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fluoneia · 13 days ago

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pitfighter!vi knew it was bad to be indulging in something like a whorehouse, yet, she found herself at babettes often since she starting fighting in the ring.

usually, it was a quick in and out, but this time, she heard of a new worker. since the others started declining her because they were too rough with them, she decided to take the chances with you.

she drunkenly stumbled into babette’s place, grabbing onto the doorframe to steady herself.

that’s when she saw you. standing there, all pretty in nothing but pink.

vi’s eyes widen. she sees you talking to babette, no doubt starting as a worker there. vi chuckles to herself as she thinks, oh, i’m having fun tonight.

vi stumbles forward, grimacing as her shoulder hits the wall. she walks forward, leaning against the front desk.

“hey, babette.” vi slurs. she turns her glance to you, peering you up and down. her hungry, raw eyes make a shiver go down your spine. her badly-dyed black hair, ends pink, like how you assumed her hair used to look. she had bruises on her face, blood stained on her lip.

you gasp.

“hey, beautiful.” the girl rasps.

“vi.” babette says calmly, “i’m afraid.. you’ll have to take your business elsewhere.”

“what?” she turns to babette. “why?”

“well.. none of my girls will take you anymore. if i mention your name, they instantly say no.”

what the hell could this girl have done that makes it so every girl would decline her? money is money, you thought. and this girl seems willing to pay it.

“that’s bullshit.” she scoffed, slapping her palm on the desk. “bunch of wimps.”

“that’s precisely why, violet.” babette shakes her head. and her name is so.. un-fitting, you think. maybe the girl she was before, the girl with pink hair, was violet. but, this didn’t seem like a girl who deserved the honour to be named after things as delicate as flowers. but then again, you never liked delicate girls.

“i will.” you speak up. you straighten your back.

the girl— vi, turns to you. she eyes you up and down. and she reeks of alcohol, but, you could overlook that.

truth be told, you wanted to see what she would do that the others that made them not want to take her as a client anymore. you wanted to see what she could do.

“will you?” vi leans toward you. you smell the alcohol on her tongue. what made her this confident.. and if she can back it up?

and babette gives you a look. “alright. goodluck, then.” she snorts, leaning back.

you glance back toward vi. her eyes are staring at you like she can see underneath your clothes. undressing you with her eyes. and you wonder how she could look so damn hot.

red jacket. black hair. face-paint on her face. the way she held herself was so.. unreal. she knew she was attractive, and that’s what made her even more attractive.

you hadn’t had a good fuck in a while. at your old brothel, it was nothing but smelly, old, beer-bellied men, often from piltover looking for the thrill on cheating on their wives.

so, you hoped, maybe, just maybe, her reputation holds up, and you can just.. let yourself go.

oh, and boy, was she able to hold it.

you were writhing. your legs shaking, wrapped around her head as she eats you out like you’re a damned feast on christmas eve.

“o-oh, gods!” you’d scream, hands digging into her black hair, gripping and pulling her scalp. vi whines against you as you pull and tug, your plush, soft thighs wrapped so tightly around your head.

her fingers curl inside of you, only adding to the pure euphoria you feel. you’d fully forgotten everything— nothing mattered but vi’s tongue on you, licking through your folds, tasting you, feasting on you.

“ugh— fuck!” you whine, head throwing back against the pillow. the smoke of the candle around you, earthy scent only adding to the fog in your head.

how could anyone pass up on this? you’d think as her tongue brings you to your fourth orgasm of the night. your voice cracks from the sounds you’ve been making, no longer caring about how people might hear you. you’re too far gone to care.

“that’s it,” you hear vi whisper, voice vibrating against your skin in the most pleasurable way as it could. her voice was rasped, so drunk on your taste that she swore she’d never tasted better pussy before she met you.

“vi, vi, vi—“ you chant her name like a damn mantra as her hands tighten on your hips, dragging you toward her as you begin to pull away.

“oh, fuck, s’too much!” your voice slurs, her tongue chasing you as you pull back.

but that wasn’t true. you wanted this, you wanted more then this, you wanted to be treated so well that you forgot your own name.

she takes a second, pulls her head away, and you sigh in relief. “you asked for this.” she says, before running her tongue along your folds, your hips jerking at the sudden stimulation.

she placed a kiss against you, before pulling back, running a hand over her hair, inhaling a deep breath.

yet, her hands don’t pull away. she smiles a toothy smile as her fingers begun rubbing small, long circles over your most sensitive spot, leaning toward you.

“mmf, vi.” you cry, eyes opening to peer up at her. you don’t realize the tear running down your temple before she wipes it away.

“so beautiful.” vi gasped, fingers dipping inside you only to move back up. you cry out, legs shutting against her hand, preventing her from moving her hands any further.

but, her eyes darken, and her other hand rips your leg to the side, pinning it to the side of the bed.

“don’t do that.” she nearly damn growled, “do that again, and you’re only getting it worse.”

she leans toward you, eyes glancing all over your body, at the plush of your stomach, so soft, and twitching, pushing up from the bed, leaning into her touch despite your protests.

“ohmygod!” you whine. “fuck, oh my god!”

everything around you was so hazy. so foggy, so unreal. her hands were unreal, so laced with skill it almost drove you insane.

“said you can take it.” vi’s slurred voice only brings you more into the spiral of your own pleasure. her lips find your neck, placing sloppy, open mouthed kisses on your skin. her teeth nip at your neck, grazing against your skin, and it’s such a sweet gesture if you weren’t so out of it.

the feeling makes your skin set ablaze, prickles all over your body.

“you can take another. can’t you? hm?” she hums against you as her slender fingers dip back into you, curling, pressing against that spot she now knew drove you absolutely crazy.

and you whimper and whine, but you don’t protest. you wanted this. that’s all you’ve wanted for years. someone who can keep up with your stamina, your needs.

and vi not only meets that, but surpasses it. you swore she was between your legs for three hours and didn’t move once to breathe.

she was so enveloped in you. and that’s what you need.

her fingers rile you up, ignoring the absolute ache of your core, your whole entire body. you relished in the fact that you’d probably be here all night, but that’s what you wanted.

and as you feel your stomach untwist, that knot release, your vision goes fucking white from the searing, hot pleasure through your whole body.

“ohm—“ you cry, chest heaving as her fingers work you through your orgasm, slowly, yet continuing to abuse your bruised spot that she’d been hitting all night. “fuck, fuck! fuck me, oh my god!” you cry, gasping for air.

your arms throw around her, pulling her against you, entire body curling into her, legs clamping around her hand. your body shook, your nerves feeling like they were alive, and they would never die.

and finally, she stops.

you gasp a satisfied breath of air, mouth falling open, eyes squeezing shut before she finally lets her hand slip away from you.

her hands glide up your body, stopping at your hips before she hauls you over her own body. her hand rests on your back, her own breath heavy as she tries to regain herself.

“you’re amazing.” she whispers against your hair. you freeze, taken aback by the sudden intimacy, but you let yourself melt into her, both not having the will or the strength to pull away from her.

“you’re fucking amazing.”

and slowly, you laugh. you glance toward her.

“are you.. are you done?” you say quietly, timidly.

she cocks a brow. “do you not want me to be?”

you shake your head. “no, no..” you inhale a deep breath, hand moving to take one of the strands in her hair in your palm. “for now, im done.” you snort as you shake your head, body still compelling from the previous orgasms. “but..”

“but?” she hums, hand moving to grab the plush of your ass, before running up your back. you gasp at the crude gesture.

but, you shake it off.

“you.. you haven’t let me touch you at all.” you say, shakingly pushing yourself up, resting your palms on her chest.

you let your hair spill over your face as you move closer, lips hovering just above hers.

“yeah. that’s not what i’m here for.”

vi gasps a breath of air. she brings herself closer, hands resting on your hips.

“that’s what you paid me for.” i cock a brow, before laughing and pressing kisses along her jaw, up to the corner of her mouth, testing the waters.

you smirk, you hand moving down to her jacket, slowly pulling it away.

“let me do my job. huh?”

“fine. but you’re not getting anything out of me. i give. i don’t receive.”

“you underestimate me.” you smile against her lips. “i’ve been in this business for years. i know how to pleasure a woman, vi.”

she pushes herself up, nose touching eachothers.

“we’ll see about that, cupcake.”

vi left the brothel feeling like a new person. all she could think was, what the fuck?

she clears her throat as she passes by babette, not daring to look at her as she struggles to stand on her shaking legs.

she discovered something about herself she never thought she would that night. and oh, she’d definitely be coming back if that meant you were there.

a/n. for @obivari :,)) more info on my taglist here

part 2 here.

#fanfiction #writing #arcane league of legends #arcane season 2 #arcane x reader #vi x reader #smut #arcane smut #vi smut #vi arcane #arcane

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slytherinslut0 · 3 months ago

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SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 4th — virginity loss / corruption kink.

PART ONE | kinktober masterlist. | 2024.

pairing: mattheo riddle x berkshires!sister

summary: mattheo’s conscience can only hold him back for so long.

warnings: 18+, hogwarts uni (putting this even tho it’s obvious), jealous mattheo, flirting, tension tension tension, “we can’t do this” type of vibe, “your brother is right over there” type of vibe. bestfriends lil sister trope. part one of two.

Morality—what is it, really? How is it measured? Is it a linear scale? Could someone be morally sound yet sometimes make an exception when the situation called for it?

Perhaps it's subjective. Anything that falls outside of the law, that is.

Mattheo forced a breath from his lungs, the drink in his hand was tasteless, some watered-down excuse for a cocktail. But that didn't matter, not really—what mattered was the way you kept laughing, the way your hand lingered a second too long on that random bastard's sleeve. The sight made something concerning coil tight in his chest, but he stayed where he was, back against the wall, sucking down drinks like he'd been tasked to it.

God, this was stupid. Morality. Right and wrong. He knew the difference, of course he did. Just because he was a Riddle didn't make him a monster. Not yet, anyway. But that line, the one between you and him—the one drawn so clearly in the sand—was practically mocking him with its absolutes and daring him to cross it. Forbidden, off-limits, the one thing he shouldn't want.

His best friend's little sister. The good girl. A virgin, no less.

"Riddle—you coming?"

Mattheo's head jerked slightly, but his mind was miles away.

He waved a hand. "I'll catch up in a bit.”

Malfoy and Zabini nodded, slipping into the night, leaving him behind in the dim, crowded ballroom. Spring dance. Hours past dusk. He didn't even know why he was still there. Normally, he was long gone before the clock struck twelve, but tonight the room pulsed with bodies and the music hummed under his skin. His drink was half-forgotten in his hand, and his gaze was fixed on a group across the room.

Or, more specifically, on you.

You were standing, black dress to your mid-thighs, half-listening to boys from your year drone on about quidditch tryouts and the usual chatter that filled the space between your breaths. But your eyes—your eyes weren't on them. You were looking at him. A soft smirk tugging at the corners of your lips, like you knew something he didn't.

His heart kicked against his ribs. Where was that line again?

You winked, and he sipped his drink. He'd always said bad decisions made good stories—but even if this (unnameable thing between you) was a story worth telling, the people to hear it would be few.

The tension grew suffocating and he finally looked away. You took that as a win, but you weren't about to let the game end there—not after you noted the tense of his fingers around his cup. You excused yourself from the group, your body moving through the crowd like water, fluid and unhurried, weaving your way toward him.

You knew the line well, the one Mattheo pretended so hard to respect. Restraint wasn't his nature—it never had been, not in the decade you'd watched him take whatever he wanted without a second thought. He wasn't made for holding back, and it showed every now and then—every time his lips crashed against yours in some hidden corner, whispering confessions of how badly he wanted more, how he ached for what he couldn't have.

You loved pushing him to that point. You loved knowing how bad he wanted you. Your brother would lose his mind if he found out. But that didn't matter, not even a little. Not when Mattheo looked at you like that.

"Having fun?" He asked upon your approach, his voice a shade too flat.

"A little." You leaned against the wall beside him, close enough that he could feel the warmth of your skin, your presence seeping into the space between you. "What about you? You seem a bit...tense."

"Tense." The word came out bland, barely audible, and he took a slow sip of his drink, like he needed it just to find his voice. "Why would I be tense?"

You wet your lips, slow, deliberate, studying him with that sidelong glance that made his pulse skip. His jaw tightened, and his eyes—those beautiful, dangerous brown eyes—scanned the room with something too close to desperation.

"Good question." You tilted your head, gaze playful, curious, like you were dissecting him right there in the half-light. "Maybe it's because you've been watching me like a hawk. Like you're waiting for me to do something...wrong."

"Maybe I'm just looking out for you," he muttered, his gaze sliding to your brother across the room, lips locked with some brunette. Mattheo's eyes flickered back to you, just for a moment. "Your brother's a little...busy, after all."

You raised an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into an amused, almost wicked smile. "Ah, so that's it. You're just being my big, overprotective babysitter."

"I don't need to babysit you," he grumbled, though his gaze betrayed him, darting over to the group of boys you'd been talking to. "Just keeping an eye on the company you keep."

It was almost amusing—the way Mattheo stood there, sizing up your guy friends like they were targets in a lineup, probably mentally noting who he'd hit first if any of them dared to step out of line. He was different tonight—and you could have brushed it off, could have let that flicker of vulnerability slide, but that wasn't how this game was played. Not with him. Not with you. There was no room for naivety here.

You turned to face him now, full-on, shoulder resting against the wall as you raised a hand, fingers brushing lightly up his arm.

"Keeping an eye," you repeated as you traced the hard line of his shoulder, then down, lower, over his chest. "Ever my hero, Mattheo Riddle."

When your fingers grazed his abdomen, his breath caught and he grabbed your wrist—hard—the suddenness of it making you gasp. Then, he turned to face you, and his gaze finally met yours—really met yours—for the first time since you'd crossed the room.

"Don't." His voice was low, strained, like he was fighting himself as much as you.

Your eyes widened in mock surprise, that innocent look you'd perfected like a sport. You wore it like a halo you knew you didn't deserve.

"Don't...what?" You damn-well knew what.

His grip tightened, just enough for you to feel the heat of it, pulling you closer, so close you could feel the tension radiating off him. He wet his lips, and you melted—remembering how it felt to kiss them.

"Don't play games with me." He said. "Not tonight."

The warning was clear, but instead of pulling away—heeding his words and letting that heat simmer down—you leaned closer, defying every unspoken rule. The thrill shot up your spine, into your brain, turning everything hazy, electric. You were drunk on it.

"Why not?" Your free hand traced up his other arm and his gaze followed the movement, lips parting ever so slightly. "...afraid you'll lose?"

Before you knew what was happening, he had you spun around—so fast you barely registered the movement before your back hit the cold stone wall. His drink found the table beside him, his focus entirely on you.

"Don't to this to me. Not here," he whispered. "Your brother is right over there."

You glanced toward Enzo, still too preoccupied with the brunette to notice a thing.

"He's a little distracted, don't you think?" Your fingers on your free hand resumed their path, this time up toward his collarbone. But his other hand found them, too. You looked down. Two large hands, wrapped tight around your wrists, like he could stop the fire running through your veins if he just held on hard enough. Your thighs shook. "Gods, you really are tense tonight, aren't you?"

Mattheo's eyes narrowed, two embers gleaming in the night— his lips twitching in a way that made your pulse stutter. There was need in him now, a raw, visceral energy that vibrated between you. Untethered.

He leaned in, closer, his breath brushing against your skin. "You're impossible."

"Impossible..." you echoed, the space between you shrinking with every second. There was no choice in it. It was magnetic, inevitable. He leaned closer, and you—against all reason—matched him, drawn by a force you couldn't name. "Impossible to...resist, Matty?"

Your lips were so close, you could almost taste the flavours lingering on his breath. The heat of him drew you in like gravity, pulling you into that dangerous space where everything blurred—boundaries, rules, reason. His eyes flickered down to your mouth, his tongue darting out to wet his lips in a way that felt instinctive—

And then, the world snapped back.

Cheering—loud, raucous—followed by the sharp crack of glass splintering against the floor. It cut through the moment, pulling you both back to reality. Mattheo's gaze jerked toward the sound, and in an instant he took a step back, his hands releasing your wrists like you'd burned him—like you were the danger here, a fire he'd gotten too close to.

"We can't," he whispered, and it sliced through you. It hit harder than the crash of glass, harder than the noise around you. "You don't want this. I promise you don't."

You stared at him. You knew what he meant, what he was trying to say, the warning etched in every tense line of his body. The two of you had been over this before. You knew Mattheo Riddle was not the man who would love you, not the man who would stay, who you'd call your forever. You weren't that naive. You weren't looking for forever—you just wanted a beginning. A first. A first that would teach you the edge of desire, with someone who knew what to do.

Someone experienced.

"I do," you whispered, barely holding steady under the weight of it all—the realization that you'd almost kissed him, right here, where anyone could've seen, where your brother wasn't far. "More than anything, I do."

His jaw clenched, that flicker in his eyes darkening. He ran a hand through his hair, curls falling messily back into place, his face twisted in thought, already calculating the fallout, already seeing the inevitable consequences.

"Your brother will kill me," he muttered. "He'll kill you."

"He’s not my dad, Mattheo. I’m an adult. He doesn't have to know." The words came out firm, too firm for how fast your heart was beating. You didn't dare move closer, but the tension between you was still electric, still alive. "No one except us."

For a heartbeat, his eyes locked onto yours, and you felt it—that gravity pulling you both back to the brink. It was visible—the weight of his indecision, the way he was measuring the risk, the pull of you against the walls he was trying to keep intact. It'd been months of this. You were relentless. His scowl deepened, but he didn't pull away. He let the silence stretch, your words simmering between you like a match lit, waiting to catch fire.

