourful food is on one side while rare organic meat is on another, the sight of the bloody dishes and iron rich aroma sickens you and Leia.

“I wish to retire, I am exhausted” you declare unable to sit. The silent guard turns to you nodding. He motions for a Mentat to guide you and Leia to your quarters. You're separated from her after a long hug. Your room is far grander than your quarters at the academy. It has a familiar quality of the ones from your home world. The colours are less sterile, the hues less grey. Pulling open the drawers you find lush vibrant fabrics, the sort of robes you remember your mother wearing before the fall of your house. It's a strange thing. Turning you lean against the dresser puzzled by the days events and not nearly as scared as you should be.

Finished and energized by his warm reception Feyd-Rautha heads to the dining hall. He waits against the door when he hears no chatter. Bracing himself for anything he pushes open the doors to find the room empty with the exception of the Mentat and a few guards charged with your care.

“She wished to retire” the Mentat explains.

“Did she eat?” Fey’d asks.

“No” The Mentat responds. Feyd’s mood sours, settling into a rage, if it were anyone else he would have dragged them back out of the room, placed a collar around her neck and forced her to do as he pleased but it wasn't anyone, it was you. 

“Set the table in my quarters” he demands heading into his rooms. Undressing he removes his armour until all he has on are slacks and a tunic. Feyd dismisses his staff sitting at the table and pressing a button. A screen emerges from the wall with a wide panoramic view of your quarters on display. He watches you as he eats, watches you let your hair down from the ornate style of the Bene Gesserit sisterhood. He watches the sway of your hips as you go from room to room. He watches you admire the artwork that's been placed there. Feyd-Rautha watches you with pride and admiration, you weren't trying to run as far as he could see. He watches as you return to the sleeping chambers. He feels himself stiffen as he watches you undress, standing he drops the rare meat drawn to the screen with a crooked grin as you make your way to the cleansing chambers. The bounce of your breast, the softness of your skin, everything has him solid as stone. He watches you step in and the misting of water commence, the beads of water glisten on your skin, he zooms in to get a better view of you unguarded. The surprise in your expression as the automatic system goes through the washing ritual.

His thoughts are heinous and depraved, his need for dominance, ownership, acceptance and submission are more than he can take. Releasing his manhood from his plants he begins stroking it roughly. For the first time he doesn’t call his concubines to satisfy him. They would all fail miserably, no one but you would ever again, but this night he would have to do. He needed you so bad he felt desperate. Stroking himself faster he’s practically salivating as the chamber begins drying you, the way your hair blows, the surprise in your eyes, the suppleness of your skin. It takes everything in him to contain his hunger for you, control his passion, his need. He wanted to be inside you marking you, claiming you with his seed. Watching your expressions change as he takes you further and further into the pleasures of passion. You would be his wife soon enough. His hands would never leave your warm flesh. He would keep his manhood sheathed inside you training you well. Coming hard from his own fantasies Fed’s shallow breaths bring him to a stark realization. He would do anything to have you stop trembling at the sight of him, he’d try to be as patient as possible. He needed your submission, your acceptance of him, and he needed it to be real, to want to share his bed. Looking up at the screen he watches you dress in sheer bed robes. Climbing into the large bed he watches you find comfort in it. 

“You’re mine” he says to the screen as a promise.

🖤

Thank you so much for reading 🩶 let me know if you enjoyed, want to be added to the taglist or anything else on your mind 🩶 comment, like & reblog for more Feyd. xx

TAGS: @elf-punk @dvmb4ssbiatch @thegabbyh @fanfiction-addict22

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

How Far Are You Willing To Go? - 1

PAIRINGS: Ex-husband!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

SUMMARY: Amid a quiet life post-divorce initiated by Ghost himself, his past resurfaces when his ex-wife and their young children are abducted. He's thrust into a desperate race against time to save them, facing his own demons and fighting to protect his family at any cost. Question is, how far is he willing to go?

WARNINGS: Angst, if you squint. Simon being a dummy for getting a divorce. Incorrect knowledge of allergies and asthma (please help a girlie out)

WORD COUNT: 1,096

*not proof-red*

ENJOY!

“Rylan needs to take his-,” you immediately get interrupted by his low and rough voice. “Meds, by seven in the evening after having his dinner. Yeah, I know,” you can’t help but feel that there is a trace of disdain in his voice.

Oh, how you’ve heard so many variations of that voice. From the usual rough and dark, to how soft and loving it could go. The latter was a rarity for people to hear, who meet him outside of your home’s doors. For you, however, it was common. Was being the key word. It may have not been the voice you heard 24/7, but it was a voice you heard daily.

You look at him and eye the black surgical mask he wears, “right,” you pause. “Just wanted to make sure,” you give him a purse smile, before bending down to be at eye level with your six-year-old.

“Kyla, be good and take care after your brother. Be kind in school and do your homework. Call me if you ever need some help with it, ok?” You try to wear out the imaginary creases on her little brown cardigan.

She nods her head like a mini determined soldier and says a very affirmative ‘yes Mama.” Then you move over to kneel in front of your youngest, Rylan. The four-year-old with the many existing allergies. He rubs his nose, and you tut at him, “use a tissue honey, here blow into this.” You hand him the handkerchief you always carry around for this exact reason. “Do you have your inhaler?” You ask your boy, and he nods proudly as he reaches into his pocket and shows you the small piece of plastic.

“Call me if you need Mama, ok Rylan?” You rest your hands on his shoulders, and pat down on the sweater, you look into the light brown eyes he inherited from his father and kiss his forehead. He nods at you one last time before turning around and running to your ex-husband’s family truck. Kyla kisses your cheek one last time before screaming a “buh-bye Mama” and running off to catch up with her little brother.

You stand back up and cross your arms, heart hurting a little knowing you’d be spending two weeks without your children. But what can you do? Not complain, of course.

It was part of the divorce agreement that Simon is allowed to have the children over at his place for three weeks maximum, whenever he returns from deployment. You reluctantly agreed, purely to the reason that you wouldn’t survive if you were in Simon’s place and couldn’t be able to see your kids.

You were kind in that way.

Simon loved you for it.

He loved everything about you.

He still does.

The ice around his heart thaws as he sees your eyes become bleary as you watch the kids climb into his backseat.

He hates seeing you sad.

He does everything in his power to mask the emotions he feels, and he does it well.

“Well,” you sniffle, “I-uh….I’ll leave you to it then.” You wipe your eyes nonchalantly before tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear as a sort of distraction to what you feel currently.

It was always hard for you whenever Simon comes to pick up the kids.

The mother hen in you does not want to send them with him. But you know, a 100 percent sure, that they’re safer with him than with you, considering Simon’s military experience.

One of the main reason’s Simon broke things off with you.

Simon nod’s, his hands remain in the pockets of his hoodie. You lift the little paw patrol and the little Bluey child suitcases and hand it to him. “There are three weeks’ worth of clothes in there, for each of them,” you stick your hands to the side immediately after he takes them into his rough and calloused ones.

“Please call me if-,” you start, but he interrupts you again. “Anything happens. Yeah, I know,” he says with a rough tone that says, “you seriously think they’ll get hurt with me?”.

“Right…...right,” you nod as you whisper, the words more of a reassurance to you.

You try to peak at his eyes under his hoodie, but to no avail, you couldn’t see them under his black tainted sports sunglasses.

His phone starts to ring, and he pulls out of his back pocket to see the caller ID revealing the caller “Price”.

“I’ll see you in two weeks then,” you say, knowing he has to go. He nods in response before turning away and heading back to his truck, he places the suitcases in the passenger seat before double checking the buckles on the child-seat’s where Kyla and Rylan are sat in.

He does all the dad checkup’s before getting in the driver’s seat.

He see’s you through the tainted windows of his truck.

He rolls the back window down so the kids can say their final goodbye’s

“Bye Mama!” Both kids scream and the wave with smiles on their faces. You chuckle wetly as tears silently roll down your cheeks.

You know they’re safe with Simon, but you heart still hurts that they won’t be around for a while.

Simon sees the tears and his own heart breaks.

He pulls out of the driveway with a heavy heart, hating to see the love of his life in tears.

He sighs before pulling out his phone and clicking on Price’s caller ID.

The old Captain picks up after two rings.

“Ghost, we need you.”

🎀🎀🎀

TAGLIST <3: @cntloup @identity2212 @somnorvos @yyiikes @bobateasilverpearl @animarix @outoftheseine

Guess who's back? Back again?

Hey Lovelies!

I know it's been a while, but uni has started and I am trying to re-slay. Here is the much-awaited Simon series I have always wanted to start.

Lemme know if you wanna be tagged!

Also....

Lemme know what y'all think!

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride (8/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: kissing, fingering, mutual masturbation, targcest stuff, smut, the angst, sexual tension, imprisonment, abuse of power, manipulation, violence, some kind of sexual harassment ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

"You are pathetic, like all your kin. Thank the gods you don't make me warm your bed, but your child asks about you and I don't know what to answer. That her father would rather spend time with whores in King's Landing than with his own daughter?" She heard her mother's hiss as if from afar, seeing darkness all around her, recognising in the vague outline of objects that she was standing in the corridor, by the door of her chamber.

How old could she have been then?

Had it really happened, or was it just a dream?

For some reason, her head hurt a lot.

"The Red Keep is no place for a little girl. Should I take her there to watch the lords around my brother fucking kill each other for power, let them marry her off to the first better rich old fool?"

"Would you rather she live without a father? Will you flee from that duty too?"

A long, uncomfortable silence ensued, which after a while was broken by the bitter, disappointed voice of her father.

"She resembles you too much."

She opened her eyes, feeling that the light was blinding her. She muttered, twisting on the soft bed, hearing someone's conversation fall silent a moment later.

"My Lady?"

She glanced sideways at the figure of the Maester leaning over her, his hand touching her head.

"Thank the gods, the fever has subsided. How do you feel?"

She swallowed hard, trying to remember what had happened and where she was, confused and frightened, feeling like her skull was about to explode from the pain.

And then she remembered.

His full lips pressed against hers, his hand between her thighs.

