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hcneymooners · 1 month ago

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⋆ do you love me enough that i may be weak with you?

caitlyn x morally ambiguous!fem!reader x ambessa. men & minors dni.

synopsis: you are in competition with caitlyn for ambessa’s attention. you will follow her, to whatever end. no one draws you in like ambessa does. or so you tell yourself, even as caitlyn's lingering gaze makes your heart stutter. she’s almost desperate to be friends, but you don’t trust that girl by any means. to entertain her is to enable weakness. but, then again, have you ever truly been strong?

cw: a lot wow. age gap, older woman/younger woman, you're the youngest but in your twenties, canon divergence au, toxic relationships, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, power dynamics, impact play, body worship, dirty talk, bdsm dynamics, sub!reader, brat!reader, dom!caitlyn, dom!ambessa, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, tribbing, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, face-riding, slightly dub-con in some parts, kissing, so much kissing, non-sexual intimacy, shower sex, hate sex (but is it really), sexual punishment, implied mental health issues, implied manipulation, you are all up to no good, polyam but is it really we'll see, caitbessa is not in love but they use each other, slight violence (fighting, training, & reader is hurt though not by caitbessa.), enemies to lover, rivals to lovers, slightly dark but not too much, guys i even wrote this properly no lowercase.

wc: 10.03k

soundtrack: give up - fka twigs, careless - fka twigs ft. daniel ceaser, holy terrain - fka twins, your girl - lana del rey (unreleased), & oh my angel - bertha tilman. order is intentional.

notes: this was supposed to be 7k. i need to be locked up. dedicated especially to @megalomaniacz for being the beautiful mind behind the caitbessa note that started it all. definitely one of my favorite things i've ever written.

A COIN’S FIRST SIDE. — CAITLYN.

You do not understand her incessant need to look at you.

The day has broken dark and cold. Your body aches with the rigor of being destroyed and depleted timelessly by Ambessa's experienced hands. It is only the three of you in the early morning - you, Caitlyn with her delicate bones wrapped perfectly in binding and sequestered underneath her uniform of buttery, dusky leather, and Ambessa with her arms bare, her face exposed by the careful braiding of her hair that reveals every subtle shift of expression.

It is this, over and over, until your body shudders into collapse. Yet—minute victory or sudden death—Caitlyn must look at you. Even when it's her turn, with her arched back pressed hard into the textured bamboo of the mat, her face crushed against the hollow of Ambessa's palm, she is looking at you. Those eyes, relentless and searching, track your every movement. It drives you utterly insane.

The weight of her gaze feels like another opponent entirely, separate from Ambessa's ruthless instruction. You tell yourself it's determination that keeps you standing, keeps you coming back day after day to this dance of dominance and submission. But there's something else, something in the way Caitlyn's breath catches when Ambessa's fingers ghost over that perfectly formed bruise on her collarbone—the one you gave her yesterday. Something in the way Ambessa's eyes darken when she notices you noticing.

You leave it. You cannot think of it.

Yet it follows you from the training grounds, through the winding corridors where shadows pool like old bruises. Back to the quarters you share with her, where even the air feels thick with unspoken things. It follows you.

Caitlyn's presence fills every corner of the space you're forced to call home, from the precise way she arranges her rifle components to the lingering scent of gunpowder and leather that clings to her sheets. You are aware of that incessant staring, of the way her eyes rove over your naked chest; your small breasts are cupped dutifully in your hands as you unwrap yourself with a harsh breath.

Teacup tits, she'd called them when she’d once had you pinned against the wooden floor. It had been a day without mats; a day of endless testing. She had leaned in close, teeth gleaming like jewels as she held your stomach down with her hips. She had been sitting on you, and you had floundered then froze at the comments. You didn’t know she could be so brazen, so dirty-mouthed. This follows you too.

You've learned to move around her—around each other—in careful orbit. You are like twin moons, two violent girls with cheeks pressed against each other in the night, caught in some larger gravity - Ambessa's gravity - never touching but always aware. Always watching.

The way she strips her gloves off finger by finger after training makes your teeth clench. You tell yourself it's irritation, not fascination when she unwinds the bindings from her own chest with methodical precision. Tell yourself you don't notice how the morning's wounds are already blooming across her shoulders, masterpieces in indigo and blue that match the ones Ambessa left on you last week—it doesn’t make it less true.

And Ambessa—sometimes you catch Ambessa watching too. The way her eyes linger on Caitlyn's throat, on the marks her own hands left there. It sparks something warm and dangerous in your gut - not envy, you insist. Never envy. Just hunger, the same hunger that drives you to push harder, to prove yourself worthy of Ambessa's attention, maybe both of your intentions. To prove you're stronger than whatever weakness Caitlyn stirs in you with her endless watching.

But later the envy cannot help but be itself, and you retch into your hands and sink from the vibrations of your anger. You do not trust her. You’ve seen her with that girl, the reckless pink-haired one, and she knows that you’ve seen her. But you are keeping this secret for reasons you don’t understand.

And in the dead of night, when sleep eludes you, you hear Caitlyn's breathing change rhythm across the room. You wonder if she lies awake thinking of the way Ambessa's fingers traced that lesion on her hip today, the one that matched the shape of your knuckles perfectly. Wonder if she knows you're awake too, caught in this web of wanting that none of you dare name.

🕸

She is desperate for you, in a way that you do not understand. It is easier when she is quiet about it.

There is an evening where she is loud—where everything is loud—and it rattles you. There is an incessant buzzing, maybe cicadas, and in the beginning, you are enjoying it because it reminds you of home and the way your feet fall into wet earth in the heart of the warm season. But then slowly, you begin to lose your mind and the buzzing is in your teeth and you now feel slightly detached from the world and your body is nothing but heat and you are almost lapping at the screen between the open dormitory window and the world and—

You crawl out of bed. You wear nothing but a sleep shirt two sizes too big, the chest open so that your sweat-laden skin gleams like a body of water. It belongs to Ambessa but it was your father's first until she swallowed your homeland and stole you away. You took it back and she said nothing. Maybe she was impressed with the voracity with which you bit and scratched her in the dark, massive cave of her bedroom.

So, yes, you crawl out of bed. You are swamped in ivory fabric and you drag your feet as you roam the halls. There is movement and it scares you, but you muzzle your mouth with your hand so that your scream dies between your teeth. It's only another guard. You keep moving.

Now, you are in the kitchen. You rummage through spaces until your fingers alight on the thick sphere of a pomegranate. You yank and now it is yours; hard and red in your hands. You turn, and she's there.

Caitlyn moves like water in the dark, all fluid grace even in her own sleep clothes. Her eyes catch the moonlight streaming through the high windows, turning them to pale fire. You clutch the pomegranate tighter, your nails breaking the skin. Juice runs down your wrist.

"Let me," she says, and she's closer now, close enough that you can see the light sheen of sweat on her collarbones. It satisfies you that she is warm too, that she is touchable. Her fingers brush yours as she takes the fruit, and you let her only because you're transfixed by the way she reaches for the small cheese knife on the counter, the way she tests its edge with her thumb. You hope for blood but there is none.

You don't remember moving, but suddenly you're against each other, a dance of hands and breath and barely-contained violence. She pushes, you pull. You spin her toward the table, but she turns it, uses your momentum to send you both sprawling across its surface. Your back cracks against the stone like a bone. Her face crumples momentarily at the sound of your pain, but then she is herself again. The pomegranate rolls away, forgotten until it isn't.

You think of another table, a wooden one from when you were younger. You think of hiding beneath the heavy oak with her, your breaths shallow and hushed as you press close to her side. You were younger then, small enough to fit between her knees, your hands gripping hers like a lifeline. Above, Ambessa’s boots thundered across the floor, her sharp commands reverberating through the room.

“Where are you?” she’d barked, voice like a stone through a window.

But Caitlyn had only grinned, leaning in to whisper, “Don’t breathe."

It's different now. You no longer fit.

She lands on top of you when you hit the floor, pinning you with her hips. The knife glints in her hand, but she just smiles, that same smile from the training mat, the one that makes your stomach clench with disgust and desi—no. She reaches for the pomegranate, and you watch, breathless, as she begins to peel it with delicate precision.

"I'll show you how," she murmurs, and then she's leaning down, pressing her mouth to yours with bruising force. Her teeth catch your lip, and you taste copper, sharp, and sweet like pomegranate juice. When she pulls back, your blood is dark on her mouth, and she licks it away like it's nothing, like this is nothing, continuing to peel the fruit with steady hands.

You buck your hips and she sets the knife down, next to your wrists where your veins gather and bulge like snakes. She holds you down with her core, and you can feel the heat between her legs. There is a moment where you freeze, and she smiles with delight. You buck again and she slams you back down, using a hand around your throat to keep you beneath her like a lamb. Her other hand comes up—the knife, you think in fear—and loiters against herself. Then it moves down, quick and smooth, to raise her slip of a nightgown and bare her creamy thighs. She shifts so that she is atop your stomach, and pushes the shirt up until it’s beneath your breasts.

She isn’t wearing undergarments, or maybe she is. Maybe they are just thin. Either way, you can feel her against the skin of your belly, warm and weeping. You still aren’t moving, but you are slicking in return. You want to bite her, dig until she releases some sort of sound.

Then there is a sound - a sharp intake of breath - and you both turn.

Ambessa stands in the doorway, her expression unreadable in the darkness. For a moment, she watches, her head tilted like she's solving a puzzle. You look back at Caitlyn—who seems unrepentant about her half-nakedness. You put it together, the idea that they have seen one another like this before. The envy is riotous. You ache to kiss Caitlyn again if only to vomit in her mouth.

It’s as if she knows and so she leans in, holds the side of your head as she feeds you pomegranate seeds from the cavern of her own mouth. Eventually, she is no longer feeding, only taking. She presses harder and harder until you let out a yelp of discomfort. It feels, if you aren’t mistaken, like a claim.

Ambessa gazes at the two of you for a moment longer, then she turns away. Her footsteps echo down the hall, leaving you with the taste of blood and fruit and Caitlyn's smile against your mouth.

You regain your strength; you throw her off.

🕸

You don't sleep.

Your body vibrates with fury, with want, with the phantom press of her against your stomach. The dawn breaks grey and sullen through the window, and when you dress for training, you notice Caitlyn watching you again. But it's different now - you see the tremor in her hands, the way she swallows when you bend to lace your boots.

The training grounds are empty. No Ambessa. The message is as clear as a blade against the skin, and you want to scream. Instead, you strip and step into the shower block, letting scalding water pound against your shoulders. You hear the door open, close. Her footsteps on the tile.

"Don't," you say, but your voice lacks conviction. You're too tired to maintain the walls between you.

"You think she's punishing us." Caitlyn's voice is closer now. You hear fabric hitting the floor. "She's not. She's giving us space."

You turn, ready to snarl, but the sight of her stops you. She's different in daylight - less predator, more girl. There are shadows under her eyes that match your own. Water beads on her collarbone where last night's sweat had gleamed.

“Get away from me.” She doesn’t. You try again. “Space for what?”

The question comes out raw.

She steps under the spray with you, and you don't stop her. You watch the way the water falls over her, the spread of the moisture against her staunch skin. She is so angular, so prismatic. You feel as if the world refracts off of her. The water is running cold, so her breasts are erect and straining toward you. You think of drinking from them, more the effort of it, of the space between them where your mouth would fit.

"For this," she says but doesn't touch you. "For whatever this is. I'm tired of watching you pretend you don't feel it too."

"You don't know what I feel."

“I think you are a lonely creature.”

The heat between you evaporates like ash against the wind. Your mouth twists, and she steps toward you. She understands she has misrepresented herself and her intentions. You feel a familiar prickling. Tears.

“Is this how you see me? A cowardly animal?” Your voice is flat, and she balks with her hands flexing nervously against her thighs.

“No. No. I only meant—if anything we are both animals. We have been trained as such at least.”

“You aren’t making this better for yourself,” you say, turning away. “And you don’t know me in any way.”

"I know you taste like pomegranates."

You turn back to look at her, incredulous. “I had just eaten one, you little fool.”

“I know you let me kiss you before you threw me off.” Her smile is small, almost sad. “I know you've been keeping my secret about Vi.”

The name hits like a slap. You rise to the bait.

"Why her?"

"Why Ambessa?"

You have no answer for that. The water runs between you, and for once, you let yourself really look at her. At the desperation in her eyes, the way she’s holding herself like she's afraid you'll bolt. Maybe you've both been hungry for the same thing all along.

Still, it eats at you. This odd way she is pretending to be meek and mild. She is soft in the same ways you are, with the same dips in her hips and calluses along her palm. You think of the panther-like movements of her muscles as she readies a shot.

Something gathers underneath your tongue, and suddenly you are wailing. Loud and long. You rush at her, but she is waiting for you. She dips, and rams into your stomach as she flips you onto the tile. Though she is fighting back, she’s careful with you. Your head is cupped by her limber fingers as she sends you down.

You kick and catch your foot on her side. With a gasp, she’s down too, but a hand still manages to grip at the fine bones of your ankle and yank. It hurts, and you make a terrible noise. She releases you as if you’ve burned her, and you twist to get out from underneath her.

You’re on your belly now, flopping like a fish, but she makes you stay. She wrestles you up so that your back is bent as you press against her chest. You feel her fingers crawl like spider legs down your chest. She fondles, gropes, your tits. She is starved and erratic, pinching your nipples until they are standing on their own.��

Your skin is slippery with soap, so Caitlyn digs her nails in for grip. Then the action stops and her hand descends into the apex of your thighs. You try to jerk, try to send her off but she knows this now. She is understanding. That’s even worse.

She holds you, exactly as you need, and gets two fingers inside of your cunt. She curves them, tries to pull you inside out. You let out another noise, but it is less terrible. She works at you until you cannot remember language, only a deep animalistic noise of ‘uh uh uh’, a rhythm. Her thumb swipes against your clit and you’re there, the pleasure like a blinding fire.

You still try to leave her; you try to crawl. She rolls you over and bullies herself in between your legs until she can place her cheek along your heaving stomach. You begin to cry. You’re unsure why, but maybe Caitlyn knows because she only strokes your inner thigh to soothe you. She looks up at you, hair black with water.

“It can be like this, always. You only need to—”

You shove her and scramble back until you’re sitting on your own. She still watches you, cheek to the tile now.

“No conditions,” she says, reworking her words. “Only us.”

You close your eyes and see pink. You open them and think of your general.

“There will always be her.”

Neither of you knows which woman you’re speaking of.

A COIN’S SECOND SIDE. — AMBESSA.

Sleep does not come that night either. You only try because when there is no session to distract it, your body aches for a bed.

You lie awake, counting the beats between Caitlyn's breaths across the room, replaying the way her cheek pressed against your belly, her lips ghosting over skin as she spoke. The way she looked at you like you were something both precious and perilous, desired and dangerous all at once. Your body still aches from her attention.

A sound draws you from your thoughts - the soft click of your dormitory door. Through barely-opened eyes, you watch Caitlyn rise like a phantom, pulling on a robe. She doesn't look back as she slips out.

Your feet are moving before your mind catches up.

You follow her through corridors you know by heart, the same path you took for that damned pomegranate. But she goes deeper, down halls you've never dared explore. When she stops at a familiar door—Ambessa's door—your heart clenches.

They speak in whispers you can't quite catch, but you see the way Ambessa's hand cups Caitlyn's face, the way Caitlyn leans into it like a cat being stroked. Your stomach twists violently. But then:

"She's ready," Caitlyn says, just loud enough, still soft. "She just doesn't know it yet."

Ambessa's laugh is low, rich like honey. "Oh, little one. She's been ready since I took her. We're just waiting for her to admit it."

You don't stay to hear more. But in the morning, when the summons comes—delivered by a guard who won't meet your eyes—you know they were expecting this too. They've been moving you like a piece on a board, and only now do you see the game.

You go anyway. You always do.

You press your lips together to avoid commenting on the way they stand separately like this will erase what you overheard yesterday. Ambessa stands at the center of the room, her presence devouring the light. It bends around her, as though the universe itself cannot decide whether to confront or flee her. Caitlyn is there too, poised and watchful, her gaze darting toward you and away again.

You look at her with an apathy you designed to get you through burning cities and crumbling countries. You wear your mother’s jewelry today: a septum ring with delicate chains of gold stretching across your cheeks, glinting over your ears. Ambessa’s eyes catch on it, a flicker of distaste passing over her face. Your fingers twitch, but you don’t remove it.

Caitlyn moves toward you, her steps tentative. You step back, forcing her to stop and speak first. Always assume power. This is what they have taught you.

“Do you find it fun,” you ask, head tilting, “to be careless with me?”

Caitlyn halts, her expression caught between guilt and something softer. Regret, maybe. This may be your delusion. Ambessa remains impassive, her gaze fixed on you with an unsettling intensity.

“Little one,” she begins, the shared nickname making you flinch. “You should be grateful. I’ve only eased you into a better space. This insipid competition for my attention is draining. I need my best soldiers to remain the best, to work with one another fluently.”

“You’ve been awful to me,” you say, your voice directed at Ambessa but your eyes locked on Caitlyn.

The mask you wear shifts, and you let your anger surface.

“Do not call me her name. I’m nothing like her.”

Ambessa’s expression betrays a flicker of disagreement, but she inclines her head, a mockery of deference. “As you wish, little one. What do you think, Cait? Do you agree?”

The nickname hits like a physical blow. Ambessa smiles wickedly. Cait. You used to call her that, back when you were little girls, not yet twisted. You saw her as some kind of beautiful flower, one that had learned to tremble tall amongst the trees.

“You could have spoken to me,” you say finally, your voice sharper now. “You didn’t need this...elaborate scheme of seduction.”

“Love is a good enforcer,” Ambessa says, her tone rich with amusement.

“You wouldn’t know love if it spat in your face,” you snap.

The room freezes. Caitlyn stiffens, but Ambessa’s expression darkens, her presence swelling like a storm. You meet her gaze, unflinching.

“Get out,” she says, her voice quiet but deadly.

Caitlyn hesitates, her body angling toward you as though to shield you. Her hands twitch, almost childlike in their uncertainty. “She’s only angry. Let me—”

“Get out,” Ambessa repeats, her tone slicing through the air.

Caitlyn turns to you, desperation softening her features. “Listen to me,” she murmurs, stepping closer. “I meant it. All of it. With you. I only—”

You think of the evening before. Your throat works until you have something to say; your hand moves before you can think, shoving her back. The memory of her warmth lingers on your palm like a curse. You try to lose it.

“Get out,” you whisper.

She stumbles, her expression crumpling into something fragile. You swallow hard, forcing yourself to stay cold, and distant. Caitlyn hesitates for a heartbeat longer, but then she turns to leave.

“You always try so hard to be good,” you push out.

She pauses, remains facing away from you.

“I meant it,” she says again. “With you.”

She goes, the door clicking shut behind her.

Ambessa doesn’t speak. She doesn’t need to. The silence between you is a battlefield, and you know you are primed to lose.

“Do you want to have me to yourself, or do you only wish to be my favorite?”

The question surprises you. However, you shouldn’t be surprised by anything Ambessa does. Her voice is calm, and measured, but it holds a challenge. There waits a quiet dare for you to step into the space she’s carved out for you.

Your throat tightens, words lodging there like a trap. You hate the way your body reacts to her—the warmth that spreads under your skin, the treacherous pull of her presence. It disgusts you. It thrills you. You feel weak.

“I don’t want either,” you say, though the answer feels thin. A lie.

Ambessa’s mouth curves into something sharp, more predator than a smile. “Liar.”

Your hands clench at your sides. “I refuse to play this game, least of all with you.”

“Oh, but you are, little one.” She takes a step closer, the sound of her boots deliberate, echoing in the cavernous space between you. “You’ve been playing since the day you first looked at me with that fire in your eyes. When I took you away.”

She clarifies as if you can’t quite recall. It grates at your nerves.

“You hate me, and yet you can’t help but ache for me. Do you think I haven’t noticed?”

Your pulse quickens, the air between you crackling with tension. You hold her gaze, refusing to look away, even as heat rises in your cheeks.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you say, but the words lack conviction.

Ambessa tilts her head, her gaze dragging over you in a way that feels invasive, consuming. “I don’t need to flatter myself. I see you. At first, I thought you might take after me in a way meant to replace your mother.”

She reaches forward, fingers the cold along the ridge of your cheekbones.

“I see the way you tremble when I’m near, the way your apathy tastes so much like desire,” she continues.

She steps closer, and you step back instinctively, your spine meeting the cold stone wall behind you. You hate how small you feel under her gaze, how she makes the air around you feel heavier, suffocating.

“You’ve used me,” you bite out, your voice shaking but firm. “You’ve used Caitlyn, too. You pit us against each other like we’re pawns on your board. Is that all we are to you?”

Ambessa’s expression doesn’t falter, but something flickers in her eyes, something unreadable. “You’re more than that, but useful as pawns when it’s needed. Both of you. But you’re still mine.”

Her hand moves, slow and deliberate, until her fingers brush your jaw. The touch is barely there, a whisper against your skin, but it sets every nerve alight.

“You hate it so much when we touch you,” she says softly, her voice a low rumble. “But it’s that hate that keeps you sharp. That’s why I keep you close. Why we—I— can’t let you go.”

You want to pull away, to spit something venomous, to remind her that you’re not some plaything for her amusement. But you don’t move. You don’t speak. You can’t.

“Caitlyn wants your approval,” Ambessa continues, her thumb grazing the corner of your mouth now. “She craves it. But you... you want something deeper, don’t you? Something darker.”

You flinch.

“I want nothing from you.”

Ambessa leans in, her breath warm against your ear. “Then why are you still here?”

“Because you summoned me.”

“Because you wanted to come,” she counters, her voice soft but unyielding.

You try to defend yourself, but she’s moved past this now. Instead, her hands come to the bend of your hips and lift you with an easy effort that makes your legs widen around the bulk of her body. With quick steps she moves you to the chaise just off to the side of the room, sitting you on top of it. The world is blurring; she is moving too quickly for you to dispute.

Ambessa’s hands are firm as she strips you bare and traces the shape of you. Like Caitlyn—or maybe Caitlyn, like her—she cups a tit in her large hand and squeezes. This version of it is more painful, different from its softer sister movement in the shower.

She leans forward, opens her mouth, and swallows that loose circle of fat. You arch into the heat of her lips, moan low and reedy as she suckles at your nipple. Her teeth trap bits of skin between them, marking you purposefully. She pulls off and takes your other breast inside of her again to be teased and tainted by her bruises.

You rock gently, chasing the feeling. This time when Ambessa’s mouth leaves you, she presses your tits together and appraises them.

“She said this was one of her favorite parts of you.” When she finds your confused gaze, Ambessa smiles. “Cait.”

You tense at that, and she chuckles. The sound infuriates you. Still, you do nothing as she sinks lower, her breath approaching the swollen pearl of your clit. Without a word she latches on to you, lapping idly at you as if you aren’t already dripping down her chin. She holds you as your body stutters, pleasure arcing through you like thousands of arrows.

Ambessa is measured in this too. She sucks your folds into her mouth, laps at you carefully as she grips your ass. She makes you ride her, clit bumping against her strong nose as you follow her instruction. She draws back from you once, only to spread you apart and spit crudely into your cunt. She watches it travel down your slit, slicking you with her saliva, then she spits again and pushes it in with a finger.

Before she continues she glances at you and gives you another order.

“Say her name.”

You say nothing, mind racing. She slaps your ass, hard.

“Say her name. As you used to.”

You understand now. Again, you ride her tongue but when your mouth opens it is not her name that you say.

“Cait,” you moan, legs falling open even wider.

Ambessa adjusts you, slings your legs over her wide shoulders as she consumes you. She shakes her head, burying herself in your cunt as she leads you over the edge. Over and over, she laps at you until you’re panting hard like you would when sparring. This is sparring in another form.

“Oh, fuck,” you whisper. “Oh, fuck. Fuuuuck, Cait. Please.”

“Mmhmm,” Ambessa hums over your clit, and that’s the end of it for you.

You let out a sharp, shrill scream and attempt to bow over yourself with the strength of your orgasms. Ambessa refuses to let you, forcing you back and keeping your legs spread so that she can watch your cunt flutter wildly as you cum.

“There you go,” she murmurs.

“Yeah,” you answer, dazed and nonsensical.

Your pussy spasms, pink and oozing juices like a wound. Your thighs strain with the stretch of remaining open. You think of the shower floor.

“Caitlyn,” you gaps. You can’t stop pulsing. “Yes. Fuck, Cait.”

There’s a thud outside, against the door as if someone has fallen.

Ambessa removes her hands. The silence stretches between you, taut and electric. Finally, you find your voice, though it’s hoarse and trembling.

“If you think I’ll ever belong to you, you’re wrong.”

Ambessa’s smile returns, wicked and knowing.

“You are brave, but you already do, little one. You just haven’t admitted it yet. What do you think we speak of waiting for?”

The absence of her touch feels colder than it should. She steps back, giving you space, but her gaze remains heavy on you, a reminder that you are never truly free of her.

“Go,” she says, her tone dismissive. “Think about what you want. And when you’re ready to admit it, you know where to find me.”

You don’t wait for her to say more. You rise and make to leave, hands grappling over your clothes. You feel discombobulated like a puppet with its strings cut. You only manage to slide your shirt back over your head and it dusts the tops of your thighs.

Ambessa only watches your struggle. You hate her. You want her. You don’t know where one feeling ends and the other begins.

You tug the door open and step back as Caitlyn spills back against the floor, hand still between her thighs and shining with her own pleasure. Her chest is heaving, her skin pink with the rush of lust and physical exertion. Her legs splay beneath her like a doll’s.

She pulls her fingers out with a wet ‘schleck’ and tucks them into her mouth, cheeks hollowing as she looks up at you—unashamed. You say nothing, only bend down and tug her fingers from her mouth. You put them in your own.