And then, a nod.

Barely there, just a sharp dip of his head, almost as if he didn't want to acknowledge it himself. You couldn't tell if it was for you, or some silent permission he was giving himself, a final surrender to the pull that neither of you could fight.

"Room of Requirement," he said, vibrating with the tension that still hummed in the air. "Ten minutes."

Your stomach leapt into your throat, every bone in your body suddenly weak. After a moment that felt as though it went on forever, you nodded, and he took another step back.

"Ten minutes." You repeated.

"Ten minutes." He confirmed, before turning and heading out of the ballroom.

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biboomerangboi · 9 months ago

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Hua Cheng essentially cockblocking himself for possibly all of eternity will literally never not be the funniest thing MXTX ever wrote.

Xie Lian was pretty much completely in love with him the second he saw those lanterns (and completely oblivious about it) and then we get the wonderful first kiss underwater moment and Xie Lian is basically drawing hearts around Hua Cheng every time he sees him. While like quietly dying cause he literally has no idea what to do with it. Like at this point he doesn’t even really understand that he is head over heels totally gone for this man.

Until Hua Cheng is like I have a beloved I just haven’t won them over yet. Which he thinks is perfectly reasonable because his self esteem is the worst and he doesn’t understand how he could have won Xie Lian over yet. (He’s only on step 22 of his Marrying Dianxia 3000 step Master Plan ((that he debates throwing out on a regular basis because he doesn’t deserve to even dream about wanting Xie Lian)). So course he’s like yeah I have this wonderful noble beautiful beloved I just haven’t won them over yet wink wink nudge nudge.

But Xie Lian is like oh of course obviously I don’t deserve nice things and fuck I actually wanted him so badly I’m actually in love with him and now I will resign myself to never being happy for his sake. (Their combined self esteem is truly a so low it’s a hole in the ground which is hilarious because they think the other person is to good for them and unattainable forever because they literally have the same neurosis.) So he starts boxing up his feelings forever constantly wanting Hua Cheng and feeling guilty about it and literally dying inside because he wants Hua Cheng like he’s never wanted anyone.

Like essentially books 3 and 5 only happen because Hua Cheng has now cursed them both by saying he has a beloved because Xie Lian believes he isn’t wanted and therefore any nice thing Hua Cheng does is just him being nice and not Hua Cheng pulling out steps 23-34 of his plan thinking he still hasn’t won Xie Lian over. (He has he so has but he shot himself in the foot so badly it’s painful to read).

Like thank the Gods Hua Cheng is so unhinged and created the cave of 10000 Gods cause Xie Lian would literally be at his own wedding to Hua Cheng still convinced he wanted someone else and this was in fact a thing they were doing to solve a case together otherwise.

Like he needed something that unhinged to put 2 and 2 together otherwise he never would have caught on he’s Hua Cheng’s beloved. Meanwhile Hua cheng is like 🥺 he’s going to think I’m a weirdo now and I’m only on step 50 of the plan 🥺 like the two of them wouldn’t have been fucking nasty 2 books ago if he just kept his mouth shut and didn’t cockblock himself so violently.

#I hate them I love them they are both so stupid #hualian #tgcf #tian guan ci fu #hua cheng #xie lian #heavens official blessing #heaven official's blessing #hualian meta #tgcf meta #actually don’t know why I’m tagging this as meta I’m just bullying them but you get it #zee rambles #writing them and wanting to die #zees 2am text posts

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devotedlyandrogynousyouth · 24 days ago

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Mean! Jason Todd

Mean! Jason Todd who dated one of your old friends from highschool a few years ago before it fell through. Whenever you and your friends would meet up, he always had something to say about you.

"Jeez, thought we were going to the lounge, not a strip club."

Mean! Jason Todd who absolutely shattered your best friend's heart when they broke up. You were left to pick up the pieces as he did god knows what.

"Not my fault your little group is filled with whores. She just had to go and get another guy's dick wet." (You found out later that she had, in fact, cheated on Jason.)

Mean! Jason Todd who contacts you out of the blue after months of him being blocked on your phone because he wouldn't stop calling the rest of your friends cruel names.

"Hey, sorry to bother u. Just need a pick me up rn. U busy?"

Mean! Jason Todd coming over for a couple of drinks because he didn't want to be alone and really did care about your friend.

"I just... I thought it mattered. At least a little. And the only thing that sucks ass is that I know it would've happened whether I was a better person or not."

Mean! Jason Todd who gets a lot more bold while tipsy and takes your joke about '[his] dick probably not being the issue," and how he could get "any girl [he] wanted looking like that," a little too seriously.

"God, just tell me you're trying to get into my pants, already. What would your little friend think, hm?"

Of course, it was just a tease.

But you didn't care what your friends thought.

Mean! Jason Todd who you don't even know how you ended up underneath, his hands greedily grasping at your flesh as he pounds you from behind.

"Look at how well you take me..." A soft groan. "Almost like you've been waiting for this. This what you wanted? To get cockdrunk from your best friend's ex?"

Mean! Jason Todd who absolutely pounds you and is so mean about how much you whine and beg, even though he's to blame.

"All those pretty noises just for me? Fucking pathetic... Must've been so desperate for this cock and waiting for it. You wanted my cock that fucking badly?"

Mean! Jason Todd who thinks you have eyes too big for your holes. Sure, you guessed he would be big, based on what your friend told you when they were together but he was huge.

"Look at that... See how good you're stretching out for me? Must've just been made for this cock... Thats right. All youre good for is taking my cock so well."

Mean! Jason Todd who's gone before you wake up in the morning, but leaves an advil and cup of water on your nightstand.

"Got a new number. Call me when you need another drink."

The note he left next to your cup of water.

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

Maaterlist

#batman #batfam #batfamily #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd #redhood x reader #redhood #arkham knight x reader #arkham knight

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freelancearsonist · 8 months ago

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make a move on me

➔ pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x reader - 5.5k

➔ You've been teasing Joel every day since he started remodeling construction on your house. He finally works up the courage to do something about it - but not in the way you expect him to.

➔ Rated MA for baby’s first anal fic protected p in a and anal fingering (r receiving), age gap (reader is early 20’s, joel is 36), m masturbation/pillowhumping, daddy kink, size kink, praise kink, gentle-turned-rough sex, pet names (baby, darling, honey, good girl, baby girl, little lady), slight degradation and condescension but only in a sexy way, one use of “slut”, pussy pronouns, one (1) pussy slap, gratuitous dickscription, heavy dom/sub dynamics i mean seriously these power dynamics are out of control, tommy is a little bit of a shit (affectionate) [pls let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

➔ This reader insert character: has female anatomy and uses feminine pronouns, no name/no use of y/n, is generally able-bodied, fits in joel’s shirt and is implied to be shorter/smaller than him, is on summer break from college but no major/year is mentioned.

Joel had one rule for himself going into this job: be respectful. Keep his hands to himself and his mind on the job. Don’t fret over the pretty little thing who’s been draping herself all over the house ever since he started demo, practically begging to be fucked.

If he had any sense, he would pack his shit and drop the job–or, at the very least, tell your parents to put you on a leash. But there’s a little part of him that might be a glutton for punishment–that savors the teasing.

The most infuriating part of the whole thing is that he can’t blame you for this whole mess. He shouldn’t be so quick to temptation. You should be able to walk around your own home in whatever you want and not have to worry about the creepy contractor getting flustered every time he looks in your general direction.

But god, you make it hard–double entendre intended. You walk around like you haven’t a care in the world because you don’t; you’re home for summer break after a grueling year at college, and you intend to savor every languid second of it. Your preferred method of savoring just happens to be wearing tight little bikinis that barely hold anything in place as you lounge out by the pool in the Texas heat, or tight leggings that hug your ass so perfectly it almost makes him jealous of the material as you curl up with a book on your couch.

Joel’s a grown man. He can keep it in his pants, no matter how badly he wants you. But you’re not exactly making it easy on him.

Really, it’s Tommy’s fault when the levee breaks. If he could keep his big mouth shut, Joel might’ve been able to maintain the thin control he had over himself. But Tommy goes and makes an off-handed comment about you one night, and that’s the beginning of the downward spiral.

The brothers are both lounging on Joel’s couch after a particularly taxing day of demolition work, beers cradled in hands and the TV droning uselessly with some movie that they’re more staring at than actually watching. It’s late, yet weary muscles are melted so comfortably into the couch that neither of them try to move even after Sarah’s gone off to bed.

Tommy’s eyes flicker over to Joel, then back to the TV. “That girl’s gon’ be trouble for us, brother.”

There’s a question mark in the grunt Joel emits, leaning forward with interest because he knows Tommy’s talking about you without any specification.

Tommy hums in confirmation and takes a sip of his Corona. “She’s always wearin’ those skimpy little outfits a’hers, and she ain’t coy. Must catch that pretty little thing starin’ at your ass even more than I catch you starin’ at hers.”

Joel plays it off as best as he can until Tommy goes home for the night with a half-assed promise to actually be on time in the morning for once. Then he goes up to his room, locks the door, and wraps himself around the spare pillow that lays against his headboard.

He tries so desperately hard not to think about the plump round curve of your ass, or the enticing way you lick your lips, or those damned little bikinis you favor. He grinds his aching cock into the soft pillowcase and tries to think about anything that isn’t you.

But he comes with a muffled growl of your name anyway, face pushed deep into the pillow and hips jerking arrhythmically.

There’s not much he can do now besides clean himself up and try not to think about how thoroughly fucked he is.

The next day is torture because he can feel your gaze lingering. He catches you checking him out on more than one occasion, and you’re brazen about it now. You can tell something has shifted, so you shift with it. Where you once would’ve flushed with heat and hurried away to your room, you now meet his heated eye contact and hold it.

Joel’s jaw hurts that night from the way it’s been hard-set and clenched all day long. He rubs over his sore temporomandibular joints with his long, thick fingers and wills himself to siphon you out from beneath his skin.

It doesn’t work.

The work helps. Laying tile is something he normally considers tedious, but it’s a welcome reprieve in your home because he can get down on his hands and knees and focus on something that isn’t you.

You see the labor he’s going through, and you appreciate it. And really, what kind of host would you be if you didn’t reward his efforts?

It starts with a pitcher of iced tea. It’s made just the way Joel likes it, with light ice and a few slices of lemon. He doesn’t know how you could possibly guess that, but it makes him want you that much more.

And then it’s cookies. Pain-stakingly handmade oatmeal raisin cookies, to be exact. You’re like something out of his most shameful domestic dreams in your cute floral-patterned apron and oven mitts as you pull the tray of cookies out of the oven, and an image of you in nothing but those mitts and that apron flickers through his mind before he can stop it.

All the while you traipse around the house like a mirage–humming along to the yacht rock that drifts from Joel’s stereo, swaying your hips in the kitchen as you put together the most delicious bologna sandwich Joel’s ever eaten, toweling off your soaking wet body after an afternoon in the pool. You’re the worst temptation Joel’s ever had to face.

It becomes his mantra. Be respectful, be respectful, be respectful.

But there’s no respect in your eyes. There’s nothing honorable about the way you bite your lip and smirk when he catches your gaze lingering on him.

Joel had one rule for himself going into this job: be respectful. But why should he have to play nice if you don’t?

And really, the whole thing is Tommy’s fault. He started it with that first comment about you, and then he goes and calls out sick (read: horribly hungover) this morning. He leaves Joel all alone with you–gives you the perfect opening to pounce.

Or, more accurately, entice Joel into pouncing on you.

He’s just setting his tool bag down, about to decide where he wants to start today, when your beautiful face pops in through the door.

“Good morning, Joel,” you say with that gorgeous smile of yours that makes his knees go a little weak. “No Tommy today?”

He nearly chokes on his own tongue when you step further into the room wearing a plaid button-up he left here earlier in the week and booty shorts so small he has to do a doubletake to make sure you’re actually wearing anything on your lower half. You look fucking good in his shirt, and suddenly all he can think about is pulling you in and bending you over the half-finished vanity–

“N-no. He’s sick,” Joel manages to choke out. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, then, “that’s my shirt, isn’t it?”

You look down and rub the time-worn fabric between your fingers like you have to think about it, like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.

“Oh, it must’ve gotten mixed in with our laundry!” The little giggle you let out is so innocent that he almost believes you. Almost. “Here–”

You start to lift the fabric up your torso in the most tantalizingly slow fashion, and he just sits there and watches it happen. He sees the first peek of skin above the waistband of your shorts, and then your beautiful stomach, then the delicious curve of a breast–

He quickly jolts out a hand to stop you in the midst of mentally willing every single molecule in his dick to control itself. “S’alright, darlin’. You keep it. Looks better on you, anyway.”

“Okay,” you acquiesce and let the fabric drop back down into its rightful place. “Can I get you anything? Water maybe?”

He certainly could use it. His neck and face are flushed red, and there’s sweat starting to form at his temples despite the relatively cool temperature within the house.

He realizes, with startling clarity, that he’s at a precipice right now. This might be the only chance he gets to really do something about this burgeoning tension that’s spread thicker than butter between you and him. He’s got a choice to make, and it’s not going to be an easy choice.

“Sure.” It comes out a bit too high-pitched, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Sure, sweetheart. That’d be great.”

“Alright,” you say with that damned giggle again. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as you leave the room, Joel feels like he can breathe again. It’s so much easier to think straight when you’re not standing there, smiling up at him and looking so damn gorgeous.

He’s got two options, when it boils down to it: fuck you or leave you alone. And he really, really wants to take you. Make you scream his name while he pounds himself into you, fill you so full that you never completely wash him out. And you want it too, he knows you do, you’re practically begging for it.

But he promised himself he would be respectful. That he would keep his hands away from the girl that’s definitely too young and too pure for someone like him–because he knows that if has you, he’ll never be able to get enough.

There’s a very clear and obvious loophole that comes to mind now; a way he could have you without ruining you, a way you could both come out of this satisfied yet mostly intact. Joel’s never been opposed to doing the hard jobs, after all.

He’s got a condom in his wallet and KY jelly in his bag–mostly used for plumbing fittings, but it’ll do the job for this kind of pipework, too.

You come back with a glass of ice water, and his resolve slips. How the hell is he supposed to initiate this? What if you say no and think he’s disgusting? What if you tell your parents? He can’t do this, this was such a horrible idea, he–

Your touch on his back is like a gentle breeze, just a flutter of your fingers to alert him to your return. He flinches a bit at the sudden contact, but when he turns you’re still so achingly close. He can smell the agonizingly sweet aroma of your conditioner and the lotion you slather on your body after showering, and all he wants is more. He wants to wrap you around him, to inhale that scent straight from the source. His resolve is back, just like that.

He doesn’t give himself another opportunity to hesitate. He places one big, meaty palm on your cheek and wraps the other around your hand that holds the glass of ice water to steady you; and then he kisses you with such bruising force it almost knocks the wind out of you.

You moan. You actually moan the second his lips meet yours, and he knows just like that–with a startling moment of clarity–that this isn’t going to be enough. He’s going to take, and take, and take–gorge himself on you until you have nothing left to give. And the strangest thing of the whole matter is that he thinks you’ll actually enjoy his greed.

“Joel–”

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he murmurs as his lips break away from yours–so low and soft in your ear it can’t be anything but a growl. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop right now.”

“I want it,” you affirm.

He searches your eyes, but he finds only earnest honesty and lust. That darkness, that pure and unadulterated want is enough to make his pants tighten. “Fuck.”

He’s so big underneath your roaming hands as he crowds you back against the long bathroom vanity. He lifts you like you’re nothing and sets you on the counter top; he slots himself between your legs and there’s an actual stretch in your muscles to accommodate the width of his hips. One of his wide palms slips behind your head and his fingers tangle into your hair, tugging a little bit to angle your head just the way he wants it. It’s messy and frenzied and desperate–your hands gliding over tee shirt-covered muscle, his tugging your (his) shirt up over your stomach.

“Was starting to think you weren’t interested.” Your voice is heavy and breathy as he breaks away to tug the shirt over your head, casting it aside to lie forgotten on the floor.

“I’ve been tryna convince myself m’not,” he kisses into your neck. “Didn’t work.”

With a sudden roll of his hips, he has you gasping into his neck. He can’t be more than half-hard, but that bulge is formidable. Thick and straining and… suddenly you can’t focus on anything except getting him out of those tight jeans to see what you’re working with.

Your hand just barely fits around him. He’s thick and flushed, getting harder with each passing second as he scatters feather-light kisses over your neck and shoulders. He muffles a groan into your neck as you slowly pump his length–you think he’s seven, maybe eight inches at best guess. The tip of him is flushed red once you get his uncut skin out of the way, and it makes your mouth water. There’s a slight upward curve to him and a long, prominent vein that runs down the left side. It’s porn star material–you didn’t know real people had dicks like this.

“Joel… Jesus, that’s gonna be a tight fit.”

“Oh, don’t worry darlin’,” he hums, thumb ghosting over your clit in a way that makes your entire body jolt. “It ain’t goin’ in there.”

There’s nothing but pure excitement in your voice, despite the anxious gulp that tracks down your throat. “Where…”

“Flip over f’me.”

You follow his instruction with a sort of morbid curiosity, hopping down from the counter before folding yourself over it.

You can feel his eyes on you, as he takes in your willingness. It’s like you’re on display for him, for his appraisal. You’ve still got shorts and a bra on, yet you’ve never felt more exposed.

It’s almost like he can sense your mind swirling–maybe it’s because his is prone to do the same. He sets a gentle hand on your back and smooths it down your spine as he crowds up against you–you can feel the press of his exposed cock against the curve of your ass, and it makes you shiver.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs as he folds over you, caging you in with the delicious weight of his body. His lips trace along the curve of your jaw and down your neck as he speaks. “But I made myself this little promise that I wouldn’t fuck you. You got me actin’ so unprofessional, honey.”

