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trashmouth-richie · 4 months ago

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dulcis ut rosa { sweet as a rose 🥀}

part 1 1/2– dulex (the gnat🥀) pt ii: vitiosus + deliciosus

pt iii: frangere me 🥀pt iv: ad caelum vel infernum, tecum sum

emperor Geta x female servant reader || word count: 4.4k || smidge of caracalla x reader

summary: brought to Palatine Hill as a gift from your village to the new Emperors— Caracalla claims you as his own, but Geta has his own plans for you when the moon crests into the sky.

tw: anal, p in v, rough inexperienced sex, oral m receiving, use of the word whore, caracalla is a whiny bitch, geta is fuckboy of the era. i googled a majority of the historical events, timelines, roman names for things, and latin translation— if it’s wrong, oh well. bad at feelings! geta, insane! crybaby! caracalla. idk geta is an unhinged mother fucker but what if he wasn’t so bad?

It had been months and many cycles of the moon ago when you were sent as a token of goodwill, a gift to the new Emperors in exchange for peace for the small village you resided in.

Other Virgines and yourself were taken in the dark ebony of twilight, shackled side by side into the wobbly wagon driven by the village's strongest oxen. You didn’t dare object, instead you held your chin high, awaiting fate as the cart swayed this way and that, heart racing and blood pulsing as your journey to the Palatine Hill began.

Some nights were still spent awake, remembering the crippling fear in your chest as you watched women from your village being gifted to generals as their personal servants.

Some were given to soldiers as a sense of “release.” No better than a common whore being passed from soldier to soldier, fitting their needs. The others were pillaged and picked like grapes from a cluster— and finally you had stood alone, defiance pooling in your eyes, pushing back traitorous tears.

Emperors Geta and Caracalla sat on ruby and gold twin thrones, identical in size and power. The tension between them was palpable— so thick you could reach out and stroke its ugly head. Where Caracalla’s grin was full of mischief, Geta had a snarl curled on his upper lip.

You should have known then. The difference between them.

From where you stood, Geta’s dark eyes looked empty. Every so often they twitched as he spun the rings adorned on his left hand. His eyes rolled when his older brother giggled as the gifts from whatever poor village gave away their ripe, untouched women.

Bare toes standing on the marble floor— unable to even grab shoes before you were heaved into the cart— you felt a heat from dark eyes that you were certain would drive someone mad if they dared look back. Like the boiling flames from hell itself were simmering in the coal of his irises.

Caracalla jumped up, stepping forward from his throne, a wicked sense of evilness piercing from the iciness of his stare. His golden tooth caught the sun’s rays and you nearly vomited as he strode forward, eyeing you like a meal.

A feminine laugh bubbled from his throat, he clasped his hands together, bangles clanking in a sick harmony, a childlike grin spread on his pale face, “she’ll do.”

You remember the first night in his chambers. Caracalla himself was bathed in ivory, same as the stone walls that were covered with flowing draperies. Although it was meant to be beautiful, the air felt choked, tight in your chest as you tried like hell to calm your frazzled nerves.

The same giggle you heard in the throne room all morning now reverberated off the walls. He sat on a chaise lounge in only his dressing robes, sweat dampening his temples, that same damning stare as he slid his tongue over that disgusting gold tooth. Was he nervous? Drunk?

You had thought an emperor of his caliber would be used to this sort of thing. Maybe not.

You had been cleaned by the palace servants, hair untangled and dirt scrubbed from under your nails. Hints of jasmine and honey perfumed from your gown as you tiptoed toward him. You watched as beads of sweat trickled down his brow, and he wiped at them hastily.

“Sit.”

The singular word seemed to give him trouble, as if he had never been in the presence of a woman before.

He was clumsy, unthreading your gown with clammy hands, dragging across your skin like a damp sponge. Your skin crawled under his touch.

His lips were stained with wine, thin and shriveled as he pecked at your skin. When you reached for him, hurrying this task along, he recoiled from your hand, shaking his head, a pained expression on his face as he held your wrist in a death grip.

His eyes squinted shut and he screamed for you to leave. “Out!” “Get out!” Chalices and gold cutlery were tossed in your direction as you sprang for the door.

Throwing open the heavy wood and running smack into the bare chest of the other Emperor. Emperor Geta.

Although younger, he was taller than Caracalla. His chest was more broad, shoulders stretched tight with muscles. The same death-like stare on his face as he shoved you from him, having you stumble onto the stones into a wall. The cords of his neck strained as he took in your appearance.

He didn’t soften his features as you peered up at him with a fear stricken expression. He snarled, flaring his nostrils at the pathetic look of you, practically in rags.

“Ah, and what do we have here? My brother’s whore in tears outside his chamber door. Can’t say I'm the least bit surprised.” He leaned into you, his eyes burning into your skin as he ripped the last of your gown to the floor, leaving you naked before him.

“Tasteful thing, aren't you?” he gloated, pinching your bare nipple between his thumb and forefinger, laughing when you yelped in surprise and tried to cover your decency.

He crowded into you, pushing your further down the hall way until you reached a dead end, his groin pressed into your middle.

“Pathetic.” he sneered, enunciating every syllable the word held. “Every single one of you.” His voice slithered like a snake against your ear, his breathing was forced, almost erratic and strained like he was holding himself back from bashing your skull into the wall.

“Brought in here like some glorious stuffed hog on a spicket, trying to impress the Emperors so your village would be overlooked..” he clicked his tongue and grabbed the nape of your neck, his mouth only an inch from your own, “I don’t miss anything. Even though my sniffling brother may, I do not.”

“Emperor, please.”

“Do not speak!” he shouted loud enough to wake the entire palace, the veins in his neck stood at attention, throbbing, “a whore will never open her mouth to me unless asked, or you are given something to fill it— understood?”

You nodded feebly, a single tear trickling down your cheek. Geta placed the tip of his tongue to your skin catching the salty wetness, “if you can not please my brother, you will please me… otherwise what good are you here?”

He shoved you to your knees, bits of sand biting into your skin as you hit the ground with a thud. His eyes were ablaze as he pulled out his cock. Veiny and impossibly thick, you’d never imagined one to be so large.

Geta stroked himself, already hard and velvet beneath his palm, “open for your Emperor,” he demanded, the same snarl on his lip you noticed earlier today.

You did as you were told, tongue out mouth agape waiting for him to slide against your mouth. Forcing himself inside, he filled it full until the pink head slithered into your throat, his groans vibrating through your bones.

He rocked his hips into your face, panting and groaning some more as you gagged on his length— spit dripping down your bare chest and down his sack.

He spoke nonsense to himself as you tried to breathe, squinting out tears from your eyes as you peered up at him. “The virgin mouth is fuck, yes, too good… impossibly sweet, untouched by another man, fuck, never get enough.”

His large fist gripped your hair, pulling at the root as he bludgeoned himself further into you, fucking your head into the wall surely to leave a bruise or knock you unconscious, he wouldn’t care either way.

“Stupid sniffling Caracalla,” he choked out between thrusts, “incompetent bastard wouldn’t know what to do with a whore if one fell on his cock,” he laughed and scrubbed at his face, reaching with his free hand to press the column of your throat, feeling himself deep beneath his thumb, “lucky for you, I do.”

He came then, loud and shaky, holding you to him until your nose was tickled by his patch of dark pubic hair. He pulled out, leaving a pearl against his slit to rub against your mouth.

“You might belong to Caracalla, but you will bow to me, and you… my sweet rosa, I have plans for you.”

And that was how it started, how every night you would meet with Caracalla only to be summoned by Geta in the corridor upon your dismissal. Spilling secrets of his brother before pleasuring him with your mouth.

In the light of day, you were ignored by him as you catered to Caracalla’s beck and call, and you often wondered if Geta had another servant he preferred during the sunlight hours.

You were a midnight affair, a servant to one Emperor, a secret to the other. Caracalla was a strange man. Your time with him mostly was spent with him whining about the day's woes.

How hard it was to be an emperor, the many expectations he had, the palace wasn’t large enough, his brother was too mean. Night by night his paranoia spread like wildfire, and he became gaunt, refusing to eat thinking Geta poisoned his food, his cheeks began to hallow.

During all those nights he never once gave in to his own sexual temptations, he laid his head in your lap like an infant, whimpering and sniveling. One particular warm night you were sitting on his bed as you did every night before, listening to him sob about his mother and how he felt her attention was elsewhere.

It took a single second of you being unresponsive for his switch to flip. Caracalla raged, flipping over furniture, ripping his draperies from the walls and pulling at his own hair. You were terrified, scared of him for the first time since the night you came to the palace.

