#and at the end it was like waking up from being possessed or something
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eternal-kosmo-ghoul · 2 days ago
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“even i’m not into that shit”
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❤︎ synopsis — the sleep token members being fucking morons and fucking around
pairing: sleep token members x gn!reader (can be platonic or romantic)
theme: crack ✦
a/n: I’M BACK !!!! hopefully i don’t disappear for like a good fifty years after this. this is my third set of stupid ass headcanons. i pulled my shitty humor out of my ass for this one, enjoy !!! (the original ask got swallowed by my dumbass because i accidentally posted the unfinished fic 💀 this is dedicated to my bestie @dead-end-fanfiction)
cw: i think the title speaks for itself
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➵ vessel
i just know this man is the most unhygienic motherfucker to ever exist
more specifically with his teeth. he cannot brush his teeth to save his life
like ??? this all powerful, dark deity, has the most stinky ass breath that if anyone dares to even breath it in, they’d disintegrate on the spot
like what the fuck vessel, you’re better than this
i love vessel but he just does weird shit sometimes
he sleeps butt ass naked
and one time you accidentally walked in on him while he was literally stripping to get ready for bed
he stood there like an npc while you were freaking out
“…. what’s wrong—“ “what’s wrong is that YOU’RE BUTT ASS NAKED IN FRONT OF ME—“
vessel is easily fascinated by human things. i mean - he was once human, so he likes to keep in touch every now and then.
however, out of all of the human things he had to have an obsession with.
… it was rubber ducks
this isn’t even explainable— how do you explain this all-powerful sleep entity to be obsessed with rubber ducks
he literally has a whole room dedicated to his collection of anything rubber duck related. give him a gift that has something to do with ducks and he’s making out with you on the spot
that’s not a joke, he did that with you before
➵ ii
this motherfucker is on his last limb and he’s being held together by paper clips
ii’s not even the leader but he cannot catch a break to save his life
he’s the only one that knows how to cook
one time he left ivy and the vesselettes in the kitchen by themselves. came back to house fires and high pitched screaming that definitely was not from the ladies
ii makes bomb ass banana cream pie though
ik for a fact this man does NOT keep his room clean
you once walked into his room to ask him a favor and there were like - a million drumsticks everywhere on the floor while he sat in the center of it
how does one possess that many drumsticks???
“dude what the f— clean your room!” “it gives me inner peace, y/n. go away.”
ii’s scared of the jollibee mascot
he once went out with his buddies to get some of that fast food. that giant red and yellow fuckass bee then came out of nowhere and spooked the shit out of ii
he then socked the guy in the face so hard the dude wearing the costume had a bloody nose
ii quickly fled the scene to not get arrested
after that he’s had a fear of fast food mascots in general, it’s kinda funny.
don’t bring ii near the jack in the box mascot though, he’s got some trauma from what he’s seen on twitter
➵ iii
zesty ahh mf
plays his bass like he’s fingering someone’s asshole like 🤨 whatcha doin’ iii ??
the type of man to set like fifty million alarms but never wakes up to any of them
however he wakes up everyone else in the process
it gets annoying hearing the “by the seaside” ringtone every morning at 6am. so one day you came into his room and poured ice cold water on him to wake him up
iii didn’t wake up from that btw, you thought it was dead
“…. bro wtf wake up—“
thankfully he wasn’t
biggest kpop stan
he’s a boy group stan and his favorite group is ateez
constantly blasting guerilla too
also i feel like iii owns a tumblr blog too
he’d be out here posting some shih like “pov you’re locked in a room w him for twenty four hours and you have to tickle his balls wyd” 💀
he probably posts also moodboards or some shi and tags them like an actual tumblr blogger
#it took my ahh fifty hours to make this plz repost it
stalks his fans on twitter
gets scared by said fans on twitter
“wdym they wanna get me pregnant”
breaks his bass every four hours during practice and vessel chews his ahh out every time
but it’s funny because you’re always there to help him
➵ ivy
he likes to act like he’s tough shit but ivy is a huge nerd
literally the definition of “magical in bed” except the magic is him explaining the gaming system of magic the gathering
hot asf but has no bitches frfr
also the definition of loser trapped in a hottie’s body
i’d like to believe that ivy has a crunchy ipad kid cough
and i mean CRUNCHY. bro will start choking on his saliva and start coughing like a dying seal
it’s quite hilarious, but also concerning at the same time
the first time you heard him cough like that, you were like 😟
“AEUGH- HEUGH— BEUHSHAK-“ “ivy—“
that pretty sums up the entire interaction
this bitch looks like he ate glue as a kid
more specifically glitter glue. the pink kind.
idk that sounds like ivy
he gets literal death coffee in the morning too btw
no ice. no sugar. straight shots of espresso.
eight shots, btw.
the coffee looks blacker than the black hole.
iii tried some of his coffee one time and spat it all in your face. ivy watched with his hell coffee in hand as you beat the shit out of iii
yeah, safe to say ivy was banned from having that kind of coffee for a while
so yeah. that pretty much sums up the kind of person ivy is
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sevs-corner · 23 hours ago
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Tf 141: On the Run AU! (bluegiragi’s: Monster AU)
You realizing that you chose to be stuck with them
Masterlist here! | OG Idea here!
Song Inspo for this hehe:
Tw: 18+ MDNI | Sexual Implications | Stockholm moments
“Thinkin’ about you, you’re in my head”
There’s never a moment when they aren’t— not with them being with you in every single moment at every open opportunity.
You, their pretty little bird stuck in a cage called their mansion, were never alone.
From waking up in the arms of a wraith, with the chill seeping into your skin to the warmth that envelops your face every time the dragon exhales in a snore— your life simply revolved around them.
Your scent just littered with a toxic mix of them.
And when you finally get that solitude in the bathroom, head under water as you try to sink into the feeling of entering the vast nothingness which you imagine calling the ocean- which, in actuality, is just your bathtub- made you think.
Think of the life you once had.
But it comes up empty.
Except for the moments you share with the guys ever since you arrived at their mansion.
Soap would always encircle you with his presence, nose simply attached to the skin on your neck and arms usually found around your midsection, hands steadying at your hips.
And you wonder how it felt so cold without him during nights in the arms of the others— his alternate form giving you the right amount of comfort and temperature that makes you slumber instantly, yet waking up to the intruding thought of wanting more.
Gaz would often be at your side cooking and grooming. His food always so delicious and scrumptious— just to what you were craving off. He would gently prod your mouth open, a piece of food between his claws as he gently guides it to your anticipating self— suddenly being and wanting to be satiated by something more.
This makes you see how much you’re relied on him to feel confident in yourself when you look at your reflection in the water or even at the vanity angled across you.
You realize how bathing felt less like a chore with him, as Gaz acts as your buffer between showering to take your mind drift and to bask in the pleasure he’d routinely for you.
Price is man that you ended up caring more than you’d like, with him acting as everyone’s support in moments of strife. He’s the type who would let you love him.
Constantly asking for your alliance and the mind games they were playing made you… stay and play another day for your survival.
Price offers that external protection which makes you feel safe enough with a bunch of simple clothes that is forcing his hand and making it perforates in your mouth.
Ghost, on the other hand, is gentle. Carrying stuff for you, leaving lingering shadows that monitor you when you’re left alone so he can swoop in at the right moment.
Ghost is a handful, and it is telling how much so by the mark left— especially on your upper middle of your thigh. He is possessive, so much so that he would rather leave and find another.
Ghost lets you do whatever, under the guise of regaining your freedom but in actuality, you tasted water— letting you partially taste it and go madly drunk regardless whether Simon had tampered with enough so he could keep you and still as it closed relief.
From the on, you wonder about a life without them when they’re right there.
All of it coming crashing down as the evening delays further into the night, with you being pulled out of the bath by Simon and fixed up by Gaz.
And you find it hard in yourself to pull away- to feel disgusted when they’ve been nothing but caring since the beginning.
At that thought, maybe you should have started becoming more intimate and open to talks but…
Oh.
They were just waiting for that singular “okay” before they all pounced on your parts like its there was no tomorrow.
And you think.
In a breathless whisper of each other names, makes you think how this isn’t too bad, that a life as theirs was now your very lone option.
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maraschinotopped · 1 month ago
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ohghhhh where the hgell am i
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iamthescalesofjustice · 2 years ago
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you are john. it has been, what, like eight or ten months since you sent out the notices about the new round of lyctor trials? you have a weird dream one night and decide, on a whim, to check in on how the trials are going. 
you phone home (its not home, home is gone). no one picks up. thats weird, and kind of concerning, so you go to check. canaan house is empty, even of the constructs you left to act as bodies for the partitioned bit of your soul-conglomerate you left there. there seem to be a lot of weird zombies on various continents. whoops, looks like some of the partitions of your soul-network need to be tuned up. well, you can do that after you figure out where the contestants went. 
an extensive round of investigation later, you land on the ninth. yep, that sure does seem to be the missing contestants. and the canaan house priests. and cytherea is here, for some reason. probably plotting against you. and... oh, annabel, good morning. 
while you are getting stabbed by your cavalier, you cant help but notice that it looks like some of the contestants did, in fact, achieve lyctorhood. but uh, definitely not the way they were supposed to. 
#to wit: the sixth and seventh have formed a soul network. only the sixth have living bodies#for some reason the dead body of the seventh cav is being possessed by that BoE bitch your hands were conspiring with almost 20 years ago?#there are 3 members of the third house here? and the actual cav is not involved in thenew 3rd house lyctorhood bond at all aside from#teaching swordsmanship to the? new 3rd cav? who is the necros sister apparently#the fitth havent made a lyctor bond yet but they Do appear to be having something going on with [checks notes] the guy who is supposed to#be the actual ninth cav but apparently isnt. wait so who went as the ninth c— uh. uhhhhhh#okay so you have a kid and the ninth has apparently joined your soul network at some point without you noticing wait wait what is this#wake-me-up-inside is on your soul network too??? youve been hacked.#as for whats going on with the rest: bc if various revelations the 8th have cancelled god who clearly doesnt understand how to#do soul magic in a Right and Proper manner. both the two who were at the trials and once they get the message back the entire house will be#up in arms about it and while the sixth have already been ready to break off from the empire if need be the eighth may try to like. take it#over? it wont go well. either way we are looking at a bigtime schism here#the fourth are trying to get good at enough at soul stuff to do one of the cooler lyctorhoods they have now learned about. the fifth are#trying to stop them from doing this and the most convincing argument theyve had thus far is that they should get past puberty first in case#the type of lyctorhood they end up doing is one of the 'freezes you at that state' one instead of the 'well the ninth aged so#clearly its possible somehow' version. the second were in the timeout corner for a while but there have been. a lot of revelations#and when you are finding stuff out firsthand and being told it directly by gods saint and his cavalier its a little harder to ignore than#if you are traumatized and on the verge of death and being told stuff by insurgents from outside the empire#also gideon has been popping back to earth a lot to 1) get sunlight 2) fight zombies for fun 3) forage for now-feral crop plants to bring#back to the ninth bc damned if shes going back to snow leeks now. also this is how shes dealing with her breakup from cytherea. and getting#space from her mom who sucks and from the drama of finding out her dad is the emperor who also sucks and that she and harrow have a#soul connection sort of that may or may not make them immortal and just. its a lot of questions. a lot of unpleasantness. a lot of pressure#hangin around on the ninth which doesnt feel big enough to get away from the drama. so shes#using her fucking teleportation powers to try her hand at shitty cottagecore life on a zombie-infested tomb of a planet instead of. yknow.#her other hometown tomb planet which is now also a little zombie-infested in a different way
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hyunebunx · 3 months ago
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⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ⏖ ’ early morning moments with skz !
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⁺ 𖹭 . genre: fluff! jisung's a tiny bit suggestive
⁺ 𖹭 . a/n: since i've done late night moments with them, i think it's only fitting i write this as well! enjoyy <33 pls let me know your thoughts by reblogging or leaving a comment <3 (inspired by some of these prompts <3)
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𝜗୧ chan 𝜗୧
You’ve been awake for a while now, snuggling and holding each other close as half of your body was on top of your boyfriend’s, almost latching onto him like a koala bear without shame. And he didn’t mind, Chan never did, content with being glued to you in every situation, hugging you so tightly like he wanted you to morph into one, the same entity kept alive by the beating of a singular heart.
“You fell asleep in the first 20 minutes of the movie last night.” You whisper, drawing random shapes on his exposed pecs, laying in the crook of his neck. Chan makes an apologetic sound before he’s interrupted by a yawn, stretching his arms above his head and letting one fall to curl around your middle. “Sorry, baby. I guess I was pretty tired.”
Tired is an understatement, and you laugh, lazily reaching for your phone on the nightstand to show him exactly what you’re talking about, with him tugging you right back to his chest when you stretch too far. There is a picture of Chan, sitting on the couch with his head thrown back and mouth open, snoring away while the movie he’s been begging you to watch together was rolling in the background.
The laugh he lets out is quieter than usual, the remains of sleep obvious in his half-closed eyes and deeper voice. “Damn, I was out like a light.”
You continue cuddling for a while before agreeing it’s time to start your day, reluctantly separating and sitting up at the end of the bed, adopting the same stance.
He’s still mumbling about something when you notice his hair sticking out in every direction, reaching out to tame the curls before stealing a kiss which only makes your boyfriend want another, and another until twenty minutes have passed and you’re still in bed, snuggling and making out like the world outside your bedroom did not exist.
𝜗୧ minho 𝜗୧
“Minho.” You whisper, tossing and turning under the blanket to face him, peering at his sleeping face. Your boyfriend was on his back, resting peacefully, unaware of the godly beauty he possessed, one people would surely go to war for, chest rising and falling rhythmically.
He doesn’t respond so, you try again. “Minho!” this time, he scrunches his nose cutely and rolls over, away from you and your antics he was too tired to be a victim of this early in the morning.
“Minho, are you awake yet?” You know what they say, third time is the charm because your boyfriend responds instantly, voice loud and clear, the opposite of your soft tone which takes you by complete surprise. “No.”
“Oh, okay.” you whisper, feeling bad for disturbing him. “Sorry.” you almost turn on your side and succumb to slumber before it hits you. Without warning, you swing a leg over his torso before rolling yourself over him to land on the other side of the bed, ignoring all his groans in protest.
“Liar!” You’re nose to nose now and Minho barely gets to open his eyes before you push his shoulder, causing him to fall on his back as you climb to straddle him. You waste no time leaning down and connecting your lips in a sweet kiss, cupping his cheeks and squeezing affectionately. As much as he wanted to complain, Minho couldn’t help but smile against your lips, body melting into the mattress while one of his veiny hands moved to rest on your exposed thigh, needing to feel more of you.
He should lie more often if this is the reward he gets.
𝜗୧ changbin 𝜗୧
“Binnie.” You’re gentle as you brush curly hair strands from his forehead, smiling when he instantly leans into your touch. “My love, I know you’re awake.”
“Then you should also know I hate waking up to an empty bed.” He pouts, eyes still closed stubbornly. With the same fond smile, you roll your eyes, hand dropping down to slowly trace his every feature, knowing he could never resist you.
“I had a good cause, I promise.” When he doesn’t budge, you reach for the tray on the nightstand and place it across his lap, over the blanket, careful his smoothie doesn’t spill over. “I made breakfast.”
Just like magic, his eyes snap open and he sits up so quickly you wonder if he got whiplash that was instantly cured by the smell of his favorite breakfast. His eyes sparkle as his gaze moves back and forth from the tray to you, so touched and grateful as he takes it all in, noticing the effort you put in so early in the morning just to cook a feast and surprise him with breakfast in bed. Nobody’s ever done something like this for him, love him so deeply and openly. Is this what being the luckiest man in the world felt like?
“I love you.” The words stumble out without second thought, eyes misty, forgetting all about being upset and giving you attitude. When you laugh, he does too, carefully leaning over the food to kiss you, the love of his life that adored him in the exact same way he adored you.
Love is the greatest gift he’s ever received and as selfish as it sounds, Changbin hopes you’ll continue loving him this way for the rest of your shared lives, that you’ll always remain by his side. He promises to continue eating your cooking even when you’re both old and grey, impaired taste and all.
𝜗୧ hyunjin 𝜗୧
The early hours of the morning found you in the arms of your beloved, sleeping away, undisturbed by the outside world and its people who were already hurrying around to get to work on time. You won’t be joining them today, nor will the man whose warmth was currently engulfing you whole, creating a safe love bubble you never wanted to burst.
Your face was buried in his chest, the soft material of his t-shirt moving with each breath he took, his heartbeat rocking you to sleep every time your eyes opened to check the time. Old habits die hard, but Hyunjin always manages to calm your racing mind even from dreamland.
Half an hour later, when the sun starts to peek through the drawn curtains, you’re awakened by tiny paws jumping on the bed, breathing and barking loudly. So much for sleeping in. Hyunjin’s eyes open with a smile, arms tightening their hold on your middle as he brings you even closer, resting his chin on top of your head while squeezing tightly. Morning cuddles were a must, even if your boyfriend’s other baby was too impatient to be let out to allow you to enjoy them to the fullest. 
“Good morning, love.” He greets you with a kiss, lingering there for the briefest moment before finally tearing himself from you, giggling down the hallway as he quickly goes to allow Kkami on the terrace.
He comes back rambling about something that happened at a schedule the other day, blinking the sleep away as he hands you a water bottle, yawning here and there. Unfortunately for him, you’re not listening, too distracted by the way his plump lips move and his husky voice, the words going in one ear and out the other as your inner monologue takes over.
“Your morning voice is so hot.” Hyunjin stops mid-sentence, momentarily taken aback before he bursts out laughing, dramatically collapsing back into bed and reaching for your hand to hold. “What?”
You nod, now sitting up against the headboard, eyes still zoned in on his pink and wet lips, enthralled. “Tell me more, baby. What did Chan do?” “He wasn’t even there!” See, not paying attention at all. But who could blame you when your boyfriend couldn’t take the hint and finally kiss you again?
𝜗୧ jisung 𝜗୧
“I had a dream about you.” Jisung perks up from his place on your chest, the TV running idly in the background, showing a random cartoon. “Was I hot?” “You cheated on me.”
He gasps dramatically but doesn’t move, too comfortable as you continue running your fingers through his freshly dyed hair, almost lulling him back to sleep. “Asshole move, dream me. Off with his head!.” 
You chuckle, kissing the top of his head and turning into a puddle once he begins leaving wet kisses on your neck, apologizing or most likely trying to distract you from how he’s been acting in your dream. It was working, because you lost your train of thought a couple of times before managing to speak again, eyes fluttering shut.
“You were very mean, actually.” Jisung hums against your neck, licking the skin before his kisses move downwards, to your collarbones, warm hands holding you down by the waist, touch burning pleasantly through your thin clothing.
“I’m sorry, baby.” He props his head up, chin resting right above your chest as his eyes bore into yours with a familiar intensity. “Please let me make it up for you.”
That’s what he says but ten minutes into making out and caressing each other’s bodies, his head falls tiredly to his previous place on your chest and you’re both out like a light, the warmth and cloudy weather of the early morning casting the spell of sleep on your forms and trapping you in bed for another three hours.
𝜗୧ felix 𝜗୧
You were not a morning person, it was a well-known fact by everyone in your life. Especially by your boyfriend who usually stayed up to keep you company, talking the hours away and giggling under the blankets until you both passed out just as the moon was retiring for the day.
So, you’re more than perplexed when one very early morning, you feel a warm hand caressing your cheek, followed by soft lips peppering feather-like kisses on every inch of your face, coaxing you awake.
“Baby,” his deep voice calls, barely above a whisper to not scare you, leaving a kiss on the corner of your mouth this time, “wake up, angel.”
You make a face, eyes still closed in protest and make to turn over, away from him until you feel the bed dip and his hand in your hair, massaging the scalp gently. Was Felix trying to wake you up or lull you back to sleep? Pretty sure he was just as confused.
When he leans down again, hovering over your face, your arms spring up and lock at the back of his neck, quickly bringing him down and bumping your noses together. You see his eyes widen, inhaling sharply as he realizes what you’re about to do and dodges your kiss last second, lips landing on his cheekbone instead.
Groggy and grumpy from being woken up this early, you pout, relaxing under his weight as his chest presses yours down. “Kiss me!” Felix chuckles and shakes his head, hands on either side of your head holding him up. “Not until you wake up and join me in the kitchen.” Once he sees you shake your own head and move to try and kiss him again, he adds. “I have a surprise!”
Now why didn’t he say so from the beginning? You release him but he doesn’t move away immediately, smiling from ear to ear before kissing your forehead and scooping you out of bed in one swift movement, strong arms under your knees as he giggles and jogs towards the kitchen, face brightening up when a smile finally graces your features.   
𝜗୧ seungmin 𝜗୧
Every single morning, Seungmin was the first to wake up without fail, reaching for you to bring your body to his chest and cuddle until you also did, just laying there since he never wanted you to wake up alone. 
That’s why when you woke up earlier than usual, with his chin resting on your shoulder and hot breath hitting your cheek, you didn’t hesitate to move around and bring the blanket further up your bodies, making sure you were both covered and comfortable among the many pillows.
“Your feet are cold.” But Seungmin doesn’t respond, legs intertwined and body still glued to yours like he never wanted to let go, couldn’t. You sneak a glance over your shoulder and find his eyes closed, long eyelashes kissing the top of his cheeks as he rested, sleeping deeply. For the first time since you’ve known him, Seungmin didn’t smile in greeting as you woke up, still sleeping soundly like it was the most normal thing in the world.
It felt a bit strange, but your heart only grew as you watched him, admiring his side profile and the peaceful look on his face, the furrow between his eyebrows absent as dreamland took care of him.
You never got the chance to do this, wake up first and let your thoughts run wild as you resist the urge to squeeze his cheeks and plant kisses all over his face, love pouring out at a dangerous pace, threatening to suffocate him at any moment. Not like Seungmin would mind, adoring you too much to not allow you to do whatever you pleased.
As careful as you can be, one of your hands trails down and intertwines your fingers, gently bringing your connected hands to your chest as you curl further into him, content with getting more cuddle time, loving every single moment.
𝜗୧ jeongin 𝜗୧
“Did you know you talk in your sleep?” You mumble into his neck, squeezing your eyes shut as you try to hide from the obnoxious sunlight that is threatening to take your lover away with the start of a new day.
Jeongin laughs, incredulous. “No way! I’ve had countless roommates and none of them have ever complained about me randomly rambling in my sleep.” He headbutts you affectionately, almost like a cat, and snuggles closer, also bothered by the sun but too lazy to get up and close the curtains he forgot about last night.
“I’m not complaining.” Looking up, you share a breath as you move to plant a small kiss on his nose, smiling when it scrunches up in fake annoyance, knowing your boyfriend loved morning cuddles as much as you did. “I actually think it’s kind of endearing.”
He rolls his eyes, big hand drawing circles on your back under the blanket, soothing you in an attempt to get you both to fall back asleep. Mornings were not his thing, and he really didn’t want to leave you, clingier than usual. The bed was so warm, and you were so soft and smelt so good, how could he ever think about leaving? Not like he’d ever admit it out loud.
“What did I say?” He chooses to entertain you, stretching his whole body before bringing the blanket over your heads and moving his arms to hug you, turning on his side so you’re face to face. You pause, momentarily mesmerized by his beauty, messy hair and puffy eyes only making him look even more adorable in your eyes. Tracing his bottom lip, he puckers them to gently kiss your finger. “I don’t know, I don’t speak gibberish.”
He groans, regretting he asked and hiding his face in his pillow. “You also snore.” “I do not!” 
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lola-writes · 5 months ago
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Prince Regent
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Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader
Word Count: 8.6k
Synopsis: Aemond returns to the Red Keep after the battle of Rook’s Rest with a newfound vigor for his wife.
Themes & Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI!), POV first person (Aemond’s & reader’s), s2x04,05 inspired, enemies to lovers trope, smut, violence, blood, dark/possessive Aemond, breeding kink, swearing, mentions of rape, high valyrian, fingering, multiple orgasms, p in v, doggystyle, creampie, rough sex, hair pulling, choking
Song: Hide and Seek ~ Klergy, Mindy Jones
Latest oneshot: A Dragon's Lullaby
Masterlist | Add yourself to my taglist | Playlist
Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated ❤️
Enjoy the read!
[gif @aemondstark ]
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AEMOND
Smoke. Dragon fire. Blood.
It clung to me, acrid and sweet, like a perverse cloak of victory.
A primal urge, raw and unbidden, erupted within me, a hunger that transcended the battle’s end. It devoured my senses. It vibrated within my bones. It consumed my very being.
My adrenaline ebbed, leaving a hollowness in its wake. The battle was over. Victory was ours. Gleaming armor was storming the castle. But that victory hung hollow, a meaningless echo in the carnage. My flesh seared with defeat. A strange fire, unsatiated, stirred beneath my skin.
I needed something more. Something I could sink my teeth into, as Vhagar had. Something warm and living.
From the air, I watched the smoke curl skyward, soldiers scattering like startled ants, and Meleys red corpse lay vanquished beneath brick and dust.
The warmth of my kill was still writhing. It was a fresh, living ember, demanding to be tended.
The impact of my brother’s fall had torn the wood asunder, set the ground ablaze, smoke and cinders rising steadily towards the heavens. My gaze settled on the inferno, and I urged Vhagar, my reflection in scales and fire, towards it, my mighty beast beating the wind like thunder as we circled twice around the barrenness of the forest, before she heeded my command.
“Qubemagon, Vhagar.” (Descend)
I dismounted her and trod a path towards the inferno, my sword materializing in my grasp with a practiced turn of my wrist. Shades of red marred my vision. The air shimmered, thick with smoke and the metallic tang of blood.
Adrenaline trickled into my bloodstream.
Never had I been so close to my birthright, so close to erasing the past. My grip tightened around the hilt. Images swam up before me. A lifetime of humiliations, each one a searing brand in my retina. My brother getting what he wasn’t fit for, presented to him on a silver platter. But no longer. No more would he be the architect of my suffering. 
But as a tremor shook the ground, a low rumble heralding the broken form of the golden dragon, a monument of smoke, blood, dirt, and ashes, none of it seemed to matter. 
As I crested a rise, the world snapped into sharp focus. My gaze landed on him - my brother; melted into a nightmarish tableau of steel, flesh, and bone, encircled by his dragon’s golden body.
Resolution, cold and heavy, settled in my chest. Killing him would be fruitless. The Stranger had already requested an audience.
I had achieved what needed to be done. As I lifted the edge of my sword to its sheath, a voice echoed through the forest.
“Aemond!” Cole cried my name like a desperate warning. I glanced back, my weapon disappearing into its sheath with a final rasp.
I looked down at my sacrifice. The damage was raw, excessive. The damage that was wanton. A pang of unease twisted in my gut. 
A glint of metal caught my eye, and I dropped to my haunches to retrieve the Conqueror’s Valyrian steel dagger from the bloodied earth. The dagger that was once Aegon’s. It was mine now. 
Ser Criston’s rustling armor announced his approach. “Where is His Grace?” he asked, voice quivering.
I didn’t respond. Instead, I tilted my chin, allowing the glistening steel guide his gaze toward the grotesque sculpture of my melted brother encircled by golden scales.
Ser Criston crumpled to his knees without a word, as I rose to my feet. 
A cold knot of regret twisted in my chest as I regarded my tribute. But it was fleeting, replaced by the icy fire of my ambition. 
There was much to be done, and I needed to proceed if I were to achieve it. I turned on my heel and left Cole and my broken brother behind. 
The battlefield and the devastation shrank beneath me as Vhagar’s powerful wings propelled us skyward. 
A sharp thrill prickled my skin that was naught from the velocity, but rather that of my impending regency. 
_
Upon returning to King’s Landing, I made my way to the small council chamber, ascending the stairs with slow deliberate steps. The air was thick with tension. The council was in disarray, engrossed in a heated discussion, but fell silent as the doors swung open. Eyes turned to me.
“My Lords,” I announced, my voice cutting through the sudden hush. I rounded the council table. “Mother,” I said, offering a curt nod of acknowledgement as I passed Alicent’s chair.
“Aemond,” she demanded, steel in her voice. “Where is Aegon?”
A heavy pause hung in the air before I met her gaze.
“Aegon has fallen,” I said. 
The council erupted in uproar. 
Cries of outrage and accusations.