THE COIN, FACE DOWN. — CAITBESSA.

The dormitory is devoid of you. Caitlyn is unsurprised.

You are unused to being touched. You don’t know how to be wanted.

Still, she worries. More accurately, she spirals. The ache of your absence gnaws at her in the quiet moments, like a phantom limb she can’t stop reaching for. She doesn’t know where you’ve gone.

Ambessa is losing herself too, albeit in a different way. Caitlyn wonders if she has ever truly lost something before.

The world continues to turn. They train, a familiar ritual that feels increasingly hollow. Their strikes are sharper now, their parries more reckless. Ambessa’s movements carry an edge Caitlyn hasn’t seen before, a fury barely leashed. She fights like she’s trying to exorcise something, and Caitlyn is often the target of that rage.

A blow to her stomach knocks the wind out of her. A strike to her face nearly cracks her jaw. Caitlyn knows better than to show weakness, so she grits her teeth and pushes back, delivering her own brutality in return. She delivers as well as she receives.

She kicks Ambessa in the mouth once, the impact jarring up the toned meat of her leg. The older woman’s lip splits, blood dripping down her chin, but she doesn’t flinch. In response, Ambessa hurls Caitlyn into the corner of the room. She skids across the mat, hitting the wall with enough force to rattle her bones.

Ambessa isn’t looking at her, stays crouched on the mat with her hand pressed to her mouth. Caitlyn struggles upward, sliding to rest against the wall. The fight had been nothing more than an outlet, and Caitlyn, nothing more than a tool. Caitlyn struggles to her feet, leaning heavily against the wall. The guards in the room avoid looking at them, the air too charged, too dangerous.

Something simmers in Caitlyn’s stomach, a volatile mixture of anger, frustration, and something softer she doesn’t want to name. She refuses to puncture it, afraid of what might spill out. She is already suffering enough, diseased with the spores of her affection for you.

And Ambessa.

The thought churns in her mind, dark and poisonous. Ambessa has become an obsession she doesn’t want to admit to, a shadow that looms too large since that moment in the room. Caitlyn hates her, resents her, envies her. She knows what you taste like, what you’d like. She too has been inside you. Caitlyn now has nothing; they are disgustingly equal.

But beneath it all, she respects her. And that’s what makes it worse.

When Caitlyn finally speaks, her voice is strained, biting. “Do you always break your toys this quickly, or am I just special?”

Ambessa’s gaze finally lifts, sharp and cutting. She wipes the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand and smiles, a malignant curve that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Special?” she echoes, rising to her full height. “You think too highly of yourself, Cait. You’re simply better than most.”

The nickname grates, a reminder of the intimacy they share now—unwanted, unavoidable, tangled in you. Caitlyn clenches her fists. “Don’t call me that.”

Ambessa takes a step closer, her presence suffocating, magnetic. “You’ve been insufferable since she left,” she says, voice low and dangerous. “Do you think I don’t see it? You miss her like a dog misses its master.”

“And you don’t?” Caitlyn fires back, the words cutting deeper than she intended.

Ambessa’s expression darkens, and for a moment, Caitlyn wonders if she’s gone too far. But then the older woman smirks, cruel and knowing.

“I miss her,” Ambessa admits, her tone a blade. “But not like you do. You ache for her because she is a twin to your pain, a foil to my approval. I ache for her because she belongs to me.”

The words twist in Caitlyn’s chest, sharp and unbearable. “She doesn’t belong to anyone,” she snaps.

Ambessa chuckles a low, bitter sound. “You’re wrong. [Name] belongs to both of us, and that’s why you hate me.”

Caitlyn’s breath catches, and she doesn’t deny it.

Without you, they writhe like snakes, their weight pulling them into collision after collision. The mouth of the snake swallows the tail. The hatred between them is palpable, a toxic undercurrent that fuels their every interaction. And yet, when the nights grow long and the ache of your absence becomes unbearable, they find themselves drawn together.

It’s not love, not even close. It’s desperation, a way to drown the pit you’ve left behind. Their intimacy is suffocating, a visceral reminder of everything they can’t have.

When Caitlyn’s nails dig into Ambessa’s back, it’s not out of affection but frustration. When Ambessa’s teeth scrape Caitlyn’s collarbone, it’s not passion but punishment. They use each other because they can’t have you. After all, the emptiness you left is too much to bear alone.

It’s never enough, no matter how fierce. Because they don’t want each other.

They want you.

Still, they try.

🕸

Again, the shower.

They’re slightly cruel to one another. It fuels the high.

Caitlyn snaps back to the moment as Ambessa needles a nail into the mottled skin beneath her shoulder blade, where a bruise sits thick and spreading. She hisses in pain, tits pressing further against Ambessa’s own. There are three thick fingers in her pussy and they fuck her in the way she needs.

Despite the embarrassment, she lets her head fall onto Ambessa’s wide shoulders as she chases her orgasm. Her cunt is like water, dribbling down Ambessa’s wrist as she carves Caitlyn out. Again, a nail presses into the bruise.

The motion is harsher this time around and Caitlyn cries out, throwing her head back so that her hair brushes the middle of her spine. Ambessa continues to toy with this patch of marred skin, teeth clamping on the wide skin of Caitlyn’s neck as the younger woman twists and shudders around her.

“Good fucking girl,” Ambessa mutters, fucking her faster.

Caitlyn bounces to meet her, slamming herself down until her belly tightens and roars. Ambessa lifts her further, suctions her mouth around one of her perky tits, and digs deeper into the pink tight nature of her. Caitlyn roots a hand in her hair and slides the other down her body to collect pieces of that foamy, white ring gathering around Ambessa’s hand.

Slick with herself, she rubs tight, quick circles around Ambessa’s clit. The older woman’s cunt is large, folds heavy and leaking. Caitlyn feels her tremble and she moves faster, breath coming fast as the spray of the water slides down the crack of her ass.

With a muffled grunt, Ambessa cums. As she does, she bites deeply into the meager flesh of Caitlyn’s collarbone. Caitlyn whites out, eyes rolling back briefly so that she’s swaying and focusing on a blurred ceiling. Their orgasms warp and connect; they refuse to stop touching one another as if it will keep reality at bay.

The comedown is almost irritating, and in a frenzy, Caitlyn clutches Ambessa to her chest. This does nothing.

She kisses Ambessa feverishly, practically mauling her, because the echo of your cunt is on her lips. Ambessa holds her, returns the kiss, then breaks it.

“No matter how hard we try, she is not here.”

Caitlyn closes her eyes and her face pinches in pain.

“And where is she? Gone, and you are doing nothing to find her.”

This close, Caitlyn can see Ambessa’s face twitch and melt into something revealing. Something rocks through her at the sight and she detangles their bodies.

“You cannot find her.”

The statement is accusatory, so much so that Ambessa surrenders and turns away. She shuts off the water; Caitlyn remains shivering.

THE COIN, POCKETED. — YOU.

Your mouth tastes like metal and smoke. The streets of Zaun pulse beneath your feet, virulent and alive, and you can barely remember how many days it's been since you left them. Since you left her. Them.

You've gotten yourself into trouble - the kind Ambessa would have prevented, the kind Caitlyn would have shot through. Blood trickles down your side from where the knife caught you, and your vision swims with chemical fumes and exhaustion. You don't know where you're going anymore, just that you're going.

The world tilts sideways. You stumble and catch yourself against a wall slick with condensation. A familiar laugh echoes from somewhere above - it stops your heart, then starts it again too fast. You know that laugh.

When you look up, they're there on one of the suspended walkways - Caitlyn and that pink-haired girl, Vi. They haven't seen you yet. Vi has her hand on Caitlyn's waist, casual, proprietary. Something in you breaks and mends and breaks again.

Then Caitlyn turns her head, and her eyes find yours like they always have. The world stops. You try to run—you always try to run—but your legs give out. You thud to the ground. Mind heavy. Heart heavy.

You hate her more than anything else in the world. You wish that was true.

You hear the clatter of boots on metal as she descends, and then she's there, gathering you up as if she hadn’t been entangled a moment before. She hooks a hand into your hair, and claws you into looking at her as she squeezes your face hard. Something inside of you understands that the action isn’t intentional, not this time.

She bends, hair falling from her hurried bun, and swallows you—grime and all. Her kiss tastes devastating and strains with relief, and you're too weak to fight it anymore. You push back, this time into her, and force her to hold you. She squeezes you tighter, moaning almost obscenely as she relapses and languishes in your feel, in your taste.

Here is her sweet girl. Her sweet fucking girl.

“Cait,” you moan.

She pulls away and strokes your baby hairs away from your forehead as you let out a feeble, wounded noise.

"Vi," she says, not looking away from your face, "help me. I need to get her back to Ambessa."

"This is your runaway?" Vi's voice is rough, knowing. "The one you've been tearing yourself up over?"

Caitlyn's hands tighten on your arms. "It's important for the mission that we-"

"Save it, Cupcake." Vi's laugh is different now, sadder. "I know what love looks like on you."

That training, that beloved animal comes back in full force, and Caitlyn looks up from beneath her lashes. Her face contorts and it’s the strangest she’s ever seemed to Vi. She reaches up, hooks a hand around Vi’s jaw, and drags her down.

“Get it together, Violet. This is not your moment.”

Vi blinks at her, equal parts disturbed and titulated. Caitlyn lets her go, places that same hand on the peek of skin between the hem of your shirt and your linen pants. Why would you ever wear linen when running away? She looks back up again, traces Vi’s expression—analyzes it.

“I can love you both. I’ve done it before.”

Vi's laugh catches in her throat. You watch through half-lidded eyes as something passes between them— understanding, maybe. Or resignation. Your blood is making patterns on the ground.

"Fine," Vi says, and then she's lifting you like you weigh nothing, careful of your wound. "But if this gets me killed, I'm haunting you both."

“If she dies because of our procrastinating, I’ll do something worse than haunting,” Caitlyn snaps.

Caitlyn's hand doesn't leave your skin as you move through the undercity. You drift in and out of consciousness, catching fragments: Vi muttering about shortcuts, Caitlyn's fingers pressing against your pulse, the way they work together like they've done this before. They probably have.

"Stay with me," Caitlyn keeps saying, and you're not sure if she means now or forever. Maybe both.

You think of Ambessa waiting, of how her hands will feel on your skin again, of how she'll look at you like you're something wild she's finally caught. You think of Caitlyn's desperation in the shower, that fucking shower and it’s cold water—of her mouth against your stomach. Of how they both break you apart and put you back together wrong.

"She's burning up," Vi says somewhere above you. Her voice sounds almost gentle.

"We're close." Caitlyn's voice shakes. "The extraction point is-"

"I know where it is." A pause. "You really love her that much?"

"More than is safe."

You want to tell her that nothing about any of you has ever been safe. Instead, you let the darkness drag you into its arms.

When you wake, you're in Ambessa's chambers. The sheets smell like her - lime and mango and earth. Caitlyn is curled against your side, her breath evening out against your neck. And there, in the doorway, Ambessa stands watching you both with hunger in her eyes.

"Welcome home, little one," she says, and steps inside.

THE COIN, MELTED INTO GOLD — CAITLYN & YOU & AMBESSA & YOU &.

Ambessa moves like smoke in the water.

The room holds its breath as she approaches, and you feel Caitlyn's arm tighten across your middle—not protective, possessive. They don't look at each other. They never do. Their hunger is only for you.

"Did you think you could run from us?" Ambessa's voice is silk over steel, very careful in the moment. She sits on the edge of the bed, and the mattress dips with her weight. Her hand finds your ankle, thumb pressing into the hollow where your pulse beats rabbit-quick. "From me?"

You try to answer, but Caitlyn's mouth is suddenly on your neck, wet and wanting. She bites down, marking you, claiming you and Ambessa's grip tightens in response. They're going to tear you apart.

You realize, distantly, that you want them to.

"She's hurt," Caitlyn murmurs against your skin, but her teeth don't gentle. "We should-"

"We should punish her," Ambessa cuts in, and your body betrays you with a shiver. Her hand slides higher, past your knee. It makes you realize that you’re in nothing but a simple pair of baby blue cotton panties and a skimpy bra. Your tits spill out at the bottom. "Shouldn't we?"

Caitlyn makes a sound like drowning. Her fingers find the hem of your shirt and ghost over the bandaged wound at your side. "Yes," she breathes, and you feel yourself sinking, sinking. "But she's ours to punish."

"Ours," Ambessa agrees, and the word feels jagged.

You're losing yourself in them. A thought floats up through your hazy mind: that they refuse to acknowledge each other even as they work in tandem to break you down, to unmake you piece by piece. Their synchronized destruction should be beautiful to watch if you can remember how to open your eyes.

"Look at me," Ambessa commands and your body obeys before your mind can catch up. Her hand cups your jaw, thumb pressing against your lower lip. "She trembles so prettily for us, doesn't she?"

Caitlyn's answer is to drag her nails down your spine, making you arch into the touch. The pain blooms like ink in water, spreading out until you can't tell where it ends and pleasure begins. You're caught between them - Ambessa's unyielding strength and Caitlyn's desperate need - and you're not sure you want to escape.

"Tell us why you ran," Caitlyn whispers, but it's not really a question. Her fingers trace the edges of your bandages again, a reminder of what your foolish escape attempt cost you. "Tell us what you thought you'd find out there.”

"Freedom," you manage to gasp, and Ambessa's laugh is dark honey, sticky-sweet, and dangerous.

"Oh, little one." Her grip tightens, not quite painful. Not yet. "You're only free when I allow it."

She speaks only of herself, but you know the notion pertains to both of them. You know they're right. You've always known and it leaves something bitter in your mouth. That's why you ran - not to escape them, but to make them chase you. To prove they would. To ensure they'd punish you when they caught you.

And now they have.

"Please," you breathe, though you're not sure what you're begging for. More? Mercy? Neither?

"Please what?" Caitlyn's voice has gone rough with her aching. Her teeth find your shoulder again, and you shudder. "Use your words."

But Ambessa's hand is sliding into your hair now, pulling your head back to expose your throat. "No," she says, and you can hear the smile in her voice. "I don't think she gets to speak anymore tonight. I think she’ll bore me with her useless whining.”

The whimper that escapes you makes them both pause, just for a moment. Just long enough for you to feel their satisfaction ripple through the air like heat waves. You might die this way, you’re realizing. They may build you up one final time, only to slit your throat at the time of climax.

Ambessa is practically stone with her tempered fury, and Caitlyn is antsy with her need. You never realized how much you riled them in the same manner they did you. Ambessa goes on to say more, filling the silence with something sick and cruel but Caitlyn has had enough now.

She lurches up, rolls you over so that she sits atop just like the night she first kissed you. The night where it all burst. There’s a moment where she has a hand on your chest, pushing down as if resuscitating you. You don’t understand it until you look down and see the way the pressure makes your breasts surge and spurt from underneath your bra. She pushes again and again and again until you’re taking halting, broken sips of air. Over and over, your tits spill until she grows crazed and snaps the fabric off of you.

Ambessa only watches, though you notice her thighs spreading. She looks soft, her hair unbraided and haloing her face. She wears nothing but a silk yellow robe which displays her figure lovingly. Your cunt grows warm, tender.

Catilyn taps your cheek, brings you back to her. You can’t remember if the button-down she wears is yours or Ambessa’s. Maybe both. You wince at her weight on your stomach and she moves up and over your face.

There’s no time to prepare for the way she comes down on you, her groan thunderous as her pussy settles on your parted mouth. You fall into line, give her what she wants.

Still, you are to be punished, so she sits for a long while. Just smothers you. Occasionally she grinds, filling your nose with her musk. You can feel her soft curls around your lips, and you arch up as if to crawl inside of her skin. This gets her to move, a slow rocking that amps up as you settle into making out with her pouring pussy.

You kiss her here, over and over, dragging your tongue into the affair until she’s riding you. Your tongue slips in and Caitlyn quivers with a whimper as she rides your face harder. You bring a hand up to hold her, to prevent her from slipping but she smacks it away.

“No,” she pants. “No—oh, fuck me. Holy shiiiit.” She bounces liberally, selfishly. “No touching.”

Caitlyn leans forward, supporting herself as she fucks down on you with fervor. You’re so distracted with getting her to fill your throat with her pleasure that you mistakenly lose focus on where Ambessa is. Which is why the press of her cunt against your own absolutely blindsides you.

She’s climbed atop the bed during the desperate coupling between you and Caitlyn, removing your panties so that your pussy winks at her voraciously. True to her nature she decides to take, to conquer you. You grip Caitlyn tightly, so tightly that she squeals and cums at the pain.

You forget to let go, buck wildly as she creams over your nose and chin. It settles on you like sugar; she takes a long finger and dips it in—soft and sweet. You suckle at the pad of it, taking the digit into your mouth and moaning around it as Ambessa slides your cunts together.

You can’t tell if you are one body or three or three-in-one. You feel enmeshed in the both of them. Your blood is theirs; your cunt is theirs. Maybe it is less togetherness and more possession. Ambessa groans deeply as you gush against her, the squelch both loud and quiet. Caitlyn is now off to this side—this you know. She has her other fingers playing with herself, shifts down to let them puncture her.

She shoves another finger into your mouth and you gag, let her hit the back of your throat. Drool is coalescing and running over them. The sight makes Ambessa open you further, and hold you down as she slides your clits together over and over—harder and harder.

Your babbling makes the both of them smile, dark curves tinged with their sadistic pleasure. Again, the possession. Ambessa shoves Caitlyn aside and crawls over you to hook her thicker digits into your mouth. She drags you, your head lolling, as she reaches down and rubs your clit.

You scream, silent with your mouth open wide as you cum. This is not enough. It is never enough. She is back on you, like a lioness on a gazelle. Her pussy swallows yours, and Ambessa forgets you as she leads herself to that approaching golden horizon.

When she crests, she falls on you and you do nothing but accept her weight. You lay there, do this for what feels like years, until Caitlyn weasels behind you. Then you do it again.

🕸

You wake with a start, disoriented by the weight pinning you to the bed. Caitlyn's arm drapes loosely over your waist, her fingers curled like she’d been holding you even in sleep. Ambessa’s warmth radiates from behind you, her breath slow and even. The sheets smell of sweat and sandalwood, of something heady and unnamed.

The sheet clings to your skin almost oppressively, a reminder of last night’s twist of limbs and pleasure. You slide out from between them, careful not to disturb their slumber. Ambessa stirs slightly, her arm shifting, and you hesitate. Caitlyn murmurs something unintelligible, and you freeze. When neither of them wakes, you slip free.

You take Caitlyn’s robe from the chair by the bed, pulling it around your shoulders. The fabric is sheer, nearly useless, but it smells of her. You step onto the balcony, and the cool morning air kisses your skin. The horizon is painted in hues of gold and rose, the sun stretching its fingers across the sky.

You lean against the railing, the chill of the metal biting into your palms. The fortress sprawls below and blends into the distant city, a patchwork of shadows and light. For a moment, it feels like you’re the only person in the world. But the ache in your chest reminds you that isn’t true.

You are loved. You are wanted. And it terrifies you.

You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to make sense of the ache in your chest. The robe clings to you, and the light hits your body in a way that feels exposing, even with no one watching.

A soft sound pulls your attention, and Caitlyn steps out onto the balcony, her hair a tumble of dark waves over her shoulders. She’s still half-asleep, her bare feet silent on the stone. When she sits beside you, the space between you feels both unbearable and necessary.

"Couldn't sleep, baby?" she murmurs, her voice rasping in the quiet.

You shake your head, eyes fixed on the horizon. You ignore the goosebumps that rise at the pet name.

"I don’t know what to do with so much love," you say finally, your voice trembling. "From you. From her. It’s… too much."

She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she reaches out, her fingers brushing your forearm. You flinch, and she pulls back, pain flickering across her face.

"Baby," she says softly, and the word lands like a stone in your chest. "I will undo this. I will make your living easier."

You exhale sharply, the sound halfway to a laugh. “Will I always have to share you?” you ask.

You don’t look at her.

Caitlyn hesitates, then glances toward the bed where Ambessa shifts, her hand moving as if searching for you in her sleep. You glance over instinctively, the motion so natural it betrays you.

“I could ask you the same,” she says finally. Her tone is steady, but there’s a thread of something deeper woven through it—something sharp and sad. Your gaze flickers to her, then back to the bed behind you. Ambessa shifts again, her brow furrowing, and you instinctively turn to her. The action is so ingrained, that you don’t realize what you’ve done until Caitlyn speaks again.

“She pulls at you,” Caitlyn says, not unkindly. “I see it.”

You want to deny it, but the words stick in your throat. Instead, you say, “And you don’t?”

Her lips curve into a wry smile. “I pull at you too. But she’s… something else.”

You swallow hard, the weight of her words settling over you. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Your breath catches, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. The city stirs below, oblivious to the ache of your small world.

INTERLUDE: THE LIONESS, WITH THE COIN IN HER MOUTH.

Ambessa lies still in the bed, her breathing measured and even, but her mind sharp and alert. She hears the murmur of voices from the balcony, the quiet cadence of Caitlyn's voice mingling with yours, a soft harmony in the cool morning air.

Her eyes remain closed, yet her thoughts stray to the image of you wrapped in Caitlyn’s robe, the rosy light of dawn casting faint halos around your figures. She imagines the tension in your body as Caitlyn reaches for you, the way you’d shift, hesitant, but never pulling away entirely. It’s a dynamic Ambessa understands all too well: the push and pull, the magnetic sway you hold over both of them.

You’re the thread that binds, fragile yet unbreakable. It’s maddening. It’s beautiful.

Ambessa shifts slightly, her fingers brushing the cool sheets where you once lay. The absence is temporary—she knows this. But the way you linger in her mind is something she can’t easily reconcile. She has always been a woman of precision, of control. Yet you are beginning to undo her in ways she cannot name, cannot stop, that she believed herself too old for.

Through the door left ajar, your voice carries faintly. When you and Caitlyn return, Ambessa will let you come to her. For now, she waits, her lips curving faintly, as if in a private, unspoken promise.

“You’ll come back to me,” she murmurs under her breath, a whisper carried only by the stillness of the room.

And outside, the sun climbs higher, gilding the world in its light.

RE: THE COIN, MELTED INTO GOLD — CAITLYN & YOU & AMBESSA & YOU &.

Caitlyn leans back, her eyes tracing your face. "We grew up together," she begins, her voice softer now. "Trained together. They taught us to kill, to win, to survive. But you…" She pauses, swallowing hard. "You were always my half. I can’t promise much, but when the pendulum swings, I will choose you to save. Every time."

Her words settle heavy in the space between you. You lean your head against her shoulder, letting the warmth of her presence ease the sharp edges of your doubt.

Caitlyn tilts her head, resting her cheek against your hair. "You’re half of me," she murmurs.

From inside, Ambessa’s voice calls softly, "Come back to bed."

Caitlyn shifts, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, then your nose, and finally your lips. It’s a lingering kiss, tender and unhurried as if she’s trying to pour every unsaid word into you.

"You’re my girl," she whispers against your mouth. "I love you, baby."

The declarations are so soft you almost think you’ve imagined them. But the look in her eyes tells you otherwise.

Ambessa calls again, her voice low and expectant. Caitlyn straightens, her hand falling away from yours. She glances at the door, then back at you. She stands, offering her hand to you.

"Come," she says simply.

You hesitate, the ache in your chest a living thing. But you take her hand.

The sun exposes as it further moves toward its high point, casting the balcony in streaky light, but you feel no warmth. Only the quiet weight of something you can’t name, pressing into the spaces between your ribs.

And behind you, the world goes on turning.

“Come,” Caitlyn says again, her tone gentle but firm.

You go.

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pencil-n-pen · 2 months ago

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OVERWORKED

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

leon kennedy x fem! reader

summary: You’re still struggling with overworking. Leon shows you when it’s time to take a break.

master list | previous (not required but gives some context) next

cw: once again, female pronouns used but reader’s features are not described, some suggestive content, dom! leon much more heavily this time, very not subtle praise kink (use of good girl), pet names, tbh rating COULD be pg-13 but i don’t write nsfw so minors ur fine :) uhhhh non-sexual sub-space if you squint?

tags/tropes: once again hurt/comfort, cuddles, leon being touchy again (reader is just as touchy honestly) soft dom behavior (leon)

a/n: a little continued drabble for those of u who asked/liked the last one !! hope u like it @cherryandsugar <3

MY ELDEST DAUGHTERS WITH PRAISE KINKS MAKE SOME NOISE 🔥🔥🔥🗣️🗣️🗣️💯💯💯

｡𖦹°‧⭑.ᐟ

You’re overworking again.

You don’t mean to, necessarily. It’s just always what you do. Work, work, work. It needs to get done, so you do it. No matter how tired you are, no matter how much you don’t want to do it. No matter how many tears get shed. It needs to get done. You have to do it. So you do it.

Leon’s been taking issue, with it though.

You’re not really sure what you are to each other, yet. He definitely finds you attractive —he tells you pretty much everyday, an almost overuse of words like hot, sexy, cute, amazing, and of course, his favorite; princess.

He occasionally comes over to the place you and a few other girls rent together and does his absolute best to be as distracting as possible. Sometimes he cooks, sometimes he gets touchy, sometimes he just sits on your bed and watches you work which is, in your opinion, by far the worst one.

When he’s not bothering you in the comfort of your own home, he’s sitting next to you in the couple classes you share, a distracting hand on your thigh that he squeezes when you get a question right— something that never fails to make you breathless and dizzy for a few minutes afterwards. Between the sight of his hand engulfing your thigh and the frequency of your correct answers, it’s a miracle you don’t asphyxiate during class.

You did come close, once. It was a week after what you’ve dubbed The Library Incident, and the professor had singled you out as one of his most consistent students when it came to turning in homework. Leon had leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear and whispered, all low and rumbly:

“Good girl.”

