#but they are meant to be a little hurt and swollen from playing so much without stopping

[xo-codbby]

thinking about poly werewolf!141 stretching you out for them

18+, cockwarming, anal, p in v, just sex honestly lmao

it becoming a weekly thing for you now that they were heading into heat soon and you were the most willing to help them out and relieve some stress. when the touches become lingering and the kisses become fervent and soft growls and whines falling from their lips, you know its time

first it's price that breaks you in, soothing your sweet cries with soft kisses as he holds you. he's pressed under you, his back against the couch as you're in his lap. his lips peppering soft kisses against your shoulder blades as he buries his knot deep in your ass. it hurt at first but tinged with pleasure, you're already completely overwhelmed. him marking you at the back of your neck growling softly as he humps into you, keeping your body still and open massaging the soft bulge he managed to create inside you, "there's a good girl. y'look so pretty for us, sweetheart"

it's ghost who settles himself into your wet cunt, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as his eyes close momentarily. hands gripped around your thighs, filling you up. you feel every movement, locked on both price's and now ghost's cock. you were completely full, soft whimpers and moans falling from your lips as his tongue slowly licks your chest clamping gently on your neck as he sucks a bruise on your skin. humming in contentment. he groans softly when you squeeze around him, thrusting softly into you to ease his knot in further, "easy love, tight little pussy's swallowing me up so good"

then it's soap gently easing his swollen cock against your pretty lips, cooing at you to swallow as much as you can. you haven't been trained to go all the way down their shift just yet especially not over their swollen knots so you settle just sucking the head of his aching cock instead. he groans softly his hand in your hair gently humping into your warm wet mouth while he strokes your face massaging those cheeks around him further, "aw look at you hen, s'fucking beautiful takin my cock like you were meant for it"

gaz giving your pussy soft spanks enjoying the way you clenched around them while he lazily strokes his cock. his grin widening as you cum around them once more. his mouth sucking softly on your nipples feeling them harden against your tongue as he coos softly at your state. usually your hand will rub and stroke him but he's not too fussed, teasing or playing with one of the other boys as he kisses on you, "so needy, babygirl. easy easy, y'doing so good for us"

and when you're too tired to continue, they either wrap you up in a big pile all protecting you from different sides. petting your hair as they kiss over their small marks, holding you close to their bodies. or you rest against one of them while the other three play about with each other, either giving you a show or fucking around until they fall fast asleep in each others arms

[pankesitopank]

hard dom ni-ki x hard dom jay x sub reader thoughts?

HardDom!Niki - HardDom!Jay Who...

Girl, get ready because this has a part 2

this is more than 4k words of the 2 separately, and the second part is with the 2

🖤 Harddom!Ni-ki who slaps you in the face with his cock just to watch you flinch, then holds your jaw and does it again slower, meaner, because you looked too fucking pretty the first time.

He doesn’t even warn you.

You’re already on your knees, the floor cold under your thighs, fingers gripping his jeans like it’ll help you stay upright — and then smack. His cock lands across your cheek with a wet, heavy thud that echoes in the silence. You gasp, eyes going wide, skin stinging, and when you glance up at him, his grin is pure filth.

"Aw, did that surprise you?" he coos, tone mocking, thumb already grabbing your chin to keep your face tilted up.

Another slap. Slower this time. Deliberate. It drags over your lips, slick and hot, painting your mouth with pre-cum.

"Open. Wider. Yeah, that’s it. Fucking look at you."

He groans under his breath like the sight turns him on — and it does. You, obedient and wide-eyed, mouth open while he taps the tip against your tongue like it’s nothing but a toy for him to play with.

Then his hand tightens around your jaw.

"Sluts don’t get to be shy. Say ah, sweetheart. You wanna be used, right?"

He doesn’t give you the chance to answer. Just presses in deeper, cock stretching your lips painfully slow, watching with predatory eyes as your mascara starts to smear from how hard you're trying to hold eye contact. Your throat tightens. He loves that.

"That’s it. Cry on my dick."

And he laughs — fucking laughs — when your eyes gloss over, when you gag a little, when spit starts to drip down your chin and you whimper around the weight in your mouth. He doesn’t thrust yet. He just rests it there, thick and throbbing on your tongue, daring you to take more.

"Keep going. Show me how much of a whore you really are."

Because hard dom!Ni-ki doesn’t just want you on your knees.

He wants you wrecked.

From the first slap to the final drop of spit.

🖤 Harddom!Ni-ki who slaps your pussy so hard you jolt and sob, then does it again just to feel the way your thighs twitch — because pain makes you tighter, and he likes it when your cunt clenches around nothing.

You're already a mess — lips kiss-bruised, cheeks sticky with spit, eyes glossy like you’re drunk off him. He’s got you laid out flat on the bed, legs wide open, panties ripped and discarded, knees shaking like they’re begging to close.

But he doesn't let them.

He’s kneeling between your thighs, big hand planted firmly on your inner knee, keeping you spread and helpless while the other one lifts.

Crack.

The first slap hits your clit, sharp and wet, and you jerk like you’ve been electrocuted.

A choked cry tears out of your throat.

“Fuck—Ni-ki—” you whimper, hips squirming back instinctively. But he only grabs your waist and drags you closer, forcing you to take it again.

Crack.

“Did I say you could run?” he growls, eyes dark and wild, teeth clenched like he’s barely restraining himself. “You beg for cock but can’t take a little slap? That’s pathetic.”

Smack.

Another hit — your pussy clenches so hard it sends a pulse through your whole body, and he notices.

He drags two fingers through your folds, slow and cruel, humming at how soaked you are.

“Look at this. You’re dripping,” he sneers, voice low and taunting. “You like it when I hurt you? Fucking slut. This messy little hole’s crying for it.”

He slaps it again, this time faster — left, right, center — a rhythm meant to punish you. The slick clap of skin-on-skin echoes like sin between your thighs.

And you’re not sure if you’re shaking from pain, need, or how absolutely wrecked his voice makes you.

“I want this pussy swollen, baby. Red and stinging. You’re not gonna cum until I make her cry.”

You nod, dizzy, desperate, thighs trembling so hard they ache.

He grins. Dark. Hungry.

Then he spits right on your cunt and slaps it again.

🖤 Harddom!Ni-ki who forces his cock into you slow and deep while you whimper “It’s too big,” only to pin your legs up and push harder, smirking as your cunt stretches wide open around him—because he doesn’t care if it fits. He’s going to make it.

You can feel it before you even see it.

The weight of it, the heat — his thick cock dragging along your inner thigh as he lines himself up, one hand gripping the back of your knee to keep you folded open for him.

You try to breathe.

You try to stay relaxed.

But you feel him press the head to your entrance, and your body tenses on instinct. You’re too tight. Too sensitive from all the slapping. Your pussy flinches, clenches, like it’s trying to prepare—but it’s not enough.

Not for him.

“Ni-ki—wait—it’s too—”

He doesn’t.

He just grunts through his teeth and sinks the first few inches in, slow but unyielding, watching your face twist into something halfway between pain and ruined desire.

“Too what? Too big?” he mocks, voice low and smug. “Should’ve thought of that before you started acting like a brat. Now you’re gonna take it. All of it.”

Your hands grab the sheets. Your back arches off the bed.

You gasp. Whine. Claw at him, nails digging into his arms as the burn starts to set in.

It’s stretching you. Too wide, too deep — you feel every inch and then more.

But Ni-ki just groans at the way your walls flutter, the way you try to squirm away, the way your pussy sucks him in like it’s begging to be broken.

He grabs your hips.

Shoves deeper.

You cry out — a high, choked moan that cuts off halfway when he rocks forward again and buries it to the base.

“Fuck, you feel that?” he hisses, eyes rolling back slightly. “Your cunt’s hugging me like she doesn’t wanna let go. That’s fucking cute.”

You’re shaking.

Mumbling nonsense.

Moaning loud and breathless as he holds still inside you — not moving, not letting you adjust. Just letting your body feel all of him, swollen and thick, twitching deep in your gut like it’s daring you to cum on it.

Then he leans in, presses a hand over your mouth, and grins right in your face.

“If you think this is bad, princess… wait until I start moving.”

🖤 Harddom!Ni-ki who fucks you from behind with one hand tangled in your hair and the other pressing between your shoulders, spit sliding down your spine as he folds you flat and slams in so deep your toes curl—growling “Stay still while I ruin this pussy.”

Your face is pressed into the mattress.

One cheek smushed against the sheets, lip trembling, mascara streaking down your temples. You can barely catch your breath with the way he’s holding you — spine arched, knees tucked under you, hips up like a perfect little fuckdoll.

“Stay right there,” he growls behind you.

And then—smack.

His palm lands heavy on your ass, just to make it jiggle.

“Don’t move.”

You barely nod, body already buzzing, dripping between your thighs. But then you feel it — Ni-ki’s hand grabbing your hair, yanking it back hard enough to make you yelp.

“Fucking brat. You like when I manhandle you, huh?”

His cock is already nudging your entrance again—still soaked, still too thick, and now your poor pussy’s raw from being stretched open and slapped, swollen from how long he’s been teasing it.

But he doesn’t care.

He pushes in fast and deep, shoving you forward with the force of it, making your arms give out so your chest hits the bed with a whimper.

“Yeah,” he grunts. “That’s how I like it. Face down, ass up. Take it.”

And then he spits.

Right down your spine.

Hot and wet and filthy, sliding between your shoulder blades and pooling on the curve of your back before his hand smears it downward like it’s fucking lube.

He grabs both your wrists, pins them above your head with one hand, and leans over your back, his breath hot on your ear as his hips start to pound into you.

Relentless. Brutal.

Flesh slapping flesh, the sound obscene as it echoes around the room. He’s not chasing his orgasm. He’s not even focused on yours.

He’s just. Fucking. You. Dumb.

"You feel that, baby?” he pants, voice rough and dangerous. “That’s what a ruined pussy sounds like. You hear how wet you are? That’s all me."

You sob into the sheets, body jerking forward every time he slams in. Your legs shake. Your mouth’s hanging open. You can’t even speak — and that makes him smile.

“Dumb little whore. Not even making words anymore.”

He pulls your hair harder.

Spits again on your back.

And fucks you harder like he’s chasing the moment your body gives up completely.

“Better hold on, sweetheart. ‘Cause I’m not stopping ‘til this bed breaks.”

🖤 Harddom!Ni-ki who holds a vibrator to your clit while his cock is still deep inside you, hips moving in slow, deliberate rolls as you convulse under him—moaning “You said you could take it, right? Then take it again, princess,” while he slaps your thigh every time you try to pull away.

Your body’s not even yours anymore.

You’re flat on your back now, legs trembling and spread open, hair sticking to your sweaty skin, mouth falling open around sobs and moans that don’t even sound real. Your cunt is raw. Wrecked. Still fluttering from the last orgasm he ripped out of you.

But Ni-ki’s not finished.

He never is.

"You done?" he sneers, leaning over you, sweat dripping from his neck onto your tits as he looks down at your fucked-out face. "Awww, baby… too bad."

Because then the buzz starts.

Your head jerks back — a broken gasp leaving your lips as he turns on the vibrator and presses it directly to your clit, swollen and hypersensitive, nerves already fried from how many times he’s made you cum tonight.

And it’s instant.

Your back arches. Your legs kick. Your body starts to run away on its own — twitching and squirming under him like it knows what’s coming.

"Where the fuck you think you’re going?"

SMACK.

He slaps your thigh so hard it leaves a red mark and pins your legs back up.

"Stay still. You wanted to be a cockdrunk little slut, right? So take it."

He starts fucking you again, but slower this time — every inch dragging deep, stretching you with an obscene slick sound while the vibrator stays glued to your clit. It’s torture. Blinding, unbearable pleasure that builds too fast and too sharp.

You cum again.

Hard.

Your stomach tightens. Your whole body shakes. A scream tears from your throat.

And he just laughs.

"Look at that.” He slaps your thigh again, watches your pussy clench around him like it’s scared of the next wave. “Didn’t even tell me you were gonna cum. That’s rude."

You can’t breathe. Can’t speak. Just sob and whimper and beg — not with words, but with your eyes, with the way your fingers claw uselessly at the sheets.

And he keeps going.

“We’re not done. You’re not finished ‘til I say so.”

Another orgasm. You convulse this time, mouth open in a silent cry, thighs trembling uncontrollably.

He doesn’t stop.

Just pushes the vibe harder into your clit, whispers something filthy in your ear like:

"Be a good girl and squirt for me. I wanna see this pretty pussy cry."

And when you do?

He moans. Deep. Like he’s in heaven.

Like the way your juices spray and soak the sheets is the only thing he’s ever wanted.

🖤 Harddom!Jay who makes you kneel, perfectly still, for ten full minutes with your hands behind your back and your eyes on the floor—because you don’t deserve to touch him until you can prove you're worthy.

He hasn’t said a word since he walked into the room.

Just looked at you, jaw tight, black shirt clinging to his chest like sin itself. And then pointed to the floor in front of him—

One look. One command.

You dropped to your knees like the well-trained slut you’re trying to be.

But now it’s been minutes.

And he still hasn’t touched you.

He’s just standing there. Leaning against the desk. Arms crossed, watching your form like he’s studying a painting. Your knees burn against the hardwood. Your fingers twitch behind your back. Your eyes ache to look up at him—

But you don’t.

You know better.

“Still.”

His voice cuts through the room like a blade, sharp and low.

You freeze.

“Hands flat. Spine straight. You’re shaking.”

You swallow the whimper that rises in your throat. Adjust your posture. Chin down. Lips parted just the way he likes.

The air is thick with tension. Your thighs are sticky with arousal. But he doesn’t move.

He walks around you instead—slowly, deliberately—bootsteps echoing around you like thunder.

“Ten minutes.”

He says it like it’s nothing.

Like you haven’t already been trembling for five.

“Ten minutes of obedience. You hold that position, or you don’t get to touch my cock tonight. Understood?”

You nod, soft and desperate.

“Words.”

“Yes, sir.”

He hums. Low. Dark. Pleased. But still doesn’t stop circling you.

“You’ve been greedy lately. Touching yourself when you’re not allowed. Mouthing off. Bratting like Ni-ki didn’t already fuck the attitude out of you.”

His voice is a murmur now—right by your ear as he leans down.

“Do I look like him to you?”

You shake your head fast. “N-No, sir.”

“Damn right.”

Then he straightens, steps in front of you, and undoes his belt.

Your heart stops.

His cock is already half-hard—thick, veiny, flushed at the tip—and he doesn’t let you near it. Just holds it lazily in one hand, the other grabbing a fistful of your hair.

You blink up at him, thighs squeezing together, and he smirks.

“You want it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you wait.”

He taps the tip against your cheek.

“You wait until the timer runs out. Not a second before.”

Then he slaps it against your lips—once. Firm and slow.

And you know right then:

This isn’t about pleasure.

It’s about control.

And Jay has every last ounce of yours wrapped around his perfect fucking fingers.

🖤 Harddom!Jay who ties you down and edges you with slow, precise fingers—praising how good you look crying for it, only to slap your tits when you get too close to cumming. Because he wants you desperate, not satisfied.

You should’ve known the silk rope meant trouble.

Jay is methodical about it. Each knot tied with purpose, every pull snug but careful, wrapping you up like a pretty little gift he gets to open and ruin on his own time.

Your wrists are spread above your head, ankles bound to the corners of the bed, legs wide and shaking. The rope digs into your skin, soft but firm, leaving just enough room for you to squirm when he touches you—

And he will touch you.

Eventually.