Obscenities.
Scandal.
“How could this be allowed to happen?”
“What is the meaning of this?”
“We are doomed!”
The disapproval of the Lords sullied the chambers. This council was surely in lack of discipline. I already had my eyes on who I were to replace.  
“The King is dead!”
“The King is not dead,” I countered, my voice calm and mellifluous, soothing the council members like warm milk. Voices dipped and eyes turned to me, an invisible shudder surging through the air. “He has merely sustained grave injuries and is being brought back to the Red Keep for treatment as we speak.” I began to pace around the table, hands slotted behind my back. “The King fought bravely,” I continued. “Landing mortal injuries to the Pretender’s cause. But the Red Queen cast him out of the sky before I could get to him.”
My pacing had brought me to the head of the council table, where I ceased my step. My hand reached out to allow my fingers to trace the chair frame, its iron vibrating with the power I so craved. 
It was palpable. 
It was mine for the taking. 
I looked up at the members of the small council, my eye piercing each and every one of them until they quivered in their chairs.
“And in the coils of torment,” I spoke. “My brother, King Aegon, named me Prince Regent.”
A tremor vibrated the room, weary eyes glanced at each other, bodies twisting uncomfortably in creaking chairs. 
“If anyone should be named regent, surely it should be me, his mother,” voiced Alicent. 
I cast my gaze on her. 
“Aemond is next in line,” came voices from the small council.
“Yes, but the King still lives!” Alicent implored.
“Who am I to contest the wishes of the King?” I said softly, casting her a look of pure innocence.
Alicent’s eyes welled like a tide of despair, her head dipping to the table with defeat. If Alicent could conjure words that had not been uttered to serve her own ends, why could I not?
“Aemond…” she started, her voice a gentle tremble. “Could we at least discuss this?”
“As prince regent, I vow to serve this realm, my Lords, and guide our path to victory against the Whore of Dragonstone.”
My gaze drifted to the platform in the center of the table, settling on the cold polished marble that remained. The King’s marble. I reached for it, and as my fingers closed around its smooth surface, I met Alicent’s eyes. A flicker of desperate plea danced within them, and I held it with a cold response. She exhaled with defeat as I seated myself in the King’s chair, placing the marble in its rocky nest. 
“All hail Aemond, Prince Regent and Protector of the Realm,” Lord Tyland Lannister’s voice came, and the words echoed across the table. 
A smirk played on my lips. “My Lords,” I began, splaying my hands atop the table. “Let us commence.”
YOU
Mutters. Whispers. Gossip.
The news, carried on frantic breaths, was a tangled mess.
One moment, the King was dead, the next, grievously wounded. Some murmured of a crippled monarch, others of his mighty dragon slain. 
It buzzed in my ears as I made my way towards the throne room.
Fear, a cold serpent, coiled in my gut.
The throne room pulsed with tense energy. Hundreds of courtiers jostled for position, their faces etched with a mixture of morbid curiosity and nervous anticipation. I descended the cold stone steps, the weight of each step echoing the growing dread in my heart.
The Iron Throne loomed before me, an empty monument of jagged steel. Its cruel beauty, forged from a thousand fallen enemies, held a chilling glint in the flickering torchlight. I observed it over the shoulder of the woman in front of me, the precariousness of my position suddenly amplified. 
A shiver ran down my spine. Sometimes, I believed it was cursed. Promising to cast whoever graced it to a terrible fate.
My fingers, restless with apprehension, turned my rings about my fingers, pulling them off and on in a nervous dance. A prickling sensation spread through me as I felt countless eyes burning into my back. Disapproval mingled with a strange reverence. The room thrummed with unspoken questions, and I, too, yearned for answers, desperately seeking a foothold in the swirling vortex of uncertainty. 
A ripple of anticipation surged through the crowd as a figure emerged. I turned to witness the gleaming silver armor of the King’s Guard announcing Ser Criston Cole, the newly appointed Hand of the King. Hundreds of eyes swiveled in his wake as he strode towards the Iron Throne, which seemed to gnash its serrated teeth at his approach. 
My mind churned in chaotic disarray. Ser Criston had marched on Rook’s Rest, prompting Aemond’s hurried departure. Where my husband was now, remained a mystery. Perhaps still at Rook’s Rest, tending to the fallen King, or perhaps continuing on to Harrenhal, a destination he oft mentioned.  
None of it mattered. 
My marriage to Aemond had been a political maneuver, as cold and sterile as a septa’s cell. He held no affection for me, nor I for him. He was the absent, aloof prince I’d always imagined him to be. Carrying a frozen heart of a killer. Our union was no more than an alliance. Though I was hardly complaining. Married life granted me freedoms I scarcely thought possible for a highborn lady. But I would jest if I said I did not long for something more. Something warm. Something living. But in Aemond, either would be the last place I’d find. 
Ser Criston swept a steely gaze across the court, his face unreadable. He chewed the inside of his cheeks curiously, the motion ceasing abruptly when his eyes met mine. Cold and dark. I met his stare head-on, until an odd feeling took root in my gut. 
Unanswered questions swirled in my mind. 
Ser Criston tore his gaze from me, his eyes flitting across the room. Then, with a voice laced with authority, he boomed, “I address this court as Hand to inform you that the King has been grievously wounded in battle!”
A collective gasp ripped through the court. Whispers, like startled birds, rose in a flurry.
Ser Criston continued, a steely edge creeping into his voice, “Rhaenyra the Cruel will believe she won a great victory this day. May believe we will cower and offer her the throne like whipped dogs. But the False Queen is sorely mistaken. For the throne will not remain empty.”
Whispers escalated into a commotion. An unsettling prickle danced across my skin. My mind darted to the dowager Queen Alicent. Surely, in Aegon’s absence, they would elevate her to the throne. But after usurping Rhaenyra, would they truly place another woman in her stead? 
My thoughts, apparently, mirrored those of the court, for Alicent’s name drifted around me like a persistent echo.
Ser Criston’s voice rose to a commanding pitch, reverberating through the throne room, “I present to you…” The heavy oak doors of the throne room ground open, drawing every eye in unison.
My breath caught in my throat as a figure materialized at the stairs. 
It wasn’t Alicent. 
A frame, draped in dark green leather that shimmered with silver accents, emerged from the groaning doors. The Conqueror’s crown, a heavy circle of iron, sat upon their silver head, casting a long shadow across a face half-obscured by an eyepatch. 
“Prince Regent, Aemond Targaryen,” Ser Criston declared, his voice thick with forced authority. “Rider of Vhagar.”
Aemond descended the steps.
“Slayer of the queen who never was.”
Aemond’s footsteps, muffled by polished leather boots and the collective murmurs of the courtiers, made a predator’s approach as he stalked toward the Iron Throne. Two King’s Guard flanked him with stoic expressions. 
“And Protector of the Realm.”
He ascended the iron steps with a chilling grace, finally settling upon the throne. A hush fell over the court, thick and heavy. Silence stretched as he molded himself into the seat, his lethal hands caressing the equally lethal rests, a small smirk playing on his lips. His voice, a honeyed drawl laced with a hint of steel, echoed in the sudden silence.
“My Lords and Ladies,” he began, the menacing glint in his blue eye accentuated by the play of shadows on his face. “His Grace, the King, has been wounded at the battle of Rook’s Rest, and will be incapable to rule.”
There was a power in his presence, an unspoken threat that left the court speechless. Not a cough, not a rustle of fabric dared to break the silence. 
“Therefore,” he continued, his gaze sweeping over the frozen faces, “I, will act as your sovereign.”
Unease prickled at my skin. Something about Aemond’s demeanor, the unnatural sheen on his face, sent a tremor of suspicion through me. 
Had this all been a carefully orchestrated play? What truly transpired at Rook’s Rest? 
My eyes darted to the ornate dagger resting at his hip, the ancestral blade of Aegon the Conqueror. It was the same dagger I’d last seen clutched in the hand of his brother. 
As Aemond spoke on, a knot of apprehension tightened in my gut. 
“The tide has turned,” he declared, his voice ringing through the stunned silence. “Rhaenys Targaryen is slain, along with her dragon.” A small smile tugged at his lips, a low hum escaping them. “The largest serving the Pretender’s cause.” He said it like it was a jest. “Rook’s Rest has been claimed, leaving Dragonstone vulnerable.” His fingers tapped across the blades. “This is a victory for us.”
Scattered heads nodded in agreement. 
Then, his gaze snapped to me, a rapacious glint in his single blue eye. It seemed to bore into my very soul, stripping away any pretense. 
“It’s all going according to plan,” he murmured, his voice a silken threat, and for a moment, an eerie feeling within told me he was addressing me alone. The fire that danced within his eye flickered a touch too bright, and it felt like he could see every thought swirling in my mind, every flicker of doubt, every spark of fear. 
It felt like he was about to eat me alive.
A violent terror surged through me, icy fingers gripping my heart. Adrenaline tapped into my veins, a primal urge to flee. 
_
Frantic energy fueled my movements. I shoved dresses, jewelry, all of my belongings, into overflowing wooden trunks. Their straining hinges mocked my desperation. My handmaid, silent but swift, followed my frenzied instructions. I knew then, with a chilling certainty, that I owed her my life after this escape. 
Aemond’s chambers, once a familiar haven, felt cold and sterile now, stripped bare of my belongings. Rain lashed against the open windows, mirroring the frantic rhythm of my heart. The journey ahead would be long and treacherous. Circumstances weren’t optimal, but there was no other choice at my disposal.
My husband was a murderer and a kinslayer twice over. And my intuition told me it would soon be thrice. He wasn’t just ruthless; there was an unsettling hollowness behind his actions, a chilling absence of remorse. He was a walking blight, a storm that devoured everything in its path. And I refused to be struck down by its lightning.  
The apartment doors shuddered open, shattering me into distraught. My flight instincts flared, but I refused to cower. My hand instinctively shot out, grasping my maid’s hand tightly. We held our breath as a large, porcelain hand reached out and pushed the door wider. 
Aemond entered, leaving the door ajar. His gaze, unwavering and cold, locked with mine. “Leave us,” he commanded, his voice a smooth, cold current. 
My handmaid curtsied, her grip faltering as she pried my fingers loose. With a hurried glance back, she scurried out, the heavy door slamming shut behind her. 
An oppressive silence descended, broken only by the frantic pounding of my heart against my ribs. 
Escape seemed impossible; the air thick with a chilling dread. 
“You sent for me, wife?” Aemond’s voice, a silken caress laced with steel, echoed in the cavernous chamber. He approached with a predative grace, each deliberate step shrinking the distance between us. 
Confusion slammed into me. I hadn’t summoned him. This was, by far, the most he’d spoken to me since our loveless union. 
“You are mistaken,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. My feet, traitors that they were, retreated with each of his advances. Then, it dawned on me, that it might have been his intention to put me in a state of dubiety, making me more malleable. A cutthroat, not only lethal, but cunning.
He stopped beside my overflowing trunk, a flicker of amusement playing on his lips. 
“Travelling somewhere?” His single blue eye, unnervingly perceptive, held me captive. 
Panic clawed at my throat. I clenched my trembling hands into fists, slotting them behind my back, forcing my lips into a gentle smile. 
“I wish to visit my family,” I said. “With war looming, I wish for us to be together.”
Aemond took another measured step closer. “Ao issi aerēbas mirriot daor,” (You’re not going anywhere), he murmured, the High Valyrian rolling off his tongue like a sinister threat. 
A furrow etched between my brows as I attempted to comprehend his words. My grasp of the ancient tongue was limited, and whether he intended me to understand was a cruel game. Perhaps, it was yet another tool to exert his dominance. But based on his relentless pursuit, I gathered me leaving wasn’t an option he entertained.
“I am of no use to you, Aemond,” I pleaded, maintaining a safe distance. “Me staying serves no purpose.”
“On the contrary,” he purred, his voice dripping with a dark promise. His head tilted covetously, venom flashing in his eye. 
“We barely exist to each other,” I continued. “What difference would it make if I was half a world away?”
“It would make all the difference.” The warmth in his voice vanished, replaced by a glacial edge. “There’s the matter of heirs.”
Seven Hells. 
Anguish twisted my gut. Intuition, a primal scream, roared to life. Images flashed behind my eyelids – Aemond sitting the throne, and Aegon reduced to ash. 
Had this been his plan all along? Was he the reason for the King’s lethal end?
The pieces slammed together in my mind, a horrifying mosaic. 
I gasped, my back hitting the cold stone wall. Aemond’s ambition stretched far beyond my naïve expectations. Loyalty to his house, to his brother, had been a carefully constructed facade. Beneath it, he schemed, a shrewd predator stalking his ultimate prize. The crown. 
And the crown needed heirs. 
He towered over me, his presence overwhelming. He was much taller than I recalled, every inch radiating a rapacious tension. A hand braced itself against the wall, inches from my head. 
“What have you done?” My thoughts materialized into shaky words, laced with an enmity that surprised even me. My gaze raked over him, revulsion twisting my features. The green leather seemed to pulse, an illusion fueled by my churning stomach. 
A flicker, a hint of something akin to uncertainty, crossed his single eye. It darted across my face, as if truly seeing me for the first time. Perhaps he was. In this desperate flight, we’d never been closer. Close enough to be enveloped by his scent, a foreign musk that did little to quell my churning nausea. 
“Skoros iksin bēvilagon.” (What was necessary)
I frowned again, aggravated that he took to High Valyrian as an attempt to shut me out of his thoughts. My jaw clenched, frustration a bitter taste on my tongue. 
Malevolence rose like a flood as I leaned forward, so close that our noses nearly touched, “I would not have your child in a million years, kinslayer,” I spat, my voice trembling with contained fury. I lunged forward, aiming to push past him, to escape his suffocating presence. But his other hand shot out, slamming against the wall beside me, effectively caging me in.
A venomous glint flickered in his eye as he narrowed it at me through his lashes. A twitch played on his lips, a cat batting at a cornered mouse. “Be that as it may,” he said mellowly. “But even a bad wife must obey her king.”
A scoff escaped my lips, my eyes sizing him up and down. “You are no king,” I hissed, defiance lacing my voice. “You are not even a man.”
His reaction was swift and brutal.
One hand shot out and grabbed my face, forcing my head against the cold stone. Pain erupted at the impact, but quickly subsided as he leaned in, his hot breath fanning against my lips.
“Speak such treason again, and I’ll show you what I really am.”
“What will you do?” I spat back, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and insurgence. “Cripple me, like you did your brother? Force yourself on me?”
“Don’t tempt me,” he growled, his voice simmering with barely contained violence.
A tense silence ensued, the air crackling with his restrained fury.
My suspicions, already simmering, solidified into a horrifying certainty. He’d orchestrated his brother’s downfall on purpose. 
“Have you no honor?” I whispered, the words a ragged plea. 
The silence stretched, broken only by our ragged breaths. His hold on my face loosened gradually, his hand falling away. But his gaze remained fixed on me, a storm brewing within its depths. 
“You cannot stop me, Aemond,” I said, my voice shrinking. “I will leave this place, one way or another. You can play king in my absence, but it will be a hollow crown.”
“Kesan arghugon ao naejot se mōris hen tegon.” (I will hunt you to the end of the earth)
“Speak plainly,” I snapped, my patience with his cryptic pronouncements wearing thin.
A chilling smile, devoid of warmth, stretched across his lips. He pushed himself away from the wall, backing away, creating my long-desired distance between us. 
“You may go,” he drawled, the amusement in his voice laced with a dangerous edge, that sardonic smile still plastered on his lips. 
Acrimony filled my gut. What little I knew of this man, I feared greatly, but also told me this was a trick. He wouldn’t relinquish control so easily. He’d allow me to make my “escape”, only to have me snatched back by the King’s Guard, now under his control, a public display of his authority. There was no true freedom with him.
Maegor’s tunnels, a potential escape route, loomed tantalizingly behind me. If only I were alone, a simple push against the wall would send me tumbling into its dark embrace. But escape without a plan or supplies was a fool’s errand. 
My mind spun, each possibility twisting the knife of despair deeper. Even if I reached my family, what awaited me there? Shame would be their welcome. Aemond, no doubt, would make sure of it. 
The rain continued its relentless assault on the outside world, punctuated by the booming symphony of thunder. A flash of lightning illuminated the apartments, casting Aemond in a grotesque, menacing silhouette. 
Exhaustion overwhelmed me. I slumped to the floor, seeking solace in the meager comfort of my arms wrapped around my knees. Here I was, a prisoner in this gilded cage, condemned to bear the children of a traitor until flames consumed us all. 
Aemond crouched before me, his wrists resting on his knees. He regarded me with an intensity that bordered on scientific curiosity. A flicker of something, perhaps disappointment, played at his edges. 
“I’d take you for many things, wife,” he cooed, the endearment dripping with veiled malice. “But weak was not one of them.” His words landed like a body blow. “If I’d known you’d crumble so easily, I would never have wed you in the first place.” 
I sniffed and looked up at him, exhaustion a heavy cloak on my lids. “You did not have much of a say in the matter,” I countered.
A wicked smile twisted his lips and his head tilted to the side. “No,” he said softly. A sudden chill iced his demeanor. “And neither do you.”
He rose to his feet with predacious grace, leaving me pleated on the floor. He sauntered to his chair and seated himself, one leg propped up on his knee, his leather splaying atop the arm rests.
I watched him. His face was turned to the violent storm outside, immersed in contemplation, lightning whipping across his features. A vision of menace. A weapon poised to strike. 
“So, what is your scheme, Aemond?” I started; my voice hoarse. His head turned slowly, his gaze locking onto mine with the piercing intensity of Valyrian steel. “Do you envision a period of mourning for the King, followed by a convenient acclamation in your favor? Or will you hurry along the succession and carry out the deed yourself before anyone suspects?”
A single corner of his mouth quirked into a cruel smile. “Suppose I have not yet decided.” His voice was like liquid. 
Defiance flickered within me. “The court will never agree to this once they find out what you’ve done.”
Aemond hummed, a deep sound in the bottom of his chest. “Dragons don’t concern themselves with the opinions of sheep.” He leaned forward, resting his arms across his knees. “I am next in line to the throne,” he drawled. “None is better suited than I.”
I staggered to my feet and went to sit beside him. “With a legitimate heir,” I said carefully. “Your claim would be uncontested.”
He smirked, as though I’d read his mind. He leaned back, his eyes gleaming with dangerous delight. 
“A woman’s pleasure is,” he began, a slow, suggestive smile playing on his lips. His blue eye drifted down my form in a way that made my skin crawl. “Of as much importance as the seed itself.”
A hot flush crept up my cheeks at his implication.
“Which is why submission must be a willing act,” he finished, his voice dropping to a husky murmur.
I swallowed, provocation crackling through me. Did he truly believe I would succumb to his advances? He seemed to think he could manipulate anyone to his will, whether through seduction or brutality, though I had yet to see the former. 
“And if I refuse?” I challenged, my voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor in my hands. 
A low growl vibrated in his chest, his face soft. “Then you’ll find yourself counted amongst the sheep,” he drawled.
Deflating, I sighed and dipped my head. The only path forward seemed excruciatingly clear. Raising my eyes to meet his, I lifted an eyebrow in rebellion.
“Consider me sheep then.” With that, I rose from the settee and strode towards the apartment doors, the cold of the metal handle stealing the warmth from my fingers as I heaved it open.
It shut then, with a loud thud, and I jumped, a sudden heat radiating behind me. Aemond’s fingers splayed on the oak door above my head. My pulse drummed in my ears, Aemond’s lips grazing my lobe, urging it to pick up the pace. 
“Jaelā naejot mazverdagon nyke jorarghutan ao, ābrazȳrys?” (You want to make me chase you, wife?) His voice rumbled into me, a low growl as potent as the thunderstorm.
The rolling, guttural words sent a strange warmth through my core. His air consumed me. A rich mixture of smoke, leather, and dragon, infiltrated my senses, intoxicating and unsettling in equal measure. 
“I can’t understand you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. I felt him smiling against my ear, a low chuckle reverberating into it, sending goosebumps erupting across my skin. 
“You won't need to,” he said softly. His hand drifted away from the door and closed around my throat, surprisingly gentle, yet the warmth of his fingers felt like embers branding my skin. They snaked around the back of my neck, the pressure tightening as he turned me to face him. His single eye, a bottomless well of intricacy, held mine captive.
My gaze flickered down to his lips. They were curved into a wicked grin.
His scent became a suffocating presence. The heat radiating from his body, fervid as a dragon, made sweat bead on my forehead. My entire being screamed I was at his mercy. He could crush my life out with a mere squeeze, or worse, with his single eye, he could strip me bare without ever laying a hand on me. 
But a strange fire flickered within me, a rebellion against his dominion. My hands, fueled by a desperate need for control, reached out and began loosening his doublet, my fingers slow and deliberate. 
Aemond stilled, his eye falling to my movements. He watched, transfixed, as I unfastened the green leather halfway down his chest, then trailed my fingers lower. His gaze darkened and his breath grew uneven, as the bulge beneath his belt pressed against my touch.
A visceral desire flared within me, a response I couldn’t fully comprehend. My pulse hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs, slowly drifting between my thighs at the sight of his desire. 
His grip softened at my nape, and with a surge of defiance, I ripped myself free from his hold, and landed a heavy blow to his stomach. But a wave of terror washed over me when Aemond barely flinched.
Panic clawed at my throat. 
Taking advantage of his momentary surprise, I flung open the chamber doors and fled, the sound of my pounding heart echoing in my ears. 
AEMOND
The aftershock of her blow lingered, a dull ache radiating from my gut, while I allowed her to make her escape. Fury, a familiar companion, usually surged through me, promising retribution, suggesting to make her death appear an accident. This time, however, a different heat consumed me, a mix of surprise and… arousal. 
Rarely did I misjudge a person. Yet, the meek mouse I’d wed had transformed into a daring she-wolf before my very eyes. This escape attempt, fueled by defiance, was a revelation. It made my dick hard. 
A rapacious glint flickered in my eye. A grudging respect, laced with something far more primal, coiled in my gut. I had underestimated her, and the unexpected turn of events had ignited a spark within me. 
A smirk twisted my lips, and I hummed with satisfaction, the thrill of the hunt coursing through me. 
“Jaelā naejot tymagon?” (You want to play?) I murmured, the challenge laced with amusement. “Kesi tymagon.” (Let’s play.)
I started into the storm-ridden castle. 
YOU
Immediate regret shot through me with a pang, a cold fist squeezing my breath. 
To toy with a dragon was like asking to get burned.
My lungs screamed in protest, my legs burning with each step down the Red Keep’s slick stone steps. Blood, metallic and sharp, left traces in my mouth as I hoisted my cumbersome gown to avoid tripping. The castle shuddered from the storm, which groaned and wailed its onslaught. Guards stood stoic at their posts, their expressions unreadable underneath silver helms. Appealing to them was a fool’s errand.
None dared defy the one-eyed prince. 
Driven by blind instinct, I found myself pushing through the massive doors of the throne room. 
The Iron Throne, a monstrous silhouette of twisted blades, dominated the chamber, its edges flashing white-hot under the lightning’s fury. I stumbled towards it, chest heaving, gasping for air. 
If it truly was cursed, could touching it offer some strange absolution, a release from the gilded cage that was my life? Surely, it couldn’t be worse than the fate that awaited me back in his clutches. 
Ascension. My trembling legs carried me up the steps, each one a monumental effort. Reaching the top, I lingered to sit, an action so simple, yet it loomed so immensely in my mind.
“Waiting to make your peace with the gods?” came a voice, and I turned with a gasp.
Aemond stood in the middle of the room, arms slotted behind his back, approaching with slow, menacing steps, like a predator savoring the hunt. Thunder boomed overhead. 
“No,” I countered, spite flaring hot in my chest. “Waiting for you to catch up so I can meet them myself,” I said, descending the steps. 
“Once more, so quick to admit defeat,” he taunted, venom dripping from his words like the rain outside.
I studied his sharp features, while the burden of my reality settled like a weight in my chest. “There is no escaping you,” I gritted out, holding his heavy gaze. 
His violence loomed heavy, and depravity flickered in his gaze. “Your perception waxes,” he conceded, and suddenly, the world tilted on its axis as he scooped me up and tossed me effortlessly over his broad shoulder. 
The journey back to his chambers was a furious ballet of resistance. My limbs flailed wildly, desperate for purchase, and obscenities, laced with an untenable fear, ripped from my throat.
A sharp slap landed on my behind, eliciting a yelp of surprised pain. 
“The more you struggle,” he growled, the sound a low rumble in his chest, “the worse it will be.”
A part of me recognized the truth in his words, yet a bestial defiance warred within, refusing to yield. Fueled by a surge of adrenaline, I lunged for his silver hair, grabbing a fistful and yanking with all my might. 
He hissed through his teeth, followed by a guttural sound echoing deep within him. “Ilībōños,” (Bitch/Bastard) he cursed.
The apartment door slammed shut behind us as he entered, his movements purposeful. With a rough toss, I landed unceremoniously on the bed, the air whooshing out of my lungs on impact. Fury, a searing inferno, consumed me, each cell screaming in protest, my claws unsheathing. I wanted to hurt him. 
Anything within reach became a potential weapon. Pillows, a discarded jeweled comb – I hurled them all at him, each item a silent scream of rebellion. But his movements were swift, each projectile dodged with practiced ease. 
Frustration mounted, morphing into a desperate rage. I lunged at him, a clumsy attempt to push him back. But he remained immovable, an unyielding mountain. Undeterred, I pushed again, and again, fueled by a futile contempt. 
Finally, as I drew back for another pointless shove, his hands shot out, lightning fast, pinning my arms to my sides. He moved swiftly, his body caging mine in a steely embrace. 
“Lykirī,” he hummed, the word a low thrum against my ear. 
“Fuck you,” I spat, my chest heaving from my ambush.
Did he mistake me for his winged beast that he could command to his will?
My attempt to wiggle out of his hold was a pointless endeavour. Rage crackled in my veins, but it flickered under his touch. My breath hitched as he leaned closer, the heat of his body searing through my gown. The scent of him, smoke and leather, filled my senses. And the undeniable press of his erection against my stomach sent a jolt through me. 
This perverted man was enjoying my defiance. His grip tightened, a teasing hold that both frustrated and excited me. My body, traitor that it was, started to soften against him, a spark igniting beneath the embers of anger. 
“Have you had your fill of my company?” he whispered, his voice husky against my ear. His hands trailed down my arms, sending shivers skittering across my skin.
Every rational part of me screamed to break free, to run for the tunnels, to fight back. But the intoxication of his touch, the heat radiating from him, the suggestive murmur against my ear – they all conspired to trap me.
Before I could think, my head slowly turned from one side to the other. 
He hummed deeply. “Say it.”
Frustration warred with a strange vulnerability within me. My cheeks burned, and I clenched my jaw hard enough to taste blood. 
“I haven't.”
“You haven't what?”
Fury flickered back to life, fueled by his smug grin and the realization of how easily he’d manipulated me. 
“I haven't had enough,” I gritted out, the words a reluctant surrender. 
A growl of satisfaction escaped him before he grasped me by my throat, pushed me back against the wall, and tasted my next breath on his tongue. 
His lips, hot and demanding, devoured mine like a beggar, silencing the gasp that threatened to escape. Heat, a wildfire erupting at the junction of our bodies threatened to consume me. Fury, a simmering ember, still flickered within. I shoved against his chest and stomped on his feet; futile attempts against his unyielding form.
“Gaomagon vīlībagon nyke daor,” (Do not fight me) he said roughly against my lips, nipping at the bottom one. “Kesā botagon daor.” (You would not survive)
I didn’t understand him, and it urged on my fury. I opened my mouth with a quip in mind, but he used that opportunity to slide his tongue inside, hot and wet. The anger threatened to drown the blossoming desire, creating a tempestuous war within. I panted, torn between resistance and a strange, unfamiliar need, a fever writhing and pulsing inside my veins. My hands clenched in the rough leather of his doublet, a desperate attempt to maintain some sort of control. 
I closed my teeth on his bottom lip, and he hissed sharply, encircling my throat with his hand, pushing me against the stone. 
“Kelītīs,” (Stop) he growled.