You whine at the sincerity in his voice–all you’ve wanted since the day he started was for him to have you folded over and at his mercy like this.

“You can fuck me,” you whine earnestly. “It’s okay, I promise. Won’t tell.”

“Mmm, I know. You’re too good a girl to go gettin’ me in trouble over somethin’ like this,” he hums–you can hear the condescension in his voice even as he praises you, and it makes your cunt clench around nothing. “But with all the teasin’ you been doin’... don’t rightly know that you deserve to be fucked.”

“Please–”

“However,” he continues, landing a light smack to your ass in retaliation for your interruption, “might be willin’ to take you anyway, with some conditions. Out of the goodness of my heart.”

He pauses to let you ask, “What conditions?”

And then he pauses again, asking his own question this time. Is he really going to go through with this? But he’s spent the better part of two weeks staring at your ass, and you’ve spent the better part of two weeks putting it on display for him. It’s like you’ve been silently asking him all this time to take it.

His hand slides down from where it rests on your spine, over your tailbone to where he’s been thinking about all this time. He feels the way your muscles tense up even through your shorts, and it sends a thrill he can’t describe coursing through his veins.

“You ever taken someone here before?”

“N-no.” He feels it again as his other hand comes to soothingly rub your hip–that excited-yet-nervous flutter of muscle. You haven’t run away screaming yet, and that’s the biggest motivator he could have to keep going.

“I think you ought to let me. As a thank you, for puttin’ up with all your play,” he growls into your ear.

It’s fucking dirty, the idea of letting a man you hardly know take you in such a taboo way. It’s even dirtier how fucking excited the idea has you.

“You say no right now and I’ll drop it,” he murmurs so sweetly. “Don’t ever have to talk about this again.”

You’re shaking your head before he’s even finished talking–a sly smirk spreading over your lips as you grind back against him hard enough to make him choke on a moan.

“It’s only right,” you affirm. “Gotta make it up to you for how naughty I’ve been.’

His eyes flash dangerously as he grinds his cock against you again, smearing precome against the flimsy fabric of your shorts. “Atta fuckin’ girl.”

He has your bottoms and panties down around your ankles in a flash, and he actually groans at the sight of your sticky cunt all puffy and wet and on display for him.

He can’t resist the urge to swipe a finger through your folds, delighting in the string of shiny arousal that connects his finger to your core when he pulls away. “She wants it so bad, hmm? Such a shame she ain’t gettin’ any.”

It tugs a moan from your throat, especially when he drags as much slick as he can up to circle your tightest hole. He feels the way you flutter with apprehension, and he leans back down to kiss the corner of your jaw.

“Gonna get you nice and ready, I promise. M’not gonna hurt you, baby girl.”

“Thank you, da–” You almost lost yourself there for a second–almost laid your whole hand of cards out on the table for him to see. You try not to get flustered over the slip–you simply clear your throat and try again. “Thank you, Joel.” But you aren’t nearly as smooth as you hope to be.

In a flash Joel’s free hand is lifting your head, forcing you to look into his deep brown eyes. They’re so much darker than normal, and it only serves to make you wetter.

“What’d you call me?”

“J-Joel.”

His hand slips down to your throat and gives it a warning squeeze–his jaw is set, you know he isn’t playing. “Try again, and tell the truth this time.”

“D… daddy.”

You try to hide your face, to cower in shame, but he won’t let you. He smashes his lips to yours at the exact second his first finger probes that tight, waiting entrance.

“Good girl,” he murmurs as he slowly breaches you, using your own slick to guide the way. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You can’t do anything but gasp, hands clutching for dear life to the edge of the counter. This feels different, and not in the way you were expecting it to. It’s tight, sure, and it feels foreign, but it also feels so much better than you ever could’ve expected it to. The subtle stretch around his thick finger is addicting.

Joel’s jaw drops at the expression on your face; you already look so thoroughly fucked-out, and he’s barely even started. “Fuck.You like this, hmm? Like feelin’ daddy’s fingers gettin’ you ready for his big cock?”

The only response he gets is a wrecked little whimper, and he props your chin up again to meet his heated gaze. “Talk to me. Gotta talk to me, tell me how you’re feelin’, or I’m gonna stop.”

“Fuck!” It’s shriller than you want it to be and you would feel pathetic if you weren’t so thoroughly overwhelmed with this new sensation. “Don’t stop daddy!”

“Feels good, yeah? How long has daddy’s little slut wanted to try this?”

But there’s no way you can be expected to answer, not when he’s adding another finger to the onslaught. Not when your legs are already shaking and you’re thinking about just how many fingers he’s going to have to use to get you ready for the massive cock you can feel throbbing against your thigh.

He retracts just as suddenly as he started, and a needy little whine escapes from your throat involuntarily.

He can’t help chuckling as he reaches for the bottle of KY jelly he’d dug out of his bag while you were getting him water. It feels like it’s been years since you left the room on that little errand for him–definitely not the barely ten minutes it’s actually been.

“Relax, baby girl. I’m comin’ right back.”

You feel the cool drizzle of the water-based substance over your hole and it forces another whine from your throat. It’s met with his thick fingers again, spreading the jelly over your hole before plunging two in knuckle-deep.

“Atta girl.” His voice is thick and sweet as honey as he slowly works his fingers, thrusting and scissoring at an achingly slow pace. “Doin’ so good f’me.”

“Daddy–”

“I know,” he coos. “I know, it’s so much, isn’it?”

All you can manage to do is nod your head, arms shaking under the strain of holding yourself upright. He sees the way your limbs tremble and he adds a third finger just to be extra cruel–although he steadies you by grabbing your hip firmly with his free hand, keeping you in place as he fucks you open with his fingers.

Everything is so hot. There’s a sticky sheen of sweat covering your forehead and your chest; you can feel your own slick dripping down your thighs.

And then his free hand drops down to thumb at your clit, and everything twists in your gut so fast it nearly gives you whiplash.

Within seconds you’re coming–no pretense, no warning. It explodes white-hot from your belly and sweeps through you to the tips of your fingers and toes with flash flood speed. One second there’s nothing more than pleasant anticipation–the next, you’re shaking and convulsing and sobbing Joel’s name as you fight with every cell in your body to remain upright.

He does his part to work you through it, thumb swiping even circles on your sensitive clit, pulling his fingers from you to pin you in place on the counter so he can continue working you through it.

“I know, I know,” he coos so sweetly in your ear over the sound of your moans and cries. “You’re doin’ so good baby, let yourself have it.”

It’s minutes before you’re breathing normally again–your legs are cramping from trying so desperately to support your shaky weight. Joel’s hands are soothing you the whole time once he lets up the onslaught on your clit; it’s like he’s mapping you, tracing over every dip and curve so tenderly you could almost forget what this encounter really is.

“Doin’ okay?” He husks into your ear–and then he’s folding himself over you again, and you can feel the insistent press of his hard cock against the curve of your ass.

For some reason, that’s what really makes it sink in. That’s the moment you realize that this is actually going to happen–that you want it to happen. Joel’s about to take something from you that no one has ever taken before, and you want him to. You’re offering it willingly, even.

You hum in response and buck your hips back, giving him a delicious taste of friction that pulls a ground from his throat. “Mhm. I’m ready, daddy.”

“Fuck, that’s my girl.” He gives your hip a light pat before pulling away for a moment, and you somehow have the presence of mind to jump up on the deep countertop because you know your legs won’t be able to support you through what’s about to happen.

There’s a smile on his handsome face when he turns back towards you, lube and condom in hand. “That how you want it, baby?”

Despite everything that’s already happened, you feel so much more exposed like this. You’re completely naked, and he’s fully clothed with his pants shoved down just enough to free his dick. Even as you spread your legs to admit him between your thighs, you feel shy. And he senses it, the slight apprehension in your gaze, because his smile softens even further; he sets the lube and condom down on the counter next to you so he can grasp the collar of his worn t-shirt and tug it up over his head.

He’s beautiful for a nearly forty-year-old man, you think. He’s firm and toned, but there’s a softness about him that you can’t help admiring, especially around his belly. Your eyes eagerly lap up the soft curve of his tummy, following the tantalizing promise of his treasure trail to his cock, hard and aching for you. The ruddy, flushed tip is weeping for you; you don’t know that you’ve ever seen someone so turned on before, and it’s a heady rush of power.

He chuckles as he sees your hungry eyes taking him in–he raises one big hand to cup your chin and pull your gaze up to meet his. “You’re so pretty, baby, look so good spread out f’me like this. You sure you’re ready f’this?”

“Fuck yes,” you say with an alluring little wiggle of your hips, and that’s more than enough for him.

He pulls his bottom lip between even rows of shiny white teeth as he rolls the condom down over his length, and it’s actually intimidating like this. He’s so big and imposing and it makes your legs want to close, but–

“M’gonna go slow, okay?” He vows, voice gentle as his big, brown eyes look into yours. His fingers wrap tightly around the half-used tube of KY jelly, and he leans down to kiss you when he sees the nervous gulp that bobs your throat. “Gonna be real gentle, I promise. You tap out at any time and we’re done, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you affirm, and you feel a lot better. As out of the blue as this is, as little as you really know Joel, you can tell he’s being sincere. You trust him; you know he won’t hurt you.

The first press of his aching tip against your hole is enough to make you choke on a gasp. He’s big, and even with all of his attentive prep work to get you ready for him it’s a tight fit. You can tell it’s affecting him, too. His eyes flutter shut and he bites down hard on his bottom lip, and you can tell that he’s fighting with all his strength not to just shove himself deep inside you. You appreciate his restraint more than words can convey, so you don’t even try; you hook your arms around his neck and pull him in for a deep, messy, desperate kiss instead. His tongue licks eagerly into your mouth as he eases his hips further and further towards yours, and it’s a nice distraction from the nearly overwhelming stretch of your muscle trying to accommodate his girth.

He shudders when his hips finally meet yours, cock stuffed to the hilt into your ass. “God damn baby, you’re so fuckin’ tight. You doin’ okay?”

You whine at the first roll of his hips, nodding your head rapidly because words won’t come. It’s such a foreign sensation, being stretched and breached like this. Not unpleasant necessarily, but so brain-scramblingly different that all you can do is dig your nails into his strong, broad shoulders and hold on for dear life as he actually starts to fuck into you.

It’s nasty, and you’ve never been so wet in your life. You hear the sticky squelch of lube as he thrusts his hips, shoving his cock deeper than you imagined possible. Your own wetness seeps from your neglected cunt and drenches him, dripping down around his cock and wetting the dense curls at the apex of his sex.

“Shit baby, you’re takin’ daddy’s cock so well,” he whines breathlessly; one arm hooks under your knee so he can spread you open a bit wider for him, and then the other hand returns to your puffy, arousal swollen clit.

You make what has to be the most high-pitched sound you’ve ever made as his index and middle fingers start a torturously slow pace on the little bud. “Fuck daddy!”

“I know,” he coos–you think that soft, breathy, Southern twang is going to actually put you in your grave. “I know, you wanna come, dontcha? It’s okay baby, daddy’s gonna make you come all over his cock just the way you need.”

His hips pick up the pace in time with his fingers, and all you can do is lay there limply like a ragdoll. The pleasure is so much different than what you’re used to, but it’s good. It’s amazing, the feeling of him balls deep in your guts in tandem with his ministrations on your clit, in a way you never imagined it could be.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl f’me,” he growls, hitching your leg a bit higher over his hip so he can thrust even deeper. “Fuck, m’not gonna last long like this. You’re gonna make daddy come so hard in this tight little ass.”

His words are accentuated with a little smack to the side of your ass, and it makes you moan louder still. Your head rolls back as he picks up the pace of his fingers, swirling hard and messy circles with reckless abandon. He’s not trying to prolong it anymore–he’s going for the kill.

“Fuck daddy!” Your hands scrabble for purchase on his smooth, freckled skin as he pounds harder into you. “W-want it, please, want you to come in my ass–”

“Gonna give it to you, impatient girl,” he growls deep in his chest. “You gimme one first.”

Your entire body jolts when he brings his hand down on your sensitive cunt before groaning at the way your arousal sticks to his hand and makes his fingers shine.

“She wants t’be stuffed so full, doesn’t she?” He purrs, fingers dancing so fucking teasingly around your fluttering cunt that it makes your eyes water. “Bet she’d love to be chock full’a cock right now.”

“Joel–”

“Now, now, baby, no whinin’. It’s unbecomin’ for such a sweet little lady,” he grunts, and the condescension dripping from his tone is almost enough to make you come on its own. “You’re gonna take what I give you and be grateful for it, aintcha?”

“Yesyesyesplease–”

His fingers have barely returned to your clit before you’re coming again. This one is even more powerful than before–a hurricane instead of a flash flood. Your entire body trembles with the ebbing flow of pleasurable waves–the words you’re panting aren’t even discernible English anymore.

The way you clench and flutter around him in your own pleasure pulls him over the edge faster than anything ever has before. He comes hard, chest clenching hard around his breath, cock twitching more violently than anything you’ve ever felt before as he spills his load into the condom.

It’s a long, breathless moment before he pulls himself from the vice-like grip you have around his dick. He pulls out with a deep, long groan–it makes you giggle, because it’s the most over-dramatic sound you’ve ever heard in your life.

There’s a beat, and then he starts laughing, too. At the sweet sound of your laugh, at the way he feels like he just ran a marathon, at the absolute absurdity of this whole thing. His laughter is so sweet and gut-deep and infectious, and it only serves to make you laugh harder. For a good few moments it’s just you and Joel, half naked, panting and sweaty, doubled over in laughter.

And then the bathroom door swings open and Tommy barges in.

“I’m feelin’ a helluva lot better after sleepin’ in, what’s so funny–” He stops dead in his tracks; he sees you naked and spread out on the counter and Joel disheveled and sweating. Neither of you are laughing very much anymore as you both scramble to cover yourselves up.

Tommy quirks a brow, a smirk spreading across his lips as his eyes dart back and forth between you and Joel. “Well, well, well. What have we here?”

You don’t know how to answer when you’re so mortified, so you do the only thing you can think of–you dart out of the room and down the hall to the safety of your bedroom as fast as your shaky legs can carry you.

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ham1lton · 7 months ago

Text

WET DREAMZ.

pairings: sebastian vettel x reader. lewis hamilton x reader. jenson button x reader. nico rosberg x reader. fernando alonso x reader.

summary: when you move next door to a hot single dad, you take it upon yourself to seduce him. too bad for you that he uncovers your plan. you’re not exactly subtle.

warnings: sexual content. like most of this is straight up smut. mdni. explicit mentions of f!reader’s body parts. charles cameo in nico’s! implied cheating in fernando’s.

author’s note: i woke up in a fugue and wrote this as i ignored all of my adult responsibilities. show it some love <3 also no beta. we die like men.

— taglist | tip jar | feedback and requests | masterlist | ♡

SEBASTIAN VETTEL ✿

when your company allowed you to work remotely, you moved into a smaller village on the outskirts of germany. your family and friends weren’t too happy with your decision to move but with the current economic state of your country at the moment, it was great for your bank account.

your house was a modest affair, with three bedrooms but a gorgeous kitchen that gave you direct visual access into your neighbour’s backyard. the same neighbour who knocked on your door when you first moved in, with a jar of honey and some eggs as a housewarming gift. he was covered with a light sheen of sweat that would have seemed disgusting on anyone else. he introduced himself in german and switched to lightly accented english when he saw your confusion.

he’d sometimes pass you when he was walking his dog, or cycling to the farmer’s market. he’d make his kids wave hello as he’d pick them up and drop them off at their mother’s. he’d take your cakes when you’d exhausted your baking hobbies and would burst if you’d have another slice. he’d grin and smile bashfully when you told him you’d made one just the way he’d liked it.

as you watch him, he turns around and waves at you. a big grin splitting his face as you wave back. you’re so fucked. you spent an hour on facetime last night with your best friends as you went through the pros and cons of fucking your hot neighbour.

the cons outweighed the pros mostly, if it went badly you could lose access to the free gifts he’d bring by occasionally or his help when he would have a look at your car when it started spluttering when you needed to buy groceries. it would be weird too. aren’t adults supposed to be on good terms with their neighbours?

it didn’t stop you from you asking him if you could wait out the storm in his house instead of yours as all the lights had gone out and when he kissed you, you were shocked. you hadn’t needed to come up with a plan to seduce him into wanting you, because he already did.

he had you spread over his lap, his ring finger and his middle finger already in your centre. the sounds of your arousal filling the room as you fucked yourself against his digits. he smiled into the crook of your neck before kissing it.

“i knew you were this desperate for it,” he hums, his german accent thicker as he pressed his thumb lightly against your clit. he’s teasing you, and normally you’d be okay with it. playing this mutual game of cat and mouse but not when you’re this desperate to get off. “it’s okay. because i was desperate for it too.”

your eyes roll back as you reach your peak.

LEWIS HAMILTON ᯽

after your promotion, you decide to treat yourself to a summer home in monaco. it’s a flat in an expensive complex, with a pool, a gym and even a spa. you’d spend many days relaxing and enjoying the amenities or shopping with the bonus money that your boss had bestowed upon you for sealing a contract with one of the biggest businesses in your country. this was your time to relax.

yet, you couldn’t relax. as you finished your daily workout - yes you now had the time - you saw the hottest man in your entire life walk past you in a loose gym set. embarrassingly, you were filling up your water bottle which overflowed and covered you with the excess. thank god he didn’t see.

you hadn’t been much of a femme fatale, you were more of a business woman in your head. your sister told you that there wasn’t much difference between the two, just that the femme fatale chose a different line of business. it was that comment that encouraged you to start your plan of seduction.

it wasn’t working, even when you wore your best gym outfit, the one that made your ass look incredible, or when you attempted to bump into him at the complex’s coffee shop in the cute two piece that exposed your best assets. it seemed like he disappeared.

until he knocked at your door at the middle of the day, you opened it to see him dressed in a suit. for a selfish second, your thoughts drifted to him wearing this for you.