He runs a hand down your stomach, cool palm skating over trembling skin, until he reaches your core—already soaked, swollen, and fluttering with need.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he murmurs, low and smooth, brushing his knuckles between your folds. “So exposed. So obedient. I could keep you like this forever.”

You gasp as two fingers slip in easily—slow, deep, curling just enough to make your hips jolt off the bed.

Then he stops.

Not a word. Not a sound. Just pulls his hand away, watching the way your pussy clenches around nothing and your lip quivers.

“You thought that was me being generous?”

He tilts his head, eyes dark.

“No, baby. I’m testing you.”

He leans down—mouth close to your ear, voice soft but deadly:

“Let me see if you can handle my love.”

Then he fucks you with his fingers.

Slow. Precise. Controlled.

Each thrust deep and deliberate, curling perfectly against your g-spot, his thumb barely brushing your clit like a tease, just enough to make you ache.

Your back arches.

Your mouth falls open.

You’re so close.

“Jay—p-please—”

Tears slip from the corners of your eyes, lips trembling with each breath.

And that’s when he stops.

Again.

And slaps your tits.

Hard.

One. Then the other.

The sting snaps through your chest and you cry out, thighs shaking in their restraints.

“Too greedy.”

He says it flatly, shaking his head in disappointment as he rubs the red marks with his palm.

“You’ll cum when I say. Not when your pussy decides to.”

Another slap.

And then his fingers slide back in.

Deeper. Rougher. Slower.

Dragging another orgasm out of you just so he can steal it again.

“You don’t cum until I say ‘now.’ Understand?”

You nod, sobbing.

“Y-Yes, sir—yes—”

“Then be good.”

He smiles.

And keeps going.

Until you’re shaking, whimpering, begging him to just let you fall apart.

🖤 Harddom!Jay who mouth-fucks you while one hand holds your throat, thumb pressing just enough to feel the bulge of his cock sliding in—because you’re at your most beautiful when you’re silent, obedient, and full.

He doesn’t ease in.

Not like before.

Not like when he was praising you for your tears and sighing at how sweet your pussy was.

No—this is Jay when he’s done being patient.

You’re kneeling again. Mouth open. Eyes already wet from being edged into delirium. You haven’t said a word since he told you to shut up five minutes ago—and now, with one hand in your hair and the other wrapped around your throat?

Jay’s fucking your face.

It’s brutal.

Rhythmic.

Calculated.

He thrusts in deep, hips rolling slow and deliberate as he watches your throat bulge with every inch of him. His cock stretches your mouth wide, too wide, saliva spilling down your chin in messy strings—but he doesn’t flinch.

His hand tightens around your neck.

“Mmm,” he hums low, dark eyes never leaving yours. “Feel that? That’s how far down you can take me.”

Your only response is a gag and a choked whimper—and that earns you a filthy grin.

“Don’t talk,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb along the curve of your jaw. “You’re not here to speak. You’re here to serve.”

He rocks into your mouth again, slower this time, letting the weight of him rest on your tongue, your lips stretching, jaw aching, spit bubbling at the corners.

His thumb presses right over the bulge in your throat.

“There it is,” he whispers.

“God, you wear me so fucking well.”

You try to breathe through your nose, but his hand is still tight around your throat—just enough to make your vision swim, just enough to make your body shake with the overwhelming pressure of it all.

He moans.

A low, guttural sound as your throat squeezes tight around him and your eyes flutter like you’re about to pass out in pleasure.

“Fuck, baby,” he mutters, voice hoarse now, cock twitching between your lips. “You love being used, don’t you? You were made for this. Look at you.”

He holds you still for a beat—throat full, eyes glassy, drool soaking your chest—and then slowly pulls out.

Your mouth gasps open with a wet, gasping moan—tongue out, spit glistening, a perfect ruined mess.

And he just smirks.

“Open wider.”

Then he slaps his cock across your face again.

Because you don’t need air.

You need to be owned.

🖤 Harddom!Jay who makes you ride a dildo in front of a mirror while he watches from a chair, legs spread, stroking his cock lazily as he commands you to beg for the real thing—because you don’t get him unless you’ve earned him.

“Mirror.”

That’s all he says.

You know what it means—he’s already sitting in the armchair behind you, legs spread wide, shirt undone, cock in hand. He looks bored. Relaxed. Disgustingly composed while your whole body trembles from the overstimulation he already gave you tonight.

But this isn’t about mercy.

This is about proving you’re worthy to serve.

The dildo is mounted to the floor—thick, unyielding, and cold. It doesn’t twitch, doesn’t moan, doesn’t praise. But it stretches your poor pussy open all the same. You lower yourself onto it with shaking thighs, whimpering at the way it splits you apart again.

You feel his eyes on you before he speaks.

“Don’t look at me. Look at yourself.”

Your gaze snaps up to the mirror. And the reflection is obscene.

You. On your knees. Hips rolling slowly over the silicone cock. Breasts bouncing with every shallow bounce. Eyes already glassy. Mouth parted, drool slick on your chin from earlier. You look wrecked.

He smiles. Slowly.

Leans back and strokes his cock once.

“You want mine instead? Then beg. Show me what this pussy’s willing to do to get it.”

You moan. You grind. You ride that fake cock with everything you have, hands trembling as you grip your thighs for support, rolling your hips in circles, whining through bitten lips as your soaked cunt takes it again and again.

“Not enough,” Jay says lazily.

“You’re not even working for it. Don’t be shy now.”

You bounce harder.

Your ass slaps against the base of the dildo, your body jolting with each thrust, your eyes glued to your reflection as you cry out.

“Please—please, Jay, I need yours—I’ll be good, I swear—”

“Will you?”

His voice drops an octave.

“Because right now you look like a whore who’s satisfied with plastic.”

Your whole body tenses.

You grind. You ride. You sob. And when he finally stands, cock in hand, eyes locked on the way your cunt’s swallowing silicone?

He gives you one command:

“Stop.”

You freeze.

Breathing hard. Cunt pulsing. Eyes wide. Thighs trembling.

And he steps behind you, pressing the tip of his cock against your cheek, dragging it across your lips slowly.

“You want this?”

“Yes, sir,” you whisper.

Then he leans in and growls:

“Then ride my cock like you rode that one. But scream louder. I want the neighbors to know who you belong to.”

🖤 Harddom!Jay who fucks you without letting you touch him, pinning your wrists down with one hand while the other wraps around your throat—because this isn’t about your pleasure. This is about him owning you, using you, filling you so deep you forget who you are.

He gives you one command before he takes you:

“Don’t move your hands.”

And you nod, all wide-eyed and pliant, but you know better. You always reach for him. You always need to cling. So this time?

He doesn’t give you the option.

Your back hits the bed and before you can even blink, Jay’s on top of you, cock hot and heavy against your stomach as he grabs both your wrists and slams them into the mattress above your head.

He holds them there.

One hand.

Effortless.

The other hand snakes down to your throat, thumb dragging along your jaw, his expression unreadable. Focused. Almost cold.

“Keep them right here,” he murmurs, low and precise. “Or I’ll tie them to the fucking headboard and edge you for the rest of the night.”

You gasp—but nod. Breath caught. Body shaking.

He doesn’t wait.

His cock pushes into you in one slow, punishing stroke—stretching you wide open, your pussy clenching around him like it’s never been filled before. The stretch is perfect. Deep. Controlled. Unrelenting.

And you whimper.

So loud.

Your wrists twitch—instinctively—trying to reach for his arms, his shoulders, his back—

“Ah ah,” he warns, voice dangerous now. “What did I say?”

His fingers tighten around your throat, just enough to make you freeze. The pressure sparks heat through your core, making your walls flutter around his cock—and he feels it.

Smirks.

Rolls his hips again.

This time? Harder.

Deeper.

So slow it makes you cry out, head tipping back into the pillows, needing something to hold onto—

But you can’t.

You’re not allowed.

You’re just here to take it.

“You’re a good girl when you’re helpless,” he breathes, voice husky, gaze flicking down to where he disappears inside you. “No hands. No control. Just my pussy now, isn’t it?”

You nod. Fast. Moaning so loud it echoes off the walls.

He leans in closer, one knee pressing your thigh further open, and starts fucking you like he’s starving.

Perfect rhythm.

No mercy.

Skin slapping, mattress creaking, wet sounds of your soaked cunt being filled again and again.

Your mouth falls open. Your body writhes.

And still—he holds your wrists down, never letting you grab him, never giving you that last bit of comfort.

Because Jay doesn’t fuck you for your comfort.

He fucks you to remind you who you belong to.

And when he leans in to whisper in your ear, voice wrecked with control?

“You don’t get to hold me. I hold you. Now fucking cum on it.”

And you do.

Harder than you ever have.

Wrists shaking. Throat tightening. Pussy clenching around his cock like it never wants to let go.

[crimsoncandy04]

PART 2 OF THE CAT HYBRID SCARA X MOUSE HYBRID READER PLEASE ITS SO GOOD

You had ran for so long and at this point your legs ached and burned and it hurt to breathe. Yet you couldn't stop. No.

He might find you again.

You swore it was a game to him. You'd turn a few corners or duck behind a wall thinking you finally put some distance between you both, but then you'd hear scratching. The sound sending shivers up your spine as Scaramouche dug his fingers into a wall and purposely tried to scare you as he continued the hunt. That meant he was close.

However the worst you could hear was purring. If you heard him purr it was too late.

He had seen you.

Sometimes you didn't have any warning. You'd simply feel hands on your hips as he grabbed you from behind or your hair being pulled as he caught you from around a corner.

You couldn't take much more of this.

By now Scaramouche had ripped all of your clothes off. You were scared and completely naked. And not to mention

SORE.

Your clit was so sensitive now from the repeated attacks. It was constantly hard and swollen now and your pussy juices were now just dripping down your thighs as you continued to make yourself run.

How many times had he shoved his tongue into your hole now? You honestly had lost count. How many times had he forced your legs apart and devoured you until you passed out? Only to immediately start chasing you again once you got back up...

Finally you noticed an arrow on a nearby wall. Your heart leapt with relief.

It looked like it had been painted on and it pointed at a part of the maze that you hadn't really noticed until now. You took a few steps closer.

SCRATCH SCRATCH

No.

Archons no.

Not now.

Scaramouche was closing in again. So without thinking you immediately started running down the new passage. You kept going until your legs felt like they were going to collapse from underneath you and your lungs burned. Yet there was no end in sight.

You break finally and collapse against the cool concrete wall. The chill surface giving you some relief as you took several deep breaths and closed your eyes for a second.

What even was the point of this experiment? Why were you turned into some weird hybrid human and forced to play such a perverted game of cat and mouse with The Balladeer?

Did Dottore even HAVE a reason?

You felt your ears twitch a little as a faint breeze irritated your already heavily swollen nub between your legs.

Surely just a few seconds... wouldn't matter right?

You reach between your thighs and gently begin to play with yourself. Rubbing softly against your clit and sighing quietly as the action brought you a little relief.

But it wasn't enough.

You kept going. Losing yourself after a few minutes and spreading your legs wider as you accidentally let out a small moan.

That's when you hear it.

Purring.

You barely have time to look up from your sopping cunt before you see a shadow leap down from one of the steep walls of the maze and land in front of you.

You squeak in terror and try to get up.

But he's too fast.

Strong yet soft hands wrap around your knees. Scaramouche spreads your knees and yanks them over his shoulders before immediately lashing his tongue out at your clit. You practically scream as he begins to lick small circles against your nub. Gently sucking on your little nerve bundle as you let out tiny squeaks in protest like a mouse and try to move your legs. Scaramouche simply digs his fingers into your flesh even harder. His claws irritate your skin as you smell blood.

That's when you feel something cold and metallic suddenly spring out from the wall behind you and latch onto your neck. You can't move your head then whatsoever. Stuck in place as The Balladeer proceeded to plunge his tongue into your moist slit.

What was going on?

Suddenly the maze seems to get a little brighter. Overhead lights come on and illuminate the area just enough for you to see the thick metal collar around your neck.

You're stuck.

Actually stuck.

And that's when you have a sickening realization.

That arrow hadn't been leading you to a safe place or an escape...

It had been leading you to a trap.

You felt your cunt tightening around Scaramouche's tongue. His purring stimulating your clit was making you quickly reach another climax.

You didn't know what else to do at that point other than enjoy it.

After all, you were now just a little mouse that got caught in a mouse trap.

And the cat had finally got you.

[buckysgrace]

Sugar and Spice

Steve Harrington x pregnant!reader

You and Steve try and bake one of your cravings when he burns himself.

"It sounds so good," you whined as you stretched out over him, hand pressed across your stomach to keep the fluttering inside you at bay, "don't you think?" Your gaze snapped towards Steve, whose legs were tangled with yours. He cocked his eyebrows, brown eyes drifting back towards your features and away from the western that was playing.

"Do you know how to make it?" He asked as he continued to dig his fingers into your feet, making you sigh softly at how relaxing it felt. They had swollen up like balloons, now matching the rest of you.

"It's just cake," you reasoned with a little grin, "except we bake it backwards." You told him with a firm nod of your head, sure that was what it consisted of. Your sweet tooth had grown within the last month of your pregnancy, making anything sugary sound incredible to you. Currently, you were desperate for a taste of some pineapple upside down cake.

"What does that mean?" He asked as his features contorted into pleasure. You huffed dramatically, trying to think of how to explain it correctly.

"Like you put the pineapples and cherry at the bottom of the pan," you explained as you used your free hand to speak, "and on top of that you put the cake stuff." You smiled as you settled it all together, watching the way his eyebrows raised as he nodded his head slowly.

"The cake stuff." He repeated as he squeezed at your ankles, releasing as you slowly began to swing your legs off of him. You struggled from a moment, still forgetting how heavy the bump attached to you could be.

"Precisely," you said with a nod of your head, "and don't make fun of my wandering words. That's your fault." You pointed towards him playfully, taking a deep breath as you gripped the back of the couch and the arm rest, slowly beginning to push yourself up.

"M'sorry," he said sweetly, like curling into a soft smile, "so we're having cake for dinner?" He asked as he sat up far faster than you, placing a hand against your back and your waist to push you the rest of the way up.

"Maybe ice cream too," you stated as you gave yourself a second to catch your breath, shaking your head before you wobbled towards the kitchen, "I haven't thought that far ahead yet."

"Sounds delicious," he teased as he followed behind you, his hands brushing against your sides as you began to search for what you needed, "I'll get the pans." He suggested, glancing at you before he stepped forward. You were sure it had to do with the pants being so low to the ground, and how last time you nearly got stuck in a squatting position.

You worked on getting the cans of fruit out of the pantry, proud of yourself for getting that earlier in the week. You used the can opener as Steve spread some shortening across the bottom of the pan. You watched him work as you pressed the can of pineapples up to your lips, taking a large sip.

"At least it's not pepperoncini's this time," he grinned as he turned towards you, making your features turn into a scowl, "even though that was pretty funny."

"It hurt my tummy," you mumbled as you set the pineapples down, watching as he scooped them out and set them neatly across the pan, "or his tummy." You replied a second later as you placed your hand across your tummy, hoping this meant that your baby wouldn't be a picky eater.

You opened the jar of cherries as he continued to spread them out, draining the pineapples a few seconds before he tossed it down. You hadn't suffered much with morning sickness or nausea, but you had been facing severe heartburn this whole time. And you were huge. It only made you slightly nervous to think about how big the baby would be.

"You know the cherries are supposed to go in the pan." He teased as he glanced towards you, holding his hand out as he waited for you to pass them along.

"I'm well aware." You told him as you took another handful, unable to help yourself. This baby had certainly turned you into a pig, but you could blame that on Steve too.