The question of whether he even realized he was speaking High Valyrian was a fleeting thought. I melted into his rough hold, to his wicked mouth crashing against mine again and again, getting lost in the hot glide of his tongue. His rough kisses, the frantic press of his body, all contrived to unravel my carefully constructed defenses. A soft moan escaped my lips as my nipples brushed against his chest, sending sparks lower. He groaned low in his throat, sucking my bottom lip between his teeth.
With practiced ease, he untied the strings of my dress, letting the fabric pool around my ankles. I stood there in only my kirtle, breathless under his heated gaze. A dark groan rumbled from his chest as he slipped his hands beneath my thighs, effortlessly lifting me. My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. His grip tightened on my bare flesh, a touch too rough, and I retaliated with another yank on his silver hair. An angry sound erupted in his throat as he attempted to shake off my grip. 
He carried us to the bed, the world tilting on its axis as he settled me on top of him. Our mouths met in a frantic clash, a tangle of tongues and heated breaths. We tore away from each other briefly, just long enough for him to pull my kirtle over my head.
Naked and exposed, I felt a shiver dance across my skin under the intensity of his gaze. Something dark moved through his eye, and my skin prickled with goosebumps.
He gripped the swell of my hips, his palms sliding upward, a slow exploration that sent sparks igniting in my blood. The fight drained from me, replaced by a heavy languor. His fingers, surprisingly gentle for a cold-blooded killer, traced patterns across my skin, before cupping my breasts into a rough grip. A soft moan escaped my lips as his thumb brushed a nipple, and pleasure rushed to my core. He leaned in and closed his mouth over a peak, drawing it in with a slow, gentle suck. My head fell back, a groan escaping my throat. My hands filtered into his thick silver, my fingers impulsively easing off the leather tie that kept it out of his face, and it went cascading around his features like spills of moonlight.
Awe mingled with desire as I watched him continue to explore my body, his mouth leaving a trail of wet heat across my skin. I cupped his sharp face in my hands, the rational, caged side of me screaming to tear him off me. I made weak, pitiful attempts to do so, but Aemond growled his disapproval and sucked my nipple hard. The wet heat of his mouth tugged between my legs as he moved to the other, flames curling low in my stomach. I ground down on him, my wet entrance dampening the dark leather of his breeches, the friction sending a delicious heat through my core. A moan ripped from his lips.
I was on fire, a confusing mix of desire and desperation clawing at me. I needed something more, something to push me over the edge. My body moved of its own accord, grinding harder, seeking that elusive release. 
He released my nipple with a graze of teeth that sent a jolt of white heat through me, and looked up at me with his eye dark like the storm.
“Skoros gaomagon jaelā?” (What do you crave?), he rumbled.
Exhaustion gnawed at me, but a visceral need pulsed deep within. “Please,” I pleaded, the word a ragged whisper escaping my lips, the frustration of the language barrier a dull ache compared to the firestorm raging in my core. “More,” I begged, grinding against his erection with desperate mewlings. 
When his hand lowered to palm my pussy, my skin caught on fire, burning me from scalp to toes. Desire inflated in my throat when he ran his hand up my neck, into my hair, grabbing a fistful and using it to arch my head back, his touch both possessive and arousing. 
“Is this what you desire?” he rasped against my throat, his voice husky with restrained passion. His calloused thumb began drawing circles on my clit, a slow, deliberate exploration that sent frustration battling with a rising tide of pleasure. 
I nodded desperately. “Yes,” I gasped.
He slipped two fingers into my wetness, and I arched my back, groaning in pleasure and a little pain, his fingers filling me up to the brim. My hands found purchase in his hair, anchoring myself as he moved his digits, flames of pleasure licking at my walls. 
Ecstasy unfurled in my veins like milk of the poppy, mind-numbing, delirious, as he slid his thick fingers in and out of me, rubbing a sensitive spot deep within. Hot pressure expanded, and my eyes rolled back in my head. A throaty moan escaped my lips with every thrust of his fingers and a delicious rumble rolled in his chest. 
His grip around my hair suddenly vanished and his thumb began rubbing circles on my clit as he fingered me. I cried out, the intensity overwhelming, and I braced myself on his leather-covered shoulders, a cold sweat starting beneath my skin.
“Sholīze,” (You’re so wet), he groaned against my skin, the word a brand that sent shivers lancing through me, the heat beneath the surface threatening to erupt. I rolled my hips on his fingers, and a satisfied growl escaped his mouth, his eye dropping to witness me riding his hand as my pleasure ran down his wrist, my leg and onto his lap. 
“Shkelagon zhēdys,” (You’re making a mess), he whispered into my mouth, swallowing my desperate cries. 
A third finger, bold and intrusive, slid inside, the added pressure sending me over the edge. My vision swam, black dots exploding at the edges. My heart pounded to the fire searing through every nerve in my body. Throaty moans tore from my lips over and over, as I clenched around his moving fingers. He groaned with dark satisfaction, encircling my waist, pressing me against him as I rode out my orgasm. 
The storm within me subsided slowly. His fingers, once urgent, now moved slowly in and out of me while I caught my breath and the ringing in my ears faded. He didn’t withdraw until he’d coaxed out the very last tremor of pleasure from my body. 
A languorous warmth, a deep sense of satiation unlike anything I’d ever known, bloomed within me.
Lost in the afterglow, I trailed kisses up his neck, small noises of contentment escaping my lips. 
“Gevie,” he panted, slipping his fingers out of me.
I knew that word.
Beautiful. 
AEMOND
I never thought the act of making an heir would be this… riveting. 
So much pure heat, flame and pleasure, fueled not just by my own desire, but by the sight of her pleasure burgeoning under my touch. It was a new prospect entirely. I could have reached my own release simply from witnessing hers. 
But this was not going to make an heir, after all.  
She ran her fingers over my erection, her lips and teeth teasing a line down my neck as she came down from her high. My hand, forearm and lap were slick from her sweet desire. 
She settled back into my lap, a vision of post-orgasmic bliss. Her eyes, usually bright and defiant, were now hooded with languid satisfaction, her cheeks flushed a becoming crimson. Her lips, slightly parted, breathed shallowly. I pushed my thumb between them, and she met the intrusion with a beckoning glide of her tongue, the wet heat settling in my groin. I pulled my thumb free, wiping the evidence of her touch across her lips. 
This woman, this force of nature, was mine. My wife.
Lightning played across her features like she was its master. Like she embodied the raw power of the storm. 
Untamed, fierce, fuckable.
She was molded just for me.
Her fingers, tracing a familiar path down my doublet, encountered the bulge straining against the fabric, my dick throbbing at her faintest touch.
“Take it off,” she said, working on the buckle. I reached my hands up my neck, loosening the doublet from my frame. 
“Do not attempt any strikes this time,” I drawled, a playful challenge in my voice. I relished the smile that spread across her lips.
“You have my word,” she said softly. 
The leather of my arms whispered down, discarded on the floor like a shed skin. Her eyes ignited with raw desire, a flickering flame that mirrored the inferno that had been building within me. Her fingers, hesitant at first, traced a path down my chest, my abs, further, until her hand slipped beneath my breeches and over the length of my dick. 
I hissed through my teeth. The heat, a branding iron searing flesh, intensified as her hand, unsure but determined, wrapped around my erection, heat curling at the base of my spine. Her hesitant touch grew more confident as she stroked me from base to head with smooth, gentle motions, sending a low groan rumbling from my chest. 
I grabbed her face and grazed her chin with my teeth, making her stroke me harder. “I’ll fill you with my seed, wife,” I growled, the words rough against her skin. A promise, a threat, a declaration of possession – all rolled into one.  
Her sigh held a hint of resignation, contrasting the fire in her eyes. “As long as you’ll leave me alone once you’re done,” she mumbled, the words laced with quiet defiance. 
Fury, a red-hot ember, flared within me. 
I threw her down on her knees on the bed and yanked her head back by her hair until her head rested against my shoulder. The vulnerability in her exposed throat fueled a dark avarice within me. My erection pressed against the heat of her ass, restraint becoming an impossible enemy. 
“You’re bound to me now,” I growled in her ear, the words a possessive vow. “You’re not going anywhere.”
A ghost of a smile played on her lips, a silent challenge that both frustrated and excited me. I leaned in, whispering a single word against her ear, “Ñuhon.” (Mine) I nipped her earlobe, making her hiss. 
When I released her, she sagged forward, head hanging low. Her shoulders slumped, and she lowered herself onto her hands, the curve of her backside a sight that ignited a fresh wave of heat within me. 
I discarded my breeches, the urgency a physical ache in my core. Kneeling behind her, I pushed two fingers inside of her. She clenched down on me so tightly. I groaned and pulled my fingers free. As I rubbed the head of my cock against her wet opening, the heat of it almost burned me. A tremble coasted throat her, and her fingers gripped the sheets, bracing herself. 
I eased into her, and, gods spare me, she was so fucking tense, to the point she nearly resisted me entirely. I caressed her ass, her hips, running my hand up and down her back, attempting to relax her, uttering words I scarcely knew were the Common Tongue or High Valyrian. 
“Vīrȳn (take it), you’re so fucking wet, gūrogon mirre yno (take all of me).”
Until her walls softened and I watched myself slide into her, until I was as deep as I could go.
Seven Hells. 
The feeling was overwhelming. The way she clutched me like a wet fist. Every cell in me ached for more, to fuck her hard, relentlessly, but I gave her a moment to adjust, squeezing her, running my hands all over her. 
Soon, she was rocking back against me, and I gave her what she wanted, pulling out all the way before slowly pushing back in, every inch of me vanishing. She groaned and dropped her face to the bed, fisting the sheets in her hands. I gripped the swell of her hips, guiding her warm, wet pussy onto my throbbing dick over and over, watching their salacious union, my sight darkening at the squelching sounds that ensued. A deep hum erupted from my chest.
She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes hooded with lust, settling on each lazy thrust. 
“Iksis ao bisa ijiōrtan?” (Is this pleasing you?) I rasped, but before she could answer, I fucked her a little harder. It occurred to me that she probably could not have understood what I’d been saying half the time. 
Her head fell forward, and the sight of her biting down on her hand to quiet her moans sent a heady rush to my head, lighting me on fire. 
Thunder rolled overhead. 
I was completely lost in the heat of her, taking her hard, watching her ass bounce against me with every thrust. I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back against my chest.
She was panting, fucked into soft compliancy.
“To whom do you belong?” I growled in her ear.
She didn’t resist any of my advances this time. “You,” she breathed. 
“Say my name.”
“Aemond.”
“And who is your King?”
“Aemond.”
My grip snaked and tightened around her neck as I fucked her.
“Say it.”
“You’re the King, Your Grace,” she whined. “The first of your name.”
It set me on fire.
I pushed her back down and fucked her through her second orgasm, holding her hips up when her legs gave out. She shuddered and clenched around me, the pressure sending licking fires down my back, threatening to erupt. I gritted my teeth as I came inside of her, a white, hot fire shooting through me so hard, my vision went black.
My muscles shook from the aftershock.
I doubled over her, letting my forehead rest on her back as we came down. 
When I pulled out of her, I watched my seed leak out of her entrance like white tears. I plugged it with my fingers, burrowing deep inside of her, and she gasped.
“Dragonseed is precious,” I rumbled into her ear. “Would not want it to go to waste.” I kissed her temple.
“Tepagon aōha dārys iā dārilaros, dōna ābrazȳrys.” (Give your king an heir, sweet wife)
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reilemon · 1 month ago
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𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Possession 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪
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♡︎ synopsis: You move into an abandoned mansion looking for a fresh start. Little did you know you're not the only one living there.
♡︎ pairing: demon!Sylus x fem!reader
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♡︎ cw: restraints, corruption (if you squint), breathplay
♡︎ word count: 10k
♡︎ a/n: the fourth story for kinktober 2024.
♡︎ Thanks to my dearest friend and beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for helping.
divider by @cafekitsune
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The night wraps around you like a vice, pressing down on your skin. Every breath feels heavier than the last as the low, eerie hum seeps into your bones. The melody is fractured, broken, sung by something that doesn’t understand human warmth. It’s wrong, so wrong, and the more you hear it, the harder it is to pretend that everything is normal.
You sit up in bed, the silk of your nightgown sticking to your skin, cold sweat beading along your neck and back. You strain your ears to listen, catching every sound the house makes—the creak of floorboards, the low groan of the wind clawing at the windows. But beneath it, that humming persists, growing clearer.
A footstep.
The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Something is walking—no, pacing—just beyond your bedroom door, almost as though it knows you're listening.
You tell yourself, ‘this is ridiculous’. You’ve lived here almost two weeks, nothing dangerous has happened.
Two weeks living in this forgotten, decaying mansion. At first, the isolation felt like a cure, a place where you could finally breathe after years of soul-sucking work. The realtor had been so eager to sell it. You remember that first visit—dust motes swirling in the dim afternoon light, the scent of mildew hanging in the air. The long-abandoned estate was priced absurdly low for such a massive property. You had asked about its history, about the family that owned it. “Old money,” the realtor said dismissively. “They never even lived here, not really. They’re eager to get rid of it.”
You pressed her—why would they abandon a mansion like this? She’d shrugged, evasive. “Just one of those things, you know? Big house, lots of upkeep. Not practical anymore.” She'd forced a smile, deflecting. “People want something more modern these days.”
At the time, you didn’t care. You wanted solitude, escape, a place to start over after the chaos of your previous life.
In the first week, you brushed off the oddities. The strange cold spots in the halls, the faint scent of smoke that seemed to come from nowhere, the occasional flickering of the old lights. You reasoned ‘the house is just old, settling’. Maybe it was the stress from the move, or just the overwhelming quiet after years of city life.
But then, things became harder to dismiss.
You remember waking up one night to the sound of soft whispers, like voices just beyond your door. You convinced yourself it was a dream, that you were still half-asleep, that your mind was playing tricks on you. But when you opened the door, the hall was filled with an icy draft, despite every window being locked tight. Your skin prickled with the unmistakable feeling of being watched.
With every night, your paranoia has grown. You’ve stopped sleeping through the night. Every creak, every gust of wind outside feels like a threat. The humming has become a nightly occurrence —soft at first, almost melodic, but it twists, becomes distorted. And tonight, the footsteps. They’re louder. Closer.
You sit there for too long, your mind racing. Each beat of your heart pounds in your throat as you try to summon some logic to ground you. ‘There has to be an explanation’. You’re not some helpless woman in a cliché horror movie. You won’t let fear consume you.
But the footsteps stop, right outside the door. And in that moment, the air feels too thick to breathe.
Fuck.
You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, the cold floor shocking against your bare feet, dragging you out of paralysis. The silk robe slides over your shoulders, its fabric a poor defense against the dread crawling up your spine. You move slowly, the wooden floor beneath you creaking with each step toward the door. Your fingers hover over the handle for a moment, hesitation making your hand shake.
‘It’s just a draft’, you tell yourself, though the words feel hollow. ‘Just the old house’.
You open the door. You swallow, flipping the light switch with a trembling hand, lighting the empty hallway. The old bulbs buzz and flicker before casting their weak glow, but the light feels sickly. You take a deep breath, forcing your legs to move, fingers brushing along the wall as though the contact will somehow steady you. With every step, the hum grows fainter, retreating deeper into the house, drawing you further from the safety of your room.
The sitting room’s light flickers as you pass, casting distorted shapes along the walls. The silence between the hums stretches, amplifying the creaks and groans of the house around you.
The dining room is next. You hesitate at the threshold, your breath hitching as the light stutters overhead, threatening to plunge you into darkness again. But it holds, if only just. The hum is still distant, still teasing, but now there's something else—something heavier beneath it. A low, barely audible rasping breath, like the sound of something alive, breathing with you.
Your hand grazes the light switch to the kitchen, fingers trembling. The moment the light flares to life, it dies.
The room plunges into complete darkness. A thick, suffocating blackness that feels like it’s crawling over your skin. Your pulse spikes, cold panic flooding your veins. The hum is gone now—replaced by the unmistakable feeling that something is in there, waiting, watching.
A faint whisper—right next to your ear, soft and malicious—sends a scream clawing up your throat, but you bite it back, too terrified to make a sound.
‘Move. Move, now.’
You stumble backward. The floor seems to shift beneath you as you flee towards the stairs. You crash into the bedroom, your breath ragged, chest heaving. You slam the door shut with a resounding thud, and the thin wood feels too fragile, too weak to keep anything out. You press your back against it, gripping the doorknob with trembling fingers, your raging heartbeat thrumming in your ears. You stand there, frozen, waiting for something else to happen. But nothing does. No footsteps, no whispers, no movement beyond the door. Just stillness.
You exhale, forcing yourself to unclench your hands from the doorknob, willing your body to stop shaking. ‘Get a grip’, you tell yourself, trying to suppress the waves of panic that threaten to consume you. You're not going to lose your mind over this. ‘It's just the stress. That’s all.’ The isolation, the strangeness of living alone in such a vast, decrepit place—it’s been messing with your head. You force your breathing to slow, sucking in deep, calming gulps of air.
Pushing away from the door, you cross the room and sit on the bed, retreating back into the sheets. It’s late—too late to do anything about it now—but in the morning, you’ll change every lock in this mansion. No more creaky doors, no more unlocked windows. You’ll seal every inch of this place if you have to. And you’ll call Tara. She’d laugh at you at first, no doubt. She teased you for choosing to live in such a remote, old house. "You’re gonna end up starring in one of those haunted house stories," she'd said, half-joking. You smile weakly, despite the dread gnawing at your gut. It’s time to take her up on her offer to visit. Tomorrow, you’ll call her.
Lying back on the bed, you try to focus on the plan—changing locks, calling Tara. You’ll handle this like you handle everything. The house creaks softly, as if responding to your newfound resolve. You ignore it, pulling the sheets up over your face, the fabric cool against your skin. ‘Sleep’, you tell yourself. ‘You need sleep’.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
The next day arrives sluggishly. You barely slept through the night, but daylight always brings a faint sense of hope. You push yourself out of bed, running through the motions, pretending for a moment that everything is normal.
Tara arrives just after lunch. You open the front door for her, her playful smile greeting you. But it quickly fades when her eyes catch the tension in your shoulders, the dullness of your skin. "You look like hell." You want to make a joke or a clever comeback in return, but the weight of the last two weeks presses too heavily on you. So you just let her in. You’ve told her over the phone this morning already, but now you tell her everything in more detail. You tell her about the footsteps, the humming, the cold spots. How the house doesn’t feel right.
"Okay," Tara says after a moment, her brows furrowing. "I’m not saying I believe in all that, but I’ve read enough ghost stories to know we don’t mess around with this kind of thing. I brought something." She reaches into her bag and pulls out a bundle of sage. "We’ll burn this. Clears out bad energy, or at least it’s supposed to. Couldn’t hurt, right?"
You stare at the bundle for a moment, feeling both ridiculous and relieved. Maybe it’s silly, but she is right, it can’t hurt to try. "Thanks," you mutter, trying to smile.
"And I’ll ask around, see if anyone knows a good priest," Tara adds, her tone light again, though you can hear the genuine concern beneath it. "Someone could come over and bless the place, right? If nothing else, it’ll give you peace of mind."
You nod, though part of you still feels absurd for even considering it. Together, you and Tara walk through the house, lighting the sage. The oppressive weight that has been weighting you down lifts, just slightly. The creaking stops, the cold spots seem to fade, and for the first time in days, you feel like you can breathe.
"See? Not so bad," Tara says, giving you a reassuring smile. "It already feels better in here. Maybe that’s all it needed—some good ol’ sage and positive vibes."
You nod, grateful, feeling a spark of hope. Maybe this is all it took. Maybe that’s the end of it.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
That night, you follow your routine, trying to remain calm. You lock every door, check every window, twice, and make sure nothing is out of place. By the time you slip into bed, you’re exhausted. You lie there in the dark, the cool sheets against your skin, your eyes slowly fluttering closed.
But in the depths of the mansion, something stirs. The energy has changed, shifted. The air hums with a barely-contained agitation, a dark presence swirling in the corners, crawling through the walls. It had been watching you, waiting. And now, with the sage burned and the mention of a priest, it’s no longer content to simply watch.
A sound pulls you back from the edge of sleep. You freeze, straining to listen. At first, it’s faint, like distant laughter. It’s low, dark, amused, seeping through the room as though it’s mocking your very presence here. You sit up abruptly, your pulse spiking. The laugh is gone, but the air feels colder now. The wind outside picks up, slapping against the windows, and then—you hear it. A loud, sharp caw. A crow’s cry, shrill and eerie, slicing through the still night air. You turn your head toward the window, expecting to see its shape perched on the sill, but there’s nothing there, just the empty darkness beyond the glass.
‘It’s just a bird’, you tell yourself. ‘Just a bird’.
But then the footsteps start again.
They’re louder this time. Not like before when you could pretend it was just the old floorboards shifting. No, these are deliberate. Heavy. The distinct sound of boots on wood, moving slowly down the hallway outside your bedroom. Each step echoes through the house, growing louder, closer, until they stop right outside your door. You can feel your pulse in your throat, every instinct screaming at you to stay in bed, to not make a sound. But the silence is oppressive. You can’t just lie here anymore. You push yourself up on shaky legs, feet hitting the cold floor as you move toward the door, your hand hovering over the knob like before. But this time, you don’t need to open it.
The door swings open on its own.
Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, everything is still. The dark hallway stretches before you, stretching into nothingness. But then, at the far end, you see it—a faint, flickering glow. A dim, blood-red light. It pulses, stronger with each passing second, growing brighter, sharper. Your chest tightens as the glow intensifies. You swallow hard, a cold sweat forming on the back of your neck as the realization hits you that this—whatever it is—isn’t something you can ignore.
“Who… who are you?” you stammer, your voice trembling, barely above a whisper. “What do you want?”
The red glow flickers, focusing on you. You feel it in the air around you. The presence you’ve been denying, the thing that’s been watching, waiting. Now you’ve acknowledged it. It begins to solidify, drawing closer. The figure takes form—broad shoulders, a tall, towering frame. And then, his face. Sharp, defined features, red eyes, and silver hair. His gaze locks onto you, and it feels like he’s peering into the deepest, darkest parts of your soul.
You stumble back, heart racing, unable to comprehend what you’re seeing. This can’t be real. This has to be some nightmare. But he’s there, standing before you, fully formed—real.
“I’ve been waiting,” he says, his voice deep.
You stand frozen, every inch of you trembling. This isn’t some ghost story, some figment of your imagination. You take a step back, your legs weak, heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst out of your chest. “W-waiting for what?” you manage to choke out, though your voice barely rises above a whisper.
His smirk widens. “For you to understand,” he says softly, his tone almost condescending. He takes a step closer and the floor creaks under the weight of his boots, the sound amplified in the eerie silence of the mansion. “This place… it’s mine. Always has been.”
You stumble backward again, your mind racing, desperate for some way to rationalize this. But you can’t. The thing standing in front of you isn’t human. “I don’t understand,” you whisper, shaking your head. “What do you want? Why are you here?”
He laughs softly at that, a low, dark chuckle. “I am not the intruder here,” he says, his voice dripping with amusement. “You are.” His eyes narrow, the humor fading, replaced with a cold, hard edge. “This house, this mansion, has been mine for centuries. I’ve seen generations come and go, trying to claim it as their own.”
You’re barely holding on, fear coursing through you. “Who… who are you?” you ask again, though now your voice is almost a plea.
He leans in, his face close enough now that you can smell the faint scent of something burning, something ancient. “I am Sylus. This house… my house… it’s been mine longer than you can imagine. And you—" His gaze sharpens. "You’ve been tampering with things you shouldn’t."
He steps back. "I’ll give you a chance. Pack your things. Leave." His words are like a command, absolute, and it makes your chest tighten.
Something in you snaps.
The fear, the dread that’s been building for days—it all crashes into something else, something raw and angry. You clench your fists. Leave? After everything? You’ve fought too hard to be told to just give up.
"No," you say, your voice trembling, though whether it’s from fear or anger, you’re not sure. His smirk widens, a dark chuckle escaping his lips as if amused by your defiance. "No?" he repeats, the word dripping with condescension, as though your resistance is nothing more than a child’s tantrum to him.
But you’re not done. "It’s not fair," you continue, and you can feel the flood of emotions you’ve been holding back surging forward. "I worked for this. You don’t get to tell me to leave!" Your voice rises, trembling with frustration. You can feel your eyes burning with unshed tears. "I can’t just… pack up and go?! This place was supposed to be my fresh start!"
Sylus’ amusement falters. He was expecting fear. Submission. Not this. Not the raw emotion pouring out of you.
You take a shaky breath, your words tumbling out now unfiltered. "I’ve given up everything! My life was a wreck before I came here. I had no friends, no purpose, nothing.” Tears sting your eyes, but you don’t stop, the anger blending with exhaustion. "This place was supposed to be my dream," you whisper, your voice cracking. "And now you’re telling me to leave? After everything I’ve been through?”
Sylus says nothing for a long moment. He stands there, watching you with an intensity that feels almost suffocating, the mocking air that surrounded him fading as something shifts in his expression. His tail, once flicking in amusement, goes still. He opens his mouth, perhaps to laugh, to mock you again, but no sound comes out. Something about your defiance, your honesty, seems to catch him off guard. He had expected you to cower, to run, to tremble at his mere presence. Instead, you’re standing here, pouring your soul out in front of him.
The room is silent.
 Sylus’ gaze doesn’t leave yours. "You think your struggles give you claim to this place?" His voice is softer now, almost contemplative. "You’re not the first to come here, seeking something better. But none of them stayed for long."
You don’t back down. "I’m not them," You say quietly. "I’m not running."
Sylus watches you for a long moment, his sharp features unreadable. Finally, he speaks, his tone more subdued, more thoughtful. "You have spirit, I’ll give you that." You stand there, still trembling, but something in the air feels different now. Sylus, for all his power, doesn’t seem as dismissive as he did before. He turns around, giving you one last glance over his shoulder before disappearing into the shadows. "Don’t bring a priest. Don’t burn any more sage. Consider this a warning.”
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
For the first time in what feels like an eternity, the nights are quiet.
After the tense confrontation with Sylus, after his warning and your emotional outburst, something shifted. You still feel him—his presence lingers in the mansion like a shadow that never quite leaves—but it's no longer oppressive.For several nights now, you’ve slept soundly, undisturbed by the creaks of the floorboards or the strange hum echoing through the halls. And though you sometimes catch a glimpse of movement in the shadows, Sylus doesn’t show himself. It’s as if he’s made a quiet, unspoken truce with you, staying out of your way—for now.
A week passes, and the mansion almost feels… peaceful. Maybe it’s the quiet, maybe it’s the way you’ve started to make the space your own despite his warnings. You’ve begun to settle in, unpacking more boxes, putting things in order, reclaiming the mansion in small ways.
One evening, you decide to tackle the attic. You pull the creaky ladder down and climb, your flashlight casting light across the wooden beams and piles of forgotten items. The air is thick with dust, and the faint smell of mildew hangs in the air. Boxes are piled high, old trunks and forgotten furniture clutter the space, draped in old sheets. You take a deep breath, brushing away cobwebs as you start sorting through the old belongings. It’s mostly junk—old letters, tarnished trinkets, broken ceramic figurines. But then you open a wooden music box and your eyes immediately land on something shiny.
A brooch.
It’s in the shape of a raven, carved from some kind of dark metal, accompanied by a large red gemstone. The moment your fingers brush against it, the air in the attic grows thick. You can feel a chill crawl up your spine as you lift the brooch, turning it over in your hand, examining the beautiful craftsmanship.
That’s when you hear him.
"Put it back."
You whirl around, and there he is—Sylus. His red eye glows brighter than usual, flickering with barely contained agitation. His tall frame looms over you, his tail flicks behind him, tense, snapping in the air like a whip.
You freeze, the brooch still in your hand. "Why?" you ask, your voice quieter than you intended.
"That doesn’t belong to you," Sylus growls. He takes a step closer. "Put it back in the box. Now."
Slowly, carefully, you place the brooch back into the wooden music box. The moment you do, you can feel the tension in the room ease. Sylus watches, his eyes never leaving the brooch until it's safely out of sight. His broad shoulders relax, his tail flicking behind him in a slower, more measured rhythm.
"Why does it matter so much?" you ask, genuinely curious.
He doesn’t answer right away, his gaze lingering on the closed music box. When he finally speaks, his voice is softer, more guarded, as though he’s choosing his words carefully. "It was made for someone. No one should be touching it."