“do you mind watching my dog? roscoe is in a mood today and my usual dogsitter is busy. i have a meeting that is impossible for me to get out of. you’ll be doing me a big favour.” oh. he was british.

you smile at him, as graciously as you can. thanking god that you had just come back from brunch with the girls, so your hair and makeup were still done. you told him all about how much you love dogs and you wouldn’t mind at all watching his fur baby! you were a lovely neighbour after all.

he repaid the favour later anyways, on his knees and in between your legs. he pulls down your underwear, you had shaved in anxious preparation for this moment, your arousal leaving a stain against the fabric. he pressed his thumb against your folds before licking a stripe between them. his tongue flicking against you, as you pressed down harder on his face.

your moans were loud and unapologetic. you had a gorgeous man between your thighs, eating you out like this was his calling. he grinned at you, his face drenched in your juices. you groaned and put your hands on his braids.

now this was a holiday.

JENSON BUTTON ☆

moving to the big city was supposed to be a shock, but you took to it gracefully like a duck to water. london wasn’t the nicest to everyone but it took a liking to you. you bought a house with your best friend in a family neighbourhood with low crime rates and a high chance of getting more money when you’d both inevitably sell it in the future.

it was walkable which you loved. you could walk less then ten minutes to go shopping. you had come back with a few shopping bags when you accidentally bumped into your neighbour who was coming back from picking up his daughters. he laughs at the action as he apologises and gives a hand out for you to shake.

“i’m jenson. sorry about that, these two usually have me run off my feet!” he points at his two daughters who have already ran insider the house. “it’s like they’re my parents.”

after shaking your hand, he takes his cap off and runs a hand through his slightly greying hair. he’s wearing a pair of shorts with a loose t-shirt. it is almost summertime but the weather in london had a mind of its own. sunny one day, rainy the next and freezing for both. but jenson didn’t seem to mind the cold.

you introduce yourself and he listens intently until you realise that you have to go. there is frozen food in the bags and jenson’s daughters are calling for their post-school snack. but after that meeting, you always time your post shopping trip for when jenson comes back with the girls. your roommate/best friend doesn’t protest when you insist on the shopping being your chore but she does give you a sideways glance when she sees you chatting with jenson again on the step.

one night, you’ve come back from a date. it went awfully as per usual, although london seemed to love you and want you, the men didn’t seem to. you’re home late, when you rummage in your purse and swear loudly. you brought the wrong purse! you could call your roommate but she sleeps like the dead and probably wouldn’t answer. you’re thinking of breaking through the window when a voice calls at you.

“y/n?” jenson grins at you. “are you alright?”

after a moment, and a few minutes of arguing that you’re fine to sleep in the bushes, you’re inside jenson’s home. dressed in a pair of his old clothes. he hands you a cup of tea and puts down a packet of biscuits next to it.

“so, are you going to tell me why i caught you dressed to the nines and attempting to break through a window?” he’s trying to sound stern but he’s smiling as he says it.

“bad date,” you start and smile ruefully, taking a sip of tea. “forgot my keys and well, at least you caught me before i did any damage.”

he laughs. you laugh too but not before realising that there are probably kids sleeping in the house. you bring this up to jenson who waves off your concern.

“the girls are at their mum’s. it’s just us. don’t worry. you can be as loud as you’d like.”

you end up being very loud as you lay on his very comfortable bed. he’s tapping himself again the hood of your clit as you squirm breathless from the earlier orgasm he gave you. he smiles at you, leaning up to kiss you as he slides in, swallowing your gasps as he kisses you firmer.

“you know how long i’ve dreamt of having you like this?” he asks. you shake your head, moaning again as he fucks you harder. “since the first day you bumped into me, in that little fucking skirt. dreamt of bending you over and having you like this. anyway you’d let me. would you?”

you nod, voice locked in your throat as he mouths at your tits. he smiles at your willingness.

“good. we have the entire weekend to ourselves. let’s see how many times i can get you to cum. hmm?” you squeeze yourself around him as you have your first orgasm. your cunt spasming as he gently pulls out. he lets you rest against him for a moment, taking a deep breath as he runs a hand down your back.

“now that’s number one. keep count for me darling, okay?”

NICO ROSBERG 𑁍

you weren’t a yacht person. when your university friend had begged you to come home with her for the holidays, you hadn’t expected the family party to be held on a yacht. this was out of your tax bracket.

it seemed like everyone in monaco was right. the casual displays of wealth and decadence made you sick at times. thinking about how the money that went to buying that birkin bag could have made a change in someone’s life. then you think about how you’re wearing a custom gown on a friend’s yacht and realise that you’re now part of the problem.

a bonus about being in monaco, was that the men were gorgeous. your friend’s older brother charles was handsome with dimples and a gorgeous accent. if he hadn’t been in a relationship with a supermodel, you would have been all over that. thankfully, there was more eye candy in the city. your friend’s father had a business partner that was in their house more often then not.

he was blond, blunt and pretty in all the ways an older man could be. when he looked at you, you felt like the world could burn at your feet. he had also been on the yacht at the same time as you. drinking champagne, mingling with family and investors as you ate canapés and watched the sky.

“is it boring you?” he asks, as you turn around. he was dressed in a loose linen shirt, light coloured trousers with his shirt open just enough to see the smooth skin underneath. “can’t believe she brought you to a work event.”

“it’s fine. there are worse places to be.” you respond. you take a sip of champagne and you both ignore the fact he watches the sip go down. he takes note of the way that you’re still looking in the direction of charles and his girlfriend, the two still wrapped around each other.

“you’ve fallen for the charles charm?” he says, smiling as he sits across from you. he puts his ankles up on the table like he owns it, which he probably does. you can tell a lot from a person’s body language, and his is telling you that he’s used to getting what he wants. “it’s a shame. another pretty girl lost in his eyes. want another drink?”

“pretty girl?”

he nods, blue eyes darkening as he looks at you over the rim of his drink.

“would you want me to show you how pretty i think you are?”

so that’s how you find yourself bent over the sink in the bathroom at a yacht party, your pretty dress bunched up at the waist as he presses his fingers inside you. scissoring them to stretch you wider.

“is this what you imagined he’d do to you?” he asks, voice curious. “that he’d go down on you in one of the bedrooms? he’d let you go down on him? that he’d split you open with his cock as we all walked around upstairs?”

you sob as he talks you through it, mascara running down your cheeks. how are you going to explain to your best friend that you fucked her dear precious uncle nico while talking about her brother. he grinds his palm against your clit as he stands up and gags your mouth with his fingers.

“can’t be too loud honey, don’t want them to hear you.”

FERNANDO ALONSO ꩜

spain was a big adventure for you and your boyfriend. the two of you made the decision to move for a few months to his grandfather’s home to help redesign the place. it was slightly run down but nothing that you couldn’t fix. the goal was to rebuild it in order to sell it off.

however, you hadn’t foreseen that this would effectively destroy what relationship you had with your boyfriend. he insisted on not signing the place under your name despite you also funnelling funds into the rebuilding of the house. after another argument, you decide to take a break. wearing a bikini, and armed with nothing besides water, sunscreen and a good book, you make your way into the backyard. sunning yourself to at least gain something from all the money you’ve put in, even if its just a tan and a relaxing afternoon.

“you’re the new neighbour?” a voice calls out, as he leans against the fence that separates your property. you knew the next door neighbour had kids, you could hear them playing occasionally in the summer sun as you painted. you didn’t know they had a hot dad. that’s new information. he smiles at you. “it’s been a while since there has been a young person. the old man who lived here has been here since before i was even born. you’re his kid?”

“no,” you laugh. “he’s my boyfriend’s grandfather. i’m just here as a cash cow apparently.”

your voice turns a little bitter but why wouldn’t you be? you have put in the same amount of time and effort as he has onto this place and now you’re not getting anything back. court is an option but it’ll drain even more of your bank account.

“why is that?” he asks, head tilted as he looks at you.

you end up spilling everything to him. about the house, the money, the contract that has your name redacted. in return, he tells you that his name is fernando and the kids you always hear playing in his back garden aren’t his but rather his nieces and nephews. it’s nice listening to him speak, with the heavy spanish lilt to his accent. he is the first person in a while who has just listened to your grievances so when he asks you inside for a drink, you don’t hesitate. grabbing your wraparound skirt, you follow him inside.

less then ten minutes later, you’re on his lap, as he presses his mouth against your tits. enveloping one nipple in his mouth while his fingers move to play with your other one. you grind down harder against him, feeling your clit brush against the hard muscle of his thigh. your bottoms are soaked with your arousal as you lean closer and bite his shoulder to stay quiet. he leans away from you for a moment, as your eyes widen worried that you’ve done something wrong.

“don’t be quiet hermosa, let him hear it,” he grins up at you then leans in for a kiss. “isn’t that most of the fun?”

author’s note: sorry y’all idk what came over me.

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deputyrook · 14 days ago

Text

In Her Absence: Lucanis/Rook/Spite.

A03 link! Female Crow Rook x Lucanis. Lucanis POV.

Takes place when Rook is in the fade prison, because 1) I love angst and am a big softie; and 2) I wanted to try to work out the logistics of what the team did in Rook's absence, and how they managed to reach her.

---

In the four days that Rook’s been gone, the Veilguard has devolved completely into infighting.

Taash wants to know why they can’t just “break into the fade and pull her out.” And no one really wants to hear Emmrich’s overly technical explanation as to why that’s not feasible, least of all Taash, who’s grieving and angry. Davrin keeps saying that it should have been him instead, which isn’t helping, and no one even wants to think about what’s happening to Bellara right now.

Harding is dead. Bellara is kidnapped by Elgar’nan and Maker knows where. They’re a mess as a group, angry and hurting. And Rook...

Rook’s gone.

Neve is the only person who remotely has their shit still together, and for that at least, Lucanis is thankful.

Because he absolutely does not have his shit together. Maybe the others can’t tell, since he’s not arguing or yelling or breaking down, but his thoughts are spiralling so badly that he’s barely said a word in three days. All he can think about is Rook.

He loves her. He loves her. And she’s lost somewhere, trapped and alone, and they have no plan whatsoever on how they’re going to get her back.

He never told her. It’s tearing him up inside. The thought that he might never hear her voice again. Never hear her make some stupid pun, or hear her teasing, or hear her give them all one of her legendary pep talks. Never hear her laugh again-

“Lucanis,” Neve’s voice is firm, dragging him out of his despondency, “You need to focus.”

How can he possibly focus? “You’re right,” he says instead, voice tight, because Neve is right. Standing around brooding isn’t getting them any closer to getting Rook back. What he needs to do is act- but how?

Solas is a God, and even he couldn’t break out of that prison. This isn’t the kind of problem Lucanis can solve with a dagger. He can’t stab at the prison walls until they crumble away- but Maker knows if that could work, he would stab until his daggers shattered and his body collapsed.

What is he supposed to do? What can he do? How can he help them, when all he knows how to do is kill things?

No. Spite says to his left, his voice hard and determined, No! We will find Rook. Won’t leave them there.

Neve puts a hand on his shoulder, and gives it a squeeze.

“When has Rook ever been content to sit and wait to be rescued?” Neve says, and he lets out a long, even exhale, because it’s exactly what he needs to hear. “I’m worried too. But Rook would chew off her own leg to escape a trap. If there’s a way to get out, she’ll find it. Have some faith in her. In all of us- and in yourself.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, voice quiet. After a moment, he adds, “…Someone should let Viago and Teia know.”

That, at least, is a burden he can bear.

But the days stretch into weeks. Elgar’nan seizes control of an already broken Minrathous, and even Neve has a hard time keeping herself together after that one.

Lucanis is in no place to offer comfort. Without Rook’s leadership and steadfast optimism, the lighthouse has gone dark, leaving them all ships to smash into a rocky coast. He won’t soon forget the way Viago’s eyes widened when he told him what had happened to Rook, nor the look of horror that flashed across his face before his expression settled into stony devastation.

Strangely, it’s Spite that keeps him from falling apart completely. He refuses to accept that Rook is gone. Every time that Lucanis’ mind whispers to him that this happened because he wasn’t good enough, and that he’ll never see Rook smile at him again- Spite cuts him off with an angry, defiant hiss of NO.

Rook is strong. Rook is smart! Rook will not allow herself to die in a prison. She would not let you die in prison, either. We will not let her. We will find her. We will find her!

He repeats the words in his own head, holding onto them like a buoy. Right, yeah. She’s good at prison breaks. It’s enough to make it through the day.

Sometimes- although Lucanis would never admit it to the others- he realizes that Spite is the one who has been moving his body, keeping him working while he’s been stuck in his mind, ruminating and aching with missing her. It’s been Spite that’s forcing him to eat, to bathe, to sleep. Spite is keeping him alive.

Will not let you do this to us. Rook needs us.

It’s that thought that ultimately gets Lucanis to snap out of his despair.

It’s not over yet. He agrees, finally. Rook needs us.

Finally! Spite snaps back.

---

First, they try to make a copy of the dagger. Something that will be able to slice through the fade prison, so that they can cut Rook out of it. That’s how Solas left, after all- by tricking her, and stealing the dagger to cut himself free.

But a dagger of pure lyrium isn’t exactly easy to replicate. Brilliant as they are, Emmrich and Neve can only do so much. So after days of meticulous work, they end up with a dagger that looks identical to the real thing, but doesn’t actually work. Great.

Next, Emmrich hypothesizes that in order to get to Rook in the fade, they’ll not only need to figure out how to access the fade prison, but also to figure out where the prison actually is, physically within the fade.

It is, apparently, not as simple as yelling out “ROOK? CAN YOU HEAR US?” from the top of the Lighthouse, which has been Taash’s strategy. Spite, too, is ready to start just travelling through the fade, for as long and as far as he needs to until he finds her. Lucanis is doing what he can to support the group, cooking the meals and making sure Emmrich and Neve are able to stay on their feet.

Word gets to them that Solas is in Minrathous, keeping the rebellion alive. The news poisons Lucanis so thoroughly with hate that he nearly can’t stomach it. Spite has been so determined to save Rook that Lucanis almost forgot how it felt when he was really, truly spiteful.

Hearing Solas is pretending to be a hero in Tevinter, after consigning Rook to take his place in a prison? Yeah. That’ll do it. The things he’d wanted to do to Illario after his betrayal had left him conflicted. He is not remotely conflicted about what he wants to do about Solas.

What they want to do. Spite agrees with him on this one. He hurt our Rook.

Finally, Emmrich and Neve work out a real plan, with the help of the Veil Jumpers. It’s based largely on luck, but it’s something. It’s a sliver of hope. It’s enough to keep them all going.

First, they need to find a spot where the veil is particularly thin, where the fade peaks through the seams of reality. Then, they need to use an artifact of the Veil Jumper’s to do… magical, fade, location-y… stuff. Emmrich actually uses a bit of Rook’s blood for this part, located on some stained clothes that Assan had dug out in her room.

Blood magic. Ordinarily, Lucanis would be opposed. But no one says a word against it. They are all desperate for this to work.

The first day they try it, it doesn’t work. They make some adjustments, and try again.

The second day, it doesn’t work. They make some more adjustments, and they try again.

On the fifth day, Spite says it in his ear, voice sharp with excitement.

I can smell her- I can smell Rook!

Lucanis’ heart feels like it’s about to burst from his chest. He’s yelling, “Rook?” into the rift before he can stop himself, but the team’s caught on already that this isn't like the other times they’ve failed to make their plan work. The rift is spitting and spasming sparks of magic, and they can see through it in a way they’d never been able to before. They can see a light in the rift.

Emmrich seems to throw caution entirely to the wind, rolling up his sleeve and plunging his arm into the rift. The energy is wild, unrestrained, and they’re all calling out to Rook, reaching and trying to get to her.

“I’ve- I’ve got her!” Emmrich yells out, and Lucanis swears he can see Rook’s wavy form on the other side of the rift. Like looking through a fishbowl, or the walls of the Ossuary.

He reaches in too and grabs her hand with Emmrich, and they yank. Rook stumbles out, collapsing onto the ground.

“Varric’s dead,” she says, voice hollow and wobbly.

Neve shoots Lucanis a confused, concerned look, but he’s too relieved to care. He’s grabbing at her shoulders, pulling her into a tight embrace, and his throat feels like it’s closing up on him. Tears prick at his vision. She’s safe. She’s alive, she’s free, and she’s safe. She’s back with them.

They all want to hug her, and make sure she’s actually, really okay. But Lucanis gets to first.

Told you. Told you, told you! Spite repeats, ecstatic, She’s back!

“Are you okay?” He murmurs, pulling back and looking her over critically, trying to see if she’s been hurt or if anything has changed. But no. It’s just her. Like not a day has passed.

Rook nods slowly, and Lucanis smooths a hand down her hair, before cupping her cheek in his hand. All he wants to do is hold her, but he can’t be that selfish and drag her away from the others. Not yet, anyway.

Pulling back, the others take the moment to rush in, making similar careful assessments and doting over Rook. The last few weeks have been almost unbearably difficult. There’s been little to celebrate. But this is joy again. Hope. With Rook back, not everything is completely fucked.

