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sweet-as-an-angel · 5 months ago

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Gladiator! Ghost

Warnings: 18+, Dub-Con, Breeding Kink, Implied Forced Pregnancy, Dominant! Ghost, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex, Master/Servant Dynamics, Voyeurism, Public Humiliation, Sexual Coercion, Scene Inspired by ‘Spartacus’, Based on Spartacus’ In-Universe History, Profanity, Implied Fem! Reader, Images Used aren't Mine.

Gladiator! Ghost abuses his power over you every chance he gets. No exceptions.

And all because you had to go and show him voluntary kindness, tending to his post-battle wounds and praising him for his efforts, all while touching him as delicately and as gently as you could. More so than anyone ever has.

It’s not long after this interaction that you find yourself stationed as Gladiator! Ghost's personal handmaiden; the perfect servant to see that his every desire is satiated.

And, unfortunately for you, that often includes him coercing you into compromising positions.

Even when he’s been training all day, his muscles bulging, skin glistening with sweat, eyes ablaze with bloodlust, he finds time to seek you out and take you someplace isolated and quiet – where nobody else can see or save you – and pumps his fury into you.

He’s never gentle with it, either. He isn’t trained to be.

He’s panting, chest heaving and broad at your back as he presses you into the stone wall of the cellar, your legs forcefully parted by a thick, toned thigh – the skin of which is covered in your dripping essence – as he pounds into you with all his might.

He calls you his maid – only his. Tells you that no-one else can have you, that they’d have to kill him if they wanted to possess you as he does.

And you take it because that’s all you can do. All you’re allowed to do.

You let him make your body feel like this is right, that the cracks of euphoria splintering between your legs justifies the way he grabs your hair and pulls you back to face him, only to force his eager tongue into your mouth.

You clench around him – unwillingly so. Encourage him.

You hear him groan, feel his voice heavy on your tongue before he pulls away, slipping a hand beneath the fabric of your tunic and squeezing your clit between his fingers. You cry out, pressing back into him, taking him deeper.

“You’re mine,” he tells you. He punctuates his point with a quick, harsh slap to your clit – one that leaves you whining. “I’ll give you my babe – give you the privilege of bringing my son into this world.”

Amidst the reluctant pleasure electrifying your every sense, you know he’s close. His tip – pressing into the deepest part of you, a place you didn’t even know existed before he found it – bulbous and aching, pulses in time with his heartbeat. You close your eyes and brace for it – the warmth, the wet. The inevitable.

And, sure as rain after thunder, Ghost growls, pressing as deep into you as your body will allow and then some, as he cums, hot and heavy. You can physically feel his semen pumping through his shaft as he empties every ounce of his seed into your wanting womb – filled beyond full – leaving you whining and trying your best to pull away from his cock.

He holds you still and glowers, a vein across his bicep twitching – almost winking at you – as he slams his hand beside your head, caging you . As if to remind you that he’s the one in charge here.

So you still, panting, sweating and almost crying, as his seed nestles inside you, knowing there’s nothing you can do until he’s ready to let you go – until he’s sure his efforts have taken. And all you can focus on is how heavy he feels inside you, the feeling of his chest almost crushing you against the wall as he breathes deeply. The gradual softening of his tip at your cervix as he grows flaccid.

The hand between your thighs – coated translucent and white – comes to rest upon your stomach. You can feel him looking down at the phantom bump from over your shoulder. His voice is obsidian.

“If I haven’t imparted him upon you already.”

In Ghost’s head, he’s justified in his actions. Even though he can feel you trying to peel away from him, your heart racing to the rhythm of fear and not of lust. Even though he knows you will likely retreat to your shared chambers and weep into your pillow. He knows, deep down, that you want as he does. A family.

It’s all he can think about aside from the bloodshed and the fight for survival. You are all he can think about. The only thing that can placate his rage.

It’s his reason. His only reason to continue.

In his own way, this is his manufacturing of a family. Turning you from a servant into the mother of his children, and transforming him – a beast – into a father.

Not that you’d know this, but he has more influence within the Master’s residence than most – especially as his most prized gladiator.

Whenever the Master throws parties, he convinces him to put the maids – you – on display, to show the other houses that his gladiators are not just fighters, but incessant lovers, too.

More often than not, you’ve had to strip bare and bear the weight of the stares of party-goers as Ghost, assigned to be the night’s show pony, makes sure everyone knows who you belong to.

It’s an exercise of power. Of ownership.

He makes no effort to hide his endurance, his speed, often finishing at a rate that leaves you terrified knowing there’s nothing you can do to stop it, to hide away and prevent your seemingly inevitable pregnancy at the hands of the man you call Master.

Truth be told, you’d be ashamed of enjoying the weight of him inside you – the familiar feeling of his tip hitting a note within you that leaves you whining a wanton tune – if it weren’t for the fact that your situation could be worse – that it could be another of the Master’s loyal fighters pounding you, holding you and bruising your waist. Degrading you from a maid to a whore for all to see.

Ghost can see, during times like these, the women who wish to be you and the men who crave to be him. And he hides his smile beneath learned stoicism, even as he’s overcome with the euphoria of emptying himself inside you, lifting you by the hips so nothing of his making is wasted.

And you can do nothing to fight against it.

And, when he’s asked by some curious voyeur, he’ll do it all again. And again. And again.

This is the only way he can guarantee his seed takes – the only way he can make sure you won’t go off running trying to cleanse yourself of his semen rolling down your thighs, of his efforts taking form and bearing fruit inside you.

He knows it’s just a matter of time until he can afford both your and his freedom, until he can take you away from this place and raise your family together – someplace far from this spectacle of murder.

Until then, he’ll convince his Master to fund these social affairs, to allow you to remain as his maid.

His.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist Gladiator Ghost AI

AO3 Wattpad X

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notherpuppet · 9 months ago

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I wrote the full parody to Ready For This in the Role Reversal AU because I wanted to lol.

Transcription below.

Ready For This (Role Reversal AU parody)

Alastor: Have you ever wanted something That was so clear in your mind that you could taste it?  Susan: You mean like ice cream you get for a friend?  Alastor: Ha! No. It's a feeling like a rumbling in your gut That you could finally be faced with A million greedy faces, I guess what I mean to say is  For the first time in my life I might have to be ready for this Ready to be the one who's leading from the front  Couldn’t do it on my own And history has shown Legends cannot win wars alone  The burden is a bit too heavy So I need to be ready for this  Have you ever felt like you're willing to kill To save the people on your own team?  Susan: I don’t know, seems a bit extreme…  Alastor: Not to me! 'Cause right now, we need a leader And it seems to be that Charlie is forcing me to be that because she’s pissy  So who's with me?  Wouldn't it just be swell to see more of Hell? Join up now if you like travel Come on girls, prepare for battle! Lotta sights to see en route to the hotel Not to mention all of the glory!  Yes indeed, your enemies will cower

And heads will be severed!  Charlie: You’ll make a bunch of brand new friends!  Alastor: Whatever.  Exorcists: New friends!? I'm in Oh whoa I’m so lonely  It's time now to act They're on the attack When they move to strike Just know we’ve got your back!  We'll follow your lead We're eager to see everyone we meet On the hellish retreat!  From this moment on, you can count us in To be organized and disciplined  Our thirst for justice keeps us strong, fierce, and brave So I say, "Ho hey! Let’s join in his crusade!"  Alastor: Now thats the spirit! Can we amp it up? Vaggie: Oh, don’t mind their hesitation, that’s just their new inclination

 Alastor: But I can awaken their bloodlust! Vaggie: Careful, kid. Don’t push your luck!

Alastor: Fair enough…  Alastor and Vaggie: We're super duper grateful To have you gals aboard  Exorcists: We can’t wait to hug an overlord! (Alastor: Yeah, sure...)  Alastor: For the first time in my life Maybe I can be ready for this I can be the marshal leading the parade  I can come into my own And I think I've always known My destiny could never be postponed  When they come for the hotel

I’ll give em hell cuz I’m ready for this!  Vaggie: They're dancing along? They're singing his song!? Charlie: Surprised? Why, I knew he could do it all along!  Charlie and Vaggie: He’s bound to be redeemed, the dream has a chance! Though he seemed hopeless at first glance…  Charlie: He’s filled with potential that I could guide! Vaggie: Fine, I’m in.  Charlie and Vaggie: Stick with him, he will surely see the light!  All: For the first time in our lives We know that we are ready for this  Vaggie: We’ll show them we can forgive and forget!  All: It's time to lend a hand  Alastor: It is time to take a stand! (Exorcists: Woohoo!) Against overlords and their deadly threat!  All: We can provide your support The time has come to stop a war Defend your home, we're ready for... THIS!  Alastor: I really hope that they’re ready for this...