"Can I see them then?" He asked as he wiggled his fingers at you, making you pretend to think before you slowly handed it towards him.

"Oh, alright," you grinned as you stood at his side, wrapping your arm around his waist as you watched the way he dropped a mess of cherries across the pan, "you can use all of them." You admitted as you pressed your lips together, biting back your own laughter.

"At least we know he'll like fruit." He reasoned as he did what you said, dropping the cherries all across the pan. You thought about it for a moment.

"With lots of sugar," you responded as you crinkled your nose up, smiling as you met his amused eyes. You could see the green poking out as the sunlight drifted across his pretty features, "sweet, just like you." You teased as you brushed your finger across the curve of his nose, making him snort as his cheeks grew pink.

"How do we make the cake part?" He asked instead, brushing your compliment off. You shrugged your shoulders as you walked away, knowing that you'd bother him about it later. You thought it was cute that he grew almost bashful at times.

"From the box," you replied as you dragged the yellow cake mix out from the back of the pantry, "Quicker and easier." You reasoned as you nodded your head, watching as he squinted to look at it. You had been bothering him about getting glasses for a while, but he was adamant that he didn't need them.

"Works with me," he responded as he took it from you, reading the instructions as he opened the top of the box, "can you get some eggs?" He asked as you waddled your way back to the fridge.

"How many?" You asked as you popped the door open, pausing to rub at your lower stomach as the fluttering inside of you grew. You were surprised that you weren't bruised from how much you were kicked.

"Two of them." He mumbled from across the way, distracted as he measured the oil out. You slowly bent over to grab the eggs, carefully holding them in your hands as you walked back to him.

He quietly thanked you as he began to mix everything together in a bowl, his free hand reaching forward to set the time on the oven. You stretched out, careful to avoid hitting your bump against the counter as you pulled the brown sugar down.

"What's that for?" He asked as he looked at you, then squinted back at the words on the box as if he had forgotten something. You giggled at how cute he looked, biting own on your bottom lip gently.

"We put it over the fruit," you responded, "I think so anyway." You shrugged as you tried to recall what the syrupy sweetness in the cake was, predicting what it could be.

"Alright," he shrugged his shoulders, leaning over your shoulder to watch you dump it on top, "should we spread it out?" He laughed as he slowly began to do just that.

"Probably." You grinned as you dug your hands in with him, getting sugar all over your hands. He smiled as he pulled away, dragging his large hands across your cheeks as you gaped at him.

"You did not just do that." You froze as you felt the sugar dripping off of your cheeks, eyes wide as you turned towards him in disbelief. He was wearing a cheeky grin, eyes twinkling with amusement.

"I did," he apologized as he leaned forward, sticking his tongue out to lick part of it away, "my bad." He grinned as you gasped once again, shaking your head as you waddled over to the sink.

"That's a very rude way to treat the mother of your baby," you teased as you scrubbed your face and hands clean, glancing back at him as he handed you a towel, "ok, you're forgiven." You added a second later, easily swayed with him.

And it was hard not to be. He was the sweetest, even though your face still felt sticky with sugar. As the timer for the cake ticked down, he fussed over you. Like usual. Before you used to protest, reminding him that you weren't fragile just because you were pregnant. But now you didn't mind, you enjoyed it quite a bit actually. It made you feel special.

"Three more weeks," he added as he placed his head on your lap, allowing you to gently play with his messy strands, "are you excited?" He asked as he turned towards you, leaving you to gently trace the moles on his face.

"I am," you hummed softly as you traced your thumb across his lip, heart hammering at the way he looked at you, "I hope he looks just like you too." You told him truthfully, pressing your thumb against the corner of his lips as his smile grew. He didn't get time to respond before you both jumped, startled by the sound of the timer in the kitchen going off.

"I'll get it," he told you quickly as you tried to get back up again, feeling like you sunk further into the cushions instead as the timer went off, "don't worry about it." He laughed as he kissed the top of your head, making you giggle.

You traced your fingers over your stomach once again as you thought about your words, truly hoping that your little boy would resemble him. At least if he had his eyes, you'd be happy then.

"Shit!" You jumped up this time, eyes widening as you rushed towards the kitchen. You had just enough time to see him accidentally bump his hand against the hot stove racks, face contorted into pain as he quickly tossed the pan onto the top of the oven.

"Oh!" you shouted back, taken aback as he waved his hand back and forth in the air, "cold water! Run water over it." You said quickly as you turned the water towards the cool side, gripping his wrist softly as he placed his hand under the stream.

"Damn it," he sighed as he closed his eyes, shaking his head, "I don't know why I did that." He shook his head, looking frustrated with himself.

"It happens," you cooed softly as you brushed your fingers across his wrist gently, "don't worry about it. Does it hurt?" You asked him softly, feeling like it was a dumb question. It looked like it was painful.

"A little." He mumbled softly, glancing at his hand before he looked back towards you. You pouted your lips out, feeling bad for him.

"I'll get a band-aid and some cream," you said quickly, slowly releasing your grip from his hand but ensuring that he kept it under the water, "don't move." You demanded as you wagged a finger at him again, watching as he nodded his head in agreement.

"I won't." He promised as he glanced back towards you. You waddled your way through the house, stopping at the first bathroom to search for the little first aid kit you had slowly created.

You quickly gathered up the items that you needed, taking a few different sized band-aids with you as you weren't sure just how big his wound would be. You only hoped it wouldn't blister, as that always made it worse in your opinion.

"Here," you hummed gently as you gently patted his hand dry, frowning as you looked at the gash along the side of his palm. It was about half the size of your thumb length wise, but it didn't appear to be too thick, "poor baby." You cooed as you began to dab cream along his wound.

"It was dumb." He replied as he stood close to you, resting his cheek against your head. You inspected his hand for a moment, letting the cream soak into his skin before you bandaged him up.

"Happens to the best of us," you responded, pausing for a second to hold up your hand. There was a little scar along two of your knuckles, one that you showed off proudly, "I grabbed a curling iron the wrong way when I was little. I learned that day."

"Awe," he smiled as he held your hand delicately with his long fingers, squeezing your skin softly before he brought your hand up to your lips, "I bet that hurt." He hummed as he kissed your hand gently, eyes softening as you scoffed playfully.

"It did, lover boy," you teased as you pulled your hand away gently, working on getting him bandaged up, "it didn't look as bad as this though." You admitted, glancing towards him to make sure that you weren't accidentally hurting him. He didn't whine nor complain, nor did his features tense up like it was bothering him.

"Not my worst injury." He said a second later, giving his shoulders a little shrug as you slowly nodded along. You'd seen many of his marks and had spent much more time kissing them. They were apart of him, lovely.

"I guess so," you smiled as you gently kissed the bandage, not wanting to hurt him, "thank you for making me cake." You praised him as you brushed your cheek against the healed part of his hand, making his grin grow on his lips.

"You're welcome," he replied as he dipped down to kiss your nose, "I'm happy to help."

[suitz3ro]

toji torturously playing with your sore boobs while you’re menstruating. fuck is more than a need!. during your first day of your period you told him not to try anything. he’ll be cocky as ever, rolling his eyes, his whole attitude making you believe that he didn’t break a sweat about it. it’s not like he’s been craving for it like crazy, fuck he’s been needing it for so long. that poor man, how long you’ve been baiting him? and now you’re indisposed. i mean he really doesn’t give a single fuck. he never understood why would you, is the perfect lube, he’ll wouldn’t need to prep you for so long after all. as you make yourself something to eat to satisfy your craves, you feel a stare from behind hunting you down, you wait for him to say something, but he’s just standing there not even trying to approach you. until you hissed as you swing your arm a little too much causing your already swallow boobs to hurt, you weren’t wearing a bra cause that would made the pain even more unbearable. as you try to gently tap them you hear his steady steps coming closer, his rigid chest now sticked to your back, making it hard to even take a step back. suddenly you feel how his big freezing hands invading you -sending chills down your spine- as they make they’re way up to your abdomen and using them to cup your boobs.

they were warm, jelly and swollen, so perfect for him, he grinned at the feeling of it. with the palm of his hands he applied pressure on them making you grasp from the sudden pain, slowly but he was taking his time with it. fucking evil. you muffle cries, making him grabb them again and stretch them up, using his thumbs to estimulate your overly sensitive nipples, involuntarily making you stand on your tip toes. you could feel how tears where forming at the corner of your eyes, you tried to get away from his grip but that only make to strong his grip them pulling them even tighter. “mmh do they hurt?”, “i’m hurting too baby”,—he coos while resting his chin on the top of your head. you knew exactly what he meant as he thrust his hips closer to your lower back, using it to grind his painfully hard member. now your whole back glued to his chest, not letting you to take a step away from him. he grasps on both of your tities again, the gripping almost making you see stars at how bad it stings, you can feel how they palpitate for the long and hard pressure that he was making. “please”.—you pleaded, not even sure if you wanted him to stop,. “do you think i give a fuck?”, “y’know damn well i ain’t waiting a week”.—he spits with his unsettling calm tone. he starts to squeeze them together and making them bounce in his palms. your breathing and pathetic cries for all the abuse that your breasts were receiving, was only making him more eager. “okay then…if i can’t fuck you, i can use them”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Illness

Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

Summary: You hide an illness

If you weren't delirious with a fever and sweating bullets, you would have described this moment as the most embarrassing moment of your life.

The semi-final El Clásico was one of the most important of the season and it was such bad luck that you had fallen ill the week before. It was most likely the flu but you never went to any doctor to get it checked out. Instead, you hunkered down in your apartment and refused to leave until you got better.

Only, you never did get fully better. Your immune system was as strong as a wall of feathers so you just decided to channel your inner Oscar winner and pretend you were fine.

You arrived at training every day after taking enough painkillers to fell an ox and hydrate yourself to the point that you were sure that your bladder had to force itself to grow.

It paid off though because you were part of the squad going to Madrid and you caught up on sleep during the train ride so could keep up your façade all the way up to the match day.

Your head was pounding as you finally stepped onto the pitch about ten minutes after half time, sliding easily into Lucy's position as the ball went back into play.

Thankfully, football was an instinct rather than a conscious thought at this point and even with a banging headache, achy limbs and a blocked nose, you played without much issue.

"Hey," Irene said as you took a little break from running to walk over to the corner that was being set up," You okay? You're slower than usual today."

You fanned yourself with your jersey. "Just a little hot."

She gave you an odd look. "It isn't that hot. You haven't been on the pitch for long."

You gave her a shrug and lied straight to her face," Really? I guess I'm just running warm today." You picked up the pace and slotted yourself between Athenea and Olga.

It was almost slow motion as Salma sent a cross into the box. Olga tried to push you forward and away while Athenea's elbow stabbed you straight in the eye.

You dropped like a brick backwards into Olga, who surprised by your sudden weight, dropped you on the floor. Your head banged painfully against the grass and you groaned.

There was a slight ringing in your ears but you couldn't focus on anything but the desperate churning of your stomach. You squeezed your eyes tight to try to stem the swirling but it just made stars explode behind your eyelids as your face throbbed from Athenea's elbow.

Your stomach bubbled up and you felt a hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, kid, you okay?" It was Irene and she jostled you slightly.

That was what did it and you rolled over onto your stomach just in time to surrender your dinner.

You burst into tears, sobbing into the grass.

"Holy shit, y/n," Mariona said," You're burning up! Are you sick?"

"You're sick?!"

You continued to cry into the grass. With your usual caretaker (Alexia) out of the team for the rest of the month, it meant Irene was in charge of you.

You couldn't decide if you would rather Alexia at this moment.

"Go away," You cried into the grass.

"Can't do that," Ingrid said as she crouched over you," The medics are coming to get you."

You turned your head to look at her.

"She got you good, huh?" Ingrid said, her fingers ghosting over your swollen eye.

"Ingrid," You croaked out," My head hurts."

"I'm sure. That was a nasty fall."

"Hurt before that too."

She made a sympathetic noise as she helped you sit up for the medics to have a proper look at you.

You were escorted straight off when they checked the dilation of your pupils.

Lucy trailed back with you along with Marta, who looked to already be on the phone with Alexia. You knew your caretaker would be watching the match so it wasn't a surprise that she had already called someone the moment you went down.

"Got quite the shiner there," Lucy commented as she inspected your bruised eye," Trying to look like Mapi?"

"At least it isn't bleeding," You said before descending into a coughing fit, thumping at your chest to try and regain your breath.

Lucy laughed but quietened when Marta held the phone out to you. You tried to ignore the sinking feeling you felt when you saw Alexia's contact picture.

You cleared your throat.

"Hola?"

"I knew it!" Alexia declared.

"Know what?" You tried to play dumb even though your whole body protested.

"When I saw you yesterday and you told me you were back to full health! I knew you were lying to me! You're still sick!"

"Barely." Your defence didn't help when you started coughing again.

"You sound horrible," Alexia said bluntly," You're not playing the final. I'll have you benched."

"I'll be benched anyway. I've got a bruise the size of my fucking country on my eye and a concussion, probably."

"We'll have a talk about hiding illness when you get home," Alexia said," And I'll have to leave a message for your captain."

You would have rolled your eyes if it didn't cause a whole new pain to shoot through your skull. Your nose was all blocked up again so the pressure in your head was only mounting. "You're my captain."

"Your national captain."

"Oh, what? You can't tell Leah! She'll go barmy! I'll be lectured for hours!"

"You're being lectured regardless, by me," Alexia said," Now, rest up, drinks lots and I'll see you in a few days."

You didn't even get the chance to watch the end of the match because Marta forced you back to the hotel and into your room.

"No screens," She said when you moved to turn on the tv.

"Well, what else am I meant to do?" You complained, blowing out your nose.

"Well, for one, you can use the bucket on the floor if you feel like you're going to be sick."

"I'm not going to throw up."

"You threw up on the pitch." Marta just had to remind you of the most embarrassing moment of your life and your cheeks flushed red out of embarrassment now instead of your fever.

"But I won't now."

Marta didn't get time to respond because the door to your room got thrown open and Patri sprawled herself next to you on the bed.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," She teased, dumping some chocolate onto your lap.

"Patri," Marta groaned," She's sick and injured. She needs rest."

"She needs company. She's still human. You can't just lock her in her room like she's Rapunzel."

Marta rolled her eyes and swatted at Patri. "She doesn't need you hindering her recovery. Go on, out with you."

"Nah," Patri said as she got comfortable," I think I'll stay here. Besides, y/n wants me to stay."

You sent Marta your most pathetic and sad look.

"Please, Marta?" You begged," I promise she'll help me. It'll be nice to have some company."

Marta sighed deeply. "Fine but just for now. This all might change by the time Alexia gets her."

You groaned and flopped back to lay against your pillows properly. "Don't remind me."

[thee-horny-thicky]

This might be a weird request. But I was looking for a Muzan or douma x reader. However whenever they get intimate- the female never moans. It’s not that she doesn’t enjoy it she just isn’t very vocal which annoys and gives them a complex. The fact they can’t even get a human girl to moan annoys and frustrates them. She’s shy, little insecure (chubbier side) so never moans. Also doesn’t get off on general just touching etc. it excites her but doesn’t get her soaked.

Congratulations, Anon. You've been selected for 'Drafts Thicky Should Finish and Post Program!' I chose to do Douma for one because that's what past me chose to do. Anyway, enjoy!

Much didn’t hurt Douma’s pride. But you, a little human maid, succeeded easily. You were supposed to be a distraction, a way to get his dick wet. Then, when he was done with you, he’d turn you into a meal. You had a cute face and ample curves that’d keep him well-fed. At least, that was the plan, until you rejected him.