Caracalla bound your wrists above your head, and took force between your legs as you silently let him, disassociating from the entire situation, as he kissed a bruise to your collarbone, and scratched your thighs with his bitten fingernails. His inexperience was evident in his approach, in the way his hips held no rhythm, in the way he screeched like a midnight owl when he was close to release.

He repeated the same thing over and over until he spilled against your stomach, a plea to either himself or to the Gods above, I am worthy.

You shook violently, not with pleasure but with fear. You had thought of spitting in his face, but realized death would be your only future if you were to humiliate him during this catastrophic performance of what he would assume to be lust.

Caracalla finished with a sweaty brow, laying down to fall asleep like a babe, an arm wrapped around your middle. A gaudy rouge colored his pale cheeks as drool slipped from his lips.

You felt sick, defiled and disgusting.

You’d rather be fucked by thirty men at once than have to endure that pathetic, cry baby fit from Caracalla. Gently placing his arm on the pillow, you fled.

Missing your village, your family, the man who you were supposed to marry someday, your tears clouded your vision down the winding corridors of the palace. You would have fought to stay behind, should have pleaded to the men that you could be useful to them. This whore’s life isn’t what you had bargained for, death would be swifter— easier than this.

The sweet scent of the balneum made you take a detour to the right, and you sobbed upon seeing the moonlight glint across the soft bathing water.

Desperate to scrub his filth from your skin, the water was barely warm but you couldn’t care less as you sunk deep into the marble stone basin. Scrubbing your skin with anything your fingers could get ahold of. The jasmine soaps the servants washed you with the first time was tucked into its cradle and you slathered until your skin shined like an apparition.

Tears dropped from the apples of your cheeks hitting the massive pool like a rainstorm over the ocean. Caracalla was a coward, a nuisance to Rome, to the Gods themselves. You damned his name as you scrubbed and lathered, repeating feverishly.

For how long Geta stood in the doorway, you weren’t sure. You weren’t where you should have been, and he was irate upon your absolute disrespect of his time. He wanted to shout, plunge his way into the water and drag you out by your hair, bring you to the coliseum and make everyone watch your death against whatever animal he saw fit.

You broke his rules, his laws, his heart raced with anger at the sight of you casually washing yourself. Nobody in the palace bathed in the moonlight, and when he heard commotion from the tepidarium room, he stomped towards it to find whoever the culprit was idiotic enough to disobey. He was alarmed to find you in there. Frantic, shooken up, no doubt from the hands of his flaccid brother.

“The lamb strayed away from the flock, I see.” his voice was like a snake, cool and calm but dripping with acidity that could kill at any given time. Jumping at his voice you nearly shrieked at his sudden appearance.

“The moon has passed the mountains, yet you do not seek me out? Instead I find you here, helping yourself to the royal bathing quarters, as if you deserve such luxuries.”

Your voice trembled, as you climbed from the water, “I wanted… I needed to be clean.”

His eyebrows twisted inward, confusion riddling his features until he stepped further into the room and noticed the marks across your skin. Caracalla’s mark. The marks of an hungry, untrained runt, trying to prove himself to the litter.

Geta’s face boiled with sadistic rage as his eyes scanned down your body, the scratches of an novice beast unable to pleasure a whore. Bruises from a limp man who deserved a knife to his throat.

“Come.” he demanded, not waiting for you to follow as his stalked from the room, tossing a long cloth behind him to your awaiting hands.

—

Water trickled behind you and down the length of your body as you padded on bare feet to catch up with Geta.

This part of the palace was foreign to you, a set of stairs leading to a dark tower that you didn’t know existed, and then you realized why. He was leading you up to his chambers.

Geta and Caracalla lived on opposite ends of the palace, their hatred splitting them apart as far as it could allow.

He thrust open a concealed door and stomped down a few stone stairs leading into his chamber.

It was decorated in hues of deep ruby and scarlets, black linens flanked his walls. His bed was massive, alluring in the dark majesty of its presence. A single candle flickered beside his bed, casting shadows in the deep night.

His hooded eyes seemed to strike with a ripple of psychotic light when he came back to the doorway to pull you inside by your wrist.

Sitting on a lavish wooden chair he leans back, spreading his legs wide, reaching for a wine filled chalice downing it in one gulp, his eyes never leaving you.

“Let me make myself clear,” he stated, “I do not care what Caracalla does in his chambers I never have nor will I now.”

Geta wiped at his chin and set down the glass, his finger rounding the rim, “You came here knowing what your life would hold as an Emperor’s servant or a soldier’s fuck sack. The little amount of freedom you were once born with has vanished, and what a pity that must be…but quite honestly,” he gleamed leaning forward his face warmed by the light, casting shadows of evil on his brows, “I am not a savior to the fucked raw whores of this palace who weep after fulfilling their master’s needs.”

Your eyes casted downward at the patterned marble floor. “I told you the night we met that if you aren’t pleasing my brother or myself, you have no purpose here, did I not?”

Your head shook up and down, knowing every word he said was true.

“I will grant you gratitude where it is due by saying that you have done everything I have asked of you, sharing my brother’s secrets, using your mouth to fill my needs— it is all very pleasing…”

For the first time you look into Geta’s eyes, the shadows inside flicker with the candle light, and you are drawn to them like a moth.

“… however, I find myself enraged thinking of that shriveled weasel dick not taking you to bed in a proper manner. It is not my style to fuck like a lover would—I use women to my needs and that’s it.”

He rubs his jaw, as if the stubble was itching him, suddenly stopping to look at you dead in the eyes as his narrowed to slits, “but you, are a gnat. An annoyance I can not seem to get rid of, and I can’t decide if you are a woman version of the plague or something else…” His eyes glimmer for a second before he shakes his head to clear his mind, “Get on the bed.”

“Emperor?”

His voice boomed as he slammed down his cup, “do not make me say it twice, I find myself to be quite angry when I have to repeat my words.” His throat pulsed in wrath, and his knuckles turned white from his fists being clenched.

You do as you're told, gingerly making your way to the enormous frame and mattress, sitting rigidly. Geta undresses himself, standing bare before you, that glorious length springing freely.

“The difference between Caracalla and myself, is I know how to use my God bless-ed cock to pleasure a woman, and I’m damn good at it.”

He’s on you in a flash, his breath sweet from the wine he had consumed. His body was solid on top of yours, pale skin never exposed to the sun. Enormous shoulders dressed in muscles that were hidden with robes daily. He sniffs loud, taking in your scent you feel his body shiver above you.

His teeth nip at your earlobe, piercing through the flesh releasing a trail of hot blood onto your neck. It’s swiftly lapped away by his tongue, a low groan following as he tastes you.

“If your blood is this sweet I would hate to know how you taste between your legs.”

You squirm beneath him as he bites your lip the same way, his canines piercing your plushy flesh and he moves his mouth over the bites, enjoying the iron-like taste. A flood of wetness rushes to your core and you suddenly feel hot everywhere… something Geta doesn’t miss.

“My brother’s whore is quick to becoming wet.” he says with a chuckle, sweeping his fingers between your folds, his rings collecting your arousal on his knuckles before he pulls them into his mouth, “mmmm leave it to Caracalla to fuck a bitch when she’s drier than a well.”

His mouth assaults your neck. Sweeping circling as he groans into you, his cock rutting against your sex as you pull him further into you, a hand coiled in his golden hair, yanking slightly, a traitorous moan escaping his lips.

Your hips widen to try to sneak the tip of him into your cunt but he only laughs at your attempt.

“Look how desperate you are, pathetic thing… so eager to be filled by a man who knows how to fuck.” He groans when your nails scratch down his back, and he licks his lip to not get too carried away.

That pitiful excuse for a human couldn’t satisfy his own hand, let alone a whore who begs to be brutalized.” You moan his name when he skims blunt nails around the peaks of your nipples, running his palms along your rib cage.

“You're teasing me, Emperor, te necessito.”

The snarl that seems to be a permanent fixture on his face curls on his lip, “begging is a good start, we both know how good you are on your knees, but I like the pity showing in your eyes, as if I’m your God.”

With that final word and title, Geta thrust himself into you, shredding your walls with each delicious inch of his cock buried inside of you. All breath is expunged from your lungs as you stare into the devil’s eyes, a chokehold to your own.

“Ora pro me, Deus meus, pray for me God,” he grunted as he pistoned back into your heat. Your screams filled his chambers, the tower shaking with seduction as he matched your shouts with grunts and moans of his own.