#hazbin hotel #shitpost #omg thank u for being nice to me in the replies n tags u guys r cute🥹#role reversal au

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tetzoro · 1 year ago

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DEVILISH DESSERT — ༉‧₊˚.

ft. astarion !

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : your cramps have hit you especially hard this month and astarion has an idea that could be mutually beneficial

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : MDNI. f!reader, period sex, oral (f!receiving), mentions of blood, unprotected sex but astarion pulls out, multiple orgasms, blood sucking, praise, pet names (darling, my sweet, pet), — WC : 2.2k

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᰔ*.ﾟ

“believe me, pet, it would be a win-win.” astarion drawls, his hands following the flow of his speech. “you lay down and let me take care of you while i get my fill.”

the thought had crossed your mind before —fleetingly. the last time he fed from your neck the idea planted itself in your mind in a haze joined by many other ones, swirling together as your body tried to make sense of what was happening.

“but,” the argument you were about to make dies in your throat. but, what? astarion was asking you to let him indulge, a chance to satiate his hunger while also pleasuring his lover. his eyes plead with yours, giving away how eager he really is. “sure, why not.”

“that’s the spirit.” he claps his hands together before reaching out for your hand. “i promise i’ll take good care of you, my little treat.”

“what did i say about using that nickname?” you mumble as he takes your hand, quickly bringing it up against his lips for a quick peck, hiding the small smirk that was blossoming.

flashes of the last time he called you that floods your mind – the way it slipped off the tip of his tongue and lured you to his bed. the first night you let him feed off of your neck, taking the blood he needed while his cock was buried in your heat.

“what’s that? can’t hear you darling.” he teases, knowing exactly what was running through your mind right now. he finishes guiding you to his tent and he closes the curtain. “no matter, it’s just you and me now.”

suddenly, you feel a bit nervous under his stare. the reality of your moment coming into the forefront of your brain. you knew he has an affinity for blood, but what if it tasted bad — what if you tasted bad?

his lithe fingers gently cradle your face, adoration soaking his features. his dark red eyes trail all over your features, taking in every little piece of your face.

“gods, you’re beautiful.” he breathes out, slowly leaning in to kiss you. you meet him halfway, lips colliding against one another as his hand starts to trail down the curve of your waist. he pulls apart for a second, placing a quick peck before he speaks again. “i can’t wait to taste you, i know you’ll be as sweet as always.”

his words pour over you as warm reassurance, your body melting against him as he kisses you again. the small flame that had formed before was quickly simmering into a wildfire, lying just beneath the surface and ready to consume both of you in a spark of passion.

but for now, he takes his time with you. his lips trail down your neck, fangs barred as they lightly drag along your jugular. you hold back a gulp, ashamed at how much it makes you yearn for him even more.

he doesn’t bite, not when he’s so eager for what lies below. you lay all the way down the bedroll as he makes his descent, murmurs of praise slipping off his tongue and onto your skin.

he makes quick work of the pants you had on, tearing them down your thighs as his bloodlust starts to kick in. in seconds, his head is buried in between your thighs, nose pressed against your clit as he deeply inhales.

“darling-“ he breathes out, absolutely in awe of how delicious you’re going to taste. “this is…” he trails off, unsure if words could describe how much this means to him.

“never seen you so speechless before.” you tease, trying not to squirm under his gaze, his eyes locked onto the blood woven slick pooling at your entrance.

“what can i say?” he presses a kiss just above your clit, eyes darting up to yours. “this is a gift, and i plan on showing you just how appreciative i am for it. for you.”

you open your mouth to retort but his tongue catches your throbbing nub first, sending a jolt throughout your body. after that first taste, he’s gone. completely lost in you and the frenzy begins.

he tosses your leg over his shoulder, angling himself to get deeper. his tongue delves back into you and you feel him everywhere. it’s enough to arch your back, your fingers clawing in his hair. he grunts approvingly into your messy cunt, licking up every little speck of blood he can get his mouth on.

each precise stroke of his tongue has you unraveling in his hold, undoubtedly gushing more of your bloody essence on his eagerly awaiting mouth. he was practically moaning now, the vibrations shooting throughout your body. he breaks for air for a moment, licking his lips and looking up to you.

“no one could ever taste as sweet as you, darling.” a soft nibble to your inner thigh, his darkened, blown out eyes still locked onto you.

he goes back down on you, slowly pushing in his fingers to draw more out of you, wanting you to flood his vision with the small slice of heaven you’re granting him right now.

it’s all too much and you’d be lying if you said his enthusiasm wasn’t the driving force towards your release. you’d never been with a man so desperate for your taste, especially when you were in this state.

your back starts to arch off the bedroll, reeling in the pleasure that’s about to snap. the coil shatters into a thousand pieces as you dig your fingers into his curls once again. you don’t know if you were loud or not, you don’t know anything as a white veil had taken up your vision, pleasure coursing through your veins as your blood pounds within your ears.

the tent is silent, save for both of your heavy breathing. through half lidded eyes, you see him greedily lick around his lips, ensuring he didn’t waste a drop of the gift you’ve given him.

it takes a few moments for you to come back down to reality, your head swimming in the pleasure astarion hurtled you in. you watch as he places one last kiss against your cunt, slowly backing up on his haunches.

without breaking eye contact, he slips his still coated fingers in his mouth, eyes almost rolling to the back of his head as he savors the taste of you. a beat goes by and you think it’s over and time to head back to your own tent.

but he’s always been a selfish man.

“you know, i don’t think i’ve quite gotten my fill of you yet.” his voice sings in your ear. “i think i want a little more.”

“you might have to wait a bit.” the words flow out of you as you prop yourself up on your elbows, getting a better look at him. his eyes were still blown out — crazed. whenever he has that frenzied look in his eyes, his hunger is still strong and his sights are set on you.

“or, maybe not.” he tilts his head to the side. “let’s have sex so i can make a proper mess of you.”

“what? i-i’m not sure.” you frown slightly. the cramps had subsided, sure. but who’s to say that wouldn’t bring them back?

“think about it.” he drawls, taking off his shirt, showcasing his body. “coming a few times will be very beneficial. it’ll clear everything right out.”

“well.” you pause. realistically, there could be a truth in that. but who knew if your body would listen to logic anyway. and yet, “well i suppose it couldn’t hurt to try.”

“exactly, darling.” he smiles before a softer look falls onto you. “but if it does, you’ll let me know.”

it wasn’t a question. the underlying care he held for you was slipping through the cracks of the tantalizing facade he loved to put up. you nod your head in confirmation. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t excited to test this theory out, especially watching him slowly untie his breeches. lithe fingers that were just inside of you untwisting the knots woven in the string.

his cock springs out from being stuffed away, begging for some sort of relief judging by the amount of precum that was pooling on its head.

he hastily lines himself up to your slick entrance, rubbing his tip around it before it kisses your swollen clit. you gasp out as your body tingles with electricity. after a baited breath, he starts to slide in agonizingly slow, carefully watching your face as he does so.

but you look away, the eye contact feeling a bit much — even after everything. he was just too pretty, his expressions too raw. every moment you held his gaze, the fire inside of you threatens to take over.

“you need to look at me, my sweet.” his cold fingers grasp your chin lightly, tilting your head so you had no choice but to look at him.

before, when you had first slept with astarion, things hadn’t been so intimate. of course, it was all very rushed. it was the end of a gruesome battle and tensions were high, not to mention alcohol was swirling around in both of your systems.

but this was different. so much time had passed since then — or at least, that’s what it felt like. it’s all been so intense since you first met the pale elf that you hardly believe it’s only been less than a few months.

and in that time, you two had gotten so close, really close. slowly prying each other's heart open with gentle, reassuring hands. something that had forged itself out of forced trust, blooming into a beautiful and vulnerable partnership.

“i’m here.” you whisper, finally looking at him. his eyes soften and you realize at some point you started to caress his cheek. your finger smooths over his soft, smooth skin before his lips meet the palm of your hand, pressing a kiss onto it.