“I’m honored,” you’d said, a blush consuming your plump cheeks.

He remembered grinning smugly, thinking he had you in his trap. Then, you’d continued speaking, wiping his smile away.

“But I must decline your offer."

With that, you’d bowed and scurried away, leaving a shocked Douma in your wake.

Your rejection had lit a fire under Douma, spurring him to chase you until he finally got you in his bed. Somewhere along the way, he’d grown attached to you, the game of cat and mouse being played throwing a wrench in his plans to fuck and eat you. Through hours of stalking and harassing, he’d gotten to know you, and your gentle, bashful demeanor reminded him of Kotoha, when he’d first stumbled across her. Maybe that’s why, after he just finished fucking you, he had no interest in consuming your flesh. Or perhaps, it was because his mission felt incomplete. He’d bedded you, yes, but you barely made a peep. Your lip stayed firmly between your teeth, and when he managed to coax a sound out of you, it was only a few whimpers.

Worst of all, Douma didn’t think you came.

So, there he lay, stewing in frustration and humiliation, tangled in the sheets, his nude body pressed against yours. He had half the mind to snap your neck right there, for all the effort you were making him put in. But if he did, he’d have no chance to redeem himself. So, instead, he voiced what was on his mind.

“Was I not good?” he blurted, the question sounding absurd coming from his lips.

He was Upper Moon #2, irrefutably handsome, powerful, intelligent, and had a legion of loyal followers. He’d given many pleasure before you and would continue to give pleasure to many after you. Douma was more than good enough, he was amazing, and yet you had him questioning himself.

One day, you’d pay for that.

You looked at him, face flushed, lips swollen from his kisses, and eyes glossy. You looked thoroughly ravished, except you hadn’t fucking come.

“It felt good,” you said with a small smile, meant to be reassuring, but doing nothing for him. “I-I just don’t…”

You trailed off, then shook your head, looking away as your cheeks grew hotter. “Never mind. It’s silly. I…I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Tell me,” he ordered, feeling borderline desperate.

You sighed, then refocused on him. “I…I just don’t have intense orgasms. Really, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

He stared at you, not fully understanding. Never had he been with a woman who didn’t have a noticeable orgasm. Douma analyzed everything he’d done to you, which was rather tame compared to past encounters. He limited it to fingers and cock, too consumed with want to do anything else.

Oh.

Oh.

At that moment, he had a revelation, suddenly feeling like a dumbass. Penetration alone wasn’t enough for many women.

His gaze remained locked on yours, and the longer he stared, the more embarrassed your expression became. “Just forget I said anything,” you said pleadingly.

Absolutely not.

Instead of obliging, he sat up fully and crawled over your prone form. First, he kissed your neck, relishing in your soft gasp. He smiled against your skin. Already, you were proving his theory correct.

“Silly me, not savoring you properly,” he murmured as he kissed down your body, stopping at your breasts.

You squirmed, trying to escape his touch, but he held you in place

“Y-you don’t have to do this,” you panted, before whimpering when his tongue swirled around your pebbled nipples.

As he sucked and nibbled, he could feel your heartbeat quickening under his palm, smell your arousal, sense the blood pumping through your veins. The results he was getting just couldn’t be denied.

“But I want to,” he said, before switching to the other breast and giving it the same attention.

You moaned, back arching, hands tangling in his hair. Any protests you had died a quick death.

When he had his fill of your full tits, he resumed his descent, kissing your soft belly, then your wide hips, and finally your thick thighs. The smell of your wet heat had his mouth watering. He parted your legs, taking a moment to admire the slickness that greeted him, before leaning down and swiping his tongue along your slit. When your taste hit his taste buds, he groaned. You tasted so sweet. He imagined your flesh and blood would be just as flavorful.

When he spread your lower lips to have full access, he blew air onto your dripping sex, chuckling at your whimper and pathetic shoves. Teasingly, his tongue darted to sample some of your juices. The rich, tangy taste made his restraint snap. Not even a second later, he speared his tongue inside your core, nearly drooling at just how delectable you were, at the sweet sounds you were finally making.

“Oh!” you gasped, gripping the sheets and arching into his mouth.

He ate you with gusto, his eagerness reflecting his hunger for you, literal and metaphorical. Each move he made resulted in his nose bumping your clit, stimulating you further. Your shyness started to disappear, and soon, you were shamelessly grinding against his face, chasing the pleasure you’d been deprived of earlier.

Silly Douma, thinking his cock was the best part of him. Clearly, it was his mouth. Not only was he an excellent conversationalist, but his tongue could bring pleasure to any woman, a fact you were reaffirming.

He kept a firm grip on your thighs and hips, keeping you still as he feasted. To send you hurling toward the edge, he rubbed his thumb over your clit in quick, firm circles. Moments later, your body was tensing, your pussy clenching around his tongue as you came.

“Don’t stop, please!” you cried as you experienced your peak, moaning at the top of your lungs.

He had no intention to. He licked and fingered you through your orgasm, drawing out your pleasure until you were a sweaty, panting mess. He was content staying between your legs the rest of the night, finally sampling your flavor and pleasing you. It was a win/win, and most importantly, saw the return of the ego that defined him.

TLTR: Reader only has intense orgasms from having her pussy ate

[jkwrites-m]

Extra Credit (1.5)

Pairing: uni student!Jungkook x uni teacher!female reader

Genre: smut

Word Count: ~700

Summary: Jungkook falls for his professor. She makes the rules - and he loves breaking them.

Warnings: MDNI, Explicit, 18+, implied smut, cursing, dom!female reader, sub!Jungkook, age gap (both 18+), power imbalance, fixation, power play, slight emotional manipulation, obsession, yearning?,

A/N: i’m in the middle of writing part 2 (like 60% lol) and i was writing this part and realized that i prefer this story in jk’s pov. However!— i didn’t want to just delete this and I didn’t want this sitting in my drafts so here’s a small little peek into Professor Y/N’s mind 🫶

MASTERPOST ♡ LINK TO ASK ♡ MASTERLIST

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He was still lying there, half-breathless, shirt rumpled, lips swollen.

Good.

I leaned closer just enough to press a kiss to his collarbone.

Then I said it- softly, clearly, evenly:

“Don’t think this changes the rules.”

His breath caught.

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Get your things, Mr. Jeon.”

I stood slowly, buttoning my blouse in silence. Cool fingers. Steady rhythm. Nothing rushed.

I didn’t look at him.

Not right away.

When I did, he looked up at me like I’d cracked open his entire nervous system and rearranged it. Like he didn’t know how to come back down.

And maybe he didn’t.

He moved on shaky legs, grabbing his pants, then his bag.

I didn’t say another word.

And when he left, I waited.

Stood in the quiet. Listened to the lock click shut.

Only then did I exhale.

And feel.

I sat slowly in the desk chair, hands shaking now that they weren’t occupied with his skin.

Fuck.

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

It wasn’t supposed to go that far.

I meant it to be nothing- a game.

A flirtation.

Something harmless to entertain me through the chaos of tenure applications and department meetings and endless freshmen who couldn’t tell a base from an acid.

And then he was in my classroom.

Hoodie halfway on. Eyes wide. Voice stammered.

So beautiful it hurt.

And so damn shy.

It wasn’t even attraction at first, it was curiosity.

I flirted. Lightly. A joke here. A glance there.

He blushed.

Every time.

He followed every instruction I gave him like it meant something holy. Sat up straighter when I spoke. Never looked me in the eye for more than two seconds at a time.

It wasn’t just attraction. It was power.

And I liked it more than I should’ve.

I liked the way he shook when I told him not to speak.

I liked the way he listened.

I liked the way he begged.

God, I shouldn’t have let him beg.

I told myself it was innocent. I could enjoy it from a distance. Push and pull. Keep control. Keep it safe.

But the moment he stammered, “Yes, Professor,” with that cracked voice and pink ears?

I knew I was going to break a rule.

And now here we are.

I wasn’t in love with him.

But I liked him.

Too much.

I liked his nervous laugh. His wide eyes. His dancer’s body and how unsure he was in it when I touched him. I liked the way he held still when I told him to.

And I liked that he didn’t try to take control.

Not once.

He gave it to me. Willingly.

I reached for the folder on my desk. Tried to pretend I was still a professor. That my hands weren’t trembling because I had just taken apart a student in the room where I kept my syllabus and my gradebook and my rules.

He moaned my name like it meant something.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to hear it again.

This was a mistake.

A mistake I wanted to make again.

I stared at the folder in my hands for a full minute before realizing I hadn’t read a word of it.

Just lines. Paper. Dead ink.

It didn’t matter.

None of it did right now.

My phone buzzed once- an email and I nearly threw it across the room.

Instead, I picked it up, turned it screen-down, then turned it over again. I didn’t know what I expected. I doubted he’d text.

He probably thinks he should wait for me.

He probably will.

He’s that kind of boy.

God help me- I like that about him.

I unlocked the screen and opened a blank message.

Y/N: You okay?

No.

Too soft.

Deleted.

Y/N: You left your-

No. Liar.

Deleted.

Y/N: Don’t tell anyone.

Too cold.

Deleted.

I stared at the blinking cursor.

Then typed:

Y/N: I shouldn’t have let you stay that long.

It wasn’t a lie.

But it wasn’t the truth either.

I stared at it for a long time. Then I backspaced. Watched the words disappear like they’d never been there.

Locked my screen.

Set the phone down.

And whispered to the empty room:

“I didn’t want you to go.”

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Posted: 06/01/2025

[dreamwatch]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Prompt 8: ER | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: none | POV: Steve | Relationships: Steddie, Gareth & Eddie | Light angst, injuries, getting older, Eddie whump, Eddie is an accident prone idiot, Steve still loves him, attempted humour and a small amount of fluff

“Firstly, he’s okay. Mostly.”

Steve’s heart kicks up a notch, though to be fair this isn’t the first time he’s received a call like this from Gareth. But it’s the ‘mostly’ that’s catching his attention.

He holds the phone between his chin and shoulder as he looks for his keys. “What does ‘mostly’ mean?”

“Like… he’s kind of banged up, but he’s awake?”

Well, that’s something. He can work with awake. It’s unconscious that he has a severe aversion to. Steve’s seen Eddie unconscious more than once and he doesn’t want anymore repeats. Eddie makes a big deal out of it when Steve so much as hits his head on a kitchen cabinet, but Eddie’s not far behind him in the head trauma Olympics. Falling off a stage the first time they played anywhere bigger than the Hideout; a motorcycle accident back in 1996 (which was actually terrifying); a bar fight where he’d jumped in to stop Steve getting hit and ended up getting his bell wrung hard enough that he still can’t remember it happening. Eddie’s taken as many blows to the head as Steve has, so ‘awake’ means Steve can take a deep breath and doesn’t have to floor it to the hospital.

“Steve!”

Gareth calls him from across the waiting room and motions him to follow him.

“What happened?”

Gareth winces. “He was playing with the kids. Stacked it on Elliot’s skateboard.

“Jesus Christ.”

Steve’s going to kill him, so it’s just as well Eddie’s in the ER. The idiot has no place being on a skateboard at his age, at any age in all honesty, because he has the balance and finesse of a three legged cow. 

“You said he was mostly okay?”

“Looks like his arm is busted and he’s got some stellar road rash. But he went down hard, has a huge bump on the back of his head. They’re talking about an MRI, just to be on the safe side.”

Fuck, that’s all they need. His priority is Eddie, always, but then it’s going to be medical bills and between them they seem to be racking them up like it’s a shared hobby. Most couples just go bowling, they’re collecting frequent flyer miles from the emergency room.

Gareth steers him toward a door and Steve feels his gut flip. It’s not that he doesn’t believe Gareth, though that fucker will lie for Eddie on command, but he just hates this. Hates seeing his husband hurt, hates seeing him in pain. And Gareth not lying to him is not the same as Gareth not softening the blow to keep him calm. He takes a breath and enters the room.

Eddie’s lying propped up on a bed in the middle of the room. And yeah, Gareth was definitely softening the blow: Eddie’s holding a swollen wrist close to his chest, the road rash spreads from his right temple to his cheek, his hands and knees, his jeans are ripped open and not in the artfully created way they usually are after Eddie has attacked a new pair with scissors and sand paper. 

He looks awful. And Steve’s kind of mad about it.

“Skateboarding? Really?”

It comes out harsher than he had intended. Eddie cracks open an eye before wincing. Steve wants to wrap him up in cotton wool and never let him leave the house ever again.

“I was being a good uncle.”

Steve pulls up a plastic seat beside him.

“Eddie, you’re fifty-eight.”

“So? Tony Hawk is fifty-seven.”

“Hate to break it to you, but you are no Tony Hawk.”

“Don’t be mean to me on my deathbed.”

It’s meant as a joke, Eddie’s a clumsy shit and this won’t be the last time they show up here, but it’s just a little bit too close to the bone for Steve. There was a time when he did see Eddie at deaths door, back in 1986, and the bike accident was another gut punch. But also, they’re getting on in years now and things like this remind Steve of that fact, painfully so. They’re happy, they have a good life and good jobs and Steve doesn’t want to think of the future, of what happens as they age, of ill health.

Of saying goodbye.

He gives himself a little mental slap but Eddie is staring at him, pained doe eyes wide and regretful. He reaches over with his good hand, covered in grit and blood, but Steve takes hold of the offered fingers and slowly kisses each one.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, and he means it, Steve can tell. “I was just having fun with Elliot. He’s so cute, I couldn’t deny him.”

“Don’t blame my kid for your idiocy,” Gareth says from the corner of the room. Eddie makes an aborted attempt at flipping him off with grazed fingers.

Steve gently squeezes Eddie’s thigh to get his attention “I know. But you’re kind of precious to me, you know? So I’d prefer it if you could stay in one piece. Please?”

“Can I have a kiss?”

Steve smiles. God he adores this idiot.

“Only if you promise this is your last visit to the ER?”

“Promise.”

Steve leans in and kisses him gently, doing his best to avoid the scrapes on his cheeks.

They break apart and Eddie sighs. “This is going to cost a fortune, huh?”

“Nah, we’ve got a loyalty card for this place, fifth visit is free. Remind me to get it stamped on the way out.” 

A nurse comes in and introduces herself, looking at Eddie’s notes.

“So, can you tell me what happened?”

“I was on my Harley being chased by the cops. Took a corner too fast, hit some gravel and went flying.”

She looks up in time to see Steve rolling his eyes so hard it hurts, then cocks an eyebrow.

“Want to tell me what really happened?”

“Was on my nephews skateboard going downhill and I fell off.”

He’s an idiot, but he’s Steve’s idiot.

This counts as fluff, right?

@the-unforgivenn

[bunicate]

Alhaitham making his little sister ride her stuffed toy for him! grinding her pussy on one of her favourites as she whines about how it’s gonna ruin her favourite stuffie!

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ 𐙚 ₊˚ warnings ꒱ྀི incest. infantilization. handjob. brief blowjob. pillow humping ﾉ 18+

“this is so unfair .”

you’d cross your arms if they weren’t currently occupied. reluctantly, one hand knits into the bedsheets to keep yourself in place. the other commits to slow sensual strokes of his cock, timed with the messy ruts of your pussy, defacing the once pale pink bunny.

the innocent stuffed animal with beady eyes, now the color of mulberry from your arousal, was ruined. if you didn’t know your big brother so well, you’d easily miss the subtle flicker of mirth in his blue-green eyes.

“how is it unfair? I'm playing with you just as you asked.”

you narrow your eyes at him, but its merely an undignified expression when the stuffed bunny's hard nose pokes your clit.