Davrin pulls her into a crushing hug, and Taash joins in, and they’re all hugging and crying a little. The trip back to the Lighthouse is a blur, with Rook thanking the Veil Jumpers and swearing to them she’ll get Bellara back.

How she can already be so determined, so ready to act, Lucanis will never know. He is, as he has so often found himself, in awe of her ability to forge forward, the light cutting through the swathes of dark that seem to surround them.

Spite is just about ready to try to crawl out of their skin in impatience, but they have work to do first. They all brief Rook on what has happened in her absence, and learn- horrifically- that she’s somehow been brainwashed into believing Varric has been alive, for months, by Solas.

Not for the first time, Lucanis feels anger and spite bubbling in his veins and vows to himself that he will not let Solas get away with hurting Rook. God or not. He finds it hard to fathom why he would mess with her head like that, if he wanted her to succeed in at least stopping Ghilan’nain. It reminds him too much of the mind games that his captors would play on him when he was in the Ossuary, tormenting and confusing him for no other reason than to break him down. Was that what Solas had tried to do to Rook, too? To break her down mentally, so she’d be easier to manipulate and trick?

It seems to take forever, but finally, Lucanis gets to see her alone. She’s lying down when he enters her quarters, her eyes closed, but the words spill out of him before he can even consider leaving her to rest.

“I cannot believe we found you,” he says, voice soft. All of the fear he’s felt for weeks, the doubt and the despair that Spite had helped him just barely keep at bay… the relief, now, is making him lightheaded.

“I’m a little surprised too, honestly.” It’s a testament to the gravity of the situation that she’s not trying to make light of things. The words aren’t meant as a joke.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he admits.

“And I didn’t think I’d ever get out of there,” Rook tells him in turn. It leaves him cold, to think of her there, alone and believing she might never be found. “How do I know if I really did? This could be... more of the fade.”

Lucanis realizes then, that he’s never seen her vulnerable like this before. Emotional, yes, but lost? Frightened? Rook has always been the solid centre of the group. Unmoving, unyielding, steady. Utterly dependable.

It’s almost surprising that she’s not actually invincible. She’s so consistently been their guiding light. But more than shock, more than anything else-

He wants to protect her. He wants to hold her until her worries melt away, to chase away the horrible memories of the last several weeks and see her smile at him. He wants her to know that he won’t let anything hurt her. He wants to kiss her until she feels safe and warm again.

So he does. Kneeling down in front of her, holding her hands in his own, Lucanis reassures her she is real. There’s so much he wants to tell her, that he’s been praying he’ll get the chance to say. But now that Rook’s in front of him again, he can’t seem to find the words for everything he’s been feeling.

So he kisses her. So, so gently. And when he keeps kissing her, pressing her back against the chaise as she wraps her arms around his neck? It seems Spite is right there with him, because the wings unfurl right in that moment, curling around them both protectively, like he wants to help shield them from anyone in the world who might try to hurt them.

#lucanis dellamorte #spite dragon age #lucanis x rook #rookanis #spite x rook #antivan crows #dragon age #dav spoilers #dragon age spoilers #dragon age the veilguard #veilguard spoilers #dragon age rook #maybe i'll write a smutty p2. but not tonight!#have i mentioned i love lucanis and spite #my writing

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cressidagrey · 5 months ago

Text

Lightning in a Bottle - Prologue

Summary:

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was actually pretty much useless. The only thing she wanted was to be somebody's first choice for once in her life.

Also known as: Azriel's shadows decide that if he doesn't treat his mate right... they'll just do it for him.

Warnings:

Kinda Elain Bashing?, Low Self Esteem, Mention of Cauldron induced torture...

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

As far as cauldron-made went…Eira Archeron was pretty much useless.

She had neither the power of Death nor of Divinity.

She was neither the prettiest one, that title belonged to Elain…nor the smartest one, which was undoubtedly Nesta. Or the strongest one like Feyre…And if she had tried to hunt like Feyre, it would have been more likely that she would have accidentally killed herself instead of bringing home any meat.

As a human, she had been limited to cooking and cleaning and laundry, all of it with limited supplies and even more limited experience. She had tried. It had never been enough.

So maybe it shouldn’t have surprised her that her uselessness continued on even when she was no longer human.

So if she wasn’t beautiful or strong or smart…what was she then?

The dumb one?

When the cauldron had burned every bit of humanity out of her…when it had ripped away all her hopes and dreams…when it had been so angry with Nesta after whatever she had done to it that Eira was just…Eira was just an afterthought, something it could hurt in response to her sisters and then leave gasping on that stone floor feeling like she was dying…

She had done her best to accept her lack of humanity afterwards. Nesta had raged…Elain had said nothing, suffering silently in the bed…and Eira…Eira had tried.

Tried to make it better…tried to make it easier for everybody around her. She had tried.

She hadn’t wanted to put even more on Feyre’s shoulders, not with the threat of impending war…and so she had done her best to be supportive and make no trouble…be agreeable and quiet and be helpful…

But she couldn’t be helpful.

She was nothing but a useless appendage. With no powers, no great destiny stretched in front of her…

Not even a limb. Not even a fucking pinky finger.

More like a skin tag.

Completely useless. If cut off, it wouldn’t even bother anybody.

They had made that clear to her over time.

They had made clear what they thought about her, again and again, and now…now she finally realised it. She was a slow learner…but by the gods, she did learn.

It started…slow in a sense. Comments, made offhandedly, that probably weren’t meant that way anyway…sometimes said to her face…sometimes overheard.

“Stop your screeching, girl, I am getting a headache.” Amren. After she had finally…after months felt like singing again as she fixed the hem on one of her sister’s dresses. She had stopped singing then.

Amren had never brought it up again. But then Amren had never been particularly nice to any of them.

“Don’t come crying to me if she bites off your head. I warned you.” Rhysand had told her drily when she insisted on visiting Nesta at the House of Wind every week after all of that had gone down…

“Don’t you have anything better to do? Like make another ugly dress?” Seethingly said by Nesta…pitted against the one thing she liked to pretend she was good at…the one thing she could do and make money with…

It cut. Of course, it did. But it wasn’t even the worst thing thrown at her head by Nesta…so why was it the one thing that stayed in her mind?

“We don’t need Eira. Quite frankly, it’s better if she doesn’t go. Elain is the prettier one, anyway.” Cassian…overheard by Eira before the rest of them had gone off to Hewn City. Eira left behind because…well the contrast of Elain badly dressed was enough, no need for Eira to…be what? A distraction?

And it was true too. Elain was the prettier twin sister.

Eira was just…common as muck as her mother had liked to remind her…Nesta was the smart one, the one who would marry a prince…Elain would marry for love and beauty…and Eira…well, she would make a good farmer’s wife as far as her mother was concerned.

Not pretty enough to garner a richer man’s attention…not smart enough to drag herself up the echelons of society on her own…To easily content as far as her mother was concerned.

“As far as cauldron-made goes, she is pretty much useless.” Morrigan. Said in jest. Eira was quite sure of that…still, it had hurt. Because it was true. She was useless.

No magic sparking at her fingertips…Using her magic was like pulling teeth…painful and a long process…And it never did what she wanted anyway.

“Eira, find somewhere else to be. I really have more important things to do,” Feyre had said with a sigh…after she had brought her sister cookies and tea…after she had only tried to get Feyre to take a break from her work.

Eira hadn’t tried that again either.

And then the one that clinched it:

“At least I found two males in my life willing to marry me. The one you have your ridiculous puppy crush on is never even going to look at you!”

Said by Elain…by her twin sister. She was frozen in place, staring at Elain wide-eyed as her sister sneered at her.

That was the last drop into an already overflowing bucket.

Stress. Right? Just stress from wedding planning. Elain would have never said that usually.

She wouldn’t have…

It was just…it was just stress…Just stress.

Elain didn’t mean it like that.

Right?

Elain flounced off…her wedding binder in tow…leaving Eira alone, sitting there, in the dining room, her chest aching.

Eira was in a trance as she carefully put all the plates into one tidy stack…as she was thankful that it had just been her and Elain, every other person in their family busy with their mates or something else…Feyre and Rhysand gone with Baby Nyx for the evening…Nesta and Cassian off at the House of Wind…who knew what Mor and Amren were up to…

Or even Azriel.

A sob threatened to take over, as she thought that name.

She walked up the stairs…to her room…Her room. She locked the door with shaky hands.

“At least I found two males in my life willing to marry me. The one you have your ridiculous puppy crush on is never even going to look at you!”

She collapsed on her bed, burying her face into her pillow and let the tears stream.

Ridiculous puppy crush.

All of that said because she had tried to talk to Elain about her choice of flowers for her wedding. Because lilies wouldn’t be in season when she married Lucien in Day Court in less than 2 months.

And then Elain responded with that, because Eira clearly wanted to ruin her wedding with that factoid.

“At least I found two males in my life willing to marry me. The one you have your ridiculous puppy crush on is never even going to look at you!”

The worst part of it was that it was the simple truth.

Azriel was never going to pay her a second glance.

He had always been more interested in Elain than Eira…he had on more than one occasion asked Eira questions about her twin sister…had made sure that Elain was comfortable and cared for…and Eira had sufficed as a source of information and nothing else.

And after Elain and Lucien had become serious…well, Eira ceased to be interesting too. He hadn’t sought her out again.

If she sat next to him at dinner, he was polite and quiet, bordering on silent. And then she tried to fill the silence and probably only annoyed him in the process.

He didn’t want her. He never would.

She starved down the sobs that wracked her body.

It was probably high time that she accepted that, right?

High time to get over herself.

High time that she reminded herself that…that she was never going to have him and that staring at him in ill-hidden affection only made everybody else make fun of her and probably made him deeply uncomfortable.

So maybe it was better that she just…

At least he had never called her useless, she supposed. It could be worse…even when he never would want her.

She felt the touch on her hand first…soft like velvet…like kitten fur…never warm, never cold. massive and somehow not… definitely not human.

The shadows. His shadows.

Sometimes they came to keep her company. At the start, she had thought that maybe he had sent them but nowadays she was quite sure that they had just liked her quiet singing while embroidery one afternoon. So quiet that nobody would hear. It had taken her months to coax them out of their corners after that. They probably had just taken pity on her.

Just like they did now.

“Please don’t,” she choked out. She never wanted him to find out how she was feeling about him…never wanted to feel the pain of him outright turning her down.

And if his shadows came to check on her, they would report back in what they saw…and they didn’t need…didn’t need to worry about it.

They never talked to her. Just sometimes they came and listened to her softly talk to them while she was sewing in the evening, about this and that...

It wasn’t right how she talked to you, the shadows whispered.

They didn’t talk to her. Never.

And now they did.

Hell, even his shadows were feeling sorry for her, weren’t they?

“Please don’t tell him,” she begged.

He should know, they disagreed softly. Everybody should know. She should apologise to you.

And what would that give her? Nothing. More embarrassment because everybody else got to hear all about her fledgling little feelings? Feelings she should bury deep and never examine again?

“Please,” she begged again and the shadows seemingly surrendered, curling themselves up against her hands so that she could touch them.

Don’t cry, they soothed her softly. Don’t give her that.

Elain hadn’t said anything that was untrue. That was the worst part. It was true. And that hurt.

Is there anything we could do? the shadows asked Eira softly. Anything at all to make this better?

“No,” she whispered, choking out the words, another sob. Not anymore. There was nothing anybody could do.

It hurt. It hurt so badly. Just like the cauldron had. Then she had wished she would die.

Now…now she wondered the same once again. Maybe then it would stop feeling like this.

She cried her eyes out, as the tears kept pouring over her cheeks…as she sobbed until her throat was raw and everything hurt. And finally, she just laid there…the shadows still swirling worriedly around her prone form.

“Don’t you need to work?” she asked the shadows listlessly, tears tracking over her cheeks. “Don’t you have something more important to do than to try and comfort me?”

Maybe take care of him?

You are important, the shadows snapped.

Eira could argue that point. She was useless. So what did it matter? It didn’t.

She wiped away the tears, but new ones just came pouring over her face and she stopped trying, let them run down her face and wondered how long she could stay in her room and never come out again.

Would you like something to eat? the shadows tried again. So sweet. Trying to give her something, anything to comfort her.

“No, thank you,” she whispered. Alone the thought made her want to throw up.

She didn’t want to eat.

She didn’t want to get up and talk to anybody. She didn’t want to even look at another person anymore.

She didn’t…

What would you like then? The shadows tried softly. Would you like to plot revenge? they suggested.

It was so stupid that she choked out a laugh.

“For what? Elain saying what everybody else is thinking?” Eira asked, her heart painfully restricting.

Nobody here actually wanted her around. If she disappeared forever she would do them a favour. Him especially.

Elain had only said what everybody else was thinking.

All three of her sisters had found their mates, just not Eira. All three of her sisters had some kind of power…just not her. All three of them had found some kind of place for themselves…and then there was her, living with her youngest sister, half seamstress, half nanny for her child, an unwanted appendage that was taken care of out of some feeling of duty and no other reason.

Elain had just voiced what she was thinking. The truth.

It had been the truth. Plain and simple. And Eira maybe didn’t like to hear it but it didn’t…it didn’t matter.

It was the truth.

Elain had two men willing to marry her and spend the rest of their lives with her…and nobody wanted to spend any time with Eira. A husband wasn’t even something that had ever seemed to be a possibility.

Even if everybody else is thinking, that doesn’t make it right. The shadows disagreed quietly. Your sister said that to hurt you and not for any other reason.

“She’s stressed out with wedding planning,” Eira whispered.

It had just been that. Probably. Maybe.

That doesn’t make it right, the shadows disagreed again, twirling tighter around her wrist. We could ruin her wedding. Lilies and all, they suggested brightly.

She shook her head. No. Elain should have the wedding she dreamed of. Eira wasn’t going to ruin it for her.

“Don’t do that,” she said weakly.

We could at least steal her wedding binder, they told her mulishly, and Eira wondered if they disagreed like that with Azriel too.

Azriel…

What did it say about her that she fell head over heels in love with the first man who treated her with polite indifference? That she was so desperate to be loved that that was all it took?

Did it matter?

No.

Elaine was right. He would never spare her a second glance. He was just as unreachable as any other male.

Nothing was enticing about Eira. Neither her body, nor her mind, nor her magical power. What could she possibly offerany male?

All the nightmares she had on a near-daily basis? All the fear and anxiety that swirling around her gut every day?

She could sew on any buttons he lost along the way, she supposed. That was something.

The knife that plunged into her womb and twisted, took her by surprise.

It shouldn’t have.

Of course. 6 months had passed once again.

“Don’t tell him this either,” she begged in a whimper. This was too embarrassing. He didn’t need to know about her cycle.

Nobody did. She was the most modest out of all her sisters. The one with the most human ideas of what was considered to be decent, left…the only one who…

The only one left with her maidenhead intact, because everybody else was mated or married or very much in love and it had never mattered in Prythian anyway.

Just Eira was left.

Without a mate. Without a husband.

Without ever having even been kissed. Nearly 26 and that…hadn’t happened for her.

It probably would never happen anyway.

Why today of all days?

Why did her cycle need to torture her today? How did she deserve this? Why not in a week…Though at least now she had a reason not to leave her bed for a few days.

She could just stay here.

Mope in her own Misery and self-pity…wallow in the pain that she knew would come…

Of course, it would. She had always had a horrible time during her cycle even as a human…as a Fae, it had become her very own personal torture.

Maybe a bath would make you feel better, the shadows suggested softly as she already curled herself together in pain.

She needed to get up and sort herself out before it got even worse…made sure that she wouldn’t get blood all over the sheets, but she couldn’t…She didn’t want to.

And a bath…A stab of pure fear.

“It’s like the cauldron,” Eira whimpered. Just like the cauldron.

She didn’t bathe…she used buckets of water…even years later…still standing water was not something she could stand. Not without being reminded of her humanity being ripped away and traded for whatever this existence was.

What if we make sure that it isn’t? the shadows asked her softly. It will be nothing like the cauldron, we promise.

A bath…a hot bath that would help against the soreness of her muscles…that would maybe ease the cramps…

It did sound nice. So nice.

So Eira just weakly nodded.

That seemed to be all the agreement the shadows needed as they whisked her to the bathing chamber, in the blink of an eye.

She watched as they flitted about the room, turning on the water, dotting candles around the room, making it brightly lit with faelight and candlelight both.

Lots of foam and bubbles appeared in the bathtub as well as numerous concoctions being poured into the water.

She slowly toed off her shoes and opened the laces of her dress. Eira hesitated and the shadows disappeared, letting her undress in privacy…letting her walk to the bathtub and test the temperature…stare at it for a moment.

It couldn’t look less like the cauldron if it tried.

She waited for a stab of fear but nothing came.

So she slid into it, let the warm water envelope her, the perfect temperature… A few tendrils of shadows came to keep her company, touching her chin so that she tipped her head back and they started to wash her hair for her.

Eira couldn’t even remember the last time anybody had done that for her.

And they did that…without even asking…just…just for her.

“Thank you,” Eira whispered, not daring to close her eyes, but staring at the ceiling. “Are you sure you don’t have anything more important to do?” she asked weakly. “Isn’t your master going to be angry at you?” She didn’t want them to get into any trouble, just because they…they were taking care of her.

You don’t want Master to find out, so he won’t, they said easily. Would you like some pain potions?

If they gave them to her, she wouldn’t need to walk downstairs and maybe face her sister or gods forbid, Rhysand…and ask them for Madja.

Nobody would need to know. She could have her privacy and her dignity left intact.

“Yes, please,“ she breathed in relief as the shadows poured something or other over her head. One shadow brought her a vial, wrapping around her wrist as she uncorked and downed it.