“and thank the gods for that.” he whispers back with a pleased look. his hips were flush with yours, moving in slow and short movements so he didn’t overwhelm you. but every second he filled you up, you could feel the pain subsiding in your lower abdomen.

you let out a soft whine, clenching around him as he starts to go a little faster. his eyes trail from yours and down your neck, looking at the twin marks he left the last time he had you in his embrace.

“astarion-.” you gasp out, savoring the way he continues to roll his hips into you, molding your cunt perfectly to take him and him alone.

“yes, my love?” he whispers, pressing a delicate kiss against your neck, taking every ounce of his self control to not sink his teeth into you. but he was making you feel so much better, one bite couldn’t hurt, right? you tilt your neck to the side to show it off for him. he hesitates. “are you sure?”

“please.” a simple request he wouldn’t leave unfulfilled as his fangs dig into your neck, the same spot he drank from before. he sucks lightly, your mind clouding and filling with nothing but stinging pleasure.

his starts to thrust again — faster this time as he gets lost in the overwhelming sweetness of your blood. it fuels through his body, giving him the strength he normally needs to help keep you safe. but instead, he’s only using it to drive into you harder.

he pulls back from your neck with a gasp like he’s been shocked, blood dripping down the sides of his mouth. his attention shifts, watching his cock disappearing into your cunt, feeling you already start to gush around him, blood starting to soak around his length.

“so sweet.” the words barely leave his lips, but enough for you to hear it. his fingers move down to swirl against your clit, trying to give you the same pleasure you were giving him. “make a mess for me, my sweet.”

words escape you as moans take its place, his name a mantra you can’t stop yourself from repeating. the sting from the bite he gave you was rushing through your veins now, every sense of your nerves being heightened to places it’s never been — overwhelming pleasure coursing through your whole body.

you clench around his cock, squeezing him so tightly he can’t control his hips anymore, rutting against you as the pleasure finally consumes you both.

astarion’s eyes flutter shut as you cum around him, coating his cock in your bloody essence. once you stop fluttering around him, he quickly pulls out and cums all over your lower abdomen.

your head lolls back, coming down from the high he just gave you, aftershocks running down your body. astarion lightly trails his hands along you, a surge of energy overcoming him as he breathes in your scent once again.

“there, now that that’s settled,” he pauses, immediately sliding down and tucking his head back in between your thighs. he licks his lips quickly, his tongue darting across as his feast lays before him. “i’d like to resume my meal.”

taglist : @boogiebooboo @niqhtfell @collin-thegreat @zorosdimples @oikawabi-sabi @mammon-s (happy bday!) @moss-is-a-tasty-snack

#◟˚. ☁️ ⋆ daydreams.#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion smut #bg3 x reader #bg3 x you #baldurs gate x reader #baldurs gate smut #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #bg3 smut

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sp4ceboo · 8 months ago

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Atonement: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: fic i wrote with @triluvial 's lovely idea

tw: 18+, smut but pretty soft, oral (f recieving), so so so so much angst, fluff after tho dw, swearing, hints of sa and pedophilia from the baron, baron is also creepy to reader but not explicitly, u gotta bear with my yapping in the beginning but it gets good i promise, inkpie

wc: 3.9k

headcanons for this universe

When you married Feyd-Rautha, you were warned of many things. His cruelty, both in and out of the bedroom, his bloodlust, his uncontrollable rage, his violence, his complete and utter lack of mercy. They told you he was psychotic, he was a cold blooded murderer, he was insatiable and that you’d be lucky to last a year with him, and yet, they never cautioned you of his sheer, unerring indifference.

Before your marriage, you fancied that he’d be like fire; raging, searing to touch. You went as far as to wish to tame his inferno. Late at night, when you could not sleep and doubt wreathed your thoughts, you also considered that he’d be like ice, like the colour of his piercing eyes, glacial and cold, devoid of anything soft or sweet.

As a child, you saw him fight in the arena. There he blazed with passion, his victor’s smile a cruel curve upon his face, his knife blade stained dark with fresh blood: he was mesmerising. At that time you were beginning to understand that your future had been sold to this violent man, and you resented your parents for it - now you realise that it went deeper than that, that it was rooted in generations of religion, of whisperings of the Bene Gesserit. Still, even then, you found the way he burned intriguing, and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

But you were wrong. He turned out to be neither fire nor ice, just stingingly, dismissively apathetic. His eyes slide right over you when he happens to pass you in the corridors, as if you’re lower than a servant, lower than the rare rats that survive Giedi Prime’s conditions. You suspected your marriage would be painful, wedded to a man such as he was, but you didn’t think it would be this damn lonely.

You wished he hated you.

That way, at least you’d mean something to your husband. At least then vehement, savage emotion would rise within his gaze whenever he looked at you, not that horrible, polarising blankness. You wish you disgusted him, because then he’d at least he’d speak his mind - you had learnt that he spoke with brutal honesty, uncaring of the consequences.

Maybe to him, that’s all you are. A consequence of being high born, of being the na-Baron. You mean nothing to him, and he treats you as such; to him, you are less than the speck of dust on the floor, less than a grain of sand in his beloved arena.

It’s not that you wish for him to dote on you, nor love you or devote himself to you. You just wish he would look you in the eye and feel something; you’d rather him stare at you in revulsion and call you names that you can’t even think up yourself than the dead, lifeless detachment that clouds his face when he sees you in your shared chambers.

Feyd-Rautha has never laid a hand on you in violence; in fact he rarely touches you at all. The last, and only time he kissed you was during the wedding day, and he makes no moves to be in bodily contact with you any more than he has to be. You are obliged to produce an heir from him, yet even in these infrequent encounters it seems as if it is a chore for him - he takes no pleasure in your body nor does he try to pleasure you, and he makes no sound when he takes you, staying as long as it takes for his seed to fill your womb before leaving without a word. On those nights, your thighs tremble as you stumble to the bathroom, only allowing your tears to fall once the shower water is searing on your skin.

During the first month of your marriage, you did everything in your power to please him. You thought maybe you weren’t pretty enough for him, maybe you were not desirable as a wife, so you always smiled at him, made an effort to fill the silence that pervaded the air around him, bringing up topics you knew he would enjoy, like the arena, like his love for knives and duels. To even that he would not reply, rebutting your questions with monosyllables or simply ignoring you. You stopped once he began to leave the room while you were mid sentence.

It is now your fourth month locked in this marriage with an uncaring man, and all you feel is bleak, crushing resignation. Somehow, Feyd-Rautha seems to take more interest in conversing with his brother than you.

You wonder if he has forgotten your name. He addresses you simply as ‘wife’ - that, and nothing more, the title leaving his lips like an accusatory curse, reminding you that if you did not serve a purpose to him, and if decorum did not restrain him, he’d have disposed of you by now, either by slitting your throat or simply abandoning you outside the palace grounds, not even bothering to end you himself.

The palace in question is lonely, but you feel the loneliest when you lay awake at night, shivering on your side of the bed as Feyd-Rautha slumbers to your right. Tears always prick your eyes during those moments, but you stifle them, afraid that you’ll rouse him with your crying; you do not know what you’ve done to garner his mistrust, but many times you’ve glimpsed the knife he keeps beneath his pillow, the cold blade glinting in the moonlight.

Often you wonder if he has a secret lover, and that is why he does not bother with you. You wake up sometimes and he is gone, but soon you realised that he would visit his concubines, especially after he had bred you. You would finish your shower, unable to wash off the feel that you were dirty, you were just an animal, a mindless thing to produce an heir for him, and he would be lounging in the antechambers of your quarters, ignoring your presence with the three harpies wrapped around him, whispering in his ears and caressing his moonlight skin. They accompanied him everywhere he wished, even in public, and to begin with, you felt humiliated that he would so explicitly show that you were not to his satisfaction.

Now, it just makes the solitude even worse.

You find solace in no one. More than once, you have walked in on the servants laughing behind your back, and as it became evident your husband was uninterested in you, they did not hide their mocking. The Baron’s other nephew you hardly saw, and the Baron himself terrified you: there was something in the way that he stared at you, his beady eyes glittering from where they were set deep within his putrid flesh, that made you feel more soiled than even after Feyd-Rautha took you.