And a dim memory of what followed, the blow and her fall, his voice in the darkness, his hot breath on her face, the outline of his jaw in the candlelight, his sticky, hot kiss.

Sleep, little sister.

Your brother will stay by your side.

She sighed, tired and resigned, recognising that this was surely just a dream, her desire for someone to be there for her, to care and look after her.

She wondered if Lady Floris felt satisfaction now.

She knew she had partially earned it – despite knowing her cousin was betrothed, she did not push him away when his lips pressed against hers and his hand went under the fabric of her robe.

She acknowledged with surprise that she did not resent her.

"My head hurts a lot." She confessed at last, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

The Maester nodded in understanding, handing her some herbal infusion in a cup.

"Drink this, my Lady. It will soothe the pain. You should spend the day resting." He said.

They both shuddered as the door to her chamber opened: her cousin stepped inside dressed in an emerald tunic, his hair slightly damp, as if he had just taken a bath, tied back with a black ribbon.

"Leave us alone." He ordered, looking at her calmly with a gaze from which, for some reason, her heart beat harder.

"Your Highness." Said the Maester and bowed, disappearing after a moment behind the door.

Prince Aemond approached her lazily and surprised her as he sat on the bed beside her, leaning towards her, his hand touching her forehead as if he was checking something.

"Throughout the night, your body burned with fever. Thankfully, it's waned." He murmured, saying it more to himself than to her, sliding his fingers down her face, brushing his thumb against her cheek.

She felt a pleasant warmth in her lower abdomen as she realised that what she felt was not a dream.

He had really stayed with her.

She swallowed quietly, unable to look away from his gaze, her hand involuntarily touching his wrist.

"Will your betrothed forgive you?" She mumbled out, the guilt she felt like a needle stuck in her heart.

She didn't know this girl, but she had taken something from her.

She blinked as her cousin grinned broadly, a glint of madness in his gaze from which her heart pounded harder in her chest, the space between her thighs pulsed greedily around nothing.

"She is no longer my concern." He whispered, forming the letter o out of his mouth as if he were mocking, amused by the situation.

She looked at him for a moment and shook her head, not understanding what he was trying to say.

"What do you mean?"

"I have broken our betrothal. Just moments ago, at a meeting of the Small Council, I introduced to the assembled guard who was assigned to you, and whom Floris dismissed. No one else walked down the corridor, as they would have been spotted by the other guards. Her jealousy was a danger to the Crown. What if she thought she should also attack my sister, Helaena, fearing that I might also cohabit with her? My brother agreed with me that she could not remain in the Red Keep and left it at dawn today." He hummed, clearly pleased with himself, trailing his fingertips along her neck – his words made her eyes widen in disbelief.

He had simply sent her away.

Had this been his plan all along?

Had he kissed her then, in the library, hoping Floris would see it and do something ill-considered?

She didn't know why she felt an unpleasant stab of disappointment and regret, her eyebrows arching in sadness as she lowered her eyes, trying not to cry.

"What's that look? Hm?" He asked, catching her gently by the chin, lifting her face towards him so that she looked at him again.

"I admire how thoughtful everything you do is. Every step, every detail. Every gesture and sound." She whispered, feeling an uncomfortable tightness in her throat, fighting not to show him weakness.

"You think I planned this." He concluded, cocking his head to the side. "I wish I had. But you must believe me, dōna hāedar, that it was merely a matter of coincidence."

Dōna hāedar.

Sweet little sister.

"Lord Baratheon will not leave it like that. He will break the alliance." She whispered, and he snorted, leaning towards her, sinking his hand into her hair.

"So I'll take Vhagar and explain the situation to him. Mmm, I could take you with me – you would present to him the injustice that has befallen you at the hands of his daughter, and then you would warm my bed in one of the chambers in Storm's End." He said lightly, as if he thought that, indeed, this was a great plan with a guarantee of success.

"You would force him to listen to what you are doing to me." She sighed as she felt his thumb run over her lips, parting them, sinking his finger into their fleshy, moist structure.

She shuddered as his hand slid down to the material of her nightgown, untying it, a moan of surprise stuck in her throat as he spread it open, exposing her bare breasts.

"– I am a free man now, hāedar –" He gasped, leaning lower – her hands clenched into fists on either side of her head as the tip of his pink, wet tongue ran lazily over her hard, puffy nipple. "– and as your big brother, I have precedence in your bed –"

She threw her head back with an innocent, girlish moan as his lips clamped around her nipple, sucking on it gently as if he were a baby – her hands in some involuntary reflex entwined in his long white hair, pressing his face against her breast, feeling the shudders and pulsations surging through her cunt each time his tongue rolled around the sensitive spot.

"– ah –" She gasped, involuntarily rocking her hips, feeling this kind of sensation for the first time in her life – she didn't understand what purpose it was supposed to serve and she felt exposed, but on the other hand what he was doing was wonderfully pleasurable and exciting, her body responding to his caresses eagerly.

She bit her lower lip, trying to hold back her smile of satisfaction when his hand, clenched earlier on her breast, slid down her stomach lower, pulling impatiently at the material of her nightgown, searching blindly for the warmth between her thighs.

They both moaned, and her fingers pressed his face tighter to her body as his fingertips dug into her dripping folds, swollen with desire – her legs bent at the knees spread involuntarily, shamelessly asking for more.

He released her breast from between his lust-swollen lips and looked at her as if he had completely lost his mind, his gaze dark and shining as he lay down next to her on his side, guiding her hand to the twitching bulge in his breeches exactly as he had the evening before.

She didn't know why she was so willing, why when his forehead pressed against hers and their lips found each other in a passionate, loud kiss, filled with their sigh of delight, her fingers undid the buckles of his tunic and untied the material of his breeches, reaching fearlessly for what lay beneath them.

He closed his eyes and sighed, his body shuddering as he felt the gentle touch of her smooth hand on his erection, hot with desire, throbbing all over under her fingers. His free hand in some subconscious, helpless reflex sank into her hair, his lips melting with hers in a sweet caress seemed to seek reassurance that this would remain their secret.

The tips of their tongues licked against each other with their grunts of delight as his hand sunk into her leaking, silky cunt, circling around her small, delicate pearl while hers trailed over his throbbing manhood, teasing it.

He was hard as a rock.

"– squeeze it –" He breathed out into her mouth between one click of their wet lips and the next, taking his hand from between her thighs for a moment, clearly wanting to show her what he meant.

She opened her eyelids with difficulty, dulled by the sensations and his slick tongue sliding between their kisses down her throat, peering curiously at what she was touching. He stopped the caress for a moment, their faces pressed together, their gazes directed downwards.

"– here – right here – just like that, all the way to the top –" He whispered in a voice trembling with desire.

A quiet, helpless groan broke from his lips, enveloping her in the warmth of his breath as she obeyed him, clasping her fingers at the very base of his long, pink cock, squeezing it to the very tip of it, thick and smooth, dripping with his own wetness.

"– how is it possible for something like this to fit inside a woman? –" She mumbled and heard him smile, his hand returned back between her thighs, running warningly over her leaking slit.

"– I'll show it to you myself – one day –" He murmured, his lower lip running over hers in a gesture inviting her to another kiss, which she accepted with unprecedented eagerness, letting his hand sink into her hair to pull her closer, refusing to let her escape his starved mouth.

"– harder –" He demanded in a voice hoarse with desire between their loud, passionate kisses, and she smiled involuntarily under her breath – her hand, in accordance with his desire, clamped tighter on his root, causing him to let out a surprised, boyish moan from his throat.

Her heart fluttered harder in her chest at the thought that she didn't know he was capable of making such sounds.

So innocent.

Now, in this moment, he was helpless, vulnerable to hurt.

He craved.

And she couldn't waste this chance.

The space between her thighs was delighted with her plan, feeling his fingers circling around her swollen bud with cruel precision, their breaths heavy as their tips pushed against her entrance, opening her on their thickness.

"– lēkia –" She breathed out, a startled, sweet moan of euphoria bursting from her lips directly into his throat as his fingers forced their way deep inside her, only to slide out and repeat it all over again.

He sighed as she squeezed his swollen erection tighter in response – their hands found a shared rhythm, their hips rolling back and forth at the same time, their lips melting into hot kisses filled with excitement and impatience.

"– don't stop – mmm –" He purred into her lips, panting hard along with her, shivers of wondrous delight shaking her body again and again each time his fingertips hit the sweet spot deep inside her, from which she felt the tickle in her lips and nipples.

"– I – o-oh, gods –" She whimpered, feeling her inevitable peak approaching, his hand from her hair slid lower to her breasts, clamping down on it as if he himself was trying to hold back the inevitable.

"– go on – come on my fingers –" He exhaled, and those words were enough to make her body shake with a sweet shudder, from which a startled, innocent moan escaped her throat – she felt his fingers stop moving inside her, wanting only to feel her fleshy walls pulsing around their length, sucking them inside her.

"– hāedar –" He whispered and gasped all over with a sigh of relief when, after her next sure squeeze, his pearly, sticky release spilled over the snow-white material of her nightgown.

They lay like this, panting heavily, welted and sweaty with emotion, pressing their foreheads against each other, his hand lingering on her bare breast and deep inside her womanhood while her fingers stroked gently his throbbing, quivering manhood.

Despite what they had done, and that it was certainly a sin, there was also something innocent about it – their desires were pure and sincere, devoid of subtext, seeking only the release of tension, closeness and security.

When she opened her eyes she saw that his gaze was fixed on her chest, his lips slightly parted in a deep, uneven breath.

She thought he longed to do what he had always done with his lover – to sink his face between her plump breasts and allow himself to be embraced by her – but he knew that she knew his secret and that if he did so, he would expose himself to ridicule and confirm his brother's words.

She lifted her free hand and gently placed it on his, inviting him to sink his fingertips deeper into the soft structure of her bosom – he sighed when he looked at her, as if he didn't know what he thought of it himself, and after a moment he leaned down and nestled his face into the crook of her neck.

His hand remained on her breast – encourage by her gesture, he played with it between his fingers as her arms embraced and cuddled him into her, and he didn't push her away or say a word.

Looking down at her fingers sticky with his spend, her other hand combing lazily through his long white hair, she thought she had tamed not one dragon, but two.