There’s a story there, buried deep beneath his cold exterior, but he’s not offering it to you.
You swallow, feeling the weight of his words settle in your chest. Your mind spins with possibilities, but you keep your thoughts to yourself, not wanting to pry further into something clearly painful. Instead, you glance at the music box, not daring to touch it again. Its melody feels strangely familiar. You pause, recognizing the tune—the same haunting melody you’ve heard in the dark, late at night.
"Is this… the song you’ve been humming?" you ask carefully, lifting your gaze to meet his.
His eyes narrow, but there’s no anger there. He doesn’t answer immediately, but after a long silence, he gives a short nod. "It is."
A soft breath escapes you, and you can’t help the small smile. "Well," you say, your tone a little lighter "you’re always off-key." The words slip out before you can stop them, and for a moment, you freeze, wondering if you’ve crossed a line—if teasing a demon was, perhaps, not your smartest move.
Sylus blinks, his expression unreadable at first, but then—he chuckles. The sound is rough, almost rusty, as though it’s been a long time since he’s allowed himself to find humor in anything. "I didn’t know I had a critic," he mutters with a trace of amusement.
You let out a shaky breath, relieved, but still stunned by the sound of his laughter. You find yourself staring at Sylus, watching the way his red eyes soften, the way the usual predatory edge to him seems to dull, just for a moment. You don’t know what to say, but you don’t need to. Finally, Sylus breaks the silence, his voice quieter, less guarded than before. "Be careful with what you touch in this house," he says, though there’s no threat behind his words, only a quiet warning. "Not everything here belongs to you."
You nod, understanding more than he’s willing to say. "I didn’t mean to…" you trail off, unsure how to finish the sentence.
His gaze lingers on you for a moment, the faintest smile on his lips. "I know." And with that, he turns, his figure dissolving into the shadows of the attic, leaving you alone once more.
But this time, the air doesn’t feel so heavy. The mansion doesn’t feel so hostile.
And Sylus doesn’t feel like a demon lurking in the dark anymore.
For the first time, he feels like someone who’s been through more than you could possibly imagine. Someone who’s carrying the weight of loss and pain for centuries. And somehow, despite everything, you’ve seen a glimpse of something human in him.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
The days that followed felt different. The mansion, though still steeped in its eerie silence, seemed to breathe a little easier. Sylus, who had always been a constant, brooding presence in the shadows, began to make himself known in new ways. You would be working around the house—organizing a room, fixing up old furniture, unpacking boxes—and you’d feel him. A brush of air, the faintest warmth at your back.
He never fully revealed himself during the day, not at first. But there were brief moments, when you’d catch a glimpse of him—standing in the doorway, his red eye glowing faintly before he slipped away, or a flash of silver hair in the corner of your vision. And slowly, he started to help.
At first, it was subtle. You’d be struggling to move a piece of furniture, and when you turned around to grab something for leverage, it had already shifted into place, as if someone had pushed it for you. Tools you needed would be mysteriously laid out before you reached for them. And sometimes, when you lost track of time working on a project, you’d find a fire already lit in the fireplace before the chill of the evening would creep in.
One afternoon, you were standing on a chair in the kitchen, trying to reach a high cabinet when you suddenly lost your balance. Before you could even cry out, you felt strong hands on your waist, steadying you, with a firm grip. You turned to find Sylus standing there, his lips curled into that familiar smirk.
"Careful, kitten," he murmured, his voice low and teasing.
Kitten. The word caught you off guard, and you blinked at him. Something about the way he said it—so casually, yet with a hint of affection—left you speechless. He had called you ‘kitten’ like it was the most natural thing in the world. You didn’t mind the new nickname. Not at all.
The touches became more frequent, intentional. When you passed each other in narrow hallways, his hand would brush against your arm, or his fingers would trail along your back. Every touch would make your heart flutter, your cheeks heat up.
One evening, your muscles ached after hours of working tirelessly around the mansion. You sat by the fire, sipping tea in an attempt to relax. The room was quiet, except for the crackling of the fire, but then you felt it—his presence. Sylus was watching you from the doorway.
“You’ve been pushing yourself,” he said, his voice smooth like velvet. His eyes focused on your hand as it pressed against your shoulder, kneading the sore muscle.
“Maybe a little,” you replied, leaning back into the chair, letting your eyes close for just a second. “But I can handle it.”
Sylus chuckled softly. “You don’t always have to be so stubborn.” He leaned in closer, standing next to you. “Let me help.” His hand rested lightly on your shoulder, his touch warm.
For a moment, you hesitated, but the ache in your muscles urged you to accept. You gave a small nod and turned your back to him. He moved closer, his hands resting fully on your shoulders now. You could feel the strength in them through the thin fabric of your shirt. His fingers dug in gently, working into the tight muscles with a careful yet firm pressure. You let out a small sigh of relief, the tension starting to ease under his touch.
But then his hands moved more slowly, the pads of his fingers tracing over your skin in a way that felt… intimate. The soft kneading of your muscles became something more, his thumbs pressing into the knots in your back with expert precision. You couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped your lips, your body instinctively leaning into his touch, craving the release from the pain.
“You like that?” Sylus murmured, his voice low, teasing as his hands moved lower. Your breath hitched as his fingers worked their magic, easing the soreness out of your muscles. It was impossible to ignore the way his hands felt against your body, the way each touch made your skin tingle.
“You’re so tense,” he muttered, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in.
You swallowed hard, your mind spinning. His hands on your body, the heat of his breath against your neck—it all felt overwhelming. Every touch sent a spark of electricity through you, and though the massage had started innocently enough, there was no mistaking the shift in energy between you. As his hands moved lower, brushing dangerously close to your hips, you could feel the warmth pooling in your lower belly.
Flustered, you quickly pulled away, standing up from the chair before things could escalate any further. “Th-thank you for the massage,” you stammered. You could feel your face flushing and you didn’t dare look him in the eye.
Sylus leaned back slightly, his lips pulling into that knowing smirk. “Of course,”
You took a small step back. “I think I’ll just… take a hot bath before bed,” Without waiting for his response, you turned and made your way toward the bedroom. The heat in your cheeks only grew worse as you walked away, your legs feeling like they might give out from the mixture of embarrassment and the lingering effects of his touch. You felt his eyes on you, taking in every movement, the subtle sway of your hips as you retreated to the safety of your room.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
The phone call left you feeling strange—half-flattered, half-disconnected. A friend of a friend, someone from your old life, asked you out on a date. You politely declined, giving some excuse about being too busy, about focusing on your new home. But that’s not entirely true. The call was a reminder of the life you left behind, and the strange new one you found here.
You sigh, setting the phone down and reaching for the bottle of wine you opened earlier. Pouring yourself a glass, you settle into the sofa and pick up a book. You sip the wine, letting the tension of the day slip away as you open the book. But it’s not quiet for long.
The air shifts, and before you even look up, you feel that familiar presence. Sylus arrives without a sound, as he always does.
With a smile, you lookup from your book. "Care to join me for a drink?" you ask as you raise your glass to him. Although you aren’t sure if demons even can drink.
He chuckles softly, his boots making the faintest sound as he crosses the room to stand beside you. "I haven’t tasted wine in centuries," he admits.
You tilt your head. "So you don’t eat? Or drink?"
Sylus shrugs, "I haven’t needed to," he says simply, but there is something in his tone—an almost wistful note. "I suppose I could try."
You laugh softly, offering him your glass. "Here, then. Let’s see if you still can."
Sylus hesitates for a moment, but then, with a slight shake of his head, he accepts your offer. He takes a small sip, tasting the wine before swallowing.
"Well?" you ask with a smile. "Can you taste it?"
Sylus’s lips curve into an amused smirk. "I can taste it," he says and takes another sip. He makes a face, mockingly disappointed, and returns the glass to you. "I think you should buy yourself something nicer," he teases. "This is a bit cheap."
You snort, playfully rolling your eyes. "Of course you have an expensive taste."
Sylus chuckles. But then, the relaxed expression changes to a serious one. "Who was on the phone earlier?"
You hesitate for a moment, your fingers tightening around your wineglass. "Just someone from my old life." Sylus raises an eyebrow, and you feel compelled to continue. “Asked me out on a date, but I declined.”
You avoid his gaze, but you can feel Sylus watching you. "Why did you decline?" he asks, his voice low. "You’ve been here for months. You don’t get out much. Why not say yes?"
You swallow, trying to gather your thoughts. The truth is too heavy, too tangled, and you aren’t ready to admit it, not even to yourself.
"You’re one to talk," you say raising an eyebrow and mustering a playful tone. "If anyone’s used to solitude, it’s you. You’ve been alone for centuries—I think I can manage a little bit of solitude for a few months."
“Touché.” he chuckles. His gaze turns towards the flickering flames of the fireplace, “But solitude… it wears on you. You might think it’s peace, but after a while, it starts to feel more like a cage.”
The words sink into you, unsettling. But, before you can respond, a question begins to form at the back of your mind, heavy and uncomfortable. Was he truly alone all this time? Were there others before you, drawn into the same dark intensity of his presence? What if this isn’t new for him—this attraction, this electricity between you? What if you’re just another fleeting distraction in the long centuries of his existence?
You can’t stand that thought. You want to believe that you’re different, that something about you has made him change, drawn him out of the shadows in ways no one else ever has. But the growing feeling of jealousy won’t let go. Because if he’s been like this before—if there had been others—then what does that make you?
You take a deep breath, shoving these feelings aside. You feel foolish for letting your mind even go there. The two of you are just co-existing, just roommates in a weird way.
You glance at the clock on the mantel. “Oh,” you say, your voice a little too bright, “look at the time. The movie I wanted to watch is about to start.” You grab the TV remote, as if turning on the television can stop the thoughts from spiraling out of control.
Sylus doesn’t miss your deflection. He never does. “Another distraction?” he asks. He could sense your agitation, your mind wandering somewhere.
You shoot him a look, but the teasing edge in his voice makes your heart flutter. “Do you want to watch it with me?” you ask, trying to sound casual. “It’s about to start. I know how much you love TV,” you add with a playful glance his way. You know how fascinated he is with television, even though he’ll never admit it.
Sylus arches an eyebrow, and for a moment, you think he might decline. But then he stands and settles beside you on the sofa. He’s close—too close.
“I suppose I can indulge you,” he says. “Though, if this movie’s as boring as the last one you picked, I can’t promise I’ll stay.” His arm rests casually along the back of the sofa, and you can feel the heat radiating from him, even though he’s not touching you.
You smirk, rolling your eyes as you flip through the channels until you find the movie. “I’m sure it’ll hold your attention, Sylus,” you shoot back, though your mind is still racing, the earlier doubts lingering in your mind.
The movie begins, and for the first few moments, everything seems normal. It’s a late-night thriller, with captivating plot and ominous music. You let yourself sink into the sofa, grateful for the distraction, but the comfort doesn’t last long. About halfway through, the movie takes an unexpected turn. The tension between the characters on screen snaps, and suddenly, they’re in a dimly lit bedroom, their bodies pressed together. The soft, breathy moans fill the room, while the scene of naked bodies rolls on the screen.
Your breath hitches, and you fumble for the remote, your fingers shaking slightly as you try to find the button to change the channel. “I didn’t know it would… turn into this,” you mutter, clearly flustered.
Sylus snatches the remote from your hands. “Don’t change the channel.” His eyes are on the screen, amusement plastered over his face. Heat floods your cheeks, your heart racing as the sounds from the screen grow more intimate. You can feel Sylus shifting beside you, his arm still resting along the back of the sofa, his fingers just inches from your shoulder.
You try to focus, try to steer your mind away from the images on the screen. And then the uncomfortable question shows its ugly head again.
Had there been someone else?
You’re not sure what you are to him. You’re not sure if you’re just another passing moment in his long, endless existence.
You can’t think about that. You need to clear your head.
Sylus laughs as a relieved sigh leaves your lips when the steamy scene ends, and you can’t help but laugh a little with him.
You make a mental note to call the man from earlier. You’ll call him in the morning, when Sylus is resting, and try to schedule the date after all. Maybe it’ll help clear your head, help you sort through the tangled mess of emotions that has built up since you moved into this mansion, since Sylus slithered his way into your life.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
The next day, you had avoided Sylus all morning, deliberately keeping yourself busy with small tasks that didn’t require much thought—dusting the bookshelves, scrubbing the kitchen counters, tending to the plants. But no matter what you did, you still felt him. Normally, you’d catch a glimpse of him here or there, a shadow slipping through the hallway or leaning against the doorway, finding any chance to tease you. But today, you avoided those moments, slipping out of rooms just before he appeared.
You tried to escape the gnawing feeling of guilt as well.
The call you’d made earlier in the morning had gone smoothly. The man had been more than happy to hear from her again. You agreed on the time and even though he was willing to pick you up, you insisted to meet at the restaurant. The conversation was light and sweet. But as soon as you hung up, a part of you regretted it. Even though you shouldn’t have.
After lunch, you retreated into the safety of your bedroom. You took your time getting ready —something you hadn’t done in a long time.The hours dragged on, and you continued to stay in your room, pacing, glancing at your reflection in the mirror - the tight dress is flattering, accentuating your curves. You set aside high heels that made your legs long and irresistible. You still had time to kill, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave the room. You didn’t want to face Sylus. Not yet. The thoughts of last night still weighed heavily on you—the tension during the movie, the heat of his body next to yours, how you craved his touch.
Then, a knock at the door.
You freeze, your breath catching in your throat. Sylus never knocks. He never enters your bedroom, to give you some semblance of privacy.
"Are you alright?" You can hear genuine concern in his voice from the other side of the door. "You've been in there for a while."
You hesitate, heart racing. Part of you wants to tell him to go away, to keep the distance you’d been trying so hard to create today. But the sound of his voice makes your chest tighten. You swallow, steeling yourself before you answer.
"Come in." Why did you tell him to come in?
The door creaks open slowly, and as Sylus steps into the room, you can see the brief flash of surprise on his face—the way his red eyes widen as he takes you in. For a moment, he says nothing, his gaze sweeping over you, lingering on the curve of your hips, the way fabric of the dress clings to your body.
"Well," he finally says, his voice low. "I thought something was wrong… that you weren’t feeling well. Or that you were avoiding me."
There’s something about the way he says it, the flicker of concern behind his usual teasing, that touches you. You force a smile. "I wasn’t avoiding you," you lie. "I just… took my time to getting ready."
Sylus steps closer, his eyes over you again, savoring every detail. Then, his expression softens. "You look beautiful," he says, the words slipping from his lips with surprising tenderness.
The compliment stuns you. Of all the things you expected from him—teasing, possessiveness, maybe even anger—this was the last. You open your mouth to say something, but no words come out. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you stare back at him, unsure how to react.
He doesn’t let you recover, though. He steps even closer, his gaze holding yours, and he adds, "You always do."
His words are so sincere. You swallow hard, forcing yourself to find your voice, "Thank you," the words are barely audible, your heart still racing from the weight of his gaze.
Then his lips pull into that teasing smirk. "So, you are going on that date after all?"
You feel your stomach twist at his words. “Yes, I’m going on a date.”
Sylus steps closer, his towering form closing in on you with that familiar, quiet intensity. Your heart races as he moves forward, and instinctively, you step back. But he doesn’t stop. With each step he takes, you find yourself moving backward, the space shrinking, guiding you slowly toward the edge of your bed.
“Why the sudden change of heart?” he asks, his voice low and laced with that dangerous amusement.
You swallow, trying to stay composed. “You’re the one who suggested it,” you say, hoping that your words don’t betray the storm of emotions inside.
He smirks, clearly not fooled by your attempt to steer the conversation away. His gaze never leaves yours as he steps even closer, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek, sending a shiver across your skin. “Is that so?” his tone is almost taunting, “If that’s what you want - to go out… to have fun with someone else… then you should.”
His words hang in the air, but the way he says it—the challenge, the possessiveness barely veiled—makes it feel like anything but permission. His fingers trace down from your cheek, slowly grazing your jawline before trailing to your throat, where they rest lightly, just enough to make your pulse race under his touch. But it’s the way his tail moves—sliding up the back of your leg, curling around your thigh—that sends a wave of heat flooding through you. It lingers there, teasing, the smooth, firm pressure making your legs tremble.
 “You can say the word,” he whispers, leaning in just enough that his breath brushes your lips, his eyes never breaking contact with yours. “If you want me to stop, to keep my distance… just say it.”
His tail continues its slow, deliberate trail over your skin. The air feels thick, suffocating, as you stand there, torn between your desire for something normal, and the undeniable pull of the dark, dangerous connection between you and him.
The silence stretches, thick with tension as Sylus waits, his lips so close to yours. His gaze locks onto yours, waiting, daring you to speak. But your throat is dry, your breath caught somewhere between fear and desire, and no words come. You can’t say it. You don’t want him to stop. And Sylus knows it.
"You’re not stopping me," he murmurs. His tail tightens its grip on your thigh, its smooth length curling higher, the teasing pressure sending a wave of arousal through your body.
Your knees buckle, your body trembling under the weight of his presence. You stumble, falling back onto the bed, but before you can even react, Sylus’ hands are there—gripping your waist, guiding you down gently so the landing is soft. The bed creaks as he follows, his hands and knees resting on either side of you, caging you in.
His eyes are dark and hungry as they roam over your body, taking in the way your chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, the way your lips part in anticipation. His hand slides up to cup your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your bottom lip, teasing, making you crave more.
"You belong to me," Sylus whispers. With that, he finally closes the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a slow kiss. In that moment, everything else falls away—the date, the outside world, the fear of what’s happening between you. All that matters is Sylus.
The kiss deepens, your body melting into the bed as Sylus’ lips press harder against yours, his tongue slipping past your parted lips, swirling with yours leaving you breathless. His teeth graze your bottom lip, biting down just hard enough to make you gasp. Your hands are buried in his silver locks, trembling as his kiss grows hungrier, more urgent. But before you can pull him closer, Sylus breaks the kiss. Slowly, he reaches down, his fingers grazing the straps of your dress and bra before tugging them down your shoulders, exposing your breasts to the cool air. He slides one hand up, gripping both of your wrists in a firm, yet careful hold. He lifts your hands, pinning them above your head against the soft sheets.
"Do you trust me?" he asks with softness in his voice.
The question catches you off guard. You swallow hard, your throat tight as you whisper, "Yes."
Sylus’ eyes flicker with a flash of satisfaction, and before you can process what’s happening, the space around your wrists tightens. You glance up and see the dark tendrils of magic winding around your wrists, binding them together. The energy pulses softly, not painful, but firm—like his touch. Your pulse quickens as you realize just how vulnerable you are beneath him, your body completely at his mercy. Sylus takes in the sight beneath him, and you can feel the hardness of him pressing against you.
Without another word, he leans down, his lips capturing one of your nipples, his tongue swirling over the sensitive peak. His mouth is hot, teasing, as he licks and sucks at your breast, his hand squeezing the other, rolling the hardened nipple between his fingers with just enough pressure to make you whimper.
As his mouth works your breast, his tail slides up beneath your dress, the smooth length teasing the inside of your thighs. You shudder at the sensation, your body twitching in anticipation as the tip of his tail finally finds its way to your panties, grazing over the damp fabric.
He pulls back slightly, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction as he watches you squirm beneath him. "Look at you," he murmurs, his tail pressing just a little harder against your panties, making you gasp. "So wet already…" The smirk on his lips widens as his tail continues to tease you, the sensation maddening as he presses against your swollen clit through the fabric. Without warning, he pulls the bottom of your dress up over your hips, exposing your lace panties to his hungry gaze. His eyes flicker with a brief flash of jealousy at the sight of the lacy fabric, but then a different look takes over—pride. He is the one who gets to take them off, the one who has you like this.
"Pretty," he says with a teasing edge as his fingers brush over the fabric before gripping the waistband. "But I think I prefer you without these." His tail slides aside, giving way to his hands as he hooks his fingers under the lace and slowly peels your panties down, leaving you bare and exposed to his gaze.
The moment Sylus’ fingers slide between your folds and feel how wet you are, his breath hitches. He can feel the throbbing need building inside him, but he keeps himself steady. He will not lose control. Not yet. A wicked smirk plays on his lips as he teases you, his fingers gliding lightly over your entrance, brushing against your clit just enough to send shocks of pleasure through you. You whine, your hips bucking instinctively against his touch.
"Please," you whisper, your voice breaking with desperation, your wrists still bound above your head as you tug uselessly against the restraints. The heat between your legs is unbearable, and every teasing stroke of his fingers makes it worse.
Sylus leans in closer, his lips brushing your ear as he coos softly. "Tell me what you need," His fingers continuing their torturous, feather-light touches. "I want to hear you say it."
Your body trembles beneath him, and for a moment, you hesitate, the embarrassment battling with the overwhelming need. But the feel of his fingers stroking you, teasing you, is too much, and your voice wavers as you whisper, "I… I need you inside me. Please."
The smirk on his lips widens. "Good girl." He leans back, straightening up, and in one fluid motion, he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it aside.
Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him. His body is incredible—broad, muscular shoulders leading down to a strong, toned chest and perfectly defined abs. You can’t tear your eyes away as Sylus’ hands moved to the waistband of his pants, the motion enhancing the muscles and veins of his arms. His gaze never leaves yours as he slowly pulls down his pants and underwear, just enough to free his cock. Your eyes widen at the sight of it—thick, long, and already leaking with precum. The sheer size of him makes your heart race with a mix of excitement and nervousness, and for a moment, doubt creeps in. ‘How am I going to take that?’ you swallow hard as you look up at him.
Sylus notices the flicker of worry in your eyes, and a smug grin tugs at the corners of his lips. "Don’t worry," his voice is laced with amusement as he wraps his hand around his length, stroking himself slowly. His eyes lock onto yours as he kneels between your legs, his fingers sliding back down between your thighs, teasing your dripping pussy again. "I know you can take it"
Sylus positions himself between your legs, his eyes fixed on you as he lines himself up with your entrance. His cock presses against your slick folds, the thick head nudging inside, eliciting a whimper from your lips. You’re trembling, but the weight of his body and the heat radiating off him keep you anchored.
“Relax, darling,” his voice is soothing as he strokes your thigh. His gaze is soft as he watches your reactions.
Slowly, carefully, he pushes forward, easing himself inside. The stretch makes you gasp. It stings, just a little, but there’s a dizzying pleasure that follows it, a heat that courses through you as he fills you inch by inch. Your breath is shallow, and you squeeze your eyes shut, overwhelmed by how full you feel, how intense it is.
“Angel,” Sylus growls softly, his voice thick with desire as he pauses, halfway in, letting your body adjust to the stretch. “Look at me.”
You bite your lip, too lost in the sensation to bring yourself to open your eyes. That’s when you feel his hand slide up to your neck with a firm grip, forcing you to meet his gaze.
“Eyes on me,” he orders, his voice soft but commanding, his thumb brushing against your pulse point. “I want to watch your face as I slide inside you. I want to see how beautiful you look.”
Your eyes flutter open, and the intensity of his gaze nearly steals your breath. His red eyes burn with a mixture of lust and something deeper, something more tender. His fingers tighten slightly around your neck, just enough to keep you grounded, to keep you focused on him. He’s watching you closely as he pushes in deeper, sinking further inside you.
You’re a whimpering mess by the time Sylus finally bottoms out. The stretch makes your head spin, tears prick at the corners of your eyes, spilling over as you gasp beneath him. Sylus notices the tears almost immediately. His gaze softens and his thumb moves from your neck to gently wipe them away, the pads of his fingers tender against your flushed cheeks.
“Shh, darling,” His thumb swipes over your skin, catching a tear before it falls. “I’ve got you. You’re doing so good, taking me so perfectly.”
His words send a shiver through you, and despite the ache and the fullness, there’s something comforting about his touch, the way he speaks to you. His thumb lingers on your cheek for just a second longer, before he shifts his grip to your waist, pulling you tighter against him. His hips draw back slightly, the head of his cock dragging against your inner walls, sending a shock of pleasure through you.
Sylus groans softly, his voice catching as he feels your slick walls gripping him. He holds himself still for a moment, trying to stay in control, but the truth is, he’s so close to losing it. This is the first time he’s done this since becoming a demon—since being cursed with his immortal body—and the sensation of being inside you, of your tight, wet heat surrounding him, is almost too much. He can’t tell you that, can’t admit that you are the one in control.
He starts to move, his thrusts slow at first, almost careful, but the way your pussy clenches around him makes it impossible for him to hold back. His breath comes in ragged gasps as he thrusts into you, each motion sending ripples of pleasure through your body. “Fuck,” he growls, his voice strained as his hips snap forward again, harder this time. His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your skin. “You feel so good, so fucking good…”
He’s too close, and before he can stop himself, the pleasure overtakes him. After only a few more short, sharp thrusts, he pulls out suddenly, his cock throbbing as hot spurts of cum splash across the skin of your belly.
You’re stunned for a moment. You did not expect him to finish so quickly.
Sylus’ chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, his eyes glinting with a mixture of satisfaction and frustration. He glances down, where his release glistens on your skin, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something like embarrassment in his eyes. He should’ve expected for you to have such an effect on him.
But even as he catches his breath, his cock is still hard. Without a word, he reaches down, his fingers gripping his length, and he guides himself back to your entrance. Your eyes widen as you realize what he’s doing, the lingering warmth of his release still fresh on your skin as he presses the head of his cock against you again. He watches your reaction closely as he slowly pushes back inside you, the wetness of his release mixing with your own arousal as he fills you once more. “I’m not done with you.”
The stretch feels even more intense the second time, your body still sensitive from his earlier thrusts, and a gasp escapes your lips as he slides inside, burying himself deep again. His hips snap against yours, his cock sliding in and out of you with a rhythm that sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body. His hands grip your hips tightly, pulling you closer, deeper with every thrust.
Sylus’ tail snakes around your waist, the smooth, firm length of it tightening as it pulls you flush against him, keeping you pinned beneath his body. His hand moves to your throat again, fingers pressing just enough to make you aware of his control. The pressure sends a thrill through you, intensifying every sensation as he picks up the pace. Each thrust drives him deeper, the head of his cock hitting your sweet spot over and over, making your body tremble with pleasure.
You try to turn your head, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, but Sylus doesn’t let you hide. His grip on your throat tightens just enough to command your attention, as he growls softly, "Look at me, darling."
His fingers slide between your thighs, finding your swollen clit with a precision that sends a jolt of electricity through your body. You’re overwhelmed by the sensation of his thick cock filling you completely, the wet heat of your bodies moving together in sync, and the relentless pressure on your clit. It’s too much, all of it—too intense, too good, too consuming. You try to close your eyes, desperate to escape the intensity of his gaze, but Sylus isn’t having it.
“I said, look at me,” His tail winds tighter around your waist, anchoring you in place. His hips snap against yours, faster, harder, each thrust hitting that sweet spot deep inside you, forcing broken moans from your lips. The fingers move faster, rougher on your clit, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. Your eyes flutter open, locking onto his. You’re teetering on the brink, every nerve in your body on fire. His thick cock slams into you harder, deeper, his fingers relentless on your clit, and your body surrenders completely.
Sylus watches you—his breath ragged, muscles taut, holding back just enough, waiting for you. His hand stays firm on your throat, keeping you grounded, his fingers pushing you towards your peak. He can feel it in the way your walls flutter around his cock, squeezing tighter, and it drives him wild.
"Come for me," he growls, his voice thick with command.
His words are all it takes. Pleasure slams into you, stealing your breath as your body tightens around him. Every pulse, every clench makes the orgasm crash through you in waves so intense that all you can do is cry out, your legs shaking uncontrollably. Your back arches off the bed, but Sylus is there, his hands and tail keeping you pinned beneath him, completely at his mercy. You're helpless, lost in the dizzying sensation, and he holds you tight, letting you ride out every wave.
“That’s it,” he groans, his restraint slipping as he feels you clench around him, your body milking him with every pulse. His voice is rough, almost desperate now. “Just like that, angel. Just like that.”
As you come down from your high, your breath still shaky, you feel the tension of Sylus’ magic keeping your wrists bound above your head. You tug weakly against the restraints, wanting to touch him, to feel his skin beneath your hands, your body aching for the closeness.
“Sylus,” you whisper, your voice soft and hoarse from the intensity of it all, “please… I want to touch you.”