So you remain isolated, speaking only when spoken to, drifting through the palace’s wide, dark hallways like a ghoul, a mourning spectre. You can barely remember your life before, just wisps and fleeting flashes of colour that ridicule rather than comfort you.

To Feyd, it is obvious who you are. A spy, commanded by his uncle to report every single one of his doings to you; he cannot slip up once around you, cannot reveal his weaknesses, that he is desperate to be loved, to be seen as someone whose only use is not war. He sees the way his uncle looks at you, hungry for information you do not have because he does not impart it, the way the Baron comments on you and the way you flinch at his words, pretending that you do not report to him.

Feyd is determined in his resolve to give nothing away. His uncle has held power over him since he was young, he refuses to give him even an inch over him now. He still has nightmares of it, which he wakes up from with his pale skin sheened in clammy sweat, clammy like the hands of his uncle.

Sometimes, he sees the tears in your eyes after he fucks you. The first time, he almost stopped, almost asked you where it hurt, but you turned away before he could, acting, always acting; acting when you smile graciously at him, acting when you ask him what his favourite type of blade is, what his favourite form of swordsmanship is. You are good at pretending, but of course you are - his uncle is the Baron, a man who bathes in power. No doubt he would get only the best of spies.

Tonight, you are not where you normally are. At this hour, you are usually asleep, or feigning it in the very least, curled up small on your side of the mattress, yet the bed is still made, the sheets unrumpled and smoothed down as they were this morning. Feyd thinks that maybe he might catch you reporting to his uncle, so he strides out of your shared chambers, pausing in the doorway to listen carefully; as a boy, he hunted in forests that have now been chopped down and industrialised, but he has maintained his keen ears long after the last wild plant on Giedi Prime’s surface choked on the fumes of pollution.

There’s a soft noise, barely perceptible, that echoes down the corridor to his right. Silently, he tracks it down the labyrinthine passages of the palace, servants scurrying out of his warpath, bowing their heads to him - he wonders if they too report to his uncle, if they travel now to his quarters to inform him of his beloved nephew’s whereabouts.

Feyd wishes he and Rabban were brothers first before rivals. Then he could have someone to rely on, someone who he trusted in this palace built on lies.

Pausing, Feyd cocks his head. You huddle in a crumpled heap at the end of the corridor, your knees hugged tightly to your chest, head low as if under a crushing weight. It occurs to him that maybe the Baron was displeased with your efforts to gain information and made it known to you - a pang of pity tugs at him, for he knows what his uncle’s wrath is like. At least you have been spared from the sole thing worse than that - the Baron’s thirst.

‘What are you doing, wife?’

Your head snaps up, Feyd-Rautha’s unfeeling voice kindling a rare burst of temper from you. Is it not evident to him what you are doing? Or is he just too blind to see the tears streaking down your cheeks? Your words are injected with venom when you speak, and you hope that it stings him for leaving you alone in this cold, dark place.

‘So now I am of concern to you?’

Feyd is taken aback by the indignant arch of your brows, the resentment displayed in your eyes. It takes him a moment to register the harshness lacing your voice - you have never addressed him in this way - and another to digest your words. There’s a bleakness in your wet, tear stained face as you stare up at him, and shock too, as if you did not expect yourself to speak against him this way.

Something clicks into place.

Feyd recognises that look in your eyes. He recognises it, because he’s seen it in the mirror a hundred times before; haunted, harrowed, lonely. He remembers nights when he trembled beneath the cold sheets of his bed, when he was small enough that he felt like he was drowning in the black satin, his eyes wide as the fabric seemed to wend around his limbs, tying him there as he lay fearful of everyone, fearful that his uncle would summon him. Even young, he was so terribly aware of not knowing who he could trust and who would turn to the Baron, bearing information like knives to split open his childish skin and spill his guts on the freezing stone floor.

It broke him. He is barely a shell of a sentient being, repressed emotions wreathing like ghosts around his frame, his eyes hollow, his heart decaying. In his fear, he was blinded, and he pushed you to the place where he had been all those years ago, so terribly, terribly alone - you are stronger than him, for lasting this long.

Sharp, plunging, dread sinks in his stomach, weighs down his soul; he has done unspeakable things to you, treated you like a dog, like a whore - worse. How can you look at him without hatred in your eyes, spite?

Bile rises in his throat, his heart seized by a dark, burning anger. He has done this to you, he has slashed your skin and left you bleeding, and yet all you did was try to please him. In an effort to save himself, he trampled you under foot; in order to keep you out, he left you surrounded by shadows. Feyd has never hated himself so much, has never despised who he has become with this much furor.

Slowly, he crouches before you. Eyes wide, you shrink away, misreading the direction of his rage, flinching when he reaches out a hand. Pressing your back against the wall behind you, you turn your head away from him, fear causing tears to spill down your cheeks: he sees the way you will the stone to swallow you up, knows the feeling.

‘Please don’t hurt me,’ you choke out, hands trembling uncontrollably.

Something deep within Feyd’s soul withers and dies at your words. Forcing his jaw to unclench, his hands to release the fists they held, he shoves down his anger. The fury is for later, for when he has made things right - for now it is you that is his priority. Too late, a voice whispers in his ears, too late, too late, too late -

Gods, he deserves to burn at the fucking stake for this. He deserves eternal hell for this, he deserves worse. He is a fool: a blind, blundering fool, stuffed to the brim with paranoia and cynicism.

He sucks in a breath. ‘I will not hurt you. You have my word, whatever it is worth to you. I - I have made an irredeemable mistake, I - ’

After his first sentence, you have not heard him. Tears of relief soak your face, and you whisper needless apologies for them; it is an arrow through his heart that you fear him so - yet the pain is where it is due, justifiable for the way he has shamed you, belittled you.

‘May I - may I touch you, my wife?’

You do not know why you nod in reply of your husband’s strange request, but the moment you do, strong arms pull you into a solid chest, and a sob leaves you - he is so warm, warm enough to banish the seeping cold embedded in your bones, warm enough to let your sorrow flow anew, soaking his shirt as your hands bunch in its fabric, so that if he is cruel enough to leave you here, at least he will have to fight to do so. You have not been held in a long time.

Each of your shuddering sobs is a knife blade twisting in Feyd’s spirit. He lets the pain wash over him, clings to the way you burrow into his arms, a kind creature in the embrace of a monster. At one point, in the throes of your crying, you beat at his chest, telling him that you hate him, and he takes it with a bowed head, stroking your hair and holding you tighter once you exhaust yourself; this is only a fraction of his atonement.

You fall asleep in his arms. He carries you back to your quarters, and only once the door is closed behind him does he let his tears mingle with yours. Keeping you cradled to his chest like a child, he pours a glass of water for you to drink in the morning, knowing you will be dehydrated; he sets it on your bedside table before laying you down on the mattress.

You don’t let go of him, even in your sleep. His heart clenches, tight in his chest, and he drops a kiss in your hair before lying down beside you.

He believes he will love you, if you will let him.

Consciousness leaks slowly into your mind, and you blink, squinting through the beam of light that filters in through the curtains. From your months spent here, you’ve realised that Giedi Prime’s atmosphere is normally churned up with violent storms and choked with pollution, so this ray of sun that falls against your pillow, warming your face is far from unwanted - nor is the pale forearm tucked around your waist, firmly so, but not trapping you either.

Your husband’s chest fits snugly against your back, his breath warm and steady against your skin; his fingers splay out across your stomach, gentle, communicating so many things that were left unsaid. Vaguely, you remember falling asleep, nestled against his chest, tears drying on your cheeks.

When you roll over, you’re unsurprised that he’s already awake. With blue eyes softened by the sunlight, he regards you, fingers settled at the small of your waist. Something clouds his gaze, and he shifts, propping himself up on his elbows.

‘I owe you an explanation.’

You wait silently, unperturbed by the way he clenches his jaw. He vowed to you last night that he would not hurt you, and you trust that. Wordlessly, his lips open, then close, and you patiently watch him, far too well acquainted with how this man struggles to let down his guard - even now, you cannot read the twisting of his features, the way his eyes squint as he looks at you.