They were both silent – there was something safe about that. It seemed to her that they both knew that whoever spoke first would show weakness – not of flesh but of character – and neither of them could afford to do so.

Desire was like thirst or hunger, obvious and needing no explanation, indicative of nothing more in fact it was.

It didn't need feelings.

"Criston Cole is gathering our army. He and my uncle will soon march for Harrenhal." He hummed, enveloping her neck with his warm breath, his hands closed over her breasts and her womanhood moved, stroking both places, making her shiver.

He shared his knowledge with her because he was proud of himself and felt a sense of satisfaction – he sought confirmation of his genius, her praise and understanding, her gaze of admiration that he so desperately desired.

Or was it a test?

Was he telling her this because he wanted to see if she contacted her father?

They both shifted position, lying on their sides, looking straight into each other's eyes – there was something in his gaze and grin that filled her with anxiety.

"Daemon is expecting our answer. What he doesn't know, however, is that Cole will actually head off to a different location."

She blinked, looking at him confused.

"Why?" She asked and sighed as he gently took her hand in his, looking at her in simultaneous concentration and excitement, as if he was delighted that she had asked about it.

She thought in disbelief that he was acting like a little boy.

He confided in her.

"– your smooth hand is Dragonstone –" He said, placing her hand on the bed and pointed with a circular motion of his finger to the sheet around it. "– all around it is the sea –"

"– this –" He murmured, his other hand sinking lazily into the skin of her exposed, bare breast, making her involuntarily clench her thighs. "– is King's Landing – and this –"

He whispered, slowly running his knuckles down her smooth stomach, a quiet sigh escaped her lips as his fingertips sank gently into the fleshy, moist folds of her soft womanhood.

"– this, dōna hāedar, is Harrenhal – everyone desires it, for it is the fortress that opens the way to the North – moreover, it is currently besieged by your father –" He gasped, teasing her throbbing slit with his fingers, causing her lips to part in a ragged breath, feeling the pleasant tingle of pleasure run down her spine.

She felt with shame that her nipples had hardened, pointy and sensitive, her little cunt all swollen from the waves of tickling ecstasy into which his words and touch had brought her.

"– this –" He continued, sliding his fingers, wet with her moisture up her thigh and knee. "– this is Winterfell – and with it the whole of the North –"

"– however, there is another important, inconspicuous place –" He said contentedly, returning his hands to her palm, his fingers running over her wrist. "– here is Rook's Rest – a small fortress that allows my sister-whore to cross to the continent – however, if you cut it off –"

He said and made a movement with the side of his hand across her wrist, as if he were cutting it off with a dagger.

Her heart thumped harder in her chest as she suddenly comprehended.

"– you want to cut her off from the land –" She muttered and he hummed, cocking his head, his lips curved in expression as if her words gave him satisfaction and tickled his ego.

"– does your brother know about this? –" She asked, and his expression changed – his jaw clenched in displeasure, his iris turned black, his brow straightened.

Her question frustrated him and destroyed his pleasant vision, she thought as he took his hands from her warm body.

"– Aegon did not devote his life to the art of war or the complexities of warfare – he preferred to drink and play with his whores –" He said with a wide smile that, if it were not for the look in his eyes, she might have considered joyful.

She knew, however, that he was furious.

She raised herself up on her elbows, letting the material of her nightgown slide even lower, exposing her shoulders and stomach.

"– don't do it – tell him –" She muttered, and he stood up, infuriated, and immediately tied the material of his breeches, displeased with the direction this discussion had taken.

"– I don't recall asking you for your opinion – it was a mistake to introduce a woman into these complicated, masculine matters –" He said coldly in a tone that suggested that one more ill-chosen word on her part and he would lose patience despite everything that had happened between them.

She, however, knew that what he was doing would sooner or later lead to a catastrophe of which she too would become a victim.

She had no intention of dying because of his pride.

"– your brother sees you as a threat – he is disturbed by your behaviour and is tense in your presence –" She said, looking at him pleadingly.

He, to her surprise snorted and laughed, looking down at her, a wide grin on his face.

"– he's afraid of me –" He said in a way as if it was his great achievement for which she should praise and kiss him.

She shook her head feeling that her face expressed terror.

"– yes, he's afraid of you – and that's not good information neither for you nor for me – gods, you can't let him stop trusting you – you're balancing on a thin line and forgetting that it doesn't matter if he fits the role or not, he's the King –" She said in a breaking voice, feeling her heart pounding like mad in her chest.

He stood over her with his lips slightly parted, breathing loudly, as if he was boiling inside, not knowing what to make of her words.

His gaze fled lower for a moment, to her breasts, as if her bared flesh and the memory of the pleasure they had given each other distracted him, and then back to her face.

He was silent.

He hesitated.

This was her chance.

"– I beg you to tell him – in the solitude of the chamber, so that no words are said in public – so that he cannot accuse you of plotting behind his back –" She whispered, shifting towards him on her hands, settling herself finally in front of him on her knees, looking up at him pleadingly.

He swallowed hard and clenched his hands into fists, as if struggling to restrain himself from touching her – her gaze fled down to the material of his breeches, under which his manhood pulsed.

"– this fool will demand Harrenhal – he won't understand – he wants great fortresses and great victories, not realising that war is composed of cunning and guile –" He said quietly, looking her straight in the face, his lips parted as if he was thirsty and she was a fleshy, wet fruit.

"– so let's convince him together – I know how to speak to him – he enjoys me and my honesty – he'll feel he's making important decisions, even though they've long since been made for him –" She said, breathing hard as he did, feeling how much she was risking by conversing with him so directly.

She saw something sinister flash in his eye, his tongue running over his lower lip.

"– do you let him touch you? –"

She blinked and snorted in disbelief, shaking her head as if she wasn't sure if he had really asked about it.

"– no – his tongue doesn't burst in between my lips and his hand doesn't seek the heat between my thighs –" She said and they both fell silent, panting quietly, as if something in her words aroused both her and him.

They shuddered and pulled away from each other as they heard someone's footsteps outside the door – her hands immediately covered her shoulders and breasts with her nightgown, while he quickly buckled his tunic.

When a quiet knock sounded she glanced at him and only spoke up when he looked as if nothing had happened between them.

She thought with amusement that because of their elation, his hair didn't look as perfect as usual.

"Come." She called out, and a servant came in with a tray, saying that she had brought the morning meal for her as prescribed by the Maester.

Her cousin left without a word, letting her eat in peace, and she exhaled heavily, spreading a piece of bread with berry confiture, thinking she was treading on thin ice.

She was neither his lover, nor his sister, nor his servant, but a chaos of his desires and needs.

Gods, have mercy on me, she thought.

To her surprise, as she was being examined by the Maester, who was looking at a large lump on her head, the King walked into her room.

Aegon seemed pleased that she was alive and looked healthy.

"– ah, you're awake, cousin – great news – Baratheon's whore is on her way back to her home – my brother never liked to have his toys destroyed – and I will not allow any of my family to be harmed in this fortress again –" He said lightly, walking over to the table, taking one of the jars that contained the herbs brought by the medics – he shook it, raised his eyebrows in disapproval and set it down.

She did not reply, deciding that silence in such a situation was safer.

"– he was never able to hide his jealousy or his displeasure, you know – he was forever walking around with his mouth curved in disgust, proud and vain, with his nose in his big books, as if they would make his other eye grow back –" He muttered, pacing around her bed, looking around the room.

"– you're a dragon rider and my cousin, and he gave you such a small chamber – it's inappropriate – I'll assign you another, better one, with a view of the sea – Lady Floris slept in it before, but I think she won't haunt you in your dreams – you'll be content –" He said, looking at her, and she nodded and smiled involuntarily.

"– that's it – that's the spirit – I like it – you should see Sunfyre – have you ever been in Dragon's Pit? –" He asked, as if hundreds of thoughts were going through his mind at once, and he was unable to focus on any.

"– no, my King –" She replied softly and hissed as the Maester touched a spot on the back of her head that was all sore and swollen.

"– forgive me, my Lady –" He whispered, and she nodded.

Aegon didn't seem to see this and simply went on.

"– we will travel there this afternoon, by carriage, so as not to strain you –" He said and seeing that the Maester wanted to state with certainty that this was not a good idea he raised his hand in the air, showing him not to interrupt mid-sentence. "– the fresh air will certainly do her good, and we won't spend much time there –"

Whether she wanted to or not, she had to go.

She didn't do so reluctantly, though, for indeed, she wanted to see the other dragons and the great cave they lived in.

However, as soon as the carriage doors closed behind them she realised what the true purpose of this journey was.

"I want Daemon to answer for the death of my son and I need you to help me convince my brother that I should set off to fight with him. He doesn't agree and every time he does it, he humiliates me in the eyes of the Small Council." He said with regret and frustration, from which she swallowed hard.

Oh gods.

She looked down at her hands, feeling the panic rising within her, standing between them as if between two walls that were moving closer and closer, finally colliding with each other and crushing her at the same time.

"The King must remain in King's Landing. Without you there is no point in all this." She said, looking at him expectantly.

She clenched her hands on her knees when she saw that his jaw clamped shut in rage, his eyes red from tears as his fist hit the carriage wall with all its force.

"– he's my son – you don't understand it – you're not a mother – my children are my biggest pride – they are sweet, good and kind, and now – now my son is locked in a cold stone sarcophagus underground and he's probably scared –" He mumbled out, burying his face in his hands, as if he believed that a decapitated child could wake up.

Despite the absurdity of his words, her throat tightened in sympathy, tears of sadness gathered under her eyelids as she looked at his huddled, distraught figure.

"– he's not suffering anymore – he's in a place where no one can hurt him again –" She muttered, and he sobbed loudly, as if he was only now allowing himself to truly grieve.

She swallowed hard when he reached out his arm to her, placing his elbow on his knee.

"– can you hold my hand? –" He gasped, choking on his own tears, and she felt a single, heavy tear run down her cheek.

Her hand grasped his, and his fingers tightened on hers as he cried and cried and cried.

Some part of her felt the need to embrace him and comfort him, she feared, however, that he might take this as an invitation to something else, something she did not want.