You didn’t get a single thing out of the lecture for the rest of class.

(You’d then given him the silent treatment, but he made up for it by you sending you his rather extensive and detailed notes from the lesson with a single text: “Better learn to multitask, princess.”)

So yeah. He isn’t a huge fan of your studying habits. Something he’s made abundantly clear.

“When was the last time you got up?” He grumbles, walking into your room with your now full reusable water bottle. You’d abandoned it in the kitchen a few hours ago. He’s such a stickler about your water intake.

“Who are you, my mother?” You pause, looking up at the mischief in his eyes and the way his mouth is open, poised to say something, likely dirty. “Don’t answer that.”

You reach out with grabby hands towards your water bottle, which you know is filled with some delicious water combination, courtesy of Leon. Shit, he’s Pavlov-ing you into drinking water, isn’t he?

He rolls his eyes, handing you the bottle. “You know, you can make this exact same water yourself with the items in your fridge. Which I put there. For you. To use. Yourself.”

“You make it better,” You answer smoothly, ignoring his sarcasm. Ooooh. It’s minty strawberry today.

“Oh?” He says with a raised eyebrow, a signature Leon smirk on his lips. The same one he always gets when you admit to liking him in some way.

“You’re such an attention whore. Isn’t that why you came over here?”

“Ouch. So touchy,” He tuts, draping himself over your back and resting his chin on your head. “But no. I came over here to drag the lovely and beautiful and terribly stubbornly princess away from her desk because she’s overworking again.”

You tense. “I can’t, Leon. Not right now. I have to finish this.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“What happens if you don’t?”

“I get behind and then I can’t catch up and then I fail—“

“Woah, now,” He says, standing and spinning your desk chair so it faces him instead of your work. “None of that is going to happen if you take a break. We both know your work ethic is too good for that.”

You start worrying your lip between your teeth. “But—“

“Hey,” He says, a gentle, slow hand reaching out and brushing your lip away from your teeth. “None of that. Leave your lip alone.”

You wince. It’s a mindless action, the same way you pick at your hangnails and other parts of your skin when you’re stressed. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. Just don’t want my girl hurting herself more than she already is.”

You ignore the latter part of his sentence and focus on the first. “Your girl?”

“Yeah,” He says, tilting his head and looking down at you with a small smile on his face. “My girl.”

You look down at your hands, fidgeting with the hem of your sweatshirt. “I won’t be able to sleep or relax if I don’t finish this. It— I can’t.”

He takes the side of your face in his hand, thumb sweeping across your cheek and beneath your eyelid. “I know, baby. But you work too much.”

“But I have—“

“You have to, I know. I know you’re hardwired for independence and overworking. So how about this. Take a break, lie down in bed with me, and then finish only what you’ve already started.”

You start chewing on your lip again. “I—“

His fingers deftly move down to your jaw, grabbing it firm, thumb pressing on the edge of your lip and pulling it down, away from the merciless bite of your teeth. His grip leaves no room for argument, but you don’t feel frightened or scared. In fact, your stomach is doing flips at the careful, gentle control in the press of his hands and the fondness in his eyes.

“I know I phrased that very nicely, but this isn’t an argument, sweetheart. You need to rest. Your brain needs time to recharge. What happens if you get sick from all this working, huh?”

You decide now isn’t the time to bring up that you always work through every cold, flu, and fever you’ve ever had.

“Hey,” He leans down, catching your averted gaze. “Look at me.”

He could easily turn your head himself, his fingers still pressed against your jaw, but he doesn’t. He waits for you to muster up the strength to look over at him yourself, eyelashes fluttering.

His gaze is cool and deep when it meets yours. “I am not mad at you. I am not upset with you. I just want you to take care of yourself.”

His voice, gaining that low, rumbly edge when he ushers the words sends tingles up your spine. You sigh, letting the tension ease from your shoulders.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I’ll try harder.”

“You’re doing just fine, okay?” He pulls you up by your hands, hand leaving your face as he tugs you over to your bed. Once you’ve sat down, he reaches back towards your desk, grabbing your water bottle from your desk and putting it on your bedside table. “You just need a little help sometimes. Everybody does.”

He motions for you to scoot over and you oblige, immediately slotting into what’s become one of your usual positions: arms wrapped around his torso, head pillowed on his chest.

“There we go,” He mumbles, hand sliding under your shirt, intermittently squeezing the place his hands always seem to find: the squishy, vulnerable stretch of flesh in between the top of your hip and the bottom of your ribcage. He rolls the skin there in his hands, a pleased hum rumbling from his chest. “Such a good girl for me.”

You shudder, hiding your blush by pressing your face further into his chest. A tingle spreads from your spine to the rest of your body.

He chuckles. “Aw, you like that don’t you? Did the same thing last time. Is that all I have to do? Is that what you need, baby?”

A small whine rip’s itself from your throat before you manage to tamp it down. Embarrassed, you try and hide your face further.

“None of that, now. Come on, let me see that pretty face.”

You shift, rolling to basically lie on top of him, bracing your hands on either side of him to lift your head, a small frown on your face and a not-so-small flush across your face.

He smiles, hands coming up to cup your cheeks. “There she is,” He practically coos, “My pretty baby.”

“You’re baby-talking me.”

“Mhm,” He says, squeezing your cheeks. “You got a problem with it?”

“…No.”

“What was that?”

You drop back down, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your chin on his chest. “Shhh. I’m supposed to be resting.”

“Convenient that you’re listening to me now.”

“Shush.”

He grumbles, but doesn’t say anything more. He slips his hands under your shirt, palming the expanse of your skin. His fingers are hot where they press and linger, warmth spreading from the points of contact. You go limp in his hold, humming contentedly.

You’re not really sure how much time passes with the both of you like that— bodies pressed close, legs tangled together. It just feels so… nice.

You relax. You actually relax. A small part of you feels annoyed that Leon is your source of comfort and relaxation (muttered whispers in your brain whine about independence, about not relying on anyone else—) the bigger, louder part of you is so overwhelmed with how nice it feels to just… not worry. Even for a little bit. In moments like this your brain goes pleasantly blank: Leon will take care of it. You don’t have to worry, because Leon will take care of it.

The stretches of time you spend in what you’ve mentally dubbed Limbo have started getting longer. At first, you’d last five, maybe ten minutes before your brain would kick into high gear again; worries and concerns flooding your brain so quickly you usually jolt straight up.

But now? It’s easy to slip into it. To let yourself take a mental break. Check out from life for a half hour or so. And when you’re ready to get back to work, you do just that- usually a lot calmer than before Leon came around.

It’s addicting. It’s dangerous.

“How long has it been.”

“Five minutes.”

You blink your eyes open, frowning. “It has not been five minutes,” You reach for your bedside table, snatching your phone off and checking the time. “Liar. It’s been thirty minutes.”

“Is it so wrong to want to lay in bed and hold my princess?”

“It is when the princess has work to do.” You grumble, sitting off and rolling off the bed with a thud.

“It’s so unnerving when you do that. Doesn’t it hurt?”

“No,” You say, hauling yourself to your feet. “It’s fun.”

“I don’t see how sustaining bodily injury is fun.”

“You wouldn’t get it,” You say, waving a hand in dismissal.

Loud shuffling and the thump of Leon climbing to his feet has you looking back. “You’re leaving?”

You can’t quite keep the desperation out of your tone.

He looks at you, surprised. “Usually you don’t like it when I stay while you work.”

“Yes,” You say, cheeks burning. “Um. Yeah. Right yeah. I have work to do. So.”

“Princess,” He says, his voice low and teasing, “You want me to stay?”

“No, no I have to work—“

“Uh-uh,” He says, crossing the room to stand in front of you, arms folded. “No lying. Do you want me to stay?”

You look down at your sock-clad feet. “Please?”

“Aw, well how could I say no to that,” He leans down, pressing a quick kiss to the crown of your head. “Finish your work. I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

“…Can we go get slushies when I’m done?”

“Of course, baby.”

You finish your work in record time.

˙⋆✮

678 notes · View notes

oc-brainstorms · 1 month ago

Text

My strange addiction 18+

Perv!Dom!Voyeur!Kang Dae-ho x Sex addict!Fem!reader/Thanos x Reader(kinda)

This is part 1, part 2 is here!

Synopsis: SMUT! Sex addict reader finds Dae-ho jerking off to her and Thanos having sex, she makes it her mission to try him out next and Dae-ho treats her exactly how she wants to be treated wink wink

warnings: Kinda dark/swearing/mentions of death/murder/ kinda cheating?/Mentions god(in a bad way)/Voyeurism/bathroom sex/public sex/mentions of anal/smut/reader uses thanos/Dae-ho is kinda pervy/rough/non-con?dub-con?ish/unprotected sex/p in v/Oral (M receiving)/daddy kink/reader is a sex addict/horny af/reader is fucking feral/overall filth/aftercare/angst/fluff/reader has some major issues (I haven't slept so if I've forgotten anything let me know) READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

Words: 4.5K (it’s a long one)/

Unedited! there's gotta be a few mistakes in it but I wrote this instead of my dissertation and sleeping so take it for what it is I guess.

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I was never one to drink, do drugs or jump off tall things all for a little adrenaline rush-No, I was particular in my chosen addiction. Sex was always my vice. I tasted it one and couldn't get enough. It’s never really mattered to me what they look like or how good at it they were, if the thought pops into my head then it’s all I crave, like an itch that demands to be scratched. Sometimes I don’t even want it, like when a smoker who's trying to quit doesn't even think about lighting the cigarette in their mouth, it's basically a habbit.

Many interactions with vile, disgusting men and bad life choices led me right here, surrounded by people in green sweatsuits playing deadly children’s games for money. It’s not exactly where I thought I'd end up, I always thought I’d die in a ditch somewhere-discarded and used without a care in the world.

Salty sweat drops fall on my forehead from the purple-haired man thrusting to his hearts content in an out of me, grunting in my ear like he's on a mission. He’s not bad, a little too desperate and loud for my liking but hey, a fuck is a fuck. Plus he was pretty good-looking under the whole wannabe-bad-boy-rapper persona.

“You like that? hmph-So good-so so good.” He grumbles, his voice mere groans of hot breath in my ear.

“Feels so good daddy-please keep going please!” My voice was no higher than a pathetic whisper in return, becoming conscious of the creaks the bed was emitting, echoing in the empty space of the room. Thankfully many people this side had died in the previous game.

My hips were beginning to ache from the angle I’m spread to- My jaw clenching as I feel him wrap his hands behind my knees and shove them up until they hit my shoulders. The pain was easing from my hips but it did nothing for the lack of excitement I was feeling. It was a little mundane for me, stuck in missionary while he has the time of his life-but it will satisfy my needs nonetheless.

I can’t help but let my thoughts wander, craning my neck to glance over his shoulder as his pounding continued, just listening the the sounds of our skin slapping and the weak sounds of the bed frame holding us up.

My attention is suddenly drawn to a rusting from a bed on the other side of the room. Under the glow of the obnoxiously large piggy bank I can just make out a large figure, laid in bed with the covers just covering his hip. Squinting into the darkness I make out rapid movements under the covers.

Is this perv getting off to us?

I let my eyes linger for a while, feeling myself getting wetter from the idea of this stranger pleasuring himself to the sounds of us fucking. Trailing my eyes up I can just about make out his number, 388. Taking a mental note, I try to peak at his face through the darkness.

A gasp gets caught in my throat as I make eye contact with dark eyes that stare back at me. His whole face wasn't clear but I could sense his eyes burning into mine as he welcomed himself to the free porn he was witnessing.

‘So fucking wet for me.’ Thanos panted out, snapping me back to his attention. Thankfully his head was buried in my neck and he was too busy chasing his own high to notice my distraction.

Maybe I should give him a show.

I took my hands and placed them firmly on Thanos’ chest.

“Stop.” I manage to gasp out, pushing him back enough to look at his face. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are crazy, Purple strands sticking to his forehead. His thrusts stagger a little before coming to a stop.

“What the fuck is wrong girl, why are you stopping me when I'm about to fill you up?” The tone of his voice is slightly erratic, and a little too loud-but I had new priorities than everyone else's sleep.

“I just wanna ride you Daddy, please?” Fluttering my eyelashes up at him, I knew he couldn't disagree with me, especially as I clenched myself around him.

“Fuck okay-okay.” He talks over himself, gripping at my sides to manoeuvre me on top of him.

I knock my head on the metallic grate on underneath the bunk on top of us, but don’t even stop to acknowledge the pain, I've got a new task to complete. I can’t let poor 388 go to bed unsatisfied now can I?

I reposition myself straddling him, letting my hands rest on his chest while he sinks his dick into my hole. I’m already pretty raw so it stings from the stretch, feeling him throb inside me from the sensation, a small gasp erupts from my throat.

Rocking my hips back and forth, I feel him glide in and out of me, making sure to arch my back and stick my ass out to give the best possible view to my new friend.

“Just like tha-fuck just like that.” he mutters through staggered breaths. I can feel him getting close so I need to do my best with the time I have.

In a brave move, I move my hands up from his chest and glide them up my body, stopping to grip onto my breasts and squeeze, Hard. I moan louder than necessary, but not loud enough to cause a scene.

Bouncing hard on his dick, I bring my hand to my throat and start to lightly choke myself, throwing my head back and feel my hair hit my back.

“Fuck this pussy, oh god, oh my fucking god-so good, so tight oh fuck.” I hear him groan, reaching his climax as hot spurts of cum squirt inside of me, filling me up.

I lean forward, laying my chest back down and craning my neck to glance over my shoulder. I watch how 388’s covers slowly come to a halt, a subtle shake as he finally finishes. I wish I could hear him trying to catch his breath over the snoring of the rest of the room, but ill sleep happy with the knowledge I've done my job-for now.

“You finished right, girl?” My attention is drawn back to the heavy breathing of the purple haired asshole under me, his hands still feeling up my hips and ass as I catch my breath.

“Yeah sure.” I nod, through gritted teeth, slipping him out of me and laying beside him.

“Good, gotta take care of my girl, especially when she’s being so damn good for me!” He ruffles my hair before turning over, falling asleep almost instantly.

God he has so much faith in me not to kill him in his sleep.

My mind didn't relax enough to sleep, too focused on all the ideas I had to get my way, I will seduce this man, I don’t even care if he’s ugly or horrible. Anyone that desperate to cum clearly needs my help, maybe he’ll actually make me cum.

My lord isn’t it bad I'm more focused on this than the games? well I guess it is a game of sorts… wtf is wrong with me, anyways.

I roll my eyes and try to push my thoughts away. Ignoring the sweaty body next to me, I pull my crumped clothes back onto my body and lay back down, fading off to a dreamless sleep.

----

The most irritating and mind-numbing sickly song wakes me up in the morning. That along with the bright lights is enough to make me kill someone-even outside of the game.

I’ve never been a morning person, nighttime is where all the fun happens-hell I don't even wake up till gone 2pm most days. However, this morning I have a task-find this mystery man.

I sit up in bed-taking no notice of the absence of the man next to me, and try to brush my fingers through my knotted hair, pinching my cheeks and lips to look more alive.

God did they have to give us these ugly ass outfits.

Doing the best with what I have, I tie up the top into an extreme crop and pull the joggers down lower on my hip, lazily throwing the sweatshirt on.

It'll do.

I scan my eyes around the room like a predator hunting its prey, reading everyone’s number until my eyes land on the one I'm looking for.

Bingo.

He’s tall, good looking-man bun be damned, chuckling along with something an older man is saying and a-is that bitch pregnant? Damn. He stretches, his muscles flexing as he does, almost having me salivate on myself. He doesn't even glance over here before waltzing over to to the breakfast queue.

My footsteps are fast but inconspicuous, anyone else probably would’ve thought I was just hungry- and I guess they'd be right, but not for food.

I manage to squeeze in behind him, shuffling my feet closer to his.

“You’re pretty cute for a perv.” His shoulders stiffened, glancing at me over his shoulder.

‘What?” He mutters back to me, his eyes raking over my body before returning his eyes forward.

“I thought guys who liked to watch people fuck without them knowing were balding and lived in their parents basement with food stuck to their face and a box of tissues next to them.” Ok, that was a weird thing to say- but am I wrong?

His breathing takes a sharp incline as he shuffles forward with everyone else in the line.

“I wasn't watching you.”

“It’s okay baby I'm not mad a you, was I good for you?” my voice is confident but low, closer to his ear than before because of the people joining the queue behind me. Not sure if he's really as in to public humiliation as he is into public masturbation.

“I'm sorry, okay?” he whispers, without glancing back. More of a whimper really, slut.

“I just told you I'm not mad.” Im more short in my answers-im starting to get bored from this restrictive situation. I do get bored easily.

My lips almost touch his ear as I lean in, playing dangerous.

“Should've let me know you needed it daddy, this pussy has your name all over it.” I stroke over his back as I come down, tits grazing his back.

He chuckled darkly, looking down at his shoes, before turning his body to to me, a slick smirk playing on his mouth as he leant down and met my eyes.

“Really? Because to me it looks like it has that guy’s cum all over it.”

He blinked, before turning back and continuing to follow the queue.

I don’t have an answer for that, he really got me there to be fair.

My lips form a sharp line and I feel a heat rush to my cheeks, I kept my eyes down and stayed silent. I didn't know I could still feel embarrassed by anything-but here we are. I also tried to ignore the wetness growing between my thighs at the situation, the degrading really does it for me I guess.

He grabbed breakfast from the guard before sauntering off, out of the corner of my eye I saw him silently giggling to himself as he walked away, asshole.

I picked up my pathetic little apple and grumbled, taking a harsh bite out of it. If he's playing hard to get then I guess I'm just gonna have to play harder.

----

After the games, the vibes really sucked. Thanos was loud and annoying as usual but at least he didn't let me die. That was kinda nice of him, or maybe it was the fact I promised him anal if he got me through it-but nevertheless, it good to be alive.

I spent a long time in the bathroom, making sure I looked perfect after that mess. I also scrubbed myself raw, feeling dirty after the game, and the fuck and especially after 388’s comment. The 5 minute shower I somehow convinced the guard to let me have did wonders. He did watch me the entire time-but at least I'm clean!

After we once again got voted to stay, I got bored of the repetitive conversation and laid on my bed, staring at nothing in particular.

I glanced down over my feet at the door to the bathrooms, taking notice of the tall pretty boy leaving.

I didn't think twice about it, my feet moving on their own. I had to have it out with this man- he acts like a disgusting pervert watching me fuck and suddenly he's all cocky? I don't think so.

Thankfully the guards really don't give a fuck about who goes into what bathroom. I stand outside waiting, watching for the door to open. I didn't want to enter the bathroom and catch him pooping- I may be deranged but I'm not a total freak.

He wasn't in there long, and nobody had come in or out since him. Hearing footsteps approaching the door I give a quick wink to one of the guards, Showtime.

He barely opened the door before I pushed him back inside, closing us in the empty bathroom.

“Woah.” He managed, jumping on the defence and getting ready to attack before his eyes locked on me.

“Oh its you.” he relaxed, sighing.

“You miss me?” I asked sweetly, leaning back against the door with my hand resting on the metal handle.

“It's hard to miss you when you keep showing up,” his hands moved to his hips and his face bore an amused smirk, playful.

“You upset me earlier, thought you'd wanna make it up to me.”

“By telling you the truth? if that upsets you darling then you put have a real hard time with everything else in here.”

“Listen, you-”

“No you listen,” He steps towards me, a strange dominance lurking under his voice.

“I have enough going on here without some needly little whore deciding she's important enough to start bratting out because I used her pathetic show of attention-seeking to get myself off.”

My breathing increases as he steps closer, I was not expecting that to come out of his mouth, I’m not often too stunned to speak but somehow he's done it in the two conversations I've had with him.

I stare up at him through my lashes, my mouth dropping open a little as I pant through it. God is this turning me on?

“You gonna do something about it, tough guy?” Is all I manage to conjure, coming out in a stupidly quiet voice.

“Since you seem so desperate for me I'll do you a favour and put that dirty little mouth to use shall I?” He suddenly reaches forwards and grips my hair in his hand, a sound between a moan and a sob exiting my mouth as he does.

He shoves me across the room and into a stall, pushing us both in before slamming and locking it shut behind us. His grip stayed strong in my hair.

I don't know what I thought this guy would be like, I thought he would be a sweet little perv who helps pregnant girls and laughs along with old men’s jokes and then rubs one out while watching two people fuck like animals.

“Kneel.” He demands, his grip one my hair beginning to give me a headache. I don’t move, sure I've had men be rough before but this really took me by surprise.

“You want me don't you?” He spits out, but something in his eyes seemed softer, like a shimmer of guilt washed over them.

“Yes sir.”

“Then be a good girl and show me how much you want it, down on your knees.”

My knees buckled by themselves, gripping his thigh for support I hit the dirty bathroom floor and looked up at him with wide eyes.

“You know what to do slut, I'm sure you've had enough practice.” His eyes were back to being hard now, whether it was all the emotions during the games or something else had hardened him, and he desperately needed release, and Im more than happy to help with that.

I bring my hands up to his waistband, dragging down the green joggers and his boxers down together, watching as his hard cock flung free.

“Spit on it.”

I swirled my tongue around my mouth and tried to muster all the saliva I could, bringing my lips to the tip of his dick and letting my spit slowly drip onto it.

His eyes glaze over and he leans his head back, a groan slipping through his lips.

Taking my chance, I grab his throbbing cock with my hand and slowly pump my spit all over his shaft.

“I-is that good daddy?” I manage to stutter out, hand moving up and down as I slowly trail my tongue up his tip, tasting the pre cum that's already leaking out.

What the fuck is wrong with you, get your shit together.

“You know that's good slut, you're just begging for my validation aren't you?” He chuckled again, that deep chuckle he keeps doing that sounds like he's just been told a dirty joke, amused but interested.

I ignored the degrading tone and looked back down to his cock, its big and throbbing-a lot bigger than what I'm used to, or at least than what I've had in a long time.

Nervousness seeps into my brain but I push it back, taking him into my mouth and guiding him to the back of my throat.

As my nose hits his clothe stomach, my head is whipped back by his grip on my hair, a sudden flash of pain strikes my cheek and I feel tears welling up in my eyes from the sting.

“I asked you a question slut, or are you too stupid to use your words?” The look in his eyes flashed with amusement, like he was speaking to a cute puppy who just learnt a new trick.

“Yes sir.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes sir, I want your validation.” It hurt to spit the words out, but as soon as I did my head was thrusted back onto him.

He doesn't speak for a while, just grunting softly and leaning his head back against the cubicle wall with his eyes shut, fucking his dick right to the back of my throat like I'm nothing but a fleshlight he's using. All I can do is stifle my gags and take him, my face wet with my tears and the saliva dripping down my chin.

“So.Fucking.Good.” He chokes out between thrusts.

My mind goes black with everything else other than pleasing him, nothing but the pain in my throat and the blurry vision of his body above me.

His breathing quickens and I'm sure he's about to cum, my hair now fully being ripped out by the strength of his hands tangled in it.

“What should I do?”

I look up at him and try to muster up the most confused face I can under the circumstances, managing to furrow my eyebrows.

“Should I cum…down your throat?” His thrusts begin to slow slightly as he drags out his question.

“Or on this pretty little face?” His finger drops down and traces my jaw.

“Or should I have you lift up your shirt so I can cum on those perfect tits of yours, baby?” His questions receive no answer considering my mouth was still bing invaded by his thick cock.

“No, No, I know the perfect place.” His voice is dominant and looms over me.

With a swift movement he pulls me off of him, one arm under my armpit while the other stays in its place in my hair. They glide down to my own joggers, ripping them down to the floor along with my underwear, leaving me exposed and shaking from all the sensations of my body.

His large hands find my thighs and grips onto the backs of them.

“Jump.” He orders, and of course I follow through. Before I know it I’m pinned up against the cold wall, and being forced to bounce on his solid dick that's thrusting in and out of me at a rapid pace.

My arms find his shoulders and I cling on, hiding my whimpers in the Crook of his neck as I let him use my cunt for his pleasure.

“You want me to make you cum don't you doll?” He teases.

“Ye-Yes s-sir, please sir, yes, yes, yes!” I hate how the pathetic yelps come out of my mouth but the pleasure rocking through me takes my mind away from any embarrassment.

“That other little boy couldn't do it for you could he? You need a man to make you cum don't you huh?”

“Please make me cum Daddy, I'll do anything.” my voice sounded more like broken sobs coming through my lazily parted lips, already cock drunk from this humiliating situation.

He grips my wrist tightly and drags it between my legs.

“Rub yourself, c’mon princess I know you can do it,” His sweet words hit my ears and I immediately obey, becoming a gasping, moaning mess as I rub rapid circles around my sensitive clit.

Almost immediately after I feel myself reaching my climax, my head throwing itself back as he lunges for my throat, leaving sharp hickeys down my neck.

His breathing changes and soon after he's open-mouthed kissing my neck as I feel him pump his cum up into me, the grip he has on me weakening with every moan he produces.

As he lets go of the hold he has on me I drop to the floor, knees weak after the use he put them through. Im tired, and sore and sticky, I can feel him dripping out of me and onto the disgusting toilet floor. My eyes are heavy and my face flushed, with chapped lips and baby hairs sticking with sweat to my forehead and a tangled mess behind.

As the glow of my orgasm fades I get the same sinking feeling I always get when I finish, the feeling where Im immediately disgusted and ashamed and just want to cry and try and forget that I've just made a fool out of myself for a strange man.

I bring my hands to my face and sigh deeply, still trying to catch my breath. I forget the man*-whose name I still don't know* is there. Im sure he’ll see himself out eventually.

My unravelling show of self-pity is interrupted as I feel the man crouch down next to me, silently watching me cry into my hands.