‘I - I thought you were a spy sent by my uncle,’ he finally confesses. ‘My uncle… when I was younger, he,’

Reaching out, you cup his jaw in your hand, running your thumb along his cheekbone until he relaxes. You see the battle in his eyes, to let go, to tell you the knowledge that he thinks you deserve, but you see with it the years of hurt, of solitude. Something hopeful, something beautiful blossoms within you - the realisation that this wounded beast before you is someone that you could grow to love; you want him to bare his scars to you, those that are long healed and those that still seep with blood.

‘All in good time, Feyd,’ you assure him quietly.

He sighs, touches his lips against your palm. ‘I am sorry, my wife.’

Slipping your hand down to grip his shoulder, you lean closer towards him so you can kiss him. An anguished sound leaves him, and you see clearly how he realises that he has wronged you, how it pains him, and yet how the taste of you awakens something tender within him - you marvel at it, that it has survived, buried within him for so long. Perhaps he will let you love him.

Feyd is neither forward nor insatiable in the way he kisses you. In fact, he pulls away first, moving to get up from the bed despite the way your hands grip his shoulders, and you almost doubt that he wants you before you glimpse the longing in his eyes that lingers before he pushes it down. You wonder if this man knows how to make love or if he just knows how to fuck, you wonder if he feels the same molten feeling in his stomach that you feel and that is why his movements are tinged with nerves as he gently escapes your grasp. It is clear to you: he does not want to scare you.

‘Must you go?’ You ask, tugging at his fingers.

He tilts his head. ‘I don’t know if you want me here, after what I have inflicted upon you.’

A streak of bravery takes ahold of you. ‘Please, Feyd, I want you.’

You delight at the fire that ignites in his eyes upon your words. He wastes no time in returning to your side, dropping a sweet tasting kiss to your lips before taking your chin in his hand, eyes searching yours as he sits between your thighs.

‘Tell me if you want to stop,’ he says. ‘Yes?’

‘Yes,’ you echo, blood heating your cheeks.

Feyd kisses you again, giving you time to rescind your reply if you want, but you just tug at the hem of his shirt, drinking in his sculpted chest when he pulls the black cloth over his head. Delicately, he trails his lips down your skin as he undresses you, his broad hands warm where they encircle your waist, holding you flush to him as his calloused palms explore your body, skimming over your spine and caressing your breasts before settling on your thighs and pulling them open.

You’re terribly aware of how wet you are when his eyes settle on your pussy. Instinctively, your knees tip inwards, your face growing hot at the hunger in his gaze, but his broad shoulders block your legs from closing, followed closely by his hands which gently push them back open. He smiles at the blush high on your cheeks, rubbing his thumb over your ankle in order to put you at ease.

The sound you make when he pushes his fingers into your cunt and curls them almost makes Feyd moan. You tremble for him, bashful, and he can feel himself rock hard against the mattress, aching for the tight clamp of your velvet walls. He wants to bury himself between your thighs, and so he does, your sweet slick exquisite on his tongue - he presses kisses like butterflies to your thighs, your hips, worshipping you as his fingers pump in and out of you to the same pace as your heaving chest.

You look beautiful, gilded by the sunlight, lower lip trapped between your teeth, but he doesn’t miss the way you grip the sheets with one hand, the other clapped over your mouth, panting as he pleases you. Stroking your thigh, he pauses, licking your slick off his lips.

‘Let me hear you,’ he bids.

You blush again but obey him, tremors wracking your body as he sucks on your clit, laving his tongue over it until you throw your head back, eyes rolling as you come, your honeyed moans and hot release exquisite upon his senses. He wants more, needs more of the taste of you, but you tug at his shoulders, whining for his cock, and he’d rather die than deny you.

The way you say his name when he buries himself inside you sets his soul on fire. You look beautiful beneath him, shaking and whimpering from the hot pulse of his length, clawing at his shoulders until he wears red marks that he’s proud to bear, moaning into his mouth when he kisses you. It seems you cannot get enough of him, and Feyd is more than fine with that because he finds himself addicted to the feel of you under his hands, begging him for more.

Feyd remains entranced long after he comes inside you, with you, your cunt spasming around him. You draw close to him, intertwining your legs with his as he kisses your face, your neck, your chest, making sure he has not hurt you, making sure you are sated. Curling your fingers under his jaw, stopping him, you look him in the eye and smile before kissing him, and he finds himself mesmerised again by you.

He is certain you will let him love you. He is yours.

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indulgentdaydream · 6 months ago

Note

protective!jason hcs or blurb 🥰

Ok so I kinda touched on these in my latest fic but anyways i WILL elaborate bc those were just background

We all know that man is touch starved. We ALL know it.

We also all know he’s hesitant with sharing touch

It’s only once you both have been dating for a bit already, maybe three months in, that he really starts to show his protectiveness through his touch

Or at least when you notice it

He’s always at least holding your hand as you guys walk around Gotham. Depending on exactly whereabouts in Gotham is when he changes whether he’s between you and the road, or you and the alleyways.

You watched him change it up one time halfway through your shared walk, him letting go of your left hand, stepping behind you and around to grab your right instead.

“Oh? So you want me to get hit by a car and die?”

Jason only keeps his eyes on the passing buildings and the ones coming up, “The chance of that is much lower than somebody trying to mug you in this area, love.”

One day you’re both out at the bar together. He’s sitting on a stool behind you as you babble to oke of yours friends.

From over their shoulder, you see a man approaching, but don’t think anything of it.

Suddenly, you see the man stop in his tracks, freezing. You glance over at him. He looks terrified. He glances at you, his original target, then behind you again. He spins on his heel and walks back the way he came.

You look behind you, feeling Jason’s hand still resting on your hip. You almost feel a little scared yourself, seeing that killer glare that Jason’s pointing at the guy’s back.

He switches immediately the second he looks down to you, a soft smile and kind eyes, not a hint of the previous bloodlust a mere second ago. “What?” He asks, like watching his expression change wasn’t the biggest turn on in the world.

You’re sitting in your apartment at your desk typing away on your laptop. You’re trying to file your taxes, and Jason had come over to help you with it (surprisingly he knows how even though he’s still legally dead at this point and hasn’t had to pay any taxes. Ever.)

He had stood and was wondering around your room a bit while he waited for you to fill the next part out. You can hear shuffling, but you’re too focused to tune into it.

“Jay? What does this line mean?”

Jason grunts for a moment and you hear your window slide open.

You turn back around, “Jay?”

“One second.” He shuts your window again. You watch as he fiddles with the lock before easily sliding the window back open. He throws his hands in the air and looks at you. “How long have you lived here?”

You shrug, confused, “You helped me move in.”

Jason waves his hand through the air, “When?”

“Almost a year? Last November.”

Jason fiddles with the window again, slamming it back down, “This lock doesn’t work. You been sleeping in here and anyone could’ve just broken in?”

You shrug again, “I didn’t know it was broken! I don’t really lock my window often.”

Jason looks like he almost broke his neck by how fast his head whipped back to you, “You don’t lock your window????”

He finishes your taxes for you before he leaves, saying he’ll be back. Within the hour he’s knocking on your door again, a duffle bag in hand full of power tools, screws, and different assortments of heavy duty locks. He spends the rest of the night installing them.

A new one on your bedroom window that actually consisted of two different locks. A similar two on your kitchen window. Another three on your bedroom door itself. Then four on your front door.

As he leaned over your kitchen sink, screwing in the lock and blocking your way as you tried to make you both dinner.

“Is this really necessary?”

“I’m not having you practically open to every bad thing the city has to offer, love.”

“Then how are you going to come in through my window now?”

“I’ll learn to knock.”

That’s all I can think of right now okay byeee

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maximumzombiecreator · 3 months ago

Text

Since @thydungeongal is going through it with the "combat isn't roleplaying" people, I feel like it's worth pointing out that if you're playing a game system with a lot of combat and your big roleplaying moments are happening almost exclusively out of combat, that's a big storytelling problem that's happening.

Here are some classic story beats that most combat-heavy TTRPGs are easily capable of creating with their game mechanics:

The characters are fighting an overwhelming tide of enemies. One of them calls for a retreat, and the characters flee, only to realize that one of them stayed behind, sacrificing themselves to secure their escape.

A character is holding a single use weapon --a pistol with one shot, a scroll, a magical arrow-- and the situation is getting desperate, but that weapon has a hated foe's name on it. Do they use it now to save their friends and give up their one shot?

A character is fleeing from an enemy that has proven overwhelming in the past. Suddenly, they stop, and turn to fight. They are beginning to believe.