She didn't desire him that way, and his brother's fury would be immense.

So she held his hand in hers until they reached Dragon's Pit.

Sunfyre looked like a dragon straight out of fairy tales told to children – slender, long, shining as if he were made of pure gold he looked proud and towering. She smiled when she saw that the beast had pressed its head against its master's chest, and Aegon kissed its scales as if his dragon was also his child.

Something moved her at that sight, at his genuine joy and laughter.

She realised with horror that his younger brother had never smiled.

Not really.

The journey back to the Red Keep passed as she listened to his stories about their father.

"My father, and your uncle mostly forgot about having more than one child. The fucking cunt of Dragonstone was his favourite. His heiress to the throne even though he had a first-born son, for whom, after all, he had opened the womb of his first, beloved wife. Apparently he did so against her pleas, and her cries were heard throughout the fortress. And yet, my mother and my grandfather say that I should follow his example. That he was a wonderful, merciful king." He said, looking at her with a smile full of amusement, however, there was something else in his gaze: pain and fatigue.

He had not slept well for many months and only found comfort in wine.

"And your sister-wife? What is she like?" She asked, though she did not know why.

Aegon fell silent and the amusement disappeared from his face – he stared blankly out of the carriage window for a moment, as if musing.

"Her person is an eternal mystery to me. I don't usually understand what she says. But she is gentle and kind. She does not humiliate me, although she, of all our family, has the most reason to despise me." He said finally.

She swallowed silently, thinking that there was something childlike and innocent in his words, sincere and helpless, a cry of despair and a plea for help that no one answered.

She wondered if he and his brother knew how much alike they were.

She wanted to say it and had it on the tip of her tongue, but after a moment she realised that her cousin would kill her if he found out that she had described his weaknesses to his brother.

She had to balance the two of them so that they both loved her.

In some way.

When they returned to the fortress she immediately headed to her chamber, dreaming only of a warm bath.

As she stepped into her small room she reached into the back of her gown, grabbing the ties of her bodice, and opened her mouth, wanting to call out to a servant to help her.

"Where have you been?"

She looked back, terrified, clutching at the heart that had stopped in her throat hearing his cold voice – she saw his silhouette sitting on one of the chairs like a statue, his face stony and blank, his gaze dark.

Exactly as it had been when she had first seen him.

"With the King." She replied truthfully, reaching her fingers trembling with anxiety into the back of her gown again, pulling at the thin, bright ribbon, causing the whole dress to loosen.

She saw his lips tighten in fury, his nostrils twitching in a deep breath as if he was trying to control himself and not lash out at her.

"For what reason?" He asked further, tilting his head in curiosity, his wide grin indicating that he was on the verge of exploding.

"He wanted to show me Dragon's Pit and Sunfyre." She said without lowering her gaze, knowing that she could not show him fear.

She jumped up and took a step back, terrified when he suddenly burst from his chair with such fury that she only had time to snort for air and he was already at her side, grabbing her aggressively at the waist, slamming her body against the bedpost.

She sighed, resisting him passively as his free hand lifted the material of her skirt with a sharp movement, her hand gripped his wrist as his fingers sank into her womanhood and pushed against her slit, causing her discomfort and pain.

"– no – it hurts when I'm not prepared –" She exhaled, looking him straight in the eye.

They both breathed hard as something like satisfaction flashed across his face, the corner of his mouth twitching in a smirk full of contentment at the realisation that she wasn't wet.

That she didn't desire his brother.

He took his hand away and let her go, taking a step back and looking at her for a moment in silence.

"Mmm. I have come to you with another matter. From now on, our lessons will be held in my chamber. I wish to ensure that no one will…disturb us." He hummed softly, suddenly completely calm and pleased, the fingers of his hands rubbing against each other as if he was excited by the vision.

She sighed quietly, leaning the back of her head against the wooden column, feeling her cunt pulsate all over at the subtext she heard clearly in his words.

"So that no one disturbs my education, as I understand it?" She asked quietly, his gaze fixed on her hot and filled with something combining lust and madness.

"Indeed. What I wish to teach you requires much concentration and the privacy of the chamber." He said, and she felt her lips part wide in a thirsty sigh.

The corner of her cousin's mouth twitched in a grin, as if he remembered something, and then he moved towards the door, glancing at her over his shoulder with an expression from which a shiver ran along her spine.

"Wear the same robe as the last time. And let your hair down."

[strawbeerossi]

Magic Touch

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: When you hurt your back in the field, Spencer offers to give you a massage. Then he tells you a little fact about men and women who orgasm without sexual stimulation during massages.

Content/Warnings: Talks of field injuries, talks of orgasms, massaging, Spencer’s expert hands are mentioned like 4 separate times, cumming untouched (sort of).

Word Count: 1.3K

Kinktober Day Eight: Massage

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

There have been plenty of tumbles in the field that left you sore for days on end. It came with the territory, plus you weren’t exactly the most agile. It was after you had solved a child abduction case, the child was safe in police custody while you had a chase with the unsub in question. You’d seemed to have pulled a muscle or something, being in so much pain that you were laying on the floor of the living room when you’d gotten home. 

“Why are you on the floor?” Spencer asked, an eyebrow raised as he couldn’t help but chuckle. “My back.” You groaned, face being muffled by the fluffy rug that your face was resting on. “It’s that bad? Do you think a backrub will help?” The idea of his skilled hands was heaven, honestly.

“Maybe..”

“I’m not sitting on the floor. Come on.” He chuckled, hands held out towards you so he could help you to your feet. The way you winced made him do the same out of sympathy pains. “I know it hurts. We will get you sorted.” He assured, one hand gently resting on your lower back before walking to the bedroom alongside you. “After this, I may have to get you some ice or maybe a heating pad. I think we have one..” He was mostly murmuring to himself, his brain figuring out what exactly he needed to ensure that your back got better as fast as possible.

“Go ahead and get undressed. Lay down.” He assured while he was heading to his bedside drawer to fish around for a bottle of lotion that surely had to be carelessly tossed in there. The feeling of the smooth container was what prompted him to pull out the half full bottle of lotion. “I was looking for that!” You grunted, making Spencer put his free hand up in self defense. “You threw it in there, not me.” He chuckled while heading over to sit on the edge of the bed after you’d stripped down to your underwear and laid on the mattress, cheek squished against your pillow. “Please fix me.” You begged in a playful tone.

Spencer was shaking his head with a chuckle, rolling up his sleeves before he was moving to squirt a generous amount of lotion into the palm of his hand. “It smells really good. I think this is the rosewater one that mom gave you.” He spoke while rubbing his hands together.

You shivered at the feeling of the cold lotion on his hands hitting your bare skin. Even with the warmth of his hands, it wasn’t enough. “Cold,” You groaned. “Oh shush, you big baby.” Spencer commented while his palms were flat against your back, his firm touch pulling a soft moan from your lips. “Better?” He asked, chuckling as he continued to put pressure into your back as his hands glided across your skin with ease. 

“Much better.” You slurred. The pressure was heaven sent, his hands doing more than making you drool when you linger too hard looking at them. He was useful for some things. “Good.” He responded in a soft tone. 

Like any man, Spencer’s generosity began to play to his own benefit. His hands were slowly moving to your lower back as he continued on with his good deed for the day. “Spencer.” You warned, feeling his hands moving to play with the waistband of your panties, a light hum leaving his lips. “What?! I’m helping.” He commented, trying to use that sweet little innocent tone of voice as his hands were gripping a good handful of your ass, making you squeak softly while lifting your head. 

“You are such a man.” You scoffed, although you offered a smile as he was leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your lips. “I’m just giving my girlfriend a massage! I have no idea what you are talking about.” He mused, hands continuing to trail down to your thighs while generously rubbing them, nudging your thighs apart with a soft hum. “You should ask me to do this more often.” He spoke, his hands working your thighs while you were already feeling the arousal smack you right in the face. 

“Did you know that there are some men and women who can orgasm from just a massage alone? It’s actually a really interesting study.” You weren’t fully listening, the circles in your inner thighs making your body hot, face flushed. “I think that we should test the theory.’ he’d suggested, making your head nod slowly. “We should,” You were letting out a groan of satisfaction as Spencer was squeezing your thighs with a grin. “Good! I’m gonna try not to touch you sexually even though.. You make it really hard not to.” he chuckled, putting pressure into your thighs again before his hands were moving to your legs.

Now, normally massages get people in the mood regardless. After all, there's a reason why people joke about only wanting a backrub when they get pregnant. You’d never heard of anyone cumming on the sole basis of having their body worked and no sexual contact, however the sensuality of it made sense. That’s why you were squirming in your spot from the skilled, large hands on your body. 

“I’m gonna move to your hips.” He informed, dragging his fingertips down your body. The moment he was putting that pressure, your mouth was agape as a loud moan echoed through the room, which Spencer took as a perfect sign to continue caressing your skin, which was hot and now had a thin layer of sweat. “Oh fuck,” You cursed, making your boyfriend chuckle. “Feels good? You look so sexy right now. Who would’ve thought that I could turn you on just by massaging you? Think you can cum like this?” He’d asked, your face buried in the pillow under your head as you were completely transfixed on the expert hands gripping and rubbing at your body. 

“I have an idea,” He began and pulled his hands away, gently rolling you onto your stomach. “Hi there.” He cooed, chuckling at your glossed over eyes and fucked out expression. “I’m gonna do something that I know you like. It may be breaking the rules just a little bit but I wanna see that gorgeous face when you cum.” He mused, hands grasping at your hips again, however this time he let them slide up your torso. You know what was coming the moment that his gaze had fallen on your breasts.

As his hands were cupping both tits on your chest, he was letting his hands knead at the balls of flesh and fat, thumbs swiping over your hardened nipples. “Look at you falling apart right now.” He chuckled, one hand moving to tweak your nipple and elicited a whine. “I’m gonna cum, Spencer.” 

All of the overwhelming touches and the both of you learning your pressure points was actually a fun experience. You would opt out of only getting a massage next time but hey, it was an interesting study. His hands found themselves at your hips again, that seemingly being the best place to touch you. 