A bitter taste but it left her blissedly numb and tired nearly immediately.

“What’s that?” She mumbled as they hushed her, massaging her head.

It tasted differently than whatever Madja usually gave her…telling her that pain and discomfort were normal and that her potions would ease it…It was like pouring a bucket of water over an inferno.

While this…this was quenching everything. Leaving her numb.

Just a rather strong pain potion, the shadows promised her. You’ll sleep for a bit…We’ll talk more then.

Sleep… Sleep sounded nice…

She didn’t even think about feeling self-conscious when they pulled her from the water, rinsed her off and wrapped her in warm, fluffy towels.

They laid out her favourite nightgown so she only needed to pull it on and pull back the sheets of her bed so she could slide beneath it.

Even a hot water bottle was waiting for her…

Everything so that she would be as comfortable as possible… everything for her.

“Thank you,” she whispered, tears pricking in her eyes as she climbed between her blankets, the shadows fluffing her pillow and pulling the blankets as high as they went.

It was weird…to have the shadows doting on her, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. Eira was too selfish to protest this bit of attention…the only positive attention she had in years.

They promised not to tell, so she wouldn’t either. Not when this was the sweetest thing anybody had ever done for her.

She fell asleep between one breath and the next, safely and warmly ensconced in her bed. Deep dreamless sleep…When she woke, it must have been the middle of the night…and still, the shadows were there immediately.

She whimpered at the cramps that were ransacking her body…and the growling of her stomach in hunger.

She hated these cycles. Hated how weak they left her and how she wanted nothing more than to cease to exist.

Are you hungry? You’ll need to eat before you can take another pain potion, the shadows told her worriedly. Not a lot, just a little bit, they promised.

“I don’t want to go down into the kitchen,” she answered weakly, biting her lip. Not that she thought that she could safely traverse the staircase anyway.

Eira just wanted to stay here…alone. Maybe with the shadows for company, as long as they wanted her…

We’ll get you something. What would you like? They assured her immediately.

Everything in her body ached for something human, even when she knew that their food would taste like ash for her. She always wanted human things. The things she would never have again.

“Maybe some soup?” Eira asked finally. “If that’s not too much trouble?”

Of course not.

They fluffed her pillows and helped her sit up…and then soup appeared…a bowl filled with clear broth with bits of vegetables and chunks of chicken and noodles…cooked to perfection…better than anything she could have ever produced and by the gods, she had tried…All of it, arranged on a tray, with two slices of perfect crusty bread and another pain potion.

She took that first, and it made her pleasantly numb and tired…and so she weakly spooned as much soup as she could in her mouth afterwards… mopping up the last of her soup with the bread.

She finished as much as she could before she was too tired and the shadows tucked her back into bed, curled up on her side…so they could fuss with her hair which was a mess as always.

She felt like a child being fawned over and she couldn’t help but relax into it…let them do with her whatever they wished if they just kept being so…nice to her.

Feeling better? they asked softly and she hummed.

If you could be anything…do anything... what would it be? The shadows wondered quietly. The movements of them were lulling her to some space of safety and warmth and Eira considered the question.

If she could have anything in the world…what would she want?

A heady question.

“When I was…young,” she said softly… “I wanted a dashing knight to come rescue me, and whisk me away from that horrible cottage,” she said weakly. “That’s what I wanted since I was old enough to want anything.”

A stupid children’s dream.

But sadly there were no knights in Prythian and even if there were any, they wouldn’t pick Eira.

And now? The shadows pushed.

“Somebody that loves me,” she admitted quietly. “A husband…children.”

All of that…she wanted all of that.

And she was never going to have it.

We could find you a husband, the shadows finally said quietly. If that makes you happy…we could help you.

“Who could possibly want me?” Eira asked, her voice breaking. Who would want her? The answer was easy: Nobody.

Only because Master is an idiot, doesn’t mean every male is, they told her tartly.

She wanted to laugh but it ended in a sob.

“He isn’t an idiot,” Eira disagreed. “He just knows that…I am not good enough for him.”

Not pretty enough, not smart enough…not enough period.

That’s ridiculous, the shadows hissed.

It wasn’t.

“He’s in love with my prettier twin sister,” Eira snapped. “I shouldn’t want him anyway. Why should I want to be his second or even third choice? Maybe for once, I want to be somebody’s first choice! Maybe for once, I want to be treated like I matter! That my feelings matter…that I matter!” It burst out of her. The tears burned in her eyes at that admission. At…how unfair it was.

What had she done to deserve this? What had she done?

Eira immediately regretted that outburst though. “I am so sorry,” she blurted out.

They didn’t deserve to be pulled into her feeling unfairly treated. She should stop complaining. It wasn’t going to…

For what? the shadows snorted. You are absolutely right. You deserve to be somebody’s first choice. You deserve to be treated like you matter.

She didn’t.

Maybe you should go shopping, the shadows suggested with a sigh. The suggestion was so sudden that she stared at the tendril of shadow still wrapped around her wrist.

“Why?” she asked with a sigh.

The Morrigan does that if she feels bad. The shadows told her earnestly. Then she buys shoes and feels better.

Ah.

She highly doubted that shoes were going to solve any of her problems. A pretty pair of shoes wasn’t going to make anybody fall in love with her. Or want her.

“What am I supposed to buy?” She asked quietly. “Just shoes?”

Stuff. The shadows answered easily. Whatever you want. Whatever makes you happy, they assured her. All your sisters have more stuff than you. You make them dresses and other things. But you never make yourself anything, the shadows said quietly. Nobody would say anything if you wanted things that are yours.

Right. She had never bothered with that. Not after she had lost all her things together with her humanity…there had been some piles of necessities sent to them by Rhysand…and that had been that.

She had never bothered to get more than that. She still wore those dresses of the very first weeks… and while she had made dresses for all three of her sisters…as human out of necessity, as Fae out of habit…she hadn’t made herself any in years.

Not since becoming Fae. Her new body felt…she hadn’t wanted to look at her new body for long enough to figure out how something should fit onto it. How it had changed….

These godforsaken ears were enough.

Buy things for yourself. Like a new dress! Or earrings! Diamonds! The shadows suggested. Whatever you find pretty.

“My ears aren’t pierced,” she said quietly, a yawn taking over her face.

That brought them up short.

Master bought you pearl earrings, the shadows said suddenly, sounding perplexed.

He had. Beautiful. Impersonal. Unwearable for her…a far cry from all the little trinkets he had given to Elain…

Still, for months she had stared at them and found them oh so beautiful…safely kept in their box in her drawer at her vanity table.

Maybe that alone should have told her everything she needed to know about the state of Azriel’s affection for her.

Namely it was non-existent when the spymaster of the night court didn’t even bother to check if she even wore earrings.

And the earrings…well…they were only…one thing. Her room at the River Estate that she had been supposed to furnish to her liking…that was another.

In the end, it had consisted out of her getting a set of the same bedroom furniture as every other guest room and her walls were painted cream like in every other room Feyre hadn’t gotten to yet. It was still as impersonal as it had been when she had moved in.

She knew that Elain had stuff to litter her bookcases with…gifts from Azriel or Feyre or Lucien, her mate…even Eira had gifted her sister things.

But all Eira had…were the dresses she had on commission laid out on her desk. Which she would need to return to the shop where she worked as a seamstress at soon enough once she was finished with her alteration on them…and well, that was it.

No books, because her reading was absolutely atrocious…no little trinkets from any of her sisters…no paintings or art or anything really.

Just…her sewing and embroidery supplies and that was that…and even these weren’t…held in one of these pretty little wooden sewing boxes on legs that would keep them tidily kept away…

Do you need money? The shadows asked her seriously.

“What?” Eira asked weakly.

She made some money with her job. Not a lot…but some. All of it carefully stashed away to buy birthday or solstice gifts from…or little trinkets she saw in a shop and thought one of her sisters would like…that Nyx would like.

Do you need money? They repeated patiently. To buy stuff? For yourself?

“No, I have money. And I don’t want to owe anybody anything,” she answered quietly, her eyes slowly closing.

She didn’t want to end like Nesta… were in the end, her habits were used to bludgeon her with…she didn’t…

You wouldn’t. The shadows assured her. We have our own line of credit.

What?

“How does that work? Do you have your own bank account?” she asked curiously, and she could nearly feel their amusement.

We like playing the lottery. Everything we win, we put into Master’s Bank Account, they explained to her earnestly. He never uses it anyway. We could just put our winnings in yours instead. Master wouldn’t care.

It was so ridiculous that she couldn’t help but giggle.

“Really?” she still asked weakly.

Really! they assured her seriously. Enough for you to have a shopping spree! We like shiny things, they told her, making her laugh. Master never buys any. We’ll pick up some mail-order catalogues for you and then you can spend tomorrow ordering some things. Maybe some curtains to spruce things up a little. It’s awfully empty in here.

Still, she couldn’t help but ask.

“Why are you doing this?”

Nobody should be treated like you are, they told her fiercely. Nobody should feel like they have no place anywhere.

#lightning in a bottle #acotar fanfiction #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #Azriel x Archeron!Reader

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asidian · 6 months ago

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Alright. It is time. Buckle up.

Why you should be watching Dead Boy Detectives: the targeted-specifically-at my-readers edition.

Meet the leads, our two ghost boys:

Edwin Payne: Fussy, repressed intellectual type from the Edwardian era. Exceedingly gay for his partner and best friend. Tortured in hell for seventy years on a technicality because he was ritually sacrificed as a prank gone wrong. Endearingly awful at people and dealing with emotions or his own wants.

Charles Rowland: Impulsive, people-pleasing wildcard from the 80s. Heart eyes 24/7 at his best friend but has zero self-awareness. Badly abused by his asshole of a father. Beaten to death because he saved a kid from bullies. Endearingly awful at sorting his own emotions or talking about his problems.

Some highlights:

/slaps hood you can fit so much trauma in these two

Both leads get sobbing breakdowns that happen on screen. The actors are incredible at crying

Both leads get much-needed hugs

The absolute devotion between the two of them. The shared history that lives in their dialogue and how they work together like people who have been each other's Most Important Person for literal decades

I mean, I'm talking in-canon Orpheus and Eurydice reference level of devotion here

The protective way Charles puts himself physically between Edwin and damn near every threat in the show

They're just fun together. Their interactions and banter and how they work as a team is a delight

Their shared plot arc literally involves them learning to talk to each other and communicate more so that they can be there for one another about their respective issues

The symbolism. God. They are metaphorically and literally one another's light in the darkness

But what about stuff that isn't the main duo? Just wait, there's more:

This show is unabashedly, unapologetically queer. It's there in the text and the subtext. The whole show lives and breathes it

So many good, complex, well-written female characters. The Bechdel test gets blown straight out of the water in episode one and they never look back. Headstrong amnesiac psychic learning to be a better person! Quirky meta commentary matchmaker! Cynical lesbian butcher! Delightfully sadistic witch! They are all amazing.

[audience voice] But I'm here for the hurt/comfort. How can I whump ghosts? Worry not, my friends. Canon has you covered. Not only are there ways, there are ways that happen on-screen. The hurt/comfort and rescue are also on-screen. Yes, it is amazing

Absolute chaos, really cool supernatural cases and creatures, a surprising amount of humor, charming writing, and a cast that absolutely nails it on the acting and chemistry

There is an extremely suggestive trickster type who is also the king of cats. He's a cat in human form. He hits on Edwin nonstop. Charles gets blisteringly jealous

All of the leads have well-thought-through, fully developed, emotional character arcs. They're all messy and flawed and sometimes lash out in their pain, but at turns can be incredibly supportive and kind and loyal

A character who is a crow who is also a boy, who is tortured by his witch/creator and also is crushing hard on one of the leads

There are so many incredible details in the setting, costume choices, prop decisions, etc. that you only catch after you know what it's laying the groundwork for. The level of care that went into this show is phenomenal

It's only eight episodes. The time investment barrier to entry could not possibly be lower

Anyway, tl;dr, if any of this sounds appealing to you, you should give this show a watch.

Dead Boy Detectives is well worth your time. It's easily my favorite show in years.

#dead boy detectives #dbda #dbda spoilers #edwin payne #charles rowland #payneland #whump #hurt/comfort #lgbtqia #netflix

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gothamhappiness · 3 months ago

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You are my heaven 3 (Bruce Wayne x f!reader)

It was supposed to be a little imagine of a dark and lonely Bruce Wayne switching place with another Bruce Wayne from a parallal universe, but I wrote more than I thought. And then you asked for more :)

My masterlist is here.

Part 1 // Part 2

Warnings: no proof reading, stressed out neglect!Bruce, mentions of dead characters, jealousy and all kind of bad feelings, language

This was Hell. It had to be a nightmare, right? It couldn’t be the reality. It couldn’t be the truth. Someone was toying with him, torturing him even. It had to be an illusion of some sort. Or maybe he was stuck in the darkest part of this mind, full of his worst fears.

No child, no wife, no Alfred, no Justice League, no good day, no good night.

Gotham wasn’t usually funny, but this was pure punishment.

At first, Bruce thought that the worst part was how awful the business was with Wayne Enterprises; there was so much work to take care of, all the time, and no one he felt like he could trust.

Then he realised how empty his manor was. It was dark and quiet. It was making him want to throw up because of how tight it was making his chest and stomach. He couldn’t stand this utter silence. He couldn’t stand to not be able to play the annoyed mentor with his children and the good husband to you.

Not even having Alfred was a punishment, a torture, a cruel life. How was he supposed to care about everything without Alfred? How was he supposed to stay sane without the man who raised him? How was he supposed to survive without him?

He so deeply missed the children. He tried to find them, but they were in prison, dead or gone from Gotham: Dick was a police officer who died during a mission, Jason was in prison, Tim died in his parents' accident, Stephanie had left Gotham forever, Cassandra killed herself to not be a killer anymore, Duke died as he looked for the Joker, Damian didn’t exist.

And Barbara looked so happy, Bruce didn’t even dare going to talk to her. And when he passed by her, hoping she would talk to him, she just seemed surprised to see Bruce Wayne in her local library. All the people he knew didn’t know him anymore or weren’t there to know him or to care about him.

In some desperate attempt, he looked for Talia, but the league of assassins simply kicked his ass for having tried and reached for her. They weren’t interested in him, merely wondering how he knew about them. He almost got killed that night, but he found a way out, like he always did.

Except he didn’t seem to be able to find a way out from this Hell.

The worst part was definitely your absence. He was so used to going to bed with a pretty little wife by his side. He was so used to kissing her goodnight. He was so used to her cute little whines for five minutes more of cuddles in the morning. He was so used to having his arm around her waist wherever they went. And he missed that so much. He wanted you so badly. He needed you so badly.

Fuck, he promised himself to not ditch any more dates with you once he would be back to what reality was supposed to be. He would take such good care of you. He would make you forget about the divorce papers and not just by saying to Alfred “She had a good life here and she loves the children, so she’ll stay”. No, he would make sure you actually wanted to stay. With him. With your husband.

He needed to find you in this world. Maybe you could help him, at least to not completely go insane.

He quickly found you, and for a brief instant, he was so relieved that you seemed to know him. You clearly weren’t his wife since you didn’t even live in the manor, but thank god he hoped you were his girlfriend. But your coldness hurt him more than he would ever admit it.

“What do you want, Bruce?” you groaned when you saw him at your door

“Just wanted to check on you” the man tried to smile

“Look, I’ve already told you that I’m not interested. You creep me out, man. And it’s not because the cops won’t do anything if I call them, that you can keep going here. So please, stay away from me and stop sending me gifts that I need to send you back. We’re not a thing, and we’ll never be” you told him before closing your door.

Bruce knew he was going to lose it.

He started to try and recall what happened the night before everything changed so drastically in his life. He slowly remembered this mission with the mad scientist. He remembered the light he saw right after he was going to sleep by your side. He was feeling so weak and strange then. Something happened then.

He needed to find the man. When he did, the scientist was actually a teacher in the University of Gotham, who was talking about the possibilities of parallel universes. It was how Bruce finally understood what happened. It wasn’t his reality. It wasn't an illusion. It was another world.

For a very brief instant, he felt very bad for the version of himself who had to deal with this world and this constant loneliness. But he couldn’t care. He wanted to get back home, surrounded by his people and their attention. He was relieved in a way because now he knew how to escape from this place.

He worked hard for several months. He showed a very dark version of himself, as he was forcing the scientist to find a way to send him back. He was slowly losing himself. He needed to come back home soon, or he would start to actually kill; why would he care about crossing the lines in a world that wasn’t his? In a city that didn’t like him anyway? In a life where no one loved him?

The media were commenting on how ruthless Batman was lately. Bruce couldn’t help it. He was feeling so bad. And there was this nasty little voice inside his head telling him over and over again that “Maybe no one realised you were gone. Maybe no one wants you back. Maybe that’s why you’re still there months after. Another man is fucking your wife, another man is talking to your children and to Alfred, another man is leading WE and the Justice League. And they all don’t care. Worst, they like him better”

The scientist wasn’t obsessed with the idea of getting rid of Batman so he thought about things quite differently. He found a way to send Bruce back to his world but he didn’t switch places. So when Bruce arrived where he was supposed to be, he was quite shocked to see another him.

What was worse was that you were by his side, laughing at something the man murmured to you. His arm was wrapped around your waist. It was then that your husband noticed how round your belly was. You were pregnant. You were heavily pregnant. There was no way it was actually his child. It had to be his. Didn’t you notice it wasn’t your husband who was making love to you? Or did you want it? Him?

The sole idea was driving him crazy with pain and raw jealousy. The jealousy that the Bruce of the other world felt when he first arrived in this world, the “real” Bruce” felt it too. His life has been stolen away from him, and he needed to get it back.