Two characters who have been separated for ages are finally fighting together again. They know exactly what to expect from one another, their abilities synergize perfectly, they fit one another. The carnal metaphor is obvious and goes unmentioned, but not unnoticed.

A character is dropped in a fight by an overwhelming foe who doesn't kill them, but tells them to stay down. They know if they get up, they'll die. They get up anyway.

The characters who bicker constantly and seem to hate each other outside of a fight are constantly upping the ante on who can put themselves in more danger for the other in a fight. When death is on the line, true feelings show through.

Filled with rage, one character in a fight is going too far, is being too reckless, is risking too much collateral damage. An ally steps between them and the target. If their bloodlust is truly out of control, then they'll face their friend next.

If you are experiencing a disconnect between combat and roleplaying in your combat roleplaying game, please consider whether you're telling the stories the system is equipped to tell. Because even the less great combat TTRPGs can create stories that rule.

#ttrpg #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop gaming #dnd #d&d

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thewickedjazzy · 2 months ago

Text

Bonus Level: Blood lust and Terror for Kinktober.

vampire!chuuya & ghost face!nikolai x afab!reader. -two drabbles-

ᡣ𐭩warnings: nsfw mdni, smut, blood kink, biting, marking up, possessive! chuuya, unhinged vamp! chuuya, bloody sex, slight knife play, shower sex, ghost face! nikolai, teasing, cum mentioned, unprotected sex, the list goes on and on ofc.

ᡣ𐭩word count:2.5k

ᡣ𐭩a/n: i know i'm late, sorry pookies, proofreading took longer than expected and I still think that I didn’t do it thoroughly, anyways! this bonus fic is for @chuuminn —chuuya's drabble & @violetfruity —nikolai's.

ᡣ𐭩-check Kink Coin to unlock bonus fics´-

1. [vampire! chuuya: bloodlust]:-

“you sure about this?”

chuuya stands at the edge of the bed, his chest heaving as he looks down at you, sprawled out so perfectly in the lavender lingerie that he adores. the soft fabric clings to your skin, drawing his eyes to every curve, every inch of you that’s his. he has never marked you with his fangs before, always so gentle and carefull not to press hard enough to draw blood but dazai’s words from earlier still echo in his mind, making his nerves boil with possessiveness.

you nod slowly, biting your lower lip as he throws his head back and takes a deep breath. he slips off his gloves, unbuttons his dress shirt and disregards the rest of his clothes, then crawls onto the bed, his knees sinking into the mattress as he leans over you, his hot breath grazing your neck so perfectly, anticipation pooling in your stomach. “i’ll show that asshole who ya belong to... i’ll mark every inch of you.”

your breath catches in your throat as his lips meet your skin, soft at first, teasing even, as he drags them from your neck down to your collarbone. his hand trails slowly over your side, fingers tracing the delicate lace that barely covers you, and you shudder beneath him, sweet whimpers slipping from your glossy lips.

“more..chuu-” you breathe, voice trembling as your fingers tangle in his fiery curls, tugging gently. he sucks gently at your skin, not biting—not yet. his mouth is warm, tongue flicking out to taste you as he moves lower, leaving a trail of wet heat across your chest. your body arches instinctively into his touch.

a low growl rumbles in his chest, vibrating against you as he pulls back just enough to admire the bruise forming on your skin. “I want him to see this,” he murmurs, “i want that bastard to know that yer' mine.”

his hands slide lower, tracing the lines of your body, you let out a breathless moan as his thumb brushes over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

chuuya's red eyes glow— jealousy simmering just beneath the surface—as they lock onto yours for a moment longer before his fingers slip beneath the lace of your panties, pulling it aside with a sharp tug. the cool air hits your bare skin for a split second before he pushes his deliciously girthy cock into you with a breathless moan, lips trembles slightly as his head lolls back.

the stretch has you gasping, your nails digging into his shoulders as you struggle to catch your breath. he doesn’t ease into it, doesn’t give you the slow build you’re used to—no, this time it’s different. his hips snap forward with a force that makes your body shake beneath him, a soft cry falling from your lips.

for a vampire, you’re aware that he can go fast, but not this fast. it’s as if something has taken over him— obviously drunk by dazai’s taunt, and the need to prove something, to leave no doubt that you’re his. his fingers dig into your waist, holding you in place as he pounds into you. the sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, each thrust stealing the breath from your lungs.

“chuu—mngh.. slow down” you gasp, your voice breaking as your head falls back, exposing your neck to him. his gaze flickers to it, and for a moment, pace slowing down for a bit as his thrusts become more controlled, more intentional. he leans over you, breath brushing against your throat as he brushes his pretty lips across your skin.

“ready, doll?” his voice is almost raspy, and you can feel the sharp points of his fangs just barely grazing your neck.

“yes—please mmph” you whimper

he responds with a groan, his grip on your waist tightening, and with one final snap of his hips, he sinks his fangs into your flesh. the sharp sting makes your body jolt beneath him, a gasp caught in your throat as the heat from the bite spreads through you like wildfire. It's overwhelming—the sensation of him buried deep inside you while his fangs pierce your skin, claiming you in every way possible.

your nails rake down his back, your body arching into his as a rush of euphoria crashes over you. he growls against your neck, his fangs sinking deeper as he drinks from you, the pain and pleasure blur together, your senses completely consumed by him—his scent, his taste, the feel of him everywhere.

his pace slows, hips rolling languidly against you as he draws back, his lips brushing over the fresh bite mark now blooming on your neck, licking over it, to sooth the sting with his hot tongue, he pulls back to meet your gaze.

“mmph—there...” he murmurs, his voice rough, breathless. “only i get to see you like this... only I get to make you feel like this.”

chuuya lifts his fingers to your neck. and you feel the slick warmth of blood from the bite as he carefully smears it across your skin. he watches you intently, a smirk tugging at his lips, as he drags his fingers downwards, leaving a vivid crimson trail that leads to your stomach. and with slow precision, he begins to inscribe his name on your skin, branding you in a way no one could deny.

you catch a satisfied gleam in his eyes as he admires his handiwork, the sight of his name etched onto your skin, his gaze zeroes in on the bulge forming beneath the very letters he just traced on your stomach, a visceral reminder of how completely he’s claimed you. "f-fuck.. ahh, look at that," he pants, "every part of you belongs to me."

he leans over you again, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, the metallic taste of your blood mingles with his, creating a tantalising flavour that sends your senses into overdrive, making your brain momentarily short-circuit.

pulling back just enough to catch his breath while still pounding into you, “i fuckin’ love how you taste, doll~” he murmurs before grabbing your hips to bounce into you harder, “ffuck..ngh~ you’re worse than nicotine—s’pretty.”

2.[ghost face! nikolai: terror]:-

“ready or not, here I come, dove.” his voice echoes from the hallway.

you can hear the rustling outside, the faint sound of leaves brushing against each other, and your heart races inside your ribcage. 'it’s just a game, its just a game' you remind yourself, a thrilling night of hide and seek with nikolai. but tonight, the stakes are higher than ever.

you can hear him moving around the house, the light clatter of a knife against the wooden table as he pretends to search for you. the thrill of it all makes your pulse quicken.

you dart into the nearest room, quickly slipping into the bathroom and locking the door behind you. breathing heavily, you slide into the bathtub, pulling the shower curtain closed to shield yourself from view. you close your eyes, straining to hear any sign of him.

footsteps thud against the floor, echoing through the house. you can hear him getting closer, the way he purposefully scrapes the knife against objects, creating a haunting soundtrack to your little game. a giggle escapes your lips—this was all so exhilarating.

just as you think you might win, a chilling sound reaches your ears: the window creaking open. your breath catches in your throat. no, he wouldn’t dare. you peek through the thin fabric of the curtain, your heart pounding as you watch him slide effortlessly through the window, his ghost face mask obscuring his features but doing nothing to hide the playful glint in his eyes.

he lands silently on the porcelain floor, the knife held loosely in one hand as he scans the room. “oh sweet dove...where could you be?” he taunts, pulling back the curtains with a dramatic flair, revealing the empty bathtub. “hhmm, not here...”

but you can’t hold back a gasp of surprise, your heart racing as he turns, eyes narrowing in on you. “ah, there you are, my pretty dove,” he grins, a wicked smile spreading across his face as he strides towards the bathtub. “found you just in time.”

panic and excitement surge through you as he grips the edge of the bathtub, leaning in closer. “you know what that means, hmm?” he purrs, the knife now resting against your thigh, its cold steel sending tingles across your skin. “you’re mine now.”

in a swift motion, he puts the knife down on the counter. then, with a playful smirk, he removes his mask, revealing his handsome face—chiseled features framed by white tousled hair and piercing eyes that promises nothing but a good time.

he strips off his clothes first before his slender hands work deftly to undress you completely, trailing soft caresses along your skin as he strips away your clothes piece by piece, revealing your bare body to his hungry gaze.

he turns the shower on, the water spilling forth in a cascade of warmth, creating a sultry mist that envelops you both. he adjusts the temperature, ensuring it’s just right, then steps back to appreciate the sight of you standing there, water trickling down your body like liquid silk.

nikolai always takes his time to admire you, captivated by the way the water makes your bare skin glow under the soft moonlight streaming through the window. each droplet glistens like a jewel, accentuating your curves and casting a radiant sheen across your body. he can’t help but notice how your hair falls delicately over your shoulders, a few wet strands framing your pretty face, enhancing your beauty in a way that leaves him utterly breathless—you’re so beautiful, so undeniably exquisite.