Awkward, I bet he's regretting even meeting me now.

“Hey,hey.” He coos, his voice softer than soft. He seems afraid to touch me as his fingers ghost over my arm.

I bet he's so fucking irritated god I would be.

Imagine you've just fucked someone out of pity and they start crying on the fucking floor.

“I’m just gonna clean you up okay angel?” I sniffle and stop in confused awe. Moving my hands away from my face I wipe the tears off and pull them down until my eyes are peaking through.

He keeps eye contact for a moment before reaching over and grabbing toilet paper from behind him, ripping some off he starts to clean up the mess between my legs, uttering small apologies as I hiss from the contact.

“Shh..it's okay baby, you're okay.” His words are soft and comforting as he manoeuvres my clothes back on me. His hands stop at my waist as he tries to catch my eyes, but I'm looking everywhere but his face with my half-lidded gaze.

“Can I see that pretty face again? Please baby, let me clean you up.” I nod, eyebrows still subtly furrowed in suspicion.

With the softest touch he moves my hands away from my face, taking them in one of his and using the other to gently wipe off any moisture that remained. His touch felt like a feather grazing my skin, it was nice, I've never been treated so nicely before.

He fucking hates me doesn't he, oh well what do I care, I don't care anyways.

He places a hand on my knee, not in a way that's sexual but more of a calming gesture, probably to help stop the shaking by body has absentmindedly started doing.

Everything inside me is telling me to run, push him away and go find my bed to rock myself to sleep in, but something about the kind care in his eyes and the gentle touches he's gracing me with is making me want to stay here for as long as I can.

His other hand comes up to my hair, his fingers attempting to gently remove the knots that had built up from his harsh tugs.

‘Did I hurt you, go too far?”

I shook my head.

“Why are you doing this?” I broke my silence, voice barely audible.

“Doing what, sweetness?” He glanced down at my face, his voice soft and caring with a glance of concern.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” The words left my lips with a short chuckle, not an amused, joking chuckle, but more of disbelief and confusion-like when you hear something so ridiculous you can't help but let a chuckle slip out.

I sound so fucking pathetic.

“I’m taking care of you, you deserve it.” His confusion grew, his eyebrows getting more furrowed together the more he took in the disbelief on my face.

“You don't even know me, I don't even know your name, you don't know mine.”

“I would like to.” I stopped, staring blankly at him.

“My name Is Y/N.” I mustered up, I'm sure he doesn't really care-but it would be nice to be on a first name basis with this man, at least he's being helpful.

“Beautiful name, it suits you.” He spoke without moving his head away from the focus he had on my hair.

“What's your name?”

“Dae-Ho” His fingers freed themselves and he leant forwards, placing a soft kiss to the top of my head.

“Thank you.”

“What for?” he whispered against the skin of my forehead, the coolness of his breath causing a shiver to sneak down my spine.

“For telling me your name.”

Thank you for being nice, for holding me softly, for being so sweet and kind and affectionate to someone you don't care about.

“Angel I will tell you every single thing I know if it makes you happy.” My breath hitched and all wordings fell short in my throat. His eyes were light and kind, he didn't seem at all to mind easing me through this mini meltdown.

“Why?”

“I told you, i’d like to get to know you.’ He paused, his mind seemingly somewhere else, thinking deeply about his next words.

“Would you like to sleep in my bed with me tonight? i’d like to be able to hold you now, it feels wrong to part ways after this, unless you have plans with the crayon you were sleeping with before.” The sarcasm in his voice seeps through when he speaks about Thanos, a subtle spit of jealousy perhaps mixed in with his words.

Interesting development.

---------------------

A/N: Lit havent slept and wrote this with no editing so if its ass lmk lol- also my first piece of writing on tumblr! exciting times-many ideas ahead.

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charliemwrites · 6 months ago

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хозяин

Nobody. You wish it weren’t so apt. But he’s not a person, not anything of Earth.

Content: Dub-Con, Biting, Scratching, Exhibitionism, Possessive Behavior, Toxic Behavior

You must have pissed something off in a past life. Or they’re planning on giving you something really good in the next one. Because this… this is too much. He’s too much.

We are exactly right for you, khozyain.

It’s not just the taste of leather and oil on the back of your tongue each morning. Or the crimson smears on your sheets before bed. You could live with the shit sleep, the centuries of foreign memories, and the occasional hankering for raw meat that thins your appetite to nothing.

“You’re KorTac’s best operative?”

It’s a question you’ve heard a dozen times before – and will likely hear a dozen times more. The criticism is valid. You’re not an imposing figure; nothing impressive about you. Look more like a child in a Halloween costume than anything resembling a soldier. The question never bothers you because the unofficial title is as ill-fitting as the gun strapped to your thigh.

It’s not you they need to worry about bothering.

“We are. Problem, soldat?”

“There’s no problem, Nikto,” you answer in Sebastian Krueger’s place.

No, Krueger is too busy wondering where the big, dark figure behind your shoulder just came from. He could have sworn you stepped out of the transport alone. In broad daylight, no less. (That doesn’t mean there aren’t shadows.)

Nikto grunts, nearly tripping you with how closely he walks, toes of his boots nipping at the heels of yours. A stride twice the length of your own but doggedly following, not leading.

“Thought there was only one ‘a ya,” Declan O’Conor muses.

“Paperwork issue,” you lie, smiling.

Nikto grunts, pressing into your back as you stop in front of your temporary captain. You have to brace against his oppressive weight, feel yourself flush a bit when you don’t quite manage.

“Who’re you, then?” Declan asks, eyes on your shadow.

“Nikto,” comes the gruff reply.

Nobody.

You wish it weren’t so apt.

But he’s not a person, not anything of Earth. You don’t know if he ever was; he never gives you a straight answer when you pluck up the courage (or frustration) to ask. Last time, he told you that if he ever wanted to feel human, he’d just be inside you. (You’d flushed, didn’t know if he meant in your mind, where he often takes up unwanted residence, or… elsewhere. Couldn’t make yourself ask him to clarify, afraid of the answer. Jumped whenever he touched you for a week.)

You don’t know the exact bounds of this pact either. He listens to you only sometimes. When it suits him – or when it least suits you. And you’re not immune to his cruelty either, as the bruises and bitemarks and scratches can attest. Nothing like the romanticized crossroads deals you see in tv shows and movies.

Truthfully, you’re not even sure if he’s a punishment for you or if you’re a reward for him. What’s that line you read online once? Dog heaven is squirrel hell. Did he make a deal with you, or did he make a deal with something else, and you’re just collateral?

You never bother to ask. He’ll just click his forked tongue and tell you that it won’t get rid of him either way. The worst part is that he’ll be right. You’re pretty sure the Christian God as you know Him has nothing to do with any of this.

The mission doesn’t matter, not really. You only listen for objectives. Whoever needs killing, whatever information needs gathering, wherever the hostages are. The rest is all useless extra, so much noise to Nikto, not even listening. He’s too busy bullying his way between your thighs, sinking his teeth into the meat through your cargos.

You’re never sure if he’s visible or the other operatives just avoid looking at him in these moments. Regardless, you flush and kick at him when his jaw locks too hard. It’ll bruise livid and ugly, and he’ll fuck the head of his cock into the aching ring of teeth prints left behind.

He’s insistent when the briefing is over, riled up by the promise of bloodshed. Pushy and growling, nearly snapping through his “mask” as he herds you like a rabid shepherd to your temporary quarters.

He fucks you in the doorway though, using one thick arm to bounce you like a personal fleshlight. The other keeps your jaw forced open so he can spit and lick into your mouth, obscene and filthy.

You push and squirm, but he just laughs that awful, maniacal rattle and grinds your clit into his pelvis. Until you start to mean it when you whimper “no” and “stop.” It always makes him cum so hard that you taste ichor in the back of your throat.

It’s too much to hope that you’ll eat in the mess hall uninterrupted. Nikto’s presence attracts the worst, and Krueger is compelled to pick at the weakness you exude. It’s no question that he’s a bigger, stronger, meaner beast than you. But like a dying soldier left to scream in the field, there’s a muzzle hidden out of sight, awaiting whatever is lured in – for mercy or to feast.

Krueger takes the seat across from you, one of his boots landing heavy and threatening on top of yours. You eat quietly, picking at your mashed potatoes and rubbery chicken. Listen to him jab and jeer.

Nikto is there but he’s not. He’s laughing in your ear at all the true but derisive things Krueger is taunting you with. All the sins he boasts of and the reactions he takes as proof of your inadequacy for the assignment you’ve been brought for. It would hurt more of you didn’t know it was true – and if your nerves weren’t rattling.

There’s a line, always a line. Some fault hidden beneath the surface that you don’t see until the ground splits and swallows up the unfortunate soul above.

This time, it’s a comment about how much more useful you’d be as a cockwarmer.

The plastic fork is an inch from his eye by the time you finish blinking.

“Nikto, stop!”

It snaps in his tight fist – but stops. Krueger hasn’t even processed how close he was to losing half his sight before you’re yanking Nikto back by the straps. He’s growling, snarling, half-crazed over a comment he’s made himself. You abandon your mostly full tray and the table altogether, putting all your weight and strength into dragging him from the cafeteria.

“Calm down, that’s enough!” you shout over the animalistic sounds ripping from his throat.

He turns on you instead. Pins you to the wall just outside, in full view of anyone passing on their way to dinner.

“Mine, mine, mine,” he’s chanting. Ripping through your pants (that’s the second pair this week) and thrusting against the seam of your ass. Already leaking precum from an obsidian tip at the small of your back, the corpse-pale base nestled between your cheeks. If he had the coordination through the frenzy, he’d stuff it into you dry and tight. As it is, it’s all he can do to buck against you, fingers digging divots into the cement wall, dust raining down on your face.

Mine, mine, mine, he chants inside your skull in languages known and unknown. You’re leaking through your underwear, too overwhelmed and bewildered to be anything but turned on. Fear is synonymous with attraction, those two wires soldered together and circuited to your pussy.

Copper fills your nose, warmth drips down your lips. Nikto scents it like a hound, yanks your head back to lap at the blood, groaning into your mouth.

Yours, yours, yours as his cock splutters against your spine, too hot. Tingly, almost caustic. You can barely breathe and he’s hauling you over one big shoulder, scooping your slick to prod at the hole he was just grinding against.

Us as you’re pinned with nowhere to go and no voice to praise or protest. In a room darker than a void. Suspended on an endless continuum of pleasure and pain, phantom claws raking your skin and phantom mouths filling whatever holes his cock isn’t occupying.

Sometimes you wonder if the plural “we” and “us” he tends to use is in reference to you and him, or…

The mission is going to be a success, it always is. You separate from the rest of the KorTac squad, shooing Nikto’s hands out from under your shirt. The claw marks still sting; the sooner you can get out of tac gear, the better.

He cracks his neck as the two of you approach the infil point. It sounds like snapping bone. A crescent moon carves into the night sky, sharp enough to cut yourself on.

“Is it time, khozyain?”

Those cajoling whispers caress your ears again. To let him run rampant, to let him fill your bath with blood. He’d be a scourge on the earth if you let him, a one-man apocalypse. The death of the world for a slip of the tongue.

Your hold on his leash is so tight that it’s imprinted past the skin, down into muscle. But on nights like tonight, for things like this… you let out the lead.

“Stay clear of Point B,” you remind into your com.

“Roger,” all others agree.

If they know what’s good for them, they’ll abide by the plan like holy writ. Not even you can promise their lives if they stray.

Shadow looms behind you, grows with each beat of your heart, spills over your shoulders, threads down your arms. You don’t dare glance at the inhuman head hovering right by yours, the maw parting for vicious, pearlescent teeth and pooling saliva. Hungry. Starving.

“Nikto.”

A rolling, ravenous churr vibrates through your skull. The lowest windows of your target begin to crack.

“Hunt.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #dark fic #nikto cod #nikto x reader #call of duty nikto #heavy kink

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viperify · 3 months ago

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Smutmas 2024 | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ᴍᴜɢɢʟᴇ ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

We will meet again. | pt 2

Short summary: Ever since you had met Tom, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was mysterious and intriguing in the best possible way – if only he hadn’t disappeared out of nowhere at the Christmas market. It’s two weeks later now and you intend to spend Christmas Eve by yourself. Or will you?

Warnings: 18+ only! stalker!Tom, dub con, rough sex, extreme choking, impact play, degradation, biting, bondage, slight blasphemy ig, unprotected p in v, no aftercare

A/N: All I want for Christmas is… uhhh…

wordcount: 2,9k

part one | part three

Nobody messes with Tom Riddle’s head.

Especially not a muggle girl.

He let his guard down that day, something that hadn’t happened in a long time. You intrigued him in the worst possible way– an odd feeling he wasn’t used to blooming in his chest. One that only got stronger every time he had looked into your beautiful eyes, one that he couldn’t seem to let go, one that distracted him any time he wanted to simply read a book or study.

It has been driving him close to insanity.

Two weeks have passed since your encounter at the Christmas market and he had since found out where you lived, when you arrived home after work and, most importantly, he had a well worked out plan where he would teach you a little lesson.

Christmas Eve.

Fourteen days ago you met Tom, and he has never left your mind since. He has even followed you in some of your dreams. The necklace – you don’t wear it. Too much of a reminder of how he just left you behind, essentially having your friends think you’ve gone crazy as you rambled on about this tall, handsome stranger who you swore was just sitting there next to you on the bench. Without paying it any further attention, you have put the jewellery away, somewhere where you were sure you wouldn’t have to encounter it again for the next few months.

You live in your own apartment, within a small living room currently decorated with a middle-sized Christmas tree. The smell of pine needles and gingerbread hangs thick in the air, altogether creating a pleasant holiday feeling which perfectly fits to your tradition of watching a seasonal movie on Christmas Eve.

The season of love and peace doesn’t feel much like it when you have to decorate and organize everything yourself. The past few days have been nothing but tiring, which is why during the movie your eyelids flutter close every few minutes and you have to fight sleep with all your strength. Your exhaustion finally gets the better of you and you decide to head to bed, slipping into your fluffy bunny slippers and turning off the TV. After, you make your way to your bedroom, only the flashing Christmas decorations you had put up leading your way, casting a faint light on the otherwise empty hallway.

You touch the cold metal of the door handle and push down, entering your bedroom. Instead of darkness the dim light of your motion-sensing lamp greets you. It has been bugging often lately, just like the camera surveilling the front door entrance. Not even technicians you had hired could fix the issue – strange, you thought, especially as you have never had problems before. It’s probably due to the chilly weather they told you.

As you take a breath, a strange, yet familiar scent hits your senses. It reminds you of that day at the Christmas market. As you try to figure out where it was from exactly, Tom crosses your mind. It was his perfume, unmistakably, one that was so unique it was easily recognizable. Then, on the other hand, how could-

“You left your front door unlocked.”

A familiar voice, which you instantly make out to be Tom’s, snaps you out of your thoughts. You shriek, turning to face the figure behind you. You weren’t mistaken.

Your blood is rushing through your ears as he’s just standing there, arms behind his back, staring at you. Even in this faint lighting you could swear his eyes have gotten darker than last time you saw him.

“What the-? How did you get in here?” You breathe heavily, furrowing your eyebrows at the sight of how calmly, eerily so, he was standing in the corner of your bedroom.

His lips twitch slightly, almost like he was about to reply, but instead he takes a measured step towards you. “Why aren’t you wearing my present?” he asks, voice low and controlled as his gaze sinks to the exposed skin of your cleavage, scanning it for the silver necklace he had left you in your handbag.

A scoff escapes your lips, and you shake your head. “Now tell me one good reason why I should. We have barely talked. You left without saying anything. I never asked you to come back either, especially not by breaking into my house.”

It wasn’t exactly true – of course you have been thinking about him. About how he caught your attention so easily in the first place, how different he was to other men. You even have dreamed of him. Yet, you weren’t a person to just simply forgive and forget.

“Leave, just like you did two weeks ago. You have no business being in here anyway.”

Tom’s expression doesn’t change as he stands still for another moment. Though, he then quickly advances toward you and before you can react properly, he grabs your arm and pushes you back against the cold wall of your bedroom, pinning you in place with his body.

“I am not going to leave any time soon.” He snarls as his hand wraps around your throat, just enough to feel your pulse under his touch. You have been messing with my head. And you know what happens to people that mess with my head?”

“Bad things. Horrible, in fact.”

You avoid his piercing gaze best as you can. “Well,” you huff, “that is not my fucking-“

Smack.

You hiss, head whacking to the side as his palm strikes your cheek forcefully, the burning sting radiating through your body. And damn – it shouldn’t make you feel the way it does.

“I am going to scream.” You croak best as you can, though you aren’t quite sure if you could under his firm grip.

“For help?“ he taunts, his lips curling up in a smug grin, “I would like to see you try.”

“I know what you have been dreaming of the past two weeks. Exactly this, isn’t it? My hand wrapped around your pretty throat, fucking you senseless. You can’t hide from me.”

“I have no clue what you-“

You hiss as a sharp pain in your head cuts off your lie, and the world around you shifts into something oddly familiar, a scenery you recognize from one of your dreams you had two nights ago.

It was you and him after your encounter at the Christmas market, but instead of disappearing, he had come home with you.

Not only that, though.

“God Tom, please!” You whine, lifting your hips from the mattress to meet his harsh thrusts, desperately chasing your high as he hits all the right spots that have your vision blur.

He looks so perfectly messy like this – sweat glistening on his skin, his beautiful brunette curls sticking to his forehead as he looks down at you with hazy, lust-filled eyes. The most raw and gorgeous groans come from his slightly parted lips, and you swear that sight alone would push you over the edge soon enough.

“Tell me what you need, and I will give it to you.” Tom encourages, sucking marks into the tender skin of your neck.

“Need you to choke me. Please.” You manage, and his hand tightly wraps around your throat in an instant, as though he was waiting for those exact words to spill over your lips.

“Anything for you.”

And just like that, the scenery shifts again. You whimper as the stinging pain in your head disappears, and you are met with the brunette staring right at you with a cruel smirk, his face inching closer to yours until he is merely a breath away.

“It would be oh so cruel of me to deny you-“ Tom rasps, his voice laced with sarcasm as his hand finds its way under your skirt, “what you have been craving for so badly, don’t you think?”

A nod. A nod is all you can manage in return. You don’t even have time to question whatever just happened, inhaling shakily as his hand travels up your bare thigh, thumb brushing over the damp spot on your panties. Tom furrows his eyebrows and groans, lowly, at the feeling of your arousal on his finger.

“This turns you on? You are more pathetic than I thought.”

The firm grip he has on your throat softens, and your lungs finally expand with oxygen as you suck in a deep breath. He takes out a weird looking stick from inside his coat and mutters something for you inaudible. Just a second later your clothes are neatly folded on the floor and you stand there – half-naked, merely your lace underwear left on your otherwise exposed figure. You gasp in surprise and instinctively try to cover yourself, however Tom is quicker, grabs your wrist and sits you down on the soft mattress of your bed. Then, he does the same thing again, to himself this time.

Your eyes widen, trying to comprehend whatever just happened right in front of your eyes. “How- who are you? Some kind of magician?”

The brunette huffs, pushing you down onto the velvety sheets of your bed. “I am much more than a mere magician.”

And this time, he would let you keep the memory.

Before you can reply anything, he hovers above you, trailing kisses down your neck. Not like those you are used to from past experiences, though. They are rough and full of hunger, teeth grazing your skin, biting down here and there, practically marking you up as his own. Just like those dreams you have had.

Tom trails lower, stopping right at the swell of your breasts. “Still wearing too much.” He mutters under his breath, but it’s too late when you realize his intention. The material of your bralette rips with a sharp tear as it gives way to the force he is applying, the fabric sliding off to each side.

You want to complain, tell him that was one of your favourites, but when his teeth sink into the flesh of your breast any sane thoughts vanish from your mind. “Tom! Are you crazy?!” You shriek, attempting to push his head off you.

“Some people would say insane.” He retorts almost too calmly, lifting his head to answer, though not wasting much time before he dips down again to wrap his lips around your stiffened bud, sucking and biting down on it.

You throw your head back as soft moans escape your parted lips, your fingers raking through his perfect curls, tugging on them just slightly. His hand wanders down your stomach, and with a quick motion your panties are thrown on the floor.

“That is by the way no proper way to undress a woman.” You scold, and his eyes meet yours for a moment.

“You must be utterly delusional to assume I cared about that.”

Shaking your head you reach to the waistband of his briefs to get rid of them, blindly taking his length in your hand while you study his facial expressions. Only when you stroke him up and down, rubbing your thumb over his with precum glistening tip, you notice his size. Fuck.

His hand takes yours, pinning both of them above your head. Tom stills then, his eyes skimming over your naked figure underneath him for a brief moment as though he wanted to imprint your form into his mind forever.

“Keep your hands up there.” He demands lowly, and that is when you feel him aligning himself with your entrance, pushing into you steadily. You gasp at the blissful stretch Tom is providing you, burying his cock in your warm, welcoming walls.

“Season of love and peace, hm?” He rasps, pulling out of you almost entirely. “Let me show you what that means to me.”

A whole lot apparently.

“Because all you have caused me is anger and frustration.”

“Oh fuck- that’s too deep!” You cry out as he thrusts back into you at his last words, with much greater force this time. “Yeah? And I know you love it. Look how greedy you are, sucking me right in. See what a pathetic slut you are for it.”

His demeanour has in the meanwhile changed into something darker, eyebrows slightly furrowed as he mercilessly pounds into your tight cunt. You don’t exactly know what you have done wrong – he left you behind after all, not the other way around. However, who were you to complain if it meant you would get this?

Your hands reach to hold onto him, digging your nails into his skin, mark him like he did with you. A short-lived idea, it turns out. Tom hisses something, a word you can’t quite understand, and your hands return to their position above your head. Securely fastened with invisible binds.

“Wh- oh god! Oh dear god fuck-“ you cry out as he repeatedly hits that one spot deep inside of you that has stars blur your vision, subsequently having his hand wrap around your throat to muffle your moans. Then, his burning gaze meets yours.

“God? Pray to me. I am the only one above you, pray to me.”

Tom’s grip on your throat tightens at that, almost cutting off your airflow entirely.

Dreams do come true, after all.

The sounds of skin slapping against each other fills the room, and the air grows thick with the smell of lust and desire. You get to feel all of him, every single vein, even the slight curve of his perfect length. It all feels too good, too much for you to take. With your hands tied and voice taken away, that though is the only thing you can do – taking it.

“How does it feel-“ he breathes heavily, his dark brown curls sticking to his forehead as he punctuates his question with particularly rough thrusts. “How does it feel to be completely at my mercy, hm? To have me decide whether you get to take another breath?”

You can’t manage a reply, too caught up in pleasure clouding your mind, too focused on the slight sting you get as he brushes your cervix with every thrust as your walls give way to him entirely.

Soon your eyes flutter close, your consciousness slowly fading away under the firm grip he has on your throat. His hand then releases you, instead delivering a harsh smack to your cheek.

He adds another one as you don’t respond immediately.

“Breathe.”

You cough, gasping for air as your vision slowly comes back to you and are met with the brunette glancing down at you. “Doing so well for me.” He groans lowly, his thrusts growing more erratic as you clench around him, feeling your own high building rapidly.

“Please- please I need you to-“ you whine, bucking your hips against his thrusts for more friction. He reaches between you two, thumb finding your clit, rubbing figure eights on it. “S’ that what you need?”

You nod frantically. “Yes, oh Tom-“ your wrists pull at the bindings, but it’s no use. “Come. Come and show me how much of a slut you are for me.”

That’s the only thing you need to hear before the waves of your climax wash over you, repeating his name like a prayer as your cunt greedily pulses around his length, encouraging his release as well.

“I fucking- hate you-“ he grunts, emptying himself inside of you, biting down on your shoulder and collapsing on your spent body afterwards. You two stay like this for a brief moment before he pulls out of you. Tom keeps your legs spread and you whimper softly as his fingers swipe through your glistening folds, gathering some of your mixed arousal before he brings it to your lips.

“Open up. Taste us.” He demands, and you follow his command, taking his digits into your mouth to suck them clean. You never take your eyes off him, and the sight in front of you is heavenly. Tom looks oddly messy like this, hair disheveled, beads of sweat visible on his forehead, lips slightly parted as he breathes. Lord have mercy, you think.

He withdraws his fingers from your mouth and cleans himself with what you have learned to be his wand. “You are a wizard?” You ask, sitting up to meet his gaze.

Tom nods. “Do not speak to anyone about this. Or I won’t have mercy with you next time.”

You grin. “There will be a next time?”

Just another second later and he stands before you, fully dressed in his black robes, his eyes wandering over your figure and his lips curl into a satisfied smirk. “Maybe. If you wear the necklace.”

You point towards the mess on your sheets and inner thighs expectantly. “Could you-“

“I am quite positive you will be fine.” Tom replies sternly, getting ready to leave.

It’s not that you were expecting him to stay the night, though you couldn’t help but feel disappointed he was leaving so soon. Your eyes follow his tracks, and when he then stands before you to hand you your clothes and a towel, you take the opportunity.

“Would you stay if I wanted you to?” You ask, still hopeful, though you already know the answer.

He shakes his head. “No.”

And so Tom takes out his wand, hesitating for a moment before he turns to face you for one last time.

“Happy Christmas.”

Just like that, he is gone again.