He pawed at your tits, squeezing and claiming every inch of skin he could get his hands on. Your thighs were wrapped around his waist, your hips circling to meet his rhythms. A large hand wrapped tight around your throat, and you licked your lips letting a grin spread against them.

Geta was leaned forward just enough for you to put a hand against his own throat, squeezing as tightly as you could. He wasn’t expecting this, wasn’t expecting someone to match his own sadistic fantasies.. let alone a commoner from a village he didn’t care to know the name of.

His eyes embellished like a dark jewel in a burning hell before he snarled and backhanded your cheek. He had never been more turned on, practically fucking you stupid as the welts from his rings raised on your skin.

“Puella pulchra, pretty girl,” Geta whispered into your ear after flipping you over, his cock wedged between your ass cheeks. “Mea es, mea es, you’re mine; no one else’s.”

His rings bit at your sides as he positioned your ass upwards, leaving his dental records in each cheek before slapping them hard in unison, mocking your yelp as he dribbled spit where he needed it to be.

With no warning he entered your other hole at a bruising pace. You saw black when Geta bottomed out and you swore you were near passing out from the stretch of his giant cock stuffed tight inside of you.

Your pussy throbbed to his commands as he pulled you by your neck with one hand, so your back was leaned against his chest. Thick fingers slotted themselves in the heat of your core until his rings were nestled against your clit. “How dare you let Caracalla have at you first, this cunt is too sweet, too sinful to not be mine.”

Babbling along to everything he said you simply screamed yes over and over, as your head lolled back on his shoulder. You came so hot and bound tight that it flooded his fingers and spread down your legs as he kept pounding inside of you.

“Oh fuck,” Geta grunted, shoving your forward to gain leverage on your hips as he pistoned into you a final time. A great yell breached his throat as his seed flooded your ass, filling it full and spilling over both himself and you, down to the laundered sheets.

You collapsed onto his bed, legs shaking and quaking struggling to catch your breath. Geta fell onto his back beside you, his skin glistening with sweat, his release coated thickly on his softening cock and pasted into the curly hair.

“Dulcis ut rosa,” he murmured with his eyes closed, licking his lips to savor your taste once more.

Tumbling on shaky knees, you lift yourself up just enough to eye his length, wrapping your mouth around his cock, sucking off his spend and yourself from him. Moaning as you devoured him.

He hissed at the contact, reaching out to stroke your cheek with his thumb “you’ve made a fool of me, you wicked thing, I’m nothing but a fool.”

When you were finished, Geta laid in silence beside you. His thumb strumming along his torso his eyes wide staring into the ceiling, deep in thought.

Noticing a decanter of wine you asked if he’d like another glass. “No,” he said, still staring upward, unable to look at you. “I’m tired, leave me now.”

Removing yourself from the bed you find the dressing robe he was wearing when he found you in the bath and slipped it over your shoulders.

Leaving his chambers left you feeling rotten.

It was strange how he looked at you during and after, he was talented just as he said he was, and you knew you’d never forget the night the other Emperor bed you in his sheets. For tomorrow was another day, back to Caracalla and his blubbering whines of the hardships of royalty.

Geta lie awake for hours. Eventually seeking refuge on his balcony staring into the pale ivory moon, silently asking the Gods for answers he himself didn’t know. He had bedded hundreds of women. Every shape, size and color. But you. The little gnat. You had been buzzing in his ears every night since you had gotten to Palatine Hill.

Since the day he laid his eyes on you and scoffed to try to denounce his admiration, Geta silently wished death on Caracalla when he claimed you as his own. His original plan was to spoil the apple from the inside out, use you as a spy to gain information about his deranged brother— but it became more to him, you became more. But why?

The God’s didn’t have the answers tonight, just like they hadn’t the night before, or every dawn since the night you showed up here. Guilt struck him like a bolt from Jupiter’s mighty hand and he pushed it down with the remaining wine he had stashed beside his bed.

The facaded mask he wore these days almost slipped off tonight when you lay beside him. How he wanted to reach out and touch your skin while you laid in euphoric bliss. And he shut you out to avoid something he couldn’t risk. He didn’t know how to love a woman, his love was for war and power, blood and gold— still the gnat buzzed, unrelentless.

Laying in the sex sodden sheets, he knew what his dream would be of tonight. It hadn’t changed in the months of you arriving here: Caracalla dead by his hand, and you, the gnat, sweet as a rose…his empress.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

latin translation:

virgines— virgins

dulcis ut rosa— sweet as a rose

balneum— bathing room

te necessito— i need you

ora pro me deus meus— pray for me my God

puella pulchra— pretty girl

mea es— you’re mine

tagging some moots: @joejoequinnquinn @choke-me-eddie @etherealxwitch

#joseph quinn #gladiator 2 #emperor geta #emperor geta x reader smut #geta #emperor geta x reader #geta x reader #geta smut #emperor geta smut #emperor geta fanfic #geta fanfic #gladiator ii

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gamblersdoll · 1 month ago

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𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐀 𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑, 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐘!

your best friends izuku and katsuki become vampires surprisingly, and they get their first feeding tonight.

pinning, biting, dry humping, blood mention, fingering. mention of safewords, watersports.

the night was cooler than the beaming summers that past for last couple of months. the breeze moving alongside your skin, growing goosebumps from the hair tickling along your skin.

but, tonight would be such a different night, beyond your recognition, because it was that time.

“fucking— stay still..” katsuki grumbled, your body writhing and wiggling in his hands. “i cant help you if youre squirming, dumbass!”

“cut her a break, kacchan.” izuku sighs, kissing your shoulders and holding your hands. “i promise it’ll be so quick, but.. it is getting so hard.” he chuckles, kissing your knuckles and breathing in your scent. “god, youve always smelt so good.”

“youre a fuckin’ creep, thats why.” katsuki deadpans, getting on the opposite side of izuku and looking to you, again. “im trying not to hurt ya.. i swear.”

“i know.. is it that bad for you both?”

“no more talking.” izuku grunts, tilting your head to the side and sinking his fangs into your neck. you squeal, squeezing both izuku and katsuki’s hand.

“you idiot— you should’ve went..” he stops himself, his nose picking up on your blood and looking back to you. his canines grow just a bit, moving your head to the side again and digging his teeth into the other side of your neck.

the red liquid pools inside of their mouths, a moan from both of them as they hold you down on the bed. “you idiots.. shouldve gave me a fuckin warning..” you choke out, adrenaline rushing through your body. you feel lightheaded, your eyes drifting and closing every here and there.

izuku watches your eyes, pulling his teeth out and pressing his fingers on your throat. “ill be right back! youre going to be okay.” he yelps, grabbing the grape juice from the mini fridge and tilting you up. “just drink..”

you eagerly drink the tart liquid, hearing it was great for reproducing blood cells and katsuki hasnt let up yet. “kats..”

his hand grips your thigh, izuku growing red in the face and watching the way the purple juice trickles down your neck. he goes back in, licking your neck from the blood residue and grape juice. “taste so good..”

“can’t believe you taste this good..” katsuki mumbles, izuku becoming hit with the blood-lust from drinking you up. “that nerd is probably getting it too..” katsuki pulls away, squeezing your cheeks together and watching your eyes cross a bit. “the fuck— you enjoy this shit?”

you nod slightly, izuku’s weight restricting you from movements and katsuki shakes his head. “needy little shit.” katsuki groans, a hand strategically unbuttoning your shirt and taking a breast into his hand. “yer not gunna scream if i bite into your tit, are ya?”

“lets.. find out then, give me your best.” you challenge, his eyebrow quirks up and he bares his fangs in a grin. you squeeze izuku’s hand as he sinks his fangs into your breast. you moan softly, feeling izuku’s hardened cock through his pants bump and grind into your left thigh. “izu..”

“sorry.. feels so good, dont know whats wrong wif’ me.” he mumbles, teeth still in his mouth as he grinds his cock into a soft spot of your thigh.

katsuki— surprisingly, grinds his cock harder into your thigh as well. he grunts when he does, licking the dripping blood from your breast and he slips his fingers under your panties. “safeword.”

“pineapple juice.” you quickly say, pressing your fingers down on his and grind against his palm. “dont take all night.”

“eager bitch arent ya’?” he chuckles muffled, plunging his fingers into your gooey spot immediately, “bet you would just let anyone finger you.”

“yeah?— oh.. how did you figure that?” you struggle to argue, his fingers curling into that gummy spot that makes you shut your mouth immediately.

“considering two of your friends are sucking you dry, both of them pushing their cocks into your thighs, one fingerin’ ya..” he retorts, pulling his teeth out of your mound and going back to your shoulder. “can feel you clamping down on me..”