It drove him even crazier when he saw how his children acted around the stranger. How could they all seem so happy around him? He hoped that no one understood what happened. He hoped that you all thought it was him.

He didn’t know what to do though. He couldn’t come back to the manor, he couldn’t show his face, so he hid in the dark for a little while. He kept stalking all of you, getting sick in the stomach each time he saw his children or you or the Justice League with his other self. Everyone seemed to do so much better.

Or maybe it was just his paranoia and the mean voices inside his head that wanted to make him believe that you all loved this other Bruce better than him. He couldn’t stop thinking about the child you were carrying. He had wanted that too, but you never seemed ready.

And now…

Now he needed to find you.

Part 4

Taglist for all my work <3

@blublock404

@wind-canoe

Taglist for this series <3 (you’re my heaven)

@bat1212

@karakento

@kneelforloki

Thanks for the ideas <3

@motherofdragons1998

@silverklaus

@optimisticmoonunknown

@kazuko-stuff

#batfamily #batfam x reader #batfam x y/n #bruce wayne #batman #batmom #bruce wayne x s/o #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #batman x s/o #batman x reader #batman x y/n #batman x you

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perrywrites · 1 year ago

Text

Absentmindedly murmuring that you want him inside of you during his practice;

NSFW

Includes; Isagi, Hiori, Bachira

Part 2 (Chigiri, Reo) and part 3 (Kaiser, Barou) and part 4 (Nagi, Shidou, Kunigami) and part 5 (Sae, Rin, Karasu, Otoya, Yukimiya)

Isagi: it’s time for his break during practice, and he’s gulping down water, adam’s apple bobbing as he hydrates himself. He’s loosely aware of your dazed stare as you continue looking at him from the bench, after all you haven’t been very subtle in staring at him throughout practice - and although he could ignore it on field, not so much off of it. He’s still gulping down water, about to go towards you afterwards just for a quick chat, and to ask you why you’ve been staring at him so much, unusually quietly. Then you say something that makes him freeze up, setting fire to his face and nearly killing him in the process. “I want you inside of me…” you mumble that, sighing in a manner as if he had romanced you. The surprise proves near fatal, and he’s choking on his water, turning away from you as his ears burn up fiercely. What? What? Did you actually just say that? Or has he somehow actually gone crazy now? Some sort of brain fatigue? An answer to his unasked question comes in the form of your lighthearted giggle, as you apologize casually for letting your thoughts slip out. That doesn’t do anything to calm the fire heating up his skin, heart thundering throughout his body, especially not when your eyes are still just as dazed when you look up at him, all lovesick and opaque with longing. “You can’t just say that,” he says, voice quiet and strained, face still heavily flushed. You giggle, and tease him a bit more, before he goes back to practice. Except now he can’t focus on anything anymore. All he can think about are your sweet words, that lovesick gaze of yours, and the softness of your plush walls. His mind is failing, and you’ve proven to be a magnificent distraction. The only thing on his mind right now is how badly he wants to sink into you and fuck you hard for even daring to say that outloud. He wants to pin you down and have his way with you, make you so dumb on his cock, fill you up - and oh god. He’s clenching his hands, flexing any muscles in his body that he can, trying to divert the blood away from his cock, because his shorts were starting to feel a little too tight. Fuck, look at what you’ve done. Are you proud of yourself? You’re not going to be getting away with this, you know that, right? Why did you think it was a good idea to tease him like this during practice, make him want you so badly? Was last night not enough? Just wait until the end of practice. He’ll be pouncing on you with a growl, dragging you somewhere private he can pound some fucking sense into you. Don’t bother trying to run away, you know he’ll catch you.

Hiori: he finds himself raising an amused eyebrow as he walks towards you during his break, noting how you’re still looking at him, all dreamy and dazed, gaze thick with longing. He knows more than well enough the meaning of that stare, your expressions always give away far too much, but he doesn’t call you out on it. Instead, he asks you lightly if something’s wrong, taking sips of his water. He freezes before he can go in for a third sip, some water spilling out from the top of the bottle at his sudden pause. Did he hear you right? Did you actually just say that? He blinks, looking at you, and his eyes narrow darkly when he catches that spacey fuzzy look on your face. How do you manage to look so innocent and corruptible despite just saying such a perverse thing? He doesn’t understand it, no matter how many times he thinks about it, but what he does know is how that spaced out look on your face never fails to stir sinful desires within him, cock twitching in his pants as his body heats up. On the surface, he looks calm, as always, nothing amiss - but his eyes are clouded over deeply, and his jaw is tense. You love to test his self-restraint, don’t you? For some reason, when you two first started dating, you seemed to have the impression that he doesn’t yearn, doesn’t have a sexual appetite, and it was amusing for him to prove you wrong again and again, take you by surprise - because every time you’d be befuddled by the fact that he wants you, and that he wants you badly. That’s why you’re capable of saying something so inviting so carelessly, right? Even right now, you don’t know a single thing that’s running through his mind, do you? How he wants to watch your eyes turn all dewy, tears pooling as you whimper and sob out his name beneath him, face flushed and lips quivering, an expression only for him on your face, make you vulnerable and helpless underneath as he loves you to death. He wants to do all of those things and more, make you so weak and useless, cherish you and make you take him until you break. But, he doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he smiles impassively, walking over to you as he pats your head, but when he speaks, there’s something veiled in his controlled voice. “Don’t worry, ya only have to wait a little longer, okay?”

Bachira: throughout practice he catches your stare, noting your listless gaze as your eyes follow him run and score across the field. He’s not oblivious, though, he can tell well enough the simmering desire sitting heavy and darkly in your seemingly empty and unthinking eyes. “What’s with that look?” he asks, all toothy smirk and teasing eyes as he drinks from his bottle, eager to badger you during his small water break. But it seems like you’re a little too out of it, feeling a little too bold, because you respond bluntly, murmuring quietly that you were thinking about wanting him inside of you. He’s taken aback at your unintentional provocation, blinking away the shock as he smiles, amused. You really will be the death of him, won’t you? He tries lightheartedly teasing you, asking you what made you so impatient that you couldn’t even wait until you two were alone to tell him this, and when you say that neither of you would be able to resist right now if he got you alone, he damn near loses his mind. He can feel the heat spreading through his body, itching to do something to you as you continue looking up at him all dazed and yearning, and he tells you that exactly so, voice all husky. With a smile as normal as ever, except his eyes are glinting in a way that sends fire down your core. A whimper bubbles up your throat. “I want you to do something to me so badly, you have no clue,” you say, whimpery voice bursting out, and you’ve done it. His eyes darken needily, smile faltering, and he quickly ditches his towel and water bottle; practice be damned. Hand on your arm, he pulls you up and begins lightly dragging you somewhere else, somewhere isolated, somewhere he can fuck you and make you cry so hard on his cock you lose your voice. That’s what you get for tempting him. This is what you want, right? He’ll give it all to you, don’t worry. Just be good and submissive for him, spread those legs for him and leave your body all pliant under his hungry touch. He’ll fill you up, and he’ll keep filling you up until you’re satisfied - or rather, until he’s satisfied. Because you’ve lit a fire in him that you absolutely can’t handle - but don’t worry - he’ll hold you and love you even when you become a babbling mess on his cock, so let him break you apart right now. You’re the one that started it this time anyways, so he doesn’t have to hold back, right?

#blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #isagi yoichi #blue lock isagi #isagi x reader #isagi x you #bachira meguru #bllk bachira #blue lock bachira #bachira x reader #bachira smut #isagi smut #blue lock hiori #hiori yo #bllk hiori #hiori x reader #hiori x you #hiori smut

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paulyenvol6 · 15 days ago

Text

Used

You're craving your husband's attention but to your misfortune he has to leave to meet his friends so you start to sulk. Daemon has a solution though and suggests that they could simply join you in your activities....

Contains: detailed smut, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, foursome, p in v, unprotected sex, possessiveness, degrading, gagging, crying, sub!reader, spanking, dirty talk, words like slut and whore

Wordcount: ~6.38k

Masterlist

Please send me your requests, I need inspiration!!!!!

"It's so fucking hot today, gods.", Daemon murmured as he walked up and down restlessly.

It was afternoon, the time of the day when your husband always talked and talked while you were trying to relax especially on days like this.

"But I can smell thunder. A good rain is what the city needs right now." You rolled your eyes which he couldn't see and put the book you had previously tried to read back on the shelf.

"Yes. I agree."

Daemon heard in your tone that you were annoyed and turned around to curiously look at you.

"What is it?", he asked and you shook your head smiling lightly.

"Nothing. I just realized that apparently right now is not the time for me to read."

He raised his eyebrows and looked caught. "Oh. Sorry, love."

But you didn't care now anymore and opened your arms to signalise him to come to you. He understood and stepped in front of you so you could rest your head against his chest. That was the moment when you truly forgot about your book because his presence felt so comforting and good that you quietly hummed to yourself and closed your eyes. Now you wanted nothing more than to be with him, feel him in every way possible.

"Daemon…", you mumbled and he stroke the back of your head.

"Mhm?"

"I want you." You felt lazy and a little tired but it was the kind of mood in which you craved sloppy sex with him. Slow and calm movement when you were both just enjoying each other and took your time with everything.

Daemon leaned down to kiss your head. "I want you too. But I have to go soon."

His words made you abruptly pull away from him and the crease between your brows deepened.

"Where?"

He caressed the side of your face. "I'm meeting Aston and Jarak in the city."

You let out a dramatic cry and pretended to sob in your hands which made Daemon chuckle and he took your hands so he could look at you.

"Darling.", he tried to get your attention.

But you sulked at him. "Please. I really want you, Daemon. So badly."

He now looked like he was in pain but still soothingly ran his thumb over the back of your hands.

"Just wait until I'm back. I'll take care of you then, little one."

But you wouldn't give up yet. You needed him and you would do anything it took to have your husband all to yourself. He wanted to meet with two of his friends who also served as warriors of the city watch and of course that usually wasn't a problem to you but not tonight when you felt so aroused. So you bit your lip while running a hand down your body to open the first buttons of your light summer dress.

"I don't think you know what you're missing, husband.", you whispered. "You could do anything you want to me. Whatever it is you desire. I'd be at your mercy, doing and taking whatever you want. Do you know what I have to do to fulfill my needs while you're gone? You couldn't expect me to wait for hours when I need it so badly… I'd have to take care of it myself with my own hands though I know that you can do it so much better."

Daemon closed his eyes and you could see in the way his chest heaved and lowered itself so rapidly that he was turned on which was exactly what you had intended to do. But then he opened his eyes again and had a mischievous smile on his face. Daemon leaned down so his mouth brushed over your ear while softly squeezing your hand.

"I mean that would be very irresponsible of me, right? Well… I do have a solution, little girl.", he stated and you curiously met his gaze. "You know… they could come here to the keep and… join us."

His last words were almost inaudible but you understood them all the same and its content made your heartbeat fasten. You had done something like that twice before. A year ago had been the first time and it was Daemon who had suggested it. He liked the idea of other men joining the two of you and watching them pleasuring you. He had only two rules: They weren't allowed to come inside of you and they weren't allowed to make you come either.

For Daemon the first rule was easily justified as he simply didn't want you carrying another man's child. The second one was a bit more twisted but Daemon was very possessive over you and your pleasure and he wanted to be the one making you see stars.

You were very open about it as well and after your husband and you had communicated about it you had decided to try it. The first time you did it, only one other man joined you, Orwen a good friend of Daemon. Your husband had made clear that in the end it was still him and you who were in charge and that Orwen was to stop whatever it is he is doing when he or you told him to. He had agreed to that and the three of you had spent a beautiful night together.

Afterwards you were very fond of it and had told Daemon that you would like to try it again. And though he had made clear that he could still satisfy you all by himself (by actually showing you that he could), he was on board and only shortly after that you had tried it a second time, that time even with two more men.

Now you nibbled at your thumb and thoughtfully observed your husband. It was a tempting idea you had to admit… You were aroused and needy and you knew his two friends from the city watch so things wouldn't be too awkward. Daemon sensed your indecision, sat down on a chair and gestured you to climb on his lap. Once you straddled his thigh he brushed over your head and examined you closely.

"We don't have to.", he spoke quietly. "Only if you feel like it."

You bit your lip and then smirked croakedly. "I want to."

And it was the truth. You felt like being intimate with Daemon and two additional men excited you as well. You trusted your husband completely and knew that he would probably behead any man who did something that happened without your consent. He would make you feel good while looking out for you and protecting you if there was need for it.

"Really?", he asked once again and you nodded determinedly.

"Yes. I do." He smirked and his hand wandered to your arse to squeeze your flesh softly.

"I will invite them then, my sweet girl. Let them have a taste of your cunt." He stroke your skin. "Let them feel your tight hole. But they're not gonna make you come, is that clear?"

Once again you nodded and couldn't surpress a quiet moan because his hand that was only on your thigh already turned you on so much that you couldn't think straight.

"No else is gonna make this cunt come but me. That's my fucking job. Do you understand me, little one?"

"Yes Daemon.", you pressed and leaned down to kiss your husband.

You spent a few more moments in this position feeling the warmth in your chest and stealing little kisses from him until Daemon told you he was going to meet his friends now and then take them to the keep if they agreed. Unwillingly you got off his lap and sat down on your own chair while watching Daemon gathering his things. Your eyes were yearning for him which didn't go unnoticed by your husband and he chuckled quietly.

"Are you done now?", he asked and you snapped back to reality.

"What?"

Daemon's laugh intensed and he walked over to you to kiss your forehead. "Oh my sweet girl… Are you that eager?"

You nodded with flared eyes while pressing yourself against Daemon's hand that held the side of your face.

"I'll be back soon. With company."

You returned his wide smirk and then watched your husband leave your chambers. Once he was gone you dropped your shoulders and looked around in the room unknowing what you could pass the time with now. But then your gaze quickly returned to your book that you had previously put down after Daemon had interrupted you over and over again and decided to read a few more pages.

That turned out to be a bit of a difficulty because now that you knew what would happen in a matter of minutes, it was hard to concentrate on anything that wasn't your husband's slender fingers, his toned abdomen, his skillful mouth and his thick cock. It felt like torture awaiting his arrival and your eyes wandered to the closed door every few seconds. After a while you put down the book because it was hopeless and instead you stared down to watch the sun lowering itself until it hit the horizon.

Only then did you finally hear steps outside your door and excitedly jumped from your chair. Adrenaline made your toes curl and you felt your heart beating fast in your chest. You glanced in the mirror one last time, made sure your hair wasn't too messy and adjusted your dress and then the door opened and Daemon strut inside. As soon as he saw you a smirk appeared on his face and this time you felt like he was undressing you with his eyes.

"My beautiful wife.", he said loudly and right now you only had eyes for your husband so you didn't pay any attention to the two men following him. He walked towards you, possessively wrapped his arms around your waist but then turned the two of you to the guests.

Aston was a tall man whose dornish descent was visible in his dark features and eyes so black that you couldn't see his pupils. As fit for a warrior he had broad shoulders and hands that looked like they could strangle a man in seconds.

Jarak was a little shorter with light hair but looked equally muscular. His piercing eyes were of a light blue and every time he looked at you, you felt like he could see right through you. But he was a kind man and it was rare for him to ever keep a straight face as he laughed about anything and everything.

In fact both men were familiar to you because they had been being your husband's best friends for a long time. The only thing that would change now was the fact that you were about to get intimate with the both of them and considering their beauty and their trained bodies this thought aroused you. But your priority was of course still Daemon next to you. You knew that you would never meet someone who would make you feel what he made you feel. No matter how pretty or strong they were.

His thumb now slowly drew circles over your skin on your waist through the fabric of your dress while Aston and Jarak approached you and bowed their heads.

"My princess.", each of them said and you smiled graciously.

"Ser Aston. Ser Jarak. It's a pleasure to welcome you here."

Daemon to your left smirked smugly and pulled you closer to him. "Ser Grandon!", your husband then shouted. "Close the door."

The knight positioned by the door to your chambers bowed and then the four of you were to yourselves. Your eyes rested on the knights again who observed you heatedly and Daemon kissed your forehead.

"I think there is no need for further courtesies, is there?"

Jarak shook his head smiling. "No, my prince."

"Good."

You were absolutely taken with Daemon's words because you simply couldn't wait any longer so you reached up to press your lips on your husband's to involve him in a aroused kiss. In the meantime your hands wanted to cup the side of his face but he was quick to take hold of your wrists and hold them down in front of your body.

"Oh little girl…", he purred against your ear. "Did you forget your manners?"

You were confused and anxiously wondered what you had done wrong while Daemon gently pushed you towards the bed. Once your legs hit the edge of it he finally answered you and caressed your cheek.

"You know who's in charge here, mhm? You know that all you're gonna be tonight is a fuck toy for us. Three nice holes for three men who are starved for a pretty girl's body."

You shivered at his words and felt that sensitive spot between your legs starting to pulsate more intensely.

"Come over here.", the rogue prince now demanded of his friends and they couldn't wait to follow Daemon's command. "What are we gonna do first? What do you want from her, my dear friends?"

Your eyes switched between the three men and you felt so vulnerable and small and yet so confident at the same time. Daemon's words obviously were degrading and supposed to make you feel like you were totally under their control and just here to fulfill their needs but you also felt hot and strong that way. It was odd and weird but just as much as you enjoyed it when Daemon was fucking you slow and nice, whispering praising words and compliments in your ear and holding you gently in his arms did you love it when he was rough and hard with you. Throwing you around and bending you to his will, punishing you when you were bad and taking you like you were a cheap whore rather than his wife and princess.