And the necklace? The most beautiful you have ever worn.

tagging for pt 2: @theacreativity @sirenseaborne @tomriddleswhcre

#do not question author’s sanity #idk if this is what yall expected after pt 1 whoops #am i going crazy?#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle smut #slytherin #slytherin boys #harry potter #smutmas 2024 #dividers by strangergraphics #dividers by saradika #🦢⋆⭒˚.⋆my works

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dystopyx-blog · 7 months ago

Note

Hi hi hun! Hope I’m not bugging you but I’d love to hear your opinion on the yandere Twst boys and who is willing to share darling/me/Yuu. I see so much sentiment about yanderes never sharing/teaming up but I just don’t get it. Some characters have such tight friendships, or fill what the other lacks, that I see them working together so well! Like sure you could divide them by dorm, kinda obvious, but then there are other less thought of team ups that could be fun. I’ve seen on here what’s dubbed as the number 2 squad (Leona, Jamil, and Vil) and I think that could be a relatively healthy (maybe a little competitive) team up. Others that come to mind, Jack and Vil, music club, and the four house husbands (Trey, Ruggie, Jamil, and Jade). Like teaming up means darling always has SOMEONE watching them. One may be better at comforting/calming darling, while another is more sly and can manipulate them better. There’s just so many fun combos you could play with! I’d love to hear what you think!

Remember to take care of yourself. Drink water, eat a snack, and stretch! Have a great day! 😊

Ty for the lovely ask, darl’ 🥺

Okay! Let's start with the team ups within each house!

HEARTSLABYUL

Ace and Deuce -- obviously. They're your first friends in the school (aside from Grim, but he doesn't count), the only people they hang out with aside from you is each other. They bicker, but they also understand that it's more advantageous for them to work together. Ace still teases Deuce and I think both of them still Daydream of getting you to themselves, but you've taught them the magic of teamwork and, unfortunately, you taught them well.

Riddle and Trey -- Childhood friends. Like with what we know of their story, I feel that Trey in particular would be willing to share with Riddle. And they're pretty well balanced as a yandere team. With them there is no cut "good cop/bad cop." Yes, Riddle is strict, but he's also so very baby, yknow? With his raging mommy issues, I imagine he's the type who would love to be coddled by his darling. Trey is that older brother type, so of course he knows when and how to put his foot down, but he's also so so so sweet and gentle. Riddle is definitely more likely to dole out punishments, though.

Cater -- he doesn't need to teamup to have the power of numbers on his side.

All 5 -- Riddle doesn't just watch over you, but also the others lol. He creates a schedule and rules for the members of this yandere team to follow so they can work as a well oiled machine to care for and share you. Ace is the most likely to see you even when its not his scheduled time. Deuce is a suck up who always tries to earn your favor, VERY easy to manipulate and get favors from. Trey is very sweet, but incredibly difficult to manipulate. Cater is a schemer who would probably plan an escape with you to keep you to himself. And as I already said, Riddle is the one who keeps everyone in check.

SAVANNACLAW

Ruggie and Leona -- again, a fairly obvious one. Ruggie already works under Leona for table scraps, of course he'll work with him for you. Leona acts top dog in the relationship, and gets first dibs with you, but what that really means is that any time you're not with Leona, Ruggie is making up for lost time. Like in the Heartslabyul team up, Riddle makes sure to schedule breaks/alone time for you. You don't get that here, you are always with one of them. Your "alone time" is when Leona sleeps.

All 3 -- basically just Leona and Ruggie throwing Jack a bone (heheh). In this one you can technically get some sort of alone time, cuz if you talk it over with Jack, he'd be willing to give up some of his time with you to make sure you can rest up.

OCTAVINELLE

Octotrio -- or as I prefer, the seafood polycule. I already did a whole separate post just talking about them lol, but you got twins and childhood besties and they're also business partners, like these boys know how to work together and share.

SCARABIA

HA fuckin unlikely. Even if Jamil does have the patience to share a darling with Kalim, I just -- like I'd feel too bad to write it. Like let him have this one thing, I am not going to make Jamil share his darling with Kalim, ESPECIALLY because darling would probably cozy up to Kalim more because delusional sunshine yanderes are the easiest to manipulate.

POMEFIORE

Rook and Vil -- these two barely even need to verbally communicate, when it comes to their darling they are on the same wavelength, which makes them a formidable team up. Like they got systems in place that just happen naturally, no need to discuss. For example, if you run away, Rook hunts you, Vil punishes you. They just work.

ALL 3 -- Vil lets Epel join in so long as he behaves. Epel would be the easiest to manipulate, but Vil keeps the both of you in check. Despite Epel's negative feelings towards Vil, Vil and Rook can turn Epel on you just as you turn Epel on them. Epel isn't completely stupid, if he finds out you're taking advantage of him, it will not be pretty or cute.

IGNIHYDE

Ortho would definitely platonically help out. You make his big brother so happy, and you make the perfect older sister for him!!

DIASOMNIA

Silver and Sebek -- calm n loud. Basically their relationship with Malleus but transferred into yanderes + darling.

A part of me can see Lilia teaming up with Silver but I don't like thinking about it for too long

All 4 -- The situation in the Diasomnia group is basically understood as you are with Malleus, but you are allowed to also see the other 3. Like the other three are side pieces. Malleus is sharing with his boys. You gotta share with your boys.

MIX N MATCH

The Freshies -- Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Sebek -- freshies gotta look out for each other, right? And that's what they're doing. Looking out for you.

The Discord Mods -- Azul and Idia. If Idia were to team up with any one person, I think it'd be Azul. Like in Azul's lab wear vignette, Azul was the only one Idia felt comfortable enough to ask for help from. I can imagine them scheming together in their club teehee.

The Overblotters -- they all realized they share one thing in common... no, not overblot, you! They all share you! They swear that you are their cure, the only thing to keep them stable. So you kinda have to stay with them, for safety reasons.

The House Wardens -- it's the overblotters but switch out Jamil with Kalim. And it makes all the difference, having the sunshine boy involved, istg. The housewardens deserve something nice, right? That something being you ofc.

The vice house wardens -- including Ruggie. A lot of them are very tired and just want quiet darling time, and the ones that aren't tired make darling feel tired enough to be quiet for quiet darling time.

Leona and Rook -- Leona did not consent to this, but there's not much he can do. Especially since Rook is happy not only to do most of the physical labor involved in caring for a darling, but also to stand by as Leona gets Darling time. It's weird and uncomfortable for everyone involved.

The light music club -- they spend most of their club time talking about you tbh. Also please don't listen to closely to any lyrics of the songs they write...

Basketball boys -- imagine going to their practice to support Ace. Ace brags to them about how close he is with you. But then now when Floyd isn't in the mood to ball, he'll chat it up with you. One day Floyd just asks "you what if we took them." And then they do.

These are just the basics, but I'd be happy to go into more detail on a group/pairing if asked to!

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acynicalsweetheart · 13 days ago

Note

Can you please write teen reader pointing a gun at Jimmy's head and forcing him to eat her out. She keeps calling him "daddy," which eventually morphs into "dad," and by the end of it, she's sobbing a saying dad over and over again.. Please and thank you

hai sorry this took forever umm. and sorry it’s so terribly ass LOL don’t know how to write anymore… wanted to do this from jimmy’s perspective but i don’t think it would’ve worked so yah. no idea what this is

content warning: 18+, dead dove do not eat, faux incest, non/dub-con, gunpoint, daddy kink, daddy issues, etc etc

“Just do it, Jimmy, please.” You add the nice word to lighten the situation a little, granted you’re holding Jimmy at gunpoint as you speak. “I’ll use it if you don’t.”

You’re trying to be stern but your words come out so meekly. Probably ‘cause you’ve never held, let alone fired a gun before. Ever.

He huffs, arms crossed over his chest confidently, not up in the air—palms open to prove he’s not a threat like they should be. Almost like he’s amused. “You’re bluffing.”

It’s loaded, unsafened and your finger is resting on the trigger. Well, Jimmy should watch you ‘bluff’ this.

Your hands shake as you pull the trigger with a deafening bang!, narrowly missing Jimmy by a couple of inches and landing a shot in the wall behind him.

“Shit!” Jimmy jumps out of his skin like the man in the box, covering his ears. “Fuck—fucking… crazy bitch.”

You can’t help but giggle a little. Not bad for a first time.

“Where’d you even get that?” His scowl exaggerates, still very obviously trying to catch his breath.

“Do it…” stalking closer still aiming at him, you lift up your skirt ever so slightly in an attempt to entice him, “Jimmy.”

‘Cause he’s not the type to give head out of his own free will—you know him that well.

“Fine! Jesus fuck.” Jimmy snaps once the firearm nears his chest, getting down on his knees and starting to pull down your panties like a good doggy. “Goddamn insane,” he mutters, glaring up at you.

The barrel of your (daddy’s) gun is pointed right to Jimmy’s dampening forehead.

One shot—another simple flick of the trigger and he’s as good as dead.

Feels like forever before Jimmy finally licks an angry stripe up your slit. Again, not bad for a first time. Your first time—not Jimmy’s. You don’t think. But you certainly hope, would make you special.

“Oh!” You yelp, half-surprised and half-pleased, the other word just slips out so nicely. “Daddy…”

“You’ve mfucking losht it,” is spoken into your pussy, sending vibrations through you—oddly makes you wish Jimmy would keep talking.

For the first time in your life, you think you understand pornstars and their excessive moaning. ‘Cause you’re having a really hard time shutting up.

“Deeper, daddy, or I’ll pull the trigger, I swear I will.”

And Jimmy has the fucking audacity to pull away. Just to be snarky. “Who’s going to eat your pussy then?”

“Shut up!” You grip the back of his head, fingers tangling into his hair and forcing him deeper between your thighs. Till his prickly stubble gives you rug burn.

Jimmy’s munching away at your cunt like a starved bulldog—letting his nose scrunch up against your mound and letting his spit drip down your legs.

His tongue stretches you out, licking so far up you see Jesus Christ.

Eyes rolling so far back into your skull that you can see your brain, you repeat it over and over like a mantra. “Daddy daddy daddy…”

You can’t stop yourself from humping Jimmy’s face, hiccups of pleasure interrupting your moans. Like you’re drunk on Jimmy’s mouth on your pussy alone.

“Dad—“ you’re so far gone you barely even notice what you just said—well, what a hitch of your breath technically made you say.

Jimmy doesn’t stop. Neither does your orgasm.

“Dad,” you gasp, body tensing up as his blunt nails dig into your ass, helping you hump his face, “dad, fuck…”

You practically explode, cumming so loud you give opera singers a run for their money.

It doesn’t last very long. Post-nut clarity hits you harder than dad’s belt. A smack to each cheek and another smack straight in the face for good measure.

Jimmy shoves you away from him, leaving you shuffling and stumbling across some factory floor while he gets up on his feet.

Where even are you? What are you doing?

“I’m sorry,” your gun drops to the floor, hands clutching everywhere on yourself you can reach. “I’m so sorry, dad, sorry…”

You’re given a look by Jimmy that tells you he wants to beat the shit out of you, whoop your ass real hard—but he doesn’t. Just judges you silently.

You can’t stand to look at Jimmy any longer. The spit - possibly your cum - gleaming in his stubble, the indent of your gun to his forehead, the growing bulge in his pants.

Before you know it, you’re on the floor, gripping your head in disbelief and sobbing like a baby. You should be in fucking jail.

He probably thinks you’re a freak. So desperate to get your pussy eaten that you’d hold someone at gunpoint for it. That’s exactly what it looks like.

For some reason Jimmy is still there. Not calling the cops, not even walking away.

“Nasty bitch,” he kicks at you like you’re a sad old dog, then most likely has an epiphany ‘cause he gets down to embrace you. Jimmy’s grip on you is tight like restraints, petting your hair hard enough to almost flatten your head. “Daddy did this to you, huh?”

You shake your head, covering your face with your hands—getting them all snotty and wet with your tears ‘cause you don’t want to be seen. You don’t even know which part of this shit-show he’s referring to.

You grab onto Jimmy’s shirt to pull him closer so he can hold you just a little longer, dirtying the fabric and calling him dad over and over like it’s the only word you know.

#♡. fraise's drabbles #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #dark fic #dddne #mouthwashing jimmy #mouthwashing smut #mouthwashing x reader #mw jimmy #jimmy x reader #jimmy mouthwashing #jimmy #jimmy smut #mouthwashing x y/n #mouthwashing x you #jimmy mw #mouthwashing jimmy smut

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magpiepills · 3 months ago

Text

Doin’ Time

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Corrections Officer Joel Miller x f inmate reader

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: you’re a client of the criminal justice system and you have a run in with CO Miller

Warnings: SMUT! PWP, Dub Con, hand cuffs, unethical pairing, PIV, rough oral, masturbation, dirty talk, night stick, kinda mean Joel, stuff like that. It’s prison sex. Don’t read this if anything about it may be triggering to you. Barely edited, not beta’d.

A word from the author: ACAB. Cops are class traitors and policing is inherently racist. Still gonna write prison smut though.

“Inmate 4-2-0-6-9! Against the wall!” He bellowed across the yard where you sat with a few of the girls from your block. You rolled your eyes with a groan and slowly stood, dragging your feet across the yard to where he stood, arms crossed and face hard. Last thing you needed was to get maced.

C.O. Miller was the most senior guard, which wasn’t saying much considering the revolving door of the run-down prison where you were remanded for the next 32 months. Nevertheless, he was basically in charge of the way things worked in your block. He had a big, jangling key ring on his thick, black belt and you could hear him before you saw him coming. This was a blessing and a curse. It gave you time to hide your cell phone, but after four months in cell block D, the sound of his keys also created something of a Pavlovian response.

“Tits on the wall and hands behind your back,” he barked at you. “And feet apart. Come on sweetheart. I know you know how to spread those legs.”

He was behind you now, big palm pressing you roughly against the brick wall that surrounded the yard. You didn’t speak. You let your hips do the talking, tilting forward to arch your back while he patted you down, running his night stick up the inside of one leg and down the other, with a stop in between to prod at the apex of your thighs. He stood close behind you, sliding his hands greedily around your waist.

“Got anything in here I need to know about?” He breathed into your ear as he slid his hands up under your beige top. He palmed your tits from behind and rolled his hips against your ass so you could feel his straining erection.

He pinched your nipples and dragged his nose against the side of your neck before stepping back.

“No bra. That’s a dress code violation.”

You couldn’t stop the smirk on your face when he pulled your hands behind you, snapping on handcuffs and letting you stroke his cock over his uniform pants.

He pulled you away from the wall and directed you back into the building, away from the prying eyes of the other girls who got to enjoy the rest of their time in the sunshine.

Miller nodded at a few other guards as you passed, and you winked at your friends in their cells and exaggerated your strut as they whistled and whooped when they saw who was walking you to ad-seg. It earned you a rough shake. “Knock it off.” He ordered. He’s no fun.

By the time you got to the heavy, windowless door leading to the familiar, bare cell known as “the hole” your pussy was slick and throbbing in anticipation.

He unlocked the door, took off the cuffs, and shoved you inside, leaving you alone in the stuffy six by nine room. You could hear the lock being turned, and footsteps receding. You waited and listened, still soaking your standard issue pants with your wet pussy.

You got tired of waiting. He hadn’t told you how long you were going to be in here, so you laid on the thin mattress on the floor and slipped your hand under your waistband. It was really the only reasonable way to pass the time when you were sent to the hole.

You stroked over your lips, feeling the mess you made, dipping your middle finger to collect more. You circled your clit, in no hurry because you had nothing but time. You thought of Crissy, your cellmate with the great tits. You thought of your last boyfriend, who could make you come like magic but who had probably narc’d on you. You thought of C.O. Miller. You thought of that night stick of his. You even thought of Tim.

Before you could get yourself off, the lock disengaged and the door creaked open once more. CO Miller stood in the doorway, taking up the whole of it with his imposing body and his serious face.

“You’re just in time,” you cooed teasingly.

“Shut up. Hands behind your back. Turn around,” his voice is low and gruff, and if he wasn’t hard as a rock you might think he was actually mad. He cuffed you again and shoved you against the cold concrete wall of your cell. He kissed your neck, the tenderness a stark contrast to the rough way he was treating you. He crowds you against the wall, covering your body with his. “You know I could write you a shot for rubbin’ one out in here. Got the whole room smellin’ like pussy.” His voice is husky and low. He’s teasing, you think. Masturbating isn’t really an infraction is it? You don’t have time to ask. His hand is shoved down the back of your baggy pants and into your soaked, prison-issue cotton underwear.

You wished you had some of your own panties to wear for him. You wish he could see you like you are when you’re not in this place. His eyes might bug out if he saw your sundresses and your lacy panties. Your strappy sandals, your makeup, your manicures. He doesn’t see it though. He sees a criminal. He sees someone he can take from. And you see someone who can make your stay a little more comfortable if you play it right.

You tilt your hips, rubbing your pussy against his thick fingers, and for a moment he lets you, humming into your hair. “Desperate little pussy. What’s the matter? None of the other girls eat pussy? You need it so bad you’ll let me at it?” You whine at the question, the vulgarity. The other girls do eat pussy. Some are really good at it, too. But as awful as Miller is, you just want him. He’s big and rugged and he’d be exactly your type outside of prison. You like your men a little older- greying, laugh lines, softer bellies, but still strong. He’s so handsome. His eyes are so dark, his lips are so soft looking, he’s got a nose with the most beautiful gentle curve. He has the sort of looks that belong in movies, not going to waste in a women’s prison.

He presses firmly against your wet lips with his whole hand, covering his palm and fingers in your wetness before shoving two fingers in without warning. It makes you gasp, makes you buck against him, seeking more. He flexes his wrist, fucking you on his fingers. It’s not enough, you can’t come like this, but the feeling of being stretched is incredible. “More,” you whine, “more please.”

“Yeah? You need more? Two big fingers ain’t enough?” You shake your head shyly, unable to look at his face, still unsure of the dynamic. You hear the rustle of his belt, of leather against fabric, your mouth waters and your cunt clenches. You know he’s big. The way he walks, the way he talks, the look in his eyes, they tell you he’s hung even if you hadn’t felt for yourself.

Your pants are pulled down to your ankles, along with your underwear. You can feel your slick smear down your thighs. You don’t dare speak, you just arch your back, ready to take him, ravenous for his cock. his warm hand pressed into your back, your chest against the wall again, and you stifle a whimper but what you feel prodding against your weeping entrance isn’t the fat, hot cock head you had hoped for. It was cold and hard and heavy, you recognized it immediately.

CO Miller slid the tip of it over your wet pussy lips, twisting it to coat the surface in shiny wetness, smirking when you tried to grind down onto it. Without warning or sentiment, Joel nudged his night stick inside you. It seemed made for the purpose, rounded at the end, phallic. You wondered how many women he’d fucked with it. It gave you a fucked up thrill. You rolled your hips, taking it deeper. “Yeah. Look at you. Fucking a night stick. Been without dick too long, huh?”

You nodded pathetically and looked at him from the corner of your eye, his eyes were dark and his hand was inside his unfastened pants, stroking himself slowly. He matched the tempo of his fist to the thrust of his night stick inside you. You moaned for him, you saw him snarl as he watched with narrowed eyes as his weapon slid in and out, coved in your slick. He moved it slowly, watching the way your delicate skin stretched around it.

And then it was gone. Pulled free and discarded, clattering on the floor. In an instant his cock was out and hanging between you, thick, throbbing, precum leaking from the blunt head. It was better than you imagined, and you’d imagined it a lot. He spun you around and shoved you down to your knees. You nearly lost your balance, unable to steady yourself with your hands behind your back. He caught your shoulder and steadied you, petting your hair and letting his hands roam over your cheeks and down your neck, thumb brushing over your lips.

“Open up. Wide. Come on.”

You relaxed your jaw as best you could and stuck out your tongue to lick at the tip of his cock. His precum was salty and warm on your tongue. He let you taste him, licking around his thick head messily, teasing for as long as he would let you. It wasn’t long. He held your head and guided himself inside, slow and steady until he got to the back of your throat, and then just a bit further before backing out. You focused on breathing, in and out through your nose when it wasn’t pressed into the rough hair above his cock. Above you he moaned. A deep, warbling sound of pleasure that made you gush.

You turned your eyes up to try to meet his, but they were shut tight. His head lolled back and forth as he fucked your face. His movements became shorter and rougher, your mouth watered, ready to swallow his load, to prove your value to him, to earn his favor. And if you got off on it too, well, all the better.

There was no chance. Instead of coming down your throat, he pulled out suddenly, smearing drool onto your cheek. “Lay down. There, on the mattress.”

You moved awkwardly with your hands behind your back and your ankles basically manacled in your pants. You walked on your knees and laid on your back, legs together in a futile attempt at modesty. Of course it didn’t matter, he was already there, pushing them apart, spreading them wide and taking a gluttonously long look at your wet sex. You throbbed so hard you thought he could surely see.

“Jesus Christ. Look at that. You always get this wet from sucking dick? You’re dripping all over the place.”

He pulled one bare foot and then the other from your pants, and pumped his cock in his thick fist while he taunted you, spitting into his hand for one last stroke before lining himself up with your begging hole.

“Just yours,” you lied, fawning over him until he chased the air out of you with the heft of his cock. Even when he stretched you beforehand, he was tremendous. He didn’t wait for you to adjust, or to compliment him any more. He bore into you with his weight and strength, driving you into the floor. The world went fuzzy and dim, his deep voice keeping you afloat.

“Little prison pussy can’t handle some dick? Huh? Get a little cock in ya and you can’t think straight any more?”

Miller held your face in one hand, squeezing your cheeks together until your lips parted. He kissed your chin, biting it without conviction, and spat onto your tongue before kissing you, all messy, his tongue tasting yours. You pant and moan for him, trying hard to lift your hips for more even as he pounded into you.

When you wrapped your legs around his waist he sat up, as if suddenly aware that what he’s doing is wrong.

“Don’t try anything,” he warned, and repositioned you.

Miller turned you half onto your side and pushed back into you. He held your still handcuffed wrists in one hand and squeezed the soft fat of your ass in the other while using your body,

“Fuck me, that’s a tight little pussy,” he gritted out, straddling your right thigh while the other was pushed up. He used you like a toy. He pushed and pulled you as he pleased. Your orgasm built slowly without any direct touch on your clit, throbbing and firm, all but forgotten by the man who filled your cunt completely.

Joel loved watching the shiny wet slide of his cock in and out of your pussy. Your body gripped and pulled him, soaked him and squeezed him just right. His eyes flitted from where he drove into you to your tits, bouncing with each thrust and then back.

Your release was like a ripple spreading outward from your center. It pulsed and took control of your body. Your eyes lost focus, your back arched, and you clenched hard on CO Miller’s cock.

His orgasm hit him hard and fast, like a lightning bolt through his body. The rhythmic beat of your impossibly tight pussy pulled it from him. There was barely time for him to pull out and rut his hot, wet cock against your ass, spilling his cum over your body.

He was finished with you. He wiped his cum from you body with a handkerchief. He was gentle, but sure not to leave a trace behind. He tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket and took a long last look at your slick, used sex before standing you up to right your pants.

You watched him as he went through these motions, devoid of sentiment or warmth.

“Well, Miller? Do I get off for good behavior?”

It earned you a crooked half smile that flashed across this scruffy face before disappearing again.

“You get a shower.”

It wasn’t your usual shower time but you didn’t protest. You didn’t ask if you’d still get your shower tomorrow. Just walked obediently in front of him, still floaty from your release. He took you back down an empty corridor, past disused units, what used to be a library, to a shower room that was normally off limits, used by the guards as a sort of hangout, a break room separate from the main break room.

There, waiting with knees spread wide, and an eager smile, was CO Morales.

“Morales is gonna help ya with that shower. Don’t give him any trouble, or I’ll hear about it.”

Your mouth dropped as the younger man came to stand in front of you, taking your arm and pulling you closer to him.

“Broke her in for you,” CO Miller patted your ass as he addressed the new officer. The clear implication sent a fresh trickle of wetness from your slit.

“And next time,” he warned, “put on your bra. Won’t be so nice next time.”

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milolunde · 11 months ago

Text

SO SONIC FORCES!!!

Always thought it was interesting. I don’t actually think I heard anything about the game before buying it, I just knew that it was a Sonic game. yippee!!!

Immediately after my initial whimsy wore off I started treating it like all my favorite media: a project to be rewritten to my liking. That was maybe five years ago, when I was gung-ho on the angst factor of the story above the Sonic factor.

After watching through the game’s Japanese dub and realizing the simple differences in word choice single-handedly enhanced the story, I started rewriting it AGAIN…. Here’s some of that <3

vvv

I’ve drawn Sonic after escaping Eggman “giving him hell,” and NOT after torture (I want to know the translator/script writer who thought that was a good idea, by the way), worse for wear, but excited to be free and stick it to the Freaks who thought they could kept him locked up and take over the world.

After Sonic narrowly escapes the Death Egg in the Slow-Down Shoes (you can clap) and finds Gadget (or “Buddy”) they head to the Arsenal Pyramid… after a change of shoes and a bite to eat, of course.

Sonic continues through the game in a set of spare shoes which make his in-game boost gauge deplete faster. His shoes, as well as his fatigue, keep him from winning out, leading to his partial-victory against Infinite, and landing him and Silver on the sidelines. Gadget takes on missions with other resistance members at his side while Sonic recuperates with Silver.

Tails hears the news Sonic is alive and quickly arrives to the HQ to reunite with his brother. He supplies Sonic with a pair of his iconic shoes, an extra set from the supplies he was able to grab before Eggman took over his labs. Officially recuperated enough, by his standards, Sonic and Tails are officially back in it and ready to get back to the fight.

^^^

You know… I don’t think I’ve ever shared my “rewrites” anywhere but with my friends. Sometimes it gets so complicated in my head it makes it really hard to get everything on paper. A lot of my “Forces rewrite” is handing the characters differently and how that changes the story.

In general, Forces is a… fine enough idea, but SEGA has a reputation for floundering good ideas and for forgetting you can appeal to a young audience while also allowing older kids to enjoy it without making a flat story.