It took a few times before you were letting out an airy moan, head tilting back as your hands came down to grip at his wrists. Your thighs were shaking as you hit your peak, panties being soiled with your creamy arousal as Spencer had the pleasure to watch the cloth dampen. 

“Holy shit.” You huffed out, making Spencer laugh. “Well, I hope that helped your back.” He mused, leaning down to press a kiss against your lips. You had gently rested a hand against his chest after parting ways. 

“Should we try to make you cum from just a massage? I don’t wanna brag but I’d say I’m pretty good with my hands.” You teased, making the male crinkle his nose with a smile.

“Well, I am a man of science. It would be wrong to deny a scientific experiment.”

[teratosfavouritesnack]

I have a request! A himbo alien that is very incompetent at his job. He was tasked with abducting a cow and gathering samples from her, but took a human instead. He's still convinced that she is a cow and starts inserting equipment in her pussy and mouth. For some reason he is having trouble getting any milk samples no matter how much he squeezes her tits :( Oh well he does have a serum that should help... maybe a little too well.

Hiii! Thank you so much for your request! I've never written anything like this before but... I enjoyed it so much lol Hopefully you'll enjoy it, too. 💜

alien x afab!human - dubcon, alien abduction, four-armed monster, language barrier, forced lactation, multiple penetration, fingering, multiple orgasms

You were taking a break from ranch work. Laying on the grass, under the canopy of leaves of the largest tree in your fields, sheltering from the scorching sun. Normally, your cows would be there too, taking a nap beside you or simply strolling about, munching on the grass, however the vet had come in for their routine check-up, so they were all inside the farm, under the protective cover of their shed.

You were chilling, eyes closed, arms crossed under your head, a faint wind giving you that much needed reprieve from the oppressive heat. You were about dozing off to sleep when you felt your hairs stand on end. You only had time to catch a flash of blinding white light before everything turned black.

Muffled sounds reached your ears, unfamiliar noises your clouded mind couldn't decipher. Your muscles jerked as you tried to stretch your limbs, but they didn't move an inch; it seemed like they were blocked and forced to stay in that position. You felt pressure, an odd kind of pressure on certain areas of your body, as well as a cold touch against your knees and arms. Your eyes strained to open, still hazy and unfocused, but you glimpsed faint glimmers of light, white and blue, and shadows moving all around you.

You were uncomfortable. Something felt very odd, though you couldn't define what it was. Not yet.

 A touch on your chin. Something or someone raised your head up and poked at your face to check whether you were still unconscious. Then a rough texture brushed across your lips, pulling them open and slipping a cold object into your mouth. The strain in your jaw was sharp, causing you to grimace and groan in protest, yet all you got in return was a pat on the head.

You heard a beep. Then came the sound of a machine whirring to life, and the pressure on your body switched to a suction feeling. You jolted, eyes snapping open and landing on your chest. The glass tube in your mouth partially obscured your view, but you could clearly see suction cups attached to your breasts with tubes that hooked straight into your turgid nipples, pumping and sucking as if they were trying to pull your whole soul out of your body.

You hardly had time to process the situation when another object probed your skin, seeking to slide inside your pussy. You recoiled, attempting to escape the intrusion, but to no avail; the shackles, which you could now clearly recognize as metal straps, kept your limbs immobile in a kneeling position with your ass pulled upwards. The same coarse touch you felt on your face before, you sensed on your ass cheeks, rubbing your flesh, seemingly trying to comfort you while the object, another glass tube, was being pushed, inch by inch, with great effort, inside of you. It stretched your walls so much you groaned and clenched around it, refusing the intrusion but whoever was doing this to you had no intention to stop. It stretched your legs apart furthermore, while fingers spread your folds and made another attempt to shove the device in. The sound of your muffled laments however only became louder, to which a weird clicking sound seemed to answer.

A rough texture brushed across your clitoris, possibly by accident, and the unexpected contact caused you to flinch and whimper. Perhaps you weren't supposed to react that way because the stranger abruptly halted its ministrations. Another sequence of clicks was heard, and they almost sounded confused to you, although it was possible that you were projecting your own understanding onto them in an attempt to grasp even a smidge of whatever was going on. 

Another tentative, yet now deliberate, caress across your swelling bundle of nerves had you moaning and bucking your hips against it, unable to resist the pleasure it aroused within you, regardless of the messed-up scenario you were in. The textured surface, which you could now recognize as fingers, seemed to be spurred on by your response, adding pressure to their caresses, stroking your clitoris with ever-increasing rhythm and intent, until your hole was so slick that the object practically slipped inside on its own, filling you entirely. Another machine promptly switched on, and the oblong thing inside you began to vibrate, making your whole body tingle and quiver with delight.

The stranger walked in front of you, and for the first time since waking up, you were finally able to take in their appearance. You had no idea what you were expecting, but the alien-like thing standing before you was not it. It couldn't appear more alien even if it tried, you thought, with that blue mixed with silver skin and bits of pink sprayed here and there, making it look like a stunning galaxy painting. It had few human-like traits, and those that you could recognize were either of different color or shape or doubled... like its arms.

Its large, pale eyes were riveted on your breasts. You stared, shivering and wide-eyed, as three of his hands rested on its sides while the other went toward its face. Its long, bumpy fingers tapped on what you could only assume was its nose. The gesture almost resembled that of a human who was perplexed and appeared to ponder over something. The way it proceeded to turn off one of the machines and then kneel before you to remove the cups from your tits seemed to prove your thoughts.

Its fingers pinched at your nipples and pulled on them, squeezing your soft flesh with purposeful motion, almost in the same way you used to... milk your cows when you were younger and inexperienced. Its eyes flickered up to your face when you protested at the contact. It opened its mouth again, and you could see its rolled tongue hit its blunt teeth, producing that odd clicking sound you'd been hearing all along. You obviously had no idea what it meant, but you were certain you weren't supposed to understand it. It wasn't talking to you; instead, it appeared to be disputing with itself. A moment later in fact, the creature rose up and rummaged through the peculiar utensils on the glass-like desk opposite you. Your eyelids were starting to drop, weary from the building pleasure coiling in your lower belly. The way the tube buried in your cunt vibrated against your sensitive walls, causing them to flutter and clench around it, was becoming too much; you were unable to focus on anything else.

The alien returned to you, raising two hands to rub your breasts. There was lotion on its skin, and you could feel its moisture on your flesh. The thing made sure to coat your nipples with it, meticulously squeezing, pulling and pinching them so your skin could absorb whatever that stuff was. Your moans were muted by the tube in your mouth, but the alien could definitely hear you and it... mooed back at you? Or maybe you imagined it. Maybe all of this was a twisted, filthy fantasy that your imagination had concocted. Those four extraterrestrial hands that fondled your flesh and pinched your nipples couldn't be real, right? No, absolutely not. But most of all, there was no way milk could have begun to leak from your nipples, right? It didn't make any sense. And yet, you saw it, creamy white fluid spilling from your tits as the aliens squeezed them; your eyes widened at the shocking sight.

A high pitched clicking sound escaped the creatureìs lips as it hastened to place the cups back on your skin. You groaned loudly when you felt that suction force back against your nipples, sucking up your milk, letting it flow inside the connected tubes. It all felt a little too real for this to be a fucking dream.

With the device vibrating in your cunt and stimulating your clitoris, the cups sucking on your nipples, and the tube in your mouth collecting your saliva, you felt overwhelmed. The wicked pleasure simmering inside you peaked so abruptly that a blinding orgasm exploded in your gut, causing you to spasm violently and your eyes to roll back. The alien seemed delighted; otherwise, why would it stroke your head like that? As if to praise a well-behaved animal? As if you had just successfully performed a trick for him? It turned to the desk to tap on a translucent screen, noting what - you had no idea, not that you could form a single thought in your current state.

Your body was still spasming in aftershock when you felt the object in your walls stop vibrating and sucking in your juices instead. The sensation was as uncomfortable as it was toe-curling and it only prepared you for the coming of another violent orgasm once the tube started vibrating again… Then it went back to sucking. Then vibrating. Back and forth, again and again as you came and gushed your juices inside the tube. Your tits kept spilling drops and drops of milk during the entire time. Who knows for how long.

You were barely conscious after the fourth orgasm. The delighted clicking sounds of the alien and the touch of one of its hands caressing your hair were the only thing you could register before you passed out again. 

When you awoke, you were back on your field, just where you were before the white flash had blinded you. You looked about, disoriented and bewildered, but everything was just as you remembered it. Maybe it was really all just a dream. You had probably seen too many messed-up movies that fueled your imagination. There was a weird tingling feeling in your body, though... A sensation you just couldn't shake... Perhaps it was only the lingering sensation of unease that the strange dream had caused... The overwhelming disorientation... But those damp spots upon the fabric of your top, right above your nipples? Well, those weren't there before.

🪷. You can leave me a tip on ko-fi if you want to support me <3

[chaosworthy]

↳ @familylightfox​ asked: It was always nice to let their teenage daughter have fun with her teammates at a Freedom Fighter event. Even if it did mean meeting up in New Mobotropolis for a day. Volt didn’t seem to mind it and he hoped the same had been true for his partner. A kiss to his cheek was given before the hybrid mentioned going to see if his brother was at his forge. 

Maybe that had been a mistake. He’d only been gone for a half an hour at most before a sense of fear would come across their shared bond. 

Then, nothing…

                                                        —————

     {➹} – ARROW NEVER MINDED it himself. Just because the Zone wasn’t his home one didn’t mean that he enjoyed catching up with the others any less. In fact, he liked hearing whatever stories they had and exchanging ideas and thoughts with Sally while watching the teens. Given that it was the hybrids’ homezone, the hero knew that there were things and places they would want to see, to check up on, so he had thought little of it when Volt mentioned visiting his brother.

     He hadn’t thought anything of it. Until that flare of emotion. 

     The hero had utterly frozen at the feeling, mid-conversation, a hand subconsciously going to his chest as a wave of fear washed over him before he could even think to stop it. It was the stillness after, that silence so to speak, that had his heart racing. His mind already shot to the worse scenario.

     But that couldn’t be it...not now. Not here. 