“guess yer’ right..”

izuku moans, his hips getting more relentless and fast. “sorry in advance..” he mumbles, still grinding his cock into your plump thighs and tweaking with your exposed nipple. he stills his body, a breathless whimper against your skin.

“already cummin?— oh, shit..” katsuki tries to say, but feels his own orgasm about to ripple through his body and thrusting his fingers faster. “shit, youre close, ain’cha?”

you nod, grinding your own hips on his fingers and he groans, the last few thrusts of his hips being shorter and his fingers continue on. “c’mon baby.. cum fer me..”

“uhm— nuh uh.” izuku shoots back, pushing his own fingers into your seeping cunt and you moan. “cum for me instead, my love.”

“hah? the fuck?” katsuki growls at him, thrusting his fingers at a different pace. “you cant just stuff her like that!”

“then pull out.” izuku challenges, curling his fingers up and you cross your eyes, toes curling and you try to close your thighs. “see? its too much for her, pull out!”

“first come, first served, dumbass!”

then, they both pause their movements and conversations, watching your cunny soak both pairs of hands and some of the comforter. their eyes widen, you becoming blissed out and hair sprawled out. they both sniff, the sweet smell coming from your folds and they look only at you.

“oh yeah, this night isnt going to end.”

#deku x black! reader #katsuki x black!reader #katsuki smut #izuku smut #katsuki x you #izuku x black! reader #izuku x you #vampire au #katsukibakugou #katsuki bakugou #izuku midoriya #midoriyaizuku #bakugou smut #bakugou #dvs haunted mansion 🧟‍♀️

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mochinomnoms · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! I saw your hanahaki flower event and got interested by it. I was wondering if you can do prompt #18 with azul and a gender neutral reader please?

azul ashengrotto x gn!reader [tags] – fluff, slight angst, miscommunication [wc} – 4,442 prompt 18: “Is this normal here?” “Only for the emotionally unavailable folk.” “Ah, so it is.” note - ending is a bit weak cause it got a bit long. anyways i love my octomer still firmly believe azul deserves to get bitches and eat good food a floral inconvenience

Lavender: while best known for its herbal properties, lavender can also symbolize devotion to a person. You should give lavender to a person you see as pure and virtuous.

You stared at the array of purple colored drinks, sweets, and other treats laid out on the table in front of you.

To your left, several plates of candied lavender, a slice of honey lavender cake, and a grape lavender sorbet begged for your attention. On your right, an iced lavender vanilla latte, lavender lemonade, and a lavender spritzer looked ideal to quench your thirst. In the middle, directly in front of you, was the latest dish you were asked to taste test.

A beautiful Swiss chard, candied beet and goat cheese salad tossed in a honey-lavender dressing made your mouth water as the Mostro Lounge manager himself sat at his desk, watching you on the two-seater couch.

“Well? Go on. I made them all myself.” Azul gestured to the salad with a smug smirk, clearly pleased at your excitement. “Time is of the essence, the spring menu is due to release next week.”

“Oh! Yeah, right.”

You picked up a fork and pierced a beet and chard, generously covered in the dressing and goat cheese. Bringing the food up to your mouth, Azul raised his brows tentatively, watching as you opened wide, and just before you took a bite—

“Are you sure Jade didn’t put anything in this—”

“I promise, I made this all myself.”

“Okay.” You opened your mouth and raised your fork again…before bringing it down again.

“You sure—”

“Positive! Just. Eat. It.” Azul sighed exasperatedly. “I beg—and I don’t beg.”

“Okay! Okay, okay, okay.” You giggled, finally taking a bite of the salad.

A burst of sweet, woodsy and fresh flavor covered your tongue. Pleasant, succulent, and slightly sticky, you hummed in delight at the taste of the salad and dressing. You smiled at Azul, who rested his chin on his clasped hands. You couldn’t see his mouth from behind his hands, but you think he was smiling back at you.

“Azul! This tastes wonderful! Even better than the candies and tarts, oh my gosh!” You gushed as you took another bite of the salad, oblivious to the soft, periwinkle blush on the octomer’s cheeks.

“Try it with the lemonade, it pairs well.”

Nodding your head, you reached over to take a sip of the drink, a sprig of lavender embellishing the top. Humming again from the pleasant tang of the lemon and sweetness of the flower, you beamed at Azul.

“You’re so right! And with all the lavender as garnishes, it’s definitely screaming springtime!”

Whipping out your phone, you started to text, talking as you did. “It’s definitely gonna be a hit on Magicam, I bet I can get Cater to come and—”

“No! Uh,” Azul raised his voice, startling you, before clearing his throat and continuing, “you need to try the rest first!”

“Oh, for sure, but Cater can probably give you free advertising or something—”

In a small panic, seeing the chattery ginger’s profile and your thumb hovering over the DM button, Azul quickly rushed to you. He reached over to swipe the phone out of your hands while simultaneously shoving a spoonful of the grape lavender sorbet.

“Nonsense! I can handle my own advertising!” Azul chuckled nervously, “Now tell me, how does that one taste? Refreshing, yes?”

You choked on cold sweetness, a brief knock at the door drawing both of your attention as the door opened before you could respond.

Jade entered the Azul’s office, pausing at the scene before him. Azul hovering, practically on top, of you with a silver spoon shoved into your mouth. Jade blinked once before giving you both a small smile, tilting his head.

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to intrude on such a scene, I’ll come back later—”

“Don’t imply anything, Jade!” Azul briskly added some distance between you two, smoothing his ruffled suit.

You on the other hand, spoon now hanging freely from your mouth, gave Jade a wave and gave him a muffled, “Hi Jade, the sorbets good.”

Jade chuckled, covering his mouth with his hand.

“Is it? How wonderful, Azul’s been working particularly hard to make sure everything was to your liking—”

Azul cleared his throat, giving Jade a less than amused glare.

“What is it, Jade?” He sighed, adjusting his glasses. “You know I was to not be interrupted for the next hour.”

Jade bowed his head, still smiling as he apologized.

“Pardon my interruption, but it has actually been an hour and a half, and your next appointment is here.”

“What?” Azul looked at the wall clock with a confused expression, groaning as he saw the minute mark was indeed showing it was half past 3.

“Let my appointment know that I will be with them shortly, my dear?” Azul gave you an apologetic smile, bringing out a handkerchief from his vest and offering it to you.

“Here, I’m sorry to cut our time so abruptly. You still owe me your commentary on the free dishes, so make sure to leave your Saturday afternoon open.”

Rolling your eyes, you wiped your lips as you snarkily replied, “I owe you? Didn’t you ask me for my input on the dishes?”

“The free dishes, yes. Does 5 pm sound good?”

You hummed in affirmation, handing back the lilac fabric which Azul accepted. A sound of surprise left you as Azul dabbed the corner of your mouth, where a bit of the sorbet still remained.

The octomer wasn’t known for casual touches, rather he seemed adverse to them. It surprised you how easily those brush of hands and bodies leaning closer to each other came despite this. You suppose it just came naturally after months of study ‘dates’, shared lounge shifts, and late night talks.

Avoiding eye contact, Azul tenderly grabbed your hand and placed the handkerchief back in your hand. His hands clasped around your own, making your fingers grasp the fabric before pushing it to your chest.

“Keep it for now, it’s dirty anyways.” Azul muttered, snatching his hands back as if you’d burned him. “You can return it cleaned this weekend.”

Nodding your head, you chose to ignore the sudden shift in mood, though it hurt your chest. Instead, you gave Azul a warm smile as he turned his back to you as he cleaned.

“Mkay…I’ll see you later, Azul. Byeee~” You wagged your fingers to the still turned Azul, though you could see the tips of his ears turn light purple. Your eyes stayed on his form until Jade closed the door, in which you followed the teal-haired man out of the VIP halls to the rest of the lounge.

Following Jade through the corridors, you mused out loud, “I wonder if he knows…”

“Knows what, Prefect?”

You jumped slightly, startled as you remembered that you weren’t alone.’

“Fuck! I forgot you were here, you’re so quiet Jade, what the hell?”

Jade chuckled, looking down at you as he slowed his pace to walk side by side. “I apologize, but I was simply asking for clarification, who knows what?”

It took you a moment to process that you’d been speaking out loud, exclaiming, “Oh! Sorry I was just wondering if Azul knew that lavender’s my favorite flower. Yaknow, cause of all the lavender flavored stuff…”

You shrugged, aware of the mischievous glimmer in the golden eye studying your form.

“Probably not though, it’s a popular spring flavor. Not gonna complain about a coincidence though!”