“t-this is not — hmmph— what I meant.”

his eyes lower and the side of his lip upturns. it’s not audible, but he’s laughing at you. you’re certain of it, and his cock only hardens in your grasp.

“y’got me ruining mr.cuddles. . .” you grumble.

“I can buy you another.”

a curse dies on the tip of your tongue just as frustration settles from his retort. the last thing you want is to add to your torment. as promising as it could be, al haitham had an immeasurable amount of self-control.

he’d wring your little cunt dry, and you don’t think you could handle much more of his teasing, but god, the poor creature was soiled.

you know how much embarrassing you arouses him and you sure don’t miss the pre-cum that deliciously clumps at the tip of his member. you know it’s at your expense because he throbs within your palm.

his fingers, veiny and all encompassing, cup the back of your head, slightly tugging at the roots of your hair.

it doesn’t hurt, but there’s enough pressure to signal his intolerance of your potential defiance.

“enlighten me. tell me what you meant.”

your head lolls back, staring at the scribe with tears blurring your vision. you thumb his tip and whine when you feel a dollop of his warm seed land on your thigh.

“when you told me you wanted to play, let me guess . . . did you mean on . . . my cock ?” 

theres a swirl of something you can only describe as unadulterated desperation at his show of mockery. there’s a sardonic glint as he soaks in how pretty you look jerking him off.

you nod stiffly. “u-uh huh.”

but he only feigns pity.

“that’s too bad, isn’t it ?” he reaches down to grip your backside. he lifts you slightly and sees crystal strings of wetness connecting from your cunt to poor mr.cuddles.

“look at that mess,” the scribe whispers, and that only fuels your need to bury yourself under your sheets.

“this isn’t what you wanted and yet, you’re dripping . . .” he shakes his in farce disappointment, “but nevertheless, let’s problem solve.”

he lets go of you to stop your hand from stroking his leaking member.

he firmly grabs himself, pumping his swollen cock slowly — roughly, until a pretty coat of pre-cum envelops his tip.

he points his throbbing appendage towards your mouth, pressing it towards your quivering lips. he wipes his head messily around the surface until trails of slick begins to glisten.

you physically resist the urge to suck and swallow even when the faint taste of salt drips on your tongue.

there’s a deep hum when you meet his wanton stare.

“would you have more fun if I put my cock in your little mouth instead ?”

you mewl. god, you can smell him. it’s a rich and musky scent mingled with a woodsy vanilla.

your mouth collects spit as he continues to drag his fat tip down the seam of your plump lips.

his cock is just as pretty as the rest of him. it’s wide with an odd number of veins running down his length. it wilts from its own weight despite being so hard.

his eyes glaze over, chuckling before he answers for you, “yeah, of course you would,” he murmurs. “you’d suck it just like how you suck those lollipops.”

al haitham rubs at your scalp, dragging your head so his member slides against the opening of your mouth. by now, you’re panting like needy pup with your tongue lapping up the underside of his cock.

“what if —“ his eyes flicker down to between your thighs, “I put it right here ?”

his fingers skillfully slide past your overstimulated clit to nestle in your little hole. you breathe out a loud sigh of relief when they slowly sink in, stretching your tight walls.

“h-haithy. . .” your mouth parts as meek cries fall from your sweet lips, breath fanning his dick.

“oh, what cute sounds. is this what you want ?”

“mhm. . . I dooooo,” you drawl.

your hand tangles around his wrist. it was a brave action, but he didn’t seem to mind. you were insatiable at this point as you unabashedly hump his thick fingers, chasing your own pleasure.

“I wan’ it, h-haithy. need your cock inside me.”

slick sticks to your thighs and your cunt audibly squeezes around his digits until he suddenly halts his movement.

“what do you do when you want something ?”

you sniffle, “u-use my big girl words.”

al haitham gives you a subtle look of approval.

“precisely.”

he falls silent, giving you a chance to speak but you remain hushed at first. rather, you’d let your actions allow him to draw his own conclusions.

you pull away to position yourself on your back, his fingers slipping out of your warmth.

he watches you closely, anticipating your next move.

your arms come behind your knees, revealing both of your pretty holes. delicate fingers part your puffy folds like pages of his books, displaying the gaping hole he was moments away from fucking.

with pursed lips and gleaming eyes, you ask just like how he taught you.

“big brother . . . can you please make me cum on your cock ?”

your tight pussy clenches around nothing, pushing out a stringy rivulet of creamy white.

there’s a crack in his composure.

al haitham effortlessly pulls his shirt over his head. his strong abdomen on display flexes with every breath he takes. it’s intimidating how stalks towards you, inching towards the bed with purpose.

he’s eager to mount you, his sweet little sister with a perfect ass, and a fat wet cunt he’d milk over and over again.

[zombbean]

Bishops lost in their past (x reader)

(Non Gender specific; based on the hc that creatures in the universe are hermaphroditic. Some angst about their past alongside the sexual tension.)

Nsfw below cut:

Leshy

The bush worm pawed at you, a low growl leaving his throat as he patiently waited for you to finish what you were doing. Or rather, the Leshy version of patience. He’d wanted your attention for the better part of an hour, and by the god he was going to get it at some point soon!

He was bored. Tired of waiting. If he were to have his vision he would distract himself with the colors and sights of his environment, but he could not. There was not even a peaceful melody playing nearby, or the sound of others talking to keep his attention.

He was so bored. Also, he was horny. The smell of you was intoxicating, and he was unsure if it was because you changed something in your care routine, or if his own breeding season was coming into fruition.

Hell, it could just be the worm was just sexually frustrated. He just knew he needed it.

When he was a burrower he knew his life was going to be short lived- or rather he thought it would be. Back then he was the prey animal. Back then he was the food to be caught and devoured by the creatures around him, so much stronger than himself. He was to be the sacrifice to gods even older than Shamura at the time.

He was so small then. So scared, and tucked away.

So lonely. He had no one.

But these were thoughts he didn't wish to think of at the moment. What he did want to think about was plunging deep inside you and making you cock stupid. To breed you and fill you with his eggs and hatch a future generation of gods. Burrowers that he could care for unlike his own predecessors.

Fuck the idea of you being swollen with his brood made him even hornier... Fuck.

Coming up behind you, he wrapped a large hand around your waist, sliding it to your hips and letting them rest on the curve that fit so perfectly beneath his hand. He let out an impatient sigh as he leaned in beside your head and moaned, “Rosebud~” an affectionate name he’d come to call you, "I need you… I crave you!”

You grinned, suppressing a chuckle. It was fun to play this game and test his patience, as little as he had. The crinkle of the leaves on his head that almost seemed to mimic an eyebrow furrowed, showing his disdain. Even if the emotion of his eyes were hidden behind ichor-soaked cloth, he couldn't hide his feelings. But that's what you love about him. He was open with you, never lied even if it hurt. But that just meant you could trust him, and he expected the same honesty from you. A god had no use for a liar, and a liar you were not.

You questioned him about why he needed your attention so eagerly, so soon, so desperately, even though you already knew the answer. You just wanted him to say it, because perhaps this time you would earn a beg or a plea from the youngest of the bishops. Perhaps, you could get this feral man to beg you for a crumb of your body.

Hah. As if.

"Rose bud... you know why. I want to lay you by my temple and ravish you! To have you beneath me as I eat you alive~"

If Leshy were to say that to any other living creature it would be a death sentence, a symbol that you were his next meal. A mere sacrifice of flesh to feed his ever-unsatiable hunger.

But it was you he was talking about. You filled a whole different hunger within the chaotic god. One that only you could fill in him, and by the gods was he starving for that meal right now.

As he growled your name, he opened his mouth, tongue sliding out as he lifted your shirt with a clawed hand to run it along your bare skin. He left a floral smelling saliva behind as he tasted you, tugging your pants down slightly and dipping the tip of his tongue down the hem.

You felt that burn in your cheeks, not only from Leshy's seductive motions but from the buzzing feeling of the aphrodisiacs that subconsciously formed from the wetness of his mouth. He knew how to rile you, but you were unsure if he realized it was his saliva that brought you there.

"Mine~" he chuckled before slipping off your bottoms, using his tongue to taste between your legs, enjoying your arousal completely. As his tongue slithered back into his toothy void of a mouth, he pressed you against the table you had been working on and perched himself over you.

You could feel his cock thick and wet against your inner thigh, the honey fluid leaking from the petal like tip, a mixture of seminal fluid and gushing egg canal arousal mixing into a mess on you.

"My rose bud... let me put you in full bloom~!" He let out a dark chuckle as he leaned down and gently nipped at your shoulder, running his tongue over fresh blood.

"Mine..."

Heket

The woman settled behind you, running a hand over your shoulder, the large palm feeling lightly chilly against your skin. She smiled, leaning in and placing a kiss on your cheek before walking alongside you to gather supplies.

She wasn't often close to others romantically. But for you, she made an exception. You were the one person she opened herself up to in such a vulnerable way that no other was allowed to experience. She was the only one who she'd ever let pleasure her through egg canal whether it was with you or toys inside her.

An embarrassing topic for her really.

She couldn't really remember what her life was like before the hardened life she'd made for herself along her siblings had begun. Unlike the world her human lover had told her about, her position as a woman did not affect the opinions amongst her followers, no did one assume she was any less strong.

The idea of entering the humans world and decimating the humans that thought in such ways was a curious thought. One that she often mused at the thought of. Show that world the power of a eldritch god of famine. Make them suffer for their ignorance.

But... then she thought of you. Her small human that barely came up to her shoulder in size. How there were many creatures like you that would welcome her with open arms and love her. How there were many that didn't deserve the horrible treatment they received. Your people were cruel, that she wouldn't deny, but they were intelligent in their own right.

She would never let you suffer. Not if she could help it.

Pausing, she felt that warmth in her belly. The sight of you on your back as she took you. The look on your face as you pleasured her in return. Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt the all too familiar pulse of need between her thighs.

She was giving you that look as she peered over her shoulder. The look that lets you know she needed you. She'd been patiently waiting for you to finish your work, as you had been helping her with gathering mushrooms and roots for a special tonic.

Perhaps it was the way your body swiveled when you turned from plant to plant or how your rear plumped up when you bent over the large fallen logs to grasp more herbs and mushrooms, but whatever it was it drew the frog in, making her bite her bottom lip as she recalled the image in her mind. Her breath caught in her throat- or perhaps it was just the wound that so rudely kept down the sounds she wished to make for you. Sounds she wished for you to hear as she spoke your name in the heat of passion or called out to you as she sung praises of your body and soul.

You could tell she was lost and thought and smiled at her before you asked what she needed. You let her know it was fine to just show you, so she didn't have to speak and harm her throat. After all you loved and cared for Heket, and the last thing you ever wished was for her to live through the pain in her voice.

Heket weighed her options a moment before she crossed the barrier between the two of you, and blocked you against the bark of a tree, one hand over your head as she leaned forwards to look at you. The frog gave a small smile that slowly spread to a larger one, and a devilish grin laced her lips. She took two large digits of her hand and slid them gently down the front of your pants and tugged on them, implying she wanted them off.

You felt your cheeks flush at what she wanted. What she needed and nodded a silent confirmation.

Heket lay you in the grass and dirt of the forest, some autumn flowers in bloom beside you as she ran her fingers up your shirt to lift the fabric and run her tongue over your stomach. She looked down as she did so curiously, going lower before her head dipped between your thighs and used her tongue to caress your most intimate of places. She’d always loved your taste, that odd salty taste mixed with something so human. Something no one of her own kind could reproduce that made you so deliciously irresistible.

She couldn't talk, but she could croak out a chuckle as she watched you squirm at her touch. This only resulted in her nesting her face closer and devouring you.

As she sat up on her hind legs, you could see the spot between her legs glistening with her egg canal's arousal as her cloaca dared to let her cock bounce lightly from its hold, the precum dripping from the feathered tip that slowly ribbed downwards.

As she presented her cock and her hole, she tilted her head as to offer whichever you wanted. There was a burning need, a pleading look in her eyes as she dipped her fingers into the fluid and placed them against your lips to taste as she had you.

With a heated breath, she took in air, bracing herself for pain as she spoke, "Ple...ase......... b…..br….eed …… m…….e….?"

Kallamar

The man was anything but patient, but he could be when he was the one causing the delay. Dressing you in fine silks and jewels, having you show them off as you titled, bracelets and necklaces jingling as a result… He absolutely adored adoring you with such expensive and grandeur treasures he'd gathered either by offering from his followers or collected as spoils of war when he'd fought alongside Shamura millennia ago.

Now, he had little use to wear them himself, little use showing off his spoils now that war had settled and there was nowhere near a constant happening. No need to show off his grand wealth and how, even when hindered with gems and jewels, complicated silks and clothing he could still beat his enemies into submission with skills one could only envy in his precise use of weaponry.  

Instead, he opted to have his delicate human lover dress themselves in his spoils, and oh how it aroused him to no end. A low growl left his throat as he spun his finger in a circle, commanding you to twirl for the umpteenth time, having you do so whenever he changed jewelry or slipped you into a new outfit. There were times when he would strip you of clothing completely and see your naked glimmering glory shimmering with his wealth. A mixture of a power trip and sexual pleasure at providing he supposed.

"Beautiful... simply astonishing," he spoke more to himself than to you. But they were still compliments nonetheless, "Come to me my little pearl,"

He beckoned you with a nickname, motioning with a finger to come closer. His hearing was greatly muffled, but he could still hear you as you chuckled, distant and far.

He furrowed his brow. He was auditorial, more so than visual, and it pissed him off to not be able to hear your voice clearly. He was told his hearing was similar to being underwater, but he begged to differ as being underwater never sounded like this. Underwater was fluid and clear to him. Even now, as he settled underwater, keeping his blessing upon you to breath the same aquatic atmosphere, he could make out just barely the familiar call of the ocean in his ears. Begging him to listen and hear the ocean sing once more.

Though she called out to him, Kallamar knew he would never hear the ocean speak to him as she did so long ago. Long enough he feared he would forget her call. His heart ached to hear the ocean sing.

The muffling reverberation of your voice brought him back to his reality. His eyes trailed to your lips so as to take in what you said. He knew that you were not savvy to sign language, and so long as you spoke clearly to allow him to lip read he cared not. He would rather stare at your face and mouth over your hands as your face was mesmerizing.

Patting his lap, you could see that he'd obviously been enjoying the show of decorating you in jewels and gems, since his dual cocks stood at full attention, the thick tapered tips-tinged pink with a light blue decorating the entire shafts, a red pattern underneath with dark teal spots atop them. He gathered some of the slick fluids from his egg canal and smeared it over both, a deliciously seductive grin lacing his features as he picked you up and nestled you between the both of them, contemplating how deep they could sink into you.

"I bet I could make you bulge with my cocks... imagine how much I could fill you with my seed... hmm... let's see you house a gods brood shall we? I'm sure you could take both after all~"

Shamura

(Shamura’s goes more into sex than the others, but it’s not detailed in order to be fair. I just needed it to happen for story reasons. Also the reason it's so long is because it devels into Shamura's thought process, and this spider is VERY detail oriented and we all know this.)

"And you are absolutely sure?" Shamura reiterated as they ran a hand down your front and settled it on your stomach.

You nodded in agreement. Shamura had asked if you would be willing to carry their brood to term, which entailed them filling you with eggs and fluid to nourish them. Of course you were willing, as there was no one you trusted more than Shamura.

They were, however, a very large spider, and thus, breeding would be very difficult. So, the spider had offered an alternative to the act.