     Right...?

[animasolaoriginal]

I n f a t u a t e d ♦️ONE

CHAPTER ONE TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾️TEN ELEVEN◾️TWELVE◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN

A chance encounter under the strobe light. Hips swaying to the thumping bass. Dark eyes following her every move. Gazes meeting through the crowd. She came to him. He took her away. Changing her life forever, guiding her into submission.

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Noncon/dubcon elements. Roofies. Abduction. Dom/sub dynamic. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 3.9k

A/N: Please remember: This is fiction! As much as I enjoy writing fucked-up characters, this is not real. I do not condone this behavior! Men, be nicer to women! Girls, always check your drinks! Be mindful of strangers, no matter how nice they seem and how hot they look. And be careful what you wish for! So, technically this is a modern AU of my original story Innocence Lost, picks up on some themes, but it's basically just a fucked-up man abducting a girl (it's not stated in the beginning, but she's over 18!) and having fun with her (and then things may escalate a little!). Be mindful of the tags! This may be my darkest piece yet. (Dead dove, do not eat, as they say, right?) Also pretty self-indulgent, but there is some plot between all the filthy smut that is to come, I swear. > There are no names, no physical descriptions other than a size and age difference, so you can imagine any character here! <

ONE 🟥 TWO

Innocent.

She's been innocent, the sweetest little thing he's ever seen. Laughing with her friends, oblivious to her own beauty, blind to the leering stares of every single male around her. And he's been one of them, staring, watching her, looking her up and down as she moved her fragile little body to the beat of the thumping bass, motions contorted and jerky in the strobe light, hair swinging, hips shaking, lips curling into happy smiles.

So innocent.

Probably just a mask, an act. Or maybe she's really been as pure as she looked back then, he'll never know. Because as soon as he's laid his eyes on her, she's been corrupted, tainted by his dark desires. He wanted to corrupt her, ruin her, and he always got what he wanted. He lured her in, kept watching her until she noticed his stares, the darkness in his gaze, the hunger within him. And she came to him, drawn to his mystique, his persistence.

Curious little thing, clueless to the monsters around her.

He smiles at her, rakes his eyes over her body, over that outfit she chose to impress without realizing what might happen, whose attention she might attract. The tight top, squishing those small breasts (pert little nipples standing proud under the shifting breeze of the AC), showing off the flat of her stomach, the flutter of her belly after she's danced her heart out, chest heaving, sweat on her brow, beads rolling down her pale, untouched skin. Slim naked arms holding the drink between her fingers, the soft rattle of cheap jewelry on her wrists, around her neck.

Girly, cute, pure.

And that skirt, mid-thigh, tame when she's standing still, scandalous when she's moving, the fabric flowing around her legs, bending down (bending over), accidentally showing off those cute little panties beneath. Giggling when she realizes her mistake, small hands trying to cover up, but people already saw, and she's aware. She's been aware he saw everything of her. Eager eyes, big and fucking innocent, following his every move.

He takes the drink from her, stares down at her, no longer smiling, and she looks up, chin tilted, so tiny in front of him, innocent, expectant, excited. Putting the glass down, he grabs her wrist, frail cheap jewelry bending under his grip. For a small moment she's hesitant, notices the strength in his fingers, the determination behind the gesture. But she still follows him as he pulls her away from the bar, into the shadows.

How do you break an innocent girl? Show her what's what? What may happen if she steps into the lion's den wearing that skimpy top and maybe-scandalous skirt? So naive. Swinging her hips to the blasting music, bouncing those tiny tits, laughing like nothing else matters, enjoying herself. A little light in the moving darkness. A light he wants to savor before he'll let her burn out.

If she'd be any other girl, he'd have her pinned to the wall, skirt flipped up, panties ripped down, his belt open in seconds before he'd sink his cock into her tight little cunt, to ravage her, ruin her, use her like she's supposed to be used. But she's too pure to be railed against a wall, in the dimly-lit club, for everyone to see.

He still pushes her against the wall, inhaling that little gasp she issues when she hits it, looking up at him, lips parted, eyes wide, gaze blurry, pupils already dilated, the thrill of the encounter and adrenaline of the night (and possibly some drinks she was mysteriously gifted) pumping through her body. Grabbing her face with his big hands, he holds her firmly when he leans closer, takes his time, gives her time to push him away (what a rare treat, girl), but she just stands there, looking at him, a little glint in her eyes, her lips curving up ever so slightly.

She wants this.

And he gives it to her. His lips meet hers, one hand holds her cheek, thumb guiding her chin, while the other hand slips into her hair, fisting it, a tight grip to hold her as he kisses her, a soft beginning, quickly turning rougher, more hungry, desperate. And she kisses him back in the same way, mirrors his motions perfectly. Such a quick learner. Their tongues slide against each other before he pushes deeper, tastes the inside of her mouth, that sweet taste, of some sugary drink and her, so much of her, and it's intoxicating.

So sweet. Innocence oozing from every pore.

He cages her in, pushes her against the wall, feet on either side of hers, knees around her legs, and she's that tiny thing in front of him, standing there, kissing him back, but her body seems frozen, hands at her sides, immobile. Petrified? A doe-eyed thing caught in the headlights? Not for long. His hand moves down to her waist, fingers digging into soft skin, warm and smooth, slipping up under the hem of her shirt, teasing at the little mound beneath.

No bra. Too innocent (and small) to need one.

Her hand comes up then, closing around his wrist, but she's not pulling him away, she's pushing his hand higher until his rough palm closes around her breast. Tiny tits, usually not his preference, but it's cute, that little squishy flesh under his big hand, warm and soft, and the longer he kneads it, the harder her nipple pokes into his palm.

And then she moans into his mouth. His eyelids flutter, and he stares at her, lips hovering over hers, heavy breaths mingling, head spinning, the tension in his stomach making it so hard to keep his composure, to stick to his decision to spare her his usual treatment. He gropes her small tit once more before he pulls his hand back, sliding it down her side, watching her closely.

He grabs her ass cheek harder than intended and leans in to capture her mouth when she yelps quietly in response, swallowing her noises, the thump of the music vibrating through his tense body. In his mind he's already ripped her clothes off, run his hands all over her smooth, untouched skin, fingers pinching her nipples, teasing between her legs, slipping deeper, into her tight innocent warmth –

A grunt escapes him. She's gripping the front of his shirt, her small hands clinging to him while she kisses him back, eagerly, completely lost in the unexpected encounter. Eyes closed, humming against him, body inching closer, searching for his warmth. The hand on her ass pulls her against him, a little thud that makes her mewl into his mouth, before it slips lower, cups her rear, pushes her up, fingers brushing against that little damp piece of fabric, and it's enough to make him hoist her up onto his hip.

Her hands claw at the collar of his shirt while her legs wrap around him almost automatically, conditioned, programmed to submit. A deep-rooted thing she isn't aware of yet. Her pelvis presses into his hipbone as he balances her, back pressed to the wall, both of his hands now on her plump cheeks, holding, groping. He can feel her warmth, that hint of wetness, arousal she's probably confused by.

“I'm gonna take you with me,” he rasps into her neck as he leans in to shower her soft skin with hungry kisses, lips closing around her fluttering pulse, sucking the blood to the surface with a determination that surprises himself.

“What?” she breathes against his cheek, a sweet little sound in his ears, so pure, a soft hum in the atmosphere.

“Don't worry about it,” he mumbles, licking over the bruise he's created on her neck. She shivers in his hold, chest moving against him. He leans back, licking his lips, meeting her curious gaze. “You need another drink,” he says with a smirk. It's not a question.

He sets her down again, grabbing her hand, leaning over to brush his lips over her temple until she looks up at him. Then his other hand is on her chin, holding her as he crashes his mouth against hers for another searing kiss. A little whimper escapes her. She's confused, he can tell, overwhelmed by whatever is happening.

Pulling her towards the bar, he nods to the barkeeper, a gesture often used. She's leaning against him, caged between his hard body and the counter, looking up at him with those big eyes. He smiles down at her, caressing her soft cheek with the back of his finger. He's got her, he knows. She doesn't even care about her friends anymore (and they seem to have forgotten about her too, he can see them dancing on the other side of the room). All she does is look at him, mesmerized.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the bartender sliding the drinks over the counter top. He takes the prepared drink (something sugary with a special ingredient) and hands it to her, then takes the little vodka shot for himself, eyes fixed on her as he clinks the glasses together. She smiles shyly and takes a cautious sip, while he downs the shot in one go, feeling the liquid burning down his throat. The music thumps around them, the air thick and heavy with alcohol and sweat, and a tension that's just between them.

The innocent girl, sipping her drink, staring up at the man, who watches her with a predatory smirk. His hand is heavy on her hip, warm and comforting, holding her in place, thumb rubbing over her fluttering stomach. She finishes the sugary concoction and wipes her mouth, glass empty on the bar. He leans down and brushes his lips against her ear.

“Come with me,” he whispers, and she shivers, her hand finding the front of his shirt again. He steps back, his hands running along her arms until they close around her slim wrists. The bass sits low in his guts, and he can't help but move his body slightly to the music as he leads her backwards. She laughs softly, a little sway to her hips as she follows him. But they leave the dance floor and walk back into the shadows.

He watches her closely, she blinks more, eyelids heavy, lips parted, that cute little tongue out to lick them, once, twice, again, almost obsessively. He takes her to the back, past the office, the music becoming that thick beat in the distance, a deep thrum in the air, through the walls, muffled as if the world was made of cotton. He leans her against the wall, a body too easy to move by now, his hands on her shoulders as he leans down to rub his nose against hers.

“Be a good girl and stay right here,” he tells her, waiting for her to understand.

She nods slowly, licking her lips again, and he presses his mouth to hers, capturing that sweet little tongue, sucks on it, kisses her deeply, tastes the sugar and her and more. Dangerous move, but he can't help himself. He leans back, moves his lips down her jaw, along her neck, swipes his tongue in a broad stroke over that soft skin. She mewls in response, and he grins against her before leaning back.

“I'll be right back,” he says, his eyes boring into hers, making sure she does what he tells her. She nods again, biting her swollen lip.