Hearing the difference of “they’ve been torturing Sonic,” (ENG.) and “they’ve been giving him hell,” (JAP.) and “Tails has lost it,” (ENG.), “Tails is still missing,” (JAP.) I realized a lot of what I didn’t like- what I was rewriting- was the tone. It’s one of Force’s biggest issues: it doesn’t know what it wants to be. The Japanese dub seems to have an idea, but that can’t save it from the fact Infinite is A Big Loser and Sonic actually has no reason to be afraid of him, especially if Infinite wasn’t present during his time on the Death Egg… So I’m doing it myself

#sonic the hedgehog #sth #my art #sonic #sonic forces #YOU CAN ASK QUESTIONS BTW!!! there’s nothing much to say #and there’s nothing much to ask #but I LOVE TALKING!!!#forces!RW

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crdteezv · 9 months ago

Text

Trust Issues - Haechan (ft. Mark)

Paring: !haechan x f! reader (ft. mark)

Genre: non-idol au, angst, smut

Synopsis: After not seeing Haechan for over a year, he's surprised to discover that you're now dating his best friend, Mark. As you spend more time around them, Haechan finds himself feeling guilty for rekindling his feelings for you, despite your relationship with Mark…

Warnings: !perv! haechan, bf! mark, cheater! reader (reader lowkey toxic…), dirty talk, him and mark are best friends, haechan looking through mark phone…, alcohol use, slight dub-con, teasing, kissing, fingering, choking (receiving), oral (receiving), manhandling, praise/degradation, soft/rough sex, slight humiliation, edging, overstimulation, unprotected sex

Word Count: 8k words

A/n: I will admit this fic can be pretty dark so read this at your own risk. I don’t condone any of the behavior shown in this fic!!

Before you started dating Mark, you had a bit of a thing for Donghyuck.

Maybe it was because you shared a class one semester, and he would constantly flirt with you, although you always ignored his advances. Eventually, you became friends after working on a project together. As you grew closer, you had slept with each other once, but both of you decided not to talk about it. You felt it was a mistake and it probably shouldn't have happened, but by the end of the semester, you realized you still had feelings for him and couldn't bring yourself to tell him how you felt.

You haven’t had a class or seen him for over a year. During that time, you met your current boyfriend, Mark. Things were going great, and tonight was the night he would introduce you to his friends. You were excited but nervous at the same time, not wanting to leave a bad impression on them.

You got ready to make your way over to Mark's place, deciding to wear a baggy T-shirt with some shorts. He picked you up from your apartment and drove you to his place.

“Ok, babe, don’t be nervous. I promise my friends won’t bite,” Mark said with a slight chuckle.

“I know, it’s just that you speak so highly of them all the time, and I don’t want to leave a bad impression, you know?”

Mark gently placed his hand on your thigh, keeping one hand on the steering wheel. He gave your thigh a light squeeze and said, “Look, they’re going to love you, alright? Besides, if they don’t, I’ll give them a serious talking-to,” he added jokingly.

You let out a little chuckle, and his words eased your nerves. When you both finally arrived at his apartment, you took the elevator up to his place. You could already hear the others inside, talking loudly.

Mark unlocked the door, and you saw two of his six friends sitting on the couch. They both got up to introduce themselves.

“Hey, I’m Jaemin, and this is Jeno.”

“It’s great to meet you guys finally! Mark always talks about you all the time.”

Mark started to become flustered by your comment.

“Oh, does he now?” Jaemin said with a mischievous smile.

“Um, I—oh, would you look at that, Chenle and Jisung are here!”

You diverted your attention towards them as they entered the living room.

They introduced themselves and chatted with you to get to know you better. Mark kept getting embarrassed because you frequently pointed out how highly he thinks of them.

Mark looked around and realized that out of the six, someone was still missing.

“Hey, where is—”

Before Mark finished his sentence, you saw someone walk into the room. It was none other than Donghyuck.

“Sorry, guys, I didn’t come down earlier. I just woke up from a nap—”

He immediately stopped talking when he saw you. It had been over a year since you last saw each other. He was taller than before and looked quite different from the last time you saw him. He still seemed a little tired from his nap and had bags under his eyes. You were shocked to see him after all this time.

“Oh, long time no see! How have you been?” he said with the biggest smile on his face. He started to walk up to you with a sincere look, almost forgetting that everyone else was in the room.

“Uh, I'm good. I didn’t think I was going to see you at all after—”

“Wait, you guys know each other?” Mark interrupted, noticing the interaction.

“Yeah, we do! We had a class together, and this one over here would never stop bothering me for answers,” you said jokingly.

“Hey, it's not my fault that class was boring! I wasn’t learning anything, and since we sat by each other, you were always the first person I asked for answers,” Donghyuck said with a laugh.

Everyone noticed the chemistry between you two, especially Mark.

He made his way over to you both, placing his arm around your waist and pulling you closer. “Well, since you guys already know each other, I don’t have to introduce her. But this is the girlfriend I was telling you about.”

Donghyuck couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His best friend was dating the girl he had a crush on for the longest time. He had never gotten over you when you stopped seeing each other as much. He would always think about the good times and funny moments you shared. At this moment, he regretted not asking you out when he had the chance. His demeanor changed as he made his way toward the couch and said, “Oh, okay, well that’s nice. I hope the two of you are happy. Now, let’s get started with this game night!”

You all sat around the couch, with you right next to Mark and Donghyuck. You played various games and got to know Mark's friends better as time went on. You even started to play some drinking games, which made everything more fun.

It was starting to get late, and it was 1 a.m. at this point. Everyone was passed out on the couch except for Donghyuck. The two of you kept talking and reminiscing about the past.

“Hey, can you show me where the bathroom is?” you asked him. He nodded and led you to the bathroom. Before you could open the door, he stopped you, placing his hand on the door to keep it closed. He leaned in close, his voice laced with alcohol, and whispered,

“So you forgot about what we had?”

That sent shivers down your spine, leaving you frozen, almost unable to move.

“I—”

“I can’t believe you ended up with Mark of all people. Really, him?”

“Hey, don’t talk about him like that. He’s been good to me and treats me better than you ever could.”

He pressed you closer, grabbing your waist. Your ass was pressed up against his pulsing cock, and you could feel his erection through his sweatpants.

“Is that so, sweetheart?” he said with a shit-eating grin on his face. He started to explore the rest of your body with his other hand, placing it around your neck. “You know I can treat you better than him—”

You remember that he tends to be very touchy when he is drunk. He lowered his hand, groping your pussy and feeling how wet you were through your shorts. You let out a slight whimper, trying not to get caught by the others, especially Mark. Imagine how he would feel seeing his best friend touch his girlfriend like this.

“Mhm, you seem to like what's going on here. You're soaking wet for me.”

“You really need to stop or I—”

“What, sweetie? Tell Mark what I’m doing to you? How do you think he’s going to react when he finds out what we’re doing here?”

He started to rub your clit through your shorts. You threw your head back on his shoulder and let out a soft moan, begging him to stop.

“There’s my girl. This is just how you remember it, right? God, I miss this so much.”

“Hyuck, please stop. We shouldn’t do this—”

He shoved one finger into your pussy, and you moaned out loud. He quickly covered your mouth with his other hand. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head from the sudden sensation of your cunt being filled with his finger.

“I haven’t heard you call me that in a very long time. You must really want me to stop, huh?”

All you could do was nod your head, hoping he would show you some mercy.

He shoved a second finger into your cunt, and tears started to fall down your face.

“God, I forgot how pretty you look when you cry. I especially used to love it when you—”

He wanted to continue his perverted fantasies, but you both froze as you heard someone slowly approaching the hallway. Donghyuck quickly grabbed you and shoved you into the bathroom.

You felt your body go numb as everything unfolded so quickly. Some part of you wished he had kept going, but you knew it was wrong to think that. You were dating his best friend, and you needed to stop thinking about Donghyuck altogether.

On the other side of the door, you could hear him talking to Chenle.

“Hey, what are you doing standing near the door like that?”

“O-oh, I was just showing y/n where the bathroom was, and she just got in there.”

Chenle was too tired to ask any more questions. “Anyways, I’m going to crash in Mark's room since he'll probably just stay in the living room. Also, you should be careful when it comes to his girlfriend.”

Donghyuck was caught off guard hearing that, and it put him on edge. He wondered if Chenle had overheard the two of you earlier. Donghyuck and Chenle started to walk away from the bathroom door, but you could barely make out their conversation as they moved down the hallway toward Mark’s room.

“So why do you say that?” Donghyuck asked.

“Oh, no reason. It’s just, that I saw the way you kept looking at her tonight. It was almost as if you wanted to fuck her.”

Chenle’s bluntness left Donghyuck shocked.

“Pft, what? No, I don’t. I was just happy to see her after a whole year.”

“Sure... so you and her never, you know?”

Donghyuck hesitated. He didn’t want to tell anyone about that one time you slept together. Even though it was just once, he didn't want things to be awkward with Mark. Mark was his best friend, after all.

“What? No, we never did. She always thought I was annoying and never saw me that way anyway. We’re just friends, alright?”

Chenle seemed to accept his explanation, and the conversation died down. He was going to sleep now and told him that he could leave now. Closing the door behind him, he let out a sigh of relief. He had been worried Chenle might find out about what had almost happened between you and him.

You finished in the bathroom, and he made his way over to you.

“Hey, next time, don’t go shoving me into bathrooms out of nowhere.”

“Look, in my defense, I heard someone coming in our direction too, so I just reacted. I mean, what if it was Mark?”

He did have a point. If Mark or any of his friends had caught the two of you, it could have been disastrous.

“So, what did Chenle want anyway?

“Ah, nothing he was letting me know that he was going to crash in Mark's room.”

“Okay, and I’m serious when I say that we shouldn’t be doing this anymore. We hooked up once over a year ago, and you should just move on.”

He let out a little chuckle and a cocky grin spread across his face.

“Oh, please, you have to admit you liked—”

“I’m serious.”

He took your words to heart and nodded, agreeing to back off… for now.

Several months passed, and things returned to normal. Except now you hung out at Mark’s place more often. It was more spacious than yours, and you always felt cozy there with him. Sometimes Donghyuck was around, playing games and watching movies with you guys. Things weren’t awkward between the three of you since Mark knew that you and Donghyuck were purely platonic.

Mark felt secure about your relationship and knew that you wanted him and no one else. As the months went on, you grew closer to him, especially intimately.

Neither of you had much experience before being with each other. Besides Donghyuck, you had only slept with one other person, but that was a while ago. Mark treated you like you were the only girl in the world. When you were together, nothing else mattered.

He knew all the things you liked and never failed to amaze you. Now, you typically only had sex at your place since you lived alone. But one day, it was just you and Mark alone in his apartment. Donghyuck was at work, and you and Mark had the place to yourselves.

“Are you sure we should do this?” you asked Mark shyly.

You stood in front of him as he sat on his bed, looking up at you with an innocent expression. He grabs your ass and pulls you onto his lap. You start to feel flustered because of the hungry look in his eye, sending shivers down your spine and causing you to tense up.

“Oh come on, baby, let's have a little fun tonight. Donghyuck is at work right now and he shouldn’t be back until 11 and it’s only 9,” he said confidently. You give in to his advances and begin kissing him.

Whenever you kiss Mark, it’s always slow and passionate. He moves his hands over your body, touching you while continuing to make out with you. He leans back onto the bed and flips you over so now you're underneath him.

You're wearing nothing except his t-shirt, which reaches down to your thighs. He starts touching your pussy, feeling how wet you are.

“Babe, your panties are soaked for me. And to think that you didn’t want to do this. You're so cute, you just can’t help yourself, can you?”

You love how much he teases you and how gentle he is. He always likes to take things slow and take his time with you, wanting you to feel safe and comfortable with him.

He removes your panties and starts inserting a finger into your core, and you let out a whimper. He whispers into your ear, “Come on, angel, you know you can be louder than that.”

He kisses all over your neck and collarbones. You start to squirm underneath him and press your thighs together. He spreads them open with his other arm and ensures that you stay still.

“It’s just us now, so you can be as loud as you want for me.”

You decide to do as he says and let yourself go. You start moaning louder and louder as he pumps his finger into you faster. He adds another finger, and you throw your head back. The moan you just let out was almost a scream. You grip onto the sheets and try your best to hold yourself together.

“Mhmm, baby, do you like it when I do this to you?”

“Y-yes, please don’t stop…”

He doesn’t plan on stopping at all. He adds a third finger and begins rubbing his thumb against your clit, causing you to become even more aroused and responsive to his touch. You beg him to slow down, but he doesn’t want to. Eventually, he pulls down his pants, and you see his cock spring up against his pelvis. He is very hard for you and loves seeing you like this.

He started stroking himself while fingering you, both of you immersed in the moment, not wanting it to end. Unable to resist any longer, Mark pulled out his fingers and entered you. You let out a loud moan, gripping the sheets even tighter as he grasped your thigh and thrust into you.

Lost in your own world, neither of you noticed Donghyuck arriving home early from work. His boss let him leave work early, and he didn't mind because he had been tired all day and just wanted to rest when he got home. But things didn’t go as planned as he walked into the apartment and heard noises coming from Mark's room. Curious, he approached cautiously. As he got closer, he realized the noises were both of you moaning in pleasure for each other.

Embarrassment swept over Donghyuck; the noises were pretty loud, and he knew he couldn't sleep anytime soon. Seeing Mark’s door slightly ajar, he looked inside and instantly felt aroused.

All he sees is you getting fucked stupid by his best friend. He didn’t see Mark at the angle he was in but just your face and your tits bounce up every time he thrust into you. He felt his dick start to twitch because of the state that you were in.

God you looked so attractive and he wishes that it was him fucking you instead.

Then he felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He shouldn’t be here watching the two of you and was starting to feel bad about it. But he can’t help but feel horny when you look so good right now. He knelt down a bit so he wouldn’t get noticed by the two of you. He was starting to get anxious and he decided to slowly zip down his pants and pump his hand up and down his aching cock. He was imagining that he was the one fucking you and was making you feel good.

His heart raced as you made eye contact, feeling a mix of fear and excitement. Thankfully, Mark was oblivious and was lost in the moment with you. Initially shocked and embarrassed, you noticed Donghyuck stroking himself.

You couldn't believe how he could be so pathetic.

The thought of someone watching while you're in the act always would get a rise out of you. You will admit these past couple of months hanging with Mark and Donghyuck have been rough. Donghyuck doesn’t seem to care that you're dating Mark; he still gives you those sinful looks. You hated how he still had a hold on you. Tonight, something stirred inside you, and you gave him a slight smile, hinting that you were beginning to enjoy his voyeuristic attention.

But Mark started to talk to you, and you had to look back at him. Donghyuck almost forgot that he was there too. He was completely lost in your eyes, which were glazed over and filled with arousal.

“B-babe, I think I’m going to cum,” Mark said as he fucked into you at a higher speed than before. But Donghyuck noticed that look on your face. He knew that you were nowhere close to finishing and Mark was going a little too fast for you this time. There was nothing you could do, but Mark pulled out and came all over your face and chest.

Donghyuck instantly stopped stroking too and realized that Mark had left you unsatisfied.

“Oh my god, baby, I'm sorry. It’s just I got a little too carried away and I couldn’t hold back anymore. Did you at least finish?”

Mark had this puppy dog look in his eye, and you didn’t want to crush his spirits, so you just said, “Yeah, I did. You did really great tonight!”

Donghyuck knew that you were lying to Mark, but Mark didn’t notice and grabbed some tissues from his bedside table and wiped you down the best that he could.

“Ok, wait for me here. I’m going to take a shower real quick, and I will be back.”

You nodded your head, and Mark opened the door and noticed that Donghyuck wasn’t behind the door anymore. You thought he finished and went to hide in his room. He heard Mark enter back into the shower, and he walked out of his room. He was going to go back to you and try to talk, but he saw that Mark didn’t close the door fully once again. All he could see was your legs spread wide open, and you were rubbing your clit.

You were trying to finish yourself off.

Now he knew that he could probably walk in there and fuck you himself, but he didn’t want to get caught by Mark. Who knows how long it will be until he is done showering?

Donghyuck never really finished earlier because Mark ended things abruptly. But seeing you desperate to finish yourself off was so hot. He started to pump himself again, but this time faster than before. He was going at the same pace as you.

This time you truly didn’t know that he was there jerking off to you. You were lost in your world trying to get a quick release before your boyfriend came back. You felt yourself getting closer to the edge, and Donghyuck was too. You started to cum hard, practically gushing, and you knew that you really needed this. He also finished at the same time as you and loved every second of this.

But he felt like such a pervert.

He quickly returned to his room and wiped himself down with tissues. He felt pathetic that all he could do was watch you from a distance and couldn’t have you all to himself.

You heard that Mark came out and it seemed that you took a shower right after him.

(…)

You and Mark were fast asleep. It was midnight, and Donghyuck still couldn’t stop thinking about how you were touching yourself earlier. The thought circled his mind throughout the night, and he felt his sweatpants tightening around his swollen cock. He decided to clear his mind and got up to get a glass of water.

As he drank the water, he glanced back into the laundry room, thinking that the towel you used after your shower might be in there. He kept telling himself he should go back to bed, but right now, he didn’t know what was going on with himself. This wasn’t like him at all, and he feels so depraved when it comes to you.

He said "fuck it" and went into the laundry room. He saw that the towel was still in the dirty clothes bin. He started thinking about how you used the towel to dry off, imagining your body against it. He felt himself start to twitch, rubbing the outline of his dick through his sweatpants. He told himself he shouldn’t touch or smell it, and it took all his willpower not to shove it against his face. You looked so good tonight, and although he didn’t get a good view of your pussy, he wished he had.

He couldn’t resist and decided to sniff it once. But he kept doing it over and over until he shoved the whole thing into his face, his eyes rolling back at your scent, feeling himself getting harder for you.

Opening his eyes for a moment, he noticed something else in the bin…your panties. They still had some of your juices and scent on them. He grabbed them and was about to bring them to his face when he heard footsteps coming down the hallway. Panicking, he quickly put the towel back in the bin and shoved your panties into his pocket.

Mark opened the door, rubbing one of his eyes and giving Donghyuck a confused look.

"Dude, it's way past midnight. What are you doing in here?"

Unable to think of an excuse, Donghyuck replied, "Oh, I forgot I was supposed to do the laundry today. Since I’m up now, I was going to take care of it.”

Hoping Mark would buy the excuse, Donghyuck was too tired to say more. He suggested they deal with it in the morning, and they both left the laundry room.

Donghyuck swiftly made his way back into his room and closed the door behind him. He was too embarrassed to continue what he was doing. Instead, he quickly hid your panties inside his bedside table. He fell asleep and tried to forget about what just happened…

A couple of weeks passed, and nothing changed between him and Mark. However, things have been somewhat awkward for you. You haven't really discussed what happened; he simply said he wouldn't do it again, and you both agreed to drop the subject.

But things just kept getting harder for him. He found himself having lewd fantasies about you, and you always came to mind when he masturbated. Having your panties didn’t help either.

He had been using them to jerk off.

At first, he told himself it was a one-time thing, but he realized he had no self-control when it came to you. He loved the fact that your panties were wrapped around his cock as he pleasured himself at night.

You always wondered what happened to your panties, assuming they got lost in the laundry. You honestly forgot about them altogether.

Donghyuck couldn’t stop having perverted fantasies about you. He told himself that Mark was his best friend and that he shouldn’t be messing around with his girlfriend under any circumstances. But it didn’t help that you were always there with them. You often wore loose crop tops that occasionally exposed your shoulders, and shorts that hugged your curves and ass perfectly. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

He suggested to Mark that they should have a boys' night, just the two of them since it had been so long. Ever since you two started dating, he barely got to hang out with Mark one-on-one. Mark agreed, and now they were playing video games and eating pizza.

Donghyuck wanted to stop thinking about you just for one night. Spending time with Mark made him realize how much he missed hanging out with him. Before you were in the picture, he and Mark would hang out all the time. That’s why they moved in together in the first place since they were always around each other.

As the night went on, he and Mark had a heart-to-heart talk. They always loved to vent to each other and give advice if needed. Mark mentioned that he was thinking about giving you a key to their place since you practically lived there now. He wanted Donghyuck's thoughts on it, and Donghyuck said he didn’t mind at all. Mark was glad he was okay with it.

Mark was showing him something on his phone when he said he had to use the bathroom. He left his phone on and forgot to turn it off. Donghyuck was about to turn it off when he saw that Mark kept getting messages from a certain someone.

It was you.

Just when he thought he could escape you, you found a way to invade his mind again. He didn't want to open the message, but he saw that you had sent some photos to Mark. Donghyuck knew he shouldn't look at those messages, but the phone kept buzzing with notifications from you. He couldn’t resist anymore and decided to open them. What he saw amazed him and made him instantly hard.

It was nudes of you.

*5 attachments*

The photos showed you in the tub, seemingly taking a bath. One photo was of your legs in the water, and the others were of your soapy tits. The very last one was of your bare chest, nipples and all.

You: I miss you… you should call me later <3

Haechan felt immediately aroused by all this. He didn't think this would happen tonight, but he couldn't help the way he was feeling. Mark could be back any second, and he had to think fast about what to do next.

He knew he should close the phone and act like he didn't see anything, but he couldn't stop looking at the photos. He heard Mark washing his hands and knew he would be back soon. So what did Donghyuck do?

He took photos of your nudes with his phone.

He didn't know what possessed him to do this, but it all happened so fast. He got out of the messages, closed Mark's phone, and left it on the couch.

Just in time, because Mark was now out of the bathroom and back in the living room. Haechan acted naturally and said, "Bro, your phone kept going off while you were in the bathroom. Who keeps texting you like that?"

Mark grabbed his phone off the couch and said, "Probably just y/n texting me that she misses—"

He stopped mid-sentence, seeing the photos you sent. He tried to act normal and told Haechan they’d have to end the night early because he wanted to call you about something.

But Haechan already knew what it was about. He agreed, and they both returned to their separate rooms to get ready for bed. Mark, however, wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon since you would be keeping him occupied.

Donghyuck couldn’t stop thinking about what he saw. The image of your boobs kept clouding his mind, and he felt himself becoming aroused. He felt so gross and guilty for feeling this way.

It didn’t help that he still had your panties from that one night. And now he had photos of your tits on his phone. He was becoming even more desperate for you. He pulled out his phone and lowered his sweats and underwear to his ankles. He went straight to his gallery to find the photos he took from Mark’s phone. He couldn’t believe he had reached this point.

He was now coming to terms with the fact that he was a pervert.

But now it was almost as if he didn’t care anymore. He lifted his shirt and held it in his mouth to stifle the noises he was making, not wanting Mark to hear what he was doing. As he looked at the photos of you, he imagined how your chest would feel pressed against him as he fucked into you. So many thoughts came into his mind, and he kept stroking himself faster and faster.

He admired how beautiful and perky your nipples looked in the photos. He couldn't help but fantasize about sucking and biting them, and your entire chest. He felt himself getting close to cumming. He moved his hand up and down his cock faster, squeezed his eyes tight, and came all over his sheets and even on his phone. He had never cum this much before, which was shocking to him.

A wave of guilt came over him as post-nut clarity began to set in. He realized the mess he had made and tried to clean everything up immediately. He used tissues from his bedside table to wipe himself off and threw his bedsheets into the laundry room.

He would never forget this night…

Fast forward a couple of months, you and Mark have been facing some problems. You both always argue and can never see eye to eye. You even feel yourself becoming distant, which isn’t within your character. You’re usually always at his place, but lately, you barely want to be around him. One day, you decide you want to work things out with him in person.

Things didn’t end so well between the two of you.

He started to feel insecure about your friendship with Donghyuck. In the past, he would say that he wasn’t bothered by your friendship with him. But now, he was losing trust in you and suspected something had happened between the two of you. He noticed your changed behavior around Donghyuck. Whenever he tried to confront you about it, you brushed it off, insisting it was nothing and denying anything had happened between the two of you.

But today, Mark had reached his limit.

"You're so annoying, you know that?" Mark said, his voice tinged with frustration.

"Excuse me? I'm the annoying one? You keep bringing up Donghyuck, and you think something's going on between us despite me telling you countless times we're just friends. It's like you don't even trust me anymore, let alone him."

"Oh please, I still remember the look you gave when I introduced you guys that first night you came here."

"Whatever, there's no point in arguing with you when you won't even try to listen to me."

"Fine then, I'll leave you alone."

He grabbed his car keys and stormed out of the apartment. You felt tears start to fall on your face. You hated how things were with you and Mark and just wanted everything to go back to normal. You heard someone coming through the door and assumed it was him, but it was just Donghyuck. He had some groceries in his hands and placed them on the kitchen counter.

“Mark, I bought some of those snacks you’ve been wanting, and I—”

He enters the living room and sees you curled up almost in a ball on the couch, with teary eyes. He rushes over to you and tries to comfort you.

"Oh my god, hey, what’s wrong? And where is Mark?"

You tell him what happened and how he doesn’t trust him being friends with you. He is shocked to hear everything that has happened. Mark never mentioned any of this to him. The most he told him was that he had started to develop some trust issues with you, but he didn’t know it was related to him and your friendship. He notices you starting to shake and sees the panic in your eyes. He wraps his arms around you and gives you a comforting hug. You rest against his chest as he gently pats your head and reassures you that everything will be okay. You start to feel yourself calm down a bit and feel more at ease. You miss this feeling of being at peace with someone. Still, you can’t believe that Donghyuck, of all people, can make you feel better. All he ever did was annoy you, but now you feel comforted by him.