Aston put his hands to his hips and tilted his head. His eyes wandered down on your body and you shyly smiled.

"What if she sucks us off first. Maybe while one us eats her out."

You pressed your thighs together at the image in your head and just hoped that your husband would agree. Daemon actually nodded and his hand wandered to touch your shoulder.

"Why don't you get on your hands and knees, little girl? You can sit on one our faces while sucking another off. How does that sound?"

You merely loved the way that even when Daemon was being dominant with you he still made sure that you were comfortable at all times so you nodded with big eyes feeling overflooded with love for your husband. He misunderstood your mimic though and worriedly soothed your collarbone.

"What is it, sweetling? Are you fine?"

You swiftly nodded. "Yes. I just… I love you Daemon.", you breathed quietly which made him smile and he held your head to his chest for a brief moment.

"I love you too, sweet girl." He was relieved now and gently rubbed your arm. "You wanna get on the bed now?"

You nodded and obeyed and positioned yourself on your hands and knees as he had requested it. Daemon watched you with dark eyes and then looked at his friends.

"I'm gonna have a taste of that cunt.", he stated and climbed on the bed as well while Aston was the first to crawl to kneel in front of you.

"Open your mouth, pretty girl.", he growled and in the way that he looked at you, you knew you weren't his princess anymore. Now you were their whore, but no part of you had a problem with this fact.

You did as he commanded and the man quickly pushed two fingers past your lips. He immediately went all the way until he hit the back of your throat.

"Let's see how well you can take it." You gagged a little but kept your eyes on Aston while he slightly turned his fingers in your mouth.

"Good girl. Very good."

While Aston toyed with your mouth Daemon had positioned himself on his back underneath you so your core was hovering above his head. He had soothingly caressed your clothed hips and arse and now gently pushed you down so your cunt was available for his mouth.

"Come on.", he hissed and you felt his fingers digging in your flesh. "Sink down on my face, darling.", he demanded and so you did.

You felt this familiar fluttering in your stomach because he had eaten your cunt so many countless times already that you knew what you were in for. He was incredibly skilled with his tongue so from the moment the tip of his tongue connected with your still covered pearl you couldn't surpress the little sighs leaving your mouth.

He softly ran his tongue over your nub and the slight touch would have made you jump if his hands didn't hold you down. And then you felt another pair of hands running over the side of your body. Jakar had sat down next to you and massaged your belly and your tits and now Aston prepared himself to get his cock pleasured. He opened the lacing of his pants, removed the breeches and freed his half-hardened cock.

"Mhmm… I know that you'll do such a good job. Cause you're a good little girl, aren't you?", the man whispered as he took hold of your chin but you couldn't answer him because Daemon's mouth felt so good on your cunt that all you were able to do was let out quiet moans.

"Already too fucked out to have a straight thought.", Aston chuckled and then ran his thumb over your lips. "Open."

You obeyed and he smiled as he let his cock enter your mouth. He was big but not as big as Daemon so you knew you wouldn't have any problems satisfying him.

"Fuck.", Aston cursed and his hand went to grab the back of your head at once. He held you in place while thrusting in all the way until he hit the back of your throat.

"Oh seven hells. What a tight fucking throat."

You watched him as you held back your gagging reflexes. He had his eyes closed and his jaw was tensed and you knew that it would be an easy job to get him to release. It was difficult to concentrate at times though because Daemon's mouth felt so good on your pearl that you restlessly moved around on top of him. But Jarak took this job now and kept you in place by placing his knee underneath your upper body and wrapping his arm around your belly to press and cage you between his arm and his knee.

In the meantime he toyed with your nipples and soon everything was so much for you that you couldn't hold yourself properly up anymore. That was to Daemon's fortune though because he loved it when you were so weak and powerless at some point that you just sank down on his face without caring whether he could breathe. You always feared he would suffocate but your husband liked it the most when you just relaxed on top of him so he could bury himself in your warm and sweet cunt.

"So sweet, gods be good.", he mumbled and gripped your hips tightly.

"The gods really were good when they made this little slut of a girl. So innocent from the outside but such a nasty whore between the sheets.", Aston cursed and sank so deep inside of your mouth that you choked and tried to flee from his cock. But his hand in your hair was too tight and you didn't have a chance when you tried and fight his grip. Tears welled in your eyes and you felt a little panicky which Daemon noticed by the noise you were making.

"Aston. Careful. I don't want you to seriously hurt her."

His friend nodded unwillingly and loosened his hand that had grabbed a fistful of your hair. You pulled away from him and loudly gasped for air while trying to collect yourself. Aston didn't give you a lot of time though because he immediately shoved his cock back into your mouth, more gentle now. You twirled your tongue around his tip knowing well how much a man liked that and in the sounds Aston made you knew he was close. But before he could release Aston suddenly gripped your head.

"Let's turn her on her back."

You felt the touch on your cunt stop and immediately let out a whine but then Daemon gently took hold of your hips, pushed you down and then turned you on your back. Now you could look at the men towering over you and saw the gentle smile on your husband's face.

"Are we all good?", he asked and you excitedly nodded.

"Yes. Please Daemon, I need more."

His smile intensed and he then crawled to lay between your legs to continue his meal. He circled and pressed with his tongue against your pearl while collecting your wetness to savour the taste. You were dripping, soaking his lips and chin with your arousal and Daemon enjoyed every second of it. He was determined to make you come so you were all wet and puffy for their cocks.

Meanwhile Aston had crawled to kneel diagonally over you so his cock could slide into your mouth from atop. It hit the inside of your cheek with every thrust and at this point you could simply relax and let him use your mouth. Jarak welcomed this new position as well because he had better access to your chest now and his hands massaged and kneaded your breasts. And then Aston finally came and let out a growl as he shut his eyes and threw his head back.

He ejaculated on your lips and chin and you let your tongue lick over your lips a few times to taste his salty seed. Aston smirked, grabbed a fistful of your hair and forced you to look at him. Then he spit down on your face so his saliva mixed with his seed and let out a chuckle.

"That's the picture of a dirty little whore. And that's where you belong cause you love it, right? Fucking pathetic helpless slut."

You clenched around Daemon's finger that he had now inserted inside your whole while his tongue continued to play with your pearl. You were so close to releasing now and just hoped that your husband would let you. Aston wrapped a hand around your throat while observing you smugly.

"You're gonna come for us now, little one? You want to soak your husband's face? But do you think you deserve it?" You swiftly nodded with big eyes and but then shut them as Aston had delivered a soft slap to your cheek.

"Then come on. Release for Daemon."

And you did. Daemon wrapped his lips around your little nub and sucked softly which sent you over the edge and your whole body started tensing and trembling.

"Oh fuck.", you cried and wrapped your legs around Daemon's head. "Daemon, oh gods."

While panting heavily you sank back down and relaxed your hips that you had arched while feeling the warmth spreading in your body.

"Good girl.", you heard your husband pur and then he crawled up until he was hovering over you.

"Yeah. That's it. I know you can be sooo good for us. Doing exactly as you're told. S'what you like, don't you?"

You nodded weakly with half-closed eyes and then Daemon ran with his thumb over your jaw.

"You want to be fucked now? Want your holes filled by us?"

You heard Jarak chuckle and move on the bed and then a hand grabbed your hips.

"I bet she wants to be torn apart by us. Stupid whore."

You let out a little moan and clung to Daemon's shirt.

"Please…", you whined and he raised his eyebrow. "Please what?"

"I want you. Please I want to… want to feel full." Your voice was barely more than a whisper and yet your husband understood all of it. "Don't you worry, little one. You'll feel full."

And then Daemon crawled off you and Jakar roughly pulled you to him by your hips.

"I need this fucking hole now, gods be good."

You were on your back while he adjusted you to your liking. He kneeled on the bed between your spread legs and ran the tip of his cock through your folds.

"Yeah.", he moaned. "You're gonna take it, right? Gonna take it like a good obedient pet until we're satisfied."

Your eyes fluttered when his tip brushed over your pearl and then you felt a hand on your shoulder and you immediately knew who it was. You would've recognized Daemon's hand among thousands. He caressed your skin and you welcomed his touch so much that you put your hand on his.

"Oh my sweet girl.", he whispered.

Then Aston took his place next to you as well and he started by kneading and massaging your already sore breasts and nipples but he did it with a sensual gentleness that you were soon to softly sigh each time that he circled your nipples. Jarak now patted the tip of his cock at your entrance while already panting heavily. Daemon's hand was still on your shoulder but he raised his gaze to determindely look at his friend.

"You're not gonna come inside of her. Is that clear?"

Jakar chuckled and looked down to where his cock collected your wetness.

"Yeah. Didn't know you were so possessive though."

Your husband suddenly grabbed Jarak's shoulder to make him meet his gaze. "I'm being serious, Jakar. You're not gonna fuck her if you can't give me your word."

"Alright, alright. I won't."

Daemon nodded contendly and freed his shoulder and instead went back to soothing your skin and head.

"Everything fine, love?", he whispered and your eyes found his.

"Yes, Daemon."

Jarak used these very words as his invitation to work himself into you tight hole and your eyes fluttered at the stretch.

"Ughh…", you whined and though he went slowly and you were more than wet you felt your legs shiver at the slight pain. But then Jarak had entered your cunt and it simply felt overwhelming to be filled like this.

Daemon had stroked your hair and shoulder the whole time while Aston's hand toyed with your breasts and nipples but only now were you able to really perceive your surroundings again. Feeling needy, you reached out to your husband hoping he would give you something else in order to show you his affection. Your watery eyes met with his and your hand tightly wrapped around his fingers while you were pushed up on the bed as Jakar had found a quick and intense pace.

"What do you need, y/n? You want my cock in your mouth? Taking two cocks at the same time like a slut would do?"

You let out a moan caused by a sharp push in your core but quickly Daemon had your full attention again.

"I want it. Want your cock."

And so he was happy to oblige and hastily removed his breeches. His hard cock was a familiar sight to you and Daemon chuckled when he saw your hungry eyes. Aston had observed your encounter and delivered a harsh slap to the side of your arse that made you whine.

"One cock is not enough for you, right?", he smirked but you were too focused on your husband's member. You wanted to reach out to touch him but he quickly took hold of your hands and pressed them to your chest.

"Shh.", he cooed you and came closer so his tip was touching your lips. "Open."

As soon as his words had left his mouth you parted your lips and Daemon slowly shoved his cock in your mouth. It was overwhelming with your mouth being so full while another cock destroyed your cunt but in the best way possible. Your eyes fluttered and you let out a soft moan which Daemon commented with a soothing touch on your head.

"I know you can take it. Just stay still and relax." You concentrated on breathing through your nose until you had gotten used to his seize and your husband started to slide his cock in and out of your mouth.

"That's it. Good girl, I knew you could do it. S'like you were made for my cock."

He watched you with slightly parted lips and now and then a sigh left his mouth that was music to your ears. Nothing in this world gave you more pleasure than seeing him enjoy your mouth or your cunt like this and knowing that it was you who managed to make him feel this way made your heart beat faster.

But Daemon was quick to remember to make sure that you received pleasure as well becaus right now your pearl was throbbing for touch and your husband noticed that by the way you were shifting your hips. He stroke your cheek lovingly and then ran his finger down over your throat.

"Need a hand, little one?" You couldn't answer for obvious reasons but tried to nod and luckily Daemon understood.

So he reached out between your legs where Jakar was still pounding your cunt and had his head thrown back, too caught up in his ecstasy to pay attention to what was happening. Daemon found your bundle of nerves in a matter of seconds and started to rub it in the exact right pace. It was soothing yet intense. Calming and yet it fueled your desire even more. You wanted to moan, tell him how good it felt but his cock in your mouth surpressed every sound escaping your throat so you could only hum around him which sent vibrations through his member.

You were just in the right rhythm with his cock hitting the back of your throat each time which triggered your gagging reflex now and then but you managed to keep him in. But then all of a sudden you saw Aston move towards the end of the bed in the corner of your eye.

"I need to fuck that cunt now, Jarak.", he said and his friend smiled crookedly. He moved out of you and made space for Aston who inserted himself inside of you with a deep growl.

"Fucking hells. Ohh that's a tight little cunt. Take it slut."

Now it was his cock who stretched your walls as he was a little bigger than Jarak and you squeezed your eyes. Your hands reached out to grab at Daemon's hips and he chuckled down at you.

"My sweet little pet.", he purred. "So needy and eager to be used."

You gulped and tears threatened to spill from your eyes. Not because you were in pain or uncomfortable but because everything was so much and intense that you just felt like crying. Jarak, who now had crawled to kneel next to your body noticed your tears and removed one with his finger.

"Mhmmm… oh no. Tears? So fucking helpless and pathetic. You think it will make us stop?"

You sniffed but shook your head which earned you a soft slap on your cheek by Jarak. Daemon on the other hand stopped his movement for a moment to examine your face for any signs of how you were feeling. As much as the both of you enjoyed this kind of play your well-being was the most important thing for him at all times and so he searched for your eyes with a serious look on his face.

"Is anything wrong? Do you want us to stop?" His eyes danced over your heated face but you quickly shook your head and twirled your tongue around his tip. Then you let him slide out of your mouth so you could answer him.

"No. I'm fine." Your voice sounded a little croaky but he believed you and seemed relieved. He continued to use your mouth while rubbing your pearl and Aston between your legs picked up his speed as well and roughly thrusted into your hole. But it didn't last long because soon Aston tightly gripped your hips and grinded his teeth as he looked at Daemon.

"I need to stop. Otherwise I'm gonna come."

And so the man slid out of you and took a step back as though he was afraid he would burst if he was close to you. You sensed that your husband was close to reaching his high as well but once his friends had said these words he pulled out of your mouth and gently caressed your jaw.

"I'm gonna fill your cunt with my seed now, little girl. M'gonna breed you so you're gonna be swollen with my child. Do you want that, sweetling?"

You were beyond fucked out at this point and yet his words were clear to you so you nodded and watched him with half-closed eyes as he crawled to lay between your legs.

In the meantime Jarak and Aston had taken his place to your left and right and took turns fucking your mouth. Daemon ran his tip over your swollen cunt and stopped at your overstimulated and sore pearl which made you whimper.

"Fuck.", you whispered. "Please, Daemon… Please I need it so badly."

Though your mind was foggy the thought of him pounding your cunt was so appealing and sweet that you couldn't think about anything else. As much as you liked it when he brought more men into the bedroom, Daemon was your man, the person that knew you the best. The person that you simply loved and being connected with him like that now was what you just needed.

"It's alright, doll.", he whispered as he massaged the flesh of your thighs. "I know what you need. I'm gonna give it to you."

And so your husband slowly inserted himself into the tightness of your cunt and cursed out when your walls wrapped so nicely around him. It was pure heaven and definitely his favourite place in the world.

You inhaled a few times adjusting to his seize but because you were soaked and already prepared from Aston and Jarak you started moving your hips after a few seconds and Daemon understood it as your wish for him to start fucking you. And so he thrusted deep inside of you while holding on to your soft thighs and whispering phrases of praise.

You would have liked to answer him and tell him how good everything felt but your mouth was occupied with his two friends who continued to assault your mouth until your throat was all sore and hurting. But they didn't stop, even when you were gagging and gasping for air. Jarak held your head in place by gripping a fistful of your hair while Aston toyed with your nipples.

"Come on, little one.", he grunted and smugly watched his cock entering and leaving your mouth. "Take it. Until we'll release all over that pretty face. You want to be painted with our seed?"

You only hummed against his cock and then he switched with Aston so it was his cock now stretching your throat.

Meanwhile Daemon had started to circle your pearl with his thumb so you would be able to reach your high again as well. You could sense that your husband was close in the way that his thrusts became sloppy and his pants grew louder.

"You're gonna come, little girl? Want you to come with me.", he growled and because you couldn't answer you arched your hips to meet his thrusts. His finger pressed into you little bud and then you cried out at the same time as Daemon let out a "Fuck" and threw his head back.

You collapsed and your heart was beating quickly while Daemon's seed filled your cunt to the brim. You were so focused on your own release that at first you didn't notice the way Aston and Jakar were pumping their cocks in front of your face. But then they grunted deeply and you felt their seed spilling on your lips and cheeks. They had released all over your face and panted heavily when they were finished.

"Oh gods…", Aston sighed and sat down on the bed. There was silence in the room now as everyone was trying to regain their breaths and the next thing you felt was Daemon crawling up to you. You thought that you probably looked horrible with your face being all sweaty and heated and then his friends' seed on your face but you were too exhausted to really care so you let Daemon pull you to his chest. You clung to his shirt and inhaled his scent until he pulled away again to examine you for any signs of uncomfortability.

"How are you feeling?"

You looked at him with big eyes. "G-Good.", you whispered and he realized that you were feeling little at once.

"You need to cuddle a bit?", he said quietly and you nodded your head.

Daemon once again held you close to his body and then he turned around to speak to his friends.

"I need to take care of her now, alright? She's fine, she's just feeling little right now."

You couldn't see their reaction but felt hands caressing your hair.

"You did so well, princess.", Aston smirked.

"Good night, y/n. Hope to see you again soon.", Jakar added and you glanced up to them.

"Goodbye.", you breathed with a smile while you still pressed yourself to your husbands chest and then the two of them left your chambers. Once they were gone Daemon crawled to lay with his back against the headboard not without letting go of you.

"Daemon…", you whispered and he toyed with strands of your hair.

"What is it, sweetling?"

"I need you… Need you to stay here with me."

He chuckled softly and made you look at him.

"Of course I'm gonna stay here with you. Don't worry. I love you, my sweet girl. More than anything."

His answer satisfied you and you closed your eyes. "Promise?"

"Promise."

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