He hasn't planned to take her, but he'll adapt, as always. It's a risky move, but he somehow knows it's going to be fine. He has an eye for these things, knows what to do if situations (opportunities) like this present themselves. Just a few calls, some more ominous nods to his employees, no problem, just a few minutes of his time to sort things out. Somewhat. He doesn't even know why he's taking her away, it just feels right. The temptation is too strong to ignore.

He shouldn't have left her.

When he returns, they are there, crowding her, two guys, frat boys probably, drunk out of their minds, slurring and stumbling, but determined to take what is now his. He's on them in no time, hand ripping them away from the frightened but still confused girl, frozen in place as hands gripped and groped her, slipping under her clothes, going places that are reserved to him.

His fist lands hard against a jaw, one of them tumbling to the floor with a howl, the other, too drunk to react, just stares at him, and he doesn't wait for him to realize what is happening. There's blood on his knuckles when the second guy goes down as well, two crumpled guys on the floor, holding their bloody faces. He grabs the girl with his left hand, carefully pulling her against him. She's swaying, legs trembling, arms wrapping around his waist helplessly.

One of the boys stirs, and he steps on his hand and kicks him back, another howl swallowed by the distant thump of the music. He takes a few steps, raps his fist against the door. A bouncer opens it, and he tilts his head towards the mess behind him. “Take care of this,” he orders, and the burly man nods, slipping into the club while he maneuvers the girl out of it.

The night is cold, semi-fresh air, but the noises are no longer muffled. The city breathes around them as he guides her to his car, parked in the back. She clings to him, barely able to function on her own anymore, eyes heavy, lips parted. He leans her against the trunk, hands holding her soft face, looks her over. She looks at him from under her lashes, too out of it to realize anything anymore. He gives her a soft kiss to her warm cheek, a little giggle escapes her.

She falls into the passenger seat, a frail little body unable to move on its own. He leans over to buckle her in, feeling her deep breaths on his chin. A short side glance shows him she has her eyes closed, chest rising and falling, head lolled to the side. His hand is on her cheek as he kisses her gently, savoring the warmth, already imagining what he could use her for. But he has to be patient.

When he rounds the car to get behind the wheel, his morals flare up, a rare occurrence, but the sight of her slumped into the seat, helpless and fucking innocent, makes him wonder how it's come to this. He's seen her dancing, in that tight top and short skirt, a laughing little light in the darkness around her. Pure. Ready to be soiled. He inhales the cold night air and slips into the driver seat, shaking his head to get rid of those damn doubts, flexing his bloodied knuckles on the steering wheel as he turns his head towards her small form.

In the end she is just another body to be used, like she should be.

They arrive at his place, and it's a blur for him to get her into the elevator, a little breathing bundle in his arms, so light and heavy at the same time. Temptation. He puts her down on the bed, watches her, how she curls up into a ball of limbs and hair, breathing softly, skirt bunched up around her hips, that sweet round butt on display, cute panties he wants to rip off her immediately. But he refrains, sighs, turns away to wash the blood off his hands.

Unbuttoning his shirt as he returns, his eyes are on her, taking in every detail. He keeps his pants on, keeps his hard erection in place for now, no matter how difficult it is to hold back. The urge to just take her is strong, push those panties aside and impale her on his thick cock. It'd be so easy. She wouldn't even feel anything, wouldn't remember a single thing. And there's the problem. He doesn't want to fuck a lifeless body, no matter how cute she looks.

He wants to see the fear in her eyes, the pain when he penetrates her, stretches her, deflowers her, possibly. Maybe even the lust growing in her pupils, that dilated look of pure bliss. Who knows, she might be into this. She followed him so willingly, she came to him, after all, approached the monster that kept staring at her. She made the first step. He just watched.

She stirs on the bed, soft little noises tumbling past her lips. He leans over her, rolls her onto her back, turns her head to the side so she won't choke on her own spit. There are other things he wants her to choke on. Later. It's almost caring how he brushes her hair out of her face, caresses her cheek, flushed and warm from sleep. Thumb finding the contours of her lips, soft and wet, pushing between them, into her mouth, searching for that sweet little tongue.

He pulls back with a deep sigh. Watching her for another moment, he decides to undress her after all. At least the skirt has to go, so he moves his hands under her body and fumbles for the zipper, then pulls it off her slim legs, nudges her shoes and socks off in the same move. He even removes her cheap jewelry, the soft clanging sounds of the thin metal filling the quiet room. She stirs slightly, smacks her lips, but doesn't wake. Not that she could, not yet. He folds the skirt and puts it on the nightstand, the sneakers he leaves under the bed, socks tucked into them, then turns his attention back to her sleeping form.

So fucking innocent in her tight top and those cute panties. A soft pink with little white bows on it. Childish almost, a girl caught in that awkward phase between adulthood and innocence, right on the verge. He doesn't know how old she is, but he trusts his bouncers to only let in girls of age. They're experts in finding fake IDs, good judges of character also. To be honest, though, it wouldn't change anything anyway. She is here now, on his bed, ready to be used, soiled, ravaged. He can't fucking wait.

But he has to, so he leans back and inhales deeply, ignoring the strain in his pants. His hands are itching to touch her, feel that warm smooth skin, pure and untouched. Almost. He can see the bruise on her neck that he worked into her. His mark. The beginning of many more, he's sure. He leans in, braced on one arm, one knee denting the mattress, his other hand tracing her jaw until he feels the little thump of her heartbeat in her jugular. His fingers curl around her neck, thumb pressed to her throat, as he stares down at her.

His mind floods with images of soft lips strained around his cock as he forces it down her throat, the tears in her eyes, the desperate grip of her fingers, trying to push him away as she struggles to breathe, spit and cum on her face, dripping down her chin, down between her tiny tits, chest heaving, throat bulging, a small body shuddering under the assault. He leans back with a groan, his stomach tensing in anticipation.

His hand trails down her side, teases those soft mounds under the top, scrapes over the hem of her panties, down her inner thigh, a little nudge and her legs open, a body to move how he wants to, so pliant. He's tempted to throw his plans overboard, the urge growing to just take her and relieve the throbbing need in his pants. His fingers are shaking as he brushes them between her legs, over the soft, slightly damp fabric of her underwear.

He can't help himself any longer, he slips a finger under the hem, feels her warm skin and the slick gathering between her soft folds. Biting his lip, he traces her slit, from the little hidden nub down to her entrance, and he can already tell she's never been touched here before, tight and pure. Maybe she's had her own little fingers in there, but she'll soon find out that it won't compare to anything he's planning to do to her.

A grunt escapes him when he pushes the tip of his finger into her hole, a little squelching sound accompanied by a little whimper. He looks up, but she's still gone, head turned to the side, drool gathering in the corner of her parted lips. He watches her as he dips his finger deeper, feels the tight grip of her cute little cunt, so warm and squishy, barely able to accommodate one of his digits. This will take some work if he wants to keep her.

He's used virgins before, broke them, ravaged them until their blood mixed with his cum, their pained screams like music in his ears, but this girl... she's too innocent to be treated like that. It's a strange feeling he's never had before. It's warm and somewhat comforting, as smooth as her tight little pussy. He pumps his finger slowly in and out, noticing the wetness gathering around it. Her mind may be clouded, but her body reacts nonetheless.

Why not start her training while she's unconscious? Might make it easier for her once she comes to. He settles next to her, pushing her panties aside more to allow his thumb to find her clit. Pumping his finger, he rubs it gently, draws tight circles around that sensitive bundle of nerves, feels it pulsing under his touch. His cock twitches against the fabric of his pants, and he grits his teeth to ignore it.

Her body shudders, little uncontrollable twitches in her thighs, her stomach fluttering, her soft breaths slightly faster as he keeps working his finger into her tight warmth. His eyes on her face, relaxed in sleep, but there's still a little twitch to her eyebrows, a little furrow, a quiet whimper falling from those plump lips. He fingers her faster, thumb pushing harder on her nub, those sweet squelching sounds making his head spin.

A tiny moan erupts from her throat, a quiet “Ah...” humming in the atmosphere, and he feels her tensing up, her walls gripping his finger, but he works it in and out still, knuckles-deep, thumb assaulting her clit. He wants to lean in and taste her so bad, but somehow he holds himself back, another trait he's new to. Instead he watches her small body convulsing under his touch, hips jerking against his hand, cunt clamping down on his digit, and when he pulls it out, her wetness seeps out of the tiny hole, trailing down to the other, dripping onto the sheets.

He inhales deeply, takes in that sweet scent of her orgasm, and wipes his hand on her inner thigh, spreading her release on her warm skin, before he leans back and brings his finger to his lips, unable to fight the urge to taste her after all. He prefers to have his face between soft thighs, drinking directly from that intoxicating fountain, but for now it'll do. His tongue laps around his fingertip, and he closes his eyes, taking her in, that sweet, sweet taste.

Before he leaves her be, he adjusts her panties and throws the blanket over her sleeping form. Then it's a short trip to the bathroom, shower turned on, clothes discarded on the floor, and he's barely in there when his right hand closes around his angrily throbbing cock.

Fuck. This girl will be a challenge. An exercise in restraint.

🟥 TWO

End notes: So, I guess the slow burn of Innocence Lost got to me, big time. I have no idea from what dark and ugly depths I pulled this story, but it is here, at least the first 10 chapters of it, the first season if you will. (And there will be more!) I'll upload a new chapter every Monday!

I hope the tags didn't put you off too much, but if you are reading this, maybe you pulled through, and I thank you for it! Thank you for joining me on this wild ride! I appreciate you very much!

By the way, this all came to be, somehow, because I've been listening to a lot of Electric Callboy recently (strangely enough, iykyk) and their video to Hate/Love kinda brought this all down. Or at least started it all. Sometimes inspiration strucks in the weirdest forms.

Thanks again for reading! Next chapter on Monday!

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

CHAPTER / / / ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE◾

SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE ◾️TEN

ELEVEN◾️TWELVE ◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN

[animeyanderelover]

Since you're starting JJK, can you do the sleeping with a yandere ask for Yuuji, Sukuna, Megumi, Nanami, Gojo and characters of your choice?