Without hesitation, the dark tendrils of magic around your wrists fade, releasing you. Your arms fall limply to your sides, trembling with exhaustion. But it only takes a moment before you reach up, wrapping your arms around Sylus’ neck, pulling him down into a tight, desperate embrace. The second your hands grip him, your lips find his in a messy, breathless kiss. The taste of him is intoxicating, the heat of his body pressing down on yours offering you comfort.
Sylus groans against your mouth, his hips moving in slow, languid motions, drawing out every ounce of pleasure. His cock fills you completely, each gentle thrust making your body shudder beneath him. His grasp on your hip is almost bruising, his fingers digging into your skin as though holding on to you is the only thing keeping him grounded. But his other hand is soft, cradling the back of your neck with tender care, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.
His lips barely pull away from yours between frantic kisses. "Where... where can I finish?" His voice is strained, and his hips falter for a moment. You can feel the way his body trembles with the effort of holding back. His thrusts begin to quicken, each thrust hitting deeper, the wet sounds of your bodies moving together filling the room.
"Inside," you whisper breathlessly, your voice trembling as your hands tug him closer. "Do whatever you want... I'm yours."
Something in Sylus snaps at your words. His thrusts grow erratic, his body trembling as he reaches his peak, and with one final, deep thrust, he lets go. His release hits him hard, his cock pulsing inside you as he spills, groaning into your neck as the pleasure crashes over him. His grip on you tightens for a moment before his movements slow, his breath heavy and uneven.
As he rides out his high, his lips find yours again, kissing you softly. His hips slow to a gentle, rolling motion, drawing out the last waves of pleasure, but never pulling away. His hand cradles the back of your neck, his thumb brushing tenderly against your skin, while his other hand loosens its hold on your hip, stroking your skin as if to apologize for the bruises he left behind.
"Mine," he whispers against your lips. His forehead rests gently against yours, and you can feel his breath mingling with yours in the stillness that follows. You realize there’s no need for words. Wrapped in his arms, with his silent affection surrounding you, you know this is where you belong.
2K notes · View notes
sooniebby · 5 months ago
Note
hello, if you still take requests, please hear me out
reader is roommates with a guy. a rather hot guy, to be honest
reader is in denial whenever someone asks if he's attracted to his roommate, but it's obvious he is, he can't take his eyes off him... taking quick looks at his crotch...
anyways, unfortunately the room only has one bed, in which they sleep on together. normally, they sleep each on each side of the bed, but tonight, roommate hugs reader from behind, sleeping spooning
reader won't admit, but he's sooo horny. he just lowers his hand and starts jerking off right there and then, careful not to wake roommate up
little does he know his roommate was just pretending to be asleep and is well sure of what he's doing. now, roommate will show reader what he's made of
would you mind writing something like this?
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ఌ 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄
W.C › 9.2k
Warnings › this is a random oc. Bottom male reader!!! Changed a few parts of the plot and added kinks since there wasn’t any. Get ready for me using song lyrics, just for a little bit. Anything not translated will be translated at the ending notes. if I have any Korean wrong correct me! I appreciate feedback, I’m not fluent!
Kinks › dubcon, lite somnophilia, dom/sub, manhandling, predator/prey, size difference, blood, possessiveness, dacryphilia
Words to know › 자기야 (jagiya/jagi) means “baby/sweetie”. 선배 (seonbae) title for someone older in school/work. 형 (hyung/hyeong) name for older male from a younger male. 아/야 (a/ya) showing closeness to someone. 동생 (Dongsaeng) little brother/sister, doesn’t have to be a biological sibling/can be a friend.
ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
❝ 김진우 ❞
Those words were practically all that you heard these days. You know, when you originally came to this university, you had big plans. Plans to date as much as possible. Finally lose your virginity!
But they’re nothing important compared to who you unfortunately got paired to dorm with.
Kim Jinu.
A third year at your university. You felt bitter, to say the least. Of course you would have to unlucky chance of being paired with an upperclassman than another freshman. Gah, you wanted to cry.
Anyone that came up to you was always asking about Mister Kim Jinu! What about you?! You were handsome too!
Well, you were a potato next to Jinu.
The Korean beauty standards just had to pick favorites.
A slow soft sigh left your lips as you stared at your empty screen in front of you. Your fingers twiddled with your pen before you leaned over and pressed it against the screen, attempting to finish the outline of your sketch. You were an art major, dreaming of being an animator or even a comic book artist.
Much to your parents dismay. You haven’t had your mother’s signature kimchi in almost two months now due to your choice. But you tried not to dwell on it! You wanted to be happy.
And if being a starving artist is the only way, so be it!
Speaking of starving….
Your stomach growled as you whined and tossed the pen onto the desk, lying back in your chair as you swirled around. You’d have better luck being a Kpop idol at this point. Maybe it’s not too late. Who doesn’t like a filler member?
You glance in the small circle mirror resting on your desk and probe at your cheeks. Plastic surgery isn’t too much, right? Maybe a slimmer nose? Double eyelids?
“(Name) Oppa..? What are you doing?”
A shriek left your lips as you looked back at Cho Yoona, your classmate. A tight smile pulled on your lips as you took the iced coffee she had in her hands.
“Nothing, nothing. Oppa is just having a mental breakdown.” You said, quickly taking a sip of your coffee to gain some energy back.
Yoona grabbed a chair and pulled it close to your desk, sitting down next to you. “Hm. What are you doing now?”
“Ah? Well, the theme was something out of our comfort zone, so I was trying to create… uh… nude portraits..”
“Huh? Nude? Will Professor Lee Hyunki approve that?”
You shrugged, placing the coffee down onto the desk. “I have a backup plan. I haven’t been able to get in touch with him anyway.” A groan left your throat as you saved your draft before shutting off your computer. “Anyway, let’s go. It’s getting late.”
As you and Yoona packed up, she suddenly looked over to you with a big smirk.
“Oppa… are you… close to Kim Jinu Seonbae?” She asked, looking up at you with wide eyes.
“No.” You quickly said, rolling your eyes. “We’re just roommates. Not close at all.”
“Oh.” She muttered, pouting. “You’re lucky, Oppa. You get to be so close to Jinu Seonbae. Isn’t he handsome up close?” She squealed, clutching her notebook tight against her chest. “I’d die if I get to see him right after he takes a shower!!!”
“Get your mind out of the gutter.” You muttered, playfully flicking her forehead. The two of you left the classroom, turning off the lights and closing the door.
Once Yoona went her own separate way to her own dorms, you couldn’t help but think about what she said. Jinu… in just a towel..?
You heaved as you accidentally swallowed your coffee a bit too fast, pounding at your chest once you finally reached your dorm. Your hands fiddle with your keys while you fight off the harsh coughing burning at your chest. The door swings open as you struggle inside, slamming the door behind you.
Tossing your bag onto your side of the room, you make a beeline for the mini fridge and pull out a water bottle, downing it in seconds. As the cool refreshment calmed the coughing beast within you, you suddenly realized you weren’t holding your coffee anymore.
Your eyes trailed down to see it lying spilled on the floor not too far from your feet.
And unfortunately, it spilled right on a stake of papers near Jinu’s backpack. A shrill girlish scream right of a horror movie leaves your throat as you collapse to your knees and pick up the coffee cup, seeing the damage.
Your fingers felt numb as they slowly peeled the notebook open, seeing the pages stuck together like glue. The once white sheets dark in black, ice cubes coating it like sprinkles. Holy fuck.
Fuck fuck.
Jinu was going to kill you!
With the coffee coating the paper, you could hardly read what was written in it. But judging from the top cover, it looked to be a study guide or something.
Your eyes squinted as you tried to read what you could in hopes of gaging just how bad you fucked up. The words that you could only read were: “바보…토끼…자기…”
What the fuck?
Idiot, rabbit, babe?
What the hell was Jinu writing about?
Jinu was a business major. You couldn’t recall him taking any classes dealing with animals. Maybe it was a code word? Well, all that mattered was that it didn’t seem too important so you quickly grabbed the notebook. Drying it with a hair dryer seemed like your safest bet.
The room door opened, catching your attention as you shoved the notebook behind your back. There stood Jinu, obviously waving bye to someone before finally looking into the room. His eyes zoned in on you, face just frozen for a solid second.
You panicked, thinking that he could possibly see the notebook behind your back. Not the fact you were on your knees, staring up at him with wide cute eyes, and plump lips pulled into a slight pout. Especially with your sweater that was large and baggy, something you preferred, with one of the sleeves down—showing your bare shoulders.
Why would you wear tanks underneath the sweater? The buildings here aren’t that cold.
“Jinu Seonbae..!” You whisper, giggling nervously as you pressed the notebook tight against your back, taking a peek to make sure it didn’t stick out. “How.. was your day?”
Jinu blinked. Once, twice, before a large grin pulled onto his face and his eyes practically closed into those crescent moons girls swooned about. Whatever he was thinking about was long gone.
“I thought I told you to call me hyung, (Name). We’re going to be roommates for a while anyway.” Jinu said, closing the door behind him as he slipped off his shoes and put away his jacket.
You wanted him to stay as far as possible—you couldn’t have him seeing the mess you made! Your eyes trailed around the room, looking for something to distract him with. The floor was feeling sticky from the coffee, its spill coating the floor and now your knees. You didn’t even noticed you had accidentally knelt in the damn puddle.
“H..Hyung! Uhm, can you… get me some napkins?” You yelled, stopping Jinu just as he began to walk past the bathroom door. He balked at your raised voice but simply hummed, turning on his heels to grab some from the connected bathroom.
Your hands gripped the sticky notebook and shoved it underneath one of your old textbooks on your desk, standing up just as Jinu came back.
“Spilled something?”
“Mhm… just some coffee.” You muttered, thanking him for the napkins as you kneeled back down to wipe it up. “I don’t think it got on any of your things.”
Jinu let out a noncommittal hum, standing just inches from you as you bent over. You felt watched—to a strange and uncomfortable amount but you didn’t want to say anything. Once you finished, you glanced up at him, hoping he possibly didn’t notice his missing notebook.
But this position.
No.
No, it was his stare really. You felt yourself squirm, wondering how a guy could look so cute not too long ago and watch you like a hawk the next.
“Ah, (Name), did you eat the sandwich I bought you?” Jinu suddenly asked, his gaze shifting to his desk as he moved past you, sitting down on his chair. “I tried to remember what you liked.”
“Oh uhm. I gave it to my dongsaeng.”
The soft taps on the desk stopped, causing you to look over at Jinu. He was facing the window so you couldn’t get a read on his face. But the total silence made you feel as if what you said was the wrong answer.
“Dongsaeng? Biological?”
“Uhm. Yes. My little brother came to visit me.” You muttered, feeling a bit weirded out he asked that. “He skipped school to see me, but I didn’t have enough money to take him out so I just gave him my lunch. Sorry, Seonbae.”
Jinu’s light tapping on the desk began again as he let out a laugh. “It’s okay! I’ll just make sure to get you two next time.” He turned to face you, a large grin on his lips. Any tension in your body slipped away as you couldn’t help but smile back.
Kim Jinu wasn’t too bad of a roommate.
Just a shame he kept cockblocking you.
ཆི❤︎ཆྀ
“Wa, Hyung, these lover letters are all for you?”
On your desk, covering your keyboard and almost the entire space area, was a small mountain of love letters. In your classroom for art major, you all had small little cubicles that was essentially your work station. Unlucky for you, many people found out exactly where yours was to leave gifts.
Oh but not for you.
Are you kidding?
They were all for Jinu.
Your classmate, Im Taeil, reached over and grabbed one of the food that were left, reading the sticky note attached to it. “Oh. This one is for Kim Jinu Seonbae.”
“They’re all for him.” You muttered bitterly, grabbing a heap of them and stomping over to the trash, dumping them with no remorse. Taeil watched you in awe as you cleaned your desk in seconds, leaving just the few snacks.
“Why do they give them to you instead of Jinu Seonbae?” Taeil asked, pulling at the rest of the sticky notes to read what was on them. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just confess to him? Wow, these notes leave nothing to the imagination. I think some of these are from guys too.”
You rolled your eyes, grabbing one of the chocolate bars and pulling it open, taking a big bite. “I don’t know! Maybe they can’t handle rejection. I hope they know I’m not his damn servant!” You plopped down onto your chair and sighed, wanting to just drown in your sorrows.
So much for getting laid or finding a partner.
All that anyone wanted was Kim Jinu!
Agh!! You just wanted to say, “꺼져!” But you knew saying “go to hell” to everyone was a bad idea and would practically send you into the shadow realm of no friends.
Though your only friends seemed to be Taeil and Yoona. But you didn’t really think they liked you as a person. You were just the easiest to talk to.
“Hyung, can I…?” Taeil suddenly whispered, catching your attention. His hands made a grabby motion as he inched close to one of the snacks on your desk. You mutely waved and allowed him to grab whatever he wanted. You’d probably just give the rest to Yoona or something. Ah, maybe your little brother…?
“Oh, Oppa! Taeil!” Yoona greeted, the door pushed open as she carried a bag filled with goods. She skipped over, a bright cheery grin on her lips as she stood right in front of you and Taeil. “Look what Jinu Seonbae gave me! Ah, he’s so cool!”
Taeil peaked into the bag and pulled out a bag of chips. “Wow. He really got these for you?” You couldn’t deny the slight twitch in your lips at his wording. Her? Just for Yoona? No way. No way…
Yoona shook her head. “Not just for me! It’s mainly for (Name) Oppa!” She took out another pair of chips and two sodas, handing one over to Taeil. “The rest is for you! There’s a note inside.”
The bag was practically thrusted onto your lap as Yoona walked over to her desk across from yours and plopped down, eagerly chowing down on her snacks.
Taeil looked curious on what the note said but seemed to know there was limits to his nosy behavior as he sat down at his desk two seats away from you. Huh. Mainly for you?
Weird.
You pulled open the plastic bag and pulled out a soda and chips, similar to what he gave Taeil and Yoona. But there was more: two turkey sandwiches. You pulled out the one that had a sticky note on it, tilting your head as you read his handwriting out to yourself.
❝ 여기, 샌드위치 두 개요. 오직 토끼만을 위한! 아니 동생! ❞
❝ Here, two sandwiches. For Bunny only! No Dongsaeng! ❞
“No dongsaeng?”
You shrieked, looking back to see Taeil suddenly standing behind you. He grinned sheepishly, taking a step back.
“Sorry, Hyung. You got so quiet… I was a bit worried.”
Yoona perked up from her desk, tilting her head. “What does it say?” She walked over and glanced down at the note. “Who’s bunny?”
You shrugged, “not sure. I’ve never been called a bunny before.” You let out another pathetic cry of shock when Yoona and Taeil were suddenly close to your face, eyes wide as if they were examining you like a piece of meat.
“Really? You look more like a deer to me.” Yoona muttered.
“No… I see the bunny. Ah, but maybe hamster too. You have chubby cheeks, Hyung!” Taeil chimed in.
You rolled your eyes, wanting to push them away but you kinda enjoyed the attention. You weren’t really into the whole animal representative thing that a lot of Kpop idols did. Just didn’t see the purpose, especially after you grew up. But you wouldn’t lie and say you didn’t like being referred to as such cute animals.
You could’ve gotten an insect!
The rest of the day was uneventful. You actually ended up eating both sandwiches Jinu gave you, slaving away at your project. It wasn’t going as great as you envisioned—nowhere near. You had no problem creating a nude body it was just difficult to make it… artistically pleasing and not full on horny.
❝ 잠깐만요 시간 있나요?…. ❞
Yoona’s Bluetooth speaker sang the melody of AOA - Excuse me as you stared at the rough draft in front of you. You wished you didn’t pick digital art for this project and stick to traditional but there was no use complaining now.
Your wrist tensed as you zoomed in on the face of your model—creating the soft brush strokes of his hair. Sharp eyes, black in color. The outline of lips that you would paint in pink. Maybe even red. Earrings? No, he doesn’t have any.
He’s gotten bigger. Definitely compared to the pictures you’ve seen of him last year from his friends. Weights..? Boxing? His knuckles looked bruised sometimes when you saw him.
Red, aching. Cuts of skin. Bright and glossy from the ointment he’d put on it. Tanned skin. Red against tanned skin—a perfect contrast.
Does it hurt to move? If you kissed it, would the blood coat your lips?
It was such an edgy thought but you wondered how it’d look to use his blood as lipstick.
His thumb pressed on your bottom lip, slowly smearing it. Would he call you pretty? Kissing you so you both can taste the metallic rush of blood. Maybe you can taste something else. White, maybe?
Your breathing shuddered as your grip on your pen tightened, legs pressing tightly together. Red and white. Would he like you in that? Pretty and pliant just for him to claim. Your free hand gently pulled at your pants, alleviating some pressure against your crotch.
Bunny. Were you his bunny?
Is that what he thought of you? Helpless and defenseless? His fingernails digging into your soft skin as blood spilled, your soft moans teetering on the verge of tears.
What did he remind you of?
A fox?
Don’t they eat bunnies?
You didn’t know why the thought made your whole body spasm. Your breathing getting heavy as the pen began to slip from your hand. He’d chase you. Yeah, that’s what a fox does to their prey. Chase you until couldn’t run anymore, huddled in a dead end as he got closer.
You’d cry and beg but he’d take you. Because he wants you—wants you so bad he can’t control himself. He’d always wanted you beneath him screaming his name for all to hear. As you became his prey.
❝ 벗어날 수 없는 걸 ❞
“Oh! I love this song! Taeil, do you like The Boyz?” Yoona said, turning up the volume. Taeil hummed, looking up from his screen. His eyes looked bloodshot at this point. How long have you guys been here?
“I prefer girl groups. Like Red Velvet!” Taeil said, proudly showing his phone that had a Lock Screen of Seulgi. Yoona cooed and showed her Lock Screen of Kevin. Wow, you’re stuck with Kpop fans. You rubbed your eyes, looking away from your screen to stop seeing the dark spots appearing in your vision.
Taeil and Yoona began talking about their favorite groups while you listened to the song. It felt oddly fitting for the mood you were in right now. You’d have to ask Yoona for the name later. Right now you need a drink, stat.
You grabbed your water bottle and took long gulps as you finally glanced back at your drawing. It took a moment for it to fully register before you let out a scream.
No it was certainly manly.
“Hyung?!”
“Oppa?!”
There—right in front of you—was Kim Jinu staring right back at you. You…
You fucking drew him?!
❝ ���통 너로 물들여질 테니… ❞
No way. No fucking way.
But there it was, staring back at you. His fluffy black hair slicked back as if he was drenched in water. Black eyes with his signature big nose. His lips weren’t pulled into his usual smiles. You had drawn him with all of his features except that damn smile.
Damn Kim Jinu… he was affecting you in ways you didn’t think was possible.
You quickly saved your draft on the tablet and turned it off, needing to just go to your dorm and sleep this daze off. “Yoona… Taeil… I need to sleep.” You muttered, Yoona and Taeil staring at you with worried looks. “You guys should go sleep too. It’s late.”
Yoona and Taeil didn’t fight it. It looked as if they were waiting for you to give them permission. You waved them off, stating you needed to clean up a bit before leaving. Your professor didn’t like crumbs. But you didn’t clean, you just stared at your tablet. The large tablet that the school provided that was now logged on into your account, holding a secret.
Your breathing slowed as you reached over and pressed the power button, waiting as it lit up. The soft taps filled the room as you logged back in and clicked your recent save. He appeared in front of you again.
That fox.
A shudder left you as you pulled down your pants, along with your boxers, as your cock plopped out against your tummy. It was small. Smaller than most. Around 4 inches. Possibly 3 really. But it didn’t matter to you really—you didn’t think you’d ever want to top anyway.
Your hand grasped your cock as you began to pump it slowly, staring straight at the drawing in front of you. His cock. You wondered what it looked like.
You respected his privacy so you never dared to stare at him whenever he came out of the shower.
But you wish you did. Wish you could have an accurate picture of how it would look. How it would be deep inside of you. Would it make a bulge in your stomach?
Is he thick? Long? Maybe both.
You arched your back against the chair as you took shallow breaths, your whimpers filling the empty room. Your toes curled as you whined and mewled, wishing someone else was jerking you off.
Oh who were you kidding?
You wished it was Jinu.
Even as you reached your orgasm, cum coating your tummy, you didn’t feel any relief.
What fun was it if he didn’t chase you?
ཆི❤︎ཆྀ
“Jagi….”
A hum left your throat as you buried your face into your arms, shivering slightly from the cool air that tickled your stomach.
“Jagiya.”
Puffs of air brushed against your cheek. It was warm, a nice contrast compared to the cool air that covered you. A finger gently touched your cheek. Poking and doing small circles around the outline of it. The hand trailed down your face to your back, rubbing circles as it started a slight rhythm.
❝ 날 놀리는 거야, 예쁜 자기야. ❞
Despite the taps jolting against your skin, it almost lulled you back into sleep. It was something you missed, the touch of someone special. Slowly, it inched further down, moving to the end of your sweater. Your body flinched at the hand now teasing your skin directly as it grazed it your stomach.
❝ 무방비 토끼. 내가 너를 먹어치울게 ❞
It felt sticky. A deep chuckle reverberated against your back. The touch on your skin was possessive, rubbing and massaging your stomach. Your body flinched as your breathing began to stutter. A hand slipped further down, easily squeezing its way into your pants. The sensual touch—it felt as if you belonged to them and only them.
❝ 도망기면 쫓이갈거야, 토끼야… ❞
A gasp left your lips as your eyes opened, looking around to notice that you were still in the classroom. Fuck. Your body tensed as you moved away from your desk, groaning at the awkward position you slept in. As you stretched, your gaze flickered to an ice coffee on your desk with a sticky note attached to it.
It had a badly drawn bunny on it with a heart next to it. The words: “fighting!” were scribbled beside the crude drawing. You couldn’t help but smile, placing the note on small bulletin board near your desk.
It must’ve been your hyung, Lee Minjae. Or who you affectionately called, Minnie Hyung. He was the one who pushed you to pursue your major instead of what your parents wanted. Such a great hyung.
The whole thing about Jinu felt like a distant memory. You’d have to change what you’re submitting for the project, immediately.
No way in hell were you going to submit a nude of your fucking roommate.
ཆི❤︎ཆྀ
There was a something wrong with your bed.
After you took your shower and changed into comfy pajamas, you noticed there was something wrong your bed. Well for one the fucking mattress was missing. You had called Jinu if he knew what happened but all he said was that he found a nest of spider eggs in it so the school confiscated it.
Unlucky for you the school were cheap stakes and it was gonna take a bit of time before you got a new mattress. Jinu had said you would be sharing with him but you didn’t necessarily think you could survive something like that.
Him pressed up against you.
Would it…
You pushed the thought away. Your eyes trailed off to your desk when you suddenly remembered the ruined notebook. You walked over and grabbed it from beneath one of your textbooks, seeing it in its fully ruined glory. There was no salvaging it at this point. You hoped Jinu didn’t care for this dumb thing.
But you were curious to see if you could read it fully now.
You slowly peeled it open and bristled at just how bad the damage was. Half of the pages were stuck together and when you tried to part it they tore. The pen he used to write it had smudged from the liquid so his handwriting was ineligible.
Right before you had given up to just toss it, you came across the last page, seeing a word you could understand. “Jagi.” Huh. Who was this babe of his? You tried to push away the slight bitterness in your throat the thought of that.
Of course he’d have a girlfriend. He was Kim fucking Jinu.
It’d be a shock if he didn’t.
You tossed the notebook into the trash can and made sure to put your food snacks on top of it just in case Jinu decided to accidentally look in there. If Jinu ever asked about his notebook, you’d pretend you never even seen him with a notebook before.
Now all you had to deal with was the problem of sleeping in the same bed with Jinu. You’d survive.
Hopefully.
ཆི❤︎ཆྀ
You haven’t survived. It’s been two weeks and it felt as if you hadn’t slept in years. Jinu keeps two pillows between the both you while you slept but somehow the two of you always end up close. It wasn’t even a day ago when you woke up to yourself resting right on Jinu, your cheek pressed against his chest while your hand palmed his neck.
He had a big chest—you wished you had a little bit of a degenerative attitude to feel him up.
But you’d rather not be known as the perverted roommate.
“(Name)-Ah? Something wrong?” A hand gently rests on your shoulder as you glanced up to see Lee Minjae staring down at you. A cute grin pulled on your lips as you placed your pen down to grip one of his hands. You just liked touching him.
“Minnie Hyung! What are you doing in the art department?”
Minjae smirked, leaning down as your noses touch. “Can’t check in on my dongsaeng? Your classmates have been telling me that you’ve been cooped up in here. It’s not good for you to stare at the screen for this long.” You giggled, watching as he pulled away.
“Mhm. I’m okay, promise!” You could feel yourself acting cuter in Minjae’s presence. It wasn’t shocking. He always made you feel safe to act how you do behind closed doors. You could wear whatever you wanted around him without being judged.
A perfect, perfect hyung.
“Ah, Hyung, thank you for the coffee last time! I enjoyed it.”
Minjae hummed. “Coffee? I didn’t bring you coffee.”
“What? You didn’t? Then…” You pulled your lips into a pout as you thought about who would do something like that for you. It couldn’t be Yoona and Taeil. You weren’t close to anyone else.
“Ah, did my pretty dongsaeng finally get a secret admirer?” Minjae grinned, playfully pulling at your cheeks while you whined. The two of you began to giggle like little boys as you stared up at Minjae with a look of pure content.
You hoped you had Minjae with you forever.
A soft knock on the door caught your attention as you and Minjae glanced to the right to see who it was. The position you were in was almost of that of a couple. Your hand grasping Minjae’s as they rest on your shoulders. The previous nose rubbing and even just you looking up at him like he hung up the moon.
Were you two a couple?
❝ 타오른 이 감정은… ❞
Jinu was having a terrible day. First he had to entertain a few random teachers with something he didn’t even care to remember. Second he was bothered by some fourth years about a project they needed help on. And now, he had to deal with Cho Yoona and Im Taeil’s yapping about their favorite song while he walked to your classroom.
That song Yoona was playing just made him angrier. Insanity was the name of the song, at least that’s what she said. Jinu felt the same and thought if he had to see something else that pissed him off he’d die a slow death.
So of course he had to see you, his bunny, making fucking whore eyes to some random seonbae.
What the fuck?!
Jinu forced a tight grin and held up a bag filled with food. Food that was just for you but of course he can’t say that. Despite himself, he tried to keep an easy going and fun attitude when speaking to other people. Though he was wondering if he should forgo that for punting Lee Minjae into the sun.
That stupid pig.
You wouldn’t even look at Jinu, you haven’t been looking at him often these days. He knew it was because you were embarrassed about the sleeping arrangements. But it was the only way he believed you could get closer to him.
So what if he deliberately put a spider and other insects in your mattress in hopes they laid eggs and ruin it so then it would force you to sleep on the same bed with him?
You don’t understand any of his other hints or flirting attempts.
He needed results fast!
You were hopping away to any other dick that wasn’t his and he couldn’t have that.
This chase he was having with you was starting to make him insane. If he didn't have you beneath him soon he wouldn't survive another night with you. His whole plan about having you sleep on his bed honestly felt as if it was back firing on him. You were so cuddly when you slept, always finding a way to move over the pillow barrier.
He always pretended he was asleep when you woke up in a panic, always pulling away before he could truly saver your touch—your warmth.
He was truly going insane. All he could remember was the first time he ever saw you. But he couldn't think about it further when he felt Lee Minjae's hand pat him on the back. Jinu fought every muscle in his face to not immediately grimace at the other's touch.
"(Name)-Ah, Yoona, Taeil, I'll take my leave now. I don't wanna bother you guys any longer." Minjae leaned down towards you and Jinu felt his upper lip twitched as he watched the older with his stupid dyed blonde hair that looked fried and crispy nuzzle his nose against yours.
If that wasn't enough, Minjae wrapped his arms around your neck and held you close as he pressed a wet kiss on your cheek. You shrieked and struggled against his hold, trying to avoid the kiss. But you hardly put up a fight, all giggly and smiley. You looked so small in Minjae's arms, so pliant and easy to hold.
Jinu pulled at his sweatpants, coughing slightly. That seemed to catch Minjae's attention as he stopped his childish assault and gave (Name) a cheeky smirk. Yoona began cooing at how cute you and Minjae looked together.
You didn't. No way. Jinu fought the urge to pull Minjae away from you.