You even forget about a certain someone for a moment…

You shift positions and lay on his chest while he lays down. You both lie there in silence, unsure of what to do next. You know Mark could return at any moment, and the current position you are in doesn’t look good. Meanwhile, Donghyuck is trying to keep himself calm. For the past few months, all he has done is think about you, and now having you this close is driving him crazy. It's only a matter of time before he starts to get hard on you. He knows how messed up this all is because you’re in such a vulnerable state right now, and he shouldn’t take advantage of that. He couldn’t help but notice how pretty you looked after crying just now, with the redness in your eyes making you even more attractive. It made him imagine how beautiful you would look with your lips wrapped around his cock.

"Hyuck, do you think I’m annoying?"

He is taken aback that you referred to him by his nickname. That’s how he knows you’re serious about this. Mark must have hurt you badly to make you even think of yourself as annoying.

"What? No, you’re not! Did Mark say that about you?"

You nod and bite your lip to hold back tears. You can’t believe you're being this emotional around him. You never wanted him to see you like this. It feels embarrassing to cry about Mark in front of him, but you can tell he is being supportive and trying his best to make you feel better.

"Well, he shouldn’t have said that about you. Besides, you’re better off without him, if you ask me."

You get off him and now you are straddling his lap. He leans back on his elbows to look up at you.

"You shouldn’t say things like that."

"And you shouldn’t be with someone who says that about you and makes you feel on edge all the time. You’re way too pretty to be stressed out over him."

You feel a bit flustered after hearing him say that. He also realizes what he said and is worried it came off as flirting.

"Look, I didn’t mean to come onto you or anything, especially at a time like this. I mean, you’re in the middle of a fight with Mark and—"

"I know, but I don’t mind."

He is shocked by your comment. He can’t believe you are not rejecting his advances like you always do. It feels like something has shifted for you.

"Here I thought you were sweet and innocent. But here you are, sitting on top of me and rubbing yourself against me."

You hadn’t even noticed, but your hips were swaying back and forth against his crotch. He leans forward and whispers into your ear.

"God, can you be any more needy for me?"

His words send shivers down your spine. You start to squirm under him, wrapping both arms around his neck and pulling yourself closer to him.

"You should feel ashamed of yourself right now.”

He starts to lower his hands into your shorts and feels that you are wet down there. He rubs your clit over your clothed pussy.

“Don’t tell me you already forgot about him? It’s only been like 10 minutes, darling.”

He knew just what to say to get under your skin. You do feel a little guilty because Mark is his best friend, and you’re throwing yourself at him. But he isn’t stopping any of this either, so you know he doesn’t care at all.

“Mhm, I’m here with you now; that's all that matters,” you said to him in such a needy tone.

He pushes your panties to the side and starts to rub against your clit. You start to whimper and melt into him. He silences you by kissing you on the lips and starts rubbing against you at a faster pace. Then he lowers down onto your neck and starts to kiss all over you. He proceeds to shove a finger into your aching core and you throw your head back in pleasure. You like this feeling of being full and don’t want him to pull out anytime soon.

“Aww, you’re so cute when you're all desperate for me. I’m just here to finish what I started the last time we did this. Don’t you remember, sweetie?”

You start to get flashbacks from the day Mark first introduced you to all his friends. How good it felt to have his fingers inside of you. You didn’t understand why it felt better when he did that than Mark.

“Mhm… yes, I do-”

He inserts a second finger into you and begins thrusting into your pussy with a rougher pace than before. He’s making you feel so good and you still can’t believe that this is happening right now.

"Yeah, except this time it's just you and me, with no one here to interrupt us like last time."

You hate how he knows all the right things to get you going. You feel yourself start to arch your back a little from how good he’s making you feel. He stops you from moving by holding your hip with his other hand. He speeds up even more, sensing that you're starting to reach climax.

So you know what he does?

He takes his fingers out of your wet pussy and pushes you back onto the couch. He takes off your shorts and panties altogether. He lowers his face onto your pussy, sucking on your clit, unable to restrain himself any longer. He grabs your legs and puts them on top of his shoulders, gripping your thighs with his hands. You let out a loud moan that was practically a scream.

“Mhmm Hyuck… I think we should stop. What if he comes-”

He shoves two fingers back into your cunt and looks up at you, saying, “So what? It’s not like you care because you wouldn’t let me do all this if you did.”

You feel an instant pang in your chest.

“Mhm, I’m right, aren’t I?”

All you can do is nod your head, unable to bring yourself to say anything.

“Ahh, that’s my girl. I missed this, you know?”

He goes back to sucking and softly biting at your clit as he shoves his fingers deep into you. You start to grip the couch, trying to hold yourself still. He’s making you feel so many things right now. You haven’t felt this good in a very long time and love how he’s treating you. Mark usually never tries this hard to please you; he usually fingers you quickly and then just fucks you afterward. Sometimes he doesn’t even make you finish, leaving you unsatisfied.

But you don’t feel that way with Donghyuck.

He’s taking his time with you and making you feel good in all the right places. You never imagined this would happen. You thought you were over him, but you’ll admit you still harbor some feelings towards him. You thought they would go away since Mark is his best friend, but they’ve only grown stronger since you’ve been around him more. You feel yourself falling for him.

You feel like you’re about to cum and you beg him to slow down, but he doesn’t listen. If anything, he goes faster. You feel yourself start to cum, leading to you squirting all over his face.

You’ve never done that before, until now.

“OH MY GOD, Hyuck, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

He just licks his lips and swallows all the juices you left on his face. He has the biggest smirk on his face and says

"Don't apologize for the fact that I can make you squirt and he can't."

“How did you k-”

He carries you off the couch and leads you into his bedroom. He throws you on the bed and takes off his shirt.

“I just had a feeling, pretty girl. Remember what happened last time when I watched you guys? He didn’t make you cum and you had to get yourself off.”

You were unaware that he was watching you at the time, which makes the whole situation even more embarrassing for you.

"It's a shame I could make you cum in seconds, while he can't even last long enough to finish you off."

He angles his cock into your pussy and you let out a loud moan.

“Quite pathetic if you ask me.”

He starts to fuck into your core and you're loving every second of it. You feel overwhelmed because one moment he was giving you the best head of your life, and the next he's fucking you at a rapid pace. He lifts your shirt and takes it off of you. He sees that you're wearing a lacy bra.

“Aww love, did you really dress up like this for Mark? God, you're so desperate for his attention, it’s embarrassing"

You tense up under him at his degrading words.

“Wait, don’t tell me you like it when I talk to you like this? And here I thought I was the pervert. By the way, I forgot to mention that I saw the photos you sent Mark a while ago."

You feel shocked by all the things he is saying right now.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh baby, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

He takes off your bra and exposes your boobs to him. He immediately goes down to suck on your nipple and gropes the other one with his free hand. You're beginning to see stars as he not only penetrates you but also sucks on your boobs. He knows how much you love it when he does that.

“Those photos you sent to Mark, he was in the bathroom and left his phone open like a dumbass, and I saw everything that you sent him. Your soapy tits looked so beautiful, by the way. I came to those photos so many times, I lost count.

You don’t know how to feel about any of this right now. On one hand, he's being perverted for admitting to such a thing in the first place. But on the other hand, you find it strangely arousing that he's so fixated about you. He notices you getting wetter as he talks about what he did.

"You liked that sweetheart? Your just as pathetic as me."

His taunting and teasing only made you more flustered. You don’t think you can hold out much longer. He senses it and pushes your legs back all the way to your head. The bedframe slams hard against the wall as he loses himself in you.

"Fuck, baby, I'm getting close... where should I..."

You wrapped your legs around his waist and pushed him deeper into you.

“P-please cum i-inside of me..”

“Oh shit, okay sweetie.”

Mark would usually pull out of you instantly and would never want to finish inside of you. You knew Donghyuck wouldn’t back out of this.

He grabs your ankles and pushes your legs back, and you both finish at the same time, letting out a loud moan. He comes so hard that he sprays the rest all over your chest. He falls back onto the bed and looks up at the ceiling, realizing what he's just done.

He just fucked his best friend's girlfriend.

He doesn’t seem to care about it at all. He was always jealous anyway, and now that he's finally had you after all this time, he doesn’t care what Mark would say.

“Hey look, I’m sorry for doing all this. I admit I was selfish, just wanting you all for myself. I understand if you don’t want to-”

You grabbed his face and kissed him on the lips to reassure him.

“Hyuck, this is the best sex I've had in a long time. I haven't felt this good in ages, and cheesy as it sounds, thank you for this."

He was shocked by your words. He couldn’t believe you were thanking him. It made him wonder if the sex you had with Mark was that bad.

“You’re welcome, but stay here for a second. Let me try to clean you up.”

You nodded, and you watched him leave and return with washcloths, taking care of you.

"So what are you going to tell Mark?"

Shit, you forgot about him.

What are you going to say to him? That you just fucked his best friend while you two were in the middle of a fight? It would break his heart too much.

"I'll just tell him that me and him can't be together anymore. I mean, we've been fighting for a while now and I'm just over it."

"Well do what will be best for you. I mean, are you going to tell him what happened just now?"

"No, I won't."

He respected your decision and wasn’t going to say anything.

"Also, I'm still stuck on the fact that you have my nudes on your phone."

"Oh shit, I'll delete them if you want me to—"

"Don't. Start a collection because I'll be sending you more sooner than you think."

He felt himself starting to become hard again but knew they wouldn't have enough time for round 2.

"Alright, whatever you say, sweetheart."

After you both got yourselves situated, you sat back in the living room where Mark left you so it seemed like you were there the whole time. Donghyuck stayed back in his room for a bit to try to process all that just went down.

You planned on breaking up with Mark.

Speaking of which, you saw him come through the door and you got up off the couch to make your way over to him. But you saw that he was carrying a whole bunch of bags, and it appeared he went to the store.

"Look, babe, I'm sorry for calling you annoying earlier and lashing out at you. I went out and bought all your favorite snacks. I hope you can forgive me."

You felt a huge wave of guilt wash over you. He went out to buy all of your favorite things, and you just fucked his best friend while he was gone. He went to the living room and started placing the snacks on the table.

"Mark, I—"

"Also, baby, I'm sorry for assuming that you had something going on with Donghyuck. He's my best friend after all, and I know he would never try to hurt me. I should be more trusting of you too."

There it is.

It was at this moment you knew that you seriously messed up…

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yandereshingeki · 4 months ago

Text

The Antithesis of Decay

made for @ficsforgaza’s Kinktober!

⬑ please check them out! ⬏

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.2k

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x afab!reader

Content Warnings: Stuckage, fingering, dub/noncon, no gendered pronouns, but reader is described to have bigger hips than their waist (no big specifications though). meant to take place between s3 & 4

Summary: An escape through the alleyway ends in a terrifying run-in with a wanted villain.

Managed to write this entirely in a single day 😵‍💫 it gave me a headache doing it that fast but thank god i got it done! It was a lot longer than I intended (stuckage is hard to keep short akhsheja & i originally wanted to go full smut but then wrote too much) and was a little bit difficult to navigate cause I don’t think about shiggy in a sexual way BUT !! I DID IT!

This is also the first time I'm posting something I've written in present tense, I'm just trying to experiment and figure out how I like to write lol

Shiggy lovers i hope this is adequate!!

Another crash. Another roar. Another Nomu.

You're in the thick of it, beside a building, half-destroyed, and another one completely toppled to the ground. There's screaming and panic, citizens running in every which way to escape the crossfire. Another building is about to collapse, and the monsters take no hesitation in using it as leverage to fight.

There are other heroes here, maybe three, or even more now if there were any on patrol nearby; it isn't clear through the fog of dirt and smoke. It isn't enough though. None of you had the strength or stamina to fight against the group of Nomus that appeared. Especially not by yourselves, even if you barely outnumbered them. The rubble is building. The ground is practically shaking under their destructive hands. They have the absolute advantage.

Your quirk isn't built for such a fight, even as a pro, and your combat skills would prove useless against those monsters. You're meant to be more of a support hero than anything, someone usually waiting on the sidelines to rush in and heal the defending heroes in fights. The limits of your restorative quirk meant it was wise to steer clear from the heart of the battle and avoid being hurt, so the best course of action would be to run. Run and find backup. That's the most you can do for now; the most you can try to save what remains of that small city sector.

You choose your path quickly, remaining observant of the chaos around you. Cracked asphalt and concrete, dust flying everywhere from the destruction, debris from the second half-collapsed building scattered everywhere. The Nomus remain distracted by the other heroes, so despite the obstacles, there's a clear path to the closest alleyway. From there, if you can just reach the other side of the buildings and escape harm's way, you'll be safe to make the call.

You can make it, you believe — as long as you're fast. Confident, you take off, bound for the crack between two untouched office buildings nearby, the spring in your costume's boots allowing you to move more efficiently. With such quick speed, you nearly run face-first into the wall, entering it at an angle that's easy to correct with a simple push off against the brick. From there, the path is a straight shot to the other side, only separated by a feeble chain link fence. There's a hole that looks just big enough for you to crawl through at the bottom of it, the wire pried upward to create a gap. You can make it, you repeat in your head. The coast is clear, you can make it.

Stumbling to a stop in front of the mesh barrier, you drop to your knees as quickly as your body will allow, planting yourself onto your stomach afterward. The opening is much smaller up close, but it's nothing you can't army-crawl your way through. Your costume was made to be dirtied and protect you in the heat of conflict, so having it scrape across the rocky ground while you drag your way under the fence isn't an issue. Its durability was the least of your problems — until now, that is..

The elastic fabric snags on the wire once you squeeze your head and arms through the hole. Time is sensitive, you don’t have any to waste on something trivial like this. You try to reach back to untangle it, only to find the wire completely stabbed through.

With a heavy sigh and adrenaline crawling in your veins at the delay, you manage to move back a sizable distance before you try again, but it’s useless. The ends of the wires are sharp and stab into your suit with ease, holding you back. You needed to try something else, you needed to be fast.

Before you can attempt to force your way through the hole, a voice arises behind you. Raspy and hoarse, you don’t even realize he's there until he speaks.

“Oh, look at what we have here. A hero, is it?”

His approach is slow, and you only hear his footsteps once he's standing over you. Your entire body goes stiff, your blood running cold as you curve your spine back to look at him.

"Shigaraki," you whisper, terrified, under your breath.

"Oh, you know me already? How nice, I suppose we can skip the introductions then."

You can hear your breath hitch in your throat when he speaks and feel his presence as he looms right behind you, bending at the knees to crouch down over your legs.

"I've seen you on TV," he starts, and you hold back a scream when you feel four rough fingers gently touch the back of your thigh, "You've got quite the impressive quirk, you know. Restoration quirks are hard to come by. And yours…"

He pauses again, glides them up to where your hip and femur jointed together, and relishes in the way you shiver before he continues, "It's the exact opposite of mine. I guess you can only restore organic things, sure, but — it does make me wonder."

You're hardly listening to his little ramble, your heartbeat drumming too loud in your ears to process anything — but then, your head goes blank when you feel all five of his fingers cup around your hip. Panic sets in fast, and you find yourself writhing before you can think, trying to force your way through the fence. The metal wires only dig into your skin, causing even more pain as you realize you're hips are too big to fit, and you wouldn't have made it anyway.

Tomura only chuckles lightly at your reaction, watching the bottom half of your hero suit disintegrate into dust. You don't even realize it until you're already crying, and a cold breeze hits your face and bottom half. His hand is on you. Touching you. Feeling you, and yet.

You don't feel any pain. His touch is simply normal against your skin. His palm is surprisingly warm, but dry. And you don't disintegrate. You don't disintegrate.

Tomura laughs again at wide eyes and gaping mouth as if you should have expected his quirk to cancel out with yours. He slides his palm across your bottom, down to the back of your thigh again to caress it up and down slowly. Carefully. His touch lingers far longer than you're comfortable with.

"Your quirk activates automatically when it's your own body, right? I wonder how long I can keep doing this for, then." He speaks so casually, acting like you weren't trapped and half-bare under him.

"I've always wanted to be able to touch someone like this again. No gloves, no barriers. Just skin. When I saw you on the news and heard about your quirk, I thought you were perfect. Aside from that pesky hero stuff, that is," he frowned slightly behind the hand on his face, moving his own to grip at the fat of your ass, "You have no idea how frustrating it is to be unable to touch something without it falling apart."

You let out a loud squeak, feeling his weight on the back of your knees when he sits on them, squeezing and kneading your flesh in his hand. There are tears in your eyes, and you struggle to twist around to look back at him, where he sits proudly like a king on his throne. Seeing such a widely known villain — being face to face, but being stuck and having him touch you like this. It felt humiliating. Humiliating to who you were as a person and a hero. You felt sick to your stomach.

He frowns a little at the pathetic look you give him, only tightening his hold more, "Come on, don't look like that. I haven't done anything yet."

As he speaks, he slides another hand underneath you and pulls your hips up slightly, your spine beginning to ache at how it was strained. You can only shake as you watch him, the hand that was gripping your ass moving to slide a single finger down the center of your underwear, sending a large jolt up your spine.

In an instant, you look forward again, covering your mouth to hold back any noise you'd almost let out. You don't want to give him the satisfaction of making a sound, let it be cries or anything. So you force yourself to silence, even as tears roll down your face.

Tomura only grins, running the finger up and down the fabric a few more times just to feel you jolt before hooking around the lining to pull it off to the side, stuffing it between your thigh and outer labia to keep you exposed. You clench up at the cold air, another shudder roving through your body as Tomura holds back a chuckle.

Without another thought or word, he immediately dives in, his two fingers sliding between your folds, feeling whatever you can offer him before moving down to the bud below. You shiver, but are otherwise completely frozen as he does this, not even knowing half of what to do to retaliate.

"Not too wet yet, I see. That's ok, I can fix that." He says, beginning to prod around for that extra sensitive spot he knew you wouldn't resist. A lightbulb goes off in his head when you jolt suddenly, your hips shaking extra whenever he squishes or pokes at it. With a grin plastered under that embalmed hand, he starts to move his fingers around in slow, gentle circles.

The coarseness of his fingers doesn't help the sensation they bring on, that feeling of soft ecstasy pulsing through your body slowly like a drum. You hold back your sounds, at least, only your breathing growing heavy as he watches you clench around nothing.

It isn't enough for him. He needs more than this, he needs you prepared, and that wouldn’t come from just a few measly touches.

His fingers move faster, gaining enough friction that he has you audibly gasping, slick already building up just below. It doesn't take as long as expected, like your body is reacting on primal need. It almost makes him wonder — maybe you're getting off to the position he has you in, even if you don't realize it.

He gives you a few more minutes of soft touching, allowing a good amount of wetness to accumulate between your shaking thighs before moving his fingers up. He gathers your natural lube on his digits, humming as he slathers it all over your pussy to make it nice and glossy before dipping them back in, finally allowing them to take the plunge.

As if you weren't already amply humiliated, the way his fingers toy with you before pressing in is distracting enough that he manages to draw a squeak out of you the second he dives in.

"Ohh, give me more of that. Don't be shy." He says, sliding his digits out slowly, licking his lips at how slick they are before shoving them back in.

His fingers are so long, soaking knuckle-deep inside of you and reaching parts that your own couldn't. You would rather die at his hands now than ever admit it to anyone, but god, it feels good.

He's already moving them so fast, curling them all around like he's searching for something. It felt too good to be touched by someone like that. You haven't slept with another person for over a year, so it's like a new foreign feeling and an old friend all at once. You can't stop yourself. Your brain grows foggier with each drag of his fingers, like he's scratching an itch you couldn’t by yourself. You couldn't hold it back anymore.

You let out a quiet, croaked moan, covering your face with your hands to hide how embarrassing it is to indulge in something so crude with someone like him.

A wretched smile immediately dawns on Tomura's face, and he moves his hand even faster, trying to milk more sounds out of you before he moves on. He wants you to make more noise, to hear how good a disgusting villain like him is making a great hero like you feel.

From there, the sounds just spilled out. He’s surprisingly quick to find the smooth spot inside of you, pumping over it repeatedly until you’re a wriggling, gasping mess. The coil inside of you is winding up tight, growing ready to burst at almost any second.

It's so degrading, being face down in the concrete while a villain is digging his fingers so deep into you. But you weren’t thinking about that anymore. Your mind is too focused on how good it feels rubbing against your walls, the friction driving you crazy with how fast it builds up.

Then, like electricity in your veins, it comes crashing through your body all at once. The pleasure, the ecstasy. Your body practically vibrates against his hand, an unforgiving orgasm ripping through your entire system until you’re panting like a dog, still pulsing around him as he slowly removes his fingers and wipes them on your thigh.

As you return from your high, the quiet chuckling unnerves you. And then you feel sick to your stomach again. You’re still recovering, but you’ve come to your senses enough to look behind you.

The sight you see has bile rising in your throat. He’s already grabbed onto you again, unzipping his pants with one hand while he speaks.

“So, what do you think your little hero friends would think if you had sex with a villain?”

#ch:shiggy #forest fics #kinktober #cw: noncon #cw: dubcon #mha x reader #bnha x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #tenko shimura x reader #shigaraki x reader #smut #x reader smut #shigaraki smut

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lay-z · 3 months ago

Text

👑 Day 13 – The Ice Queen and her Stooges

A continuation to 🦌 Day 5 – Bambi, which means it’s set in the same universe!

Synopsis: After the ice-skating incident and a quick trip to the infirmary, Gaz and Soap take you back to their flat on base to coddle and pamper you.

Pairing: John Soap MacTavish x fem!Reader x Kyle Gaz Garrick Warnings/Info: NSFW, 18+ | military!Reader; friends/teammates to lovers; humour; cussing; fluff; dub-con (I guess, for good measure.); dirty talk; fingering; cunnilingus

Word count: 2.1k

↳ back to 🎅🏼 Masterlist ☃️

“Here, take these with water.” Gaz says firmly, bordering on an order, as he keeps slipping into his male nurse persona. He grasps your good wrist gently and turns your hand up before dropping the subscribed painkillers into your palm.

“Oh, really? Wanted to take 'em with vodka.” You huff, rolling your eyes in annoyance. Gaz puts his hands behind his back, pressing his lips together with a sad frown, looking like a kicked puppy as he stands in front of you by the couch.

When you pop the pills into your mouth and lean forward to pick up the glass of water from the coffee table, he swiftly grabs it for you, so you don’t have to bend awkwardly as you try to keep your injured right hand still.

“Thanks.” You grumble with your mouth full before taking a gulp and swallowing the pills down with a grimace. Once they’re down, you scrunch up your nose at the bitter aftertaste. You hate swallowing pills.

After the incident at the ice-skating rink that left you with a sprained wrist and several bruises on your body, mostly on your ass, Gaz and Soap took you to the infirmary on base, where one of the medics on duty taped your wrist, told you to keep it cool, and gave you a bunch of painkillers before sending you on your merry way again. Needless to say, Captain Price was vexed when you had to inform him about your unfortunate accident and the fact that you won’t be able to attend training for the next two weeks at least. Paperwork it is, then.

“She still mad at us, mate?”

Your frown deepens as you watch Soap enter the living room, though your eyebrows twitch in surprise as you notice that he changed into more comfortable clothes just like Gaz did when they’d brought you back to their shared flat on base.

The sweatpants he’s wearing hang dangerously low on his narrow hips and when Soap stretches his bulky arms over his head, his T-shirt rides up, exposing a sliver of pale skin. A taut stomach with a healthy layer of fat on his abs, a dark happy trail that disappears below the waistband of his sweats. Not that you would care about that. Of course, not.

“Unfortunately.” Gaz replies with a sigh while you take another long drink of water to wet your suddenly dry mouth.

Soap scoffs, “Och, lassie, we already said we’re sorry.” He flops down on the couch, right next to you, forcing you to tuck your outstretched legs in to keep some space between you and him.

Gaz takes a seat on your other side, sandwiching you in between them on the couch, and suddenly, you feel like the room is getting hotter, stuffy. Or perhaps it’s just the painkillers making you fuzzy and stupid. They’re close enough that you can smell both me. While Gaz smells like his subtle cologne and expensive laundry detergent, Soap smells like the cheap military issued bodywash and faint cigarette smoke that he’s tried to get rid of by brushing his teeth just now.

You keep pouting and try to cross your arms in front of your chest, but the slightest pressure on your right wrist makes you flinch and pull your hand free with a wince.

“Hey, careful there, sunshine.” Gaz reprimands you, but his empathy and care only agitates you more, and you snap, “Would you stop with that? I’m not a fucking baby that needs to be pampered, Kyle. I hurt my wrist. I didn’t take a bullet for you.”

And you immediately regret it once you see his face drop and his warm brown eyes lose some of their shine. Next to you, Soap nudges your thigh with his foot as he leans against the armrest with his legs stretched out, “Oi, dinnae be like tha’ ta Garrick. He’s jus’ tryin’ ta take care o’ ye an’ by the way–”

He switches positions in the blink of an eye, sitting on his knees while you subconsciously lean into Gaz to glare at the other man stubbornly.

“So am I.” Soap admits, scooting closer, “That’s why we took ye to the bloody ice rink. We wanted ta spend more time with ye outside o’ work.”

Gaz shifts behind you and you recoil from him with a small huff as you realize how close you are to him, but he reaches out and snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you back in.

“Soap’s telling the truth,” Gaz murmurs against your ear from behind, warm breath puffing against your skin, “He came up with the stupid idea to take you ice-skating, but it’s true that we’ve been wanting to take you out on a proper date for a while now.”

You grunt softly as you try to squirm out of his grip, heart racing and cheeks heating up while Soap watches you struggle with a mischievous grin. He reaches for your ankles and pins them to the couch, keeping you from squirming in Gaz’ embrace.

“Shut up. Both of you muppets!” You grumble as your embarrassment becomes all too visible.

“Only if ye stop bein’ mad at us and stompin’ yer feet like a wee bunny.” Soap chuckles, glancing up to share a look with Gaz, though you can’t see the curt nod the latter gives to his friend, but you can definitely watch as Soap’s azure eyes start gleaming before he pulls your legs towards him to lay you flat on the couch while Gaz shifts behind you, adjusting his position.