Settling back to relax, they patted their fluffy chest, beckoning you to lay against them. This was no spur of the moment situation. They had asked you before they asked anyone else, as you were a very dear person to them. You often wondered how special you were, and if you were anywhere near how much the other had felt towards Narinder.

Granted that had been a familial love, but a deep love all the same. Perhaps no one would ever be as special. While that fact on its own was painful, the fact they care at all was a special feeling.

As you leaned with your back into the god of war, they placed their hands on either shoulder, gently massaging you in small circles. This was to be an intimate moment, not simply a business transaction built under the guise of protection from others.

They pondered as they rubbed your shoulders… how long had it been since they had touched another intimately as a lover does? How long had it been since they’d felt the warmth of a lover’s breath on their flesh?

How long had it been since the last time they had bred with another?

It would be foolish to believe that a god of their age to not have sired children in the past. They had all long since passed however, which while painful to experience, was a natural part of life. Living creatures were meant to pass, meant to die, meant to leave this plane on a journey to another.

This was something that Narinder had not understood, and while they were on better terms now, was something of a sore subject to this day. Luckily, Shamura had never told the others of their past children, as those children had passed long before even Kallamar had hatched.

But now of course they would all expect a new brood of children, as he had told them all of their plans to produce offspring. Surprisingly, they were all excited to be an aunt and uncles. They pondered how their brood would fair being raised by so many different varieties of personalities- but they suspected they would do just fine.

Shamura had moved their hand slowly down their chest, and between your legs as they’d been lost in their thoughts, noticing the hitch of your breath and how desperately you clung to them as they had begun to stretch you one finger at a time to accommodate for more fingers later. After all, they would have to place their seed inside you, and to make sure it stuck well inside your opening, there needed to be a way to cake your insides without the risk of it sliding out from shallow penetration.

“Good…. Very good my dear,” they hummed, that airy breath in your ear.

You felt a slightly furry arm brush against your back as it moved between the others legs to slide between their own folds which held their ovipositor. A small inhale from them followed by the hum of a groan as one of their spindly legs pressed you closer into them.

They took a deep breath from you near your shoulder, lightly licking from shoulder to neck and nibbling flesh lightly. It was enough to make you shiver, but not enough to draw blood.

A few dips of their fingers inside their egg canal coaxed their cock from its sheath, lightly twitching and eager to be of use. Shamura themselves, however, was the most patient being in this plane of existence, and thus remained calm as they continued to massage between your legs to induce an orgasm.

The god of war themselves became lost in memories again. An unfortunate response to their skull injury. While it was not as bad as it once had been, it still stung and drew them into the realms of the past.

They released the fluid into their palm and slowly began to stuff your hole with their egg canal fluids, important fluids that would nurture and feed the eggs, as you could not produce such fluids yourself. Humans were not capable.

At some point you changed your mind and decided to become more intimate, letting them have you in a way couples often do letting them place themselves within you instead.

The memories came back to their days before a war god without family. Without lovers. Without siblings. They were nothing more than an angry monster. One that had been tired of the world crashing around them and trying to desperately kill them for merely existing. Being called a ‘disgusting creature’ as spiders often were. The crown had found them as they were spinning their web, fixing the damage that had been wrought in their home in silk cradle, a war zone that threatened to erase every member of their kind.

The irony.

Once they had adorned the crown they had changed. They had become angry. Vengeful. The beginning of another’s end. As war raged on, there were lovers. There were those that placed themselves before the other merely for reproductive purposes. After all their kind had dwindled quite a bit in the extermination, and producing offspring was of the utmost importance.

But none had loved them. None had embraced them with the love of a partner, lover, friend or even anything remotely familial. They had many partners within their lifetime.

A kiss.

Shamura’s mind fell back to the act at hand as you placed kisses over their lipless mouth, their chelicerae. Shamura tried not to show their surprise, as sex had never involved such intimacy with them. The way you caressed their face, kissed them, gently slid down to bury your face in the others chest gripping the fluff and riding them into the edge of ecstasy.

Even Shamura couldn’t help the sounds that escaped their throat as it all occurred. Hands briefly hesitating before grasping your hips to continue the act.

Warmth. A deep warmth. It was not familiar as it was the first time they had found their sibling Kallamar, a small squid who had recently found his crown, sobbing over the loss of their entire family and terrified. Someone whom they taught to fight so as not to be so scared of a war-torn world. A world… that they had created.

Death was born from the war the god continued to wrought, and as this small kitten played his role as a god of death. No remorse on his face as he slaughtered dozens, hundreds, it left the spider with a pain in their gut. Perhaps the reason that Shamura loved Narinder more than any of the other siblings… was because it became blaringly clear that there were things that children should not bare. Death was something that this child should not have to handle, something that was so terrible that they themselves wished they could take over from the child- but alas the crown was a fickle thing, and wouldn’t swap it’s owner unless it desired so- even if a god that was gifted it freely chose to relinquish it, should the crown not agree, it would simply not accept it’s new owner without reason.

So, Narinder’s job was born of suffering. Shamura would keep him safe. Make sure that his life was not more suffering than it already was cursed to be.

The next time that Shamura had felt warmth was the discovery of a tadpole who had only just begun to sprout her legs. A crown had chosen this aggressive frog offspring, and as she hissed and chomped at them Shamura could only let out the deepest belly laugh that surprised both Narinder and Kallamar. Such a small creature was able to be so vicious, a perfect addition to the growing family.

The final time that Shamura had felt this warmth was the discovery of a loud, crying burrower. He was hungry and had gotten stuck in a log, viciously flailing and growling, chomping at the log, and trying to make his arms work, as they were new. There had never been a creature quite like him in the forest before. Despite the bites and the scratches, Shamura did not flinch as they dislodged the infant god, and named him. The only one of their siblings they had given a name- Leshy, after the forest of gods older than even Shamura themselves.

Hearing you call their name brought Shamura back to the events that were playing out. How they wished their mind could stay in one place!!! How they wished he could focus on the deed they had arranged to be done.

They swore they heard you whisper soft words of romantism. They swore they heard you speak clearly the words of love and adoration a lover would.

They swore they heard you say that you loved them.

Those last words made their heart ache. Feel sore. Caused them to grip you tighter, closer, return kisses. Not want to let go even as they released and pumped their fluids and eggs inside you. Not even as they rode out orgasm after orgasm out of you.

This warmth was different from the warmth they’d felt in their previous years of life. It was hot, like a burning. Like they were on fire. Not any more important than the other flashes of heat that had marked important moments in their life, or the bonds that had formed from those seeds of warmth and love. But a different kind of… love.

They did not love you any more than their family. But you were the only one they loved in such a way. It was a unique kind of love.

As they let both yours and their own breathing steady, they pressed their chelicerae to your forehead, unable to give kisses as you would, but still giving the motion in an attempt to recreate the sentiment. 

They felt you doze off. Not that they could blame you. The event had taken nearly four hours to complete thanks to their unwavering stamina.

Petting the top of your head, they became lost in thought. A low humming tune escaping their throat.

“Even a god of war deserves love I suppose,”

[smoooothoperator]

What Was I Made For?

09: Begin Again

Charles Leclerc x driver!OC (Dafne Morelli)

childhood enemies, forced proximity, accidental pregnancy, enemies to lovers

Warnings: Charles POV, start of the redemption arc!, flashbacks are in italics

a/n: I'm back!!! I have to say that the past weekend didn't go how it was planned, but at least I had so much fun...

if you want to play a game and ask things about Dafne

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“Dafne!”

I flinched when I heard her slamming the front door, making me swallow thickly while I looked at the clock hanging in the wall of the kitchen.

Two in the morning. 

It's two in the morning and she left to God knows where, with winter weather outside and with clothes that couldn't keep her warm.

“Fuck, fuck!” 

I ran upstairs to grab warm clothes for myself and then to her room to grab something warmer. Her cat was laying on her bed, completely unaware of what was happening. But as I walked in and opened the wardrobe to find a coat and a scarf, I felt the little head rubbing my leg.

“I'll bring her back” I mumble looking down at the cat, swallowing thickly when it looked at me with those big blue eyes.

I rushed downstairs, grabbing the keys of the house and searching the keys of my car in the pockets of my coat.

“Come on, think…” I spoke to myself, getting in the car and turning the engine on. “Think, think, think…”

I groan, driving through the road, away from the house, trying to remember somewhere she could go to be alone.

It was a hot summer. My brothers and I went to the Morelli’s grandmother villa in Tuscany while our parents had to stay at home for work. That year I lost the championship of karting because of her and somehow I felt frustrated. 

I needed to show her that I was better. I don't care if she won against me.

“Let's see who gets to the top first” I smirked looking at her pointing at the top of the tree. “The first that arrives is the winner”

“It's dangerous!” she gasped.

“So? Are you that scary?” I scoffed, looking at how she was looking between me and the tree. “Come on, are you a cry baby?”

“Shut up!” she groaned, stepping closer to the tree and starting to climb it.

 I watched her, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and something else I couldn't quite name. The tree was more challenging than it looked, with slippery bark and breakable branches.

About halfway up, she grabbed a thorny branch and cried out, losing her grip. I watched in horror as she fell to the ground, gasping when I saw her falling on her ankle.

She kneeled on the ground, pressing her hand against her mouth, trying to not let out sobs. I swallowed thickly, taking slow steps towards her, but before I could say her name, she stood up and pushed me to the ground, running away from me.

“Dafne, wait!” I called her, but she didn't stop.

I felt guilt twist in my stomach. I hadn't meant for her to get hurt. Panic set in as I realized I had lost sight of her. The woods were dense and disorienting, but somehow I knew where she would go. There was a little house by the river, a place we both knew well but never acknowledged to each other.

I made my way to the house and found her at the edge of the river, with her foot on the water. She had stopped crying, but the pain was evident on her face. She didn't see me watching her from behind a tree, and I took a moment to gather myself. Seeing her hurt made something tighten in my chest, a feeling I wasn't used to.

"Dafne," I said softly, hoping not to startle her. “I’m really sorry. Can I help?”

“Go away” she mumbled, not looking at me. “I don't want to see you”

I sighed and sat on the ground with my back against the tree, keeping an eye on her. What if her ankle gets more swollen? I should do something, right? It's my fault she got injured. What if it gets worse?

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over everything, I waited. Finally, she looked back at me, searching me with her eyes. Her face was a mixture of defiance and pain, but she didn’t look as angry as I had feared.

“I think it's broken” she mumbled, looking at her hand. “It's your fault”

“I know” I nodded, standing up and walking towards her, kneeling in front of her. “Let's go home”

I clenched my jaw, holding tight that memory and praying that she went there. I tried to remember the way towards that river, driving the car through the moody roads and looking around to try to catch a glance of her.

When I found the tree that was near the river I swallowed thickly, stopping the car and grabbing my phone to turn on the light, getting out of the car. If she's not there I don't know what I would do.

“Dafne?” I called her, trying to make my eyes get used to the dark, moving my phone around. 

I sighed in relief when I saw her figure sitting on the ground next to a tree, with the blanket she was wearing wrapped around her. But that didn't stop her from sniffling because of the cold night.

“Go away”

I smiled weakly, closing my eyes and shaking my head. It's happening exactly like the last time I saw her here.

“I won't” I sighed, going back to the car and grabbing her coat and scarf. “And get used to it”

“Why?” she mumbled. “Just, why? Why now? Why are you caring now?”

“I always cared, Dafne” I sighed, wrapping the scarf around her neck and putting the coat on her shoulders. “But I tried my best for you to not see it”

“Well, you were damn good at it” she sighed, looking away from me. 

“Can we please fix this?” I sighed sitting next to her. “Not only for us… But for our families and our baby”

“I never wanted this, Charles” she whispered. “It's so unfair. If only…”

“I was sick” I interrupted her.

“What?”

“The summer we met” I sighed. “The first time you told me you hated me… I was sick. I didn't throw up because you kissed me. I had a terrible stomach ache and it just happened…”

She sighed and rested her head on the trunk of the tree, taking a deep breath. Her hands were on her belly, protecting the little baby she's carrying. Our baby, my baby.

“But you just ran away…” I sighed. “You always run away when things get complicated”

“I guess it's easier than facing the problems” she sighed. 

“That's so cowardly coming from you” I said. 

She looked at me frowning, somehow moving away from me before I grabbed her arm. I shook my head and looked at her.

“This time I won't let you run away” I said. “Neither let you push me away, like you did with Sebastian”

“It was the best for him” she mumbled looking away, moving her arm away from my grasp. “I couldn't give him what he wanted”

“And what did he want? To settle down?” I frowned, clenching my jaw.

“Exactly” she laughed sadly. “When the doctor told us I was pregnant, he started talking about buying a house and taking care of this child. He thought it was his baby. Even if I was so happy with him, I couldn't lie to him, acting like it was his kid. It wouldn't be fair to him”

“He was the one that made me understand my feelings” I sighed, smiling weakly. “He was the one that made me realize that even if I'm twenty seven years old I still act like a kid around you, trying to get your attention”

She didn't say anything, just hugged herself tighter. I wish she would let me hold her. I wish we could fix our problems. I wish, I wish, I wish…

“One chance” she whispered. “I’ll give you only one chance. If you fuck up, I want you away from me and the baby. I don't care if it's yours, if you hurt me again I'll make sure you don't even know the name. I'm so tired of fighting”

My breath hitched in my throat, surprised by her decision. I simply nodded, sighing with relief.

“Let's go home” I whispered, getting up and offering her my hand to help her to get up. 

When I felt her hand on mine I took a deep breath, pulling her to me and following her movements with my eyes. She was still protecting her belly with a hand, like she wanted to keep it for her, to protect her secret.

“C-can I?” I whisper looking at her stomach.

She took a deep breath and a step back, shaking her head slowly.

“Not yet…” she mumbled. “I don't trust you, yet”

I nodded, hurt. But I understood. I have to fix more than I thought, but I won't give up.

The next morning I woke up with her sneezes and a cold nose poking my cheek. 

I sighed, opening my eyes slowly to find her cat's face right in front of mine. I moved slowly, looking at the cat. It started purring and meowing, somehow nervously.

“What happened?” I sighed, yawning.

I saw the white cat jump out of the bed and walk out of the room, then coming back looking at me. I sighed, grabbing a hoodie and putting it on while I followed the cat towards Dafne's room.

“What…?” I frowned.

I opened the door,.sighing when I saw her there sleeping. I bite my lip, looking at her. She really is wonderful, and somehow now, knowing that she's pregnant, looks even more beautiful than before.

I heard her groaning and sneezing again, making me frown and take a step closer to her bed. 

“Hey, are you okay?” I whisper, sitting on the edge of her bed.

“Sshh…” she groaned.

I swallowed thickly, moving my hand to press it on her forehead and gasping when I felt it warm.

“You are burning up” I whispered, feeling immediately worried. 

She groaned, barely opening her eyes and not caring to move my had away from her forehead. 

“I'm fine” she mumbled, but I could tell she wasn't.

“Stay here, okay?” I sighed, getting up from the bed and rubbing her cat's head, smiling at it. “I'll take care of you”

She tried to wave me off, but I was determined. I stood up and headed to the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and soaking it in cold water. When I returned, I gently placed it on her forehead, removing the hair wet from the sweat. She flinched at the touch but didn’t push me away, sighing with relief the moment she felt the cold against her skin.

“I’ll make you some tea” I said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Just rest.”

She nodded slowly, coughing and sniffling softly. Her cat curled into her side, somehow trying to give her some warmth.

I went downstairs to the kitchen to make her something for breakfast. I know she likes having English tea around, since she's half English, so maybe I could find some of it in the cupboards.