Jade hummed, “Yes, a very pleasant coincidence.”

The rest of the walk was pleasant and relatively quiet as you filled the silence by humming a tune Azul had taught you for musicology. You arrived shortly to the lounge, waving at Floyd through the kitchen door window. Floyd waved enthusiastically back, ladle in hand.

Before you could walk off to the exit, Jade grabbed your shoulder, leaning down to ask, “Prefect, would you like to meet me in the library? My shift will end soon, and I’ll be studying for a botany exam. I’d enjoy the company.”

You shrugged and nodded. “Sure, Cater’s gonna meet me and drop off Grim there in a bit anyways.”

“Wonderful, I’ll see you shortly!” Jade waved you off, turning back to the host stand as you left the lounge to the Octavinelle entrance.

A pass through the mirror and a short walk, you soon found yourself at the entrance to the library. There you saw the familiar head of ginger cradling a sleeping Grim in his arms!

“Cater!” you whisper shouted, grinning and waving your hand excitedly.

“Hey babes!” Cater greeted you, giving you a soft smile and wink. “How’d the date go? Gimme all the deets!”

You scoffed, scratching between Grim’s ears as the little familiar sleepily mumbled, “Wasn’t a date, I was taste testing for Azul.”

“Uh-huh, just a private taste-testing between you and the Octavinelle housewarden?” Cater cooed, handing you Grim. “Then why’d you have me take Grimmy and get him all stuffed and tuckered out at the unbirthday party, hmm?”

“He said he made it specifically for me to taste! Grim would’ve eaten it all otherwise…” you pouted, squinting at Cater as he shrugged and gave you a cheeky grin.

“Whatever you say babe, but like, Azul is super infamously known to never give out gifts without expecting something in return.”

“He is getting something!” You huffed as the two of you entered into the library, following your upperclassman as he plucked books for your alchemy class and he for potion making.

“He’s getting my valuable input before announcing his spring menu!”

Cater gave you another wink before drawling, “Sureeeee, whatevs you say babe! Just don't be surprised by the wedding bells in the near future, I better be the man of honor!”

You two bickered for a bit longer, you more so than Cater, who was content teasing you. Once you both had grabbed the materials needed for class, you searched for a table to get settled before Grim eventually woke back up and begged to get dinner.

A familiar shade of teal caught your eye as you remembered Jade’s invitation to study.

“Ah! I forgot I was gonna meet Jade and study with him!” You waved at Cater, who followed suite, walking over to the eelmer. “Text me later, I’ll try and see if I can’t convince Azul to let you get exclusive pics of the spring menu!”

“Kayyyy, I’m sure you’ll convince your little boyfriend easily enough with a few smooches.” Adding insult to injury, Cater blew you a kiss. “Just pucker them up and boys will melt like putty, trust me I know!”

Rolling your eyes, you ignored your friend’s giggles in favor of greeting Jade with a quiet hello.

“Hey Jade, how’s the studying going?”

Yellow and olive eyes met your own as Jade smiled back, nodding his head politely. “Well. I finished my own work a while ago, so I’ve been browsing some journals on magical flora and diseases.”

Jade gestured to the array of books on the table. Sure enough, the books were labeled as magical pharmaceuticals and botany. You settled Grim on one of the spare chairs and placed your own books on a spare spot on the table. As Jade read a page on the medical benefits of a tentacle looking mushroom, you peered curiously at the other books.

You read the page of one of the books Jade had out, labeled ‘hanahaki’.

“What’s this?”

“Hmm? Oh.” Jade gave you a soft smile, though his eyes glimmered with mischief.

“That. I was simply researching it as a favor for a friend.”

“A favor? From you? Riiight.”

Jade pouted, giving you a sad look. “Why do you doubt my kind-hearted nature?” He continued giving you faux sniffles and wiping the corner of his eyes. When you first started hanging around him and his brother, it took you a while to figure out that Jade liked to tease your soft-hearted nature. He said it was to toughen you up for life in the cold, merciless waters under the sea that you’d eventually call home.

Whatever that means.

“Am I not allowed to simply do something out of the kindness of my heart?”

You stuck your tongue out before replying, “Are you doing this out of the ‘kindness’ of your heart, or cause you want something out of it?”

“Hmm, both?”

Jade winked as you stifled a giggle.

“Sure, both are good…who’s it for anyways?”

Jade held a finger up to his mouth. A secret that he was not privy to share. Despite you leaning in with an expectant look, Jade remained silent, giving you a closed eye smile. Shrugging you looked at the page the book was open to.

“Flower sickness?”

“Yes, a gift from the Flower Bride, it causes the afflicted’s romantic feelings to physically manifest into their beloved’s favorite flora. Typically through flu-like symptoms.”

You winced as you reached up to rub your throat. “Like, coughing up roses? Sounds like a pain.”

“It can be, most find it inconvenient, as it tends to trouble those that repress their feelings. Especially those that would rather deny or remain oblivious to them.”

“Is it normal here?”

Jade pursed his lips, looking as if he was in deep thought before responding, “Only for the emotionally unavailable sort.”

Snapping a finger at him you cheekily replied, “So it is then?”

The two of you shared a laugh before resuming your browsing, Jade now leaning over to read the article with you, thumbing the pages as you read out loud.

“Most recognized symptoms include coughing petals, flowers, and even bouquets in the occurrence of strong feelings. However, sneezing the previously mentioned symptoms is also common.”

“Ah, here.” Jade slid his finger along the paragraph below. “More severe cases can include the patient sprouting flora from their pores, ears, and hair follicles. How interesting.”

You clicked your tongue. “Sounds annoying, ooh wait! ‘Common Flora’!”

Listing off the flowers from the second page, you were blissfully unaware of the entertained expression on the twin’s face.

“Let’s see, roses, makes sense. Orchids, gardenias, oh! Even lavenderrrrrrr…“

I was just wondering if Azul knew that lavender’s my favorite flower.

Azul is super infamously known to never give out gifts without expecting something in return.

I made them all myself.

You drew out the last syllable, eyes hyper focused on the word printed before you as you processed your thoughts like a factory conveyor belt. Slowly turning your head to stare at the teal-haired man next to you, Jade simply kept his small, polite smile as he stared right back.

“...Jade?” You tilted your head.

“Prefect?” Jade did the same.

“Where’s Azul been getting all the lavender?”

“Oh, well,” Jade paused, sifting through the book in favor of letting you stew in suspense. “A few weeks ago he started keeping large bouquets of them all over his room and office, though the latter were used for the dishes he made you.”

“You mean the ones for the new menu?” Maybe you were misinterpreting the whole thing. Yeah, no Azul wouldn’t waste a bunch of lounge supplies on you. Lavender is a popular spring flavor, and your a good friend that’s willing to give him the time of day to test his dishes out. Of course, you’re just being silly—

“New menu? You must be mistaken, we aren’t releasing a new menu anytime soon.” Jade rested his head on his palm, now giving you a rare grin.

“He was quite stressed making the dishes to your liking, seeing as it’s quite a common octomer courting tact—oh!”

Jade covered his mouth in shock, feigning embarrassment as he continued, “I’m afraid I’ve said too much, you’ll keep that last bit between us, won’t you?”

“…You’re an ass, you know that?”

“I’m aware, what are you going to do about it? I just ask that you’re gentle with me.”

Everyone within a 1-mile radius could hear your exhausted sigh of annoyance.

The soft glow of the aquarium walls under the bookshelves brought about an ethereal glow to the VIP Room. A soft, soothing blue glow that did very little to actually sooth your nerves. It paired well with the lavender colored walls.

Speaking of lavender, a warm teapot of lavender Earl Grey was settled on the coffee table, along with containers of sugar and milk. To the right was a plate of iced lavender cookies, small purple buds garnishing the tops of the cookies.

“Cookies, huh? I thought you were more of a cooker than baker, Azul?”

Azul, who was writing down your feedback from the baked brie with lavender honey that you’d just had, hummed in response.

“Yes my dear, I had Trey working for me after the last Camp Vargas, though he was kind enough to leave me a few handwritten recipes in exchange for ending his week-long employment with me early.” Azul explained, looking rather satisfied with himself.

“I experimented with one of the recipes and was able to come up with the cookies before you.” His eyes met yours as he smirked and smugly asked, “They’re to your liking, yes? I made them with your sweet tooth in mind.”

There it was, Azul made these for you. Azul Ashengrotto, who didn’t give so easily without a cost, made them specifically for you in mind, though it seemed that that same train of thought didn’t process in his head. Based on his self-satisfied smirk, and the notes he was taking, Azul was happy that the apparent courting ritual was going well.