“you look absolutely divine, my dove,” with that, he captures your lips in a heated kiss. the kind that makes your head spin. the thrill of the game shifts gears into something much hotter as he leans in closer, whispering, “time for your punishment—if you can handle it.”

you smirk, breathless against his lips. “punishment? is that what we’re calling this now?” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

“only for the prettiest ones,” he replies with a cocky grin, his hands roaming your sides, tracing circles into the soft surface of your skin as the water cascades over the two of you.

with a sudden surge of strength, he lifts you effortlessly, and you gasp as he hoists you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. the world around you blurs, everything feels incredible—the warm water, the scent filling the air, your body fitting perfectly in his grasp as he squeezes your plushy ass. he presses you against the cool tiles of the shower wall, the contrasting sensations send a delicious tingle that dances across your skin.

he peaks over shoulder, staring down to your breasts. he licks his lips before leaning in to kiss along the swell of your breast. a pleased whimper echoes between your pink lips, and you shudder when he sucks hard at the sensitive skin.

he pulls back, resting his hard cock against your front, dragging it slowly down between your slick folds, teasing you until your breath breaks into shaky gasps.

his voice hums with pleasure, each whimper like a melody, as your skin feels so warm and impossibly smooth beneath him. the wetness coating your folds, making his precum glisten at the tip before the water washes it away.

“kyola—mmph please,” you whine.

but he doesn't listen only teases you further, brushing against your entrance but never quite pushing in, the need almost unbearable as he keeps you right on the brink. his lips curve into a sly grin against your skin as you plead.

“goddammit! kyola..fuck me please,” you plead, your voice breaking as you try to grind against him.

“so eager?” he murmurs, his breath like hot feathers brushing against your skin as he finally presses the tip of his cock against your entrance, but he still holds back, making you wait just a little longer for a bit.

he finally pushes in, keeping a slow, agonizing pace. the sensation rips through you, and a broken gasp escapes your throat. your walls clench around him, immediately welcoming him deeper as your head falls back, mouth open in a silent plea. the stretch is overwhelming, every inch of him filling you completely until you can't hold it back anymore.

"kyo—aagh~" his name tears from your lips, louder than you meant. he buries himself inside you and his grip tightens on your hips, steadying you as his cock sinks deep, he leans in to murmur filthy praises in your ear.

"there it is," he breathes,"that’s what i wanted to hear—ah yes keep clenching around me like this..hmm" he doesn't wait, pulling back only to thrust in again, harder this time, making your body arch against him.

each push driving you closer to the edge, your voice breaking as you scream his name again, this time louder—you can feel him everywhere, the slick heat between your legs driving him over the edge as he grunts against your neck, his control slipping. "ffuck—nnghh..you're perfect," he growls, picking up the pace as your moans grow louder, each sound only spurring him on.

you clung to him desperately, each upward thrust of his hips sending you bouncing on his thick cock. your nails dig down his back, leaving deep marks that he knew would form jagged red lines across his pale skin by morning.

you cry out as he keeps his relentless, punishing rhythm, your body shaking as you finally reach your release, tears rolling down your cheeks. he presses tender kisses against your damp skin, whimpering your name as he follows right after, his cock continues sliding in and out slowly, riding out the sweet waves of his own release.

he gently sets you down, wrapping his arms around you as your legs tremble beneath you. his cum mixed with yours slowly drips down between your thighs.

“we should definitely play these kinds of games again.” you chuckle.

TAGS: @a-smol-bean @amanoava @falloutjuli @embersweapons @warriordemigosworld @cathias @alyszuha @v15aexe @vasarii @pe4rl-diver @sukidenks @dazaifavbandage @fyodorsprettynun @ace-0fspades69 @irasamu @trippyserval @alyszuha @bittysuguro @writingandmusing

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yandere-writer-momo · 9 months ago

Text

4k follower special. Lesbian vampires 🧛‍♀️

Yandere Head Canons:

The Guard Dog

Yandere Vampire Servant x Vampire Afab Reader

TW: Yandere behavior, stalking, mentions of murder, dom/sub dynamic, cunninglingus, afab parts used, etc

Mila had been a servant for a millennium with you as her mistress. You were her savior and her world! Her reason for existence! The air that she breathes… you were everything to her!

You had saved Mila from the slums over a thousand years ago and she had been ever so dutiful to stay by your side. It was only natural to bow to someone stronger than you, and she would always be subservient to a powerful creature of the night as yourself.

It wasn’t uncommon for her to bathe you or to make sure you had the best quality blood to consume. Only the best for her mistress! And Mila would personally eliminate anyone who stood in the way of your happiness!

No other servant has lasted as she has. Mila drove off any potential bed mates other than herself. There was no one quite as willing as her to please you. You didn’t need anyone else other than your loyal dog! Your eternal guard dog, Mila!

Mila murdered every vampire hunter and every obstacle that dared to overthrow you. There was no one as loyal as her by your side… your eternal guard dog.

Mila was mean and cruel to anyone that wasn’t you. Her massive form towered over most men and women and her face was intimidating to gaze upon. A destructive, blood thirsty dog that only wagged its tail at you. How funny it was to see such a massive force of destruction on its knees begging you to allow her to give you cunninglingus. A reward you made sure to always indulge her in fear of her losing interest (a fear that would never come true)

All she wanted was for you to acknowledge her overwhelming love. Her face is often buried between your legs as her tongue greedily lapped at your damp warmth. Your essence was far more delicious than any blood that ever touched her tongue, a flavor she wished she could taste for all eternity… if she would be allowed to be between your legs forever, she would do so without compliant. Mila would do anything you asked of her!

Just like now as she sat on her knees before your regal form, her face pressed in between your legs. In a few hours it would be daylight, but Mila felt as if she deserved a reward for killing all of those hunters who wanted to rid this world of you. Mila was still quite high from her bloodlust and she absolutely had to have her fill of you…

Mila gasped when your palms tugged at her wavy black hair. Your fingers tangled in her thick wolf cut as you smiled down at her.

“Ever so eager to please, my pet.” You cooed as your free thumb brushed your juices off her scarred lips. What an enticing sight. “I promise you can always have your fill.”

“Please let me please you more, mistress.” Mila begged with a whine, her red eyes hazy with lust. Her being palms grasp at the flesh of your thighs. “You taste so fucking good…”

You sigh and spread your legs a bit farther. “Do as you please.” You gasp when she gets right back to work, her tongue greedily lapping at your folds with the fervor of a woman possessed. Mika’s crimson eyes staring up at yours expectantly. “Don’t… don’t stop.”

Mila moans as she continues to perform on you. Mila loves how you tug at her hair and grind your hips into her eager mouth. Yes! Fuck her face!

Mila continues to feast on you throughout your climax, her strong hands hold your thighs in place to prevent you from escape.

“Mila! Mila!” You cry out her name as you shake and tremble, but your servant merely continues the eager pace of her tongue on your swollen clit.

Mila presses a sloppy kiss to your poor, abused cunt before she pulled back to admire your flushed cheeks. A smile on her face to see that the blood of those hunters had allowed you to have a bit more color to you… it made her feel alive once more to know the effect she had on you.