“Bingo” I smiled, finding a few boxes of tea.

I sighed, grabbing the first one I found and boiled some water while I grabbed some crackers for her. I grabbed my phone, searched about the medicines she can take and searching them on the bathroom. 

“I’m back” I said softly, walking inside of her room and placing the plate and a mug on the nightstand.

“Did you make tea?” she whispered. “Thank you…”

“You have to stay hydrated” I sighed, looking at the screen of my phone. “And I have to change the cloth of your forehead a few more times. And forget about that blanket, you need to make the fever go down”

“Wow, what are you now, my doctor?” she mumbled, and somehow I felt relieved noticing that her humor was still there even if she was sick.

“I want you to be okay, as well” I sighed. “Did you go to the doctor to do check ups of the pregnancy?”

“No” she groaned.

I sighed and nodded, grabbing my phone. The internet said she should go soon to do the checkups and to see how the baby is growing.

“Do you want me to call? I can go to the village and see if I can find a doctor” I said but she interrupted me with a groan.

“Can you please shut up? Your voice is giving me a headache” she exclaimed.

I sighed and nodded, looking away, watching her cat laying next to her with the head on her belly. 

I wish she could let me touch her. But I have to accept that maybe that will never happen.

I stayed silent for a moment, letting her words sink in. I wanted to help, but I knew pushing her too much right now wouldn't do any good. I needed to show her that I could be there for her, even if it meant giving her space.

"Okay, I'll be quiet" I whispered, grabbing the washcloth from her forehead to wet it again in the bathroom. 

She sighed, closing her eyes as I placed the cool cloth back on her skin, flinching slightly. Her body relaxed quickly and her lips opened a little leaving a long relieved sigh.

"Try to drink some tea" I murmured softly, guiding the mug to her lips. She took a few sips, her expression softening slightly. "And eat some crackers. It'll help"

“You made my favorite” she gasped softly, looking at the mug, taking another sip of it and humming as she swallowed it.

“I guessed it right, then” I nodded, smiling. “I’ll go later to the village to buy some more”

“You can’t, those are only in the Twinings store in London” she sighed. “Believe me, I tried to find them everywhere I go”

“Noted” I nodded.

She nodded weakly, nibbling on a cracker before settling back into the pillows. I watched her, feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety. I wanted to take care of her, to make things right, but I knew it would take time.

As the morning wore on, I stayed by her side, changing the washcloth and making sure she drank enough fluids. I grabbed my laptop and earphones and watched something to distract myself while she slept. Her cat, sensing the tension, curled up beside her, offering its silent support.

"I never expected you to be here" she mumbled at one point, her voice barely above a whisper, making me stop the movie I was watching. "Not after everything”

"I never expected it either," I admitted, looking into her tired eyes. "At first I went to your parents’ house to see if you were there, but Erica told me you were here… I guess I didn’t expect you to be…”

“Pregnant?” she sighed.

“Y-yeah” I sighed. “But I’ll stay. I don’t care how many times you’ll try to push me away. I’ll stay”

She didn't respond, but she didn't push me away either. That was progress, I told myself. Small steps

Later in the afternoon, Dafne’s fever had come down slightly, but she still looked exhausted. I tried to keep the atmosphere light, occasionally cracking a joke or two, though they were met with weak smiles or groans. Her cat, a constant presence by her side, provided her comfort, and I found myself grateful for the animal.

"Do you need anything else?" I asked softly, placing a fresh washcloth on her forehead.

"No... just stay" she mumbled, her voice trailing off. “Until I sleep again”

My heart ached at her vulnerability. This was a side of her I never saw, and it made me realize just how much pain I gave her, how little I know her. I nodded, even though her eyes were closed, and settled on the empty side of her bed.

Time seemed to blur. I must have dozed off at some point because when I opened my eyes, the room was darker, the only light coming from the late afternoon sun filtering through the curtains. Dafne was still asleep, her breathing more even now. Her cat was curled up next to her face, purring softly.

I stood up, stretching my back and neck, and quietly made my way to the kitchen. I needed to prepare something for her to eat when she woke up,  some soup would help her feel better. 

As I searched through the counter and fridge, I found some ingredients to make a simple chicken soup. The familiar actions of chopping vegetables and filling the pot with water gave me a strange sense of peace, a small sense of normalcy after today.

As the soup cooked, I found myself lost in thought. How had we gotten here? Dafne and I had always had a complicated relationship, full of competition and unspoken emotions, hate and rivalry. How could I let something like this happen? I went too far. But now I can’t back up, I have to be here for her and our baby.

I glanced at my phone, considering calling my mother and brothers to update them, but decided against it. This was something Dafne and I needed to figure out first. Besides, I didn’t want to overwhelm her with any more information or expectations than she was already dealing with.

When the soup was ready, I poured some into a bowl and carried it upstairs. Dafne was awake, sitting up in bed and looking a bit more alert.

"Hey," I said softly, entering the room. "I made you some soup"

"You cooked?" she asked surprised, looking at me.

“Don’t act so shocked, I can handle the basic meals” I chuckled softly. “Plus, this is the recipe your grandma taught all of us”

“Oh… Thank you, Charles” she smiled faintly. This is the first time I’d seen her smile at me.

I helped her sit up more comfortably, placing more pillows on her back, and handed her the bowl. She took a tentative sip, then another, her expression softening and humming softly with her eyes closed.

“Just like nonna’s” she whispered.

We sat in silence for a while, her eating slowly and me just being there, present in the moment. It was a small step, but it felt significant.

"Dafne," I began after a while. "I know things are complicated, and we've both made mistakes in the past. But I want to be here for you and the baby. I want to make things right. I want us to begin again"

She looked at me, her eyes searching mine for sincerity. I saw the doubt in her blue eyes, the internal battle she had in her mind. 

"I want to believe you, Charles. I really do. But it’s going to take time…” she mumbled, looking down at her growing belly. “You caused me so much pain, and a simple gesture like taking care of me while being sick won’t make me forget it…”

"I understand," I nodded, my voice steady "But I'm not going anywhere. I’ll prove to you that I can change, That… That I’m that kid you met in Greece, the one you kissed"

As she finished the soup and settled back into bed, I felt a tentative hope.

Maybe, just maybe, we could find our way through this together. It wouldn’t be easy, but for the first time in a long while, I felt like we had a chance.

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[scarlethexelove]

Please do part 4 of why, it’s amazing, I need more!!

Forever Mine

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Word count: 2382

Warnings: Pregnant!Reader, Smut, Strap-On, Cum Strap, Soft!Agatha, Possessive!Agatha, Overstimulation, Marking, Not much else

Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3, Pt 5

A/n: Hopefully this is good. I'm not sure if I'm going to go much further than this. This story has gone a lot further than I had ever expect. I'm glad people like it though.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

The car pulls into the driveway. You and your mom have just gotten back from your latest doctor's appointment. You’re still terrified to be a mother but seeing your little girl on the sonogram has you knowing that you are doing the right thing. Even though she came about in a way that has hurt you deeply you still can’t wait to meet her. 

You can see Agatha working out in her yard planting flowers. Her eyes trained on the car as it pulled up. Her gaze falls to you as you open the car door. A small smile on her face as she sees your swollen stomach, carrying her child. But her face soon falls when you don’t even bat an eye at her struggling to get out of the car. “Hold on sweetheart.” Wanda gets out of the car and circles it to your side. She helps you get out of the car. 

“How are you doing Y/n?” Agatha’s voice is heard as you turn your head looking at her. You hadn’t even noticed that she had come up to the fence separating your respective yards. You roll your eyes and start making your way to the house missing the hurt look on Agatha’s face. “Sweetheart.” Wanda calls out to you before you make it too far away. “What Mom?” Your words are a little harsher than you meant. “Don’t take that tone with me Y/n.” Wanda scolds you. “I’m sorry. I’m just tired. I didn’t mean to.” Wanda walks over towards you and gently strokes your shoulders. “It’s ok sweetheart, but maybe you should just hear Agatha out.” Your brows furrow at your Moms words. “Why should I? Why are you taking her side? You of all people shouldn’t trust her.” You can’t help but feel slightly hurt by her words. Your Mom shakes her head. “I know your hurt sweetheart but she is the Mother of your baby. There is more at work in the universe that you just don’t know yet.” 

Wanda had never told you about the rest of the conversation that she had with Agatha that day. She said she would but she eventually told you that you should talk to Agatha but you refuse to. Wanda may not like Agatha but after looking more into her words she knows that she is right. So she tries to get you just to talk to the woman. She knows that she will never get rid of the woman and it is better to be civil with her than to continue to fight. They had come to an agreement soon after the confrontation. 

You let out a long sigh before nodding your head. Wanda kisses your head before you walk over to Agatha. Her face brightens up as you walk around into her yard. For a woman who is typically so strong and just exudes power to see her much more reserved is strange. A softer side being shown to you that you would have never expected. 

“Hi.” Agatha says to you as you come to a stop in front of her, her eyes dragging over your body. You give a small smile. “Agatha.” She holds out her hand for you. “Let's go inside.” You don’t take her hand just walking past her towards the front door. The older woman lets her hand drop before she rushes after you. She gets in front of you and opens the door for you. You thank her before heading inside.

Memories of that night play in your head as you look around the room. You can’t help the feeling growing in your lower stomach but you try to push it away. A longing for the woman, a pull to her you just can’t explain. But you ignore it and make your way to her couch and sit down. Agatha follows shortly and sits down next to you. The room is silent, thick with tension. You fidget with your hands in front of your stomach looking down. It is hard to find the words to say. Anxiety bubbling deep inside of you. Agatha doesn’t say anything just waiting for you, not wanting to push you before you are ready. 

“Why?” You look up at her, your eyes shining with tears. “I trusted you and you used me and for what.” Agatha sits for a moment mulling over the words she wants to tell you. “I… Y/n I do care for you.” You chuckle at her words. “That doesn’t answer my question, Agatha. You want to talk then fucking talk to me then or I’m just going to go home.” Agatha shakes her head. “No wait. I can explain.” You sigh waiting for her to continue. “The universe wanted us together. I wanted you. I went about all of this all wrong but how was I supposed to tell you that you were destined to carry my child.” Agatha tells you. You're baffled by her words, what does she mean, destined to carry her child. “I don’t understand.” You say. “The darkhold talks of a prophecy. A descendant of the Scarlet Witch… your mother with no power and a witch of ancient power will create a child that will save the multiverse. An unbreakable bond tying us together.”

It takes you time to mull over her words. Your daughter is going to save the multiverse. You're somehow bonded now to Agatha. It makes sense on how you keep feeling a pull towards the woman no matter how much you have wanted to ignore her and to never speak to her again. But you can’t deny the undeniable desire to be closer to her. It has been hard on you and it all now makes sense. 

“Aggie, why didn’t you just talk to me?” You ask her. She smiles when hearing the nickname. You have only been calling her by her full name so it makes her more confident that she is getting to you. “Would you have said yes if I did?” She questions a brow raised in question. “I don’t know.” You say honestly. She has a point. You're young and didn’t expect to already be having a kid. You love your daughter so much already but you are scared you aren’t ready. “I took the initiative. I accept that you hate me for it but I did what I thought was right.” You sigh and close your eyes. Soon opening them back up and looking into her eyes. “I don’t hate you Aggie. I was just hurt.” 

Agatha cups your cheek in her hand rubbing her thumb against your cheek. You can’t help but nuzzle lightly into her hand. A comfort you have missed and craved. She leans in and kisses you softly. Pouring all of the love she holds for you into the kiss. A kiss that soon becomes more heated. Her hand moving down your sides and gripping your hips. A moan escaping your lips when her tongue pushes into your mouth. Her hands are gripping your hips, harsher a heated makeout session causing you to become needy. When you two are forced to part you lean your forehead against hers. Your breaths mingling in the air between you two. “Take me to bed.” You mumble. 

Agatha lifts you into her arms making you squeak and wrap your arms around her neck as she carries you bridal style. She chuckles pecking your lips as she walks you back to her bedroom. She kicks open the door causing you to chuckle. She gently lays you on the bed in a stack of pillows. She crawls on the bed hovering over you with a smile on your face. “Are you comfortable princess?” You nod your head reaching out for her but she sits up out of your reach which causes you to whine. “Patients.”

You sit up on the bed still trying to reach out for her. Anticipation and need for the women bubbling over. Agatha pushes you gently back down a smirk playing on her lips. “I know princess. You’re so needy for me. Bet you haven’t had a good orgasm since I fucked you dumb.” You can’t help but moan and squirm. “Aggie.” You whine. “Don’t worry princess I’m going to fuck you so good.” Agatha now exudes that knowing powerful energy, the one that you fell for. You loved seeing the softer side for you but this side is so hot. 

All of your clothes disappear with a wave of Agatha’s hand, your nipples hardening at the cold air. You bite your lip looking at her naked form a dark purple strap secured around her waist. She parts your tights, your arousal coating your thighs which makes her groan. “So fucking wet for me and I haven’t even touched you yet. Are you going to be my good little whore why fuck that needy pussy of yours.” You nod your head reaching out for her again. This time she lets you pull her closer. The strap bumping against your clit, her lips attaching themselves to your neck. She nips and sucks leaving behind reddish purple marks. 

“You’re mine. Forever mine princess.” Agatha mumbles against your skin. Her hand groping your breast and pinching your hardened peaks. You grind your hips against hers as the strap continues to bump against your clit. Making you more needy for her. “Please Aggie, I need you.” You plead with her. She moves her hand down to her strap, swiping it through your folds causing both of you to moan. Lining her strap with your entrance before slowly sinking further into your heat. 

Your walls stretch to accommodate Agatha’s thick strap. A deliciously painful stretch the further she sinks in until she is fully sheathed in you. She waits for you to accommodate her size not wanting to hurt you. Your hips start to grind into hers letting her know that you are ready. “I’m going to fill this needy little pussy. So full of my cum you will be leaking.” Your eyes widen a little but that just makes Agatha have a sinister smirk. “Oh princess, did you forget you're already carrying my child? I can pump you as much of my cum as I want.” She thrusts her hips into you at a steady pace. 

Moans fall from your lips as Agatha fucks herself into you. “Fuck please fill me. W-want your cum.” This causes Agatha to moan. Hearing her moan causes your walls to squeeze her strap which only makes her moan more. Being able to feel your walls tighten around her strap as she fucks into you. Her hips speeding up chasing both of your orgasms. “Don’t worry princess. I’ll make you my cute little cum dump.” 

You grind your hips to meet her thrusts. Agatha’s hand snakes between your bodies slipping her hand between your legs. She leans back down wrapping her lips around your perk nipple. She rakes her teeth over your nipple before sucking. You moan, hands moving to grip at her back, and you dig your nails in. You can feel her everywhere overwhelming your senses, your only thoughts are of Agatha. “Fuck these tits, can’t wait till their full of milk. Gonna suck you dry.” She mumbles around your nipple sucking harshly. Your nails raking down her back as your hips back into her. 

Agatha circles your clit faster as you grow closer to your orgasm. Feeling your walls squeeze her tighter. Your legs slightly shake the closer you grow. Her hips become more erratic as her knot grows. Her mouth moves to your other nipple giving it the same attention. You leave red angry lines down her back as you grow closer. “W-wanna cum.” You manage to say through moans. Agatha smirks against your nipple as she keeps thrusting into your sloshing cunt. Her finger pressing into your clit. “Cum with me princess.” She mumbles around your nipple about ready to burst herself. 