“Yeah! I like them a lot, they go well with the tea. Um—” You paused, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves before continuing with the plan you and Cater came up.

“Did you make the tea blend for me too? It tastes wonderful, I’d expect nothing less!”

Azul brightened, delighted at your attention and praise, and began to “subtly” brag, “Yes! Normally Jade makes the tea blends for the Lounge, but I personally selected this specific variety to pair well with the lavender.”

A fondness grew in your heart as you listened, not really processing though, to Azul describe the subtle differences between his tea blend and traditional ones.

“This specific blend would be most reminiscent of Early Grey Crème, which isn’t as widely known, but I thought would be better for you as it’s smoother.”

“Really?” You gasped, feigning innocence as you asked, “And you made it all yourself? You’re amazing, Azul!”

With a closed-eye smirk, Azul adjusted his glasses and nodded. “Yes, well with all my family’s experience in the food industry, it’s to be expected. But do continue to sing praises my dear, it’s much appreciated.”

You giggled, tilting your head as Azul resumed his note taking, it was no doubt he was recording your reactions and storing them for future use. The real question was whether to figure out the best way to bribe you with the promise of your favorite foods, or to ensure that his future beloved would have their own beloved treats when with him.

“It’s appreciate that you made this all for me in mind…which makes me think…Azul?”

“Yes?’

Azul was now focused on writing rather than on you. Taking another deep breath, you continued.

“Your cooking for me reminds me of a common saying back home…that a way to one’s heart is through their stomach.”

Azul froze, the soft scratching of his fishbone pen suddenly silenced, from the corner of your eye, you could see Azul’s eyes widen and face go blank.

“Is that something said here too?”

“It’s not a completely foreign phrase to me, so I’d say so.”

You hummed, plucking one of the iced cookies from the tray, sauntering over to the silver-haired man. Azul looked up at you, leaned back into his plush chair, lacing his fingers together as he waited for you to continue.

“I bet, with your mother owning a restaurant and everything…though it has me thinking…”

Azul raised a brow as you nibbled on the cookie, while you allowed him to stew in suspense for a few seconds.

“You’ve never actually cooked at the lounge, have you? Sure you’ve tested out some recipes, making sure they come out to your satisfaction…but it’s always someone else doing the cooking for the customers.”

Taking a seat on the edge of the desk, glowing baby blue eyes met your own, making you wonder if his name was a deliberate choice or a coincidence.

“Yes…” Azul answered slowly, hesitantly really, as he tried to figure out your angle. “I’m a very busy person, and I haven’t got all day-”

“And yet, you cooked for me.”

Azul shut his mouth at that, normally plush lips thinning as his fair cheeks softly turned periwinkle.

“Not only that, but you cooked for me using my favorite flower…tell me, my dear,” He audibly choked at the nickname, clenching and unclenching his hands into fists. “Just how did you know I love lavender?”

You leaned down, Azul’s eyes widening as the distance between you two becoming smaller. Sudden close contact grew a burning embarrassment in Azul, who leaned further into his chair until he no longer could. There was a visible panic in his eyes, which made you feel a bit bad for putting him in such a situation.

Azul cleared his throat, composing himself and saving face as he looked at you with a stony expression. “I…have my sources.”

That wasn’t good, you didn’t need the octomer shutting you out to avoid even the slightest humiliation at the hands of a crush.

“Sources? Like what? Sam? The botanical gardens?” You looked off to the side, noticing a vase with a few stems of lavender. “Like hanahaki?”

A screech accompanied Azul as he abruptly stood, pushing back the chair and stared at you with a frigid glare, lips thin and soft eyes now hardened.

“I don’t appreciate this joke of yours. If you want to our time together making fun of me, I suggest we end it here.”

Panic turned your blood ice cold as you tripped over your feet, now chasing Azul as he went for the door.

“W-what? No, that’s not what—”

“I think it’s best you leave now,” Azul dodged your attempts to grab him, refusing to make eye contact. “I’ll show you out.”

“Please, Azul, I wasn’t making fun!” A ball was forming in your throat, making your voice tremble and breath stutter.

As he turned the doorknob, door just cracking open, Azul turned to look at you only to falter as his face fell at the sight of the tears falling from your face.

“A-are you crying?!” He shut the door close as he rushed over, hovering his hands over your frame. “Why are you crying—”

“Cause I thought you liked me! Jade said—well he didn’t actually say, he heavily implied—that you had hanahakiiii…” You drawled out the last bit of your sentence as Azul’s face turned purple, looking horrified as you finished your sentence.

Azul stuttered out, “H-he implied w-what!? Damn that eel—ACK!” before heaving and gasping for breath. As he suddenly collapsed on his knees, you following suit in worry, Azul began making a choking sound.

Though you couldn’t see his face, you could see the clumps of wet buds fall out of his mouth, covered in inky spit, eventually an entire bunch of lavender heaving out of him as well.

“Auughhh…that—” Azul coughed again, looking up at you with a combination of ink and spit dripping from his mouth. “—was unbecoming of me, I’m sorry…wasn’t supposed to go like this.”

Reaching for your pocket, you took Azul’s handkerchief and gently grabbed his chin to look at you. Azul visibly relaxed as your wiped the mess from his lips, fingers moving to comb through his hair. Sighing as he slowly looped an arm around your waist, Azul ,.....

“I should’ve made Jade sign another NDA when I saw him snooping through my bedroom, should’ve known.”

You let out a breathless chuckle, leaning into his grasp. “Yeah, probably. If it helps I shouldn’t have listened to Cater’s dating advice.”

“You what?!” Azul exclaimed, looking at you dubiously, “You asked Cater for advice?”

“He seemed like he knew what he was talking about!” You defended yourself, pouting. “He noticed that you were cooking for me, when you never do for anyone else.”

He sighed, rolling his head back to look up at the ceiling instead of your face.

“As you said—which I’m assuming was one of the things Jade told you—preparing and providing food to our mates is a courting ritual for Cecaelians. I follow the same routine as my mother: create and test recipes, then pass along the instructions to my subordinates and ensure it’s top quality.”

Azul continued, holding your hand as he stood, guiding you up with him. “We octofolk were shunned out of merfolk society for a longtime, even with the legends of the Sea Witch’s benevolence.”

Reaching for one of the cookies still on the table, Azul brought it up to your mouth, tapping it to your lips.

“It shows that no matter our status, we can provide for the one we’ve devoted ourselves to.”

Bringing a thumb to your mouth, Azul softly pulled your lips apart to feed you. A fond, but embarrassed warmth flushed over you, a matching red blush on your cheeks to Azul’s periwinkle one.

“That’s…sweet.” You smiled, taking the cookie from Azul’s hand, much to his surprise. “And really corny, especially for you.”

Azul clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes as you took a bite of the cookie.

“I’m attempting to be genuine, and you’re calling me corny? How insulting!” Azul huffed, though he gave you a faint smile. “I hope you’re going to apologize.”

“Aww, poor Azul. Of course I can give you an apology, if you’ll accept it.”

He gave you a raised brow, confused but still smiling. “Of course, why wouldn’t I—”

A yelp escaped Azul’s lips as you pressed your own lips against his, smiling as you did. Azul sighed into your mouth, tasting the lavender and vanilla on your tongue while you smiled against his lips. His hands cradled your own, keeping you in place as Azul returned the affection with chaste kisses pressed all over your face, neck, and hands

“Wait—ah! Hehe~” You laughed as Azul’s kisses tickled you, weakly pushing him away as he moved to kiss the tops of your hands. “That tickles, stop!”

“Heh, come on now my dear.” Azul cooed, pulling you back in to wrap an arm around your waist, grabbing the cookie from your hands to feed it to you, which you accepted.

“Let me keep all your affection to me, and mine to you. I am quite a greedy lover, you know?”

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #twst azul x reader #azul ashengrotto #twst azul #a floral inconvenience #abyssthing198

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alltheirdamn · 8 months ago

Text

Dark!Preacher!Joel x f!reader

Summary: You indulge in the voice of the Devil for one fateful night. Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Caution/TW: DUBIOUS CONSENT Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: NONCON ELEMENTS, no outbreak AU, undisclosed age gap (joel is 56 and reader is in her late 20's), infidelity, religion!kink, degredation!kink, humiliation!kink, praise!kink, choking, slapping, forced oral (m receiving), deepthroating, rough hair pulling, boot licking, light fingering, pain!kink, noncon unprotected piv sex, pet names (little one, good girl), degrading terms (bitch, whore, slut), dirty/filthy language, rough sex, forced orgasm, noncon creampie, no aftercare A/N: this is WAYYY out of my comfort zone to write, but something about the idea of Preacher!Joel just did it for me. I figured I'd test out the waters & see where it gets me... anyway, enjoy and PLEASE READ THE TAGS/WARNINGS

Masterlist

You weren’t oblivious to Preacher Joel's sidelong glances and lingering stares. Every Sunday, you sat in the second row of the church, watching him preach the Lord’s gospel with a baleful smile only meant for you, while your husband, Adam, sat beside you blissfully unaware. So, when you proposed the idea of taking a pie over to his home—alone—Adam didn’t even bat an eye.