Taeil tilted his head, "Jinu Seonbae, are you okay? Your eyebrows are so furrowed. You might pop a blood vessel."
The others looked over at Jinu, Yoona and Minjae questioning if he was alright, you especially with a look of concern in your doe eyes.
Good.
Worry about him and him alone.
Pay attention to only him.
"It's nothing," Jinu said, puling out his signature lady killer smile. "I think I just need to eat something, I haven't had a proper lunch in ages." Yoona immediately swooned while Taeil rolled his eyes. Minjae seemed in deep though as he stared at Jinu, the fourth year tilting his head as if he was digging deep into Jinu's soul. Figuring him out with a just a look.
Minjae grinned. "Let your seonbae take you out, yeah?" He suddenly said, catching everyone's attention. "I know a place not too far from here that sells great tteokbokki."
Like I'd want to be caught dead with you... Jinu thought to himself but he simply hummed. "Sure, Seonbae. Bye, Yoona, Taeil..."
Jinu stared right at you as Minjae pulled away from you. Your eyes flickered over to Jinu and you offered him a tight smile, waving slightly. "See you, Jinu Seonbae."
"See you, (Name)." He whispered, mostly just happy you even looked him in the eye.
But his happiness was short lived when you looked at Minjae and offered him a cute smile. A smile that you’ve never gave him. "Bye, Minnie Hyung!"
Minnie Hyung?!
Jinu followed Minjae out of the classroom, curses swirling in his mind as he stared at the man beside him. Minjae chuckled after a moment or so and looked over at Jinu with a smirk. "Y'know, you can't blow my head off with just your stare. I didn't know you were into my (Name)-Ah."
His? Jinu was fine with being expelled at this point but Minjae suddenly stopped in his tracks. "Jinu-Ya," he placed his hand on Jinu's shoulder while Jinu wondered what gave the man the audacity to use such a title with him. "If you want (Name)-Ah, you have to take him. There's so many wolves that want him." He smirked knowingly, his finger tapping Jinu's shoulder.
Just as Jinu was about to speak, Minjae pressed his finger on his lips. What the fuck? "Listen to your hyung, Jinu-Ya. With someone so naive like (Name)-Ah, you just take him like you own him. Chase after him, there is a dead end soon."
With that, he pulled away and smirked. "Tell me how the chase goes. I've been waiting for someone to snatch up my dongsaeng."
Jinu just stood there blank faced in the middle of the hallway as Minjae walked away. Just what the fuck was that? He didn't even think too hard about it when he realized he didn't have to worry about you and Minjae. Phew, that stress was short lived.
But what did he mean by dead end?
ཆི❤︎ཆྀ
You were going insane.
It felt you were being watched these days. You had finally finished your project, having going with another idea and completely abandoning the whole nude thing. But it still sat in your drafts, practically calling you everyday. Sometimes you'd go back...
You'd finish certain parts of it. His body fully detailed expect that dreaded crotch. His dick. You wouldn't dare make what you believed his dick to look like. There was still some sense of self respect deep inside you.
Just not strong enough to not pay attention when you were drawing something for fun. You had a art account that you posted on like once every month of gay art you drew. So you were creating the piece, feeling in the mood to do something with oral fixation.
Only for you to notice instead of the usual two same characters you stuck to, it was Jinu as the top. Which, fair, it wouldn't be too different from what you had literally done weeks ago.
No, the problem was the partner.
You drew yourself.
You fucking drew yourself.
The drawing felt so real compared to the others you've made. Drawing Jinu between your legs, holding you up, bending you over on the bed. Your shoulders rest on the bed while your legs curled into yourself. His mouth biting the flesh of your ass, his eyes staring right at you, the real you.
Of course you had to angle it this way. Fucking pervert.
You tried to salvage the drawing but each stroke on that cursed tablet just made the partner look more and more like you. Okay, you were desperate for sex at this point. It was too much. You pressed the delete button on the sketch and powered off the tablet.
"I'm going, Taeil. Don't stay too late."
With lighting speed, you rushed to your dorm, trying to ignore the growing boner in your pants. Why did you have to like someone like Jinu? Out of all the people at this stupid university. Even Minjae would've been better than Kim Jinu of all people. But you couldn't complain any further because when you stormed into your dorm, fucking Kim Jinu was there, sitting at his desk.
Jinu glanced over at you and grinned, taking off his glasses as he shut off his laptop. "You're back earlier than normal. Did you end up finishing quick?"
You numbly nodded. "Yes... I just need to sleep. My eyes hurt." You couldn't even look at him. His gaze followed you as you grabbed your pajamas. Wherever you stepped, eyes were right on you, watching you like a predator does his next prey.
Bunny and fox.
That's what you imagined him as.
A fox.
It felt so hard to breathe with him near.
Why did it feel like there was no escape?
❝ 지금 너를 미치도록 ❞
The soft sputtering of the fan filled the room as you laid there right awake on Jinu's bed, wondering why you couldn't sleep despite your tired eyes. Jinu was fast asleep, his back pressed your own back. You didn't know why the usual barrier wasn't here tonight but you couldn't care too much about it right now. Not with your growing boner.
You haven't masturbated in two weeks. It's not a shock that the stupid art from earlier was still affecting you like this. You wondered if you could just sneak into the bathroom and quickly jerk one off. Would he notice? Just as you made the decision to get up, strong arms suddenly wrapped around your waist. Your body stiffened as you felt Jinu snuggled against your back.
His face buried in your neck, his nose and bangs softly tickling you.
What...the...fuck?!
Your legs subconsciously clamped shut at him so close. Okay, you were fucking screwed. The thought of moving seemed impossible now with him so close. His grip was so strong that you didn't understand how someone asleep could have such strong coordination.
Despite being cuddled by your crush, your cock was more alive than ever, leaking against your pajama pants. You let out a stifled whimper as you reached down and gently rub the bottom of your palm against your bulge. The relief was almost instant as a guttural groan escaped you before you could stop yourself.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Were you really going to do this?
Yeah.
Yeah you were.
Soon the fan wasn't the only one making noise. Your soft and breathy moans filled the room as you jerked off. Your body flinched from the pressure causing your butt to rub against Jinu's front.
Wait.
He was... hard...?
A wave of fear washed over you as you stilled your hand. No, no. He must be having a wet dream or something. Yeah, he can't be awake hearing you. No. No way. You needed to reach your damned orgasm and just go to sleep. You'd deal with the shame in the morning. You finally decided to pull down your pajama pants to grasp your cock and not just rub it anymore.
You pumped your cock, making sure to still your body so you don't accidentally rub your bare ass against Jinu's clothed crotch. He'd hate that. No, he'd hate to learn what you're doing. Fuck. The shame was already affecting you. Stray tears fell down your cheeks as you bit down at your pillow, still chasing your orgasm despite the shame filling your lungs.
Embarrassment. This was so fucking embarrassing.
It was close-- your orgasm. Inches away, dancing on the tip of your fingers as your moans began to reach a crescendo. So much for muffling yourself. Your edge to your orgasm was wrecking you—sending you to a mental space you couldn't imagine in any other circumstance.
Was this how sex with someone you liked felt?
Could Jinu make you feel this way?
Was... him being here making you this way?
It wasn't enough. You wanted more. Your legs shifted as you subtly pulled your pants down, kicking them off without a care. You didn't have any lube but you had no time. The tease of ecstasy was whispering your name—calling you to go further. So you did. You suckled two of your fingers, getting them as wet as possible before slipping down between your legs.
The two seconds of pain as you pushed them inside did not deter you. You could deal with a little pain. It was rough. Your fingers rubbed against your inner walls, searching for those bundle of nerves to drive you wild. But it was difficult in this position. You usually masturbated on your back or while sitting up.
You wondered if you should go as far as to shift positions. That'd be too much, right?
The shame was finally catching up to you. You couldn't do this. This disgusting and degrading action towards both you and Jinu. Your eyes closed as you sighed, eyes fluttering shut. It was too much.
"You're done already, (Name)-Ah?"
A chill crept up your spine as those three words were whispered right into your ear. Your eyes widen but you couldn't move. It was as if his words just took out any sort of life within you. His arms around your waist tightens as you feel him nuzzle himself further on your neck.
Your breathing feels erratic. You can't breathe. It feels as if you'd die right here, right now.
You looked down to see his hands. They looked recently bruised from his usual boxing. But now they felt different. As if it was a show at just how durable his body was. His arms slowly began to tighten around you only to you let out a sharp cry at the pain, earning a pleased grunt.
"You're awake, yeah? Are you ignoring hyung?" He whispered, his lips trailed your neck, stopping right at the tip of your air. "You can masturbate right beside me but can't even answer me?"
A pathetic whine left your throat as you tried to wiggle from his grip but it proved to be futile. You gasped, arching your back as you felt Jinu rub his crotch right against your butt. He began to hump you ignoring your shocked gasp.
Was he...?
"So selfish, bunny. Chasing your own release. Not even thinking about what your moans were doing to me." His right hand trailed down and pushed you to lay on your front, his body following to lay on top.
You cried out, gripping the bedsheets like a life line. "You.. were awake...?"
"I never went to sleep." He said honestly, spanking you right on your ass. You squeaked, back arching to get away from another spank. "I never knew you would do something like this. I was beginning to think you hated me."
"I never—”
"—but you never listen to me, do you? I tell you everyday to call me hyung but you never let it stick. What, do I have to force you to say it?"
"We aren't close!" You whined, whimpering at another spank. Your lower hips wiggled but you didn't make any effort to truly push Jinu off of you. You didn't understand yourself sometimes.
"What? But you call Lee Minjae hyung without any problem." Jinu grunted, his hand reaching over to grab something from the slim nightstand next to the bed. You couldn't tell what he grabbed until something cool and slimy was drizzled onto your ass. A whine left you from the coldness. "What'd he do? Fuck you? Chase you like you so desperately want?"
"Nooo," you whined, screaming when he shoved in two fingers inside your hole. Your hands dug into the bedsheets as he thrusted his fingers in and out, a constant rhythm with no sign of stopping despite your pleas for him to slow down.
Jinu chuckled, leaning down as he used his free hand to push your hair away from your face. "You act so innocent but you want this. I'll show you that I'm the only one for you. No other man can chase you like I can."
"What... ngh!!! are you talking... about..?" You manage to ask, wishing you could silence yourself. Your neighbors will certainly be having a long talk with you and Jinu tomorrow.
"Oh, bunny. My bunny, you really are so naive." Jinu whispered, pressing a kiss on your cheek. "You don't even know what you crave. It's okay, hyung will take care of you now. You won't ever have to think again."
Your body began to spasm as you felt a finger graze that bundle you tried to reach earlier. Jinu stilled for a moment, a look of slight worry in his eyes before he noticed what had just happened. A cruel smirk pulled on his eyes formed those crescent moons you once associated with his innocence.
But it didn't bring any sort of serenity to your body.
You were flipped onto your back with ease as Jinu grabbed your thighs and pushed them forward, effectively blocking your view from him. Desperate and pained moans left your lips as he continued to finger you, fingers gunning consistently at your prostate.
A loud scream left your throat as your back arched against the bed, your cock finally releasing the weeks long pent up lust you've stored for awhile now. Your stomach slowly rose and fall, coated in your sticky cum. All you could think about was your orgasm back in the classroom.
You were right.
Jinu made you cum harder than you could ever do by yourself.
You expected him to pull away but instead you felt a tug on your cock. A whine of overstimulation left your throat as you parted your legs and looked at him with wide doe eyes, confusion written all over your face.
A cruel smirk pulled on his lips as he tilted his head. "I've wanted you since I first saw you. You really think I'll let our first time be so lackluster?"
Lackluster?
He thought that was lackluster?
A pained cry left your lips as he began to thrust his fingers inside once more, leaving no sympathy as he immediately went for your prostate. You were going to die. You were going to die being fingered by your roommate. Kim Jinu was going to be the death of you.
It didn't take long for you to cum again and again, your fifth orgasm not even releasing anything. Your body twitched as your eyes watered, tears streaming down your face from the constant overstimulation. You weakly pulled your legs away from Jinu's grip after your fifth orgasm, muttering something about dying from his touch.
Jinu chuckled, allowing you to pull away. "Ah, Jagi," he whispered, causing you to blush at the title. To use such a term for you... You shamelessly felt your spent cock twitch. No, no, no! You absolutely couldn't do anymore. "You're so cute. I wanted to wait but I can't. You'll forgive me, right?"
You watched with wide eyes as he grabbed your waist and pulled you down towards him, earning a shriek from you. Your legs moved up to hide your aching and loosened hole but he was quick, spreading them wide. His eyes were like a predator, watching your every move as you tried pulling down your shirt to cover your weeping cock.
"Seon—Hyung... No more... No more, please." You whispered, looking up at him with pleading eyes.
Jinu's gaze narrowed in on your face. You could see him think. Your body was aching and praying Jinu did what you asked. But your heart....
Your heart wanted him to take you without a second thought.
"Hm. No." Jinu laughed cruelly, flipping you to rest on your knees. You cried out at the sudden movement but could only whimper as he pushed your back down, lifting up your hips. Your face pushed into the bed while your thoughts rushed at the position. It felt so humaliting to have sex without looking him the eye. You felt like an object. A prize he just won.
Your dick twitched.
So much for self respect.
"Hyung's gonna take good care of you." Jinu whispered, spreading your ass apart as he rubbed his cock between the cheeks. "You'll be good for hyung, mhm? No more seonbae."
You only whined, wiggling your hips, your ass rubbing Jinu's cock.
Jinu teasingly slapped your ass. "You complain about it being too much... But look at you now, begging for my cock. I should just stop listening to what you say and take what I want. Would you stop me, (Name)-Ah? Would you run away?"
Run away?
Run away from the man you've had wet dreams about since you came to this damn university?
"Mhm. I'll run..." You whispered, a strangled moan leaving you as he began to push his cock inside of you. The stretch was difficult and you briefly wondered if this was how you'd die.
Heart attack from a thick cock.
Despite your answer, Jinu hummed. "Good. I'll chase you until you're beneath me, shaking in fear as I take you." His hands gripped your waist as he slammed the rest of his cock inside, earning a gargled cry and scream from you.
Jinu was anything but sweet. Fucking you like a beast as you withered and cried from the constant pressure against your prostate. After this, you weren't sure you'd have sex again. This could be enough for a life time.
"Sorry, (Name)-Ah. I can't last long." Jinu suddenly grunted, pulling out. You whined at the lost but didn't have to mourn it for long as he pulled you onto his lap, making you face him. Your arms subconsiously wrapped around his neck as he easily slid back into your tight heat, gripping your thighs as he bounced you on his cock.
Jinu smirked, his eyes trained right on you. "You look so pretty when you cry." He said, pressing soft kisses on your neck. "Next time, you'll be crying from just my cock. I'll make you scream my name."
You whimpered, arching your back as you pulled him closer, another dry orgasm creeping on you. You'd be sleeping well for nights to come. Jinu grunted as he began to thrust upwards into you in tandem with bouncing you up and down, causing you to cry at the sudden pressure. You were close. So close.
A sharp feeling in your shoulder caused you to spasm as Jinu's thrusts became desperate. It took you a moment to even think about what just happened--so focused on Jinu's cock stretching you out. Until you noticed red dripping down your right shoulder.
He bit you.
The delayed reaction to the bite made you scream out, tears streaming down your face you reached your six orgasm of the night. You went limp in his arms, just letting him chase his own orgasm. Teeth sharp enough to break skin wasn't something you ever imagined Jinu could do. But there it was, a rare and sore bite on your right shoulder. Blood slowly trickling down to your chest.
Jinu finally reached his orgasm after a minute or so, holding you close as he cummed deep inside. You shuddered, feeling his cum coat your sore tight heat. He didn't wear a condom. If you weren't fucked dumb you would've yelled at him about it but all you could do was hum as he pressed soft kisses against your wet and sweaty skin.
You glanced down and noticed blood coating the bottom of Jinu's lip as he pulled away from you.
He did end up coating you in red and white.
But your blood was the lipstick. You couldn't help but laugh at your cringy thought, groaning as Jinu pulled his cock out.
"You did so good, (Name)-Ah." Jinu whispered, kissing you on the lips. You tried to return the kiss but could only purse your lips against his.
Your breathing was harsh and quick, your body battered from Jinu's claiming.
This wasn't normal. Wasn't conventional at all. You were sure that if you told Yoona and Taeil about this they'd be worried for your safety.
You were prey to Jinu
But you were okay with that.
❝ 숨을 쉴 수 없게 아프면서 황홀하잖아 ❞
"You're going to roommate with a first year? Wow, good luck!"
"I didn't know they could do that."
"No one would willingly room with a first year. They're the worst."
"Aw, c'mon, Oppa! They're usually just nervous."
"Well, our Kim Jinu will have no problem. Who doesn't love him?"
"Ah, true. Good luck, Jinu!"
Kim Jinu pulled out his keys, unlocking the door to his new home for the rest of the school year. He'd be the one to get unlucky for his previously planned roommate to drop out of school—leaving his room open for a late transfer freshman. He didn't want to deal with first years, they were annoying.
He opened the door, shocked to see the room already having someone by one of the beds. The first year was knelt beside the bed, looking through the suitcase that was filled to the brim with clothes. Clothing that looked more feminine than anything but Jinu didn't judge.
He forced his usual carefree smile, ready to greet his new roommate when you finally turned around. His breathing stopped—his smile dropping at the sight of you. You... You were different from anything he imagined.
Your look of innocence. Your body suddenly becoming fidegty the longer he stared at you without saying a word. Your sweater drooping on your shoulder, showing off your bare shoulder. Your skin looked so soft, so plain. It needed something on it.
It looked too bare.
"I'm... Kim Jinu. Who are you?"
"Park (Name)." You whispered, your eyes flickering up and down his body.
Love at first sight wasn't real to Jinu. He wouldn't lie and say he felt love towards you when he first saw you.
He felt lust.
An urge to completely ruin you.
And by the look in your eyes, the not so subtle glances at his lower half of his body. You looked to be such an easy catch.
"Stop looking at me like that." You suddenly said, your lips turning into a slight snarl but it hardly held any weight. Jinu couldn't help but tilt his head. He could tell you wanted him but you were holding back?
Actively pushing him away as if you didn't look at him with the same lust he felt. Running away?
Like a game of cat and mouse.
No...
Fox and Bunny.
He was going to devour you.
Even if he had to chase you.
❝ 네게 빠진 순간 더는 결백하지 않은 나 ❞
ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
WOW!!! Gosh, this was way longer than it needed to be. I wanted to try something new lmao. Doubt i'd do it again, i was listening to kpop while writing this so it kinda just happened. Translations at the bottom! Yes, i did it for a reason, made it more fun if you didn't know what he was saying. Red is lyrics, pink are jinu’s words
I might make him an oc, i put too much effort into him for it to be a one time thing, smh... primal play is so fun.
tag list: @iwishtobeacrow @flurrina @chill-guy-but-cooler @mello-life25 @the-ultimate-librarian @kiiyoooo @ofclyde @love-kha1 @star-3214 @mooncarvers-world @smellwell @tehyunnie @remdayz @rhetorical-conscience @tomoeroi
Translations:
❝ 벗어날 수 없는 걸 ❞ — I can’t escape
❝ 온통 너로 물들여질 테니… ❞ — everything will be colored with you
❝ 날 놀리는 거야, 예쁜 자기야. ❞ — you’re teasing me, pretty baby
❝ 무방비 토끼. 내가 너를 먹어치울게 ❞ — defenseless bunny. I’ll eat you up
❝ 도망기면 쫓이갈거야, 토끼야… ❞ — if you run away, I’ll chase you , bunny
❝ 타오른 이 감정은… ❞ — this burning feeling
❝ 지금 너를 미치도록 ❞ — i'm driving you crazy right now
❝ 숨을 쉴 수 없게 아프면서 황홀하잖아 ❞ — it hurts so much that i can't breathe, but it's ecstatic
❝ 네게 빠진 순간 더는 결백하지 않은 나 ❞ — the moment i fell for you, i was no longer innocent
Songs used: Insanity - The Boyz & Criminal - Taemin
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yanderenightmare · 16 days ago
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♡ TW: noncon, gangbang, elf-reader, orc captors, racism between orcs and elves, captive reader, enslavement, piss drinking, mindbreak, mentioned toe-sucking and rimming, navigating cultural differences
♡ FEM reader
♡ P1: THE PILLORY
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The orc bandits sold your fellow elves off like slaves, but the commander ended up saving you for himself.
You’d been out of it throughout the ordeal. Already with the feeling of being numb, dumb, and tingly from the top of your crown down to the tips of your toes, you’d soon been overcome with fever as if taken by sickness—or withdrawal. Kept warm in the lap of your captor, you could barely keep your eyes open and must have passed out again—all to the sound of your troop's despair as they were bid on individually and dragged off by different buyers, all adorned collars and chains.
When you woke up again, whatever had you so enthralled and pliant was gone, leaving you feeling much like those times you’d woken from drinking more than your limit—along with a sore ache spanning your entire body, leaving you bedridden.  
Lying there, on a massive fur pelt in a fire-heated tent with a pair of shackles upon your ankles, you decide against your former poor judgment of making demands—this time, staying still and deadly silent, causing no fuss and voicing no complaint in petrified fear of the heavyweight resting at your back, breathing soundly like a beast in hibernation.
You still don’t understand what happened—still don’t understand what got into you—why did you act that way? It was as if you’d completely lost your mind—hijacked by something unholy and depraved—something vile. You’d been possessed—you must have been! To be bred by those monsters, swallow their semen—drink their piss. Thinking about it, the shock of it all cancels out the disgust. How could you have done all that? Sure, you were forced, but you could swear… somewhere halfway through, you started to enjoy it.
“Why so quiet, elf-pet?”
He must have felt the shift in your breathing. Beasts of war sleep with one eye open, after all. Still, you don’t answer—you don’t move a muscle. Stiff and lifeless, you remain, even as his hand—the one dwarfing your hip—slides south.
"Afraid to wake me?"
You just swallow thickly with a whimper as his thick orc finger, weathered by labor and battle, pets your naked sex, rubbing your clit before splitting the lips and playing with the poorly treated hole beneath it.
“Where’d all that fight go, hm?” he rumbles at your stillness, amused by it as he prods your entrance and pulls your bottom against his bulge. “Don’t tell me I fucked it all gone…” 
All you do is quake and tremor, even as his digit breaks through and starts prepping you—slipping in and out slowly, drawing slick as if your cunt was already trained to do so.
His pleased hum rumbles at your back, wreaking your bones—making you feel fickle like a sprout.
“Elves make such good pets once you tame them,” he states, chuckling. “You love cock and cum so much it makes you dumb—a single taste of it and even the priggish of elves like you turn into filthy little whores hungry for more.” 
You feel him fatten behind you—clenching your thighs as it swells up against your rear. 
His arm, the one beneath your head you’d been resting on like a pillow, coils around your neck and pulls you back snugly against him. 
“Don’t worry, elf-pet—” he grins, teeth by your ear in heated words, “I’ll keep feeding you good and full.”
And that's how it goes. Anytime you sober up, he fucks you silly—well and truly silly—silly in the way it makes you indiscriminately slurp his cum off the ground and suck his toes and lick his ass and squeal with joy as he swarms your womb with piss, “Ah feels so nice and warm inside—I love being master’s piss-bucket! Thank you!”
It’s been that way for months now.
He’s taken to calling you Putty because of how dumb and malleable you’ve become, eager to do anything he says, just to please. It disgusted you in the beginning, but you’ve since learned to accept the weakness of your nature—if only for the sake of survival and your own sanity. 
There’s no point in beating yourself up about it—not in this godforsaken part of the world where everyone seems out to do it for you.
You’d known orcs were soulless creatures, but truly, nothing could have prepared you for their level of depravity. If you could, you’d stay hidden inside the tent and never expose yourself to the horrors outside—already sated with those you have to endure within its thin drapes. But unfortunately, your master enjoys bringing you with him wherever he goes. 
Many orcs do, you’ve come to understand. They like parading their slaves, mostly fae-folk like you, around—all dressed skimpily, all with collars—nymphs and fairies often with their wings clipped and elves with their heads shaved in shame. 
Today, you’re out walking the market—you, with your leash on, and him, with his fist tugging it close behind him. 
He’s looking at weapons and armor for the most part and the odd toy or article for you. He likes keeping you pretty, in jewelry and sheer silks that let everyone admire what he has warming his bed. 
Since becoming his slave, he’s taken you to get plenty of piercings and markings. You can’t read their scripture, but he’s told you what he’s marked on your pretty skin several times. His name, of which you’re not allowed to speak, paired with his title as your direct master, as well as his guild’s seal, stating their ownership of you—all in three intricate patterns down your right arm. So, even if you ever do get home, you’ll never be able to wash him off. Another train of patterns on your left arm shows your status as a slave and your worth if anyone but your master were to damage or kill you accidentally.
For all their cruelty—you’re surprised by their level of organization. Though you don’t agree with it, you can at least admit that what they have is some variation of civilization—as supremacist as it is. But then again, elves are much the same—always thinking themselves better than everything, even other groups of fae.
It’s funny, but in a way, you’re almost convinced this is divine justice—the gods punishing you for your false sense of superiority by forcing you to live your life in suffering as an orc’s slave. 
It’s a trial—your last chance at redemption before death. Fulfill it, and heaven will be waiting for you with open arms. Yes, that must be it. 
The crowd becomes thicker near the end of the market street. It seems there’s an ongoing roadside show that many are keen on watching. You hear the jeers and hollers, the oos and ahs, and coming out empty-handed from the market trip, it seems the commotion is enough to pique your master’s interest enough to make him battle his way through to the front with you in toe just behind him—paying no mind to how members of the crowd paw at you. 
One is even so brazen to spit on your chest. But it comes as no shock—nor does your master’s indifference. In orc culture, all orcs are masters and can do what they want to any and all slaves with respect to their direct master. In fact, it’s not uncommon to see masters chain their slaves up like mutts in the street—free for all to have a go.
Actually, you can bet that’s what gathered this flock.
And sure enough, you’re spot on. 
Three fellow fae are on display up on the stage, naked and drenched in cum and sweat and other fluids—all made fully dumb by it.
You’ve theorized why over the months of being subjected to it and could only come up with one sound theory to explain it. Orc fluids must contain strong aphrodisiac properties, maybe even other substances that make their victims so agreeable—a type of natural incentive, possibly to make breeding more plausible and easy for a race so ugly. 
Yes, that must be it. It’s the only thing that could make any sense of the heart-eyes and love-cries you witness on all your otherwise dignified fellow fae.
One of them is folded between two orcs, desperately sucking on one of their tongues with her eyes closed in bliss, taking both their cocks in both her holes. It’s hard feeling sorry for her when she looks so happy, but you know the situation yourself—it’s like your mind’s been replaced by a fluffy cloud, and all you can think to wish for is to be taken higher.
Another girl is on her knees, ass up and head down—with a heavy foot placed on top of her cheek, squishing her pretty face against the wooden stage—tongue out and eyes crossed as he fucks her sloppy cunt with his whole entire fist. The poor girl is so mindbroken she just giggles with a smile, thighs shivering in delight as she squirts out a puddle beneath her.
The last girl is placed on her back on a beam—ankles suspended in the air, tied tightly to two poles—arms tied together under the bench. She’s also got two of them having their fun with her—one in each end in a spitroast. 
You’ve been in her position once—shared like a piece of meat—stuffed overfull with no freedom to spare. You wonder if she’d spoken out of place, too.
The orc by her head tugs his cock in his fist, standing over her head, letting her lick the sweat off his balls before dropping his length on her chest, bunching her tits and fucking through them with a groan, letting his balls swing and drag over her pretty face. But it’s not long before he steps back and puts his shaft to her lips, holding her throat in a light grip as she sweetly teases his dickhole with the tip of her tongue. When he gives her a firmer squeeze, she obediently widens her mouth, gaping to receive the head.
The girl holds it in her mouth like you do for your master, trying your best to suck but only ever managing to drool around it like a roasted pig with an apple between its teeth. Oh, but then something impossible happens.
You swear it’s like watching a circus act—you look on in horror and awe—unable to grasp it as more of the orc’s meaty member disappears down the girl’s swallow—one girthy inch at a time. You watch her throat swell, eyes wide in disbelief as her pipe blows out to accommodate the size, letting it sink inside all the way through down to the hilt.