I’ll be going on a vacation during my holidays so expect little to no updates from me then. Those sleeping habits that are what I imagine those characters to be like, by the way.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationship, toxic relationship, obsession, possessive behavior, delusion, clinginess, abduction

Sleeping with a Yandere

Itadori Yuji

🩷​Yuji is a walking cuddle bear already if you two aren't sleeping in the same bed because he just can't get enough of his sweetheart. An abduction is never something that Yuji sees himself doing nor do you really so with the so unexpected abduction your relationship falls apart and it breaks Yuji's heart. Maybe some part of his brain can understand why you're as upset as you are right now but considering that he only resorts to an abduction in extreme situations, another part of him is just as stubborn to believe that he has done only something to be able to protect you. It isn't like he plans to imprison you forever after all. His delusions have even made him hope that you'd want to share a bed with him yet he resigns himself to your rejection and prepares a futon for you in another room.

🩷​One of the most obvious problems with Yuji isn't even something that is his own fault. Sukuna has to make some comments from time to time to try to annoy and anger the boy which might happen whilst both of you try to sleep as well. He always slaps the mouth of Sukuna that suddenly appears and apologizes to you slightly embarrassed about the inconvenience. Otherwise Yuji sleeps well, really well. Maybe sometimes a bit too well as you can't help but wonder how you can get him to wake up when you awake in the middle of the night and feel the urgent need to go to the bathroom. It always takes you a minute or two of shaking, light slapping and whispering his name until he wakes up and lets you out of his arms because his grip is too strong for you to free yourself alone. He snores slightly but that isn't the worst, you'd much rather make a fuss about the fact that he tends to drool on you in his sleep.

Fushiguro Megumi

💙​As Megumi's darling you'd do the both of you a favor by being a reassuring individual since the Jujutsu Sorcerer tends to be very easily paranoid. He's had a case of being stressed around people before yet now with your addition to his life, this all becomes just multiple times worse. Ultimately it is this paranoia that drives him to the act of an abduction and similar to Yuji, he partially knows why it would scare you. Yet he has never had problems with justifying questionable actions with his love for you in mind so this won't be any different in this scenario. Why don't you understand that this was all done for your safety?? A strong negative response from your side leads to avoidance as he gives you time, gives himself partially time too to calm himself. Both of you sleep in different rooms during that time, although you know that he still keeps an eye on you.

💙​He doesn't want to show a very strong response when both of you start sharing a bed, it isn't his style. He would be lying though if he would say that he isn't looking forward to it. It's one of the highlights of his entire day where he has to exhaust himself with the antics of his fellow Jujutsu Sorcerers and pressure from the Zenin clan so spending the hours of the night with your warmth close to his body always reminds him that there's still something good left for him, a person who makes all the drama durable. I see him as someone who needs hours to fall asleep simply because there's so much going on in his mind and often it happens that Megumi goes through interactions you had with people that day and start overthinking certain gestures and words you exchanged with them. He isn't someone with a deep sleep either and worst of all is that he tends to wake up a lot at night, his gaze always searching for you every time that happens and if he doesn't see you, he tends to freak out a bit.

Zenin Maki

💚​If her darling is acting like a crybaby after their abduction, there might be signs of very mild annoyance from Maki's side but otherwise she is very patient. She fully understand why you're upset and mad at her, she's aware of what she has done. The aspect of protection dulls potential guilt though as she will always value your safety and life over your own feelings if there is no other way around it. She's so tough and strict but oddly fair at the same time because her cold facade doesn't mean that she just doesn't care at all. She's willing to give you some space and time for yourself as she's sure that you need it and as long as you don't try to escape or are seriously rude, she won't force you into anything. You get your own room with your own bed to sleep in and won't hear much from her for the next few days, although you know that she's still checking on you.

💚​She is looking forward to it but don't expect her to openly admit that. She isn't one to ask you first about this and if you're the one to suggest it first, she will never spot teasing you subtly about it for the rest of your life. She does her best though to suppress the smug grin that wants to appear on her face during the first few nights. She isn't actively cuddling you but you definitely have a problem at hand when she decides to swing an arm around your waist because subconsciously she tightens her grip once she falls asleep and since she has a very superior strength to the average human, you won't get up anytime soon unless you wake her up. She normally is able to sleep quite well but when she's stressed she experiences troubles falling asleep or tends to wake up multiple times at night. Normally she acts all tough and rarely talks to you about her own worries but if you ever witness her having an erratic sleep at night, you always know that there's something that is stressing her out.

Ryomen Sukuna

🗾His darling is screwed no matter how you might look at it, especially if they're only a human. Because this man has made it very apparent that he doesn't care for anyone or anything and even you won't be an exception for this. Sukuna has always been a man who takes what he wants and that applies for you just as much. You're an object of his affection and greedy desire, by all means he sees you as his valued possession more than he sees you as a person with feelings and rights. So you can't expect any sympathy from him after your abduction and you'd do your best to not get on his nerves because he can hurt you and he will do so if he feels like it. Sukuna only does what he wants and the only thing you can really do is take it silently in hopes of not angering him but he'd find it cute if you would always show a little bit of fear around him.

🗾​I'm not even sure if he needs any sleep anymore since his times as a human are long over although he has kept his memories from that time so he still remembers that humans need sleep. Although what you need doesn't have to mean by a long shot that he'll just give it to you freely. In fact I totally see him terrorizing your sleep sometimes for the shallow reason of his own sadistic amusement. Other times he only allows you to fall asleep if you let him join you in bed and he'll keep you otherwise awake nights on end until you're too tired to care anymore. You're incredibly dumb for letting him so close to you in your most vulnerable state and the times that he has considered abusing that vulnerability are numerous. Honestly, he's being the ultimate creep by just watching you sleep the entire time, hands roaming over your body to feel what is his but if he's feeling rather relaxed and mellow, he sometimes just buries his face in your neck, closes his eyes and enjoys your scent, your warmth, your heartbeat.

Gojo Satoru

🩵​Best of luck with Gojo after an abduction, better say goodbye to your privacy and personal boundaries because Gojo? He just doesn't give a single fuck about any of those. No, somehow he grows even more overbearing after you're permanently stuck in the probably biggest house that you've ever been in. Partially just because he feels like he has now his dream of living a peaceful and domestic life with his sweet lover without any stress from higher-ups or anyone objecting to this relationship. Now he can just love you and keep you for himself. It's a very strange and questionable way of fulfilling his dream but he is at a point in his life where he has given up to feel guilty and doesn't care anymore. He's always been the strongest to satisfy his own clan and the higher-ups of the sorcerer world so he deserves someone for himself. Someone for him and him only.

🩵​He's a clingy monster and you should already know this as he has barely kept his hands to himself during the entire time since you've known him and that has only grown worse the stronger his obsession got. There is no question, you are going to sleep with him in one bed from the moment you are imprisoned in your new home with him. He isn't even listening to your protests and complains and you'd better not provoke him unless you want to see him dropping his light-hearted facade. Seeing him asleep disturbs you but not because of his clingy behavior and tight hug he always gives you nor his surprisingly deep sleep but because he looks so terribly vulnerable. White hair covering his eyes, soft breaths escaping his lips and no teasing expression adorning his face. It's even worse when he initially wakes up and blue and sleepy eyes stare at you as he whispers, no, pleads you to never leave him. It breaks your heart a little.

Geto Suguru

🗻​​Suguru has broken your trust severely when you realize what he has been doing all along, abusing your trust and ignorance to his own advantage until you made him your most trusted person and told him all of your thoughts. Now you're here, imprisoned and surrounded by jujutsu sorcerers who share his views. You're a lesser being in here for being a non-sorcerer and you know that secretly most of the people here look down on you but only show some level of respect because you're Geto's precious love or whatever he's feeling for you. No one tells you what's really going on but you are smart enough to understand that those people possess very special powers and that something is always watching you even when you're all by yourself. So you never misbehave, aware what would happen otherwise.

🗻​He isn't over the fact that he's fallen in love with what he hates the most even after an abduction so you are sleeping elsewhere. A tiny room with a futon as if to rub your lesser position in your face but truth be told, he's doing this mainly because he secretly wants your warmth next to him at night. He's just trying to reject his desires as he doesn't want to fall too deeply into his infatuation but it's already too late to turn back and perhaps you're more surprised than anyone when one day he tells you you'll share a bed with him from now on. You even vocalize your confusion but shut up when he throws you a sharp glare, silencing you as he himself doesn't want to answer your question. Vocalizing his needs would only make it harder to brush off as something less after all. Geto doesn't want to show too much affection but subconsciously he always fails as his half-awake form always pulls you closer to his body, always desires to feel your warm body safely held against his own as his long hair tickles your neck and face.

Nanami Kento

💛​Here we have a man who is trying to be his most respectful to you after an abduction that he has been planning for a longer time now after a triggering accident, most likely something regarding his very protective feelings. He isn't scolding you for being scared and even lets you insult him all you want with a frightening calm expression on his face, only really stopping you if you try to escape, hurt him or yourself in which case you see his face flashing in anger and slight frustration as you realize how scary he can be if he chooses to be. He gives you space as much as he can but even then his presence is felt throughout your entire new life as you realize that Nanami apparently enjoys taking care of you to the point where he's being controlling with it. There's a certain schedule to your life now, one that he has prepared specifically for you.

💛​This even includes your bedtime as you have to be at a certain hour in bed and get enough sleep and have to get up at a certain time in the morning. Nanami isn't forcing you to share a bed with him though as he graciously prepares another room for you to stay and sleep in. So it's a decision based on consens after your abduction to sleep with him and he's another case of showing his emotions in a very controlled way whilst being deep down just relieved that the worst phrase of the abduction seems to be over now. His sleeping schedule is just as meticulous though so both of you go to the bed at the same time and stand up in the morning at the same time. Nanami is also another candidate who needs a bit longer until he falls asleep because he's also thinking a lot when he lies in bed and only silence surrounds him. He has always an arm wrapped around you but the grip isn't too tight for you to not be able to free yourself if you should ever feel the need to visit the toilet. He is a bit more of a sensitive sleeper though so try to be quiet if you don't want to wake him up.