“Are you taking over a cherry pie?” Adam had asked from the living room.

You were bent over the oven, pulling the hot pie dish onto a trivet with shaky hands. Sunday service that morning had been your breaking point; the communion dish made its rounds through the pews, and you found Joel’s eyes tracking your mouth as you brought the grape wine to your lips. Your resolve snapped, and the desire to feed into temptation blurred any and all judgment you had since maintained.

“Do you think he’ll like it?” You hollered back at Adam, wrapping the pie in a terrycloth.

“I’m sure he will, honey.”

Untieing the canvas apron from around your waist, you smoothed down your white church dress and shuffled the pie dish into your arms. Crossing into the living room, you kissed the crown of Adam’s head softly before saying goodbye. He didn’t look up once.

The benefit of living in a small town was that all the homes were fairly close together, meaning it was a short walk to the preacher’s home, which resided behind the town’s church. It was far past supper time, and most of the town had tucked into bed by now, leaving you alone with the wind between the trees and a man who could be your undoing. The only sounds echoing around you were your feet crunching along the dirt road and the howls of stray dogs in the distance. Clutching the pie closer to your chest, you continued walking toward his home with the Devil on your shoulder.

Preacher Joel’s home was modest and small; the white paint on the wood structure chipped away from years of weathering. His black pickup truck was parked on the side of the house, the wheels dirty and the paint smeared with mud. The closer you got to his front porch steps, the more rapidly your heart pounded inside your chest. You didn’t know what to expect, but you knew every muscle drawing your body closer to his home was being fueled by the Devil. Under the flickering front porch light, you brushed your knuckles against the door and held your breath.

Heavy footfall sounded on the other side of the door before it opened, revealing the man that plagued every thought in your mind. Joel stood before you with his dress shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, exposing the dark chest hair that spattered across his tan chest. His patchy grey beard was well-trimmed as if he had just refreshed it, and a lascivious grin broke across his face as his eyes raked over you.

“This is a mighty nice surprise,” he whistled.

“I—I wanted to bring over a pie,” you stuttered. “As a thank you.”

“For what?” He quirked a thick eyebrow, his piercing brown eyes staring down at you.

“It was just on my heart to do something nice,” you lied.

Joel reached out for the pie dish, his warm hands brushing over yours as he took it. You weren’t sure what to do with your empty hands, so you found yourself fidgeting with the gold cross dangling around your neck.

“Come in,” he said, sidestepping to welcome you in.

The second your feet walked over the threshold, you knew temptation had sunk its teeth into you.

“This is a lovely home,” you commented, following him to the kitchen.

The living room was surrounded by dark wooden walls, with a beige loveseat in the center and a TV box pressed against the opposite wall. There were remnants of him in every corner of the room: a half-drank glass of whiskey, a newspaper folded on the coffee table, and his black leather Bible resting on the arm of the sofa. The kitchen was just as simple, with a gas stove and small white fridge nestled against wooden cabinetry.

Joel set the pie dish on the granite countertop, turning to the cabinets to retrieve a small plate, a fork, and a knife. You fixated on the way he worked at rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, the veins in his forearms flexing with each fold of the fabric. He let out a small chuckle, forcing your eyes to tear away from his hands and back to his deep brown eyes.

“Y’make this yourself?” He asked, cutting himself a slice.

“I did,” you nodded. “It’s cherry.”

“Mmhm, my favorite,” he hummed.

He dug his fork into the pie, the crust crumbling onto the plate as he lifted it to his mouth. You watched as his mouth wrapped around the utensil, a low groan escaping his throat as he tasted the cherry filling you had made by scratch. Under thick eyebrows, his eyes closed while he savored the taste, and you felt the swell of pride stirring inside you.

“It’s good?” You asked.

“S’delicious,” he mumbled, digging into it for a second bite.

Instead of bringing the next bite to his lips, he offered it to you, urging you to lean over the countertop and meet him halfway. How were you to deny the preacher of something he wanted? Opening your mouth, you welcomed the sweet taste onto your tongue, meeting his eyes as you wrapped your lips around the fork.

“Delicious, ain’t it?”

“Yes,” you whispered as he pulled the fork from your mouth.

Joel’s eyes dilated with a surge of lust. You never saw that look on your husband, but it was unmistakable when you looked into those dark eyes now. A sudden thrum of warmth ran through your body the longer studied you, forcing you to squirm in place. He must have taken notice of it when he decided to round the countertop and swarm you with his broad frame. His finger curled under the chain of your necklace, tugging at it until you lifted your eyes to his.

“You’re a temptation, little one,” he drawled. “Just look at you.”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me during your sermons,” you confessed.

He cocked his head to the side in amusement; his plush lips quirked up in a smile. His finger coiled around the chain tighter, pulling you a step closer. You inhaled the scent of whiskey and smoke that lingered on his shirt as it brushed against your chest. The thin fabric of your dress wasn’t enough to hide the shiver that ran over your spine. Joel tucked a stray hair behind your ear, bending down to brush his lips over the shell of your ear.

“Y’sure you ain’t seein’ the Devil?”

His hand released your necklace, only to wrap around your throat in a tight grasp. You struggled for air under his grip, your nails raking down his bare forearms. There was an uncanny wildness lighting up his eyes as he watched you gasping under the forceful pressure of his fingers.

“Just a naughty thing lookin’ for corruption.”

“Please,” you choked.

“Ain’t this what you wanted, little one? Look at you, just drippin’ in sin,” he whispered.

“I—I can’t breathe,” you thrashed against him, tears pooling in your eyes.

He shoved you backward until you were doubled over and heaving for air. There was a deep laugh swirling through your fogged mind, and you blinked back tears before you attempted to make eye contact again. Something about this felt wrong.

Joel stood with his arms folded over his chest, waiting for you to recompose yourself. You staggered back, your body hitting the wall of the kitchen, and you coughed violently, trying to grasp back onto reality. He curled a finger to beckon you forward, and despite your reluctance, your body moved on its own accord. With a fist full of your hair, he forced you to your knees, making you cry out at the impact of your knees hitting the tile floor.

“I should make you pray for forgiveness before I ruin you,” he growled.

You whimpered, humiliated at the way arousal pooled between your legs with every word he said. Adam never spoke to you in such a vile way; he only ever took you in the marital way, with you on your back and him above you. But something told you that the preacher would be far from that familiarity, and it electrified you. You wanted to know how far you could take it and how rough he could be. If the Devil was beckoning you, who were you to deny him the pleasure?

With defiance in your eyes and a proud grin on your face, you started to mouth a prayer to the Lord, knowing He wouldn’t be listening. Whatever you did in this small home was between you and the preacher.

“Louder,” he ordered.

You repeated the prayer, never breaking eye contact with him as his jaw clenched with each word you spoke. His hand was still twisted into your hair at the roots, holding you firmly in place. Your eyes traveled down his broad torso, settling on the growing bulge beneath his trousers. You wet your lips, imagining what his cock looked like and how it feel inside of you. Joel must have taken notice of your fixation and brought his other hand down to deliver a sharp slap against your cheek. Your head whipped to the side, the sting of his hand lingering on your face as you gathered your bearings.

“Filthy lil thing just beggin’ to be fucked, huh?”

You worked your jaw open and closed, trying to relieve the pain that radiated down your neck.

“Answer me, little one,” he snapped.

“Y–Yes,” you muttered.

Another jarring hit came across your face, your ears ringing from the impact.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

Satisfied with your answer, he worked at undoing his belt buckle, tugging his trousers and underwear down his hips. Your mouth went dry at the sight of his cock; the thickness of it was enough to wrack your already shaking nerves. Adam never asked you to pleasure him this way, but your body reacted differently when you were kneeling at the feet of a corrupt preacher.

His fingers wrapped around the shaft of his cock, his hand pumping it slowly as it grazed over your parted lips. You wanted to take the plunge and wrap your lips around it; you wanted to savor every inch of it and watch him fall apart.

“Droolin’ like a bitch in heat, fucking pathetic,” he taunted.