“I love you, mistress.” Mila rested her head on her thighs while your fingers brushed some of the wavy locks out of her face. “And I will forever live a life of servitude under you.”

“You don’t have to-“ You squeaked when Mila pushed you back on your bed, her fingers began to pull down the waistband of her trousers.

“You are my sun, my moon, and my stars. I will love you until my last breath in this lifetime.” Mila bent down to press hot kisses all over your neck and cheeks. “Without you, my existence is nothing.”

You gasped when she began to undress before you. You could now fully take in just how immense of a woman she was…

Mila took your hand and guided it up her abs and to her left breast. “If I still had a heartbeat, it would beat only for you, mistress.”

Mila now rests above you completely bare, her hand still held yours in place. “Now just give me the order and I’ll please you, mistress.”

You smirked at Mila before you reached your free hand out to her. “Then ravage me, my pet. My eternal guard dog… I love you too.”

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envy-of-the-apple · 9 months ago

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ive been really obsessed with your gojo/geto naga oneshots and asks lately it feels like literal brain rot at this point its so good. ive reread it 6 times lol

i was wondering though, what would Geto do if Gojo was just a little bit too heavy handed with you? to the point of a sprained or broken arm or leg. Would he get mad at Gojo or just mad in general that reader was hurt? Also how would they act in response to the injured reader who can't do basic tasks themselves, I personally think they would enjoy the fact she relied on them even more to even move now.

Reminder requests are still closed!!!! I just love this idea so so much holdon lemme-

Part one Part three

(Yandere, dark, implied forced relationships, noncon touching, biting, language barriers, drugging(?))

Top of the Food Chain pt2

Dark!Naga!SatoSugu x reader

Two days later, Satoru still wasn't allowed inside the cave.

You can hear him, hissing and clicking, right outside, hovering just behind the invisible line Suguru refused to let him pass. If you weren't already in so much pain, you would have found pity on the poor thing. He wasn't allowed in his own home, even though the incident wasn't entirely his fault.

Technically, Satoru saved you. It was yet again another escape attempt. Something you'd been doing a lot these days once you've figured out these beings' intentions with you. You'd gotten past the rock quarry this time, a new record. Your plan was filled with holes: there was no way to truly escape the island. You had no boat, no way to call for help. Still, you ran, forgetting that there were more dangerous things on this island other than two territorial serpent men.

It was a monster. There was no other way to describe it. Big, ugly, shiny spikes and sharp teeth, eyes dripping with bloodlust. You would have been eaten, killed, maimed, if Satoru hadn't caught up with you in time.

The only collateral was the loss of nearby plant life and your broken wrist.

That had been Satoru's fault. He'd pulled at you too hard at the hand. The remnants of adrenaline from the fight, his anger, anger made him too rough on your fragile body. He froze at the wet snap, and then you started screaming. That was how Suguru had found you. Despite how much Satoru clicked and hummed and tittered, from his mate's look, you doubted it helped his case.

Another lonely coo made you wince. Suguru only huffed, wrapping you tighter in his coils. They were already warm from your body heat. The numerous animal pelts helped your comfort too.

"Make him stop," you beg, "he's been going on for hours."

At that, Suguru lifts his head from the base of your neck. He tilts his head as he surveys you, and you can't help but think how awful you must look. Sickly-looking from the pain, clammy skin. He can't do much about your appearance, but the least he could do was shut Satoru up.

"What want?" Suguru asks, "water?"

At that, he picks up a sack filled with sea-smelling water. You wrinkle your nose, turning away, cocooning yourself within his coils. With the increased pain, your appetite has decreased, as well as your thirst. The stress of being trapped like this along with your broken wrist was starting to take its toll on your body.

Suguru makes a sound of disapproval, shuffling around behind you. You know he's still mad about the escape attempt, but he's concerned enough for your well-being to put his anger to the side for now. He'd helped wrap your wrist, using something stretchy and soft.

You raise your wrist up, inspecting the thin material wrapped around your wrist. You're not sure what it is, it's too silky to resemble cotton. It must be from the foliage around the island. Yet, another strange thing you'd never find the answer to.

There's another rumble coming from the Naga's chest. He wraps a hand around your chin, bringing your face closer. In his other, he holds the dripping sack.

"Suguru," it's too soft to be anything more than a whine, "it hurts too much to take anything right now. Stop."

"Hurt?" he asks.

To that, you gesture to your broken wrist. It may not have been broken, you were no doctor, so you couldn't say for certain. But considering you'd been in the same amount of pain for two days, it really didn't matter to you.

A click, before he's tossing a glare at the entrance of the cave. He'd already given Satoru a beating right before coming to coddle you. Despite being bigger than his mate, Satoru is docile enough to take them. Suguru had been acting more aggressive lately. You had a feeling it was your fault.

He'd been inspecting your wrist every so often, but you see a different look within his brown eyes now as he takes your injured hand. He carefully turns your palm over, pressing slightly into your wrist. When you yelp, he retracts.

"Hurt." Suguru confirms. You can only nod.

"Hurt. No drink? No eat?" You don't like the way he's talking. As if he's putting a puzzle piece together. Coming to a solution you won't like.

When you go to pull away, his grip only tightens.

"No hurt," he says it like a promise, as though you're a toddler and he's coaxing you into drinking a sour-tasting medicine. His lips part, revealing the fangs you've often seen him use on meat, on Satoru.

Never did you think he'd ever use them on you.

"Suguru," you're pleading, trying to move away when he bends down, his hair brushing your sweaty forehead. You can feel his breath on your neck.

"No hurt," he repeats, and then he bites down.

He lied, of course, he did. His teeth puncture your skin, tearing through like paper. You think you screamed, or maybe it was more akin to a pitiful whimper. In the background, you can hear someone hiss, Satoru maybe?

For a second, you feel everything, the pain, the puncture wound, Suguru lightly licking your neck.

And then, you feel weightless.

It's hard to describe, but your brain feels like it's turned to mush. Your body feels like you're on a soft cloud, just there, floating. In the back of your mind, you remember how dazed Satoru would get whenever Suguru bit him. At the time, you just thought he was lovestruck.

When Suguru pulls away, he's smiling. A trail of blood, your blood goes down his lip. You can barely keep your eyes on him, close to falling asleep.

"No hurt," he says. When he leans down to kiss you, you accept without a single fuss.

You don't remember much after that, but you remember accepting whatever Suguru put in your mouth. The panic in your body was non-existent as he held the water-sack above your lips, watching as your throat bobbed. You think he kissed you a few more times, but you're not too sure. You were a lot more averse to kissing before. It'd make sense he'd take advantage of it.

When you wake up again, you're in between two bodies. The pain in your wrist is still there, but not as horrible as before. You're still groggy, mind fuzzy. Whatever Suguru had given you was still in effect.

Satoru is the first to notice you're awake. Suguru and him must have made up during the time you were unconscious. He props himself up, peering down at you. With how dim the cave is, you can barely make out his features. He looks just as guilty as he had two days ago.

"Sorry," he mutters, "is sorry."

If you weren't still high, you might have laughed. When you continue to stare, he takes it in stride, leaning forward to kiss your cheek, then your lips. You wince in distaste, leaning back.

"Stop," you say but don't fight when he licks at your jaw. You can barely move your fingers.

Panic is still far away, a distant call than anything alarming. It should worry you, but you still can't feel anything.

Suguru is at your back. You can hear his scales move across the cavern floor. He gives a hum, content as he curls himself around you. He doesn't seem to mind Satoru's touches. Your theory that they must have made up is unfortunately starting to strengthen.

You could barely manage Suguru's coddlings. You don't think you'll survive Satoru's.

"Sorry," he mouths into your neck. You can feel the grip on your waist starting to tighten. He stops, rising up to stare at you.

Blue, almost glowing.

"But no more leave."

You're coherent enough to piece together what he means. You can't escape Satoru. You can't escape Suguru. You can't leave this island. Running away is useless.

The nagas understood it. It's time you did too.

"Yes," you finally say, "no more leave."

#yandere #yandere jjk #dark content #dark gojo satoru #dark jjk #non con touching #implied drugging #yandere gojo satoru #yandere geto suguru #dark geto suguru #naga au #naga gojo satoru #naga geto suguru #language barriers #polygamous relationship #yandere satosugu #dark satosugu #naga satosugu

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