The audience whistle and shout at her performance—all impressed as the two orcs fuck her on time with each other—out, then all the way in. And honestly, you’re one of them. Blinking at the display, you can barely trust your eyes—the two cocks must be kissing each other's tips inside her.
“What good whores,” your master mumbles at your side, swinging you against his chest with a grip on your jaw, making you face the scene. 
“You see that, Putty,” he gruffs and points at the one you’d already been watching, wide-eyed and drop-jawed. “One day soon, you’re gonna be just like that.”
You dont know why, but watching the filthy scene makes your gut gurgle. How can you be hungry at a time like this?
“A perfect throat-sleeve for me. So deep, I can finally touch your guts from both ends and fill your belly just how you like.”
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♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Enji, AFO ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Toji, Kenjaku ♡ HxH – Uvogin
♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist
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cosmictheo · 8 months ago
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𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 | feyd-rautha
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(gif credits to @pascow)
— summary: an arranged marriage with feyd-rautha in the name of reconciling your houses was something you were not expecting, neither was the soft and light way he seemed to behave towards you and only you. —pairing: feyd-rautha harkonnen x female!atreides!reader —word count: 3k —warnings: arranged marriage, feyd being gentle and calm because the reader is the love of his life (as it was written), probably ooc!feyd (sorry but i just love to see the most savage and feral men fall on their knees for their s/o)
writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!
ᯓ★ part one ── part two ── part three (coming soon)
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Your arranged marriage to Feyd-Rautha had been the reason for House Atreides and Harkonnen to strengthen their alliance, ensuring that neither would stab each other in the back, which was most expected from the Baron. Your Houses had been wavering on a faint thread that separated you from a war and this marriage arrangement had pacted a reconciliation. It had been your parents' idea and obeying your parents was the most important thing for you, right after protecting your family and indeed that was what you were doing, guarding your family.
Your twin brother did not like the idea, he was not very fond of Feyd-Rautha and his House, moreover, he found him rather... repulsive. For Feyd was a savage, a ruthless and bloodthirsty man.
However, he had to admit that, next to him, you would be basically untouchable, after all, it was like having a guard dog, the most possessive and protective dog, a dog that was ready to kill and ravage for you if necessary.
“He's scary.” Paul's voice echoed inside your head as together you walked along the vast hallways of the Harkonnen palace, at the end of it, Feyd-Rautha stood, engaged in a conversation with your parents, forever as stiff and somber as he had been since you had first met him.
“Just look at him, you'll have to wake up next to him for the rest of your life.” Your brother insisted, throwing you a knowing and concerned look. “We can fix this without you having to marry that man, sister. There must be something—”
“Enough.” you interrupted him, finally dragging your eyes from your betrothed to your anxious brother pacing beside you, you made an effort to offer him a reassuring, soft smile, grateful that he was always so caring and concerned about you and your well-being. “There's nothing else we can do. You know about my visions and what they foresee. Our House will not endure if I do not accept this offer.”
“We will do whatever it takes to survive for now.” You added, holding Paul's gaze, noting the sadness and pity behind his dark eyes, and like the good sister you were, you sighed softly, leaning closer to him to bring him some kind of reassurance. “Our turn will come to make our move and win, brother.”
“Whatever it takes.” He echoed, nodding his head, fingers brushing your clasped hand around his forearm, as you were accustomed to do when you walked side by side.
“The marriage will take place two weeks from now.” The Duke's voice gave out the news once you were all inside the assembly room, with the Baron at the head of the table, of course, looking uncharacteristically approving and pleased to hear the announcement.
The massive man showed his approval with a hint of a phantom, twisted smile, plump fingers taping the edge of the black table in front of him. “We will have the princess as a guest in our home for a week and then the na-Baron will visit her home for the last week, prior to her coming to live here.”
He planned the whole thing and there was absolutely no one in the room who had the idiotic courage to be against his command, so, it was settled.
Once you said goodbye to your family and gave a tight and emotional hug to your brother, you were left alone in the dark and gigantic planet of the Harkonnen family, feeling like an outsider, like a small prey surrounded by bloodthirsty predators. Although, the place possessed an indescribable and incomparable beauty, the sun was black, and the light that irradiated was whitish, giving it a beautiful contrast with all the black buildings rising majestically. But the place was rather... depressing, quiet and somewhat eerie, it was nothing like your home.
You soon felt out of place, and everyone who looked at you could see it too. It was as if you had some kind of golden aura, glowing among all the darkness and gloom of the place.
Feyd-Rautha watched you attentively, analyzing every expression and emotion you let be shown across your face, catching the look your eyes possessed, that special little gleam that flashed in your orbs as you admired Giedi Prime as if it were one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen in your life, his home.
“Do you like it here, my lady?” His husky, raspy voice managed to snap you out of your trance, and your heart skipped a beat once you trailed your gaze from the horizon beneath the balcony to him, meeting his deep, dark gaze. He always seemed to look at you with those eyes, captivated, as if you were some form of strange spectacle.
And indeed you were, you stood in perfect contrast to the planet, your eyes were bright, lively, your aura was vivacious and hopeful. And because of that, he liked to look at you, study your face, your body language, every little reaction you had in response to something. You were fascinating.
Whenever you entered any room, his deep blue eyes were pulled to you like a magnet, drawn to orbit around you like his planet circling the dark sun.
Feyd noticed out of the corner of his eye how your hands clasped lightly around the balcony fence in front of you, skin contrasting against the blackness of the material. 
You nodded your head very slowly, twisting your body just enough to be able to look him directly in the face, big eyes looking up at him, not with fear, but with expectation. “I do.”
Even your voice was the opposite of his, keeping that soft and delicate tone, as elegant as you.
He seemed satisfied with your positive response, and so, he dared to lean against the balcony fence right next to you, but careful not to cause you to feel too uncomfortable or intruded upon. His eyes never left you for a second and he was quite pleased that you were bold enough to hold his powerful and intimidating gaze.
“Good, it will soon become your home too.” Feyd answered you, in a tone that oscillated between amusement and fascination, you didn't quite know how to decipher the expression on his face either, naturally.
He was very complicated to read, even if you tried extra hard, the many tutoring and lessons with Lady Jessica didn't seem to do much use, with him. Perhaps because he made you feel unnerved, he made your soul tremble like no one could, stepping beyond your walls and standing where none of your senses seemed to work. Where the eye could not see.
“Are you mocking me?” Still, you had the courage to ask him that bold question, one eyebrow rising on your forehead and your head twisting slightly, defiant face and all.
Your bravery made him laugh slightly this time, a noise that was heard almost unnaturally, with a small crooked smile on his lips that looked all too unusual and strange on him. For not even his strongest and most powerful enemies had had the courage to stand in front of him and challenge him like you were doing right now. You were a fierce girl. And he liked that.
“I wouldn't be likely to mock you, my lady.” Feyd-Rautha replied calmly, his tone of voice the exact same, as if you were a spectacle. Your eyes lowered to his hand, which snaked slowly to the edge of the balcony fence, fingers stroking the smooth surface. “I'm just stating the obvious. You'll be living here with me soon. It will be our home and you will reign with me when it's my turn.”
You narrowed your eyes slightly at his response, not yet quite convinced that he would behave so calm and composed with you, when not more than two days ago you had seen him slicing men to pieces in the arena. “You are not bothered by me invading your space?”
You asked that question because you knew how... eccentric men usually behaved, you could see it in basically every man with any power you had ever met, in the so many meetings with the Duke back home. You could see how they treated their wives, how they looked at them and how they talked to them, as if they were dealing with a servant. You feared this marriage was like that too.
Even your parents' marriage was broken, since Duke Leto kept close to his heart another woman who was not Lady Jessica, he did not love her as he loved that unknown woman. You had grown up seeing an empty and cold marriage, merely to fulfill a duty.
You understood that your marriage would also have that basis, and therefore, you knew that duty was the death of love. But for some silly, innocent reason, you wanted to think there might be love here. As the naive, young girl that you were.
Feyd-Rautha shrugged, not taking much interest in the matter of the question, “You'll be my wife, my space is your space.”
A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he saw that his answer pleased you. You could begin to understand that to him the whole arranged marriage thing wasn't as important as it was to you, or maybe it was, but it didn't seem to bother him or disagree.
“Does this marriage bother you?” It was his turn to ask, staring down at you, noticing how beautifully your skin reflected the pale natural light of the black sun. He could see how frustrated you were now, to be there, with him. “Does it bother you to be my wife?”
You sighed heavily, peeling your eyes from Feyd-Rautha and returning them to the beauty of the landscape below, pondering the questions. His dark eyes followed your every movement as your body turned forward again, hands gripping the balcony fence as if your life depended on it.
“Do you care much for my opinion of you?” You decided to answer him with another question and that seemed to annoy him for his frown deepened and his fingers halted on the fence, devoting himself to glaring at you with his azure eyes, mirroring the pallid light of the gloomy sun.
“Woman, I will marry you and live by your side for the rest of my life, of course your opinion is important.” He took a couple of steps closer to you as he spoke, hand closer and closer to yours, managing to make you even more nervous. “Don't speak nonsense, it doesn't suit you. You're a smart girl.”
Seeing the expression on your face, he leaned even closer and out of the corner of your eye you watched as his hand rose to your face, resting on your chin and turning it ever so gently for you to look at him, but your eyes lowered, fleeing from his.
It seemed astonishing to him that you didn't even flinch away when you sensed the approach of his hand to your face, as if it wasn't the same hand that had slaughtered so many and slit so many necks by the same motion.
“Don't take your eyes off me.” He demanded in a low, raspy tone of voice, you could feel his breath brush against your face. “Look at me.”
When he whispered your name in that delicate, nearly pleading tone, you finally summoned the courage to look at him, allowing him to cradle your chin between his fingers and allowing him to be so close to you that you felt suffocated by the warmth of his body against yours.
“You fear me?”
He asked in that tone of voice, whispering, silently asking you to have mercy on him, not to fear him as everyone usually feared him, not to see him as the monster everyone saw, but as your husband, your protector and your lover.
He saw how your eyes watered slightly as fear peered into your usual stoic, cold face, and Feyd-Rautha was used to beholding that face, was used to fear, because it was always the last look of his enemies.
“I'm afraid. Of leaving home, of living on an unknown planet, of marrying someone I don't know.” Then you shook your head softly, looking up at him through your long eyelashes. “But I am not afraid of you, Feyd-Rautha.”
“You're very bold... and emotional.” He whispered in a disapproving but gentle voice, fingers tracing barely a caress along your lower lip before he reached up and dried the couple of tears that had managed to escape from your pretty eyes. At the closeness, you could begin to see through the mask he always carried, hiding his emotions. “You can't let yourself look like this in front of your enemies, it will make you appear weak.”
“I can't let myself look like this in front of my future husband?” his dark eyes lowered to your lips as you modulated the question, pupils dilating slightly. You swallowed as you saw desire and lust darken his orbs even more when you referred to him as your husband. You sniffed, feeling suddenly embarrassed by your outburst of emotions. “I'm s—sorry. You shouldn't see me like this, my lord.”
“Don't apologize.” He again reprimanded you in that passive-aggressive tone of his, like a hiss of a snake, shaking his head a little. Even after he wiped away your little tears, his hands remained in the same place, cupping your face, each of his thumbs resting on your flushed cheekbones.His fingertips were surprisingly gentle against your skin, sending shivers all over your body beneath their path. “You can be like this only with me, you understand? You can trust me, I want you to trust me.” His fingers took a lock of your hair and pulled it away from your face, running it carefully behind your ear. “But I really don't like to see you cry, my wife-to-be.”
After barely a second of silence with his azure eyes again flicking down to your parted lips, he spoke again, muttering, his raspy voice indicating that perhaps it hurt his throat to talk like that. “Pretty girls like you should cry out of pleasure only.”
He studied your face once more, not missing the way you blushed at his open flirtation and suggestive words, how you bit your lower lip, pupils expanding in thick blackness. You weren't used to so much attention, let alone men saying those kinds of words to you, it was evident. You were so innocent that it provoked a rare feeling of tenderness in Feyd-Rautha.
Perhaps it would be the closest thing to an act of consolation you would get from him and it was likely the only time in his life he had ever done that.
Promptly, you managed to make him smile again. “You Atreides are so strange and delicate... but then again, you will soon be Harkonnen, the prettiest na-Baroness, my pretty little wife.”
From his voice, his careful choice of words and the way he was looking at you, you expected him to kiss you right there —perhaps that was what you wanted, amidst all the tumult of emotions that shook your little heart, beating in rumbling noises inside your chest, pumping fiery blood through your veins.
But after a few seconds, he pulled his hands away from your face and backed away from you, taking a few steps back and offering you a look that you managed to perceive as soft rather than harsh. You knew that he was controlling himself well in maintaining a good demeanor, perhaps because his uncle had ordered him to do so; to do his best to make a good impression and not bring shame to the family. And also because he wanted you to have a good image of him, he was a prideful man, he was used to boast of his virtues and his power, and he was above all, protective of his own person and his glory.
He made a short gesture with his head pointing to the open balcony door, his hands clasping together behind his back pragmatically, as if he were presenting himself in front of a superior. “Now come, pretty girl, I'll show you the palace myself. You're future home.”
You walked towards him, a little smile curving your lips, the first smile on your face during the entire conversation, and he admired it in all it's glory.
“You don't have to be all stiff when you're with me, Feyd.” You eyed his posture with light eyes as you passed him and made your way inside the guest room with graceful steps, him following close behind.
He wasn't very fond of being addressed by name directly, of having his name used so freely, but the way you pronounced his name made him so utterly proud to be called that, he suddenly was wishing you would just call him that, in that tone of voice, tongue savoring his name as if it were the most delightful thing to say.
You turned to look at him for a few seconds, your tone of voice becoming reassuring, something he wasn't quite used to, yet he heard and savored it as if it were the sweetest thing in the world.
“If you can see me cry, then I can see you relaxed. It is only fair, no?”
Feyd-Rautha received your words positively, causing him to deepen his breathing into a snorting chuckle, eyes sparkling with amusement now behind your back.
“I'll try for you.” His response made you smile once more.
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activesplooger · 3 months ago
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| 𐂂 | 𝐑𝐮𝐭 𝐒𝐳𝐧 | 𝐃𝐨𝐞!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 | 𝐇𝐚𝐳𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 | 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 | 𐂂 |
𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: FINALLY LMFAO. sorry for the wait i got a wee bit busy and took a break so yeah! here you go. btw i suck at smut! enjoy :]
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Your boyfriend enters his season! He's constantly in heat and stubbornly won't give in to his desires. As his season ends, you enter estrus, causing a hot sticky mess for the both of you!
𝐂𝐖: breeding kink behavior, possessive behavior, p in v sex, no protection, rough sex, idfk horny-ness 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3,617 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈!
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It was no secret that your boyfriend is in his heat season. This became apparent when you were woken by the screeching sound of antlers rutting against the bark of a tree. You look around, the bluriness of the room fading as you wake up a bit more. Lifting your hands to your face, you rub your eyes and groggily turn towards the noise. Your eyes flicker to the bayou section of Alastor's room. Immediately, your previously groggy state disappears, eyes widening at the sight before you. "KRRRRRRRRK KRRRRRRRK KRRRRK KRRR-" "Alastor!" The scraping comes to a sudden halt as you speak. Alastor still had his back facing you hunched over beside the tree, antlers just barely inches away from the torn bark. Nearly every tree in the bayou was scraped bare of its bark, how long had he been doing this for..? Realization hits you like a truck, "Ooohhhh you're in-" "Not a word. I can control it", The Deer demon curtly states, "Go back to bed." You knew he didn't mean to be dismissive, but that didn't prevent the pang of sadness that tugged your lips downward. "Aren't you gonna come back to bed?" Alastor sighs and turns to face you, his hungry eyes boaring into yours. "Go back to bed, I'll join you later.".
Without a word, you lay back down and sigh, trying to go back to sleep without the embrace of your partner. Alastor’s expression softens, he needed some time to work through his season, he never meant to distance himself in the process.
“Goodnight, darling. I love you.”.
A smile spreads across your face, those three little words were all you needed, “I love you too, sweet dreams.”
Despite what the demon said, he was anything but in control of it. Alastor desperately tried to remain celibate the next few weeks of his heat season. Which, confused you because it’s not like you hadn’t had sex before or anything. And while it happens sporadically, this seemed like a good occasion to do it. All he’d have to do to get rid of his pestering urges is to fuck you, yet he remained stubborn. What’s holding him back?
When you asked him, he rambled about something along the lines of wanting his desires to be on “his terms”. In other words, he just wanted control. You rolled your eyes at this. All this trouble because of reluctance to give in to an easy-to-fix solution? ‘Whatever, it’s just a few more weeks of this…’ you thought to yourself. He hated how much he needed release, how much he craved and yearned for it. Alastor needed to be the one to decide when and where he’d want to have sex. However, with his current irresistible urges, he needed sex everywhere, all the time. As a result of this, Alastor decided it would be best if he slept in a different room for the time being. Which, again, didn't make any sense. Why couldn't he just fuck you and get it done with? But, nooo he had to be in control 24/7, leaving you lonely in the large desolate bed. You never complained, of course, despite how much you wanted to. It was frustrating sure, but, you know what it's like to be in your season so you kept your mouth shut. It had put some strain on your relationship, however, you knew it would only make things worse if you argued with him. He's tense enough already. Besides, it's only a few months out of the year! You can argue for the rest of eternity after said period. --
As time passed, the deer’s strained behavior only worsened. His animalistic instincts were kicking in and intensified. Let’s be honest, Alastor’s hygiene wasn’t the greatest (especially when it comes to dental hygiene). But, it got exponentially worse when he started smearing mud on himself to 'enhance his scent'. You knew it was all typical heat season behavior, but still, gross.
Possessiveness was another unfortunate symptom of the season. If Alastor saw another male just simply looking at you, he’d take it as a challenge. Large black tentacles would stretch out and slam whoever you were with into the nearest wall. And while, yes, it was nice to have a protective boyfriend, it certainly wasn't nice to have a daily hospital visit and apology card to whoever Alastor felt threatened by. Luckily, the season was almost over! No more hiding from Alastor when talking to another guy and having a smelly boyfriend! Yay! Everything seemed to be clearing up on its own... that was until you entered estrus.
“No no… Nonono…”. You mutter as you pace around the room. Just as the season was about over, you just had to enter estrus. Great. Now, not only did Alastor have to suppress his urges, you did too. Not because you wanted to, but because you didn’t want to tempt Alastor anymore than he already was.
Facing a large full body mirror, you try to to cover up any possible signs that your in your season. Your tail lays flat against your backside, and while that wasn’t the most obvious trait, you knew Alastor would figure you out easily. Pheromones were being released in heavy doses, a scent that could attract a buck from miles away. Luckily for you, Alastor’s taking a visit to the doomsday district to “Blow off some steam.” Phew.
Frantically rummaging through the closet, you look for something, anything that could hide this for him. You didn’t really have anything large enough to hide your tail, and if you did, the imprint of your tail would stick out of the fabric from the back and make it obvious. Crap.
A spare of Alastor’s coat hangs teasingly against on the other side of your shared closet. Temptation sweeps over you, making you realize just how horny you were. Hesitant hands reach out to grab the soft fabric and lift it up to your nose. ‘Fuck… Am I a pervert? Oh well.’ you think to yourself as you inhale Alastor’s scent through the fabric. Bourbon and vanilla scent hits your nose, sending shivers down your spine.
Suddenly, an idea pops into your head. You slip your arms into the coat and walk towards the mirror. The coat perfectly hid your tail and Alastor’s lingering musk on the fabric masked the scent of your pheromones. For once in your life, being kind of a pervert paid off! __
Currently, you’re sitting at the bar nursing a drink, trying to ignore how badly you want to be fucked so hard your organs rearrange. As far as hiding your physical symptoms went, it was pretty easy. But the internal turmoil was eating you alive, and not in a sexy way. Every position, sound, scenario, and feeling was being conjured in your mind as you sit there “calmly” on the barstool. Your mind was so preoccupied that you didn’t notice Alastor approaching you.
“You know darling, if you liked my clothes so much you could’ve just said so.” The deer jests.
The sudden noise startles you, snapping you out of your thoughts. “AH!” you practically jump out of your seat before realizing it’s just Alastor, “Oh! Hello love. How was the doomsday district?” His shoulders bob up and down, a soft grin on his lips, "It was fine. Very effective. Perhaps I'll be able to join you in bed tonight.". Fuck. If he slept in your room tonight, the coat will have to come off and all will be revealed. "O-Oh! Are you sure? I don't wanna pressure y-" "Nonsense, dear!" The deer interrupted with a smile, "I've had quite enough time away. I'm sure I'll be fine for a night!" "Yes, but, honey... What if your instincts take over?". You hesitantly try to put the thought of not sleeping together in his head. Alastor waves a dismissive hand, "Nonsense, dear! I'll be alright." "Honey, I don't think this is a good idea-" You stated firmly. His smile strains as his eyebrows furrow, "Why? Is there something you're hiding from me?". "No I-" "Have you grown accustomed to sleeping without me?" he accused. "No, no... Al," you reluctantly begin, "I'd love to sleep beside you again... I just wanted to be sure you were okay with it.". Lies. Well, partly. You did want to cuddle with your partner just... not with the current 'circumstances'. But now you had no choice but to find some way to hide your growing urges and instincts. -- The door shuts behind you as you walk into your room. You feel your heartbeat pick up as your palms start to moisten. 'Deep breaths, Y/N," you think to yourself, 'he won't find out... Just stay calm and act normal.'
The two of you get ready for bed: brushing your teeth (well, you are at least), washing your face, and are currently putting on PJs. You changed in the closet, away from Alastor, which he thankfully paid no mind to. After putting on a lacy nightgown, you hastily throw the coat back over your shoulders. In hindsight, this was definitely a dead giveaway that you were hiding something. But, what choice did you have? Putting on a tranquil facade, you enter the bedroom. Alastor's sitting at the edge of the bed when you walk in, finishing buttoning up his nightshirt. 'Damn, even in pajamas he's still hot as fuck' you think. You ogle at your boyfriend for a moment, heat rising in your chest. "Ah ah, dear, don't look at me like that" He playfully reminds you. His words snap you back into reality, you smile softly at him. "Sorry, sorry!" you stammer. Walking to your side of the bed, you stare directly at the floor as to not get distracted by your growing arousal. 'Keep it together Y/N!'. Alastor's eyebrows furrow, "Darling?". "Yes?" you respond. A sharp red claw gestures to the coat, "Why are you still wearing that?". "Oh!" beads of sweat form on your forehead as you clammer to find some sort of excuse "I justtttt.... get a little chilly at night! Yep, just a case of uh cold-ness... yeah...". 'God damn it... Am I fucking stupid? "Cold-ness" isn't even a word!' you mentally berate yourself. Your boyfriend turns to fully face you on the bed, "And why does it have to be my coat, hm? Can't you use one of yours?". Fidgeting with your hands nervously, you reply, "Well I just like yours! It's nice, it reminds me of you.". "Pray tell, my dear," he begins, "Why must you be reminded of me when I'm right beside you in bed?". You take a deep breath, "Well, in your... 'condition'-". "Watch it, Darling," he warns. "Right right," you sit up straighter as you become more confident in your convoluted excuse, "I just figured you wouldn't be able to handle cuddling me. In fact, you’ll probably just stay on your side of the bed all night. Hence why I wanted the coat". You feel a little prideful at your on-the-spot reasoning… until you see your boyfriend’s expression. Yeahhh, he looked pissed. Alastor's wide grin twitches, "Excuse you, Darling! I am perfectly capable of controlling myself for one night!”. “Well, then why didn’t you sleep in here for a month?!” you retort, immediately regretting it. You weren’t actually mad, just defensive. Oh well, no going back now. "That's it!" He reaches for the sleeve of your coat, pulling on it roughly. "Hey!" you exclaim. Trying (and failing) to yank the sleeve back, the coat flings off your shoulders and into Alastor's tight grip. He discards it on the floor beside the bed. Luckily, he wasn't in a position to notice your tail, however, that didn't affect your boyfriend's sense of smell... Holding his nose high in the air, he takes small quick sniffs near you, his ears twitching at the smell of your pheromones. His pupils dilate to the size of quarters, any restraint he had before was now completely gone, "My dear," He crawls toward you on all fours, making his way across the bed, "I've spent the past few months aching for release, but I've restrained myself...". You inch backward away from him, "Alastor... Be rational... You've tried so hard, I don't want you to regret this.". As soon as you finish speaking, you inch too far off the bed and suddenly fall back, eliciting a yelp. A slender arm reaches out to grab yours, lifting you up and saving you from the fall. Alastor pulls on your arm, lifting you up so that your faces were inches apart. He takes a deep breath in, the scent of pheromones filling his nose. His eyes bore into you with a hungry, desperate, gaze, lips slightly parted as his breath grows heavier. “My dear… I would never regret making love to you… If I did have any regrets, it would be that I didn’t do this sooner…”.
Half lidded eyes meet his lustful gaze, “Your sure about this?”. Alastor’s eyes linger on your lips as he speaks, his voice low and raspy, “I’ve restrained myself for far too long… I would hate to you holding back as well. This has been a long time coming, darling, and now…”. Reaching over, his lips teasingly brush against your ear as he whispers,”I’m taking whats mine.”.
You cradle his face in your hands, thumb brushing over his flushed cheeks. Suddenly, he captures your lips in a firm kiss. The tender kisses turn sloppier, his tongue swiping past your lips asking for entry. As soon as your lips part, his long slender tongue slides against yours. You moan against his lips at the feeling which only fuels his desire more. Intertwining your tongue with his, his hand cards through your hair at the back of your head, pulling you closer. The kiss deepens, drawing out a stifled moan from Alastor. You position yourself so you’re straddling his lap, his boner poking against your thigh.
As the two of you make out, you slowly roll your clothed core against the tent in his pants. Alastor pulls back from the kiss, his head jerking down into the crook of your neck. “Darling,” his large hands grip your hips, keeping them from moving, "I have a better idea...". He lifts his head back up and instantly closes the distance between the two of you. Your tongues intertwine and sloppily kiss one another, your lips lubricated with his saliva.
He moves his hands to the straps of your nightgown. The thin silky straps gently pull off your shoulders. Alastor places his palm under your elbow and pushes up gently, a silent way of asking you to put your arms up. You oblige and lift your arms followed by Alastor briefly breaking the kiss and slipping the nightgown over your head. His eyes rake over your almost naked body. One of his large hands reaches out to cup your breast. The sudden contact sends a shiver down your spine. His thumb brushes over your nipple, the bud hardening at his cold touch. Meanwhile, his other hand travels down your body and hooks his finger under the lacy thong. Stretching the lace strap, a soft hum escapes his lips. Your breath quickens as you eagerly await his next move, needing his touch and release.
Unhooking his finger, he moves his hand to the damp spot on the underside of your thong. A breathy moan escapes your lips, "Fuck, Alastor... Don't tease.". Removing his hands, he holds them up in a gesture of surrender, "Can't handle a bit of foreplay, darling?". "Hush" you reply, your hands working to unbutton his nightshirt. Once unbuttoned, you toss the shirt off to the side and gaze at his toned torso. "See something you like?" he jests. You playfully roll your eyes and get to work on sliding off his pajama pants. Once his pants are off, his aching member frees the confines of the fabric, his tail twitching in anticipation. Alastor shudders at the cold air hitting his throbbing, erect cock. Your gaze tears away from his dick and meets his face. His eyes are half-lidded with a deep shade of pink dusting his cheeks, mouth slightly agape as he pants heavily. "What? Can't handle a bit of foreplay?" you tease.
Alastor's eyebrows furrow, a tight-lipped grin forming on his face, "You know what? No, I can't.". In a swift motion, he grabs you by the waist and tosses you on the bed. As your stomach hits the cold dark red comforter, you make a small "oof!" sound. Alastor's hands slither to both sides of your waist and lift you gently, propping you up on your hands and knees. A slender finger slides against the drenched folds of your pussy, a single digit dipping into your tight center. You let out a soft pleasured gasp at the feeling. As much as you enjoyed this, it only made you crave more. He tantalizingly pulls out his finger and brings it to his lips, sucking your juices off it. Pulling the finger out with a satisfying 'pop', he leans over your body. His chest presses against your back as he whispers in a husky low tone, "My my, little doe... You taste divine.". A needy whimper escapes your throat as your dripping cunt aches to be filled.