He smacked the weeping head of his cock against your lips, precum smearing across your mouth and chin. You obediently opened your mouth for him, the immediate salty taste falling against your tongue. He gave you a moment to stretch your jaw to adjust to the girth of his cock before rocking deeper into your mouth. The tip of his cock tapped the back of your throat, forcing you to sputter around him. Tears soaked your cheeks as he picked up a steady pace, each thrust reaching your soft palate.

“That’s it, little one,” he groaned. “Takin’ my cock so fuckin’ well. Can’t cry out for God when you're full of me.”

You moaned around him, the vibration sending him into a frenzy as he brutalized your throat. You could only bare your weight against the floor and take every inch he gave, the drool and tears mixing together as they rolled down your chin. Joel’s head tilted back, his eyes fixated on the ceiling as you dragged your tongue along the underside of his cock. Your gag reflex kicked in as he struck the back of your throat before he pulled out and leveled you with a heavy stare.

“Such a good girl,” he praised, tapping your cheek lightly before unwinding his fingers from your scalp.

He gathered the drool dripping from your chin and smeared it over your face, the taste of him invading your nostrils with each swipe of his hand. It was dehumanizing and disgusting…but some fucked up part of you loved it.

“Thank you, sir,” you preened, smiling through the mess he had made of you.

“Don’t go thankin’ me yet, little one. Better clean your drool off my fuckin’ boots.”

Your smile faded as your eyes flicked between him and his shoes, which were visibly covered in a pool of your saliva. You shook your head in protest, but he was quick to shove you down toward the floor. You thrashed against his grip on the back of your neck, your nose brushing against the worn work boots adorning his feet.

“Lick,” he demanded. “Clean your fuckin’ mess.”

You swallowed thickly before you allowed your tongue to dart out and lap up the remnants of your saliva. You held back a retch as your tongue grazed over the leather material, the dryness under your mess painful against your throbbing tongue. You peered up at him in hopes that he was satisfied, but you were only met with a cocked brow and an unamused stare.

“Missed a spot,” he huffed, toeing his boot against your mouth.

You cringed as you continued working your tongue over his other shoe, the taste of it unbearable. He was shamelessly minimizing you down into the worst version of yourself, and there was no one to blame but you and your naivety.

Joel slammed his shoe back against the tile with pursed lips, and he tsked at you.

“Pathetic,” he mumbled. “Bedroom s’down the hall. I want you in there and spread out on my bed.”

You nodded and wiped away the tears bursting from your eyes. A firm hand gripped your shoulder as you tried to rise to your feet, forcing you back down. You gave him a weary look, waiting for his next command. Crouching down to eye level, Joel took your chin into his hand with a forceful grip.

“Crawl,” he ordered. “Go on.”

He straightened to his full height and loomed over you as you planted yourself on all fours. Turning toward the walkway of the kitchen, you started crawling, the heat of his stare on your backside enough to ignite another wave of pleasure inside your stomach. You could feel your dress hiking up over your thighs, putting your cotton underwear on display for him with each progressive move you made. The heat of his stare lingered on you as you scrapped your knees across the carpet, the bedroom door at the end of the hallway calling out to you through the voice of the Devil. He reached over your body to open the door, guiding you into the dark room. There was a wooden wardrobe propped against the wall and a matching side table next to the large bed that sat in the center. Flipping on the overhead light, he pointed to the bed, silently instructing you to climb onto the flannel bedspread.

You laid back on the bed, your white dress pooled around your body as he crawled over you. Caging you between his muscular biceps, he dipped his head into the crook of your neck and dragged his tongue against the pulse throbbing under your skin. The need growing between your legs was becoming too unbearable to handle, but you were afraid to beg him for release. He had made it apparent he controlled every second of this interaction, from how much you breathed to the way you moved.

“Let’s see how soaked these pretty lil panties are,” he whispered, snaking his hand down your abdomen.

Flipping your dress up, his fingers delved under the waistband of your cotton underwear, a hum of approval rumbling his chest as he found your thighs slick with arousal. Thick fingers worked their way through your wet folds, teasing your entrance before he plunged two fingers in without warning. You arched into his touch, the curl of his fingers against the soft spot inside you jolting you upwards.

“Fuck!” You cried, your fingers digging into his arms.

His free hand shot out to cover your mouth as he pressed his forehead to yours, rage simmering in his brown eyes as he stared you down.

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth, little one,” he warned. “I don’t wanna hear a fuckin’ peep, you understand?”

Your response was muffled under his hand, and he shifted his weight so that his fingers dug further inside you. You swallowed back pitiful moans as he worked his fingers in and out of you. A slow-burning sensation rolled through your stomach, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of your climax. You were fluttering around him as it bubbled to the surface, only to be met by the absence of his fingers as he pulled them away at the last second. You wailed in protest, feeling a hollowness inside of you without them there.

Ripping your underwear down your legs, Joel hauled you onto your stomach, positioning your hips upward in the way he desired. You had no choice but to take anything he gave you. The clanking sound of the belt around his pants was the only warning you were granted before wedged between your thinks and sunk into you. Your vision faded out at the blinding pain of him stretching you open, every inch of him tearing you apart beyond compare.

“It’s too much. I—I can’t. It hurts!” you cried.

His only response was to grind his hips harder against yours, the pain radiating up your spine.

“Shut up,” he bit out, pulling out and driving back into you. “You’re gonna take my cock like the filthy lil slut I know you are, and you’re gonna thank me. Understand?”

Your face fell into the pillows as you muffled a scream. His hand wound around your neck, yanking you from the bed and forcing you to bend back and meet his vicious stare. With his teeth barred and cock buried inside you, there was nothing to do but give yourself fully to him.

“Yes, sir!" You wailed. “ Thank you, sir.”

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he crooned.

He set a steady pace, the lewd sound of his hips smacking against yours echoing throughout the room. He was brutalizing you, defiling you, completely ruining you into oblivion. The voice of temptation had led you here, and now you were paying the price for your sins. No amount of prayer or forgiveness could wash you clean.

“Such a perfect and obedient whore,” he grunted with his fingers bruising your hipbones. “You fuckin’ love havin’ this tight cunt wrecked by the preacher—shit—just dyin’ to have my cum inside you.”

The sobs wracked through your body as the need to climax tore you apart. He yanked your hips even higher, pistoning his cock into you at an angle that set your body alight. You had no control over the pleasure burning deep within you, and suddenly you were tensing around his cock with the name of God falling off your lips.

“God can’t save you now, little one. This unholy cunt is mine.”

Fizzles of your ebbing climax simmered through your body, carrying you back down to the present, only to be met by another onslaught of violent thrusts from the man behind you. He was relentless as he took…and took…and took. By the time he was done with you, there would be nothing left.

“Please—stop!” The words left your mouth broken and strained.

You were clawing at the bedsheets, begging for him to release you. He only laughed at each one of your protests, his pace unrelenting and forceful with every drive of his cock inside you. His fingers flexed against your skin, and you felt the shift in his rhythm, alerting you that he was about to climax.

“Don’t—God—please don’t!” You begged.

“Quiet,” he snarled, pulling you by the throat so that you were flush against his chest.

“Please,” you sobbed, barely choking out the word.

“Gonna send you back to your husband with my cum leakin’ out of you,” he snarled.

Before you could even attempt to escape his hold, Joel was slamming into you one final time, a carnal groan deafening your ears as he filled you with his release. He tossed you back onto the bed carelessly, leaving you aching and stretched open on the ruined sheets. You lay there motionless, staring at the chipping paint along the doors of his wardrobe. Joel rolled off the bed, muttering a slew of derogatory words your way, before vanishing into the bathroom down the hall. The silence swirling around you was the only comfort in the aftermath, the pain radiating inside you fading away the longer you sunk into the mattress.

The sound of footsteps flooded the room, and you flinched away as Joel’s hand roamed up your bare thigh. His fingers prodded against your throbbing entrance, teasing you until you squirmed out of reach.

“Take yourself home, little one,” he instructed.

You winced as you rose from the bed, not daring to make eye contact as you gathered your underwear and fled down the hallway. The slap of the cross necklace against your chest was a burning reminder of the sins you had committed. You staggered out the front door, barely making it down the first step of the porch before you burst into tears. Joel’s presence loomed behind you, and you looked back one final time to see him watching you leave with a sinister smile breaking across his face. With scuffed knees and his cum trickling down your thighs, you barreled home, knowing you had just met the Devil.

#dark!joel x reader #dark!preacher!joel #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller one shot #dubious consent #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #no outbreak au #dub con #non con #religion!kink

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