“What are you two doing now, huh?” You try to sound angry, but you’re too distracted by the way Soap massages your calves over your leggings, rubbing up and down your sore flesh as he simply keeps watching you while Gaz makes sure you’re laying comfortably with your back against his chest, and keeping your injured hand still.

And then you feel his hands on your shoulders, massaging your sore muscles slowly, “We just want to take care of you, sweetheart. Can you let us do that and stop being so fussy?”

“Fussy?” You repeat indignantly, your voice rising in pitch, making Soap laugh and your cheeks heat up once more. Gaz chest vibrates with a deep chuckle and your skin starts prickling with goosebumps, but then Soap’s fingers are suddenly peeling off your socks and your attention is back on the Scotsman, nearly kicking like a horse, though he catches your leg with ease.

“Damn bunny,” he laughs again, tickling the underside of your foot teasingly, making you writhe with a mewling whine, “Stop kickin’ like tha’. Be a good girl for us, aye?”

Good girl. That makes you freeze, your brain short-circuit, and your stomach do that rare little flip that has your thighs squeezing together. It’s like the moment comes to a screeching halt as you stare at Soap, like he just grabbed you by the scruff, wide-eyed and chest heaving slowly.

Soap tilts his head to the side curiously, still smirking, before his eyes flicker up to look at Gaz, who leans in to murmur into your ear once more, “Did you like that? Being called a good girl by him?”

You swallow thickly and lie, shaking your head half-heartedly, “N-No.”

“Liar.” Soap clicks his tongue and quirks a thick eyebrow at you, “A terrible one at tha’.”

Now Gaz’ strong hands start roaming; leaving your shoulders to caress your upper arms, down to the hem of your TF-141 hoodie with your rank and surname stitched in small letters over your chest. He hums, agreeing with Soap, because he can tell how affected you are by him and the Scotsman. He’s a bloody interrogations specialist, after all, and you’re an easy target right about now.

“What else do you like, princess? How long has it been since someone loved on you properly, huh?”

You can’t stop your body from letting out the whimper that bubbles up in your throat at Gaz soft-spoken words while his warm, big hands slip underneath your hoodie; caressing and touching your flushed skin while he rucks the thick fabric up and up and up, until your sports bra is exposed to Soap’s eager eyes.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell, Garrick,” he mutters somewhat breathlessly, “That’s one bonnie lassie we got ourselves here.”

“I–I’m not–ngh–!” Whatever pathetic attempt at an objection was about to blurt past your lips, Gaz silences it as he pushes your sport bra up, exposing your supple breasts before he cups both gently, giving them a squeeze that has your spine arching and teeth gritting.

And while Gaz gropes and explores your tits worshipfully, you barely notice how Soap hooks his fingers into the waistband of your leggings, tugging them down your legs swiftly and throwing the fabric to the side carelessly. He nudges your legs apart then, and scoots even closer.

You want to say something, but the way Gaz is playing with your nipples has your eyes roll and your head loll back against his shoulder with a soft moan; hips jutting out to meet Soap’s thick fingers as he drags his knuckles over your clothed slit.

“How does her pretty cunt feel? ‘Cause her tits feel amazing, MacTavish.” Gaz says, crude words spoken so sweetly that your body goes all pliant against him, his voice carrying the hint of a smile, and then his plump lips latch onto the side of your neck, kissing along the smooth curve down to your shoulder.

Soap clicks his tongue with a boyish grin as you squirm again when he rubs the pad of his thumb over the fabric of your panties, right above your rapidly and throbbing swelling clit.

“Very wet,” Soap answers eventually, eyes trained between your legs as he keeps teasing you, “Been a while since someone touched ye there, ey?” You nod, face flushed and contorted in a desperate, pleading expression, and Soap’s eyes seem to darken at your answer, “Good.”

And then your panties come off and you’re nearly bare between the two men, though Gaz makes sure to keep your hoodie up over your chest as he turns your head to kiss you deeply while Soap gets cosy between your legs.

The first lick of his tongue through your folds has you whining into Gaz mouth, while the latter swallows your noises down. He kneads your tit roughly, tugs on your stiff nipple and dives his tongue into your willing mouth, all while Soap is practically making out with your sopping cunt.

You’ve never been this embarrassingly wet for someone; never been this close to climaxing this fast, either. But when you buck your hips against Soap’s face, he swiftly pins your hips down to the couch with a feral growl.

“Let him have his treat, princess. Let us take care of you.” Gaz murmurs against your lips, still claiming your mouth and breasts for himself while his cock strains against his pants and rubs against your lower back. Soap, too, is grinding his throbbing crotch against the couch cushions, desperate for relief, but you’re oblivious to all of that. Too blissed out as both men worship you thoroughly.

And once Soap works two thick fingers past your twitching hole, curling and pumping them deep inside your velvety channel, you can barely keep it together anymore.

“Kyle–” You’re not quite sure why you’re telling him, it just seems appropriate in this moment, “Kyle, fuck, I’m... ‘m gonna–”

“You hear that, MacTavish?” Kyle calls out, pulling back from your lips to peer over your shoulder, down between your legs where Soap is feasting eagerly; slurping and lapping, groaning and grunting obscenely.

“She’s gonna cum, so you better keep it up, mate.”

Soap babbles a reply against your slick flesh while your pleasure keeps mounting, waves of it making your body shudder and your breath hitch in your lungs. The heels of your feet dig into the cushions for purchase while your thighs flex around his head, buzzed hair and stubble tickling and scratching your inner thighs.

When you writhe under the overwhelming sensations, Gaz grasps your forearm gently to keep your injured wrist from bumping into the couch and hurting yourself; his other arm still wrapped around your torso, right below your breasts.

He leans in again, bites the sensitive spot right below your ear and sucks a love bite into your skin before he speaks, “Next time, we’re gonna take you out to dinner first, princess. Promise.”

#call of duty #soap x reader x gaz #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mctavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #soap #gaz #tf 141 #cod #reader insert #cod advent calendar 2024

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peachessndreamss · 1 year ago

Text

A Rose by Any Other Name.

Summery : Princes Aegon and Aemond visit Highgarden to broker a marriage contract for the younger brother, while there Aemond finds himself in need of relief and doesn't care who with.

Characters : Aemond Targaryen x f!Tyrell reader

Warnings : Dub Con, abuse of title/rank, oral sex (male receiving), female masturbation, derogatory terms for women, alcohol consumption, cannon divergent, Aegon slander

Word count : 4.5 k

A/N : Sometimes my dreams are the unlimited pasta caste and sometimes they're this, sorry. While English is my first language I'm also profoundly dyslexic, I've done my best to minimise spelling and grammar issues but I'm there still are plenty.

The ground of a Highgarden stable yard was a mess of mud and straw as the eldest Tyrell daughter rode her horse sedately out of the stables and toward the open door of the outer keep. There had been days of fresh spring rains which had soaked the earth, swollen the rivers and brought the Reach alive in a riot of colour, from the azure blue of the sky to the lush green of the grasses in the animal fields and every colour of the rainbow in the food and flowers that grew and ripened under the warming sun.

“Outriders say the Princes are only a few hours away if the good weather holds so don’t go far,” the horse master reminded her.

“I’ll not go far,” she replied with an airy wave of her hand, the route she’d already set on in her mind was several hours over the roughest terrain the estate of Highgarden had to offer and would have her coming home a good while after the Targaryen visitors had arrived. She had no desire to stand in the muddy yard with her siblings to greet the princes when their wheelhouse rolled in.

Her father had started brokering the marriage contract over 9 months before, ravens flew back and forth between Highgarden and Kings Landing as her father bartered, first, with the Hand of the King and then with Queen Alicent. She’d looked through the letters herself, working out just how much she was worth to her father and the Targaryens. Finally the Queen suggested Aegon and Aemond visit the Reach themselves to complete negotiations and hold a formal betrothal.

If she was going to be sold off to Aemond Targaryen like a cow at a market she would at least spend her final day as an unbetrothed woman in the way she enjoyed the most. As she passed under the gate the horse beneath her gave a shiver of anticipation, as they turned toward the East and the low spring sun that dazzled her eyes the horse gave a snort of impatience.

Despite the lack of visibility Lady Tyrell angled the horse toward a small cluster of woods she knew were on the horizon, she clicked her tongue and gave the horse a short squeeze with her thighs. At this the horse broke into a trot and soon they were hidden by the sun and quickly disappearing over the horizon.

In the West, still 10 or so miles from Highgarden, the royal wheelhouse shuddered and bounced over the pitted road, shaking the two occupants and further fraying delicate nerves.

Aegon groaned and gripped at the set beneath him, his head hanging low and his eyes closed tightly as he tried to stop feeling like his head and body were moving in different directions.

“I can’t see why we couldn’t come on dragonback,” Aegon groaned as he fought the urge to vomit again.

Aemond remained in stoney silence, seething at his older brother and the despicable mess he was. The night before they had slept in a tavern on the edge of the Reach. Aegon has drunk his way through an entire barrel of rose wine and was found in the morning asleep in the stable between two sheep. The smell of him, a mix of spilt wine and sheep shit made Aemond's stomach roll.

“Isn't there some high born hole you can marry in Kings Landing?” Aegon complained as the wheelhouse gave a lurch and bumped over the poorly maintained track.

“Cease your incessant whining,” Aemond finally snapped, kicking his brother in the leg.

“Why did I have to come?” Aegon muttered, rubbing at his calf and glaring at Aemond through the lank locks of hair that had fallen over his face.

“I would have paid good money to leave you behind,” Aemond replied coldly.

“Why didn't you?!”.

“Mother insisted,” Aemond shrugged and turned away from his brother, pulling the window cover back with a long finger and watching disinterestedly at the countryside rolling by. If he ended up marrying into the Lords of this land, the first thing he'd insist on was better roads.

The wheelhouse turned sharply and Aegon groaned again, stuffing his cloak into his mouth to fight the nausea. Once it had passed he spit the fabric out, it tasted like sheep and possibly his piss.

“I fucking hope she's worth it,” he hissed.

The lady returned to Highgarden even later than she'd intended and in a far worse state. Her usually sure mount had startled while riding through a wooded area and thrown her off his back into a sticky quagmire, she’d landed mostly on her back and left side, the clothes had become soaked in mud that had been almost impossible to get off when it was wet. She had washed the worst of it off her face and hands in a small stream but her riding clothes remained caked in the muck.

“My Lady, what happened?” The horse master exclaimed as she trotted the beast into the stables.

“He threw me is all, no lasting damage done,” she replied as she dismounted and patted the horse's neck lovingly.

“Are they here?” She asked after a moment of heavy silence.

“Your father's taken them to his solar, he's not happy you weren't here to greet them,”.

She nodded sharply and handed the reins of the horse over to a stableboy.

“Plenty of hay, water and a few of those early golden apples,” she instructed before turning and heading into the yard.

She entered the building through a servants door, knowing she could make a path between there and her own rooms that wouldn't put her anywhere near her father's solar. She could be washed and changed and ready to entertain Princes long before dinner was served.

She stepped into a small anteroom off the kitchens where she knew she could take off her ruined riding gear, stripping down to her small clothes and riding boots, she left everything in a pile, making a note to tell her maidservant about it as soon as she saw the woman. She couldn't well wander the halls of Highgarden in her shift so she took a clean servants dress from the stack in the corner and pulled the shapeless linen over her head, tying it around the middle with a belt of braided cord. She splashed icy water on her face and did her best to tuck any loose hairs back into their braid before setting off for her rooms.

She'd almost made it back to her own chambers when a voice from behind spoke.

“Girl, come here,” it commanded and she stopped in her tracks.

No one in her father's household would speak to her like that, even if she was dressed as a servant. She turned slowly, the blood racing to her face when she looked at Aemond Targaryen for the first time.

He was still dressed for travel, with black leather trousers and a similarly hardy jacket with a high collar. The patch over his eye hid most of the damage but the deep red scar extended up his forehead and down his cheek, the only mark she could see on his otherwise glass clear skin. There was no flicker of recognition on his face, he obviously had no idea who he was speaking to.

“Come here,” he ordered again when she'd not moved toward him.

She opened her mouth to protest, to ask him who he thought he was speaking to but she stopped, closing her mouth and moving toward him. If she was going to marry this man she wanted to know what type of man he was and how better to learn than to see how he treated servants.

As she moved toward him she kept her eyes downcast, despite being desperate to look at his face in greater detail.

“What can I do for you, my Prince?” She asked meekly.

“Come with me,” he replied bluntly and turned, striding down the wide and brightly lit corridor toward the rooms that had been prepared for the two visiting royals.

At the door to his room he pushed it open and stepped back to allow her inside first before following and closing the door tightly behind the two of them. The sound of the latch clicking into place made her heart pound, she'd never been alone with a man before, she'd always been accompanied by her ladies or sisters but now she was alone in the guest wing behind a closed door.

She stood in the centre of the main room, a fire burned merrily in the grate and the Prince’s trunk stood open at the foot of the bed. She looked up at him from under her lashes and caught sight of his deep indigo eye watching her.

“Wh-what can I do for you?” She asked again, he'd catch on pretty quickly she wasn't part of the serving staff if he asked her to do much more than pour a glass of wine.

“I'm in need of some relief,” he said softly, his left hand moving instinctively toward the laced fount of his trousers and his fingers twitched.

Her brows furrowed in confusion, her eyes following the movement of his hand before snapping back to his face.

“I don't understand your meaning, my Prince,” she said softly, although she was fairly certain she did.

She had been raised her entire life in the safety and beauty of Highgarden, her innocence protected at all costs and her exposure to men limited as far as possible, but she still knew what men and women did together in the privacy of their bed chambers.

“The journey here was long and difficult and my brother is a terrible travelling companion, so before I meet with your sweet lady this evening and make dull small talk for hours I need you to get on your knees, open your mouth and suck my cock,”.

A shiver crawled across her body, she'd never been spoken to like that before and after the initial shock of his crass words she found herself excited by them. But while his words were exciting the reality of what he wanted was frightening, she could tell him who she really was and face the consequences of running around dressed as a servant and tricking a prince or she could do what he asked and face any additional consequences of sucking his cock and having to make dull small talk with him later.

“Did you hear me?” He demanded, his voice harsher now, “get on your knees, I've got no time for your wide-eyed innocent act,”.

“But, my Prince, I've never-,”.

He cut her off mid-sentence, anger flashing across his face.

“Get on your knees,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

The anger on his face and in his voice sent a thrill up and down her spine, making the tips of her toes and fingers tingle with anticipation.

Slowly she lowered herself to her knees, the thin and rough fabric of the dress rubbed uncomfortably on her knees and the cold of the stone floor seemed to soak into her skin like water.

“So you do understand, stupid little slut,” he muttered, moving toward her while unfastening the laces of his breeches.

She watched with wide eyes as he pulled his cock free from the fabric of his trousers and pumped his hand up and down the thick muscle. By instinct her mouth filled with saliva and she felt a rush of wetness and heat between her thighs.

“Open your mouth,” he commanded.

She ran her tongue over her bottom lip before doing as she'd been told, parting her lips and teeth as he came to stand directly in front of her, the head of his cock now bobbing directly in her eye line. There was a bead of clear fluid slipping from the thin slit at the head, she fought the urge to lean toward and lick it up.

The head of his cock was a dark red colour, completely in opposition to the alabaster white skin of his hands, he wrapped his fingers around the base and squeezed.

“Keep it open,” he said as he angled the shaft toward her lips.

This was her last opportunity, the very last second she could back out, tell him who she was, run screaming from the room but instead she relaxed her jaw a little and allowed him to push the head of his cock into her waiting mouth.

His own mouth dropped open in a soft moan as the wet heat of her mouth enveloped his aching cock. He pushed his hips forward, forcing as much of himself between her lips as she could take, the soft, slick slide of her tongue on the underside of his shaft made his toes curl up in his boots.

Her hands went to the front of his thighs and she braced her open palms against the leather, her fingers moulding to the shape of his lithe legs. He could feel the heat from her hands and the gentle curl of her fingertips through the fabric of his breeches.

He drew back a little, feeling the warm suck of her soft mouth, he pushed one hand into the soft tangle of her hair and gripped.

“That's it,” he breathed as he pushed forward again, “take it,”.

Holding her head steady he pumped his cock between her lips, very quickly he was soaked from root to tip with her saliva and he watched transfixed as it slipped down her chin and wetted the rough fabric of her dress.

Tears were forming in her eyes and slipping down her cheeks as he fucked her mouth. The musky and masculine smell of him filled her nose as the salty taste of his bare skin on her tongue made her head spin.

Part of her was disgusted, she was a lady and possibly a future princess but she was on her knees getting her mouth fucked bya man who thought she was a servant. A much larger part of her thought this was the most erotic thing that could ever happen, her cunt was pulsing with the rapid beat of her heart, she wanted nothing more than to shove her fingers between her legs and bring herself to completion, or even better, take Aemond’s fingers and use them.

“You cock hungry little slut,” he hissed as he forced his cock deeper than any thrust before.

She choked, feeling her body suddenly gag at the intrusion so deep into her mouth. She tore herself away from him, gasping for breath. There was pain where he was clinging onto her hair, pulling it hard between his lean fingers.

“Too much for the little whore?” He sneered, cold laughter on his beautiful face.

She nodded as he brought the hand that wasn't still tangled in her hair to her cheek and brushed away her tears.

“Finish me off and you'll be free to go,” he said, pulling her back to him and pressing the head of his cock against her lips.

She opened her mouth willingly and allowed him to continue, pumping faster but not as deeply as before, he began to pant and groan at every pass of her wet lips.

“Fucking take it,” he panted, “take it, take it,”.

With a final shuddering, stuttering thrust she felt his cock kick in her mouth before her tongue was flooded with salty, bitter fluid. She kept her mouth closed around his shaft as his seed escaped between her lips and dripped onto her chest.

“Swallow it,” he whispered, unable to take his gaze from her dripping mouth.

He watched as her throat bobbed and she swallowed his remaining seed before leaning back and gazing up at him. Her cheeks were marked with the tracks of her tears and her mouth and chin were wet with his spend and her own spit. The tip of her tongue appeared between her lips and gathered a drop of him before disappearing again between her used lips.

Aemond's cock was now rapidly softening and she watched with fascination as the long, thick muscle seemed to retreat back toward his body, the hot, round head disappearing under a hood of skin.

He tucked his cock back into his breeches before reaching down and brushing his thumb across her lips, his touch surprisingly tender.

“You can go,” he said bluntly before stepping away from her and turning his back.

She sprang to her feet and dashed to the bedroom door, yanking it open and not bothering to close it behind herself as she raced toward the sanctuary of her own rooms. The soles of her riding boots seemed to boom on the hard stone floor and she believed as if everyone in the castle would hear her desperate escape.

Although she kept her head down and didn't acknowledge anyone she passed she felt as if she'd been branded across the face with the awful names he'd called her. Surely everyone she passed knew what she'd just been doing.

Her heart was thundering and her cunt pounding, the sensations she'd never felt before were making her head spin. Once she was in the safety of her own room she threw herself onto the bed and drove her fingers between the slick lips of her cunt with an urgency she'd never known. She bit into the feather pillow as she brought herself to orgasm within moments of touching the throbbing and engorged pearl between her legs.

She lay panting on the bed, the smell of him still clinging to her like perfume, now mixing with the smell of her own arousal.

Her ears still burned with the names he'd called her, she should feel humiliated and insulted but instead she longed to hear those names again. She longed to taste his cock again and then to explore his body, to take time to undress him, observe him and touch him. She wanted him to do the same with her, call her names, strip her naked and explore her virgin body without restraint.

When her maidservant arrived to get her dressed for dinner she could barely lift her head from the bed. She wanted nothing more than to hide under the sheets and touch herself again and again while images of the prince flashed through her mind.

She was scrubbed clean in the bath, her hair washed and treated with sweet smelling oils. Her maidservant noted the bruises where she'd been thrown by her horse, but the marks on her knees were harder to explain away.

She was dressed in a gold and green gown embroidered with roses, the usual soft cotton and silk felt like sand abrading her skin. She insisted her hair be styled in the same way it had been when she went riding, in case the Prince didn't recognise the lady he was forced to make small talk with.

She waited by the door to the great hall, the princes had been announced and seated, then her father and his wife, her siblings next and finally it was her turn. Her name was called and she stepped into the hall. The room was full of the great and good of the Reach sitting on the tables that filled the room, at the top table, positioned above the others on a dais sat her family and Prince Aegon and Aemond.

She looked directly at Prince Aemond as she walked toward the top table. There was a flicker of recognition followed by a moment of complete horror before he took back control of his face, a mask of neutral passiveness dropping over his features. She took her seat between the prince and her young sister.

“My Lady,” he greeted softly.

“Prince Aemond,” she replied.

“Prince Aegon,” she added, leaning around Aemond to address his brother who only nodded in acknowledgement, he was swaying gently in his seat and his eyes were glazed over.

Aemond could have throttled his older brother for being drunk before the meal had been served.

“It's a pleasure to meet you my Lady,” Aemond said softly, drawing her attention back to him.

“The pleasure is all mine,” she replied politely, “but I do hope my small talk doesn't bore you,” she added, dropping her voice so only he could hear. She enjoyed the look of mild panic that crossed his face before she turned to speak with her sister.

As the food was served the noise levels in the hall increased and she felt able to return to speaking with Aemond without being overheard.

“How have you found Highgarden so far?” She asked.

“Most accommodating,” he replied, taking a sip of rose wine.

“Please forgive me if this question is indelicate,” she started, running the tips of her fingers up and down the thin stem of her wine glass, “if we're to marry, do you intend on taking your pleasure with the servants or your wife?”.

The hand holding Aemond's wine goblet visibly shook before he placed it back on the table. He cleared his throat and turned his eye to the woman beside him.

“I would take my pleasure nowhere but my wife, and she would take a great deal of pleasure with me,”.

“Because if I were your wife and found you'd been sticking your prick in the serving girls I'd bite it off,” she said as softly as possible.

Aemond cleared his throat again and gave a small inclination of his head.

“Understood, my Lady,”.

After the meal there was music and dancing. As expected of her, she danced with her father and her brothers. She'd expected to have to dance with Prince Aegon as well but he was too drunk to stand straight let alone follow the steps. Aemond, on the other hand, was everything a prince should be, dancing with her step mother and sisters before asking her to dance.

The music changed to a fast paced peasant tune that meant they needed to dance in a small circle of others before being paired off. Once alone and moving around the floor they were able to speak again.

“I just want you to know,” she started as she stepped around him, before coming to face him, their toes almost touching, she looked up at him, taking in the curve of his lips and a sharp shape of his chin, “the way you spoke to me, when you thought I was a serving girl made my cunt ache,”.

She went to twist away from him to continue the dance with the man beside him but he caught her hand and held her, letting her twirl around him again. The line of dancers they were part of muttered and tutted as they scrambled to sort themselves without the Prince and his lady.

When they were face to face again Aemond held her still, placing his hands on her waist.

“When you are my wife, it will be my utmost honour to make your cunt ache every day,” he breathed before leaning down and placing a soft kiss on her cheek before adding “my slut,”.

A shiver of pleasure ran down her spine and settled deep in her belly, making her cunt throb again. If she really was a slut she could drag him away somewhere quiet and make him repay her in kind for earlier but she was a lady, and he was prince and they were in a room full of gossiping courtiers.

“Is that a formal proposal?” She asked as he straightened.

“I think it is,” he replied, a small smile turning up the corners of his lips.

“Then I accept,” she said, before twisting around him again in time with the music.

The other dancers had moved on, leaving the two of them in their own space on the floor, undisturbed by anyone else. The swirling dancers around them made it feel like they were the only two people in the room, trapped by a colourful snow storm.

Aemond didn't care that he wasn't in a position to officially offer marriage to her yet, his meeting with her father hadn't straightened out all the details but suddenly the dowry, the lands and the titles of their future children didn't matter anymore, these details were nothing compared to how badly he wanted to take her to wife.

The song ended in a final flourish and the dancers clapped and called out requests for the next piece of music.

“Another dance? I certainly prefer it to small talk,” she teased with a smile as the music started again and the dancers around them took their places.

“And is there something else you’d enjoy even more than dancing?” he asked before bowing to her and offering her his hand.

Her neck flushed with heat as she took his hand and the two of them moved in a slow circle.

“There are many things I enjoy more than dancing, my Prince, and I suspect you’ll show me a great many more,”

For the rest of the night Prince Aemond danced with no one else and while it certainly earned some raised eyebrows from the more modest members of the Highgarden court neither Lady Tyrell or Aemond could bring themselves to care. They only had eyes for one another and as they danced the rest of the world seemed to melt away.

At the top table Lord Tyrell watched his daughter and the prince with great interest. He was thinking he might have saved himself 9 months of bartering, letter writing and hand wringing if he’d just invited the prince to visit in the first instance.

“They make a fair couple, don’t they?” his lady wife asked from beside him.

“When I met with him this afternoon I’d never have believed he could be so taken with her,” Lord Tyrell said, “he was so cold I didn’t think he could look at someone with anything other than contempt but she seems to have won him over,”.

It was the small hour of the next morning by the time the music and dancing ended. Lord Tyrell and his lady had gone to bed hours before but the revelry had continued. Prince Aegon had staggered from the table and made toward a door at the side of the hall, he’d only made it through the door before tripping on his feet, falling on his face and deciding to stay there.

As the musicians played their final notes prince Aemond kissed the back of his lady’s hand, looking up at her and smiling.

“Until we meet again, my Lady,” he said softly, she opened her mouth to reply but he pulled her toward him, bringing his cheek to hers, his lips touching the shell of her ear, “my whore,”.

additional A/N : this has the potential for a part two if anyone's interested? Just putting it out there, letting the universe know.

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