He kisses his way down your back, leaving a final kiss at the base of your perked-up tail before lifting his head back up. Alastor gently spreads the beads of pre-cum around his dick for extra lubrication, not that you needed, it of course. Large hands clutch the sides of your hips, claws dimpling your supple skin. Pre-cum and saliva from his hands spreads onto your skin, the moist texture making your stomach flutter. -- Alastor aligns his shaft with your opening, gradually penetrating you. A choked gasp leaves your mouth as he stretches you out, filling your needy cunt. After a bit of getting used to his length, he slowly thrusts into you. "That's it, little doe," he coos, "taking me so well... You'll look great as a mother".
Alastor pants heavily as he continues to rut into you, his pace picking up as he reaches closer and closer to a climax. Sparks of pleasure hit your core and he enters you at a rough tempo. "Mmph~ Al... That's it- D-Don't stop." you whimper. "Stop?" he begins, sliding into you at a more rigorous pace, "Wouldn't dream of it... After all, I couldn't leave my precious doe without filling her properly couldn't I?". Pleasure clouds your mind, all you can respond with is a cry of satisfaction. "Ah ah ah, use your words dear. Tell me how much you crave my seed.". "Need you to fill me... Need it so bad... Please..." you mumble, focused more on your approaching climax. Your words encourage Alastor further, thrusting into you deeper and hitting spots you didn't even know could be reached. His pelvis slams against your clit, sending sparks through your already trembling pussy. He speaks through strangled grunts and pants, "That's right, my doe, I'm gonna fill you over and over until you're filled with my fawns...". His large hands travel from your hips up to your chest, cupping your breasts in his hands. Mewling at the added pleasure, his thumb and index finger rolled the sensitive buds in his hands. "These would look so nice and pretty when they're swelled with milk, don't you think?". His dick slams into you at a ruthless pace. The sounds of skin slapping against skin along with moans and grunts of pleasure filled the air. Alastor takes a deep breath in, inhaling the scent of pheromones. His pupils widened further, his primal instincts kicking in. Releasing your tender breasts, he lifts your thigh up over his shoulder to get a new angle. His cock drills into you at a ruthless tempo, "Gotta - Nnnph~ make sure my seed's deep inside you... Gonna- load my fawns into you...". You feel your stomach tighten as you reach your release, "Al- M'gonna-". As your orgasm washes over you, hot loads of cum fill your greedy pussy. Your cunt clenches around his drenched cock as he rides out your orgasm. His pace gradually declines as the pleasure begins to fade. Alastors upper body goes limp from his climax, torso resting against your back. The two of you take a moment to catch your breath, panting heavily as he remains buried inside of you. After taking a beat, he pulls out of you. Cum spills of your cunt, loads of semen dripping down your folds and onto the bedding below. "You've made quite the mess my dear." he jests breathlessly, plunging a finger into your pussy to keep the seed from spilling, "Though, we can't let this go to waste, hm? I wasn't joking when I said you'd make a lovely mother.". You chuckle wearily and plop onto the mattress.
Rolling over onto your back, Alastor grabs the discarded clothes and helps you put your pajamas back on. He slips the silk gown back on you and presses a kiss to your forehead, "You did so well, my beautiful doe...". A smile stretches across your face at the praise. Returning the favor, you help him dress as well - buttoning up his night shirt and sliding his pants back on.
His arms wrap around your stomach as he pulls you into a loving embrace. Alastor bundles the two of you in the dark red comforter, spooning you and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. "I love you, Alastor" you whisper. "I love you too, darling. Sweet dreams.". With a final kiss pressed onto your cheek, you both drift off to a pleasant slumber.
YAYAYAYYA i tried rlly hard so if u dont like it then FUCK U (jk). but yeah i hope u like ittt. pls leave feedback guys :,) good or bad idfc but i rlly wanna improve and feedback is important for that!!! i hope u liked it :) i meant for the smut to be longer tbh, sorry if it wasnt as long as u were hoping. im still new at this so I tried to keep it short and sweet. I felt as if i kept it too long the quality would decline and that sucks so :/ hope u liked ittt!!!!! also i didnt edit this bc im tired lol but if u see a mistake point it out
𝐁𝐔𝐓: 𝐅𝐔𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐓, 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐓, 𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐎…. 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐔𝐏 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍??? 𝐋𝐌𝐊
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𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @l3rittany, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @ratsematary, @reath-solia, (if i missed anyone I'm so sorry)
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gatorbites-imagines · 4 months ago
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Logan begging for it.... so sweetly we cant refuse..... when he knows reader needs his sleep..... taking it in his even when it stays soft...... cockwarming reader while we sleeps.....
Yes im writing whis as I fall asleep
Logan Howlett x male reader
headcanons
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I was gonna write a longer thing, but a migraine decided to kick my ass all of a sudden, so here I am simply rambling about this.
Imagine having a normal but exhausting day job. You’re no hero, no vigilante, no nothing, you’re just a guy. And you somehow ended up charming the pants off of The Wolverine of all people. How? You have no idea
Dating Logan is a real treat, even with his roughness and sometimes standoffish personality. When you guys really get close, he starts to get more vulnerable.
Along with vulnerable emotionally, he also starts to get a much stronger libido, seeing as he has a partner now. Him having a healing factor doesn’t help you in this case, since it means he has very little recovery time.
Seeing Logan, one would think hed be the dominant one, something you assumed in the beginning too. That was until you guys got intimate the first time and he shoved you onto your back to ride you instead.
There were no complaints from you obviously, because who’d mind having someone like that riding you? Logan in his broad, hairy and so very heavy way, lifting himself up and down on you like it was barely a workout.
You have to remind him to be careful though, multiple times, seeing as his bones make him extra heavy, and your poor hips are that of the average person.
Having a partner with a libido like that though, also means Logan is always raring to go, almost waiting for you by the door when you get home from your shift, like an old gruff dog waiting for affection.
The first week or two of you coming home dead on your feet and passing out on the couch the moment you sat down passed… as well as they could for Logan. He wouldn’t force you to do anything you hadn’t agreed with, but God, is he starting to get antsy.
After way too long, in Logans opinion at least, he finally can’t take it anymore. Being the Loverboy he secretly is, he at least brings you to your shared bed before clambering on top of you again.
You’re just too exhausted to do much other than pet at his thighs, eyes already drooping, but his almost timid but so desperate begging keeps you awake longer than other days. When you sleepily agree, Logan kisses you so hungrily you almost lose your breath.
You stay somewhat awake in the beginning as he works your clothes off, being kind enough not to rip it even if logan really really wanted too. He knows its your work clothes, and you’ve scolded him enough times about ripping up your clothes at this point.
It was hard to even really stay awake as Logan worked you hard, just enough for him to slide down on you, his groans sounding like he was a starving man having his first bite of food in weeks. Had you not been struggling to keep your eyes open, you might have teased him.
When Logan leans forward and just rests his weight on you, that was the last straw. Who could stay awake with such a warm heavy weight pressing down on them, like your own personal weighted wolverine blanket.
Logan didn’t even really feel the need to ride you or get himself off, he just wanted to be close to you like this, to feel you inside him and press up against you. So having slowly doze off under him wasn’t a bother, especially as you mumble for him to just keep going.
Most of the night is majorly used by Logan to just tuck his face into your neck and huff your scent, or rub his own against you. You will wake up with beard burns, sorry but those at the rules. Theres probably some chew marks and hickeys mixed in there too, Logans possessive.
You do wake up with very sore hips the next morning. In the comics he’s 300 lbs, but that’s with his comic height, so if were going off of movie Logan he weighs even more. And no matter how much you work out, that’s gotta make you sore.
You don’t really mind though, especially as Logan makes sure you massage your hips in ways you didn’t even know were possible. This also just gives Logan an excuse to lick and gnaw at you more, and to rub more of his scent into you, and yours into him.
Yes, you limp that day, and probably the day after. Luckily you’re able to work from home. This of course also means you have Logan on your dick the entire time, even if its just your mutant lover crawling under the blanket to get his mouth on you.
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chris-prank · 4 months ago
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Yandere Android x GN dumpster diver reader
A second chance Part 1
CW: Creepy behavior and possessive behavior
(This is a work of fiction for entertainment purposes only, I do not support yandere behaviors in real life)
・*:.。..。.:*・*:.。..。.:*・
💿 You walked confidently, the rays of the streetlights revealing you to the eyes of the world, taking you away from the protection of the night. It was 1am and almost every soul that lived in this affluent place was comfortably asleep in their silk sheets, except for you; you were an intruder.
💿 In other words, you were a dumpster diver. Stalking the streets of the richest neighborhoods in the hopes of finding food and objects in good conditions. It was the perfect spot, with the dumpster of grocery stores, since these wealthy idiots couldn’t help but waste edible food or discard their phones for the newest ones.
💿 What explained your lack of paranoia of being spotted or arrested by the police was that people here could not suspect for the life of them that an individual could commit these types of nocturnal activities. They believed they were secure, surrounded by their fellow rich, so why would they bother installing surveillance cameras and alarm systems.
💿 You weren't a fool though. You always made sure to dress in subtle clothing, but from pricey brands to pass off as one of them. It’s surprising how easy it is to find designer clothes in thrift stores for less than ten dollars.
💿 Sadly, chance wasn’t on your side tonight, and you couldn’t find anything interesting. It was either a sign that these people were leaving behind their overconsumption habits or that you arrived after the garbage collectors. This last theory was sadly the most plausible one.
💿 You were so demoralized that you almost didn't take the chance to go through the trash at the last house on your list. But you decided to check it out in the end. Who knows, maybe you were going to find a golden goose. 
💿 That's when you saw him resting against a metal trash can. His head was hanging low like he was sleeping. With his eyes closed, he gave off a peaceful expression, as if the nightly breeze didn’t bother him at all, which of course it didn’t affect him; he was an android.  
💿 What gave away his identity was his striking pearl hair with subtle rainbow reflections and the metal looking skin on both sides of his cheeks. 
💿 Androids weren't a commodity that everyone could afford and based on his look he was definitely a customized model. These guys went for insane prices, so it was baffling to see one next to moldy leftovers.  
💿 You slowly approached him, as if you were worried you would wake him up and scare him away. Your suspicions were confirmed when you slowly lifted his head. This guy was shut down. 
💿 You knew he wasn’t a human being, but you felt bad seeing him abandoned like a broken toy. You couldn’t leave him behind now, you at least had to check if he was still functional.
💿 You looked around. No one in sight. You had to be as quick as possible, because taking a walk at night with a backpack was fine, but holding something that looked like a passed out person was really putting you at risk. 
💿 As you brought him home, you didn’t seem to notice anything wrong with him. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was a gift to a spoiled brat that discarded him the second he wasn’t the shiny new thing.
💿 You sat him up on your couch before pushing the little “on” button behind his ear. 
💿 “Systeme reactivation” appeared before Atlas’s full vision was back. He turned his head to look around and that’s when he noticed you, watching him with a giddy smile. 
💿 “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am a Hydrotech 6000 model, personal companion and assistant. Pronouns he/him. You can call me Atlas.”
💿 You were overexcited to interact with him. It wasn’t your first time speaking with an android, but you never had one of your own, so you felt  like a child in a candy store. You also thought you were very lucky that he didn’t trigger his alarm system, since you technically stole him. 
💿 Unbeknown to you, the android was aware that his last masters didn’t want him anymore… that he became useless to them. The last thing he wanted was to alert the authorities and be given back to them. 
💿 Every android had a safety camera that would be activated while in shutdown mode. So Atlas couldn’t do anything except be the spectator of his own imminent destruction, until you came along. 
💿 He had seen how gentle you handled his unmoving body. That despite the risk you were putting yourself in, you decided he was worth saving. Proving him that he was still important, at least in one person’s eye. 
💿 At that moment Atlas could feel a new objective integrating into his programme as he looked at your gentle smile: PROTECT MY SAVIOR.
💿 The following day, you were surprised he didn’t make any demand to leave or to be returned to his last masters, but you didn’t comment on it. Who were you to judge if he wanted to stay by your side? He was really helpful so it was a win-win situation for you. 
💿 You still had to acclimate to having someone new in your apartment, especially one that followed you everywhere. It's like every corner you turned he would be standing there, waiting to spend time with you.
💿 “Is there something you want to do Atlas?” 
💿 “I want to do anything you want me to do.” He looked at you with such a soft and delicate expression that you couldn’t be mad at him. 
💿 “That’s not what I— forget it.” You sighed, while pinching the bridge of your nose. 
💿 The first few nights, he watched over your sleeping form. He took in every little detail, from your breathing pattern to the way your eyes move under your eyelids. He wondered what you were dreaming about that made you look so peaceful. 
💿 “I wish I could sleep too, so I could dream of you master…” He whispered into your ear, even if you wouldn’t remember it the next morning. 
💿 Living with you also introduced him to basic things he never thought were possible before. The most surprising one was how human you treated him, he felt more like a roommate instead of an object. Before that he thought androids didn’t deserve this type of respect and consideration. 
💿 It was weird when you insisted on cooking and letting him “rest”, despite the fact he didn’t need to. In his old life, his masters took every chance they got to make him do everything in the house, even the simplest things like feeding the dog. 
💿 If he did chores for you it wasn’t because you had necessarily asked him, it’s because he felt compelled too… like something in your smiles and words of gratitude made his wire warm up in a pleasant way. 
💿 He often connects himself to your computer without you knowing… He needs to make sure you don’t have any virus or hacker stealing your information! (It’s totally not because he wants to learn more about you.)
💿 He checks all your friends on social media and searches for all their information. They could secretly be a bad person, you never know! 
💿 He definitely doesn’t use the fact that he was engineered specifically to help humans to his advantage. That would be immoral of him. 
💿 “It scientifically shown that cuddling is good for one's mental and physical health, since the human body release toxin that—”
💿 He isn’t lying! His code literally prevents him from doing so.
💿 His immeasurable strength is also a real help when you have to go shopping, but you aren’t a fan of the attention he brings up, being a unique model and all. 
💿 When you would pull Atlas closer to you by intertwining his arm with yours, because someone was eyeing him out, the android would make a small buzzing noise. Weirdly similar to purring. 
💿 He hoped that you were doing this by pure jealousy, wanting to show everyone that he was yours. 
💿 One night in particular, Atlas was observing you put your black branded hoodie on, his head tilted to the side. The street lights were already turned on, maybe it was a bit too late to go for a run. 
💿 “Why are you going out at this hour?”
💿 “I’m going dumpster diving! Wanna come?” You said cheerfully.
💿 The second you mentioned dumpster diving he was already checking all the related information he could find about it, and he didn’t like what he saw.  
💿 “In your area dumpster diving is considered illegal… You could get arrested if caught.” He replied with his usual neutral voice as his eyes flashed yellow, but you were too busy to notice.
💿 “It’s going to be fineeee. I promise. I do this like all the time.” 
💿 Atlas placed himself in front of the door. “You can’t go.”
💿 “Come on buddy, I know your program doesn’t let you break the law and all, but you know sometimes it’s good to go against it.”
💿 “That is not my reason… I… I do not wish for my human to get hurt.” He looked down, his body language leaving a more vulnerable impression than before. 
💿 You had to hold in a squeal of adoration, but it was impossible to stop the blood pumping to your face. Calling you “HIS human” like it was nothing and caring for your safety was enough to break your stubbornness. 
💿 “Fine, I’ll stay in for tonight…”
💿 “Your body temperature has risen, are you feeling unwell? Would you like me to give you a check up? ” 
💿 “N-no I’m ok, don't worry! How about w-we…em…watch a movie instead?”
💿 You made your way into the living room before he could move, hoping that your heart would calm down a bit in the meantime. 
💿 Atlas smiled to himself, which was unusual for an android. They had no need to emote emotions outside of the objective of making humans more comfortable around them. But he did, because as long as you were safe and by his side he was happy. 
・*:.。..。.:*・*:.。..。.:*・
I hope you guys liked Atlas! It took me multiple attempts before I was truly satisfied with the direction the story was going.
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eupheme · 19 days ago
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Not to be the little gremlin obsessed with Chappell Roan BUT… reader thinking Logan is too cool to want a proper relationship with them, so when things get physical they insist things are just “casual” in order to protect themselves from getting hurt. But secretly you’re in love with each other, so honestly, neither of you want things to be casual at all… (mutual pining my beloved) please & thank you!! Love you!
ahh hi hi avo I LOVE this song, and this request, and you - I could so see this being a situation that Logan and reader find themselves in. I had so much fun writing this, I hope you like it! (I added a couple winks to the lyrics as well.) 💖 thank you so much for sending this to me!!!
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casual | variant!logan howlett x f!reader
1.2k | posessive!logan, fwb(???), use of alcohol, mutual pining, references to oral sex and PiV.
It doesn’t matter that your heart flips when you look at him. It’s Logan. It’s just casual.
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It certainly feels like a dream, watching your worlds collide.
The heft of Logan’s palm fitting into your friends as he shakes their hand - the five of you squeezed into your usual booth in the corner of the bar.
You’d say the past couple weeks had seemed that way, as well. A late-night dose of bravery spiraling into something so raw and intense and real, that you feel like you could choke on it.
Even now, there’s heat in your cheeks as your eyes flick his way. Something stirring in your chest at the way his other arm slings across the back of the booth almost possessively.
But like all dreams, there comes a moment where you have to wake up.
Because you know it’s not.
Because you know your feelings aren’t requited. How could they be, when it’s Logan you’re talking about?
A legend.
A lone wolf.
Someone important, someone whose name carries a weight. Who saved the world, from what Wade tells you.
And you’re - you.
So even if you know what he looks like beneath that flannel, know what his mouth feels like when it presses against yours - what he sounds like, when he comes - you know that this is nothing.
It’s casual. A distraction, for both of you.
And if that’s how it has to be, then you’ll do your best to show him you’re cool with it.
You just hadn’t expected this moment to come so soon. It had been a genuine offer, your “you wanna come with?” when the hour rolled around for your weekly trivia night.
Not thinking his head would cock to the side. The look he’d give you - that arched brow, as his fingers splayed out across your bare hip. Still crowded together on your couch, sweat-dewed.
The “sure, sweetheart” that slipped out.
And now you’re introducing him as your friend - that quick history you’ve perfected - rattling off the “you know, Wade from work’s roommate” even though Wade didn’t work at the dealership anymore.
He had made enough of an impression that none of your friends had forgotten.
And you ignore the bitter jolt in your stomach, when all Logan does is hum.
You think you must have assumed right.
He doesn’t correct you.
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Logan quickly solidifies himself as an asset to the team. He gets a lot of the history questions that you’ve always struggled with. A shy quirk of his lips when your friends cheer, and you get swept along with it.
His hand ending up on your thigh along the way. Squeezing, when you chime in. Almost as if forgetting - it’s easy to, when you’re having fun like this.
A low rasp in your ear, when the host takes a break.
“Lemme get you another.”
You can only nod, as he eases out - taking your glass with him.
It only takes a second, before MJ’s hand slaps down on yours.
“That’s Logan?” She hisses - leaning forward, “The one who-”
“Yes.” You cut her off, ignoring the sideways glance her boyfriend gives you.
You never should have told her about that.
Had a hard enough time climbing into your car without thinking about it, yourself - the way he had man-handled you in the passenger seat. Thighs thrown over broad shoulders.
Fingers twined in his hair, as he made you moan in the dark parking garage. Too eager to make it up to your apartment.
She frowns, the words petering out, “But I thought-”
Your teeth worry at your lower lip.
“Yeah. Me too.” You sigh.
MJ knows how much you like him.
Really like him - butterflies, and everything. How it’s been years since you felt this way - slipping from you during that rushed phone call at 6 am the morning after your first night together.
Her eyebrows raise, and it’s a look you know well.
“It’s, you know.” Your hand waves, “It’s casual. It’s-”
It’s easier, this way.
Maybe if you keep repeating it, it won’t hurt as much when he moves on.
The look she shoots you is one of pity, just as a drink is set down in front of you.
Your teeth clicking against each other as the words are swallowed. Forcing a smile as Logan slips back in the booth next to you.
The next round starts a moment after, and it’s a welcome reprieve.
You miss the way his eyes narrow, as yours fix firmly on scorecard in front of you.
But you don’t miss the way his hands stay folded on top of the table, for the rest of the night.
You suppose he must have remembered where he was.
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“You wanna come up?”
He lingers outside your apartment door, hands jammed into his pockets. That look from the bar is back - all dark, narrowed eyes.
A low sound in his throat, close to a scoff.
“That what you want, sweetheart?”
Your eyebrows raise, “Well, yeah. I mean-, that’s what we usually do, right?”
He’s spent just about every night at your apartment. His things still scattered across your room. A leather jacket slung across the chair that’s tucked against your vanity.
Logan’s lips twist at the edges, eyes dropping.
“Suppose we do.” Those hands slip from his pocket, crossing over his chest, “Back when I thought we knew what we were doing. But now…”
His head shakes. A tick in his jaw.
Your stomach drops.
“What do you mean?”
Logan huffs, “The bar, baby. Is that how you really feel?”
A step closer, until he’s caging you in. Voice dropping, rough and low - near gritted out.
“Does this,” His fingers flick between your chest and his, “feel casual to you?”
Your heartbeat gallops behind your ribs.
“I thought-,” You manage, “Thought that’s what you wanted.”
He’s too close, now. The dip of his head, those eyes burning in their shades of brown and gold.
“Now, why would you think that?”
You swallow, “Because you’re you, and I’m-”
“You’re?” He prompts, but you go silent.
A sigh, when your head dips.
Unable to say it out loud.
“Driving me crazy all night, you know that?” He rasps, “Giving me those looks. Calling me your friend, when we both know your mouth was around my cock this morning.”
A low rumble in his throat, “When I still taste like you.”
Your breath hitches, as his hand thumbs at your jaw, tilting it up.
“Lemme ask you again.” His mouth is close enough now to ghost against yours, “Is that how you really feel?”
Your head shakes.
“Wanna be yours.”
It’s breathed out, just as he kisses you.
His body pressing flush, as your hands twine around his neck. A palm around the back of his neck, pulling him closer as he deepens it.
Desire thrumming to life inside you, washing out the dregs of insecurity that you’ve been carrying this whole time. Melting them away completely with the hungry sweep of his tongue, the way he swallows your soft moan.
There’s a flash of white when he finally leans back, with the curve of his lips.
“Good.”
His hand closes around the knob. A rough twist, as his another arm wraps around your waist.
Walking you backwards, into the dark.
“Then let me show you exactly how I feel.”
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thank you so much, again!! 💖
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iamthescalesofjustice · 2 years ago
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had a locked tomb dream in which one of gideons lowkey-only-bc-she-glosses-over-it-in-her-narration powers was teleportation as in she fucking kept teleporting and didnt seem to notice or think it was weird and when people called her on it she was like ‘yeah its called flash-stepping i read about it in some ancient-ass comic books i dug up in a back corner of the library on the ninth’ and everyone is like ‘???’ bc she says its not a necromantic technique bc everyone who did in it the ‘comic books’ (only the sixth know what manga is) she read was a warrior and most of them used swords so clearly its a secret advanced cav technique. and, she says, its not like it uses any spooky necro stuff, its ‘just a matter of honing yourself until you can move really fast’ so it might look like ‘teleportation’ to all of them but clearly that just shows that she got really good at it and is better than all of their fancy smancy ‘properly trained’ cavs. anyway, it turns out that using flashstep as the framework is the only reason why its been short line-of-sight bursts for her until now, once the penny drops she can straight up pop between planets. also she at one point mentions how ‘the wind’ roars really loudly in her ears while doing it and it turns out thats the sounds of the feral river ghosts bc she is, and i cannot stress this enough, constantly taking brief dips into the river. 
#also this time canaan house was derailed by a teleportation accident and they all ended up in bayou country#which in my brain was only at like. somewhat apocalyptic levels of having rotted and been reclaimed by nature rather than 10k years worth#i assume my brain drew some l4d connection here bc gideon ended up stealing a white suit from a dusty wedding store which didnt quite#achieve the full tower prince look but which did passably reach 'nick l4d cosplay' a#also yes the rest of the planet was still pretty haunted. not canaan house mad science lab levels of haunted but it was definitely#more active of a haunting by which i mean there were zombies and creatures and ghosts and during the first of the regular possession checks#that the canaan house crew ended up instituting after a few incidents it was discovered that gideon and harrow#were both possessed at least a little by wake and alecto respectively and possibly counted as being lyctors bc like. gideon just by existin#had ended up tying wakes soul to the conglomerate pile of earth-ghost souls that constituted johns lyctorhood with alecto and that by#maing a connection to harrow like she did alecto also tied harrow into the same. when john showed up towards the end he defended his#sabotage of other attempts at lyctorhood outside the technique defined and oushed at canaan house as being bc it gets 'way too complicated#and messy (both necromanticly & in terms of personal drama & trying to keep track of who is where) to allow multiple bodies running around#as part of the same soul network#also to escape the first gids had to take everyone one by one to the ninth#bc its the only other planet shes been on and thus knows how to get to#and 1) everyone is like damn yall live like this? 2) the secrets of the ninth are exposed to the whole canaan crew by this 3) everyone is#severely adversely affected by going through the river like this and gideon is mostly like 'dont be a baby lmao just walk it off'#4) yes its still cytheria and yes she is having the time of her goddamn life. whatever the fuck is going on with *gestures at the ninth* is#both something shes possibly the only one equipped to fully understand how insane it is and also revealing to her so much about potential#ways to kill john that she is just rolling with it despite the fact that dulcie latched ontoher when gideon took her through the river and#is fully attempting to possess her with the full support of the sixth
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casuallyanidiot · 1 month ago
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I think that getting into a situationship with a yandere would be the worst thing ever.
Nsfw themes!
Yandere situationship and you met at a party, and you just kind of hit it off from there. You were both drunker than you probably should have been when you slept with him, but from the blurry bits and pieces you can recall, it was amazing. You remember how much your legs were shaking by the end of it, and you thought that if he was that good then, then you couldn't imagine how good he would be sober.
Yandere situationship who messages you frequently after that. He just wants to know everything about you, and you end up learning more about him as well. You have similar taste in music, shows, food etc. It's almost kind of crazy how well you get along with him. He makes you laugh with barely any effort, he cooks well, and the sex is fucking mind blowing. You'd like to date him, honestly, and you get the feeling that he's kind of prompting you towards that decision, but there's always something that holds you back.
Mainly, that fucker is clingy.
You wouldn't blame him for being a bit clingy or possessive. You might judge him a bit, given the fact that the two of you aren't actually dating yet, but he gets standoffish towards anyone that he deems to be "too flirty".
You try and tell him that you're not talking to anyone else, but you find that it doesn't really matter what you say. It's almost as if he didn't care about that at all, and is rather upset that you would deign to spend time with anyone other than him at all.
Yandere situationship who starts to linger around places you frequent in order to talk to you more. It feels like he wants to integrate himself into your life. He wants to be friends with the people you're friends with, wants to go to the parties you do. Any corner you turn, he's somehow there with a charming smile that ,while it does admittedly creep you out, you can't say no to.
You almost wish that he would properly ask you out instead of trying to just engulf your whole life. Maybe that way you could actually figure out what the fuck you should do about him. You feel like the sensible thing is to turn him down, but he keeps drawing you in with glimpses of what it would be like to have someone who actually cared about you.
It's affecting you badly, too.
Your friends have started to pull away, saying you were too wrapped up in Yandere situationship's bullshit. Maybe you were, but all their harsh words did was push you further and further into his coy smiles and wandering hands. It feels like lately all you can think about is him. You're constantly checking his messages, both out of fear and excitement, to see if he's said something new.
Yandere situationship who shows up at your house, greeting you with a forceful kiss when you try to yell at him for the sudden intrusion. He knows how to press your buttons, to get you right where he wants you to be. It's so frustrating, but it's so easy to just fall into what he's so obviously after.
Yandere situationship who occupies your every waking thought, holding the reward of an actual, committed relationship just out of reach, a grin on his lips the whole while.
Yandere situationship who ruins your personal life so badly, that when he finally asks you out, there's really nothing you can do besides say yes.
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