You don’t hesitate when she tells you to cum. Your walls tighten and back arches lightly. Your cum coating her strap as your orgasm washes over you. Agatha isn’t far behind you as her hips stutter and she cums painting your walls white. But her ministrations don’t stop. She continues to pull orgasm after orgasm from your body until you're overly sensitive. Hips finally come to a stop before pulling out gently. You whimper from sensitivity and emptiness. “Sorry princess.” Agatha apologizes seeing your reaction. She watches as cum leaks out of your abused hole just as she had said she would do to you. Mesmerized by your quivering hole desperate to keep her cum inside.  

“So beautiful.” Agatha whispers into the air, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. She lays down next to you pulling you into her side. You cuddle into her and lay your head on her chest. Agatha waves her hand cleaning both of your bodies except for the cum leaking out of you. You look up at her confused and see a smirk. “Want you to stay full of my cum princess.” She kisses your lips. You're too tired to argue with her but you also love the feeling. So you settle in closing your eyes. 

Agatha’s voice breaks the silence. “I love you.” She whispers, you almost didn’t hear it. You look back up at her, your chin on her chest. “What?” You can’t hide the confusion with a tinge of hope in your voice. “Y/n Maximoff I love you.” You gasp. “I love you too.” You lean up kissing her. Your mind and body giving up to the undeniable bond that has formed. You lean back and get comfortable. Agatha gently caresses stomach and smiles. “I can’t wait to meet your little girl.” You smile at her returned softness. “Me too.” 

You finally feel ready to have your daughter knowing that Agatha will be by your side now. Things didn’t start the way you had expected but you know now that this was the way it had to be. You place your hand on top of hers, love swelling in your heart. The little family of yours falling right into place. With a smile on your face you let yourself drift off to sleep.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

SKZ As Imaginary Friends| Angst Ver.| Changbin

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ A little girl. Plagued by cruel words likes swords. So she created an Imaginary friend who could understand. Even if it wasn't meant to be forever. ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ Warnings: Suicide. Bullying. Body shaming. Pills. Paramedics. ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Changbin had existed as long as he could remember.

His first memories of her were from when she was just a child, sitting on the playground alone while other kids ran past her without so much as a glance.

He had appeared one day, out of nowhere, his bright smile and playful laugh cutting through the loneliness like sunlight breaking through clouds.

“Why are you all by yourself?” he had asked, tilting his head curiously.

“No one wants to play with me,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "They say I'm fat."

Changbin, didn't understand why that was a reason for someone to be discarded. But he didn't care. She seemed like a kind soul. A child who was loved deeply- yet didn't feel it.

There was in fact difference between knowing you were loved, and believing you were.

“That’s okay,” he said, sitting beside her. “I’ll play with you.”

From that day on, Changbin became her everything.

He was the friend who sat next to her in class when no one else would, the partner for games at recess when the other kids turned their backs, and the one who always told her she was worth more than the cruel words they hurled at her.

When she came home from school with tear-streaked cheeks and an ache in her chest, he was there to make her laugh, singing silly songs or telling ridiculous jokes until she couldn’t help but smile.

She needed him, and he was happy to be needed. It felt nice to be needed.

But as the years passed, Changbin began to understand the truth about himself.

He wasn’t like the kids at school, or the family members who filled her home with their noise and presence. He couldn’t touch the things she handed him, couldn’t leave the spaces she imagined him in. When he spoke his words only reached her ears.

He was bound to her mind, existing solely in the spaces she allowed. And though she didn’t always realize it, he knew- he wasn’t real.

At first, it didn’t bother him.

He loved her, in the way that only someone created for her could. His purpose was to be her anchor, her shield against a world that seemed determined to make her feel small and invisible.

He was good at it, too. When the kids at school called her names or whispered behind her back, he was the one who reminded her how special she was. When she cried in her room, muffling her sobs into her pillow so her parents wouldn’t hear, he was the one who wiped her those tears and told her it would be okay.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop the world from hurting her.

Which made him wish more than ever he could be real. Because imaginary friends could only do so little to protect from the real enemies of the world.

By the time she reached high school, the bullying had only gotten worse. Changbin didn't understand how people could be so cruel- and for so long with no purpose.

The taunts were sharper, the laughter even louder, and the isolation more suffocating.

Changbin hated it. He hated the way they looked at her, the way they tore her down piece by piece without a second thought and with no remorse or reason.

He hated that he could do nothing but sit by and watch as her confidence was like a castle built on sand, crashing and crumbling beneath the weight of their words.

One night, after a particularly cruel day, she sat on her bed with her knees pulled to her chest, her eyes red and swollen from hours of crying.

Her parents weren't home, so she was alone yet again. Changbin was there, but it wasn't as if he was truly there.

He had heard her parents talk about it one night. They called it "seeing things". Maybe from extreme stress. They had pondered. They questioned what more could they do to help her. Could they change her schools?

They didn't know the things that were said online by here. And Changbin wished more than ever they could hear him.

He sat beside her, his chest tight with the kind of pain he couldn’t express.

“You’re amazing,” he told her softly. “You’re strong, and kind, and beautiful. Don’t let them make you forget that.”

She looked at him, her expression hollow. “Then why does it feel like they’re right?”

Changbin didn’t have an answer. He could only reach out, to take her hand in his, even though he knew she couldn’t feel it.

“You have me,” he said. “I'm made just for you. That’s got to count for something, right?”

For a moment, a ghost of a smile crossed her face. “It counts for everything.”

But even that wasn’t enough.

He saw it happening slowly, like a flame dwindling to embers.

She stopped laughing at his jokes, stopped responding to his questions.

She’d sit in her room for hours, staring at the walls, her thoughts too heavy to share. He tried everything to reach her, to pull her back from the edge, but nothing worked. He could feel her slipping away, and it terrified him.

“Talk to me,” he begged one night, kneeling in front of her as she sat motionless on her bed. “Please, just say something. Let me help you.”

"You're not real. What could you possibly do?"

Changbin looked at her, worry clouding him.

"I'm your friend."

She didn’t even blink.

The next morning, her parents found her. The empty pill bottle on her nightstand, the note on her desk. The house erupted in chaos- her mother’s screams, her father’s frantic calls for help.

Changbin stood in the corner, watching it all unfold, his heart shattering into a million pieces.

He had never felt alone with her, but now he understood.

No one could see or feel his pain. He couldn't share it because he wasn't real.

His existence wasn't acknowledgeable.

He stayed with her, hugging her as the paramedics arrived, as they tried and failed to revive her.

He stayed as her parents crumpled to the floor, holding each other as their world collapsed around them.

He stayed even as he felt himself begin to fade, his existence tied to the mind that had created him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. As they lay a sheet over her.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you.”

And then he was gone.

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ My first shot at an unhappy ending :0. ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

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@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

@night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz

@rockstarkkami

[diejager]

Okay so imagine this RBF Horangi is sneaky when it comes to his friends step daughter he watches your expressions whenever him and Konig decide to fuck you; you always grimace at Konig’s display of affection whenever he deludes himself into the fantasy of your shared love and yet you always seem to somewhat relax around him. On the day that Horangi made you squirt he realized he had opened a Pandora’s box (literally) so he decides to play a lil trick on none other than Konig. As they see your mother off they immediately jump your bones and right when the opportunity arises he spikes Konig’s drink which knocks him out and Horangi decides to whisk you away from your big bad papa Konig but being sure to leave him a lil note telling him that you were always meant to be with Horangi

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, STEPCEST, non-con drugging, kidnapping, squirting, possessive behaviour, tell me if I missed any.

He began to see a difference in his relationship with you and the one you had with König. There was a distinct discomfort you portrayed on your face whenever he touched you, his hand lingering on your shoulder and lower back while you waved your mom off on her month long business travel. König was too delusional to see the wince that pulled your lips thin and teary eyes staring down, adamant to not look at either men, but you didn’t react as strongly to Horangi. A small grimace or a few stray tears, but you weren’t as tense or withdrawn by his side, more relaxed under his touch and more opened to his affection. 

He figured it was because he made the decision not to marry your mother, staying as the father’s best friend figure that always came by to drink and laze around with your stepdad. This decisive act was a game changer in his mind, the best decision he could’ve ever done compared to König. Granted, his giant friend was the first to see you, branding you as his object of obsession before Horangi was introduced to the family. He hadn’t been bothered with he idea of sharing you, he never was, especially with someone as trustworthy as König, yet he kept seeing this common trend with you: your hesitation, your reclusivenes, and your little frowns. 

It called to him like an abandoned kit would, a poor and neglected kitten that was ripe for the picking and pitifully adorable, mewling and stumbling for affection and care. It simply made sense if he was the only one to care for you, no? When he was the first to make you squirt, tasting your bitter slick at the back of his throat, tongue licking it from his scarred lips and cheek, sucking his fingers clean and licking your cunt of all your cum. It was all he could think of, the taste of you on his tongue, the feel of you around his fingers and the pretty sounds in his ears.

You called to him, your every thought, your ever cell, your very being called him to possess you, making you his alone. All he had to do was act upon his invasive thoughts. He spiked König’s drink when he wasn’t looking, sharing their usual drink in the evening while they let you rest from the last rough fucking, they rambled and watched the Tv, jumping from one random subject to another without so much as a slip of his tongue about his plan. He knew his betrayal would sting both of them, to have your trusted friend stab you in the back and to throw away a long and precious relationship would hurt them, but Horangi had to have you. 

And when König’s head bobbed with sleep, ultimately slumped forward, his beer still in his grasp, Horangi slipped out of the couch, up the stairs and into your room. He stood at the door and admired your naked and bruised skin, purple welts swollen and cunt still wet and crusty with their loads. He dressed you carefully, aware that any fought and quick movement would wake you, scare you from following him and wake König with that sweet voice of yours. He left with nothing but a few bags and identifications, anything from clothes to jewellery and appliances were useless to him, he could buy them anew and give you better versions of them. 

Whatever you wanted was yours, all you had to do was to follow him and marry him. He wasn’t delusional, he knew you were meant to be him, it was written in the stars as much as your being belonged to him to love and provide.

[hb-writes]

The Keeper

Summary: 1925 in the Little Lady Blinderverse. Clara may not think she needs a keeper, but she'll always have one regardless.

Characters: Isiah Jesus & Clara Shelby (OC)

Peaky Blinders (Little Lady Blinder) Masterlist

Comfy-vember 2024 Masterlist

—

Clara ignored the throbbing pain in her ankle, most of her weight resting on her good leg and her crutches as she reached for a book two shelves up. 

“All these years and you’re still sneaking your brother’s books, eh?” 

Clara stumbled at the interruption, both her crutches and the book she had been reaching for clattering to the floor as she twisted around to find Isiah there leaning against the door frame, a smirk playing on his lips.

Clara sighed, her hand firmly gripping on the edge of the bookshelf as she steadied herself, balancing on one foot.  

“I’m allowed to read what I wish now, Isiah,” she offered, a fond smile on her face as Isiah pushed off the door frame and crossed the room, leaning down to pick up the book when he reached her side.

He hummed in acknowledgment as he handed her the book. “You’re not allowed on that ankle though, are you, love?”

Isiah didn't wait for a response, using Clara’s moment of distraction as she tried to come up with a clever retort to sweep her up into his arms and take the few steps to the sofa. 

“I was—” Clara let out a huff as Isiah dropped her down on the sofa. “—fine. My ankle is fine, Isiah.” 

Isiah hummed again as he elevated Clara’s legs, slipping beneath them so he could settle her feet in his lap. 

“This one looks a bit swollen,” he answered as he studied the offending ankle. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” Clara quipped, trying unsuccessfully to pull her foot back from Isiah’s inspection. “And it’s not swollen.” 

“No?” Isiah asked, his hands idly rearranging her feet to better compare, a sudden hiss coming from Clara’s lips as his fingers grazed the offending ankle. “Seems like you’ve been up straining it more than you’ve been resting it.”

“I have not—”

“That’s not what Frances says,” Isiah answered. “I thought the doctor put you on bedrest?” 

“I don’t recall him specifying anything beyond resting,” she answered. “And I have been resting. All day long, in fact. So much so that now I’m terribly bored.”

“Ah yes, you've been resting so much that you’ve somehow found yourself down in your brother’s office.”

“I was looking for a new book,” Clara answered, waving the book in question in her hand. 

“You sure you weren’t looking for those books over there?” Isiah nodded toward the stack of accounting books on Tommy’s desk.

“Just this one,” Clara answered.

"So if I went to check, I wouldn't see any new in the ledger?" he asked.

Clara tried to scoot herself to sit up straight and pull her legs out of Isiah's hold, but he stopped her, holding Clara's feet firmly in his lap. 

"I only came down for the book," she answered as she gave up on getting away from him. It was technically the truth. She had come down for the book, scooting down the main stairs on her bottom in order to get from her bedroom to the first floor. She'd only remembered the ledgers were there while scooting between the fourth and fifth steps. "And before you ask, I only came down by myself because no one was around."

Both of Isiah's eyebrows rose as he snorted. “Well now you have your book, so I guess you can stay put right here. If you need something else, I can—”

“If I need something, I have crutches and I can get it myself.” 

“Your crutches are on the other side of the room, love,” he answered. “If you need to go anywhere, I’ll be taking you. You're meant to be off your feet.” 

Clara scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest. “And see I thought you stopped by because you missed my company, Is.”

Isiah snorted. “I’m here because you don’t seem to listen to anyone but me, and even then, it's only after a fight.”

“I don’t need a keeper.” 

“Tommy says you do,” Isiah offered, continuing on before Clara could interrupt. “And so does Aunt Pol.” 

Clara huffed, her eyes rolling as she handed over the book and leaned back against a throw pillow, making herself comfortable. “Well, you best make yourself useful while you’re here, keeper boy.”

Isiah opened the book and didn’t bother arguing with her. He just started reading, unsurprised to find it was one of Tommy’s books on psychology, a topic Clara had been reading more and more on recently though it didn’t particularly interest Isiah.

He read a few pages, his attentions focused solely on the pages before finally stealing a glance at Clara, the features of her face already smooth and relaxed as she dosed, finally at rest for what he imagined was the first time all day. Noticing Clara was asleep, Isiah set the book aside. He knew he should take her up to bed, but he knew that if he did so, it would mean the end of their evening together. 

If Isiah put Clara to bed properly now, it would mean leaving her to find himself a spot in one of the guest rooms. It would mean he wouldn't see her until morning.

That was how things usually went when he visited Arrow House. Usually, those conditions—namely, the condition of him sleeping down the hall—didn’t much bother him, but Isiah wouldn’t be able to look after her that way. He wouldn’t be right there if Clara needed him, and some part of him worried that she might need him. Or maybe some part of him just hoped she might need him. Hoped he could help.

Either way, Isiah decided not to carry Clara up to bed. He just leaned back against the sofa instead and closed his eyes, his breathing growing long and steady as it matched the cadence of Clara’s breaths at the other end of the couch…

The light of dawn was just peeking through the windows of Tommy’s office by the time Isiah woke, a fond smile on Clara’s face as she studied him over the top of her book under a bit of lamp light.

“Mornin', love,” Isiah said as he stretched out, careful of the feet that still rested in his lap. 

"Mornin', keeper boy," she answered. "There's tea and biscuits if you'd like some."

Isiah glanced at the tray on the coffee table, a deep sigh coming through his lips as he glanced at Clara, the crutches that had been across the room the night before now settled beside her on the floor.

"And how precisely did that tray get up here from the kitchens?"

Clara shrugged, reaching out for a biscuit before answering. "I suppose we'll never know since my dutiful keeper fell asleep."

—

Peaky Blinders (Little Lady Blinder) Masterlist

Comfy-vember 2024 Masterlist